#city state diner

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

Well today was even shittier than I already knew it’d be

[fieriframes]

[Like a culinary tour of Lebanon. SBEITY: Salad bowl falafel and grape leaves on the window. FIERI: Intendas fieri bis sex respectibus illud, Derek's serving the community in another way, as well. I've been serving as a city council member, and recently, I was elected to the Utah State Senate.]

[on-the-clear-blue]

Original idea coming from @the-witchhunter and then added on to by many others.

Dead Man's Diner

---

Danny was tired okay? It may very well be his own damn fault but he can't keep waking up during daylight hours, while yes, he can fully be up and sitting at a desk, the likelihood of him waking up getting shouted at by his boss for sleeping on the job was astounding.

So at 19 years old, freshly jobless, Danny said Fuck it and moved away from Amity Park, Valarie was more than willing to handle the few ghosts that still came through the portal since he became the King.

You might be wondering, why isn't Danny filthy rich and rolling in it as the ghost king? Two words, the Observants.

Those flouting eye bastards had moved in and said that unless he was the king full time, he was unable to access the vaults of the Infinite Realms.

So once again, 19, freshly jobless and wanting to get out of Gotham? Danny was very lucky to have friends that love him far to much, Sam and Tucker both pitched in to move him out to where they had chosen to do collage.

*Gotham* oh Sam was in love with the place, the architecture, the people, (and maybe a certain green supervillian that was determined to make the city better) and Tucker was obsessing over being in the same city as Wayne Enterprises, trying his best to get into their internship program by his own merit rather than just hacking himself into it.

And Danny? He was loving it for a slightly different reason.

While the death rate was unfortunately high in Gotham, that also meant that the amount of passive ectoplasim generated by the deaths was massive, it was almost as rich as back in Amity Park with the portal into the ghost zone!

(Oh and the many job opportunities but Danny was a little less worried about that.)

---

Letting out a sigh, Danny scrubbed at his eyes as he leaned back into his chair, another job he had to turn down due to it being shady as all get out.

4 hours and he was getting payed 200 bucks? Major criminal vibes from that...

Taking a moment to get himself balanced, Danny leaned back and looked to the clunky laptop that Tucker had given him, it was modified to hell and back, so it still ran quickly, but it sure as he'll wasn't pretty.

Clicking on yet another job listing, Danny paused as he felt a shiver run down his spine, and a blue mist pass through his lips, blinking, he twisted around to look at the spare room of Sam's apartment, Ghosts tend not to get close enough to him to trigger the ghost sense in Gotham...

Seeing nothing, Danny turned back to his laptop only to find a piece of paper stuck to the screen with tape, freezing at first, the dark haired man sighed deeply, peeling it off he held it close as he read it.

[Help wanted at Big C's Dinner! Looking for a night cook that knows their way around a kitchen!]

There was a few more lines that Danny's eyes skimmed over, picking up the location that it was at, it even had a decent pay, but he paid more attention to the scribbled on note at the bottom of it.

[Daniel, head to this place at 12 am tonight. While the Observants said that you may not touch a single coin in your vaults, they side nothing of your properties.]

---

So Danny knows how to handle himself, he has fought many, many people and still came out half alive, but even he felt a little on edge coming down to the railroad tracts in Gotham, because apparently that was were Big C's dinner was at...which he apparently owned? Clockwork works in mysterious ways that Danny was so done trying to figure out.

Stepping up to a bit of abandoned tract, he blinked a few times at the site of Big C's.

It was a decent sized Dinning Car, with a ramp that attached itself to a proper street, it had peeling green paint and dirty white accents with charming rusted steel connecting it to the tracts, the only thing new looking on it was a bit banner stretched across it, stating the name "BIG C'S ALL DAY EVERY DAY BREAKFAST CART! OPEN 24/7!"

The windows were close off by tinted yellow blinds, but he could still see light coming through them. Stepping up the ramp Danny felt the cart under him shudder and something inside of him fluttered, and by the time he was opening the door he could feel the reason why.

The very cart was *alive*, taking a quick breath, Danny could practically taste the energy from it, there was a buzzing undercurrent of excitement that rung through the whole cart.

A little unprepared for his, Danny just smiled warily, "Uhh, hey there? Anyone around?" In response to his words the cart shuddered, the blinds dancing up and down and he could hear the squeel of the wheels.

"O-okay then, um my name is Danny Fenton...Clockwork sent me?" There was another flapingnof the blinds, and the small wooden flap that let people into the back lifted up suddenly before clacking down loudly.

Taking a steadying breath, Danny slipped through the bar and into the back.

It was surprisingly clean and orderly, the stove and fryer looked over than his parents but well maintained, the flat top was perfectly scrubbed and was already heating up.

As Danny looked around, he felt a familiar shiver run down his spine, looking around once more, Danny fell into a fighting position as he spotted the figure of a familiar foe

"Lunch Lady? Aren't you a little far from home? What did your order of fist not come in?" The bright rings of light around Danny's waist swirled into life as he went into his ghost form.

He got a thrilling grin from the older apparition, but she only crossed her arms, "While we can tumble later little King, Lord Clockwork sent me personally, said you need a bit of help learning how to cook? And ain't nobody better slinging food than me, dead or alive!"

---

Down in the dripping depths of the cave system deep under Gotham, one Bruce Wayne, still in his Batsuit sat in front of the Bat Computer, eyes glaring at a map of Gotham.

He had been tracking a strange energy pattern that made its way through Gotham, he had first thought it was some sort of layline, but the more that he tracked it the more he realized it was closer to watching a person's walking patterns, sometimes following roads, and sometimes crisscrossing through streets and alleyways.

But tonight that power signal tripled in size, off-putting energy that Bruce hadn't seen it done before, tapping the com on his ear, he spoke clearly "Nightwing, take Red Robin and investigate the coordinates I am sending the both of you, observe it, I just got a massive spike in an energy at that location."

There was silence for a moment before the com crackled and his sons responded "Got it B! Me and RR needed a little time together huh Babybird?"

There was a quiet hum from Tim, before the teen spoke "On route Batman, after this I am heading in, we have a meeting with a suspect in the morning B, Vlad Masters has been poking around Gotham."

[gghostwriter]

Time Gave No Compass, Were There Clues?

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: The three times fate brings you to cross paths with a certain handsome stranger and the one time he purposely crosses with yours Trope:It’s fluff in a meet cute type of way w.c: 5.6k+ a/n: this is connected to ‘One Single Thread of Gold’! This took forever to make simply because I had this fear that the second part wouldn’t come out as great as the first and I’ve been in a writing funk lately—not quite sure if my writing worsened or got better during this period but at this point, maybe I shouldn’t care that much anymore? That’s a lie so please comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The first encounter—a knight in a vintage blue vehicle

The drumming noise of the rain against the vinyl awning of the Japanese restaurant became the perfect soundtrack for watching countless strangers scurry to the nearest shelter.

It was the night that you have dubbed your unluckiest as a woman in Washington—up until he came along.

According to the morning weather forecast, there was little to no chance of rain. A radiant reprieve from the downpour of light rainfall the city had been experiencing three days in a row. A believer of facts you were, excitedly slipped on your new pair of heels and joined the outside world, sun shining up above the sky without a single speck of dark cloud lingering in its wake.

The work day was nothing special—jumping on video calls with your boss, answering international emails from the magazine’s sister branches abroad, and reviewing articles set to be published for next month’s print.

Nothing unusual. No sign that the day would roller coaster down and up again, before ending right before a drop, leaving you white knuckled with anticipation.

As you were exiting the diner with your freshly cooked to-go in one hand, the weather decided to beat the statistics presented by the news forecast. Rain poured down hard, effectively stranding you on the covered sidewalk.

“Oh,” you mumbled under your breath, forced to settle down on the empty outdoor seating. The gust of cold wind that caressed your cheeks to turn pink reminded you of comforting childhood memories—warm cocoa, blanket forts, and cuddles with your precious teddy bear. 

It brought a smile on your face, recalling the time when life was still simple.

Working as a writer for an established fashion magazine had its own ups and downs. You felt lucky enough to be given the opportunity to work with living and breathing artists, all the while having the flexibility to live anywhere in the country.

Your boss initially found it odd when you mentioned temporarily moving back to Washington. It wasn’t a state well-established in the industry after all. It was a city filled with starched pressed suits, neutral ties, and newly shined loafers—the epicenter for politics and everything serious. 

The ridiculous misconception about fashion and its frivolousness caused your nose to scrunch. It was the same idea that pushed newly graduate you to move to New York and burn the midnight oil to be where you were now, highly respected in the circle.

She understood your truth—the need for a change of scenery before jumping back in to the game with fresh new eyes. Jokingly, she wagered you’d only last two months away from the Big Apple before coming back. It had been six months since then and you were starting to believe the urge for the city that never sleeps will never cross your mind again.

As you mused about the trajectory of your career, the clouds started to let up, enough that you took the chance to open your compact umbrella and possibly ruin your heels to get to the nearest subway entrance just 10 minutes away.

A mistake that you realized halfway as a sudden blast of strong wind flipped your umbrella inside out, rending you vulnerable to the hasty returning rain.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as water started to stain your light purple satin heels, turning them near black.

Definitely ruined.

The flickering light of the entrance and the still warm spot underneath the restaurant pulled you in two different directions. Should you just brave the weather already starting to look like a drowned animal or should you go back with your tail tucked between your legs?

As you debated your next move, being poorly protected by your broken umbrella and soaked by the tormenting weather no less, a blue vintage car came to a stop beside you and honked it’s horn.

“Um—do you need help? A ride, maybe?” a voice shouted out of the rolled down passenger window, barely heard against the torrential downpour.

A good Samaritan was rare this day and age. So uncommon that it made you immediately wary. You looked around, making sure it was you the stranger was addressing before uttering a reply.

“Depends on who’s asking,” your free hand clutching the ends of your spoiled umbrella. “Are you a serial killer by any chance?” 

He paused, caught off guard with your question, and chuckled. “What? No, no. Not at all, just a concerned citizen.”

You bit your lip, wavering between accepting his offer at the risk of your life, before reaching to open the passenger door. “Fair enough.”

The stranger promptly layered a black windbreaker on the tan leather seats. “Sorry, it’s just—did you know that wet leather can lead to discoloration?”

Your eyebrows raised, shuffling to get comfortable on the seat—mindful of your back not touching, before giving him a nod. “Yes, actually I did but it’s great to see someone else know about it too.”

He pressed his lips together into a tight smile and reached forward on the console, tinkering with the unlabeled knobs, turning up the heat. 

Your eyes tracked his every movement, curious as to any indication to who this mysterious gentleman was.

His nails were light pink in color, clean, and cut short—possibly for a desk office job. His fingers were long and bony, model length you’d surmise—a little calloused on one side of his middle finger possibly from holding a pen too tight. The back of his hand veined and wide in size, big enough to dwarf your dainty slim hands in comparison.

Your cheeks heated up, feeling guilty for gawking at a man’s hands before spilling your address without so much of a thought for your safety.

The stranger blanched, clearly caught off guard with your trusting nature. “Didn’t your mother teach you not to go with strangers willingly? Or provide vital information about yourself for that matter?”

You appraised his profile as his eyes trained on the road. 

Hazel colored hair that curled around his face. Sunken eyes framed by long, dark lashes that any woman could envy. A tall and straight nose bridge. Maroon pillowy lips and a sharp jawline perfectly matched with a five-o’clock shadow.

He was handsome.

Pretty even.

The type you’d see a casting agent and photographer fawn over.

Shoulders seemingly angular and wide, stretching his black knitted cardigan well. It’s arms pushed up to showcase his forearms lithe in form with muscles flexing underneath as he twists the wheel to take a right. His seat pushed the farthest it could go, highlighting how tall he could be.

Your handsome gentleman could rival male models that graced your magazine’s editorial pages.

“Well, you don’t look like a serial killer and I think I’d take my chances with you than out there—” a flash of lightning trailed on the darkened sky followed by a loud clap of thunder. “—yeah, I stand with my choice.”

His laughter mid-pitched, filled the confined space. “And how does a serial killer look like?”

“Sinister and not trustworthy. You look neither, by the way,” you shrugged.

“Actually, there’s a minor percentage of killers that don’t fit in your description. Ted Bundy is an example, he used his good looks to lure in unsuspecting women.”

You hummed in agreement. “You’re right and you could definitely use your looks too but I still doubt you’re one. Let’s call it intuition and if I had to guess, you work at a desk job. Finance or Human Resources, maybe?”

“Are you saying I look—” he cleared his throat, a wrinkle appearing between his well shaped brows. “—handsome?”

“Well, at the risk of sounding like I’m flirting with you—which I’m not, well, maybe. But yes, I think you’re good looking. Handsome.” 

The pink flush that slowly darkened to a cherry red started its descent to his exposed neck, making him look more endearing. His reaction made it quite obvious he was never one to receive such flattery about his appearance which made you question the eyes of the women around him.

He was utterly distinguished and dressed in this comforting nerdy fashion that added to the appeal.

“I take it you’re not used to compliments.”

The long lashes that framed his molten chocolate eyes fluttered, as if highlighting is naivety in dealing with the opposite sex.

It sent butterflies free in your stomach.

“Yeah, but thank you. And I’m really not a serial killer—I wouldn’t be using a memorable vehicle in picking up a victim in a crowded street with city cameras around. Not that, that information helps me state my case. In fact, it’s making it worse—” he rambled out, easing the car into a stop beside your apartment complex. “What I meant was, I-I think you’re good looking too, beautiful.”

You laughed at the absurdity of where your night has ended up.

The air trapped between two bodies crackled with an energy you couldn’t name. It was humming below the surface, making you feel hyper aware of the man who drove you home.

It was igniting.

Possibly the start of something.

In contrast, the outside was quiet and still. The rain had finally come and gone, leaving behind its comforting atmosphere.

The lamp posts reflecting off the puddles of water, tinting the streets a warm, honey gold color. Leaves dancing, like string puppets controlled by the forces of nature. The wind whispering and giggling—to what, you didn’t know but you felt it wasn’t important to dissect. No more important than the stranger who’s scent, aged books and cedar wood, intermingled with yours, vanilla and a hint of amber.

“Thank you for the ride,” quickly exiting the vehicle. Suddenly you felt shy as the last few minutes replayed in your head—how trusting you were to take his offer and how naive it was of you to let your guard down.

The sound of a subsequent car door opening echoed on the empty street. “You’re welcome and you’re wrong, by the way.”

“Wrong about what?” You twisted to look back.

The street lights hitting his face, casting a mysterious shadow on his handsome features.

“About me working in finance or human resources.”

Huh. 

Your steps faltered to a stop.

That was a first—people around you always did say you read people best.

He was an exception it seemed.

An anomaly.

A mystery you wouldn’t mind taking a second try in solving.

“Better luck next time then. I hope to see you around,” you waved as you opened the heavy metal gate behind you.

His hand mimicked your goodbye before promptly reaching down to open his car door, effectively disappearing from your gaze as you pushed the main door open to the lobby.

As you watched the remaining water droplets slide down your coat, waiting for the rickety elevator to descend, an all important question popped in your mind that you never uttered into the world.

His name.

You forgot to ask for his name.

Hurriedly running back to the entrance, your stained heels clacking on the stoned pathway, you opened the gate just to spy the gentleman’s memorable light blue vehicle rev forward to blend into the chilly city night. 

Damn.

**

The second—a shared cup of Joe between two no longer strangers

The sun peeking underneath the cotton candy white clouds did little to fight off the inevitable Autumn air. Weeks of sunny days from the past storm is nearing its end causing the city occupants to flood the streets and parks for their last soak of Summer. 

Weeks have gone since your enthralling encounter with the handsome stranger and his vintage blue car. You’ve spent days replaying the memory in hopes of finding any more clues on who he was or even how to run into him again. Nights lamenting over the missed opportunity and the bitter what-if that came with it. The thought, now hazy from time passed, seemed to be colored in this golden hue you couldn’t quite describe.

A sigh escaped from between your pale pink lips. 

The moment was captivating.

He was beguiling.

But until you run into him again, his very being in your mind lived rent free.

Hand adjusting the pale pink scarf wrapped around your neck, you stepped into the warm quaint bakery down by the office. The aroma of freshly baked bread and roasting coffee beans enveloped the otherwise packed store. It was still early on the day and otherwise sleep deprived workers were queuing up for their daily fix.

This had been your spot since renting a small office space to commute to. Given your need to separate home from work, you’ve opted to find a studio you could call your temporary ‘work room’. It added extra expense, you’d agree but the comfort of being in a sea of strangers going to and from added a sense of productivity you’d never quite get if you created a makeshift office in your one bedroom apartment downtown.

You squeezed your way towards the front to view the pastry selection when you spotted him.

The gentleman in question at the counter, clearly holding up the line. 

He flashed Sarah, your usual fixer as you joked, a tight smile filled with apologies and embarrassment. 

Destiny seemed to have heard your calls and to that you were grateful.

Not wanting to let this second chance encounter go to waste, you excused yourself to the register and deftly slid your card on the white granite counter.

“Hey Sarah, do you mind adding my order with his? And a one of your buttery croissants would be much appreciated.”

Her eyebrows raised, clearly wondering the reason behind your surprising actions. Eyes flickered to the stranger beside you muttering his light disagreeing reaction before nodding towards you, as if agreeing with what she saw. “One long black and a flat white coming right up.”

“Hey stranger, fancy seeing you here,” you cocked your head to the side, loose tendrils escaping the confines of your loose bun.

The same blush that haunted you graced his face. “Hey—hi, it’s you! It’s nice to see you again,” his fingers proceeded to fiddle with his leather worn wallet. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. Pay for my coffee, I mean.”

“It’s no problem at all, just think of it as my payment for the ride the other day and also a thank you for, you know, not turning out to be a killer, like you kept bringing up.”

He chuckled, eyes crinkling close. “Well, I just wanted to instill some extra caution in you. It’s good to think well of people in general but it doesn’t hurt to be wary of them either. Especially the statistics of you—a young woman being targeted is quite high no matter how safe Washington seems to be.”

“I did get an earful from my friend about the reckless act I did. So, safe to say I’ve learned my lesson—” you paused, flashing Sarah a smile as your hands wrapped around the steaming cup of coffee and the bag containing the pastry. “But between you and me, I think she was more miffed about something I didn’t do.”

He mimicked your movements and proceeded to guide you to the nearest available standing table, his free hand hovering near the small of your back. 

“And what was it?”

“Not getting your name.”

His free hand wrapped around the strap of his satchel, pulling it towards the front of his body as if it was a shield that could hide away the blush that slowly crept down his neck.

“I, yeah—Spencer. Spencer Reid.” 

You introduced yourself with the same enthusiasm, finally at ease for knowing who he was.

“Well then, Spencer Reid, was I really wrong or was that just a lie to throw my deductive skills off course?” your hands pushing the packets of sugar towards his steaming open cup.

He thank you silently, counting at least 8 packets of sugar before returning the remaining ones in the jar. “What do you mean?”

“You not working in finance.”

“Well statistically speaking, more than 43% of the offices located here don’t belong in the finance section,” he grinned. 

With his eyes twinkling, he further continued. “21% of those are actually the government sector while the remaining are a mixture of publishing, business, and IT.”

“You sprouting off statistics doesn’t really sway me from my guess, you do know that?” You hummed, watching him dump and stir all the sugar into his dark cup of Joe. The idea of how sweet it would be sent a slight shiver down your spine. “If not finance then hmm—what about teaching?”

Appraising his get up for the day—a purple button down layered with a seemingly fraying cardigan and a black overcoat. He reminded of you of those quirky university professors that students would have no problem having a crush on. 

“You look like a young college professor with a couple degrees under your belt. Maybe literature? Or math?”

An airy laughter emitted between his lips. “Why is it always returning back to math?”

“I truly don’t know—” you shrugged. “You look smart and academic so that’s my best guess.”

“There’s actually a statistic on how many academically gifted people end up in the field of science rather than in math but I don’t know if you’d like to hear it.”

You leaned forward. “I actually do but that would cement my idea of you in maths.”

A ring from his pocket interrupted his reply. Spencer clambered to answer the call even before its’ third ring. 

“Yeah. Okay, got it. 5 minutes.” 

Any humor or lightheartedness the conversation brought had been erased from his face. It must have been work and the gravity of his responsibility must be heavy—definitely not finance and maybe not a professor then.

“I have to go—” Spencer tightly smiled, hands pulling the satchel and drink closer to his body. “It was really nice seeing you again.” 

You nodded, wordlessly walking out of the shop with him. As he started to step away from your presence, he turned back one last time to further throw you off course.

“You were right about one thing.”

Brows furrowing together, you shout back. “Which one?”

Spencer just smiled and shrugged his shoulders before turning forward, picking up his pace and leaving you further baffled about his mystery.

**

The third—a run- in during an otherwise idle day

The white noise the train against its tracks threatened to lull you into a daze. Its compartment surprisingly sparse with occupants during this otherwise tranquil Saturday. Everyone seemed to be at nearby parks, watching the leaves slowly turn this red-orange hue.

Your companion in hand—a book with its spine cracked and front cover folded backwards, sat idly on your denim lap. It was a tattered and worn copy of Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. When you were in your teens, it had been the gateway to your love of classic literature and it had been your favorite ever since.

The bench you were seated on shifted and with it, medium brown brogues registered in your periphery.

Inwardly, you scoffed at the stranger invading your space when there were a multitude of empty seats available in your section. Briefly you wondered if this was going to be another day of being picked up by men who didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’ which inevitably would ruin your day. 

As you were debating on nicely excusing yourself away, the man cleared his throat.

“Hey—hi,” he sheepishly greeted in this voice that had been replaying in your head since that rainy weekday night. 

You blinked away the surprise—the bafflement that fate had seemed to cross your path with his again and again and again. It always happened when you least expected it. After all, you spent numerous days craning your neck for even a small glimpse of Spencer Reid to no avail. Your eyes would subconsciously sweep the streets for a view of any suede coat matched with a purple pattern scarf. It had been your own version of Where’s Waldo—a past time that your friend joined as you forbade her (and by extension, yourself) from looking him up online. 

You wanted to keep the mystery and it seemed fate was rewarding you today.

“Hi-hey Spencer. This is a surprise,” your cheeks stretching wide from the grin you gave him. 

His fingers brushed a nonexistent stray of hair behind his ears. “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it was you. The odds of ever seeing you again—or anyone I’d know on the train is low, with how many people Virginia has.”

