#the waitress has been trying to get me to leave for half an hour

[totally-a-sheep]

Alright, flock. Last pictures of today! South Cerney and Bibury! Wave for the camera!

See ya tomorrow. We've got a few very special destinations planned! Anyway, I'm off to count myself now.

FLEECE OUT!

[tuesdayiminlove]

happy disaster

rockstar!eddie x fem!waitress!reader (imperfect for you universe)

summary: how you two meet

author's note: an ask about how they met came earlier today and i couldn't help myself lol. not proofread sorry! also this could be read as a standalone! but u can read the og part here! hope u guys enjoy lmk what yall think xoxo

word count: 3.1k

You’ve had your fair share of jobs throughout the last few years, trying to make ends meet while also being a consumer of the various cute things you see when you’re at the mall with your friends. One time (and this may have been one of the more miserable experiences), you worked as a receptionist for an auto shop (get it now?)).

Needless to say, you were at the bottom of the hierarchy at that whole joint. When you weren’t answering calls and taking hyperspecific notes to not confuse the actual mechanics, you were practically shunned from the moment you stepped up from your seat and onto the street to eat your lunch at the bench outside. And whenever your lips did part to make even the simplest of comments, the men either laughed at you or made you feel stupid (“You guys hired me! Clearly I’m not a fucking idiot!” you dreamt of saying, but you were just never one for the dramatics and confrontation of it all).

And, the worst part, on days you couldn’t go into work, none of the other receptionists would switch with you.

(“Sorry, babe, I just can’t,” you remember Joey Warner staying after taking a drag of his cig, coughing mere seconds later from not exhaling immediately. You wanted to take the cigarette between your fingers, toss it down, and squish it with your shoes. You really needed to pick up your brother from school, and no one at the shop is ever up Joey’s ass since he’s a guy.

“Oh. It’s alright.” You curse yourself and your lack of ever wanting conflict, because you’re more than positive that this boy deserves a beating for not taking the reins for an hour just so that your poor baby brother won’t have to wait on the cold sidewalk for your mom, who is forty minutes late.

You walk back into the shop without another word.)

So. yeah, call this mechanic memory useless, but now it's clear that your jobs have been absolute dog shit in the past.

But being a waitress at Carly’s Diner, in comparison, takes the cake in the coworker camaraderie contest.

Like, now, you’re enjoying your break with Carrie, splitting half a cupcake that Jim managed to slip into your guys’ hands when he was pulling the fresh desserts from the oven. You two have turns at it, taking nimble bites from the vanilla confection and wiping rainbow sprinkles off your uniform in the process. Your nose blends in the smell of the cupcake and Carrie’s sweet perfume, leaving a little bubble where you can hardly tell what the boys in the kitchen are whipping up right now.

Judy passes through the doors in a haste, heaving before setting her eyes on you two. The notepad in her hands is crumpled up and her hair looks all over the place, eyes bewildered as she stalks towards you and Carrie, a complan ready to spill from her red lips. 

“This fucking couple on table three is driving me nuts! Nuts!” She slumps her back against the wall and swipes a piece of frosting off the cupcake before sticking it in her mouth, sighing in relief.

“Hey,” Carrie swats Judy’s hand, “watch the cupcake!” She places it behind her back possessively.

Carrie is nearly six months pregnant and craving every sweet treat Jim has to offer in between tables and shifts. It’s a miracle that she let you split the dessert with her just now, “And table three, you said?”

Judy ignores her earlier words and nods. “I swear to God, I don’t understand your goddamn generation and why you heaps are so fucking rude. I can't do this.”

“Don’t group us with those weirdos,” says Carrie. “And I’d like to see them be rude to a pregnant woman. Protect this,” she hands you the cupcake carefully, looking at you in the eyes with intent, “and I mean it.”

Her voice is so determined, you decide that you don’t want your fair share of bites anymore. You nod dutifully.

“I got this, Jude.” She swipes the notepad from the older woman’s hands.

And with that, Carrie is kicking herself off the wall and out of the kitchen, into the main part of the diner. You silently pray for the couple that now has to deal with a moody and pregnant Carrie. 

See? Now, this is what you mean! No mechanic or receptionist at Billy’s Auto Parts will ever be willing to face an alleged-annoying couple for their coworker. Sometimes, waitressing can take the light and happiness out of you once you’re clocked out, but at least you’re surrounded by the half-decent people in your town.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Judy calls out with a wicked laugh. “Gotta love that girl… hey can I have a bite?”

You frown, knowing you’re already unable to say no when Judy is stressed and you know for sure that the confection in your hand is enough to sweeten even the most stressed—Jim just has that magic to him. “Yeah, but don’t make the dent obvious.”

You think you’re gonna spend the rest of your break with Judy, hiding in between the two walls in the corner of the kitchen until Carrie comes back. You lick a small sprinkle off the cupcake, ready to ask the woman if her daughter won the spelling bee that she’s been freaking out over all week, when the office door swings open and Lenny’s head peeks out, eyes going to the first two waitresses that he can spot.

“Hey!” he shouts yours and Judy’s last names to steal the attention. “Can one of you guys go out and get Evan? Her daughter’s principal is on the phone.” He wipes his sweat-stained brow and doesn’t wait for a response. “Thanks,”

You and Judy look back at each other. And immediately you know that you’re not going to make Judy be the one.

“I got it,” you say with a soft smile. “... You’re gonna eat the rest of this are you?”

She laughs and swipes the cupcake. “For you, my love, I wouldn’t dream of it. Thank you.”

You blow her a kiss, already making your way to the double doors of the kitchen, straightening out your ponytail and getting your waitressing voice ready (patient and respectful, garnering the best tips you can try to get). Your eyes give one swipe across the diner, catching Carrie’s eye as she talks to the couple sitting down beneath her, holding her precious bump to make a show of it. She gives you a sly wink and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.

Afternoon rush makes it hard to spot Evan at first. His smaller stature makes it even harder to spot him in the crowd, but your eyes eventually zone in on him smiling at customer that is blocked by a family getting up to leave. You smile upon finding him and make your way to the table.

As you get closer, you finally notice who Evan is speaking two, and your brows pinch quizzically. The man is hunched, looking over the menu with sunglasses adorning his face despite his table not even facing the sun. His jet black curls curve around the lines of his face, making his features harder to notice. It almost reminds you of the movies you watch late at night when you’re munching on diner leftovers on your couch, the runaway criminal stopping for a bite to eat while trying to flee the state. 

“Evan,” you say softly, not wanting to draw attention to yourself but you know it's already bound to happen since you’re switching places with him. “Lenny’s got your daughter’s school on the phone. They’re asking for you.”

The man’s eyes widen. “Great,” he mutters, “What do you think it is this time?” “I hope she said ‘fuck you’ to that little pipsqueak again,” you joke, seeing the anxiety in Evan’s eyes at not knowing why he’s receiving a call during work. You remember the first time he got called to his daughter’s school from work due to her cursing out an older boy: the entire kitchen was laughing—Evan included—as they all wished him good luck with that meeting. “Can’t be worse than that.”

He sighed, turning back to the customer, “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I’m going to hand you off to her for a bit.” He says your name to further introduce you two. "Thank you for your patience.”

And for the first time up close, you look at the sunglassed man and smile. Perfect teeth flash at you, mildly astonishing you at how cute he looked when he did so. It’s not abnormal for you to find a customer attractive (it’s human, we’re human), but you don’t think a smile has ever made you secretly stop you from breathing for a second. 

Flustered, you’re clumsy as you and Evan switch spots. He pats your shoulder one last time, muttering a thank you as he rushes to the back. You follow his movements and frown for a split second and forget your task at hand. You hope his daughter is okay. You hope the kitchen will be laughing in t-minus three minutes over the fact that little baby-Evan gained a new curse word under her belt.

“Sorry,” you say, looking back at the man. You find him looking directly at you, knowing only because of how his head is positioned. His sunglasses are too tinted to even see a little beneath. “Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

“Oh—uh, yeah,” he stammers, before clearing his throat and offering a crooked smile. “Coffee, please. Milk and two sugars.”

Your handwriting matches the pace as he speaks. You hold a smile on your face to keep up pleasantries. “And have you decided what you would like to eat?”

“Not yet,” he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the menu. “Kind of hard to focus.” There’s a pause before he adds, a little quieter, “The menu’s got a lot of… options.”

You raise an eyebrow, tucking your notepad in the small pocket of your apron. You turn your head to see if anyone else is making coffee right now. You see Carrie there, and silently celebrate when she’s already staring at you. “All good. I’ll get your coffee ready and be right back–”

“—Wait.”

Your brows pinch, confused. “Yes?” His hand rubs the back of his neck, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “I was just, um… wondering if you had a favorite on the menu? Like… if there’s something you always recommend. Or—” He hesitates again, “Or like your favorite?”

You don’t know why he's so flustered. You don’t know why it makes you flustered. For a beat, you just look at him. Is he… trying to flirt with me? The thought isn’t unwelcome, but you certainly weren’t expecting it, or really believing it just yet. You tilt your head, trying your best to keep your expression neutral.

“Well,” you say eventually, “We have an all day breakfast, and that’s my favorite part of the menu, and I get it a lot. It’s on the next page.”

You wait for him to turn the menu, but he continues to stare back up at you, mouth agape.

“... Is that something you’re interested in?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes,” he replies immediately. And then, more composed, “Yeah, I can be in the mood for breakfast.” He finally flips the page, and his head tilts up to yours fleetingly.

“Great! Our cook, Jim, makes the best strawberry and white chocolate pancakes, so that’s what I would recommend from the breakfast menu.”

His lips tug into a small, bashful smile. “Sounds perfect. I’ll take that.”

“Perfect!” you grin, scribbling his order onto your notepad. “I’ll take this to the kitchen, and have your coffee ready soon!” You flash him one more look before retreating back towards the kitchen. You finally get to look back at Carrie, who is still looking at you, this time arms crossed.

“How was the couple?” you ask when you’re about to pass her.

“Annoyed them enough to leave.” She grabs your wrist, and you just dodge the yelp that wants to escape your lips. “Do you know who you were just talking to?”

You freeze. Her grip is firm, her expression serious enough to make you hesitate. Your gaze darts briefly toward the dining area, but you stop yourself from looking back at him. The last thing you want to do is risk being caught gawking.

“I... no?” you whisper, unsure of how to answer. But even as you say it, you feel a subtle heat creeping up your neck. The weight of eyes on your back makes your skin prickle, as if the mystery man somehow knows he’s the topic of conversation.

“Why don’t you go check the newspaper in the locker room and get back to me, yeah?” she finally lets her grip go, smirking like she knows something you don’t.

Carrie's words linger repeatedly in your brain as you hesitantly allow yourself to drop off the man’s order, and then to go see whether or not you’re serving a serial killer. 

You slip the stripped paper from your notepad to Colin’s hands. “Table thirteen,” you say in passing as you make the rest of the way to the locker room, not even Judy’s cheerful wave as she smiles with a cupcake still in her hand can stop you from the mission you have decided to go on.

Upon entering the locker room, you gaze zeroes in newspaper lying flat on the bench, its closed pages teasing you with potential revelations about your current customer. You hesitantly flip it over as you come face-to-face with the front headline 

HIT AND DIP: ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON LEAVES IN HASTE AFTER CHICAGO SHOW 

Your eyes widen as they lock onto the grainy photo accompanying the article. There’s no mistaking it. The guy at table thirteen. Eddie Munson. Rockstar. Your customer. 

For the first time, you finally see his eyes. But instead of him taking his sunglasses off to reveal his brown hues, you see them straight on in the form of a camera flashing and printing onto the paper right in front of you. He looks borderline pissed as he’s gripping his guitar and shooing the paparazzi in the background away, the picture managing to catch the split-second that his eyes meet with the camera.

“He’s hot.”

You jump, clutching the newspaper to your chest as you turn to meet eyes with Judy casually leaning over your shoulder with a grin.

“Judy!” you hiss, sighing in relief. 

“What?” she says plainly, “He is.”

“He is also currently Evan’s customer on table thirteen that I now have to serve.”

Judy’s pupil’s dilate. “Oh shit.”

You want to make a joking comment, calling Judy a cougar, but you’re interrupted by Carrie peeking her head in through the door. She looks down at the newspaper in your hands, and then back to your eyes. “Told you,” she says, her smirk from earlier still on her face.

Before you can respond annoyingly, Jim’s voice blares through the back. “Order up!” he shouts. “Waffles for thirteen!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of its sockets.

“Jesus, do you ever slow down?” Carrie yells out the door.

They hear Jim’s “No!” and fan out back into the kitchen.

“Good luck, my love,” sings Judy.

“Can you ask for an autograph?” asks Carrie. She motions to her belly and gives it a soft pat. “She’ll think I’m real cool!” 

“Ha, ha,” you roll your eyes, already holding the order as you kick the double doors open, passing back into the diner. You try your best to calm your heart as you pour coffee into the kettle, taking sugar from the side of the counter and putting two teaspoons into the mug. You feel eyes on you the entire time, and you don’t need to look up to know whose covered eyes they belong to. 

It’s not every day that you get to serve a goddamn celebrity, so she thinks that everyone should give her a break (she’s specifically talking to her heart—it needs to stop beating so rapidly, making her brain think something is wrong).

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hold the plate on one hand, and the mug on the other. “Just a customer,” you whisper under your breath, beginning to walk. “Just a ridiculously famous, incredibly good-looking customer who better leave a stunning tip.”

As you approach table thirteen, you notice that Eddie shifts slightly in his seat. One of his legs bounces under the table, and he drums his fingers lightly against the edge of the booth.

You \ set the plate and coffee down in front of him, you catch the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Waffles and coffee,” you announce, sliding the plate and mug onto the table with practiced ease. You’re proud that your voice doesn’t shake—too much, anyway.

Eddie leans back, grinning up at you. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your heart stops. You couldn’t help but think his eyes hold a knowing look, like he knew exactly what went down and now knows that you know exactly who he is.

“Enjoy,” you grin back. 

Behind you, you hear him mutter something under his breath, followed by a quiet groan, and you can’t help but feel a small flutter in your chest that he enjoyed what you recommended to him. 

The rest of the rockstar’s stay goes smoothly. You don’t intend on saying anything to give away what you know, despite it probably already being known, and you're grateful by this normalcy. You refill his coffee, make light conversation (the weather is particularly sunny and pretty today, shining through the windows and letting pretty glow spread through the diner), and take his plate when he’s wiped it clean.

You don’t even think much of his stay, mind already going back to it being a regular customer that deserves no more or less attention than anyone else is supposed to.

(Sure, his smile lingers in your mind a little longer than you’d like to admit—so what if his smile is better than any that you’ve seen, anyway?)

It isn’t until Eddie’s up and left and you trail back to the table to wipe it off, a damp rag in hand, do you notice the wad of cash left in his wake that is definitely worth more than his bill.

Your jaw drops down, staring at it and contemplating what to do with that much of an amount of money in front of you.

Next to it, a folded napkin sits.

Your mind immediately goes to an autograph; that he’s one of those celebrities, and he just couldn’t resist leaving a little something to prove of his appearance.

You’re taken back when you unfold it to see his number scribbled messily onto the fabric. Your fingers shake as you move your thumb to fully read the note that he added at the bottom,

Call me. Please. :)

[cuntlips42]

jj maybank x bsf!reader *·˚

trying to relax on a 100 degree day in kildare is just about as hard as it sounds. the air is thick and humid in your lungs as you inhale, and the slippery slope of your back dribbles with sweat, soaking through your top and making it stick uncomfortably close to your skin. the sky is roamed by huge flies flitting erratically, bumping into your body and every so often, flying into your eyes and nose searching for moisture. annoyingly, each of your frustrated swats are doing absolutely nothing to deter them.

you’re attention gets grabbed by a small commotion coming from a table a few feet in front of you. a group of 3 kook girls sitting together, one now standing, moaning and groaning about how her now, iced tea-stained shirt, is ruined and 'absolutely unsalvageable'. her two just as kooky friends sit pliantly at the sticky white outdoor table, watching in disdain, sending derogatory glares to the young waitress.

you've seen her before - she's a pogue girl who lives a few houses down from you and has been in a few of your classes over the years. she also works at the wreck with kie, apparently unluckily for her.

she's a sweet girl. jess? wait no, joana?

j...something flutters hurriedly around the table with her mouth agape, attempting to somehow mend her collision with the customer that ended up with the kook girl covered in peach iced tea. you can't help but feel bad for the waitress, sure the kook is now sticky and probably a little gross, but it was obviously an accident, and from the way she's blabbering on, you'd think the girl just shot her puppy or something.

"oh god! i'm so, so, so sorry! here, let me-let me help you!" the waitress reaches for the cloth she placed on the table where the 3 girls are sat, before turning back to the kook and attempting to wipe off the excess drink that is now dripping from just about every surface on the top half of the girl's body. before the fabric can touch her, the kook slaps the cloth out of the girl’s hand.

