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ginnsbaker · 5 months

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (10/?)

Part Summary: “Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you again.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.200+ | Warnings: UST, fluff, very light angst | Author's note: I think the summary should tell you what to expect *winks*.

Despite going to bed very late, getting up in the morning isn't hard for you. Though it’s mainly because you barely had any rest at all. The real reason you couldn't sleep wasn’t the couch’s fault—it was the soft, irregular snores drifting in from the bedroom and the new, quiet awareness of someone else in your apartment. Every so often, Leigh would make a sound or shift in her sleep, and you would clench your fist hard against the blanket, resisting the urge to go check on her.

The stillness of the early dawn settles around you, and Leigh’s words come back to you like a quiet sail. “Do you know how intimate it is to sleep at someone’s house and not have sex?” she had said once, during one of your long, winding confrontations about Matt. It was a statement that had deeply affected you then, and even more so now, with her just a room away. You remember recoiling when she nearly spat the words at you. You wonder if Leigh also remembers, especially considering last night.

You rise from the couch before your alarm has a chance to ring, padding softly into the kitchen.

Cooking breakfast has become a kind of ritual, an act of service between the two of you. Smiling at this thought, you crack eggs into a bowl, add milk and vanilla, and start whisking. You soak slices of bread in the mixture, heat up the pan, and place them down to cook. French toast is on the menu today, and you hope Leigh likes it.

You set the table quietly, arranging the plates and cutlery, pouring orange juice into glasses. As you lay down the last slice of French toast on the plates, you add a light dusting of powdered sugar and a few slices of fresh strawberries for a pop of color and sweetness. With everything prepared, you sit down at the dining table to wait for Leigh to wake up.

After a while you glance at the clock and see it's 6:30 AM. You need to be at the clinic in an hour. With a sigh, you cover Leigh's plate with a napkin to keep it warm and start eating alone, just as you've done since moving here.

Finishing your breakfast, you wash the dishes and put everything away, your movements mechanical. You know you should get in the shower soon, but everything you'll need to prepare is in the bedroom. Pushing the door open just a crack, you peek inside to see Leigh sleeping peacefully, her face so different from its usual, more troubled visage when awake. She’s lying on her back with her mouth slightly open. The sheets have slipped past her hips, and her shirt has ridden up, exposing her stomach to the cool air. You tiptoe into the room and carefully pull the covers back up over her, tucking them around her gently.

Afterward, you crouch by the bed for a minute, simply observing her steady breathing. You feel a surge of affection as you watch her, wondering if she feels safe here, with you. Her face, relaxed and unguarded, is the very same one that Matt woke up to every day of his life for the past decade until he left this world. You think to yourself what a privilege it was for him, to have shared so many mornings with her, to have been woven into her waking thoughts and dreams.

While you’re cautiously sweeping a few strands of hair from her face, Leigh’s lips suddenly move in her sleep. They part slightly as if she's talking, but no sound escapes. Her forehead creases into a frown—she's clearly dreaming. It's a serious, focused expression that makes her look like she’s deep in conversation with someone in her dream world, and you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle at the sight.

Realizing you've lingered longer than intended, you force yourself to stand. You quietly retrieve a towel and some clothes, deciding to take your shower in the living room bathroom. As you lather soap over your torso, the image of Leigh’s exposed skin haunts your thoughts—the small, soft patch of her stomach you saw earlier. Your fingers inadvertently brush over your own nipples, and you can't help but compare the sensation to what touching Leigh's skin might feel like, if the rest of her body feels just as smooth and supple as it looks. The thought sends a shiver through you, goosebumps forming despite the warm water. Your fingers wander lower almost of their own accord. A gasp escapes your lips when the tip of your forefinger brushes against your clit, the touch sparking an unexpected surge of arousal. Shocked by your own reaction, you quickly turn the shower knob, the water temperature dropping to a chill that snaps you out of your fantasies.

Get a grip, you mutter to yourself, feeling a combination of embarrassment and frustration. Leigh is just in the next room, trusting you, and here you are getting carried away. Shivering a bit under the cold spray, you finish up quickly, wrap yourself in a towel, and get dressed.

You take one last look at Leigh before you leave. She’s still sprawled out in the same comfy position, deep in sleep. Waking her doesn't feel right—not just to say a quick goodbye before you rush off to work. Instead, you jot down a note on a piece of your prescription pad. It’s a quick message letting her know breakfast is ready on the table, she should feel at home, and you’ve left an extra set of keys for her. You apologize for the early exit and sign your name with a flourish. You tuck the note under her plate of French toast, placing the keys beside it. Then, remembering the night might have left her with a bit of a hangover, you put a glass of water and an aspirin by her bed. You're trying to think of everything she might need to start her day off right.

“Bye, Leigh,” you whisper as you give the room one final glance. You step out into the morning, locking up but leaving a part of your mind behind, picturing her waking up comfortable and cared for. It’s ironic that just when you decided to keep your distance, you start running into situations that make you fall even harder for her. It's as if fate is constantly nudging you in her direction.

And frankly, you don't mind it at all.

Leigh stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open to a room that isn't hers. For a brief, groggy moment, she thinks she’s in Danny’s bed, but the scent is all wrong. Where Danny’s sheets carried a distinct note of sandalwood, they smell of lavender and something more… feminine. The soft difference in fragrance tugs at the edges of her memory, pulling forward the events of the previous day.

She blinks slowly, her mind piecing together the snapshots: the sharp words exchanged with Danny that morning, the solo trip out on Halloween, finding herself unexpectedly in Matt’s favorite restaurant. That’s when you came into the picture, dressed up for a date that never showed, and Leigh stepped in. You both shared a beer on the hood of your car, surrounded by glimmering, dreamlike sights, but all she could focus on was how the streetlights played over your face, making you look almost magical as you laughed, a half-empty box of donuts on your lap. You looked so... pretty, she thinks, the image stubbornly etched in her mind.

The night didn’t end there. She took you to a party. It was loud, crowded, but when you danced, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She remembers drawing you to the dance floor, guiding your hands to her hips as she swayed. She recalls gazing at your lips, wondering how they would feel against hers.

Leigh buries her face into your pillow, her cheeks burning as she reminisces how close you were, your lips barely an inch apart. She tries to laugh it off, but it’s hollow, and her face grows hotter as she recalls you pulling away, the almost-kiss dissolving into nothing. The last-second rejection stings, but what really makes her squirm is the heat flooding her body just from thinking about it. In an attempt to distract herself, Leigh snuggles deeper into your bed, but it backfires. One deep breath and she’s engulfed by the scent you left on the pillow. It feels as if you’re right there beside her, the illusion so convincing that it briefly soothes the ache of your actual absence.

And it's in this moment, surrounded by traces of you, that Leigh finally allows herself to fully acknowledge the attraction she’s been trying to ignore. It's been a slow, maddening realization, an interest that has compounded until it could no longer be overlooked. It’s ridiculous, really, because it sort of feels like she’s proving Matt right, wanting you just like he did. She sits up, clutching the sheets close, her heart racing as she turns over everything in her mind. It feels contradictory yet somehow... inexorable, as if it were always meant to happen.

But Leigh pushes back against the idea that anything in her life is fated, especially when it comes to who she might fall for. She's always believed in steering her own ship, picking her paths, her battles, her loves. Not just going with the flow of something because it feels like the universe is pushing her that way. She wraps the sheets tighter around her, needing to feel safeguarded, needing to remind herself that she calls the shots.

She climbs out of bed and starts pacing restlessly like a mad woman. Yes, there's something about you that pulls at her, but that doesn’t mean she has to lose herself to it. For all she knows, it’s just a silly crush, perhaps amplified by the thought that you might have liked her first. It's probably just that—reciprocal attraction—nothing more.

A sudden noise from the living room jerks Leigh out of her tumultuous thoughts, and she frantically whips her head towards the door. It’s been so loud inside her head, that she hasn’t even considered the possibility that you might be out there—in your own apartment. Leigh stops pacing and strains to hear more.

There’s another sound. Thud. Thud.

With a shaky breath, she calls out, “Y/N?”

When no answer comes, Leigh edges out of the bedroom tentatively, as if stepping into her own trial. Her nerves are strung tight with anticipation of confronting you, the newly-minted object of her affection. However, as she rounds the corner, she finds only an empty living room. The quiet is almost startling. Another thud makes her jump—a dull, persistent noise. Turning towards it, she sees only pigeons at the living room window, poking their beaks against the glass, and Leigh exhales a long sigh of relief.

Intrigued, Leigh approaches the window to observe the pigeons. They remain undisturbed as she draws closer, diligently pecking at seeds scattered on the windowsill. So, you’ve been feeding them. It’s a small, charming detail about you that she hadn’t known, and it warms her heart to see this caring, tender side of you. Much like the way you took care of her last night, she feels like one of those pigeons.

Leigh leans against the wall next to the window, watching the pigeons bob their heads and shuffle around. Her eyes then drift to the dining table and land on a plate, invitingly covered, with a piece of paper peeking out beneath it. She walks over and lifts the cover to reveal a hearty serving of French toast, artfully arranged and topped with a sprinkle of powdered sugar and fresh strawberries.

The sight of the breakfast makes her mouth water, and without thinking, she reaches out with her hands and takes a bite. It's still slightly warm, a sign that you haven't been gone long. Comforted by this thought, she pulls out a dining chair and settles in, making herself comfortable. Then, picking up the note, she unfolds it to read while she enjoys her breakfast.

Hope you enjoy the French toast. I had to head out early, but I wanted to make sure you had a warm start to your day. Please make yourself at home, help yourself to anything you need, and here’s some extra keys to the apartment just in case. Sorry to miss saying goodbye this morning. I hope we can catch up later when I'm back - Y/N

Leigh bites her lip, staring down at the note and the keys beside it. It feels so... domestic. Almost too familiar, but too quickly. She can't help but recall the countless times she left similar notes for Matt, scribbled in haste before dashing off to her early morning classes at the Beautiful Beast. Her trips to Danny's apartment never felt quite like this. It had always felt more like a love nest, designed for pleasure, not partnership. It was somewhere to escape to, not a space she could ever see herself belonging in, being her own. But here, with these keys in front of her, it's different. This feels like stepping back into an old pair of shoes that doesn't quite fit the same way anymore.