“Isn’t it fascinating?” your hands closing the book that no longer held your attention. “How we seemed to just run into each other? Funny how that works.”

“I mean, you could say that—not that I believe in destiny or fate with how abstract and little scientific studies it has. Maybe we just run in the same small schedule or circle.”

Your eyebrow raised, appraising his look. 

His hair looked unruly—with one side more flattened the the other, possibly slept on. His clothes, although free from any stains that would indicate it as yesterday’s, had crease marks that were reminiscent of its folding. They were clean but also not pressed—came from the satchel then. The very same bag laying on his lap, no doubt filled with dirty laundry and other necessities.

“I don’t think so,” you pondered on. “Are you just on your way back home from work, by any chance?”

“How’d you know that?” His voice cracking at the end.

You shrugged. “I pick up on things, small details and all that.”

“That’s really good. Must come in handy with your work as a journalist.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised. “How’d you know that? How’d—what gave it away?”

“It was an educated guess which—” he flashed you a grin. “—you just confirmed now.”

“Touche. Although that does seem unfair,” you pouted. “You know my occupation but I can’t even get yours right.”

He tilted his head to the right, eyes twinkling with life that keeps you pulled in. “You’re welcome to guess. In fact, I could give you a clue if you wanted—” he paused waiting for your agreement which you readily gave. “—alright you were right about one thing the last time: the one about me having multiple degrees.”

“You look young so I’m guessing a genius?”

“Well, my co-workers do like to tease me as one and it is true so yeah. I am a genius.”

The way his eyes shifted showed how bashful he was in admitting out loud he was one. You briefly wondered if there was ever a time where he felt embarrassed about it—probably in high school, you’d surmise. Teenagers, after all, had the tendency to ostracize anyone who doesn’t fit the rigid status quo they’ve collectively agreed upon.

“That’s amazing!” You gushed. “And it does narrow it quite down, actually. Do you happen to work for the government? I mean, I’m sure they try to collect the best minds our country has to offer, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do work for the government. And you’re right, they do tend to employ gifted adults as a way to also surveillance them—to make sure they don’t turn into anti-statists or anarchists.”

You pondered over every detail he presented. Freshly manicured nails tapping on your leg before finally guessing. “Okay so, I was first going to say NASA because—” you shrugged. “—it’s space but then that would be too stereotypical of me to assume. Plus, you’ve thrown off just about any deductions I’ve made during our first two meetings—”

Spencer nodded. He seemed proud to listen to you ramble your way through. 

“—I was also going to guess administrative work but it’s a weekend and you’re just on your way home so that’s a no—”

A small spread on his face.

A good sign that you were in the right direction.

“—it can’t be the judiciary too, right? I always imagined them to be wearing neutral suits and have this stoic air around them—”

He chuckled.

“—so I’m guessing law enforcement? Can’t be a regular cop, they have uniforms. So, for the FBI? Or am I just reaching?”

Spencer vigorously nodded his head, the wavy tendrils tucked behind his ears escaping their confines. 

“That’s right! Wow—you’re really good at this. Maybe you should have also been scouted!” He teased.

You giggled, the happiness from getting it right and the idea of you working with a gun seemed ludicrous. “Sadly, I may be too clumsy for that kind of work. With my type of luck, I’d probably trip over my feet and mess up a crime scene.”

The automated voice announcing the next station broke through the lighthearted conversation. Spencer’s eyes widened ever so slightly, indicating that this was his stop.

“I guess this is it, huh? See you soon then, Spencer?”

He sandwiched his lower lip between his pearly teeth. “Would you be interested in purposefully seeing each other next time? I would love to get to know you more—over dinner? Coffee? Any would be great—you don’t have to say yes of course but yeah.”

“Can I say yes to all of the above?” You teased. “I would love to.”

Spencer started to get up, hands pulling on his satchel to secure it. The train was coming to a stop and you could begin to see the stop come into view.

Your hand quickly reached out to tug on his rolled sleeve. “Wait—how do we contact each other?”

“It’s tucked in your book. My number, I mean,” he laughed. The sound coaxing you to release your own. “See you!”

Your eyes tracked him getting off the train and his would meet yours one last time, before disappearing towards the station’s nearest exit. Your hands hastily opened the front page to where a new object was slotted in between without you knowing.

His calling card.

Federal Bureau of Investigation - Behavioral Analysis Unit SSA Dr. Spencer Reid 1-761-xxx-xxxx

Giggling, you fished your phone from the confines of your wallet and quickly sent out a text.

Hey. Are you a magician too, by any chance? 

**

The fourth or better yet, the planned first—two strings interwoven by fate

Spencer hadn’t been able to explain the circumstances that led him here tonight—walking through a nearby park in the sparkly but cold weekend night with a beautiful woman right by his side. 

The dinner date had gone surprisingly well. So great in fact that he didn’t want it to end. Suggesting to walk you back home rather than use his blue well beaten vehicle left parked near the restaurant was his idea to prolong the night. 

He was well aware that you both could be exposing yourselves to a seasonal bout of cold but for the first time, it didn’t matter to his overactive and over-analytical brain. Nor did it seem to matter to you—given with how vigorously she accepted his suggestion to walk. 

Your dainty right hand was wrapped around the bouquet of flowers he personally selected. An array of daisies, daffodils, and sedums.

Joy from having to meet you, to new beginnings, and affection.

Spencer wanted to convey what he had been feeling since that run-in the coffee shop. Regardless if you knew what they meant.

This was all uncharted territory and the incidents that brought them into each other’s worlds was baffling to say the least. 

Was this the really the works of fate?

Does this prove that destiny is true and the notion of having free choice is a lie we tell ourselves?

He concluded it probably didn’t matter.

All that mattered was where he was now—with you.

“So you really took all those degrees all together?” you clarified, eyes widening from disbelief. “The amount of studying and writing you’ve done must have been massive.”

“Well, it did help that I could read fast—20,000 words per minute, but I could still remember my hands cramping from the amount I had to type down.”

“Of course you can still remember, with your eidetic memory and all. That must be nice—never forgetting any novel you’ve read.”

He shrugged. “It does have it’s perks but between you and me, there is a downside to it.”

You halted in her step, staring inquisitively up at him. 

Spencer found it cute—how even with yout heeled boots on, you could only reach up to his chest. It gave him this sense of protectiveness over you being. 

“Oh yeah, like what?”

He pondered. “Well, we did have this one vampire case and one of the victim’s laptop password was ‘Cullen’ and I didn’t get the reference—thought it was ‘colon’ actually. So I decided to read the first book and didn’t like it.”

“You actually read ‘Twilight’?” You giggled. It sounded like wind chimes echoing through the trees.

“I was curious!” His voice went up an octave. “Is that what teens are reading, really? What ever happened to reading ‘Lord of the Flies’ or Franz Kafka during high school, for that matter?” 

“The one where a group of boys are stranded on an island or the one where the protagonist turns into a cockroach? Doesn’t really read romance for teen girls, Spencer.”

He chuckled. “And a 104 year old vampire does?”

“It’s about the idea,” you continued on walking, free hand swinging in between you—all he had to do was reach out and intertwine it with his but could he do that? Should he? Would she want that? “How Bella is your average, teen next door and someone like Edward, mysterious and handsome, could fall for her. It’s about the premise—I mean which teenage girl didn’t dream of something like that?”

“Does that include you too?”

You laughed. “I mean—Edward isn’t really my type but sure, I guess.”

Spencer decided to do it. He tentatively reached out his pinky to yours, looping them together.

There, a small touch you could say no to.

He waited for the reaction. From himself, there was a lack of worry for germs (this surprised him) and from you, the possibility of rejecting his small advances. With a breath lodged in his throat, Spencer watched a shy smile grace your face and cheeks turn further pink. 

Empowered by the reaction, he reached out to intertwine the rest of his freezing hand with yours and proceeded to tuck both into his coat pocket. Spencer felt his cheeks emit warmth, wondering where his courage came from. If Morgan just saw him now, no doubt he’d get a pat at the back and a whispered ‘you’ve got serious game, kid.’

“It’s a good thing he isn’t my type at all, don’t you think so?” You whispered. “I mean, you don’t sparkle in the sun, do you?”

His laughter echoed through the otherwise empty streets. 

“Oh god—that was so so bad. Ignore my cheesy flirting, please.”

“No, no,” he shook his head, feeling lightheaded from your presence. “I don’t think I do, actually. We could check—” clearing his throat “—once the weather gives way to the sun.”

It seemed like you got what he was subtly stating. “That long, huh? I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“Please do.”

Both your steps slowed to a stop in front of your apartment complex.

Spencer sighed under his breath, he really didn’t want the night to end. There was still so much to talk about—anything and nothing at the same time. Is this what they meant when they said time flies when you’re having fun? 

“Well,” you squeezed his hand twice. “This is it. I had fun tonight, Spencer.”

He squeezed back in return. “I did too. Can I—call you again?”

You nodded, a single tendril of hair escaping from its' loose bun.

Mesmerized, Spencer reached forward and secured it behind your reddening ear. “Get home safe.”

“I doubt anything would happen between my way up from the elevator to my door but I will. Drive safe and let me know you got in safely, got it?”

He reluctantly let go of your hand, slowly backing away without turning his back on you. Each second seeing you bundled up in a coat with flowers still on hand was an image he never wanted to forget, never wanted to miss.

As he was a few steps away, the wind carried your sweet voice to his ears.

“Hey, Spencer. There’s one thing I think you forgot to take with you.” 

He patted his coat, unsure as to what you were pertaining to. Eyes scanning his being when the distinct sound of your heels against the pavement, getting closer and closer, made him look up.

A pair of soft warm lips met his cheeks. 

“Goodnight, Spencer.”

His jaw dropped. The act short circuited his otherwise intelligent brain. It felt like every thought had dropped away, turning insignificant, compared to the tensed silence between two individuals once considered strangers but now intertwined in a way he could not explain in any language he knew. 

Little white specks floated down from the sky, coloring the moment in the lightest color ever possible—a hue that symbolized new beginnings.

Before his mind could catch up, Spencer felt himself moving.

Towards you.

Closing in. 

Cupping your cheeks.

And meeting his own lips with the ones that short circuited his brain.

In that moment, all he could comprehend was the smell of you—like freshly cleaned laundry dried under the sun. The taste of you—cherries with a hint of the red wine you drank over dinner. And the feel of you—warm, hands grasping his coat tight, flowers dropped on the ground, momentarily forgotten.

These were details he willed to engrave in his eidetic memory. Observations he doesn’t want to forget.

And you, the single woman he hopes to never lose.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[childrenofcain-if]

After knowing that C and MC were in the same high school, I'm rooting even more for them. I'm also guessing C's confusing feelings for us in their route is them liking us since school? That's so freaking cute 🥰🥺

Can I ask for a scenario where they have a group project with other people and one of them gets very flirty with MC? Will C let that slide, I wonder 🫤

the diner sat on the corner of a street that tried its hardest to look charming but failed, the neon sign buzzing faintly against the rain-streaked window.

it was one of those places that seemed plucked from a movie set: vinyl booths, chrome napkin dispensers, and a jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked since the last century. the smell of grease hung heavy in the atmosphere, mixing with the faint sweetness of syrup from the breakfast specials they served all day.

you sat in the booth, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook, watching the door with mild dread. when C walked in, you knew the meeting was about to get infinitely more complicated.

C spotted you immediately, their sharp chalcedony green eyes narrowing like they’d been assigned a particularly irritating math problem. they weren’t dressed for the rain, but their aldervale prep blazer was immaculate, not a drop of water on it, as though the universe had conspired to shield them from the rain outside. although, you guessed it was most probably because of the black umbrella that they were carrying.

C slid into the booth across from you without a word, placing a pristine leather notebook on the table. their pen—silver, of course—clicked once. twice. a quick rhythm that made your teeth itch.

“you’re late,” you said.

“i’m exactly on time,” C replied, their voice clipped like the word ‘time’ had too many syllables and they were doing you a favor by saying it quickly.

your two other group members—darcy and lowe—arrived moments later, looking both nervous and excited, as though they’d stumbled into the VIP lounge of a club they didn’t belong to.

darcy, her backpack practically bursting with highlighters, was vibrating with energy. lowe looked more like they’d been dragged here against their will, though their eyes lit up when they spotted the milkshake menu.

you exchanged pleasantries, ordered drinks, and got down to business.

the topic was seattle, your city, and you were supposed to collectively dissect and analyze for the sake of some interdisciplinary project that combined geography, economics, and, for reasons you still didn’t understand, poetry.

“seattle,” you began, flipping open your notebook, “has many layers to it. you have the tech billionaires building spaceships on one side and grunge bands writing songs about the end of the world on the other. i think we should focus on how those contradictions make it unique.”

“that’s pretty reductive,” C cut in, not bothering to look up from their notebook. “seattle’s economy is primarily driven by tech, aviation, and trade. if we’re going to present a meaningful analysis, we should focus on its economic impact on washington state as a whole.”

darcy and lowe exchanged nervous glances. you clenched your jaw.

“not everything has to be about numbers, lacroix,” you said. “people care about stories, not spreadsheets. we can talk about the economy, sure, but we should start with what makes the city feel alive. the art, the culture—”

“and completely ignore the practical context?” C’s gaze lifted then, their expression somewhere between exasperation and boredom. “that’s like writing about a chess game and leaving out the strategy. completely pointless.”

“it’s not exactly pointless if it makes people care,” you shot back.

the argument spiraled from there, gaining momentum like a runaway train. darcy and lowe sat frozen, their eyes darting between you like spectators at a particularly intense boxing match.

“maybe we should, uh, toss a coin?” darcy offered weakly, her voice barely audible over your bickering.

C smirked, pulling a coin from their pocket as though they’d been waiting for this moment to occur this whole time. you selected tails and they flipped it, caught it, and slapped it onto the back of their hand.

“heads,” they announced, triumphant.

you groaned. “of course.”

“don’t be a sore loser, starkid,” C said, their tone practically dripping with smugness. “we’ll just have to do it my way this time.”

“fine,” you muttered, slumping back against the booth.

the tension eased slightly as the waitress arrived with your food—burgers, fries, and milkshakes that lowe declared were ‘the best in the neighbourhood’ despite never having tried any others.

you talked about school, about the upcoming math test and the cafeteria food which had reduced in quality after some new kitchen staff got employed. darcy was surprisingly funny, and lowe had a good bank of knowledge on obscure sports trivia.

C, however, remained quiet. they ate slowly, like each bite was a boring task to be completed. their posture was rigid, their eyes rarely leaving their plate.

it wasn’t until the conversation turned to favorite places in washington that you noticed something shift. darcy was talking about summers spent hiking in olympic national park, her voice full of nostalgia. lowe mentioned a family road trip to mount rainier.

“so, lacroix,” you said, turning towards the grumpy brunette. “penny for your thoughts?”

they blinked, clearly startled that you’d addressed them directly. “i... i’ve never been to any of those places.”

the table fell silent. even darcy looked surprised.

“seriously?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

they shrugged, their gaze fixed on the condensation dripping down the water glass. “i haven’t lived in washington as long as you all have. besides, i’m not exactly the adventurous type. i just… don’t see the point of, you know, wandering around aimlessly. it’s not like the city’s going anywhere.”

darcy, being the idealist she was, tried to lift the mood. “well, maybe you should visit some of those places one day! olympic’s amazing—especially the hoh rainforest.”

C didn’t respond. they just nodded, their lips pressed into a thin line.

for a moment, you felt something almost like sympathy. C, the untouchable perfectionist, didn’t seem know how to belong in places like this—in diners that smelled like burnt coffee, in conversations that meandered without purpose. they were as out of place here as a chessboard at a football game.

you then frowned, something tugging at the edges of your chest. you remembered hearing something once—maybe in passing, maybe during some rare moment of C opening up in class—that their parents had divorced when they were ten. that they’d moved to seattle from rochester, new york, with their mother, who worked long hours and didn’t have time for much else.

you didn’t know why you said it. maybe it was the way their voice had dipped, the way their composure seemed dulled. but the words came anyway. “maybe we could all go somewhere. for the project, i mean.”

C’s head snapped up, their green eyes narrowing like they were trying to decipher a riddle. for a moment, you thought they were going to say something cruel—an insult that’d have you getting angry again. but then their gaze softened, just a fraction.

“why?” they asked, the word almost inaudible.

you shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “i don’t know. it might help. plus, you can’t live like a hermit forever while you’re at washington.”

they stared at you for what felt like a long time, their expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, they nodded. wordlessly, awkwardly.

you thought you saw something flicker across their face then—something like a smile, small and fleeting, gone almost as quickly as it came.

for the rest of the meeting, C avoided your gaze. and as you all filed out of the diner, the rain starting up again in soft patters against the window, you found yourself wondering why you’d even offered.

but the truth was, you already knew. sometimes, your heart reached out before your brain could catch up. and for reasons you didn’t fully understand at the moment, it had reached for them.

the day began under a gauzy layer of mist that hung low over seattle. the clouds seemed reluctant to rise and the air carried a faint, damp chill.

lowe’s BMW 5 smelled faintly of peppermint gum and an air freshener that promised ‘ocean breeze’ but delivered something closer to what you’d find at a more eccentric section of bath & body works.

you sat on the passenger seat, your elbow resting against the door, the window cracked open to let in the air. darcy and C were in the backseat, the former preoccupied with her camera, snapping pictures of the dashboard, the sky, and the brunette beside her, who looked like they were already regretting agreeing to this trip.

the car wove its way through the city, past coffee shops with hand-painted signs and streets lined with rain-slicked trees.

lowe, ever the conversationalist, started talking about the destination—a landmark tucked away in one of seattle’s greener corners. but at some point, the conversation shifted, becoming less about the destination and more about you.

“y’know,” lowe said, their voice taking on a teasing lilt as they glanced at you, “i’m really happy we’re doing this. i was always curious about how it’d be to hang out with you outside of school”

you blinked, caught off guard. “um, thanks? that’s nice of you to say.” you gave them a polite smile, the kind you might offer a friendly cashier.

C, sitting stiffly in the backseat, was less amused. they had been glaring at the back of lowe’s head for the past ten minutes, their jaw tight, their arms crossed. every tap of lowe’s fingers, every casual joke, seemed to grate on them like nails on a chalkboard.

darcy, oblivious, was busy snapping pictures with her camera, capturing the rain-slick streets and the way the trees blurred as the car sped past. she hummed under her breath, the shutter clicking steadily, her energy so light and cheerful it was almost its own soundtrack.

finally, C, who had been silent up until now, shifted in their seat with a sharp huff.

“lowe,” they spoke up, their tone clipped, “maybe focus on the road instead of hitting on that idiot right in front of us.”

you squawked in indignation at being called an ‘idiot,’ not exactly getting what else they were implying.

meanwhile, lowe startled, their hands tightening on the steering wheel. “what? i wasn’t—” they caught C’s glare in the rearview mirror and quickly relented. “right. sorry. road. eyes on the road.”

you glanced back at C, confused by the sudden shift in the mood. their jaw was tight, their arms crossed over their chest, and they avoided your gaze entirely. you thought about asking what their problem was but decided against it. the day was too early, and you didn’t want to start bickering already.

the destination turned out to be kerry park. you stepped out of the car and stretched, looking around with a grin. your group followed suit and, after taking your backpacks, trudged up the steep streets of queen anne.

the park was small, unassuming—just a sliver of land carved into the hill, a place where the city stretched out beneath you like a quilt stitched together by architects, lovers of symmetry, and disarray alike.

from here, seattle wasn’t a city so much as a panorama, framed by the wide arms of the sound and the occasional, fleeting glimpses of mount rainier, pale and insubstantial like the ghost of a mountain in the distance.

the rain hadn’t yet started, though the air smelled of wet concrete and petrichor, gave you an indication that it wouldn’t hold off for long.

darcy had already pulled her camera out, its strap slung around her neck as she wandered a few feet ahead, her voice rising and falling as she described the perfect angles for her shots. lowe was by your side, gesturing dramatically at the view as if they were a tour guide instead of a co-conspirator.

C, who had followed at a distance and was now leaning against a nearby rail, their arms crossed and their face set in a scowl.

“lacroix,” you called over your shoulder, your tone light, inviting. “you should come and look around with us. it’s cool.”

they raised an eyebrow, their expression unimpressed. “thrilling, i’m sure.”

lowe shot them a weird look but said nothing, their attention soon snapping to follow darcy on her photoshoots.

you turned fully to face C. “you don’t have to be so grumpy, you know.”

“i’m not grumpy,” they snapped grumpily.

you sighed, letting it go for now. instead, you wandered over to the railing where they stood, resting your elbows on the cool metal as you gazed out at the view.

“this place means a lot to me,” you began, glancing at C. they didn’t respond, but they didn’t walk away either, so you took that as permission to continue.

“when i was little, my dad used to bring me here. we’d spend hours looking at the birds. he had this old, beat-up field guide he carried everywhere. i still remember the smell of it—old paper and leather. he’d flip through it so fast, trying to identify every bird we saw. i think he liked the challenge of it.”

C’s features softened, almost imperceptibly, as they listened.

“there was this one time,” you said, your voice growing warm with the memory, “we saw a bald eagle perched on one of the trees. it was so close, you could see the feathers on its chest ruffling in the wind. my dad was so excited, he nearly dropped his binoculars in a muddy puddle.”

you laughed. C smiled. it was not their usual arrogant smirk, but something too genuine to be described without it being an understatement.

even darcy noticed as she was snapping pictures of passers-by under the railing where you and C were leaning against.

from behind her camera, she whispered, “i think i just saw a miracle,” before snapping a picture.

in the photo, you were looking up at the sky, your face alight with wonder. and beside you, C was looking at you—not the sky, not the birds, but you. their expression was so unguarded, so tender, it made darcy pause, her finger hovering over the shutter button.

“and it’s not just the view or the birds,” you continued, your voice picking up momentum as you spoke. “there’s this whole history to it. did you know the park was named after albert sperry kerry? he was this big real estate guy in the early 1900s. probably bulldozed a lot of land to make a fortune. but this place? this tiny slice of the city? he gave it back. said he wanted people to have a place to breathe, to see things differently.”

you glanced over at C, expecting the usual sardonic remark, but they were watching you with an expression you didn’t expect—soft, almost eager, like they could never get tired of you talking about things like these.

“i guess i just like thinking about that,” you said, your voice trailing off as you turned back to the horizon. “how even someone who takes and takes can give something so beautiful.”