"don't fuckin' touch me with that dirty rag! jesus christ - what is wrong with you? are you fucked in the head?" she scoffs slightly, ringing out her skirt before turning her head back to the two girls who sit quietly behind her "all those fucking dirty pogue diseases must've finally gone to your brain if you think i’m letting you come anywhere near me. clean this up before i step on glass and cut myself."

the girls behind her laugh loudly at her comment, and the pogue seems as if she’s on the verge of tears, probably from a mix of embarrassment and plain offense. sympathy claws at your throat as you watch the girl swallow and lean down to pick up the shards of glass from the smashed drink. you draw your eyes to the window of the wreck, eyeing your friends laughing joyously from a table inside. you were only supposed to duck out for a minute to answer a phone call from your mom - leaving the rest of the pogues sat inside feasting on whatever kie managed to convince her dad to feed you. you don’t usually get involved in altercations with kooks - being taught from a very young age that that is a fight you rarely ever win, but watching the girl half-hazardly scoop shards of glass into the cloth she once had thrown over her shoulder, you find your feet dragging you towards the scene.

as you reach down and start helping the girl shovel glass into the rag, her head snaps to you with a momentarily shocked expression, before giving you a soft, watery smile in recognition that you tried to return. you couldn’t help but feel bad for the girl - it was obvious that she found this whole situation mortifying, and in particular kook fashion, the girl just had to make it a bigger deal then it was.

the door to the wreck flies open, kiara tumbling through the door, apron still wrapped around her waist despite her shift ending an hour ago. she looks to where you were once perched against the wall, eyebrows furrowing when her eyes zero in on you and the girl knelt gingerly beside you, calling out your name in questioning “-julie? you guys okay?”

julie…..right.

“yeah –  we’re ok! just broken glass.” julie croaks out in response. you turn back to your friend, raising your palm above your brows to shield your eyes from the afternoon sun, trying your best to give her a look that somehow translates to ‘not really all good- might need help’. her eyes widen a millimetre, before she looks over your shoulder, lips pressed together in slight concern at the sight of the kooks.

“do you mind getting us a broom?” you ask simply, voice soft yet carrying.

kiara glances back over your shoulder again, seemingly debating leaving you alone, before giving you a short nod in response and swiftly turning and running back into the restaurant. for a moment you forgot about them, but the kooks manage to make themselves known, laughing between themselves, legs kicked up onto the table, muttering about how "the rats obviously stick together" and giggling and gasping afterwards like the girl who said it was an original comedic genius.

jesus.

involuntarily, you choke out a scoff, attention still drawn to the shards of glass splayed along the ground.

“something funny, pogue?” you stiffen slightly, eyes flitting back up to the table, meeting the gaze of the blonde, slightly less iced tea soaked girl who’s glaring at you, one eyebrow cocked and a freshly manicured fingernail tapping against the tabletop. she says nothing, waiting for a response from you.

you spare a glance at the girl beside you, her head down and hands shaking slightly as tears well up in her eyes, and your heart breaks slightly. not wanting to accelerate things, you mutter out a soft “no”, the word tasting sour on your tongue, but you know better than to initiate a fight with a kook. plus- you’re main focus is just getting julie away from these crazies. she definitely deserves a break after this.

seemingly satisfied with your answer, the girl responds curtly “clean up the mess and then go away and get me a new drink.” she spits, eyes tearing away from yours to glare at the girl next to you. “it’s bad enough this idiot poured the first one all over me.”

your brows furrow in disbelief and words start tumbling out your mouth, against your better judgement, “jesus- do you have to be so rude all the time? it was obviously an accident, and she’s already apologised.” you crawl to your feet, standing level with the girl leaning against the table. the kook’s eyes narrow, nostril’s flaring in anger.

oh fuck.

her voice is loud and high pitched when she starts speaking again, stomping towards you, causing you to step back. “who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that?”

the loud commotion draws the attention of some customers in the wreck- your friends included. you see them push through the door in the corner of your eye, kie in tow with a broom in hand, before they come to stand behind you supportively, ready to step in if necessary. john b’s eyebrows are furrowed, obviously confused by the situation and how you, of all people, managed to end up in it, pope is seemingly already stressed, hands splayed on his head above his ‘heywards’ cap, and jj has his hands in his pockets and a smirk playing at his lips. of fucking course.

the kook steps towards you again, getting in your face. julie stumbles sideways at the movement, still knelt down in an attempt to make herself small.

a sickening smirk graces the girls features, a lightbulb practically lighting up above her head, making your stomach twist. she grasps a strand of your hair between her hands, and you swallow before your yanking your body out of her touch.

jesus, pull it together.

the kook spares a glance to the gathering crowd behind you, smirk widening before she turns back to you “i don’t know why you think you can talk to me like that you know, - i’ve heard about you.. where you come from.. and i’m not talking about the cut.” your brows furrow in confusion – what is she talking about?

“i've heard that your mommy.. used to have a lot of fun back in the day" she cuts herself off with a malicious giggle, looking briefly over your shoulder to the 3 boys stood a few feet behind you. your teeth grit at the obvious implication. “guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree” she turns behind her to meet the chuckles of the two girls sat behind her. your face heats in embarrassment, and you feel your body light up with anger. how dare she?

when the girl turns back to face you, probably to utter another 'clever' remark, her face instead meets your fist.

she yelps pathetically, falling to the ground, hands instantly covering her face. gasps sound out from behind you, as well as a few whoops and hollers from what you're guessing are your friends. the 2 girls quickly jump to their feet, rushing over to the girl now rolling on the ground in pain, cupping her nose, crying and mumbling about how you’re a “crazy fucking pogue!”

pain stings through your knuckles, travelling through your veins to the base of your hand, your mouth agape a silent groan. holy shit that hurt!

it’s pretty much common knowledge that getting punched in the face would hurt, but nobody ever talks about how much it hurts punching someone in the face – and they definitely should, it would’ve impacted your decision.

the girls start frantically screaming, begging someone to help their friend amongst cries of how psycho you are. your feet are stuck in place and you're holding your wrist in the other hand, mouth agape in pain, when someone suddenly wraps their arms around your waist, yanking you in the air and chucking you over his shoulder, pulling you away from the scene as the bloody-nosed kook stands to her feet and starts screaming along with the other girls. “aaalright i think that’s enough for you girly - time to flee!” a goofy smile graces your face despite yourself at the sound of the familiar voice, and you start giggling in realisation of the fact that you just punched someone in the face – and god did it feel fucking good.

you get carried to the twinkie, bouncing over jj’s shoulder watching in awe as your friends bound away from the scene you inadvertently caused. the blonde boy quickly yanks you back over his shoulder, sitting you messily in the back of the van, before john b starts quickly speeding away from the wreck in response to the ‘go go go go’ echoing from the backseat. kie’s the first to speak, turning her body to take in your smile and already bruising knuckles incredulously from the passenger seat besides john b. “what the fuck? i can’t believe you just did that.” at the sight of your cheeky grin, her own lips curve up and her eyes crinkle at the force. “you really need to stop hanging around jj- he’s obviously a bad influence.” she looks to the boy next to you, giving him a fake glare. he just flips her off, making her roll her eyes and turn back to face the road.

you gulp, eyes wide “was it really that bad?” you begin to feel a little guilty, looking around the group for a response.

the aforementioned boy only throws his arm around your shoulder from his seat beside yours, a proud aura radiating off of him. “nah- you’re good, baby. she deserved that shit. you’re like our very own lil’ boxer” he playfully starts squaring up, fists raised, making you laugh and knock his shoulder with your own.

“i think i’m all punched out, actually. nobody told me it hurts so bad.” you wince, looking down at your knuckles and flexing them slowly, making pain spread out throughout your palm.

“well you basically slam chunks of cartilage and bone with your fist, it’s going to hurt like hell. plus, it looks like you hit her pretty hard. her nose was bleeding- i actually think you broke it.” pope offers, his gaze soft in attempt to comfort you from his seat across from you and jj.

you look up at him in shock, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline and you exhale quickly “hopefully she doesn’t try and hunt me down or somethin’ - i am not paying for her nose job.” jj chuckles besides you, grabbing your sore hand to look over your knuckles.

“you’ll be fine, babe- especially with that fiery right hook of yours, damn.” you feel your cheeks heat a touch at the pet name- it’s not unusual, and yet it still makes your lashes flutter and your chest tighten.

“yeah. besides, she should be grateful, she needed a nose job anyway. now she’s got an excuse.” john b mumbles from the driver’s seat, eyes still trained on the road. kie gasps in disbelief, hitting him in the shoulder. pope snorts, causing the brunette to break, smiling widely at the boy in the driver’s seat. john b smiles smugly, clearly proud of his comment, before using his fingers to mime out a large nose near his face, earning another shove from kiara, before shooting you a wink in the rearview mirror. you can’t help but laugh happily, subconsciously leaning into jj’s side as he strokes his fingers over your sore knuckles.

please send asks! id love to chat w you!! *·˚

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant. 

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest. 

The best things are inspired. 

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that. 

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant. 

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article. 

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country. 

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for. 

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls. 

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired. 

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out. 

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles. 

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish. 

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once. 

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite. 

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment. 

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce. 

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week. 

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do. 

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen. 

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards. 

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell. 

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll. 

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!” 

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen. 

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home. 

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff. 

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring. 

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular. 

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand. 

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily. 

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you. 

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin. 

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him. 

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish. 

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef. 

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish. 

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him. 

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.” 

Oh. 

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far. 

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole. 

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen. 

 -------------------------------

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting. 

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service. 

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant. 

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look. 

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed. 

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding. 

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly. 

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently. 

To the Chef, the front of the card reads. 

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother. 

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you. 

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it. 

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it. 

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look. 

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands. 

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh. 

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down. 

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed. 

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Finally // beautiful stranger

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k (including lyrics)

Warnings: angst, mostly fluff

Summary: You’ve got your heart broken once and you refuse to do it again. When a tall, green-eyed stranger walks into your life, you have to make sure he’s going to stay before letting him in completely.

Square Filled: finally // beautiful stranger by halsey (2020) for @spnsongchallengebingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your eyes, so crisp, so green Sour apple baby, but you taste so sweet You got hips like Jagger and two left feet And I wonder if you'd like to meet

The only twenty-four-hour diner is across town from where you live but you find yourself in it anyway. The place isn’t busy considering it’s nearing one in the morning but you don’t want to go home. If you do, you’ll think about him and you really don’t want to cry yourself to sleep. At last here, you can compose yourself not to cry in front of people.

That, and you’re always hungry after getting your heart broken.

“Let me top your coffee off,” the waitress says and fills your cup again.

“I want another round, please. Bourbon. Neat.”

“Sure.”

When the waitress leaves, you finally notice the two men on the other side of the diner. One has his back to you but the other one is facing toward you and by God, this man is gorgeous. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see his crisp green eyes. Like candy apples. The sight makes you sad. Your ex was just as beautiful, and here you are eating your sorrows away. You look down and take a bite of your pie with a sniffle. The waitress comes back with your Bourbon, and you take a big gulp of it.

The green-eyed man says something to his friend before walking over to you.

“Are you okay?”

You down the rest of the Bourbon even though it burns. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re crying.”

“Yeah, because of pig-headed men. I hate men,” you scoff and take another bite of your pie.

He chuckles not at you but at your comment. “Can I sit?”

“Sure. Want some of my pie? Alcohol fills me up and I won’t be able to eat this all.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” He takes your fork and scoops some pie onto it before eating it. “My name is Dean.”

“I hope you treat your lady better than my man did, Dean.”

“I don’t have a lady but if I did, I would.” You nod and take the fork back for another bite. “Want me to beat him up?”

Maybe it’s your drunken brain or maybe it was genuinely funny, but you laugh at the thought of your ex getting beat by some stranger.

“You might not be able to take him on. He’s pretty big.”

“You clearly have no idea who I am, sweetheart. I’ll get my brother to help.” You giggle and bite your lower lip to stop your grin from spreading too wide. “What a shame.”

“What?”

“I know I shouldn’t be hitting on you but that guy doesn’t know what he gave up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had a woman with the most gorgeous smile. If you were mine, I’d never want to stop seeing it.”

You smile again, this time, a shy one. It makes you sad because all beautiful men are like this.

Your voice is velvet through a telephone You can come to mine, but both my roommates are home Think I know a bar where they would leave us alone And I wonder if you'd take it slow

You and Dean kept in touch after meeting him half-drunk and crying over another man, and you’re kind of nervous to let him in more. You have a daughter who you love dearly, and bringing in strangers isn’t something you want to do to her. You don’t want her getting to know someone, bond with him, only for him to leave. Her father didn't want her so how can you expect anyone else to stay?

You and Dean hang when you can, when you have someone else to watch her, but finding a sitter is hard enough as it is. You don’t make a lot of money because you depended on your ex-boyfriend for everything. You didn’t have to work when he paid for everything. You’re trying your best even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard your voice,” Dean says over the phone.

His voice is so velvety smooth that it makes you get butterflies from words alone.

“Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy. It’s been hard to get away.”

“I get it. Look, I have some free time now. I’d like to see you.”

You think of Amelia and how you can’t leave her here alone. She’s only six, she needs someone to watch her.

“I’d love to, Dean, but I have a daughter here that I can’t leave alone. I can’t afford a sitter right now otherwise I’d say yes.”

“Right. Of course, I understand.”

He sounds disappointed. You bite your lower lip in thought. Your sister lives a few houses down from you. If she says yes, you can leave and hang with Dean at a bar or something. You don’t want him coming here. As much as you like him, you’re not ready for Amelia to meet him.

“Let me ask my sister if she can watch her. I’ll text you if I can or not.”

“If you can, I’ll be at Joe’s. I hope to see you there.”

You immediately dial your sister because it’s a lot harder for her to say no to you over the phone rather than text.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Okay, don’t say no right away. Just listen to me.”

“You want me to watch Amelia?”

“Just for a little bit. Maybe a couple of hours. I met this guy. His name is Dean.” You hear her sigh which makes you pause. You know this sigh. It’s a disappointed sigh. “Jess, it’s not what you think.”

“You just broke up with Trevor how long ago? You already met someone?”

“It’s not like I’m going to marry him. I just… I can’t explain it. He’s nice…”

“Trevor was nice.”

“Jess, please? Just a couple of hours. I’ll pay you if you want.”

“No, you don’t need to do that,” she sighs. “Fine, I’ll watch her only for two hours.”

“You got it. Thank you.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing. I’d hate to see you hurt over yet another guy.”

Trust me, me too. After she comes over, Amelia is happy to see her aunt. Joe’s is only ten minutes from your place, and you text Dean you’ll be right there. He’s in the back playing with darts when you arrive, and you head over with a smile.

“I’m glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“So, you have a daughter?”

“Yeah, her name is Amelia. She’s my pride and joy. My ex was her father, and you know that didn’t end too well. I’d have you come over but I don’t want her meeting someone still so new, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it. Trust me.”

“I like you, Dean. I just need to take it slow.”

“Whatever you need to feel safe.”

Just like that, you fall for him a bit more.

I grab your hand and then we run to the car Singin' in the street and playin' air guitar Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar And I wonder if it goes too far to say

After two months of dating, you decide it’s best if he gets to meet Amelia. You’re not sure if it’s going to crash and burn or work out but you have to put faith in this decision. Dean has been nothing but good to you, so you’re taking the chance he’ll love your daughter. Amelia knows you’ve been seeing someone. She’s not stupid. She’s a very smart six-year-old--too smart for her own good.

“Dean is almost here.”

“Do you like him, Mommy?”

“I do,” you smile.

Amelia shrugs and goes back to coloring. Dean shows up in his gorgeous Impala that you love riding in. He even let you drive it once which was thrilling. You leave Amelia coloring in the living room to greet Dean at the door. He keeps the kiss short and sweet knowing your daughter is here. You turn to let him in when you see your daughter standing right behind you with her hands on her hips.

“Hi, you must be Amelia. My name is--”

“Are you gonna break my Mommy’s heart like Daddy did?”

You’re taken aback by the question. Dean doesn’t seem scared by her sass, in fact, he encourages it.

“No, I won’t.”

“You better not, mister. I know how to fight.” Dean can’t help but laugh. “You better be a good one.”

“Okay, why don’t you go play in your room.” Amelia leaves without another word, and you close the front door with an apologetic face. “I’m sorry about her. It’s been rough lately.”

“She’s a cute kid. I know we agreed to stay in tonight, but what do you say I take you and Amelia out? Maybe to a zoo? I bet she’d love seeing the animals.”

You look out the window and see his shiny black car. You love his car but it’s not suitable for Amelia.

“You know I love your car, but there are no seatbelts. I am not putting my baby in a car with no seatbelts.”

“Yeah, okay,” he nods.

You two settle on the couch and put a movie on that you both love. Within the first act, he pulls you into him and wraps his arm around you. You should be happy, and you’re trying really hard to be, but Trevor behaved the exact same way. He was so nice and loving in the beginning but he let his true colors show later on. Had you not run when you did, you would have had bruises on your body from him.

Still, through all that fear, you can’t seem to stay away from Dean.

