#and that's actually almost worse so i do not feel sorry for those people either | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miraclewoozi · 5 months

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DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC. notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away. notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago.

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room.

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right.

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones.

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’.

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone.

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name.

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry).

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen.

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts.

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour.

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed?

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him.

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense.

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know.

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans?

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can.

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty.

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it.

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away.

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced.

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there.

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since.

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie.

There is one more.

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly.

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most.

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it.

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits.

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through.

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake.

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so.

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage.

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest.

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning.

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on.

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth.

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle.

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough.

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe.

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.”

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—” He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go.

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him.

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.”

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different.

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms.

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice.

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants.

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured.

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use.

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again.

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans.

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle.

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat.

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like.

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base.

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him.

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming.

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess.

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop.

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name.

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to.

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.”

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own.

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself.

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle.

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache.

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum.

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas.

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

#dino smut #lee chan smut #dino x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #kpop smut #j writes.#*#this description is ass we're gonna pretend it isnt. ok THANKS bye <3

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why-what-no · 1 year

Text

New Obsession

Pairing: Captain James Hook x Reader, Former Peter Pan x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Swearing, Attempted Murder, Dacryphilia

Notes: guys, I finally posted something for the first time in a while! You proud of me?? Sorry for disappearing, I had so much going on irl, but I’ve got a bunch of spare time over the next while so I’m gonna try to get back into writing more often and finally getting through the last couple of requests I haven’t finished yet :):)

Summary: Having visited Neverland many times before as a child, she returned to Neverland after growing and was struck with the realization that it wasn’t what she remembered. Pan was no longer her anchor and protector, and she was forced to realize that everything on the island is a danger to her. Except for, to her surprise, the gentleman pirate whom she used to be terrified of

All around (Y/N), the pirates were reveling on the deck of the Jolly Roger, completely unaware of the way her mind was racing. Her heart heavy as the thoughts of Peter crushed her. The lost boy never stayed away from her thoughts for long, always returning with some good memories as well as the more recent terrible ones.

"Please tell me you forgive me, lost girl." His green eyes were filled with tears and his voice breaking as he held her down against the bed, dagger in his raised hand. Preparing to plunge it down into her heart, a betrayal worse than anything she had ever experienced. "I have to do this. I have to! But I couldn't live if you don't forgive me."

The heartbroken sound in his voice and look on his face made her want to forgive him; an automatic reaction that made her feel sick. Disgusted in herself and her weakness. Did she truly love that boy – any boy – so much that she could forgive him for her murder? With no explanation or attempt at redemption?

But she didn't give him a reply, and when he faltered, she ran. And now, she was with the people she had once considered her enemies. To an extent, they still were, of course. But they were also now her best hope for allies against Peter – against Pan – on this island. And there was something about the forget-me-not blue of their captain's eyes... they almost made her forget that the color green existed.

Now, those eyes were staring at her from the other side of the deck, as Hook sat in his captain's chair, gazing intensely at (Y/N) without any emotions on his face. His crew was cheering and grinning around him, but he didn't even spare them a glance.

It almost made her tense up, she wasn't used to feeling such vulnerability, pinned under the gaze of a man like Hook. She remembered him vaguely from when she was a young girl, although she had never actually interacted with him until the week she had left. He had seemed so old to her, so scary and untouchable. Peter had always encouraged her to feel that way.

Maybe that was why she felt like he was gazing into her soul. Because few people had known her that young, and the ones that did were all either her dearest allies or worst enemies. At the moment, Hook was neither. And so she didn't quite know how to feel about him. There were no boxes to put him into in her head.

But unfortunately for her sanity and dignity, there were words to explain the unsettled allure that his gaze made her feel in the pit of her stomach.

It didn’t help that he looked so… enticing. Strong and angular features, and a gracefulness in the way he moved. Everything was deliberate with him, every action purposeful and stayed in her mind for longer that it should. His pale skin stood in contrast to his long dark hair, cascading over his face and framing those hypnotic forget-me-not blue eyes.

He stood up, drawing glances from his crew but quickly being ignored again when they recognized that he wasn't about to give any announcements. No, only (Y/N) was looking at him as he made his way towards her. Like a large cat, a mountain lion or a panther ready to pounce. To tear her apart.

But he didn't, merely stopped in front of her, leaning forward as the girl looked up into his eyes. It wasn't that he completely towered over her, but his regality, his aura of power made her feel like he did. "And are you enjoying this evening?" He asked, whispering into her ear. The sound of his voice and the warmth of his breath so close making her nearly shiver.

"Yes." She replied, taking care that her voice sounded even and calm. Trying to ignore how fast her heart was beating, how she had never felt an affect like this before. Like he was a flame that could burn her any second.

Hook's lips curved into a small smile. "Wonderful, a lady such as yourself deserves a fine celebration." His gleaming hook moved to hover against her back, keeping it at a respectful distance. But even though it wasn't touching her, she could practically feel the coolness of the metal against her clothes. It took all her control not to lean into his touch.

"Thank you." She responded, doing her utmost best not to look at him while his eyes stayed glued to her face. "Although I might go to bed soon. I've had enough excitement for the day, I think."

"Of course." Hook responded in a voice that possibly sounded almost... disappointed? "I shall give you the space to relax now, and make sure none of my pirates bother..."

"No -"

(Y/N) mentally slapped herself at her quiet outburst as Hook paused, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No?"

"I..." She could feel warmth on the back of her neck, praying that she was wasn't turning red. "You're fine. I don't mind your company. I don't... you can stay if you want."

What she really wanted was to jump into the ocean out of sheer mortification and let the mermaids drag her down to the depths. She wouldn't even try to kick or scream.

But Hook just looked surprised, beginning to smile once again.

The man offered her his hand, not his hook like he normally did when he wanted to lead her somewhere. It was surprisingly warm, and so gentle. The callouses that came from sword-work were there, but they felt more like the hands of a musician, a writer. That was the one thing that surprised her the most about Hook, he was a gentleman as much as he was a pirate. Equal parts savage and refined.

Perhaps that was what drew her towards him. She knew he could treat her better than any man she knew... and hurt her worse. He made her feel small beside him, but so important.

"Come with me." He told her, and she immediately followed. Letting him hold her hand and lead her towards the captain's quarters.

It was quiet when they got inside, the large and elegant room surprisingly soundproof. Letting go of her hand, he gestured around the room, giving her permission to look around. "Forgive me for my forwardness, but I couldn't bear the thought of forcing you to sleep in the crew's quarters during your time here. You may take my bed if you wish, I rarely use it."

"Where will you sleep?" (Y/N) asked, walking over to the large bed and sitting down on it, facing Hook.

"I have a nasty habit of falling asleep at my desk, my dear." He chuckled for a moment, before tensing up once again. "But if you would prefer to spend your nights alone, I shall disappear until you wake."

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. It's your room, Captain."

"James." He replied.

"What?"

He stepped closer. "My name is James Hook, or has Pan not told you that already?" The captain walked over to his table to pour each of them wine into glasses made from large glimmering seashells.

The lost boy hadn't told (Y/N) that. "He mostly told me stories of your rather violent pursuits. Pan very much wanted me to know that you would torture and kill me if I ever spoke to you. That you were a beast who took pleasure in the pain of others."

"Ah." James Hook said, handing her the wine. "No doubt to make sure your loyalty was to him only."

He was probably right. And (Y/N) was just disappointed that it took so long for her to realize that. So many people had attempted to do that to her in her life, to twist her reasoning and manipulate her into thinking that they were the only people she could trust. And for some reason, Peter had succeeded so easily. Perhaps it was her young age and inexperience, but at that point in her life she should have already known better. Or perhaps it was love that made her blind.

"So, you're telling me that it was all a lie? All his stories about you."

He chuckled, standing over her sitting form while taking a sip of his wine. Her hands were folded almost docilely in her lap as she looked up at him, taking in his elegant features. "The stories were true, I assume. I've done enough pillaging in my lifetime that there are any number of truthful tales for that boy-demon to share with his followers."

He paused.

"However." He smirked down at her, before reaching down to slip a finger under her chin. (Y/N) looked down and away as he did that, cheeks warm but not pushing away his touch. At her lack of pushback, he used those fingers to tilt her head upwards so that he could make sure she continued to stay captivated by his intense blue stare, using his thumb to gently stroke along her chin. She could feel how close his touch was to her lips, and she pressed her thighs together instinctually. "I would never dream of killing a precious jewel such as yourself. And thought of your torture brings me great pain." Hook said to her, almost like a whisper. She didn't reply, too caught off guard by the intimacy in his touch. As well as by the dark desire that he was instilling in her.

But for a brief moment, Hook saw her silence as discomfort. "Forgive me my forwardness." He murmured, stepping just out of reach. His hand by his side once more. A sight that felt so unbearable to (Y/N) that a rush of shame overtook her for a second. She was now she was buckling under the weight of a pirate's glance. Of his quick and gentle touches.

"It's alright." She replied, trying to reassure him that she didn't mind his ‘forwardness’. "Do you want to sit? With me?" She patted a spot beside her on the bed, displaying a forwardness of her own. Not wanting him to have to continue standing (and it was easier for her to speak when he wasn't standing over her), and not wanting him to be far from her.

His surprise at her offer morphed into a small grin as he sat down right beside her. "Thank you, dearest." He faced her while sitting, his whole body turned towards her like a moon orbiting a planet. "You are very kind."

(Y/N) doubted that. Most of her kindness was born from selfish reasons. Mainly, the selfish desire to pull him close to her and get him to make her forget about what was happening in Neverland. "Thank you... James."

He smiled as she spoke his proper name. "I can see why Pan was so immediately taken with you."

And there it was. Pan was like a dark cloud constantly following her, and with Hook's obsession in the boy, perhaps he wasn't the best person to distract her from him.

(Y/N)’s distaste of the mention of Pan's name seems to be visible on her face. "My apologies." Hook murmured, reaching forward to take her hand in his. "I should not have mentioned him to you."

"I just... I don't understand why he would do it. I loved him. He loved me."

"He's not capable of love." Hook told her gently, seemingly believing his words. "It's the price he paid for everlasting life."

"He was. He was capable. It was just... innocent love. Childhood love. And besides, he's older now, we both are. Even you've admitted that things on Neverland aren't what you thought anymore." (Y/N) felt ashamed of her outburst. Ashamed that Pan could pull those emotions out of her.

The pirate captain just looked at her, a sort of resigned look on his face that she couldn't quite decipher. "Of course." He nodded. "You may be right. I'd apologize for my impudence, but I worry that you might be tired of my apologies by now."

"You don't have to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." The girl sighed. "I just don't want to talk about Peter Pan right now."

"Then what would you wish to speak about? Anything you wish to say will be satisfactory to me."

There was something about Hook's attention, his habit of doing or saying exactly the right thing that made her trust him even less and desire him even more. "I don't know. Tell me a story? If you have any?"

He chuckled. "Many more than most people, my dear. Despite this island and it's promised youth, I'm practically an old man now." The sound of his voice was a little bit self-deprecating.

"I wouldn't say that." (Y/N) denied. Maybe he was older that the children on the island, but it wasn't like he was some decrepit old man who was losing his functions. He was... striking.

"No, no, my dear. It's true." He told her, still holding her hand gently. "Growing up is a nasty business. I'm sure you are aware of what I say. All those pesky feelings, the energy of childhood sapped away."

The girl opened her mouth but closed it again. Maybe it was his warm hand stroking hers, the glint of his hook in the candlelight, his intense blue eyes staring into hers. It felt like she had no self-control. It suddenly felt like whatever answer she gave was an important one. It could lead in any direction. And as for the direction she was secretly hoping for....

"It's not all bad." She slid closer to him. "You still have your energy, I'll bet." And all the things that he could do with that energy raced through her head. "You're the most feared and respected pirate on Neverland."

"And those feelings..." She felt like she was regaining some control as she took his hand that previously covered her and gently rested it on her thigh, keeping eye contact with him as she did. "They're not all bad." She barely breathed with nervous anticipation, waiting to see what the pirate did next.

He was certainly surprised, that much was clear on his face. But as the gleam in his eyes grew more intense, she couldn't bring herself to regret what she did.

His hand slid up her thigh, slowly. (Y/N) was pinned under his gaze as her breathing became heavier. She shivered as he skilfully undid the button to her trousers, and without thinking, she reached up to touch his face.

Never in her dreams had she thought she would ever see this man in this way. He had always been the scary pirate, the dark villain of her hero's stories. But as he leaned into her touch as she cupped his cheek, she couldn't help but pull him forward to kiss him.

He immediately reciprocated. And even more, he did exactly what she was hoping for. Taking over control of the situation and moving his hand so that it was buried into her hair, tugging her as close to him as possible.

She moaned as he pulled on her hair, grabbing at his coat for stability. Gone was the caution and gentlemanly politeness that Hook had been displaying, she could only see the dark pirate captain as he bit her lip and rested his hook against her neck.

She knew she was putting herself in danger by touching him, kissing him like this. Like Icarus soaring too close to the sun. But he already had her caught in his orbit.

"I can't say I expected this, my dear. No idea that you wanted the touch of a pirate so badly." Hook said, his breath warm against her lips. "Although I am certainly not displeased."

"I just want your touch." She replied breathlessly as he moved his mouth down to her throat, nipping at her neck and kissing along her collarbone. Pulling her hair so that she was made to tilt her head back to give him better access.

He chuckled, enjoying her honesty and desperation. "And you'll get it. All night you'll get my touch, until you beg for me to stop. Until we leave this room or you tell me to let you go... you're mine." He let go of her. "Lie down on the bed. And don't make me ask twice."

The speed in which she obeyed only made the lustful darkness in his eyes grow. As she laid down, she watched him raise himself so that he hovered over her, kneeling with his legs encasing hers. His shape of his thighs were visible through his pants, as was the growing bulge of his cock. She couldn’t help but glance at it.

“Any man who had the honour of seeing you like this would be blessed by Poseidon himself.” Hook murmured to her, running his hand along her side and grabbing at her hip, leaning over to kiss her deeply, harshly.

She watched him as he unbuttoned her shirt, leaning forward to he could remove it. (Y/N) was half naked below him, revealed and vulnerable but it only made the electric feeling in the lower part of her stomach stronger. Made her even more wet.

And Hook could tell. “But you’re not innocent at all, my love. You want me to make you beg for me, don’t you?”

She nodded as he pressed kisses along her stomach until he reached her breast. Taking one of her nipples into his mouth, licking and tugging at it with his teeth as he groped at the other.

He chuckled against her chest as she gasped at his touch. The vibration of the sound reverberating against her body, feeling like it went straight between her thighs.

