#why lean in to such a shitty trope | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

withonly-sweetheart · 1 month ago

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Fortune's Cookies

They aren't very sweet, especially when you're fooled into taking the first bite.

a/n: gosh there's literally so much rookie leon art going around and the fever got to me, hope you like my twist on this classic trope! honestly everyone listed below contributed to this with their rookie leon pieces, seriously i stared at them while writing it helps seriously.

@chesue00 - you KNOW it.

@faintfill - MY SOURCE OF ROOKIE LEON SKETCHES NO KIDDING

@uhlillie - i hope you know which one im talking about girl... DAMN

@bunnivievve - FOODDDDDDD just like i said rookie leon is served

(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)

tw: cavity fluff i hope i needed to brush my teeth after writing this (probably because of all the panda express fortune cookies i ate while typing), angst bc duh and i think thats it?

wc: 7k

“Your voice will bring a smile today.”

That’s what greets you, printed in those horrible skinny red letters, paper curled in your fingers. The styrofoam boxes are dotted with grains of undercooked rice and steamed vegetables, a treat you knew you deserved after such a long day.

And this is what fate tells you. Good thing you’ve never believed in superstition. You crumple the paper and toss it onto the tray and scoff.

Like you’ll take advice from a cookie.

But as the number of people in the store starts to dwindle, and the night shift employees trudge in through the back door, you wind up with your eyes glued to the message, wondering what kind of voice it referred to.

It’s been a long time since your voice has brought anyone joy, hasn’t it? Your job mostly consists of reminding multiple colleagues of their deadlines, only to be promptly ignored. Your existence only comes back to their minds two minutes before their reports are due, when they forward a hastily written piece that you don’t bother to read.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” A hand waves dangerously close to your face, brushing your nose, and the contact is enough to startle you back, glaring up at the offender. Even with the harsh swinging lights stinging your eyes, you can see warm blue eyes and sunny hair.

It feels as if the sky has descended to meet you.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mutter back in response, clearing your throat, waving your tied words away. “All good here.”

He shifts away from you, maybe mistaking your inward gesture as shooing him away. You think of saying something about him, about assuring him, but you wonder why you feel that way. "Oh. I, uh, saw you seemed distracted. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

You wince, acutely aware of your frazzled appearance after the long shift. "Thank you, but I'm fine. Just tired is all."

“That’s not good,” he notes with a small frown, leaning back to press his heels to the ground. “Did you eat well?”

“Do you fuss over all strangers?” you muse.

“Oh, well, uhm, I see you a lot here, not that I’m watching you, just that I noticed that you’re here, a lot, so I thought you must like food-”

“You talk a lot.” You raise an eyebrow, trying to cut off his flustered stammering with your motion.

“That came out a lot worse than I’d imagined in my head,” he admits with a slight dip of his shoulders. “Sorry about that, I got nervous. I don't talk to many people… or, uh, women... so I tend to be a bit of a dumbass.”

Surprisingly, as shitty as you feel, a small smile graces the corner of your mouth.

“You’re honest, aren’t you?”

“According to a lot of people… yeah.”

“I don’t think I caught your name earlier,” you say, eyes scanning his vivid outfit for a nametag. There, pinned to his apron like a defining feature of his. “Leon?”

“That’s me,” he replies proudly. “And I already know yours!”

“Sorry?”

“Your… name?” Leon puckers his bottom lip, as if scarring it with his teeth will take back the words hanging between you. “Sorry… like I said, I’ve seen you here a lot.”

And he smiles shyly.

You’re flushed the whole way home, thinking of that sweet little smile, the way his eyes crinkled, his fresh linen scent, how you forgot how to breathe.

And your carefully built world topples over.

<><><><>

You never expected to look forward to the little messages in your fortune cookies, but you blame it on the fact you know Leon’s handing them to you, standing behind the counter in that cute little outfit. Even if he has no idea what’s in them, you can gaslight yourself into thinking he deliberately picks the ones complimenting your smile, or telling you how pretty your eyes look.

Of course, he can tell you that all himself. You sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the stools that you think are meant to be mocking bar stools, but they have barely any space between them, so you’re crammed together.

You wait for him to move away, to tell you to put some distance between you two, but nothing comes. You watch his profile, that handsome face eat cheap noodles when he really deserves so much better.

The lights dim as the last employee clocks out. It’s gotten so late that the crickets demand entrance, chirping their redundant sound, silencing as you walk past the slouching grass like plant that tickles your bare ankles as you walk back to your respective cars.

“Well,” he says, twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, like he hasn’t been talking to you for the last two weeks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, nodding. The grin that eats up his face is so infectious you can’t help but smile back.

The same smile drops from your face when you check your Uber texts, a system you’ve repeated so much over the last few months that it feels like second nature, but not very natural when you see that your driver had to back out of the deal at the last minute, suspiciously also taking your money with them, leaving you broke and without a ride.

You stare at the small blue rectangle gripped in your fingers, heat rising to your face, realizing how stupid you must seem to the guy who must be pulling away right at this moment, and will he ever want to hang out with you again-

“Something wrong?” You hear his voice before you hear the knocks on his car roof, and he’s so tall that even at this distance you have to crane your neck to glower at him, and a lopsided smile overtakes his face.

“This isn’t fair,” you insist after explaining your situation, and the only response he gives is a slight shake of his head, as if exasperated. “I already paid all the money!”

“Crap, then something’s wrong,” he mumbles. “Do you usually always use all your money on the trip here?”

You falter. “Not usually.”

He arches a golden brow, a gate to your forthcoming confession. “Then…?”

“Well, I come out here to see you,” you admit quietly. “And then I go home.”

“Exactly how far away do you live?” His voice is smooth, but his expression reminds you of those times when your mother caught you doing something you shouldn’t be, doing something that shows how much you need that validation to survive.

“Not that far,” you assure, nodding your head, but you fail to convince the both of you.

“Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly, softly, as if the night might intrude on your conversation.

“That would be nice,” you reply in a hushed whisper, as if further backing up the idea that the moon is listening, lighting up your words, shining on his hair as you both clamber into his car.

He apologizes for the mess in his spotless car, and you assume it’s just a courtesy, but he goes on and on about how he needs to get his life together. You don’t pay attention to the words that come out of his mouth, just his mouth in general. The amount of times you’ve done this slips from your mind, just another irrelevant number in your life.

If his life is a mess, your life must be a heap of shit.

Your address tumbles past strangely parched lips, well, at least it did, a while ago. But the ride was far too short, and he pulls up in your driveway, a bewildered expression on his face, as if he can’t believe this is where you live; a humble, simple abode, just like all your neighbors.

“So, this is goodbye, then?”

“Not forever, I hope,” he whispers, voice breathy.

“Uh, okay then? But let’s meet somewhere that isn’t your place of work?”

You were joking when you said it, but it seems he doesn’t pick up on it. His eyes are dreamy and thoughtful on his drive back, and by the time he gets home, he has a plan.

He’s going to stun you.

<><><><>

“Well?”

Leon’s gone out of his way to please you. Everything you’ve said during your time together, those vague comments about your favorite type of cheese, your opinions on the amazingly random topics you’re always switching between, it’s all right there.

You hope it's a physical display of his love.

His heart is spread bare, on the checkered, classic pattern of red and white, starkly contrasting with the blades of grass that bear your combined weight, not one, but two, so closely conjoined that you feel more at ease than you have in years.

You share a smile as you indulge in the simple yet delightful cucumber sandwiches, savoring each bite as you bask in each other's company. In the far distance, birds chirp, serenading you both, as if a soundtrack to these moments that seem to tick by faster than they should.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a softness in his gaze that speaks volumes. Time slows, encapsulating you both, a delicious freedom licking up your spine.

“Didn’t know you could cook,” you remark, wiping your face with a napkin, feeling content as you lean back, lying your head on your palms.

He mirrors your action, although his head twists to meet you, eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant if I didn’t know a few things, right?”

“Guess so.” You shrug and the afternoon wears on, the park imaginative and alive with the children that race around the playground, darting like minnows through the swings and slides.

If you had met Leon in your childhood, would things have been different? Would you still be where you are today, arms brushing, only held apart by the barrier of remains scattered between you both, a battlefield of scarred napkins and damaged plastic utensils, a war fought to keep you separate.

He is caring and decisive and rational, the most reliable person you know, and you faintly register it’s been half a year, and you haven’t progressed any further with each other. The battle has come to a standstill, and neither side dares to make a move.

You think that half the problem lies not with you, but with Leon, and what he does with all his free time. He’s not the type to laze around; you think you know him well enough to make that assumption, but you aren’t sure anymore.

Cue example one: the mysterious phone calls that have begun to grow in frequency, the ones that always sour Leon’s mood, leave him sullen and unfriendly to talk to. Eventually, you grow tired of his monosyllabic answers, and make your absence known, still wondering what goes on in his life.

With a furrowed brow, he glances at the caller ID, his expression tightening with concern. You watch as his once-relaxed posture stiffens with some unseen burden. With a sigh, he excuses himself to take the call, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts.

You can sense the tension tinging the area, Leon’s clenched jaw betraying the stress he tries to conceal as he stalks back to you, shoving his phone into his pocket, evidently agitated.

“You don’t need a ride home, do you?” His voice contrasts his request; he obviously isn’t in the mood to drive you home.

“I’ll get a cab.” You shake your head, not wanting to be the instrument he releases all that pent up anger on.

He casts a shadow over you, standing tall and easy, in the dying sun he looks like a dying angel, his eyes soft and sad, skin begging to be touched. And while you want nothing more than to reach out and caress his cheek, tell him it’ll be okay, kiss his troubles away, you don’t know what you are right now.

Friends? Would a friend do that? So you offer him a supportive smile, trying not to seem deliberate, and amidst the fading light of the park and the cooling breeze that accompanies you back to your divided lives, you already regret it, watching Leon speed off, just a distant thought in your memory.

You should trust your gut more often.

<><><><>

As the car glides through the shadowy city streets, you catch sight of the new monument in the distance, the one Leon must’ve told you about. Surprising yourself, you decide to take a spontaneous detour. You tap your driver on the shoulder, and she smiles encouragingly. For the most part, the drive was silent, but you don’t mind her soft voice explaining the history behind why they decided to construct it in the first place.

She pulls around the corner, approaching the area near the monument, but the statue quickly is pushed to the back of your mind. It’s the flashing police lights and a sense of urgency in the air that catches your attention. A crime scene tape cordons off the area, and officers are stopping all vehicles passing through.

A stern-faced cop approaches your cab and instructs you both to step out. The driver uneasily abandons her car where it’s parked, then weaves through the forming crowd effortlessly, as if she’s gotten used to the downtown mobs of people.

You, however, barely come to this side of the town, where the city lights are always attacking your eyes that are comfortable with the soft sunset across the farm, where the people are always knocking against each other like clumsy goats, everyone bustling with a purpose.

As you also try your best to push your way through the throng, a knot forms in your stomach at the sight that greets you in the center of the commotion. The blood reaches up to where your footsteps falter, where everyone steps back to avoid staining their footwear.

Splatters of crimson paint a macabre picture that sends a shiver down your spine. The wail of sirens pierces the night, flaring lights casting an eerie glow that dances like amethyst flames, illuminating the limp body that uniformed figures crouch near.

And one of those figures, someone you’d never expect at the grim scene of a murder, is Leon, his unfamiliar stony expression cast in a stark light against the backdrop of chaos.

You draw closer, questions threatening to unravel the fabric of your reality, steeling yourself for the confrontation, because you thought you were close to him, a person he could trust. Was that such a silly thought? To think that you might have had something?

Apparently it was.

“Leon?” you demand, pressing yourself into the caution tape, warning bells ringing in your mind at the neon yellow bending to your will against your stomach.

“What?” He glances up and around, scanning the entire world until his eyes land on yours, going wide slightly, and his position stumbles, as if his legs give way.

“Get up, rookie,” another cop barks. “Focus! And you, stop distracting him!” Someone bats at your face, but you just sidestep the blow and storm closer, in the tension of the moment.

If you had just a speck of your sense at the time, you might’ve forced yourself to step away, to take a few calming deep breaths, but seeing his face dappled in such an unnatural light, to see his warmth be taken away to something that’s real, something like a life gone.

You always saw him as your solace, away from your life, something that was unreal, just for you. You forget to see him as a being of his own, with feelings of his own. And sadly, you don’t know the difference between impulsive and intrusive.

You’re surprised when Leon rises to meet your eyes, albeit it only lasts for a moment until he’s towering over you again, and there’s a sense of authority there that wasn’t there before, eyes strict and narrowed.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he says, in such a final tone it doesn’t occur to you that you could argue back. But his voice, a splinter of your Leon, the one you know, slips through. “I promise.”

So you stand back, near the patrol cars, their wails ratting your skull, but you grit your teeth and force yourself through it, eyes directed on Leon. It’s a while before the crowd clears, presumably because the idea of a murder is enticing until they see how long it truly takes, as compared to television.

But you stand there, leaning against the side of the car that you know is Leon’s, recognizing it as the one that you’ve rode in so many times, and you wonder why he’s taken a fragment of your time here, to this place outside of your relationship.

Eventually, Leon makes frantic motions to the top of the monument, stretching to the sky before gesturing back to the body, and everyone around him offers a pensive expression and solemn nods before someone calls out something you can’t hear.

The sirens die down immediately, and everyone claps Leon on the back. He flushes and stumbles with them to the cars, and you promptly ignore everyone’s gaze on you as he approaches. But there’s someone with him.

Feline eyes meet yours, an arm draped over his shoulder, competitive expression and this mysterious woman and Leon saunter over to you. She’s dressed in a long, beige trench coat, and her black sunglasses rest low on her nose, perched just right so that she can lift her face to offer you the most cursory of glances before turning away.

And she has the audacity to peck Leon on the cheek before she gives you a smug smile with the side of her face that only you can see before waving goodbye, somehow gracefully, and stalking away to what you assume is a fancy sports car.

“Look, I know you have a lot of questions.” Leon holds up his hands in defense, before grinning, and involuntarily, you feel the corner of your mouth quirk upwards.

“Lot of is an understatement,” you grumble.

“Talk over dinner?” he offers.

“Is this you trying to impress me?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” he says with a soft chuckle. “Is it working?”

<><><><>

“Right, and you didn’t think telling me you were a fucking cop was important?” Your spring roll is devastated, its insides spilling everywhere on your plate, bits of cabbage and carrot dotting the cardboard.

“I didn’t think it would change anything between us,” he mumbles. “So what difference would it make?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You push away from the table, and his eyes follow you when you stand up, and his actions seem to come naturally, as an instinct, when he trails you across the empty store.

“You know what it means!” he protests.

“Maybe I don’t, Leon, so maybe you should explain,” you retort. “Explain why you thought it was okay to lead me on like that, all this time, when you have a girlfriend! Which one of us are you really cheating on?”

“What?” Now he looks genuinely confused, and his confusion seems to spark some doubt in your own defense, breaking down your sure walls. “Girlfriend? Cheating?”