Leigh hesitates, unsure if this is a good thing. If you are a good thing. With Danny, everything was safe, predictable. He wants her more than she wants him, and in a twisted way, that imbalance has become an assurance. It’s easier, requiring less vulnerability on her part. But with you, the balance feels equal, perhaps even tipping in a way that makes Leigh unsure of where she stands, unsure of her control over the situation.

That terrifies her. And she hasn't felt this scared since Matt left.

As if on cue, a loud ringing blares through the apartment. Leigh blinks, pulled abruptly back to the present, and realizes she has no idea where she left her phone. She scrambles to her feet, her search for the phone turning into a clumsy dance as she trips over herself in the process. After a brief, frantic search that feels longer than it probably is, she traces her steps back to your bedroom. There, beside the bed where she'd woken up, her phone is vibrating against the hardwood floor. The screen lights up with the name “Jules”. Leigh swipes to answer, holding the phone a bit shakily to her ear.

“Danny’s here.”

Shit, shit shit.

“Just get rid of him, Jules. I'll call him later,” Leigh says.

There's a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then—

“Where are you, anyway?” Jules asks.

Leigh glances around, fiddling with the phone in her hand before answering, “I’m at a friend’s place.”

“Oh,” Jules lets out a low whistle. “Anyone I know?”

Leigh takes a deep breath. “Y/N.”

Jules falls silent, her breath the only sound coming through the phone. Leigh can almost visualize her sister on the other end, puzzling over why Leigh spent the night at your apartment and wondering if something happened between you two. She anticipates the barrage of questions that will greet her when she gets home.

“Leigh, I—” Jules starts to say.

“Don't. I'm leaving soon. Please make sure Danny's not there when I arrive. Please,” Leigh says.

“Okay,” Jules says simply, and then the line goes dead.

Leigh leaves the keys where you left them and takes your note with her.

As the day wears on, your phone remains dishearteningly quiet. You keep checking, hoping for a simple message from Leigh—a thank you for the bed, a comment on the breakfast, or just a note to say she’s left your apartment. But nothing comes through. Each passing hour stretches your patience thinner and makes you question every detail of last night.

Her lack of reaction leaves you with too much time to think. After the debacle with Sara and the no-show date you met from a dating app, you had felt a surge of disillusionment. So much so that last night, after Leigh left your car and walked into the party, you found yourself uninstalling the dating app from your phone in a moment of clarity. You decide it's time to focus on what feels more real, on what your heart has been screaming all along.

Leigh.

You want Leigh, and you’re going to go after her. Forget about Danny. You won't let Leigh spend another Halloween alone, or Christmas, or New Year’s. You're resolved to be there for all the important dates—and, if you're lucky, every day in between.

Hey Leigh, just checking in to see how you’re doing. Hope your day was good, you type and hit send. You won’t wait anymore for her to reach out when you can just let her know you’ve been thinking of her. You toss your phone down and rub your hands on your face. Now it’s just a matter of waiting to see if she feels the same.

Leigh postpones meeting with Danny until later that evening, having spent the day lounging in bed and replaying the songs you had on in your car the previous night. She received your text, but she hasn’t even opened it yet. It's silly, but she feels that if she starts talking to you, a dam will burst—and she's not ready for that. Instead, she reaches out to Danny, asking him over so they can talk.

When Danny arrives, she doesn't invite him inside. Since Jules and her mom are home, they walk to the front steps and sit side by side, maintaining a slight distance between them.

It’s Danny who breaks the silence first. “Leigh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Look, I just think it's a great opportunity for us—or for me, at least. And since you’re not tied down to the Beautiful Beast anymore, and your writing and part-time job are flexible, I thought... Why not?”

Leigh's expression hardens at the mention of her old job, at Danny's reasoning, and his diligent insistence. She didn’t call him over to rehash the fight they just had yesterday.

“Just because I can work from anywhere doesn't mean I want to leave,” she says. “And if we're going to have the same argument again, then you should just go.”

When Danny told Leigh he had landed a job as a retail associate at a high-end hotel in Vegas, he expected she’d be happy for him. She was, but when he suggested they move there for a fresh start, her response was an unflinching no, leaving him feeling wounded.

“But what's really keeping you here, Leigh? I mean, besides your family. Is there something else?” he asks.

At the question, Leigh feels the past and present colliding. First, she sees Matt's face, always Matt's face—his smile, the comfort of his presence that used to fill her days. Then her mind flickers to the times she found herself passing your clinic after long, aimless drives meant to clear her head. Your face starts to overlap with her memories of Matt, not replacing but somehow intertwining.

“Matt,” Leigh forces herself to say, forces herself to believe. “If I leave this place, it's like... it's like I'm leaving him for good. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how it feels.”

“Matt's been gone for a long time. You think he'd want you to just stop living your life? Waiting for what? For a ghost?” Danny argues, his voice rising just a little. He looks away, down the shadowy street. His hands ball into fists and then relax. Under the weak glow of the streetlamp, it’s as if Matt’s shadow stretches beside him, a long, imposing figure that Danny can never seem to escape.

“Leigh, I’m just trying to help us move forward, that’s all,” he continues, softer, more defeated. Leigh catches the tightness of his expression, the effort it takes him to stay calm. She reaches out, her fingertips lightly touching his knuckles. Danny grabs this small sign of affection, quickly cradling Leigh’s face in his hands and drawing her into a fervent kiss. Leigh doesn’t respond immediately, but then she melts into its familiarity, allowing her lips to be pliable to his.

Danny breaks the kiss, his breath ragged as he searches Leigh's eyes. “Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to leave Matt for good,” he whispers.

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “I-I don't know, Danny—”

“Leigh, I love you.”

It's the first time either of them has said it. Leigh had imagined fireworks or something clicking into place when it happened. She expected the grand declaration to sweep her off her feet, but instead, she finds herself still teetering on the brink, not quite ready to leap. But what she cannot ignore is the sincerity in his words. Danny has loved her through her worst—in his own way. It's not easy to dismiss or reject such devotion.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Danny says quickly. He's afraid of hearing her say no again. Silence would be better; he could let himself believe that maybe she felt the same way. Silence could mean ‘yes’, right? he thinks, grasping at straws.

“Leigh, I’m taking that job, and I’m leaving after Thanksgiving. That gives us about a month,” he says, cradling her face now with both hands pleadingly. “Please, just think about it. Think about coming with me.”

Despite her reservations, Leigh ends up saying, “Okay, I'll think about it.”

Danny’s face breaks into a smile. He kisses her again, a soft, reaffirming kiss that seems to thank her for even considering his request.

The next second, Jules interrupts the moment, opening the door unceremoniously. Leigh throws her a sharp look, which her sister disregards with a shrug.

“Logan's been barking at the door for some time now, in case you didn't hear,” Jules drawls, cradling a bowl of cereal—her dinner.

At her words, Logan bursts through the opening and makes a beeline for Leigh. He leaps straight into Leigh's lap, settling in with a decisive huff, his eyes darting possessively from Leigh to Danny. It's as if he's laying claim to her, telling Danny without words that Leigh has roots here too deep to simply pull up, saying, she’s mine, you’re not going to take her away from me.

Leigh pulls Logan closer, thinking about how much you’ll miss him if she decides to go with Danny.

You get home from work just after nine, tossing your keys on the kitchen counter with a weary sigh. A quick check of your phone confirms what you'd been dreading all day: Leigh still hasn't read your message from the afternoon. That sinking feeling of disappointment hits you again—harder this time. It’s like a pattern with her: warm and engaging one day, distant and cold the next. You can't deny that this inconsistency is starting to wear on you. It's bordering on cruel.

What are you doing wrong? Why can’t you figure out what makes her switch off like this?

And then, unable to help it, you send another text.

[9:10 PM] You: Is everything okay?

Dinner is a microwave affair tonight, not that you're really tasting any of it. You sit down to eat, your phone still within sight. That message never gets read either.

Leigh has always been unpredictable, but she has never actively avoided you like this before. She knows what she's doing, leaving your messages unread for the past three days. Just when you declare to the universe that you'd pursue her, she shuts you out completely. You can't even feel sorry for yourself; somehow, you brought this on, right?

When the day rolls around for Logan's next vaccine appointment, you catch yourself nervously checking the time more often than usual. But when the appointment time comes, a different Shaw brings him in. Jules holds onto Logan's leash as he excitedly sniffs every corner of the waiting room, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Jules greets you, a bit out of breath from handling Logan's forceful tugs. “Leigh had some things to take care of, so I'm on Logan duty today.”

“Of course, no problem at all. How’s he been?” You try to keep your tone light as you kneel down to give Logan some attention, scratching behind his ears the way you know he likes.

“He’s been great, a real bundle of energy,” Jules replies, watching you with Logan. She hesitates before adding, “And Leigh’s been... well, you know Leigh.”

Actually, you think, you don't know Leigh—not as well as you thought. “Yeah,” you respond, looking up at Jules with a forced smile. “I know.”

After you administer the vaccine, the appointment passes with small talk, mostly about Logan’s antics and not much else. Jules is friendly but doesn’t venture into whatever might be happening with Leigh.

Just as you’re seeing Jules off, the clinic door swings open again. And you’re completely unprepared for the person who steps in.

“Hi,” Sara smiles at you, and then lifts the kitten in her hands. “Think you can help me with her, doctor?”

In a moment of unpreparedness, you cough awkwardly to cover your reaction, a flush creeping up your cheeks. “Hi, Sara,” you say, a bit flustered as you usher her inside. “What do we have here?”

“It's a rescue. Found her all alone by the roadside,” Sara explains, handing the tiny kitten to you with a concerned frown.

Jules catches the interaction, her eyes narrowing slightly—not missing how your entire demeanor changes around Sara—who is undeniably beautiful.

“Right this way,” you tell the blonde, leading her to the examination table. “Let's see what we can do for her.”

As soon as you and Sara are out of earshot, Suzie muses aloud, “They'd make a lovely pair, don't you think? If only Y/N wasn't so hung up on a widow…”

Jules stiffens slightly, her voice cool as she says, “And you are?”

“Suzie,” Suzie responds cheerfully, extending a hand to Jules with a bright smile. “Y/N’s assistant and friend. Nice to meet you.”

