#maybe it's finally time for another rewatch

[futuristicdoormats789]

Its funny how the first time you watch the Terror, the most likely reaction you'll have to seeing Hickey's face as he gets his arm torn off is deep satisfaction at seeing this deranged ruler who has sacrificed his whole 'empire' finally get his comeuppance. Then on every subsequent rewatch, I always tend to feel immense pity for how Hickey, who has lived a 'horror story' his whole life before even stepping a single foot onto Terror, lost his mind, the only man who could see him, and his own voice. He doesn't escape the empire he despised; all he does is pave the way for further colonisation efforts by them (which I think is essentially what the Tunnbaq's death represents, as Hickey becomes a reflection/amalgamation of imperialism and subsequently his soul is what kills the Tunnbaq in the end, including all of Crozier's efforts to assist ofc). Besides noticing new stuff everytime you watch, having a rollercoaster of emotions since your first watch is also another reason I love this show so much. Who knows? Maybe next time I'll cry about Armitage instead.

[oimoitalaina]

“Viewing Homework” in the MCU part 2: how Thunderbolts was a letdown

Now we’re onto the main topic I want to cover, the subject of Kevin Feige’s unsuccessful defense. Target of my unending hate. Historic flop. Generational disappointment. Thunderbolts! Feige argues that Thunderbolts can be understood and enjoyed even if viewers hadn’t caught up with all of the lead characters. I’m just going to shut down this first part of his argument right off the bat. No, this movie does not work if you didn’t watch the movies and shows that led up to it. You need to have seen these character’s introductory projects to have any idea who they are and have any motivation to know what happens to them. Because each of our leads is deliberately introduced as being an asshole. The only reason you’d have any sympathy for them in this movie is if you saw their earlier depictions (except for John and Alexei that is). Val only gives a little blurb about each of these characters when we’re already a good deal into the movie. That is not nearly enough to actually give the audience an idea of who they are, or make us care about their predicament. 

But, as I said regarding What If?, the idea of Thunderbolts being a movie that exists for more dedicated fans isn’t actually a problem. Plenty of people watched all the projects that led to this movie. Here’s where I’ll add another of my thoughts regarding the issue of “viewing homework”. I actually think that rewatching projects before the next relevant installment comes out is really fun. Of course, I am a fairly dedicated fan, but the MCU has earned plenty of those at this point (for now that is). And with the existence of Disney+, rewatching has never been easier. And that’s exactly what my partner and I did in preparation to watch Thunderbolts. We rewatched the projects while paying extra attention to the characters who we would see in the new movie. And the thing is, that’s actually a fun way to rewatch something. To not focus on the main character but instead the side characters, or even the antagonists. It was fun to look out for any details about these characters’ motivations and stories. It actually made me appreciate those projects a bit more at the time (although that’s ruined now). Afterwards, and this feels so silly now after the movie turned out so badly, my partner and I talked about how each of these characters might be able to redeem themselves. We talked about how much agency they really had, how responsible they really were, the differences between everyone in the Thunderbolts lineup in terms of how bad they actually were. At the time, before we knew what would happen, it was fun! So, no, the fact that the movie encouraged the audience to rewatch the projects that led up to it wasn’t the issue, and we all know it, and I’m certain Feige knows it. So what was the actual problem? Well, it was what we saw fail to work for What If?.

Thunderbolts is a movie that is supposed to reward fans for doing their viewing homework, but at the same time it provides no actual payoff. In fact, the more familiar you are with these characters, and the MCU in general, the worse this movie gets! And that’s just the opposite of how the MCU is supposed to work! To really be prepared to watch Thunderbolts, audiences needed to at least watch Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Black Widow, Antman and the Wasp, and Wakanda Forever. That’s just how you know who any of these people on the poster are. To have a more up to date understanding of some of the characters, it also required that you watch Hawkeye and Captain America: Brave New World. The final movie trailer also heavily implies that viewers should be thinking about, and maybe even rewatch, the original Avengers. That’s a lot to watch! But, like I said, there were similar expectations for audiences going to watch Infinity War and Endgame, and there’s an even longer viewing list for Doomsday. Once again, having the occasional movie that requires more audience investment isn’t a problem, it's whether it pays off.

So, beyond giving you the basic knowledge of who these characters are, how *does* having done this viewing homework reward the viewers? Well, much like in the case of What If?, it really doesn’t. While the example I used from What If? Was all about breaking the established canon of the MCU and how that negatively impacted multiple stories in hindsight, the examples I’m going to get into for Thunderbolts are all about breaking established characterisation and themes. So I’m going to cover each of the main characters. First off, to know John Walker’s whole deal, you had to have watched Falcon and the Winter Soldier. But John isn’t the main character of that show, Sam and Bucky are. The show is all about Sam becoming Captain America and Bucky making progress on his healing journey and finding a family with the Wilsons. The main takeaway from the show is that Sam and Bucky have formed an unbreakable bond, they love each other, they are family. But, as we all know, Thunderbolts ruins this conclusion completely by having Bucky work against Sam’s plans to restart the Avengers by siding with a group of assholes he just met. So this movie expects you to watch a show so you recognize a character who wasn’t the lead, but it wants you to forget the actual story about the actual main characters. As for John himself, I’ve already written a whole essay about how he was not actually given any kind of development in this movie. So if you actually rewatched TFATWS and wanted to see just how John might learn to change his behavior, you’ll be sorely disappointed by Thunderbolts. 

To understand who Ava is, you had to have watched Antman and the Wasp. If you watch the movie for Ava, you learn about her tragic past and her relationship with Bill Foster, who has in a lot of ways taken the role of her father. He does his best to protect her, even when that means covering for her when our main characters confront him. He offers her guidance, trying to convince her to change her plans since they risk killing an innocent person. At the end of the movie, he tries to help her but she insists that she needs to make her own way and redeem herself. But when you watch Thunderbolts, it seems that you just need to know that she has her Ghost powers. We don’t investigate her trauma, her painful condition, or her relationship with her science dad! The fact that Scott, Hope, Hank, and Janet were all working to help finally cure Ava gets completely forgotten about. Thunderbolts almost works better with regards to Ava if you just read her bio on some wiki rather than actually watching her introductory movie.