His eyes are glazed over with tears, and if he starts crying, you’re not sure what you’ll do. You take a step closer, but now he’s the one to recoil away, shaking his head, wiping his eyes.

Leon inhales sharply. “How could you say something like that? I told you when we met, I’m not… not very good with these kinds of things.”

“But she-”

“Kissed me?” He scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like your mother’s never kissed you goodnight.”

You misread everything. That smug smile was her approval, on those curved lips, those narrowed eyes that were… well, just always narrowed. How could you get something so wrong?

"I... I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "I didn't know... I thought..." Your words falter as you struggle to find the right ones to express the whirlwind of relief, a gust of skittish butterflies pattering against the walls of your stomach, trying to find release.

"I should have been honest from the start," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "My job… it can hurt people. You saw. I want to keep you safe."

“You’re not mad?” you ask quietly.

Leon's eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he responds, "How could I ever be mad at this cute little face?" He playfully puffs your cheeks together, a gesture meant to be endearing.

Before you can fully process his teasing remark, Leon's demeanor shifts once again, his voice lower and more intimate as he adds, "Or... these lips." And with a sudden, decisive move, he leans in and presses a tender kiss against your lips.

And your fragile world topples over.

Again.

<><><><>

Leon never ceases to surprise you, that much you can definitely expect. You shut your computer, ready for your lunch break, when someone calls your name from the lower floor. That much you’ve come to expect, but while you’re gathering your belongings, someone else calls out something else.

“Hey, hurry up! Don’t keep your boyfriend waiting!”

To say you stumbled would be nice. You somehow manage to trip over the arm of the chair, end up with all your papers fluttering to the ground, but you ignore the mess and file it away for later, trying to tame your hair (an impossible feat in three seconds) as you storm down the stairs.

Your heels click on the tiles as you make your descent as graceful as can be, minus that one part where you trip and lurch forward before gripping the hand railing for safety. You see him standing at the entrance, talking to the receptionist guy, a box nestled between his arms.

“Doughnuts?” you ask, staring at the box enticingly, recognizing the bright pink and rainbow sprinkles from your childhood.

“Got some free time,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before opening the box. It seems that you really have everyone’s attention now. “And coupons!”

You toss him a shit eating grin to show your returned affection before immediately curling your fingers around a glazed doughnut. And eventually, once the first person timidly approaches, quietly asking if they could maybe have one, Leon beams.

“I brought enough for everyone!” he proclaims, and he steps to the side to reveal three similar boxes, all presumably stocked with the same doughnuts.

“Looks like you’re an office favorite now, huh?” you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He shifts from your impact and returns the gesture, in the process of doing so smears chocolate frosting on the underside of his nose.

“I’ll always be your favorite officer though, right?” he jokes in response.

You don’t respond, you’re too busy staring at that one smear of cocoa against his skin, and suddenly you’re itching for a napkin, so you twist over your shoulder to grab one.

“Righ-” His echo is muffled by the napkin stuffed into his mouth as you gently dab at the area, squinting your eyes.

“Yeah, of course, totally,” you mumble absentmindedly, satisfied with your efforts. You take the excuse a little further just to stare at his amused expression, the quirk of his brow, the tilt of his eyes softening.

Your colleagues will never let you hear the end of this.

Either way, since he’s on break and he’s on the manager’s good side, bribing her with a few Boston Cream doughnuts, she allows him to hop upstairs with you.

“So, if you’re a cop,” you ask while rubbing hand sanitizer into your palms. “Why’re you working at Panda Express?”

“They lowered the income rate for the citizens of Raccoon City, including the police force,” he grumbles, swinging his legs from where he’s perched on the side of your desk. “Which I think is totally stupid!”

“So you think you shouldn’t have applied at all?” you query further.

“Well, honestly? I’m glad I applied,” he admits, and at your questioning expression, continues, “I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Hooray, taxes,” you say numbly, flipping through the giant stack of papers left on your desk, all jumbled up from your earlier mishap.

“Hooray, taxes, indeed,” he agrees.

“I was being sarcastic.” Leon scoffs, twisting over his shoulder to lean down and meet your lips. When he pulls away, there’s an endearing yet mocking look in his eyes.

“I’m not that stupid.”

<><><><>

Nothing happens that day, you don’t see a black cat anywhere, you don’t walk under any ladders, and if you do walk on cracks, well, you do that every day, so your luck must always be this horrible, right?

You’ve somehow scored this moonlit masterpiece strolling beside you, a being born from the clouds, so maybe you’re not all that unlucky.

Usually, you get a warning when bad things happen. But all you can feel is the jittery, warm feeling that you get when you’re brushing hands with Leon, trying to bring him closer to you. You think he notices, and doesn’t say anything.

You invite yourself into his car, but the first of many problems to come arrives in the form of water that splashes on Leon’s face, just above his eyebrow, and he quickly slides into his seat.

You absently brush the area, admiring his hair, his boyish qualities, and suddenly wonder if he’s always looked this young. Far too innocent for the world.

“It’s nice in here,” you offer.

He sinks back into the seat with a gentle, relaxed smile. "Well, either way, get comfortable. Looks like we’re expecting rain.”

You nod, legs unsteady, and find yourself nestled in leather beside his cologne-scented form. The engine hums to life, and he shifts gears, pulling onto the road as traffic flees.

He glances over, moonlight caressing sculpted cheeks. "What’s wrong?"

“Do you have any water?” He gestures to the water bottle in the cupholder on his left side, on the driver’s door. Your knees knock against each other as you reach over to grasp it, ducking under his outstretched arms, averting your eyes to your right rather than the other direction.

“Can I…?” You gesture to the bottle. “Or should I just like, you know, waterfall, or whatever-”

“We’ve literally exchanged saliva,” he states bluntly. “I don’t think I have a problem with you drinking from my water bottle.”

“Ugh, you weirdo.” But you’re the one drinking like a starved woman, which you suppose that you are, but that of which you’re really dragging your gaze over isn’t the water.

And you suppose, logically, Leon’s 70% water.

Water that evaporates under the heat of your eyes, drifting up to the previously cloudless sky, forming puffs of sorrow that cry back down to you, tears slamming against the windshield. You ponder how he can even see the road through the downpour.

Eventually, after grumbling under his breath, Leon pulls over, gazing into your upturned face with a question in his eyes, older than his years.

“Would you, uhm, mind if we just went to my place? It’s closer anyways, and I don’t want to risk driving any further than I have to in these conditions…”

You smile, and he can see your answer woven in your eyes.

<><><><>

Leon forgot to mention his (adoptive) parents live right next door. So of course, when they’re just out and about casually watching him through the door camera, they might just happen to say a dashing young lady walk out of his car.

And said young lady is unfamiliar to these judging, supreme figures that must decide Leon’s fate for him, because he’s just a boy. Their precious little baby.

So that’s what you assumed happened when Leon’s parents clambered out of their door, calling for you to wait, his mother pulling her cardigan around herself tighter against the chill.

And now here you are, facing two people that, no offense, look nothing like the man seated next to you, fingers entwined, foot tapping out a nervous beat on the wooden floor.

“So, darling, how’s work going?” Another placeholder question for what she really wants to know: how much do you make in a year? Do you have a degree? Did you even finish high school?

You respond with everything they must want to hear, like those questions on the backs of those 2000’s magazines with the answer that’s always right, the one that has the perfect amount of sense in it, the Goldilocks rule.

Goldilocks must have been gobbled up by the bears this night, because every answer seems to deepen the furrow forming between their brows, as if they’re in sync, and you wonder how you can manage to screw up something that should be simple.

Meeting the parents, check. What’s next, falling into the cake at the wedding? You must be planning too far ahead judging by their unimpressed looks.

“Mom,” Leon groans. “Cut it out!”

“I’m just getting to know her, sweetie,” she replies sweetly, voice dripping like molasses, and you can tell there’s a lot more she’s keeping behind her tongue. "Well, dear, do you have any hobbies or interests you're passionate about?"

"Oh, I just love cooking!" you exclaim, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up your face. Maybe you’ve finally found something to impress them with.

Leon's father leans in, his interest piqued. "What kind of dishes do you enjoy cooking?" he asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

"I love trying out new recipes from different cuisines," you reply, your excitement palpable. "Right now I’m learning how to cook Thai cuisine!"

Leon's mother nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Cooking is such a beautiful art form," she muses, her face softening. "It's wonderful to see someone so passionate about creating delicious meals. Someone who can share that love with our son."

You wonder if any other girl had waltzed along, marveled at cooking with them, would they have dropped their judging character immediately, just as they had with you?

You suppose it’s a mystery you don’t need to solve.

Besides, you don’t have to worry about facades with Leon.

Of course not.

But you do wonder why he hasn’t touched any of the food.

<><><><>

You sit back, sly fingers curved around the tender flesh of his waist, pressing your head further into the crook of his arm. You watch his chest rise and fall like the arrival and departure of the sun, bringing you warmth under the blanket that restricts your movements, tucked in around you like a burrito.

He must be hot, you realize, he’s sweltering under the blanket, but when you offer to turn on the overhead fan, he shivers like he’s cold at the same time and shakes his head.

In moments of silence, you catch glimpses of a far off-look in his eyes, a horror movie long forgotten, as if his thoughts have wandered to a place you can’t reach. There’s shadows of things he doesn’t say, things you know he wants to say.

“Hey, are you good?” You shift your weight to look up at him, where you might’ve found yourself admiring the curve of his chin, or his dappled skin, but now you only feel concern.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, mouth stretching in a yawn. “My new case is taking a bit longer than I’d hoped.”

“Mhm?” you press gently, wanting to get more clarity on the situation without seeming nosy. His response is delayed, a different, pitiful expression grappling to take hold.

“Oh… the, uhm, pharmaceutical company? Something that has to do with… was it rain?” Leon shakes his head, clicking his tongue in the back of his throat. “You know what? Forget it. Tonight’s our night.”

He says ‘our’, but he pays you little to no attention for the next three hours.

Your first thought is that you're boring him. Have you already become so insufferable that he doesn’t want to hang out with you anymore? You had expected it, of course, you’re not a very animated person, but he loved you, didn't he?

Leon’s gone quiet, silent, like he’s back in that box in his mind you can never seem to pierce. The light that used to dance in his eyes now flickers dimly, like a fading ember struggling to hold onto its warmth.

He carries himself with the same grace and poise, like a practiced act to a play you weren’t a part of, and you can’t push it away anymore. But of course, as all things in your life seem to follow, when you finally find yourself gaining the courage to confront him, he's gone.

<><><><>

Missing. And no one knows where he is. And some part of you blames yourself, you obviously must've scared him away.

“You know what’s wrong!” You bite your tongue to keep you from raising your volume, not so much fearing the fish beneath you but the woman leaning against the shipping containers, scrutinizing slender nails with feigned boredom.

If Leon trusts her, she should hear your first plea. She knows him better than you do, much to your dismay, but it could work out in your favor currently.

Her expression remains stony.

"Please," you beg, and a sliver of emotion slips through that mask- confusion? "Help me save Leon. I know you care for him, even if you can't show it."

Her crimson lips quirk. "I have… undisclosed reasons for ensuring his well-being. But my work takes precedence, and I can’t disclose anything to you."

You glare through lingering tears. "No deals, no games. You tell me where he's investigating right now."

A long pause, then she sighs. "Very well. It seems you really won't leave me alone, hm?" She grins coldly. "Shall we play the heroes, just this once?"

Playing the heroes is harder than it turns out to be, it seems.

"Evening, boys. My associate and I have a… delivery." The guards blink, stupefied, then waves you through with dopey grins, mostly directed at her. Ada smirks. "Pathetic."

A floorplan materializes in her hand, every room and hallway illuminated with ghastly blue precision. "Samples are held in labs B5 through 7. Avoid guards, cameras. And try not to set anything off - we're on a tight schedule."

You dart through shadows, cautiously approaching the correct hall. Surprisingly, nothing contradicts your journey, as if the whole building’s been abandoned. Guess it’s your lucky day.

You're wondering just how lucky you really are when you turn to usher Ada ahead, only to freeze as you turn the corner, and there, just a few feet away, he sits.

So calmly, so pristine, as if life was just as simple as sitting on the floor, in the middle of a hallway, in a building where you don't belong, after ghosting everyone who knows you for two days.

And yet there's something different. Haggard eyes stare from a chalk-white face, lips twisted in a feral snarl. That face, once so stunning you had to think about his existence, now only conveys hatred.

"L-Leon?" you breathe. But those eyes betray no recognition, only hunger. As your stare, transfixed by fright and grief, a click sounds behind you.

"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here." Ada glares down the barrel she points to Leon's head, somehow still perfectly composed. You want to rip off her head. "Now, are we all going to play nice?"

For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Leon's eyes flicker, awareness filtering into his eyes by slow degrees, and he stands up at half that speed, as if time is against him.

But then he jolts back, as if something's clicked, and suddenly he's back with you, standing in front of you, gasping for breath and clutching you tightly.

You wait for a moment, not quite sure if you're imagining things or not, before a dry, unamused chuckle rips from your throat and slowly morphs into the laugh you're used to sharing with him.

Leon leans closer to you, resting your forehead against his, cupping your face as he stares down at you, recognition so evident in those open eyes. “How'd you find me?”

“Well, it's not like the department was going to notice,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. Ada scoffs in reply, but her head tilts to the side.

“And your endearing girlfriend here wouldn't let me get away that easily.”

You suppose her tone is light enough that you can let it pass as a joke, and at the moment you're so overwhelmed with relief that you aren't too worried about her idea of you either way.

“Seeing you… gosh,” he groans, pressing a palm to his temple, hissing. “I can barely think straight!”

“I know, baby, I know,” you coo comfortingly, keeping your voice soft so as to not alert any guards that might've pulled up around the area.

“No, I can't…” His eyes go fazed again, blank, emotionless, and once again he's slipped through your grasp like grains of sand on a beach, only there is nothing tranquil about this situation.

“Leon, listen to me. You’re going to be just fine,” you affirm, nodding your head, hoping he'll copy your motion.

He doesn't. "I...I can feel it," he gasps. Beads of sweat run tracks through the grim on his face. "It's… stronger than me..."

You grip his hand tight, ignoring the growing feverheat. "No, Leon, you can beat this. You always do." But even you can hear the desperation in your voice.

And you wait for Ada to chime in with some classic, yet somehow sassy third-wheel dialogue, but it never comes. In fact, she's vanished into the shadows, presumably already so far away you can't hear the click of her heels on the sterile floors.

Leon groans, and your attention snaps back to him, face contorting. "Go," he grits out. "Drive… and don't look back."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you proclaim, and his eyes soften in confusion as you sling his arms around your shoulder.

You're sure half the population must've heard your racket at this point, but it seems something else has gotten the security's attention.

As long as it's not you, you don't mind. Leon’s lower lip wavers, unshed tears sparkling in his eyes, and you want to peck everything that hurts until he's okay. But you can't be sure of anything until you're both safe.

The first responders always seem to pick up the prank calls from the teenagers that don't need their help, but it seems like hours go by the more Leon's blood coats your fingers, and inevitably, your phone screen.

