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bratphilia · 6 months

Text

grasp (w. afton x reader)

request: "I don’t really have a coherent story (just some thots) but i’d kill for some sort of smuttyyy ficlet that has the reader who is very short as in 4 foot 10 and has petite features (just like me 😵‍💫) being picked up and slung over Matthew Lillard!William Afton’s shoulder 🥴🥴 Include reader being scared and trying to wriggle free??? (due to her seeing or knowing something she shouldn’t have about Raglan) and some name-calling like ‘little one’, ‘good girl’ & ‘atta girl’ 🤤 - 🧸"

note: hi nonniebear!! i'm sorry if this fic is a little rushed but i tried to stay true to what you requested! hope you enjoy and feel free to keep sending in more ideas :)

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: bondage, praise kink, fingering, squirting, begging

fuck. you're really in for it now.

this yellowish, decaying rabbit stalks towards you, and there are four, sentient and bloodthirsty animatronics behind you.

you're stuck.

even worse, the rabbit came from the entrance, so if you were to try to make your escape that way there was a likelihood of you running into his knife.

"please," you find yourself pleading. "please don't kill me."

the rabbit laughs menacingly and bends down to your level. "how about this? i'll give you a head start."

without any further questions you bolt through the maze of halls and towards the office. you crouch down in front of the vent the rabbit was referring to and unscrew the bolts barricading it. thank god you're small enough to fit in the vents. this might actually work.

then you hear unmistakeable, thumping footsteps coming towards you.

it only hurries your actions. your heart rate rapidly increases. the screws are so aged with rust that it's hard to—

the door opens with a loud thud. you scream at the noise, and again when you're being lifted off the ground. it's the yellow rabbit.

it slings you over its shoulder with unmatched strength. you wail incoherent words and pleas as you pound the back of the suit with balled fists.

"help me!" you scream out to no one. "somebody help!"

the rabbit wordlessly carries you down the hall, to one of the locked doors you dared not to venture into during your shifts. it carried you down a couple stairs and then set you on a dentist-office-style chair.

at this point tears are rolling down your face. eyes are shut in fear of looking your captor in the eyes. uncontrollable sobs escape your mouth, praying that these aren't your final moments. then the rabbit wraps both hands (paws?) around your wrists and holds them to the arm handles so that restraints can bolt around them.

"oh, save it," he says, clearly annoyed with your crying. "i've heard it all before, you don't deserve to die, and all that."

your eyes shoot open. the rabbit's voice no longer sounds robotic and you realize you actually recognize it.

in a very dramatic fashion, it's steve raglan. your career counsellor, a.k.a the man who got you this job in the first place.

he almost looks ridiculous in the rabbit suit, which admittedly doesn't add much to his already sizeable frame, but you can't find the humor in the situation in which you could be seconds away from dying in.

"why?" you find yourself asking, suddenly more curious than hysteric. "why give me this job if you were just going to kill me in the end?"

"because you got a little too close to the truth, and for some reason, those brats up there were unable to take care of the job themselves," he snarls resentfully. he must be referencing the animatronics. it makes sense now— the kids in the drawings with the yellow rabbit on the wall.

"it was you. you killed those kids."

steve gives you a horrible smile. one that almost makes you weak, with that dimple you recognize from many conversations in his office. "you finally figured it out."

he walks behind you, shuffling around in the suit, and you crane your neck around to see him taking it off. he's wearing a white tee and dark purple slacks. he's not particularly muscular, but not thin either. it's a build specific to middle aged men. you hate to admit it, but your face flushes when you notice how large his hands are.

he catches you looking at him and smiles, cocking his head curiously. "see something you like, little night guard?" instantly you whip your head back around. your head is at a moral war with itself, with you being disappointed in yourself that you were actually checking out a child serial killer.

but steve doesn't leave it alone. once he abandons the suit, he swiftly strides over you. he places both hands on your restraints, caging you in. you shrink into yourself.

"i think," he says lowly, "i might have a different use for you, little one. one that we can both enjoy."

you swallow, not saying anything. steve reaches a hand up to slide down your face then cup your jaw. his hands are cold to the touch and it sends shivers down your spine.

you find your voice. "don't touch me."

"don't touch you? are you sure?" he says cockily and you can only glare at him in response.

"what if i just..." he trails off, sliding the hands on his face down your neck, your chest, abdomen, and eventually your core. he presses his hand there hard, making you jolt upwards and whimper. "so you don't want me to touch you, is what i'm hearing?"

fuck. this undeniably hot serial killer has you at his disposal and you can't help but feel turned on. if you're going to die, and your chances really aren't looking good for you, maybe you should just...

"please," you murmur, closing your legs so they trap his hand there.

"please, what?"

you swallow. "please fuck me."

"'atta girl." he grins from ear to ear. "y'know, all that begging you did earlier really did a number on me, but i must say i love this change of heart."

steve starts to undo the buttons of your slacks and begins to pull them down, leaving you bare in your underwear. it's at this point you realize how wet you are, and you try to relieve the tension in your core by squeezing your thighs together but he grabs your legs and presses them to your stomach. you're just so malleable to him.

he tugs off your panties and discards them mindlessly. "look at that," he marvels at your bare skin, "so pretty, little one."

you squirm against the restraints a little. at this point the anticipation will kill you faster than he will. you wish he would just touch you already, but you had to admit all his praises were only adding to your arousal.

steve decides to sit a little further down the chair and wordlessly plunges a finger inside your pussy. he goes deliberately slow, clearly gaging your reaction. "fuck," you mutter, and it takes all your strength to not buck your hips into his movements.

"you need this, don't you, sweet girl?" he muses, stopping the thrusting of his fingers, but still keeping them inside. "tell me."

"please, please, please..." tears coat your lashes from all the teasing. "'need it so bad."

he gives you a kind smile, one you haven't seen since you were back in his office. "good girls get what they ask for. "

steve slides in a second finger and begins to pump faster. it's an improvement but you find yourself needing more. you buck your hips up hoping he would get the message and he simply laughs lowly as he adds a third finger into the mix.

his pace gets progressively faster over time to your delight. the noises coming from your center is absolutely obscene. you can feel your juices dripping down onto the seat.

"ah — ah!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm nearing. "i'm coming — please, slow down—"

you squeeze your eyes shut. all the sudden the chair is abnormally wetter than you would have expected and— oh.

your face burns bright red. "i-i'm sorry..."

he's shocked, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "don't you dare apologize, little one, let's try that again."

#william afton #steve raglan #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf x reader

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ymechi · 5 months

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Who is the real Creator?

I had to edit and remove some parts for this to make sense, I hope it is coherent if not please tell me so I can fix it and explain everything better. I did not expect people to be interested in this au so I was surprised! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, mentions of character injuring themselves (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

Part 1, This is part 2, part 3, part 4

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Reader ushered Darling inside giving them the blanket which they used to dry their wet self. They sort of reminded Reader of what a wet sad cat one of their neighbors used to own looked like after a rainy day. Darling sat on the kitchen table as Reader once again prepared some tea. Reader really should get a nice tea set soon, they mentally put that on their shopping list the next time they are going to the market.

Darling sat quietly at the table sniffing and not saying much, Reader had no idea what to say before it would have been so easy they knew each other in and out. Yet now. . . it was as if a hundred years had passed, a million things had happened. Reader was now not sure what to say.

They weren't sure if they even wanted to comfort Darling. Shouldn't Darling be comforting Reader? All they got was that half-assed hospital meeting.

If Darling is upset wasn't there a league of followers, acolytes, servants heck even Archons who would comfort them why come to them now out of all times and alone? Clearly something serious happened that they had to runaway alone to them out of all people.

Reader inwardly sighed.

They bought out a pan. One thing they knew how to lighten the mood up was pancakes, it was easy and they knew how to do that . In fact, they might get a master's degree in making pancakes, Reader should ask Nahida if that is possible.

(They tried not to think that it was Darling's favourite meal to eat after being sad.)

"So. . . What happened?" Reader tried to start.

Darling did not respond for a while just quietly staring at them. Their eyes were a bit dull and exhaustion was evident on their face. They seemed to contemplate what to say before they started.

"I. . . I asked to wield a sword, at first they were against it but I wanted to try y'know?"

There was no question who they were, the crazy cultist acolytes. Reader shuddered at some of their past interactions with them, they were good weapon wielders reader would give them that. . . Reader had first-hand experience after all.

Yet Darling was alone with the trigger-happy acolytes all this time.

Although Darling was the supposed Creator, they should have been fine, Reader looked over at them and they lacked any surface wounds.

They should have been fine right?

"It was fine at first they taught me proper stances but then I got a bit touchy with the sword, you know me how I get with stuff like that and then I," she sighed, "I cut myself like an idiot."

Reader rubbed their head and thought about it, they would not be here for a cut something else went on and they waited for Darling to finish.

"Then I bled," Darling was quiet for a moment, "it was red."

Hey, it rhymed Reader wanted to say to break the tension but Reader refrained. They did not get it at all. What was so wrong with red blood? Wasn't blood supposed to be red.

Darling must have caught on and they looked like they finally understood something. It was they who wanted to understand what was going on!

"Uhm yeah you maybe don't know but the Creator is supposed to bleed gold."

Oh.

"Oh."

That is all they could say really. They felt dumb for a second there they had been actively avoiding taking any religious classes or any mention of religion for their own mental health's sake. Perhaps if they did not avoid it as much they would have understood what was going on much easier but for now the single religious book they owned remained hidden and untouched in their drawer.

Now that they finally understood the problem it was quite the conundrum. Darling was supposed to be the Creator yet now they were not because of some gold blood requirement. What would happen to Darling? Would they accuse them of harming the "real Creator"? Hunt them down like they did to Reader? Would they come and hunt down Reader again?

Although they doubted they would be hunted down again as the "blessings of the Creator" thing, whatever that meant, Nahida told everyone else seemed to work and placate them.

"Now what?" A reader asked tiredly.

"I don't know I managed to sneak out while they were distracted but I guess they will find out soon to come and get me."

Reader grimaced and turned around to prepare to finally whisk the ingredients they were too distracted to do while they listened to Darling.

"So like did they hurt you after they found out or something?" Reader cringed at their wording. They could have said that better considering it was a serious topic.

"No they didn't they just healed me and left me in my room," Darling paused, "You should have seen some of the looks on their faces, like I killed their puppy or something. . ."

Reader tried to imagine what it was like worshipping someone only for that person not to be the god they worshiped. It must have gone bad for both parties involved. Darling was told she was a god only to be looked at in disappointment. The followers who eagerly awaited for their beloved Creator only for it to be an illusion.

"Yikes, I can't imagine it was pleasant."

"It wasn't."

They went quiet after that soon the pancakes were ready and Reader went out to serve them along with the tea. Reader had to admit they could make some good mean pancakes because Darling looked a bit better with some of the color returning to their face.

There was another knock at the door.

Another visitor? Who would come- They looked at Darling, oh right.