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. then, quietly, C said, “you really are a nerd, aren’t you?”

you laughed, the sound bright and unexpected, and while you didn’t have C laughing alongside you, you had a distinct feeling that they were too distracted by a certain someone to do so.

lunch was a quiet affair. you all sat on a damp wooden bench overlooking the trees. you plopped down beside C without a second thought, your shoulder brushing theirs as you unwrapped your sandwich.

C stiffened, their gaze flicking to you in surprise.

“you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, already halfway through your first bite.

they shook their head, though they looked puzzled, as if trying to understand why you’d willingly sit next to them when lowe was right there, still buzzing with laughter after a joke darcy shared with them.

“thanks for listening to me earlier,” you said softly.

C cleared their throat, their voice rough when they replied, “no problem.”

you still gave them a smile despite their (apparent) surly mood before turning back to your sandwich.

C looked down at their own food, their expression unreadable, but there was a faint hint of pink dusting the tip of their ears.

maybe, C concluded, the whole practical aspects of the project could take a backseat for now. it seemed like they didn’t mind focusing on the people of the city after all—or maybe it was just this infuriatingly intelligent seattle native that they couldn’t stop smiling for.

you wondered if the extreme makeover crew ever came to take darcy’s house as an inspiration for a lot of their renovations. it was a gleaming two-storey in a neighborhood where the lawns were manicured to within an inch of their lives and the houses all had names like “birchwood” or “côte d’azur.”

her parents were insanely successful real estate agents and it showed in every detail, from the perfectly symmetrical hydrangeas flanking the front door to the wrought-iron chandelier hanging in the entryway.

her room was a microcosm of the house itself: spacious and spotless. honestly, it made you want to take your shoes off just to avoid dirtying the carpet.

the walls were painted a muted teal, lined with shelves holding an army of books and a smattering of knick-knacks from trips abroad. there was a citrus-like scent around, and her plush white comforter made her bed look like a stratocumulus cloud.

you all sat cross-legged on her floor, laptops and papers spread out in a semi-circle as you planned out your presentation. ‘soren’ by beabadoobee was playing from darcy’s bluetooth speaker and the conversation was punctuated with bursts of laughter—mostly lowe’s loud, carefree chuckles and darcy’s softer, chiming giggles.

C, true to form, sat slightly apart, their long legs folded under them, their expression guarded but not unkind. they were listening more than talking, as always, their gaze darting between everyone like they were trying to keep up without wanting to look too interested.

“okay, but what if we start with the history of seattle, like the gold rush and all that, and then connect it to how the city evolved into this tech hub?” you suggested, glancing at C for approval.

the green-eyed brunette nodded once, their expression unreadable. “that works. it gives us a narrative to build on.”

lowe sidled up to you with an encouraging smile. “you’re always full of good ideas. i swear we’re going to ace this project at this rate.”

you laughed lightly, not catching the undertone. “it’s a group effort, lowe.”

“yeah, lowe,” darcy said, rolling her eyes in an annoyed manner from her spot near the window. “you’re really laying it on thick.”

you tried to smile it off but you couldn’t help but notice that she seemed almost... angry at lowe about something. the latter, on the other hand, was not meeting her eyes at all.

as if that wasn’t weird enough, you caught C stiffening out of the corner of your eye, their fingers tightening around their pen.

the awkwardness simmered quietly for a while, manifesting only in the way C’s responses grew shorter, their gaze darting less toward the group and more toward the window, where the rain streaked against the glass.

it wasn’t until lowe leaned closer to you, their voice dropping just enough to feel pointed, that the tension finally broke. “y’know, if you ever want to grab coffee or something after all this, i know a great place near pike place. it’s got this cozy corner that’d be perfect for—”

“i’m getting some water,” C announced abruptly, standing so quickly their chair scraped loudly against the floor.

the room fell silent for a beat as C walked away, their footsteps echoing down the hall. darcy glanced at you, then at lowe, and then back at you.

“you should go talk to them,” she said softly.

“what?” you asked, surprised.

“just... go,” she urged, nodding toward the door. “i think they need to hear from you.”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between the door and the others. but there was something in the way darcy looked at you, a quiet insistence that made you realise the urgency she was feeling. besides, with the way she turned her attention to lowe with a scathing glare, you did not want to get in between whatever they had going on.

so you stood, mumbling something about being right back, and headed for the kitchen.

you found C by the sink, their back to you, their hands braced against the counter. the faucet was running, though the glass they were holding was still empty.

“hey,” you said tentatively, stepping into the room.

they didn’t turn around. “what do you want?”

“i just... wanted to check on you,” you said, your voice faltering. “you looked kind of... i don’t know, upset?”

C finally turned, their chalcedony green gaze indecipherable and cagey. “i’m fine. you can go back to lowe now. you two were having such a great time.”

their tone was harsh, and it made you blink in surprise.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

C rolled their eyes, the motion exaggerated, almost theatrical. “don’t play dumb. it was obvious you two were flirting.”

you sighed, caught between disbelief and frustration. “we weren’t flirting. that’s probably just how lowe is. they were just being friendly.”

C let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound more of a bark. “you’re an absolute dunderhead if you believe that. lowe wasn’t just flirting for fun—they meant it.”

you felt heat rising to your face, your irritation bubbling over. “okay, first of all, stop insulting me. and second, would you please stop ruining everything with your assumptions.”

C flinched, just barely, but it was enough to make you pause. their voice dropped, colder now. “maybe i should’ve asked the teacher to switch groups. if my presence bothers you that much—”

“maybe you should have,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “then maybe we wouldn’t have to deal with you being a burden all the time.”

for a moment, the kitchen was deathly silent except for the faint patter of rain against the window. C’s face twisted, not with anger but with something closer to hurt, and you immediately regretted what you’d said.

“okay,” they said quietly, their voice flat. “i’ll let myself out then.”

before you could say anything, before you could take it back, they were already walking up to the front door and reaching for their umbrella, their movements mechanical as they stepped toward the door. the rain outside had picked up, a relentless downpour that blurred the edges of the world.

you wanted to say something, to fix the fracture you’d caused, but the words wouldn’t come out on time.

C stepped into the rain without hesitation, the door clicking shut behind them. you stood frozen, the echo of their retreating footsteps mingling with the sound of the storm.

your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides as you stared at the front door. you wanted to curse. to rewind the last five minutes and unsay every single word.

you ran a hand through your hair, muttering something unintelligible under your breath as you paced. your foot caught on the corner of the coffee table, and in your aggravation, you stumbled forward, knocking over the pile of photographs darcy had laid out so carefully.

“great,” you muttered, crouching down to gather the scattered pictures.

they were glossy and vibrant, capturing moments from your trip to kerry park just two days ago. you hadn’t paid much attention to them before, but now, as you picked up photo after photo, a pattern began to emerge.

in nearly every image, C was looking at you.

your fingers froze on a picture where their smile was so open, so completely unlike their usual self, that it felt almost like intruding on a scene you weren’t supposed to see. their dimples were unmistakable, softening the sharpness of their features in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

in another photo, they were standing slightly behind you, their chalcedony green eyes focused entirely on you as you pointed out something in the distance, completely oblivious to their adoring attention.

for a moment, you just sat there on the floor, staring at the pictures, the edges of the glossy paper dampening under your trembling fingers. then, as if pulled by an invisible string, you stood.

darcy had made her way to the living room and said something as you made for the door, but her words were lost to the roaring in your ears.

the rain hit you like a wall as you stepped outside, cold and relentless, soaking through your clothes in seconds. but you didn’t care. your feet moved on instinct, splashing through puddles as you ran down the street. it was a foolish thing to do, running in a storm like this, but every step felt like it was carrying you closer to something you couldn’t name but desperately needed to reach.

you didn’t know which way C went exactly, but you had a feeling.

and then, through the curtain of rain, you saw them.

C was standing under their umbrella, their posture stiff as they glanced down the street. the soft glow of their phone screen illuminated their face, but they weren’t scrolling or texting. they were waiting for an uber, probably. or maybe just waiting for the storm to pass.

you skidded to a stop, breathless and drenched. when they turned and spotted you, their eyes widened incredulously like you’d just teleported there.

“what the hell are you doing?” they demanded, their voice rising over the rain as they speed-walked up to you, umbrella in hand. they immediately held it over both of you, shielding you from the worst of the downpour. “have you finally lost your mind? you’re going to catch a cold!”

you were out of breath, your chest heaving as the water dripped from your lashes, but you didn’t care. “i’m sorry.”

C blinked, their mouth opening slightly as if they were going to argue, but you kept going. “i’m sorry for what i said. i didn’t mean it. you’re not a burden, C. i’ve never ever thought of you like that. the truth is—”

your words caught in your throat, the weight of them almost too much. but you forced them out. “the truth is, i’ve had a great time doing this project with you. i really didn’t mean any of it—about switching groups, about ruining things, you being a burden. i’m glad we got paired together, even if you drive me completely insane sometimes.”

“are you done?” they asked gruffly, though their tone lacked its usual edge.

you nodded sheepishly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

they sighed, lowering their gaze for a moment before meeting yours again. “i had a great time too. you... you made me see the city in a way i never had before. you made me appreciate it. i...” they sighed, “i was being too stubborn and i shouldn’t have given you a hard time with everything. and... i don’t mind your company, even if you’re way too dense sometimes to see what’s in front of you the whole time.”

the sincerity in their voice made your breath catch. right now, all you could do was stare at them and bask in the warmth they made you feel.

you admired the way their dark brown hair curled slightly at the edges, damp and clinging to their skin. the way the rain caught in their lashes, making their chalcedony green eyes glow as though a thousand hues were shifting like sunlight through sea glass. the way their fair skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the sharpness of their cheekbones, the curve of their lips, soft and slightly parted.

they shifted under your gaze, their cheeks suddenly flushing pink.

“what?” they snapped. “why are you ogling me?”

but you didn’t answer. at least not with words.

before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped forward, leaning in until your lips brushed against theirs in a kiss that felt as inevitable as the rain falling around you.

C froze, their eyes wide in shock and disbelief before they pulled back, their fingers flying to their lips.

“i’m so sorry,” you blurted out, the heat rising to your face as you realized what you’d just done. your heart was sinking in absolute shame. “i—”

but before you could finish, C let the umbrella drop to the ground with a soft clatter. rain cascaded over both of you as they grabbed your face with trembling hands as they surged forward, their lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt.

the world seemed to fall away in that moment, leaving only the two of you, your hands tangling in the fabric of their rain-soaked sweater as their fingers threaded themselves in your wet hair. it was cold, sure, but their kiss was warm, searing, as if it had been waiting to catch sparks all along.

your clothes were drenched and your hair was practically plastered to your face, but it didn’t matter. nothing else mattered.

it wasn’t until the honk of a car horn shattered the moment that you finally broke apart, both of you panting as you turned to see the waiting uber that C had previously booked.

C’s face turned crimson as they also turned to look at the car, their expression mortified and exasperated at the same time.

“putain,” they muttered under their breath before grabbing your arm and their umbrella. they then shut it quickly and tugged you toward the vehicle.

the uber driver, to his credit, said nothing as you both slid into the backseat, though the faint twitch of his lips and the knowing look he gave you two in the rearview mirror didn’t go unnoticed.

“could this day get any more embarrassing?” C asked as they crossed their arms over their chest, staring determinedly out the window.

“uh huh,” you mumbled, still in a daze from what just happened.

“that was my first kiss, you know,” C muttered.

you turned to them, still not registering their words. “you’re so gorgeous.”

C scowled, their blush deepening. “shut up, you dolt. you’re not even listening to me.”

but when their hand crept over to cover yours, you couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread across your face.

[bitchface24-7]

V, you gotta be lacing your fics with something because I literally dreamed Jayvik last night… I’m fighting my demons on if I should write this but regardless I’m gonna throw the idea out there. Because who better than The Jayvik messiah to bless my feed once more.

  Waitress!Reader, who is a new hire at a local bistro. Quickly becoming Jayce and Viktor's favorite waitress. After Viktor suggests Jayce take a break from all the fancy dinners and embrace a simpler style of dining. They are both just enamored by Readers hospitality after they mention it's their first time/first time in a while. Leaving a generous tip. (could be a tip or a tiiip)

Go crazy go stupid. I’m positive you will COOK.

ORDER UP! - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Viktor and Jayce have horrendous eating habits. Too focused on their work to properly take at least a thirty-minute break to eat. You'd think after Jayce became a counsellor his eating habits would become better, nope! The “meals” they serve during meetings couldn’t even fill up a baby poro.

While Jayce was away as a counsellor, Viktor was alone in the lab. One day when he was incredibly frustrated, he took a break. He left the lab and went to a quaint diner called Roadside Revival. He ate amazing food and met a beautiful waitress; You. He needs to bring Jayce here STAT.

warnings: unhealthy eating habits, flirting, favouritism, pre-established JV (they want that cookie (you) SO BAD), reader is very sweet and called the boys honey and sugar; they love it like flowers in the sun, reader treats everyone else like Max from "2 Broke Girls" (one scene is inspired by the show), smoking, suggestive content sprinkled throughout (and especially at the end)

genre: m/m/f

p.s. the way this request was worded made me wheeze. THE JAYVIK MESSIAH?!?!?? Is that what I'm going go be known as? I'm not complaining! Does that make y'all my commune? Do I need to get a dark blue blanket and wear it cuntily?

Viktor wants to rip his hair out. The equations aren't equaling, the rune sequence isn't working, he's tired, his back hurts, he hasn't eaten in several hours, and he misses Jayce.

One of those problems gets a solution almost immediately, when Jayce walks through the lab doors with a beaming smile.

Viktor feels his lips twitch at the excitable energy Jayce exudes. His mere presence makes Viktor more relaxed.

“I’m starving! Those portions they give out are horrendous! I'm telling you, V, they're like five strands of spaghetti and two meatballs if you're lucky. I'm a big boy, I need to eat!”

Viktor smirks and slowly stands up from his chair, walking over to his partner, “You are a big boy but don't lie. Your eating habits are just as bad as mine.” Viktor pulls Jayce in close with his cane and kisses him, enjoying how Jayce surrounds him. His warmth, his scent. Him.

Jayce smiles into the kiss and pulls away with a small giggle, “Oh shut up. Speaking of food, have you eaten?”

Viktor looks away with a fake look of innocence.

“Viktor.”

“What?”

“Have you eaten today? A glass of sweet milk and a singular piece of toast don't count.”

There's a small silence before Viktor sighs dramatically, “No I haven't, BUT—” he says the last word loudly, to prevent Jayce from scolding him, “There’s this diner I've been frequenting, the Roadside Revival. Many different dishes, amazing portions, and fairly priced. I've been planning to take you there when we both had the time so we could get an actual tasty meal in this godforsaken city.”

Jayce quirks an eyebrow, “Really? Tell me more.” he states as he puts his hand on Viktor’s lower back as they leave and lock the lab.

He's been dying for some good food from— somewhere! He's getting sick of cooking all the time, he wants a place he can go to when he's lazy. With Viktor's praise, this might be the place.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your shift is going well, thank god. With how shitty some of the other shifts have been, you were wondering when you were going to crash out and hit a customer.

An annoying snapping takes you out of your thoughts, and you have to reign in your sigh. These two uppity academy students are treating you like a dog. You'll see if they appreciate the sentiment.

You sway over to their table, "Hey, what can I getcha?" Before the guy can even finish his sentence, you're snapping your fingers centimeters away from his face.

"Was that annoying?" You snap your fingers again and the two customers look stunned. "Is that obnoxious and rude?" You rhetorically ask, snapping once more, "Would you find that distracting if someone did that to you when you were working? Oh! You don't have a job, sorry. " The other guy snickers and you shoot him a glare. He shuts up. "I'm not on your side either buddy, you're just as bad as your friend for allowing him to act like that."

You look at snappy one last time, "You think this," You snap your fingers in his face, "is the sound that gets you service. I think this is the sound that dries up my vagina."

And with that, you saunter away, not taking their order.

You start to clean up the bar area when the jingle of the door catches your attention, you go to make your usual greeting, "Hi, welcome to Roadside Revival! What can I--" you stop in your tracks when you see your favourite customer Viktor and a man you've only seen on mugs and posters across town.

A beaming smile lights up your face, "Viktor, honey, you made it! I was wondering if you were coming in today! I would've had to drink the pitcher of sweet milk all on my own!"

Viktor dramatically gasps and raises a hand to his chest in mock offence, "That's betrayal of the highest order."

A smirk grazes your red lips, "That's what you get for making a lady wait. Your usual booth?"

Viktor smiles with a slight nod, you pick up two menus and bring him to what you consider to be the ultimate booth. It's right next to large windows, where you can get the warmth of the sun and a nice breeze of ac. There's quite a few trees so you're not blinded and can comfortably talk with anyone you're sitting with.

"Here ya go! Sorry for not introducing myself," You state to Viktor's companion, you point to your oval name badge and say your name, "and I'll be your waitress for today! I just got so excited seeing my favourite customer! So... can I start you off with any drinks?"

Viktor says nothing, his sweet milk pitcher is waiting for him. Jayce furrows his brows and says, "Coffee will do, thank you." You lightly scrunch your nose and say, "Fair warning Golden Boy, the coffee is kind of shit. But if you order any other variation, like a cappuccino, mocha, french vanilla, I have to make it. And it'll actually be consumable."

Jayce huffs a laugh, "It's Jayce. I'll take your advice then, may I please have an iced mocha?"

You giggle as you lean away from the handsome man, "A man after my own heart, think I'll call you sugar. With manners like that you're as sweet as can be."

You turn around to get their drinks, and because of this you don't see Viktor's smirk and Jayce's flushed face.

"Now you see why I like coming here." Viktor calmly states as he looks through the menu, Jayce's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"Is she like that with everyone?"

Viktor looks up and lightly crooks his head to the side, silently telling Jayce to look over, there you are, a grimace on your face as a customer tries to flirt with you. He can't hear what you're saying, but he hears your tone, and it's irritated.

"No. She isn't."

And for some reason, Jayce smiles and straightens his spin, feeling special.

"Honey?" He questions. Viktor blushes and mumbles, "Because of my eyes. She said they remind her of honey and I'm just as sweet to look at."

Jayce laughs at his partners expression, and in his flustered state; Viktor kicks him underneath the booth with his stronger leg. Jayce yelps in pain. Viktor got the last laugh, his partner is making fun of him. How rude!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're hustling your ass off to try to keep the customers happy. Serving drinks, food, topping up coffee and water. Your energy is waning. You want to kill your co-worker.

She's currently getting fucked in the walk in freezer as you bust you ass off for ungrateful assholes. One older gentleman grunts, "Where's my waitress?! It's been fifteen minutes!" Before you can reply, a loud moan is heard throughout the diner, "She's cumming!" You say with a giggle, knowing the old man won't get the double-entendre.

You're finally able to bring the sweet milk and mocha to your-- now two favourite customers.

"You have an idea of what you want to eat?"

The two nod and hand you their menus. You can't help but smile at them, so sweet, so polite, so handsome.

God you wish you were your co-worker in the walk-in freezer getting your shit plowed by your honey and sugar. Fuck, they'd probably feel so good, and actually make you cum. Your poor purple bullet vibrator can finally take a break.

The rest of your shift went well, you tried your best to stay by Viktor and Jayce's table, trying to maintain your sanity. They leave an incredibly generous tip, like enough to pay your rent generous. You try to deny it, but they insist. You can't say no to them.

The only upside is what happens at the end of your shift, after you've closed up the diner.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slowly but surely, the other customers left. Jayce and Viktor stayed behind, offering to walk you home since it got dark out. Having playful banter, flirting, and too-long touches.

It's only when the three of you left the diner and were relaxing outside during the fresh evening breeze did what you've been fantasizing about was about to come to fruition.

You lean against the wall of the diner, pulling out a cigarette and light it. You take a small hit and appreciate the nicotine relaxing you. You feel a grasp on your wrist and look to see Viktor bring the cigarette up to his own lips. Jayce gasps.

"Viktor! Seriously?! You smoke? Isn't that bad, worse due to your condition."

Viktor exhales and the smoke comes out as a ring, "Let me be hypocritical Jayce. I'm dying, let me enjoy a few pleasures in life." his lips are tinted pink due to the residue of your lipstick on the filter of the cigarette.

You want to see his pale skin covered in kiss marks, bruises, and hickeys. You subtly look to Jayce, you want to see his hair messy, no longer swept up due to his pomade. You want to see scratch lines down his back, angry and red; maybe even a little bloody.

"There's more pleasure's in life than just smoking a cigarette." You say, hitting your cigarette again, the end lighting up a burnt orange; you flick the ask onto the floor and exhale the smoke. "Pretty sure your pretty boy here is more than willing to show you. What a polite man, he also take directions well." You state, remembering asking for Jayce to help with certain aspects of cleaning the diner and he did so; without question.

Viktor smirks and Jayce sputters.

"You're not wrong." Viktor adds, Jayce just flushes a darker red. You giggle and bring your cigarette to your lips, Viktor continues, "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you also follow instructions well?"

You smirk, giving Viktor the rest of the cigarette, his lips darken even more.

"Give me a good reason to."

Viktor and Jayce share a dark look. You feel your face lightly heat up.

"We'll get you to moan louder than your co-worker did in the back." his accent his thick, and Jayce bites his lip and adds, "And we won't stop until that pretty makeup you have on is smeared all over your face."

You hum and cross your arms over your chest, your tits moved up through the open unzipped portion of your dress. The two men's eyes dart down immediately; looking lecherously.

"So... your place or mine?"

Jayce smiles, his dimples popping through. He puts a hand on your lower back as you three start to walk.

"Ours." Viktor states, his cane thumping rhythmically on the sidewalk, "Unless you want to fuck in an allyway, I don't think any of us have the patience to walk to yours."

You nod, "Fair point."

You may not have gotten the dicking down you wanted during your shift, but at least you're getting it afterwards.

A win is a win.

The inspiration train hit me, and the cackles and wheezes I made when reading this request, oh jeez I sounded like I was dying. But anyway, chat did I cook? Love ya ❤️

[crappymixtape]

stand on my own

after months of begging, steve finally takes you home to meet his parents – you've been together for over a year and he doesn't talk about them much, but once you meet them you begin to understand why *18+ only | ( 3K words – TW: verbal abuse, almost physical abuse, both from steve's dad – angst, hurt / comfort, sprinkle of fluff, est. relationship, steve x you, steve x reader )

S T A N D O N M Y O W N 🎶 stupid 4 u, dizzy

When you pulled into the Harrington’s driveway, your mouth dropped open at the sheer size of the house. Three times the size of yours growing up with a brand new Porsche parked out front. Steve always told you his dad was materialistic, but he hadn’t said anything about how materialistic or how much someone would have to make to drive a car like that.