She took initiative and kicked off her trousers herself. Reaching up to bury her hands in Hooks hair, pulling him into a kiss.

“I might not ever anyone take you away from me, love.” He growled as she tugged at his dark curls. “I’ll keep you all to myself.” He kept running his hand over her body, driving her wild as her touched her. Somehow intuitively knowing all the spots that could turn her on.

However, once her pants were fully gone, he immediately turned his attention to her soaked cunt. (Y/N) was grateful that there was a party on the deck above them, she wasn’t able to fully cover up her moans as James Hook pressed his face against her core.

She held on to his hair tightly, trying to gain some type of stability as his tongue pressed against her clit and into her cunt. “So wet.” He smirked. “All for me? You filthy girl.”

He added a finger only a second later, doing everything he could to remove any thoughts from her brain. Wanting pleasure to be her only sensation. There was something about her that made him go feral, wanting to make this succubus of a women moan and cry for him all night and every night.

“Please.” She begged, tears pricking at her eyes at the onslaught of satisfaction that the pirate captain was giving her. “I want you, please James.”

The sight of her tears only turned him on more, and so he submitted to her pleads. “You want me to fuck you, love? Is that right? You want me to make you come so hard that I ruin any other man for you? To make you mine?”

“Yes.” She let out a gasping sob. “Please.”

“Your wish is my command.” Hook grinned darkly, finally pressing his cock against her folds and pushing inside quickly. He wanted to spilt her open, wanted to make her go brainless for him.

She dug her nails into his back as he rocked in and out of her. He delighted in her moans, at the look on her face as he took her closer and closer to her climax.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had someone as seductive as her in his arms, couldn’t remember the last time that fucking someone felt as good as it did as he plunged his cock into this woman.

Everything about her drew him in, and this obvious confirmation that she desired him as well only served to make him need her more. He grew even harder at the thought of doing this with her again. Of holding her tightly as he fucked into her whenever they wanted.

And (Y/N) could barely think that far ahead with how good Hook was making her feel. It felt as though there was nothing in her brain at all except for the thought of how his cock felt rubbing against the walls of her cunt, of hitting her g-spot as he slammed into her. His fingers rubbed her clit as he did, and she could feel her orgasm approaching.

Hook could too. “Do you want to come, my dear?” He asked her, his hook right beside her face, the glean of the lantern next to them gleaming off of it. “Have you been good enough to be allowed to come?”

She nodded quickly, looking into his gorgeous blue eyes desperately. When he told her she could come, the coil that had been building and building within her finally released, and Hook had to muffle her scream of pleasure with a kiss. If they had been alone on the island, he would have been delighted at the noises he was pulling out of her, but he didn’t want one of his pirates rushing in and interrupting them.

The look on her face as she came was more satisfying that any treasure to him, and couldn’t help but kiss her forehead and face as she caught her breath

(Y/N) collapsed against the bed as he did. “You were perfect, my darling.” James murmured to her, moving away to grab a towel to clean her up.

“So were you.” She smiled at him, relaxed as her mind began to return to her. “Although I can now understand why Pan called you a beast.”

Hook chuckled, his gaze was soft as he leaned down to kiss her. “No more talk of Pan.” He told her. “Peter Pan doesn’t need to be thought of at this moment. You… you are my new obsession.”

And he lay next to her in the bed, felt her against his side, remembered the feeling of her around his cock, those words were true to him.

Taglist: @fictional-hooman @norman891 @fairynook @dark-academia-slut @silverhart93

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etheries1015 · 10 months

Text

Lilia x (Slightly) traumatized reader - When he began to fall in love

TW: Panic attack descriptions, mentions of PTSD

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

Lilia loves jumping out and scaring people. Something about the faces people make and the silliness of it put a smile on his face, he never knew he would find himself stopping faster than he had even begun. It's the one thing that you probably hated THE MOST. You flinch, you duck, you cover your head, and your heart comes to an absolute stop. Perhaps you had some sort of traumatic past that resulted in you flinching at the smallest movement, or perhaps you just aren't good at paying attention to your surroundings, so the suddenness catches you off guard. Or maybe it's just how you are, someone who doesn't take well to being jumpscared, touched without seeing them, or hearing noises or even your name called out that you were not anticipating. No matter what the reason, Lilia vowed never to do it again to you after this one instance, eventually finding himself feeling a few conflicted emotions as time went on...

It was your first meeting, unfortunately. He popped out of a tree seemingly out of nowhere in order to hand you the letter from Malleus, he had seen you coming up and giggled to himself as he planned his "attack."

The second you let out a scream and he recognized it to be genuine, his heart wrenching never thinking he'd hear a scream like that again. It was a scream of pure terror from the deepness of your heart, not a light-hearted "You scared me!" kind of scream, but one someone let out when they felt they were in danger, in pure fear, as if you were in...pain, almost. Immediately his face fell in regret, twisting into grief as he watched your legs give out from under you falling to the ground with your hands grasping your chest and sobbing.

"Don't do that!" You wailed out, body folding in a way where your face began to tuck towards your legs facing the ground as you tried to console your trembling body. You began to sob, and he had never felt worse.

Others call this dramatic, some think; "It's just a prank, you're being ridiculous. I wouldn't ACTUALLY hurt you." However, Lilia never thought of it that way. Somehow, some way, either your past experiences or something else, caused you to react how you did. Not once did he judge you for this reaction, but chastised himself for not being more aware that perhaps others do not take kindly to those types of pranks as the people he is used to surrounding himself with. He quickly dropped down to your level and apologized, hands wavering in hesitation. The last thing he wanted to do was touch you, seven no, he wouldn't want to frighten you more than he had already done.

"I'm so sorry...please, breath. In and out, just like that..." He took a few dramatic deep breaths, making them loud enough for you to follow his breathing in hopes to help calm you down. A minute of this and you began to come to, sitting up slowly and wiping your now puffy eyes before letting out a shaky sigh and avoiding his gaze.

"I'm s-sorry-" you choked out rapidly trying to explain away your reaction, "I know you were just trying to b-be funny, I'm okay it's okay I promise I'm not mad-" Lilia quickly shook his head and slowly moved his hand to rub your back, gauging your reaction to be certain his movements were not making you uncomfortable in any way.

"No, I apologize, (y/n). I will not do that to you ever again, the last thing I want to do is instill another panic attack upon you." He was so kind, so mature, and apologetic. It wasn't often you met someone who was understanding as that, without questioning you or your past or your reasoning. He simply apologized and let it go, and for that you were incredibly grateful for. After this he gave you the letter and you spoke to each other per usual, he gave another quick sorry before disappearing into the wind.

He did indeed keep his promise, finding that he had begun treating you with slight favoritism, and always being there for you whenever he found you in a state of panic. As time went on and he watched you go along with your school life, Lilia found himself gravitating to you naturally. He felt the need to...protect you, to watch over you, perhaps it was his "fatherly" instincts kicking in out of worry for your curious behavior from your first meeting, but it seemed to perhaps be something more. The charismatic Fae found himself behind the scenes giving advice to others around you, suggesting that instead of coming from behind or making themselves known by touching your shoulder or your back, make sure you see them first. To come in with their presence automatically known, something in which the other students didn't fully understand, however, took up his advice with grace and kindness. Lilias explanation for the advice?

"I simply notice how off in space they look at times," He would say, "We wouldn't want to wake someone who sleepwalks, would we? Treat it the same with our dear prefect," He tried writing it off in a joking manor to avoid suspicion. They would shrug their shoulders and simply agree, and you had taken notice that people were not surprising you as often, although the occasional jerk of shock was inevitable at times. Even when he noticed those small movements, Lilias's heart ached just a little bit. He knew you were capable, he did not doubt that you were a strong person who could hold your own, yet he couldn't help himself. Perhaps it was the guilt he was feeling? Although he wouldn't try this hard for anyone else, he found his heart beating a little bit faster whenever you were the topic at hand, and suddenly trying his best to make sure you have a comfortable life at school the best you could with your circumstances seemed to come natural to him.

These subtle changes had not gone unnoticed, of course. Malleus had even pointed out to him how he had never seen Lilia cut his antics for someone before, how he noticed Lilias gaze gravitating to you whenever you walked into the room, how he seemed to shine just a little bit brighter at the mention of your name. Malleus had inquired Lilia about the things he had mentioned to other students, to which he responded with a fond smile as he gazed at your figure talking to Grim and the others.

"Well," Lilia said, "I suppose you can say I may have grown a soft spot for our prefect," He chuckled, "And wouldn't want anything to make them uncomfortable. They are not from this world, so I simply would like to assist in any way I can," He sighed. Maybe one day they can trust me enough to speak about what ails them, although I'm satisfied behind the scenes for now, Lilia thought. Malleus raised an eyebrow at his guardian, an amused smile creeping upon his face.

"Are you saying that our old general has become enamored with a human?" He teased with a hint of amusement in his voice. A light blush painted on the fae's cheeks, with his red eyes widening nothing short of a split second, before returning to his normal haughty expression and a guttural laugh.

"Don't be ridiculous," Lilia turned on his heel, "It's not much different than how I feel about Sebek or silver." Malleus hummed in response to this, but the two fae knew that was not true. He treated you with much more gentleness, much more care, and concern. Again he tried to convince himself that it was perhaps in his fraternal nature, or perhaps the thought he never wanted to hear that scream again or see you in pain as he had that one day. It was the guilt, he also told himself, nothing more. Although, if it was something more than that... "It...does not matter," He hesitated, the smile he had painted upon his features wavering, forcing himself not to turn around to steal another gaze at you. 'When it comes to love...' he thought,

"It's far too late for me."

Maybe in another life, he could hold you in his arms as he wished, and protect you the way he wants to. But for now...watching from the shadows while suppressing these confusing feelings will have to do.

----

Check out my masterlist for more works like this!

#twisted wonderland #Twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #Lilia #Lilia vanrouge #Lilia x reader #Lilia twisted wonderland #Lilia twisted wonderland x reader #Lilia vanrouge x reader #Lilia headcannon #Lilia vanrouge headcannon #Lilia x yuu #Lilia vanrouge fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #twst headcannon #Lilia vanrouge twisted wonderland

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aledanshi · 7 months

Text

It's nighttime and I've just been served a mitw and fitpac BANQUET this afternoon so now it's delulu time WOOOOOOOOOH (this is a long post I am so sorry)

I can't stop thinking about how possessive Mike was of Pac around Fit, the way he threatened Fit every time Pac wasn't around to hear it, threatening Fit's son, saying "I don't trust you, I don't want you near him anymore".

It's mainly because Mike thinks Fit knew where Mike was being kept frozen, his suspicions almost confirmed when Fit confessed that his latest cleaning job was situated in a remote location that snowed.

But I feel that deep down, that aggression and possessiveness also comes from the realization that Pac started to get attached to Fit after he was away for so long, he was starting to be less dependable on Mike.

He may not love Pac romantically, but he'll never let someone else break the chains that tie them to each other, their codependency is a double-edge sword and it's worse than they would both like to admit, but they wouldn't change it for the world.

Imagine the scorching feeling of betrayal he must have felt when Pac sided with Fit and the others, telling him that he was crazy and torturing him for information he simply doesn't know or his mind is too foggy to remember.

You can also notice two different changes in Mike's behaviour.

First: complacency. He's just been rescued and he's not quite sure what happened, he can't process much information, he seems subdued, if not a bit delusional. He keeps asking for his mininim, his little baby, and Pac's just frozen like a deer on headlights, unsure of how to even BEGIN to tell him that their child is gone. Mike's usual personality is very strong-willed and stubborn, seeing this die-hard anarchist hug Cucurucho on a whim was almost whiplash inducing.

Second: erratic thoughts and actions. After the focus of their conversation shifts from Richas and Walter Bob to Fit and the other island residents that Pac has been spending time with, it's almost like a switch turns inside Mike's head and he starts becoming more erratic, aggressive, borderline insane. Pac takes Mike to the TubChunk so he can get to know the machines and factories and as soon as Pac crashes due to the lag, Mike tells Fit that he's going to murder Ramon and then pretends he never did such a thing.

When they're walking Mike keeps dropping books to Fit and when Pac accidentally takes one and reads it he drops it immediately to Fit, he wasn't expecting such a direct threat coming from him, let alone one directed at a child.

And the clips of Fit conversations with Mike, dear god, I can almost imagine Mike's death stare at Fit, telling him he knows he's not just a janitor for the Federation, with the purpose of infiltrating for information gathering, because if that was the case why didn't he share with the others the information he found until now?

Fit's teeth clench because that motherfucker just threatened his son and is now accusing him of not actually being on their side, on the side of the people that want to destroy the Federation.

He either denies or keeps his mouth shut because he knows he doesn't have the stance to argue otherwise.

Towards the end of their interaction in Walter Bob's house, Mike seems more chill and "himself", he gets excited with Forever's plan to break as many Federation rules as they can simultaneously, but something's still keeping him on edge.

"I don't trust you near Pac, I don't want you to be near him again."

Mike takes his scythe and Fit brandishes his shield while walking away, he still has hope that Mike didn't mean those things he said. Mike hits him once, and then is gone.

When Pac is asked what he thinks about the things Mike is saying, he's so confused with what he should do and who he should trust, but ends up answering: "I have to trust Mike because I don't have a choice".

Could anyone have expected otherwise? Those two are glued to each other, when Pac got kidnapped Mike was furious, when Mike got kidnapped Pac was devastated. Their worst fear is losing each other, no prison or cage could ever compare to the loneliness they feel without their other half. Their connection is safety and comfort, but also a slow poison, it can either make them stronger against everything else or become the reason for their downfall.

They're too far into this to stop now.

#qsmp #fitpac #mitw #mikethelink #pactw #fitmc #tazercraft

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headkiss · 1 year

Note

Hi, love your works. Can you write an angst with fluffy ending where it starts from Steve's douche era. The reader gets teased for stutter. At the end they fall in love. You don't have to write it if you don't like it, it's just me feeling like an angst to read in Valentine's Day and luveline's (Jade) stuttering reader blurb just hyped me up more:)

hiii this is a teeny bit different than what you asked but i hope you like it !!! | 0.8k angst to fluff ( and anon i share your love for jade ( @luveline ) and her writing !!! you can find her blurb here !! )

You avoid going to Scoops Ahoy whenever you end up at the mall.

You’ll walk by, check who’s working, and keep walking every time because Steve always seems to be working. You just tell yourself you don’t like ice cream anymore.

Today marks another trip to the mall. Your parents like to send you there to get things for them, insisting that they’re too busy working to go themselves. You don’t mind so much. It’s nice to get out of the house sometimes.

The part you do mind is having to talk to people, seeing the impatient looks on their faces, getting stressed and making things worse for yourself. You hate it.