Thunderbolts could be seen most directly as a sequel to Black Widow, seeing as it has three characters who were introduced in that movie. But, once again, if you actually rewatch Black Widow you remember that Alexei is a horrible misogynist who trafficked two children. And one of those children, Yelena, is not a monster like John Walker, but a victim of mind control. Another victim of this mind control is Antonia, a character who was caught in an explosion as a child in an attempt to kill her evil father. Said evil father then essentially turned her into a weapon for the rest of her life. The story of Black Widow involves Natasha redeeming herself for sacrificing Antonia all those years ago by saving her when she got the chance. Antonia gets rescued along with all the other Widows because she is also a victim. So when you watch Thunderbolts and see Antonia DIE IMMEDIATELY it feels really messed up. And Alexei, who is genuinely guilty of doing terrible things, gets to live out his fantasy of being a superhero on a team with posters and costumes and a special base. The fact that Black Widow is about how Alexei’s obsession with being a renowned superhero is what led to Natasha and Yelena suffering is basically forgotten about for Thunderbolts. Thunderbolts exists as a rather fucked up inverse to the message of Black Widow, which was all about rescuing victims and bringing their tormentors to justice. Thunderbolts, meanwhile, is all about letting one of those victims die and letting the people who were ultimately responsible continue as normal.

And how about Yelena? Well, Thunderbolts doesn’t exactly require you to have watched Hawkeye, the last project where Yelena made an appearance. And, if anything, the plot of Thunderbolts maybe prefers it if you didn’t watch Hawkeye. Because the Yelena we see in Hawkeye doesn’t really feel like the Yelena we see in Thunderbolts. Yes, she is working for Val in both, but Hawkeye is basically all about the fact that, despite being an assassin, Yelena has a solid moral compass. She is out to kill Hawkeye because she was given an assignment to do so, yes, but she also makes it clear that this is something that she agrees with morally. She thinks Clint is responsible for Natasha’s death. She is also right that Clint did kill a lot of people as Ronin. Yelena doesn’t have the whole story, but based on what she knows she believes she is acting in accordance with her morals. 

But, again, Yelena demonstrates that she has pretty clear guidelines to how she acts. She’s introduced doing what she set out to do at the end of Black Widow. She’s rescuing victims of mind control, risking her own safety to do so. That has to take considerable time and effort, not to mention resources. And it's not like she was getting paid, so right before the blip Yelena was clearly self-sufficient. Later, when she first attacks Clint and Kate, she is able to recognize that Kate is basically a bystander. When Kate later points out that Yelena chose not to kill her, Yelena admits that she just needed to get her out of the way. Yelena clearly wants to avoid unnecessary casualties. She then goes as far as breaking into Kate’s apartment to essentially explain herself and why she needs to Clint. She goes even further later, investigating who hired her to take out Clint and sending that information to Kate because she just thought she should know. Finally, when Yelena finally has the opportunity to kill Clint, he is able to convince her not to do it because of their shared love for Natasha. We don’t know what kind of repercussions Yelena received for letting Clint go, for all we know this could have been a risk to her. Yelena’s moral framework is certainly not conventionally “good”, but it's clearly there. 

Which is why it's a bit of whiplash when we see Yelena is just blowing up buildings full of people in Thunderbolts. We have no evidence that she *needs* to keep working for Val, she’s not being coerced or anything. She was able to take care of herself just fine between the end of Black Widow and right before the Blip. The end of Hawkeye felt more like she would stop working for Val more than anything. Thunderbolts, meanwhile, basically has to ignore all the characterization she’s given in Hawkeye. It even needs to gloss over a lot of what we saw about Yelena in Black Widow. In that movie, she’s broken free of her mind control and immediately tries to get the Avengers to rescue the Widows. When Natasha explains that isn’t an option anymore, Yelena is quick to help take down the red room with just the two of them. She is willing to sacrifice herself to kill Dreykov, and would have died if Natasha hadn’t caught her. While Hawkeye solidifies Yelena’s morality, Black Widow established it pretty clearly as well. 

As for Bucky, well, plenty has been written about that. He completely out of character compared to every appearance he has had in over 10 years of movies. But, most recently, I feel like I have to point out that his cameo in Brave New World when he was still in character is somewhat required viewing to understand Thunderbolts. This scene does a lot to catch us up on Bucky, including his bid for Congress. This connects directly to Thunderbolts in a way that actually makes sense for Bucky’s development. Brave New World establishes that Sam and Bucky are in pretty constant communication regarding what the other is doing. Bucky is aware of all the things that have happened in this movie so far, Sam doesn’t need to explain anything. It also reinforces what we see of their relationship at the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Bucky drops everything to comfort Sam, he is Sam’s source of relief and reassurance. He lets Sam express his most vulnerable thoughts and provides thoughtful and gentle rebuttal. He literally tells Sam “I love you”. The amount of whiplash viewers receive going from this to the Bucky we see in Thunderbolts might need to result in a class action lawsuit. There’s just no reconciling the guy we see in this movie to the Bucky we know. I’m just going to keep doubling down saying that this character is a Skrull pretending to be Bucky because it honestly makes more sense than what we see in the movie.

Finally, as I’ve talked about before, you need to have watched Wakanda Forever to know who Val even is. That movie clearly shows that Val plans to keep trying to overthrow Wakanda. As long as Val is not in jail or dead, she is going to be up to some colonizer shit. So when Thunderbolts ends with Val staying out of jail by using them all as her puppets and calling them the “new Avengers”, viewers are expected to just kinda forget about the entirety of Wakanda. That’s wild!

So, just like What If?, Thunderbolts is a project that expects, even requires, viewers to have watched all the MCU movies to recognize and care about the characters in the movie. At the same time, both projects depart from established canon and theme in a way that is most readily apparent to anyone who rewatched everything needed to watch this movie in the first place! If anything, it makes viewers like myself feel like we were played for fools for being invested enough to rewatch all those projects. Oh man! As to how this happened, I think it's been covered enough for both of these projects. The writing teams didn’t really know what they were doing with these characters. I guess in hindsight it's more surprising that a disaster on quite this level hadn’t happened in the MCU before. It is definitely worse in the case of Thunderbolts since, unlike What If?, this movie is undeniably part of the canon universe. I do genuinely wonder how future projects are going to have to deal with this mess.

So once again, let's get back to the question - is “viewing homework” a problem? Well, what’s really disappointing is the fact that rewatching these projects in a way that encourages you to focus on different aspects of the story is actually really fun. And it's not an especially difficult task anymore now that there are so many different ways to watch these movies and shows. But this is only fun when the movie you’re catching up for actually remains faithful to the themes and characters. But instead, having looked at these specific examples, I can see why someone might consider having to watch all these movies just to watch another movie as a bit of a chore. It probably would have been a better viewing experience for Thunderbolts and What If? If you just skimmed the wikipedia pages of the relevant movies rather than actually watching them and absorbing anything they were actually about. And if this is what is expected to be the future of the MCU, that’s going to be really disappointing. But I’ll argue that, for most MCU projects, “viewing homework” really isn’t a bad thing at all. These movies and now these shows are supposed to be enjoyable on their own. Knowing the context just makes them better. There are only a few movies that really make “viewing homework” seem like a requirement - Avengers movies, sequel movies, and now Thunderbolts (which wants to act like it's an Avengers movie but it absolutely isn’t). People weren’t complaining about Avengers movies because those were made better because of the inclusion of the events of previous movies. People are only complaining about Thunderbolts because, as I’ve gone into for all these words, there is no actual payoff for putting in all that “viewing homework”. But to demonstrate how this isn’t really an issue except for these two examples, I’m going to give a recent example of a movie that gave “viewing homework” doing really well. As in, actually feeling like it rewarded viewers for their time investment.