Darling once again looked pale and the grip on their utensils was trembling. What had they done to shake them up this much? Reader wasn't doing better either their heartbeat going frantic as unpleasant memories resurfaced. Damnit they thought they had gotten better.

"Reader it is me Nahida we need to talk, I am sorry but it is urgent."

Reader inhaled, thank the stars it was only Nahida.

They relaxed their shoulders and opened the door. Despite the rain, the Archon looked dry and Reader wondered what sort of magic they used and if they could learn it as well.

"I am sorry to interfere," she looked behind Reader, "but it seems you have the person we have been searching for," Nahida said while looking genuinely sorry.

Right, the only person Darling knew besides the acolytes in this world was the Reader. No wonder they were found out so quickly.

"Uhm- uh- How about some pancakes first?"

Nahida looked the the back of Darling who was hunched over and relented. She must have seen something as she agreed rather quickly. Reader closed the door as the Archon entered their home. Nahida approached Darling they did an elegant bow and Reader was suddenly hit that Darling was or now was the creator. Darling got someone as well respected as Nahida to bow.

Reader had seen the way people behaved in respect and reverence at Nahida and how the scholars, the Emirates, and merchants would listen and take in her input. So someone like Nahida bowing. . .

Reader never fully understood the weight and status of that position the so-called "Creator" held even after being hunted down over it.

Yet now it seemed very heavy.

How did Darling live with that?

Darling face grimaced as she saw the bow. Nahida looked worried.

"Is there something going on your grace?"

This was going to be an awkward conversation. How to explain to someone you were not the god you thought they were?

Darling looked at Reader before looking back at their untouched pancakes.

"I am not your grace Nahida I bleed red like the rest."

A tense silence followed.

Nahida to her credit seemed calm with the revelation. She had her point finger touching her mouth in a contemplative gesture.

"I see and that is why you are here."

The room was quiet for a while. Reader awkwardly wrung her hands and it was surprisingly Darling, the least stable person who spoke up again.

"Did you know?" Darling said in an accusing tone their eyebrows narrowed. Reader thought they almost looked angry. Where did that come from? How could Nahida have known if no one else including them knew?

"To be honest your-," she paused," I had my suspicions.

Wait what- That was the first Reader heard about this.

"And you did not bother to tell me! To tell anyone?!" Darling jumped up from the chair.

"Was it funny watching me being led on, all those expectations, all those promises my whole world getting fucked up - fuck can I even go back home to my family?!"

Reader jumped between them hiding Nahida behind them trying to calm Darling down who looked to be on the verge of crying or a breakdown.

"Look Darling I know you are upset, it's messed up but she didn't have anything to do with it okay? I am sure she had her reasons."

Darling took one glance at Reader's eyes and fell down on the chair, they hid their face in their arms.

"I am. . . Sorry. . . Shit."

That de-escalated quickly just as it erupted. They worry about Darling's mental health at this point.

"It is fine, I suppose this is a very difficult situation for everyone involved," said Nahida.

Reader wrung their hands together.

"Hey I know it's not the time but I did make extra pancakes let's eat first?" They tried not to sound pathetic.

The silence was their reply.

"You and your damn pancakes," Darling said and snorted.

"Hey! I only do it because I know it cheers you up!" they said and huffed.

Nahida who looked at them laughed, the previous suffocating tension was gone and Reader went up to get a plate for Nahida as well. Finally both Reader and the Archon sat down on their seat they all ate in relative silence but it wasn't as awkward as it could have been.

Once finished Reader poured some hot tea.

"Thank you Reader the pancakes were delicious I will have to ask you to let me eat them again sometime."

Reader smiled at the Archon.

"Of course, you are welcome any time."

Darling who watched them snorted. Reader looked at them with questioning eyes.

"What are you laughing at," Reader said in an accusing tone. Was Darling mocking them again?

"You speak like them now," Darling said with an amused glint in their eyes as they looked at Reader.

"Ohh, I guess I kind of do. . ."

"Nerd."

"Hey!"

Nahida once again took a look at them and laughed. Both snapped out of their bubble and looked at the Archon sheepishly.

"I am glad to see you two are getting along well, I hope both of you don't mind the topic changing to a more serious one," she looked at both of them and both nodded,"Before we start, I have a question for you Darling."

Darling looked apprehensive but nodded.

"Do the others know about you not being the creator?"

". . .Yeah they do," Darling said and looked at their empty plate.

"I see that does make things easier it is better it is out now that later knowing how overzealous some acolytes and followers can get."

Reader grimaced and Darling looked a bit defeated at the statement.

"How much do you both know about the creator?"

Reader and Darling looked at each other and it was Reader who started to speak.

"Honestly not much I avoid religious talk at all cost."

Nahida looked at Reader with sympathy.

"I guess I am the opposite I got to learn a lot, basically in each new era the creator descends into a new incarnation, and their vessel is not always the same," she paused thinking about what to say next, "They like to live peacefully with their people because of that they don't always have their powers with them but they can gain them over time, something like that"

"Yes that is most of it, it is presumed in this era the creator chose to be a normal human which we thought was you Darling. We also thought that the Creator's presence and powers were weak due to being a normal human in this incarnation. Despite you not being the Creator some part of what I said is true.

"Which part?" Darling asked.

"The part where the creator chose to be an ordinary human, despite having such a faint presence me being so attuned to Irminsul could still feel it, yet it was weak. That is why I was confused. Rather than being the Creator you Darling had gotten a blessing from the Creator."

"But how I have never met them" Darling interjected.

Nahida stared at Reader and once again Reader was reminded of those intense stares directed at them as if trying to solve a puzzle piece.

"No, the creator was - is still quite close to you."

"Wait really?" Darling looked at Nahida in confusion inching closer towards the Archon as if they went closer physically they would solve the mystery.

"Yes we are sitting beside them after all."

There was no question about who Nahida meant both she and Darling were staring at Reader.

No.

That is what Reader replied with.

Nahida shook her head.

"I am afraid it is true.

No way.

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Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin sagau #self aware au #self aware genshin #cult au #yandere #imposter au #sort of not really an imposter au #mentions of trauma #mentions of character injuring themselves (nothing major)#mentions of being hunted down #nahida #Not much is happening in this chapter to be honest #they eat pancakes and talk

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youneedsomeprompts · 7 months

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I am currently writing a story, and almost every character I’ve introduced so far uses she/her pronouns. I keep having to use their names over and over and it looks redundant and odd. I’ve used epithets a few times but I absolutely hate having to do that.

Is there any advice you have for this sort of issue, and if so, it would be great if you could share some! Thank you :)

Multiple Characters with the Same Pronouns

Having multiple characters with the same pronouns in one scene can make describing the scene a little difficult. I'm not sure if I have entirely new tips for you because you already pointed out the three most common ways to refer to a character (name, pronouns, epithets (a term used to characterise a person/thing)) and what the problems with each one can be. But I'll try my best :)

Repetition of Pronouns

First off, there is nothing wrong with using the character's pronouns a lot, as long as the reader can follow. A good thumb rule is that all fitting pronouns following the mention of a name (or an epithet) are referring to that mentioned character.

"Eleanor stormed out of the house. Her feet carried her aimlessly down the gravel path. She didn't care about the stares and she wouldn't slow down no matter what they would call after her. She had her mind made up."

This example is rather clear because there is not much back and forth between multiple characters with the same pronouns. It is very obvious that every 'she' and 'her' refers to the character named Eleanor. Now, if we have, let's say four characters in a scene that use she/her pronouns, we can still try to apply the same rule. Use an epithet or the name when the focus wanders from one character to the other. In between, when treating the same character, you can easily use their pronouns.

"Eleanor gritted her teeth. Why did she have to listen to her mother's long sermons? It wasn't fair. Everyone knew she had more important things to do. But now her mother's eyes bore even more accusingly into her. 'Do you think this is a joke, Eleanor?' Mother's voice flipped as she drew out the syllables of her daughter's name. 'Oh, leave her be, mother!' Ivy chimed in. She was always ready to defend her elder sister. She was such a sweetheart, Eleanor thought. Meredith, of course, had a different opinion. 'I don't know why Eleanor should get a different treatment than we. All she does is make trouble, and now there isn't even a consequence, or what?' She wasn't hateful, she just had a very strong sense of justice. Too strong maybe, Eleanor thought. People were different enough; a good reason to treat them individually and not by some harsh standards that Meredith so liked to set."

I don't know if this is the best example but I hope it demonstrates a way to deal with the problem. Just as using pronouns a lot, it's also alright to repeat the characters' names quite a few times. It can help the reader 're-centre' in the story and be clear about which character is actually doing what.

Epithets

As to epithets, you don't have to use them excessively if you don't like it, but I feel it can be a great way to loosen up the story a bit here and there. As you said, with quick changes of focus between the characters, there is not much possibility to use the pronouns because we have to 'reintroduce' the characters whenever the focus of action changes. We don't always want to use their name for that. So? Epithets? Maybe it helps to find the right epithets for your story. Maybe it doesn't feel cohesive to use attributes like 'the red-haired woman' or 'the grim-looking, old man'. Maybe it fits the story more to use the characters' roles like 'the teacher' or 'the butler'. I think when using the fitting epithets it can feel so coherent that you don't even notice them. E.g. Of course, character X is the driver, so we refer to them as the driver every now and then. Of course, character Y is the father of Z, so we can use epithets referring to their parental role. This, for example, can feel very natural, but what exactly feels natural is individual to every story/scene. It can be one way to look for the epithets that are most natural to the character to not interrupt the flow of the story. Or it can be another way to look for the epithets that most set the character apart from the other characters to make a clear distinction of who exactly is acting right now. You can make this choice again and again with every new sentence. And of course, there are a lot more ways to categorise and choose epithets (I could maybe make another post about that if there is interest). But I hope this may already help a little :)

Let me know if you have more questions about this topic!

#writing advice #writing tips #writing help #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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sook9i · 11 months

Text

— I SAID LOOK

. . . GENRE ! yeonjun x afab!reader | smut

. . . CONTAINS ! dom!yj, sub!reader, implied edging, fingering, mirror sex, choking, yj kinda rough, some marking (tried to keep readers skin color ambiguous as possible tho is it described that red from bite marks can be seen), finger sucking 😞, reader naked while jun is still semi-clothed, reader is a little…dazed, pet names (yeonjun called junnie; reader called baby, darling, handsome, pretty, & cute), i think that’s it lmk if i missed anything !

. . . WORD COUNT ! 772

. . . NOTES ! I hope you enjoy our first fic !! yeonjun posted that fucking photo and i lost all coherent thought 😵‍💫

. . . ADMIN ! written by fairy cal 🐱

“Come on, baby.” The voice is silky, devilish, right up behind your ear. “Look at me.”

Your head is filled to the brink with fog. All senses dulled and yet turned up to one hundred. The firm feeling of his thighs spread out beneath yours is driving you crazy. Yet the sound of his command swims in and out of your ears, never sticking. Your only response is to let out a high-pitched whine as you struggle to grind your hips back into his.

The movement is quickly brought to end as he delivers a sharp slap to the inside of your thigh, drawing out a gasp.