He's stopped responding to your questions, and you fight to keep just a fragment of his conscience there with you, but his eyes, the vivid blue gone dull, meet yours and offer no further response.

When the ambulance finally arrives, they leave you outside the gates, denying you entry, with those ruby dusted hands and diamond streaked face.

You suppose you've always wanted to be the jewel in the night that races to the hospital to see their lover. And now that just seems silly.

<><><><>

Three weeks.

That's all the time he'll have with you. And even then, he's not truly there. He struggles to formulate his own thoughts, and now, whenever you see him, all you can think of is who he used to be.

As for Ada, you haven't seen her since. She hasn't snitched on you, so you suppose that it wouldn't hurt anyone to keep the events of that day between the three of you.

Two of you, now.

He isn't a person anymore. He isn't your Leon. But that's hard to remember when you've never been good at seeing what's beneath the surface, the dense, complex layers that create a person.

You see his soft, peaceful face that is like second nature to you, and you wonder if he'll respond to you today, even after hours of repeating the same truth that you know somewhere, deep down, you’ll never believe. The doctor's left the room already, decreeing two hours of treatment should do something for him, save him, much like removing a tumor.

“I went to our place, picked up some lunch for us,” you murmur, knowing he can't hear you. “You weren’t standing at the counter like always, and I almost lost it. Again.”

You can imagine him, if he was really here, chuckling, shaking his head at your questionable behavior. Not just a shell, a half of a person, but a whole that somehow also completed you.

See, this is why you failed math. Are you half a person without him, or whole?

“I got us a fortune cookie!” you say, trying to keep your voice upbeat, as if your positive energy could transfer to him, in a magical, mystical manner, and he'd come back to you.

“Let's read it, yeah?” No point in waiting for a response when you know it'll never come.

Thin, pale letters. How odd, they resemble Leon's strangely flushed face.

“Today, your voice will bring a smile.” You suppress one of those and instead roll your eyes. “Your friends can’t think of new content, can they?”

You stuff the paper into your handbag, slung over the plastic chair near his bed. You've blocked out the rest of the world, now is time for just you two, however far away he may seem. Which is why you scowl up at the doctor, slightly confused at her sympathetic look, and then your ears ring and you shift back to reality. The reality of the situation.

The reality of the flatline.

The reality that, no matter how much you thrash in the security guard's arms, Leon's not coming back. He’s gone.

In a way, he's been gone for longer than you've chosen to accept. Maybe it would've been easier to let him go sooner. You're marched straight out of the hospital, a beeline for the exit, and you have little time to shout your goodbyes.

But you've grown used to taking advice from cookies. After all, they've gotten you to this point. The sarcasm you had so long ago seems silly to you, now, the fact that a biscuit could decide your fate.

To Leon?

Your voice keeps him smiling all the way up to the clouds.

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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago

Text

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days.

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore.

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy.

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him.

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club.

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough.

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring.

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club.

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away.

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

#steddieweek2024 #day seven #free space #wrong number trope #meet cute #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddieweek #steddie #thisapplepielife: steddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

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olderthannetfic · 1 month ago

Note

This is a comment I just saw in the wild, and I need to know the real factualness/lack thereof of this from those who are more familiar with internet fandom history.

the evangelical prudishness of the early internet is completely separate from pro/anti ship dynamics. the idea of an anti was popularized in voltron fandom by teenagers who were uncomfortable being attacked by adults in "ship wars" for not liking a prominent ship between an adult and child. evangelicals are still being prudish and nasty online to this day and theyre not doing it with "anti, proshippers dni" in their bios

and to be clear i dont identify as pro or anti ship because im an adult with a job and a social life but i leaned so hard into the anti label as a teen as an effort to protect myself from harassment and grooming (and yes. adults were using proship dynamics to try to groom me. i experienced this from multiple people in multiple fandoms. it was not and is not an uncommon occurrence). if you think teen antis are prudish maybe consider why a child would feel the need to close themselves off and loudly proclaim their hatred of any complicated shipping dynamic. these kids don't stay this way forever, they grow up into adults with more complex viewpoints on sex and relationships because that's what happens to everyone as they age. the fact that most self proclaimed proshippers care more about prudishness (as though every teenager isn't a little bit of a fucking prude anyways) than they do about actual pedophilia and grooming. most proshippers arent trying to use it as an outlet to groom children but a considerable amount of them are and you have no fucking clue how terrifying it is to be a young teen and have adults falling all over themselves trying to convince you that it would actually be really normal for you to have phone sex with them

"Ooh, I'm a secret third thing!"

You can just about always assume someone is a jackass if they start with this bilge.

Voltron fandom was a major spreader of antis, sure. The objection was to the two characters with the "I'm the hot one" anime eyes being shipped together instead of one of the hot ones and the one with the "I'm the douchey womanizer" anime eyes.

All of these characters look about the same age, just with different eye shape tropes. All are soldiers. Ages weren't confirmed for a while. When they eventually were, hot eyes and hot eyes were 18 or over and womanizer eyes was under or something. Not that it matters.

It's a bunch of crybabies with a juggernaut shitty ship bawwwwing that a better ship was fairly popular but not as juggernaut despite them sending many, many death threats.

Most teens, in my experience, are drawn to cheesy Darker and Edgier extreme shit and get tamer as they age. No, they aren't all prudes. That's bugfuck insane to think. This person is a dumbass.

Adults trying to have phone sex with teens isn't actually that common, from what I've seen, and is clearly creepy in any era. This has nothing to do with fandom shipping.

I'm sorry they've had a shitty time, but this is either someone with a lot of trauma projecting or yet another attempt to drag irrelevant shit into the constant whining about other people's harmless fictional hobbies.

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holylulusworld · 5 months ago

Text

Unworthy (2)

Summary: Thor doesn’t think you‘re a good friend to his brother.

Pairing: AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader, AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader (platonic/best friends)

Warnings: past addiction, mentions of drug abuse/addiction (Loki), angst, classism, Thor being an ass, BBF trope, mentions of spiked drinks

Catch up here: Unworthy (1)

Unworthy masterlist

“Stop her then, son. If she told you the truth, we should find out more about what happened,” Odin feels like he just threw his daughter out of his house. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. Why did I not double-check your information.”

“Husband, not now,” Frigga places her hand on Odin’s shoulder. “Do not make another mistake. Maybe she is innocent, but we need to investigate further first. Thor, follow her. She’s the best source of information.”

“Right,” Thor huffs but turns to follow you. “I’m not sure she told me the truth. Some people have the ability to sell you any lie.”

Thor walks away to follow you. He easily catches up on you with his long legs and determined steps. “Wait—” He calls your name. It’s more an order than a request.

You move toward the exit, ignoring Thor walks next to you. “I said wait.”

“What else do you want to accuse me of?” You stop for a moment to glare up at Thor. “Maybe I sold drugs to Loki, huh? Maybe I was the one getting him addicted. Just leave me alone, Odinson.”

“If the guy spiked your drink there should be a police report…right?” He cocks a brow. Thor is not as good as his father at reading people, but he can see the fear in your eyes when the memories of that night come back.

“My friend called the cops after bringing me to the hospital. I gave a statement, and they promised me that he wouldn’t get away with what he did to me. I believed them,” you laugh bitterly.

“What happened?” He steps closer to tower over you. Thor is intimidating, with his sheer size and figure dwarfing you, but you won’t cower in front of him.

“What always happens,” you shrug and try to balance the box in your hands at the same time. “He came from a good family with old money. My words against his. I was the outsider allowed to walk their holy halls because of a scholarship.”

“That’s awful,” Thor sucks in a breath. If what you’re telling him is true, he understands that you always despised him, the golden son having it all. He never had to work for anything.

“It didn’t matter that my friend, the doctor, and the nurse gave a statement too. They tried to pressure me into taking my statement back, but I refused,” you sniff, and look away. “I didn’t matter, though. He got away with it because his parents knew the right people. Suddenly my test results were gone, and the guests at the party didn’t remember shit. I was lucky to not lose my scholarship. If we are done here, I’d love to leave this shitty place.”

Thor doesn’t stop you when you walk away from him. He has a lot of information to stomach. Thor hopes you’re just a good liar, and he was right about you. But he has a hunch that every word you said was true.

“That’s all, huh?” Hela looks up from her laptop to glare at Thor. He thumbs through the papers and pictures on Hela’s desk. “You didn’t find more?” He asks.

“Stop nagging,” she snaps at him. “You should thank me instead of moping. I got the statement from her friend and the doctor. The nurse withdrew her statement right after she bought a brand-new car.”

“Sounds fishy,” Hogun grumbles. It wasn’t in his plans to sneak around your apartment and follow you around town. “I don’t think the sweet girl is a criminal mastermind. All she did was to buy groceries and look for a new job.”

“Hey, it’s still my turn,” Hela glares at Hogun. “We wanted to talk about her past before we get to the present and future. A shame I didn’t get the chance to interrogate her.” She smirks at her brother. “I bet the sweet girl would’ve been putty in my hands.”

Thor curls his upper lip. “What did you find out?”

Hela leans back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. She takes her time to inform her brother.

“I found more questions than answers. But I can tell you that the guy spiking Y/N’s drink is a piece of shit. Over the years his parents tried to cover all the shit he pulled. Luckily, they did not succeed. He crossed one too many lines and they turned their back on him.”

“Interesting,” Thor grabs one of the pictures taken at the hospital. You look scared and his heart hurts seeing the tears run down your cheeks. “Anything else?”

“No well done from you?” She huffs. “Always the same with you and father.” Hela snaps at her brother. “I tried to talk to his parents, but they refused to talk about the incident with Y/N. If you ask me, their son did exactly what Y/N said.”

“Says who…?” Thor questions. He’s still not convinced that you told him the truth and that you are innocent. If so, he’d be the worst person ever for ruining your career and friendship with his brother.

“How is he? Where is he?” You pant heavily as you try to find Loki. “Duke, where is he?” You ask Loki’s sponsor. “Duke!”

“He’s in a bad condition,” Duke’s features soften at your worried look. You’re out of your mind because Loki’s AA sponsor called you in the middle of the night. What if Loki is relapsed or is injured?

“Did he have a relapse?” You clasp your hands together to silently pray Loki didn’t do anything stupid because of what happened. “Duke?”

“No,” Duke shakes his head. “He needs you. Loki asked for you the whole time. I didn’t want to call you, but he wouldn’t stop. He’s vulnerable, Y/N.”

“I need to see him.”

“Loki’s inside my office,” Duke gently pats your shoulder. “Take all your time, Y/N. If you need a ride home, I’ll drive you.”

“Loki?” You walk inside the office, heart lurching in your chest. Loki sits on the ground. His long legs stretched out, and his head hanging. “Darling?”

“Y/N,” he murmurs but doesn’t look at you. Loki believed you gave up on him. Thor, his father, and Frigga didn’t tell him the whole truth. When one of your co-workers told him that you got fired and showed him the pictures Loki knew, Thor did this to you to get you out of his life.

“Hey, beautiful,” you sit down next to Loki and wrap one arm around his shoulders. “How’s my pretty boy tonight?”

“Not good,” he leans his head against your shoulder and sighs. “I almost fucked up again, Y/N. I was bad tonight. I…I…” he sniffles and wrings his hands. “I almost bought the poison.”

“Did you buy it?”

“No.”

“Good. See, you’re stronger than you thought,” you peck his hair. “I knew you could do it, Loki.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your job and my brother?” He murmurs. “I could’ve helped you.”

“Your brother is an asshole, you know that” you try to cheer Loki up while your world still lies in ruins. “He tried to find something to hold against me and succeed. It’s not the end of the world to lose a job, darling. I’ll find something soon.”

“Hmmm…” Loki thoughtfully hums. “Maybe I can lend you some money.”

“I got spared money, Loki. I’m not your friend because of your money, darling.”

“You are my friend because of my good looks, right?” Relieved that you are not angry at him for the things his family did, Loki sighs.

“I’m your friend because I love you, darling,” you pat his thigh. For a moment you are both silent. “So, you came here for a meeting?”

“Three,” he says. “I’m sorry Duke had to call you.”

“I told you a long time ago that you can always call me, Loki. Day or night,” you softly say. “Did you eat today, darling?”

His growling stomach answers your question. “Not much,” Loki admits. “I wasn’t in the mood for food.”

“That was the most awful rhyme I ever heard,” you laugh. “Come on, darling. I’ll take you home and we can eat my leftovers.”

“You want to take me home?” He purrs. “You can’t wait to get your hands on me, huh? I bet you waited for me to call.”

“You’re a little bitch, Loki Laufeyson.”

“I love you too, Y/N…”

You watch Loki’s chest rise and fall. Still worried about your friend you didn’t leave his side.

Finally at peace after hours of suffering and self-hatred, he sleeps peacefully on your bed.

He greedily stuffed your leftovers into his mouth and even burped because you wanted him to eat dessert too.

You talked for half the night, assuring him that his father and brother can do whatever they want to. You will stand by Loki’s side. Whether they like it or not.

“If you don’t stop yelling at me I’ll hang up,” you snarl into the phone. “I only called to tell you that Loki is safe and didn’t have a relapse. He’s asleep and I’ll drive him home after he had breakfast.”

Thor yells into the phone. He throws profanities at you while his sister watches him with amusement. She chuckles and listens to your explanation. “Thor, calm down. She took good care of him.”

“You don’t have a say in this,” Thor grunts. “She gets fired and then…” He growls and grunts while you listen to his rant.

“Are you done?” You ask. “I’m going to hang up now. I don’t want to wake Loki. He needs his sleep after everything he’s gone through last night. If you need to know more, ask his sponsor who called me, knowing I’ll be the one getting Loki out of the hole he fell into once again.”

You hang up, already regretting that you called Loki’s family. All you wanted to do was make sure they won't worry all night because he didn’t come home.

You harrumph and walk back inside your living room to switch through the channels. Sleep is out of the question after the call. Thor once again made you furious, and you hate the feeling.

Next time he dares to show his face, you’ll knee his balls and give him a piece of your mind…

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#Unworthy (2)#AU!Thor Odinson x fem!Reader #AU!Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader #thor odinson #loki laufeyson #business au #thor odinson x reader

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aroaceleovaldez · 2 months ago

Note

i'm so happy you brought back up the topic of rick's shitty writing of anyone even remotely non white / "white passing"

with that being said, do you think the shitty script he gave to annabeth in the show has to do with him just being deeply uninterested in adapting his story to include characters of color? bc it seems like once rick encounters a character that cannot be easily erased all ethnic or racial identity of to fit them into an usamerican specifically white ass narrative, he gets lost.

i just keep thinking how the only thing that "changed" about annabeth as presented in the show was her race but her plot relevance and her characterization got downgraded severely. meanwhile percy, whiter than before (wheres the mediterranean god look......................................), got half her functions. like i just look at rick in context and i wonder if he just gives so little fuck about characters of color he cant even write a decent character arc for an adaptation of a very established persona

thoughts? thank u!