[snarkspawn]

it's missing wenzhou hours friends

happy lunar new year!! 🧧🧨🐉

[narutomemes]

3 years…. Still need to do a full rewatch

[what-is-canon]

Writing Serena’s POV in-fic and listening to Jeff Buckley at the same time… the narcissistic war criminal to yearning lovergirl pipeline is real.

[airenyah]

You know, my day started really shitty and the weather is all gloomy, so I put all my hopes on a JD show in GMMTV p2. I was cautiously optimistic. So as soon as I got home, I checked Twitter and the first post I saw was Joong and Dunk kissing next a car. And I was like OMG!!!!! So I watched the trailer, and I actually squealed, because the concept is amazing and they are with FirstKhao (who GMMTV loves), so the script will also be great, and I feel like my whole day is made. (I actually had a stray thought about this leading up to part2, like if JD and FK get a series together, JD will finally be in a quality production. Maybe I should invest in lottery tickets 😂). I finally completely understood the etymology of the word 'fan', because I'm the "unfollow me right now" meme. I'm an adult with an actual job and I still squealed and flailed like Ongsa because JoongDunk finally get a chance to shine.

But, that's not everything. Because then I logged into Tumblr and I saw that you posted an essay about Dunk to my ask from last week, and now I'm close to tears with how overjoyed I am. Thank you very much for taking the time and writing this manifesto that I'll use as a guide to better understand performances in the future. I love you too, you made this day way better than it already was 💜

P. S. As for the DMs, maybe when I'm less shy 😅

anonnnnnn i'm sorry it took me so long to reply to your last ask!! but yeah, i think you see why and i'm glad it made your day even better 💗💗💗

edit bc i forgot to mention: take your time about dming me, the links won't run away 😌💕

re: "I finally completely understood the etymology of the word 'fan', because I'm the "unfollow me right now" meme." I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING I LITERALLY MADE THIS POST THIS AFTERNOON:

so yeah, me too. me too. i too am that meme. i was already close to posting it hahahaha

as for the new JD show....

ok ok ok so i lucked out completely bc usually tuesday is my uni day but this week i don't have classes, so i was able to watch the entire stream live. and i was already mentally prepared for no JD bl again?? first of all because as i explain in my manifesto, i do want to see them in more solo projects (esp dunk bc out of all the series he's had or will have a major role in 3/4 are with joong which... as a fan i'm absolutely not complaining about but from an acting perspective it would be good for him to branch out)

and second of all, because i'd been talking and speculating with @moonkhao and a couple of days ago joong tweeted something about "this year i will get to play with that phi"?? and @moonkhao mentioned that win had recently followed joong and how it seemed like the two of them were gonna be in a series and we were all like "oh it's gonna be a het show for sure" (HA HA LOOK AT US NOW @moonkhao 🤡🤡🤡🤡) (ive never been more happy to be wrong tho fjkdfkkjdsg)

anyway so i went into the stream fully prepared for them to be in solo het-projects, right?? and when the trailer came on, in the very first shot it's joong and khao, right? but i totally didn't notice joong at first, bc i was too distracted by khao and the fact that first appeared right after and i was all "oh that's gotta be the rumored p'jojo FK mafia show"

and then joong appeared and i finally saw him and i went JOONG??????????

my eyes went big and my jaw dropped on the ground and my head was spinning with thoughts all "is joong gonna be just a side character in this?? or will dunk be there too?? holy shit what is happening????"

AND THEN DUNK CAME ON AND BY THIS POINT, IN ADDITION TO SITTING THERE WITH MY EYES AND MY MOUTH WIDE OPEN I ENDED UP SLAPPING MY HANDS ON MY MOUTH TRYING NOT TO SCREAM AND I WATCHED THE REST OF THE TRAILER AS WELL AS THE PRESENTATION/INTERVIEW AFTERWARDS LIKE THAT

i was literally shaking oh my god dfjkjdfkjdfkjdfjkdsjk

anyway. i'm not gonna be normal about this thanks

[orcelito]

Man I really hadn't gotten as far in the manga as I thought. I just finished ep 267 of shippuden and it's gearing up for the Gaara vs his dad fight, which I remember being where I dropped off in the manga. Bc I'd been keeping up with new chapters for a while, but with all the war talk... idk it just didn't capture 14 year old me that much. So I stopped keeping up.

Now, though. I find all the war tactics interesting hfkshdk it has me wanting to play a fire emblem game again. Hmmmmmm

[deadsince1973]

I finally saw the final episode of Till the End of the Moon, and I am LIVID. I hated that ending so much!!!! I am actually so angry right now!! >:(

[aberooski]

That moment when you have a breakthrough about the chapter you've been stuck on for days

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home. 

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder

[kuiinncedes]

;-;

[ivyvenus333]

pervert!choso

a/n: wrote this in a 5 min haze and maybe it should’ve stayed in the drafts…

the day your sex tape got leaked was the worst day of your life. the video spread across campus like wildfire, everyone wanting to see just how miss popular took it.

however, waking up to a text that read, "hey, isn't this the girl you're obsessed with?" might be the best thing that's ever happened to pervert!choso.

he almost cums instantly upon clicking the link, the video stuck on the thumbnail as it loads --a still of some loser's cock just barely poking your entrance. choso's mind goes blank, hand instinctually slipping into his pants as he starts to lazily rub himself.

he had touched himself so so many times to the thought of you. at the thought of the pretty face he saw everywhere around campus contorting in pleasure. it's not like he followed you...just memorized your schedule and your routes to class. he knew where he needed to be and at what time to just get a glimpse of you.

he had never come harder than the night after you finally noticed him, your eyes meeting his and your pretty, plump lips pulling into a polite smile as you walked past with one of your friends. but now he got to cum to the sight of your pussy and the sounds of your moans? yeah, he was done for.

by the time the video finally loads, precum is leaking out of his reddened, angry tip. 4:47 seconds? he can't help but laugh. of course that fucking loser couldn't fuck you as long as he could. as long as he would if he ever got a chance with you.