You took a long time to get your words out at the last store, and the cashier was clearly annoyed by it, so you decided you needed a break. A breather.

Unfortunately, it being the weekend and crazy busy, the only open bench is in front of Scoops. You sit and keep your head down, your leg bouncing.

Steve notices. He always notices you.

He sees it almost every time you pause in front of the store and then keep walking when you see him inside. It makes his stomach hurt, his heart pinch painfully.

Now’s the only time you’ve stayed near Scoops. The only time he can actually try and talk to you. He turns to Robin and tells her he’ll be right back.

A pair of blue shoes and tall, white socks enter your line of vision. You lift your head and find none other than Steve Harrington standing in front of you. He scratches the back of his neck nervously before sitting down next to you, leaving plenty of space between you.

“Can we talk?” He asks you.

He’s not someone you really wanna talk to. In school, his friends Tommy and Carol gave you endless shit for your stutter, and though he never said anything mean directly to you, he never said anything to stop them, either. Though, you haven’t seen him with either of them in a while.

“What d-do you want to t-t-talk about?” You can’t even look at him despite feeling his eyes on the side of your face.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

That makes you look at him, your head turning to see his soft, brown eyes. They give away his sincerity. You don’t want to trust it.

“Just leave m-me alone, p-p-p,” you stop trying and huff a breath. P is the hardest sound for you. “Please.”

Steve hates the way you look defeated every time you stutter. He hates that he’s part of the reason you feel so awful about something you can’t control.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen. Promise.”

You nod, a tiny movement that he catches only because he was looking so closely.

“I should’ve defended you. In school, everytime those assholes said something. I should’ve stopped them, but I didn’t. I was a dick who cared way too much about what people thought. I’m working on that.”

He looks right at you the whole time he speaks, never breaking eye contact.

His words surprise you. You never expected Steve to apologize to you for things he technically didn’t do. You feel tears prick your eyes and blink them away.

“I just want you to know that I know I was awful to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Why are you ap-p-pologizing now?”

“I want to be better. Make amends and all that.”

“L-like rehab?”

He laughs softly at that.

Steve doesn’t understand how you aren’t yelling at him or something. How you can still be so nice when he knows he hurt you. Though, he can’t deny that he’s glad you’re giving him a chance.

He’s always thought you were pretty. Always liked the sound of your voice. He was too stupid to ever do anything about it.

“Something like that,” he says. He slides a little closer to you on the bench, your thighs centimeters apart. “How can I make it up to you?”

“I d-don’t know,” you say, honest and quiet.

“I’d really like to try. To make it up to you, I mean.”

Steve’s voice is much kinder than you’ve ever heard it, and you think, maybe he really has changed. You know he had a falling out with Tommy and Carol and you think it’s clear that it did him some good.

His eyes are really pretty, you also think. They hold a lot of emotion, and you like that you can see part of how he’s feeling just by looking into them.

Like now, you can tell he’s almost pleading with them, pleading to be able to make things better.

“That w-would be n-nice.”

He doesn’t make a single comment about your stutter, doesn’t even show that he hears it. He only smiles hopefully.

“How about free Scoops Ahoy ice cream.”

“For how l-long?” You ask, mostly joking, though your voice is too shy for that to be obvious.

“Until they inevitably fire me.”

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ghostflowerhotpotch · 11 months

Text

Meet the Parents Part 2

Okay, once again, I rambled for too long and needed to do a second part. Sorry that this post is also coming delayed, real life stuff comes first.

Part 1 to be up to speed!

You know? Maybe it was for the best that the post got cut short, I realized of a small detail that didn't notice yesterday.

The sequence where this four frames are from last around a 1 or 2, I am not really doing this in any professional fashion so I cannot say the exact time; but it is pretty quick, even at half speed.

But you can see how for a moment, Gwen either realizes this is not going well, or drops the enthusiastic persona for a second. Either way, I think it shows that this is not going how she expected.

While Gwen hasn't heard enough to know it was a bad idea using their first names, I don't doubt that Miles talks about them fondly.

She got along well with May and Ben (I notice later that there are some flashbacks including Ben.) And that probably meant a lot to her because you can see how prevalent was the relationship between those families, eating together, talking, etc. Almost like a family.

I don't think Gwen would like to replace Peter and his family, but Miles is not a replacement of Peter anyways. She probably wanted meeting them (Even if I am sure she didn't want to have this meeting today,) would run a lot more smoother.

Because she knows Miles loves his parents, and they do sound like good people; she didn't even seem to think this could actually turn so awkward.

This moment just last a couple of seconds at best, so this goes fairly quickly.

And again, I am not saying this because I want to paint Miles' parents in a bad light; even if they are not giving a fair shot to Gwen, all things consider they are been extremely patient with Miles.

(I really need to do a post about that.)

Now going back to where we left it.

Oh this scene is so hard for me to see.

(Sorry, but DAMN the representation here; this didn't exactly happen to me, but similar enough that is giving me the most embarrassing flashbacks. No I am not saying this is an universal experience, just very painfully real to me.)

Okay, Miles' parents are being over protective here? Oh for sure.

While I think their actions are very logical and understandable once you remember they have no idea what Miles is doing; this is really the part where Rio and Jeff shows us they also need to mature in this movie.

And I don't say it as an insult; a lot of parents have trouble with this transition, and Miles is their first and only child; with said child suddenly not acting as the same kid anymore.

(Sidenote; I am surprised Miles doesn't have any siblings, Jeff and Rio look so in love I am surprised it didn't happen.)

I love how Gwen just takes her hand back, like "well damn I didn't even get a date with him and his parents already are telling me to back off."

Also oof, poor Miles. Honestly forget three months this is probably worse than that already.

Rio making that joke is painfully realistic and let's move on to the other part of that dialogue.

I think Rio and Jeff aren't just trying to establish some rules with Miles (considering the amount he has broken today,) but they also need to reaffirm themselves of being able to dictate what's going on Miles's life.

Again, this is coming just after they grounded him, and then he dipped out. They are feeling they are losing him.

I love Rio, I do, but ma'am this is how you get your kid to keep even more secrets for you.

Not much else to say here, this is the lesson she and Jeff need to learn. Miles is (probably) still hating being alive right now; and Gwen is somehow able to keep that composed face despite everything which has to be one of her most impressive feats in this film.

I honestly have to feel it for Gwen right now.

She probably knows the alert her watch is giving her is bad news, so she really doesn't have another choice.

Forget not making a good impression with Jeff and Rio, now she just lost her chance to have a decent goodbye with Miles.

At this point I don't think she would had admitted to herself this couldn't happen again, I think even now she hoped for another chance later down the line. But there is no idea to know when.

I have no idea what she would had said if she had the chance to say goodbye on her own terms, to his face; but it was certainly not what she ended up doing.

Girl, 3 years being spiderwoman and you can't still come up with good lies for situations like this?

Ok I cannot blame her for not being able to come with up with something better; this entire conversation was already not going well and now she basically needs to flee, which doesn't help.

Oof, look at Miles's face, he really looks so heartbroken here.

For all the awkwardness Gwen has sported during this conversation, this is among her most natural expressions; while she is probably not stranger for dipping early, I do think this is not how she wanted to leave.

Gwen really didn't want to leave, at least not leave Miles. While she couldn't really explain what was going on, I think she wanted to let him no that this isn't about his parents or him, she wouldn't be going out if she didn't have any other choice really.

Jeff hasn't really said much during this conversation, mostly having judgy stares at most, but you can see his expression become a bit more open once he sees Gwen's behaviour change.

Rio I think is trying to maintain a mask because she probably also caught on this looking a bit off, but also because is around here that she starts to realizing how much Gwen means to Miles.

I think is also around this point that Rio seemed to want to say something else.

She could just be trying to say goodbye, but I think her expression and her hand point out more than she actually wanted to intervene here.

I am pretty sure that regardless of how Jeff and Rio felt about Gwen, they didn't want to make her run away like that.

Because again, they are missing context; Gwen is leaving because the Spot flee and she just got herself into a mess, Miles knows this is related to spidey issues.

But as far as Jeff and Rio are concerned, this girl tried to be friendly (way too friendly for their liking but friendly nonetheless,) and is now running away after Rio decided to play Mother Hen.

(Sorry, that joke may not be understandable in english. Mama Gallina/Mother Hen is an expression used a lot in my country for moms that are very protective of their kids.)

Oh, this shot.

This is an interesting comparison because when Miles heard that Gwen was leaving, he looked so crestfallen; she could see it so did his parents but he didn't register the fact that it was so pain this was for him.

Gwen maintained a somewhat composed face to them, but on this shot that she is giving everyone the back, she looks so sad.

This, is basically their relationship in a nutshell. Miles wears his heart in his sleeve and can't help himself on it, and Gwen tries her hardest to keep her emotions at bay, but everything so often they creep back.

This is awkward, and it looks awkward, and this is really more into speculation territory than analysis, but I think she did it because she wanted to go for a hug, or similar.

I had mentioned in other posts how I believe Gwen is an affectionate person, or at least, someone who likes and seeks physical affection to those important to her.

The way she went to hug her dad both at the beginning and end show how much she craves affection; and how she barely contained herself before hugging Miles tells me not just that she probably has even less people to hug nowadays, but how much important he is to her.

But she probably doesn't want to upset his parents more, and his mom told her just a minute ago to basically leave Miles alone; so this was the best she could think of.

Nobody is really happy. Even Rio and Jeff are realizing how uncomfortable is Gwen; thought again, they are probably thinking this is all their fault.

This is really the moment when Rio and Jeff are probably realizing that whatever the heck is going on with Gwen and Miles, is important to them, or at least Miles.

Again, Jeff and Rio are worried, and they have no idea what Gwen's situation is, Miles mentioned she left town but they didn't even believe she existed prior this so they probably doesn't think that's case. Or even if it was, well, keeping contact can't be that hard in this day and age right?

(Sadly, Miles really needed to fall in love with a girl who to get in contact with you need technology from another timeline.)

Miles is 15, and they just met this girl, they couldn't imagine how much she matters to him, specially with all the secrets.

And here, is when Rio finally can let her own feelings aside for a moment, and see her actual son, and not the idea she has of him.

Of course, he is just staring at where she is at, no idea when he would see her again.

A part of me wonders, if he would had tried to go and say something else if his parents wouldn't had been here.

I really, do think Gwen wanted to say something else.

Now with all the context, it makes me so sad to see Gwen leave, and still have trouble to actually do so.

Because she knows this meeting wasn't suppose to happen, and she has no idea if she could ever repeat it or when. She has been so focused on Miles she completely neglected the mission, heck, she even neglected to keep an eye on the guy, which wasn't even so much of a fix for this situation.

You know? Something I kept thinking while analyzing this scene, is how is not just Miles struggling to keep a civial life and a spider life, Gwen is going to the same thing, or similar enough at least.

At this point, she has embraced the Spidey life, she literally has no other choice because she cannot go back home. Her life as Gwen Stacy was gone; being able to just be a carefree teen is left by the times she can be crashing at Hobbie's dimension, and even then, you see that is not enough.

In this sequence, she tries to go back to those patterns, like the camaraderie she had with May, or the jokes she probably shared with her dad's buddies.

But it doesn't go well, and her last moments with Miles were extremely awkward, and them discussing about the organization.

This all feels just like a bitter reminder, she can't be just a teen anymore.

Is a shame, because on the Clock Tower we basically confirm, that Miles was the only person that could make her feel that someone was seeing her for all her. To combine those two worlds she belonged.

But she can't have that now, just like she believes, she can't have Miles.

#ghostflower #gwiles #gwen stacy #miles morales #atsv spoilers #rio morales #jeff morales #across the spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #ghostflower files #will reblog this tomorrow to a decent hour lolol

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shuttershocky · 6 months

Note

Do you have a dislike for media universes that "rewards" people for watching/reading all of it in general?

Or do you think there is one that executes that idea well?

I'm answering this 5 months late, but I'm pretty sure I still remember this ask being prompted by a post making fun of the MCU.

Do I dislike story universes that reward people for reading all of it? Not at all. I mean, I'm a fan of both Middle Earth and Star Wars, I fucking love big, big universes with plenty of stories in them. When they intersect in some small way it's a delight to me, I love those little personal winks from the author for having read their other works or recognizing the most obscure names only a nerd would know.

However, there's a difference between a little reference in a story meant for people who can connect the dots, and making something almost required reading for your enjoyment. It's the difference between an acknowledgement from the creators that you liked the setting enough to come back for a new yet familiar ride, and a company realizing they've found their cash cow and can't wait to milk it for all its got until it's dead.

And dead the cash cow will be, eventually. It's been said before that the reason why the Big Two of western comics have ceded more and more ground to manga over the years is that Spider-Man has 10 different starting points while Naruto starts with Volume#1. That's not just a funny joke. Onboarding new readers has genuinely been Marvel and DC's problem for decades, which is why it was both incredibly predictable yet shocking all the same that this is what the MCU turned itself into.

Sure, early on you could ask the audience to watch a couple movies before the big Avengers crossover, but now they've got all these TV shows on top of the movies that you have to watch in order to "catch up", and it's not even about the cool characters anymore. More and more of their fanbase is going to stop caring once the barrier of entry gets too high, and it's ridiculous to me that Marvel went this road with their movies when they know this is what happened to their comics first.

I mean, are you serious, their next big bad is Kang? I am not watching several TV shows and an Ant-Man movie that's somehow worse than the second one all to see how the currently left Avengers meet goddamn Kang the Conqueror. He's in both the TV shows and the movies, which means they're somehow giving Kang more buildup screentime than Thanos. Why? Either I've been extremely out of touch with Marvel comics or the MCU picked a wild choice to headline their next billion dollar franchise when Doctor Doom is actually available to them now and barely needs an introduction.

Sorry, got lost for a bit. Back on topic, yeah I know I know, all art right now exists under capitalism which means every setting that becomes a wider story universe is an author trying to milk their existing fanbase. Whenever a creator makes a thing that I like, and then announces they have a new thing set in the same setting as their first thing but isn't a direct sequel so they can keep gaining a new audience while keeping their existing one, I know I'm being suckered in.

Just, don't make it so blatant. And don't make it so hard. I am the exact target audience for these shenanigans and even I'm starting to feel like it's homework because it's all fucking required now.

If I, a lifelong Star Wars fan, want to watch the newest Star Wars thing, I have to see a hundred hours of other Star Wars media first. If I want to watch The Mandalorian Season 3, I can't just have seen Season 1 and 2, oh no, I have to also see The Book of Boba Fett too, because halfway through that show became The Mandalorian Season 2.5. Well I did see Boba Fett, and the combination of my dislike for turning it into required homework AND the show itself just being kinda dogshit meant I never touched season 3 of the Mandalorian. That show used to be so great because it wasn't tied down to any existing story arcs or characters, so it stood on its own and made for an amazing watch no matter how much Star Wars you've actually seen. And then it succeeded and so had to become the new spine for the entirety of Disney Star Wars afterward. Fuck. Now if I want to watch their latest show Ahsoka, I have to have seen the Clone Wars animated series AND Rebels, because the Rebels cast are in it too! I mean I did see Clone Wars and Rebels, but that still sucks!