Robin had warned you, told you the Harringtons were the pinnacle of Hawkins, Indiana, but if you didn’t grow up with that last name in your mouth, you’d have no idea. No idea of the legacy the Harringtons built after producing generation after generation of lawyers, and why would you? Hawkins was a tiny dot on the map compared to Indianapolis.

You’d moved away from the city in pursuit of a softer life, roomed with Robin Buckley after you’d both been accepted at the local community college and met her best friend – most platonic boyfriend, Steve – on your first night there at a party. He had been standing shoulder-to-shoulder drinking a beer with another guy, Eddie Munson, and both had grease stains all over their pants. In another world, you might have found it a turn-off, but when he caught your eye from across the room you knew you were done for.

Long locks of hair fell into his eyes, his thick lashes sweeping across high cheekbones when he blinked, and the most perfect, pink lips that tugged up at the corner in a grin, grinning at you. High school basketball superstar turned mechanic after getting denied by Indiana State, and damn, it looked good on him.

The day after the party, your car broke down just outside of town, and he came to pick you up in the tow truck with grease-smudged hands and a towel hanging out of the back pocket of his Carhartts. You talked the whole way back to the garage, told him about growing up in the city and how it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He told you how his favorite thing about Hawkins was the way the sky lit up in the summer right as the sun went down, set to flames as it crept beneath the horizon and you asked him if he’d show you sometime. When you got to the shop he told you he’d personally make sure your car was put back in tip-top shape and then took you for the best milkshake of your life at the diner afterward.

Eddie’s uncle Wayne owned the shop, simply called Munson’s, and had been running it since his old man died back in the 50s. It was the most trusted mechanic south of the city and while it wasn’t glamorous, it was honest work, and Steve liked the people. They were thankful for his help and paid him enough to make a decent living, and there was something about working with his hands that gave Steve a sense of gratification and pride he’d never experienced before. Not stuck behind some desk 9-5 like his dad. He didn’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars or live in a mini-mansion, and even though all that wasn’t important to Steve, it still didn’t make him feel any better as he rumbled into his parents’ driveway.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath as he shifted the truck into park. Running his hands through his hair, he let his head fall forward onto the steering wheel, his nerves palpable from the passenger seat. “I really don’t want to go in there.”

“You’re not going alone, if that’s any consolation?” you offered, gently teasing, rubbing a hand over the soft fabric of the only clean, white t-shirt he owned.

He gave you a lopsided smile and turned the truck off, “That helps a lot.”

“Good.”

The light on the porch flicked on, and it drew Steve’s attention like the snap of a whip.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” you grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed as the front door opened to reveal the portrait of a perfect housewife, Carol Harrington.

“Hi, honey!” she called with a wave, gesturing you to get out of the truck and Steve huffed a heavy sigh.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, expression tinged with dread. With one last glance over at you, he moved to open his door, “Listen, if my dad says anything, I can’t promise I won’t say something back.”

“That makes two of us,” you half-joked, but Steve knew by the look in your eye you were serious. If there was anything you didn’t tolerate, it was demeaning people, and from what Robin said, Gary Harrington had used Steve as his verbal punching bag for most of his life.

You watched as Steve tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat as he pushed himself off the truck bench and out onto the driveway.

“Hey, Mom.”

“I hope you came hungry!” Carol said, wiping her hands on the red, checkered apron tied around her waist. “I made a casserole, a fresh green salad, and those rolls you like so much.”

“Oh–you didn’t have to do all that,” Steve insisted as he met his mom on the steps, his cheeks growing pink under the warm glow of the porch light.

“Of course I did.” Carol pulled her son into a hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And who is this?” she smiled, turning her attention to you, big, blue eyes appraising, trying to decide if you were good enough for her Stevie.

You returned the smile, introducing yourself as Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his Levis, anxious. The weight of her gaze was heavy and for a minute it shook you, but you doubled down. No one was going to push you around.

“Thank you for having us,” you said genuinely and a pleased look passed over her features.

“Yes, it’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve been asking Stevie to come to dinner for months now. How’d you convince him?”

“Mom.”

“Okay,” she put her hands up in surrender. “Here, let’s get you two out of the cold. Come in, come in.”

If the outside manicured lawn and award-winning flowerbeds were perfection, then the inside had to have been crafted by God himself.

Every surface was spotless, decorated exquisitely with things you’d only seen in a catalog. Large, smooth, eggshell vases full of bare branches arranged just so, portraits of sweeping landscapes framed in gold and glass candy dishes sat atop polished, mahogany credenzas. As you took it all in, you noticed there were no photos of the family, and in that moment it all felt so empty. Staged and not properly lived in.

“Please, sit! What can I get you to drink?” Carol’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you glanced over to see her holding two bottles of wine. “I’ve got a chilled rosé or a bold red, can’t make a bad choice.”

“Thank you, but water’s fine,” you insisted and a grumble from the head of the dining room table pulled your attention.

Sitting in one of the lavishly, upholstered, high-backed chairs, Steve’s father met your gaze over the top of the newspaper he held in his hands. Folding it up, he set it neatly on the table top and folded his arms over chest, not appraising like Carol. No. This was judgement, cold and severe.

“Not a drinker, hm?” he drawled and you felt Steve tense at your side.

“One of us needs to be responsible,” you quipped back, half-joking and taking Steve’s hand in yours. It’s okay.

The older man snorted in reply and took up the tumbler of scotch at the side of his table setting. Before you could reply, Carol jumped in in an attempt to settle the already blooming tension.

“So, what do you do, dear? Stevie tells us you’re in school!” she asked, setting a hot casserole at the center of the table.

“Oh,” fell out, clumsy as the attention fully focused on you, “I’m uh–I’m pursuing a degree in the arts.”

“The arts! How wonderful!” Carol gushed, returning from the kitchen with a basket of rolls and glass, bowl of salad. “Literature or teaching? Some noble profession surely,” she said, tone oozing and saccharine sweet.

“Ceramics,” you replied tensely, wanting to be embarrassed, but refusing to give them the satisfaction. “I’m actually hoping to open my own studio someday.”

You’d barely finished your sentence when your ears caught Gary mumbling something about hippies and Steve’s mouth firmed into a flat line.

“Dad.”

“What?” Gary snipped back, taking another drink of his scotch as Carol pushed you both into your chairs. “It’s not a very common profession to get into. How’d you find it anyway?” Gary asked, feigning interest, but you could hear the skepticism.

Sitting a bit taller in your chair you leaned forward, chin tilted up in confidence, You can’t scare me.

“I’m originally from Indianapolis, but I came out here looking for something a little…slower. It’s a bit too busy up there for me. Mom was hoping I’d follow in her footsteps up there as a doctor, but–”

“Now see, that’s real work!” Gary said, leaning forward to match you. He shook his head, clicking his tongue at you. “Throwing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity away.”

“Dad!” Steve protested again from his chair next to you, the tension pulling taut in the air.

“Gary,” Carol cut in, eyes on her plate and not meeting the look her husband was giving her. “That’s enough. I’m sure she has good reason.“ Taking the serving spoon she started to dish everyone up. “How’s work going for you, Stevie?”

A heavy sigh pushed itself from Steve’s lungs and he closed his eyes for a minute. You could tell he was uncomfortable and for a minute you regretted making him do this. Taking his hand under the table you squeezed, reassuring, and he opened his eyes again to look at you in silent thanks.

“Uh…yeah,” he started, regaining his composure. “It’s good. Eddie and I are pretty busy right now. Wayne’s showing me how to do the books, actually.”

“Oh! Well, that’s wonderful!” Carol said with a comforting smile as she dished up her husband. “Isn’t that wonderful, Gary?”

“Wonderful isn’t the word I’d choose,” Gary sneered and Carol elbowed his shoulder.

“Behave,” she tutted.

“Actually, Wayne says he’s gonna retire soon,” Steve said sitting up a little taller and your stomach flipped over.

You’d talked on the way over about not sharing any of the news about the shop with them. Promised you wouldn’t say a word about it because it would only make things worse, but you watched now as Steve put it all on the table. Brave. Confident. Proud.

A vein bulged in the middle of Gary’s forehead.

“He’s leaving it to Eddie and–well, Eddie asked if I want to be his business partner. I haven’t signed the paperwork yet, but I’m going to. I want to. I think it’ll be good for–

“Absolutely not! Over my dead body,” Gary slammed a hand flat against the table and you flinched at the force of it, silverware clattering metallically against the fine china.

“It’s a good business, Dad, with a solid client list,” Steve pushed, “I make more than enough to–”

“You think you can convince me?” Gary growled, a sardonic smile twisting across his lips. “You wanna end up like the Munsons? Living like trailer trash?” The smile disappeared. “Jesus Steven, you’ve got a family business right here — your legacy — and you’re shitting all over it! For what? Some filthy garage?”

Carol’s face was as white as a sheet as Gary dug in and she put a hand on his shoulder, “Gary, please–”

“No, Carol. I’m not done,” he shrugged her off and stood from his chair. “That family has done nothing but produce a long line of losers,” he said, pointing a finger off out the dining room window toward Forest Hills. “Edward’s father was a drunk and that kid is one disaster away from drinking what little money he has. I mean, look at him! He’s always high, driving around town in that piece of shit van with hair down to his ass and–”

“Shut up!”

Steve stood up then and slapped the palms of his hands against the table, making you flinch again, your heart leaping into your throat as you watched him glare at his father, flushed and red from his neck to his ears, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Stevie–” Carol pleaded, but he ignored her.

“God, I’m so tired of it,” Steve roughed his hands over his face, flinging an arm in the same direction his father had. Toward Eddie, his partner, his best friend. “The Munsons work really hard! And they’re honest, which can’t be said for you,” he pushed, Gary’s face twisting ugly as Steve laid into him. “Lying and cheating people for what, huh? For money? For a Porche?”

“You watch your mouth,” Gary said a little too evenly and unease settled in your stomach.

“No. I’m not gonna sit here and let you lecture me about something you know nothing about. When was the last time you really felt proud, Dad? Like you accomplished something?”

“Every day!” Gary snapped, “When I sit at my desk and look at the framed degree on my wall because I did something with my life, Steven!” He pushed his chair out behind him and took a half step around the table toward his son. “I’ve become someone and made a name for myself! I support my wife because I’m a man,” he emphasized his point with a finger to Steve’s chest and you watched as Steve’s body grew stiff, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Yeah, well based on the flashy sports car in the driveway I’d say you’re compensating.”

“That’s enough!”

Gary stepped into Steve, Steve’s back bumping into the wall and it pulled you up from your seat while Carol shrunk into hers, head buried in her hands.

“You ungrateful little shit,” Gary spat, “You’re being handed an opportunity on a silver platter and spitting on it. How dare you—”

“No, dad! How dare you?” Steve shoved a hand flat into his dad’s chest and the older man stumbled back a step. “I bring home the most important person in my life to meet you, and you can’t even keep it together for more than five minutes! It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassing. Let’s go.”

Steve grabbed your hand and started to pull you toward the door, food untouched on the table, but Gary took a half-step into your path of escape.

“You’ll stay until you apologize,” he growled.

Steve laughed incredulously. “Apologize? For what? For telling you what we already know? That you’re a selfish asshole?”

“What did I say about language?” Gary returned the shove Steve had given him, but Steve didn’t move.

“Honey, stop. Please,” Carol begged her husband from the table, but her pleas were ignored.

“My entire life, all you’ve been is gone," Steve leveled. "You were never there for me, especially when I needed you the most, and, honestly? I don’t care what you think, Dad. Not anymore.” Steve pushed himself to his full height, at least a full two inches taller than his father, and shouldered past him, “We’re out of here.”

“Stevie, sweetheart don’t go,” Carol finally stood from her chair, coming around to paw at Steve’s back. “You know how he gets, he just needs to walk it off—“

“—stop making excuses for him, mom. He doesn’t deserve it and you deserve better.”

Carol kept grabbing at him and it made something snap inside you.

“Don’t touch him,” you said firmly, pressing a hand into hers and tugging it away from Steve. The look on her face then was like you’d slapped her and a tiny pinch of guilt squeezed in your chest, but Gary made sure to fix that, his voice at your backs.

“If you leave, that’s it, Steven! Game over!” he shouted.

“I don’t want it, Dad.”

“I’m serious! One more step and you’re written out of the company!” Gary said just as you both reached the door, Steve’s hand on the handle as he spun around to make sure he made eye contact with his dad.

“Where’s the paper? I’ll write it myself!” Steve snapped and for the first time that evening Gary was rendered speechless, mouth dropped open in shock. “If you break down, don’t call me.”

Pride swelled in your chest and you had to keep from whooping and hollering right there in the foyer, but as soon as you both were safely on the other side of the thick, wooden, double doors you flung your arms around him.

“Holy shit, babe,” you breathed, burying your face in the crook of his neck, the warm, citrusy scent of his cologne setting you at ease as his arms squeezed at your waist. Pulling away, you clasped his face between your hands. “First? I’m so sorry,” you said, shaking your head, running your thumb gently over his cheek, “And second? You were amazing in there, standing up for yourself.”

Steve turned a deep shade of pink, clearing his throat as his eyes dropped down to look at his shoes. “No way, that was awful.”

“It was,” you agreed, leading him slowly back to the truck, “But I’ve never seen you defend yourself, your hard work, like that. It’s not something to disregard.”

“You think so?” he asked the steering wheel after settling onto the bench seat next to you, the truck rumbling to life when he turned the key over.

Lifting a hand to the strong line of his jaw you gently turned his head to look at you.

“I know so,” you said softly, “And I love you and the way you take care of me, so damn much.”

His lashes fluttered, blinking away the starts of his tears, and smiled through it. No one had ever stood by his side the way you had just now. Had pushed through all the bullshit from his family and didn't shy away from it all. It meant more to him than he could ever put into words, so he settled for the truth.

“I love you too," he said, leaning into you with a hand pressed to your thigh and holding your cheek in his other. “I love you,” he said again, a soft whisper as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” another to your cheek. “I love you,” his mouth meeting the corner of yours. “I love you,” his bottom lip catching yours perfectly, sweetly, “I love you.”

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[perseephoneee]

PLEASE do something super fluffy with kol mikealson

i love ur work sm!!

babe you're making my day. hope this is something akin to what you wanted.

"you're red." "shut up." "like actually vermillion." (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: kissing?? also hatred towards bed and breakfasts

a/n: i forgot how much i love writing for kol. sorry for the large writing break...hope this makes up for it?

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

You hate Kol Mikaelson. 

He’s cocky, impulsive, and constantly getting you into danger that you would never find for yourself. He also relentlessly flirts with you until you’re warm and deeply frustrated.  He’s complicated enough that you wish he wasn’t a part of your life so it could resume a sense of normalcy. 

Getting caught up in Mikaelson drama was never your plan. You just happened to make the mistake of working as a bartender at Russo’s—where they frequented. Klaus took a liking to you, and the rest is history. Being a human that’s friends with vampires is like poking a bear; not recommended nor convenient. 

This recent conflict was forgettable but proved to be a disruption to your life. One of them annoyed someone, and that someone wanted revenge, and now apparently you were in danger, and so on and so forth. You have repeatedly debated sending an invoice to the Mikaelson compound for restitution. You don’t think Klaus would find it very funny. 

You almost forgot about your life being in danger until you were forced to go on the run with the youngest brother, Kol. Kol, who insisted on driving you nuts. You kept trying to tune him out in the car, listening to the radio or focusing on the trees speeding past your window. Still, he was relentless and wouldn’t leave you alone for a minute. Plus, he was a horribly reckless driver, and you were gripping the door so tightly that you might hurt a muscle any minute. 

“I’ve lived for a very long time, but I’ve never visited Fes,” Kol said, one hand on the wheel as the other tapped on the door. You barely spared him a glance. “Would you visit Fes?”

“Not even sure what Fes is,” you answered through gritted teeth, suppressing a yelp as Kol took a turn obnoxiously fast. 

“City in Morocco considered its cultural capital.”

“You sound like a Google search,” you scoffed, sparing him half a glance. Long enough of a glance for Kol to give you a toothy grin, his canines glinting in the sunlight. 

“I like knowing things,” he states, squinting at you. “I don’t know much about you. Tell me something.”

“No.”

“Please?” he begged, every bit a kid enjoying picking on the new kid on the playground. You fixed him with a dead stare. 

“I hate your driving.” That caused him to laugh, which made him throw his head back and speed up even more. You clutched the handle and clenched your teeth till you felt your whole body would seize up. Kol eventually took pity on you and slowed down. It was enough for you to relax…slightly. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Brilliant. I’m going to die out here,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. 

“Nonsense. Nik would dagger me if I let that happen, and I’m very tired of being daggered.”

“Not because you care about me or want me to live?” you jested, quirking a brow at him. 

“Now, why would I care about you at all?”

You pretended it didn’t sting, even though it felt impossible for you to care about Kol. Still, hearing him say it felt a bit like a slap in the face. You just turned more out the window, ignoring him. You didn’t notice the sharp look he sent you, as if he regretted what he said. 

Instead, you notice a sign advertising a Black Bear Diner. You perk up immediately, tapping the window and looking back at Kol. 

“There. Stop there.”

“That piece of garbage?”

“Yes! Stop the car!” you shouted, regretting your words when Kol slammed on the brakes. “Stop the car slowly, you asswipe.”

“You should’ve clarified that,” he smirked. You jumped out of the car, ran towards the restaurant, and experienced euphoria when the smell of waffles and fresh coffee hit your senses. Kol walked up slowly, hands in his pockets. The sun was obnoxious out here, but there were enough trees in the area to not make it feel like a desert. You could even see the mountain in the background in all its snowcapped glory. 

The inside of the diner was a welcome breeze on your damp skin. It wasn’t very crowded, and you got seated immediately as you happily flipped through your plastic menu. Kol looked slightly uncomfortable sitting in the diner, but you ignored him. You were getting pretty good at ignoring him. 

“I used to go here all the time with my family,” you said, flipping to the drinks page of your menu. “Not this exact location…but this chain. I went to it when I first moved to my hometown.”

“It’s barely gourmet.”

“Fuck gourmet, I want comfort. I want to feel like home,” you laughed, closing your menu. “Don’t you want that?”

“Home?” Kol inquired. “Not sure what that is anymore.”

Your lips turned down in a frown, but you offered nothing else. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, and you wouldn’t force him. The waiter came over to take your orders, and you happily ordered a black coffee, orange juice, and a waffle platter. After they left, you started packing your bag with the tiny jams and creamers they had out on the table. Kol just looked at you in disdain. 

“You are pathetic.”

“Rent is expensive, groceries are expensive, give me a break,” you snorted, taking a few sugar packets for good measure before you stopped looting. Kol laughed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his seat. His leg bounced from anxiety, and his fingers tapped the table in a paradiddle pattern, just left, right, left, left, right, left, right, right over and over again. He looked shockingly young, like the boy before he turned, and not the man he paraded as. For a split second, you could see yourself having a crush on him in high school if he was one of your peers. You erased that thought as soon as it came. “Can I ask a question?” you leaned forward on the table, arms folded in front of you. “Why are you guys always protecting me? I’m definitely a liability.”

“I think my brother just wants to sleep with you,” Kol sighed. You snorted, biting your bottom lip to subvert your laughter. Honestly…you have managed to weasel your way into our family—like a parasite.”

“Aw, your words are so kind,” you rolled your eyes, kicking Kol under the table. He just kicked you right back, wearing a smirk. “And I would never sleep with your brother.”

“Why’s that?” Kol questioned, crossing his arms. 

“His face is weird,” you answered. Kol put his head in his hands in laughter, and you joined him a second later. You weren’t sure if that was the reason, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and you didn’t think to change it. Plus, it made Kol laugh, which kind of made you happy. The arrival of your waffles made you even happier. 

“Bloody hell, you’re going to eat all of that?” Kol looked shocked, eyes flicking between you and your waffles. He had ordered a much smaller plate than yours. Yours likely could’ve been a party platter. 

“Yes, and I will do it with pride.”

You did eat all of it, and enjoyed Kol’s expression the whole time. He looked so disturbed it made up for it. You also drank all your coffee, orange juice, and free water refills. Your plan was to eat enough to enter hibernation. You even think Kol was a little impressed at some point. Kol asked the waiter for the nearest hotel, and they pointed you to a place three miles down the road that would likely have openings. By the time you left the diner, it was starting to get cold as the sun was setting. You could hear crickets; you probably would’ve gotten fireflies if you were more south. Kol drove surprisingly slow towards the hotel, which you attributed to his worry that going fast would cause you to throw up your entire waffle extravaganza. He slowed down even more when you came up to the “hotel”—which was actually just a bed and breakfast. An extremely cutesy bed and breakfast. 

The inside of the building was somehow worse than the outside. 

The outside had small-town charm. The inside was where doilies went to die. 

Both you and Kol exchanged glances as he went up to ring the bell. You counted seven cat portraits before a portly woman came out with a cheeky smile. She wore a linen frock and a floral dress right out of the 1960s. 

“Well, good evening,” she smiled. “What can I do for you?” She had a thick Minnesotan accent, and her smile made her eyes. Overall, she radiated friendliness. 

“We’d like a room?” you inquired, leaning against the counter. 

“Oh, you betcha! Lucky for you, I got the best suite in the house available. It’s perfect for you two lovebirds,” she chirped. Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, uh, we’re not together…,” you coughed. You turned to look at Kol, who just shrugged his shoulders. Completely useless. “Do you have a double?”

“Unfortunately, all our doubles are booked for our birding convention. I might have a futon available to bring to your room?”

“Perfect,” Kol smiled, finally interjecting. “We’ll take that.”

“Splendid! Here are your keys, and I’ll have you sign in there.”

You brought your one bag with you up the stairs and to the right to a room at the end of the hall. The wallpaper was mocking you at every turn, a plethora of orchids and pinks staring at you, along with the eyes of fifty million felines. You were certain Dolores Umbridge was hiding somewhere amongst the foliage. The room was less pink but still reminiscent of something in a senior home. The bed was the nicest part: a large four-poster with mahogany bedposts. The wallpaper was sage color with pictures of ferns. The ensuite bathroom had a clawfoot tub and gold décor. A painting of a young boy eating ice cream was on the wall. You immediately took it off the wall and turned it around so you didn’t have to look at it all night. 