I wouldn't be surprised if it's Rick (and the writer's room, since it actually seems Rick isn't all that heavily involved if much at all with the script itself based on some interviews) just has internal biases that he refuses to reflect on. It would be a consistent trend with the uptick in offensive writing in the books themselves (see: the troglodytes in general, all the Jewish kids in CHB being in Hermes cabin, etc etc). Rick seems to want to engage with these topics but refuses to actually assess how he's approaching it and his own biases while also overemphasizing his engagement with the topics. It's a kind of big talk/words vs actions type thing to me.

[this got a wee bit long so throwing it under a cut]

I was having a couple of conversations about this topic recently - one being group reading/discussion of WottG and how, allegedly, the slightly different characterizations in that book are inspired by the actors in the show. Annabeth is repeatedly and frequently described as motherly and maternal in the book, plus some other misc characterizations that make you tilt your head and go "Wait, what about Leah made you want to write Annabeth this way?" and concerns about it leaning into stereotypes. (It's also strange, because in the show Sally is MUCH more aggressive and less maternal, and this is painted like it's supposed to be a girlboss thing cause her being too soft and motherly was too weak or something? But now book Annabeth is now being described as all soft and maternal??? What. What is happening.)

Another conversation that i had with my therapist (cause we talk about pjo a lot lol) and later repeated and discussed more with other folks on discord more specifically regarding the show was a lot of discussion about the casting. Particularly casting choices and how the writing either is refusing to take casting into consideration to respectfully approach how things would be changed to avoid problems or are actively changing the script for characters in a way that is potentially if not downright offensive. Clarisse is the number one example i bring up because a lot of people say that the reason a plus sized actress wasn't cast for her was to avoid the "fat bully" trope. The thing is, there is ALSO a POC bully trope that is just as bad if not worse, so if they were actually taking offensive tropes into consideration one would expect them to avoid that too (especially since Percy was cast as a pasty white boy - which just makes it all look worse)? (Also other plus-sized characters like Dionysus and Gabe were also cast as skinny, same with Tyson. So it just seems like they don't want to cast plus-sized actors either.)

But also they're rewriting stuff that actively puts the casting decisions into worse tropes. Like hey, why is Percy (a white guy) the one who knows the "real" versions of all these myths and is expositioning them to Annabeth (a black girl), who in the books is supposed to know more than him? Why does he know better than her for some reason and have to guide her? Why is Percy teaching Annabeth about pop culture and how to be a kid? Not to mention stuff like the show constantly encouraging the viewer to doubt or distrust characters like Grover and Clarisse and Annabeth as red herrings as to who the traitor is. Plus there's no adjustments to stuff from the books like Annabeth initially being somewhat aggressive/antagonistic towards Percy, or Clarisse's aggression and bullying towards Percy to try and circumvent those being bad tropes in the contexts of the casting.

And there's an ongoing trend of characters who are antagonistic towards Percy in the books being divided into two groups: those who continue to be antagonistic towards Percy in the show, or those who are tweaked to suddenly become kinda silly-goofy and significantly less threatening. Gabe, Dionysus, Ares, and Hades are all examples of characters that should be antagonistic towards Percy but are softened SIGNIFICANTLY and played for laughs in the show. Echidna is played as a twist antagonist because she initially because she approaches the kids as very sweet and helpful. And they're all cast as white! Meanwhile other characters like Clarisse, Luke, Zeus, etc, are still antagonistic towards Percy (plus also like Annabeth initially and again, Grover being painted as a major red herring). Plus some new additions like Hermes, Mr. Lin Manuel Miranda himself, being wholly introduced into the plot when he's not supposed to appear until book 2, and all he does is sabotage the quest. Like, it's weird! That's a weird writing decision!!!! I get wanting to get that sweet sweet LMM cameo money, but, why is Hermes an antagonist here???????? he's not even supposed to be here yet!.

We also have stuff like Poseidon (who, like many of the god/major kid pairings so far seems to have been cast to match each other appearance-wise) saving the day for Percy and being this weirdly good dad, versus the books where we get the iconic "I am sorry you were born" line and Percy and Poseidon's tension is part of their arcs. Notably, Poseidon does this by ceding to Zeus, who is actively about to start a war. While Gabe is rewritten to be a total loser, Sally is MUCH more aggressive and her yelling and screaming at young Percy is supposed to be sympathetic for some reason? If Gabe were acting like Sally does in the show, he would actually be significantly more like his book counterpart! The show is making active decisions to paint these characters the way they do!

Admittedly, part of it may just be they got overzealous with their casting (not inherently a bad thing! diverse casting is good!) and then proceeded to not consider how that casting affects the way the characters are perceived. It also doesn't bode well for certain guesses we can make going further into the show - Thalia is very at odds with Percy initially. She's a very aggressive character. They fight a lot! Also Annabeth's description already implies that they're tweaking Thalia's character to be more "tough love" versus the books where she's significantly more of a bleeding heart when she first meets Annabeth. Like, I'm very happy about Thalia's casting, her actress seems amazing, but also I'm VERY concerned with how they're going to approach her character to make sure it doesn't end up wildly offensive. Athena is similar - we can guess based on casting decisions so far that they're going to try and cast Athena as similar in appearance to Annabeth/Leah. The show has already painted Athena has antagonistic and uncaring towards her daughter. If projected trends continue, these things are not gonna be great.

And the show does seem to rarely want to engage with these topics - like the scene with the cop in the train. You can tell what they wanted to address by having Annabeth be the one to confront him. The thing is they were too cowardly to actually have that conversation! They paint the kids as being unreasonable and getting unnecessarily upset when they aren't directly being accused of destroying a room, therein painting the cop as the one in the right in that situation. The implication seems to be a little bit they were going for "Oh, this is Annabeth's hubris getting them into trouble" but. that's such a bad way to do it! That's like the worst way you could have done it! (This is also a trend in books from HoO onwards, more or less - Rick tries to engage with certain topics, often using characters of specific demographics, and then proceeds to do a really bad job of it.)

There are also some aspects that are just like - in the books, Luke being a middle-class blond-haired blue-eyed pretty white boy is relevant! Because the fact that he has privilege from that particularly in how he's perceived is part of how he came to where he is and why he acts the way he does. Percy not having those same privileges, and having aspects like constantly inherently being labeled as a trouble-maker just based on his atypical (neurodivergent) behavior and coming from a lower socioeconomical background play heavily into his character!!! Percy being both a poor and disabled kid (and implied potentially POC) plays DIRECTLY into why he feels so strongly about standing up for other disenfranchised kids (in SoM, explicitly including other disabled kids and kids of color). It directly relates to his experiences and standing up for kids who are like him because he didn't have that, versus Luke whose perceptions and goals are very self-oriented. Now, in the show, we've essentially swapped Percy and Luke's appearances, and that paints a very different narrative. And that's important to acknowledge!

#riordanverse #pjo #pjo tv #pjo tv crit #rr crit #Anonymous #ask #wottg #< for some minor discussion of Annabeth in the recent book #racism //#percy jackson #< tagging percy but not gonna tag everybody else cause i mentioned like half the cast lmao >->o #this is an early morning ramble so forgive if it's not super well put together #it's very aggravating though because. like. the casting is GOOD for the most part (sighs deeply at Tyson)#(im sure his actor is fine or whatever but i will eternally be mad about the disability erasure with him)#the actors are GOOD! theyre good at their jobs! and particularly the kids seem to know their characters VERY well!#and the amount of diversity we're getting is really nice! it's really cool that the show is very diverse!#but the script is SO BAD!!!! it shouldn't be on the actors to make up for how bad the script is!#especially with how it's painting characters offensively!#im sure a lot of it isnt intentional but that doesnt excuse that it DOES exist #long post //#< lots of long posts the past couple of days lmao

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fairydares · 7 months ago

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loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

#cw harassment #tw suicide-baiting #tw hospitalization #posts i actually wrote #fairy tail #nalu #fandom #fandom meta #proship #pro fiction #anti-censorship #fandom wank #profiction

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jyoongim · 8 months ago

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Hello! This is my first time doing something like this but it’s kind of like another request you had done? It’s an alastor x reader

It might be odd but I saw a tiktok bout this trope and now it’s stuck in my head, what if vox had a sister just a year or two younger than him and instead of technology she was more based around recording stuff- and since he doesn’t let her meddle in his affairs Valentino and the other chick make her go undercover at the Hazbin hotel.

I think it would be funny :) it would be hilarious if maybe she had a phone that her brother contacted her from at the same time every day and when he drops in he either hears al flirting with him or literally making out with his sister.

Just a thought tho :)

“Just get whatever dirt you can on the devil’s princessa babe. Vox already has a phone for you to stay in contact. You go in, snoop, and bam! Leak any information that we can use to tear that shitty place down”

You had been at the hotel for a few weeks. Charlie had happily took you in and you quickly had grown use to all the antics of the hotel.

Alastor was rather intrigued as to why Vox’s little sister had decided to come to the hotel, but he let you be as you happily provided your services to the hotel.

Surprisingly, you and Alastor got along. He wasn’t as bad as your brother had made out.

You found yourself quickly enamored by the red demon.

You didn’t have to tell your brother everything…

———————————————————————————

It was rather late when you heard a knock at your door.

You opened it and there stood Alastor.

You smiled as you welcomed him in. “Alastor! What do I owe the pleasure?”

He made himself comfortable on your bed as you apologized for the state of your room.

Since you had took on the role of advertisement for the hotel, you had scattered ideas tossed everywhere.

“Oh nothing serious my dear. I just wanted to pay you a visit”

You crawled on your bed and to his side, happily leaning against his side. You nudged him playfully “yea right. Youre always up to no good”

He hummed, curling an arm around you “true, but I hadn’t meant to actually come to you, but you see you have somehow clouded my attention”

You tilted your head “How so?”

The red demon curled his claw under your chin and lifted your head to his. His eyes were lidded and his smile was soft

”It seems I have grown some affections for you”

Your eyes widened and a blush rose in your cheeks

”R-really?” You had a hopeful tone in your voice.

He chuckled and lowered his face to yours, his lips pressing against yours.

He pulled away to see you glitching, sparks flying from you.

Before he could raise his concern, you lunged and wrapped your arms around his neck, knocking him on his back as you sought his lips again.

————————————————————————————

“She should have called by now” Vox growled as he paced around his video room.

Valentino and Velvette tried to soothe him, “Im sure she’s just sleeping. Who knows what boring exercise she had to endure today”

Vox’s screen glitched and he finally dialed you.

The soft buzzing of your phone made you groan as you pulled away from Alastor. You grabbed it and saw it was your brother

”Gonna answer it cher?” The deer asked as he rubbed your hips. You shook your head, hitting the power button “No. it can wait” you tossed the phone and bursted in a fit of giggled as he pulled your face back to his.

You thought you ended the call…

————————————————————————————

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Vox glitched as the sound of giggles and soft moaning from your line.

”Alastor…” your soft voice said before a gasp was heard.

Vox was sparking. There was no way. No way you, his sister was canoodling with that fossil!?

He heard rustling and a squeal from you before the line went dead

”Papito why don’t you-are you okay?” Val asked the television, who started glitching out.

The lights went out and Vox’s screen was static

Uh Oh…

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette

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ienjoywritingfilth · 4 months ago

Text

the blue burrow part ii

trope: sugar daddy PP character: Dave York x f reader story summary: money has always been a hard thing to come by, so when a handsome man offers you everything you've ever dreamed of, you'd be an idiot to say no, right? chapter summary: Dave returns to see you and you both make plans.

warning: alcohol.strippers. smoking. finger kissing. book mansplaining. Dave York being hot as fuck just by existing. just so you know this story is gonna get 18+ in later chapters

words 3.7k

wanna see my other stuff?

part ii: the blue burrow

You think about Dave for the entire week.

You think about his eyes as you clean your kitchen.

You think about his voice when you go for a walk to pick up a carton of milk.

You think about how he walks when you make dinner for you and your stepfather during one of your visits. It's burnt macaroni and cheese but manageable to choke down.

You think of Dave's deep chuckle when you do repairs on the leaking faucet in the bathroom in the shitty apartment you rent.

You think of his kindness when you take a fifty from the wad of cash he gave you and spoil yourself by getting a manicure.

You think of him when you decide on the baby blue colour, the same shade as the tie he often wears.

You think of how good he smells when you tuck yourself into bed. And you think of his body in his suit as you touch yourself at night, cumming hard when you recall the way he called you Sleeping Beauty.

You can't understand why you can't stop thinking about him. It's it his generosity? His quiet confidence?

You realize somewhere between Real Housewives and a documentary about overfishing that the reason you like Dave is because he listened to you like you were the only person on the planet. His attention was completely focused on you. He never pushed, he never tried to touch you, he never initiated something you weren't comfortable with.

And then it's Friday. A day that has arrived both painfully slow and terrifyingly fast. You shave everywhere, you curl your hair and gloss your lips before spritzing yourself with a light, sweet-scented perfume.

You kiss your stepfather on the top of his head and remind him that there's leftovers for him on the top shelf of the fridge. He thanks you, taking a swig from his beer and an hour later you arrive at the Blue Burrow just in time to see Tiffany walk off the stage two hundred dollars richer.

"Your gentleman caller coming in tonight?" She teases you breathlessly as she rubs the glitter from her chest with a wet wipe in front of her light up mirror.

"Dunno," you lie even though he said he'd be coming in.

All the girls know about your crush on Dave. Ever since he turned both Tiffany and Candi down for a lap dance. And they keep assuring you he feels the same because they tell you he was watching you the last time you were working, looking away quickly when you glanced his way.

The thought brings heat to your cheeks every time and a pulse between your legs.

"He'll be in," Tiffany assures you with a wink. She tosses her caramel colored hair over her shoulder before leaning forward to you, urging you to do the same. "I know when a guy wants to fuck, girl. Trust."

You look away from her, finding the eye contact with her words intense. It makes you giggle nervously. You won't lie, the thought of fucking Dave is more than enticing. You just know he's good at what he does in and out of the bedroom; he's got the focus of a man who wants to be good at everything.

"Oooh you got your nails did," she says holding your fingers in hers. "You never have fancy nails!"

"Yeah well, I had a bit of extra cash this week," you shrug, pleased that she noticed. "Wanted to do something special."

"Good for you," she says dropping your hand so she can squeeze your shoulder. "You deserve good things, honey."

You can feel the moment quickly turning somber and so you force a smile before remarking that you better get on the floor before Jared loses his shit.

The start of your shift is the usual, patrons filling up on beer and cheap wings while the bass of the music on the stage pounds in your ears. You're just returning to the bar when you're intercepted by the other server on the floor. She’s trying to brush past you, but you see the tears in her eyes.

“What’s the matter, Rita?” you ask, rubbing her back as she sniffles.

“It’s nothing,” she hiccups.

“Babe.”

“I-I need to get Robby this steroid thing for his lungs but they’re so fucking expensive and I’m pulling doubles and-“

“Stop, stop,” you whisper, holding her and rocking her back and forth. “How much do you need?”

“Like three hundred dollars.”

Fuck. All the money you got from Dave last week went to rent and your manicure. You don’t have anything until payday.

“We’ll figure something out,” you promise, even though you have no idea how you’ll manage to pull of that miracle.