I've never recognized a purer face You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place Used to think that lovin' meant a painful chase But you're right here now and I think you'll stay

It’s been a week since Dean promised to take you and Amelia to the zoo. He promised to have a car that is safe enough for your daughter, so you’re not sure if that means upgrading the Impala or getting another car altogether. Dean loves his car so you don’t think he’d give up his precious car for you.

“Amelia, are you ready?”

“Yes!”

“Are you excited?”

“I can’t wait to see the lions, Mama! And the giraffes!”

“If you’re lucky, you might get a kiss from a giraffe.”

Amelia giggles as you help put her shoes on.

“I hope you keep this one. I like him.”

“I like him, too.” Then again, I liked the other one. A car you don’t recognize pulls up to your house, and you take two steps outside to see who it could be. Dean exits and smiles when he sees your confused face. He’s not driving his beloved Impala. He’s driving a new version of a Dodge Ram. “Whose car is that?”

“Mine. I bought it yesterday.”

“Why?”

“It has seatbelts.” Your heart melts a bit. “Now I can take Amelia out without you worrying about her safety. I hear this is a really good car.”

“You’d do that for her?”

“I’d do that for you.”

You want to move toward him and kiss him but you’re stuck. You can’t move. You’re shocked because Trevor would have never done this for you or Amelia. He loved driving sports cars that were never safe for children, and he refused to get a car that could support her.

Dean might be a keeper.

Oh, we're dancin' in my livin' room And up come my fists And I say, I'm only playing, but The truth is this I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss And I'm terrified, but the truth is this I said Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms and I know That beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong And I hope Beautiful stranger, here you are in my arms And I think it's finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe For me to fall

Amelia is sleeping but you and Dean wanted to have date night. Your sister isn’t in town to watch her and you didn’t want to take her to a bar at such a late hour. Dean offered to bring the date to you, which is why you two are slow dancing in your darkened living room. The only source of light is the candles you lit prior to him coming.

Soft rock flows through your speakers at a low tone so as not to wake Amelia, but Dean doesn’t mind. Dean runs his hands down your waist and grips your hips gently, and you lean up to press your lips against his. You’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Trevor. He says all the right things, does all the right things, and knows exactly how to make your heart flutter.

You’re still terrified but it’s a good terrified. You’re scared of what this could mean, not that he could break your heart.

You pull away from him and stare into his beautiful green eyes.

“Don’t make me regret falling for you,” you whisper.

He leans his forehead on yours.

“I won’t.”

x

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[erwinsvow]

ive been rereading ur bitchy reader stuffs n pleek do more of the pope cameo.. HER SAYING DICK APPT WHEN RAFE COMPLAINED ABT HER HAVING POPES NUMBER MADE ME GIGGLE OUT LOUD pretty please give us more of them 🤲

i imagine her being pissed off at rafe so she keeps giving him the cold shoulder and when he asks something she’d just go “maybe i should’ve gone to heywards instead he wont treat me like this 🙄” BUT ITS SO FUNNY KNOWING SHE DOESNT LIKE POGUES !!!!

LMFAOOO THIS IS KILLING ME!! one thing about my readers, their secret pogue crush is always gonna be pope <3

one thing you had in common with rafe—despite the glaring differences that were so hard to ignore—was that you both didn't care much for pogues.

that was putting it lightly, rafe despised them and you just didn't like them. but some were more tolerable than others—for example, the maybank boy who seemed to you the equivalent of a toddler with sticky hands versus pope heyward, who used to tutor in math. you don't know why or how they're friends, just that you like pope enough to be friendly, or rather polite, and you definitely don't like maybank enough to even think about him.

rafe didn't like any of them, and you didn't really care. you weren't in the habit of defending pogues, and certainly not when you were constantly trying to remind sarah to stay away from them, even though she never listened.

but seeing how angry rafe seemed to get at the mere mention was enough to give you some ideas. when you had jokingly—although now you remember you hadn't really ever clarified—said that you had pope's number because of dick appointments, rafe had gotten so angry it had resulted in the best sex of your life.

you were curious to know what else you could get out of it. unfortunately, your curiosity didn't last for very long. rafe pissed you off just as much as you pissed him off, and though these thoughts were often in one ear and out the other for you.

like today. you had been waiting for twenty whole minutes at the club for rafe, who had insisted he would be on time even though you knew he would probably run late since he was coming from barry's—all the way across town.

all he had to do was admit it, and you would have come later, but instead he had told you to show up at noon and that he wasn't going to be late.

normally you would show up at half past and just tell him to fuck off, but if he really was on time you would never hear the end of it. so you showed up on time and waited... and waited.

rafe finally shows up about forty minutes later, and you stare at him with your signature look—eyes rolling back, an i-told-you-so expression with arms crossed. you could make it more withering if you wanted, but right now you just wanted to hear rafe admit he was wrong.

"shut the fuck up," he says, taking a seat the table. your half drunken diet coke has left a ring of condensation, and you move the cup towards you, wondering how you'd become the kind of girl that waits forty minutes for a guy to show up.

"first of all, i didn't even say anything. second of all, you shut the fuck up. i'm the one who was forty-fucking-minutes late."

"it took longer-"

"longer than you thought? yeah, i said that. yesteday."

"well m'here now, so just order."

you huff, scanning the menu and not sure exactly what retort to use. instead you settle for shutting up entirely, not speaking to rafe the entire time. the waitress comes and goes, the food comes and goes, and you look up when rafe speaks but don't say anything back.

rafe thinks you'll give it up once lunch is over, but you grew up in a household where an hour of silent treatment is child's play. so the car ride to tannyhill, throughout the movie you put on and when you walk away to make popcorn, you haven't said a word.

while the movie credits roll, you look down at your phone, waiting for your apology and deciding when to leave if you don't get it.

"are you seriously gonna ignore me the entire day?"

you stare at rafe, not answering. this is your withering look.

"fine, princess. your choice," rafe shrugs. "finally got you to shut up for once."

you take a moment for his words to really hit you. like any other girl in the world, that comment from your boyfriend hurts a little. it even stings. you don't like the words in the air and you can even tell it left a bitter taste in rafe's mouth. he looks like he's just realizing he overstepped a little. then, for the first time since you saw rafe that day, you speak.

"you know, it's a good thing i didn't delete heyward's number from my phone. times like this i realize how handy it can be."

"what the fuck is th-"

"i mean, really, rafe. even these pogues you hate so much would treat me better than you do. i should go call him up now-"

"okay, princess i get it-"

"bet he'd probably fuck me better than-"

"okay, enough. jesus, i get it. m'sorry, okay? can you knock it off now?"

"i'm not knocking anything off. and you can go fuck yourself if you can't apologize for a little thing like being late-"

"i'm sorry, okay? now can you stop talking about pope fuckin' heyward?" you huff, finally a little pleased he apologized.

"thank you. was that so hard?"

"oh shut up-"

"you shut up. and don't be late again. or i'll show you fuckin' heyward-"

"enough!"

[fandomtherapy44]

Congrats you're a dad! Dean x reader one shot!

Summary: Dean Winchester the man who came and went that seemed like in a blink of an eye. But he left some thing behind your Daughter.

Paring: Dean x reader

word count: 2.4k

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cafekitsune

Warnings: swearing, MILD SMUT, Feelings all around

AN/ So I got very inspired by seeing posts of how Dean deserved to be a dad! Here is my story of that and this would take place after season 15 so he is alive and happy! Hope you enjoy!

Six Years since I last saw Dean Winchester, the man that came and left in an blink of an eye. The charming yet somewhat earnest type that I always fell for helped that he was hot as hell. Those crystal green eyes, white prince smile, glitter freckle kissed skin that almost made you believe in miracles. I was the waitress at the restaurant where he and his partner went every night while they were in town trying to find a missing person and thankfully they did but with that came a goodbye. But he did leave me with something, not an std but our daughter.

I wanted to tell him so many times but how was I supposed to tell this barely a familiar hook up that he had a kid. When he left he told me that he liked me and maybe if he was staying around we could try something but he wasn't. I found out I was pregnant with Bella two weeks later. So was I really going to tell a guy I didn't even really know that he was a dad and potentially ruin his career and break my heart if he told me to screw off. The answer was no.

So here I was six years later with the best little girl in the world and trying my best. “Hey mom could you please pick Bella up? I have to pick up this shift.” I was balancing my phone between my shoulder and ear while my hands were full of plates of food while I was widing through the sticky tables. “Of course sweetie I'll see you at eight.” My mom has been my biggest supporter since the day I was pregnant.”Ok thank you so much love you bye oh and don’t let her eat so much ice cream again she threw up all over the couch last time.” “I'm her grandma, I'm supposed to spoil her.” “Bye Mom.” I said in a loving jokey way. 

It was almost seven thirty when I was walking up to my table and had just gotten satten. I was carrying two glasses of water to the table when I heard a voice that I thought I would never hear again. “Oh Hey Y/n right? You're still working here, that's cool.” I look up and drop the water. It was Dean fucking Winchester. “Whoa you okay?” he swooped down to help pick up the pieces of now broken glasses. I can’t even look at him. “Hey Y/n” He grabbed my hand I didn’t realize but it was bleeding. “Are you okay?” I barely get a word out. “Hey can I get a towel or bandaid please!?”

He called out and a co-worker ran over. “Is she okay?” “Dean, I'm fine.” My friend’s eyes widened knowing that name. “Uh, why don't you take a break? I'll bring more waters” I begged with my body for her to stay but she ignored me knowing that was not her place. We sat down in the booth. I kept staring at my bloody hand hoping it was a terrible nightmare but then he spoke again.

“I know it's been a while since I've been here but I swear that I had good reason to. I had to take care of something that took longer than expected. I wanted to come back. I've missed this place, you.” My heart flutters a little. “It’s okay not like you had something to come back to.” I know that’s a little harsh but I was trying to drive him away as quickly as possible. “Well you're here and I don’t know about you but I had an amazing time when I was last here.”

My head flashed back to that night the last night he was here we were together for hours in the sheets. It wasn't just sex but we talked about our hopes and dreams. Maybe that's why I wanted to talk to him a little longer. “I guess you're right it wasn’t half bad.” I smirked. “Half Bad? Excuse me but I believe you were the one begging for more-” Before he can go on I kick him. “Fine, you were great, happy.”

“Very happy, hey did you ever go to college for acting.” what? He remembered my dream not even boyfriends who had been with me for a long time remembered that. “I can't believe you still know that.” “How could I forget, your face lit up talking about it every time.” We both smiled thinking about those times. But the air froze when we heard another voice. “Mommy! I can’t wait to show you my drawing!” Bella ran over and jumped in my lap. I looked at the clock and it was eight fifteen, shit.

“Oh, baby I'm sure it's so beautiful I'll look at home okay.” “But Mommy!” I started to try to get up but being a six year old she was dragging her feet. “But Momma!” “Bella! Let's go!” I hated it when my yelling voice came out. I finally looked at Dean and he looked like he had been slapped in the face. “Hey mister, would you like to see?” She asked Dean kindly like I had taught her. “Bella he's busy-” “I would love to.” She pulled out a picture and it was a drawing of a family.

“You see that's me and mommy and that's grandma.” He nods looking out the picture. “It's really good, Hey do you have a daddy Bella?” He asked the question I had been fearing. “No, I don’t.” She answered so quickly and without thought it broke my heart. “And how old are you Bella?” “I’m this many” She holds up six fingers. Dean just sits there thinking. “Bella, could you go back to your grandma?” She seems sad. “You can get ice cream!” I tried. Of course, she jumps up and runs to the counter. I sit back down at the booth sighing. “Dean I-” he holds up his hand with tears in his eyes. “I just have one question. Is she my daughter?” “Yes.”

It had been at least twenty minutes. I broke the ice. “Dean, I don't even know where to start.” “How about you start why you kept my fucking child away from me?” He was mad of course who wouldn't be. “Dean you have to understand why I did it, I didn't tell you because I knew what kind of job you had and that you couldn't just drop everything. I mean you told me you couldn't stay.” “You don't think my kid would change that!?” I had tears building up.

“I didn't know you Dean, I didn't want a guy to tell me to screw off that I was just starting to really like and that I knew you just couldn't stay.” He’s silent again. “I want to know her.” I'm a little shocked. “Dean I know it was fucked up of me to keep this from you but you can't just go away because of a job or something that needs you for weeks I won't allow Bella to be hurt like that.” He did not hesitant “I won’t.” 

And from there on out it was kind of nice. We had set up a system where Bella could spend time with Dean so we didn't freak her out when we told her. I could really see both of them loving each other. I met his brother and he was very surprised to hear he had a niece. Bella loved spending time with both of them. It had been a couple of months. The more time we all spent together the more my heart became comfortable with Dean around, that’s what terrified me.

We were eating Chinese food with Bella and for the first time I felt like we had a family but then his damn phone rang. He checked the name and I saw his face fall a little from his previous smile but he was keeping it together for us. “Uh hey, what’s up?” I couldn't hear everything but I did hear the level of the voice and it was not calm.

“Yeah, I'll be there.” He responded back. He hangs up and looks at me. “Dean no no you promised-” “I know I did and trust me I don’t want to go but I have to. This friend needs me.” We need you, I need you but of course, I didn't say that out loud. He gets up to get his things and bends down to Bella’s level. “Hey Bells, I'll be back in a little.” She clearly doesn't want him to go. “But we were going to play barbies after dinner.” She whined in true six-year-old fashion.

“I know and promise as soon as I get back we will and I'll bring back a new Barbie friend how about that.” She leaps in his arms. “Yay! Thank you, Dean, I love you.” Dean and I both got stiff at that it was the first I love you between them. He squeezes her harder at that. “I love you too Bella.” He lets go and goes to the front door and I follow.

“How long are you going to be gone?” “I honestly don't know Y/n I wished I did.” At that, I got angry he fucking promised. “Dean, what kind of Job do you have that you don’t know when you'll be home!?” He put his hands on the sides of my face. “I will tell you everything when I get home.” He saw my uneasy face. He leans down I think for a kiss but not where I was expecting. It was my forehead, a slow caring one. “You have no idea what you guys mean to me. I will come back and explain everything.” With that, he leaves.

I put Bella to bed hours ago and it was five in the morning but I couldn't go to bed not knowing he was safe. Finally, the door creaks open but very quietly. It was Dean but he looked like he walked through Hell. “Hey, what are you still doing up?” I sip my coffee not really having the anger anymore but being replaced with worry. That’s when I knew I was in deep shit I was falling in love with Dean Winchester. “I couldn't sleep not knowing you were safe.” There is just silence between us. I look up and can't hold back anymore and run into his safe arms. We are like this for like two minutes. “I think it’s time I tell you what I really did, you might want to sit down for this.” 

“So you're saying everything I've ever told Bella was fake is real.” “Yes” “And God, Angels, the Devil, Demons, are real.” “Yup and actually an Angel is one of my best friends.” I gulp the rest of my coffee down, maybe thinking this was a dream and I would wake but no this was real. “Okay, I somehow believe you.” “Really some people call Sam and me crazy when we have to tell them.” “Well, I know both you and Sam and you're not liars.” “Thank you.” “No problem.” I break the ice once more. “So that’s why you had to leave to help someone.”

“Yeah, an old friend was going to a vamp nest.” He looked down at my confused face. “Sorry, I'll explain all the monster lore another time.” “A vamp nest sounds dangerous Dean.” “it is.” I let out what I was thinking the whole night. “Dean I don't want to tell you what to do but you can't just go out anymore like that not when you have a kid now and not when I- '' I was stopped by his lips on mine and it was like nothing changed. We let go.

“I'm sorry if I was reading that wrong Y/n but I care about you too and Bella and thank Chuck every day that he gave me you too.” “Chuck?” He chuckles. “More lore but this is way more important.” He gripped my hips and pulled me forward like he did six years ago. “Wait Dean before we go further even though I would love to relive how we made Bella I need to know this is a hundred percent real and this isn't another in-the-moment type thing.” He kisses me deeply again. “I'm a thousand percent for you and our family.” Our family I never thought I would hear those words and that did me in.

SMUT .................................................................................................................

I pull him in and kiss him again but this time put some real feeling in it. He slips his tongue in like it was natural. “Mhh Dean.” “Would you like to move this to the bed?” I jump up and he catches me. “Yes sir.” He walks me to my bedroom and kicks the door open and lays me down. He gets on top and starts to kiss down my neck. “Lets see, I think this is where your special spot is right?” He sucks down on my pressure point and I mewl with pleasure.

“Ding ding ding we have a winner.” He said slyly. “Dean, please no teasing, it's been six years.”  “Aww darling did I get you all worked up.” “Dean fucking Win-” He goes down to my thighs and starts to pull off my shorts and underwear. “You already soaked baby is this all for me?” He starts to rub his finger up and down my slit. I barely answer. “Uh-huh.” “That’s it baby just feel me.” he puts his finger in my pussy. “AHH DEAN!” I grip his wrist.