That makes me worried now! Andor was also really fucking good and it stood on its own so hard you didn't even need to see Rogue One, the movie that introduced Cassian Andor in the first place. But now that season 1 was a success and everyone sang its praises, it certainly means season 2 is suddenly going to get real cramped with Ahsoka and Luke Skywalker and whatever guys are currently alive in its timeframe. Shit, they're probably gonna add Cal Kestis in season 2 of Andor. The Respawn Star Wars games are still doing their own thing which means it's time to connect to something else.

I hate what all this has become. It was fun to read the Silmarillion and see what kind of fuckery one family of elves got up to that eventually turned Sauron from minion to big evil eye parked next to evil mountain, but you didn't need to read all that before The Lord of the Rings. LOTR didn't assume you knew anything at all (and oh boy did Tolkien never miss an opportunity to explain shit).

Let me repeat. I am the target audience. I live for the ridiculously nerdy habit of reading things set in the same universe as other things and connecting all the dots. If /I/ feel like it's become homework, I can't imagine what the average person thinks of all this. Make it stop. Stop running everything I once loved into the ground in the name of endless profit. Star Wars was already doing this to itself before the Disney acquisition and yet it didn't feel this bad.

#I would take hundreds of disconnected and mediocre Star Wars comics and books made in the Legends era #Over what's happening to it now

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ninjigma · 2 years

Text

Cody's Little Sister

“It’s really quiet huh?”

Cody may have been tempted to keep his eyes closed longer, but he could already hear Rex begging Cody to answer his honorary little sister with something comforting. Anything really.

“Probably more the lack of people being shot than actual quiet.”

Well. Maybe anything but that.

But Ahsoka offered up a morbid laugh anyhow. And Cody decided she had been fighting too long.

Currently, the two were a bit… lost. Though not of their own accord. The planet was mostly marsh, temperate and soggy, and though they had come prepared for that there was no preparing for a section of a natural water dam to be destroyed and flood their forward route. Thankfully Cody was pretty sure most everyone was out of the direct path of the flood, but oh so lucky for Ahsoka, she had been in the middle of the river crossing. Cody, a few feet behind her, cursed Jedi and their non-armor-wearing ways as he leaped forward. The wave hit him hard enough that truthfully he only remembered dark and choking until he was coughing up slime on their island. Everything to communicate had been damaged by the sediment, and Ahsoka was currently tinkering at Cody’s helmet to give them a chance.

“How far do you think we went?”

Cody took another careful breath, chest aching horribly. But a bit more determined this time to be encouraging he started mapping the stars that had come out. “Based on where the sun is setting and what I remember of the briefing, we probably made it a few clicks down The Serpent's Back. Surprised we didn’t drown truthfully.”

He really is trying. Seriously, Rex, it’s hard when everything is always getting worse by the minute.

“Thanks for the credit,” Ahsoka sniffed. “That armor doesn’t make you any lighter you know.”

Ok, now Cody’s eyes were open. “You pulled me out with you?”

Ahsoka glared at him a bit, as if what he said was absurd. “Of course. I wasn’t going to let you drown.” Then in the fading light, Cody caught something much sadder in her eyes. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you protecting me from the water and trees in the first place. It isn’t at all your job to protect me, but you did it anyway.”

Cody swallowed. He may be out of his depth but even he could very much tell that ‘your life is more important than mine because I’m replaceable property’ was not the right follow-up here. So he went with something more honest, the white and blue of her montrals making it a bit easier. “Any time Commander.”

Ahsoka chuckled a bit again. “And same for you, Commander.”

The silence that fell now didn’t feel nearly as awkward as Cody had expected. He was propped against a low tree comfortably enough. The moss made it just about as lovely as those new pods the Kaminoans were putting cadets in. Ashoka didn’t seem to mind either, sitting a few feet away to try and get the last rays of light to work by.

It was when they were finally without almost any light source that Cody became overly paranoid again. Any small noise and he was tending for some separatist gang or some Togruta-eating beast to come barreling down on them. It also didn’t help that his chest twinged every time he shifted, and Ahsoka was better at reading people than he thought.

“Here,” she whispered as the nightlife began making odd noises. The familiar noise of a lightsaber soon drowned them out and their little island was lit in its eerie green glow.

Cody was about to thank her when the light flashed across something moving through the water behind Ahsoka. It moved slowly but purposefully, turning as if it could see-

“Turn it off!” Cody hissed as loud as he dared.

The lightsaber winked out and Cody had no time to even ponder whether the creature could hunt some other way before Ahsoka's trembling voice cut him off.

“I’m sorry, I-I thought it would help you relax.”

Cody couldn’t help in the slightest. “No, I’m sorry to snap that way Commander. I just think, as nice as the light is, it makes us a rather large target.”

Ahsoka nodded, giving one last look at the fading helmet and then curling in on herself. Again they fell to silence, the sound of water moving now making Cody even jumpier. The fog and pain in his head weren’t helping either. He had to focus on something else.

“Do you… mind me talking with you?” Cody asked in a slight whisper. “Would help me keep my head clear.”

He managed to make out Ahsoka turning to look at him (really, was this planet one big fresher bowl because of its weak ass moon?), though he wasn’t quite expecting the surprise. “Are you asking for… permission to talk to me? In order to help you?”

“Sorry Commander,” he answered in reflex. “I won’t-“

“Stop, Cody,” Ahsoka now sounded even more upset and Cody was sure Rex was somehow glaring at him. “You don’t have to ask. I know we aren’t alone like this, ever, but nobody needs permission to talk to me. Especially not you, or Rex, or any of you. Unless you’d like me to ask permission to speak?”

“No,” Cody answered immediately, though his mind was still processing her words. “No, never.”

Ahsoka has a small smile, even though she figured Cody couldn’t see it. “Then I suppose we don’t have much else to do until master Obi-Wan finds us.”

Cody took another pained breath. “Shouldn’t be long. I imagine General Skywalker is having a fit about him losing you.”

Finally, Ahsoka gave him a quiet laugh. Small victories. “They both worry too much. You had everything under control.”

“Yeah well, someone should remind them of that next time they decide to test how flightless humans are.”

That laugh felt more genuine, and Cody relaxed just a tad more. “I’ll try to remember, but I can’t promise I won’t be doing it too.”

“Oh, you will be,” Cody grunted. “Rex too, the di’kut.”

“What’s that mean anyway?”

Cody hadn’t even realized he had his eyes closed. Blinking he shifted slowly against the tree to wake himself a bit more. “Someone who forgets to put their pants on.”

Ahsoka’s quiet laughter did a better job than the moving. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound but Cody felt his spirits lift regardless. “You two sound much closer than Captain and Commander,” she said, though with a hint of something that made Cody suspect she knew the answer.

Yet, Cody oddly enough found himself smiling as he answered. “Yeah, you could say that. I’ve known Rex since he was a little shit. And now he’s a big shit, but he’s still my little brother.”

Ahsoka laid her head on her arms, crossed on her pulled-up knees. “You sound just like Master Obi-Wan and Anakin. Maybe that’s why our battalions work so well.”

“Because the general and I are both calling your battalion idiots?”

“I’d think I could earn a little more faith,” Ahsoka smiled. “But no. I think it’s more because you both say it out of love for your little brothers. You understand something more about each other, just like Anakin and Rex can.”

Cody knew it had been a while since he last laughed, and even though it was quiet, he found it quite nice. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am, but no one listens to me either. Especially Skyguy when he’s flying.”

They were now both laughing, the soft noises blending into the living environment around them. For how much pain he was in, and the fact it was becoming quite cold, Cody found this was a vacation compared to his normal life. “You’re just like them.”

“Who?”

Cody hadn’t realized he said it out loud, but he wasn’t feeling as reserved as usual. “Rex. And General Skywalker. You’re probably all feeding off each other’s crazy. Whoever partnered you all up must have been just as nuts.”

Ashoka snickered again. “Well I think it was Obi-Wan, so don’t think you're oh-so-good Mr. 212th.”

The sentence was suddenly so informal Cody had to cough another laugh. “If anything that just proves I’m the only one with sense!”

“Didn’t you break a foot once kicking a droid?”

“Details.”

Ashoka was now burying her face to try and be quiet. “No, you’re one of us. Disaster lineage is what Master Windu says.“

“Pft,” Cody started to shake his head before it spun and he stopped. “Rex and my batch mates would probably agree, even though they’re just as bad.”

“Batch mates?”

“Like, well, brothers,” Cody chewed his lip. “Closer than the overall vod though. More like a nat-born sibling. Decanted together and then trained from day one together.”

“Oh! I think I know what you mean,” Ahsoka said. “Some of us Padawan are much closer than others. I guess we aren’t that different, brought to the temple really young and then growing up together.”

“Heh, yeah, and look at us now,” Cody chuffed. “Practically twins.”

Ahsoka's laugh was softer this time, and Cody could just make her out as she began to shiver badly. Kriff, he had his armor and thermals, and even soaking wet he hadn’t realized he was probably much better off than Ahsoka with the chill. She looked like a shiny, trying to hold everything together. Cody then found himself leaning forward despite the pain, undoing the clasps on his armor.

“What are you doing?” Ahsoka was now all concerned. “Is something wrong? Is your chest getting worse? Are you-“

“I’m fine Commander,” Cody halted her panic. “You made sure of that. Just thought it’d be warmer without some of the armor.” Finally, he had managed to undo the breastplate and plied it and the plackart to the side. He then tapped the mossy ground and raised his arm, careful to hide as much pain as possible. “You’re not going to survive all of this only to die of a cold on my watch.”

Ahsoka barely even hesitated, which surprised Cody some. But as she curled carefully into his side he figured Rex called her little sister for a reason. And soon enough the shivering stopped and Cody found the contact quite comforting, as much as he thought it was gonna be awkward.

“He told me I could go to you.”

Kriff, he had to stop closing his eyes. “Huh?” Yeah, he must be concussed.

“Rex,” Ahsoka spoke a bit clearer. “He found me once crying in a supply closet. I didn’t want any of the men to see. I’m supposed to be a Jedi, supposed to be able to lead them. But when Rex found me I couldn’t even try to fake it.”

Cody found himself thrown suddenly back into his memories, the moment he found Rex, hiding and crying. It was like some odd twist of fate, to be hearing this. And it only stung him more as Ahsoka continued.

“He helped me. Told me if no one else he’d be there when I needed him. And then he promised me that if he couldn’t be there,” her breath caught a bit, the unsaid being heard clearly. “Then you’d be there. If I couldn’t find anyone else, I should find you. And I guess I just accepted it was the same as with any of you. But Anakin once said something similar about Obi-Wan, and you never even hesitated to protect me today. So now I get it,” Cody didn’t even feel any pain as her montrals pressed against his side. “You’re my big brother too.”

Cody wasn’t lucky. No, luck wasn’t on the side of any clone. There was only training and fighting and suffering tooth and nail for one more day of miserable existence. And yet, here he was, thinking fond memories of a small blond mischief maker and how a family really was made, not born. After everything that had happened to them all, he was here now, doing what he actually did best: being a big brother.

And when the entire sky suddenly lit up in dancing green and blue lights, he figured he should rethink the miserable existence part of his thoughts.

“What is that?” Ahsoka gasped, mesmerized as the lights started changing colors, purples and reds shooting through like tendrils. Everything around them was bathed in it, and Cody couldn’t help a breath of relief as it revealed familiar white and gold armor and a very scared-looking master Jedi a few dozen yards down the river.

“I’d say hope,” he answered. “but I’m not quite that concussed.”

Ahsoka's laughter rang a bit different now, and her smile was definitely brighter as she too caught sight of Obi-Wan and started waving. Rex was right. Cody would be there whenever she needed him, they both would.

That’s what big brothers are for.

#found family #is best family #this has been in my drafts for over a month #I have been enabled #ahsoka tano #clone commander cody #star wars #clone wars #fanart #my art #my writing #I just wanted to write it damn it

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elcpsstuff · 8 months

Text

The Summer I Remembered You (C.F) (Part 18)

your words, baby, how they mean so little when your just a little to late.

—

A/N: I’m sorry y’all… 🤞🏻😔

Synopsis: bunch of hurt feelings that no one can explain

—

“Are they here yet?”

“shhh, be quiet.” I put my finger to my lips as Frankie rolls her eyes at me.

“Listen, I have to interject,” Taylor begins, “This is why Conrad is lame. You two need to stop fighting over him and let it go! He just strings people along. Let’s not act like his feelings for you are real, yn.”

I know she didn’t mean it in a mean way, but it hurt. Because no one actually believed Conrad felt that way about me, and I was starting to believe it to. What about all those stolen kisses? The cuddling at night and when he would mumble words into my ear so I would forget about the rain. Was it even real? That night?

I didn’t have time to respond to Taylor because Jeremiah is getting out of the car. “Oh my God, Belly are you okay?”

Frankie scoffs, “Yeah, we’re fine thanks for asking.” And I can’t help but laugh a little at Jeremiah’s blatant forgetfulness of anyone who wasn’t Belly.

Conrad trials behind Jeremiah and Taylor and Frankie pounce at the chance to question him, “What are you doing here?”

His adam’s apple bobs up and down before holding a bag in front of us, “Nicole.. she uh— gave me these.”

Taylor takes it quickly, “You better tell her to watch her back.” Me and the rest of the girls get in a line and Jeremiah and Conrad awkwardly hold the towel up after a couple of seconds. They better not look.

Belly shakes her head, “Hey uh, do you guys mind if I go with Jeremiah?”

“Yes, 1000% yes.” Taylor adds quickly.

“So we have to go with Conrad?” Frankie breathes the words out like there’s no tomorrow. Truthfully, I don’t want to go with Conrad either but what choice do we have since Belly and Jeremiah want to get down at 11 at night.

“Seriously?” I say but it comes out like more a whisper.

“You’ll be fine, yn. Nothing you haven’t done before.” The words come out sharp like knives to my heart. Thought me and Belly were over that but we might need to talk more.

“Ignore her, yn.” Frankie whispers in my ear and we all finish changing. Jeremiah throws the covers to the side and Belly awkwardly shuffled towards Jeremiah. He puts a hand on her back as they walk to his car.

Conrad grabs his shoulder and rubs it, but the rubbing became more aggressive the more nervous he got. “So, you guys all coming with me?”

“Sadly.” Frankie whips out.