“No, darling,” His hand travels up your thigh and over your hips and stomach, fingers fleeting on your bare sternum, until a strong grip takes hold of your chin. “I said look.”

Your head is yanked away from his comforting shoulder, forced forward straight at the mirror. Yeonjun’s half-lidded eyes meet yours in the reflection. His black tresses dangle down into his sight-light, drawing more attention to the sly smirk hanging on his lips.

Oh how proud he is of himself to have you like this.

Focusing on yourself in the full-length, you see just how much damage he’s already done. Your neck is littered in red, unlikely to disappear for the next couple of days; Your thighs draped wide on top of his reveal the leaking wet in between them. He has you completely naked, while only his top remains bare. Looking into your eyes, the gaze is far away and you let out another soft whine. His other hand, draped upon your lap, inches ever closer to where you need him most. Still, he continues to refuse you.

He’d been so tired coming back into the hotel room. Shoulders sagging, eyes heavy, you wanted to do anything you could to make him feel better. Thinking maybe a massage or running him a bath perhaps. Three ruined orgasms later, you can barely think beyond how desperate you are for his touch.

“Aren’t you so handsome? Look at how pretty I’ve made my baby.” Suddenly so much more energetic the moment he had you in his lap, quickly submitting to every touch.

Two long fingers poke at your lips, signaling you to open them. You gladly do, letting the rough pads run across your tongue, pushing down the back of your throat. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. The gag reflex pushes back up your throat, you swallow it as it’s replaced with a whiny moan.

He pulls the fingers away and you quickly peel your eyes back open, watching dazedly as he trails them down to your clit. Keeping with a soft touch, he begins circling the nub, barely pressing down. He moves at a torturous pace. A mewl breaks out of your lips, squeaky and needy. The deep vibrations of his chuckle shake against your back. Every movement of his bare skin against you drives you deeper into a haze. The two fingers dip further down, spreading slick up and down your folds, toying at your wanting entrance.

“J-Junnie, please! Please, I’ll be so so good for you! Promise-Just please give me anything, please!” Your voice hikes up, feeling tears begin to bubble up in your eyes. Need taking over, your hips buck against his hold, trying for any sort of relief you can get.

“God,” Fingernails dig into your sides as he stops your movements. “You’re so fucking cute.”

In a moment his lips swallow up yours. Eating up every delicious moan that spills out once he finally pushes his fingers into you. The pace he sets is fast revealing a need comparable to yours. Two fingers stretch out your walls again and again with a slight sting, yet you still want more. Yeonjun seems to think the same as he soon adds in another. That draws out a moan which he lets ring out, pulling away from your lips and back down to your neck. There his teeth scrape on the red skin. Pain fogs up your senses until it leaks into aphrodisiacal pleasure. Bombarded with so many sensations when he places his thumb back to roll circles around your clit; your head lolls back onto his shoulder and your eyes screw shut. The sounds you release grow higher and louder with every second past. Your high creeps up closer and closer, so close to finally getting there.

Yeonjun’s free hand soon finds purchase tight around your neck; grip harsh when he squeezes and forces your head back up. “I told you to look, baby. Watch how I ruin you.”

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catscidr · 3 months

Note

I think we have all seen the "Argenti thinks the Reader is Idrila" stuff on here. But what if the reader actually is Idrila? So I wanted to request Argenti/Idrila!Reader (gn or afab reader) headcanons or a oneshot where Idrila, who has taken on a mortal identity after [Insert tragic event here], and meets Argenti. They develop feelings for each other, Argenti finds out she is Idrila, they end up dating. (Maybe or maybe not in that specific order) I thought maybe after protecting her followers from Nanook she disappeared to ensure Nanook doesn't target them anymore? That part isn't as important so feel free to add whatever backstory you think fits^^ Thank you in advance, I really like your writing!

NONNIE omg im booting up star rail rn to stare at him lovingly. also i changed the scenario a smidge so reader is her own person while also being idrila? if that makes sense......?? yeah. also bc otherwise id be writing ten thousand words n i didnt want ur ask to grow dusty in my inbox d(;∀;d) but tysm for the prompt i couldn’t stop thinking about it ueue. also hey gang peep me trying to make my blog look more coherent n nicer looking. am i doin it ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: a smidge of amnesia and soulmate trope (it’s not that bad, trust), fluff, love at first sight (does that even count in this scenario....), argenti and reader are dancing around the topic a lot bc argenti is a gentleman and doesn’t want to pressure her to talk. blurbs to set up the plot + a fic after them hehe. not proofread, writer’s block is killing me includes: fem reader (he refers to reader as "my lady"), argenti, natasha, luocha is kinda there wc: 2,3k

-ˋˏ You’d go to Natasha’s clinic at least once every other day because you always had the worst migraines. To the point where you almost got beat up by a Flamespawn one time when you were clearing out calyxes (thankfully there was a Silvermane guard patrolling the area, otherwise you would’ve been charred). The doctor always says the same thing; “Stop looking for fights so often”, “Let your body rest”, “I can’t prescribe you antibiotics”, and your favorite, “Stop slamming my door open I can’t do anything about your headaches”. She was a good friend, but whenever she repeated how she couldn’t be of any help to your predicament, you’d wish you could just take that glass vial hanging from her outfit and chuck it far, far away out of spite.

-ˋˏ Obviously it wasn’t her fault- she'd done everything she could. Natasha even had you undergo the Underworld’s equivalent of an MRI scan because of how frequently you would visit her, insisting that something was wrong. The symptoms consisted of forgetting important things too often, feeling a foreign buzz in your limbs and brain, having a sudden burst of elemental energy come out of your attacks and a myriad of benign but annoying, irritating signs that something was up with you.

-ˋˏ It became more of a chore than anything to leave your room. Some days you felt fine, but then when you’d go out again and beat up wave after wave of enemies in Caverns of Corrosion you would keel over, clutching your head while vague images of what could only be described as a fever dream ran through your mind.

-ˋˏ You decided to leave the Underworld for some time- considering your absence like some sort of “vacation”. You heard of a wandering doctor (and merchant, apparently) by the name of Luocha and, from the people that crossed paths with him, it seemed like he was extraordinary at his job. A trek to the Xianzhou Luofu would be a long one, but after weighing your options you thought you’d give it a try (it was worth it if it meant you’d stop waking up at ungodly hours, holding your head in your hands while hoping, praying that the pain stops.)

-ˋˏ You (somehow) made your way to the Xianzhou Luofu from Jarilo-VI. As competent as you were however, being stranded on a foreign planet with no map nor local to guide you was... a challenge. In retrospect, maybe you should’ve gotten in contact with that Luocha doctor and had him come to Belobog instead of you going to him since, well, he was a traveling merchant. Going from planet to planet is what he does (you assume).

✧✧✧

If you had read up more on general information about the Luofu you would have been aware of how many enemies were roaming around the docking area. But you didn’t. So, unbeknownst to you, a rogue mara-struck soldier was on your tail, trying to sneak up to you to snag the goods you hid in your bag (which were basically just different types of painkillers and sustenance that bodes well on an upset stomach. He doesn’t know that though.)

Your head was throbbing; ever since you set foot on the planet, your physical health had slowly dropped down to levels you wouldn’t be enduring if it wasn’t for the promise of a competent doctor once you get to the main city. Painkillers weren’t working, your feet hurt and to make matters worse, you felt the familiar lack of something in your head. It was so bad to the point where you had to have a tangible mark somewhere to remind you that you did, in fact, just take something for your headache and if you took two more painkillers, your body wouldn’t agree with your decision. It was a struggle even remembering what you did five minutes ago, no way were you going to be in top shape, beating up every enemy crossing your way.

Clouds began covering the bright sun, casting shadows over the desolate, geometric area. You huff, irritated that, from the looks of it, you won’t be able to find a cozy place to set up camp. Though sleeping on a ground made of primarily iron and steel was considerably less nerve-wracking than sleeping on the mushy, cold, dirty ground of Jarilo-VI. So, with a pout aimed at no one in particular, you find some place that you deemed decent enough to set your humble tent. It wasn’t often that adventurers slept outside of safe zones, however with your condition you couldn’t afford to miss out on some rest and possibly get even more lost than you already are.

You set your heavy backpack down, rolling your shoulders to soothe the ache in your muscles from carrying something so bulky. As you ruffle through your belongings, you open a bottled soda and take a swift gulp, sighing contentedly at the pleasant taste on your tongue. Now that you were sat and could rest your bones (until you started setting up your tent, at least), your ears were able to pick up on some not-so-distant footsteps.

There’s no time for you to react; the mara-struck soldier that had been following you lunges at you, aiming for your bag. Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to yell, but before any sound can leave your mouth, a long, red and gold spear pierces the ground between you and the rabid man, making you yelp in surprise. You scurry as far back as you can in your current state; however, the soldier doesn’t have time to take advantage of your weakened stature. The owner of the spear lodges himself before your shaking figure and the mara-struck, yanking his spear out of the ground with impressive elegance, and summons an array of thorny vines to catch your assailant.

It takes little to no effort for the seasoned fighter to take down the mara-struck as he swings his weapon, swiftly knocking the blunt end on the soldier’s plexus, knocking the wind out of him. A strangled scream leaves his throat as he scampers away, leaving your belongings safe with you and the strange red-haired man. He lowers his spear, careful to keep the sharp edge far from you, and turns around to face you properly. His brows raise a smidge for a split second before he composes himself and bows before you, the action short and curt.

“It would have been a shame to lose a beauty such as yourself,” he says smoothly, straightening his back to look down at you with a warm smile. He stretches his hand out, a polite offer to help you stand up, as he continues speaking. “My name is Argenti, I belong to the Knights of Beauty. What might you be doing so far away from civilization, dear...?” he trails off, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

You were in a state of shock, your mind still processing what had happened in such a short amount of time, that you failed to notice the lack of pain at the back of your head. As you meekly tell him your name, you hold onto his hand to help yourself up- as soon as his armored glove comes in contact with your hand something flashes in your mind; too quick to allow you to think about it too much, or to recognize what you saw for a millisecond.

“So far away from civilization... do you know how to get to the city?” you ask as you feel a glimmer of hope spark in you. His words were refreshing, probably the best thing someone has ever said to you in the past month. He nods, reaching into his pocket to fish out a blue handkerchief embroidered with a delicate gold trim. Argenti hands it over to you and you gratefully take it, blotting the sweat and... dust off of your face.

“I have made my way around the Luofu for long enough to show someone the way,” he says kindly. “Besides, even if I didn’t, I would still offer to accompany you through your trek. It is my duty as a Knight of Beauty, for I must uphold chivalry and distinguished manners, in the name of the Goddess guiding me.” His words resonate within you, making you beam, nodding in understanding.

Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the knight. As you hand his handkerchief back, he smiles at you and gestures to your bag. “What brings you so far from your homeworld, my lady?” Argenti asks gently, though a glimmer of doubt swirls in his sparkling, verdant eyes. The question makes you pause, a memory flashing in your mind too suddenly for you to know what it meant. Although, from what you could tell, you knew you could trust him with what troubled you somehow.