Jules shakes her hand, her smile polite but reserved. “Jules,” she responds tersely, omitting her connection as Leigh's sister. “So, what about Sara and Y/N?”

Well, Suzie can’t resist a juicy bit of gossip now, can she?

You don't usually pour yourself a glass of wine on a weeknight, but after today, you've cracked open a bottle that's been gathering dust for a year. Sara’s surprise visit at the clinic left you rattled. She had called you out for being distant after the two of you ran into Leigh one morning, and it embarrassed you how right she was. You hadn't been upfront about your emotional availability—or lack thereof—because of your feelings for Leigh.

When you finally admitted to Sara that you were in love with someone else, you braced for a fallout. But instead, Sara laughed, a light, carefree sound that took you by surprise. “I don't mind if you're emotionally unavailable,” she had said with a shrug. “I'm just looking for something casual.”

For a split second, her proposition—friends with benefits—was like candy being dangled in front of you: appetizing and readily available. But that conversation was at work, in the middle of your clinic, and the timing felt all sorts of wrong.

You let the moment pass without responding, and Sara backtracked a little with a noncommittal, “Well, you have my number. I really like you, Y/N. We can be friends, and if you ever need to…unwind, well, I can be your best friend.”

You're midway through your glass of wine when you decide to check your phone again, automatically opening the chat window with Leigh. It's almost become a habit, expecting your messages to remain unread. But this time, Leigh's avatar is right there under the last text you sent. She's read them. Today.

Why now?

Before you can dedicate the rest of your evening into that question, a knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. It's late, and you don’t remember ordering food delivery. You set your glass down and head over to see who it is.

Upon opening the door, you're greeted by a downcast brunette. She looks nervous, clutching her purse as if it were a lifeline.

“Leigh?”

“Hi,” she says, lifting her eyes to meet yours, searching your face for a reaction. As confused as you are, your heart kicks up a notch simply because she’s there, so close you could reach out and touch her. For a moment, you wonder if you're dreaming, if the alcohol is taking effect and conjuring up your desires right before you.

You notice the slight tremor in her hands, the way she’s standing—a bit too rigid, like she’s bracing for something tough.

Clearing your throat, you start to ask, “Would you like to come—”

“Is she here?” Leigh interrupts abruptly.

You blink in surprise.

“Who?”

“Sara,” Leigh replies, her chin jutting forward. She attempts to peer past you, as if she might find the answer somewhere inside your apartment.

“No, she's not,” you say slowly, puzzled and a bit annoyed by her tone. “Why would she be?”

You can't hide your surprise at her directness, or the discomfort it stirs in you. It's a bit ridiculous, even rude, how Leigh has been avoiding you, leaving your messages unread, and now she's here, asking you about another girl without a preamble. Leigh doesn't wait for an invitation; she brushes past you and steps further into your apartment, her eyes searching every corner of the room.

“I thought you said it didn't work out with Sara,” she says, almost accusingly, turning to face you again. The way she's acting—like she has any right to demand answers about your personal life after days of silence—is starting to grate on your nerves.

You press your lips together, taking a deep breath to quell your rising irritation.

“It didn’t. She brought a kitten to the clinic today, that’s all. We're not seeing each other, Leigh,” you tell her. Although she did tell me she’s interested in sleeping with me, you nearly say aloud.

Leigh’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Then why did Jules…” she trails off, her expression falling as it finally clicks.

Jules lied to her.

“Jules…?” you echo incredulously. “What did she tell you?”

Leigh's confidence wavers even further as she says, “She... she said she met Sara at your clinic. Called her your girlfriend.”

You shake your head, exasperation seeping through your features. “Sara is not my girlfriend,” you repeat firmly. The situation is quickly becoming absurd, and you decide to push a bit, to get to the heart of what's really bothering her. “But what does it matter to you if she was?”

“It doesn’t,” Leigh replies in a flat, unconvincing tone.

“Then what are you doing here?” you ask gently, as if addressing a child mid-tantrum.

Leigh doesn't answer right away, her cheeks glowing red as she looks anywhere but you. She's clearly embarrassed by the entire ordeal, and you find yourself struggling not to smile at the implications of her visit. She's bothered by the idea of you with Sara because—

“Leigh, are you jealous?” you ask, taking a deliberate step towards her. You hold her captive with your eyes, making it impossible for Leigh to look away.

“I’m with Danny.” Her voice cracks as she takes a step back.

“That’s not an answer,” you whisper softly, closing the distance between you once more.

“No, I... maybe. I don't know,” she stammers, then sighs deeply, her shoulders slumping as she finally meets your gaze. “Yes, I guess I am. I don't like thinking of you with someone else. Is that answer enough?”

As you take another step forward, Leigh instinctively moves back, and this dance continues until she finds herself against a wall. You're close now, close enough to feel the tension radiating from her. Her back is pressed against the concrete, your body just inches from hers, effectively trapping her in the corner.

Leigh doesn’t know at which point she’s closed her eyes. Was it when she felt your breath whisper across her upper lip as you sighed, clearly as affected by the proximity as she was? Or was it when her back met the cool wall, the hard reality telling her she had nowhere else to go? Perhaps it was simply the anticipation, the tightening expectation of your lips meeting hers, the thought of surrendering to this—whatever this is becoming between you.

But then, two seconds pass. Five. Ten. Nothing happens.

The anticipated kiss doesn’t come.

When she finally opens her eyes, the question in yours is unmistakable. You’re near enough, she could just lean in, but you’re giving her a choice, asking without words if this is what she wants. And that’s when she remembers how she ended up at your doorstep. Leigh's mind reels, darting back to Jules' little lie. She's struck by the realization that Jules probably felt compelled to lie because Leigh had been inadvertently pushing you away, leaving a door open for someone else to step in. And if she keeps this up, it might be Sara who ends up here, against your wall, in your arms. The image stabs at her heart, jealousy tightening her chest.

No, she can’t let that happen.

Summoning a courage she didn’t know she had left, Leigh reaches out and gently takes your hand. She brings it to her face, pressing her lips against your palm in a kiss so tender it steals your breath. It’s a silent plea. A tender claim.

It's just a small kiss, simple and soft, but it rushes through you like wildfire, stirring feelings deeper and more intense than any long, drawn-out foreplay ever did. You realize just how much you've been holding back, shielding yourself from potential pain. But now, as Leigh's kiss sears into your palm, all those defenses seem pointless. With a fervor driven by weeks of restrainment, you close the distance entirely.

Your kiss lands on Leigh's lips with everything you have, as if this moment, this single kiss, might be your only chance. Yet, even in your urgency, there's a tenderness, a reverence in the way your lips carefully slot between hers. As you kiss, there's a meticulous attention to the details—the softness of her lips, the way they fit perfectly against yours, the gentle give when you press a little harder. It’s as if you’re trying to memorize her through this kiss.

Leigh matches your ardor, her fingers weaving into your hair, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. You react instinctively, your hands sliding from her hips to her waist, lifting her shirt just enough to feel her skin beneath your fingertips. The slight pressure of your nails makes Leigh gasp, a sound that breaks the seal of your lips just enough for you to deepen the kiss, slipping your tongue past her defenses. The act draws a guttural moan from her—a sound that vibrates through your core, sending ripples of desire pulsating through your body.

It shouldn’t be this perfect the first time, but it is.

The kiss grows wetter, more urgent. It's selfish, a relentless chase of sensation where both of you are simultaneously taking and giving everything you have, until it feels like there's nothing left to offer. While Leigh’s tongue explores every inch of your mouth, her hands find their way to either side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your skin, sending tingles straight down your spine. Your own hands aren't idle. They roam up her back, feeling the smooth expanse of her skin under your fingertips. As you slide your hands upward, you discover something that emits a low groan from you—she’s not wearing a bra. A part of you, the rational part that's still functioning, slowly begins to recognize the gravity of what’s unfolding. It's too easy to get lost in Leigh, in the rush and the heat, but something stops you. You want this—more than anything in the moment—but it has to mean something. Because once you cross this line with Leigh, there's no going back to the uninhibited, distant longing you've managed until now.

Just as the thought crystallizes, Leigh breaks the kiss with a wet pop. Her eyes flutter open, slowly, lazily. Her gaze is unfocused at first, pupils dilated, the vibrant green of her irises almost swallowed by the black. Oh, she definitely wants you too.

“Why did you stop?” you murmur, your voice unmistakably laden with desire as you rest your forehead against hers.

A grin tugs at Leigh’s lips as replies softly, “I just wanted to see you.”

Your smile widens as her fingers absentmindedly play with the little hairs at the nape of your neck. She seems mesmerized by your eyes, now darkened with lust, and without thinking, she blurts out, “You really do have espresso eyes.”

Her words make you freeze in her arms. That nickname—it's the same one you use anonymously for your submissions to your favorite advice column. Maybe it's just a coincidence, right?

But Leigh's reaction a moment later suggests otherwise. Her face blanches, eyes widening in a sudden flare of panic as she realizes what she's just said.

“Y/N—” Leigh starts but you cut her off by stepping out of her embrace, your stance becoming guarded.

The warmth vanishes from your eyes. “What did you just say?”

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months

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Diner

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: My first darkfic and based on that one picture of Pedro in Freaky Tales. READ THE TAGS!!!!

Summary: You get more than you paid for during your visit to a roadside diner.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, degrading language, condescending language, blood and violence, threats of violence, forced masturbation, forced orgasm, forced creampie, reader does NOT enjoy this!

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52941784

Diner

Something about roadside diners makes you feel like you are in an alternate universe. It starts the second that you step out of your car and onto the asphalt, a weird sensation of not being in the real world overtaking you as you listen to the cars drive by at a dizzying speed. There are a few cars here already, but you suspect that most of them belong to the people staying at the motel just next to the small and informal restaurant instead of people eating dinner. It is late after all, so late that you can see you are just in time for a coffee before they close.

You’ve been driving home in the summer heat for your sister’s wedding, crossing state lines for days now to make it in time, and it means quick dinners, cheap coffee, and sleeping in your car. At this point, you’ve actually come to like the greasy fried food and the coffee that almost resembles tar with how strong it is. It helps you regulate your body temperature in the car, forcing you to cool down because it’s scalding hot in your stomach.