“Let’s not make this a thing.” Taylor adds and for the first time her and Frankie start laughing. With each other and before I can question them they’re getting into the back seats.

I sigh and get into the passenger side and like always Conrad’s staring at me. I’m over it at this point.

“Crazy night guys..” Those words, they make we want to slap him. Over and over again. Does he even realize what he’s done? We were naked because of him. That’s the second time he’s the cause for me being naked. Shamefully.

“It didn’t have to be like that, if you would just stop texting yn and pretending to like her.” Taylor shoots the words right at Conrad’s throat and I can almost see the stab mark in my head.

“Taylor—”

“No, i’m serious. Maybe if you actually liked her this wouldn’t be a problem. But you don’t. So let’s just.. go.”

I can’t look anywhere else besides the window because I know if I face Conrad my heart will break into a million pieces. All the i love you’s and the promises will be broken. Our friendship lost in the cracks as well.

—

Age 14, Summer

“Jere, please?”

“Mom, I promised Belly I would take her to the boardwalk, I can’t stay with yn.”

There was one thing that was worse than leaving the summer house. That was getting a cold during the summer. Right now, that was me. Poor yn, stuck inside away from the daylight like Susannah claimed.

Their voices chirped in the background which I faintly heard, but my ears were way to clogged to fully understand.

“Why can’t Connie stay home with her? He’s obsessed with her.”

“Jere, Connie is practicing for a sailing competition, ie would you please—”

After minutes of bickering it was clear Jeremiah was not going to stay inside for me, but it was nothing personal. Even if he had decided to give in I would have felt guilty for prying him away from Belly.

Susannah came over to hand me a glass of water when Conrad walked in the room, surfboard in hand ready to catch some waves. His face went from excited to worried within milliseconds.

“What’s wrong with yn?” He looks at Susannah and I suddenly feel like a child. Like i’m not even here. I certainly look like one though in my shorts and sweatshirt. My hair was up in a high bun and sweat was dripping off my face.

Susannah’s eyes light up and I know now i’m going to have to sit through another 10 minutes of a fisher brother rejecting care to me. I would get up but I feel to sick to do anything.

“Oh, poor yn, has a summer cold. Threw up this morning.” Susannah runs a hand through my hair and another horrible, burning sneeze comes from my mouth. I can see Susannah wince.

“Oh.” Conrad whispers and I know he’s contemplating it. I don’t want him to though, he deserves the right to go outside and have fun, do whatever he wants. I’m not worth the time.

“Connie, could you, maybe—”

“I’ll stay with her. You can go to the store and run some errands mom.”

That feeling, that the girls say they feel in fairytales, I think I just got that. Leave it to Conrad Fisher to make a girl feel like the only fucking girl in the world.

“Don’t you have to surf?” I say and after I realize how desperate I sound, it’s sad. Almost like i’m begging him to go the ocean and forget about me. For now.

Instead of the response I thought he was going to give, he waves his hand and shakes his head, “It’s okay, I’ll go change.”

Before I can protest, Conrad’s up the stairs in a heartbeat.

“See,” Susannah begins, “He’d do anything for you.”

I laugh, a little too hard which results in me coughing and Susannah hands me my glass of water. “That’s funny.” I say once my voice clears.

“It’s true, yn. You’re his weakness.” The words came off Susannah’s tongue like a prayer, a promise. A promise in my heart that maybe one day, I would believe her.

Minutes later, Conrad came downstairs in shorts and a sweatshirt. He had also brought down with him and extra pair of sweats and an ice pack.

“uhm- i brought you these.” He motions and Susannah looks at me through a grin, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” And with that, she’s off the couch and I swore I heard her whisper something to Conrad. Maybe I was so sick I was hallucinating. All of this.

Conrad sits down next to me and I felt guilty. Nobody should have to be by me right now. Not even Conrad who was my best friend, my other half.

He noticed my shift and tapped my arm, “Hey, how about you put these on?”

“You can go, Conrad.” My voice is barely above a whisper but his face conveys pure confusion. “Please. I’ll tell Susannah you stayed.”

“Woah woah yn—”

“Just go.” I shake my head and cough into my hands, feeling it cut into my throat. I groan at the pain.

“I’m not going anywhere, yn. Don’t be a dummy. I didn’t do this for my mom.”

Me. Your his weakness.

“But surfing?—” I go to question but he puts a hand to my lips.

“Surfing could wait, this can’t. Your a mess, yn. I’m not just gonna watch while my girl coughs her lungs up out her body.”

My girl? I think I might die, all for him to bring me back to life. He had that sorta effect on me. All these years I had been obsessed with someone noticing me, maybe Jeremiah. I thought one day he might, but not Conrad. We were best friends, but I never thought he saw me that way. If I had known sooner, maybe things could have been easier.

Instead of saying what I want to, I nod and grab the sweatpants from him, throwing them over my body. For some reason, I still felt cold as hell.

“Here, come on..” Conrad opens his arms for me and the only thing I wanted to do was hug him for eternity. Instead, I stupidly say: “You know you’ll get sick?”

He smirks, “Shut up, Conklin. It’s not my fault if you decline my warm chest.” And that was it. I caved. I wrapped my arms around his torso and nuzzled my head into his shoulder. My body still twitched from the aching and cold, but Conrad knew all the right things to do.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Relax.”

“Kinda hard to do that.”

Conrad stroked the hairs on my head, and I couldn’t help but blush. He was so tender, so kind, and all I wanted to do now was be sick forever, as long as he was here.

“Your very warm.” I mumble against his chest.

“I know.” He says and by the tone of his voice I know he’s smiling.

For the rest of the day we stayed inside watching shows and I never let go of Conrad besides when he got up to get me more medicine and water. As soon as he sat back down my arms were around him. I even felt him kiss my forehead once.

My eyes were sagging, and sleep was about to take over me. The last thing I heard was a soft voice whisper to me.

“It’s you, yn. I wish you could see that.”

I didn’t respond, because he probably thought I was sleeping. Honestly, i’m beginning to wonder If i was.

—

Present Day:

The eerie noises of the night kept me up, not allowing me to fall into a deep sleep I needed.

After the most awkward ride with Conrad and the girls, we all went to our separate rooms. Frankie was already fast asleep and I couldn’t blame her after the events that occurred today. It’s not everyday you get stranded naked by rich kids.

Just as my thoughts began to wind down, my phone buzzed a couple of times and I instantly grabbed it, with every bone in my body telling me not to i still did.

Conrad: u up? come down please?

I tell myself this is it, the last thing I do for Conrad Fisher. I’ll walk downstairs and tell him this is the end, of everything. Not just this love and fling he’s strung in my face all these years. This friendship. This pure friendship that got caught between the lies of our real feelings.

My feet tread across the wooden floor and lightly make my way downstairs. Conrad is by the docks. Hesitantly, I slip out the back door praying I don’t wake anyone. When i’m certain I don’t, I head for the docks.

He looks at me for the first time with an expression I can’t seem to recognize: Hurt, anger, love? I cant tell.

We’re inches apart as I stand at the dock where our childhood memories once lingered, and I think they still do.

“You came.”

I scoff, “You texted me.” I wave my phone in the air motioning at him, “can you please stop doing that?”

He’s taken aback by the harshness in my tone, “I’m sorry, stop texting you?”

“Yeah. I- I think so.” No. I don’t think so.

He reads right through me and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. At this rate i’ll break in a couple of minutes if he doesn’t stop this, touching.

“Conrad.”

“I don’t believe you, you know.” His free hand trails up my arm and slowly grazes my neck. “When you say that type of stuff.”

I wanna hate him so bad, but I can’t find it in me to do so. Every fiber in my body is telling me to walk away, and never look back, but I can’t. My eyes are glued to Conrad Fisher, and my heart belongs to him.

“Conrad, please.” He grazes my jaw and that’s when i’ve lost. Lost this battle between us. If he wanted me in this moment, I think I would’ve let him take me. It was bad, but so true.

“It’s selfish, what i’m doing.” He whispers against me. “Because I haven’t been fair. You know it.” My head is against his chest now and I feel his every breath. I have to stay strong, remember that this is it.

Why can’t the words come out of my mouth?

“This was the last thing I wanted. I never wanted you to regret what we did.”

That’s when I pulled my head out of his chest and shook my head, “What? Who said I regretted it?”

Conrad let go of me and ran a hand through his hair, “I- i don’t know.. I just like thought maybe.. you didn’t—”

He would never get it. If anything, this summer should be an indication to him that you very much did not regret what you two did, in fact you wanted more. I suddenly fell out of the trance Conrad had placed me in.

“This is it Conrad. You don’t get to have me anymore.”

To my surprise, he nods his head, “I know.”

Wasn’t this what you wanted? For him to let you go?

So why do I feel like my heart is ripping out? Why do I want him to fight for something that’s already gone?

“Bad things happen, when we try and… fix whatever this is. We were just two friends- best friends who got tangled into each other. It’s not like it was real.” The words burn my throat and tear at Conrad’s heart as I see them. It wasn’t true, I wanted to tell him.

“I.. yeah.” Conrad trails off.

“So please, let it go. Let me go. It’s too painful.”

Conrad only nods and pulls out a black little bag from his pocket. I already know what it is, and my heart throbs at the thought. “This was yours.”

“No, Conrad—”

“It’s for you. I can’t just give it to someone else. Throw it away, burn it, just.. I cant keep this. It’s a memory of you. You know that.”

“Conrad i’m—”

“Like you said, it wasn’t real, right?” His words sting me even though I had told him it wasn’t real. But it was, to me it was.

“Night, Conrad.” I place the little velvet bag back in his hands before turning to walk away. I even think I heard a faint ‘wait’ before leaving, but I was too dazed to tell.

—

Frankie and Taylor both left the next day. After our little wood’s experience, they had seemed to go from hating each other to tolerating each other. They even agreed on some things.

Susannah was in full deb mode. Since I had no date, my last resort was to text the one and only Josh. Of course, I had thought about asking Conrad but after our talk from the previous night I doubted he wanted to talk to me.

Luckily, Josh said he would be happy to take me, as a friend, which made me chuckle a little bit.

I walked into the living room mid afternoon, scrambling about things that needed to be done. Josh was a late entry, and I couldn’t exactly talk to Nicole about that considering she left me naked in the woods the previous night. Susannah told me she would go to the club and get it sorted though.

“What’s up with you?” I hear a voice and turn around only to be met with Belly. She’s sitting at the counter, looking more solemn than ever.

“I should be asking you that.” I pour some orange juice into my cup before placing it back in the fridge.

Belly shrugs, “I’m just thinking, I guess.” I nod and we stay silent for a little while before Belly plunges my heart a little more, “Why didn’t you tell me, about Conrad?”

I shake my head, “It’s over now, in the—”

“No. Before. When you liked him. All those years that I did?” I swallowed bile that was sticking to my throat and the walls felt like closing in. I knew why I didn’t tell her. If I did, it would ruin that perfect older sister image I wanted her to have of me.

“Did you always like him?” She asks, and her tone suggests she almost doesn’t wanna know the answer.

“I think.. yeah. The first time I felt it was when I was 11 years old. I tried to cover it up by saying I liked Jeremiah, but that wasn’t true. I just.. how could I say a thing? Not when you were—”

“Desperately in love with him? Yeah.”

I shake my head, “No. Not that. I should’ve told you.”

She nods, “You should’ve.” There was a slight pause and I wondered for a moment if this was it, I had already lost Conrad. What’s one more to add to this shit show of a summer?

“But I mean.. I guess I always knew. It was always there in the back of my head, you and Conrad. I could always see it in the way he looked at you.”

“Belly—”

“I just- always wanted that chance with him, you know? It was selfish, but sometimes I wished you weren’t here. You weren’t supposed to be. I don’t think that now though, you know I wouldn’t.”

Those words coming out of Belly’s mouth made me want to throw up but this is the closest we’ve been in a year so I can’t take this for granted. I lean over and squeeze her hand, “Belly, I’m sorry about this year. I wanna be close again, and Conrad never should’ve gotten in the way.”

“I guess I wouldn’t really wanna tell you if I had sex with him, so I get it.” I couldn’t tell if she was taking shots at me anymore or being nice but I smiled anyways. This was a new start, me and Belly. Boys or not, it was me and her through the long hall.

After we let go, the question that had been burning my body to ask finally arose, “So, Jeremiah?”

Belly’s cheeks turn a crimson red before stuffing her face with a muffin. “I don’t know, he’s.. it’s different. Conrad didn’t feel real, you know? But Jere is real, and it’s scary.”

To me, it was the exact opposite. Conrad felt very real, so real that my brain wants to explode when i’m next to him. He makes me forget everything and everyone and it’s just us in a world of bliss.

I pinch my arm, coming back to reality. I really have to stop thinking about Conrad.

—

A/N: Pain Pain Pain!! We good? You guys only 2-3 more chapters left I can’t my heartttt :(

tag list: @kkrenae @callsignwidow @drikawinchester @johannelis2302nely @allnrsnz @galaxy13sworld @paytonloiselle @i-think-you-are-gr8 @imaspecialpersonwhoneedshelp @awatt31 @user0440822 @jackierose902109 @chocolatefartstrawberry @whoisjellyellie @apollo3475

(tag list for some reason won’t tag some people)

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher #team conrad #belly conklin #conrad x reader #team jeremiah #tsitp #love #summer love

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itsnothingofinterest · 1 month

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You know I'm seeing some people try and say Tomura is becoming like Kotaro after those panels last chapter and now again in 417, like he's become the very thing he hates, and...I'm sorry, but that's some bullshit. They may both be 'bad men' but they are distinct in their personal badness as Overhaul and Redestro, maybe moreso actually.

And the claims towards what their similarities are just seem almost silly to me.

'They're both spreading misery' well sure in a really vague way that could also apply to All Might, Deku, and literally every hero and villain in this series and a lot of the rest of the cast, I guess that's a similarity they share. But I personally feel comparing authoritative domestic abuse and anarchistic super-villainy is a bit of a stretch; it’s why we always considered AFO and Overhaul to be distinct from (and usually worse than) the League proper.

'Tomura's getting Tenko hurt just like Korato by not letting Deku save him' …No? This is a memory guys; Tenko was hurt by Kotaro. It looks to me like Tomura simply doesn't want Deku interfering with his mind (or maybe even attacking his innermost self, as the vestiges have suggested a few times now) but that might just be my read. Because like; Deku came here to figure out his past, here it is being shown to him. Something I find pretty fitting; this whole time Deku's been acting like he's gotta fight so hard to figure out his deal but Tomura's never been shy about sharing his motivations. What more could Deku want seeing this, and is that 'more' not inevitably overstepping and an attempt to alter Tomura's mind? It's not like Tomura has reason to trust this hero's good intentions, so I think it only makes sense for him to let Deku look but not touch. But yeah, If these images are upsetting to see happen; well Deku went digging for them for exactly that reason.