choso is so so so fucking nasty, jerking his cock to the same speed as the pathetic one digging inside of you. jealousy coursed through his veins at seeing whoever fuck you so hard and so fucking fast. it hurt him, but at least his pretty girl was being fucked so good. he knew it's what you deserved. but he knew that would fuck you infintely better. fuck, it's all he ever thought about.

choso doesn't know how many times he rewatches the video. just that hours must've passed by now because he has lost all fucking feeling in his rubbed raw dick. each time he watches, he chooses something new to focus on with so much intent to memorize everything about you. the way your mouth gapes open as you pant and moan, the way your eyes crinkle shut and flutter open to eye-fuck the camera, the circular motion of your tits bouncing, the way your tight ass squeezes around nothing when you turn around and get fucked in doggy. he just listens to the video a few times, eyes shut and getting off to the sound of skin hitting skin -- your skin. over and over and over again.

his cock won't stop weeping, and he's given up on trying not to make a mess. well, not like he had a choice, he'd just gone through the entire box of tissues he kept on his night stand. it's so dirty, the way his cum drips down his chest and pools in the deep crevices of his abs.

choso inevitably passes out after jerking off for hours. and somehow, his life gets even better when he wakes up. the same friend texted him another link and a message that reads, "part two lol. not as good as the first one :/"

but his friend is wrong, sort of. because this video is from your point of view, with you holding the camera as you're getting fucked. specifically, you getting fucked by the loser who just so happens to have a lip ring, and long raven hair, dark eyes, and tattoos everywhere. someone that looks almost exactly like him. he cums again at the way you spur the loser on with a sweet, sweet "bet he could fuck me better than this."

yeah, he's probably being delusional, but just the thought that you could be talking about him is enough. (you were.)

[zepskies]

I'VE GOT YOU

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Being pregnant with a supe’s baby isn’t easy, even the second time around. The good news is your husband is all too willing to help you relieve a certain craving.

AN: This one was originally released on Mother’s Day, so if you're a mom, this one's for you! 💗💗 Before writing this I rewatched the episode of Friends where Rachel is at the horny AF phase of her pregnancy. 😂

This little one-shot is set after Calculated Risks, so we also get more of Lila, Ben and the reader’s daughter! By now, she’s about five years old, and the reader is pregnant with her second child: Ben’s first boy! You all know he's been waiting for this one lol. 💚

Word Count: 3.4K

Posted on Patreon: 5/11/2025

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Father-daughter fluff, pregnancy fluff, married couple bickering, and some married couple smut. Domestic feels and happy endings all around 😉

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

Frank pulled the car up through both security gates, tires rolling smoothly up the curve of the paved driveway. When the black Ford Escape finally stopped at the front of the house, Ben subtly breathed out his relief.

The Spanish Colonial-style home was more modest than he had wanted for his growing family. You had been firm on just two floors, a pool, and the double garage. But it was a welcome sight after almost a week in Wisconsin, of all places.

The mission had been to gather intel on some old Vought lab that Stan Edgar’s cohorts had tried to keep hidden, one where V24 was still being made like a high-tech meth lab, with twice the exploding power.

Closing the lab indefinitely had been an easy job. Blowing up a powder keg was relatively simple when Ben himself carried the world’s biggest match, conveniently stored in his chest cavity. But he was reminded why he hated the Midwest. A dusty fucking snooze fest.

And if he ever heard another one of Hughie’s stupid fucking cheese jokes, it would be too damn soon.

He was all too ready—as he was after every field trip with Butcher and his band of merry assholes—to come home to you and Lila. His wife and his kid. That was really all he needed these days.

Christ. He almost shook his head at the thought, after getting out of the SUV. As Frank drove off and Ben unlocked the security passcode to the front door, he had to wonder when he’d gotten so goddamn soft.

“Daddyyyyyyy!”

Before he could even fully raise his head, Ben had his arms full of his little girl. Five years old, and Lila was looking more and more like her mother every day—bright-eyed and beautiful, even with that gap-tooth smile. But he saw just as much of himself there in her hair just a little darker than his, her eyes a little more hazel than green, and a small scatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose, with a couple more dotting her cheek. He hoped she didn’t grow out of them.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Ben greeted, unable to temper his smile. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and she giggled at its slight roughness, thanks to his beard. “You been good for your mom?”

You were coming around the corner, from the kitchen if he had to guess. You set down the remains of a cheese and salami plate on the mahogany credenza in the hall.

“Sometimes,” you wryly answered for your daughter, “but maybe she’ll calm it down a few notches now that Dad’s home.” 

He watched your slightly waddling gait with an amused grin. At six months, you were at the cusp of your third trimester. Ben swung Lila over onto one hip and reached out for you as you came into his orbit, smoothing a hand along the swell of your belly before his arm wrapped around your waist and gathered you to him. You held onto his arm in turn.

“Hey,” you said, smiling into the narrow space between your face and his. He welcomed himself home when he bowed his head for a kiss.

Lila squealed and buried her face in her father’s neck, as if she was witnessing a crime. You couldn’t help laughing, but you stayed in his arms even after breaking from his lips, resting your head against his chest.

In some ways, the separation when he went on missions with the team was good. It allowed Ben to work out some of the more intense energy he couldn’t always release at home, and it was no secret that you and your husband could butt heads over almost anything—from who didn’t replace the bag after taking out the trash, to just how long you were going to continue working from home for Supe Affairs before your son was born (albeit with your mom’s help in taking care of Lila).

Sometimes you and Ben just needed the break from breathing in each other’s general direction…and then finding something about it to bicker over.

“Jesus, you sound like a moose sometimes. Would you close your mouth?”

“How about you leave me alone, huh? I just worked out in the basement, and it’s fucking stuffy down there.”

“That’s because you still haven’t changed the air filter like I asked you three weeks ago.”

“Christ on a cross, enough with the damn filter! It’s fucking fine. I changed it last month.”

“No, honey, that was the vacuum filter. And you didn’t do anything. You held the garbage bag while I shook out three pounds of dust and pet hair.”

“You’re the one who wanted the fucking cat!”

“No, your daughter begged—”

Anyway.

Right now, you were fighting the (hormonal) sting of tears in your eyes. You breathed through it, grounding yourself in Ben’s solid frame and the familiarity of his arms. You rested your cheek against his chest, feeling his warmth through the smooth fabric of his sweater.

He noticed the way you held onto him a bit tighter. His brows raised, but he bent his head to brush his lips against your temple.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” your voice was thick when you answered, though you nodded quickly. “Just…missed this.”

Missed you.

You couldn’t see the way he smiled. He rubbed your back, while Lila tangled her little fists in his hair and continued to cling to his neck. Still, his entire world was right here in this room.