A tiny bell rings as you walk through the door. The checkered tile floor seems slightly sticky as you move through the place with the taste of stale coffee already present on your tongue as if the setting has triggered a memory. You notice the single customer sitting in a booth along the window, all broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up as he eats two slices of toast with eggs and bacon, but you don’t think much of the man as much as you think about eating breakfast foods at night. It’s always oddly satisfying, weirdly rebellious.

You squeeze in between two chairs from the line along the counter. You brush away a few granules of sugar from it, smiling slightly as you are approached by what you assume is the only staff at this time.

“Just coffee?” The lady behind the counter asks as she notices you not looking at the menu and not checking out the pie underneath a glass dome to your left.

“That’d be great,” you reply.

“And no milk or nothin’?” She continues.

You shake your head no and look around at nothing of importance the second she walks away to start up the coffee machine. It gurgles a few moments later.

Behind you, the man has finished his meal. He gets out of the booth to use the restroom, leaving you to sip your coffee alone with the waitress who makes no effort to start up a conversation with you (then again, you don’t start chatting with her either).

Time passes. The song playing from the radio in the background ends. The stranger reemerges and shakes his hands dry on his way to his table again. He doesn’t sit but instead carries his plate to the counter.

“Thanks, Doris, great like always,” he smiles, turning to you briefly to acknowledge your presence. He nods in greeting.

“Anytime, Joel,” Doris blinks at him, batting her lashes. She is clearly infatuated, and you can understand why; the two of them seem to be about the same age. Joel is tall with broad shoulders in an open flannel with a t-shirt underneath, his hands look rough and used to hard labor, and his hair is slicked back by what you don’t know whether is gel or sweat but it looks like he has run his fingers through it several times today.

“Well, I’m off, see ya tomorrow,” he turns to go gather his things at the table where he has been eating. You think nothing more of it.

“Anything else, honey?” Doris asks and you shake your head.

“No thanks,” you say politely, “I’m all good.”

“I’ll have my smoke break then,” she states, untying her apron and hanging it on the wall only to proceed to dig out a package of cigarettes from the pocket on the front, “You can just leave the money on the counter when you leave.”

And then it’s just you and Joel and an eerie feeling settles in your stomach at being alone with a man you don’t know, especially in between cities and even moreso at night.

You glance over your shoulder to watch him carefully but he is just picking through his wallet to leave a tip on the table. You look straight ahead again and shake your head at how ridiculous you feel about your anxiety, rolling your eyes at how you could think such things about someone who is having eggs at midnight.

Still, something feels wrong. You steal another glance over your shoulder and see the table with the empty plate, and the crumbled bill beside it. What you don’t see is Joel, which is weird because you haven’t heard the bell from the door being opened and clo-

A rough hand settles on the back of your neck. It grips you hard until it hurts, causing you to crane your neck and gasp loudly into the room. Joel’s voice makes your skin crawl, “Fuck, you are pretty.”

You hear a deep inhale through the nose followed by a satisfied sigh, “Smell pretty too. Been driving all day alone?”

“What are you doing?” You are frozen to the spot. He has trapped you between the counter, two barstool chairs, and himself. The hand holding you in place is uncomfortable but mostly, its iron grip has started to make you lightheaded due to his thumb and index finger pressing into your carotid artery. It makes you not want to move in case he grabs harder.

“I just realized that I haven’t had dessert in a while ‘n’ pie just doesn’t seem to cut it,” he replies, breathing labored already from how he has control over what your body can or cannot do. The words make you squirm but you still, for some reason, haven’t thought about screaming for help.

“No,” your voice quivers and bravely you try to decline the offer, “I don’t want that. Please.”

“Afraid you’ll like it too much?” You can feel he has moved his head closer, can feel the smirk in his voice. You feel sick like you might actually puke if you weren’t working on an empty stomach.

“Doris’ll come back,” you reason.

“She’s closing up in ten,” he laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, “She’ll use every second of those ten minutes to have what she considers fresh air but I don’t think we need much longer, do you?”

You whimper, and then suddenly you’re on the move but it’s not by yourself. No. Joel is hauling you backward, moving you around like you weigh nothing, and causing your feet to stumble several times. However, he doesn’t seem bothered by your clumsiness caused by terror, just uses a bit more force until he can shove you down onto an empty table.

That’s when you feel panic starting to rise in your body. You start thrashing, grabbing at whatever you can reach on the table to throw it down onto the floor and make a racket. You cry too, shock setting in and causing tears to flow desperately as emotions become too much. This is it, you think, this is what prey must feel when they’re trying to escape.

Joel growls in anger, holding you roughly in place so your efforts are to no avail, “Shut the fuck up. Stop crying.”

You absolutely don’t. That is until your forehead and nose connect with the surface of the table. Joel has pushed you on the back of your head so harshly that your face has been violently knocked down onto the table, and it hurts, prickling in your nostrils and nausea settling more in your stomach. The impact makes you feel dizzy enough to not continue fighting him.

A sudden taste of iron fills your mouth. You are bleeding from your nose, you realize, and it replaces the salty taste of your tears and drips onto the surface of the table. Pathetically, you try grabbing at anything in front of you and you end up smearing the bloodstains across the white. It’s not the sight that makes you gag but the fact that Joel seems aroused by it.

“Relax,” he responds to your whine, “‘tis just a bit of blood.”

But that’s not what causes your noise. It’s the position you are in; it makes your ass stick out and Joel’s crotch rests against it whilst he reaches out for your hair, bunching it up in his strong hand and creating a makeshift ponytail to tug on. You try to make sense of what is happening but all you can focus on is how big he seems in his jeans, rock hard against you as he yanks your head up by the hair. It may be your foggy mind’s way of protecting yourself from realizing what this is, particularly because you had a brief thought earlier about how nice his hands would feel if they touched you. They feel horrible.

When he straightens behind you, his free hand starts tugging on your pants. He is rough in his movements but careful enough to make sure that nothing rips, knowing he shouldn’t leave evidence of your ravish behind.

“Please,” you slur with desperation.

“No begging now,” he purposely misunderstands, “I’ll give you what you need real soon, sweetheart.”

When your pants sit around your knees, he lets the hand go down between your legs. Your mind is suddenly very clear.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks with a dark smile evident in his voice. His hand skims along the inside of your thigh, and you feel your feet trying to move away. His fingertips are so close to where you don’t want them. He kicks your ankles hard enough to make you unable to breathe, unable to balance on your feet so you can’t even try to flee.

You whimper in reply.

The satisfied growl he lets out sends a shiver down your spine, cold sweat making you feel lightheaded.

“No,” you finally manage to stutter out, trying to convince yourself that replying is going to make the heartbeat in your chest less intense as you’ve made yourself less interesting to him. Instead, you realize that you have only disappointed him.

“Just when I got my hopes up,” he tuts, suddenly palming your cunt through your underwear. You want to scream and cry but somehow, you simply cannot and it dawns on you that your body is too scared of making him furious to do your most instinctive act of fighting back, “Can’t say I’m happy, but I am surprised at having a whore on my hands. Wait till I tell the guys back home ‘bout you, they’ll be so envious.”

His fingers curl around the fabric of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and the fabric snaps at the violent yanks that he does. It was only the pants, you think, it was only those that needed to be saved for keeping up appearances.

The way the skin of his hand touches your bare thighs feels like fire, and you don’t know whether to feel relief that nothing has happened yet or become hysterical when your underwear sits around your knees too; you know the rest, know what he is about to do and now, you just have to wait for it to be over.

And then briefly, it’s gone but you don’t dare think that he might have changed his mind but when you lift your head, you can see him in the reflection of the window, sucking on his own fingers to wet them until they’re shiny with saliva.

“Stay still,” he commands, and the hand on the back of your neck slides down so he can rest his forearm on the small of your back to still hold you down. His wetted fingers go right between your legs to search for your clit, and he presses down on it until you let out a whimper from a sudden state of arousal slowly taking over your body.

He rubs you off for a few minutes where you fight every single nerve in your body to not enjoy it but suddenly you let out your first involuntary moan, pussy starting to wet against your will and shame setting in. You rest your cheek against the table, tears sliding down over your nose as you occasionally moan helplessly. Your poor treacherous body burns deep below your navel, and the tingling in your core makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.

“That’s it,” he says in a gentle voice, a tone that makes you hold back a gag, “Knew you wanted it, just needed a little encouragement.”

“Please,” you sob, “I can pay you.”

“I don’t want cash,” he replies simply, sliding his digits through your slick, “I want you, sweetheart, and it seems this pussy wants me too.”

Joel’s fingers leave you and you hear him suck his fingers clean with a hum. The air feels cool against your swollen cunt which is so wet by now that you start to believe, albeit barely, that a part of you wants this. How can you say you don’t when you are close to dripping?

“I’m gonna let go of you now but if you try anything, I’ll cut your fucking tits off with a steak knife, got it?” Joel’s threat doesn’t seem empty.

You nod, paralyzed, and he stretches. You shiver at the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. There’s a bit of shuffling and then you feel the blunt head of his dick poking into your ass.

He doesn’t waste his time it seems, because he rubs the tip through your wetness and starts to breach you. Color drains from your face at the realization of his size.

“No, no no no,” you pant as he pushes into you. He teases you open but only at first; you let out a sharp cry as he enters you fully and with no warning. The head had been a warning of how big he was going to be but now that he is sheathed inside of you to the brim, you feel like nothing could have ever prepared you for his size even if you had wanted him. He kisses your cervix, splits you open, and your cunt clenches in an attempt to push him out and pull him in.

“Fuck,” he moans and draws out the word, “Tight heaven.”

He fucks you like a ravenous animal and you turn into a helplessly moaning mess, held down to the point where your hips are hurting against the table because Joel uses all of his weight to pleasure himself with you.

His fingers dig into your hips enough to bruise and his zipper gnaws into the back of your thigh. You have never taken anyone as big as him before, and it’s almost an out-of-body experience to be stretched out again and again by him. He swears above you, rhythm faltering, every time you accidentally find a shred of pleasure in his thrusts.

You feel fucked out of your mind but you are stuck there, having to take each bruising thrust that sends pain shooting through your body each time Joel’s cock bumps the back of your cunt (which is every other crash of his hips due to his size).

