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the-boy-meets-evil · 8 months

Text

with the band | ksy

pairing: drummer!soonyoung x journalist!f!reader genre: 70s!au, band!au, fluff, smut, tiny bit of angstsummary: you’re fresh out of college with big dreams about changing the world with your words on a page. The last thing you expect is to end up covering a tour and you certainly don’t expect to fight falling for the drummer. rating: explicit, minors dni word count: ~8.2k (i literally don't know, don't @ me, it was supposed to be short) warnings: brief mention of drinking, brief mention of assumed infidelity (not actual), reader mentions difficulties of male dominated profession and being a woman, 1 mention of drinking, explicit smut: kissing, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this), multiple orgasms, oral sex (f. receiving), briefest handjob/blowjob, reader is a little obsessed with hoshi's arms, hoshi picks reader up 1 time, idk i think that's it

a/n: this is for @svthub's 70s;teen collab and i'm so thankful that i got to take part in it. make sure you check out all the other amazing fics here! also a massive thank you to my bby indi @classicscreations for another last minute banner with minimal info from me. ily. (this is unbeta'd because i finished it late sorry!)

When you went to school, you had all these big dreams. It’s easier for women to get an education now, universities that had been single sex are going co-ed, and women are allowed to have ideas. You feel excited about your future. You’re going to change the world. At least, that’s what you think.

Before you know it, graduation is around the corner and it’s time to try to find a job with your journalism degree. While you’ve become a standout contributor at your school paper, this is entirely different. Your big dreams start to feel a little deflated. Sure, you can get a job at a big newspaper, like you’ve always wanted, you just have to be fine with being the assistant to someone else. Getting their coffee and lunch orders, handling their schedule, fetching dry cleaning. And it’s not that you mind paying your dues, you don’t. You know that you’re going to have to work your ass off just to get that chance. But you’re not sure you can take the chance of getting boxed into being someone’s assistant. Close enough to get a hint of the story while never actually writing it yourself.

As you’re about to take one of the positions you’re so opposed to, you happen to get to know someone from the infamous Rolling Stone magazine. It’s not really your style, the whole sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll scene. You don’t feel like you know more than the average person when it comes to music. Music is great, you like it, and you’ve covered the occasional show for your school paper. It’s just not where you feel comfortable. However, as your new contact points out, they’re more than music. They’re culture and politics and just the heartbeat of the country. So, okay, why not take a shot? The worst that happens is they say no and you still have the papers to fall back on.

You don’t need to fall back. They like your writing at Rolling Stone, like your perspective. They like your honesty most of all, that sticks out. Someone tells you that they can tell exactly what you think about something and it’s exactly what they’re looking for. Maybe later, you’ll look back and wonder if this was really the right fit. If you knew what you were getting into. All you can do when you get the offer is say yes. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, you tell yourself, to actually get to say something right away. Who cares what you’re talking about? If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s form an opinion.

Several months into the job, you actually like it a lot more than you expected you would. Yeah, there’s a lot of partying, a lot of drinking, a lot of other things you’re not going to mention. But, the world is changing and you want to be there for it.

As much as you initially expected to join Rolling Stone for the culture and political pieces, you’ve written just as many pieces about music. There’s a human element to it that draws you in, a commentary on the artists and what they’re trying to say. You don’t think twice when your boss assigns you to cover a show in the area. A big group is headlining, something you know will draw everyone out, but your boss wants you to pay attention to the other acts. Find out if there’s a story.

You’re somewhere in an open staff room before the show, taking time to catch up with people you know through work, through other shows, just from being around the area. It’s there that you hear the commotion outside the room. It sounds like a group of girls reacting to someone, probably one of the musicians. Seconds later, the musician in question opens the door, smiling softly over his shoulder and calling out a string of thank yous before heading around the corner.

It’s familiar with the shows you’ve covered. He’s hiding out from the fans that hang around and try to get closer to them. Some of them are familiar with the staff, both for the groups and the venues, though, and they come and go as they please. He seems to realize this and rushes over to your table, sits down in an empty seat and tries to look like he belongs.

“What’s the low down?” he asks without preamble.

You’re caught off guard for a lot of reasons. The first is that you have no idea who this man, with his short hair and denim shirt actually is. He looks like a musician, probably could be a member of one of the other, smaller groups playing tonight. He seems like he’s probably in his mid-20s. But you don’t know him. The second reason is that you’re not really sure what he’s asking.

“With what?” you finally ask.

“The group of girls hanging around outside,” he supplies. Of course.

“This your first show or something?” you ask.

“Not exactly,” he says. “I mostly did studio work until I replaced the guy before me in Moonwalker. They needed a new drummer.”

“I’m sure you had plenty of girls hanging around the studio,” you say.

“Including you?” he wonders. “I’m Soonyoung, by the way.”

You give him your name in return. “And no, I write for Rolling Stone.”

That catches his interest in the way it always does with musicians. They all want to be in the magazine, want to know they’ve made it. Just as many want to make sure whatever’s published about them is positive, paints them in a good light. It’s why your boss has always stressed to remember the musicians aren’t your friends. That’s never been an issue for you, so you’ll continue to chat with Soonyoung. Try to see if his band might be the one you pitch to your boss.

He wants to keep talking, you can tell, but a man that looks like a manager pops his head into the room. Once his eyes land on Soonyoung, he’s calling him away. The rest of the band is going over something pre-show and they need him. Soonyoung looks back at you.

“Catch ya later?” Soonyoung asks it as a question instead of making it a statement.

“Maybe,” you answer, noncommittal.

The next day at work you fill your boss in about the show and pitch Moonwalker for a feature. They’re young and hungry, saying a lot with their music, and there were almost as many fans there to see them as there were to see the headliner. Culturally and musically, they’re relevant. If you can get the jump on this story, you might even be able to beat out the competition. Which is always a gamble. You don’t have some magic 8 ball telling you if these guys are the real deal.

After your boss loops in a couple of the big music guys at the magazine, he agrees that you can try to get the story. If the band will let you go to the next several stops, and actually answer your questions, your boss will sign off on it. Well, you have to stay on top of your other assignments too, but you assure him that won’t be an issue.

Three days later you’re headed to your first stop on the tour. Their manager had initially been skeptical, but called back a few hours after the pitch. Apparently Soonyoung had asked if it would be you doing the story, said you seemed cool, and the rest of the band was eager for the exposure. So you packed your bags and got on the next bus out to meet them on their tour. From there, you would be traveling with the band. That had also come with the warning from your boss and colleagues, a reminder that the guys in the band weren’t your friends and the women who traveled with them were even less so. Not that it was news to you.

(And not that you’re thinking about the phone call you got after work that night.

“Hello?” You’re balancing the phone against your ear as you sort through some recent mail.

“Hey! This is Soonyoung!” comes a cheery voice on the other end.

“Oh, uh, hi,” you say. “How did you get my number?”

“My manager called the magazine for a couple last minute questions and they gave him this number,” Soonyoung answers.

You’re wondering why your boss, always worrying about keeping those lines firmly in place, gave out your personal number. But that’s an issue for another day.

“So you’re hitting the road,” Soonyoung carries on. “You must’ve been into our sound.”

“You’re different and the crowd seemed to dig it,” you say.

“Can’t wait to catch you on the trail,” Soonyoung finishes.)

The band is funny to be around, you think. It’s a little like herding children at times, even though they’re a few years older than you. But their attention is constantly somewhere and rarely on the question you’re asking. Which should be frustrating, except that Soonyoung is always looking over at you with an apology in his eyes. Always filling in every answer that he can with this band he’s gotten used to at light speed.

You do get your answers, though. Answers about everything from how the band got together to where they see themselves going to what they think about where the country is headed. In between the booze and the women and the drugs, you’re able to piece together who this group actually is and what they’re about. The more you learn, the more you want to learn. The more you relate to the things they’re saying. For the first time in your career, you’re actually wondering if you can capture the energy of this band when you put it to paper. Can you capture the way they vibe together? Can you capture the way the singer mesmerizes an entire crowd? Can you capture the way Soonyoung goes from smiling and happy to laser focused on stage? There’s magic in seeing them perform live.

There’s also the small matter of getting too close to them. Or to one of them in particular. From the beginning you knew that Soonyoung would be a problem. He’s too loud and he’s not all that smooth, but there’s a real tenderness to him. There’s a softness to his approach that you weren’t quite expecting. The first time he invites you to hang out with the band after a show, you ignore it. It’s easy. You’re thinking of the advice from your boss and your coworkers. The second and third times are easy too. Well, easy enough. You say no and go back to your room to work on notes for the story.

Except, that’s when it changes. You get on the phone with your boss, tell me how much bigger the story is becoming than you ever anticipated. There’s so much more than just the band, from the backgrounds of the members, to the lyrics of their songs, to where they see themselves heading. Three members, including Soonyoung, are the children of immigrants in this country. Where you expect push back from your boss, instead you’re met with agreement. Stay on the road, you’ve been on top of your assignments. He’ll give you more words for the piece you’re writing. Just carry on, he loves all the notes and ideas he’s seen so far.

It’s exactly what you’re hoping for and yet there’s still a feeling in the pit of your stomach like things are about to change. Not because this is a big article, though it is. You’ve never been given more than a thousand words and you have three thousand now. It’s more than just a chance. Yet you’re still unsettled about something.

It’s another day. Another set of pre-show questions, a depth to each band members’ background, an insight in the process of writing songs, even a little bit of a look into why each of them got into music in the first place. The leader of the band and the manager are more reserved, concerned with how the group will come across when you write this article. They’re always asking what you’ll say or if they can see the article before it comes out.

Your answer is always the same: no. But, you assure them that you’re not in this to ruin their careers. What would be the point? Who would want to answer your questions moving forward? You just want to paint an honest picture of what they’re like and what they’re about.

Post show is the same song and dance as always. Soonyoung asks for you to come by their routine after-party. You see the way some of the other hangers-on watch for your answer, seem annoyed that he’s asking yet again when you’ve said no every other time. You say no, like every other time, and watch the smiles that form instantly on the faces of those who drag Soonyoung off. His eyes stay on you even after you turn around to head to your room.

That’s where the similarities stop. You’re reading over your notes at the desk in your dingy hotel room. It’s far too late and the lighting is awful, but you want to make sure you get it all down before you forget. You also want to test out a few sentences or even passages to send back to your boss. The article really has taken shape in your head and you’re excited to actually write it.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts about word choice. You figure it’s probably just some drunk person looking for the band and getting the room wrong. Or looking for friends after the show. It’s not like that would be the first time. So you don’t consider that you’re not really dressed for company.

“Hey,” from a voice that’s entirely too familiar.

There’s a moment when you’re both just looking at each other. You’re trying to figure out what he’s doing here and why he doesn’t seem drunk. He’s taking in your open bathroom over your nightgown. After another moment, you pull the bathrobe closed, definitely too late by the smirk playing on Soonyoung’s mouth.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” you ask after clearing your throat.

“I wanted to see what was so important that kept you from hanging with us,” Soonyoung answers. “‘M I interrupting something?”

“Yes, actually,” you say before you can think better.

“Really?” he challenges.

“I was writing,” you rush out. “I don’t have my typewriter here but I’ve been putting passages together.”

“And that couldn’t wait til morning to hang out with us? See what we’re like outside of the venue?” Soonyoung presses.

“I’ve seen you outside the venues,” you argue. “And it’s not that it’s keeping me from hanging out with you.”

“Then what is?” he asks.

“We’re not friends, Soonyoung, and you’ve got plenty of people to keep you distracted,” you offer with an eye roll.

“They’re not that distracting…or entertaining,” he says and you actually laugh.

“They’ll be heartbroken,” you muse.

“Let me come in for a drink,” Soonyoung presses. “It’s rude to leave company in the hall.”

“I don’t have anything to drink,” you say, almost regretful.

“I do,” Soonyoung says, holding up a six pack.

This is dumb, a terrible idea. It’s exactly what your boss warned you about. But you step to the side anyway and let Soonyoung walk around you. With a look down the hallway to confirm nobody saw him, you close the door.

“What are you doing here, really?” you ask.

Soonyoung settles on the edge of the bed and opens one of the beers. He holds one out to you and you take it. He’s already inside the room, might as well appreciate something free to drink.

“I don’t know, I like being around you. There’s more to you than most of the people that hang around the band,” Soonyoung says.

“That’s because I’m not just hanging around the band. I’m here working,” you reason.

“And that means you can’t have fun?” Soonyoung wonders.

“I am having fun,” you disagree.

“You know what I mean,” he says, not letting you get away with it. You hesitate, unsure where to go from here. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m interested in you. I want to actually know you in the way you’re getting to know us. I’m laying myself bare and you don’t have to do the same, I just want to know you.”

Which is fair, isn’t it? Of all the band members, Soonyoung has been the most open, the most honest about who he is, what he’s about, and where he wants to go. So you make the decision you probably always were going to make. You sit down on the bed next to him, instead of leaving space by sitting in the chair, and you start to tell him who you are. Nothing feels off limits from your struggles in a male-dominated field to your family life to your past relationships. To his credit, he’s a good listener. His face is so expressive and open that you find yourself saying more than you have to anyone in ages.

As you continue to talk, your beers sit largely untouched. Soonyoung’s taken a few sips, but mostly his eyes have been focused on you, like he’s looking for the things your face is saying that your words aren’t. Somewhere it progresses from you talking about who you are to the two of you talking about anything that comes up. It’s not a level of comfort you were ever expecting to feel in a place like this. It’s also really difficult to remember what your boss said.

“So we’re not friends, huh?” Soonyoung asks during a lull.

“Oh, well…” you stutter.

He laughs. “Luckily I’m not so easily scared off.”

“It’s just, my boss…well he warned me not to get too close to you,” you admit.

“Me specifically?” Soonyoung asks.

“No, the band as a whole,” you answer without meeting his eyes.

You start when Soonyoung’s finger lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. It’s hard to meet them when you feel like he sees through you. “I think you seem smart enough to make that call for yourself, don’t you?”

All you can do is nod. That seems to make him happy. You feel more exposed though, more raw. Even more so when you remember that you’re only in your nightgown and bathrobe. Without even realizing it, you pull the bathrobe closed again.

“Do you want me to go?” Soonyoung’s voice is quiet, not a whisper but deep with something else. The entire mood shifts.

You shake your head immediately. This time it’s not enough.