“Why did Mr. Cheese go broke?” Ben posed the question to his daughter that evening, after dinner and a family movie in the living room. He’d pretended to suffer through yet another rewatch of The Lion King, but he’d begrudgingly admitted it was good, for a cartoon.

Slowly, painfully slowly, the three of you were going upstairs. Lila was once again in his arms. This time she stretched herself out dramatically like a starfish and expected him to carry her like that up to her bedroom. He did so with a roll of his eyes, but he also had a supportive hand on the small of your back while you made your way up ahead of him.

You held onto the guard rail as you went. Your other hand braced your belly. Occasionally you huffed and puffed, but you were determined to get up these goddamn stairs and to your bed like a normal human.

“Ummm I dunno, why?” Lila replied to her father.

Ben’s lips twitched at a smirk. “He had too many runny asses in Wisconsin.”

Lila bit her lip, but a giggle poured through and shook her whole body. Ben curled his arm upward to hold her more securely, so she wouldn’t smack her head on the stairs. You rolled your eyes, your lips hinting at a smile.

Still, you chided him. “Ben.”

“What? Blame the co…” He cleared his throat at your sharp eye, glancing down at his daughter. “Blame Hughie. He wouldn’t shut up with that shit.”

“You said another bad word, Daddy,” Lila said, in that know-it-all tone she’d gotten into.

Sharp as a tack, this one, Ben thought wryly. If you weren’t a foot away, he wouldn’t care all that much what came out of his mouth. By now his daughter had heard plenty in his presence, or whenever she hung out with her “uncles,” Frank and Loco. But by the way you were looking back at Ben, raising your brows in a not-so-subtle challenge, he knew it wasn’t worth the headache.

“Yeah well, add it to my tab,” he said. He wrangled Lila up higher in his arms and swung her halfway over his shoulder. She screeched and giggled and clung to his back. Ben smirked at the resigned look on your face, but he urged you the rest of the way up the stairs with a playful smack of your ass. "Come on, let's go. We've been here for twenty years already."

"Oh, I don't wanna hear that from you," you shot back with a laugh. "I'm carring the equivalent of a watermelon here."

Ben just rolled his eyes, despite his smile.

Once you reached the top, you both went over to Lila’s room, first door on the right. The orange and white tabby cat, Simba, was already sleeping curled up on her bed as if he was waiting for her. Ben would still rather get a dog. He'd told you more than once.

"Something butch. And reliable," he said, while shoveling Cheetos into his mouth from his reclined state on the living room sofa. "Like a German Shepherd or a Great Dane. Not this lazy fucking Garfield. I mean, what's this thing good for? Whining and scratching my leg all the time for more kibble."

"He just wants you to pet him, babe."

"Damn needy," he muttered, all while the cat was purring, curled up in the crook of his arm while he watched the latest Giants game. Ben scratched Simba's cheek absently.

You shook your head with a smile and went back to work in your office. You only came out to the living room to ask your dear husband to turn down the damn TV.

“Okay, why did Mr. Cheese cross the road?” you offered. 

“I don’t know, why?” Lila asked, playing along.

“To get to the other slice, of course!” you said with a smile.

Ben set Lila down on her feet, and the two shared a similar look. Unimpressed. At least your daughter had the decency to try and hide it.

Your lips pursed, but then you waved a dismissive hand and sighed. 

“Okay, time for bed,” you said.

You and Ben tucked her in together that night. She was tired enough that she didn’t demand a story this time, for which he counted it as a small blessing. All he wanted to do was strip down and relax in bed with his wife, maybe catch up on his episodes of Deadliest Catch. He’d just have to ignore your teasing that he’d never once went fishing in his life, and likely never would, despite now owning an arsenal of extremely expensive fishing rods.

He ventured down the long hall over to the master bedroom, where you began to change into your nightgown while trying not to sulk.

“She used to think I was funny,” you complained.

“She’s developing a sense of humor. You should be proud,” Ben replied with a smirk.

You swatted him on the ass for that one, making him chuckle as you passed by. He hooked a hand on your arm and carefully guided you back to him, into the cage of his arms.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he warned.

In his eyes, you read a familiar spark of desire as they roamed over your deep green, silky maternity gown—a baby shower gift from Annie. But he tempered the spark behind a chaste kiss, more tame than usual for the past few weeks. You merely smiled against his lips, stroking his bearded cheek. Inside, you bubbled with a trill of nerves and arousal all at once.

Your second pregnancy had thus far been more tumultuous than your first one. It was similar in that you were experiencing intermitted bouts of super strength, but your hormones had been going haywire, leaving you with bouts of morning, night, and day sickness, breasts tender to the point of painful, and almost no position comfortable enough for you to lay down and rest your aching back.

Ben knew it full well and had been getting an earful of your pregnancy woes for the past couple of months (not to mention, your accusing side-eye). Weirdly, the constant shitty feeling of being rundown and on the verge of puking had begun to ease up when he was gone this past week…shifting into a different mode of insanely hormonal.

As in, bouts of severe horniness. You’d even had to consult the second drawer of your nightstand for some relief.

But now, you grabbed a fistful of Ben’s shirt and brought him down to you for another kiss. This time you led him deeper, luring him with your sensuous tongue slipping into his mouth. A groan of approval caught in the back of his throat, even though his brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“What’s all this?” he asked, his voice rougher, but still teasing as he squeezed your waist. “You done puking day and night, complaining about my dick and balls being the reason you can’t fit into your jeans?”

His lips brushed along your jawline, a tantalizing sensation, even though you could feel his smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“Charming,” you said flatly. “Just for that, I should leave you to stroke your blue balls for another night.”

Ben chuckled, but he also called your bluff, beginning to graze down your neck, his tongue flicking along the shell of your ear. You shuddered at the pleasurable zing of sensation, unconsciously leaning against him.

“Seriously, you feeling good?” he asked.

You felt the hesitation in his lips, which pressed a real kiss in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You smiled.

“Maybe,” you said teasingly. “And I might be craving more than oatmeal cream pies and Thai chili peppers this time.”

He snorted. “Thank fuck for small favors.”

You giggled, dragging your nails up and down his back through his shirt. You felt the suspect twitch in his muscles in response. So you slipped your hands back to his chest and gently pushed him backward. He raised his brows and took a step back, then another, until you could guide him into sitting on the edge of the bed. You stepped in between his strong, widespread legs and held his face in your hands.

His own were already beginning to roam down to your hips, giving them a nice firm squeeze. It felt so nice to be touched. It felt like every part of your body was waiting to feel something, wanting to feel good. You desperately needed him to touch you…

“But,” you said, holding a finger over his lips. “Um…I need you to go slow. Be careful.”