“It’s a little…”

“Cozy?” Kol interjected, closing the door behind you two. 

“I was going to say tight.”

“It is the lovebird suite, darling,” Kol whispered in your ear, a smirk in his voice. A shiver ran down your spine. 

“I’ll take the futon.”

“I doubt you could fit a futon in here,” Kol scoffed. He was right. There was really only room for the bed and bedside tables. Whoever designed this room intended to spend a lot of time in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought. You tapped your foot in thought before eventually sighing in defeat.

“Just…don’t get too handsy,” you shrugged, glaring at the vampire’s ever-present smirk. 

“Handsy? You must think me a rascal,” Kol cooed, stepping closer into your space. The room was tight, which meant you were backed against the wall. You felt like a rabbit being targeted by a fox, his mischievous grin and wandering eyes taking all of you in. Your eyes were drawn to how he licked his lips, and suddenly, your blood pressure spiked. Heat crawled up your neck, and you knew that Kol noticed. He always managed to notice. 

“Knock it off, Mikaelson,” you hissed, tilting your head up defiantly. 

“You’re actually red,” Kol chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“…Shut up,” you slapped his hand away, maneuvering your way from his grasp. 

“Like actually vermillion,” he laughed, and you gave him an unsavory gesture as you escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Back against the door, you breathed out, groaning into your hands. You pushed off the door, getting ready for bed in an effort to put this night behind you. You cleaned up, brushed your teeth, and put on pajamas. In hot weather, you usually just wear a T-shirt and shorts to bed. Your t-shirt said, ‘I got lobotomized at Freddy Fazbear’s,’ something idiotic that you couldn’t even fully be ashamed of. When you exited, Kol was lying on top of the covers on his phone, having changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked up when you exited, snorting as he read the shirt. “You have an odd sense of humor.”

“It’s too evolved for you to understand,” you rolled your eyes, getting in on the other side of the bed and leaving space between the two of you. Kol smelled sweet, like vanilla, and it was slowly suffocating you. You both sat in silence for a second before Kol disrupted it. 

“Y/N,”

���No.”

“Darling,” he purred, inching closer to you. 

“What, Kol,” you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. 

“You like me,” he said. It was not a question, just something he exclaimed. You scoffed. 

“I do not.”

“You do. It’s why you blush vermillion when I call you things like darling,” he smiled, propping himself up on his elbow as he lay on his side to stare at you. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“So, if I kissed you…you wouldn’t care,” Kol inquired, voice soft as he sat up slightly. You felt your heart skip a beat, and Kol’s mouth turned up slightly when he heard it. You knew you just proved his point, but you refused to concede. 

“I wouldn’t care,” you whispered, holding his gaze. 

“So, when I do this,” Kol leaned up, kissing your cheek, his lips burning your skin. He kissed right under your jaw, finally on your pulse point. “…it doesn’t matter?” 

You bit your tongue to stop yourself. “It doesn’t matter,” you choke out, but all you’re doing is spurring Kol on. You’re a hare caught in his trap, and you can’t even find it in yourself to hate it. Kol sucks on your pulse point, nipping lightly and moving down your neck, one hand coming up to tilt your head more to the side for easier access. His touch was shockingly gentle as if he was giving you an out. Your will was thinning by the minute, though, and eventually, you grabbed his hand, causing him to stop. 

“Darling—” he starts, but you cut him off by kissing his lips, soft but passionate. For once, you’ve taken him off guard, and a sense of pride spurs through you as you part, kissing the corner of his mouth and looking at him through thick lashes. 

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice breathy. “For you…” You’re not sure exactly what you’re asking, but you know there’s a line you’ve crossed that you can’t return from. Kol’s thumb brushes your cheek, so gentle from the reckless, hotheaded vampire you are acquainted with. A grin crosses his face. 

“It means everything,” he smiles, kissing you again, fingers tangling in your hair. Your hands find his arms, sighing as he deepens the kiss. You’re on fire, every single part of you, and you’re sure that Kol can feel your racing heart and hot skin. You like kissing him, though, and you realize you like him a lot. 

“Kol?” you breathe. “Don’t sleep on the futon.”

“For you? I would never,” he grins, kissing you again. You make sure to put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door for later. 

…

Afterwards.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes you up.

“I guess Nik won’t be able to sleep with you now.”

“Kol.”

“Because I’ll be the only one sleeping with you.”

“Go to sleep.”

There’s a shuffling of blankets as his arm wraps tighter around you, his breath hot on your neck. 

“You’re going to be stuck with me forever,” he whispers. 

You smile. “I’m okay with that.”

taglist:: @rafecameronswhore

[jillsandwhichs]

Tip

Chapter 9 to RE Character x Reader Smutshot Collection

Masterlist

Pairing: F!Reader x Leon Kennedy

Summary: You are a waitress at a local diner in the city. Sure, you've had your fair share of flirty, pervy customers but none have ever been as enticing as this one

Status of your guy's relationship in this one shot: Strangers/Hookup

WC: 4.1k

Type: NSFW

Warnings: Reader is in early adult years, Leon is late 20s, Flirting, Leon is cocky and rich, BJ, Slight cum kink, Spanking, Hair pulling, Cums in your mouth, Protected P in V, Riding, Dry humping and Dirty talk

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

It has just been another casual day at the diner. Cleaning tables and dishes, attending to customers and sweeping the floors, it's just another Monday. Waiting tables is what you do for a living, for now. It isn't ideal but you don't mind it too much. You always get decent tips and an alright pay. You live alone so you don't have to worry too much about how big your paycheck is or how much you make in tips daily. As long as you're rolling in dough, you're set.

This day particularly has been slow. Mondays are one of the slowest days of the week because it's the first work day which means less business. It's mainly older people and church groups who eat during the day on Mondays but towards the later hours of the day, families and sports teams come in. The diner you work for is the hot spot in the city. Everyone who lives in the city or nearby comes often.

Your shift is getting closer to being done. You only have two hours left. It ends at 4:00 PM and you started work today at 8:00 AM. It's been so slow that it feels as if you've been here since yesterday. You can't wait to get back to your homey apartment. You have an essay due today in your Art History class so you'll have to get that done but after that, the rest of the day is yours!

Wiping down a table, you heard the main door open. There is a bell attached to the top of it to tell workers anytime someone walks in or not. The two customers that were just at this booth made sure to clean up their space and it put you in an even better mood. You sprayed hygienic water onto the table one last time and wiped it down before setting out new napkins and silverware for when the next group comes in.

You were about to amble off to the back but you were stopped by a man's voice. His voice was deep and husky. It startled you a bit, admittedly. You turned around to face and you were left stunned by how tall he was. You're short, yes, but this man is a giant! Your eyes went up to meet with his. His are a bright blue. They are oceanic. He has a broad stature too, he clearly works out often. He's wearing a casual outfit but it still appears a bit more fancy for where he's currently at.

"Excuse me, could I get a table for one? Just looking to have some lunch." He said in that deep voice. You looked him up and down and as you did, he said another thing. "My eyes are up here." He teased, his blue eyes locking with yours. You felt embarrassment wash over you. How could you not admire this man? He looks like a model. "Um, sorry... Just follow me." You murmured, heading towards a clean circle table near the center of the diner.

The man followed behind you and once you presented the table to him, he took his seat. "I'll be back shortly. Figure out what you'd like to drink until then." "Wait, what's your name? Isn't it courtesy that the waitress tells her waiters her name?" You told him his name with a scoff. He seems slightly cocky. "Pretty name. I'm Leon." Leon stated. "Cool name. I'll be back shortly." You said a bit more sternly. You walked off and pushed the back door open to enter the kitchen.

You checked to see if all of the drink machines are still working. Your manager let you know yesterday that they've been a bit janky. You tested each one and they all seemingly worked. Only three other people are working with you today. Leah, Maverick and Dean. Leah is a waitress and Mav & Dean are cooks. Mondays truly are so easy to work.

You exited the kitchen and went to wait another table before Leon's. This table just wanted one plate of Alfredo and a plate of beef stew. "I'll have those out to you two in a bit." You said with your customer service voice. You've gotten very good at it. Strolling over to the kitchen, you stuck your ticket up on the metal bar. "Order for table four, be quick guys." You said to both of the men working. You trust they'll get it done quickly.

Leah was waiting her own section of tables. Hers seem to be going by a lot faster which irritates you. You want more tables for more money. You don't necessarily need it, but of course it's nice to have.

Making your way back over to Leon, you saw his face weirdly light up when he saw you. Is this guy a creeper? You stood in front of his table with a notepad before asking what he'd like to drink and eat. "I'll just take a coke and to eat, I'll have your creamy ravioli. I have a question for you now." He stated. "Uh, okay, go ahead and ask." You replied softly as you wrote his order down. "When is your shift over?" "That is none of your concern."

Assumption confirmed, this guy is a weirdo. Why would some elegant looking man be asking you of all people that odd question? Does he want to kidnap you or something? You were always taught to not give out info like that. It's vital.

"I'm not some pervert or anything." He chuckled. "Can a man not be curious?" "Why are you curious about when I get off of work?" "Because I think you're a pretty girl and I'd like to take you out." Leon smirked at you. "I bet you say that to all the ladies." You rolled your eyes. "I'll be back with your food in a bit." You scoffed and went to walk off but this arrogant man stopped you once again.

"When does your shift end?" This guy's persistence is appalling. Can't he take a hint? "None of your business." "Three? Four? Tell me." He said softly, his tone a lot less deep down. You sighed deeply. It won't kill for him to know. You're going straight home anyways. "Four. You aren't taking me out." "We'll see about that." You gave him an irritated look and trailed off. You're just going to give the paper to the chefs so that this man can leave ASAP.

Stepping up to the kitchen area again, you handed them a new ticket. You want this Leon guy in and out of here. You've had one to many men hitting on you, do these men realize how young you are? Leon appears to be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties and you're a College student! Men are so desperate nowadays. Sure, drabbling in older men isn't a bad thing, but not these kind of older men.

You grabbed a tray of refill drinks to take to one of your other tables. You almost forgot about them.

Exiting the kitchen, you went over to their table and set their drinks down. "A water for the lady and a coke for the gentleman. Enjoy." Leah will most likely take this section over soon, she tends to. Your eyes went to Leon's table and unsurprisingly, his eyes were on you. "What a loser." You mumbled beneath your breath. He's a handsome man, most definitely, but why would he want anything to do with you? He's probably just trying to get a quick fuck in.

If he wasn't so forward and weird about it, you would probably give in. That pretty much sums up how you are as a girl. You aren't a virgin, you like sex and you've never had it with an older man. You bet it's quite the experience.

After waiting almost eight minutes, you got the couples food to them and set it down. "Here you two go. Enjoy." You said with a friendly tone. Leon's was done as well. Time to journey back to the table of doom.

With the bowl and drink in hand, you went to Leon's table and set both down. "There you go. Enjoy your beverage and meal." "I sure will. Thank you." Leon replied, looking you up and down. His look is rather enticing. He's an enticing man. "Don't look at me like that." You said with a shy tone. It made you rather nervous, shy even. No man has made you feel that way in some time. "Like what?" "Like that."

He knows what he is doing. He does. "What is your problem?" You put your hands on your hips. This is completely against protocol. Even when a customer is an ass, you should remain calm and collected but God, this guy is insufferable. "I'll answer anything you'd like... If you agree to come with me after my shift." Has this man ever learned about stranger danger. "No, you could be a murderer." "I could be, but I'm not. I'm just a blind dog looking for a bone." He is cheesy.

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your temple.

"What is it you want?" "You." "Why?" "I can see you're different. Plus, you're stunning." The compliment made your stomach heat up. "Different? You've spoken to me only a little." "What's your point?" "You know nothing about me." "I'd like to know everything about you." God, can he not take a hint? You giggled. "We can just sit in my car after your shift and talk. We'll even stay in the parking lot, if that makes you feel safer." He smirked at you.

Why is he so fucking convincing???

Your eyes scanned the clock above one of the tables and you heaved softly. "Come back at four. We'll talk then." You smiled softly but tried to hide it. Leon bit his lip and nodded. "See you then."

-

Four PM.

You're in the locker room. It's a small but useful room. Your removed your apron and released your hair from its ponytail. You shook your hair and brushed it slightly. For a moment, you completely forgot about the whole Leon situation, but it's suddenly hit you. Before he left his table, he left you a $50 tip. That's insane. You were grateful and expressed that. You suppose its only respectful if you go with him.

He promised to even let you hold onto his car keys if it makes you feel better. You know what it'll most likely turn into and you're down, even though you didn't want to admit it at first.

You left the room and pushed open the entry door back into the restaurant and you saw Leon's car out in the parking lot. You sighed deeply and looked over to Dean who was also about to clock out. "See you Wednesday." "See you then." Dean waved goodbye to you. You returned the gesture and made your way out of the diner.

Leon's eyes met with yours. Those blue orbs, they are intoxicating. You rolled your eyes and walked up to his vehicle. He has a Cadillac. You can tell by its shape and symbol. He nudged his head for you to get in, and you did. You opened up the passenger door and sat down and immediately put your hand out. "Keys." "Right here." He placed them in your hand. They are the right keys. This eased you a lot more.

"What do you want with me? Do you do this with other women?" "I mean, I have. I won't lie to you. It has been a long time though, little over a year." Leon tittered. "I just think you're very pretty." "You've established that." "Isn't it rather obvious what I'd like to do with and to you?" That made your heart skip beats. "Not really." You have an idea. You'll play dumb though. You want to hear it from his own mouth.

Leon laughed and grinned. He leaned a bit closer to you. "I entered that diner and immediately saw a pretty girl with a pretty mouth. I'd like to see it around my dick." You lost your breath at his words. It's been a long time since you've hooked up with anyone and this is quite the way for it to happen after all this time. "What?" You said breathlessly. "I also want to show you how a real man fucks. Not none of that College boy bullshit." He adjusted himself. So he is aware that you are in College. Great guess.

Running your fingers through your hair, you felt your entire body heating up. You were most definitely blushing. You could feel the gush between your folds beginning to form. "If you want to just hookup with girls, why not use Tinder?" "I find doing it through person more real and authentic." You couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or not. "You are a total creep." "I'm a man with needs and you'd fulfill them well." You scoffed at his sentence. "Bite me." You went to open the car door but he grabbed your wrist.

"Hey, no, no, please." Leon said softly. "If you really want to go, then okay, have at it but I promise I'll give you such a good time." Leon pleaded with you. His tone was desperate. Why was that attractive to you? Your eyes went to his bulge. He was clearly rock hard. You are wet, you can feel it. Why do you feel so odd for doing this? It's just a hookup.

You bit your lip and analyzed the outside area before handing him his keys. "There's an alleyway about three block from here. Take us and I'll hookup with you." Confidence filled your voice. He laughed. "Smart girl." He turned his car on and began the drive to the alleyway, which only took maybe a minute or two.

-

The second he parked, your hands went to his belt and he snickered. "More eager and horny than I am now, huh?" "No. I just want to get this over with." "Right." He snorted. You removed his leather belt and tossed it in the back. You undid the singular button that was sown onto his pants and that was when his huge cock sprung out. Bigger than any you've ever seen or had. You already can foreshadow how this'll feel down your throat.

He already had precum as well. To you, cum is so hot. You have an intense kink for it. You rubbed the semen on your thumb and sucked it off of it. Leon chuckled. "That's a good sign." He hummed. You brushed your hair to the side and smiled at him. "Make sure my hair stays out of my face." "Will do." That was the last thing you said before you wrapped your lips around the base of his cock.

This isn't anything you haven't done before. You'd even call yourself a pro. At a slow pace, you moved your head up and down. He was big, so you wanted to take it at a decent pace. Leon's hand stayed on your back for the time being. You felt his hand rubbing it softly. He was being gentle with you. His tip kept hitting the roof of your mouth. You couldn't believe it but you could already sense you'd be gagging a whole lot.

With your tongue, you slurped around the head of his dick. You felt his hole twitch when you did that. "You're a fucking goddess at sucking dick." He said bluntly whilst his head went backwards. You wanted to laugh but you physically couldn't. You continued to lick and suck. It's weird but you want him to feel as though you're the best he's had. This is like a challenge for you, a game even.

You began to bob your head faster now. Your head moved up and down at a quick pace. Leon's hand tangled in your hair. His fingers tips lightly scratched your head and it made your pussy tingle. You haven't felt this way in such a long time. Leon wrapped your hair around his hand, his grip was firm. You knew he was this type. He seems like a kinky man overall.

The little whimpers you made caused Leon to moan himself. He found you very sexy and your noises only added to that. "You look beautiful like this." He huffed out. His throat felt like it was going to close. His muscles were tightening. His member was twitching in your mouth. The man is close.

"How many hummers have you had to give to be so good?" He grunted. Now he was basically pushing your head and pulling it back up. You didn't even have to do the work anymore. His hand pulled your hair and God, it felt good. You moaned around his dick. You swiped your tongue from the lower base and back up to the tip and that must've been his undoing.

Leon kept your head in place. His tip was deep throating you. That familiar taste filled your mouth and entered your taste buds. All cum has tasted similar to you with minor differences. Whats different about Leon's is the fact is more of a thick texture rather than the usual more liquidy version. It was fine though. You swallowed it all.

The man was panting heavily as you popped his cock out. Your licked your lips and wiped them with your sweater. "Jesus..." He laughed. "That was good." He praised you. "Unfuckingbelievable." He smirked at you. "I've had practice." "Clearly." He squeezed your hip and gazed at you. "Get in the back so I can fuck you." He chuckled. You giggled to and looked behind you.

You crawled over the center console and squealed as you felt a hard smack to your ass as you did. You briskly sat down and adjusted your skirt. You are wearing a beige sweater with a printed skirt. It was the change of clothes you brought to work since it's Fall. The weather is breezy & chilly but also warm and cozy. Leon just held his pants up as he got out of the car and got into the back. There was no way he was going to climb over as you did.

He sat down and spread his legs to a degree. He pulled his pants back down too. You gawked at him momentarily and he noticed. "Like what you see?" "Mhm." You nodded moderately. He laughed. "Sit on my lap." You listened. You straddled him. Hands on his shoulders and thighs on either side of his. His hands went to your waist. "Feel that?" He was referring to his tip rubbing against your panties.

"You need it inside of you, hm?" He began to slowly pull your hips forward. The slight grind he was forcing you to do made you even more soaked. "I do." You whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. "I know you do doll." You felt a surge of lust course through you. You want this man to destroy you.

One hand left your hip and went to his cock instead. He rubbed his tip against your cunt through your panties. "I can feel how wet you are." He sighed softly, kissing the side of your head. "I wanna feel how tight you are." He murmured against your ear before biting the lobe of it. You moaned and felt your stomach twist. How is he making you feel all these ways all at once? He's a master at this. It's such a turn on.

Pulling your panties to the side, he stroked his cock through your bare folds now, picking your wetness up. "How does this feel?" He said in a low tone. "Good. Really good." You hummed in reply, kissing his neck gently. "Mmm, good." He kissed your cheek. He let go of his cock and reached into his pocket. "Gotta wrap it." "Yeah." You snickered. You lifted your body up so he could put the rubber on. Once he did, he pulled you back down.

"Now princess, tell me, how does this feel?" And as he hummed that to you, he stuck his dick inside of you. You moaned softly and gripped his shirt. "Mmm, you just gave me the exact answer I was searching for." You moaned again and pressed your lips against his. You don't think Leon was expecting that, but he liked it. His hands went to your face as you began to both kiss him and ride him.

You rode him at an unrushed pace. He kissed you passionately. Almost right as you two started to make out, you both opened your mouths and tongued one another. You bounced on his cock as you stuck your tongue deep in his mouth. Leon caressed your face and slowly brought his hands down to your ass cheeks. He held onto them tightly and ever so often slapped them.

"You're so fucking tight." He grunted, licking your lip and kissing you again. "You feel so deep inside of me." You whimpered. It was true. He's so long and girthy. He's rubbing against your wet & gushy walls in the most pleasurable way. "You can take it. You're a slut, I know you can." You laughed at his words and bit his lower lip. "I'm not a whore." "You sure fuck like one. Look at how you're riding me." In all fairness, you are skillfully riding him and bouncing on him. Your movements are of expertise.

You rolled your eyes at his snotty words. "Guess me getting around has really paid off." "Yeah, sure, but I promise I'll be your best." He slapped your ass hard, making you speechless. Only noises of pleasure and need came from you. He felt so good. Your cunt was tightening around him, you could feel it and so could he.

Your head autonomously tilted backwards. Your mouth was agape as little whimpers emitted from him. Leon's hands continued to grip your ass. He occasionally spreaded your cheeks and stuck his finger on your anus, making your body shake. He must have a thing for that, you suppose. "Pretty girl." He reached his free hand up and taped it around your neck lightly. "Gonna make you have the best fucking orgasm." He whispered to you before he began to thrust up.

You quit moving your hips entirely and just sat there as he fucked you messily. His hip thrusts were sloppy but they were getting the job down. "Taking is so fucking well. I need you again sometime." You couldn't tell if there was truth in that or if it was pure lust and desire. You simply rested your head against his shoulder as he pumped up into you. "I'm gonna cum." You whispered, your tone soft and shaky. "Cum for me babygirl." Leon kissed your forehead.

That'll do it.

Your body shook as your orgasm blew over you. You felt waves and waves of pleasure crash into you out of no where. Your walls clenched around his member and that was what finished him off. "Fuuuck." His words dragged out as he came. Your arms encased around his neck and you just sat there as you came down from your high. He hugged you back. His cum squirted into the condom. You wish it could've been inside of you. Such a waste.

After a minute or so, you sat up and got off of him. You were breathless and at a loss for words. Your eyes glanced down at the condom; Pure white liquid filled it. "That was... God." You giggled, closing your legs and staring at him. He nodded and removed the condom, tossing it in a baggy. "Sure was." He caught his breath.

Leon looked at you and took your hand in his. "Was that the best orgasm you've had?" "I don't mean to bruise your ego but..." Leon snickered and playfully nudged you. "Shut up." You snorted and smiled at him. "Yeah, it was really good." You nodded. "I'm glad." He blew out a big breath of air.