“I need to hear you,” he says.

“No, Soonyoung, I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly.

His fingers are on your chin again, soft enough that you could pull away if you wanted to. Which you don’t. His voice is still low, thick with something you now realize is desire. It’s the same feeling you got when you extended your trip following Moonwalker on the road. And it’s definitely trouble.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice gentle like he has to be careful with you.

You nod again before considering if he needs to hear you. He doesn’t. Not this time. His lips meet yours gently, so soft like he’s not really sure it’s happening. Like he’s worried this is all a dream. You’re kind of worried about that too, but you’re not sure if it would be better that way. If this should all just be something you’re dreaming up instead of something that’s actually happening.

It’s not enough, you open your mouth and he takes it as an invitation almost immediately. The kiss deepens, becomes a little more insistent and a little more desperate. He’s testing the waters at the same time. One hand rests on your bare thigh and the other slides up your neck into your hair, anchoring you to his mouth. You gasp a bit at the firmness. It’s a different side to him than you’ve seen. Well, except when he’s on stage. He’s just as focused then as he is now.

But it’s not quite enough and you’re not really sure what makes you adjust. You’ve never really been someone to be forward, not like this. So you’re not really sure why you readjust to straddle his lap. Not that he’s complaining. His groan is low, from the back of his throat, as you settle on top of him. For a moment, you’re aware that you’re still just in your nightgown.

Until Soonyoung’s hands run along the bare skin of your thighs and you shiver under his touch. Until his fingers dig into your skin, just hard enough to anchor you but not so hard it’ll leave marks. Until your own fingers find their purchase in Soonyoung’s hair, shorter than you’re used to on men, yet perfect for him. You’re not used to straddling someone like this either, so you try not to move too much. Except when you need to adjust because your knees aren’t comfortable as they’re digging into the mattress. That single movement drags your core across his lap and pulls a deep groan from him. You can feel him hardening when he jerks his hips up into you.

Soonyoung moves one hand up your back, underneath the nightgown so his fingers are on your skin. His other hand holds the back of your head so you can’t stop kissing him. Then he’s leaning back onto the bed, bringing you with him so that now you’re on top of him. You feel a little out of your element like this, not entirely used to being the one in control. Even if the control is an illusion and it really rests with Soonyoung. It’s like he can sense that and wraps his strong arms around you to flip the two of you over. He breaks the kiss only for a moment as he’s hovering over to look down at you. You’re sure you blush under his attention, there’s so much affection. Then you’re kissing again.

You know where this is heading, know and don’t want to stop it. His hips rut against your core more as the kisses continue to intensify and you want more. Need more than the friction with too much clothing between you. You’re about to pull his shirt off, have your fingers on the hem, when there’s a loud banging on the door. It startles you both from your little bubble. After a second, the banging starts again.

You reluctantly slide out from underneath Soonyoung to go look out the peephole. Something you did not do when he showed up. It’s one of his bandmates. You crack the door open and try to act like you’d been sleeping.

“Hey sorry, we’re looking for Soon, have you seen him?” he asks.

You pretend to yawn and shake your head. “Sorry, been sleeping.”

“Huh, well sorry,” he says and is gone before you can say anything else.

Soonyoung is behind you before the door even closes, wrapping his arms around you and holding you back against his chest. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear, gentle like his first kiss.

“I should probably go before they come back,” he whispers against your skin.

“About what I said,” you begin, turning around in his arms to face him.

“S’okay, I get it,” he assures you. He places the gentlest kiss on your lips. “I know what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“And maybe we’ll get to continue this,” Soonyoung offers. He sounds like he’s trying to be nonchalant, but his face gives away how badly he wants you to agree.

“God, yes, please,” you respond. You don’t care how you sound when his face lights up. That’s all you need.

The next day has you packing up and heading to the next city. Road days are actually some of your favorite because it’s just you with the people on the bus. It’s a much smaller group than at the venues or at the hotel afterwards. It also gives you a better glimpse into who Moonwalker are outside of the performances. You see how they interact, how they approach conversations, what they do to fill their time.

Of course, now, Soonyoung wants to be around you whenever he can. A fact entirely too obvious to some of the people on the bus. He accepts that you want to keep some amount of distance, doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. The two of you just kind of gravitate together anyway. Whether it’s sitting near each other on the bus or stopping at the same places for food when you stop. Most people seem to write it off as how he’s been with you the entire time. Most don’t realize that you’re seeking him out almost as much now.

You get enough time without prying ears to let him know that you don’t want to distract him the night before a show. You also know how their manager can be, so you think it’s best for him to be in the bed that he’s supposed to be in. He pouts for a second but understands. You’re trying to keep at least the appearance of separation.

The day of the next show finds you in the lobby waiting for some coffee and something to eat when a woman breezes in through the open doors. You hate to generalize, but she looks like a lot of the other women that hang around bands, except a little more confident. A little more sure of herself or her position. Maybe she’s someone’s girlfriend. You’re sure that whatever Moonwalker gets up to on the road, at least some of them are in relationships. Not Soonyoung, you’re sure he would’ve mentioned it.

For some reason, the woman approaches you after speaking to someone at the desk. She’s glamorous up close, for lack of a better way to put it, but maybe not as confident as you’d initially thought.

“Is this where Moonwalker is staying?” she asks without preamble.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer.

“Oh good, I’ve been looking for Soonyoung and I keep missing his stops,” she says with a smile.

Your stomach drops and you do everything you can not to let your face show how bothered you are. She’s looking for who?

“Soonyoung?” you ask. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to pick up on your distress.

“It’s an unusual name, I know, but he’s the drummer for Moonwalker,” she carries on.

“Uh, I haven’t seen him today,” you offer.

“I wasn’t expecting you had, you’re clearly not a groupie,” she says with a slightly sympathetic smile. You’re not really sure what to do with that. “But he’s staying here?”

“Yeah, they’re staying here,” you confirm. “Who are you?”

“Oh well I’m his…well it’s complicated, but we’re seeing each other,” she says.

“Right,” is all you can muster.

“Who are you?” she asks.

You give your name. “I write for Rolling Stone.”

“You’re a journalist?” She asks the question with all the surprise and disdain of someone that thinks only men can write.

“I am,” you confirm and stand up. “It’s been great speaking, I’m sure Soonyoung will be around soon. They haven’t left for the venue yet.”

You’re off before she can say anything else without coffee or the snack you’d been looking for. Before the tour, you never drank coffee in the afternoons because of the caffeine. Now, you’re staying up much later.

Once you’re back in your room, you let yourself cry. For so many reasons. For breaking the rule and getting so close to Soonyoung. For allowing yourself to feel something for him. For being stupid enough to think he felt something for you too. For how hard it’s going to be to carry on with this story now that you know who he really is. For having to separate personal from professional. For all the things that could have been.

You keep your distance from Soonyoung through the rest of the day and the show. He’s visibly confused when you make excuse after excuse to walk away or talk to someone else. But why should he be? Surely the woman ended up finding him after speaking to you and surely she’s waiting somewhere for him. Why should he keep bothering with you?

It’s not until you’re back in your room post-show that you start to plan your next steps. You’re scheduled to join the band for at least 3 more shows. It’s what you and your boss agreed to. And it was fine, before everything happened with Soonyoung. Could you find a way to convince your boss that you do actually have enough for the article and it’s time to come home? Maybe. You’ll have to start thinking of good reasons.

It’s during this inner monologue that you hear a quiet knock at the door. You know who it’s going to be before you even open the door. Soonyoung stands on the other side looking much more subdued than normal. He looks sad, maybe even hurt.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

His voice sounds just as sad as he looks, which causes anger to flare in you for a moment. What reason does he have to be hurt? But you step aside anyway because this isn’t a conversation to have in the doorway where anyone could overhear.

“What is it?” you ask once you’re both inside. He sits on the edge of your bed and you take the chair at the desk.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in response.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?” you ask louder than you intended.

“Everything was good and we were on the same page, what changed?” Soonyoung asks.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you having a girlfriend? I met her in the lobby this afternoon, she was looking for you,” you fire back.

Soonyoung goes quiet. Not like he’s been caught, like he’s confused. Like he doesn’t know what you mean. Then his face changes into one of annoyance. “Do you mean Mary?”

“I’m not sure, Soonyoung, how many girlfriends do you have?” you ask, irritated.

“None,” he insists and then describes the woman from earlier.

“Sounds right, she didn’t mention her name,” you agree.

Soonyoung huffs out an overly annoyed sigh. “That’s not my girlfriend and again, I do not have a girlfriend…”

“Girlfriend, friend, groupie, whatever,” you dismiss. “I’m not interested in the drama.”

“Neither am I,” Soonyoung insists. You want to believe him. His face is so kind, so honest. But this is why you don’t get involved with the band.

“I want to believe you,” you start.

“Then believe me,” Soonyoung pleads. “Mary used to hang around at the studio I worked at before coming on this tour. I was nice to her, we chatted a couple times, but I never even got her number. I never even went out with her or kissed her or anything. I have no idea why she showed up here.”

“You promise?” you ask.

Soonyoung is off the bed and coming to kneel before you in a single move. He takes your hands in his, so still and serious. Like nothing else matters.

“I promise you, there is nothing going on there. The only person I’m interested in getting to know is you,” he says.

“Soonyoung,” you caution.

“I know, your career, the article, all of it, I get it,” Soonyoung assures you. “I’m willing to take whatever you can give me.”

It’s dumb. You know it’s dumb. And you don’t care because this man in front of you is doing more than you ever expected. So you lean forward to kiss him and feel him smile against your lips. The next second, he hoists you up (you’re thankful for that drummer arm strength) and carries you to the bed. He’s so gentle when he puts you down, so careful to make sure you don’t hit your head on the headboard.

And then his lips are on yours again, kissing you so fiercely that you lose your breath. His hands wander your body like he’s trying to map every piece of you. Every curve, every spot, every place that makes you shudder. His lips on you are a constant, keeping you grounded in this moment, allowing it to feel like more than a dream. His hands wander up the skirt you wore to the show earlier. You had put off changing for bed beyond removing your stockings and shoes. Now you’re almost thankful for that decision with how your skin erupts into goosebumps under Soonyoung’s touch.

This time when you reach to remove his shirt, there’s no loud knock to disrupt you. There’s nothing at all to distract you from the beautiful man hovering over you on the bed. It seems ridiculous, now, that you ever thought you could ignore him. Once you get his clothes off, he removes your own, so you’re laying bare on your bed. Everything inside you wants you to cover yourself, unused to anyone taking you in with the attention Soonyoung gives you. But when you go to move your hands to cover yourself, he catches them, places the softest kisses on your knuckles, and lightly puts them over your head. His eyes take your body in like he’s never seen anything better.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispers against your skin. “You’re perfect.”

“Look who’s talking,” you manage to reply.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, pulls away so he can look you in your eyes. “It’s okay if you say no.”

“Little late for that,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s not,” he reiterates.

“I know, Soon,” you say through a smile. “I do want this.”

It’s all the reassurance that he needs when his lips meet yours again, insistent. One of his hands runs down your body and along your thigh before he separates your legs. It makes you shiver in anticipation. Every part of you longs for him. You know he must realize. He runs one of his fingers between your folds and moans into the kiss with how wet you are. How badly you want him. How ready you are for him. After he does this several more times, you pull away.

“Please,” you beg him.

You’re expecting him to tease you or to ask you what it is you’re begging for. Instead, he slides one finger inside you and captures your gasp. The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away again, this time to watch your body react to his finger pumping slowly in and out of you. He’s encouraging your moans, muttering praises into your skin, making you feel like nothing else matters. He slides a second finger into you and your back arches at the feeling. He hooks his middle finger inside you and you know you’re going to be done for entirely too soon.

As his pace quickens, he trails kisses along your neck, your chest, your stomach. You can’t even be self conscious because he doesn’t give you the chance. Just makes you feel better than you’ve ever felt with just his fingers. Your hands tangle in the sheets as you writhe under his attention.

“Soonyoung, please, I’m gonna come,” you whine out. He doesn’t slow, just adds a third finger.

“Then come, baby, I want to watch you come all over my fingers,” he urges.

And that’s, well that’s got you even closer. Never have you had a guy put your own needs above his own like that. He keeps his rhythm steady and it’s all too much, you’re feeling him everywhere and your body is on fire.

“Let go,” he whispers low into your ear.

So you do, you let go and drench his fingers, the release so strong that it takes you a minute to come back down or to realize you feel empty without his fingers. He’s laying on his side next to you and running a hand through your hair to brush it out of your face.

“Oh my god, Soonyoung,” you rasp out.

“Yeah?” he asks and you nod.

He adjusts his position and you feel his hard length against your hip. You reach a hand down to lightly grip his cock. It’s longer than you were expecting but not too thick. Not entirely intimidating to think about inside of you.

“You don’t have to…” he starts.

“I want to,” you disagree.

You run your finger over the head, collecting a little of the precum and then run your hand back down. It’s not enough though, so you push yourself up. He follows you with his eyes and readjusts so he’s leaning back against the headboard. You get between his legs and lick a stripe up the underside of his length, watch as he shudders over the briefest touch. You can tell he’s trying to sit back and enjoy it, but he’s sensitive. He must have enjoyed you coming on his fingers more than you realized.

He lets you tease him, running your tongue along him entirely too slowly, your hand pumping without enough friction. But his desires win out before long.

“I need to be inside of you,” Soonyoung whines. “Please?”

You swallow hard and nod. “Yes, oh my god.”

Before you even realize what’s happening, he gathers you up in his arms and lays you down underneath him. He spreads your leg and kisses all the way up from your thigh to your lips, leaving you desperate for more of him when he pulls away. It’s only so he can line himself up at your entrance, though. He eases into you slow enough that you can adjust to the feel of him. And then he’s rolling his hips into you.

You’re not sure if it’s the build up between the two of you, the realization of your feelings when you met the woman claiming to be his girlfriend, or what, but everything just feels…better. The stretch is that perfect kind of pleasure and the way he rolls his hips into you is just the right pace. He whispers constant reassurances into your skin and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe or whole with someone before.

He takes his time with you, doesn’t thrust into you too hard or too fast, just wants to savor the moment. You can’t recall your last relationship taking this much care. It’s overwhelming in the best way, in the way that you don’t want it to end.

“I’m so close,” he hisses out too soon.