“Ah, it’s a long story,” you start sheepishly, “I’ve been having these incredibly painful migraines recently. And sometimes I feel like my memory is fading too quickly for what would be considered normal,” you say, trailing off slightly at the end. “I’m looking for a healer, a doctor by the name of Luocha...?”

Somehow, the doctor was currently the least of your worries. You’d never felt so refreshed before, at least not that you could remember; simply being in Argenti’s presence seemed to be enough to make your aches disappear like a starskiff smoothly gliding through a cloudless sky.

“I’ve seen the man only a handful of times,” Argenti mutters aloud, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I can do my best to guide you to him, but if I may... you don’t seem to be injured?” the knight says, his voice trailing off into a questioning tone despite the observation. You shake your head, wondering how you should explain your predicament to the man.

“Like I said, it’s a long story,” you say again, shrugging sheepishly. You wondered if you should even go into the nitty gritty- he could always just be making small talk to help you get comfortable or something. Sensing your unease, he changes the spotlight to him instead.

“There’s no need to delve into details if you wish to keep them secret,” he says with a kind smile, bending down to take ahold of your hand- gently pressing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. Red flushes your ears immediately, words caught in your throat at the sight of his hair cascading over his shoulders, a beautiful contrast from the gold and silver armor glittering in what was left of the sunlight.

“As for myself, like I mentioned earlier, I am a Knight of Beauty. I’m on a quest to find my dear Goddess Idrila once more, for I need to pay my respects to them after they saved me from a particularly grim fate.” His words echoed in your mind, your brows knitting together as you felt what could only be described as a cold bucket of water being dunked on your head. “I-Idrila?” you parrot, your voice coming out as a choked noise. Argenti perks up, the hand that had been softly holding onto yours now holding it with a firmer grip, his other hand joining it.

“Yes, Idrila. Have you ever heard of them? Or...” he trails off, looking deep into your eyes expectantly, almost as if he knew something you didn’t. His eyes seemed to suck you in, bringing a comfortable wave of warmth over you, making you yearn for something.

“I...” you begin, your gaze falling down to look at your feet. As you thought long and hard about what you wanted to say, what you tried to remember, you slowly look over to his spear, lying flat on the ground- long forgotten since the fight earlier. As if a lightbulb went off above your head, you perk up just as he did, and look at him, beaming. The words were caught in your throat; there was so much you wanted to say, to declare, to do in this moment of clarity, but with how fast your mind was running to catch you up on the current events of your life it was a struggle.

“Argenti,” you murmur, the name rolling off your tongue smoothly, as you realized seeing the traveling merchant was no longer required. Though the road might have been arduous, and you may have almost lost your mind in the process, being with Argenti suddenly made everything make sense. That’s why your migraines mysteriously disappeared as soon as you were in the knight’s presence, that’s why you had gaps in your memory, that’s why you were freakishly powerful... at convenient times.

Everything clicked into place.

The both of you share a pregnant pause, eyes locked together as the world seemed to come to a stop around you. If it were possible, you’re sure there would be delicate, silky rose petals floating around your figures, suspended in the air. You glance down at his lips, and for the first time, make a decision with a clear head.

His lips felt smooth against yours, the faint taste of vanilla mixed with roses transferring to your own lips. The kiss almost felt like it could be the result of a symbiotic relationship; now that you had Argenti, or at least had him by your side once again, you didn’t think you’d be able to continue on without him.

#i may or may not have butchered the ending bc i DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THEM /SOBS #i did my best #୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #argenti x reader #argenti x fem reader #argenti x you #argenti x y/n

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literary-illuminati · 3 months

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2024 Book Review #6 – Exordia by Seth Dickinson

This is a book I have been looking forward to for quite literally years, from someone who is easily one of my favourite working authors. I also read the short story the book was expanded out from before I even knew it was going to be a book, and so went in spoiled on the broad strokes of what turned out to be the climax of the whole thing. All to say my opinion on this is unlikely to match that of the typical reader, I guess.

Anyway, Exordia is a glorious spectacular mess that has no right to cohere anywhere near as well as it does. It’s target audience is small, but I’m certainly somewhere in it. Please ignore all the marketing it’s so bad you have to wonder if someone at Tor just has it out for the author.

Exordia is a, well, a profoundly difficult book to give any sort of plot summary for. The first act involves Anna, a 30-something survivor of the Anfal Genocide now living a rather unimpressive life in New York City, until one day in the early 2010s she sees an alien eating the turtles in Central Park. Then there’s a cat-and-mouse hunt between terrifying alien snake-centaurs for the future of free will in the galaxy, and the plot jumping to kurdistan, and six more POV characters from as many different nations, and nuclear weapons, and oh so many people dying messily. The first act is an oddly domestic and endearing piece of table setting, the second is (to borrow the idiom of the book’s own marketing) Tom Clancy meets Jeff Vandermeer or Roadside Picnic, and the third is basically impossible to describe without a multipage synopsis, but mostly concerned with ethical dilemmas and moral injuries. It’s to the book’s credit that it never bats an eye at shifting focus and scale, but it does make coming to grips with it difficult.

This is, as they say, a thematically dense book, but it’s especially interested in the fallout of imperialism. The Obama-era ‘don’t do stupid shit’ precise and sterile form of it in particular – the book’s a period piece for a reason, after all. The ethics of complicity – of being offered the choice of murdering and betraying those around you or having an alien power with vastly superior destructive powers inflict an order of magnitude more misery to you, them, and everyone in the same general vicinity to punish you for the inconvenience – is one that gets a lot of wordcount. It is not an accident that the man most willing and able to collaborate with the overwhelming powerful alien empire in hopes of bargaining some future for humanity is the National Security Council ghoul who came out of organizing surveillance information for the drone wars. It’s also not a coincidence that the main (if only by a hair) protagonist is someone with a lot of bitter memories over how the US encouraged Iraq’s kurdish population to rebel in the ‘90s and then just washed their hands and let them be massacred (the book couldn’t actually ship with a historical primer on modern kurdish history, so it’s woven into the story in chunks with varying amount of grace. But it is in fact pretty thematically key here).

Speaking of complicity, the book’s other overriding preoccupation in (in the broadest sense) Trolley Problems. Is it better to directly kill a small number of people or, through your inaction, allow a larger number to die? Does it matter is the small number is your countrymen and the larger foreigners, or vice versa? What about humans and aliens? Does it matter whether the choice is submitting to subjugation or killing innocents as a means to resist it? What about letting people around you die to learn the fundamental truth of the cosmos? Does the calculus change when you learn that immortal souls (and hell) are real? This is the bone the story is really built around chewing on.

All that probably makes the text seem incredibly didactic, or at least like a philosophical dialogue disguised as a novel. Which really isn’t the case! The book definitely has opinions, but none of the characters are clear author-avatars, and all perspectives are given enough time and weight to come across as seriously considered and not just as cardboard cutouts to jeer at. Okay, with the exception of one of the two aliens who you get the very strong sense is hamming it up as a cartoon villain just for the of it (he spends much of the book speaking entirely in all caps). There definitely are a couple points where it feels like the books turning and lecturing directly at the reader, but they’re both few and fairly short.

The characters themselves are interesting. They’re all very flawed, but more than that they’re all very...embodied, I guess? Distracted with how hot someone is, concerned with what they ate that morning or the smell of something disgusting, still not over an ex from years ago. Several of them are also sincerely religious in a way that’s very true to life to actual people but you rarely see in books. The result is that basically comes as being far more like actual humans than I’m at all used to in most fiction (of course, a lot of those very human qualities get annoying or eye-roll inducing fairly quickly. But hey, that’s life). Though that’s all mostly the case at the start of the book – the fact that the main cast are slowly turning into caricatures of themselves as they’re exposed to the alien soul manipulation technology is actually a major plot point, which I’m like fifty/fifty on being commentary on what happens to the image and legacy of people as they’re caught up in grand narratives versus just being extended setup for a joke about male leads in technothrillers being fanfic shipbait.

Part of the characters seeming very human is that some (though by no means all) of the POVs are just incredibly funny, in that objectively fucked up and tasteless way that people get when coping with overwhelming shock or trauma. It’s specifically because the jokes are so in-your-face awful that they fit, I think? It manages to avoid the usual bathetic trap a lot of works mixing in humour with drama fall into, anyway.

Speaking of alien soul manipulation technology – okay, you know how above I said that the points where the book directly lectured the reader were few and far between. This is true for lectures about politics or morality. All the freed up space in this 530 page tome is instead used for technobabble about theoretical math. Also cellular biology, cryptography, entropics, the organization of the American security state, how black holes work, and a few dozen other things. This book was edited for accuracy by either a doctoral student from every physical science and an award winning mathematician, or else just by one spectacularly confident bullshitter with several hundred hours on wikipedia. Probably both, really. I did very much enjoy this book, but that is absolutely predicated on the fact that when I knew when to let my eyes glaze over and start skimming past the proper nouns.

The book has a fairly complete narrative arc in its own right, but the ending also screams out for a sequel, and quite a lot of the weight and meaning of the book’s climax does depend on followthrough and resolution in some future sequel. Problematically, the end of the book also includes a massive increase in scale, and any sequel would require a whole new setting and most of a new cast of characters, so I’m mildly worried how long it will be before we get it (if ever).

The book is also just very...I’m not sure flabby is the right word, but it is doing many many different things, and I found some of them far more interesting than others. I’m not sure whether Dickinson just isn’t great at extended action scenes or if I am just universally bored by drawn out Tom Clancy fantasies, but either way there were several dozen pages too many of them. The extended cultural digressions about the upbringing and backstories of each of the seven POVs were meanwhile very interesting! (Mostly, I got bored of the whole Erik-Clayton-Rosamaria love triangle Madonna complex thing about a tenth of the way into the book but it just kept going.) It did however leave the book very full of extended tangents and digressions, even beyond what the technobabble did. Anna herself, ostensibly the main protagonist, is both utterly thematically loadbearing but very often feels entirely vestigial to the actual, like, plot, brought along for the ride because she’s an alien terrorist’s favourite of our whole species of incest-monkeys. The end result is, if not necessarily unfocused, then at least incredibly messy, flitting back and forth across a dozen topics that on occasion mostly just seem unified by having caught the author’s interest as they wrote.

It’s interesting to compare the book to Anna Saves It All, the short story it was based on – quite a lot changed! But that’s beyond the scope of this already overlong review. So I guess I’ll just say make sure to read the book first, if you’re going to.

#book review #exordia #seth dickinson #lesbian space atrocities #sff

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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Heart Out

AN | Once again, no one asked for this. Absolutely no one, but here we are - bone app the teeth. Basically - in which you meet Peter Parker, fall in love, accidentally fall pregnant, and have everything blow up in your face…or so it appears ❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Pregnant!Reader

Word Count | 6.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hello there,” you shrieked at the sound of the warm voice, clutching at your heart as you turned to find the source of your heart attack. Turned out that the man standing across the hall with a cheeky smile on his was about to give you another heart attack. Holy fuck - he was gorgeous. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, any coherent thought already out of your head, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming.”