"For the record, I wasn't just saying that." "Saying what?" "That I need you again sometime. I meant it." "Oh." You said with tranquility. "I'll give you my number then...?" "Yeah, I'll take it." Leon replied.

He handed you his phone and you began to jot the digits in.

This definitely won't be the last time you see Mr. Kennedy.

[ultravi0lence14]

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

[peachsukii]

— operation: shut down

『♡』  fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ Senior year of UA | Characters are all 18 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡ summary: during their senior year of UA, midoriya, bakugo and todoroki return to endeavor's agency for senior internships. while on a supervised patrol, bakugo experiences his first 'failure' as a hero-in-training and takes it extremely hard. reader makes an attempt to care for his fragile state when he returns to the dorms. tags & warnings:  failed mission, ptsd/trauma, mentions of blood/gore/violence, depression & anxiety, mild angst, emotional comfort, semi-fluff, bakugo and midoriya hug!? a/n: similar to the "tidal wave" story, but this one is a bit grittier and heavier subject matter. hopefully this also isn't too OOC for bakugo! i figure at some point during their time at UA, or in the field, they’ll have to go through something similar to this on their own. ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,671 ꒱

Ahh, Saturday mornings - one of your favorite times of the week! There's something refreshing about being free from classes, surrounded by all your friends as you laze around the dorms. Yourself and Bakugo are usually the first two awake, often bumping into each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Midoriya and Kirishima are typically next, followed by a random assortment of the rest of the class. One thing's for certain, though, Kaminari is always the last one awake. Jiro swears it annoys the shit out of her that she needs to have an extra alarm to get him up, but he never fails to make her smile when she does.

Today, the dorms are on the quieter side as most of the class are off at their senior internships for a long weekend. You completed yours a few weeks prior, leaving yourself and Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido and Yaoyorozu hanging around this weekend. Meandering toward the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, you run into Midoriya, sitting at the small table - alone.

"Hey! I thought you guys were gone 'til Monday?" you ask, confused as to why he's back early. As you approach the table, you see the somber emotion painted across his face, the usual radiance in his eyes dulled.

"Oh, hey y/n. Yeah, we got back late last night."

There's something unsettling about the way he said "late last night." He still hasn't looked up at you. You place a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Everything okay?" He jumps a bit at your touch, startling you. He's not typically this jumpy. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Zu."

You can see he swallows nervously, his eyes glued to the table.

"Christ, Izuku! You're scaring me, spit it out already!" you urge, growing impatient with his evasiveness.

Midoriya finally turns to face you, his face not able to hide the fact he didn't sleep last night, the darkness growing under his eyes.

"It's Kacchan...," he starts, stopping for longer than you were comfortable with before continuing quietly. "He's in his room and hasn't come out since last night. He won't talk to me or Shouto."

Your stomach cartwheels with a sour feeling.

"You can't just say that and not give me more background on what the hell you're talking about."

He shifted uncomfortably in the diner chair, placing his head in his hands on the table.

"We were on a supervised patrol with Endeavor after dinner last night. The three of us were responsible for escorting a family across the city when Endeavor received an emergency call, taking Kacchan with him and leaving myself and Shouto responsible for the original task."

Midoriya paused, letting out a soft exhale.

"While on the emergency call, Endeavor ended up getting hurt -," he puts his hands up, waving them as he quickly interrupts himself to say he's fine before putting his head back down. "- due to a fall. Supposedly, the villain they were pursuing took advantage of that as a distraction. Kacchan was able to subdue him..."

Again with the damn pauses.

"...but?" You try not to sound too annoyed, but can't help it. You loved Izuku dearly, but he really needed to learn to get to the damn point.

"...but the civilian he captured wasn't so lucky."

What the hell does that mean?

Something in your gut tells you to sit down for whatever it is he's going to say next. You take the seat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh for reassurance.

"You...don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Zu," your tone shifting from your previous annoyance to concern.

He puts a hand on top of yours and gives it a squeeze. "T-thanks, but it's okay. Maybe you could try to talk with him? I had Kirishima try, too with no luck."

"Okay, sure. Do you wanna tell me what happened, then?"

You're not really sure if you should know, at this point. If Bakugo's locked himself in his room and refuses to speak to anyone? Some serious shit must have happened. He's not one to completely shutdown and isolate himself, let alone from Midoriya and Kirishima.

"The...civilian didn't make it. The villain planted a bomb inside of the civilian as, uh...a backup plan, I guess. It went off as Kacchan was escorting them to the ambulance for evaluation."

Your stomach stirs a second time, afraid to confirm what you think happened. "...so, you're telling me he saw someone...explode?"

He hesitates. "Y-yeah. Endeavor told us he went into shock, which isn't like him at all but completely normal, all things considered. He went non-verbal until we got back last night. He didn't even yell, told us he was going to bed, walked off and slammed the door."

"Fucking hell...do you know if he at least got some sleep on the drive back?"

"Funny enough, yeah. He fell asleep on my shoulder." He smiles faintly, trying to look at the positive in this situation. You can't help but smile, too, imagining Bakugo passed out on him without a care in the world.

Midoriya rubs two fingers against his temple - he's intensely fighting to stay awake. But who could blame him? His best friend just went through something extremely traumatic and he doesn't know the best way to help him.

You rub his back, attempting to calm his visible anxiety.

"Alright, I'll tag in. Please Izuku, go to bed. You need to rest," you assert, knowing that he would keep himself up until he physically couldn't stand if it meant helping a friend - especially Bakugo.

"Yeah. Thank you, y/n," Midoriya says wearily. As he stands, you jump up from your own seat to wrap him in a tight hug. He accepts, sighing into your shoulder as his body deflates into yours.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

───

After you walk Midoriya back to his dorm room, you go inside with him for a few minutes to be sure he actually gets into bed. He lazily crawls under the sheets, letting you tuck him in as his eyes are fluttering closed. You pat his head and mutter a 'night Zu' as you tip-toe to the door, carefully shutting it behind you.

Jogging up to the 4th floor, you make your way down the hall to Bakugo's room. You stand outside for a moment before knocking twice.

No response.

You give him a few seconds before knocking again.

Nothing. You don't hear any movement on the other side of the door, either. Maybe he's asleep?

One final try before you give up and resort to calling him.

Thudding footsteps are stomping on the floor from inside his room after the third set of knocks. The sudden sound shocks you as the door flies open, Bakugo's scowling face emerging from behind it, the whites of his eyes faintly pink in color. Has he been crying?

"God dammit, nerd! I fuckin' told you -," He doesn't notice it's you right away as he's shouting in your face. Once the realization sets in, he visibly recoils at his mistake. "...sorry. Thought you were Izuku."

"I could go dye my hair and draw freckles on if you wanna yell at me," you joke.

He doesn't laugh - not even an eyeroll.

Your heart sinks.

Neither of you say anything, standing there awkwardly as the air thickens between the two of you. Bakugo audibly exhales and you can't tell if he's annoyed, angry or...sad.

"Can I come in?" you ask humbly.

He says nothing, retreating back into his room - but, he leaves the door open for you. You take that as an accepted invitation, coming inside and closing the door behind you. He sits on his bed, knees tucked up to his chest as he scoots back to the wall.

Seeing Bakugo like this tugs at your heartstrings, despondent and detached, the opposite of any emotions he'd usually carry. You follow him to the bed and quietly ask permission to sit with him.

"Do you want me to sit with you, Kat?"

He doesn't move, just answers with a muted 'whatever.'

As gentle as you can, you climb onto the bed and shimmy next to him, back against the wall. You'll take this as a win, especially since Midoriya mentioned him not answering anyone else. You're about to say something as you hear a sniffle, confirming your suspicions.

Bakugo was and has been crying.

You reach over to put a hand in his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Instantaneously, he smacks your hand away - hard - and a spark jumps off his palm. Normally, he'd let you touch him without an issue - to an extent, of course, but right now? You understand why he wouldn't want any physical touch.

"Okay, I'll sit here as long as you want," you affirm, retracting your hand and pulling your own knees to your chest. "You don't have to say anything."

With that, the flood gates busted wide open. Bakugo whips his head in your direction, his nose red and eyes swollen, and frantically scrambles on to you. The two of you fall sideways into the pillows at the head of the bed as he wraps his arms around you into an awkward embrace. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, latching onto the back of your shirt with an ironclad grip as he begins to sob.

You have never heard him cry this hard over anything, not even after his fight with Midoriya back in their first year.

You don't wait for Bakugo to say anything before you're cradling him against you, one hand delicately stroking his hair while the other massages light circles on his back.

"I've got you, Katsuki, it's okay," you whisper soothingly while trying your damndest to stop yourself from crying along with him. You wish, more than anything in the world, that you could physically remove the memory from his brain to free him of this trauma.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay as long as you want."

He doesn't respond, only pushes himself deeper into your embrace. You can feel the material of your shirt sticking to your skin at your collarbone from his snot and tears, and you're definitely going to have bruises on your back from his fingers digging into you for support. None of that matters though in the moment, what matters is that he's getting the initial shock out of his system.

You're not too sure how long you both lay there, but with time, you can tell Bakugo's calming down by his sobs mellowing out. His body begins to loosen up, the tension melting from his tightened grip around you. And then you hear it - a low snore.

He'd fallen asleep.

You tilt your head back to get a look at his face. His features have relaxed around his puffy eyes and pink nose. Without thinking, you run a hand through his bangs, exposing his forehead and press a tender kiss to it. He doesn't stir and continues to take deep, sleepy breaths.

───

Bakugo wakes an hour later, dazed and exhausted. When he starts to shift in your arms, you open your eyes. You give him a hearty smile as he releases his hold, rolling onto his back next to you.

"Mornin' sunshine. How're you feeling?"

He snorts as his eyes focus on the ceiling. "Like shit."

He pauses before looking back at you. "But less than before. Thanks. I'm just fuckin' tired."

"You scared me, I've never seen you that upset before," you admit. "You don't have to talk about it now, or ever, just know that I'm here for whatever you need."

"I don't even know what to say about it. Shit sucked, but it's what we signed up for." He's very monotone, but at least he's talking.

You roll over to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

Bakugo sighs. "'S what it is. I'll get over it. Endeavor told me the first one is the hardest, better to get it outta the way before becomin' a pro."

Damn, that made your heart ache.

"Just 'cause we wanna help people doesn't mean we can't also ask the same for ourselves. Heroes need a hero, too."

He lolls his head to the side and stares at you, a gleam in his tired eyes. "...yeah."

The room is silent as the two of you take a break from the rough conversation. If he doesn't want to continue talking, you don't push it. Instead, you offer a distraction.

"I'd love to take you hiking today, if you're up for it," you say with enthusiasm. "I know how much you love that one trail nearby with the overlook of the city."

Bakugo felt his heart flutter at the proposal, confusing the hell out of him, but offered a sense of comfort that he needed. He loved that you remembered something so niche about his interests.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Sure! You tell me how early you wanna go and I'll get my ass out of bed. Just for you," you tease, jokingly smacking his arm. "We can get lunch on the way back from the hike, too. Wherever you wanna go!"

Between the swirl of emotions from earlier and how sweet you're being to him now, he's overwhelmed with a feeling he can't quite place.

"Y/N, can I ask you something?" he asks abruptly.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

"Always, Kat. What is it?"

He stalls his follow up, seeming to think a little longer on how he wans to phrase his question.

"Why...are you here with me?"

His question baffles you. "Because you're my best friend?"

Best friend, he repeats in his head.

You notice the pondering look in his eyes as he turns to face you, shifting to lay on his side.

"It's because I care deeply about you, Katsuki. Nothing'll ever change that."

"...promise?" His voice is shaky, a nervousness to his tone.

You reach out and touch his cheek, stroking it lovingly with your thumb.

"Is that even a question? Yes, I promise. You're stuck with my ass forever, like it or not. I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way."

He laughs - genuinely.

And then he smiles. Your heart soars into the heavens.

"There's my favorite firecracker!" you boast, squishing his cheek in your hand.

Bakugo huffs at the sudden affection, a dusting of pink on his cheeks and nose.

"Th' fuck?!" he curses, playfully poking your forehead. "I'm not a firecracker!"

“Coulda fooled me, Mr. Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight.”

The two of you play fight, cackling like children as the tension melts from the room.

Even if it’s just for a little while, Bakugo forgot about the agonizing dread from hours ago.

───

Later on in the dorm lobby, you’re sitting on the couch with Bakugo, feet in his lap watching TV as he’s reading a book. Midoriya comes prancing into the room, fresh faced from his nap. His eyes brighten when he sees Bakugo on the couch.

“Hey guys! Kacchan, how are you feeling?” he asks cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

Unexpectedly, Bakugo wraps an arm over Midoriya’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“Fine, nerd. Thanks.” He lets go, puts a hand on his head and roughly fluffs his curls - just like when they were kids. Midoriya is so taken aback that he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and relaxes next to him.

“What are we watching?”

You lean sideways to catch a glimpse of the boys together on the couch, co-existing without any negativity. Even after all the shit life throws at them, they still find ways to shove it all away to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, they just need a little help getting back to that mentality.

A silent huff escapes you as you lay back into the couch.

These boys are going to be the death of me.

i love these goobers and wanna buy them a lifetime’s worth of ice cream and take them to disney world to make them happy :’)

[notcactusman]

I feel like if midnight burger showed up in Night Vale everyone would just be chill with it.

Cecil voice: “In other news, Larry Leroy out on the edge of town has reported that a diner appeared in the middle of the scrublands overnight. None of us have any idea how it got there or what it’s intentions are, but the coffee is dee-lish. City council has stated in a press release that “it’s whatever. Like, we don’t know anything about architecture. Leave us alone!”

Also Carlos and Ava. I would love to see that interaction

[calmcoldevening]

I’m begging you for a part 2 of the knowing the slashers when they were younger fic where they meet when they’re older if you’re up for it ofc🙏

You knew slashers when you were a child and now you grow up and met them

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

TW: mention of blood, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Ps: english is not my native language, so sorry for misspells. And also i really didn't know what I needed to write about Sinclair, because i need to rewatch the movie to remember their characters, so i didn't write about them. I hope you'll enjoy our sweet Tommy and baby boy Brahms

Part one ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Thomas Hewitt

You just recently graduated from college and decided to celebrate it with a trip with your friends to one of the US states. The choice fell on Texas. You still had pleasant memories of your school life in this place in your heart, and your heart ached at the thought of how soon you left your hometown. Not that you would call these people friends, but you were good acquaintances and helped each other with tasks. And so you packed your bags and within half an hour you were all driving together in a small SUV. The boyfriend of one of your 'friends' (Jessica) was driving. He was a good man, although he joked about unpleasant topics from time to time. But you turned a blind eye to it. In the end, you will finally find yourself back in the good old Texas.

The road was long, so you had a lot of time to think. You were sitting in the farthest seat, staring into space and slowly stroking an old, slightly battered fox toy with your hand. Your thoughts revolved around one person. That shy little boy you had such a happy conversation with years ago. It was your first memorable friend. You no longer had friends who could surpass sweet Tommy.

Finally, the car turned at a sign with the inscription of a city you know. Your heart started beating faster and you couldn't suppress a smile in anticipation. Soon you will see him again, a sweet shy boy. Although now it will probably be a guy, after all, it's been almost twelve years. This figure was almost painful.

The Texas landscape flowed like a soft canvas on the other side of the window, the sun mercilessly burned his eyes, refracting through the glass. It was hot and stuffy. You're lucky to get into one of the hottest periods in Texas. This place has changed somewhat, although it remains the same as you remembered it. The once small plantings have now turned into real tall trees, although they did not save much from the sultry sun. The wheels of the car turned quickly on turns with an unpleasant sound, raising a cloud of dust behind them. Jessica's boyfriend, Tim, apparently loved playing racer very much, even on the main state road.

By all the laws of luck, Tim abruptly informed you that you were running out of gas. There was a gas station nearby. You entered a small diner next to the gas station, and your heart instantly warmed up. It was that sweet woman, Thomas's mom. Luda-May, isn't that right?

"Hello, Luda," you say with a slight smile, approaching the cash register. The woman looks up at you with a frown, peering at your appearance for a few seconds. Finally, recognition seemed to flash across her face.

"Y/N?" She asks dryly, her voice a little rougher than what you remember from childhood. You nod in response. A warm smile appears on Mrs. Hewitt's face and she hurries out from behind the counter, wrapping you in a gentle, almost maternal embrace. "God, girl.. I never thought I'd see you again. You've grown up so much."

"I'm so sorry that I left so quickly. It was my parents' idea, not mine."

"I understand, honey, don't worry. We've all missed you. Especially Tommy."

The mere mention of his name makes your heart ache. Tommy... You haven't seen him for so long. Your heart yearned for those beloved cornflower blue eyes. You reluctantly pull away from the cozy embrace of Luda, your hand reflexively reaches for your hair, removing a stray strand from your face when you understand the look at a woman.

"You still live there, don't you? Can I see him?"

"Of course, my girl. I've just finished. Hoyt should be arriving soon."

Hoyt? Your brain was carefully trying to find at least one mention of that name in your memory, but nothing came to mind. Strange. Although it may be one of their relatives or friends, after all, you haven't been here for too long, it couldn't have stayed the same, could it?

What was your surprise when that Hoyt turned out to be old Charlie. Although his appearance was now quite pretentious: sheriff's clothes, hat and badge. Something was wrong. This man has been lazy all his life, he could not suddenly decide to go to work in a place related to healthcare. But you chose to remain silent. Hoyt didn't seem to recognize you. When he saw your friends, he invited them to go with them, saying that he had a can of gasoline at home.

"Take the guys, and then you'll come for us. I don't think the sheriff's car can hold that many people," Luda intervened, grabbing your arm protectively. It's got you a little stressed out. Although there was some truth in her words. Five former students came with you, all of them obviously wouldn't have gotten into Charlie's car. The man wanted to say something, but gave up, nodding to the woman.

And so they left. All that time, Luda was asking about your life, enjoying listening to stories from college. She was more interested in this than your own parents. And now Hoyt is back. He was in high spirits. You got to the Hewitt house safely. As a child, as now, the building was still huge for you. Luda carefully led you into the kitchen, offering you tea. God, you've missed this place.

"Tommy! Come here, we have guests," Luda shouted and you heard hurried rustles and heavy footsteps from the basement.

It made you tense up a little bit. Finally, a couple of minutes later, a tall man, the size of an entire closet, entered the kitchen. Your blood turned cold. You slowly looked up. A long, tall body, wavy dark hair and a leather mask on his face. He frowns down at you, seeming to evaluate you with his cold blue eyes.

"Tommy?" As if nothing had happened, Luda-Mae asks in a cheerful voice, "Do you remember Y/N?"

It seemed that at that moment the gears were turning in his head. You needed time to think about it too. Was this huge man Thomas? No, of course, Tommy was a bit of a big kid as a kid, but he was still quite small. The only thing that attracted attention was his bandage on his face. Now it has been replaced by a strange leather mask.

You didn't even have time to think, as careful footsteps were heard from the basement. It seemed, but Tommy and none of the People were found at first. And Tim appeared behind Thomas. God, he was covered in blood and his back was bleeding. Your face is filled with pure horror. And that gave Tim away. Thomas notices your fear and turns around, immediately grabbing Tim roughly and dragging him back to the basement. Your brain screamed like a hunted animal that you needed to get out of here and urgently. Something has happened to this family, something bad, since they communicate with other people like that. But as soon as you tried to run to the exit, at that moment you were hit by something heavy on the back of the head.

His heart ached for you. You were the first person who ever showed him kindness in your life, and now you will surely be afraid of him. God, he wouldn't want to see fear in your beautiful eyes when you're afraid of him. His body was filled with an unpleasant feeling of disappointment and pain. He didn't want that, really. But he wanted to keep you by his side, he didn't want to let you go again. And he didn't want you to hurt the family. So now he was gently wiping the remnants of blood from your beautiful face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. You were still as beautiful, his heart began to beat faster, as it did when he was a child. He saw that toy in your friends' car, you kept it all these years. Thomas couldn't help but smile. Maybe you loved him too? Not now, not after what he did.

The following days were a blur. Your head ached, and an unpleasant heaviness tightened your neck. They put you on a chain. Thomas or Luda would check on you from time to time, Luda would just leave food, and Thomas would just sit on the bed next to you and just look at you. Sometimes he would try to touch you, but you would instantly jump aside like a wounded animal. Thomas's heart ached painfully in his chest. Although.. He deserved it, didn't he? All his life he was looked at with disgust or fear. But he didn't care about those people. All these simple passers-by or victims were just empty meat. But you were afraid of him now. He couldn't stand your gaze, full of fear for your life, so he left the room every time, unable to look in your eyes.

The days slowly followed each other. You were still afraid. But there was something else. Whenever Thomas enters the room, your eyes involuntarily glided over his big strong body. You wanted to snuggle up to him, find comfort in his arms. But there was a part of you that knew it was wrong. They killed people, they killed your friends. They chained you up and kept you here like some kind of dog. And yet your body was begging for his warmth, just like when you were a child.

What was Thomas's surprise when the next time he came into the room, you crawled closer to him, asking for a hug. Your arms clumsily wrapped around his body. Thomas blushed instantly. His heart felt so good. He gently grabbed you by the hips, putting you on his lap, and hugging your fragile body with his strong arms. He buried his nose in your hair. How he missed that feeling. His brain was filled with the scent of your skin. Thomas let out a relieved whimper as you began to gently run your fingers through his tangled hair.

He never left you, he won't let you go into this cruel world again. He will protect you with all his heart. His sweet girl.

Brahms Heelshire

"Now I've won," the man says in a hoarse voice through his cracked porcelain mask with a doll's face.

He was breathing heavily, hanging over you, his left hand pressed against the wall behind you, while the other reached out to your face, gently stroking.

"Still beautiful," he whispers, caressing your chin with his thumb, tracing your lower lip with his fingernail. Your heart was pounding wildly, you shrank under the man's gaze like a frightened animal. His movements were rough, but his touch seemed almost gentle, as if he didn't want to disrupt this moment or harm your fragile being. His breathing was loud and heavy because of the mask, and the skin under his eyes was slightly reddened. And those eyes. Those warm eyes are the color of pure amber under the bright sun. They looked at you with extraordinary affection and humility. You could recognize those eyes out of a thousand. Like back then, fifteen years ago.