“I’m almost there,” you whine out, heading towards your second orgasm of the night.

Soonyoung reaches between you and starts to rub your clit, making you cry out from the sensitivity. In no time, you’re screaming out as you come seconds apart from each other.

“Wow,” Soonyoung says when he’s caught his breath and laying next to you on the bed.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He rolls over onto his side and faces you, looking both incredibly relaxed and impossibly happy. “Are we okay?”

“Oh my god, this is when you ask?” you laugh out.

“Well, I don’t wanna make the wrong assumption!” he defends.

“Yes, we’re good,” you start, “and before you say it, I will talk to you before making assumptions next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time? Do you like me?” Soonyoung asks, all gentle teasing in his voice.

“I am going to kick you out of this room,” you threaten.

You don’t follow through. Not when he wets a towel to come help you clean up or when he offers to get you clothes to wear to bed. Not when he fills up a glass with water for you to drink so you’re not dehydrated. Not when he offers to leave so that people don’t get the wrong idea. Not when you’re pulling him into a kiss and back into bed. Not when you’re talking until you fall asleep tangled up in each other.

The next couple days pass in kind of a blur with traveling and getting settled into the next tour stop. Needless to say, you don’t reach out to your boss about ending your trip early. You do have a conversation with Soonyoung, though, about how it is almost your last stop. He gets it, but he’s not ready to think about it, instead wrapping himself around you and pressing kisses to any part of your body that he can reach. He’s incredibly distracting and you find you don’t really mind. You also don’t mind if he lets his bandmates think there’s something going on with you. None of them seem surprised, which makes you wonder what he said before he won you over.

After the next show, he doesn’t even pretend to go to the afterparty before coming to see you. He departs from his band and the hangers-on at the entrance to the hotel and comes straight to your room. Just as the two of you planned. And not that you’re expecting anything, but you’re waiting in your nightgown just in case, unable to stop thinking about Soonyoung moaning over being interrupted the first time.

“Hey…wow,” Soonyoung says when you open the door and he takes you in.

“You were whining about being interrupted the first time,” you offer with a shrug.

“I was not whining,” he protests, but kisses you anyway when he steps inside.

“You were and it was cute,” you disagree. Calling Soonyoung cute is a mistake, you realize that the second you see his face.

“You think I’m cute,” he preens.

“I take it back,” you say immediately.

“Nope,” he says and pulls you into him. “Can’t take it back.”

He kisses you hard and deep before you can continue the argument. Not that you’re complaining about it. He moves backwards to sit down on the bed and pulls you onto his lap. Same position, different bed. You’ll still take it.

“Soon, can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything,” he offers.

“Tonight, can you…don’t be gentle with me,” you manage.

“You didn’t like that?” Of course that’s his first worry.

“No, no, it was amazing, completely perfect,” you assure him and he relaxes beneath you. “It’s just…I want…”

“Something else,” he finishes.

You nod and look down, absently playing with the hem of his shirt. “I just, I feel safe with you and I want to try things.”

Soonyoung lifts your chin with a finger so you can see how much care there is behind his eyes. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your lips.

“I won’t be so gentle with you, then,” he agrees. “But you have to tell me if it’s too much okay?”

“Okay,” you agree.

And he’s not gentle. He takes his time building up to it, kissing you hard and pulling your lip between his teeth. Pulling off your clothes so you’re naked on his lap. Leaving marks where nobody else will see them. Grinding against your core even though he’s still dressed. Pulling endless moans out of you. Until he flips you onto your bag and pushes your legs open. He’s got his fingers inside you again and it’s nothing like the first time. Nothing like the gentle rhythm. He’s scissoring his fingers and pumping them quickly. He’s using this thumb to rub your clit. The stream of words coming out of your mouth is incomprehensible and you’re sure the people in the rooms on either side can hear you. You’re equally sure you don’t care.

It feels like record time when he’s coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your whole body is sensitive and the waves continue to ripple through you. It doesn’t even feel like you’ve recovered from the first orgasm when you feel Soonyoung’s tongue run between your folds. He’s spreading your lips with his fingers and lapping into you.

“Soonyoung, fuck, oh my god,” you scream out.

He pops his head up from between your legs just long enough for a single question. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, fuck, please don’t,” you whine out and he’s between your legs again.

You can’t even see straight but you’re sure that the sight of this man between your legs, tongue working you like he’s starving, is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thumb rubs over your clit again and you arch into him. You move your hand into his hair to anchor him or yourself, you’re not sure. You’re oversensitive and overstimulated, but it’s the best kind of mix of pain and pleasure. There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes and you urge him on, beg him to keep going.

The second orgasm rips through you even harder than the first and you’re screaming out your praise for him as he guides you through it. Once you come down, you feel him come up next to you and roll towards him. His lips are on yours in the next second and you can taste yourself on his tongue. You think you could kiss him for hours without getting bored or wanting to stop. Yet he pulls away from you entirely too soon.

There’s confusion on your face as he gets out of the bed (and maybe a little bit of embarrassment that you’ve come twice and he’s still dressed). His eyes are on you as he strips himself out of his clothing before leaning over the bed. If you’re waiting for another kiss, you’re left waiting. He grabs behind your legs and pulls you to the edge. His eyes are full of fire, yet still checking to see if you’re okay. You ease any worries with a quick nod of your head. With that he pulls you up against him and kisses you quickly.

You’re so dazed that you don’t even realize he’s changing your position until you’re leaning over the edge of the bed with your ass in the air. He uses his foot to spread your legs apart so that he can line himself up. Even though you want to watch him, he presses between your shoulder blades so you’re leaning forward as much as possible. And maybe he’s got a point because the feeling of him pressing into you is so much better when you’re not watching him do it.

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to him, just immediately snaps his hips into you, burying his cock fully inside on the first thrust. Even though he’s being rougher, his praise is still constant. Still talking you through every moment. When he lifts one of your legs up so your knee is on the edge of the bed, you think you see stars at the new position. He’s hitting you so deep and filling you so completely that you’re not sure how you ever survived without him. Dramatic, you chastise yourself, but you’re a little beyond sex stupid right now.

His fingers dig into your hips where he holds you in place, keeping up the pace that has your eyes watering yet again. You’re so sensitive and you’re sure you’re not going to come again. Until you feel the orgasm building and the pressure in your tummy. Until his own words become unintelligible, just a string of curses and praise. Until you hear yourself tell him that you’re gonna come again and feel his own release just after yours.

Your legs feel like jelly as he guides you back into the bed and disappears for a towel. You can hear the water running just before he reappears to clean you up. It’s such a stark contrast from minutes earlier when he’s gentle with you again. It’s way too early to feel anything for him, you remind yourself again, but you also can’t pretend not to feel anything.

Once he cleans himself up, he gets into the bed and tucks the two of you under the covers without bothering to get dressed. His arms circle you and you feel safe, like this. Wanted and special and right. The kiss he presses to your forehead almost makes you sigh.

“How are you?” he asks softly into your hair.

“Amazing? Perfect? I don’t even know,” you answer.

“But you’re okay,” he presses.

“No, I’m a lot better than okay,” you assure him. He must see your smile.

“Me too,” he agrees.

You’re not sure what happens next or how you’re going to be able to make this work. Or if it’s even going to work. You’re not sure any of that matters because you have this night and you have Soonyoung, at least for now. Nothing else matters.

thank you for reading, i hope you liked it 💕

#svthub #svthub.collab #kvanity #hoshi fic #hoshi smut #hoshi fluff #soonyoung smut #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x you #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut

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skyebounded · 2 years

Text

Well Don’t! part i.

.main masterlist. .stranger things masterlist.

premise: Being in love with Steve Harrington comes with great difficulties.

Warnings: swearing, angst. SEASON 4 SPOILERS

WC: 3.7K

A/N: I can’t stop thinking about this boy, lord help me!

Fifteen minutes late, highly unlike you, but all things considered you felt it appropriate. You had been glued to the Tv watching the horrific news from the past few days unravel. Talk about a poor Hawkins student brutally murdered, on every channel. You couldn’t seem to pull yourself away from the staticy screen, not until your roommate strutted into the living room, reminding you that you had a job to get to.

You hurried as quickly as you could, grabbing all of your things before you rushed out the door. You felt uneasy as you drove to work, thinking about that poor teen, and everything that their family might be going through. You had heard the rumors, the ones saying that Hawkins was cursed, diseased, and the more you thought about it, the more you started to agree. Nothing but heartache and tragedy lived in this town.

You pull into the video store, spotting Steve’s car immediately, wondering what he would say as soon as you walked through the doors. Climbing out of the car you make your way into the store.

“Did you guys see the news?” you blurt, ignoring the way that everyone all stopped dead in their tracks as if they were doing something that they didn’t want you to know about. Steve looks up at you, his eyes widening as if you had just caught him doing something he shouldn’t be.

“Uh-?” he looks to Robin who looks as though she was going to be sick.

It's then that you notice Steve’s ‘children’ standing behind the counter, leaning over Robin’s shoulder looking at the computer.

“What-?” you point at the kids, looking to Steve for an explanation, your brows knitted together in confusion. Steve makes his way around the counter to greet you, grabbing your arms as he pulls you away to talk.

“Hey you,” he says awkwardly, smiling quickly at you.

You return the gesture, confused by his sudden odd behavior.

“Hey,” you pause, “what's going on?”

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room. He was acting strange, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. He lets out a chuckle, wildly gesturing behind him, “they are um. it's funny actually, but um-you know.”

You shake your head not understanding in the slightest what he was talking about. In the entire two years that you and Steve had become best of friends, you had never seen him so flustered.

“No actually, I don’t know Steve, that’s why I am asking?” you retort, bringing your arms to fold over your chest. Your eyes slowly start to narrow on him.

He rubs the back of his neck, his smile faltering. “Um..” He was stumped, at a loss for words. Never, not once had you seen Steve Harrington at a loss for words. Normally all of this wouldn’t bother you, it's not like his ‘children’ ever really kept to the rules, especially not when it came to your place of work, or come to think of it, anything for that matter. So seeing them behind the counter wasn’t what was bothering you, but it was the way that Steve seemed on edge, lost on an excuse to hide the truth of the matter.

“Steve, we found it, Lipton!” Robin calls out. Steve looks at her, his brows shooting up, and you’re left trying to figure out what the hell is going on, his mouth slightly slack, clearly thinking of something to say. You look over his shoulder to see Dustin and Max collecting their things, and Robin scribbling down something on a piece of paper before they practically jump over the counter making their way over to the door. Steve’s eyes fall closed, sighing before he looks at you again. “I’ve got to go do something really quick, but we’ll be back soon, okay?” He pecks your cheek, which he never did, giving your hands a squeeze before all four of them rush out of the store and into Steve’s car, leaving you completely alone without any chance to ask questions. Odd.

You had no time to process anything except for the fact that you were extremely confused, and slightly peeved at now realizing that you were left to work the shift alone. You stare around the empty store, gritting your teeth together as a bitter taste fills your mouth. You couldn’t help but feel like you had just been left out of something extremely important, and it didn’t sit well with you.

********

Four hours, that's how long they had been gone. You kept replaying what Steve said, ‘real quick…be back soon’.

“Real quick, my ass,” you grumbled, shelving the fifth copy of Howard the Duck. You had been nothing but busy all day, tending to everything that desperately needed to be done before the new shipment of movies came in. Clearing the shelves to make room for all of them, reorganizing the displays for new ones to go out, and not to mention the growing amount of returns that needed to be logged. You’d also had a non-stop flow of customers in and out all day, each one needing more attention than you wanted to give.

What didn’t help was the fact that it was Saturday, your busiest day of the week, and yet you were being forced to work it alone. Normally you wouldn’t mind it if it was any other given day, or if you’d had been given a heads up, but neither of those things had been presented to you. You were more than annoyed, and bordering on angry. There was nothing that you could think of that made sense as to why they all left you, and worst of all, with no idea as to where they were going or what they were doing. It felt like they had decided to skip out to do something ten times more entertaining, and you simply weren’t invited.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can I get your help?”

You let your head fall, taking a deep breath before you plaster on a smile and lookup. A tall lengthy boy was standing in the next aisle overlooking at you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Yeah, what can I do for you?”

With a quick smile, he says, “I was looking for Cheech & Chong’s Up In Smoke?”

“Um, I believe we have it,” you make your way around to where he’s standing to see that there were no copies left. “Let me see if it's been returned,” you add.

“Okay, thanks.”

You make your way over to the computer, signing when you hear the bell to the door, five new customers filing in. You shake the cursor, waking the computer to see someone's account still open. What caught your eye was the last movie on their account, ‘Cheech & Chong’s Up In Smoke….Late’ You look at the top of the screen, the name Rick Lipton at the top.

You look around aimlessly for a moment, wondering why the name sounded familiar, only to realize that was the name Robin called out hours ago, right before they all hurried off.

“Well?”

Startled, you look at the boy, now standing in front of the counter looking at you. “It’s still checked out.” you snap.

The boy scowls at you before turning to leave. You grab a pen, and quickly write down the address, collecting your things and turning off the computer and lights.

“Hey everyone, um-we're closing early, sorry but you all need to leave, now!”

Nobody moves at first until you snap again, “Now!” You ignore the glares and snarky quips as you usher everyone out the door, following closely behind and locking it. You climb into your car and start it up, before setting off to investigate.

********

You weren’t sure what you were going to find out here, especially not with it being as dark as it was, and out in the middle of nowhere. You had hoped that you wouldn’t find Steve here, especially with it being so late, but there his car was, unmistakably so. You drag yourself out of the car, grabbing the flashlight that you so conveniently carried in your glove box, making your way up to the front of the house. Heartbeat hastening as you bring yourself to knock on the door.

Looking around at the exceedingly dark woods behind you, a shiver runs up your spine, an unnerving feeling that someone was watching you.

“Hello? Steve?”

You knock again, this time beating the door a little harder.

“Steve, I know you’re in there! I see your car out here!” you move to peek through the window, flashing the light inside. If this was a joke you didn’t find it funny in the slightest, if anything it was beginning to make you angrier.

“Steve! Robin!”

You bang your hand against the glass, slowly making your way around the house, looking through each window. “This isn’t funny you guys! Hellooo?!”

Something clatters in the distance, making you jump, your ears ringing as you look down towards the lake, not fond of the eerie feeling that was lingering in the night air. You catch a glimpse of a boathouse a few yards away, bordering the lake, and curse under your breath, as you slowly make your way down towards it.