“Shh, you don't want to wake Bells.” “Oh, you motherfucker!” He goes faster and faster. “Are you almost there?” “Yes!” He speeds all the way up. “Okay let go.” And I came all over his fingers. “Ahh, I missed that.” “You son of a-” I laughed and dragged him into another kiss. It was starting to get heavy again and he was unbuckling quickly. “Are you sure about this?” he asked earnestly. “A thousand percent.” He smiled his goofy smile and went on. But something stopped the both of us. “Mommy moma!” I look down at his tent. “I'll go but we'll continue this later.'' I leave him with a lingering kiss and him thinking he is the luckiest guy in the world.

There's a second part now: Trick or Treat with smut!

[seeingivy]

high infidelity

satoru gojo x f!reader

do you really wanna know where I was april 29th?

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: infidelity (omg who knew), yn is a doctor, satoru gets injured and haha ur still my emergency contact's his way back into your life, megumi and yuuji flirting side quest, a big hot flaming mess of writing this is actually so bad

an: no one say anything to me about this fic actually. or the fact that I made everyone do a poll about which taylor as gojo to write just to not write either of those options and produce a flaming, hot wreck of garbage. anyways, live love high infidelity this song will always be special to me because on april 29th, I was indeed, at the eras tour seeing mother for the first time

--

You swallow hard as the waitress walks up again, with that sheepish, awkward smile on her face. And you dread the unrelenting, embarrassing question that’s going to follow. One that she’s already asked, three times. 

“Are you still waiting for someone or would you like to order?” 

And you’re not sure why, but the fact that she asks the question, in that phrasing, in that tone, is enough to aggravate the very thin patience you already have. Because really, it’s quite possibly the stupidest question she could have asked. 

Clearly, you are still waiting for someone. You’ve been sitting here for the past hour and a half. If you were really intent on eating at this restaurant alone, then you would have ordered the second they seated you. 

And it’s rude, abrasive even. To ask, to relentlessly question, three times. Because obviously, you feel horrible for taking the table, when there’s a line of people patiently waiting by the door. And it’s not your fault that your boyfriend is late. And really, it’s just humiliating, that she keeps throwing it in your face, that you’re sitting here, alone when he should be here making you feel special. 

You sigh, giving her a halfhearted smile. 

“Can I have twenty more minutes? I promise I’ll leave after that and let you give the table to someone else.” 

She smiles, genuine and sweet, as she places her hand on your shoulder and makes a promise to bring some more bread before you leave. 

The premise of it - the fact that she smiled in earnest and must know that you feel horrible, that she has her own deposit of pity for you - has you bringing your fingers up to your forehead and massaging that small, pulsating feeling by your temples. Because here you were, mentally cussing out the poor girl working minimum wage at the restaurant when the real subject of your wrath couldn’t even be bothered to show up. 

And you hate that the negativity, the frustrations of the situation, seem to bleed into everything else. Because you’ll find yourself being upset with Yuri, but then suddenly it turns into a blind agitation to everything. The barista, for not making your coffee right, your co-workers asking to switch shifts so they can go on a trip with their partners, the laundry machine when it stops working. 

Your phone starts incessantly buzzing on the table, the smallest glimmer of hope sparking in your chest at the sound. And instantly dies, when you realize it’s just the Emergency Room calling you. 

You slide open the call, pressing the phone to your ear. 

“This is Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. Is this a miss Y/N L- wait.” Megumi states into the phone, mumbling off the speaker. 

You press the phone harder to your ear, to try to catch the end of the conversation that Yuuji must be having with Megumi. 

“Y/N. Right, hi!” he states, voice halfheartedly cheery, which is already odd enough for him. 

“Hi Megumi. Why are you calling me on my day off?” you deadpan, that backlogged deposit of irritation coming in hot and fresh for the sweetest resident you have. 

“Right. Um, we have a mister Satoru Gojo in the Emergency Room who has you listed as his Emergency Contact. He’s kind of in bad shape so we were going to call regarding-” 

“Gojo? I’ll be there in ten.” you respond, shoving the phone into your purse and leaving the tip flat on the tablecloth. You give the waitress - standing there with that restocked bread in her hand - a polite wave on the way out and speed as fast as you can to the hospital. 

--

You march into the ER, rubbing warmth into your biceps, to find Megumi at the nurses station, as always, flirting with the pink haired student nurse he’s taken a keen liking to. 

“Hey. Where is he?” you ask, Yuuji and Megumi turning their heads to give you half hearted smiles. It’s only the start of the night shift, but by the way their shoulders are already sagging, you can tell whoever has to deal with them has a long night ahead of them.

“Right sooooo. We can’t decipher any of his paperwork. We need you to read it first and then you can see him. He’s in room eleven.” Yuuji states, giving a peachy smile, as you scan over Gojo’s characteristic illegible handwriting. 

“Jesus. He still writes like a twelve year old.” you murmur, filling out the sheet at the side with all the information Yuuji needed. 

“You’re all dressed up, teach. What’s the occasion?” Megumi asks, lazily leaning his cheek in the palm of his hand. 

“Ah. It’s my one year anniversary with Yuri. We were supposed to go to dinner.” you mumble, scratching the last of the information on the sheet and handing it to Yuuji. 

You feel a hand sling around your shoulder and a distinct smell of smoke, only to find Shoko hanging off your frame. 

“And yet here you are, because he didn’t show up.” she murmurs, earning you a set of wide eyes as you glare at Shoko. Because at their core, Yuuji and Megumi are first, definitely crushing on each other, and second, nosy as hell. 

“And here you are. Destroying every last cell in your lungs, that are eagerly, earnestly begging you to stop.” you deadpan. 

She flicks your nose as you finish filling out the sheet and reading through the paramedics report that was attached to his paperwork.

“Please tell me you attacked Yuri at the dinner table and that’s why you’re here. Fork to the hand? Spoon in the eye? Knife to the dick?” Shoko asks, excitedly. 

“Didn’t you like take an oath? For the preservation of human life?” Megumi deadpans. 

“No. I skipped that day of medical school.” Shoko replies. 

“Gojo’s here, I’m still his emergency contact.” you respond back, giving her a pointed glare. 

“What happened?” 

You turn your head expectantly to Megumi, who obliges. 

“His car got t-boned. He’s pretty roughed up.” Megumi responds. 

You give Shoko a weary look, as you march to the other side of the unit, preparing yourself for whatever roughed up version of Gojo you were about to be greeted with. Because every interaction with Gojo was a rush of emotions - good, bad, sweet, and ugly - but this might be the biggest thing you’ve ever had to stomach yet. 

“So. Who is this Satoru guy? I’ve never heard of him before.” Megumi asks Shoko, giving Yuuji an all knowing glance. 

“Her ex-boyfriend.” Shoko responds. 

“No way. Before that asshat Yuri?” Yuuji asks, suddenly too invested in the story all together. 

“Well, obviously. He taught as a professor at the same medical school she attended.” 

“Y/N dated a professor?” Megumi asks, tone incredulous.  

“I mean that’s one way to get through I guess.” Yuuji adds. 

Shoko smacks the top of Yuuji’s head, earning a fit of laughter from the two of them for his stupid comment. 

“You need to focus on your nursing exams instead of flirting with Megumi on your fifteen. It would do you some good to flirt with your preceptor. And no, he was just a fellow doing research at the time. They were best friends for a good few years, had that whole will they won’t they vibe going on.” Shoko responds. 

“So….did they?” Megumi asks. 

“They did. To be honest, I can’t really remember why they broke up. Something stupid.” Shoko shrugs, giving the two of them shoves on the shoulder before walking past the hall, to find you standing in front of the door. Your hand is resting against the handle, but you have yet to yank down and push yourself in. 

“Are you warming up the handle or…?” 

You’re thrown out of your train of thought to find Shoko at your side, hands buried deep in her white coat as she gives you a weary glance. To anyone else, Shoko would seem wildly disinterested, almost annoyed at how you were acting. But you know better and can see that small twinge of concern buried under her long eyelashes, the hint of it in her voice. 

“Oh. Um…no. Just got lost in thought.” you murmur, staring at the faded eleven on the marker. 

“About?” 

You swallow hard, the warm tears filling your eyes. 

“I haven’t talked to him in so long. And the last time we talked we were arguing over…..leaving dishes in the sink. Breaking up. If I walk in there and he’s dead, that’s going to be the last thing I ever said to him.” you whisper, air grating against your throat. 

Shoko puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes once.. 

“He’s not dead. The monitor tech would have picked up on that.” 

“The monitor tech? Are we talking about the same monitor tech? Because Nobara is too busy flirting with the phlebotomist Maki to ever do her job. They’re worse than Megumi and Yuuji.” 

Shoko scoffs, before rolling her eyes at you. 

“No one is worse than Megumi and Yuuji. Yuuji knocked the entire crash cart over when he clocked in because Megumi complimented his Star Wars themed scrubs.” 

You snort, shaking your head, as you take a deep breath in and push the handle down. Shoko gives you a warm smile as you walk in and flick the lights on, only to see Satoru, sitting up in bed and lazily scrolling through the TV channels. 

He looks over at you first, his eyes going wide, as you walk up to him and cup the side of his cheek. The tears that were welling in your eyes are falling in full flesh, at the sight of him all battered and bruised. 

His snow white hair is matted red, an angry, glaring scratch on his forehead. His arm is littered with tiny cuts, with a good amount of dressing on his torso, the red blood already seeping through and the look on his face so broken and tired that it makes your heart twinge. 

“Satoru.” 

He smiles, albeit a little confused, as he looks up at you and brings his hand up to yours, where it’s resting against your face. 

“Hey princess.” 

You laugh through your sprout of tears, which has the smallest smile turning up on his cut up lips and the soft, faint smile lines appearing near his eyes. 

“You here to patch me up, doc?” he whispers. 

You shake your head incessantly, which has him rolling his eyes. 

“Not today.” 

“Shame. I heard having sex is really good for patient recovery.”

You smack his shoulder, biting hard down on your cheeks that Satoru Gojo, in full flesh, is okay. Because he still has the audacity to flirt with you, even when he’s near death in the hospital. 

“I’m going to look at your chart, okay?” 

You let go of his face and find yourself in front of the computer, logging in with your credentials, and trying to pull up his chart as fast as you can. 

“If I found out you got into this accident because you were trying to find the perfect song before you got home, I’m going to put your head on a stick, Satoru Gojo” you murmur, earning a laugh from him. 

“First and foremost, you always have to close the drive home on a banger. Sue me.” 

“I think I might just.” 

“And contrary to your beliefs, this accident actually wasn’t my fault. They crashed into me, naturally, because I do no wrong. Ever.” he states. 

“Right.” you chuckle. 

You read over the report, making it a point to berate Yuuji for his shitty charting later, as you look through his vital signs and blood cultures that were taken when he arrived here. 

“So do all doctors dress like they’re about to go clubbing or is it just you?” 

You look down, only now noticing that you’re still wearing the a-line dress from the dinner you were supposed to have with Yuri. You make a mental note to shoot him a text after checking with Satoru after, knowing all too well that with how busy Yuri is, you standing him up would throw him over the edge. 

“Just me. I really love to put on a show for my patients, Gojo. And what clubs are you going to where people dress like this?” you mutter, clicking through the scans that were taking. 

“I appreciate the lengths you go to for me. It’s always what I loved about you. And I exclusively attend Taylor Swift night at the Underground” he states, placing his hands on his chest. 

You look over and glare at him, before reading through the treatment plan. When you look over Nanami’s notes, you feel your heart drop and turn over to look at him. At his bright, blue eyes so wide and unaware, the look on his face so…innocent it bothers you. That in a few hours, he’s going to be in unspeakable pain while he recovers. 

The door opens and Nanami and Yuuta are standing at the door, Nanami already scoffing at you. 

“That’s confidential patient information, Dr. L/N.” Nanami states, voice stern. He hands you a jacket, which you pull on, as you hike your hands under your biceps and talk to him. 

“You were going to tell me all of it anyways. So…what’s the plan here?” you grumble, settling next to Gojo at the side of his bed, placing your hands in his nearly pink hair. 

“Well. I’m going to-” 

“The surgical resident has to be Yuuta, I don’t trust that dumbass Todo to do it. You have to use prolene stitches, I don’t want his skin to scar and don’t leave him under for too long. He’s never been one to suit medications well. Don’t play any rap music when you’re operating, he hates that type of stuff and-” 

Nanami puts his hands square on your shoulders, squeezing once. 

“Thank you, Dr. L/N. We’ll talk all details after, okay?” Nanami states, voice soft, as you turn over to look at Gojo. 

Gojo gives you a weak smile, which you return, before pushing his hair off of his forehead, and lightly brushing through the white tresses as he looks at them.

“Give it to me straight, Kento Bento.” Satoru states, earning an eye roll from Nanami who's clearly unamused. But you can tell he doesn’t mind it all too much, because in the monotony of shitty patients, he’s always been one to appreciate the sweet jokesters. And Satoru’s the biggest clown there is. 

“It’s a relatively easy procedure, Satoru. We’re just going to go in and repair the damage that you sustained to your digestive tract from the crash. Do you have any questions for me?” Nanami asks. 

“Can I request that she’s not in there when it happens?” Satoru asks, looking up at you. 

“Hey. I can-” 

“Yes. We’ll make sure of it.” Yuuta responds. 

“Thank you, Yuuta.” Gojo responds, giving him a smile. 

“We’ll be around in an hour to take you to surgery.” Nanami states, ignoring the pointed glare you were giving him as he strolls out of the room. 

You turn to Gojo, the overstimulation of the past ten minutes really hitting you, as you feel your brain short circuit while he’s looking at you. You try to focus on the sensation of his hair in your hand and that pulsating beat that you’ve been feeling for his wrist, but you can’t really process any of it. 

Every high and low you’ve experienced in the past few minutes - the elation in Gojo’s voice, the pain from seeing him suffering, how he’s still the same as you left him- it’s enough to abandon any rational thought processes from occurring in your head. And it leaves you standing there, silently, with your hands on him. 

“Hi Y/N.” 

“Hi ‘Toru.” 

He smiles at the nickname, reaching forward to lace his fingers through yours. 

“I was driving and then…I wasn’t. I looked up and all I could see was the stoplight above me, then the flashing lights of the ambulance, and now…you….looking at me like that. Your brain isn’t the only one hurting right now.” 

“Looking at you ike what?” you murmur. 

“Like you’re in pain, Y/N.” he states, emphasizing his syllables. 

You shake your head, fighting down that wave of worry that’s sitting in your skin. 

“You know, Kento’s a really good doctor. And Yuuta…he’s like the most promising surgical resident. And even then, I-I can get another senior surgeon if you don’t want a student. And-and it really won’t hurt that bad and I’ll make sure they give you all the good meds and-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m rambling. I know you’ve always hated that and I just-” 

“I don’t hate it. Just, slow down for a second…talk me through all this because I really don’t know what’s going on and you know I don’t like not knowing.” 

You pull up the chair, messing with his hands as you talk. 

“You have to get surgery. The impact you had when you crashed led to-” 

“Y/N. I know all of that already. I’m asking about you.” 

You frown, swallowing hard, as you run your fingers along the scratch on his knuckles.

“You never update your current information.” 

“Huh?” 

“You….you never canceled the stupid Hulu subscription when we got the Disney Plus bundle. And you kept having to trek all the way across town to get the mail, because you forgot to change the address when we moved, and you-” 

“I don’t really see how-” 

“You forgot to change your emergency contact, Satoru. After we broke up, you-you forgot to call them and tell them that they shouldn’t call me.” you hum, as Gojo’s hand tightens in it’s hold around yours. 

“Oh shit, Y/N. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

You lurch up from your chair, tangling your arms around his neck as you crackle his head into your frame, that incessant stream of tears pouring down your eyes as he brings his own arms around yours. 

And it feels too fast, because suddenly Nanami and Yuuta are back at your sides, giving you sympathetic glances as they wheel Gojo away and you’re left standing in the hallway, flat against the wall, every horrible outcome of the next four hours playing through your head. 

--

On hour five, already a bad sign, you’re sitting flat against the floor with a jello cup in your hand and in Megumi’s spare pair of scrubs. They’re both sitting at your sides, the dead quiet of the night shift leaving them with you. 

“Kento likes to be really careful, Y/N. That’s all it is.” Megumi states, giving his best attempts at calm reassurance. 

“And Yuuta’s great. We all love Yuuta, he’s sweet….intelligent. He’s more than capable to do this.” Yuuji adds. 

You crack through every last bone in your finger, the entire interaction playing over in your head. 

“I-I just went in there so fast. And the time was so…so short that I didn’t even say much to him.” you respond, sighing. 

“When’s Yuri coming?”

You turn your head to the side, in confusion, before you register Yuji’s words all together. 

“Why would he-” 

You panic, remembering that you had never texted Yuri back, that he’s probably fuming in his own pit of rage right now at his apartment, cursing your name to god knows what degree. You reach for your phone in your pocket, only to find no notifications from him. You scroll up on the chat, only to find that he hadn’t texted you the entire day, yesterday. 

His last text read April 28th, a reminder that he needed you to pick up his drycleaning for his golf game this weekend. 

“He’s really an asshole, isn’t he?” you spit. 