“N-no,” you stammered out dumbly, unable to say anything else. Well then; he probably already thought you were a complete idiot, “I just, umm, didn’t h-hear you.”

“I’ll be louder next time,” he grinned, and his face took on a boyish quality. Funny; he could go from ridiculously handsome to outrageously cute in a matter of moments, “I just wanted to introduce myself - you just moved in right? I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Peter,” you repeated softly and oh. He shouldn’t have you feeling this type of way already. You offered him your name, which he also repeated, testing it out to get a feel for it. You liked the way it sounded coming from him, “I moved in last week. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sweetheart,” and there he was, already hitting you with the nicknames. The audacity, “if you ever need anything at all, feel free to let me know. You’re welcome any time, day or night.”

“T-thanks,” your mind absolutely did not have to go and immediately think about going over to his place late at night when you needed something and then - no. Nope. You were definitely not going to let your thoughts go there, “that’s very kind of you.”

“You’re new to the building - it’s nice to know at least one person,” he shrugged lightly, “and maybe make a new friend. But I mean it, my door’s open - metaphorically - anytime.”

“Well, thank you again, Peter,” you opened your door and turned around to cast one last little wave goodbye, “see you around - have a good night.”

“You too, honey.”

Peter stood and watched you close your door, not moving until he heard you lock it. A soft little smile settled on his face as he went back into his own apartment. He didn’t mean to be so invasive, but curiosity - and his spidey senses - got the better of him and he listened to you shuffle around your apartment, muttering softly under your breath. Damn; he liked you already.

He’d known you when you moved but had been tempted to come over and help, but he also didn’t want to scare you off either. But he had also just offered himself up to you practically 24/7….maybe it was too late. Either way, he hoped he’d get to see you again.

Meanwhile in your apartment, you were trying not to have a breakdown. How did you manage to fuck up a simple conversation? He probably thought you were an idiot; he probably didn’t even want you to come over. Peter seemed like he was the type of guy that was nice to everyone. Maybe you could just avoid him forever and pretend this never happened.

“Peter Parker,” you whispered to yourself, flopping on the couch and pulling out your phone. A little online…research wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? You cast a furtive look around, as though he was suddenly going to appear in your doorway, “let’s see what you’re about.”

Several background episodes of some old TV show, a helping of chocolate, and over an hour of online snooping, you’d found out a lot about Peter Parker. He was some sort of genius scientist by day, an amateur photographer on the side, and apparently a huge geek. Ugh. As if you needed more reasons to like him. How could he be hot, smart, and nerdy? Unfair.

You closed out every app and tossed your phone to the side before sighing heavily. This might prove to be harder than you’d thought. Peter Parker was going to be a menace…you could just feel it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As fate would have it, your plan to avoid Peter Parker did not go well. It did not go well at all.

From the first time you met him, you seemed to run into him all the time; leaving for or coming from work, in the laundry, even out in public. At first you had tried to play it off and keep interactions brief, but the more you kept seeing him the more you wondered if it was all a sense of timing…or was it fate?

Either way, you stopped questioning; you allowed yourself to become friends with Peter. Friends that just so happened to be flirty with each other. Which was totally normal…who didn’t flirt with their friends every once in a while. Right? Right. What happened between the two of you would happen and you decided to let things flow naturally.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That all came to a head one chilly winter night.

It was later in the evening and you were winding down for the day when your heating went out. And as luck would have it, it was just cold enough that you needed the heater. You had no clue how to fix it and it would be too late to call the maintenance line and your mind only went out to one thing, or one person rather, Peter.

You pulled on a hoodie and toed on your slippers before padding across the hall. There was a moment of hesitation as you raised your hand but couldn’t quite bring yourself to knock. Before you could make a decision one way or the other, the door opened and Peter stood on the other side, “hi.”

“H-hey,” you hadn’t even made a sound and yet he still knew you were at the door…weird. But that was the least of your concerns at the moment. You were desperately trying not to stare at him too closely; he was wearing a pair of sinful gray sweatpants and a well fitted t-shirt. The urge to throw yourself at him was ridiculous.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

Right. You were here for something entirely different. You mentally slapped yourself before nodding, “I’m sorry for coming so late, and I don’t even know if you’d be able to help but my heating went out and I have no clue what to do. Umm...you know what, it’s okay. I-I’ll figure it out.”

You’d turned to leave, regretting your decision to bother him, but before you could run away, you felt his long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist. You turned to him with wide eyes and he shook his head lightly, “you’re in luck. I happen to be very handy with things like this.”

“Is that because of all the science-y things you do?” you blurted it out before thinking about it as he raised his eyebrows. Right. You weren’t supposed to know about what he did for a living…it had never really come up. You also weren’t supposed to give the fact that you’d stalked him on the internet, “j-just because you seem like a STEM guy. ‘s all.”

Smooth.

“I do happen to be a STEM guy,” he grinned, “let me come over and take a look. I’m sure it’ll be an easy fix - the heating here is just a little finicky.”

“Thank you,” you slinked back to your apartment, handsome man in tow. You were glad that you’d just cleaned up and everything was tidy. Peter looked so good in your apartment and it made the whole domestic daydream hard to ignore, “I’m assuming the heaters are in the same spot. So…yeah. Can I help with anything - get you anything?”

“I’ve got it,” he promised, already walking into the living room where your heater was, “it shouldn’t take too long.”

You made a small sound of acknowledgement as you retreated into the kitchen, deciding to finish up the dishes you had started…while stealing glances at him. It was hard to ignore such an attractive piece of art in your own home. At one point he stretched and his shirt rode up, revealing the patch of hair under his belly button that disappeared under the waistband of his sweats. A wistful little sigh escaped your lips, which you quickly covered up with a cough. You swore you could see a little smirk on his face.

To your delight and chagrin, Peter really was handy and had the heating kicked on and working well in a short period of time. He turned back to you with a triumphant smile and jazz hands, “ta-da! All working again…and probably better than before. Simple circuit issue.”

“I…wow, thank you so much,” you smiled softly, “that’s really kind of you. How can I repay you? Whatever you want, name it and it’s yours.”

Peter’s smile grew bigger and he seriously wanted to answer with a simple you. But instead he shook his head and brushed off your concern, “don’t mention - really, it was nothing. Plus, it gives me a chance to see you again. It’s been a bit...almost like you were avoiding me. Did I do something to scare you off?”

He’d come over now and was standing across from you, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. Peter could read you like a book already and it was just all too easy for him. You bit the inside of your cheek and just shook your head, “n-no, Peter. Of course not, I’ve just been…busy. And didn’t feel the need to bother you.”

“You didn’t feel the need or didn’t want to?” he asked softly, his voice so warm and low that felt like he should be whispering those words directly in your ear. You swallowed thickly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “tell me, sweetheart.”

“Didn’t want to,” you confessed shyly, “didn’t want you to get tired or annoyed with me.”

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of you,” how you’d come to be right in front of him was a mystery but you found yourself looking up into his pretty brown eyes. He reached up and touched your face, brushing his knuckles across your cheek before trailing his fingers along your jaw and down your neck, “sweet, sweet girl.”

“Peter,” he was still new to you, still so much to discover and learn but you already felt like you’d known him for a lifetime. It was such a strange feeling, such a magnetic pull and you didn’t even want to bother fighting it.

“Hmm?” his face was close to yours, and you could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelled so deliciously warm and soft that you wanted to wrap yourself in his clothes and wanted him all over you, “tell me what you need, honey.”

“Kiss me?” you asked sweetly, “please?”

He answered your simple request by pressing his lips to yours in what started off as a saccharine, soft little thing. With even the slightest taste of him, you were already addicted to him. A little gasp escaped your lips as you looked back at him and found him watching with equal curiosity and tenderness.

And then it happened so fast - he was all over you and you jumped into his arms, letting him kiss you dizzy and leave a lavender haze across your skin. His touch was electric and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so alive. He picked you and carried you to your bedroom so effortlessly, and you felt so soft and delicate in his arms. Your lips barely broke contact as he gently laid you on the bed, looking down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

He gently brushed your hair out of your face, resting his hand on your cheek and leaned into his touch, “we don’t have to-”

“I want this,” you promised softly, “I want you, Peter.”

That was all he needed before caging you in between his arms, leaning down to kiss you more. You could easily - and did - spend hours under him, letting him kiss you and touch every which way It felt like a dream, a sweet fantasy that your lust addled brain had conjured up, but the soft moan and whimpers you were drawing from him reminded you that this was all very real.

“Peter,” his name had never sounded as sweet as it did when it fell reverently from your lips, “please.”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he promised, nosing along your jaw before placing a kiss to your lips, “I’ve got you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d believed him. You’d believed every sweet word whispered in your ear, every little moan and whimper exchanged that he’d meant them all.

But when you woke up the next morning, golden sunshine and soft bird chirps streaming into your bedroom, you rolled over and fully expected to find his warm body next to yours. But instead you found a chilly emptiness. Strange. You hadn’t even heard him get up, let alone leave you. A pang settled in your stomach as you slid out of bed, feeling the dull ache between your legs as you slid on your shirt from last night.

“Peter?” you padded your way into the hall and kitchen looking for any signs of life; unfortunately you found nothing. A pout worked its way onto your face as you looked around, and in a much smaller voice you spoke into the nothingness, “Peter?”

But he was long gone and you already knew that. There was no note, no anything. You scrubbed a hand over your tired face before sighing to yourself. You should have known - of course it was too good to be true. Peter Parker wasn’t into you and he hadn’t felt any sort of connection. He’d just wanted to have sex…and you’d given right in.

“Dumb, pathetic girl,” you chided yourself before moving to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. You wanted to scrub off every last bit of Peter from your body and home. You decided to let yourself cry and wallow in self-pity while showering; after that it was back to business as usual. Maybe you’d get an answer from Peter later. Maybe you’d find out that this was all some sort of weird misunderstanding. You still had hope that Peter would turn out to be everything you had dreamed he would be.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But…you never got the chance to ask what happened or for him to give you a proper explanation. By mid-afternoon of the day he’d just left, you went over to his apartment and knocked on his door; there was no answer. You figured that he might not have been home, which was fair enough. You decided to just wait for him - he had to come home at some point.

It just wasn’t that day. You didn’t hear him come or go, which just left you more curious than ever.

The day after brought about a new work week, and you knew, from your previous comings and goings that he worked a similar schedule to yours. And yet you still didn’t see him that week. Now you were just getting worried about him. In the few months you’d lived in the building, you’d seen him constantly; it wasn’t like him to just up and disappear. If nothing you figured he might have told you that he was leaving or going to be gone.

It wasn’t until about three weeks later that you’d caught sight of him again. You experienced an odd combination of relief and annoyance when you caught him getting back into his apartment as you came home from dinner with some friends.