“I swear to god if this is some sick prank I will strangle each of you,” you mumble.

As you get closer the door opens and Steve appears, nearly scaring the shit out of you. “Shit! Steve.” you gasp, shining the light directly in his eyes. He throws his hands up to block the light as he makes his way up the hill to you, lowering the light in your hand once he does.

“What are you doing here?” He asks.

You’re slightly taken aback by his tone, harsh and demanding as if you were the one who disappeared hours ago.

“Excuse me?” you retort, taking a step back.

“No seriously, y/n, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here! And how did you even-” he starts.

“You didn’t log out of the customer's account and so I took a wild guess! And as far as I am concerned Steve, I came to look for you, so that's why I am here, but the real question is why the hell are you here?” you say, gesturing wildly around you with the flashlight.

He runs his hands over his face, then through his hair, with a deep sigh. His hands find his hips, a stern and hostile look on his face. He wasn’t pleased, and that was easy to see, but why? You weren’t sure.

“You need to leave, please I need you to leave now.” he instructs.

You scoff at his statement, deciding that you plan to go nowhere without some explanations first.

“No, you need to tell me what is going on, now,” you make sure to punctuate the last part. He shakes his head, firm on his standing. “Y/n, I’m not playing, you need to leave right now, okay? I will tell you what's going on later, but right now I am begging you, go home.”

There was a hint of desperation and urgency to his tone, followed by the struggle for him to meet your gaze, as he kept looking behind you as if he expected to see someone standing there. The unsettled feeling growing deeper in your stomach. Something clearly wasn’t right, you didn't know what he was hiding, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't seem to figure out what it was. Betrayal, hurt and most of all confusion, that's what you were feeling.

You look past him at the door, Robin’s head poking out along with Max and Dustin peeking out the windows. You sniff, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. Your jaw tenses, as you shake your head slowly. “Seriously, Steve?” you mumble. Your voice is becoming shaky. “Just tell me what-”

“Y/n, leave. Now.”

You nod your head slowly, biting the inside of your cheeks, “Okay..okay.” You turn on your heel, head held high and head back to your car, letting the tears fall down your cheeks.

*******

You spent the entire night tossing and turning, wondering when Steve was going to come home, but much to your dismay he never did. Your mind had begun to wonder, thinking about the dead teen that had been found the other day, and you couldn't seem to stop picturing Steve in the very same situation, mangled and alone. You hadn’t had any sleep at this point, too busy watching the news to make sure you didn’t hear about another death.

“Wow, you look like hell.”

You manage to pull your gaze from the screen to see your roommate, Emma, on her way out for the day.

“Thanks” you retort.

“Just this morning another body was discovered out by Lover’s Lake. The body is still unidentified, but what we do know is it was seemingly a male, somewhere around the age of sixteen to about twenty years old…”

You droned out after the words lovers lake and male. Panic started to rise inside you as flashes of Steve lying dead flooded you. You never should have left him last night. You should have just stayed, fought him harder, and forced him to tell you what was going on.

“Hey, Steve’s home.”

Letting out the breath that you didn’t know you were holding, you turn to look at Emma, who is currently peering out the kitchen window. You clammer your feet, albeit running to the door, and swinging it open. A look of surprise and relief formed on his face as you threw yourself into his arms. He grabs you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body, as he holds you in silence for a moment.

“Oh my god, you’re okay,” you mutter into the crook of his neck. He pulls away from you, with a soft smile, “I’m okay,” he says.

He pulls you inside, shutting the door after Emma, who was rushing out of the house. Steve looks at you, the same guilty, flustered look coming back to his face.

“I just came home to grab some things,” he says, biting the inner corner of his cheek.

You simply nod, still too relieved and dazed to ask any questions just yet. Steve moves around the house, collecting all manner of things, muttering to himself.

“Have you seen the news today?” you ask, standing frozen in front of the television.

He doesn’t respond, just continues his search for god knows what. The unease starts to set in again as he makes his way to the garage door, pulling it open and disappearing inside.

“Steve! Steve talk to me.” you call out, following behind him.

“I’ve just got to get a few things and then-” he trails off like he doesn't want to finish his sentence.

You move over to him, grabbing his arm, “Can you stop for a moment!“ you pull him away from the toolbox, pulling him to face you. “What are you doing?” you ask, watching as his body stiffens and his jaw tenses. You can see the bags under his eyes, he almost held the look of a crazed man who hasn't slept in ages. “Talk to me, what is going on? What happened yesterday?” you continue.

He just looks at you, his eyes glazed over and his lips pressed together.

“Steve?” you press

“Nothing, it's nothing.” His tone is dismissive and harsh, as he turns back to sift through a box full of random shit. You were tired of the empty and vague answers, or even the lack thereof. He had given you nothing and it wasn’t going to fly anymore.

“That's bullshit, Steve! I am your best friend and I deserve an explanation. You can’t keep hiding things from me.” you snap.

“I can’t tel-…” “Do you know what this feels like Steve? It feels like I am completely left behind, watching everything from afar. Everyone knows everything but me, I am always four steps behind, and I hate it. It's humiliating. I have done nothing but worry, and panic and you have done nothing but lie to me! Feeding me bullshit, when I can clearly see that you are hiding something, that all of you are! “Do you know that there is a fucking killer on the loose? Two dead bodies already, Steve! two!” you pause, sniffing as you blink your tears away, “I don’t know when we started keeping secrets from each other, but I hate it Steve, I fucking hate it. So please.. Tell me what the hell is going on?”

He stops and faces you. shoulders hung low, eyes trained on the door behind you, and you can’t help but think he's planning an escape.

“I need you to just trust me!” he grabs an extra flashlight, mumbling something about Nancy ‘needing one of these’, and you snap.

“No, that's not good enough! I need answers,” you pause, grabbing his arm again to grab his attention. You can see literal steam rolling off him. “Why does it involve Nancy…Steve?” His eyes fall closed, shaking his head.

“We are trying to hunt down whatever is doing this.” he snaps back.

Dumbfounded by his confession you take a step back, tugging at your hair as you try to make sense of what he was saying.

“That’s incredibly stupid! Like really really stupid, Steve!” you huff, “Are you doing this as some dumb ploy to get back with Nancy, prove to her that you’re cool or something because you can catch a killer?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he picks up a hammer, twirling it around in his hand.

“You’re going to get hurt, or even worse..killed!”

“Why do you care!?” he snaps. He looks slightly shocked by his own question, wondering what he meant by it, but says nothing about it as he runs his hand through his messy hair. You were fuming, it was like he couldn’t see how dumb he was being, and all for a girl who dumped him, if that was the case. Regardless he was setting off on a suicide mission. “Huh?” he prods.

“Because I am in love you, Steve!” you bark. You sigh heavily, feeling only the slightest amount of relief at telling him the truth. This isn’t how you wanted nor pictured how you would tell him. However, it worried you that no matter what you would say, he wouldn’t listen. That he would continue on with his heroically stupid quest. You watch the color drain from him as if you had just shot him, like your words were something utterly foul to his ears.

“Well don't,” he exhales, unable to bring himself to look at you.

It was your turn to feel the color drain from your face. Daggers, it felt like you had just been stabbed in the heart, only to have it ripped from you and crumbled before your eyes. “What?” It was more of a rhetorical question; you didn’t particularly want to hear his response. What you wanted, was to take back what you had said, pretend like everything was okay, and not like you just completely fucked up your entire friendship with him.

“I don’t need you to care about me, and I don’t need you to love me. I never asked you to-”

“Yeah, but I did!” you cut him off. “I fucking fell for you, even though I promised myself I wouldn’t.. you charmed the shit out of me, Harrington.” You sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have..” he mumbles as if he didn’t want it to be heard.

“Yeah well, sadly I can’t turn it off, now can I.” You retort, biting the inside of your cheek. You wrap your arms around your body, a form of comfort and a means of warmth. It was now your turn to not meet his gaze, despite feeling his boring straight through you. You didn’t understand why he was being this way, so callous with your feelings, it was almost like he was purposefully trying to hurt you, to push you away. Perhaps it was one of his ploys to protect you, it wouldn’t be the first time, but this time hurt like no other.

“I’m a complete moron,” you sigh, letting tears fall down your heated cheeks. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

You see him move forward slightly, his arm coming up only to drop back at his side, and you mistakenly thought that he was going to comfort you, take it back and apologize.

“Why would you tell me that?” As if you weren’t already in pain, he had to ask.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Tell you what?” you ask lowly, finally bringing your gaze to meet his. All you could see was pain and sorrow.

“Why tell me you love me as soon as I mention Nancy?”

Your brows knit together as a scowl forms on your face. Was he serious to think that your confession had anything to do with her? Some jealous spat, that you thought would fix things or change his mind.

“What are you implying?” you ask, your voice quivering as you swallow hard.

He looks back at the door, the very one you could claim that he was waiting to escape through.

“I just never thought-” he pauses, as if he didn’t want to say what he was about to, “ I just didn’t think that you’d be the one to throw that phrase around out of jealousy.” he shrugs, his eyes falling to the ground. It pained him to be so cruel to you, to shatter your heart right before your eyes, the very heart that he wanted so desperately to be his, but it was the only way he could think to keep you safe. As far from the threat as possible.

You can’t stop yourself; the words just fall from your lips at this point, “Fuck you, Steve…fuck..you..” You close your eyes quickly, stopping the flow of tears as you turn and leave the garage. If his heart hadn't already shattered, it sure as hell did now.

”Good luck with your venture, Steve,” you note, taking one last look at him, because if by some miracle he did survive, it would still be the last time you saw him because when he returned, you’d be gone.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington season 4 #stranger things #stranger things season 4 #stranger things s4 #angst #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst #stranger thing season 3 #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #joe keery #the upside down

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

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Hi, there it's so great to find an amazing writer who enjoys Lookism so much! Please keep at it, your HC's are so much fun to read! If it's not too much to ask for the boys like Gun, Samuel, and Vasco with s/o who is a foreign girl, a very capable fighter, and honorable in combat but outside the fight she is quite self-conscious and a bit naive.

Not me reading the first part of this and thinking you're being sarcastic af lol

Thanks for being so kind anon :') I'm glad you're enjoying it, I have SO much fun writing them and putting my stupidity out! Thanks for the ask! I had a little difficulty writing it.... this really isn't very good but hope this hits the spot.

Lookism with non S. Korean S/O

You're from somewhere vague and overseas. Scenario with your partner (Gun, Samuel, Vasco, Jake)

Gun

Your boyfriend was asking you to fight yet again. You're getting pretty tired of it.

You only moved to South Korea not too long ago and ever since he discovered you picked up your skills from overseas, all he makes you do is fight him. And he doesn't go easy on you.

What happened to dates? What happened to romance?

You thought your boyfriend was growing colder towards you, now always in his own head or just studying martial arts.

"...Gun?"

He peers at you over the top of his sunglasses. Your words are hard to say aloud.

"Do you ... do you not want to be with me anymore?"

"What makes you think that?"

"All we do is fight... Literally! I can't remember the last time you even asked me for anything else."

He pulls you into his arms, "You're actually challenging me. Do you know how rare that is? I'm more turned on than ever."

Samuel

You transferred from overseas after helping source partners to help grow Workers into the behemoth it is today.

Back in your field days, there wasn't anything that couldn't be solved with some violence, but your morals and fairness made you stand out amongst would-be enemies.

Even with the 3rd and 4th Affiliate President as your boyfriend, no one could deny your competence or throw around accusation of nepotism.

But you still had to get your head around the working culture in this country.

"Sammy, do I really have to call you Mr. Seo in the office?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that a bit weird? People have seen us together."

"No, I'm your boss. You need to show respect and address me properly here."

"Oh... Do you actually not want anyone to know I'm your girlfriend?"

Samuel pinches the bridge of his nose, can't quite believing he's going to give in on this.

"Fine. You can call me Samuel,"

"What about-"

"Not Sam. Not Sammy. Samuel."

Vasco

You had agreed to meet in the park for a date with Vasco.

The first time you kissed him, he nearly jumped out of his skin claiming that wasn't how dating worked in South Korea. You found out later it was just his eccentricities.

Vasco texted you that he was running late when a group of guys start harassing you.

You threaten to call the police, but when they put their hands on you, you weren't left with many options.

"Y/N?!" Your boyfriend was staring at you in shock.

"No! Euntae, I didn't want you to see me like this!" you hide your bloodied fist from him.

"What! That was amazing!"

"Thank? you?"His compliment made you blush, you knew it wasn't what 'ladies' do but he liked it?

"Y/N! I thought people only had street fights in South Korea! Do they fight overseas too?"

Jake

You think this might be the first time Jake treated you to a meal. A job well done, he had said after you beat up some thugs who were harassing the girls.

Jake's often running off to god knows where to get god knows what done, leaving you to look after the street.

Is this the supposed Girlfriend Privileges? You having to fight in his stead? You reckon you're getting the short end of the stick.

You stare at the violently red pot of stew in front of you, with some unidentified vegetables floating around

"Jake...? What is this?"

"Oh! You've never tried many Korean dishes, right! It's kimchi stew, my favourite. Here." He spoons some into a bowl for you.

With your boyfriend's loving gaze on you, you had no choice but to take a sip.

"ACK!" you spit it out immediately and grab your glass of water to wash the vileness out of your mouth

Jake rolls his eyes at you, "You've got no taste" and takes his own mouthful.

"I know, I'm with you."

#this is so badly written im so sorry #lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism x reader #lookism fic #lookism fanfic #gun park #gun park x reader #vasco #vasco x reader #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader #jake kim #jake kim x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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sitp-recs · 8 months

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I just finished a great romcom and now Im wondering do you have Drarry recs that are romcom-y? It doesnt have to explicitly labeled as such but just a vibe...you know that after a serious of little hick ups and An Airport Run for True Love a pop banger playing in the background vibe :D

Hi anon! Oh that’s such an exciting ask, I’ve had lots of fun thinking about this one. I feel like I haven’t read enough romcom, would love to explore this genre further. I hope you enjoy these!