Ben’s brows furrowed. Did you really think he'd be too rough with you?

“We fucked plenty of times the first go around. Can't say I remember any incident.”

Your lips twitched at a smile. “Yes, but…I don’t know. I’m feeling more sensitive this time. I’m not sure what’s gonna feel good, what might be too much.”

Ben actually paused. He saw where you were coming from. It just irked him that you felt you had to warn him. He could see the concern and hesitance in your face, like you weren't sure if he could do what you were asking.

“Sweetheart,” he shook his head and pulled you closer, until your belly was nestled warm against his chest. His hands spanned your hips, large and strong, but only enough to feel secure. Grounding. “You think I don’t know how to take care of you, even now?”

Your breath hitched at the depths of his voice, the rumble of it going straight between your legs. He slipped his hands under the nightgown and kneaded the bare flesh of your thighs, somehow both firm and careful.

“Turn around for me,” he said.

You smiled, raising a brow, but you followed his lead. His touch never left you while you turned in his arms and let him slip your nightgown off. He tossed it to the side along with his shirt and pajama pants, then he guided you down to a seat on his muscled thighs. His movements were slow and calculated as he welcomed you back into his arms, brushing your hair back from your face and away from your neck. He nodded up at the dresser mirror straight ahead.

“Take a look, sweetheart,” he said. Meeting your eyes in the reflection there, he skimmed the back of his hand along your jawline. “Fucking beautiful. Now more than ever.”

Those words, he murmured into your skin. “Gonna give me a son. Then I’m gonna fuck another one into you, ‘til we got every fucking room in this house filled up.”

You laughed at that, despite the way your cheeks heated up at the gravel-laden promise.

“What’re you trying to do, assemble your own version of the Von Trapp family? Dress our kids up like Mormons and make ‘em sing songs?”

Ben chuckled. “Hey, they gotta earn their keep somehow. I’m the one who’s rich, not them.”

You wanted to point out, again, that it wasn't just his money, not to mention all the ways he was already spoiling your daughter rotten. But his teeth once again grazed your neck in a sharper nip, grabbing your attention. His tongue flicked along your earlobe, all while his fingers brushed the sides of your breasts and made your shaky breaths rise to meet him.

He cupped your breasts in his large hands and brushed his thumbs over each sensitive, hardened nipple. You let out a cross between a hum and a whine, arching into his touch and pressing back against his chest. You held onto his arms for a further sense of stability and security.

“You’ve been waiting for me, huh? I can tell. You’re all fucking locked up,” he murmured.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, breathless already, a delicious heat pooling in your center.

Eventually, he continued his exploration down the rest of your body, including the gentle swell of your stomach. He kissed down your shoulder, beginning to stroke the outside of your thighs back and forth. Steadily, he moved inward. His fingers became more grazing the closer he got to the apex of your sensitive inner thighs. A shiver ran down your spine.

You heaved a trembling breath. “Ben. Need you, baby.”

“I know,” he replied roughly, a contrast to his sensuous touch. “I fucking told you, I’ve got you. Just relax.”

He clasped his free hand to yours, steading you while his fingers began to tease your wet folds, slipping in between. He brushed and grazed a torturous back and forth. Until finally, two of his long fingers dipped inside your hot, weeping channel for a moment, before they moved back up, circling your clit.

Your breaths were coming out more raggedly now. You let go of his hand just to reach back and grasp at his hair. His fingers moved at just the right angle and you gasped, a delicious tendril of pleasure licking through your core. “Oh…fuck…mhmm…right there…”

Ben smirked. He knew. Because he knew every part of you, every angle that would have you shuddering, body contorting in bliss and pleasure. His favorite thing in the world, aside from being balls-deep inside your sweet pussy, was this. Playing you like a virtuoso, like a fucking First Chair violinist. He might change the notes, tease out different chords, but the end result was always the same—making you fucking sing for him.

While his fingers toyed with your clit, rolling the sensitive bud with firmer pressure, he spread your legs a bit wider with his knees and made more room for himself. Your hips rolled against his hand on reflex, chasing your release.

He used that to his advantage, grabbing your hip and guiding his cock into your throbbing heat in shallow thrusts. You both groaned at the feeling. Your hand tightened in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, surely threatening to rip out a few strands.

It only spurred him on. Ben worked you down over him as slowly as he could manage without busting prematurely at how fucking good you felt, wet and warm and already choking the head of his cock. He buried himself inside deeper and deeper while he stroked tight circles over your clit, until his cock was finally nestled in, filling you completely, hot and hard and perfect.

“Oh, fuck. Ben,” you whined. “Think I’m…”

Your core throbbed tightly around him for a few moments, making you shudder with pleasure. There he just held you to his chest for a minute, allowing you to catch your breath. You held onto his arms. You felt caged, but in the best of ways. You tipped your head back onto his shoulder, where his lips found your temple.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice deep and gravel rough.

“So good,” you nearly sobbed. You were pretty sure you came just then, with merely the feel of him fully seated inside you. You were brimming with pleasure…but it wasn’t just that.

Your heart felt so full for this man, it was nearly overwhelming. You grabbed his wrist and dropped a kiss onto his hand, his palm, and his still slightly wet fingers. He swept his thumb along your cheek in response.

“All right. Good,” he nodded, a bit breathless himself. He slowly smirked into your neck, self-satisfied and a hint devilish.

You smiled too when you caught him in the mirror. His hands returned to your hips and began helping you move, a rocking rhythm that led into his slow, purposeful thrusts. A new lance of pleasure curled up into your core, and a half-choked moan fell from your lips.

“Now the real fun begins,” Ben said. 

AN: 😘 All right, some fluffy family moments, some classic BMD bickering, and some fluffy married couple smut. I think we checked all the boxes here! lol Let me know if you guys still want to go back in time and see their wedding, because I have a fun idea for a twist – complete with another Supe Affairs mission with unintended consequences. 🫢

Until then, I've been working on soon to be future chapters of Breaking Point (Russell Shaw x Reader). After that, I'll be working on a series to continue 10 'Til Midnight (Professor!Dean Winchester x Grad Student!Reader). So stay tuned for those! 💚

But on June 1, we're finally getting to another SB series! Unravel Me: the prequel to Lost in Translation (Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader). 💜💙