“Peter?” your soft voice caught him off guard and he tensed up immediately. He was so lost in his own thoughts that even his heightened senses didn’t detect you. He exhaled shakily as he turned around to face you. You looked so torn at seeing him again, “you’re here. You’re okay…”

“Yeah,” he nodded and cleared his throat. He seemed so different from the man you’d seen last time. He looked more tired too, his hair shaggier and stubble littered his face, “listen-”

“Where did you go?” he could hear the hurt in your voice and it broke his heart, “t-that morning…you were just gone. And then you were gone for weeks. I got so worried…”

He knew this was coming; that’s why he’d spent the last couple of weeks actively avoiding you. Peter hadn’t been gone - he’d just relied on Spider-Man prowess to be able to get into his apartment unseen. He’d spent more nights than he cared to admit sitting near his door and tuning in to you. He just…couldn’t bring himself to face you.

“I’m fine,” but he most definitely wasn’t, “I’m sorry about that night, okay? It shouldn’t have happened, but I’m fine. You’re fine. We can put it behind us and move on…”

“I…what do you mean?” your heart broke at his words and you wished the ground would open up and swallow you, “Peter - can we just talk about this?”

“I’m busy, I’m sorry,” he opened his door and stepped inside his apartment as you stared at him with teary eyes, “I’m sorry.”

He closed the door and locked it before you could say anything else. You stared at the door, processing what had just happened while tears pearled up and ran down your cheeks. How could he just play you off like that? Basically acting like nothing happened. This didn’t feel like Peter - not the Peter you’d come to know and, if you were being honest with yourself, love.

Peter leaned against the door sighing deeply to himself as he listened to your sniffles as you walked into your own apartment. He never wanted to hear you cry again, he especially never wanted to be the cause of your tears again.

“Fuck,” he sighed to himself, “fuck.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You thought that things couldn’t get worse after Peter all but dumped you, as a friend and potential lover, but once again you had been wrong.

Very wrong.

I’ve missed two periods wrong. You thought maybe the test was wrong, that the white plastic stick proclaiming pregnant was giving you a false positive. But the six other tests that said the same thing probably weren’t all wrong.

“Fuck,” you tossed the test angrily into your trash can before doing the same thing with the rest of the tests. You couldn’t stand looking at them any longer, have them taunting you mercilessly, “fuck me.”

While it was real, it didn’t feel real real until you left the doctor’s office the following week. They had simply confirmed what you already knew deep down. You were eight weeks pregnant with Peter Parker’s baby. Talk about life throwing you for a loop. But, like without most things in life, except for what happened with Peter, you decided to be rational and figure it all out.

You needed a plan - as long as you had a plan things would work out.

You were at a good place in life and with your career that financially you’d be able to afford a baby. You had a spare room in your apartment that served as a makeshift office that could be a nursery. You had a few close friends and family members that would be able to support you throughout your pregnancy. Realistically, the biggest decision you had to make was whether or not you wanted to keep the baby.

Would you be able to stand living across the hall from Peter while you had his kid? Would he even ask questions and put two and two together? Maybe you could look for a different apartment soon. There was much to think about and much to do, but as long as you made a plan and stuck to it, things would work out.

They had to work out…fuck, you hoped things worked out.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Three months later found you doing better than you’d thought. You’d decided to keep the baby but were still on the fence about moving. The more time that passed, the more you thought moving was the right idea.

You’d tried to tell Peter as soon as you got confirmation of your pregnancy from the doctor. He might have hated you, but he still deserved to know. You wanted him to have the opportunity to choose whether or not he wanted to be in the kid’s life. Even if you didn’t get along, he deserved the choice. Part of you still wondered what had caused the sudden shift in his attitude towards you, but never found out. He avoided you like the plague and if he did see you for some reason he would give you a small hello or pretend that he didn’t see you.

After all this time it still stung. And it was the only reason that he still didn’t know you were pregnant. The thing was, you wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer - but who knew if he would even notice. It almost felt like a weird, cruel joke at this point.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a random Wednesday afternoon that you happened to have off, which led you to take advantage of the nearly empty laundry room. You were just finishing up your last load, putting it all in your basket when you heard someone walk in. The mountain of laundry was large and you didn’t bother looking to see who it was, “I’ll be out in just a second - sorry for hogging all the room!”

When you finally fished the last things out of the dryer, you turned around and found yourself face to face with none other than, “Peter.”

He looked like he’d just seen a ghost as he stared at you, soft honey brown eyes searching yours. Your heart raced, and you were surprised it didn’t burst through your ribcage. A slight look of confusion crossed his features and you caught the way his eyes looked over you before flicking down to your belly. You swallowed thickly, suddenly glad that you’d worn a pretty baggy old t-shirt; it hid the fact that you were definitely starting to show.

“Hey,” he choked out, raising his hand in a weak little wave. It was more than you’d gotten from him in some time, “h-how’re you?”

“I’m okay,” it wasn’t a total lie but it wasn’t the full truth either, “how are you?”

“Okay,” he admitted, and you wondered if it was a lie. He held up his hand and flailed it around, as if he was trying to magically conjure up the words he was looking for, “d-do you…I, umm…can we talk?”

“Not right now,” you felt your eyes welling up with tears as you grabbed your basket and held it as best as you could in order to avoid resting it against your belly. How could he just so casually want to talk months later? He had all this time and now he was going to ask, “I’ve gotta go. I-I’ll see you around, Peter.”

You pushed past him, arm brushing against his and sending electric shivers shooting down your spine as he watched you go. He stared at you, finding himself unable to move or say anything else. He brought his hands to his face and groaned loudly; once again he’d managed to mess this up. But something had been…different about you today. Peter couldn’t quite place it yet, but there was something going on. And he was determined to find out - and beg for forgiveness if he had to.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One of the many things that had come along with pregnancy were the lovely bouts of insomnia that popped every once in a while. Nothing you did - or didn’t - do seemed to help and it left you more restless than anything else. Some evenings you would bake, some nights you read, some nights you’d watch TV. But on this particular evening, you found yourself pacing around endlessly; instead of just walking around your apartment, you decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood. It seemed like a big of a crazy idea but the neighborhood and most of New York City was fairly safe and quiet these days, probably thanks to the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

You pulled on a pair of sweats and a thin zip up and headed outside, one earbud in with your true crime podcast of the moment in your ear. And for a while, nothing seemed out of place, and your suspicions weren’t raised.

Not until a red and blue blur passed in your peripheral and caused you to stop in your tracks. Out of nowhere Spider-Man appeared right in front of you, causing your eyes to widen. You pulled the earbud out and stuffed it into your pocket as you studied the man in front of you, “Spider-Man?”

“Last time I checked,” he responded cheekily, holding his arms out and pretending to study them with interest, “what are you doing out so late? It’s dangerous!”

“Umm,” the fact that he was talking to you like he knew you personally threw you off, “I was just going for a quick walk? I-is that not allowed anymore?”

“This late?!”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged lightly, unsure of why this seemed so important to him. Your hand had instinctively gone to your bump, and you stroked it gently, “and my back was hurting so I thought a walk would help?”

He tracked your movement and you were almost sure you heard him inhale sharply, “y-you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” you whispered with a small, fond smile, “this kid is very active and likes to be up at all times of the day and night. Makes it hard to keep a normal sleep schedule at times…I mean none of this is normal…but, you know what, I’m gonna shut up now because you definitely don’t need to hear about all of this.”

“What a-are you having?” his voice grew soft and you found yourself drawn into him. He was Spider-Man after all, he saved kids all the time, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he cared.

“A girl…in about four months,” you told him excitedly, eyes lighting up with happiness, the white eyes of the suit narrowed as he studied you, a gentle silence falling over the two of you. You cleared your throat when he didn’t say anything, “I, ugh, I should get going. Maybe I will try and see if she’ll let me get some rest. She’s calmed down a little bit…since you showed. You must hold some kind of magic over her, she probably likes your voice.”

He stood there frozen, so you offered him a small wave before walking past him in order to loop around the block back to your building. It was quiet at first and you thought you were alone when you heard rapid footsteps coming after you, “wait! Please - wait.”

“Huh?” Spider-Man was there again and this time he took your hand and pulled you into a small walkway between buildings. He was breathing nervously, “are you okay? Do you need…something?”

He paused for a moment before raising a shaking hand to the back of his neck. You watched as he pulled the mask off slowly, revealing himself to you which caused you to gasp loudly as you stared at the man in front of you, “Peter?”

“H-hi,” he said meekly as you a hundred different emotions seemed to flash across your face, “I fucked up.”

“What is going on?” there were those overwhelming emotions again, bringing up those big, fat crocodile tears that rolled down your cheeks, “you’re Spider-Man? I…all this time? Why…I don’t understand.”

“She’s mine, isn’t she?” he asked, although both of you were well aware of the answer, “the other day, in the laundry room, I-I heard it - the two heartbeats but only saw you. It makes sense now…”

“Y-you left me,” was all you managed to get out before you were sniffling heavily and wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater, “I-I tried to tell you. Y-you just left and never told me why.”

“Sweetheart-”

“You broke my heart Peter,” you flinched out of his touch when he tried to reach for your hand; he hated the fact that he made you feel like that, “and you never even told me why.”

“Please, let me explain, I can-”

“No,” you shook your head fervently, as you took a step back, “no. I tried to talk to you so many times, and you just ignored me. I tried to tell you that I was pregnant but you just…shut me out. It’s too late for that, Peter.”

“Don’t walk away,” he begged, his own eyes glistening with tears, “please.”

“Give me one good reason why,” you pushed back.

“I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t,” you held up your hand, shaking your head. Funny - you’d been wanting to hear those words for so long and now you heard them they felt wrong. The worst part of it all was that you needed him to be serious, “you don’t get to leave me for months and avoid me and just do this. That’s not fair, Peter.”

“I never meant to,” he insisted, groaning at himself, “I-I can explain, please-”

“No, Peter,” you took a step back, your own heart breaking all over again, “I’m not going to keep your daughter from you - if you want to be a part of her life. That wouldn’t be fair of me and I want her to have the opportunity to know her father and you to know your daughter. But us…we…I don’t know, Peter. I think it’s too late for that.”

“I understand why you hate me,” he insisted, trying his best to get to you to stay, “give me ten minutes, that’s all I’m asking for, to explain everything.”

You worried your bottom between your teeth, wanting to walk away but finding it impossible. After a few beats of tense silence you have him a singular nod, “ten minutes. That’s it.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The fact that you found yourself in Peter’s apartment again, after all these months, was oddly comforting. Everything felt and looked the same, which for some reason provided a weird sense of familiarity. You sat on the couch, grabbed the blanket off the back without thinking about it and curled up under it; the fact that you still did put a small smile on Peter's face.

“Go on then,” you raised an eyebrow, “talk.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighed lightly, “it’ll be a mess but I want to get it all out there. I-I’m Spider-Man…obviously. I have been for a long time, and it’s not something people know for obvious reasons. There’s less than a handful of people that know who I am.”

“Oh,” you met his eyes and frowned slightly. Of course your first thoughts were worry about him getting hurt. But then it suddenly clicked, “all those times you got hurt…the bruises and scratches and - wow. It makes sense now.”