You nervously clutched the steering wheel rim with your right hand, counting the turns. Not so long ago, you managed to get a new job, and who would have thought that this job would be in your childhood home. Or rather, your friend. They always treated you like their own child, so they gave you this job without any problems.

The weather was clear, it was only the beginning of autumn. Some of the trees have already turned golden, their leaves rustling unobtrusively. The sky was clear, without a single cloud, so the sun shone brightly through the windshield of your car. It seemed that nothing could spoil your return to your childhood home.

Your heart was beating fast in your chest. The mind was filled with thousands of pleasant memories of your past together and children's laughter. You missed Brahms so much. It's been a long time since you've seen him.

Finally, after a couple of long hours, you arrived at the Hilsher estate. It remained the same. Obviously, Mr. Heelshire was still carefully tending the garden, growing his wife's favorite flowers. You stopped right next to the driveway, the wheels moving pleasantly on the gravel. After getting out of the car, you went inside without thinking twice. The greenery of this place has always been striking in its beauty, it seemed that no seasons had power over this place, the forests of the estate still gave pleasure with their emerald color and the coolness of the dense grove.

You were met at the very door by Mrs. Heelshire. She has changed a lot since your last visit, of course, the years take their toll. Her eyes were a little red and tired, and there were small bruises under them. Her face was unusually pale and her hair was gray, but not as when it happens from age, but when a person goes through a lot of life difficulties and faces stress.

"Honey, I haven't seen you for so long," the woman said smiling, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Her hugs were pleasant, but strangely nervous, "We were surprised when we received your candidacy for this job."

"I just really wanted to come back. My parents wouldn't let me go just like that."

"And for good reason," the woman mutters to herself, immediately turning to face you with a warm smile, "We always want only the best for you, my girl, don't hold a grudge against us."

Her words strain you a little, but you attribute it to her slight excitement before the long-awaited vacation. After all, for as long as you can remember, Mrs. Heelshire has always been a caring and hardworking woman, she didn't know the word 'rest'.

After ten tedious minutes, Mrs. Heelshire explains to you the set of rules and your responsibilities. It seemed like she was trying in a hurry to tell you everything at once. Her eyes were constantly darting around the walls of the house.

And now you're alone. Taking care of the doll was not so difficult. Although you still didn't understand why the doll had the name of your childhood best friend. No one's parents told you what happened to Brahms, you just moved in a couple of days before his birthday. You didn't even have time to give him the gift you made with your own hands. Years later, you felt guilty about it. But now, that feeling seemed to be gone. It feels like you're finally in your place. You're home.

It happened two weeks after your arrival at the manor. As usual, you were sorting out the groceries that Malcolm brought while the man was standing next to you, leaning against the doorjamb. He was watching you carefully, talking about something. To be honest, you've noticed for a long time how ambiguously he looks at you. All those jokes, compliments, touches and glances. He was flirting with you. But you could definitely tell that he wasn't your type. Damn it, he was overconfident. But in a relationship, you wanted to 'be at the helm', you wanted a guy with character, but definitely obedient. And Malcolm definitely didn't fit that description.

"..hey, can you leave this doll after all? Let's go to my place. I'll show you a lot of interesting things," he says with a sly grin, taking a few steps closer.

"The Heelshirs left me here for a reason, I don't want to undermine their trust."

"Come on, do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a house with just this doll?" The guy purrs, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your neck. You are annoyed by his behavior and you step on Malcolm's foot with force. He hisses and quickly pulls away. "Fuck, are you stupid?"

"Watch your mouth, boy."

Malcolm tenses up. He hears rapid rustling in the walls, his eyes darting around the room.

"The hell with you," he finally gives up. Malcolm grabs the empty boxes and leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. You're relieved. He seems to be a man, but he behaves like a scared boy.

"Y/N.. Did he hurt you?" A small child's voice comes from somewhere in the hallway. You flinch a little. You knew that voice. Brahms. True, his voice was a little different in childhood, now it was quieter and plaintive. You quickly close the refrigerator and slowly walk towards the source of the sound.

"Who's here? Brahms?"

It all happened too fast. At first, you were driven by interest with a little bit of fear. In an instant, you saw a tall, broad figure towering over you by a good two heads. You were scared. You ran away, hoping to hide from a stranger. And one day you were pinned against the wall by a muscular figure.

"Y/N, don't be afraid... I didn't mean to scare you." A child's voice mumbles plaintively. You look into those hazel eyes and your heart sinks.

"Brahms?" In response, the man only reaches out to your face, gently caressing your cheek.

"Now I've won." His voice changes. Instead of a child's voice, a low, hoarse voice now caresses your ears. You feel electricity running down your spine, you instinctively squeeze your hips.

Your hands reach for the porcelain mask, but Brahms abruptly pulls away. He shakes his head negatively. He didn't want you to see his face. He doesn't want you to be scared. He doesn't want you to leave him like the others.

"Come on, Brahms. You're a good boy. Didn't you love kissing?" You speak with a slight smile. A long-drawn-out whine comes from under the mask. He nods briefly. You lift the edge of the mask, covering his hot lips with your own. Brahms's movements are fast and assertive, he bites your lips, squeezing your waist in his hands. He missed you so much.

[givekennyabreak]

You got a friend in me. (Platonic!Victor Kavanaugh x gn!reader)

Summary: Victor had no one to count on, but then - you arrived in town.

Word count: 1.39k (oops again)

Request: "Fantastic! Okay, in that case: maybe something with a twentysomething female reader (maybe someone who’s been there for a while with him to look out for her/vice-versa). I don’t really have any specific prompt in mind, but I do remember that when I saw the scene where Julie calls out Jade for the way he speaks to Jim for the first time, I immediately thought “I’d love to see something like that, but with someone standing up for Victor.” I dunno—it’d just be nice to see someone really caring about him. Most of the others all have their little pockets of found family, and he’s pretty much by himself."

Rating: T

Warnings: canon compliant cursing, mentions of death, spoilers from s1 and s2 (up to episode 3), jade calls reader "mama bear" but there's no use of pronouns or anything defining gender, 2nd person pov ig

Note: I ended up making this gender neutral without noticing lmaooo, this gif of victor is everything. give my dude a break pls

Victor was your friend.

Ever since you got in this nightmare-like town, in your mid-twenties, fresh outta university, after a trip to a new city with better job offers in your area of study, Victor has been a breath of fresh air.

Everyone had a role in town – be it to feed everyone, like Tian-Chen, or be a leader like Boyd and Donna (in Colony House, at least); everyone had a little part to play, usually worrying about whether you’d get home safely before nightfall, or if the crops were healthy, if the animals were fed.

But Victor didn’t.

He did worry, but his brain wasn’t the same as everyone else’s; he stayed alone for far too long, way too young – call it a self-defense mechanism, but his mind stayed in a perpetual child-like state, as innocent as possible in a place like this personal hell. He had a good heart, was a little awkward (again, stayed alone for too long. That’s understandable) and cared about his friends, even though they were few – you, Fatima and Ethan included.

So new people tended to look at him a little weird.

Jim Matthews was one of them, but he quickly noticed Victor wasn’t a bad person.

(You had just eaten a couple of fluffy pancakes, sitting at the counter of the diner; Victor came in and started talking to the kid who arrived with the new family. It was nice seeing him make more friends, even if it was a kid – they had similar ways of thinking, anyway.

Then, his dad stormed out of the bathroom, nearly shouting at Victor; rightfully so, it was understandable he’d find it weird an unknown middle-aged man sitting and talking to his son, but this – it was too much. You stood up, walking up to the commotion; Jim was red in the face, threatening Victor.

“You don't come near him. You don't talk to him. Do you understand me? Stay the fuck away from him.”

“Hey.” You interrupted, staying beside Victor. “Hi. I know you’re new here and all, but you don’t know us, any of us. So maybe don’t be too quick to judge others based on what you know – which is nothing.”

You smiled down at the kid, who looked so fucking lost.

“Victor is a good person, and I’m pretty sure your dad is too, right?” You looked back up at the man, who had become silent. “Set a good example for your kid – don’t threaten people.”

Jim scowled. “Come on, time to go.”)

It was good to see his development (even though it was minimal).

And then, Victor didn’t come home. And that other new guy invaded his room while you were in town – this batch of newbies wasn’t so great -, ignoring Ethan’s pleading (which he told you about later that day, cheeks red with anger. He is a good kid.), so the next morning you went down the road towards the place he was staying at.

And saw Victor right outside his door.

Relief flooded your mind and body at that; he was alive, of course he was – he was smart, he figured out a way. As you got near the house, you could hear their conversation; Jade sighed out a breath, somehow also relieved.

“Oh, you're back. Holy shit. This is great. This is great.”

“That's mine.” Victor pointed at the violin, reaching out to the wooden instrument. “Give it back to me.”

 “Yeah. Uh...”

“Give it back to me.”

“I'm sorry, alright.”

“Give it back to me.”

Jade looked down at it, blinking.  “I was just thinking I could just play it for a little bit...”

“Give it back to me!” He shouted, startling the younger man.

“Okay! Alright. Calm down, man. Here.”

The violin was handed back to Victor, who turned around on the porch. “That's my room! You don't go in my room!” He shouted and walked away, leaving a baffled Jade on the doorway. You stood still, waiting for him to come up the dirt road.

“Okay. Wait! Oh, hold on. Hey!” Jade ran out of the house, flipping through the pages on the notebook. “Slow down! I'm sorry, Okay? I shouldn't have gone in your room. I thought you were fucking dead. I've been looking everywhere for you.” He ranted.

“There's this symbol that I keep seeing. I mean, I keep seeing things that aren't actually there, but every time I do, there's this symbol, and there's this book that Kenny's mom gave me. Some guy kept drawing the same symbol and there's a picture- would you please just fucking stop!” Jade shouted, and Victor stopped in his tracks, hesitant.

 “Look at this. Look at this.” Jade displayed the drawing in the little notebook. “There's gotta be a reason I'm seeing this everywhere.”

He held up a polaroid. “This guy. He must've been seeing it too. Right? And look, right there. Right in the back.” His index finger pointed at a small boy in the back of the picture, right in front of the diner. “That's you, right? Maybe in some fucked-up way, this could be the key to getting the hell out of here. I mean, Jesus, all this time. Don't you wanna go home?”

Your heart squeezed at his words - that wasn’t fair.

Victor frowned. “You shouldn't have touched this. It's not yours. Stay away from me!”

“Well, fuck you too! Wait, uh... Fuck.”

Your friend walked right past you, still frowning, and you let him go back to colony house – you’d have the whole afternoon and night to talk with him. Right now, your attention was settled on the curly-haired man a few meters away from you, wide-eyed as he noticed your form approaching.

“Oh fuck, it's mama bear- wait-”

“Do you have any fucking idea,” You walked up to him, poking him on the chest – he walked back a few steps, wincing. “how long he stayed here? Alone, scared, as a fucking kid?”

“I’m-”

You interrupted him again. “No, you don’t. You DON’T. Because we all got to grow up in a world that isn’t so much as a sliver of the shit we see here. We want to go home, I want to go home, but this place is ALL he got to know. As heartbreaking as it is,” You closed your hands into fists, jaw set so tight your teeth might snap. “this is the home he knows. This is what he knows as normal.”

Jade went silent. He didn’t think about it this way – it didn’t even cross his mind.

“So think hard before you talk to him again.” You turned around, brows furrowed. “And fucking apologize, you asshole.”

 When you got home, the first thing you did was go up to Victor’s room; you knocked on the door, four slow raps so he’d know it was you. And so, slowly, the door opened, and you invited yourself in.

Victor sat on his bed, head hanging low and violin on his desk.

“Hey, bud.” You sat down beside him, and he threw his arms around your shoulders almost instantly. Your own arms circled his chest, and your head placed itself on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay. I got really worried.”

“’m sorry. It took me a while.” He mumbled, cheek resting on your head.

“I know. It’s not your fault, I’m really happy you’re back in one piece.” You said, patting his back the way you knew would calm him down. “And don’t mind what Jade said, okay? He’s stupid.”

Victor nodded. “Yes, he makes me angry.”

“He makes most of us angry, don’t worry.” You finally let go of him, and he drew back from the hug as well; he looked tired. “I know what’s going to make us feel better.”

You stood up, pointing at your own room. “I’m gonna get some blankets.”

He brightened up. “Blanket fort?”

You nodded your head in affirmation. “Blanket fort.”

He smiled. “I’ll help.”

Victor was a good friend.

Sometimes he made you worry; most newbies looked at him weird, some people didn’t like him – but he was your friend, he was your little found family in this nightmare town.

And, even if you never got out of here, it was okay – because you had a good friend by your side, and Victor would never let you down.

[schluttforschlatt]

Bartender Reader x Patron Schlatt

You’ve had your fair share of working in shitty dive bars, having been in both big cities and small towns

The patrons were always predictable, their life stories printed in the creases around their eyes and mouth

The bigger cities attracted a younger crowd, while the smaller townships collected middle aged farm hands and dock workers

You were currently working two part time jobs: waiting tables at a family owned diner in the morning, and bartending at a sleepy tavern in the evenings

You had your regulars at both establishments, but the bar goers definitely tipped better than the diner guests

Of course there were sleezeballs trying to feel you up at the bar, but you were desperate to make rent and didn’t mind an extra $30 for a light tap on the ass; men are simple creatures after all and you were able to brush it off by the time you were clocking out

However, every Friday night you noticed a solitary young man, gruff expression and wild facial hair with uncharacteristically soft eyes, tucked away in a booth occasionally sharing banter with other bar crawlers

You’d heard stories of him tipping measly dollars to your coworkers, the other bar tenders always disappointed after he would close out his tab and walk out the door

But when it was you cashing him out, he’d slide you a crisp $50 with a subtle wink, and you’d blush whispering a “thank you” every time

This would go on for a few months, him slipping you $100s closer to holidays. The first time, you pleaded with him to keep the money and use it for his own needs and care, but he smiled down at you and shook his head, muttering “you’re too sweet for this place, doll. Tips all yours.”

You came to eventually know him as Jay, who would slink in and order a top shelf whiskey or bourbon, then seat himself in a booth in the far corner of the bar. He would only speak when it came time to pay his tab, unless it was you

He would ask you about your life, what you were studying and why you were passionate about it. He’d ask about your hobbies and interests, offering input if it was something he was familiar with. And of course, he loved it when you’d sit in the booth across from him, scrolling through pictures of your cats at home.

On one occasion, you’d had an actually deep conversation about working two jobs and studying, struggling to find a balance between the three while maintaining a social life and personal interests

You’d become acquaintances with him, and just as you opened up to him, he would open up to you, sharing pictures of his own cats (“I don’t trust someone who doesn’t like cats, there’s just something untrustworthy about it.” He’d say to you one night) and his travels across the states and abroad

One night in particular, he asked about a tattoo you had on your left forearm. You said it was from your favorite video game, which launched the two of you into a passionate conversation about console vs PC, then building your own PCs and rigs

He pulled out his phone and opened the Steam app, eagerly asking to add you as a friend with the possibility of playing together, which you happily obliged

He tipped you $250 that night, his bill originally only $45. That was the largest tip you’d received. There was no physical contact made, nor did he try to feel you up at any point, unlike other reoccurring patrons

The next time he sauntered in, he gave you a shy wave before ordering a whiskey neat, then retiring to the same dim booth. You’d taken notice of his messy hair, the usual Yankees cap missing this evening, and the stressed look on his face

On your break you made your routine appearance at the booth, scooting in with a warm smile. His eyes seemed distant this time, almost anxious. You opened the conversation joking about his missing hat, to which he let out a soft chuckle and cracked a half smile. He indulged about his current woes, how his job was weighing on him and he felt like he was hitting a wall

This was the first time you’d asked about what he did for a living, and suddenly the larger than average tips made sense.

He prattled on about running multiple successful YouTube channels on top of owning several smaller business ventures. He opened up about the podcasts he was apart of, and explained how Patreon patrons were the backbone of his multiple communities. It was endearing to see someone young, close in age to you, express the realities of burnout despite loving your craft

As your lunch conversation came to an end, you boldly asked for his number, if anything just to continue the discussion after your shift

However, he’d do you one better and invite you over to his place after your shift to talk shit about life and play old Nintendo games. He’d still given you his number, of course, but he’d also filled out his contact information with his street address, email, and had taken a silly selfie for the contact photo and poster

As you clocked out that night, he waited for you outside the entrance, scrolling through Reddit

You told him you couldn’t stay too late, as you worked your second (well, first, technically) job in the morning and needed at least a good nap before you’d have to get ready

He was more than happy to offer for you to stay the night at his place, and so you two made the walk to your apartment (you said you were fine to go by yourself, but he insisted on making sure you got to your destinations safe and sound). You opened up the door and invited him in, introducing him to your three cats and leaving them in the small living room while you packed an overnight bag. You could hear needy meows through the hall of your youngest cat, begging this new kind stranger for treats. Once she started, the other two kitties joined in, a chorus of

“I don’t know where your mama keeps them! But if I find them you’ll all get some!” You’d heard him whisper yell, smiling at the thought of this new found friend bonding with the most important things in your life

Once your bag was packed, you locked your bedroom door and waltzed into the cramped kitchen, pulling out a bag of cat treats and handing them to Jay

“I spoil them so give them each a small handful,” you smiled at him, handing the bag over. “But be careful of Mellie, she’ll bit a finger for a treat.” He chuckled and offered a smile back, eyes brighter now than they were at the start of the night

After getting the cats to settle down, you’d scuttle down the stairs of your apartment, and begin your trek to Jay’s

Coincidentally, he only lived a few blocks away, no more than a 15 minute walk. It was brisk outside, and you were hoping the pajama shorts you packed would keep you warm through the night

Once arriving at his condo, he unlocked the door and let you in. His own cats came skittering to the front door, immediately begging you, now the stranger to these cats, for treats of their own

“Guys, leave our guest alone, I know your feeders went off less than an hour ago,” he’d bent down to pet one of his cats, an orange one you recognized as Jambo, before throwing a mouse toy into the hallway, both cats running after it

“Did you want to change? The bathroom is down that hall to the left,” he informed, pointing you in the direction. “I’m gonna get the Wii set up in the living room, so take your time, Doll.” That was a pet name he’d use for you often, and you never thought anything of it, only that he was a nice guy who essentially paid for your groceries and gas in his tips

You smiled and nodded, taking off for the bathroom while he took off his jacket, draping it over the arm of the loveseat

It was a nice condo, you thought, colors fitting together charmingly. Blues and browns accented the walls, along with framed awards and trophies. It wasn’t braggadocious, you thought, but rather cute

You found the bathroom, which was also put together nicely, and began your nightly routine. Once you were changed out of your sticky uniform and with a washed face, you made your way to the living room, socked feet making gentle padding sounds to announce your presence. He turns and smiles at you, a gleam in his eye

“Here, lemme put your bag in my room,” he offers with an extended hand, and you gladly let him store it for later

You plop down on the couch, picking up a Wiimote and securing the wrist strap. You hear heavy steps from behind before a “You really use the wrist strap on these things? Pft-“ he joins you on the couch, you, player two, on the right side, and he, obviously player one, on the right

“Your place looks nice, and I don’t have the money to buy you a new TV if I go too hard in Wii Sports,” you quip back, earning a small laugh from the larger man

He continues to set up Mario Kart, turning back to see if you approve of his choice

“Ain’t worried ‘bout the TV, Doll,” you blush at the use of the pet name again. “Only worried about kicking your ass in Moo Moo Circut.”

It wouldn’t be long until both of you were shit talking each other, subconsciously scooting closer to each other, shrieks and laughs echoing through the room

Jambo and [Redacted] had found their places next to you and Jay, and something about this made you feel at ease, allowing you to loosen up a bit and sink into the comfort of his couch

A few hours had passed, and a handful of circuits had been played before you sheepishly asked for a blanket. He obliged, standing up to grab a giant plush blanket, draping it over your lap, then pulling the slack over his own after sitting back down. He’d throw a sheepish grin your direction after knocking your knees together

He’d subconsciously reach over and rub the spot under the blanket, causing you to gasp at the contact of his cold hand. He’d apologize and withdraw digits, refocusing on the TV screen, but you could see a faint blush begun to crawl up his ears

Another hour or so had passed before you were ready to head to bed, your need for sleep making its presence by intense yawns dragging themselves out in quick succession to one another, then contagiously spreading to Jay

Standing up from the couch and stretching, you’d follow behind the large man, with the cats following behind you, to a decently sized bedroom with a neatly made bed

“Beds all yours, I’ll take the futon,” he’d declare, causing you to blush, and insist he take the bed, and you the futon, but he’d stand firm on his decision. “‘S probably gonna be the only time you’ll sleep on a bed this nice, when you come over, y’know?” The smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know, so you’d nod and climb into the California King, feeling like the distance to himself on the futon was several zip codes away

The bed was indeed comfortable, but you tossed and turned because of how unbelievably cold the room was, the sheets feeling like blankets of ice and snow

Desperate to feel warmth you decided to slink over to the man on the futon, placing a freezing hand on the back of his neck. He jumped at the contact, a string of expletives leaving his mouth, before looking at you with concerned eyes. You bluntly said you were cold, and wanted him to either turn the AC off and give you a few more blankets, or join you. In the bed. The one bed. He gave a dopey grin

“All you had to do was ask, Toots.” And he came, pulling him onto the bed with him. And God, that was the best sleep you’ve ever had

~ lmk if anyone wants like an actual fic of this bc I fear I have motivation ~

[0097linersb]

DESPERADO

Pairings: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: Idk tbh kind of drama kind of angsty probs smut

Summary: Sitting in an old Monte Carlo.

A/N: GUYS gUESS WHAT!! I wrote this when I was like 17, over 7 years ago lol but I found it on my old computer and I kind of like it for some reason???? BUT THIS IS SUCH A CLICHE OMG A MAFIA AU SHOWSTOPPING NEVER BEEN DONE BEFORE!! Alsoo this will be really short, 3-4 chaps max

Chapter 1

You could feel all eyes on you, burning holes into your skin as you entered the Diner. The whole room suddenly went quiet as soon as you closed the glass door behind you – But that could also be an illusion caused by the loud thumping deep in your ears. 

You force yourself to walk to the farthest booth available, praying your wobbly legs would not fail you like you felt they would, trying to ignore the whispers from the workers; It was kind of indecorous, but you could understand it given the situation. A young woman, in her pretty pink uniform, carefully approached your table. She looked kind, even worried maybe. 

“Can I get you something?” She nervously asked and you felt thankful she did not ask you any personal questions. 