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[buggachat]

im gonna be honest i think the "adrien being a sentimonster was randomly thrown in season 4 with no planning on the writers' part" theory is really funny. like the writers of this show are just so bad at their job and so stupid that they tripped and fell in season 1 episode mr pigeon and accidentally spilled "a strange relationship to feathers" all over adrien by accident. they stubbed their toe on the coffee table and accidentally set up a mystery surrounding emilie's relationship to a feathery miraculous in season 1 volpina before we even knew what its powers were. then they spilled coffee all over their favorite shirts and at the same time spilled more white feathers around adrien in season 2 episode gorizilla. while writing the same episode someone had a really nasty sneeze and got boogers all over the script that said "use the imagery of two twin rings intertwined as the opener for the film of adrien's dead mother". they forgot to look both ways before crossing the street while writing the season 2 finale and were struck by a truck labeled "the peacock miraculous gives life" and then by a second truck with the license plate "it does so using white feathers identical to the white feathers that surround adrien in his ads" at the same time. they plummeted down an open manhole and hit the ground with a loud whack that sounded like "sentimonsters like bugette are just as real as any human..... and isn't bugette so...... perfect?" in season 3. on their way to the hospital they slipped on ice that had frozen in such a way to perfectly resemble the sentence "the word 'perfect' is consistently used throughout the series and by the creator ominously to denote how characters like adrien and kagami are 'different from everyone else', ever since season 1 episode simon says". during season 3 someone on the team got food poisoning and when they threw up felix came out instead and started another whacky series of comedic errors. the answer to the mystery of "how and why did emilie die? what life did adrien's loving mother create that she was willing to die for?" was originally gonna be "idk maybe she just exploded or somehting" probably, but then there was a really painful rock in one of the writers' shoes while walking to work that put them in a mood so bad that they forgot their original plan and instead made some bullshit up that somehow ended up being something that made sense with what we knew and put all the puzzle pieces together and actually made the show even more interesting and impactful on a rewatch because it put a lot of shots that at the time seemed random into a new and logical perspective as clear foreshadowing. it's actually impressive how stupid these silly clown writers are that they put strangely specific things so consistently throughout the entire series that resembled foreshadowing while never actually having intended it a single time! like........... really.......... really impressive............... i think..............

[gossippool]

hi welcome back to leanne rewatches deadpool & wolverine and goes insane about every single detail in this movie. in this edition: how logan's clothes reflect the trajectory of his character

1. the suit—inside

so we start off with the scene in the bar where logan appears to be wearing what we're used to seeing him wear. flannels, leather jackets. his outfit and even the setting is not at all unfamiliar for him. but, as we later find out, he was wearing the suit underneath all those layers the whole time.

during his talk with laura, he reveals that he wears the suit to remember those he'd lost, and as a reminder of what he'd done. he's had the suit on permanently for god knows how long, hidden under his clothes. at this point he bears the suit like a cross, suffering in silence under the guise of normalcy, yet sacrificing what's left of his identity by reducing himself to what the suit represents; by taking all the jabs and nasty looks people throw at him that he thinks he's too deserving of to combat.

2. the suit—outside

after wade pulls him out, he has the suit on display for quite a while. on one hand, it shows the fight that's in him now as a contrast to his passivity in his own world. on the other hand, it's also a sort of vulnerability: what that suit stands for and by extension what he himself is is now laid bare to the world. out in the open for people to question. maybe that fight that's in him now stems precisely from this vulnerability.

this vulnerability is both good and bad for him: it causes him to lash out at the questions from wade that he's not ready to answer. it also leads him to open up to laura and finally speak about what happened—who knows if he's ever said any of it out loud before. fun! even with just the suit, we're already seeing some development.

and THIS is where it gets interesting.

3. the white shirt—his mind

the first time we truly see him without the suit is when cassandra nova looks into his mind. i've been going back and forth on whether this is logan's own manifestation of himself or if it's cassandra's, and i still don't know. i think the distinction does matter, but in the end what it conveys is the same.

firstly, another layer of vulnerability again. he's already on his knees for cassandra, submissive—now in his mind he's also stripped as bare as he can be (i think we all know white shirts can sometimes leave little to the imagination). cassandra looks at him and says "you're hiding ... from all the ones you let down." how interesting is that?? if we go all the way back to the first scene, he hides his suit under normal clothes. and he hides this version of him in his mind even further underneath all of that.

secondly and as an extension of that point, white symbolises purity. cleanliness. even a promise of new beginnings. let's tackle this from the two possible perspectives.

if this is logan's manifestation of himself, it would be so intriguing that this is how he appears. maybe it means that despite it all, there's some good in him. maybe it means that deep, deep down, past all the shame and the guilt and the grief, there's still a part of his mind where he can just be.

on the other hand, the white could also symbolise a second chance—like i said, a promise of new beginnings. i made a post about this scene here, but the basic point is that cassandra is offering him something that no one else may ever be able to offer him. a chance to fully be himself, to silence the voices. the white is such a stunning visual representation of what she is saying logan could be if he stays with her. which makes it even more poignant that he doesn't.

4. the time ripper

after this scene, he's in the suit again, necessarily. but then! BUT THEN!!!!! the time ripper!!! y'all need to understand the significance of this scene in all its nuances FR! here you can look at his abs again:

but the thing is we know by now what the suit represents. all his failures, all his guilt, his inability to let go of his past. it represents him. isn't it just so fitting that it's at this point where he saves the fucking world that the suit breaks away. it breaks away from him. he's free. this not the same as him just taking it off, because with it breaking into pieces he literally cannot wear it anymore. this is not just a hugh jackman body appreciation, this is logan finally moving on. this is him realising that he is not a failure, that he is not his failures, that he has something else to live for.

5. him

and oh my god, we finally make it to the extremely satisfying ending. after all of that, we finally come full circle. he's in his normal clothes again, the wife beater and the flannel, except this time without anything underneath. he's no longer defined by that one incident, defined by his mistakes and the people he let down. he is just him.

[luveline]

helloooo, how are you? i’ve been rewatching criminal minds and i finally got to the post-prison part, so i’m really missing shy!r and post prison spencer <33 if you’re felling up to writing something for them again, i would love to see it!! maybe when they kiss for the first time or something else (completely up to you, i would love anything that you write hahah) but if you’re not really feeling it at the moment, please don’t worry about it, it’s so understandable 🩷 have the best day!!

ty for your request I love first kisses <3

Spencer takes you for a walk and explains a couple of courting rituals. shy fem!reader, 1.5k

Profiling is still very hard, but seven months into your new job at the BAU, you’ve become proficient in Spencer Reid. You can tell when he’s eager to work, when he’s down about something, when he’s feeling good. He holds himself differently on his good days, he takes care to coil his hair and wears a clean pair of shoes. 

In the bullpen, he’s sitting at his desk beside yours, craned over a desk covered in loose papers, books, and files. You attempt to hide your approach, lest he startle. 

“Good morning,” he says. 

“Good morning.” Can’t hide anything. He’s been an agent for ninety percent of his adult life. “What are you doing?” 