“Am I paying you to gossip or to serve customers?”

Jared the asshole boss swoops in and the two of you break apart.

“Sorry Jared,” you both mutter, trying to hold in your sneers. Jared pops the gum in his mouth obnoxiously before rolling his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, sorry doesn’t pay the bills. Now get your asses out there and sell some booze.”

He takes the cash from the register, slipping it into an envelope and heading out the door to the bank.

"Can you take over my tables for like, two minutes?" Rita asks with a mournful look after he exits. "Ryan’s coming here with Robby and-"

"Take your half hour," you assure her. "I'll cover. No sweat."

She squeezes you in a quick side hug with a breathless thank you. You watch as she goes jogging to the front of the club. You see a man about her age waiting with a baby in his arms looking anxious.

Rita's kid is often in and out of hospital with a chronic respiratory issue he was born with. Rita and her husband Mark are young, barely out of college and you know this stress takes its toll on them. Rita is so sweet despite everything that goes on in her life, everyone loves her.

You take over her tables, making sure they everyone is satisfied with their food and drinks. You're just about to swing back to the bar when you hear a low voice behind you.

"Busy night."

Everything in you clenches as you turn around to face the voice. You try to bite back the smile but it's useless the second you see him. Dave sits at his usual table near the back and the second he smiles at you; your face breaks into a beam.

"Hey stranger." You hold the drink tray under your arm, smoothing your suddenly clammy hands on the apron tied at your waist.

"Glad you were actually working today.”

"What? You thought I'd give you the wrong day?"

"Never know," Dave shrugs, tipping back in his chair. "You mighta thought I was a creep."

"No," you say quickly, too quickly. "I don't."

Dave nods, his dark eyes falling to your hands where you hold the tray at your side. He reaches across the two of you, taking your fingers between his large digits.

"You did something to your nails."

He holds your fingers in his large hand, thumb coming to graze the back of your knuckles as he takes in the shiny gloss. Your heart skips an entire two beats.

"Uh ye---yeah, I got them done." You give him a shy smile as he examines your manicure closely. "I should actually be thanking you for them."

Dave raises his eyes to yours with question.

"Your money is the reason I was able to treat myself," you explain. “I've always wanted to get a manicure but could never justify the cost."

The smile that spreads over Dave's face rivals the very sun. He looks like you've just told him he won the lottery. He smiles so broadly you see a dimple in the apple of one cheek and it makes you hold in a dreamy sigh.

"Yeah?"

You nod and he finally releases your hand, you let it fall to your side, missing the connection already.

"Why blue?"

Because they match the ties you always wear.

"I just like the colour."

Dave nods, leaning back in the chair as Cinnamon’s song ends behind you. He still has that dopey grin on his face and it makes your heart flutter. He opens his mouth to say something else when a flurry of movement distracts you.

"I'm back, thank you so much," Rita says giving a thankful look as she takes the drink tray from you. "I'll take over. You go have your break."

Rita has no idea about Dave or the massive crush you're harbouring on him. She has no clue that she's getting in between a major flirt session.

"Uh, thanks," you say trying not to look too disappointed. You give Dave a short wave before making your way to the back room.

You grab your bag from your locker which consists of your dinner- casserole leftovers and your latest read. You head out the back door into the breezy evening. You take the seat in the alley between the buildings, eating your meal and reading.

"I really do like the colour."

You look up to see Dave standing there at the corner, watching you read as he holds a cigarette loosely in between his fingers. He smiles as you do.

"I wanted to do rainbow," you confess. "One color for each finger but they wanted to charge extra so I decided blue was a good choice."

Dave is quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. "So what're you reading tonight, Sleeping Beauty?"

You flush, pleased.

"Don Quixote."

"I just realized you're on your break," Dave says shaking his head as he sees you curled up there with your food on your lap. “I’ll give you space.”

"No," you say quickly. "I like talking to you. Please stay."

You don’t miss how Dave’s cheeks flush slightly. He moves his long limbs to shuffle next to you on the rickety old bench in the alley. You offer him a bite of your casserole and not surprisingly he shakes his head.

“Not hungry, but thanks.”

You nod, poking at the charred remnants of your casserole. “I don’t blame you, it’s pretty shit.”

“Why are you eating it?”

“Because last time I checked groceries don’t grow on trees,” you say with a sardonic laugh.

"I have to head out," Dave says looking disappointed. "How about when I come in next week we can get that champagne room again and you can talk all about Sancho Panza?"

"You've read it?"

"I have." Dave smiles at you. "You working next Friday?"

“Yep.”

“Okay, see you then, bookworm.”

He walks away and you bite back the giggle that’s there in your chest. It makes you feel fluttery to think of going back to that room with him. You hope he doesn’t expect a dance though. You really like Dave and the thought that he sees you as just a fun time makes you suddenly self conscious.

Nevertheless you head back inside after your break, a skip to your step. You’re about grab your tray and head to the tables when Rita catches your eye. She’s dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron but when she sees you she waves, calling you over. When you go up to her behind the bar she gives you a watery smile and slides an envelope across the bar to you. It’s a simple black envelope.

“Your friend left this for you,” she says. You flush, knowing right away that it’s from Dave when you see that its simply got “Sleeping Beauty” on the front. Curious you look inside, gob smacked when several hundred dollar bills peer up at you. A quick inventory tells you that there is a thousand bucks inside. You stomach jumps.

A thousand dollars? Does Dave run a charity? Is he some philanthropist that haunts strip clubs? Whatever it is, it’s the answer to a very specific prayer. You pull five hundred dollars from inside the envelope, slapping them into a shocked Rita’s hand and telling her to “keep the change.”

--------------------------

Rita won’t stop texting you.

You are an angel from heaven.

I am making you dinner.

I cannot believe you don’t want me to pay you back.

Do you like anchovies?

Robby is breathing so much better. Attached is a photo of Robby grinning up at the camera.

Your heart swells. But at the same time you wish you had given her the money anonymously. All this attention feels gross, especially when it’s not like you did anything for it. You helped out a friend, just like anyone would.

When Friday rolls around you’re thankful Rita isn’t scheduled to work because you don’t know that you could take the adulation. You glance at your watch several times through your shift, and at eight pm on the dot he arrives.

When Dave walks in, dressed in his customary suit looking so handsome it hurts, he meets your eyes and just tilts his head towards the champagne room when you look at him. You practically skip after him, feeling your chest swell happily.

"Hey," he says warmly.

“Hi.”

You notice he has a black briefcase with him today. He must have come right from the office. You wonder what kind of line of work he’s in. He seems like he’s in finance if the clothing and confidence are anything to go by. But his demeanor and his sweetness make you think that he works with people.

"I'd like to order back to back dances if possible," he explains to Randy as the two of you approach. "How much for an hour?"

Randy raises his brows at this, shooting you a look. You nod, smiling eagerly. Your joy is short lived though as a cough sounds behind you.

"Where are you going?"

The two of you turn to see you boss Jared with his hands on his hips like a scolding parent. You immediately shrink at the irritation in his features.

"I requested a private experience with your employee."

"We got plenty a girls that'll give you what you want," Jared replies. "Ones that actually know how to dance."

"I don't want the other girls," Dave says. "I want her."

You feel your heart squeeze at his words and the command in his tone. This Dave doesn't resemble the man you usually see with gentle words and soft gazes. This Dave is glaring openly at Jared, his body poised at your side like a cobra preparing to strike.

"We don't let servers off the floor," your boss scowls. "Takes away from the other customers."

You have never hated Jared more than this moment.

Dave looks the man up and down before reaching into his pocket. You don't see the amount he pulls from his sleek leather wallet but it must be a lot because when he passes it into Jared's pudgy hand, his bald head gets pinker.

"If anyone complains about slower service buy them a drink on me."

Dave's hand flies to your lower back, gently urging you ahead of him into the room. You wait for Jared to deny you again but he simply nods before going to count through the stack of bills.

Once inside Randy closes the door, giving you a nod that says I’m just right here.

You and Dave take the same seats as the first time you were here and he grins at you, bringing a briefcase onto his lap and opening it with a snap as sultry music begins in the background. You curl your legs up under you, looking at him.

“I brought you something.”

Inside is a leather-bound book. He hands it over to you, watching with anticipation as you open it to the first page. You let out a loud guffaw and he joins in with a deep chuckle.

“Slaughterhouse Five? Really?”

“I think you need to give it a re-read,” he insists with a wink that sets your heart hammering.

“For you, I will,” you promise him, gazing down at the beautiful book. You don’t think you’ve ever owned anything so expensive-looking on your bookshelf.

“I uh, I got you something too, actually,” you admit. You reach into your back pocket, to the wrapped item you bought this week at the mall. Dave looks utterly shocked as he takes it from you, his dark eyes wide.

“You bought me a gift?”

“Yeah,” you nod, hesitating when he doesn’t move to open it. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Dave nods. “I just. . . You didn’t have to.”

“I know that,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You nudge his arm with your elbow. “Open it, tell me what you think.”

Dave opens your pathetic wrapping job, pulling out a pale blue tie with weaving as the pattern. The second you’d seen it in the shop you’d fallen in love with it. It matches your blue nailpolish perfectly.

“It’s from Tom Ford,” you explain as Dave stares at it. “The girls told me it’s a good brand.”

You stop, realizing you sound like a salesperson for the store.

“These are expensive.”

“Yeah, well, you tip well what can I say?”

Dave looks unhappy and your smile dies.

“You don’t like it?”

“Of course I do it’s just. . . That money was meant for you,” he explains, his thumb tracing along the fabric of the tie. “I wanted you to spend it on something you wouldn’t normally.”

“I did,” you explain with a shrug.

“Not on someone else,” he says. “I wanted you to spoil yourself.”

“I did,” you repeat. “I got this manicure last week remember?”

“With a colour you settled on.”

“I like blue.”

“You wanted rainbow.”

“Are we really arguing about this?”

You can’t help but let out a breathless laugh, shocked at how this conversation has gone. You’re amused but also a little irritated. You reach out your hand for the tie, your eyes on the ground. Tonight isn’t turning out how you wanted.

“If you don’t want it I’ll take it back.”

Silence.

You raise your gaze to see Dave staring at you. You lower your hand, seeing that he still has the tie in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I love the tie. I just wasn’t expecting a gift.”

You watch as his fingers go to his collar, loosening the current navy tie he wears, something called a Stefano Ricci that he tosses into the briefcase. He replaces it with the pale blue tie you bought him, knotting it with ease and grinning at you.

“How’s it look?”

“I like the colour,” you smile toothily as you bring your hand to the bottom of his tie, showing him how it matches your manicure perfectly. “A good match isn’t it?”

“I’ll say,” Dave smiles softly.

He takes your hand in his, thumb rubbing the center of your palm. You sigh softly, watching as he raises your hand to his mouth. Your breath hitches as he presses his pillowy lips against your fingertips.

“Thank you.”

You finally find your voice after you swallow, nodding. “Welcome.”

He finally lowers your hand, placing it back on your lap before tilting back a bit, his arm on the back of the booth seat.

“So, I was promised an in depth discussion about Sancho was I not?” he asks playfully.

For the next forty minutes the two of you discuss Don Quixote, the themes, the symbolism, your favourite parts and the parts that made you sad.

“Why do you feel sorry for Don Quixote?”

“Because he was a fool,” you explain. “Those people pitied him. He was mocked.”

“He’s living out his dreams,” Dave assures you. “So few people are brave enough to do that. We should envy him, not pity him.”

“I don’t agree.”

“Well, then I think you’re very confident in your misunderstanding of the novel.”

You burst out into a laugh and Dave chuckles again, that warm melodious sound that makes you shuffle closer to him, not even realizing it.

“You always have to be right, don’t you?”

"Not all the time." Dave breaks into a wry grin. "But pretty often."

"Can I ask you something, Dave?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you come to a strip club? You're not like the usual clientele." You quickly amend that. "Not saying the people who come here are bad. It's just that a lot of them aren't as polished."

That sounds awful. You are about to rephrase your statement but Dave gives you a look of amusement from underneath his long lashes.

"I started coming because I saw you worked here."

"What?"

"That first night I saw you helping that guy in the cab I was intrigued. It's not a lot of people who would care that some barfly got home safe."

You feel guilt lodge in your throat at this but you swallow it down.

"But you were outside the club."

"I was in a meeting next door with a client when I stopped for a cigarette. That's when I saw this beautiful woman helping a man into the back of a taxi."

"Oh."

Your cheeks feel hot.

A knock comes at the door. Randy is signaling that the hour is up. How did time move so quickly. Dave stands up, holding out a hand for you to take. He helps you to a stand and then remembering the rules of the champagne room quickly drops your hand.

"Your boss didn't seem too happy about me taking you away during work,” Dave observes as you gather your book.

"He's an asshole."

"Still. It might be nice to discuss classic literature somewhere a little more inviting. Would you be interested in getting coffee sometime?" Dave asks. "My treat of course."

"You already treat enough," you say waving the offer away as you hold up your book. "Coffee is on me and if you're extra good maybe I'll throw in a muffin too."

Dave chuckles deeply at this, his eyes disappearing as he grins at you.

"So that's a yes?"

"Would this be, like, a date?"

"If you want it to be, yeah."

"I want it to be."

Dave gives you a genuine smile and the two of you make plans to meet on Saturday at the busy Starbucks in town. Even though you like Dave you still don't know him very well. You have to play it safe and meet somewhere public and bustling.

“Promise me you'll give the Slaughterhouse Five a shot this weekend, okay?" he asks before you part at the door.

You nod, hugging the books to your chest.

"I promise."

#dave york #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #pedro pascal characters #dave york fanfiction #dave york x f!reader #sugardaddy #sugarbaby #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal fic

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ikigaisvt · 11 months ago

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seventeen as tropes – vocal unit

starring: jeonghan, joshua, jihoon, dokyeom & seungkwan + gn!reader / (mention of mingyu in dk's) words count: 3.5k in total (between 400 - 800 each, expect seungkwan's 1.3k..,,.,..,, dont comment on that pls) content: fluff, non-idol!au warnings: everything is soft tbh? skinship (cheek kiss, kissing, holding hands), teasing, pining, rivalry, shitty team mates/friends, crying, lots of blushing lmao, very very very very sappy note: seventeen as tropes has been sitting in my drafts since 2022 and i'm FINALLY letting it out,, i hope everyone enjoy it! i decided to post it by units or else the post would get Too long (i already went off on this one lmao) don't worry hhu unit and pfu unit is already in the making hehe >.< pls don't come for me if some members have more words than others! inspiration isn't going to be the same for every tropes so i hope everyone can keep that mind! minors can interact with this fic but please don't follow or i'll hard block you. ignore any mistakes pls my brain is Dead rn,,, pls enjoy this piece of mine and don't forget to leave a like/reblog/comment! mwah mwah mwah good reading~

Jeonghan: Blind date

Jeonghan never loses bets and everyone in his friend group knows that which is why no one ever makes bets with him. He is just an extremely lucky person and he can always get his way out of any situation; expect when the person he made a bet with is Joshua – I taught him too well, he thinks to himself. It’s all because of a lost bet that he finds himself going on a blind date on this Thursday afternoon. That was the bet – to go on a blind date with someone the other picked. To say he was nervous was an understatement. All he’s hoping for is that Joshua didn’t prank him and sent like Seungkwan as his date. That would be awkward, he thinks as he makes his way quicker to the café.