“A chocolate milkshake, please.” 

Your voice was trembling and barely there but the waitress excused herself as you went back to ripping a napkin into dozens of small pieces, unable to get your hands to stop fidgeting. You probably wouldn’t be able to hold anything down in your stomach but you just needed to try and get your mind to stop screaming for a few minutes. The sun was setting and the darkness taking over the sky made you even more anxious, letting you know they already had enough time to realize what was going on. Every car that passed outside made you nervously look up and slide even further down your seat like it would help you hide. You should have changed, you would attract less attention then - At the same time, it’s not like you had an option, really. 

You jumped when the waitress, Moira said her nametag, placed the brown drink in front of you. You felt like throwing up at the sight but slowly forced yourself to swallow the cold liquid, despite your body’s complaints. It was a small town, not far enough, news of your whereabouts wouldn’t take long to reach their ears. You had to go somewhere, soon. 

 You didn’t have enough money for a ticket out of state - You barely had enough money to pay for the milkshake you ordered. The car you had stollen didn’t have enough gas to take you anywhere and even if it did, you didn’t have the ability to drive it any farther than you had already struggled to do. You hands shaked as you cursed yourself for not thinking things through. 

You wondered about your mother; she was most likely crying. 

No, she was definitely crying. You would be too in her place. If the adrenaline wasn’t rushing through your body to keep you alert, you would probably be in tears right now. It was not like you to cry, but you could find an excuse for yourself considering you were facing a life or death (mainly death) situation. You just hoped they had enough consideration for you to give you a simple death, enough for your mom to be able to look at your lifeless body without screaming in panic - Something about knowing you were minutes away from a gun barrel pointed at your head brought out the cliché poet in you. 

“You should follow the road up north; it doesn’t have a pretty scenery but it’s by far the fastest way to get to the Interstate,” Moira’s conversation with a man three booths down from yours suddenly caught your attention, ears perking up. 

“Is there a hotel close by?” The owner of the deep voice asked. 

“There’s only one downtown, we don’t get many tourists around here. There are also some motels around two cities up.” 

“Perfect, thank you.” 

Your eyes widened when the stranger stood up, you didn’t have much time to think. You hurriedly went through your bag, trying to find some coins to leave in the table beside your half-finished drink before running out of the door as fast as you could, tripping more than once over your long dress as you crossed the parking lot after what seemed to be your last hope. 

“Wait!” You screamed at the man opening the door of his car. 

He stared at you in surprise and you tried to catch your breath, managing to let out a tangled “Take me with you.” 

“Excuse me?” His eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t look very pleased to be interrupted. 

“Please. I need to get out of state,” You pleaded. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t get caught in a runaway bride’s drama at the moment,” The stranger apologized with a dismissive nod of his head before resuming the motion to enter his car. 

“Wait. I have a car, an expensive one. You can have it!” 

“I already have a car, as you can see. Good luck, though.” 

“Please,” Your voice breaks as you beg, volume barely above a whisper. That man was all you had. “They are going to kill me.” 

The tall male in front of you examined you from bottom to top in silence and you felt yourself cowering under his tense jaw, which was ironic considering the people you were used to being around. It was when you felt tears starting to sting your eyes that the man took a deep annoyed breath and ended with a cold, “Get in.” 

“Thank you so much,” You finally let out all the air you were holding, hurrying to the passenger seat before he could change his mind. 

You were silent as the man started the car and drove out of the Diner’s parking lot, his harsh gaze showing you he didn’t want to be bothered. You closed your eyes and tried to regulate your breathing, repeating to yourself it was all going to be fine; they wouldn’t be able to catch you if you kept moving. When you felt your heart rate slowing down, you finally let your eyelids fly open, watching the white skirt of your dress (which was now black from dirt) in disgust. It was a beautiful dress, big and flamboyant, you were sure it cost a lot of money – You just wished you were someone who wanted to wear it. 

You realized you still had the veil positioned carefully on your hair, although it was probably crooked and ripped by now. You harshly untangled the pins from your strands and rolled the window down, throwing the white fabric out on the road before closing the glass again. The man next to you watched in amusement but still didn’t say a word. You wished you could sleep, something you haven’t done in weeks – But you didn’t think you would be able to for a while. Your quick naps out of exhaustion were getting you through the days. Barely. 

At least the sky was pretty, a dark purple with little shiny dots all over. The moon was nowhere to be found, maybe it was ashamed of you too. 

“Ugly fiancé?” The man’s voice surprised you. It was clear he was trying to humor you, but his expression didn’t match his tone. 

“I wish,” You sighed, leaning your head back in the seat and forcing your voice to work. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

“Jaehyun.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jaehyun. Please don’t be a serial killer.” 

“It seems like that would be the least of your problems.” 

“I guess you’re right,” You smiled, but it did not reach your eyes. You took another deep breath before asking, “What are you running away from?” 

“Who says I’m running from something?” 

“Why would you ask what’s the fastest way out of town if you weren’t?” 

“Maybe I don’t like traffic.” 

“Traffic in this area? I’m desperate but I’m not stupid. Did you actually kill someone? I was only joking -” 

“My personal business concerns you as much as yours concerns me.” 

“I’m not frugal with my secrets.” 

“Entertain me then.” 

“It’s barely as fascinating as it seems: My family’s business had me entangled with some dangerous people who forced me into a commitment I was not interested in partaking in, none of the parties will be very happy with my little rebellious act.” 

“Are you really putting your life at risk just to not be part of society’s patriarchal plot?” 

“This is hardly about that, although I wouldn’t expect you to understand, as a man. Plus, my life would be at stake anyways; At least like this, I can worry from a distant beautiful beach, with a sweet cold drink in hand, instead of being fucked by a man who wouldn’t mind killing me one bit. I was thinking about Mexico.” 

“If they are anywhere as powerful as you describe, it would not be hard to find you there.” 

“Right. Maybe Brazil then, who knows?” You shrugged, knowing these were all insane dreams you were probably never going to be able to experience. It was fun to amuse yourself. “What about you, where are you going?” 

“Far.” 

“So mysterious,” You roll your eyes. “It’s not like I can afford going out babbling about your plans.” 

“I’d rather not give you the chance.” 

“Suit yourself. Thank you once again for the ride.” 

Jaehyun only nodded. 

As you watched the cities pass in silence, you noticed your throat was very dry, but you imagined you must be arriving at your destination if the man next to you was following Moira’s tips. It was already late and your whole body ached, the adrenaline’s effect fading bit by bit as you tried to fool yourself that you were safe. 

“Why are you helping me, knowing I’m involved with dangerous people?” You wondered. Truthfully, you knew it was a stupid question since you were the one begging for his help, you just wanted to hear him talk more, his deep voice made your vision stop spinning for a few seconds. 

“I can fight,” He shrugged. Again with the toneless jokes. 

“I don’t think fists would be very useful against the Kim family,” You chuckle at the absurdity, you probably had all local thugs looking for you as you spoke.  

Who would have thought this is how your life would turn out? 

“Who said I don’t have guns?” He smirked at you for the first time, and you just stared at him, an unreadable look on your face that made him slightly nervous. “Don’t act surprised, you’re the one who entered a stranger’s car.” 

“I’m not. I was about to marry Kim Doyoung, weapons don’t shock me,” You sigh, hiding the fact you had a handgun (which you had stolen from your fiancé's collection) in your purse - Maybe you would need it, Jaehyun could turn out to be, in fact, a serial killer after all. 

“Kim Doyoung, huh? You really got yourself in a big mess. His father isn’t someone to play with.” 

“Do you know him?” 

“I met him briefly for a business transaction a few years back.” 

“Your line of work just keeps sounding shadier and shadier, should I be worried?” 

“You tell me, you’re the mafia’s doll.” 

“You’re really thinking about handing me over and asking for a reward, aren’t you?” You squeezed your eyes at the man. 

“Maybe,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone but you knew he wasn’t being serious, as you were indeed, heading North. Regardless, growing up with your family taught you to never trust anyone. 

You caught yourself pitying your mother once again when Jaehyun slowed his car into a Motel’s parking lot with a simple “We’re here.” 

You languidly nodded and got out of the vehicle, stretching your sore limbs before staring at the man in front of you in expectation. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” He shook his head and opened the trunk of the car to get his luggage. “I’m booking myself a room and you can go on your merry way; it was nice meeting you.” 

“I have nowhere to go.” 

“Luckily for you, we are in the perfect place for you to spend the night.” 

“Do I look like I have any money?” You rolled your eyes. 

“Well, not my problem,” He shrugged, closing the trunk and making his way towards the building’s reception. “I’m sure you can find a gentleman that would be very happy to pay to spend the night with you.” 

“Can’t I just sleep with you?” You ignored his suggestion of prostitution, not judging it worthy of your attention. 

“And have the Kims knowing that not only did I help their pretty bride in her escape, but also shared a bed with her?” He quickly turned around so you could see how his chest rumbled with laughter before going back on his way. “Funny.” 

Why was he being so complicated? 

You quickly looked around to see if anyone could possibly be watching, but decided it was dark enough for your foolish just-thought-out plan. You were not really proud of what you did next but, in your excuse, you truly were desperate and the way your mind was all over the place didn’t help you make much sense of the situation. 

“Jaehyun,” You called, purse briefly discarded on the floor next to you. 

The man sighed and turned back once again, but he stopped laughing when he saw you – Jaehyun’s face flashed in shock for a single second before it morphed into an amused expression instead. Head cocked to the side; he surprised you as he leisurely started approaching your figure once again. 

“Oh, princess,” He lowly chuckled at your shaking grip on the gun’s handle. “If you’re going to point that at me, you better know how to use it.” 

“Take me wherever you’re going with you,” You demanded, ignoring his remark. You weren’t actually going to shoot him, you just wanted to, to… - this really wasn’t a well-thought-out plan. 

“I truly can’t, but I appreciate the passion,” He smiled, raising his hand to calmly aim the gun at the floor instead of at his chest. 

 You simply used the side of the weapon to slap his hand away before pointing it back where you wanted it, “Why not?” 

“I’m heading across the ocean.” 

“That sounds perfect, I’m sure you can manage to get me some fake documentation like you probably did for yourself.” 

“And what do I get out of it?” 

“My company. Also, I do know how to shoot.” 

“Do you really?” He raised an eyebrow at you, staring at you like you were the most entertaining thing he had ever seen in his whole life.  

It was unnerving. 

“Yes. I can help you with whatever dubious business you have, I’m a fast learner,” You inform, not really knowing what you were offering yourself for, but figuring anything would be better than being the mafia’s bitch. 

“C’mon,” He rolled his eyes, but let out a delighted chuckle anyways when he turned around. You knew he was making fun of you, but it didn’t matter, it got you what you wanted. “And put that thing away.” 

You hastily picked up your purse and shoved your gun back inside, running after Jaehyun to catch up to him. 

                              _______________________ 

You learned after a few days that Jaehyun wasn’t a man of many words. He also refused to share a bed with you, always asking whatever motel you passed by for a room with double beds, and if they didn’t have one, he would just sleep on the floor despite your complaints. It was frustrating that you still didn’t know what it was that he did to make money, and every time you asked, he simply said it was no job for women, which you knew was something he said just to annoy you. 

You could tell he didn’t put much faith in your offer to help him, but he still entertained you, letting you know he would give you a chance to participate when the day came. Honestly, if he wanted to drag you around the country for free, you weren’t going to complain. 

Jaehyun was incredibly annoying with all of his superiority sense. When he spoke, only back-handed remarks or teasing comments left his mouth, it was clear he didn’t take you seriously and it was slowly driving you insane – If he called you doll one more time, you wouldn’t think going back begging on your knees to Doyoung would be such a bad idea. 

 But, despite his whole attitude problem, Jaehyun was nice to you in silence: He lent you his clothes when you didn’t have any and took you to a store downtown to buy new ones when you passed through a city he has been to before, not complaining about having to pay for all of it. You remembered how he silently watched as you set your wedding dress on fire in the parking lot of the random motel you chose for the night, or how he took you to the movies after you tried to call your mother from a payphone and ended up sobbing for the first time in years. 

The man left you alone during most of the days, running whatever business he had in the different cities you visited. He sometimes came back with cuts and bruises and you cleaned him up with a harsh look on your face, but at the end of the day, you had no right judging him when he was the one bringing food and putting shelter over your head. He eventually taught you how to do the guns’ maintenance and at least now you had a role, getting the weapons tidy and ready for the next day. You wondered for how long he would accept carrying you around without asking for anything in return, he didn’t seem all that interested in bedding you and he knew you were as poor as one comes; Maybe he would just kill you. 

“Have you ever killed a man?” You had asked one day as you cleaned the inside of your gun’s barrel, on the little table at the corner of your rented room. 

The man had simply looked up from the newspaper he was reading on his bed and raised an eyebrow, “Have you?” 

“Can you ever answer anything I ask?” 

“Can you ever pay for your own stuff?” 

You dropped the subject after that. 

As cold as Jaehyun was, it was clear he was beginning to grow fond of you. At first, he had treated you like some sort of charity project to acquire his pass to heaven, but as time passed, he started unfolding layer by layer. One day he brought a wine bottle to celebrate something, he didn’t tell you what exactly, but he did tell you all about how his mother used to study French and he learned it just by hearing her practice. He also told you how they used to plan on moving to France when he was little, how he and his mother spent hours talking before going to bed about how their little house would be, him promising her he would help take care of the garden so they could have many beautiful flowers. Both of you sat on cheap wooden chairs in the motel’s parking lot, drinking the wine under the stars as if you lived inside poetry – Jaehyun started smiling after the fourth glass and you did believe life was art in that moment. 

“My family has some property in France, I’ll take you and your mother there one day to show you my gratitude,” You offered with an easy smile. 

The man turned his head to look at you, you could see his dimples but his eyes looked sad, “Your family´s really rich, huh?” 

“Old money.” 

“How are you adjusting to this new side of life, princess?” He joked, meaning all the cheap rooms and dirty bathrooms your life had become. 

“It has been… An experience,” You laughed lowly, like being loud would disrupt the universe above you. “I’d trade my old life for showering in a gas station’s sink any day.” 

Your quickly developing bond was made clear when one-night, Jaehyun got back to your shared room to find you trembling on the floor, hugging your legs as blood stained you all over. Jaehyun didn’t even look at the body next to you on the floor, he just silently picked you up and took you to the bathroom. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked after placing you on the toilet and turning the hot water on to fill the tub. 

You shook your head in denial, eyes lost on the floor. 

He didn’t ask you any questions that night, he simply undressed you and placed you on the warm water, softly rubbing all the blood from your skin and hair for hours. After emptying and refilling the tub for the third time so the water wouldn’t be red anymore, Jaehyun left you soaking and when you finally had the strength to get up and go back to your room, the sun was up and Jaehyun had already taken care of everything. You didn’t have it in you to ask what he had done with the body, but that day he drove for hours to get you out of there. You could see he was exhausted but with a tense jaw, he ignored as you cried for him to stop, only parking the next night when he felt you would be safe for the time being. 

 That night he did sleep with you, held your hair up while you threw up and forced you to eat whatever he managed to find in the reception. 

Eventually, the shock of playing God became bearable and Jaehyun started pestering you about your gun. You had tried leaving it behind on 4 different occasions but he had always picked it up and brought it with him, hiding it in your purse just in case you needed it. You just didn’t feel comfortable carrying it around anymore, the feeling of warm blood on the palm of your hands was not something to be taken lightly. 

“Now that we know for sure they’re after you and catching onto us, you should always have your gun,” He had lectured and you simply closed your eyes, not needing to be reminded. 

Some nights later, he got to the motel of choice to an empty room and completely panicked, heart almost jumping out of his throat as he saw the silent space until he eventually found the note you had left on the bedside table. 

Went into the woods, will be back late. 

He didn’t wait, immediately locking the door and rushing into the trees behind the motel. He felt like he walked for hours but it was probably what his nerves made it feel like, cold sweat running down his neck. When he did find you, all the screaming about irresponsibility he had prepared and the desire to tie you up somewhere so you would just behave, were forgotten at the sight in front of him. 

“You have a bad left eye; you should always aim a little bit more to the right.” 

You jumped in surprise at the sudden voice but followed the instructions. You had always been a good shooter, even before Doyoung - but Jaehyun was right, you did have a bad left eye. 

“The carnival is in town,” You had excitedly informed a busy Jaehyun on a Friday afternoon. “Saw it on the newspaper.” 

“Hm.” 

“Can we go?” 

“No.” 

“Please?” 

“Do you perhaps enjoy having a target on your face?” He looked up at you from the bag he was organizing. 

“We’ve been running for weeks, there’s no way they know where we are. Please?” 

“Stop whining, you’re not a child and it’s not cute.” 

Later that day, he took you to the carnival. 

He was tense the whole night and only agreed to stay for an hour, but you managed to convince him to ride the Ferris Wheel and buy you some game tickets. You knew you would have to leave behind all the prizes once you had to skip town and hit the road again - You sure complained about that, earning an eye roll and silence in response, but a few days later you found the plushie elephant you had liked the most hidden in the trunk of Jaehyun’s car. 

You had lost track of the time a long time ago, days started losing their meaning to all the different rooms and cheap restaurants. Your location was a mystery that didn’t really intrigue you, but you figured you had probably already crossed around half of the country by the change of scenery. Jaehyun didn’t leave you every day, he once in a while stayed “home” and you were surprised to find yourself hoping for those moments when he would read his French books out loud from his bed and you would enjoy the sound of his voice as you stared at him – But pretended to be sleeping every time he looked up. 

On days he did have to leave though, he didn’t always wake up paranoid. Occasionally, he gave you some money to go explore whatever town you were staying in for the next day or two. You always returned with a little trinket you thought he would like, and he always scolded you for spending money on useless things, but you were way past the point of feeling like a child under his gaze anymore – You just had to learn how to hide the smile on your face when you caught him wearing one of the things you had “gifted” him.  

You imagined he was happy at not being bothered by your constant whining over being left alone and bored every day. 

“You know what I miss the most?” You lightly kicked some water at the man sunbathing next to you, ignoring his annoyed groan. “From being rich, I mean.” 

“Having servants who were obliged to put up with you?” 

“The Balls. They were quite boring at first, but at the end of the night when most guests had already left, the band always started playing better music for me and I had so much fun dancing,” You smiled fondly at the memory, eyes lost deep into the pool. “Doyoung was an excellent lead.” 

“Did you love him?” 

“Sometimes,” You shrugged. “He was a gentleman, but at the end of the day we had many fundamental differences.” 

“Like torturing people.” 

“Like torturing people,” You nodded. “He tried teaching me how to drive, you know how a woman driving is viewed by society.” 

“What a good man,” Jaehyun rolled his eyes sarcastically. 

“Never said he was. But he treated me well, besides the whole trying to make me his property thing.” 

“Do you think there is such a thing as being morally grey?” 

“You, caring for my opinion?” You raised an eyebrow at him, even though he couldn’t see it behind the funky sunglasses you had bought the day before. 

“You’re the only person I have to talk to,” He shrugs. “Entertain me.” 

“Your luck. But I guess I do, yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, I’m not sure. I used to think people were either good or bad, but now I see that as with most situations in life, there is no such thing that is completely black or white. Look at yourself, for instance.” 

“And what do you mean by that?” 

“Exactly what I said, I still have no idea what you do with your life, but I’ve gathered enough to know it’s not accounting. But you’re nice to me. Also – At the end of the day, I did abandon my fiancé at the altar and killed a man, but I don’t feel like I’m a bad person. I think.” 

“You’re wearing heart-shaped pink glasses, you don’t have much to worry about,” He smiled at you, his eyes squinting - You hadn’t noticed they did that (It’s not like Jaehyun smiled much). 

“Is this the face of a killer?” You joked, pressing your palm to your cheek. 

“You kill one man and start acting like you’re going to dethrone the Kims,” He rolls his eyes amusedly and you laugh. “Want some lessons on torture next, princess?” 

“As if you could teach me,” You provoke, trying to get him to finally tell you about his line of work. 

“You’ll need to be smarter than that,” He winks at you and you huff in disappointment. 

You stared at him quietly for a while, he looked relaxed for once, even happy if that wouldn’t be pushing it too hard.  

Jaehyun was lying down next to the pool, one arm behind his head and his eyes closed. The golden light of the soon-to-set sun hit his skin and made it look like honey and his ashy bangs messily hit his eyelids. For once in your life, you felt your heart warm, like if you could spend the rest of your years staring at Jaehyun looking this peaceful, you would. He just felt familiar, like home – It was you and him alone against the world. 

“We need to cut your hair,” You smile fondly, reaching your arm out to move his strands away from his face. 

……………………………………………………………. 

Even though on most days you felt your heart burst in joy at the jiggling sound of the door handle when Jaehyun got home, you often found your heart feeling the same at the angry bang of the door behind his leaving form after a fight. You sometimes felt guilty over screaming at the man who was most literally keeping you alive and giving you everything in exchange of nothing, but he was just so simply infuriating and his patronizing little “princess” and “doll” remarks didn’t always sit well with you, especially after a restless night filled with anxiety and worrying that one of the Kims' men could just burst into your room and stab you to death.   

Jaehyun was not a soft man, he had no problem with throwing things in your face or making comments that could almost literally pierce you when he was angry, but thankfully, after everything that you had to go through and almost being sold to strangers, neither were you. If the Kims didn’t get to you first, you were sure the two of you would kill each other one day, there was only so much of hearing about how you were a spoiled brat with absolutely nothing in life that you could take. 

One of these days, Jaehyun came back way after midnight, thankful you were already asleep because he could still feel the fire in his veins ready to burn you if you gave him the chance. He was already stressed enough with work businesses; he didn’t need you to throw him over the edge with your sarcastic comments.  

Jaehyun quietly took a shower and got on his bed, throwing the covers around in annoyance until he heard you sniffing. His whole body tensed, alert. 

“Y/N?” 

Silence. 

You tried to be quiet, not wanting to deal with Jaehyun in that moment but wanting him to hold you at the same time. It was the fourth time that week that you had woken up desperate after horrible dreams, ranging from your maid being tortured to Jaehyun never coming back home. That night, you had dreamed about your mom begging you to come back or else the Kims would kill her, she looked bloody and puffy from crying, bruises and scratches all over her body as she sobbed and screamed in pure panic at the sight of her torturer. 

“I need to go back,” You whispered after a while, eyes glued to the ceiling. 

Next chap soon