“Ah,” you whimper shamefully when he nudges against your g-spot. It takes some of the pain away, and soon, you let out a breathless gasp. Would you actually enjoy him if circumstances had been different? If he’d chatted you up and booked a room at the motel next door?

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut. It leaves you to focus on the way that your cunt squelches from your wetness, how Joel grunts behind you as he continues driving into you.

“Listen to that, you really think your whore-pussy would sound like that if you didn’t want this?” He taunts.

“No, Joel,” you say without any tone to your voice.

“You wanna come, sweetheart? Touch yourself,” he pulls you back by your hips a little until you are able to move your hand to your crotch. His thrusts relent and bring you relief from your throbbing and pained muscles. You don’t move, and he grows impatient and cruel. You almost want to laugh at the contrast of his next line but you find yourself too scared of the unknown, “You think you get a choice here, you little bitch? Do it now.”

Reluctantly, your hand slides down between your legs but you still feel relief as you start touching yourself. In the moment, you try to remind yourself of what you like to do when it’s just you alone and you find that your cunt stirs with interest. It’s followed by a string of ahs as you begin to actually enjoy it, circling your clit with determination to finish.

“That’s it, wanna feel you milk me,” his breath is more ragged now. He is close you realize, and he is not going to pull out.

It feels shameful when you make yourself come, cunt setting off into spasms that should feel beautiful but just makes you hate yourself for enjoying the way they make you feel. You moan louder than intended, completely at the mercy of the pleasure that has been built up deep inside of you and is now coursing through your nervous system.

Joel seems to understand your conflict, radiating claustrophobic warmth as he speeds up his hips as if he is using your body to masturbate with you. His voice is breathy as he talks, he sounds nearly on the edge of coming, “Shh… It’s supposed to feel good. It should feel good.”

He finishes inside of you a moment later, warm and sticky with a looming threat of what could happen from this act. The groan he lets out is one you don’t think you will forget. He gives you his final thrusts, fucking you through each spurt of his cock, “Take it, oh fuck. Thaaat’s it.”

Time stands still after that. You don’t move despite him removing himself from you. Instead, you listen to him tugging himself back into his jeans, the rustling of the denim, and then the noise of his zipper and him buckling his belt.

After a moment more, his hands pull up off your shredded underwear and then he tugs your jeans up over your hips again. He hauls you up and holds your arms tightly so you don’t fall over once more. You don’t look at him and it seems to infuriate him. With a strong grip around your jaw, he forces your head towards him, “Hey, look at me.”

When you still don’t, he shakes your head a little, “Eyes here.”

You eventually follow through, vision blurry from how much you have cried. He scans your face, “You don’t tell anyone about this or I swear. I don’t usually hunt down pretty girls like you but I will. You go into your car and you drive away. I’ll watch you from here. Got it?”

Your body aches as you nod but your expression is blank, even when Joel pushes you out of his grip so you stumble and even when you see him stuff your panties into his pocket.

“Go,” he snaps when you’re still immovable.

You don’t know how but suddenly, you’re walking out the door, barely noticing where your feet hit the ground, and doing exactly what he has said. You probably shouldn’t even be driving let alone on the highway but you do until you feel nothing at all except his come dripping from your aching cunt.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #my writing

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crabsnpersimmons · 29 days

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Crabs this is Noa you need to help me I'm in love with your restaurant AU I need more I love food and you combined it with the dca I can't I ca

Uhh what's in the menu? :D

HEHE ME TOO NOA!!

legit every meal i have is inspiration for this AU 😂

as for the menu, welllll most of it is based on Hong Kong style cafe foods (because that's what inspired me at first), but the specials change regularly and go into many different cuisines.

the boys also specialize in different things too:

Sun specializes in healthy, nutritious meals. he’s also the most interested in learning all about food, from farms to cooking methods. if you ask him to surprise you, he’ll discretely scan you and determine what your body needs and will cook something accordingly.

You are surprised as a bowl of soup appears in front of you, held by a gold hand. You follow that hand to it’s owner—meeting Sun’s blank eyes staring down at you.

“I… didn’t order a soup,” you stutter.

“You appear to be low in iron today,” Sun responds in his monotone voice before turning away, then adding, “There is more if you need it. It's on the house.”

Without a further word, Sun returns to the kitchen.

The smell of the soup wafts to your nose and you decide to dig in. It’s a fairly clear broth yet surprisingly flavourful—the kind of soup that takes more than a day to properly steep and simmer to extract all the flavours from it’s ingredients. Despite that, the soup was clear of any dregs at the bottom—just the way you like it.

You feel your face warm—from the soup or from the attention, you’re not entirely sure.

You might take his offer for seconds.

Moon specializes in everything indulgent! juicy fried chicken? the cutest pastries? he loves them all and he’s always experimenting with new recipes. sure he recognizes the importance of a healthy meal, but sometimes you just need a boost, yknow? food is more than fuel, it can be something to be enjoyed.

When you stepped into the restaurant that morning, Moon could already tell you were off to a rough start. He watched from the kitchen window as you ate your breakfast, staring dryly at your phone.

And then he had an idea. Ooooohoohoohoo, clever Moon!

“Gooooood morning, starlight,” Moon walks over to your seat at the bar table. “How’s your breakfast? Would you like some dessert with it?”

You groggily look up from your phone, and nod, barely registering what he said. Then before you know it, Moon is gone and back again with a warm plate of french toast.

Moon wasn’t kidding when he said dessert—the toast is thick enough to be a cake! When you cut off a manageable bite, you realize it’s actually two slices of toast, sandwiching a gooey filling.

You take a bite and you’re surprised by how delicate and rich it is. The toast melts in your mouth and leaves behind the aroma of butter and eggs and the delightfully chilled sweetness of condensed milk coats your tongue.

Your expression must betray your reaction, because you see Moon smiling back at you so sweetly.

Eclipse is the main front of house, waiting tables and charming customers. and he’s also the barista, preparing a variety of drinks (and sometimes putting on a bit of a show while doing so). he can cook as well, but he leaves it mostly to Sun and Moon.

You have no idea how you got here. You decided to stop by the restaurant, only you forgot that today was their day off. However, you’ve learned that the chefs live in the apartment above the restaurant, which explains why Eclipse found you and let you in.

Now you were seated at the empty bar table, while the charming barista prepared you a drink.

“Here we are,” Eclipse gently places a glass in front of you.

Based on the colour, the ice, and the straw, you take a guess, “Iced coffee?”

“Half correct,” Eclipse chuckles and pours himself a glass as well. “It’s one of my old boss’s favourites. It’s called ‘yuenyeung’, a mixture of milk tea and coffee.”

“Oh, so ‘yuenyeung’,” you grimace at your butchered pronunciation, “means ‘tea-coffee’, I guess?”

Eclipse smiles. For the short while you’ve known him, you have learned you do not trust that smile. “No, ‘yuenyeung’ refers to a pair of mandarin ducks that look very different, male and female. They’re a symbol of conjugal love—a pair of two different elements coming together as one.”

You freeze as Eclipse chuckles and clinks your glass with his. “It’s more fragrant when it’s served warm, but it’s too hot for that today. I’ll save that treat for a day you need the warmth.”

He’s right. It is too hot for this today. You take your glass and sip on the straw, Even chilled, the aroma of black tea, coffee, and smooth milk is strong on your tongue.

Even after downing your entire glass, you still feel too hot.

#fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf eclipse #fnaf dca #dca fandom #Have You Eaten? AU #Sun Have You Eaten? AU #Moon Have You Eaten? AU #Eclipse Have You Eaten? AU #crab writes #ask the crab #love these guys #silly guys #this au is basically #i just want to share a meal with the DCA #and have the DCA cook for me #that's all i want really #long post

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ceeplays · 9 months

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Favorite Default Replacements & Game Override Mods (Part 2 - Food & Kitchen, and World Overrides)

A compiled list of my favorite default replacement and override mods from the past year, plus a few classics that I just couldn't leave out. This is Part 2/3 of a collection of cc finds (links to the other parts below).

(More info and download links below the cut). ♥

Navigation: - Part 1: Object Overrides (here) - Part 3: Electronics & Font Replacements (here)

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Food & Kitchen Replacements:

@largetaytertots : (1) Coffee To-Go Cup @insimniacreations : (1) Infant Food Replacement @necrodogmtsands4s : (1) Pizza Retexture @oni28 - (1) ThrifTea Menu @littlbowbub : (1) High School Lunch, (2) ThrifTea menu, (3) Ice Cream Shop Menu, (4) Cafe Menu @hydrangeachainsaw : (1) High School Lunch (Kawaii Totoro Bento) @apricotrush : (1) Food Retexture Pack #1, (2) Food Retexture Pack #2 (Quick Meals), (3) Food Retexture Pack #3 (Lunch Recipes), (4) Pizza Party Retexture (All In-Game Pizzas), (5) Kitchenware Retexture, (6) Breakfast Food Overhaul (All In-Game Breakfast Foods) @channel4sims-cc : (1) Standard Cutting board, (2) Fridge Food Cutting board, (3) Baking Cutting Board (all 3 versions listed here replace different boards in the game, and can be used simultaneously), (4) Milk Bottle, (5) Coffee Bag, (6) High School Lunch (Korean Menu), (7) Pizza Mod, (8) Home Chef Hustle Pizzas @serkisyan : (1) Standard Cutting board (2) Toast Cutting board, (3) Baking Cutting board, (4) Vegetable Cutting board, (5) Wine Bottles, (6) Curry spices, Saffron & Pepper, (7) Salt & Pepper Shakers, (8) Coffee Bags, (9) Coffee To-Go Cup, (10) Cooking Pots, (11) Cooking Pans, (12) Kitchen Knife

World Overrides:

@melbrewer367 : (1) San Myshuno Apartment Hallways (this one is game. changing.) @lu-sims (original creator unknown) : (1) Background Buildings Replacement @ebonixsims : (1) San Myshuno Signs & Billboards, (2) University Coffee Stall (becomes starbucks) @wilderbees : (1) San Myshuno Bridge @alerionjkeee : (1) San Sequoia Bridge @miikocc : (1) Fluffy Clouds, (2) Kawaii Moon, (3) Pastel World @lotharihoe : (1) Out of the Dark, (2) Purple Skies, (3) Brighter Walls & Foundations, (4) Cubemap Remover @lady-moriel : (1) Clouds, (2) Plants, (3) Chesnut Ridge Clouds, (4) Flowers & Grass @bessy : (1) EA Cabinet Light & Shader @peacemaker-ic : (1) No Occluder Appliances @k-hippie : (1) Literally all the K-Mods @sims41ife : (1) Strangerville Retexture

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the end! ♥

#ceesfinds #ts4 default replacement #ts4 override #ts4overrides #ts4defaultreplacement #ts4 #thesims4 #simblr

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orange-cheetah · 2 months

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Makochi Town Famous Shops Guide!!