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3k) - Hockey AU

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Burning Down the House by @peachpety (M, 4k)

Harry is happy as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. From planning to printing, design to deadlines, he enjoys being in the hot seat. And after vanquishing Voldemort, managing fires is an easy part of the job. Until his scorching crush on his impeccably dressed fashion editor flares out of control, and he's forced to face actual fires.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Crash (Into Me) by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 14k)

Harry’s done plenty of ridiculous things for charity over the years, but Robards’ latest scheme really takes the biscuit. Or rather, the teacake. Good job Malfoy’s there to suffer alongside him this time, eh?

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

Jumeaux by VivacissimoVoce (M, 19k)

Draco and Blaise own and operate a luxury spa resort together, and the Ministry's Auror department has scheduled a full service three-day retreat. Guess who's on the guest list?

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by eidheann, firethesound (E, 36k)

After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry's life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

#anon #asks #Drarry reclist #romcom AUs

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katnisspeetaprim · 1 year

Text

Careless Live

Jungkook/Reader (part of the LS series)

Summary: Y/N's waters break that morning, and Jungkook appears on live stream whilst she rests.

Warnings: pregnancy, labour, birth (not described), foreign reader (not Korean, country not specified), female reader.

(A.N guys, I literally have no idea what I'm talking about when it comes to pregnancy. I just had this idea I couldn't get out of my head.

Word count:831 M.list

‘Y/N’s water broke this morning, we called the emergency number but the woman said we would be turned away if we went in so early.’ Jungkook paused, chin coming to rest on his fist.

‘It’s annoying because it’s snowing quite bad so I don’t know if the ambulance will get though and I don’t have a car here... So yeah I’m just worried.’

ARMY in chat began sending in comforting messages, doing everything they could to calm the distressed man before them. Where is Y/N and how is she doing a lot were asking.

‘Y/N is trying to get some rest in the bedroom before it’s time to give birth. That’s why I’m doing this live, so I’m not alone. I think I would break down if I were left alone with my thoughts.’ He let out a humourless laugh.

You and Jungkook had travelled back to your home country to visit your family before giving birth back in Korea. The two of you thought it would be fine, having gotten the greenlight from the doctor days prior that you would be ok to fly. Since you were still about a week away from due at this point, he didn’t see an issue with it.

Being stuck in your families isolated house, alone in a snow storm was definitely not part of the birth plan.

Jungkook was just sat there, looking over the screen as more and more messages of support flooded in. As he said, he wasn’t really live to talk, he just wanted company whilst you rested.

‘Maybe I should call the ambulance again just in case...’ He mumbled to himself, eyes cast to the side as he thought about what to do.

‘Kook...’ his eyes widened when he saw your tired frame shuffle into view, one hand cradling your swollen stomach and the other supporting yourself on the wall. He was up in a flash, practically leaping over the sofa to get to you. He swiftly slid his left arm around your waist and his right hand came to grab onto your elbow, supporting you with his hold.

‘Noona why did you get up!? You should have called me!’

‘My contractions-‘ You cut yourself off with a gasp as pain shot through you.

‘Do you think it’s time?’ Jungkook gasped out, unable to mask his worry, no matter how excited he was in that moment. All you could do was nod, pain making it impossible for you to talk.

‘Let’s go back to the bedroom and I’ll call the ambulance. Can you still walk?’ You nodded and started shuffling along with great difficulty, luckily the bedroom was right next to the living room.

As the two of you left the room, the live show which Jungkook had completely forgotten about was still going. ARMY were spamming chat and all of BTS’ social media pages, trying to let them know that they were still being recorded, wanting to be respectful of the idol and his family. While they now couldn’t see either of you, they could still hear your pained screams and Jungkook’s panicked voice as he spoke to the emergency services. Heck, even all the other BTS members took to blowing up Jungkooks phone trying to get his attention.

It wasn’t till about half an hour later when a frantic Jungkook was seen leading a crew of paramedics through the house, did the live finally get cut off.

A lot of people were angry at how slow Weverse had been to end the live. Whilst people knew that it was Jungkook’s responsibility to monitor his own live stream, in an emergency situation like this something should have been done sooner than it was. People were saying that Weverse should be doing a better job of monitoring what was happening on their website and ended the live remotely as soon as you appeared to be in labour.

In the days following when everything had calmed down somewhat, you best believe me when I say that Jungkook got the scolding of his life from his hyungs! How could he be so careless!? They would berate him on a FaceTime call after cooing over his new baby. Parent now or not, he was still their maknae, which means they will never stop making sure he is on the right path.

Going back to late morning, the day after your labour the previous night, Jungkook had once again taken to Weverse to compose a message to his anxious fans.

‘Hello! I suppose I owe everyone an apology for causing some panic last night, that was never my intention...

I just wanted to let everybody know that early this morning my beautiful daughter was born! Both mom and baby are healthy and we couldn’t be happier! Please understand that at least for now, we would like to keep all aspects concerning our daughter, including her name private. I hope you all understand and continue to support me during this time.

Love, JJK <;3’

#bts #bts x reader #smut #fluff #angst #imagine #one shot #scenario #drabble #reaction #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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autism-alley · 3 months

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augh found my old post abt pjo and disability from before the show came out but it was on ye olde blog so i’m literally just gonna copy and paste, 3, 2, 1—

ok now that i’ve got it on the brain, i want to talk about disability in pjo and specifically how calling percy jackson dumb or treating him as such is not only a mischaracterization, but ableism. as a quick note, i’m keeping this to just percy to avoid having this already long post be even longer, but there are other disabled characters in pjo worthy of discussion, though i hit many of the same points in this post. i bring up percy specifically because he is mostly the character i have seen people treat as stupid.

percy is a dyslexic teen with ADHD who comes from a low-income family, raised by a single mother, and deals with an abusive step-father. i cannot stress enough how much of his character is shaped by that experience, but as hard as it is to single out any one part, i am going to focus on his ADHD and dyslexia. this kid has nightmares of being forced to take tests in a straightjacket as teachers ask him if he’s stupid and withhold him from recess with his peers. he is constantly labelled as “troubled” and blamed for things he didn’t do or aren’t his fault. he is told, over and over again, even from trusted adults, that he is “not normal” (othering him). he bounces between schools. he struggles to make friends. he deals with bullying. he has difficulty studying and reading, even when invested. teachers struggle to connect with him and tend to just give up on him. these are real disabled experiences, and rick does a good job at presenting them in the pjo books. sometimes, it feels like everything is a struggle. you are living inside a system that not only is restricting, but actively works against and punishes you.

in contrast, CHB is a great example of how when environments meet the needs of disabled people, it hugely changes how disabled we are in that environment. demigod brains are hard-wired for ancient greek, not english, and they’re born impulsive, with high energy levels that help them survive battle—but aren’t very good for a classroom setting. but by having them read books in ancient greek, regularly do lots of training/physical activities, and have genuine opportunities to express themselves...they function pretty damn well. percy discovers that while he struggles academically, he is brilliant in combat and capable of saving the world numerous times—he is a hero. do you know how important that message is for disabled children? disabled adults, too? that we can be heroes?

it is here, in camp half-blood, that percy finds a place he belongs, that shows him his worth—finally, somewhere is built to not only include him, but to nurture and genuinely prepare him for the world outside its boarders. however, i think people forget that just because percy functions in the world of CHB and the gods, that does not mean he doesn’t face ableism in the mortal world—and that there is an entire group of people who see ourselves reflected in his character.

i could talk on for hours about how much being disabled shapes percy’s identity and how he interacts with the world—like how percy’s humor revolves around coping with his environment and actually displays a very low self esteem after being looked down upon his entire life. this kid doesn’t even have to say anything and he screams i had a neurodivergent childhood. but about 5-6 years ago, when i was more regularly tuned into the fandom, every time i saw someone call percy jackson dumb or an idiot, even jokingly, i raised an eyebrow, and now that the series is getting fresh coverage from disney+, i have wanted to make this post. so much of this kid’s life and personality comes from being treated like he’s dumb or incapable, so it’s troubling to watch part of the fanbase reflect the harmful parts of this character’s upbringing. i truly hope it does not become common again. it’s also one thing coming from a neurodivergent/disabled person with similar experiences (and even then i personally find it a little uncomfortable), it’s another to be said by a neurotypical/able bodied person.

percy jackson’s experiences make for very important representation, and for people to characterize him as just a goofy, unintelligent guy is not only an insult to his character as a kid who is intelligent, but previously lacked the environment to show it, but also ableist. so in the dawn of the new tv series era, i ask that we cut that shit out. rick riordan did not create rep for neurodivergent and disabled kids for them to be called stupid by the fanbase. even jokingly.

#anyways yea just had 2 bring this post back #in light of the new show i’d say i don’t think rick has made percy just a goofy airhead but #his and all demigods’ disabilities do feel kind of side lined #and it is disappointing #like. percy’s nightmares of school have made me cry. it breaks my heart especially as a ND kid who had similar nightmares #so yes when i see fans just echo the belief he’s been told all his childhood? infuriating #pjo show crit #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo show #ris raves

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juni-ravenhall · 2 months

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sso and "its just a kids game!", "its not that deep!"

ive been thinking a lot about how there are things you really can and should excuse sso for "because its a kids game". those are things like the silly tone in serious situations, when carl and a DC goon just want to eat ice cream instead of doing villain things, or when mr anwir says "so anyway back to my evil speech", or when avalon/druid says :O, or when katja puts on an evil playlist and we change it to a less-evil playlist during a not-really-canon event quest. the goofy tone of the game makes it less scary despite having some dark and scary elements in the story.

(the goofiness shouldnt mess up the logic of the story, though, which i think the dark riders and DC really have an issue with, but thats a bit too much of a tangent.)

or things like making sure you know that nobody died when you and the soul riders did a thing, or seeing someone blast off in a goofy way after being struck, so you dont feel bad about it, or take away the lesson that killing bad guys is fine. making sure to spell it out to you if theres a lesson to be learnt sometimes, or shoving the magic of friendship in your face (although in a shallow way).

or having non-punishing and laidback gameplay (except economically) to suit the youngest players, like not having to lose anything if you fail, or giving the player very clear instructions for quests, or having NPCs not be very hard to defeat compared to games targeted to older teens and adults. (but accommodating young players that barely read and have never played a game before, or players with disabilities that can't always play in the most hardcore gaming manner, and so on - accessibility - shouldnt in any way relate to having bad or clunky gameplay or game design. sso doesn't actually do a good job of being accommodating, it would be much better if there was genuinely fun, well-designed, challenging gameplay for those who seek it, while allowing those who dont to take their time and play the same thing at their own pace without failing - having properly designed races and champs and overhauling the scoreboard system and testing every race until they're at the quality they should be; having rewards like more js for reaching higher scores while still allowing players to earn okay js if they aren't aiming for the gold medal times or highscore boards. having fun and challenging gameplay mechanics with different difficulties. etc. the concept of "adaptive difficulty" is also interesting.)

theres things that are very reasonable to excuse in kids media. theres just also parts that i dont excuse and dont think its appropriate to excuse. when ppl do the "its a kids game!" thing, its not always about what i described above.

should you excuse low-quality game design and gameplay functionality just because its a kids game? no, not at this price point, anyway - there are kids games for free or for a couple $€ out there that might be validly priced. however, this is also *especially* bad in "girl games" (fuck gender and sexism, but society exists). girl games are notorious for being low quality and not comparable in quality to "boy games" at the same price points. perpetuating this - trying to get girl game audiences' money without providing quality girl games - is a problem of misogyny and exploitation. not excusable.

should you excuse bad writing just because its a kids game? i certainly dont. i dont like badly written kids books, or picture books, or cartoons, and i didnt prefer low quality content over high quality content when i was a kid, either (but quality means different things in different circumstances and to different people). your ability to tell if something is crappy or great improves as you age, but even if its definitely possible for a kid to enjoy the hell out of an objectively low quality piece of media, there are problems that often arise from bad writing and bad design... because where low quality writing comes from, there is often also a lack of care for important issues and topics, and a lack of respect for the target audience.

should you excuse racial or sexist stereotypes, or fatphobia and harmful beauty standards in general, or ableism, or cishet normativity, lack of diversity, just because its a kids game? isnt it *even more important* in a kids game, since kids are still learning so much about the world and starting to form perspectives and opinions and feelings about it for the first time?

if you think "but sso doesn't have much of that!", i think you might have played the game with a very different perspective than i did. what about how courtney, the summers sister, is framed as a joke because of how she looks - you're supposed to find it funny (and sweet though!) that carl franz thinks she's beautiful and perfect, because that's not how the game assumes you reacted to her. the brothers obviously also are meant to be seen as goofy looking but i don't remember if it was handled in such a direct way as with courtney. the game also assumes that you find xin scary or strange-looking when you see him without his mask (it's in ydris' dialogue); which is especially fucked up since he's a person of short stature (and also part of the "circus freak" stereotype!), but also always fucked up regardless - people just exist, man. we are born looking some kind of way. it's fucked up to think xin or courtney are ugly. it's fucked up that we were supposed to find a disabled little girl scary during an old halloween event (i think her back was hunched and she walked differently?). it's fucked up to think pi is ugly, or mrs holdsworth, or the GED workers. i want the world to stop thinking of normal human traits as "ugly" no matter how unusual or usual those traits are, or how symmetrical or not, or how popular or not, how old or young you look, how sick or healthy you look, or whatever the fuck. its all ridiculous and should be stopped. we should think of people in terms of kindness, in terms of shared interests and shared joy, in terms of healthy relationships, in terms of caring and loving and making the world a good place to live in for everyone.

and thats just the aspect of beauty standards and shit. i havent even gotten started on the shallow idea of diversity they executed in the production of this game. on how there were lots of random npcs of colour suddenly, but without bringing poc in as important key characters with interesting and engaging continuous presence in the story. how the dark riders feature the most buff and masculine female character, a physically threatening and masculine woman of colour. how they were going to have 3/4 poc in the dark riders while the soul riders are 1.5/4, and the remaining dark rider appears to have albinism which makes it another harmful ableist stereotype. how so many of the important characters were designed as white - yes, its a swedish game, but the game is not from the 1950s, is it? when sso was released, sweden's population was more than 10% foreign-born. today it's even higher. can you guess if there is a class issue and if rich white game studio owners and directors didn't really think about people who weren't blond and light eyed and white?

or the lack of body diversity in anyone else than 40+ year old characters. sure, it's good there was anyone fat or beefy or differently shaped at all. and it's understandable that they didn't have the resources at the time of release to make the player character more customisable (doesn't excuse the lack of diversity in skintones though) and went with their typical fatphobic misogynist 2000's cartoon look they'd already created before sso (dont get me wrong, i love the old art, we can enjoy aspects of things while also criticising them). but they already *did* create npcs with different bodies and faces on and off - especially the 40+ yos - and there was nothing stopping them from spending a little more time on creating a fat young adult npc, or one with an androgynous body, or a beefy female npc, or other diverse bodies and faces, rather than spending it on putting together 10 more generic skinny background npcs (have you ever thought about just how fucking many random unnecessary npcs are in this game?).

those are a lot of things that are pretty serious and that you have to kind of be woke and analytical to think about in the first place (most players - esp if they themselves dont feel especially oppressed irl - arent ever going to really think about these issues, or might actively be *for* some of the issues, such as in the case of fatphobia directed towards the player model update). other things like the game design and quality of the gameplay, inconsistent writing and design and graphics and so on, are things more players might notice since it can make the game just feel more boring or frustrating compared to other games you play, even if you dont think too hard about the whys and hows.

but the fact that kids might not realise that theres ableism or racism or fatphobia or misogyny or that theyre being pushed into spending money on something that isnt really up to the standard - thats not really a reason to excuse those things. and if someone says "the writing is really bad" or "this makes no sense" or "why did they design these characters this way" or "this horse game sucks and is boring and inconsistent", rather than just saying "its just a kids game", "why do you take it so seriously", "its not that deep", maybe its worth considering this, that there are things you absolutely should excuse kids media for, and other things you really, really shouldnt.