I mean I have even seen it suggested that Tomura is to blame for putting inner Tenko through like this because he's playing his suffering on loop in his mind and...weird Tenko vs Tomura framing aside...what proof is there that a) this is happening all the time in his head rather than this memory replaying because Deku dug for it, and b) if it is on loop; that it is unique for that? Do we have solid reason to believe Deku's memory of being told he can't be a hero isn't on loop in his own heart as well? Maybe every memory is on loop, or maybe this and every other memory is only replayed when it’s remembered; either way we’ve to proof this memory is unique for any of this. It's just such a weird argument I've seen made to suggest Tomura is uniquely wrong for being motivated by his past. In a series that can feel like it loves flashbacks almost as much as Naruto.

Anyway my point is; just because Tomura's a villain who isn't playing ball with Deku's attempts at messing with his core, that doesn't make him his father the domestic abuser. Tenko & Kotaro kind of have their dislike of heroes for their irresponsibility in common (Tomura even famously borrowed his dad's line on that) but that's pretty much it I think, and even then Tomura's hate is broader. I know the typical trope is for the well-intentioned-extremist-type villains to become the very thing they hate; but I just can't see much of that here.

#bnha #bnha 416 #bnha 417 #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #paranormal liberation front #PLF #league of villains #lov #kotaro shimura #midoriya izuku #all for one #all might

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queen-of-elves · 11 months

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Let's try again

Poe Dameron x fem!reader College AU

Summary: You thought college was a new fresh start, so seeing Poe Dameron again at a party completely wrecks your world.

A/N: Not proofread sorry, I am done with my college exams so I back to writing hehe

Words: over 6.2K

Warnings: cursing, some insecurities, daydreaming as a for of escape

Request are still open

Tags for this fanfic: @ahookedheroespureheart

This party was advertised as a private party, a surely small thing with just enough people you knew to talk to. Wrong, completely and utterly wrong. Beer, loud booming music and loads of people, would be a perfect description of a frat party.

Private party my ass, Jessica.

Jessica was the one to invite you, the two of you met at the start of the winter semester and hit it off instantly. Well, if instantly meant Jessica basically adopting you and becoming your support extrovert for social interactions. So when she told you, A small party and I will be basically attached to your hip, well, you to mine, but please don’t hide behind me the whole time. Live a little, girlie.

You truly didn’t expect this amount of overwhelming feelings, it was probably ‘cause you didn’t come prepared for all of this. Small number of people you knew from shared classes plus Jessie next to you? Social battery ready. Full house with red cups littering the hall just like the people invited? Halls and rooms full of strangers with loud music and not enough air to actually breathe? Yeah, not really ready. Not ready at ALL.

What you also weren’t ready for was Jessica ditching you at the sofa she stationed you at with the promise of not that much alcoholic beverage in your cup as last time. This sentence was actually met with you pointing a finger in her face and quick “Knew it!” exhaled before she sprinted away. Last time you made an absolute fool of yourself while drunk, not nonconsensually, Jessica told you it had alcohol in it, hoping you would relax a bit and you accepted. Relaxing a bit after a what Jessica called a bit of vodka, which was in your opinion loads of what you assumed was pure and concentrated methanol, resulted in you turning into an absolute beast, according to eyewitnesses, your classmates and of course rest of the party goers you don’t know telling you the next day. It also resulted in you waking up with the worst headache of your life, foul taste in your mouth and almost zero memory of the night before. Not exactly an experiment you wanted to be part of for the second time.

But the night got worse, of course it did go worse, if you drank it was bad and if you didn’t you got bored just like now. And bored always resulted in either sticking to Jessie’s back or hip and begging her to leave the lame party early or if she evaded your presence the moment you got bored it was on you to choose between waiting on her or leaving yourself. You never left by yourself. Yes, it was an option but a terrible one, unwanted and awkward and no one wants those. So, you stuck to the position, sitting on the cushion sofa in the middle of a living room in a frat house full of people with loud music blasting from speakers.

You can do it, people go on dangerous expeditions and always come back. Well, not always. Actually what is the percentage of dangerous expeditions going wrong. That must depend on the definition of dangerous expedition, right? God, I should google it.

You had spaced out again. It’s not something you would do often- a blatant lie, you actually did it often, too often nowadays. Sometimes it was just thoughts building a maze in your head and hiding your brain and sometimes it was daydreams, with no rational scheme behind those thoughts. It was an escape that made you feel better. In some kind of fucked up way it made you feel seen even though it was not real and just in your head. But it was happiness and therefore you would take it.

And with your mind swimming around in your head so did your eyes, away from the musty old carpet and into the crowd. The house felt fuller than before and it probably was. It has been an hour since you arrived with Jessica, fashionably late or something according to her. Jessica’s lateness was however disturbed by your anxiousness of being too late, so instead of an hour late it was 20 minutes. So all the actually and purposely late people had finally arrived.

It felt like you would develop a headache, no, you were definitely going to get a headache. And so your eyes kept on skimming across the room, one of the legs of the coffee table in front of you that was cracked or the ripped wallpaper on the other side of the room. And then you caught someone’s eyes, staring in recognition at you. It terrified you, being observed in such a way and again the night got worse, so so much worse. Because you recognized those eyes and his face just like he did with yours. Here he stood, a few meters away with a red cup in hand, leaning on one of the four walls of the living room.

Poe was always boyishly handsome, the next door kind of boy handsome, but now he was heavenly being among mortals. What once were curious big eyes with mischievous glint, and he truly didn’t lose the spark in those years, just turned into dark flirtatious danger.

And what could have been a friendly, surprising meeting after all this time between childhood friends was only a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. You couldn’t look at him. You thought it was behind you, it felt like years and was in fact swept by those years under the rug like any kind of unpleasant memory from your past. But this was Poe, your Poe, no, scratch that, he was not your Poe anymore. There was nothing left of the boy you would play with every day, go to the beach every summer and who would make you laugh so uncontrollably until your stomach hurt.

And now he was excusing himself from the conversation he was having moments prior to your staring contest? Accident? Let’s call it an accident. It felt like one and it was going to result in a horrendous amount of trauma, again.

The whole time he held your gaze with his, not even a second was given to anything else. You were sure he was going to trip over the outstretched legs of one of the boys but he just stepped over them without looking. He was always a lucky bastard. So wishing him to fall over something and plant his handsome face on that disgusting carpet while you would sprint down your escape route, you had already planned, was a delusional dream.

“What are you doing here?” He finally arrived close enough not to awkwardly yell at you across the room when he spoke and you were ready to puked all over yourself. Poe even attempted to hug you or at least his arms were spread wide open instigating he was going for a hug. But this attempt was shortly discarded after you didn’t move an inch to meet the hug, still sitting on the sofa with a shocked expression as if made out of stone. You couldn’t move, you just couldn’t, there was no explaining it.

So that’s how deers feel when they are staring at the headlights. Paralyzed and ready to be crushed, unable to move to escape.

But for you there was escaping. Maybe you could play amnesia, a little trip down the stairs and upsie dupsie you don't remember him.

“Sorry, it’s you, right? Y/N?” He looked unsure and a bit awkward. Poe most likely didn’t expect you here or to even see you again in his life. In both of your eyes it was probably for the best not seeing each other after how your friendship ended on such a tragic note.

Yes, even better. I can play it like I am someone else. Then when all of this is over I can just never see him again. Maybe changing my name and hair color and mayor and maybe completely moving to Brazil to play volleyball at beaches would be a good idea. Drink fruity cocktails and work as a maid in hotels or something. I like volleyball and I definitely don’t want to be in this situation.

“No, it’s definitely you.” His confused expression morphed into one of pure happiness and you knew there was no escaping.

Maybe if I think hard enough about sunny beaches and bikinis I won’t be here. I will just pow and be somewhere else.

No, you could still hear the loud music resonating deep inside your bones.

Fuck, I am still here and not in Brazil, aren’t I?

“What was that? Where did you just go?” Poe smiled softly down at your seated form. His smile was so wide that wrinkles formed in the corners of his eyes.

God, his smile was always so infuriating, wasn’t it?

“What?” You must have looked terrified, eyes bulging out of its sockets and mouth wide open. No one had yet to notice your little disappearances to your head and Poe was definitely the last one in your mind to do so.

“It’s like you disappeared somewhere, just for a second.” The unsure expression returned but now was completed with a confused tilt of his head before it turned into a wolfish grin, amused by your shocked expression over the words that followed.

“Brazil.” The shriek came out of your throat without any agreement with your brain. This night just tried to prove how quickly things can go sideways, right? Maybe drinking wasn’t such a bad option, at least you wouldn’t remember any of this.

FUCK. What the fuck. Why did I say it out loud? FUCK.

Now you were completely panicking. Sweat pooled into the lines of your shirt, sticking it to your skin. An uncomfortable aura seeped inside and hardened in its core weighing you down on the sofa. And you knew, you knew if you couldn’t let go of this feeling you would crash down and cry in embarrassment. But if you could anchor it on to the harsh texture of the pillows you were propped upon and into the cloth of your seat, you could escape. You were sure of it.

“What?” He kept staring at you with his mouth slightly open and astonished at what he just heard.

Yep. He definitely heard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Brazil?” Poe always laughed loudly and with full force making him the center of everyone’s attention. And you couldn’t blame them. It was Poe, handsome, friendly and funny Poe that was always a sweetheart. Well, not always really.

Mission abort. He knows of Brazil. There is no safe haven now.

You had to get out, now and quickly, otherwise you might smother yourself with one of the nasty cushions from the sofa. It didn’t seem like an effective tactic in your head either but currently it was a very appealing idea. But instead you reloaded the escape route in your mind and activated the plan.

“No, it’s nothing. Eh-, sorry, got lost in thoughts for a bit.” Starting to slowly gather all your things ready to leave and Poe sensed you were getting ready to run. Your tactic was completely ineffective and so he continued talking, knowingly observing you.

“Oh. Yeah-” Before you could have said goodbye to him and run for your life, more like a sanity and what you deemed to be a leftover pride, he spoke again. “You look fantastic by the way, I mean you always did but wow.” You could literally hear a small laugh escape his lips.

This stopped you, you were aware that you went through a massive glow up since high school. You didn’t really wake up one day with clean skin, an actual ton of work was put into the process of your transformation.

There were always these memories of your aunties calling you pretty. One time at some family member’s b’day celebration one of them approached you, to this day you were not sure if she was from your dad’s side or mom’s and at this point it is too embarrassing to ask. She was one of those cooler aunties, the one that gave the best gifts and to whose attention and favoritism kids in the family sort of fought over.

“You haven’t changed at all, sweetheart. Still such a cute face.” She laughed with her hand in which she was holding a glass of wine swinging around your shoulder to hug your side.

“Sure, auntie.” At that time you dismissed it completely, ‘cause you knew that your skin was clearer, you had your nails done and wore a cute little dress. However, you didn’t feel even an ounce prettier than if you wore big hoodies with greasy hair. You didn’t love yourself enough then. It changed, at least a bit, you got more confident since high school and more comfortable with your own visage and body.

“You didn’t think it before.” You were unable to look at him but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of avoiding his gaze, so you stared right through him, right through his stupid face and strong chest at what you imagined would be a yellowish white wall behind him.

“What?”

“Nothing, eh-,” Standing up from the sofa, you check if you have everything in your pockets and haven’t lost anything in the cushioned sofa while getting up,” I should get going, bye.” A convulsing smile held in place as you started to speed walk away. Away from Poe, away from the nasty carpet and smelly sofa, away from Jessica kissing a boy in the kitchen, you just signaled to her that you were going home, and away from the stupid house.

“Woah, wait up!”

Fuck, of course he is following me.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“If you did- if you did something wrong?!”

“Yeah?” His voice slightly trembled, unsure what to say, you could feel the tension. And so you kept on pushing through the crowd, advancing in your escape plan.

“You don’t know.” It was more of a statement, with no emotion attached to it. You didn’t feel anything or so you thought. In reality you were too busy trying to get to the hall with the entrance door to comprehend what it actually meant. Until it really downed on you. “You don’t remember.”

And so you got ready to remind him.

“You called me ugly, you laughed and said you couldn’t have a crush on someone like me.”

“When?”

“Gosh.” You signed obnoxiously just to try to annoy him a bit. “Since when do you think we are not friends anymore, Poe?”

“That’s what it’s all about?” You could hear his loud huff just like his stomping feet behind you trying to keep up before you escaped his grasp. “You are seriously mad over something so dumb?”

“It’s not dumb. It was important to me. It still is.” You were now grabbing your jacket from the hanger trying to avoid stumbling into the drunk pair going back inside from their cigarette break. “You laughed at me, you laughed at the idea of me being your girlfriend.” You didn’t care anymore if others could hear you, if someone heard and told other people, you didn’t care that tomorrow people could talk about what they heard. You just had to get it off your chest.

“Well what was I supposed to say?!” This made you stop in tracks, right on the porch of the frat house. Music is still loud and booming in your head. The overwhelmed feeling was yet to be gone and Poe wasn’t helping it much.

“I don’t KNOW!? Maybe that it’s true? That you really like me?” You gave him a pissed look making him pause before he shouted back causing you to turn back to the open street and march down again.

“I WAS A PREPUBESCENT BOY who wanted to be viewed as the cool guy!”

“So liking me meant not being cool?!” You were sure if the music from the house wasn’t booming even outside, people inside would be already gathering on the porch to watch the whole situation unfold.

“GOD no, seriously, woman. We were like 14! Boys that age don’t do crushes, at least not openly. And when Mikey asked me I was totally unprepared and just blurred it out ‘cause it was embarrassing to talk about, that’s all.” You still didn’t look back at him, marching down the street trying to escape.

“We definitely weren’t 14!” You screamed back, stopping in your tracks. Your cheeks were on fire and if you had any throwable object near you, you were sure it would already be chucked at his stupid face. For a second you even thought about using the rest of your strength you had after this night to pick a trash can and actually try to throw it at him. You were simply fuming, pissed beyond belief with your face completely hot and you hated it. Poe really got the best and worst out of you.

“We were DEFINITELY 14!”

Oh, you were so done with him. Mr. Perfect, Mr. I can’t admit I was an asshole. No, THAT I still am an asshole actually. There was something boiling within you, something horrible and ugly trying to get out on the surface. You wanted him to regret making you feel stupid, making you feel ashamed of yourself. You wanted to scorch him so he would be ashamed for what he did to you, to his best friend.