You see Megumi and Yuuji give each other wide eyed looks over the top of your head, as you click your phone shut and let it fall to the ground. 

Because in the dim lights of this hospital, with Satoru’s blood, some of it still smeared on the side of your hand, you feel like you’re seeing clearly for the first time in years. 

That really, Yuri in actuality, is not the one for you. And it’s not that he’s a bad guy, he’s honorable in some sense really, but what he gives isn’t even a fraction close to what you want. 

He’s tall and lanky. The type of guy to represent every portion of the food triangle in the three meals he ate. He wakes up at five in the morning to go to the gym before an entire day at work, and still somehow finds time to read and run a personal wellness blog when he gets home. 

He’s classy, in every sense of the term. The exact type of man you envision when you think of someone put together, wholly and fully. On top of their shit, living their best life, one that people aspired to. 

And that was in no way what you wanted. 

You wanted Satoru. Satoru who convinces you that there’s still enough room for a little treat after dinner, despite the fact that you both stuffed yourself full at the restaurant. He sleeps in late on the weekends, pressing lazy kisses to your skin to wake you up before entirely botching the whole breakfast in bed thing he was trying to impress you with. 

He was real, in every sense of the term. The type of person you envision when you imagine the person you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He’s funny, he’s kind and he most certainly would never leave you stranded at a restaurant on your one year anniversary. Because Satoru Gojo certainly wasn’t classy, but he was honorable. And if he promised to be somewhere, he’d be there early, making sure everything was perfect before you got there. 

And right now, two of your most trusted co-workers had their hands inside his body cavity, trying to fix the mess in there. 

--

When Gojo comes to, there’s an aching soreness in his torso and neck. He can feel the tense pressure around his arms too, bandages wrapped around every square inch of his body. But that warm feeling around his wrist was entirely different from the rest. 

He opens his eyes to find you, fast asleep with your head down on the side of his bed and your hand secured tightly around his wrist. Your breaths are slow, so deep in your sleep that you don’t even process Satoru moving around you amidst your slumber. 

He brings his hand down to your hair and watches you lean into his touch, nuzzling your head closer to the blanket. Your hair is messy at this point, bunched up at the top of your head in the messiest knot he’s seen you sport yet. 

There’s a knock at the door and Yuuji is standing there, a small smile on his face. 

“Good morning, Mr. Gojo. Welcome back.” 

Satoru smiles as he moves to his side and starts to hook him up to the monitors, taking a set of fresh vitals. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Just sore, Yuuji. How are you?” 

“Ah. Night shift. Same old.” 

“Is that little emo you like here?” 

Satoru watches Yuuji’s cheeks go bright pink, as he starts fumbling with the cuff around his hand. 

“Ah, you mean, Megumi? Y/N’s resident? No, he-he’s off tonight.” he stumbles. 

“Shame. Nothing like flirting on the night shift.” Satoru states, clicking his tongue. 

“Oh, I don’t flirt with-” 

“Well, you should. He’s cute. And a doctor. Someone is going to snatch him up real fast.” Satoru states, definitively. 

“Mr. Gojo, I don’t know if-” 

“Trust me. I know all too well. People swoop in for the doctors before you can even fight to get them back.” Satoru states, reaching down to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“Well, I-” 

“I’m just saying, kid. Swoop in before it’s too late.” he states, giving him a smile. 

“Yeah. Sure, I-I will. Do you need anything else, Mr. Gojo?” 

“Can you get her a blanket? She always gets allergies when it’s too drafty in the room she’s sleeping in.” 

Yuuji smiles, tapping on the railings of the bed. 

“Sure thing.” 

And Yuuji curses himself for doing it, for meddling, but he pokes his head into the room one last time before leaving. 

“And just so you know. You….sometimes you think it’s too late to swoop. But it’s actually like…the perfect time. To swoop….like a bird or something, I don’t know-” Yuuji stammers. 

And when Yuuji leaves and Gojo is able to process his words, he’s trying his best to wipe the smile off of his face. 

--

“Hey, Megs. How are his vitals today?” you ask, swiveling over in your chair. 

Megumi, irritated with your constant pestering, has had enough of his fill today. He swings his own chair around, tugging at the stethoscope around his neck, as he glares at you. 

“For the hundredth time, your little boo boo bear is just fine. We’re planning to discharge tomorrow.” 

You frown, reaching for the closest item - a roll of gauze - and throw it square in his face. 

“He’s not my boo boo bear. And I’m just checking. You know he could have complications after the surgery like inf-” 

“Infection, hypotension, septic shock, multiple system organ failure, yeah yeah. I know. I graduated top of my class at medical school, you know?” 

“And yet here you are, being taught by Shoko. You’re clearly not that great if you’re being trained by a girl who cheated her way through medical school.” 

“I’m going to leave. And when I’m gone, you’re going to be really pissed because you’re going to be stuck with some idiot that can’t even take vitals.” Megumi deadpans, swiveling back to his computer. 

“No, you’re not. You’d never leave your boo boo bear hanging. Especially since he’s planning on asking you on a date tomorrow.” 

“He’s not asking me on a date.” Megumi responds. 

You smile, trying to swallow your laugh as you respond. 

“Oh, sure he is. And-” 

Your phone timer goes off, as you gleefully sprint out of your chair, and down the hall to Satoru’s room. Nanami’s in there, unwrapping his bandages, as you knock and enter to make your presence known. At the sight of you, Nanami’s glaring as you drag the chair up and sit at his side. 

“Y/N. You should be working.” 

“I’m on my lunch. And I’m allowed to do whatever I want for lunch.” 

“You should eat something, Y/N. Instead of bothering our patients.” Nanami scolds, as he shuts the door behind you and you turn to Satoru. 

Satoru looks way better, the bruising on his skin fading to yellow and the cuts all around his skin healing. He’s smiling softly, a hand cupping your cheek as he talks. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” 

“Hi Satoru.” 

“You know, you really should eat something on your lunch break.” 

“You know, you really should keep your annoying opinions to yourself.” you respond. 

He scoffs, moving his hand to mess up your hair, as you swat his hands off. 

“So.” Satoru states. 

“So?” 

“A little birdie told me that you broke up with Yuri last night.” 

“Well, your little birdie was wrong. As nosy as he is, he clearly doesn’t know how to listen.” 

You both laugh, Gojo slightly dejected by your response, as you lace your hands through his, and smile at your hands firmly pressed together. 

“Yuuji’s got a bad case of the chismosa virus.” 

“And you don’t? I heard you giggling with Shoko at the nurses station about how the emo is going to ask Yuuji on a date.” 

“No, Yuuji's asking Megumi on the date. And okay, but that’s actually a big deal. I’ve been trying to set that up for months.” 

“Well, you can’t take credit because I’m actually the one who got Yuuji to do it.” 

You frown, reaching forward to pinch his cheeks. 

“Shut up. It’s only the months of build up, that I basically created, that’s making him do it.” 

“Well, I pushed him over the edge. So it’s my victory.” 

You sigh, sitting back in your chair as you smile at him, at how easily you both fall back into this. 

“How about we both did it?” you ask, giving him a smile. 

“Sure. We always did make a good team.” he responds, making your cheeks burn. 

You reach for his blanket and start moving his gown to inspect the incision, trying to make sure that the site wasn’t getting infected, from when you checked yesterday. . 

“Okay, pervert. I didn’t realize you were into voyeurism.” Satoru says, incredulously. 

“Gojo. Do you even know what voyeurism means?” 

“Yeah. It’s people who like to have sex in public.” 

You snort, moving the edge of the gown as you note the clean sutures, healing well along the length of his torso. 

“That is not what voyeurism means, dumbass.” 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize I was fighting with the sex kink expert here.” 

“I-I’m not a sex kink expert! You’re just fucking stupid.” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

You roll your eyes, as you settle back into the chair, reaching forward to cup his face. He smiles, soft and warm, which you return. 

“You’re healing really well. It’ll just be a faint line, right around your torso when you’re out of here.” you murmur. 

“It kinda looks like I got my legs cut off and someone sewed them back on.” he murmurs. 

“That’s not funny.” you deadpan, glaring at him. 

“Kinda funny. That’s a really unfortunate way to die.” he responds.

“I know there’s a universe out there where that actually happens to you. And I know for a fact that Satoru doesn’t think it’s funny at all.” 

“Okay, Doctor Strange. Let’s pipe down there, alright? Even if that did happen to me, I’d come back from it. Because guess what?” 

“Don’t say it.” you groan. 

“Because I’m the strongest.” 

“You know that never gets less annoying right?” 

“You love it.” he responds, reaching forward to pinch your cheek. 

You look down, at your hand tangled in Satoru’s as you find a way to broach the topic. That for all intents and purposes, that you want nothing to do with Yuri. That you want him, that you do love his stupid jokes, that you’d beg on your hands and knees for him to take you back because-

“Do you want to go to the aquarium on Friday?” Satoru asks. 

“The aquarium?” 

“Yeah. We can take a picnic basket, eat on the lawn outside afterwards.” Satoru says. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, aggressively nodding in response. 

“Yeah. That sounds nice. We can um-carpool.” 

“Sure. It’s a date.” he responds, leaning into his pillow with a soft smile on his face. 

You bite down the stupid smile that’s rising to your cheeks, as you close your eyes, humming in agreement. 

“Yeah. It’s a date.” you whisper back. 

--  

Eight days after the fact and Yuri, in his infinite wisdom, finally comes through. That’s when he musters the courage to bring himself to your apartment, where Satoru has been staying with you since he was discharged. And when Satoru answers the door, Yuri’s all levels of pissed. 

“Who are you?” Yuri asks. 

“I’m the owner of this house.” Gojo responds, trying not to laugh at his own joke. 

“Did Y/N move?” 

“No, dumbass. It was a joke.” he responds, rolling his eyes. 

Satoru leans off of the door frame, calling for you, as you join him at his side. 

“Hey, you okay? I was planning on making lunch for- oh.” 

Satoru smiles, reaching forward to ruffle your hair, before he shuffles away. 

“Holler if you need me.” 

You shoot Satoru a grateful smile, infinitely thankful that the two of you were able to pick up right where you left off, as you turn to Yuri in your doorway. 

“Where were you on Saturday?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest. 

You swallow hard, rehearsing the speech you had prepared with Satoru when you were tangled in his arms last night, and make your best attempt to deliver the blow the best you can. 

“Yuri. I think we should stop seeing each other.” 

“What?” 

“I just don’t think that we’re really compatible. You and I are…on different wavelengths. And you deserve someone who is better suited to you and your….interests.” you murmur, awkwardly rubbing your arms on your arms. 

In actuality, you feel a little bit bad. That technically, you might have been…a little bit dishonest with Yuri. Because you’re having this conversation with him, days after the fact, when you’ve already done god knows what with Gojo in the past few days he’s been back with you. He’s all but living in your apartment at this point, under the premise of needing twenty four hour medical support, when really, you’re both just soaking up on time you lost. 

Time is so precious, that you forgot to tell Yuri until he showed up, on your doorstep. You finally understand why Yuri was late to things, because whatever he was doing when he wasn’t with you, must have been keeping him occupied the way this was keeping you occupied. 

Because you kept planning on calling him, but then Gojo would take you out to breakfast. Or you’d sleep in too late and then knew that you’d be interrupting Yuri at work. And the list, it went on and on and led you to this moment and it’s painfully awkward. 

And maybe it’s bad, a little bit evil even, but that small bit of bad feeling is overshadowed by every bit of good that you’ve felt in the past few days. At Gojo ordering dessert out of nowhere, that he insists he’s sharing with you before he eats almost the entire thing, or when he drags you to the bathroom when he’s doing his night time hair care routine. 

“Where were you? On Saturday?” 

“Look, I just got called into work, okay?” 

“Are you…are you serious? Don’t tell me you’re really dating that dumbass who just answered the door?” 

“Frankly, it’s none of your business who I date anymore because you…you aren’t really a part of my life anymore. And we’re not dating, we’re just-” 

“God. He flashes one pretty smile at you and you go running back to him? Need I remind you, that you complained about him for months on end. About how he’s messy, he’s careless, he’s-” 

“That stuff doesn’t matter. At least not anymore.” 

“You’re a bitch, you know that?” 

You feel Gojo padding behind you, and you put your hand up in the air, signaling for him to stay where he is. 

“Do you really want to know where I was on April 29th? On our one year anniversary, I was sitting in a shitty restaurant, for an hour and a half waiting for you to show up. When I hadn’t heard from you all day. And then I got a call, that the man that I love was in the hospital, and then I was at his side. Willing him to wake up, because I would be so fucking angry, so fucking pissed if he died and I didn’t get to tell him that he meant the world to me.” 

Yuri swallows hard, the look of betrayal etched on his face. 

“Are you trying to hurt me right now? Do you get some kind of sick gratification from killing the one you love?” he asks. 

“I’d argue that my way is nicer actually. One fell swoop, with the truth out there. The slowest way to kill someone is never loving them enough. And honestly, it’s just cruel. And of course, something that you were too skilled at.” 

You’re not sure what it is about what you said, but suddenly Yuri’s stomping down the hallway and you’re shutting the door, as the tears start pouring out of your eyes and you’re leaning against the door. 

Now that Yuri’s gone, Satoru’s shed all his inhibitions and he’s cradling you straight in his arms, his soft voice cooing in your ear as you hiccup into his chest. 

“Hey. You did so good, princess.” 

“I-I’m not crying because I’m sad. I still…I still want you, you know?” 

Satoru smiles, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks in his hand and wipe your tears away. 

“I know that, sweetheart. I’m irresistible.” he murmurs. 

You lightly shove him, before resting your head against his torso, hearing the rapid beating of his heart under your ear. 

“I’m just really relieved. That you-that you’re-” 

You look up, at his sparkling blue eyes, the tiny fractals of color like perfectly constructed, charted constellations in his eyes. 

“I’m glad you’re here. Again.” 

He smiles wide, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. 

“Me too, yeah?”

--

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist:

@porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme 

lmk if you would like to be added to my taylor as gojo or my general masterlist in the replies or inbox <3

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

What a Lovely Way to Burn~

La Squadra x femme fatale!reader

MDNI

Content: Poly, suggestive, implied sexual content, toxic masculinity and misogyny from Prosciutto

What a Lovely Way to Burn~ Masterlist

Part 2:

Date Night~

“You give me fever

When you kiss me

Fever when you hold me tight”

You can’t deny you enjoy going on dates. Most boyfriends don’t last though…for some reason they find you too intense, and if you’re honest with them it just chases them away. You can be as beautiful as possible, but most of your pathetic excuses for dates are scared of you after a bit. You’d return to base complaining that your newest date ghosted you. Why does this keep happening to you?

Melone suggests that they’re just scared of women who are as strong or stronger than them, if you really wanted to go out on dates you should go out with men who like that sort of thing. Like…you know…..him……

You absolutely don’t take him up on that, but he does have a point that while you’re a fierce assassin in the mafia, you would have better luck going out with your squad.

-Formaggio is decent at dates, especially in comparison to the other La Squadra members. He’s actually good at behaving like a normal guy in public, maybe a little disrespectful to waitresses sometimes when you eat out but otherwise he’s chill and easy-going. Of course he’ll take you out in public on dates, what man wouldn’t want to flaunt a smoking hot beauty on his arm?? Don’t expect him to completely spoil you though, maybe lunch and some classy but inexpensive jewelry. He doesn’t part with his money that easily, you’ll have to beg sweetly and he miiiight fold and spend a little extra on you. Pretty girls are his weakness at the end of the day.

You can always expect him to invite you back to his place after you’re bored of being out. The first time you actually agreed to go over to his apartment you turned around immediately and walked straight out because. He had a living cat. Shoved into a jar on the counter.

“Waaait, c’monnn it’s not that big a deal is it, sweetie baby? You really gonna ditch me now? After I bought you that pretty bracelet and everything?”

He has some nerve acting like he didn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go into his apartment. He grips your wrist right above the bracelet, tapping it with his other hand to emphasize his Generosity, but it’s not like the bracelet was that expensive.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine playing by yourself tonight,” you huff, wrenching your arm free from him, adding that he was a “goddamn sicko” which he replied to with a playful shrug.

“Is the cat really bothering you that much? It’s fine, really, I promise-

Come on, I’ll pour you a drink, we’ll turn on a movie, it’ll be fun~”

“Some other time,” you say firmly, the finality in your tone letting him know he was much better off spending his evening planning an apology and explanation text or phone call than trying to get a make out session with you on his couch (or maybe his bed if he really laid on the charm).

He really stepped in that one. He does call you a few hours after you leave to give a half-assed apology and explanation. And honestly you didn’t care THAT much, but you really hadn’t wanted to deal with that nonsense…and it was entertaining to screw with him a bit.

Of course you’ll go on more dates with him later, because your little display over the cat will make him more concerned with getting back in your good graces, which means more presents for you! He’s not super easy to manipulate but now that you have an excuse to act difficult with him, he might give you what you want in a few places he wouldn’t usually. He knows you’re messing with him, but he kinda likes this game, and when he does decide to deny you and you try to give him the cold shoulder over it he loves to see how long it takes before you inevitably come back. Since he’s one of the easiest men in your limited dating pool to go out with.