“Just reading.” 

You sit at your desk, clearing a space for your bag among your own mess of files and books. Your monitor turns on with a nudge of the mouse. Your screen is filled swiftly by notifications and Outlook, then the FBI messaging system, and then the ‘filing cabinet’ Garcia built to help you understand the insanity that is the BAU online system. It submerges you every morning regardless. 

“What are you reading about?” you ask. Your emails can’t wait, but you don’t want to read them, so you won’t for another ten minutes. 

He stumbles over a breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“It’s courtship rituals.” 

You regret asking. Whenever you and Spencer talk about feelings, or love, or romance, you end up hot as a kettle on a stovetop, steam billowing from your ears. You choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea a few days ago when he’d mentioned America's developing hook-up culture. 

He doesn’t tell you any more, which is unlike him. Spencer Reid loves to talk, or loves to share what he’s learned. You looked it up —it’s called info-dumping, and it’s usually because the person telling you is so deeply fascinated by the topic they’re investigating that they can’t contain it. It’s a common symptom of ADHD, or autism, or both. Spencer’s done it since the day you met, which is nice. You feel like he trusts you. 

And so you’re wondering now if you’ve done something to make him think he can’t do it today. Or maybe he’s not feeling well. 

You prop your face in his hand and watch him. 

He doesn’t look upset, only focused. 

You hate quiet. You love not talking, but gaps of silence have you overthinking things. Maybe he’s mad. Maybe you’ve finally pissed him off. 

It’s scary because he’s amazingly kind. Overwhelmingly nice. He’s lovely and good looking but it’s his heart that shocks you every time, how he’s looked after you, defended you.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you ask. 

He blinks to attention. “What?” 

“You’re not talking.” 

He grins. “I’m thinking.” 

His smile when he looks like he’s about to laugh is everything. 

“Don’t think too much,” you say as you play with a button on your coat. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?” 

“Don’t think too much because you think about things you don’t need to,” he amends. “You worry about everything.” 

“Well, so do you.” 

“Exactly. I’ll worry enough for you, too.” Spencer gives you a smile you don’t understand. “Will you come to the archive with me? I want to talk to you about something.” 

“Spencer…” He just acknowledged that you worry about everything. 

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Something with no pressure. I’ll explain it as we walk.” 

You shed your coat and walk together out of the BAU offices down a long hallway. You take the elevator down to the ground level, spring air in the hallways, early morning sunshine lapping at your shoes where it’s settled golden against the marble floor. Spencer professes that it’s nothing to worry about again, but he doesn’t elaborate, and your heart begins to pulse too quickly. 

You can’t look at him. 

“I’ve been reading about these courtship rituals and… looking at which ones are the best. There are thousands of them, but contemporary courting isn’t easy. It confuses me. With my last, my only girlfriend, we wrote each other letters. But I wanted this time to be different, because– because love is different?” He grimaces. 

“Love is different,” you agree. You’re not sure who he means, your chest panging in two different beats. Is he… talking about you? “It’s different every time.” 

“I was looking for the more subtle rituals. I kept thinking I’d find the right one, and that I’d know it when I saw it, but I can’t find anything suitable and I might need your help. Um, if you even want to help me.” 

“Of course I do.” 

Spencer slows just outside of the archive’s door. “Everything I read about feels like it would just embarrass you. I picture buying you flowers and I feel like you’d just– just explode.” He says it with affection and apology alike. “I wrote you a poem. Emily told me not to give it to you, though.” 

“You wrote me a poem?” 

“I made you a love spoon, too, but I can’t whittle, and it looks terrible. I even cut my hand, and if you rejected me you’d have to give the spoon back and I think that would make it worse.” 

You turn completely still. The last thing you expected that morning was for Spencer to confess. And he is confessing, a small smile on his face, patience, nervousness, close enough to feel the heat of him beside you. You short circuit in an attempt to compute the magnitude of it; Spencer wants to court you, and you can’t handle it. 

Your exhale shudders out of you. Goosebumps attack your arms. 

“Sorry,” he says quietly, “are you okay?” 

“Spencer, I don’t think you could ever find a way to tell me that wouldn’t make me feel like this.” 

“How do you feel?” 

“How am I supposed to feel?” 

Spencer’s smile fades a touch. “I don’t know. You can feel how you want to feel, it isn’t up to me. But I have feelings for you. I thought you knew.” 

It’s like knowing that the lottery numbers were chosen specifically to match your ticket. The thing he’s talking about doesn’t make sense. 

“Are you kidding around?” you ask. 

“What? No.” He holds your wrist gently. “Of course not.” 

You swallow a lump and try not to overreact, though you’re already doing that. This is a good thing, it is, but he’s him and you’re you and every time he touches you it’s like fireworks are bursting warm and tingly over your skin. You smile at his chest, cheeks dimpling from how wide it stretches. 

“You don’t have to court me, um. Not in any way like that. I’m just like every other girl, you know? I like flowers. I,” —your cheek lists down toward your shoulder bashfully— “probably would feel a little embarrassed, but I like flowers. I can get you flowers.” 

Spencer really laughs. “You want to get me flowers?” 

“Maybe?” 

He laughs again. His eyes lock onto you and his open hand closes on the opposite arm, putting you face to face. “It was my idea,” he says, playfully argumentative. 

“Okay.” 

“You want to hear the poem?” he asks, quietening again. 

You nod slowly. “N’I wanna see the spoon.” 

“Can I please kiss you?” He takes a breath, like he’s been running. “I know this isn’t the right place, but I didn’t expect to want it this badly.” 

“I don’t think there’s a wrong place…” 

“So I can?” he asks, lifting a hand to your cheek, to hold you with care. 

You nod into his approach, find yourself kissed and held tightly in a split-second of warmth and warm smells. His nose touches yours in a kiss of their own, his lips part lightly before pressing in again. Two kisses lend to a third, but then he pulls away to look at you. As quickly as it started, it’s over. 

“You're overheating already,” he says, thumb rubbing a sweet path under your cheek. 

You don’t know what to say. He ducks his head just that little bit to make sure you’re okay. Understanding flows between you both. His hand falls behind your back to pull you in for a hug. 

“I’ve never been the confident one in any of my relationships,” he admits. 

“I usually am.” 

Your deadpan lights him up. His hug turns strong armed, and he walks you back, giggling, arms a comforting vice around you. “You can be the shy one this time,” he says, seemingly unaware of how his using the word ‘relationship’ has thrown you for another loop. 

You’re hot as a furnace all morning. Spencer makes excuses for you, but Emily’s amazing at her job. 

“Jesus, Spence, you didn’t read her the poem? I told you it was too much.”