Ex-best friend now, actually. You have been his ex-best friend for a very long time now. It has been years and it still hurts and you wished something so stupid and childish wouldn’t hurt but oh my god, you could hold grudges. You wished you wouldn’t get mad at him, that you would just laugh or cry for a bit and then make up over ice cream or something. You wished you could look at Poe and be happy and not hurt inside over something so fucking stupid. And so you turned away from him and with a great speed started to walk down the street again.

“I am like, super sure of it!” He screamed behind you making you turn to him once again. Pissed expression setting on your face. Of course he was so sure of it, this arrogant buffalo was always so full of himself and self righteous in an annoying way. He couldn’t even let you cry, let you have some peace with your own stupidity. “Yeah? And why is that, asshole?” You stared at him straight and hard, ready for another argument to begin.

“You had braces. In 8th grade,” He, just like you, was completely out of breath and slowing down to check his breath right back up,” you had blue braces.” Poe’s outstretched finger was now pointing at you while his other hand was gripping his knee, his whole figure crouched while he lapped at the cold air surrounding you both.

And you would rather die than to admit that Dameron was correct but he was. You really did have braces in 8th grade and you hoped a fabulous glow up would come with taking them off the next grade. When they did finally come off, acne started to pop on your cheeks so no glow up even for that year or the year after and then it was a sort of illusion that hid in your head.

“And I thought you were pretty cute with them.”

Oh. OH.

That was not something you ever saw coming. You didn’t feel cute, at least as far as you could remember. You felt like an ugly duckling and very awkward all the time, uncomfortable in your own skin.

“And then you got hot…,”Poe swung his left hand right on his face, clutching his forehead in frustration before calming down and sliding it across his hair with a quiet end of his sentence being muttered under his breath,”like awfully hot over the summer break.”

Is he fucking with me?

But he continued even though his hands were shaking, if it was the cold or his own embarrassment/frustration you couldn’t tell. “And I just couldn’t understand like- like why no one didn’t snatch you up yet.” If you haven’t noticed how muscular his arms were or how the veins on his hands seemed to tighten before, you were sure you knew of them now. His arms were now stretched out, gripping behind his neck with elbows in the air above his head. If anyone saw you two, they would have thought how nonchalantly Poe looked but up close he was the definition of rubber band ready to snap. Not in anger but frustration. You could see his long fingers digging into the tan skin burning it into a white that turned red moments later. The flush silently spread on the rest of his skin, not just neck, cheeks and tips of his ears followed.

“-and then I was sure guys like Jake…You remember Jake, right? That horrible basketball guy with that mole on his chin. He must have noticed because you like…” He stops his blabbering just to stare at you with newfound intensity. And then he does it, motions to his chest, no, to his t-shirt riding up.

But you didn’t completely understand what he was insinuating and so he continued, trying to explain it all to you. “In PE, it was too hot, the sun was blazing, it was like- like the hottest spring ever and you took off that big hoodie, the one you had always on you, in the middle of the volleyball game. And it was like a few years after we stopped hanging out but I was still thinking about you-“

Poe noticed the hoodie, god, how you hated the hoodie after all those years. It was baggy and unwashable from all your kneading of the fabric in your sweaty hands. It once resembled a safe haven, however, it slowly became a mark of your teenage years sucking ass.

”- and here you were standing in PE class all sweaty in tight t-shirt and you weren’t just girl, you were like a woman or something and I got-”

“You got hit in the face with the ball!” The sound of your surprise resonating in the empty street not hidden by the gusts of biting cold air. You remembered that you chastised yourself for the next few years for taking the hoodie off even though you were sweating buckets. You just felt so out of your skin by it. Even the fact that you loved playing volleyball couldn’t save you, you still felt embarrassed, only a few years later you realized it was kinda stupid. But you remembered something. Poe, Poe with his bloody nose and spaced out expression standing in the court, diagonally in front of you across the net.

“I got hit right into my face, Ben fucked up his set and the ball went flying across the net and just boinged me straight into my face while I was-,” he gulped but then his face grazed a boyish grin that slowly spread,” cause I was still thinking about the skin, y’know.”

“Skin?” You were lost in your own thoughts again, over Poe, over the feelings you had now and used to have and- Poe was looking at you sheepishly, completely halting you in your thought process.

And there it was again. Poe’s fingers skimmed over the fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing, riding it slowly up until you could see his hardened stomach staring back at you.

“God, stop. I know what you mean.” You had to look away. The heat spread onto your cheeks and slowly trailed down your throat and chest, keeping you warm. If Poe was handsome in highschool, college only gave him more mature charm, sculpting him with sharper jaw and tighter muscles than before.

“Why did you ask then?”

“I don’t know.” You murmured, causing him to laugh for a bit before you followed. The both of you laughed like silly kids, like you used to laugh together.

This was not the end of his rant, it was only the begging, he just kept on talking and talking and your head was swimming in all the hidden affection and fascination he had held to his heart all over those years for you just until now. Just until now when it all bubbled out, spilling at your feet and begging for recognition of the old passion and lust. And your heart was now hoping to hear some more.

“Do you still like me?” You gave him a sheepish look before returning your gaze back to the pavement under your feet as if not paying attention to what he was going to say. Still hoping for a miracle.

“Honestly?” He lifted one eyebrow at the question, giving you a sort of amused side eye, he looked at you briefly, trying to catch you looking at him.

“Honestly.” What a blatant lie on your part, two in one night. You had no need and place for honesty if there was nothing left of those feelings. If there was nothing, no flame for you to reignite there was no room for such honesty, especially not when you were now burning so much.

Please love me, adore me. I need it and I crave it more than air. I crave attention and love, I was never loved enough and maybe you could be the one.

“I don’t know. I mean… It has been a while since we even talked. Maybe you are freaking annoying or you chew really loudly now.”

Oh.

Of course… that’s…understandable, I guess.

But you had to keep yourself in high spirits, there was nothing for you to do after all. He was right, it was such a long time to the point you didn’t know anything about him. The remaining fact was his boyish charm was now completed with tight muscles and strong shoulders and you wouldn’t be against dating someone like him. Not knowing the first thing about him seemed to be no stopping line in your mind when it came to handsome guys like him. And on top of that this was Poe, the friendly little neighbor of yours that was always so ready to help with everything everytime.

“Same could be said about you, y’know.” So, you began walking again, having the need to occupy your legs and calm down the need for pacing around but Poe was still right behind you, keeping up.

“Yeah-yeah, you are right.” He chuckles under his breath, giving you enough confidence to speak again.

“Do you?” Turning back to him, face to face ready to hear his answer. Maybe all of it could come back if you looked into his eyes long enough. Maybe Poe could look at you and adore you once again. The old desperation to be loved was after all still a kindling, ready to be a fire again.

“Hm?” He was not looking at you. The wind was harsher and he was not looking at you. And the wind got stronger and stronger and he was still not looking at you. At this point your hair was violently swinging around like a veil obscuring your view of his imposing figure. And when the bitter winter air gust settled his eyes finally lifted up from the dirty pavement. Chocolate eyes gazing right at you, confusion weighting on his eyebrows and slightly open mouth complementing the image.

“Chew loudly.” Corners of your mouth were twitching, ready to be lifted and smile at this adorable silly man.

“I don't know… probably not?” His eyes were shining again and you felt warmth spreading inside you as if the cold winter around you had already ended and spring was in a full bloom.” No one really complained about me chewing loudly yet. But you know… it's me, so.” He just shrugged, sticking his hands in the pockets of the jacket. At this moment you were already a few streets away from the party where it all started. The start of the fight absolutely decimated by what followed in the name of childhood crushes and awkward realization of time passing and situations changing and the fact that both of you settled into a not so awkward small talk and still felt warmth of the other one’s present..

“Oh, there you go again.” You rolled your eyes at him with a dramatic sigh following closely all in a good sense of teasing. God, it was Poe, adorable but still so cocky Poe.

“What?” He laughed loudly, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes adorably boyish. This feeling was so familiar, just like when you were kids and could laugh about anything.

“The smug smile again.” You pointed out, one of your hands pulling out of the heavy jacket’s pocket you decided to wear tonight to quickly point your finger at his face.

“I am not smug.”

“You are.” You murmured it under the breath almost sure he didn’t hear it.

“Yeah, I kinda am.” Were his dimples always so prominent? Was Dameron also so soft with you? You were sure he was, it fitted him like a tailored suit.

“You hurt me, y’know. It was really awful to hear the popular guy in class say it. Especially like that. And I think it hurt even more knowing it was you, that it wasn’t just some popular guy. It was you, Poe, my Poe.” You had to get a sort of closure on this, it couldn’t be erased but it could be understood and put in a box to be forgotten.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart.”

“I like you. Well, I liked you.” At those words his breath hitched or you thought you heard it do so.

“Oh.” You could feel him staring again, so many stares given to you in one night so many years later. His gaze not faltering for even a second before he finally turned away.

“I really fucked up that time right?” There was a pregnant pause before he could get the words out. Now completely aware of his mistakes just like you were of yours. Two silly idiots realizing how both of them fucked up but wanting to mend old wounds.

“Hm.” You hummed in acknowledgement, not really knowing what more to say to him.

“God, I wish I could strangle my past self and just yell at him and shit. Your crush likes you back, so like- DON’T fuck it up, y’know?” And while those words escaped between you he did the weirdest gesture, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. A motion of holding someone's neck shaking his hands while gripping at air. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but in the end he was just trying to make you laugh. That was what he always did when the two of you were fighting as kids.

“Hm.” His blabbering worked like a magic, small smile appearing on your face as if out of spell before you glanced at him.

“We could try again?” That wasn’t something you had anticipated, no, you actually kinda hoped for it but didn’t want to get disappointed. Poe must have sensed it and was wearing this stupid upside grin just for your smile to stay in place.

“Not completely, of course. But like new me and new you being friends again kind of repeat?” There was no way for you to prevent the smile widening at your face, cheeks almost hurting how hard you tried not to grin.

“Does it make sense?” His eyebrow now furrowed in a pensive state. “No, I probably worded it badly, wait-, I think-” Poe Dameron was blabbering and he was so cute while doing so. But you needed to stop him and so you helped him by answering before he would get lost in the maze of his own words. “I would love that.”

“Good”. Again, the sheepish smile you so loved seeing on his face, giving Poe more of that boyish charm you were used to. You could feel his gaze now unintentionally slipping away from you for the first time in the night. It didn’t feel right. It felt colder now, as if the sun was no longer beaming at you. And then you have realized. He had seen you the whole time, even at the time you thought there was not much worth seeing.

And for a moment you were sure there was no going back to being friends with him because you simply couldn’t. Because when he looked at you with a stare not leading thousand miles away from you but here with you, really staring at you. You couldn’t not feel the warmth and you couldn’t stop thinking about him holding your hand and more and you knew it was absolutely crazy. It was so crazy ‘cause you haven’t talked to each other properly since maybe early years of highschool and you didn’t really know him anymore. But you knew the little Poe, your Poe and you knew the idea of Poe you wanted and now you knew the Poe in front of you, at least a bit, and you also knew in the end you couldn’t give up.

You were called back into reality with a loud ringing sound, like an alarm waking you up from a dream. Harsh, loud and causing you to freaking out. By the time you were present again Poe was already fumbling with his jacket’s pocket.

“Sorry.” You almost didn’t hear those words being mumbled. You were too concentrated on Poe and his furrowed brow with little line forming in between them.

His hand finally gripped the small device pulling it free from the fabric. He looked quickly at the screen and scolded, probably not so keen to answer the caller but he did it anyway. And before he could talk, you could hear yelling over loud music.“Oi! Poe, we are looking for you!”

Oh, these must be Poe’s friends.

“Sorry,” He laughed again, this night was truly so full of his laughter and you liked it too much.“I met an old friend from high school and we are catching up, you know how it gets.” He looked up at you and smiled before distancing himself a few steps away.

“Get your stupid ass back to the party, asshole!” This time it was the voice of some woman, she was loud, trying to yell over the music and probably standing a bit away from the phone of the caller.

“Hm, I don’t think I will,” he turned your way with a smile, thinking you didn’t hear what his friend yelled over the phone,”I have a lot of catching up to do.” He told her softly and that was the last thing you could hear before he walked a bit away. He traced the line of the sidewalk mindlessly swinging his other arm while he kept talking on the phone. And then he finally ended the call with a silent bye.

Eh?

Poe would really rather spend time with me and catch up or argue over the past than be with his friends?

You expected him to end your talk as soon as he answered the phone, leaving you in the ice cold street and running back to the party to get drunk with his buddies. But he really did decline the offer just so he could spend more time with you.

“Ah, it was too cheesy, sorry.” He wasn’t apologetic at all, you could clearly tell by the wolfish grin.

He first fumbled with his phone for a bit, it looked like he turned off notifications on it, before he put it back into his pocket. And then was all his attention on you again, making your insides twist in a happy feeling.

“So, what’s this Brazil thing about?”

FUCK!

Scratch the happy part; it was only nervousness now.

“Is it your little quirk?” And now he was staring at you fully again, making you squint in your clothes, not completely uncomfortable just not used to it. Some part of you even loved it, all the attention Poe gave you in the last what? 30minutes? Super fan of it. You couldn’t get enough.

God, I hope this never ends. I hope some divine power can just put me into a loop where he is staring at me and smiling and all over again. I love this feeling more than anything. Wait, what was he saying?

“You know, your chewing loudly thing.” He tapped your elbow with his to catch your attention again. His eyes saying Come on, don't get lost on me. Waiting patiently for you to get your head straight.

“Oh.”

Oh. He is still really funny.

“Yeah. Sort of?” Laugh escaped your lungs again, you were not sure yourself. Quirks were supposed to be kinda funny, right? Well, chewing loudly is not kinda funny so not really. “Yeah, I guess? I am not really sure actually.” Another laugh this time ripping right from your heart, nervous and twitching, ready to be swatted away as unwanted.

“Cool.”

Oh.

And there it was again. The incredible warmth spreading inside, anxiety turning from hard cold ice into a puddle and evaporating away over the heat Poe created in you.

Maybe it could actually work. Yeah, let’s try again.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #star wars fanfiction #oscar isaac x reader #poe dameron x you #isa writes

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

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Can you do a Steve Harrington imagine where Jason (or one of the other jocks) corners the reader at War Zone looking for Dustin (I'm impartial to the Henderson!reader trope but her notably being close to Dustin/the kids is up to you) and Steve backs her up/makes sure she is okay since she is relatively level-headed but also notably overprotective and therefore, likely to fight someone if they mess with the kids? I hope this made sense, kinda just like the idea of Steve loving a secret badass

thank you for this request! i went with being close to Dustin and the kiddos, i would do anything for them <3 | 1.2k, fem!reader, a bit of angst then fluff, jason being a little aggressive

The medical supplies section of War Zone is upsettingly small. You have to swallow a somewhat hysterical laugh of disbelief as you look at the two shelves of gauzes and tapes and sterilizing supplies. The warehouse is loud, people yelling and cart wheels squealing, and your head is still pounding with the fading adrenaline high you've been on for who knows how long. But Robin's hands are cut up, Eddie's got a split lip, Nancy is limping, and Steve... Well, Steve is still bleeding beneath his bandages and you are going to sedate him yourself if he doesn't find some shoes soon and let you patch him up.