“I guess I could take you to that cute little dress shop you’ve been asking about. But I’m only buying you one thing, deal?”

He slips his hand into your back pocket while you playfully pout at him, and he pretends to pout back, saying something about how he’s almost completely broke because of you.

-Illuso: His favorite type of date has to be one where you try on dresses and he gives his opinion on each one when you step out of the dressing room. Since he irritates you even when he’s not trying to, you rarely go out with him, unless it’s a mutual shopping trip or he’s done something to put him temporarily in your good graces. He’s just very frustrating. Because he’s liable to cause a scene, and usually over something small. And he has a habit of randomly ditching you for a “better” option, a.k.a. people who actually give him the type of attention he wants.

When you do spend time together and you actually listen to him talk you’re not sure what to think. He mostly talks about himself, which makes him come off as cocky and self-centered, and he is, but…it sounds like he’s constantly just trying to get some approval from you. You almost feel sorry for him, the way he always has that expectant look in his eye when he brags about something you have no interest in. And his visible disappointment when you reply with a bored:“that’s nice, Lulu.” doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

And even when he’s not talking about himself, he’s difficult to hang out with. He likes to tease and make jokes at your expense to annoy you on purpose. So dates where he’s supposed to be quiet are much more tolerable.

Going to the movie theater is great, and after not having to hear him talk for five minutes you’re willing to put your hand on his and lean your head on his shoulder. It’s a Massive ego boost to him that he’s sure to brag about to the others, as if you don’t frequently go on dates with or touch and kiss the others significantly more than him. Ironically enough, it’s like you’re seeing him through a blurry mirror. Maybe if he didn’t dodge around actually telling you about himself and how he felt, you’d like him better.

Hopefully you’ll eventually get him to open up with you. You’d probably be more willing to go out with him if he did that.

-Prosciutto: He has a pretty narrow, “old-fashioned” view of you and dating that you challenge a lot, starting with how you’re not Technically his girlfriend and yet you share a Very intimate relationship.

At first you figured he wouldn’t want to have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

He has a lot of casual encounters, but none of them stick around very long since he’s a difficult personality to get along with.

He’s so rude, and cruel. It’s no wonder no one wants to stay. You couldn’t help but take a jab at him too, remarking that he could be more datable if he completely overhauled his personality.

And he took great offense to that, and now he was dragging you on a date in an attempt to make a point about how he could give an “easy” woman like you a good time. And you took offense to the “easy” comment, so you were really off to a good start.

You don’t think the first date you had with him really counted since he was making a point of being extra gentlemanly for you, but you weren’t really that impressed by him deciding to order food for you when he took you to a nice restaurant. Sure he paid at least but it felt like it wasn’t to be courteous and more because he considered it his job to pay.

He drinks and smokes a lot, and when he’s taking you out he’ll bring you to the nice bars. But even though he takes you nice places and won’t let you pay, he’s not your first choice in companions. Because he is horribly mean all the freaking time, to you and to everyone else, and that Permanent scowl on his face drives you insane.

But once you realize you just need to embrace the meaner parts of your own personality, you can match his grumpiness, and loud back and forth arguing with him will actually pacify him, to your surprise. If he starts getting especially argumentative, responding with equal irritation is somehow productive for you two. When you get in a bad mood, you go have a smoke with Prosciutto. The rest of La Squadra know it’s for the best to just leave you two alone when they see him lighting your cigarette with his.

If he wants to get you into his bed though, he’s going to have to drop the attitude, at least a little. If only he didn’t piss you off so much, you might actually have fun with him.

-Pesci: He’s much more tolerable than most of the other assassins you know. But a bit shy when it comes to your affection and attention. When you do manage to convince him to go out with you, you usually have a good time but you’re the one taking the lead. Without Prosciutto hovering over his shoulder and being annoying, Pesci will eventually open up a little around you. Unsurprisingly, his confidence is pretty low when it comes to his role in La Squadra. He asks about how your constitution is so strong, and you confess it’s something you learned, not something you were born with. You think it’s okay he’s still not used to the intensity that comes from being an assassin. But you won’t refuse him when he asks for advice. He chose this life and he’s part of the infamous La Squadra Esecuzioni. And your little heart-to-hearts, as gruesome as they might get, you end up growing more comfortable around each other. And you begin to get to know him. He’ll actually tell you about himself, unlike how you have to piece the other members together through pure observation.

Because you actually know him to an extent, you often buy little gifts for him that make you think of him. He always returns the gesture because he doesn’t want to owe you, no matter how often you insist it’s just a gift and he doesn’t have to pay you back.

You always seem so comfortable and relaxed around him. A few of the other members of La Squadra sometimes watch on in envy at how Easily Pesci gets your attention compared to them. But maybe if they didn’t have The most difficult personalities to click with, you’d relax around them a bit more.

-Melone: The idea of going on a DATE with Melone was so inconceivable that you actually laughed in his face the first time he asked you out. He walked off that humiliation like a CHAMP (simply because things like that rarely bother him). So he’ll try something else…maybe inviting you over to his place for the first date was too much…he tries instead to offer you a ride on his motorcycle to wherever you’re going next. He waits for a good opportunity where you seem in a good mood, and you’re dressed casually, with your sexy legs on display.

“Need a ride this evening?” he offers, not hiding the way he looks you up and down.

You realized you had an opportunity to do something really funny and kinda mean spirited by agreeing. But he deserves it.

You give him the location, sit yourself on the back of his motorcycle, biting back a complaint about how his bike is too small for you to sit comfortably with him. You don’t have to imagine how he’s feeling now that he’s got you pressed against his back with your arms wrapped around his waist. You can feel him trembling in desperation for more of your body against his. You’re concerned he’s too horny to focus on the road. It’s not the sexiest motorcycle ride of your life, constantly reminding him of turns while he insists he knows where he’s going but then missing a turn immediately afterwards.

But he does eventually get you to your location, and realizes he just brought you to Nero’s place. Apparently you had a date night planned with the La Squadra boss, and he had just given you a ride.

You felt juuuust bad enough about it to give Melone a small kiss on the cheek as a thank you. He’s gotten much more action from you than usual. He watches in only mild disappointment as Risotto opens the door for you and you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing down his jaw lovingly.

Melone is sure you’ll be loving on him that way one day, until then he’ll keep inviting you on dates and getting rejected more often than not.

But he’s WEIRD. And you’ve seen he doesn’t bother to dial it down in public. He especially likes your hips and legs and is Not shy about commenting on them even when you’re around a bunch of people. He has some nerve vying for your attention all the time, only to be distracted by every pretty woman he sees when you finally agree to spend some time with him. And he always tries to invite you inside his place after your little outings. You usually say no; you often regret spending nights with Melone because he usually ends up taking a souvenir from you. You can ask if you left your lipstick, perfume, or scarf at his place and he’ll deny seeing them anywhere but you swear he’s keeping them to himself for his perverted purposes.

-Ghiaccio: He’s not used to having someone who sought out his company, or even liked him in the first place.

He’s got a strict morning routine he follows, and he’ll get irritated if it’s interrupted. You thought it’d be interesting to watch him work out first thing in the morning, since he’s easily the physically strongest member of the team, but you didn’t realize that meant getting up at four in the morning and breaking into the ice rink. He’s very much a morning person, and you’re not willing enough to get up that early all the time to watch him…but sometimes if you don’t have anything to do that day you may as well get up early and go with him.

He really is an amazing speed skater, his concentration, his intensity…it’s great to see him get out some of that aggression in the rink. Though…no matter how talented he gets, he’ll never reach the perfection he’s aiming for. Sometimes you’ll time his laps for him, and no matter how much time he shaves off he’s never happy. A part of you admits you enjoy watching him get frustrated and convert it into even more effort.

When it comes to actual dates, you usually ask him for late night drives. It’s about 50/50 if he’ll actually be up for it, but when he does take you out you always have a good time. He enjoys them too because of the removal of eye contact, and he likes subtly showing off his nice car to you.

You love his crazy driving. He’s confident, skilled…so he could drive as fast as he wanted and you never had to worry while he speeds down the streets at incredibly illegal speeds because he knows EXACTLY what he’s doing. And he’s super shy about it so he tries to not make it obvious but he loves the way you laugh and cheer when he drifts or trail brakes, but your favorite flashy car maneuver of his is when he does a J-turn to show off. You scream with delight whenever he does it and always beg him to do it again and it makes him feel hot under the collar in a way he was NOT used to. Reaching over and placing your hand on his thigh while he’s driving will actually distract him though and you’ll get into a narrow collision so wait to do that til you’re at a stoplight…

When you do go out in public together, he actually dresses up nicely and gets you some sort of small gift. Usually a mini bouquet he can hand you when he picks you up for a date. Out in public dates tend to Start good, but almost immediately result in you having to apologize for his behavior after he freaks out over something small. His anger issues are deep-seated; you wonder what happened to him to make him like that. You have a feeling he won’t just Tell you, and you don’t wanna stress him out by asking so…you’ll wait til the time is right, if it ever is.

-You and Risotto are close and intimate, but the other members of La Squadra haven’t ever seen you two go on a date??

It’s true that you rarely go out with him, but it’s not that you don’t spend time with him, it’s just most of your time with him is intentionally private. He’s a private person, he has little interest in typical date activities, and his appearance could be described as “frightening” so…it’s easier to just stay inside instead of getting weird looks in public. You jokingly call him a vampire.

Your dates are very casual, usually not even planned; just a sudden: “are you doing anything tonight?”

“No.”

“Can I come over?”

“Yes.”

Next you know, you’re sitting on his couch watching a movie, pressed up against his side, noticing how you’ve become so used to the oddly metallic scent he had that surprised you when you first were getting to know him.

When you can convince him to go out with you, he’s great for shopping with! He’ll give an honest opinion when you ask for it, and he’ll hold all your stuff for you without complaint. If he doesn’t have anything going on that day (rare occasion) then he doesn’t see why he should refuse any of your requests. You work hard for him and the team. He can indulge your easy requests, maybe even buy a couple of things for you if he thinks an accessory or pair of shoes especially suit you. You always have fun with him, even though he doesn’t talk much and most people avoid the two of you due to your combined threatening aura.

You spend lots of nights at his place. Eventually he starts stocking his fridge with a couple of your favorite snacks, and you even leave a couple of your things at his place for when you inevitably come back. He doesn’t touch your stuff on purpose, but sometimes he forgets what’s his and what’s yours.

[ladyrowrites]

SPENDING VALENTINE’S DAY WITH JJK MEN ♡

A/N: I was supposed to post this on the weekend but I got sick. Anyway, all better now so enjoy reading :)

Warning: Implied smut, MDNI!!!!!

Contents: SO MUCH FLUFF! Valentine's day with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Toji

♡Gojo

This man will spoil you to death so of course he surprises you with SPA DAY! After brunch, he takes you to the luxurious Four Seasons hotel and you both go up to the 20th floor. 

You look up at him, “Babe, where are you taking me? You already gave me flowers, chocolate and took me to brunch.” 

He grins and winks at you, “Why are you still surprised babe? I am THE Gojo Satoru, ya know I’ll give you the world if you want to right?” While kissing your left hand. 

You just rolled your eyes at him – arrogant as ever. He just weakly laughs, “Don’t worry about it, princess.”

The elevator opens and as you are stepping out, you can hear the serene music and see the waterfalls by the entrance. The spa receptionist bows and both greets you softly, “Good Afternoon, welcome to Four Seasons Spa.” 

You squeeze his hands and he massages your back as a reply and says, “What? You need some pampering. You’ve been working too hard.”

The spa attendant leads you to change rooms and once you are in a comfortable robe, all your stress from work is instantly gone. You met him outside the change room and he was smiling so handsomely to you. You can hear all the spa attendants' squeal and side comments on how lucky you are. 

Oh, he is loving this attention so you pinch him lightly on his left arm. He pretended to be hurt and laughed, “Let’s get this straight tho, Y/N, I am the lucky one.” Then he lifts up your chin and kisses you tenderly on your lips. You felt your heart exhilarate for a moment - Satoru really makes you feel emotions you haven’t experienced before.

“You ready?” While presenting you his manly hands for you to hold. You nodded and took his hands. You both did so much pampering with the couple's facial followed by the couple's massages and of course mani and pedi after. 

After all the relaxation you did today, you feel like you’re ready to go home and sleep for atleast 12 hours, “Thank you Satoru for today. This was the best Valentine’s treat ever!” It was your turn to kiss him passionately. He sweetly smiles at you and tickles you on your sides then leaned in and whispers, “Anything for my princess… Now, it’s dessert time.” 

“Dessert? I’m still so full from brunch!”

He has the biggest smirk plastered on his face, “Heh. You’re my dessert.” He seductively says to you.” While sliding his hands on your thighs.

♡ Geto

He took you to the restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. You can see the customers and waitresses looking at him with hearts in their eyes and for some reason you just want to grab and put your lips in his and proclaim to everyone that HE IS TAKEN! He read your mind though because he knows you too well. 

He half stands up from his seat in front of you and pecks your lips. He sits down again and gently says, “Baby, you have nothing to worry about. I’m yours.” While stroking his thumb on your hands and staring at you like you’re the only person in the room. You love it when he reassures you like this. 

Before leaving the restaurant, he says that he has a surprise for you. You are now walking towards his tattoo shop and so you looked at him suspiciously, “Hmm? Do you have a tattoo session today?” He said his day is free for you so it’s just odd that he’s taking you to his shop right now.

“Shhh, just follow me.” He opens the lock and leads you inside his studio. He then sits you on the black leather couch and gets his ipad to show you something, “Here, look at this stencil.” Then sits beside you.

You saw the drawing in his ipad and you were stunned, “Suguru? Wait, no… is this?” He nods at you, “Yes, that’s the tattoo you’ve been asking me to make and yes my surprise is to tattoo you today if you still want it.” You latch on his arms and excitedly respond yes!

He wraps his left arm in your waist, “Are you sure? Cause’ once I—”

“Yes, please! I’ve been wanting this piece! I’ve made up my mind and I promise, I won’t complain.” You give him the beautiful eyes, “Okay, but no whining, beautiful.” Then he stands up, puts his gloves on, and prints the stencil. The piece that you want is a polydamas swallowtail butterfly with a dagger in the center of it. The dagger was the same one from Mortal Kombat’s Skarlet because it’s both of your favourite video game to play even though he secretly always lets you win.

You want it in your sternum so you lifted your shirt halfway but he lifted it more and you caught his wrist, “Suguru!” He laughs, “Oh, but princess I have to put alcohol a little bit higher than that.” Higher means your boobs basically. You rolled your eyes and just said, “Ahuh.” 

The tattoo lasted 3 excruciatingly painful hours. You wished that he actually told you that you were getting it today because you needed a numbing cream on your sternum. And even though Suguru was gentle, it still hurt, especially the shading portion but Suguru talked you through it and it was worth it in the end. 

You thought that that’s it for the surprise but when you went home there’s petal red roses on the floor and a bouquet of peonies in your living room table with your favourite chocolates beside it. You hugged him and said thank you for being the sweetest man ever. You ate one of the chocolates right away because you can definitely have some sweets right now after all the pain you went through. 

You offered him some and then he back hugs you while he speaks with a low guttural tone, “Hm, I’d rather have you tho.” And then softly places his lips on your neck.

♡ Nanami

You are of course a spoiled princess when it comes to Nanami. You are the love of his life and you are the one who taught him that there was more to life than just working away. You told him you don’t need any gifts for Valentines’ as he always treats you anyway. But he just nonchalantly says, “Love, don’t worry about it, it’s already handled.” 

You wake up first to ensure you give him your gift first. You made sure he is still asleep so you tiptoed your way in the kitchen and grabbed the small box of cookies you made for him. You went to your bedroom again and you can’t help falling in love all over again - on how he was peacefully sleeping with his blonde hair touching his eyes and his chiseled face relaxed.

You sit by the floor next to his side of the bed and slowly comb his hair that was in his eyes. He steadily opens his eyes and smiles at you when he sees how close you are on his face, “Hi, gorgeous.” He says while pinching your nose playfully. “I have a small surprise for you my love.” Then you give him the neatly gift wrapped box. 

He kisses you sweetly on your lips and sits upright by the headboard so you move to sit in the bed and wait patiently for him to open your gift. “You know my love, you didn’t have to, right?” He says while unwrapping it. Now, it was your turn to pinch his nose, “No! I have to. You’ve been really great to me, it’s only fair I give you one.” 

He sees the cookies and he laughs, “Oh my, I didn’t know I looked this good.” The cookie you baked was his different expressions and that was not a lot but you tried your hardest imitating it in your cookies. “What? My favourite one is this one – the one where your eyebrows meet and I can already tell you’re about to lecture me face. Come on, eat one. Let me know how I did.”

“Hmmm, not bad at all. White chocolate, my favourite.” He says approvingly, “But you know what’s sweeter than this?” He puts your gift to the bedside table then grabs you by your waist and starts tickling you.