“Listen, sweetheart,” he rubbed a hand over his tired face, “the woman I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with…she knew. She found out, and she…she’s dead. She’s been for a long time now. I couldn’t save her - the reason she died was because of me. I got mad, angry…bitter and rageful. For so long, I was just so sad and angry all the time. It took years before I finally got it into my head that she - Gwen - wouldn’t want me to be like that. She would want me to be happy and move on with my life. So I did; I’ll never forget her or stop loving her.”

“Peter,” your eyes were welling up with tears as you watched him pace around the living room. You could tell that this was not easy for him, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I also made myself a promise that I would never get someone involved again. No one was going to know that I was Spider-Man,” he gave you a soft, sad smile, “if no one got close to me, they couldn’t get hurt, right? That was my logic - the less people knew about me, the fewer people I knew, the better. The last thing…the last thing I expected to do was to fall in love.”

The two of you looked at each other, both of you on the verge of having tears spill your cheeks. You opened and closed your mouth a few times as he crouched down in front of you. He reached up and gently touched your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized fell. You leaned into his touch as you looked at him with the softest eyes, “I never expected to feel anything close to that. But then I met you. And I just knew you were going to be trouble from the first day I met you.”

“Good trouble?” you asked softly and he nodded.

“The best trouble,” he agreed, “and you made it so easy, and I stopped worrying about the consequences. It didn’t matter anymore…and then that night, when we had sex, I just…I realized that I did - do - love you. And I panicked, I panicked and ran away like a coward.”

“You did,” you agreed softly, “you didn’t even leave a note. I thought…I thought you regretted it and that you thought it was a mistake.”

“I can understand why you thought that,” he traced his fingers along your jaw, studying your features and refamiliarizing himself with them, “I didn’t think that at all. I just…all I could think about was you getting hurt. That someone would find out about you and they’d hurt you. And, in my very flawed logic, I thought that pushing you away was the best thing. If you hated me, you wouldn’t want to be around me, and then you’d be safe. That’s what I thought anyway.”

“I could never hate you,” you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and gently taking his hand into yours, “never. Peter, you’re an idiot and a fool, but I can’t even be mad because your heart was in the right place. You didn’t go about it correctly but I get it.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, “that’s all I can say and hope that you can forgive me. I’m sorry that I’ve been such a dick that you’ve had to go through this on your own.”

“I know,” you swallowed thickly, “I tried to tell you, but…yeah. Listen, I’m going to keep her and I don’t want you to feel forced into being a part of her life. But if you want to be, I would never say no. Obviously, you know, I didn’t intend on having sex once and forgetting to use birth control and getting pregnant. It’s a mess really…but I couldn’t give her up.”

“I know I’ve been a dick and you don’t have to say yes, but I’d like to be involved,” his eyes grew nervous, “you’ve still got a while of being pregnant and I’d like to help however I can. It takes two to tango after all.”

“I’d like that,” you agreed and he felt his heart flutter happily, “Peter…I’m not saying things will just go back to how they were right away, but…I love you.”

“You…what?!”

“I love you,” you repeated with a small laugh and oh. He’d missed that beautiful sound so terribly much, “I have for a long time too. And if you…if you want to, I-I’m willing to work on things and try again?”

“Really?”

“Really,” you grinned, “you know that old saying, don’t give up on something that could be great just because it’s not easy or whatever? I think that applies here. So, if you’re in, I’m in. But, Peter, my love, please just talk to me, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, but we can’t do that if you shut me out.”

“I won’t,” he promised, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I swear it. I want this - you.”

“Good,” you leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, “I want you too, Spidey. We’ll figure it out.”

“We will,” he agreed softly, “do you…have any pictures of her o-or anything?”

“Of course,” you took his hand and placed it gently on the swell of your belly. You watched as his entire body relaxed and his face softened, “I’ve got plenty of sonogram pictures of the blob. I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a few days, would you like to come with me?”

“Yeah,” he leaned in, hesitantly for a moment, and you repeated the action, pressing your forehead against his, “I’d love to.”

“Peter? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Will you kiss me?” he laughed lightly as you beamed at him, “pretty please?”

“Yes,” he promised, “any time, sweetheart.”

#peter parker #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #tasm!peter #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew!peter #andrew!peter x you #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield x reader

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coraniaid · 5 months

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You said a few days ago that you would have liked if season 7 went more in the direction of Help rather than the direction of the First. I know you're not a big fan of the First but I was wondering what you meant by that specifically, and what kind of direction you might have preferred season 7 go in overall?

I don’t have any good reason to think it actually happened, but I always get the impression from watching or thinking about Season 7 that the early plans for the season changed pretty significantly at some point after most of the first few episodes had already been written. (Perhaps when they decided that it would also be the last season? I’ve heard conflicting accounts of when that decision was made.)

If you go back and look at the then-contemporary discussions of the show, the whole season was initially marketed as something of a ‘year zero’: a return to the show’s high school era roots, to something much more upbeat than Season 6, to the original Scooby Gang as the focus of the show.

And just to be clear, I rather like Season 6 – it doesn’t always work, and I think some of the subplots are pretty dreadfully executed, and sometimes I respect the episodes more than I enjoy watching them – but it inarguably has a clear vision for the story it’s trying to tell, one that builds on and recontextualizes what came before it. But for the payoff for that season to land, we needed Season 7 to be different. To be less cynical, more hopeful. It needed to show us that Buffy was right to promise Dawn in Grave that things were going to get better.

And that sort of reset is what we got … for about half a dozen episodes. Then, of course, it goes rather horribly wrong.

I like Help in particular because it is, for me, the closest the show ever gets to delivering on that promise of a return to the high school era. It’s not quite a regression or a soft reboot: Buffy is still an adult with a job, even if she’s suddenly unexpectedly back in high school. Her more mundane responsibilities haven’t suddenly gone away. But now the job she has isn’t something she hates but has to do – it’s something that she actually has a calling for, almost literally, something that harks back to her getting the Class Protector award back in Season 3. In Help Buffy’s inhabiting the same world she did in the first three seasons, she’s still trying to save people, but this time with a new, more experienced perspective.

The episode feels very aware of the show’s history, too. There are nods to Lie To Me (a teenager Buffy knows is going to die because of illness, not anything supernatural Buffy can stop) and Reptile Boy (the cult trying to sacrifice a teenage girl to a demon for material riches) and Beauty and the Beasts (with Buffy herself taking on the role of Mr Platt, worried that Mike is going to turn out to be another Pete), and of course the whole episode is a callback to Prophecy Girl. Because Cassie – probably the show’s last great one-episode character (and yes, the actor comes back later but the person doesn’t) – isn’t just somebody Buffy is trying to save, she is Buffy: a Season 1 Buffy who struggles to make friends and has a supernatural gift she doesn’t like to talk about and knows she’s going to die heartbreakingly young. I don’t think it’s merely chance that Cassie’s big speech to Buffy about her destiny (“You think I want this? You think I don’t care?”) echoes Buffy’s own words to her mother in Becoming either (“You think I choose to be like this?”).

Plus, while the episode ties into the wider story arc – with Spike in the basement and hints that Principal Wood might be up to something and our first appearance of future Potential Amanda – the whole thing still tells a coherent, self-contained story. It stands on its own right; it makes sense on its own terms. it’s not just another installment in the long running saga of General Buffy and the friends she never talks to who later kick her out of the house she owns.

And I think there was a lot more ground there to explore, in the same vein as Help. At least a full season’s worth. There was so much more the show could have tried to do in terms of going back and revisiting some of the classic moments of the first three seasons from a more mature and more grown-up perspective, instead of summarily kicking Buffy out of her new job and then blowing the school up (again). If this season is about the future – about new Slayers being called, one way or another – then what does that mean? How else are Buffy and Willow and Xander engaged in the challenge of trying to pass on what they’ve learned about life on the Hellmouth to a new generation?

At its best, Buffy has always been in conversation with its past, building on ideas that were touched on in one season and asking the audience to think about them again from a different angle. And the beginning of Season 7 sets up the perfect stage to try to do more of that.

I’d have loved to have seen a whole season of Buffy trying to keep her students alive while also preparing them to go out and live in the world. Of Dawn making new friends and finding value in being herself, not just the Slayer’s sister or the mystical Key. Of Buffy and Willow and Xander really getting to know each other again, and having a chance to talk about everything that happened to them last year. A whole season of, in a way, seeing the show from the very beginning, but this time from the perspective of people like Giles or Jenny or Joyce.

But instead we got a lot of boring wank about an impossibly old super-god who can’t actually touch anything (but one who Buffy would definitely let Dawn die to defeat because this godlike being is so much more impressive and scary than Glory, trust us guys, please, we swear) and her army of interchangeable and personality-free super vampires (and of course Caleb, who’s somehow even more mind-numbingly boring than they are). Instead we get a second half of the season in which Andrew Wells has more screen time than Willow or Xander or Anya or Giles or Dawn. Instead we get to wonder whether Giles is the First and try to pretend to care that Spike has been hypnotized. Instead we get Lies My Parents Told Me.

Oh well. At least Faith shows up near the end.

#btvs #asks #thanks!

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ripcupid · 1 year

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⋆｡𖦹°‧★ 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞… 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

— yes the Lana Del Rey song but it makes sense to me. the positions don't make sense but its okay.

— paring: Ellie Williams x fem! reader

—word count: 2.7k

— the request

Abby, fuck, you’re drunk. Can you please go home?" You take her outside Dina’s house, moving her away from watchful eyes. Abby continuously stumbles, eventually just swaying from side to side once she finds some sort of balance. She grumbles nonsense about Ellie still sipping on her drink, making you even more frustrated than you already were. "Abby, baby, please sit down before you hurt yourself." You gesture to the chairs on the porch, trying to usher her over. Abby looks at you with bleary eyes and a lopsided grin before stumbling over to the chairs. You let out a sigh of relief as she plopped down. "You good now?"

"I’m fine. Look at me, perfectly fine," Abby mumbles, making you rub your face while trying to hold back a chuckle. You try to calm her erratic drunken movements down and remind her that Ellie is not a reason to get drunk and cause a scene. Abby drunkenly shouts at the mention of Ellie, unintentionally raising her voice as she spews random thoughts about Ellie and the little feud they have.

After a few minutes of her drunken rant, you finally convince her to go home and get some rest. You watch her stumble away, hoping she'll be okay, as you slump down on Dina's porch, placing your head between your knees.

"Why would you even bring her here?" You turn around to see Ellie standing in the doorway, looking at you with a mix of concern and annoyance, "Tryna make me jealous or somethin'?" She chuckles, biting the rim of her cup to hide her teasing grin.

You groan, cursing under your breath, "Fuck off, Ellie." You scoff, "Don't you have that girl from the bar to mess around with?"

Ellie rolls her eyes again, chuckling, "Oh, so you're stalking me now cause I remember you being the one who broke up with me."

"I’m not stalking you, Ellie."

"Sure seems like it."