As for you? Well, here you are, waiting for Joshua’s friend in this new café that opened in the neighbor. You don’t really know what went through your mind when you agreed to this blind date; something about Joshua’s words, probably. He can be a bit too convincing at times, something he apparently learned from this special friend – Jeonghan. You’ve never met the guy but oh have you heard countless stories about him. You know he’s one of Joshua’s closest friends so maybe you won’t get a relationship out of this but you will be able to talk about Joshua’s weird antics – in hopes Jeonghan isn’t worse, somehow, than your best friend.

You’re lost in your thoughts when a voice softly calls your name. You look up to see the most beautiful man ever and he quickly introduces himself as Jeonghan, as he sits down in front of you. You don’t really notice how Jeonghan looks at you, like you’re the most beautiful human he has ever seen or how a slight blush creeps up on his ears. And Jeonghan doesn’t notice the blush on your cheeks or how you slightly smile to yourself every time he tells you something. You two talk for hours; complaining about Joshua’s behavior – and you don’t let Jeonghan get away with turning him into a little devil, talking about how cute Sylvanian families are – he even shows you the ones he has, he rants about Legos, too, while he lets you tell him about that last book you read – something about a fae prince and a human falling in love. The staffs at the café breaks you both out of your conversation, letting you know they are closing in 10 minutes – it’s only when she comes around that you realize you are the only customers left. You quickly gather your stuffs, expecting to say goodbye to Jeonghan in front of the café but he naturally walks you back to your place. It’s when you’re leaned on your front door that he asks for your number – I thought he would never make a move, and he promises to see you soon before leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. It’s only when Jeonghan leaves you that he realizes luck was, once again, on his side.

Joshua: Coworkers

You’re very grateful for your coworkers at your new job. It’s only been a few months since you joined the finance team at this new company but everyone treats you like you have been part of the team for a long time. Everyone helps you out in new tasks, especially Joshua. Whenever you have to do something you aren’t used to, Joshua comes running to help you out and he cheers you up every time you have a hard time. You never really questioned how he acts as you always thought he was just being nice – as he is with anyone else. However, as your coworkers have known him longer than you, they know how you always get a special treatment from him; he makes you coffee when you start working and after lunch, he brings you your favorite chocolate, he prints out your folders for you and makes sure you always have your favorite pens working. His crush on you is known to everyone but you.

That all comes to light on a company dinner where Joshua special dots on you even in a restaurant far from work – he gets you food, fills up your plate and your glasses, lends you his jacket when you get cold and even offer to walk you home. All of these little attention gets him teased by your coworkers while you are still as oblivious as before. Joshua wears a profound blush on his ears all night but once again, you still don’t notice the pink tint of his ears (you honestly think it’s a cause of his drinking) and Joshua is entirely too happy about you being so clueless.

A few hours later he walks you home – as he promised. However, you surprise him by asking why everyone was teasing him back there. He stumbles on his words, the blush going to his cheeks until he finally admits it’s because he has a crush on you ever since you walked into the office on your first day. And now you’re the one with the blush, stuttering an answer – I like you too, but Joshua takes you by surprise by kissing you.

Jihoon: Acquaintances

You have known Jihoon since middle school; he was just always around in your group of friends and yet you didn’t know him at all. All you knew about him is that he liked music and as much as you thought he was nice, you never thought about making friends with him – if you didn’t all this time, why now? But when you’re in your first year of college, walking into your liberal arts class and you see only one familiar face – Jihoon’s, you walk up to him because it’s always good to know someone in every classes – to get notes or for future project.

So, you put on your best smile, sit down next to him – hope to god he remembers you – while starting to rant about how glad you are he’s here. However, all you’re met with is a blushing and stuttering Jihoon; “Sorry, I- uh- I forgot to water my dog- I mean, no- Forgot to give water to my dog! Bye!” before he runs out of the auditorium. It’s an understatement to say you are confused about his behavior, hoping he doesn’t secretly hate you – and is currently at the college’s administration to beg for a transfer. He’s cute, after all.

Next week, you are standing in front of the door of that same auditorium wondering if you’re going to find Jihoon in there. You don’t give yourself time to run away, pushing the door open and promising yourself to try and make a friend in this class today. You sit down, not trying to find Jihoon among the students. You didn’t even finish pulling out your laptop that the chair beside you is pushed back – Someone sat down next to me! – and you look to see who your new best friend is, only to see Jihoon looking at you, smiling. He greets you, asks you how your morning went before apologizing for last week – something about him being stressed. You let him know it’s alright – you can’t just hold grudges against him. And he’s cute today too. That’s how you two become friends after more than 10 years of being in each other’s life – or like background. And so, because Jihoon never feels like he apologizes enough, he does anything you ask of him for weeks: he buys you food, lends you his notes, makes you playlists but most importantly, when you ask to see his studio, he accepts.

On a Friday night, he picks you up and you two walk together to the studio, as you ask him about music – all these years, you always saw him with a guitar or humming songs and yet you never knew how it all started. And so, he answers all your questions, he talks, again and again, he tells you everything because it’s you. When you get to the studio, you walk around, touching every instrument, asking more questions while he sets up his computer. He goes out for a moment – letting you know you can play around on his computer – to pick up dinner at the fast food down the street. Of course, you take his offer, settling down on his chair and you open Youtube, play some songs before trying to make a simple track. It’s when you open his files to add one of his samples that you stumble across a file named after you; you can’t resist the urge to open it, finding songs after songs – Run to you, Darl+ing, Lean On Me, Adore U.

Jihoon comes in a few minutes after, the computer still shining with all these songs. And that’s when he knows – he knows he can’t hide it anymore, he knows all these years he spent at a distance from you can’t happen again, he knows he has to tell you. So, he tells you – he never talked this much in a night – he tells you he always liked you, he never forgot that first day he saw you in middle school, he explains how much he tried to not be in your life but he always felt himself be pulled in. He confesses that’s how he started music – because nothing but this could describe what he feels in his chest when you’re there. And you have tears in your eyes, you feel like your heart is going to implode from the love he gives you and you tell him; someway, somehow, your life has always felt empty when he was missing. When college came around you were scared you were never going to see him again. So, when you saw him, you knew this was destiny. You knew the world pulled strings for you two. (You spend the night at his studio, listening to every song he made for you while you two build a new world together.)

Dokyeom: Love at first sight/Meet cute

Dokyeom knows it; he’s in love. Okay, he hasn’t been in love before but he is pretty damn sure if love is something then it’s this; your chest tightens, you feel tingles in your stomach and you can’t stop looking at everything they do. That’s what he feels right now, when he sees you reading your book in that coffee shop.

He’s here with his best friend who tries so hard to get his attention but nothing can make him look away. I’m not being a weirdo, he reassures himself. You’re just so pretty, sitting there while reacting to that book – at one point, he saw tears pooling in your eyes – while you sip on your tea, your headphones on. You stay there, reading away while he watches you, then stops looking when he feels like you’ll notice him but he finds himself looking at you soon enough, never being able to really stop.

It's when you get up, making your way to the bathroom that he breaks from his daze – I need to get a grip. So, he focuses on his best friend’s rant, listening, actually answering his questions. But when he misses you, he looks back to your spot only to find it empty, only your book left behind. He gets up immediately and make his way to your spot, not even caring about Mingyu’s complaint. He picks up your book – Me Before You, he reads – and hurriedly makes his way out of the café. As he looks around, trying to find you, he notices you at the end of the street, a few meters away, waiting to cross the road. He runs up to you, not wanting to let you get away and as he gets to your level, he gets weirdly nervous; it’s not like he’s gonna make any move, right? He lightly taps your shoulder to get your attention. You turn around, a natural smile hanging on your lips as an answer. Dokyeom feels his heart beat faster right away and he knows it’s not even the nervousness, it’s you – Hi, uh- I- I was in that café, he starts as he points behind himself, I think that’s yours, he says as he holds out the book between the two of you. Immediately, you react, your face twisting in something between surprise and gratitude as you grab it and you never stop thanking him, again and again, asking him how you can repay him. Nothing, he answers, stars in his eyes knowing he will never be that close to the sun again, just- enjoy that book, okay? he finishes, turning around to go back to his best friend and his cappuccino. He walks slowly, almost as he expects you to catch up to him, almost as he wants you to – and he does. It’s when he pulls the door of the café open that he feels a light touch on his shoulder, his body reacting to you before his eyes can even see you. His lips pull up, his eyes shine again and he turns around, his heart reacting the same way again, before you extend a piece of paper between your bodies, stuttering; You forgot something too, the blush on your ears deepens, my number.

Seungkwan: Rivals

Seungkwan has always loved badminton; at this point, he talks about it so often, the whole school knows. Which you might be bitter about – only because you don’t like sharing something in common with him – but it’s only normal people do know about it; after all, he’s the captain of the boy’s badminton team. Now, what people of this school don’t know is that there is also a girl’s badminton team in the school – however, they are about to know. You have been leading the team so well, even though it has only been two years since it first got together, that you now get to share the court in your school’s sports hall to practice with your girls. Your coach – which is also the boy’s team, also lets you know that you’ll be meeting the other team every 2 weeks for friendly matches so the girls could improve in their skills.

It's the next day when you walk onto the court, already prepared for practice – you just need to take care of a few things as you are the team captain. Unfortunately, you stumble onto Seungkwan when you least expect it – you thought the team had classes at this time (not that you know his schedule, of course). Seungkwan doesn’t understand what you’re doing on his ground and he asks you to leave or else he will tell the coach – as if he had any kind of weight on her. Go tell the coach I’m here, go, you scoff at him, knowing she will only let him know what’s really going on. A few minutes later he comes back, the coach by his side, as he rolls his eyes at, probably, the thought of sharing anything with you.

And that’s how the rivalry between the two of you gets worse – if that was even possible. Your team meet every other day, practicing side by side and sharing laughter – expect you and Seungkwan. You both make your possible to annoy each other – you take the best spot first, you help the coach, you give advices to his team mates, you even go as far as to use him as something not to do on the field. On his side, he refuses to say your name, he keeps reprimanding your girls, he even says how even a toddler could play better than you and even go as far as to flirt with your team mate. Fortunately, even through all this fight with him, you and your girls train hard and your skills are rapidly improving. Time passes by so fast and it’s already time for your first match against the boys. You gather your team, let them know you believe in them and to not get intimidated by their playing – they are going to play hard and we need to hit back as much as them. It’s when Seungkwan sees you like this, so serious, so sure of yourself and so proud of your team, even when they lose points that he notices you in a different way. The way you burn with passion and yet how your eyes still shine with love when one of your team needs words of encouragement. He didn’t think he would ever feel like this but right now, you are distracting him from the match. And nothing, distract him from badminton.

The match is fierce, the room is burning with pride and want for the win; which the girls get. You cheer again and again, even the boys are congratulating your team – only Seungkwan doesn’t as he gathers his stuff and leaves first – which somehow, stings. You think it’s because his pride is hurt but it’s only because he can’t bear to see you anymore when he feels like this – heart fluttering, lips forming into a smile – at the sight of you.

The training keeps going after that win, the matches too; you keep annoying him and he does too, even though is comments are more helpful than anything; don’t do it like this, you’ll get hurt or even tell them to coordinate their moves, it will make them better – but you don’t notice, you only do the contrary of what he wants you to. The 5th match comes faster than any of you expect and you fight for the win with your team – you haven’t won these past 3 ones and it’s taking a toll on the team spirit – but the luck isn’t on your side when you sprain your ankle. The match stops as soon as you yelp, your team mates too surprised to react right away. Through the pain, you open your eyes when you feel a hand touch at your ankle delicately, trying to evaluate how hurt you are. You expect to see your coach but you meet a pair of brown worried eyes – Seungkwan. Are you hurt somewhere else? he asks softly, before turning around and telling everyone else to give you space, talk to me, please, he pleads, his big brown eyes fixed on your face. The after shock of the fall passes by as you stutter; why do you care? before asking for two of your team members to help to the infirmary – the coach letting everyone know the match is postponed, as you go through the door.

A few hours later you’re sat down on the cold bed, waiting for one of your friends to get out of class so she can drive you home – two weeks without walking and a month with no badminton, at least, the nurse told you earlier, but please go see a doctor, she finished before leaving you alone in the room to rest. You’re lost in your thoughts when you hear a knock on the door, thinking it’s your friend that’s here to bring you back home – finally. You’re more than surprised when you’re met with Seungkwan’s figure at the door as he asks you if he can come in, which you answer with a nod. He walks in and sats down on the chair at the end of the bed; what did she say? he asks, nervous at the thought of talking to you normally – and also, at the thought of not seeing you for practice anymore. 2 weeks with crutches and a month without playing, at best, you whisper, trying to fight back the tears. Oh- I’m so sorry, he says, sounding sincere. It’s not like you have anything to do with that, you sneer, wiping a tear off your cheek, do you? He sits back, now realizing how far your rivalry had gone for you to thin he could hurt you; no, of course not. I would never, he says seriously, as he sits down at the foot of your bed. Yeah, sorry, you apologize, your voice breaking in the middle, I thought that was what we did. Hurt each other. He takes in your pain which is much more than physical right now; your heart is on the verge of breaking and it’s mostly because of him; Not anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore; he starts as you lookconfused by his words. So, he explains; how his aversion for you came to be because you were a better captain, how people compared you two together, how some of his old team mates wished to have you instead of him. How he found himself to be as admirative of you as people are, how he finally understood everyone when he saw you play, how badminton was made for you, the same way you were for him. How these feelings bloomed in a place he thought was burned by the spite of others. How he wishes he could take everything back but since he can’t how he hopes you can give him a chance to do better, in the future. So, you do; you hold his hand as you both stay silent; he starts to come up with way to fix your broken heart and you, coming up with a plan to keep the flowers blooming even in winter. Maybe love is the way to it all.

thank you so much for reading! leave me a like/reblog/comment if you want and you'll have my unconditional love forever 🫶

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twisted-tales-of-all · 1 year ago

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An Incubus's Innocence

Summary: After being assigned to work for Jongho, you learn that his powers make him an almost unbearable tease. When you confront him, you learn the reason behind it and offer help. Pairing: Choi Jongho x afab!Reader Genre: Mature/Smut, Fluff (if you squint), Fantasy, One Shot Tropes: idol!AU, Incubus!AU, personal assistant!AU Word Count: 3.6k Contains: cursing, jealousy, territorial Jongho, he's a bit pushy at first, he's a massive tease, pet names (baby, babe), mixed signals, dirty talk, telepathy, inexperienced!Jongho, oral (m. receiving), orgasm denial (kinda), hair pulling, guidance in the bedroom, confirming consent (as you should!)