Approved by Nii Satoru-sensei!

Saboten (Bakery)　さぼてん

Popular items BEST3

1st Anpan

2nd Curry bread

3rd Yakisoba-pan

Regulars

Sakura - What he buys often: The curry bread is a recent favourite of his　He was surprised when he ate one fresh out of the oven, and was hooked ever since.

Umemiya - What he buys often: Anpan　It's been his favourite ever since he came to this town.

Tsukushi Butcher's Shop　つくし精肉店

Popular items BEST3

1st Korokke

2nd Menchi-katsu [minced meat cutlet]

3rd Ebi-katsu [shrimp cutlet]

Regulars

Hiragi, Kaji - What he buys often: Korokke　Because Hiragi-san treats me often (Kaji).

Kikuchi-ya (Japanese sweets shop)　菊地屋

Popular items BEST3

1st Dorayaki

2nd Mitarashi dango [see above picture]

3rd Warabimochi [1]

Regulars

Yanagida - What he buys often: Dorayaki　He often goes to buy dorayaki to serve with tea at his parents' house.

Sakaki brothers - What they buy often: Warabimochi　Warabimochi is just the best, right (Seiryu). I often go to accompany [2] Seiryu (Uryu).

1　Warabimochi (蕨餅) is a wagashi (Japanese confection) made from warabiko (bracken starch) and covered or dipped in kinako (sweet toasted soybean flour). Kuromitsu syrup is sometimes poured on top before serving as an added sweetener

2　「晴竜の付き添いでよく行くから」 - 付き添い can mean to accompany, attend, serve, wait on, attend to, assist

Café Pothos　喫茶店ポトス

Popular items BEST3

1st Omurice

2nd Handmade pudding

3rd Fully-packed egg sandwich

Regulars

Students of Furin - What they often order: Omurice　The taste is excellent, and there's a discount for Furin students.

Muscle Power (Okonomiyaki [3] place)　まっするぱわー

Popular items BEST3

1st Okonomiyaki that doesn't use flour

2nd Customized protein (banana & milk)

3rd Banana pound cake

Regulars

Tsugeura - What he often orders: Okonomiyaki that doesn't use flour　It's nourishment for the muscles!

3　Okonomiyaki (お好み焼き) is a Japanese teppanyaki, savory pancake dish consisting of wheat flour batter and other ingredients (mixed, or as toppings) cooked on a teppan (flat griddle). Common additions include cabbage, meat, and seafood, and toppings include okonomiyaki sauce (made with Worcestershire sauce), aonori (dried seaweed flakes), katsuobushi (bonito flakes), Japanese mayonnaise, and pickled ginger.

[For the menu see the bonus at the end of chapter 32!]

Penpengusa (Monjayaki [4] place)　ぺんぺん草

Popular items BEST3

1st Mentaiko mochi cheese monja

2nd Corn monja

3rd Seafood monja

Regulars

Anzai, Kurita, Kakiuchi, Takanashi - What they often order: Mentaiko mochi cheese monja　It's delicious, and the restaurant is the perfect place for everyone to hang out! (Anzai)

[photos of before and after cooking for reference, not the ones mentioned in the rankings]

4　Monjayaki (もんじゃ焼き, often called simply "monja") is a type of Japanese pan-fried batter, popular in the Kantō region, similar to okonomiyaki, but using different liquid ingredients.

The ingredients in monjayaki are finely chopped and mixed into the batter before frying. Monjayaki batter has ingredients similar to okonomiyaki. However, additional dashi or water is added to the monjayaki batter mixture, making it runnier than okonomiyaki. The consistency of cooked monjayaki is comparable to melted cheese.

[BONUS TRIVIA]

Saboten - Cactus

Tsukushi - Horsetail

[Tsukushi (つくし) redirects to 杉菜 (スギナ sugina) on Wikipedia. Known as the field horsetail or common horsetail in English. The buds are eaten as a vegetable in Japan and Korea in spring.]

Kiku - Chrysanthemum

Pothos - ...Pothos

Penpengusa - Shepherd's purse

[Penpengusa (ぺんぺん草), or 薺 (なずな nazuna). Known as shepherd's purse in English. It is one of the ingredients of the symbolic dish consumed in the Japanese spring-time festival, Nanakusa-no-sekku.

The Festival of Seven Herbs or Nanakusa no sekku (Japanese: 七草の節句) is the long-standing Japanese custom of eating seven-herb rice porridge (七草粥, nanakusa-gayu, lit. "7 Herbs Rice-Congee") on January 7 (Jinjitsu); one of the Gosekku.]

[all extra information and photos from wikipedia]

[masterlist]

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker character book #sakura haruka #umemiya hajime #hiragi toma #kaji ren #yanagida jien #sakaki twins #tachibana kotoha #tsugeura taiga #anzai masaki #wei translates #from the alleywei #i Must link a dozen wikipedia articles #fun section for writers/artists this time!#this took several hours (again)#thats bofurin done #shishitoren next! rest for one day (chp147 drops tomorrow!!)

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esmedelacroix · 8 months

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1 day til' Christmas

spending a snowstorm with husband!miguel o'hara on christmas eve⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

2 days til' christmas ← previous part

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It was the last day of keeping your pregnancy from Miguel and you couldn't be happier; tomorrow he would open his last Christmas gift and see a positive pregnancy test. You couldn't wait to share this great news with him.

The plan was to go to the hospital that morning but you miraculously got snowed in and you hadn't vomited that morning making it crucial to take it slow when drinking and eating.

Normally on Christmas Eve, the two of you shared a bottle of red wine and finished wrapping presents for each other and family and friends.

This Christmas, you would do the same but instead of wine, you’d have eggnog. Every single holiday Miguel is reminded that you hate the idea of egg nog. “Who would ever eat egg milk? That’s weird,” you said.

“I drink said, ‘egg milk’, it's one of my holiday comfort drinks,” Miguel would respond.

“I know but—“ you’d start.

“Please don’t yuck my yum,” he joked.

“You’ve never even tried it before,” he continued.

You still had never tried eggnog but now you had a feeling that you’d like it. You took a small sip and your taste buds did pirouettes. Eggnog tasted like a sweet vanilla-flavored version of milk.

“This is good!” you exclaimed.

“Told ya,” Miguel responded as he began to wrap up personalized Fender guitar picks. He always swore Hobie got on his nerves but he still cared. Enough to get him such a valuable yet thoughtful gift.

The two of you enjoyed your drinks and marveled at the gifts you got each other. It was never really. a surprise on Christmas day since you always wrapped everything together. There were one or two gifts that the two of you wanted to keep a surprise including yours. "What's this?" Miguel asked as he picked up a small rectangular box that had his name on it.

"That's your gift but I want it to be a surprise," you replied.

"Hmm, interesting," he replied as he put the gift down thinking it was something like a watch or a ridiculously expensive pen like the years before.

After two hours you were finally done wrapping all the gifts. You were both famished afterward. You were heavily craving some hot chocolate and marshmallows but you didn't have any marshmallows. On top of that, the two of you couldn't leave your home because of the snowstorm.

Thankfully out of all of the random things that Miguel knows how to do, making marshmallows was one of them. You thankfully had all the ingredients, you tried to follow along but it was way too complicated. You sat on your kitchen island and asked him questions while he skillfully made the marshmallows.

You purposefully asked the dumbest random questions and he found it hilarious. While he was letting the marshmallows sit, he let you lick the bowl like you were a child again making cookies with a loved one that let you try the dough.

The two of you had prepared dinner while waiting for the marshmallows to finish setting. Christmas Eve dinner was my favorite because it was breakfast for dinner. This year's menu was eggnog French toast with cranberry jam and cheesy omelets with spinach and tomatoes in them.

In perfect timing, right after the two of you finished eating and cleaning up after your meal, the marshmallows were done. The two of you got comfy and cuddled on the couch wrapped in blankets watching Holidate with mugs with steaming hot cocoa in hand.

The night was perfect and your heart raced with excitement of what was to come the next morning. You fell asleep halfway through the movie so Miguel carried you to your shared room.

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Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The lovers were nestled all snug in their bed

While visions of a baby shower danced in your head

Santa sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

. . .

to be continued → Christmas Special

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taglist: @aripet22@to-the-endoftheline@sad-author-san

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magickkate · 6 months

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What is Beltane? Beltane, also known as May Day, is a vibrant and ancient festival that marks the beginning of summer. It falls around May 1st, nestled between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. Let’s dive into the rich history of Beltane and explore how to celebrate this magical time.

The Origins:

Beltane has deep roots in Celtic traditions, particularly among the Gaels in Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man.

The name “Beltane” likely comes from the Gaelic word “beloteniâ,” meaning “bright fire.”

It’s a time when the veil between the living and the spirit world is thin, making it perfect for honoring ancestors and practicing spiritual communication.

Historical Practices:

🔥 Light the Beltane Fire: Light bonfires using nine sacred woods (like rowan, apple, and pine). These flames symbolize love, passion, and protection.

🌺 Dance Around the Maypole: Gather friends and dance around a maypole, weaving ribbons and celebrating fertility.

💐 Make Flower Crowns: Flowers represent fertility and growth. Braid them into your hair, create wreaths, and use them in recipes.

💞 Celebrate Love and Fertility: Honor the union of the Lord and Lady (masculine and feminine energies) through simple or elaborate rituals.

🍓 Share a Beltane Feast: Enjoy these traditional treats, invoking the spirit of Beltane.