You smell like the lake and the acrid dust of the Upside Down and you hate being in this store and you want this all to be over. You want everyone to be safe so you can crawl into bed with Steve and never let him out of your arms again.

Someone enters the aisle on your right and you know it's not your boyfriend by the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Whoever it is moves into your space too quickly and you tense to not flinch away, but you turn to look. Oh, Christ, you think. Anyone but him.

"Hey," the guy says, trying to sound friendly and failing. "I don't think we've met, but I'm Jason." You keep your torso facing the shelves, arms crossed, and ignore his outstretched hand. He looks absolutely terrible, almost worse than you, and a piece of you wants to feel sorry for him. But that piece disappears very quickly as you see how tense his jaw is when he drops his palm and curls it into a fist at his side. You don't introduce yourself.

Jason smiles at you, and it's a brittle, nasty thing. "I actually know who you are, I think." He puts his fists in the pocket of his letterman jacket and rocks back and forth on his heels, as if you were in a school hallway and he was just saying hi. "You're Harrington's girl."

You press your fingers into your own arms at the mention of Steve. You take a deep breath, and normally this is where you'd walk away, but you've just seen the boy you love more than anything almost die in front of you and your friends are all spooked and bruised and you're pretty sure you're bleeding under your jacket so you stay because you really want to yell at someone.

"And I know you're not involved in all this satanic stuff --" Jason has been talking but you didn't hear what he said -- "but I know that you know some of the kids who might be able to help us find this freak." He takes a step closer and you turn on your heel to face him at the mention of the kids, your blood starting to boil.

"Wheeler, maybe?" Jason taunts. "Or Sinclair? Either one." He's getting cocky now, pretending to have a sudden idea. "Wait, aren't you Dustin Henderson's neighbor? Do you know where he is?" You love all of those shitheads, but you've known Dustin for years. He's like your brother. Jason even saying his name makes you see red.

"And why do you want to know?" you sneer at him, taking a step into his space, hands dropping to your sides. He's a little shocked, taking a step back, but recovers quickly.

"Oh, I just think he might be able to help us out. Good kid like him should want to find that murdering son of a b--"

"It's insulting, Jason," you grind out.

"What is?" He looks alarmed you'd interrupt him.

"That you think I'm stupid. That you think I can't see through you."

His expression darkens, all facade disappearing. You see how deep the bags under his eyes are, how there's something off about him. "Listen to me," he says, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder, "if you know anything--"

You grab his wrist in midair and squeeze it. "Don't fucking touch me," you hiss. "And don't fucking touch any of those kids, Carver." You dig your fingernails into his sleeve a little. His eyes are wide, like he can't believe this has turned against him.

"You think Chrissy would like you hunting children for her? We both know that's not true," you spit out. He's so angry and you should be scared, you would be normally, but how dare he come for Dustin, for the kids, for you in this store full of weapons and death. You figure you have about five seconds before your blood boils over and you try to punch him.

But then there's someone behind you and you know immediately that it's Steve -- and it sounds like he's found some shoes. You always know when he's in the room, your eyes open or closed. He's a sun you orbit around, like you're tied together by an invisible length of string. He puts a hand on the small of your back, eying the way you're holding Jason's wrist but doesn't step in, knowing you're handling it. But he's there, and that's all you need.

"Hey," he says loudly. "Everything okay?" His voice grounds you a little, slows your racing heart. As much as you want to punch Jason, you want to get back to your friends more.

"Yeah, Jason was just leaving." You let go of him and flash a razor sharp smile. Something in it plus Steve's looming presence sends Jason out of the aisle without another word. As soon as he's out of sight your shoulders drop and you turn back to the shelves, grabbing items blindly and shoving them into Steve's arms.

"So uh, what was that?" he asks you. Your gaze drifts to his neck and the wound there tightens the knots in your stomach. He must be in so much pain, but he's here, supporting you.

"He threatened the kids. Asked me about Dustin." His eyebrows furrow, mouth turning down at the edges.

"Motherfucker," he spits.

"This is such a disaster, Steve," you mumble, the energy draining out of you. "How are we going to keep them safe? How am I going to keep you safe?"

"Hey," he says. "I'd hold you, sweetheart, but I'm a shopping cart, apparantly." You chuckle, but it's weak. "We're going to keep each other safe. That's what we do. And now we have a plan so all we can do is try, okay? We'll try."

"I know." You take a few things from him, tucking boxes of gauze under your arms. "Let's go find Robin's cart and get out of here. I hate this place. Nice boots, though." Steve grins at you.

"Now, listen, I know this really isn't the time but that was kind of hot. The wrist thing and how scared you made Carver--"

"Steve!" You laugh for real this time. "Really? C'mon."

"Really, baby. You're a not so secret badass and I love it." You scoff at him and thunk your head on his shoulder, desperate to be close despite his full arms for just a moment.

"We really need to find the cart, I'm serious, I want to hug you so bad," Steve says. "I'm not above dropping all of this shit."

"Just gimme a sec." You breathe him in. He smells like you do, like dirty water and blood and the lingering cigarette smoke of Eddie's vest. But he's Steve. And as long as he's here, as long as you're together, you'll figure it out.

"Stevie, you smell. I love you."

He laughs and kisses your dirty hair. "I love you, too. Let's go."

want to be added to my tag list for full-length (non-ask) fics? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

#i hope you like it please let me know please please please #i think steve is def great when overprotective but this was fun to write #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x you #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine

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honey-minded-hivemind · 3 months

Text

In a Brood/Drone AU:

Reader would feel out of luck. Their pare- er- trusted adults are infected, their friends are too (they think?), and they're trapped in the New York region, with who knows how many zombies-drones-infected-whatevers running about and eating or turning or dragging off anyone unlucky enough... To be frank, it seems like H*ll payed the world a visit. It's hard to go out at any time of day because no matter what, there's always going to be SOMETHING out there, scouting and searching for survivors. But Reader doesn't stay deterred, despite the odds. They plan to make it, and will do what they can to survive...

The entire area feels deserted, but that's only when you don't see anything or hear anything. It's worse when you hear the beings, the voices of old friends and foes alike calling out, seemingly friendly... but it's only a trap. If you're human, they either kill them or turn them into something worse- something like a mindless drone or soldier or scout or- or- something... Whatever they do, it's quick, and just like that there's another hapless soul to be changed into whatever happened those lost to the infections... Reader has avoided them this entire time (thank heavens the mindless things aren't imbued with any sixth sense or ability). Of course, actually trying to LEAVE the state (Reader wanted to go somewhere else, less crowded and cramped and... creepy) is harder than it sounds...

It seems like their old allies just know when they, or anyone else, is near the edges, always stalking by, almost like they're herding them, in a way. It leaves Reader wary. But they can't risk being caught. So back they go, foraging supplies, barely sleeping, and alone...

Their luck doesn't last.

Reader isn't sure how they ended up found, yet here they were, being watched by infected, akin to predators finding prey. It's a sorry way to see the people they once knew. Enough so that they can't help but shed tears. They never thought their friends (h*ck, their family) could be brought to this. Their voices are calm, collected. Their faces don't betray any secret thoughts or hidden agendas. But their eyes... Their eyes are pure white, almost pearlescent, unchanging and blank they've never been before. It's unnerving.

"It's nice to see you..."

They step closer still, a steady approach, the grace of a hunter who's sure of their kill. Reader doesn't want them any nearer, taking a step back. It does nothing to deter the infected, though...

"I was worried I wouldn't see you again... I missed you... Did you miss me?" It's almost teasing, how they say that.

"Heh... I honestly thought you were dead." Their tone changes from light, toying, to dark and serious. "I- WE- had no clue where you were. No evidence you were even ALIVE. Do you know how stressful that is? How heartbreaking? But- tch- That's no matter now, is it? You're right here... You're here with me... And you aren't getting away again."

Quick as a viper they lunge, causing you to scramble aside, almost falling over as you dodge their attempts to grab you.

"Just stay STILL! You can't escape me! You can't escape US! YOU. ARE. OURS!" they shriek. Their voice is almost reverberating, something inside their voice that isn't normal. Isn't right.

But it isn't the time to debate over that. It's more important to worry about escaping whatever they've become. You strike up dirt, tossing it toward their face as you flee. Angry howls come from behind as the dust strikes your would-be captor, raging snarls echoing across the bleak sky.

The wind wails, low and deep. Shelter shows itself in the form of an old building, decrepit and somber and brushed in gray. You don't waste a second stealing into its halls, slipping through doors until you find a cramped crawlspace to hide in. Minutes tick by, turning into an hour, until...

CREAK...

You can hear the sound of footsteps on old floorboards, rough and hard, as though the person out there is desperate. Even still...

Doors slam open and closed as they go through the building, each one louder and louder as they get closer and closer to your hiding spot. For a moment, when they stop by where you've hid, you think they found you. Except they soon leave...

"There you are..."

A shrill scream escapes you as your torn from your hiding spot, sprawling onto the floor outside. As you look up, your old friend/foe/parent/sibling is above you, a death sentence.

"I've finally got you... You aren't leaving us again. Now, let's go. You aren't leaving our sight until you're fully under," they growl, then they're latching onto your arm and dragging you up, even as you struggle against them. "Stop being difficult." They sigh, but loosen their grip just a hair. "Why were you always so stubborn...?" A moment later, you're pulled against their chest, and they're pulling something out... Something sharp... A syringe...

And in an instant-

The needle is in your neck.

You let out a pained hiss, struggling, yet all they do is take it out a second later, tucking it away somehwere... A tingling sensation is spreading from the puncture, cool and numbing as it works its way into your system. Their hold tightens when you jab then with your elbow. "Just calm down," they say, arms wrapping under and around you. Your vision is getting fuzzier with each blink... You tilt your head back to look up at them, a tired snarl on your lips as you try to bite them. You don't even manage that. They chuckle as you wobble, your body collapsing into their hold completely. Slowing, sighing breaths push past your nostrils as you're held up by them. Your head feels warm... wooly... So, so tired and relaxed... "That's it... You're feeling a lot better, aren't you?" A tiny nod is their answer. "'Kay... Just keep breathing. You're alright, you're safe. But we need to get you back to our Nest. Okay?" Something cards through your hair, smoothing it down. "That's it... Just sleep for a bit. I've got you."

And just like that, you go under, mind heavy and blank save for a fuzzy, warm feeling...

"Now, let's go home..."

They keep the body of their friend/foe/kid/sibling in their embrace as they head back to where the rest of the brood awaits. They'll be glad to have one of their adored back with them, and once they've settled them in, they can begin the process of joining them to their hive... They can't wait to have them, completely and utterly theirs...

(Notes for this AU:

Woooooooo! This was quite the concept to flesh out (haha, pun!). The Infected/Drones/Zombies of this AU are interesting, because they aren't as blank as the original 🧪Drone AU, nor are quite as gentle as the 🖤LoveDrone AU. What they are is more assertive. More dominating. They are gentle, but only after they've broken/sedated the Reader (by break, I mean a leg or arm. Not a mindbreak). They want compliance, and while aware that building trust and a loving hive takes time, they also would rather do it sooner rather than later. Patience is a virtue, and they have some, but it only lasts so long. They've missed Reader, wanted them back with them, and can't fathom why they would've hidden from them, let alone flee. So once Reader is set up in a special Cell/Unit, they aren't leaving until they're about to begin their conversion...

Another thing to note is how the Infected/Drones/Zombies work: Mutants are okay, mostly. Their minds are preserved, but altered to where they want to expand their hive, grow in power, and rule their territory and all within it (while listening to each other and being filled with love and warmth and acceptance for each other). People who weren't killed and/or eaten become, more or less, blank and mindless puppets. They aren't the ones in control and they don't think for themselves. What their leaders/masters/queens tell them, they believe and follow completely. No resistance. No remorse. There are levels to the hive hierarchy (I'm gonna call it brood hierarchy from now on). At the bottom you have Drones-S-Tier, mainly scouts, staff and foot soldiers. Next up would be Drones-R-Tier, enforcers and guards. Following them would be Drones-Q-Tier, consisting of decree-givers and managers and organizers, who keep the other drones in neat conduct and functioning. That leaves Drones-M-Tier, or the monarchs. Referred to as queens (regardless of gender, organs, or appearances, as those don't matter) they rule over the rest, can send full orders out across the hivemind, and are the ones who keep their thoughts and feelings, they're the mutants. There is a second-highest tier, Drones-P-Tier, or adored ones. Mostly, if not all, mutants, some younger, some older. They can control the lower tier drones, but if their order clashes with another, such as if the M-Tier Drones gave it, the higher tier's order wins out over their's. Reader would be designated (and prepared to become) a P-Tier Drone, as that is a special type reserved for those especially loved, cared about, and potentially weaker than the monarchs, but still important to them (they couldn't live without them), and thus are important, protected, and adored by the entire collective. Meanings behind the tiers:

S = soldiers, servants, staff

R = required, regarded, renewed

Q = quiet, queries, quality(-control)

M = monarchs, most, mighty, merciful

P = protect, perfect, precious, pure

Other notes: Anyone who poses a threat, is dangerous/deadly, or has tried to and/or succeeded in killing a drone of a higher level is killed. Sometimes eaten as well. Drone bodies put every bite of food, every drop of liquid, anything consumed, into use. They digest whatever is digestible. Because of how their newly-changed bodies convert everything to use, they no longer have to use the bathroom (I had to put one good thing in for Reader and everybody else). The changing process is long, and overseen by either Q-Tier or M-Tier Drones, usually by two, if not more. During the changing period, those two or more overseer drones will help and care for the changing drone (a few will argue over who will get to take care of Reader). The process is slow, so as to not overwhelm or kill the person who is being converted. M-Tier Drones always oversee the change of an adored one into a P-Tier Drone, as they want nothing to go wrong or slip past them, and they can actually remember them, as they're the ones who decide who is an adored one or not. During this is when they're their most comforting, as they know the process can be painful, and would rather be caring and soft towards them than stern and cold. They love them, despite what's happened to them and the world, and they genuinely want to help them (but their help is skewed, due to their changes)...

(There will be a part two, okay?)

#honeycomb thoughts #platonic yandere marvel #yandere platonic marvel #platonic yandere xmen #yandere x-men #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x reader #platonic yandere marvel x reader #🧪Brood🐝 AU

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