"Why do you care if I brought Abby? It’s not like we're not dating anymore." You brush off her words, changing the subject.

"Cause she's the one person you know I don't like." She walks over, squatting beside you.

"Why do you care who I date?" You take a deep breath and look her straight in the eyes.

"I don't, it's just Abby is... you know Abby," she shrugs, drinking the last of her drink.

You get up, Ellie following your every move, "I don't wanna fight with you, Ellie." Ellie crosses her arms, watching you walk past her back into the house, storming off into the bathroom. As you splash water on your face, you try to calm yourself down by taking a deep breath.

You dry your face before checking your phone and see barely coherent messages from Abby. You shake your head, knowing that Abby's drunken messages will only add to your frustration. You get startled as you hear a loud knock on the bathroom door. You open the door to find Ellie; you try to close the door, but Ellie pushes her way in. "Are you following me now?"

"‘Course not, baby." Ellie teases, holding back the urge to laugh when you grimace at the pet name. "You missed me, didn't you?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but a small smile betrays you. "Don't flatter yourself." Ellie walks closer, forcing you to take a step back and pressing you against the sink. "Not even a little?" Ellie whispers, her voice low and teasing.

You feel a sudden rush of heat rush to your cheeks as you try to maintain your composure. She leans in closer, her breath warm on your neck as her arms cage you in. "Maybe just a little," you whisper, unable to resist her. Ellie's lips curl into a smile as she pulls away, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You drop your head to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. "You're such a dick," you joke, rolling your eyes.

Ellie tucks her finger under your chin, lifting your head to meet her gaze. "That girl means nothing to me, by the way," she says softly, before leaning in to kiss your neck. Her hand slips under your dress as she sucks a mark onto your skin. You let out a soft gasp as you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer.

Ellie squeezes your thighs, smirking against your neck, as you whisper, "Kiss me." Ellie pulls away from your neck. You look into Ellie's eyes and see the intensity of her gaze. "Say please." You huff, looking up at her with pleading eyes. She tilts her head, waiting for you.

"Please," you ask, reaching to grip her shirt. She leans in, pressing her lips against yours, and you feel a wave of desire wash over you as you wrap your arms around her neck, running your hands through her hair. Ellie grips your hips from under your dress, kneading them gently as she deepens the kiss. She bites down on your lower lip, causing a shiver to run down your spine, and you can't help but moan softly into her mouth.

You pull away, breathless, and Ellie looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eye before pulling you towards the hallway, sneaking past the others in the living room. She drags you into her bedroom and locks the door behind you, her lips finding yours once again as she pushes you toward the bed.

You giggle against her lips as she climbs on top of you, her arms holding her up as she deepens the kiss, pressing herself against you. You fist the fabric of her hoodie, tugging at it to silently beg her to take it off. "Such a greedy girl," Ellie mutters against your lips, breaking away for a moment to tug it over her head.

"Shut up." You breathe out, pulling Ellie back to your lips with renewed fervor. Her hand rests on your neck to pull you impossibly closer. You whine into her mouth, gripping her tattooed wrist, as she just barely squeezes enough to make you dizzy. "I need you, Els," you whisper in between kisses.

Ellie pulls away, hiding her smile at the sound of the nickname leaving your lips. She pants against your neck while placing light kisses along your collarbone as she whispers, "You gotta be nice and quiet for me, okay? Don't want anyone to hear you." You nod eagerly, making Ellie chuckle.

Ellie kisses down your shoulders, sliding down the straps of your dress to reveal your tits. You can't help but let out a soft moan as she takes your nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it while she gently pinches the other with her fingers.

She switches to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. You arch your back as you run your fingers through her hair, urging her to continue. But she still pulls away, staring at your tits, now covered with her spit. Ellie darts her tongue out, flicking and swirling the tip of her tongue over your sensitive nipple. You can’t stop the pathetic whimpers from leaving your lips as Ellie sucks softly on your nipples, blowing cold air over them just to feel your shiver under her. "Quiet baby," she reminds, pausing to scatter kisses over your chest.

"I can't, Ellie, baby, you’re being so mean." You whimper ever so sweetly, flashing Ellie your biggest puppy-dog eyes.

"Am I, pretty girl?" Ellie asks, looking up at you with false sympathy as she continues sliding your dress down. You nod with a pout, brushing back Ellie’s hair. "But baby, you love it when I'm mean to you, don't ya." She coos tossing your dress onto the floor.

You whine and twist under when Ellie moves back to your other nipple, pinching it again. She looks up at you with a sly grin before she leans in and kisses you deeply, her hands sliding down your chest and settling on your hips. You whimper and grip her shoulders as Ellie starts to grind her hips against your clothed cunt.

You slip your hands under her shirt, desperate to feel her, but Ellie pulls away, tugging at your greedy hands. "Did I tell you to touch?" She smirks at you, leaning up to sit between your thighs and slowly rubbing her hands along your thighs.

You shake your head, biting your lip in anticipation as Ellie continues to tease you. She tugs her shirt over her head, tossing it mindlessly across the room. She pulls your legs around her, smirking at the damp spot on your underwear, and says, "All this for me, baby?"

You feel your cheeks heat up as you nod, unable to form words. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment and desire as Ellie's fingers trace the outline of your cunt through your underwear. You squirm against her finger, her thumb rubbing your clit agonizingly slowly. Please, Ellie, I need-" you moan, your voice trailing off into a whine as you feel her fingers leave you, "No! No please baby, please Ellie." You cry without a second thought, your hips bucking up in search of her touch.

"What do you need, baby?" she asks teasingly, tilting her head to mock your desperation, her fingers still hovering over your wetness. "I want you to ask nicely."

"Please, touch me." You plead, your voice barely above a whisper, as you arch your hips towards her hand, craving her touch more than anything else in the world. Your body trembles with anticipation as you feel her fingers slowly tracing up your thigh to pull down your underwear.

Ellie lays down between your legs, placing your thighs on her shoulders. You sit up on your elbows, staring down at the green-eyed girl. You drop your head back, close your eyes, and let out a deep sigh as she starts kissing and licking your inner thighs, slowly moving closer to your drooling cunt. You feel your body tensing up with anticipation as Ellie's tongue finally reaches your clit. She squeezes the fat of your thighs as she moves her tongue in slow circles, closing her eyes to savor the taste of you.

You whimper as she presses a soft kiss on your clit. You let out a whiny moan as Ellie spreads your folds with her fingers, spitting on your clit, pulling back to blow on it gently, watching you clench around nothing. She spreads your legs wider, resting her head on your inner thigh. "Such a pretty little pussy, you like it when I play with you, huh?" She looks up at you as she strokes her fingertips along your slit. You nod your head eagerly, mindlessly whimpering about how much you need her. "So needy." She taunts as she starts to circle your swollen clit.

You start to squirm against her bed, and your breathing becomes more erratic. She starts to slide in her fingers, making you let out a strained whine as she curls them up, kissing and biting along your inner thigh. Ellie sits back and watches as her fingers slide deeper inside you, relishing the way you squirm and writhe under her touch, slowly sliding them in and out.

Even through your foggy brain, you can hear the slight squelching sound as she continues to move inside you. You reach down to grab her wrist, urging her to go faster, but she simply smiles and keeps her pace, teasing you with each movement of her fingers. "Does that feel good, baby?" she asks, her voice laced with amusement. You can't help but feel a rush of frustration and desire simultaneously.

"Yes, Ellie," you breathe out, "so good."

She moves closer to your center, teasing you with her tongue. "Oh fuck." You gasp, gripping the sheets tightly as Ellie sucks your clit into her mouth, flicking her tongue against the sensitive bud. Your body shakes under her touch, thighs twitching around her head as you grind your hips against her face. Ellie grips your hips firmly, holding you in place.

"Please don't stop, it feels so good." You cry, reaching down to tangle your fingers in their hair, tugging just enough to make Ellie groan against your clit. You moan uncontrollably at the vibrations, causing you to slap your hand against your mouth, fearing that everyone might hear you.

Your thighs clamp around her head, trapping her in place, as you feel the familiar coil in your stomach tighten. With a final tug of her hair, you come undone, shuddering with pleasure and gasping for breath. As she comes up for air, you pull her up to kiss her deeply, tasting yourself on her lips. Ellie pecks your pouty lips repeatedly, smiling at the fucked-out look on your face. "You with me, pretty girl?"

"Yeah," you whisper, still catching your breath, and run your fingers through her hair, pulling her in for another kiss.

Ellie grabs your wrist, bringing it to her jeans. "The movie isn’t over yet." She mutters against your lips, deepening the kiss.

Your smile against her lips, pushing her gently by her shoulders to lie down. As you break the kiss, you look into her eyes, trailing your hands down her stomach to reach her waistband. You can feel her heart racing as you lean in to kiss her neck. Ellie lets out a soft moan and tilts her head to give you better access. As you suck on her neck, Ellie unbuttons her jeans, deciding you are taking too long. You work your fingers under her waistband as she pulls her jeans down her legs, kicking them off. Ellie's breath quickens as your fingers trail down her thighs, and she drops her head back against the headboard, her eyes closed in pleasure. "No more teasing, sweetheart."

You nod, slipping your hand into Ellie's underwear. Ellie gasps as you touch her, her body arching towards you. You lean in, scattering kisses on her neck. "Is that good, Ellie?" you ask sweetly, circling her clit.

"So good, baby." She breathes out. You pull up her bra, leaning down to kiss her collarbone. As you move your lips down her chest, she arches her back and moans softly. You slip your fingers into her moaning softly against her chest as Ellie pulls at your hair, tugging you back to her lips. Her tongue slides against yours as she deepens the kiss, holding the side of your face. She slides her hand down your back, cupping your ass before landing a firm slap, making you moan into her mouth. You curl your fingers as she grinds her clit against your hand.

The room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing and moans. As you break the kiss, Ellie whispers, "You wanna make me feel good, don't you?" You nod, biting your cheek as you feel a rush of desire wash over you again, clenching your thighs at the sounds of Ellie's moan. You speed up your movements, keeping your thumb firmly pressed against her clit as you finger her, feeling her body tense up beneath you as she gets closer to orgasm.

Ellie's hips buck against your hand, her moans growing louder and more urgent. "Doin' so fucking good, don't stop," Ellie grunts, clamping her teeth down on her lower lip. You can feel her body trembling as she reaches her climax. After a few moments, she lies there, panting heavily. You pull your hand away, sucking your fingers into your mouth to taste her. Ellie brings you down to kiss her, the taste of you lingering on her lips mixing with her own on yours.

You pull away, fixing her bra, before laying your head on Ellie's chest. She runs her fingers through your hair and whispers softly, "I'm sorry for before, like during our relationship and stuff."

You giggle softly, lifting your head to look at her, resting your chin on her, and say, "It's okay, Els." You kiss whatever part of her is closest to your lips and continue, "I'm sorry too." You lean up to kiss her on the lips. She smiles and wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

Don’t you just love Ellie’s nose? I really hope I did this request good. Completely unrelated, biology is kicking my ass

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