“Hey! Nanamin! Stop!” You said laughing. He then hugs you tightly and whispers in your ear, “Hmm, you know what the pottery class I booked isn’t until 3pm anyway… So we have lots of time.” He booked the pottery class because you love that pottery scene from Ghost and of course he wanted to be Patrick Swayze for you.

“Time to do what?” You innocently batted your eyelashes at him. He then goes on top of you and with his oh so low sexy voice says, “I think I’ll just show you gorgeous.” You giggled and slapped his biceps playfully, “NANAMIN!!!!”

♡ Toji

Toji isn’t really a romantic type so when you asked him what he wanted to do for Valentines, he just gave you a “What the fuck is that? Why is that a holiday? Look” You just rolled your eyes, not expecting anything anymore. You figure since you don’t think he’ll give you something, you decide maybe you'll just spend your time with your friends.

Valentines’ day comes and you are going out to lunch with your girlfriends Shoko and Utahime – they both called it “‘Galentine's” day since they don't have dates either. You do have a man tho, but he doesn’t celebrate it so it’s whatever. Just one day, you thought. You kiss Toji goodbye and you want to be irritated at him but he hugs and whispers to you, “I’ll be waiting for you to get home.” Then winks at you.  He also tapped your ass while you walked away. You just rolled your eyes. He's such an ass man.

You were having lunch at the Italian place Utahime suggested and even though the cream gnocchi is really good, it’s been leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “Girl, come on, don’t be so upset. You know Toji’s personality. He still loves you, he’s just not the celebrating type of guy.” Shoko comforts you.

“Yeah, you kinda signed up for this ‘ya know?” Utahime comments, “I knooooow. But still, even a box of chocolates or just a single stemmed flower, can he just do that?” You frustratingly reply.

“Tss. Valentines’ day is such a scam. You know that girlie!” Shoko says, “Yeah you’re right! Anyway, it’s Galentines’ day today so what’s next on our agenda ladies?” You tried to suppress all your irritation because whatever!  Valentines’ is a scam for capitalism but it would not hurt him to just atleast give you something? Anything? Even a love letter. Again, whatever. You shake your thoughts.

“Oh yeah, how about bowling? Sounds good?” Utahime answers. 

After losing to Shoko in bowling, they suggested another activity – archery.

“What? Can’t we just go to some bracelet making shit? I don’t know how to play that.” You whine. “Noooo, come on, this will make you forget your irritation at him. Just think of the target as Toji’s face.” Utahime drags you to the class which is conveniently near the bowling alley. 

“Fine. I mean it’s too early to come home anyway.” 

“Atta girl!” Shoko replies enthusiastically, “Don’t lose again to me, losers.” While making an L hand gesture.

Utahime and you both rolled your eyes at her, “Ugh, the attitude!” She jokingly replies.

When you cross over the street, you see a tall and buff man wearing black jeans and a tight black shirt. You know that built everywhere but you’re not sure at the same time because his face is covered with a bouquet of blue roses with tiny little teddy bears attached to it. Whoever is that girl, lucky, you thought. 

You are distracted when Utahime leads you inside the Archery entrance, “Uhm so? Y/N, this is where Shoko and I leave you. We had a great Galentines’ day thanks to him.” You look so confused looking between Shoko and Utahime but they are giggling and pointing behind you. When you turned around you saw your tough looking boyfriend holding a bouquet of flowers. You are about to speak when they immediately say goodbye to you and wink, then mouthed, “Have fun.”

You now turn to your doting boyfriend - shocked. He playfully laughs and says, “You think I won’t do anything for my girl?” Then kisses you passionately and your heart begins to flutter and dance. He gives you the bouquet and you are just so stunned because you were not expecting anything from him, “You can close your mouth now babe. Haha, Come on, I’m not that heartless.” He then leads you to your archery lane.

He spends his time carefully teaching you how to angle the arrow right and where your shoulder should be. It was a bliss spending archery class with him even though he was praising himself more. Typical, Toji *eye roll*

Little did you know, there is more surprise because when you went home, there were white petal roses on the floor and a candlelit dinner ready, “You prepared all of this? And you cooked my favourite food too?” You shockingly asked him. He just smirks at you and says nonchalantly, “Well, I am the best boyfriend.” 

He won’t admit it but Toji has some romantic traits under that tough exterior. Also, he asked your friends to take you out to distract you while he cleans the house, cook dinner and prepare all this – even giving Shoko the money to pay for lunch and a bowling outing for the three of you. 

You move forward to Toji to hug him and he catches you by your waist so you wrap your legs around his torso and began kissing his whole face for being the most loving boyfriend and promised him that he’ll have the best dessert right after. *WINK WINK*

[joocomics]

ಬ sweet like sugar

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive wc: 1.2k

a/n: happy birthday jungsu ♡

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

The bell rings the moment he walks in.

Every day he arrives at the exact same time. He puts on the same dark blue apron and comes out of the kitchen to deal with the customers while his mother is baking different pastries. You’ve been coming here for long enough to tell everyone loves him, and the customers always come in with a smile and leave with even bigger one.

You made this coffee shop your spot before Jungsu started taking shifts - in comparison to a few other girls. You grew to like the calm atmosphere and the tasty pastries while it was still just his mom (the owner) and the middle aged waitress as the only working staff. However, after he started helping her out between his morning and afternoon classes more girls would drop by to hangout just to spend as much time as possible watching him interact with clients, clean the counter and bring out the next portion of pastry.

You can’t blame them.

Jungsu is an amazingly charming guy. He caught your eye with his gentle captivating features, but the more time you spend here, the harder it gets for you to not think about him after you leave. It’s his voice and the way he speaks; his genuine smile and the way he treats those around him; his fit body underneath the apron; his sparkling gaze every time he shoots you a look from behind the counter. Sometimes he winks at you and the thrill lingers in your chest for hours. You doubt he means anything by it, but at the same time it’s not like you’re complete strangers. You’ve been coming at the coffee shop to study and write your assignments for a while now and you’ve been actually getting to know each other from having occasional conversations; nothing too personal, just little bits about your daily life, work, how and why you picked your majors.

The previous week while you were rereading the first half of your assignment you caught a glimpse of his hand carefully picking up your empty cup of tea and placing a plate with a big chocolate cookie that you didn’t remember ordering.

“Oh, I didn’t…”

“It’s on me.” He smiled at you with glimmer in his eye. “You need energy in order to finish that.”

You try not to get into your head; to not overthink his actions. He’s just being kind… but he’s also the most attractive guy you’ve seen in real life, and it’s hard not to daydream about him - with you, outside of this coffee shop.

Today Jungsu is closing the place.

You don’t realise you and him are the only people left until you hear him say goodbye to someone; pretty loud, because of the sudden rain that started pouring heavily.

You’re surprised by how lost you must have been in your own head during your study session to not notice how much time has passed since you came here.

Loud thunder sneaks inside the place before Jungsu shuts the door, letting out a sigh of exhaustion.

You close your laptop and start gathering your notes.

“I totally lost track of time,” you say through a flustered smile as he walks slowly towards your table after turning around the sign to we are closed.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to hurry.”

He pulls a chair from the table besides you and sits down.

“It’s pouring really hard.” He speaks.

“Yeah…” You take a deep breath with the realisation that the storm is getting worse. A lightning strikes as you stare through the glass windows. “It’s one crazy summer.”

“Why don’t you wait here until it slows down?” The slight concern is noticeable in his voice. “It’s not safe to drive in a weather like this.”

You nod with appreciation and put your bag back where it was.

For the next half an hour you help out Jungsu with cleaning up the space despite his efforts to convince you not to.

You notice him take off his apron, revealing a nice buttoned up shirt underneath.

“I’ve been learning how to bake.” He says, putting it aside.

“What exactly?”

“Well, today I made ginger cookies.” He grabs a glass jar and opens it for you. “Would you like to try them and tell me if I suck?”

“Wait!” Your eyes widen with a pleasant surprise when the memory bursts into your mind. “Did you made that chocolate chip one you served me the other week?”

Jungsu chuckles and immediately looks down, too flustered to look back at you.

“It was so delicious, Jungsu!” You exclaim, taking a minute to observe his face closer before he glances up, making it your turn to look away.

You sneak a hand inside the jar and take a cookie. It smells amazing and you can already guess it would taste just as good.

“Be honest.” Jungsu warns you, leaving the jar on the table behind you.

Just as you expected… the cookies are great. The wonderful taste settles on your tongue and you humm delightfully, impressed by his skills.

“Do you know what I was thinking that day?” Soon enough, he speaks out more softly while staring down at your lips.

“When you treated me the chocolate chip cookie?” You ask as the thoughts of what possibly he might say next race inside your head.

“Yeah,” he nods, finally meeting your intrigued gaze and holding onto it. His lips, so sensually shaped, separate apart again once he sees you shrugging shoulders. “How bad I wish I could kiss you.”

This is the last thing you expect to hear from him, but how exciting it feels when he says it and looks closer into your eyes to search for your reaction… Your whole face turns warmer from the way his gaze becomes more vulnerable while still remaining focused as he tries to read your mind.

His hands rest onto the countertop and you sense your muscles tense from suddenly being so close to him, right between his two arms; but it’s thrilling in the best way possible and your body responds on the instant.

Your head tilts as you slowly guide your lips to his.

“You can,” you whisper.

To Jungsu, you’ve been tempting from the start, but right now in this very moment, you’re irresistible. He shuts his eyes, breathing in your captivating scent.

As he gathers a bit more courage your one hand slides up his arm all the way to his shoulder, curiously and gently, as if you take your time to enjoy how his muscles and each vein feel against your skin.

The kiss is undeniably sweet like sugar.

Your lips touch gently causing an exciting sensation to burst like fireworks inside your tummy. One after another, the kisses multiply and they eventually turn into an intense make out session with you still sat on the counter and Jungsu’s hands wandering underneath your shirt.

His fingertips go over the straps of your bra and the feeling makes him wish he could do more with you here - strip you from your clothes, feel the most intimate curves of yours on his tongue, hear you moan from the marks he’d leave on your bare skin. He tries to stop himself from fantasising too much as his lips go red and swollen; as the warm pressure grows inside him forcing muffled sounds into your mouth.

He can’t have you naked in the kitchen, but he’s not ready to let go of you yet either.

His hands are still beneath your shirt when he breaks the kiss, letting you take a deep breath.

“We should…” he whispers through his overwhelmed breathing, but you already nod despite his unfinished sentence. “I think the storm is over, do you want to continue this in my car?”

“Y-Yes,” you say with desire dripping from your tongue. “I’d love to.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[sheepispink]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑪𝑶𝑳 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

CHAPTER 7 (PART 1): INFINITE DARKNESS

Summary: When zombies manage to invade the whitehouse, hell breaks loose and you’re left scrambling for answers about Leon’s current situation. Thankfully, you find him once more thought this time, you’re joining him in the deep blue, a submarine with two other agents who seem extremely suspicious of you.

Series masterlist

A/N: Couldnt finish the whole chapter and i felt bad to leave you guys w nothing so i split it in two! Go me. Anyway warnings: gore , nothing more than the typical resident evil though

Prev Next

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Damn this stupid taxi and Leon’s premium service, you should’ve been in that helicopter with him! You groan loudly as you finally get out of the taxi after being delayed by a whole half an hour than your original ETA. It didnt help with the extensive security here, hindering your entrance as they questioned your legitimacy as an escort. However, when you step out in front of the white house, you swallow sharply upon seeing long barriers stretching around the front. Special forces are on alert everywhere, alarms are blaring and a few more helicopters blare loudly overhead. Your hands curve over your ears as you speed walk up, trying to get a better view. Though, just as you’re about to reach the barrier a special forces officer cuts you up, his head tilted down at you in a way you’re positive is a glare.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss? This isn’t a safe place to be.”

You want to scoff, argue that you’ve dealt with a bioweapon before; though, you’d rather they not believe that you’re the one who actually killed it then throw you for the lions.

“I’m an escort for Agent Kennedy—“ You manage to finally breathe out, eyes darting behind the officer to try catch a glimpse of him in the slightest. Of all people, he could definitely handle himself the best but that didn't mean you wanted to be left entirely in the dark. The officer uses the baton in his hand to push you away from the barrier, making you stumble back as your eyes flicker up to his in horror. “Look— we dont have time for your stupidity. Escort or not, the only thing we care about is the president. So take your taxi home and scram kid.” He sneers but you hardly get a chance to argue back when suddenly the radios pipe up, Leon’s voice ringing through and informing that the president has been securely tucked into the bunker below. The special forces team finally head in now, intent on solving the core of his problem. You take a few steps back but you manage to see them shoot down zombies and the like. Zombies were one thing, mutants were another but in the whitehouse? This was dangerous.

When it all blows over, you finally return, thankfully not stopped this time, and find him talking to a strange woman you don't recognise. You hadnt wanted to interrupt but as soon as he noticed you, he quickly mentioned he had to be on his way; it wasn't a lie, but still. Quickly, you walk over, and he can only smirk, snatching your water bottle and drinking half of it in one swig. “Ah, it’s good having a little waitress with me. Can you refill it too?”

“Got one right here for you.” You reply, rolling your eyes at his remark before giving him the documents you prepared earlier today. He’s on his way to the debrief, but there’s alway something to read before and thankfully he has you to organise it for him. Though, before you start heading there he gestures to the woman who looks confused.

“Claire, this is my escort.”

Your eyes light up, having heard much about her from Chris’ breakroom yapping. The other agents remarked on her abilities too, since she apparently had an interaction with a bioweapon many times before. “Wow, you’re Claire? It’s nice to meet you!” You grin and shake her hand and she follows, surprised by your enthusiasm though smiling back at you all the same.

“The same to you. Bet you’re keeping Leon on his toes huh?”

”I try my best.”

”Alright, enough both of you. We actually have to go now.” You wave at Claire as she does the same, watching the pair of you walk away. “Hey, Leon,” She suddenly blurts out, making Leon’s head turn though you decide to bury your nose in your work to avoid being nosy.

”That outfit doesnt suit you.”

The words make a smile quirk up on both of your faces. Although, as you head down the tall corridors he doesnt seem to be as amused anymore, holding a rather contemplative look on his face. “She’s wrong, i think you look much better suited and booted.” You offer, an amused tone to your words as you tug gently on his tie now you’re closer to the meeting room. Though he just shakes his head, perhaps understanding some layer to her words that you didnt.

“What happened here? The other day, when it was all locked up.”

Your hand catches his sleeve but he just shakes his head again, a large hand patting your shoulder gently. “Nothing to worry about, kay? Pack some essentials; I have a feeling we’re going abroad for a bit.” You’re left alone in the hallway when he finally leaves, disappearing into the meeting room before you turn on your heel once more, determined on following his commands.

———————————————————————

When you heard you’d be going abroad, you certainly didn't expect to be in a submarine passing through the oceans depths. The engineer himself had talked through the importance of the ship, and how it was one of their best inventions yet. Though, he glared directly towards you when warning no one to speak about the existence of the ship itself. Your flip phone is tucked in your back pocket as you focus on holding the documents at hand—not like you’d get a signal down here anyway. It’s a short ride supposedly, according to some new technology the US holds. Stepping into a room, you see an unfamiliar man approaching you.

“Leon’s escort, huh?”

You nod, reaching out a hand to shake but he only crosses his arms at you instead. If anything, it’s like he’s studying you, looking for some sort of notion that you could be a spy or the like. Instead you only clutch your documents to your chest, teeth grazing each other. He’s tall, a little more than Leon and he looks rather well, war-hardened. His eyes are narrow, blonde brows thick and furrowed whilst wrinkle lines form when he frowns like that. You’re starting to question if that’s his regular face though when thankfully a lady walks by. “C’mon Jason.” She says, giving the same suspicious look to you, though better disguised, before walking past.

You notice the door swing shut from the room she had just exited, and you approach it, peering in to see Leon sitting there looking slightly frustrated.

“Agent Kennedy, what’s with that face?” You always tended to act a little more professional on your escapades out the office, and Leon’s been acting serious too. Never directed to you though. “Why doesn't anyone want to get dinner with me?” He almost groans and you raise a brow, checking the time on your watch.

“But It’s not even lunch yet.”

”That's.. not what i meant.”

It was hard to try and catch up on work when you were deep in the ocean, practically nothing but blue outside of the few camera’s you managed to peek out. Apart from the lesser ranks, the crew didnt seem to be too fond of your presence around the ship and you couldnt blame them. You werent exactly an agent like the other three, nor contributing to the drive of the operation. In fact, you werent exactly sure why you were even assigned to this trip aswell but you’re starting to wonder if perhaps they just wanted to play it off as tourism. After all, you could serve that look fairly well, whereas the two male agents looked like they meant business. Either way, you’ve had enough of wandering aimlessly so now you carry two cups of coffee, aware that Leon and the other agent you now know as Jason are having a chat. However, you’re caught off guard by the conversation topic inside.

“They sterilised that place.” Jason says gruffly, probably in response to something Leon had said.

What? What place?