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iamnotthere-idonotdie · 2 months

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dream of me

part two

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synopsis: reader and bruce continue dating, the project coming along great and you’re thinking about your future as a couple. another job opportunity may put your relationship in jeopardy.

content: bruce wayne x reader, no smut, no cursing, just sad lol

a/n: i finally got out of my rut and was able to get this all down quicker than i thought i would, i think i have a lot more ideas for parts to this too so this will probably turn into a short series, as always sorry for typos or any inconsistencies, i tried to keep up with continuity and stay true to bruce’s character as best as i could but there are probably some ooc things in here, anyways hope you enjoy

edit: link to part one

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the red glow of the brake lights in front of you illuminate the inside of bruce’s car. it’s become a routine now for him to drive you home, either to yours or his—but usually his—after work. this project was tedious and required a lot of effort, but the success of it has made it well worth the dedication. bruce takes his right hand off the wheel and grabs yours. he holds your hand tightly as you enjoy the comfortable silence. he stops in front of your building.

“do you want to come up? i can make us dinner.” you say to him.

he smirks and raises an eyebrow.

“or we could order in.” you say with a chuckle.

“sure.”

you lead him up the stairs to your apartment and walk in. you realize now that you didn’t have time to pick it up this morning so take-out containers litter the dining room table and a few pairs of shoes are lying on the living room rug.

“sorry for the mess.” you say as you throw the trash away.

“don’t apologize, it’s hardly a mess.”

“well i guess it’s just hard not having a butler to always pick up after me.” you say with a smile.

“ouch.” bruce says with a laugh.

you put your shoes in your closet and bruce follows behind to your bedroom. he sits on the bed, looking out your large window.

“i’ve always loved this view.” he says.

“you’ve only been here twice.” you say, walking towards him. you stand beside him and put your arm around his shoulders. he wraps his arm around your waist.

“still,” he says as he pulls you into the bed with him. you laugh as you fall on top of him. you kiss him and he grabs you tighter. before you know it your clothes are hitting the floor.

this has become a part of your routine too. three months now of balancing this relationship with the work you’re doing together. it can get a bit complicated; being colleagues can at times make it difficult to leave those stressors at work. but bruce has been wonderful at not bringing those stressors home with him. you, on the other hand, have difficulty finding that so-called work life balance. but bruce helps.

you’re laying in his arms now, under the covers as bruce strokes your hair. these tender moments of gentle warmth and silence help keep you grounded. it helps remind you to stay present, to appreciate when things are finally quiet. you lay there together for what seems like forever, all the while wishing you could stay there even longer. forever just isn’t enough time.

saturday morning rolls in, with the yellow sun piercing in between the tall buildings and thorough your window. bruce isn’t there in bed with you, but then again he never is in the morning. you’re not sure why he wakes up so early, but you don’t pry.

you sit up in bed and hear the water running in your shower. you sit there, looking out the window at the golden morning skyline. maybe gotham does still have beautiful things.

you hear bruce exit the bathroom and walk towards the bed. he sits down next to you and you lean into him, his body still warm from the hot water.

“good morning.” you say quietly.

“yes it is.”

you just smile, not willing to ruin this moment with conversation.

a few minutes pass and bruce turns his head to look at you.

“i should be getting back soon. that event is this afternoon.”

you sigh, remembering the other day when bruce was telling you about this function. it’s to announce the new division at wayne enterprises, and to specifically address the project you’ve been working on.

bruce starts to get up and you try to hold onto him tighter, willing him to stay a bit longer.

he stops for a second and kisses you.

“i’ll come by and pick you up at 3.” he says.

“okay. i’ll see you then.”

he kisses you again and gets up to change back into his clothes from yesterday. you walk him out and he leaves, giving you one last kiss on your forehead. you spend the next few hours getting ready for this event. you’ll be there as part of the division and head of the outreach project, so you you want to look as presentable as possible. about an hour before bruce is scheduled to come pick you up, you realize something. not only will this be your debut in this new position, but it will also be yours and bruce’s debut as a couple.

you feel a knot in your stomach and start to breathe heavily. you can’t exactly place why this makes you so uncomfortable, but you’re having more and more trouble catching your breath as you think about it further. what if people think that you only got this job because you’re with bruce? what if they accuse you and him of being unfair or of favoritism? you shouldn’t care this much about what other people think. why do you care so much about what other people think?

it hits you. it’s not about what other people think. it’s about what bruce thinks. you’ve never actually discussed your relationship with him before. in fact, you’ve never even called it a relationship to him before. what if he’s not planning on going as a couple but as coworkers? you pace back and forth in your living room, running through all this in your head, thinking about how you’re going to ask him about this, if at all. a knock startles you out of your spiraling self-destructive thoughts and you answer. bruce is standing there in his suit and tie.

“ready?” he asks, holding his hand out for you to take.

“yes..” you say shakily, putting your hand in his.

bruce leads you downstairs and to his car, alfred sitting in the drivers seat.

“hello alfred.” you say as you slide into the backseat.

“good afternoon. may i say you look wonderful.”

“thank you.” you say with a smile.

bruce continues holding your hand throughout the drive. you hope he can’t notice how much your hands are shaking.

you arrive at the event and alfred stops the car at the front entrance of the hall.

“i’ll be here whenever you are ready to leave. and enjoys yourselves.”

someone from the outside opens the door for you and start to get out.

“thank you alfred.”

“it is my pleasure.”

you try to exit the car as gracefully as possible and bruce follows suit. camera flashes blind you as alfred drives away. a part of you wishes you had just stayed in that backseat.

the press are calling for bruce every which way, who seems to be faking enjoyment at the attention. he looks at you.

“are you okay?” he asks.

you just nod nervously as he takes your hand again. you look down at your interlocked fingers and back up at him, surprised. he looks at you and just smiles.

“you didn’t think we’d just be coworkers tonight, did you?” he says.

you smile back and squeeze his hand. the two of you walk up the carpeted steps and into the hall, a newfound wave of confidence overflowing through you, and you look at the cameras and smile.

the event is a supreme success. you and bruce wander through the crowds of people, taking photos and smiling until your cheeks hurt. bruce makes a rousing speech about the success of this division and how hard the team has been working. then he specifically mentions you. how this all wouldn’t have been possible had you not given your proposal. how your innovation and vision single-handedly shaped this project. how your passion for the people of gotham radiates in everything you do. how he feels lucky to call you a colleague… and a partner.

he locks eyes with you as he raises his glass and proposes a toast to the people of gotham. you feel the tears starting to collect in your eyes and will them to not fall. bruce comes down the stairs and you kiss him, disregarding the people and cameras around you.

after a while of more socializing, bruce wanders off to mingle with a reporter from metropolis and you try to find the drink table. you pick up a long stemmed champagne flute and as you take a sip, a man walks up to you with a smile.

“this is a very impressive event. and a very impressive project.” he says to you.

“thank you.”

“i’m jonathan locke. i run olive branch and company.”

“oh yes, in san francisco. you’ve done some great work in outreach there.”

“thank you. we’re hoping to continue expanding into other cities and possibly surrounding states as well. and we’re actually looking for someone just like you to run that venture for us.”

“oh… well i—“

“of course i don’t need an answer now. but here’s our proposal and our offer.” he hands you a laminated folder with his company logo on it.

“just take your time, think about it.”

“thank you for the offer, but gotham is where i belong. i can’t leave now that i’ve just started being able to make a change here.”

you start to hand the folder back, but he refuses to take it.

“please, just look through it. my card is in there. if you decide that your answer is still no, then so be it. but all i ask is that you just read the plan.”

you just look down at the folder, not yet wanting to open it.

“again, you’re doing amazing work here, which is exactly why we want you with us in california. i mean, can you blame us?” jonathan says with a smile.

“you’ve already set up this great project here. gotham is in good hands to finish it.” he glances in bruce’s direction

“and maybe this chapter in gotham can come to a close. you can start fresh in california… just think about it.” he smiles again and walks away.

you just stand there, staring at the folder. you know your answer; you want to, no you have to, stay in gotham. but… you start to put the folder away in your bag. bruce comes walking up to you.

“what’s that?” he asks.

“nothing, just a proposal someone wanted me to look at.”

“proposal?”

“an offer at a company in san francisco.”

“oh…”

“i told him no.” you reassure him.

“right.” bruce says flatly.

after a few more minutes of shaking hands and faking smiles, you and bruce decide you’re tired of the mingling and leave. alfred is already waiting outside with the car running. bruce opens the door for you and you get in, but you can still sense some tension from him. the ride is silent back to his house as you think more about this offer. you haven’t looked through the folder yet, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to open it.

when you get inside alfred says he’ll make you and bruce some dinner and bruce goes and sits at the dining room table. you sit next to him, hoping he speaks first.

“what was the offer?” bruce says after a minute of silence.

“i’m not sure on the details. but he said they’re wanting to expand the company… and they want me to be a part of it.”

bruce just sits there, staring at your bag on the table, the corner of the folder peaking out.

“olive branch?” he asks.

“yes, jonathan locke gave it to me.”

“he’s the founder.” bruce says, still looking at the folder.

“i’m not going to take it, bruce. gotham is my home. i can’t leave now. not when i’m just starting to make a difference.”

“but you’re thinking about it.”

“i’m not thinking about taking it…”

“just thinking about looking at it.”

“well i can’t say i’m not curious. you can’t blame me for at least wanting to take a look.”

“then look.” he pushes the bag toward you and gets up from the table.

“bruce…”

he keeps walking away.

curiosity does get the better of you, as you stare at the folder too. you shouldn’t even want to look at it if you’re so sure you want to stay. but you take it out and open it.

the offer is amazing. they want to make you head of the entire outreach division. you’d be traveling all over the country, establishing new branches and implementing strategies for other partner companies. the pay is also great, though you don’t care much about that. full benefits, which you already have. it’s a great opportunity… but you couldn’t leave. you think. the more you read through this folder the more intrigued you get. you would love the travel, you’ve never even left gotham. but you could just book a vacation. the title is better than your current one. but you don’t care about titles. you’ll be doing great work and helping a lot of people. but you can help people here. every point has a counterpoint. every reason to go is another reason to stay. you don’t know. honestly… you don’t know.

alfred brings in dinner, but it looks like you’re dining alone as bruce hasn’t come back.

“will master bruce be returning?” alfred asks.

“i’m not sure, but it’s not likely.”

“i see… if i may,” alfred starts. “there is no harm in weighing your options.”

“thank you alfred. i’m just not sure what to do. i want to stay but… how often do opportunities like this happen?”

“not very often, i’m afraid. you just need to have an understanding of what you want. and more importantly, what you need.”

alfred goes back into the kitchen. you sit there, letting your dinner get cold as you ruminate on this choice. bruce finally returns and sits down next to you again.

“i’m sorry for acting childish.” he says. “i just want you to make the right decision, for you.”

“i know. it’s alright.”

“one positive from tonight though: i spoke with the head of the gotham public school district and she wants us to go to the elementary school on monday. to bring the computers and do some personal outreach with the students.”

“that’s a great idea.”

“i think so too.”

bruce gets up to get his plate from the kitchen and you finally start eating. alfred’s cooking is too good to waste.

bruce drives you home after dinner. you suppose neither of you are in the mood for you to stay over and you need to clear your head anyway. bruce stops at your apartment and walks you up. you unlock your door and step inside.

“well, i will see you monday then.” bruce says.

“yeah, i’ll see you then.” bruce gives you a light peck on the cheek and leaves.

you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that he didn’t offer to see you tomorrow, but it’s probably a good idea that you spend the day alone, thinking. it doesn’t amount to much, though. by monday morning, you still don’t have a solid answer. of course you want to stay, but a small part of you is still intrigued by the opportunity. bruce picks you up and you head straight to the elementary school.

“a few other members of the team are bringing the computers. they should already be here.” bruce says as he turns into the lot.

“sounds good.”

the two of you head inside the school and meet up with your team to start organizing the items to give out. computers, books, and stem sets all for the students and their classrooms. as you go from room to room, handing out these resources, you can’t help but beam as you see how happy it makes the students, and the teachers as well. bruce seems to be having a great time too. you see him showing the kids how to properly work the new tech, you see him excitedly talk to them about all the great new projects they can do if they continue working in this field, how he smiles at them when he sees them get excited too. and you realize you want him. you don’t want him for one night. or for a weekend. you don’t want him as a coworker. or even as a boyfriend. you want him. all the time. forever. always.

your decision has been made. you’ll stay. the day continues, and you’re more than pleased with how it’s turned out. it couldn’t have gone any better. you and bruce leave in his car, but you notice he’s driving toward your apartment, not his house.

“do you want to come over?” you ask, thinking maybe he wants to spend time at your place instead of his.

“i was just taking you home.” he says.

“oh… well do you want to go get dinner? there’s a place that just opened up that—“

“i think maybe it’s best if we take some time. to think.”

you pause, confused.