Bannock Bread: Bannock is a flatbread oatcake that has endured through the ages. It’s simple, hearty, and perfect for Beltane. Bake it over an open fire to connect with the festival’s fiery energy. Caudle: Caudle is a warm, spiced drink made with milk, eggs, and ale or wine. It symbolizes nourishment, abundance, and the return of life after winter. Butter and Milk: Dairy products represent fertility and prosperity. Enjoy fresh butter and milk as part of your Beltane feast. Goat Meat: In ancient times, a sacrificed lamb was often cooked over the Beltane bonfire. Goat meat can be a modern alternative, symbolizing abundance and sustenance. Honey and Sweet Foods: Beltane celebrates the sweetness of life and passion. Incorporate honey, sweet pastries, and desserts into your menu. Fresh Fruits and Vegetables: Beltane falls during a time when the earth is abundant with grain. Enjoy strawberries, asparagus, and other seasonal produce to honor the season. Mead: Mead, the ancient honey wine, is associated with Beltane’s joyful and passionate energy. Raise a toast to the turning of the wheel and the promise of warmer days.

Modern Celebrations:

Nature Walks: Embrace the beauty of spring by taking a walk in nature.

Goddess Rituals: Connect with the divine feminine energy.

Ancestor Honoring: Light a candle for passed ancestors and express gratitude.

Romantic Date Night: Celebrate love and passion with your partner.

Journaling: Reflect on what Beltane means to you.

Remember, Beltane is a time of renewal, passion, and growth. Whether you’re dancing around a fire or sipping lavender lemonade, let the magic of this season infuse your spirit. 🌸🔥✨

Learn more:

"Sabbats: A Witch’s Approach to Living the Old Ways” by Edain McCoy

Llewellyn’s Sabbat Essentials

🌿🌞 Blessed Beltane! 🌞🌿

#queue the magick #witchcraft #witch #witchblr #reference #magickkate #kitchen witch #sigils #green witch #witchy #beltane #maypole #sabbat #sabbats #wheel of the year

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malegains · 9 months

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SECRET MENU

KEV’S LATTE - $600

TASTING NOTES: Kevin’s unique milk has a rich toasted hazelnut bouquet, is mildly sweet and on the thicker side. Price includes standard secret menu perks, including watching Kevin produce the drink and having him sit with you (in-store only) while you consume it, to a limit of 30 minutes.

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: availability not guaranteed due to refractory periods and cafe conditions

#ai muscle #male muscle growth #ai muscle growth #muscle #musclegrowth #muscle in public #muscle growth story #starbucks muscle

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hetalianhistorian · 2 months

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Menu items have been released for the Hetalia: The Glorious World cafe collabs!!

Source links: 1 2 3 Recently, the official Hetamyu account has announced that Hetalia: The Glorious World will be receiving multiple cafe collaborations in celebration of the new musical! The following brands include Animate Cafe Gratte, Marufuku Coffee Shop, and Karatez Karaoke! I will go over the listed menu items and details from the images in order accordingly to brand. Keep in mind I am using a translator, so there may be mistakes! Karatez Karaoke The event will run from August 9th until September 22nd. The holding store will be within the Shibuya Dogenzaka store. There will be 4 different drinks served:

Drink 1 - An iced drink with the ingredients of muscat gold jelly, nata de coco, tonic water, marshmallow, chocolate sauce, arazan, and pocky mint.

Drink 2 - A hot drink with the ingredients of hot cocoa, whipped cream, diced almonds, arazan, and mint.

Drink 3 - An iced drink with red perry jelly, iced tea, vanilla ice cream, framboise sauce, and arazan.

Drink 4 - An iced drink with frucura soji rock, ramune syrup, hyaluronic acid jelly, and rose petals.

For every collaboration drink ordered, you will receive one free coaster as a bonus! These will be randomized. There will also be a special collaboration set you can order! Takeout will be ¥1,980 yen each. If you are going to takeout for a karaoke room, a separate room fee will be charged. Different tax rates vary depending on the service. The followings goods are offered:

One collaboration drink

An original, random coaster

A clear file

A random straw charm.

Animate's Cafe Gratte Animate's collaboration will run from August 9th to September 12th. The following store locations will be hosting the collab during this period:

Ikebukuro main store

Akihabara

Shibuya

Kichijoji Parco

Yokohama Vivre

Sendai

Nagoya

Osaka Nihonbashi

Okayama

There will also be a cookie store hosting this collab in Kyoto! For Gratte stores, there will be a charge of ¥660 yen for eat in and a charge of ¥648 yen for takeout. Base drinks will include coffee, tea, orange, apple, matcha latte, cocoa, and more in options. For cookies, eat in will cost ¥605 yen and ¥594 yen for takeout. You can choose your frosting image from a selection of the cast's photo covers! For gratte stores, you will need to select your pattern at the terminal in stores. For the cookie store, you will need to bring in the order sheet available at the store to the cash register for your selection. There will also be a randomly selected bonus bromide given for every purchase of ¥1,500 yen from the collaboration menu. This offer will end as soon as supplies are gone. There will also be a lottery hosted! For every collaboration food and drink item purchased, they will provide a form to you to fill out. Two people will be chosen to receive a bromide autographed by the cast! If you also bring your ticket for the show, you will receive an additional gift when making a purchase of ¥1,500 yen each. Marufuku Coffee Shop

The Marufuku collaboration will be hosting this event in two stores with each having their own dates. Here are the following stores that will be hosting:

Osaka - HEP Navio Store - August 5th to August 19th

Tokyo - Yodobashi AKIBA store - August 23rd to September 8th

Here are the following menu items:

English Breakfast - A brunch please using natural yeast bread "Levambourg" (this might be a mistranslation?). The uses milk ingredients, wheat, eggs, soybeans, apples, pork, and chicken.

Pain Perdu - A fluffy french toast dish with vanilla ice cream and berries. This dish uses milk ingredients, eggs, wheat, and soybeans.

Ordering both of these dishes will only cost ¥1,050 yen each. If you order from the drink set, it will cost ¥1,350 yen each. You can choose your drink coffee, tea, or cafe au lait. When you order from the collaboration menu, you will receive a special bromide as a gift! The Osaka store will have a limited quantity of 400 bromides and the Tokyo store will have a limited quantity of 500 bromides.

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blossoms-phan · 3 months

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i absolutely adore the concept/general feeling of food as a means of bonding/making memories and literally everything they do is the epitome of romance and eternal bonding to me but it makes me soooo emo thinking about how much life and food dnp have shared over 15 years. thinking about the first time(s) dan went to visit him at the lesters and probably shared a slightly awkward meal at their dinner table with his parents. then he went from not knowing how to grocery shop on his own to having phil as a friend and life partner as he entered adulthood for the first time, the origins of their routine of shared bowls of cereal for breakfast and the most basic stir frys to sustain their needs. conversations over toasties and caramel macchiatos. toast and ribena, learning how phil likes his basic nescafe coffee he probably still prefers although he’ll happily listen to dan yap about learning how to make his fancy espresso and drink whatever latte he’s handed, as long as it has a splash of vanilla syrup and a little bit of shakily poured art on top. sharing popcorn at the movies and shakeaway straight after. perfecting their pizza orders. travelling around the world together and trying new foods from new places, already knowing phil is going to order the most sugary stack of pancakes a menu has to offer. seeing each other through fixations and healthy phases (even though dan kinda ruined phil’s one time salad motivation by bringing a goddamn cabbage home). cups of tea silently delivered to each others rooms on bad days. indulging in each others cravings because dan believes that phil doesn’t need to earn his candies and treats, if you want the thing you should just have it. using their rich boi money to occasionally buy the good olive oil and oat milk and hummus from the fancy grocery store because fuck it, they can. a clear appreciation for a well made croissant/pastry which I respect. an alcohol shelf in their forever home that’s grown over the years with the help of wanting to try making that cool drink they tried at the bar on their own, gifts from family and friends, souvenirs from japan and a backup bottle of celebratory champagne just because. their own leftover bakes and birthday cakes and breakfast buffets on vacation and sushi bars in japan and fancy date nights out at dimly lit restaurants and so many takeaways (deliveroo daddies, how great is modern life) and i sincerely hope by this point different varieties of home cooked meals and family dinners in florida and at the lesters except now they’re dan’s chosen family.

#this is so random but I love food and just wanted to get this out #there’s probably a loooot more specific food mentions and references im missing from like liveshows and stuff #but this is what came to mind when I thought of them and food #there is so much love stored in food #and sharing it with loved ones #dan and phil #dnp #phan #my thots

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corn-fanfiction · 11 months

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SAVIOUR COMPLEX (PT. 2)

Rated: M

TAGS: language/ drunk and disorderly content/ Mark Hoffman being a c*p/ reader is normal and likes to do normal things/Mark is protective bc it's his job but he's also problematic/ because he's a cop

(Pt 1)

The next day, you go into work as normal.

Scratch that- you do everything as normal. Brush your teeth, get dressed, eat a bagel and have some coffee, lock your door as normal.

What is not normal is the car idling outside your apartment. The windows are somewhat tinted, but you can still see the silhouette inside. You grumble, sigh, duck your head. But you still hear the car door open and close as you try to flee.

"Y/n! What the hell are you doing?"

You stop, turn.

"Walking to work. Same as I always do."

"You're in witness protection and you think you're gonna walk 15 minutes to work?"

"What happened to keeping out of each other's way?"

"Get in the car."

Your eyebrows shoot up in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just trying to do my job. Get in the car."

"Look, whatever happened with you at work is none of my business so don't take it out on me. I'm walking, unless you wanna arrest me I'm not getting in the back of that car."

For a split second you see something flash across his face that you realize is him actually considering it. But he drops his hands from his hips, mutters something, then gets back in his car. You're half worried he'll roll next to you the entire time, but he speeds off, presumably to the restaurant. Whatever, you think. 15 minutes of peace.

You feel a bit more energized by the time you reach work. It's a brisk morning. Smoke curls into the air from a cigarette pinched between the lips of a line cook on a milk crate. He nods to you and smokes to the end of ashes and embers. A bell rings as you enter from the backdoor into the server's alley. You move to your locker, decorated with peeling stickers that had been gifted to you by your previous mentor. When you came in five years ago, you didn't have any stickers for your book or your locker, so you got to pick from the bottom of the bin. A Budweiser bottle, a Limp Bizkit logo, and a Hello Kitty silhouette. Not you at all, but has become you still.