When you agreed to work closely with ATEEZ, you expected that you'd run around doing errands. With an exceptionally high salary and the numerous documents to sign, you should've gotten a hint that it wouldn't be the case, and the moment you were assigned to a specific member in particular, you should've known, but your vision was clouded by the money and security of it all - not to mention leaving your old shitty life behind.

Moving into the apartment they assigned you felt like washing away all the stress and negativity you'd piled up over the recent months. Other than the boxes scattered around waiting to be unpacked, everything looked pristine and light. You let yourself take this in as a symbol of the life to come, hoping only for good things.

How wrong was that?

Meeting the group for the first time started the chaos without hesitation, as the manager told them who you were and left you alone for the wolves to tear apart. Quickly, you learned what everyone was - and hence what needed avoidance - and made note to remember. Luckily, you knew of the group already, so you didn't have to put names to faces on top of it. Learning which creatures they were was more than enough work.

"So, lemme double check. Seonghwa and Yeosang are sirens. Mingi is a werewolf. San and Yunho are animal hybrids. Wooyoung, you're a kitsune. And then Hongjoong and Jongho are sex demons?"

With the group's approval of your efforts, the chaos starts right back from where it left off. Suddenly, Mingi is asking you a dozen questions a minute, leaving you unable to keep up. Seeing this, the otherwise uninterested man that you were assigned to help interrupts the wolf and pulls you out of the room by your wrist.

"They hired you for me, so what are you entertaining the dog for?" He spits, jealousy dripping from his words.

"I was just answering questions. But how am I supposed to help you, anyway?" You wring your arm out of his grasp and continue, "Why does an incubus need help from a human?"

With a chuckle, he leans in close to whisper directly into your ear, "Now where else would I get my energy from?"

Your face warms up at his comment, but you decide to play it off as a joke, "Very funny, Jongho. Really, what can I do for you?"

Wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to be flush against him, he makes direct eye contact to emphasize his point, "Fall for me. Desire me."

You freak out at the closeness, brain blanking from the intensity of his gaze. Although small words and noises spill from your lips, none of them make any sense. The moment you break eye contact, he leans in closer, enjoying your confusion.

"Let it happen, babe," He growls out the pet name. "I can feel the urge in you. Why not let it out to play?"

Locking eyes again out of shock, you wonder how he can tell. As his face is only a couple of inches away from yours, you find your gaze shifting downwards, landing on his lips. You watch as one side of his mouth curls upward mischievously, focusing on how beautiful it would be if this is your true job.

"You want a taste, babe? I know I'm dying to taste you."

Watching his lips move as he speaks, you feel like you've been put in some sort of trance. Betraying all the thoughts telling you that it isn't right, you lean in slightly. He meets you in the middle, placing his free hand on your cheek as the arm around your midsection tightens and pulls you as close as you can get. A warmth unlike any you've felt before builds in the pit of your stomach as the kiss continues. Quickly, the gentle start twists into a hungry, needy rush. Before you know that you've moved, your back hits the wall and his hand moves down to your butt. Slowly, the hand around your face moves to your neck, followed by his lips shortly after. Giving into your urges, you find yourself mumbling out his name with ragged breath. You feel him smile against the base of your neck before coaxing you to remain quiet.

"The others are only a room away, and some of them have heightened hearing. Quiet down before they hear."

Although he calmly scolds you, he sucks on your collarbone immediately after, making your breath catch in your throat. Despite his words, he continues his actions, lifting your leg and making it wrap around his hip. Grinding against you slightly, he manages to collect a massive burst of energy, so he slows down and eases out of the position. Finishing with a peck to your lips, he smiles and steps back.

"You taste wonderful, Y/N. So much that you've made me full."

As your breath steadies, you feel an emptiness settle where the warmth once was, "We've not doing more?"

"Don't worry. It's your job, so you'll get more later. For now, I'm full on your energy, so you should be glad. It'd be quite draining in we were to fuck, y'know. You might have to sleep for days."

Not believing him, you slump against the wall, pouting, but he just leaves the room to join the others. You hear them asking about you, with Hongjoong teasing that he probably put you through too much on your first day on the job.

When you pull yourself together and enter the main room again, you hear Hongjoong scream out, "You didn't?!"

"Ask Y/N yourself if you don't believe me. We didn't even undress." Jongho waves him off, paying attention to his phone once again.

Everyone else turns to face you. Hongjoong stands up and approaches you to ask, "You really didn't have sex with him? How does he seem so satisfied then?"

Embarrassed by being so blatantly asked about your sex life, you can't find the words to answer, so you simply shake your head. Your gaze falls to the floor, so Hongjoong notices the difference between you and Jongho quickly.

"You were left unsatisfied, weren't you?" Raising his voice to bring Jongho's attention, he asks, "Should I help you out, then?"

In the blink of an eye, Jongho is in between you and Hongjoong, gripping the collar of the shorter man's shirt, "Don't even think about it."

Scoffing, Hongjoong brushes the hand away and takes a step back, mocking, "Quite possessive over a simple human there."

Breaking the resulting silence, you shakily say goodbye to everyone and make your way down the hall to your apartment. You plop onto your bed and stare at a random spot on your floor for a moment before thrashing around to get rid of the stress and whiplash of emotions from the past hour. When you're finished, you lay flat on top of your blankets with your pillow hugged to your chest. Trying to make sense of everything, you relive it again in your mind.

Accepting the job. Being assigned to Jongho. Meeting everybody. Finding out that none of them are human. Jongho getting mad that you're giving Mingi attention. The room - god, the room. Him leaving suddenly, and that empty feeling. Yet him threatening the captain with violence over you.

Everything feels confusing. You can't figure out where you stand with Jongho. It keeps you up all night, but you don't even notice until you hear a knock on your door, prompting you to check the clock as you stand. Checking the camera, you see Jongho standing there. Your heart begins to race and the warmth returns to your core. Trying to hide this from him, you take a deep grounding breath before opening the door.

"Hello, babe. Can I come in? I missed you once I woke up this morning."

"Uh, sure." You move aside to let him in, but continue, "You missed me? We only just met."

Tossing you a judgemental look, he jokes, "Didn't stop you from thinking about me all night, now, did it?"

"How-?"

"I can read your energy, Y/N. There's no use hiding anything from me. I'll see it, even if nobody else will."

As you follow him to the couch, you ask, "That's a power you have? How does that help an incubus?"

With a laugh, he comments, "You read books about us, haven't you? It's probably stuck in your mind that we just fuck the souls out of people for our own well-being, right?"

Embarrassed to learn that your idea is wrong, you answer with a nod and a mumbled, "Mhm."

Suddenly, he's leaning against you with his hand holding your chin. He speaks with a lure in his voice, sounding as sweet as can be for a demon, "Is that what you want? Would you prefer if I just screw you into oblivion everyday?"

Knowing you can't hide your heightened heart rate, you try to make up an excuse instead, "It, it sounds enthralling, but how about we meet in the middle somewhere? Maybe once or twice a week?"

Slowly, his hand moves from your chin to the back of your neck as you speak, brushing your skin ever so slightly. Tugging slightly on the hair at your nape to tilt your head back, he deepens his voice but keeps that sweet tone, "Now, now. Who works for who here, babe? Are you really that upset that I left you wanting last night?"

You don't have to respond. You know he already knows the answer. After such a quick escalation, how could you not be upset that he ended it early? He switched on a dime and acted like nothing happened in a second.

"Oh, poor baby. Should I make it up to you? You waited for me and everything."

He swings his leg over you, sitting himself in your lap without missing a beat. As he places his hands on the couch on either side of your head, his devious smile finds its way to your lips, so much so that you can still feel the smile in his kiss.

More. Please give me more this time.

Although you think it to yourself, he responds by snaking a hand under your shirt. He holds your waist gently to contrast the aggressive kiss, and the cold touch of skin on skin earns a whine falling from your lips. Unlike the night prior, you feel comfortable to make all the noise you'd like, and Jongho responds positively to it as well. As his hand raises under the shirt, you find yourself whining again as he pulls away to lift it over your head. As soon as the article is removed, you grab ahold of the fabric at his chest and pull him back to you to continue the kiss.

You hear his voice in your head jokingly tell you to have patience, but you can't tell whether it's your imagination or yet another one of his powers - and, frankly, you couldn't care less to know the answer. Tugging at his shirt again, you wordlessly urge him to remove it, but he grabs at your hand instead, moving it down to your shorts.

Pulling away momentarily, you pout, "It's your turn. Why do I have to remove something else before you remove anything?"

"We're not there yet, Y/N. I don't show myself to just anyone, y'know. NDA or otherwise."

Begrudgingly, you pull your shorts down, lifting your body off the couch momentarily. You feel your thighs rub against Jongho as you do this, but he stifles any reaction he might've had due to it. Looking down, you notice his bulge and feel your mouth water at the idea of his cock in your mouth. You drop the shorts down your legs and kick them off of your feet as Jongho moves a hand down your body, lightly grazing against your shoulder blades, chest, hip, and thigh.

You watch his face as his hungry eyes follow his hand down your body and land on your underwear, sensing that they're sticking to you thanks to your wetness.

"Dirty, dirty. We've got a good one here, haven't we?" He boasts, proud that he has his own personal energy source that he can work up so easily.

"Jongho," you breathe out, bringing his eyes back up to yours. "Can I blow you? You look like you want it."

Lightly pressing a hand against the bulge in his pants, you urge him to undo them to let his needy member free. Clicking his tongue, he gets up from your lap. Looking down at you, he finds you pouting as the emptiness fills you again, and the cold air hits your nearly-naked body.

"Pushy, Y/N. Too pushy. We'll get there when we get there. Today isn't the day, since you don't know how to contain yourself properly yet."

Although you reach out for him in hopes of him coming back, he simply picks up your shirt and hands it to you. Holding it to your chest, you beg him not to leave you like this again.

"I can stay with you if you'd like, but I can't eat any more. Your energy overflows so nicely, but that means I can only handle so much of it."

This pattern repeats over the course of the month, and you struggle to get past a heated makeout with him, so you decide to try something new. When he calls you to join him in the dance studio, you head over with the determination to get something out of him, even if it's just some extra skin being shown.

Entering the studio, you find all the boys scattered around the room, sweaty and panting. They all say hello through their shaky breaths, and you make your way to Jongho to ask why he called you over today. Resting against the wall, he dons a black tank top and ripped jeans. Already, you've seen more skin today than in any of your sessions.

Before you even ask anything, the tired boy reaches out both hands towards you, asking for a hug. You comply, bending down and wrapping your arms around him while ignoring the stickiness of his skin.

"Thanks for coming, Y/N. I'm really drained right now, and you always bring my energy back."

"It almost sounds sweet if you weren't just being literal about it." Yeosang shouts from across the room, resting atop a pile of mats.

"Oh, shut it, Yeosang."

You feel him regain strength as you stay with him, but remind yourself of your resolve in case he tries anything funny. And, sure enough, he teases you shortly after.

"Should I show you off in front of everyone?" He whispers with a nudge to your shoulder.

You immediately pull away and stand your ground, "No. I'm not doing anything with you right now."

As you firmly put your foot down, you see Jongho tense up and hear some reactions - mostly stifled laughs - from those in the room with better hearing. He tries to joke with you further, claiming that he'll wait until you go home if he has to, but you claim that you don't want to do anything with him unless he follows through all the way. You say this loud enough for everyone to hear, earning a couple of shocked reactions.

Once practice ends, you all walk home together. Saying goodbye at their door, you walk down the hall to yours, followed by a silent but irritated Jongho. He walks into your apartment without invitation, sitting down on your bed with legs crossed at the knee.

"What was all that for?"

"What do you mean? I came like you asked."

"You put on a performance for them, talking about you no longer playing with me."

"Oh, that's no performance. Unless something more happens, I'm refusing to mess around with you again."

Leaning back in an attempt to regain his sense of control, he tries to gauge your energy. Finding your determination stronger than anything else, he sighs, "Okay, what is that something? What do you want to happen? I'll see if I'm willing."

After a short conversation establishing that he wishes to keep all his clothes on, he agrees to give you oral. Although you can't understand how he's okay to blue-ball himself so much, you relish in your victory to progress with him.

This time, the makeout session is quicker. You're undressed within ten minutes, with him trailing kisses down your naked body as he kneels onto the floor in front of your bed. He pays close attention to your thighs and focuses on them for longer than you expect before a thought comes to mind. You place your hand lightly on his head, coaxing him to stop and look up at you.

"Have you not done this before? Is that why you're hesitant to do anything?"

His eyes widen, wondering how you came to that conclusion despite his best attempts to hide it, but he can't find the words to deny your accusation. You play with his hair a bit as you sit up straighter.

"Do you want me to guide you? I don't mind. Wouldn't have expected a sex demon to be a virgin, but everyone has to start somewhere, right?"

You pat the bed, telling him to sit there with you. You ask him again if he's truly okay with doing this and remind him that you'll guide him through anything that worries him but that you don't want him stopping without explanation halfway through. Emphasizing the importance of communication, you feel him warm up a bit to you.

"Y/N," he starts, gathering the courage to use the words he wants to say, "Could you... go first? I still don't want to take off my clothes, though. Is there a way for it to work?"

"You want me to do what exactly? I can always rub you through your pants, or if you're okay with unbuttoning and showing me just your dick, I can suck you off. It all depends on what you're comfy with."

Looking down at his lap, he whispers, "Could you suck it? I wanna feel it."

The confidence from before is totally wiped from him, and you see someone fully different. Agreeing, you throw your leg over him and hover above his lap with your arms draped over his shoulders. The kisses softer now, you coax him to lay down and slowly guide your hands to his pants. You keep eye contact as you hook your fingers over the hem. He quickly unbuttons them for you, and you pull them down with his underwear, only just until you feel him spring up from the barriers and hit your hand. Before touching it yourself, you return your attention to his face, brushing a stray hair off of his forehead and kissing his cheek and down to his collarbone. Sucking on the skin, you show him a taste of your skills and kiss the red mark.

"You ready, Jongho?"

With the slightest noise of approval, you move down and kiss the tip of his exposed dick. His breath hitches at the sensation, so you lightly wrap a hand around him before placing your lips fully around the tip. As you slowly move your hand, you swirl your tongue around, tasting the salty precum leaking from his tip. Catching him grabbing at your sheets, you place your hand on top of his until his grip weakens. You bring his hand to your head, but he doesn't know what to do, so you lift your head to talk to him.

"Do just like you did to the sheets. Grab my hair in your fist if you want. Let me feel that you like it. Plus, this way you can pull me away if I do too much for you or do something you don't like. Just don't pull too hard."

Leaning back in, you continue, moaning onto his dick when you feel him grab onto your hair and arch his back in response. Gaining a sense of dominance as his enjoyment rushes through your head, you begin taking more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head at the same pace as your hand. After a couple of minutes, he's whining incoherently, so you take it as a good sign and take his full length, the tip hitting your throat and making him grab your hair tighter to hold you in place. You enjoy his reactions, loving to see this new side of him. Without warning, you feel a gush of hot liquid stream down your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes as you have to stop yourself from choking out of shock. You swallow it down, the sensations drawing a strained groan from the man from the overstimulation.