“think about what?”

“i saw the proposal in your bag. you’re still thinking about it.”

you glance down at your bag and realize the folder is still in there.

“i just forgot to take it out. but i’ve made my decision, i’m staying.”

“maybe you should go.”

“…why would you say that?”

“it just seems like a good opportunity for you. maybe you should move on to greener pastures.”

“i like the grass here just fine. gotham is my home.”

“i just think maybe we made some mistakes here.”

“mistakes?”

“with us. it wasn’t a good idea to try to incorporate a relationship with work.”

your throat tightens and you feel anger, despair, confusion rise up.

“i think we were doing just fine, bruce. why are you saying all this?”

“…maybe it’s just for the best we move on.”

you can’t believe this. the man you had just decided you wanted forever with is now finished with you. you were going to tell him you wanted a future together… you were going to tell him you love him. and now it’s over.

bruce stops in front of your apartment building and you wait a second before getting out of the car.

“…goodbye bruce.” you say quietly. you can’t find the strength to look at him.

“goodbye.”

you get out of the car and up to your apartment. the only thing you can will yourself to do is get in bed and cry. you scream into your pillow until your chest is tight and your throat is sore. you can’t believe it hurts this much. it’s a deep ache, like every bone your body is in danger of snapping at any moment. your muscles are weak like you just fell into a bottomless sea, the waves crashing and knocking the wind out of you the second you get a chance to catch your breath again. you just sit there, for hours, trying to breathe. you lay your head down on your pillow, staring at the ceiling, your eyes leaking into your ears. sleep never finds you tonight as you continue to let the pain overcome you. when morning peaks through your curtains, you just stare ahead, wondering if you’ll ever find beauty through that window again.

you finally get up out of bed and find your bag on the floor by the kitchen where you dropped it. you take the folder out and flip through the papers, finding what it is you’re looking for.

you dial the number on jonathan locke’s card. after a conversation on the phone, the deal is made. you’ll be moving to california at the end of the week.

the next few days are spent packing. jonathan has personally arranged for movers to come take your boxes for you and bring them to a new home in california. a new home which jonathan has taken care of for you as well.

it’s saturday now, the day you leave. you take one last look out your window at the cityscape and feel a tinge in your chest. no, gotham isn’t beautiful. but it was home.

you take a taxi to the airport. each action you take, each bag you pick up and door you close, feels like slow motion. like your body is limited and you can’t quite move properly. you pick up your ticket. san francisco. one way. and head to your gate.

you’re standing in line, your bag in one hand and your ticket in the other. you’ll be the last one to get on, because you’re hoping that something will stop you from leaving. you wish you had a reason to stay. you wish this would turn into a romantic movie or the finale of a sitcom, where at the last second bruce comes running to the gate to stop you.

the line gets shorter.

you’d ask him what he’s doing here and that you’ve already made your decision, you’re leaving.

only a few people ahead.

he’d wrap his arms around you and tell you not to leave, and he’d kiss you.

one person ahead.

he’d say the one thing you’ve been wanting him to, that he needs you… and that he loves you…

you hand your boarding pass to the attendant and step through the gate.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

#fanfic #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #my fic #pictures from pinterest #dc #batman #part two #the batman #alfred pennyworth

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fuck-customers · 3 months

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Sorry in advance. This one is gonna be REAL long and vent-y.

So I currently have a retail job that I've been at for 4 years. I'll be honestly, it's never been a great job and since it's retail, I obviously never intended to stay there forever. Honestly, I've stayed there longer than I intended to, due to a lot of disasters in my personal life. (legal battles, house fire, homelessness) And because it was easier to just stay at a job that I already had and was already established and trained and knew the drill vs. going through these personal disasters at a new job, trying to give a good impression and perform well while hiding the fact that I'm miserable and going through a lot of difficulties that I do not want to bring into work/have bosses or coworkers be aware of. (I feel very hesitant to share any personal info at work, because I worry that any shared info not work-related can be used against me, in minor and major ways. But perhaps I'm being unnecessarily paranoid.)

However, after all this time of me dragging my feet, it is unfortunately clear to me that I am going to have to get another job. My job was always part-time (with a promise that was a lie about being promoted to full-time with good performance) but now my hours have majorly decreased from 12-30 hours per week when I was first hired, to now getting 3-6 hours EVERY OTHER WEEK.

So now I have begrudgingly resigned myself to accept the fact that I need to apply for jobs. I'm terrified. I've accepted it, but I'm terrified.

I don't have very much work experience. I had a seasonal job before my current job (3 months) and I've been at my current job for (a bit over) 4 years, which looks good because it shows loyalty, commitment, blah, blah, blah. But that's IT. 2 jobs. No degree or license or qualifications. I was in a few clubs in high school, but I'm too old to be listing my high school achievements. I can't afford college. And I know that a lot of job applications have auto-delete programs that will just trash an application if it doesn't have the correct buzzwords...but how am I supposed to know the correct buzzwords? I've also heard about ghost listings where companies post job listings they never intend to fill so they get a tax write off or whatever. (Idk if this is true, but the idea is enough to terrify me) I also have a hearing disability and I suspect (but am undiagnosed) that I have a learning/neurological disability, possibly ADHD or mild autism.

So there's ALL THAT weighing on my mind. And then on top of all of that, I'm scared out of my mind about my own personal situation.

I figure I can probably fake it well enough for the first week or so, maybe the first month if I'm really crafty and lucky (I figure I can get through the application process by listing my P.O. box as an address without putting that it's a P.O. box. And I have a lot of clothes from before becoming homeless that I can change into so I'm not constantly wearing the same clothes) but eventually people at this hypothetical new job will figure out that I live in a car (I can change my outfits and use dry shampoo on my hair, but trust me, from experience I know that I can really only go about a week and a half without a proper shower before it becomes very noticeable, no matter how much dry shampoo I use. I am a female woman with medium-length hair, for perspective) and will treat me differently and disrespect me and treat me as less than human. Or possibly take advantage of me, shoving extra work on me because I "need the money" and making me a scapegoat. Or worse, firing me. Sure, it's illegal (I think) but if they really want you gone, they can find any minor mistake you have made (and being new at a job, I will likely make a few) and use that as an excuse to fire me. Or lay me off due to "budget cuts" or some bullshit. If they want you gone, they can make it happen.

But most importantly, I don't feel good about myself. I've never had particularly high self-esteem, but in past interviews, I was able to list positive traits of mine and spin the less positive ones in a good light.

But now I don't even remember a positive thing about me. It doesn't help that my mother (whose car I live in) puts me down every chance she gets. Every day, she calls me a loser with a dead-end job and tells me I need to get a new job, without listening to what I tell her I need from her to do so. (She doesn't have a job, but of course that's not a problem) For example, I do not have word on my laptop. I need to go somewhere (library? the paperclips store? Unfortunately the work network place in my area that used to help with job applications, resumes, etc shut down) to use a computer with word to update my resume, as the one I have on my computer does not have my current job. (I tried to use the online version...what a nightmare. Also, sure there ARE resume websites where you can use their templates and make your resume....for a price. Usually $50+ that I can't afford for something I will use exactly once.) She refuses to help, even though I think her laptop has word, but I am not certain, and instead just repeats the same things over and over like a broken record. "You need to get a better job." "You're going to die a loser at a dead-end job if you don't quit." "You need to get a full-time job." (Sidenote: she herself has not even glanced at job listings. There are NO full-time jobs available, unless you are a licensed professional, a doctor, nurse, teacher, etc.)

But despite all of that, I need a new job. I held our for the holidays, thinking with the holiday rush, I'd get more hours and I could use that to keep me afloat while looking for a new job in the new year. Well. Our hours continually got CUT during the holidays and I suspect the store may go out of business and I do not want to still work there when it does. (Even though I would LOVE to watch it burn) The harsh reality is that I need a new job. I just have absolutely no faith that I can find anything much better than my current job. I expect the most I'll find is part-time of 20-30 hours per week, which is still better than 3-6 every other week, but I truly need a full-time job. Which will not happen.

Posted by admin Rodney.

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bengiyo · 5 months

Text

Cooking Crush Ep 3 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Prem began teaching Ten how to cook after first trying to make him go away, because Prem's sister lost her tuition money. Things got off to a rough start because Ten isn't used to open markets and also is touch-repulsed, but they made it through. Dynamite followed Fire onto his date and tormented him with faces.

Dish 3: Mission Steamed (Scammed) Egg"

I'm such a fan of Dynamite. Love him checking on Prem.

The timing of Fire getting to move into a condo and Dynamite having difficulties with his dorm is hopefully a setup. Still, was not expecting something as mundane as a neighbor passing and rotting in the apartment above you to be part of this show.

Okay, Ten is definitely flirting here.

Ten being a picky eater tracks. I don't believe him when he says he's not picky.

@lurkingshan pointed it out to me already, but I do like how Prem is trying to stay out of Ten's personal space.

Okay, but I wanted them to finish making the steamed eggs.

200,000 baht is quite a bit for lessons.

Dome and Aungpao is a great comedic pairing. I enjoy every scene they have together.

I was hoping Fire would move into this building. Now we'll get more scenes with Dynamite, Fire, and Samsi away from school.

Dynamite having no shame about his attraction to Fire is a treat for me.

Big fan of Ten fixing the glove, especially with how extra he's being about it. I like that he didn't hand the task to one of the staff.

I'm glad Ten's friends know about the classes and Ten doesn't feel like he's getting swindled.

Like with My Ride, I like when doctors experience The Heart Knows and think they're having a medical episode.

I enjoyed Dynamite's punny line deliveries this episode.

Off is actually doing a really good job as Ten. I've seen him a lot recently, and this character feels distinct.

Prem, please mute your phone in class! You're already underperforming!!

I love this cooking friend group so much. They said, "Girl, please clean up for your date."

This scene with Ten's friend confronting him about leaving early was also so funny.

Excellent! Everyone figures out their feelings next week!

I'm glad we're still getting BL romcoms, even if I'm generally approving of the more dramatic bent we've taken of late. This cast is pretty good at it, too!

#cooking crush #cooking crush the series #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

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afreakingdork · 1 year

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Weak Spot - Chapter 4

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia

Synopsis: When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

As a cherry on top of an otherwise roller coaster meeting, Donatello hit you with a one-two punch before departing. The first being that he had a change in schedule that required his attendance that weekend. It meant he would not be able to continue his sandwich escapade until Monday. The second was that in accordance with this change he would lighten the restrictions on texting.

On one hand, it meant that your fourth meeting would again coincide with work; something that you were hoping to avoid. As you made your way back to your building, you were plotting any number of ways you could avoid your boss’s attention. Risking a tongue lashing was worth it for Donatello, but that didn’t mean you’d walk into the scenario willingly.

Alternatively, you now had free reign to bother the object of your affection as much as you wanted; within reason, at least. He’d been quick to add that he preferred substantial conversation be made in person and you got that sense that he was testing you again. The weekend now felt like a trial run on whether or not you could keep your new privileges and somehow, even though it felt acutely childish, it also struck you as a fun gambit. Hopping up the steps to your high-rise, you yanked on a door with twirling force.

You: and they only told me to that I needed to pick-up the coffee when I was already standing in front of the building!

Donatello: A pathetic mismanagement of time and resources.

Kicking your legs hard enough to make your office chair rock back and forth, you put your phone back down on your desk. Against all odds, Donatello had been a relatively attentive texting partner though you had taken great care in crafting your messages. You’d given him a reprieve until Saturday and then opened mid morning with brunch conversation. He found the conventions of which overblown and you’d used that as a jumping off point. It was curious that his responses came at a surprising pace considering he had plans, but you weren’t about to point that out. He’d been pretty clear about what he’d divulge and even if you were curious, it was still early enough in whatever this was that it wasn’t about to be an issue.

You straightened.

Had he just called you a resource?

Bouncing on the idea, your chair squeaked as you went for your phone again. It was just begging to be addressed.

“So, that’s it…”

Stalling and instinctively shoving your phone under a folder, you darted up to see a co-worker hanging off the wall of your cubicle.

You gave the man a soured glance and pulled your phone back out. You weren’t on ‘go to lunch with’ sort of terms with this employee, but you’d built up an ‘office gossip’ sort of rapport. “Happy Monday to you too.”

“Who’s the beau?” He took a sip of his water bottle.

You sunk down until your chest was almost touching your desk. “That obvious?”

“Only if we add in those late lunches…?” He trailed off with a smarmy grin that said you had to respond even though he already knew the answer.

Finally collapsing down, you held your phone outstretched and activated it out of habit. “Fine, yes. I met someone on my lunch break.”

“Is he hot?” Your co-worker pulled his arm free from the metal frame to enter your space.

“Yes, but I don’t have any pictures yet.”

“Too bad.” The man nearly sang the phrase.

You hummed in agreement when his introductory phrase came to mind. “What did you mean earlier?”

“The boss wants to see you.”

You shot up so fast the papers on your desk flittered away from the movement.

Your co-worker smirked into another sip.

“You didn’t think to, I don’t know, open with that?!”

“I had to find out why. Thankfully it was written all over your face.”

You glowered at him as your quickly snatched up any necessary paperwork. “Big help.”

“Anytime.”

“So, that’s just it? He’s mad about the lunches?” Making sure to lock up your bag with the phone inside in case someone got any bright ideas, you rounded your desk to stare the man down.

“He didn’t seem mad actually.”

You squinted.

“Maybe a little mad.”

You folded your arms.

“Look.” The man finally relented by bringing his bottle up. “He just laid into me for filling up my water too often and then asked me to grab you next. It’s going to be one of those days. Everyone’s going to get their ass chewed out.”

“Was that so hard?” You huffed, exiting your cubicle with him in tow.

“It was less fun!”

With a flick of your wrist you banished your co-worker as you took a sharp corner. Your boss had a windowed office down the hall and you headed towards it. The blinds inside were pulled shut which was never a good sign. He was the kind of man that liked to keep them open for peak vigilance. Already dreading the exchange, you marched up to the door and rapped your knuckles on the glass. From inside there was a muffled affirmation.

Opening the door revealed your boss at his desk with his elbows craned to the tabletop. From there his fingers were thread which obscured his mouth from view.

Either he watched one too many anime in his day or he really was just that cartoonishly evil.

“Y/N.”

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

It was playing out the lines of a surreal office drama.