"Y/n!"

You turn. Around the corner, Gerry pokes their head, which is riddled with blue hair and silver piercings. A little younger than you, but you still always thought they were so cool.

"You have a table."

"What?? I haven't even clocked in yet."

Gerry shrugs. "He asked for you."

Your stomach sinks, and you know exactly who is waiting for you.

After you clock in, you fold your apron and fasten it around the front, tucking your book into the pocket. You blow out a puff of air, straighten out your shirt, shake out your hands, then step into the front of house.

Immediately you clock Mark sitting at the corner table of your section. Fury lights you up and you fight the waitressing urge to grab a menu and napkin.

You storm over to him and he looks up from his paper like an asshole.

"No menu?"

"I don't wanna get fired after shoving it up your ass."

“Assaulting a police officer?”

“You can’t be here.”

“It’s my job,” he returns his attention to the paper.

"At the very least, you're taking up a two top."

"I tip."

You scoff. "You're fucking unbelievable."

"Can I get the chicken salad?"

So he's been in here before. Asshole didn't even need the menu.

"White or wheat?"

"Wheat?"

"Toasted?"

"What do you think?"

"Raw, then?"

He smirks and you feel the blood rush to your face. You elect not to respond. He better tip you 200% just for getting on your nerves.

Your other tables are fine. There's one that tips you like shit but you know it won't kill your earnings. And, luckily, Mark does tip well and leaves when he's done. You do get a sense that he's waiting in his car outside. You almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

And yeah, you know he's only doing his job and he didn't ask for it. But if this is what the first day is like, who knows what you're in for in another month.

God, another month? You should be so unlucky.

Once lunch shift is over and you do tip out, Gerry catches you.

"Hey! I'm pulling a double but do you want to go out tonight?"

You toss the idea around in your head. Gerry is the only one who can get you out of your apartment. Otherwise, you're happily indoors, watching a movie or trying and failing to knit. You also consider the fact that Mark will probably have to sit in the corner grumpily and the idea makes you smirk.

"You know what? Let's do it."

------

You know what you're doing.

You know what you're doing and he hates it.

Sure, being at the restaurant was his own, weird little form of entertainment, but at least he bought something and tipped you well, despite your poor attitude. But this is rude. He has important work to be done, and he can't have your little rendezvouses fucking it up. He needs to shake you, and fast. The best he can do is lie low as Jigsaw until they determine you're no longer in any danger. Not that you are, anyway.

That is, as long as you don't keep getting in his way.

You're going out to a bar which, even though he knows you're safe, is still monumentally stupid because you don't know that. And you're all dolled up for some attention.

Mark shakes his head from inside his car. However much you get on his nerves, he's not a misogynist or anything. Yay, you get to go out and look nice doing it. Meanwhile, he has to babysit you. He just hopes your tolerance is high or you don't drink too much. The last thing he wants is to drag your ass out of that bar and tuck you in at home.

Granted, you're not foolish enough to walk this time, but he knows you'd rather eat glass than have him drive you, so your friend from the restaurant picks you up. He follows.

It's not the seediest place ever, but it's definitely not a bar he'd frequent. He gives you and your friend a moment before he follows in behind you. He finds a high-top table and sits. It's not the kind of bar where someone takes orders, so he just sits and watches you.

You do seem looser than before. Your hair is down and your lips are red and your skirt is tight. You're doing shots with the friend from work- the one with the blue hair. A couple of guys come up and offer to buy you two drinks and Mark straightens a little, awareness on higher alert. But you don't seem bothered, so he decides not to worry about it too much.

An hour passes.

You're on your fifth tequila shot with a beer between and he's starting to get worried. Not that he thinks you can't handle yourself, even if you can't, but from the little speech you gave him in his office, it doesn't seem like your usual evening. Maybe that's a good thing, but he still keeps a watchful eye on you.

Another hour passes.

He glances at his watch impatiently. When he looks back up, you're wobbling over to him and he shifts, ready to balance you or walk you to the car.

"At ease, detective," you slur with a mock salute. "Gerry's taking me home when we're done, so you can skeedadle."

Mark scoffs. "Gerry may be taking you home, not that they seem in any position to be driving, but I leave when you leave. Just act like I'm not here."

"Well, your glaring is scaring people away. I'm having a hard time enjoying myself when you're staring every suitor down like you're my possessive boyfriend or something."

Jesus, is that what she really thinks? Mark wonders. That he's trying to drive people away from you?

"Just doing my job, sweetheart."

The pet name slips out between his lips before he has the good sense to bite it back. He hides his genuine surprise with himself with a sneer.

"And what a shit job it is," you mutter. "Not even gonna buy a drink?"

"I'm on the clock."

"You look like a fuckin' narc, dude."

"Probably because I don't want any drunk assholes to bother me."

You give it a moment to sink in, then scoff, then turn away, heading back to the bar. He hadn't meant it like that, not exactly, anyway. Oh well. It got you to leave him alone.

A third hour.

Mark decides this isn't healthy behavior, because at this point you're going to get alcohol poisoning or something, especially judging by your shit tolerance level. He also just wants to go home and sleep. Fuck his night job, he's tired.

He stands and comes up behind you and Gerry, tapping the bartop between them. Gerry sees him first.

"Ugh, get lost, creep!"

Mark ignores them and turns to you. "I think it might be time to go."

You roll your eyes and the action makes you dizzy. "Fuck you, Hoffman. You're not my fucking mother. If this is how I want to spend my evening, let me."

"I wouldn't give a shit except it's my job to make sure you're safe, and right now your sense of self-preservation has gone out the window."

Gerry looks between the two of you. "Y/n, do you know this guy?"

You blow a raspberry at your drink. "Unfortunately. It's a long story. I'll tell you once he leaves." You shoot daggers at Mark.

Mark sighs, braces his hands on his hips. "Don't be difficult. Remember, I'm a cop. I got no problem hauling you out of here."

You gawk at him. "Do you want to lose your job, golden-boy? Cause that's not how you get back on the team with the other big kids."

You're really grinding on his nerves now. He's actually trying to help you and you're too drunk to know it.

"Okay, that's enough."

Mark makes the mistake of taking you by the bicep and you shrug him off with a surprising amount of strength, but it still takes you out of your seat.

"Get the fuck offa me!" you hiss. The look in your eyes spells out danger and the willingness to make a scene, so he puts up his hands.

"Just come outside, then."

"Hey, buddy. We got a problem, here?"

Mark turns and behind him stands one of the two men that had been hanging around you earlier. Fuck. People are starting to quiet down and watch what's turning into a show. Mark curses himself.

"No problem. Just helping the lady."

"Well maybe she doesn't want your help."

The man steps closer. He's taller than Mark, sure, but also buzzed and therefore too disoriented to really threaten any damage.

Still, Mark needs to diffuse the situation.

"Look, why don't you and your friends go get another drink and let me do my job, alright?"

Mark turns back to face you but the man lands a hand on his shoulder, and when Mark turns around again there's a fist coming for his face. On a sober day Mark would not be faster than this guy but the alcohol has made the stranger sluggish, so Mark is able to catch his fist, twist his arm, and slam the guy's face against the bartop. The bar has gone dead quiet. Mark retireves his badge.

"Detective Mark Hoffman, LCPD," he says to the crowd. Then, to the man he says lowly, "Now, go get sobered up and we'll call this a friendly misunderstanding, hm?"

The man nods frantically and Mark lets him up, shaking off some wayward tequila that the ruckus has spilled. When Mark looks around for you, you're gone, along with Gerry.

"Fuck," he mutters, and sprints out the front door.

You are crouched down, back to the brick of the building as Gerry runs a comforting hand across your back. Mark spots you and approaches.

When you see him you stand and move back.

"Get the fuck away from me, you psycho!"

"He was starting something he couldn't finish so I took care of it. Are you ready to go home, now?"

"Fuck you, pig!"

Gerry comes to stand between you two.

"Okay, let's all cool off for a second. Now does anyone want to tell me what the fuck is happening?"

Mark sighs. He doesn't want to explain himself to anybody else, but if it gets you back to your apartment, he'll do it.

"I'm a cop. She knows me. I've been assigned her case. Now, could we please get in my car so I can drive you both home?"

Gerry looks between the two of you. Begrudgingly, you nod.

"Fine," Gerry says. "But I need to hear more."

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

Gerry is passed out in your bed. You two have known each other for so long that sharing it isn't a problem at all, and you want them to be comfortable. They were content with the explanation you and Hoffman both were able to offer.

Now, you and Hoffman are on your couch. You have a glass of water in your hand and he's loosened his tie. You both look worse for wear.

"I'm sorry that happened, really. I know you don't like this situation, I don't either. But he put his hands on me."

"You can't just dislocate someone's shoulder because they touch you," you mutter. "Fuckin' cops get away with anything."

"Like I said, I'm sorry. Hopefully he's gonna go home and sleep it off. Better than spending a night in a cell. Speaking of," he stands and groans. "I'm probably gonna go home now. I think I've caused enough trouble."

You watch him with tired, puffy eyes as he goes for his coat.

"I know it's late. You...want to sleep here? Sofa's not great or anything. I don't know how long your drive is..."

You have no idea why you offer it in the first place. You don't like him. He doesn't like you.

But...

Maybe there's something to be said about him taking his job so seriously, even if it inconveniences you. And his apology did seem genuine. And if he really wanted to be a dick, he could've thrown that guy in jail.

Not that it excuses any of it. But still. It's late.

Mark watches you carefully as you go over all this in your head. But he finishes putting on his coat and straightens out the collar.

"Thanks, but I really should go. And you should get some sleep."

"You too. You look like shit."

He laughs. "Well. Goodnight."

"Don't punch any more drunk people."

"I won't."

He leaves. You shuffle up from the couch to lock the door behind him. Your fingers pry between the blinds and you watch as he goes down the sidewalk to his car. Unlocking it, he spots your eyes and gives you one last wave- and he's smiling. You find yourself waving back. Maybe it's the sleepiness or the drunkness. Maybe it doesn't matter. You hate Mark Hoffman, but maybe you hate him a little less than yesterday.

Maybe you'll hate him less tomorrow.

But probably not.

#mark hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #saw fanfic #fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort

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