When his grip loosens again, you slowly move away, quickly wiping your mouth with your wrist as you look up to find an exhausted man staring at the ceiling above him.

"Tired?" You joke.

"No, I'm overloaded, actually. I've never felt such a great surge of energy before."

Laying down next to him, you confirm that he enjoyed it. As he thanks you for helping him, he turns over and throws an arm around you, asking whether he should try to repay the favor.

"I think I can work with that great example. It probably won't be as good, but I'll practice plenty."

#cultofdionysusnet #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez jongho #choi jongho #jongho scenarios #jongho imagines #jongho smut #choi jongho smut

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stoutguts · 1 month ago

Text

A Pint of Comfort (💀🧼) PART 1

(first time rlly writing a full length fic like this, so be nice okay?)

Tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, the definition of hurt/comfort, mutual pining (kind of?????/just barely (idk, I'm kind of bad with tropes), lots of crying (and suggestive kissing), Ghost has Astraphobia,—Johnny helps Simon through a PTSD episode, while also finally getting a much needed point across 💖

possible CW/TW for PTSD, flashbacks, Ghost's canon backstory, very subtly implied NSFW at the very end lmao, and implied parental/child ab*se

It’s a stormy Saturday evening, and all seems well.

The quiet swooshing and howling of the wind, the symphony of raindrops pelting down on the streets,—on the roofs of houses. Only interrupted by the occasional low rumbling, with lightning dancing across and lighting up the dark sky.

The only downside is the slightly gloomy and depressing atmosphere. Caused by those nasty gray, dark storm clouds clogging up the sky like a fatty artery.

Rearing their ugly heads.

Soap has always enjoyed weather like this,—in his youth he’d always found it peaceful. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he’s always thought Mother Nature was something behold.

He just takes a minute to watch the rain underneath the shitty awning outside the tavern. Somewhat entranced.

He had met up with Price, Nikolai, Gaz, and Roach for drinks earlier that afternoon. (Having nothing better to do). (After all, he already had visited his sisters and family up in Scotland, and all of them still happened to be on leave,—so why not)? Though he hadn’t drank all that much, as,—according to him,—he “just wasn’t feeling it today”. (In actuality, he was worried about Ghost).

Johnny only having just wrapped up, and parted ways with everyone.

Nik and Price left together, while Kyle and Gary were joined at the hip as they walked out of the bar—as was customary. Usually he would be going home with Simon,—but today he was by himself.

Ghost was gonna tag along and go, but ultimately (and reluctantly) decided against it.

It wasn’t because they were feeling antisocial or that he didn’t want to go, (as that’s typical). (Though then again, Simon had stopped being such a recluse long ago, and it wouldn’t have bailed on them just for that). They were just sick with a 102.9 fever, and some nasty flu-like symptoms.

In fact, Ghost was bummed out about not being able to go.

“Ye need to get sum rest, I dinnae want ye to die on mae here”, Soap says firmly, though half-joking on that last part.

“I’m perfectly aw’righttttt,—seriously,—pleaseee?“, Simon replies deliriously, attempting to sit up in bed. Slurring it’s words, with it’s accent as thick as tar. Though equally exaggerating their tone and voice playfully, to sound exasperated.

*HA-choo!*

“Ye most certainly are naw—Just please,—*sigh*—get sum rest for mae sake…please?”, Johnny pleads, already exhausted, as he lays Ghost back down. Wringing out the washcloth, having dipped it into the bucket of ice water next to their bed, before placing it back over his forehead.

“…..Fine…”, Simon grumbles tiredly, finally giving up, (after half an hour of whining and insisting that they’re okay to go). Completely defeated, it turns on it’s side away from Soap, (the wash cloth sliding off his forehead, and now resting on his pillow). Pouting like a child.

“I promise, mo chridhe, ah’ll be back soon. Dinnae get up or annae’thang, just rest", Johnny coos, leaning over to kiss Ghost on the cheek and bury his face in their neck. Slowly moving his hand down his body to cup one side of his waist.

Simon shudders a little at the touch, the smallest, almost inaudible, groan leaving it's throat at fingers digging into their skin.

"Do'ya know when you'll be home exactly? Ya'know…I get lonely...", Ghost says, his vulnerability in that moment hurts Soap, though still (quite literally) refusing to face Johnny. The sultry manner in which they said it too,—made Soap blush profusely…

He pauses for a moment to get his bearings—

“Ah’ll be home as soon as I can, ye know how the boys are…or can be—he (lovingly) rolls his eyes at the thought—Ah’ll be home by 8 or 9 at the latest,—mae thinks”, Johnny answers.—Now feeling like he also kinda doesn’t feel up to it anymore,—but ignores it. As he won’t hear the end of it of neither of them show up.

He then goes to lift off of Simon,—before his partner’s sitting up, and he’s pulled into an abrupt kiss.

It was passionate, and as the pair’s lips part, a small trail of spit remained before breaking off.

“I’ll be waiting for you,—please,—stay safe. I love you”, Ghost says gazing up at him with half-lidded heterochromatic eyes, before moving it’s gaze elsewhere and laying back down.

“Aye, I will. Love ye too”, Soap says with a chuckle, briefly brushing his hand through the tiny blonde hairs of their buzzed head.

Johnny could have sworn he heard him snoring, fast asleep, just before walking out the door.

“Poor thang. Tha’ bug’s really taking a lot out of ‘em”, he thinks to himself as he leaves.

Stay tuned for the other parts! (Breaking this up into parts, as it's kind of a long one).

Part 2 will probably be up by tomorrow!

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twoidiotwriters1 · 8 months ago

Note

one bed trope with usopp?

Yeeeeessss....

Danny and I really enjoy this one-Val

One Bed (Usopp x fem!reader)

Warnings: SMUT

Words: 1,940

“A Captain, you say?” The receptionist leans forward as Usopp keeps talking bullshit.

As if this day couldn't get any worse, you have to wait for him to flirt with that lady who was so fucking rude to you when you first asked for a room. Meanwhile, your body shakes in cold as your wet clothes stick to your skin.

“So, as you heard,” says Usopp leaning on the desk between, making the muscles of his arms pop. “My last adventure left me completely exhausted and that woman,” he points at you. The lady looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I just saved her from those evil men. So, she’s tired and she can get cranky, like we all do, right? Nothing personal, sweetheart.”

She smiles, turning to him. “Well… I always had a soft spot for heroes like you, Captain Usopp,” she says caressing his arm. “So, I guess I can help you out,” She grabs a pair of keys from behind the desk and lifts them in front of him.

“You’re really kind, sweetheart,” he smiles at her, taking the keys.

“But,” he stops him before he can go. “If you want to add more action to your adventure… we can share a room. Mine is ready for you.”

Now, the great Casanova Usopp is blushing and stuttering. You roll your eyes and approach them fast, snatching the keys.

“Thanks!” You yell at the receptionist as you walk away.

“Hey! Wait for me!” Usopp says behind you.

“You have to be joking,” you whine staring at the shitty room of the shitty hotel.

Just a basic, old, dirty, and stinky room with a bathroom, table, two chairs, a crappy kitchen and… just one bed. Before Usopp can say anything, you walk to the bathroom to shower.

***

You close your eyes as the water falls over your body, relaxing your muscles and cleaning the dirt and blood from it.

This is the moment when all the situations of earlier come to your mind. How your crew had to separate from each other, your enemies not having mercy on you, the rain never stopping and that bitch lady. Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock and the door being opened.

“Hey, uh—sorry” you hear his movements. “I’m leaving some clothes for you and I—uh… I couldn’t find women's clothes, but I thought—uh…” he rambles nervously.

“Thanks,” you answer. He leaves without saying anything else.

You dress in a big men’s shirt, pants, and socks. As Usopp takes a shower, you sit in the middle of the bed and stay still until he finishes.

“Uh… Are you okay?”

You scoff. “Do I look okay?” You snap at him.

“Yeah, Okay. I get it. I know you aren’t but don’t think being mean to me will make you feel any better, Y/N,” he pouts. “If you didn’t notice, I’m in the same situation as you so…”

He’s right, you think. Now you feel even worse, and this is just the final drop for your sanity.

“I’m sorry,” you say as your voice breaks. “You’re right. I’m such a bitch like the lady from downstairs,” you sob.

“Shit, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he quickly sits in front of you and takes your hands. “I didn’t say bitch.”

“But you thought about it!” You squeal. “I don’t blame you,” you clean your nose. “I’m so selfish and take it on you. I’m sorry, Usopp. It’s not your fault and bitching about it just makes things worse!”

“No, please don’t cry,” he moves closer to carry you to his lap and hug you tight. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s all my fault,” You hide your face on his chest.

“No, it’s not yours either. It was just a shitty day, shhh,” he coos. “But it’s over now, okay? And we’re fine, we’re alive! And I’m 100% sure that the others are too.”

“You think so?”

He thinks for a bit. “Maybe an 80%—If Zoro’s alone, he probably got lost.” That makes you giggle, making him sigh in relief.

You both stay like that for a while. “Thank you, Usopp.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” he whispers.

You frown and make a face as you lean back to him.

“Ew, don’t call me that,” you chuckle.

“What? Why?” He smiles confused.

“You called the lady like that,” you cringe. “By the way, when did you learn to flirt?”

You always saw Usopp as the one who gets all nervous when he tries to date someone.

He laughs. “Well, I asked Sanji for a little help. Honestly, I didn’t think it’d work, but...” he raises a brow. “I’m good at it.”

You roll your eyes as you stand up from his lap. “If you’re so sure, then go with her,” you say as you walk to the tiny mirror on the wall and try to brush your hair with your fingers.

“What?”

You shrug. “She offered her—I mean, her room.”

“But I don’t want to be with her,” he stands up. “The reason I flirted was to get us a room,” he explains.

For some reason, that makes you smile proudly. “Okay.”

“I...” he sighs and grabs your arm to make you turn to him. “I’m not like that. I wouldn’t do that, I mean. We’re on a mission and, I wouldn’t let you alone, at least not in this awful room.”

You make a face. “She was quite beautiful, though. I wouldn’t blame you if you, you know,” You shrug. “I mean, she was a total bitch, but I can’t deny she was beautiful.”

“She’s not my type,” he chuckles. That makes you turn back to him raising a brow.

“You have a type?”

“Uh… well, I guess. I dunno, maybe I just think—ugh! Forget it. I’m gonna shut my mouth for good,” he whines embarrassed. You giggle. “You’re enjoying this, don’t you?” He smiles shyly.

“A little.”

“Why? It’s not like you don’t have a type, I bet you like guys like Sanji or Zoro,” he says like it’s a dumb thing.

You shake your head. “Actually, no.”

“What?” you shrug. “Well, how did your last boyfriend look like?”

“Why are you so curious about that?”

“I—I’m not. I just, c’mon it’s a simple question. A girl as beautiful as you must have lots of guys waiting for you.”

You blush and smile. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, you’re beautiful! Are you kidding? You’re the most amazing, lovely, beautiful, smart woman I’ve ever met!” He looks like he said that without thinking. “I—uh...”

You look at him and nod. “I believe you,” your eyes go down to his lips, but you immediately pull away, afraid of your thoughts about your friend. “So,” you change the subject. “How are we gonna do this one-bed thing?”

“Oh, I can sleep on the floor. There’s no problem,” he stretches his arms. “It’s not the first time, you know.”

You giggle but then you make a face. “But this floor is dirty and who knows what kind of insects you’ll find?”

“I’m not scared of bugs.”

“Last time you saw a ladybug on your arm and practically cried about it.”

He blushes embarrassed. “I did not! Captain Usopp is not afraid of anything!”

You giggle. “Just come already,” You make a sign for him to get into the bed as you pull the sheets down and lay down.

“A-are you sure?” He stands up.

“Sure… it’s not like we’re gonna do something else than sleep, right?” You think about it and blush.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he jumps in and laughs nervously. He lays down at your side.

You both stay face-to-face with anxious smiles.

“Good night, Usopp,” you whisper looking at his eyes.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he nods. “Good night, doll.”

***

The truth is that you can’t sleep, no matter how many times you turn around the bed. His presence makes you uneasy and for some reason you—

“Can’t sleep either?” he whispers. You turn back to face him, but this time you’re closer to him. You can feel his breath and your nose brushes his.

“Usopp, I...”

“I’m sorry,” he says before grabbing you by the neck and pulling you to his lips. You whine in surprise but kiss him back immediately.

“Don’t be,” you mumble pulling back. You smile and he does it too. Now you lean forward willingly and kiss him.

The kiss gets more intense as he grabs your waist, keeping you as close as possible. Then he moves to be on top of you.

“Is this...” he breathes. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, please. I want you, Usopp,” you practically moan.

“Shit,” he says before kissing you. He can’t believe what’s happening. But he doesn’t want to overthink it. At least not now. He starts to kiss your jawline to your neck.

“Usopp...” you moan.

“My name sounds so perfect when you say it,” he chuckles.

You smile as you grab his shirt and try to pull it off. He sits back to help you and then you two undress each other. You forget about the fact that your early clothes, with your underwear, are still wet somewhere in the room. You flush hard, begging for the night to cover everything.

“You’re so beautiful,” he kisses you again. “I can’t believe...” Kiss. “We’re...” Kiss. “Doing this.” Kiss.

“Why?” You giggle.

“I never thought I had a chance with you,” he confesses.

“Why?” You frown. “If you’re the most amazing...” You kiss him. “Strong...” Kiss. “Brave...” Another kiss. “And kind guy I’ve ever met.” Both of you laugh. “Stop thinking, Usopp. I want you, I need you.” He groans in response.

You take his hand and guide him down on you. His fingers move slowly, testing you.

“Fuck,” you moan when he touches your clit. He takes that as a good sign, but he wants more, so he boldly moves and start kissing your inner thighs. “Usopp?”

“Don’t worry, just guide me,” he smiles eager to make you feel good. He takes your hand and puts it over his head as he dips down and kisses your core. You moan louder this time.

He kisses, licks, and tastes like you’re his favorite dessert, he obeys you in every movement of your hand and when you tell him what you want. He makes you see stars and makes you scream in pleasure.

“Usopp, please. Come up here!” You whine.

“But you—”

“It’s okay, I need more, please,” He obeys and returns to your upper body to sloppy kiss you. “Usopp...”

“I got you, baby,” he moans as he guides himself to you.

Both of you moan at the slow start thrust. He takes a moment for you to adjust, but then, his thrust becomes harder and faster.

“You feel so good, so pretty, so perfect,” he praises like a mantra.

Your hands travel all over his body, you want to feel everything of him. “You’re so deep, so good,” you mumble then continue to moan his name over and over.

“I’m not… gonna last...” he grunts.

You shake your head. “Neither will I, please, keep going.”

With a couple of more thrusts you finish, Usopp stares at you in awe as he finishes too. He falls on you, hugging your waist and you caress his hair and play with his thick locks.

“Is this a good time to say that I’m so in love with you?” He asks making you giggle.

“Just if I can confess that I’m falling for you too.”

He chuckles and kisses your skin.

#twoidiots writing #one piece #one piece usopp #god usopp #usopp x reader #one piece smut #usopp smut #one bed trope

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