“18, 27, 36.”

You stared at him blankly.

He stood, his thin gaze focused solely on your face.

“Some type of lotto numbers?” You knew that wasn’t the answer, but you needed something to break the silence.

“That’s over an hour of time.”

You gave a tight nod and tried to keep your mouth in a similarly taunt line.

Your boss sighed and one of his arms fell over. You watched as he groaned into standing until both palms were flat on his desk and he was hovering over it. “How long are you going to play dumb?”

Any answer would be used against you so you pleaded the fifth.

“The lunches!” Your boss roared and slammed one of his hands down for an echoing thud. “All last week you took longer and longer lunches.”

It was only Wednesday on, but interjecting that fact now wouldn’t help your case.

“Did you think no one would notice? Your co-workers certainly did! Imagine them coming to me when they can’t seem to find you?”

He was lying through his teeth. Barely a soul in this company bothered to communicate without an email’s read receipt.

“How am I supposed to get anything done like that? While you’re gallivanting off, who knows where, on company time!”

“I’m sorry, sir-”

“Sorry, huh?” He clipped your apology with a sneer. “Not sorry enough to inform anyone of your absence or offer to make up for the lost time!” He snapped upright in a rigid fashion, but then his spine seemed to loll as if it were made of jelly. “So, you admit that you thought you’d just get away with it? That you deserved special privileges that none of your fellow associates have? That I would surely be too busy to notice? That your time is worth far more than anyone else’s?”

A hundred defenses sat on your lips, but you crushed them by squeezing them together until it stung your jaw.

“At least you know enough when you keep quiet.”

You loathed this bastard.

“That means you’re not a lost cause.” His shoulders heaved forward as he rounded the desk. “You’ll make up the 81 minutes with your lunch break today.”

You had meant to stay neutral. Even the slightest move would act against you, but at the command your shoulders seized up in fear.

Donatello in his black coat flashed in your mind’s eye.

“Oh, sorry.” On that springy spine, your boss bounded forward to catch a bottom up look at your face. “Am I interrupting something or do you actually want to keep your job?”

One of your eye lids twitched and you hoped from his awkward angle that he hadn’t picked it up. The exaggerated candor of his voice grated on your ears in a way that made you sick to your stomach.

“You’ll take your lunch, of course. State laws and all, but you’ll have to move your plans. Oh, wait…”

Since his gaze was still trained on your face, you flexed your fingers before knuckling them white.

“No need to bother heading back to your desk! Did I mention it’s already prepared for you?” He rolled back, leaning a little too far. “That’s just how considerate I am! Even when an employee doesn’t return that same sort of thing!”

You watched him your jaw so tight it was near spasming.

He walked the few feet over to the cord in the corner of his office and pulled swiftly. It opened up the blinds to a view of the office. Several employees nervously glanced at the move out of their periphery wanting to see who’s head was on the chopping block, but not wanting to bring attention to themselves to be next.

“See that copier.” He pointed and you moved your body stiffly. Said machine had a multiple daunting stacks of paper shoved onto the desk beside it along with multiple repurposed postal crates below.

“Yes.”

“You’ll need to scan all that and file it accordingly.”

They had a kid for this. A grunt hired on part-time for this kind of menial task.

“Oh, and do remember to remove and re-staple each document after scanning! Don’t want to jam the poor thing up!”

Hard copies weren’t even kept. Shredding was something else the part-timer did.

“When you’re done, you can take your lunch. I’ll even adjust it so you can still go home on time. Quite gracious of me, don’t you think?”

You’d quit right on the spot if you had anything else lined up.

Returning to food service never looked so good.

“What was that?” Your boss mimed putting a hand to his ear.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You could only manage the barest of nods and he seemed to relish in your silent fury.

“Call Bernie over next on your way out.” There was the sharp noise of the blinds closing again and you turned for the door. You heard your boss retreat and assumed he was falling back into the asinine posing he’d concocted. Crossing the space to the copier, you caught the next victim’s eye and signaled to him that his time had come. The man scurried away and you seethed into the first page. Picking it up found dozen of documents in the first stack with only a couple of pages stapled together in each set. Anger depleted at the futility of it all. You couldn’t even sneak away to tell Donatello you’d be late.

You really hated your boss.

Belting down the sidewalk, you narrowly miss several pedestrians as you ran towards the sandwich shop. The scanning hadn’t taken as long as you thought, but you were still almost two hours late. Donatello hadn’t even sent you a questioning text.

Did he think you’d ditched him?

Had he simply left?

There was no way anyone sensible would still be waiting.

Still, you ran.

Closing in on the shop’s door at an alarming pace, you threw on the brakes in a manner that had your heels grinding against the concrete. Stopping shy of the door, you didn’t see his large figure inside, but this shop had some rustic décor that would have been easy to conceal him. In the barest form of your reflection, you attempted to smooth you the jog’s ruffling before grabbing the door handle. You gave a sharp tug that it protested before you realized it was a push door.

Choosing to believe you were burning from the exertion and not embarrassment, you shoved the large wooden thing. It heaved open and you took several hurried steps inside before it gave you enough vantage to view the space.

Your heart sank.

He wasn’t there.

Your shoulders gave out and your arms dangled pathetically. With weak limbs you procured your phone to find your messages in the same state as when you had run out of your building. Bitterly you guessed that your boss would at least be satisfied to find there was no chance you’d be late again. Sighing, you hovered a thumb over a text window to type a message. You got out exactly four letters when a sharp stream of cold air blew against your neck and down your collar.

You yelped at the sensation; goosebumps cropping up on your arm. Several patrons looked towards you and you slapped a hand to the back of your neck. Spinning around, you stared up, scandalized, as Donatello watched you with the corner of his mouth quirked.

Damn him and his love of scaring people.

“What are you still doing here?!” You hissed, still rubbing your neck.

He straightened up and gave the barest shrug. “Taking a late lunch.”

Your hand fell away as you stared at him. He evaluated you flatly in return.

He’d waited.

All that time.

A few clucking chuckles petered out of you before you started laughing. One of his brows raised at the action and you had to put a hand to your stomach to keep from doubling over.

“A-Ah, sorry!” You waved at him, trying to reign yourself in.

He continued to watch.

“I just imagined you, waiting behind the door all that time!”

You could sense the way he soured though his face were clean of any unsavioriness.

“Thank you.” You came out of your fit with your eyes shining and beamed him a smile.

He took it in and brushed past you.

Rapidly becoming accustomed to the song and dance, you chased after him without hesitation.

He got to the counter before you could properly catch his side so you waited as he placed the order. You watched his interaction and remembered how he’d mentioned this place’s archaic ordering system. From the look of the shop it seemed more probable that they forwent online ordering to preserve the ambiance. He paid again and you cursed yourself for getting caught up in errant thoughts.

“That puts me three behind.” You griped as he lead the charge to the table.

“A scoreboard that only you will be keeping track of.” He tucked himself into a chair and regarded you languidly.

“You have to care some. It’ll get annoying if only you pay!” Taking your own seat, you looked at him with set features.

His flat gaze said it wasn’t worth his time.

You sighed.

“I’m more interested in what kept you.”

Coming off the puff of air, you looked away. It might be another thing only you were keeping tally of, but your boss had already been giving way too much air time. From texts to capping off nearly every meeting, you hated the thought of giving that guy one more second.

“I had… work to catch up on.” It was the kind of sentence you only decided on about halfway through. It meant it would either sound unconvincing or exhausted. Checking back with your companion found him staring with what felt like a higher intensity.

Or it could have been the guilt talking.

“You know, from being late?” You offered, turning towards him in hopes the move would read more open.

For the first time his stoic gaze felt suffocating.

You drowned under the weight of it until he shifted his position.

“What about you?”

“You already thanked me.” He reached into his coat and you watched curiously.

“I mean… Yeah, I did, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still curious. You waited all that time and didn’t send a message? How long would you have waited if I hadn’t shown up when I did.”

He pulled out something you couldn’t quite see and removed his glasses. You stared, taking in his relatively unmarred face greedily as he seemingly adjusted them. You wondered if he ever went out without the bandana before he donned his frames again. Adjusting through the colored lenses, his attention drifted towards the kitchen.

“Donatello.” You gave a scolding note to your voice.

Had he done all that in an attempt to throw you off his scent?

It had almost worked, but that wasn’t the point.

His eyes returned to the table, but avoided yours in a way that brought your brows up. Whatever he wasn’t saying was something he really wanted to avoid. It made you all the more curious.

“I don’t…” He started and his lips curled slightly showing his distaste in the peek of a canine. “Like to speak in uncertainties.”

You straightened as the statement absorbed into your person.

He didn’t know.

Your stomach flipped.

He didn’t know how long he would have waited for you.

He had done many things at this point that did it for you, but something about this one in particular warmed your cheeks. You brought up a hand in an attempt to cool them when you caught a glimpse of a waitress walking over. She had thankfully come with your meals and you bobbed an embarrassed nod at her in appreciation. She took it with a knowing giggle and scurried away so as not to interrupt further.

“I like you.” The phrase jumped off your lips and you moved to close them off with a bite of your sandwich.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear.” There was an amused air to his voice.

“Seriously though…” The rhythm of chewing had an oddly soothing effect. “I’m gonna have to haul ass back to work after this. I can’t be late again.”

From where he was about to take his first bite, Donatello halted and looked straight at you.

It was only then that it dawned on you that you might have negated your earlier boss dodging comment.

“You got in trouble.”

His careful eye was a blessing and a curse.

“I… was hoping not to get into it.” You tucked your gaze into your bread.

“For my sake or yours?”

Within a blink, your eyes widened. “What?”

He gave his usual silence.

“No.” You finally looked at him. “I’m not expecting you to repeat yourself, I actually don’t know what you mean.”

He seemed to take in two things at once.

You realized you had yet to verbally confirm you’d deciphered that bit of his speaking mannerisms.

You’d been hoping to keep that one closer for a little longer, but it was bound to come out sooner or later.

“You’re one to speak your mind, but you also pay far too much attention to me.”

He’d seen right through you.

“I could be trying harder to get another job…” The muscles in your shoulders bunched up.

His eyes shot downward and then right back to you.

You wilted under it, but he didn’t follow it up with anything else. Unsure yourself, you moved back to your sandwich. He didn’t resume eating and his intense gaze continued to bore into you.

“I’d love to, but unfortunately I can’t read your mind.” You finally forced out when you couldn’t take the atmosphere any longer.

He continued the stifling leer for several more seconds before he broke it. He turned his head fully away and then spoke only out of the corner of his mouth. “If it’s upsetting you, then feel free to talk about it.”

Your features softened. “It won’t bother you?”

He huffed. “That is the exact sort of response I was hoping to avoid.”

Whatever gooeyness coating your features translated to your innards feeling similarly like mush.

He certainly didn’t want to answer your question because he would out how kind he was being.

Overwhelmed by the feeling, you gently kicked his leg from beneath the table.

While he didn’t exactly look offended, he seemed it. In retaliation and in spite of the table’s protest, he folded his legs away from you.

“Eat. You’re wasting time playing footsie.”

Giggling down at your meal, there was a sobering quality to your sandwich. There was something else to this meal you’d almost forgotten. As you picked it up, the heft of it being the last one weighed heavily in your hands. You took a small bite, but the time constraints meant you couldn’t make it last. “I had to do a bunch of busy work to make up for the cumulative hours I’ve missed.”

Across from you Donnie finally began to eat.

“It’s stupid because we literally have an employee for that. I’m sure it was some stupid pseudo-example of office power dynamic garbage.”

You scarfed down several bites in annoyance.

“There wasn’t even a threat of being late again! I just don’t want to give him any more fodder to complain!”

Your sandwich was slowly disappearing.

“Not… that it matters after this…”

The feeling you’d been trying to chase away with your latent angry reared its head.

You hadn’t made those additional plans.

“Does your company participate in those lax days?”

“Lax like casual Friday?”

He gave a nod.

“Not really, though everyone has a TGIF sense and less work definitely gets done at the end of the week.”

You took another bite and something about the conversation jogged your memory. When you brought your attention back to Donatello, he seemed to be waiting with a knowing look.

“If it’s on Friday when everyone else is loose with lunch hours than he can’t whine!”

“As long as that’s the case.”

“But… this is the last shop.”

“There are others.”

“No, you were very clear about there being four.”

He gave you his patented look.

You gave a coy one of your own and he deferred against it having not realized you were messing with him. You wanted to relish in his embarrassment, but there was simply no time. “Won’t that interrupt your sandwich study?”

“There was no exact time frame.”

You smiled.

“Finish.”

It was a reminder so you dove back into your sandwich. Polishing the last bite off, you looked up at him curiously and he nodded in a way that meant you’d cleared the ticking threshold. You noticed he hadn’t finished his meal and he simply wrapped it back up in response.

“Did this shop…?” You turned, ready to pounce on more staff.

“No, since I missed my usual consumption window, I’m not as hungry. Otherwise, they were a decent showing.”

“I wish my body worked like that.”

He gave a tepid shrug and you both packed up to leave.

“Ugh, I don’t want to go back yet! We’ve barely spoken!” You gave a dramatic flourish and jumped ahead a few steps. He watched on dully as you turned and held out a longing hand to him.

He allowed you to hold the pose for several beats before making a large sidestep to open the door. Your laughter chased after him.

“Dinner typically takes longer.”

You only heard the comment as you passed by him to head outside. You double took so quickly you almost reentered the restaurant.

“Are…” You held your breath. “You have to clarify if you’re asking me out.”

He stepped closer as he let the door close and you hadn’t quite moved away. Before you could give him his space, he crowded yours in a manner that brought his face right up to yours. “Thursday, go on a date with me. I’ll make a reservation.”

From where you were holding your breath, you were surely suffocating as your forgot how to take in anymore.

He was so close.

The way he’d said it.

You wanted to ascend.

“You have to confirm if you want it to happen.”

“Yes!” You watched, up close, as he winced when it came out a little too loudly. “Yes, yes, a million times yes!”

“I’m regretting my decision already.”

“I’ll see you Thursday… wait and then lunch on Friday?!”

He straightened up and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Remembering this probably fell into the repetition category, you adjusted yourself and gave him your best molten stare in gratitude. “I’ll be waiting for the details.”

He gave a nod that seemed tight for a different reason and departed.

You resisted the urge to click your heels as you headed the opposite way.

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