“I was just a rookie cop..” Leon’s voice is muffled, the noise of the submarine’s machinery overpowering his voice. You lean a little closer, interested by the topic of conversation and wondering if it links to Raccoon City like he told you when you first started. He had never spoken properly about his pre DSO days with you apart from the fact of the blackmail they did. The next conversation is muffled, so you decide to wait until they quieten so you dont interrupt something important. However you perk when you hear his voice raise, almost in anger. “There were people in there— families alive. They didnt even try to save them!” His voice lowers again and at that you’re considering dumping the coffee away, before you stumble, accidentally pushing the door ajar. He immediately turns to you, watching as you enter and as always, his face softens. “Thanks for the coffee, kid.” Taking the cup from your hands, you can only grin awkwardly at him before handing Jason his. “I’ll come grab you before I catch some rest, ok?” He offers, sensing your unease, and you nod along to his promise before he waves as you leave again, before the other agent continues their conversation. Now you’ve seen him again, you can’t help but find him to look familiar, like you’ve seen him in some kind of photo when you were researching.

Leon’s arms are crossed over his chest, watching as you slowly close the door shut. He turns, beginning to counteract Jason’s harsh theory. “No one deserves to die.. They still could’ve saved them.” He lets out a long breath, mad at the government rather than Jason himself. He can understand to an extent that he’s gone through a similar experience to himself, knowing the pain of losing comrades rather than just random people. However, he’s suddenly interrupted when the ship suddenly jolts, sending the chairs they were sat on moments before sliding against the wall, the coffee cups spilling against the table. “What the hell was that?” He curses, the other man eyes meeting him in alert as another groan of machinery causes the walls to tremble again. The door bangs against the wall as he throws it open, looking around the halls only to be met with silence and the unsettling whines of machinery. Leon walks ahead, heading for the control room.

When he reaches it, he immediately jogs towards the computer that’s beeping with red circles flashing around the map of the ship. What the hell? Then he notices the slumped head of the operator. “Hey- hey are you okay?” His pitch rises as he taps the man’s shoulders, only for a cold sweat to run down his spine as the head lolls backwards. The entire throat had been almost mauled out, the nerves hanging like fraying threads. His boots clack against the floor as he steps back, spinning around in a newfound urgency and all thoughts focused directly on you. “Stop,” Jason’s firm tone rings out, placing his hand on Leon’s shoulder and nodding his head towards the gun at the ready in his hand. “This is a pressurised ship— dont do anything stupid.”

”Right..”

“I’ll take this way, you go there.” Jason gestures behind him, and they both nod in confirmation before going their separate ways.

You stalk the corridors in confusion, having tiptoed out of your sleeping areas to search for the loud noise earlier. The first thing you noticed was the eerie silence; as hardworking as the operators were they were never this silent before. Even at night you could hear the odd footsteps. Something was definitely wrong. The corridors only seem to grow darker, your footsteps more precise as you walk further down the twisting tunnels of this submarine. “Oh thank lord,” You sigh, noticing a man near some sparking machinery. He was slumped against the floor, and you suppose that must’ve been the crash you had heard. “Sir, can you hear me? I can get a medic for you.” You crouch before the body only to see a strange movement beneath his shirt, pushing the fabric up until it seemed like a small mound was moving up and down the length of his chest. Confused, you take a couple hesitant steps back, eyes locked as the buttons slowly begin to pop, allowing whatever was beneath a taste of freedom. The fabric spreads apart more and more, a horribly squelch sounding out as the shape continues to move. His shirt is ripping down the middle, almost like a claw had cut right through it. Until it falls still, only twitching, the movements growing slower and slower until—

————————————————————————

His hand pressed on the corner of the wall, slowly looking past only to see a heap of bodies,clogging up most of the hallway. Some were pale, blood sucked out of them to leave them a sickly grey whilst others were covered in their own crimson, painted in the sickening scent of copper. A small squeak sounds out and he immediately steps back, combat knife clutched in his grip as he watches the spiked fur cover the expanse of the body. They all clambered and crowded over the vulnerable flesh; they didnt wait for anyone, razor sharp teeth carving their way through the soft muscle and reducing the body to nothing but an unrecognisable piece of meat. He sucks in a sharp breath and raises the dagger, immediately slashing at the rat who tries to throw itself at him. It splatters against the metal walls, but now the others perk, dissatisfied by the two men they had already driven their mouths through. “What? Do I smell like cheese or something?” He groans, yanking a fire extinguisher from the wall before slamming it down at the crowd of them. There’s no time to check the damage caused, opting to run down the corridor to the emergency capsule on the other side of the ship. The alarms blare loudly now, screaming news of self destruction in five minutes.

And he still hasnt found you.

The floor squeaks as he slams to a stop, looking at the seemingly empty floor before him, but it isnt quiet. His gaze travels upwards, small horrifying squeaks echoing across the ceiling and as he lifts his flashlight, he can see how they contaminate the entire surface. Their hairless tails hang threateningly above the hallway, warning of the same fate they had caused to the rest of the workers on this ship. However, before he can think up a plan he hears a soft barrage of footsteps coming towards him, relief spreading through his chest when he notices you.

”Mr. Kennedy!” You exclaim, about to step forward when you quickly scramble back at the sight of the rats. “Did any rats get you you?.” You shake your head quickly and he huffs a sigh of relief before his face hardens once more. “I need a way through.” Blinking, you hand him the emergency axe you had picked up from the engineers, having had to pry it from their cold and bloody hands. “Thanks.” He slices through the control panel beside him, watching the sparks fill the air before quickly digging the blade through the pipes. “Get up!” He shouts, and you do, the sirens wailing louder now that you’re hanging just by the wall’s machinery, The floor is alive beneath you two, sizzling with the mixture of electricity and the water that spills out of the broken pipe. You can't even imagine how the rats feel as they fall into the death trap, squirms falling silent as it destroys their bodies. What you hadn't anticipated was a rat falling so close to your arm that its claw grapples onto your sleeve. “Get off!” You squeal, arm flailing wildly but it doesnt stop the deadly creature latching on before it finally falls when you bang your arm against the wall. “We have to keep moving.” Leon says firmly, managing to build up some momentum from where he had held onto a bar, just enough to push him over to your side.

He rubs your shoulder as he ushers you to keep moving forward, both of your steps quickening as the timer above begins to count down from sixty. Another slam echoes out as he closes the large doors behind each section the two of you pass through, finally reaching the ladder up to the emergency capsule. You quickly climb up the ladder, your arm slipping slightly from the pain shooting up your entire arm,the blood that drips down coating the once pristine metal.

Though, Leon’s eyes are more focused on the dead bodies around; there’s knife marks through them rather than any rat mauling.

“Wait, I'm going first.” He climbs up before you, hurriedly turning the wheel before pushing it up. Immediately, the woman from before narrows her eyes at you, her black hair dark against her pale skin. Her gun is cocked towards Leon and he scoffs, the timer at thirty five now. “I’m not a damn rat.” Thankfully, Jason nudges her hand away, and she reluctantly allows him to climb. That is until the timer is near twenty, and you’re nearly up to the top of the ladder.

Only for her to cock the gun immediately between you eyes. “The girl is a liability.”

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Prev Next

[gayassbish]

Genshin Girls When They’re Late to a Date! Modern AU

Genre: Angst, Eventual fluff

Reader: Gender Neutral

Characters: Beidou, Yelan, Sangonomiya Kokomi, Ei

Beidou-

It’s raining. Your girlfriend is late. You wonder if she even forgot your anniversary. You’re sitting at the, now wet, picnic spot that you picked hoping to watch the sunset while eating the delicious home-made sandwiches you made for her. You hoped you guys would reminisce about past time while watching the warm sky finally turn blue. This was supposed to be a romantic outing, but instead you’re by your lonesome with no Beidou in sight.

You guys have been together for a while now, and Beidou has been so attentive of your every need, making sure you’re always comfortable, safe, and warm with her around. And what’s worse? The fact that she’s sent all your calls to voicemail and hasn’t answered your texts, or that she’s smiling… climbing the hill you’re sat on and bringing a hugeee umbrella to cover you, her, and the food.

“Hey love,” she calls out quietly. You remain silent as she places the umbrella down to protect you and the already soggy food from the rain. She doesn’t sit down yet, waiting for your permission.

“Won’t even look at me, huh?” She sighs, kneeling and looking in your direction. The soft rain outlining her figure.

You sigh, “Please make yourself at home, don’t want you to get a cold.” You say with an eye roll as you’re basically an ice cube away from turning into a snowman.

She chuckles a bit as you scoot over to make space for her. She grabs your hand and gives it a rub, trying to warm you up. You let her. This is her apologizing for her being late. You can tell she feels too bad to even mention an excuse as to why she’s late right now, but you ask anyway. “Why did you come so late? The suns already gone and the sandwiches are pretty much ruined…” You speak barley even audible, but Beidou catches it. She catches everything you say.

“Well… did you eat all the sandwiches or are they all actually soggy?” She reaches for the picnic basket, imagining the wooden protective cover would keep the sandwich’s dry, plus you put them in a zip log.

You slap her hand quickly before she can uncover the basket. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have eaten all of them if you came on time!” You huff angrily, finally looking her in the eyes to see her already looking at you, with her signature hearty smile. She watches your face soften at the sight of her.

“Oh there’s those sweet eyes,” she rubs a hand over your cheek. Practically holding you captive. You can’t refuse. “Why don’t we just make this a stargazing night instead, hmm? Would you like that?” Once you nod, she pushes you down the wet blanket you laid out, cupping your face as she starts to kiss you softly.

If only you weren’t so weak in the knees for her…

P.S. You eventually found out she was late cause she saw the weather forecast ahead of time (unlike you) and left half way in the drive to the picnic spot so she could grab a huge umbrella to keep you warm. She was actually really angry at herself she couldn’t beat the rain.

Yelan-

You’re scared. It’s dark out. The restaurant is closing and your ride, your girlfriend may I add, is no where to be seen. The dangers of waiting in the street in this city is just a fiasco already in motion.

And your girlfriend knows this, hence why she’s practically never late to anything. Yelan is always looking out for any possible danger like a hawk (she can be a little over protective sometimes). But it’s been maybe about two hours since your original meeting time? You wouldn’t know because your phone is dead… You have no idea where she is, and the restaurant staff is waiting on you so they can leave.

You sheepishly apologize to the waitress closing up as you exit the fancy restaurant that Yelan reserved. ‘Where the hell is she??’ You ponder. But just as you exit out the restaurant, you see the familiar expensive black car pull up.

Yelan doesn’t roll down the window, no, she jumps out the car and runs toward you. She frantically grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you. “Are you okay?? Why weren’t you home? Did something happen? I had to track you through your phone, gosh I was worried sick.” She starts to speak really fast while she gives you a quick look around to confirm to herself that you are alive.

Once she reassured herself that you’re okay, she noticed how fancy you’re dressed and looks up to the name of the restaurant, finally remembering this was the day she invited you out to eat. “Oh… oh baby I’m so sorry.” A look a guilt fills her face as she frowns.

“Did you forget?” You chime. The disappointment still lingers, but whatever anger you felt, dissipated from the look of panic on her face. She nods, resting her head on your shoulder as you rub her back. “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us.” She stiffens at your words. She looks back to make eye contact with you and your soft sympathizing smile melts her heart. How could she ever keep someone as sweet as you waiting?

Yelan takes another look at you. Letting the sight in front of her really sink in. “You dressed this nice for me?” She smirks and you heat up.

You always shy away when she gives you that look. “I just wanted today to be special and then to look special… for you.” Yelan’s heart probably skipped a beat at that.

“Then let me make it up to you.” She opens the passenger seat and holds a hand out for you. Nothing but determination set on her face as you accept the familiar warmth of her hand and climb in.

P.S. I bet she ended up taking you to Mcdonalds cause basically nothing is open late anymore (Thanks a lot COVID)

Kokomi-

You’re worried. The crowd of the movie theatre starts to disperse and there’s still no sign of Kokomi anywhere. It’s maybe about an hour after your meeting time and the movie is already halfway done probably. You decide to venture out the cinema to the busy street, sun hitting your eyes as it’s still bright out.

But this sunny atmosphere doesn’t help the fact that you’re worried sick, not for yourself but Kokomi. She actually planned this date and she isn’t picking up her phone. ‘God what if something happened to her.’ You’d never forgive yourself if something did. You made a promise to yourself to always protect her.

You knew Kokomi had a habit of over exhausting herself; that she tends to sorta just crash afterwards and needs time to recharge. This weekend was supposed to be a celebration for completing finals week, but maybe the cramming got to her.

After wandering around the city for a bit, occasionally calling out your lover’s name, you decide to head to her dorm. Luckily it’s not far away. It’s a 10 minute walk, but you make it five as you’re in a hurry to make sure she’s okay.

While rushing a flash of pink strides past you as it takes you a second to look back at the familiar backside of your girlfriend.

“Kokomi! Wait up!” You immediately dash as she turns around at the sound of her name. She pauses. The look of panic of her face turns into a scrunched up one as she starts to cry at the sight of you. There’s eye bags under her eyes, her hairs a mess, and she’s still in pajamas. She still looks like the princess she is though, but you can tell she was rushing to meet you.

She runs over to you and frantically exclaims, “I’m so sorry, I slept through my alarm and set so many to make it on time cause I really wanted to watch this with you but I didn’t hear the ring. You’ve been looking forward to movie weekend for so long cause of finals and so have I cause I needed to see you. But I’ve been so tired from all these all nighters and-“

“Kokomi calm down, it’s okay. You’re okay and that’s all that matters.” You grab her and give her a hug, trying to sooth her down as she bawls in your arms. “It’s okay, everything is okay now.” You rub her back as she eventually pulls herself together.

“Ugh sorry you had to see me like that. I look like a mess right now.” She looks at her feet and tugs at the shirt she’s wearing that has different toothpaste stains.

“Oh my god, don’t be ridiculous Koko.” She flushes at the sound of her nickname as you comfort her. “Even if you were covered in mud or fell into a trash can, you’d still be the prettiest girl in the world.” She blushes even more at your words and gives you another hug.

“I really missed you this week.” She says, hugging you even tighter.

“I know, so did I. Why don’t we just do movie night at your place?” You pat her head as she nods. You guys hold hands on the way back as Kokomi eventually returns to her passionate self in your presence.

P.S. She forgot her phone as she rushed out to get you.

Ei-

Your girlfriend doesn’t leave the house often. She’s really busy and tends to be a homebody anyway, so this weekend you wanted to take a road trip to the nearby beach and finally enjoy some sunlight with her. Don’t get me wrong, staying home with Ei makes for a passionate and cozy atmosphere, but you wanted more of a romantic environment sometimes.

Hence why you’re here, voice mailing Ei wondering if she’s still at the beach hotel. You guys would’ve walked to the beach together if it weren’t for the fact that Ei still has some work to finish up and told you that’d she’d meet you there soon.

At first you were having fun, playing in the water and sand, but it’s been a good hour since Ei said she’d be coming. Now, an hour might not seem too long on the beach given there’s a lot to do, but Ei said she’d be coming out soon. And while Ei isn’t very good with time management (she’s a perfectionist who takes the lasting seconds to perfect her work) she promised you that this weekend was just going to be you, her, and the big blue sea.

You sit on the sand, wet from the sea but not cold with the sun’s glare. You watch the waves go back and forth. The wishy-washy sea oddly reminds you of your relationship. There’s those times where it feels like the perfect relationship in the world, but then its goes back to times like these. You don’t like being mad at Ei, she has her reasons of course, but you just want to be the priority sometimes.

You get lulled out of your thoughts at the sound of your name. “Y/N! There you are, I’ve been looking for you. Are you ready for the beach?” You turn around to see her huffing and puffing from running. But once she sees a gloomy look on your face she asks, “What’s wrong?” She sits down next to you and looks to you for an answer.

“I…,” you sigh. You can’t say it. Ei works hard; not to play hard, but she works hard to provide. She’s paying for this trip and you just can’t bring yourself to complain. “No, sorry it’s nothing-“

“Y/N tell me. I know when something is troubling you.” She cuts you off and gives your hand a squeeze. She looks so attentively at you, searching your eyes for an answer.

“I just wish you’d spend more time with me… you promised it’d be just you and me, but you’ve spent more time with your laptop than me and I just… I just don’t get how I can miss my girlfriend when she’s right next to me.” You poor everything out in the open as a silence lingers in the air. You don’t meet Ei’s eyes, slightly worried she might be angry.

But you’re met with a hug instead. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t feel nice to be put second. Work has been hectic lately, but I promise- no enough promises. I am going to be the best for you. You deserve nothing but the best. I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I didn’t realize the time passed by.” She doesn’t let go of the hug. “Please say something.” She burrows her head in your neck.

You wrap your arms around her back and feel her soften up in your arms. “I know you’re trying. You try every day to be your best not just for me, but for yourself too and that’s what I love about you. So it’s okay, I understand. Just can we put work aside this once and focus on each other?” She looks back at you with sparkles in her eyes and holds your hands.

“Really? You don’t want to scrap the whole thing?” She asks, cautious she fucked things up this time.

“No, of course not!” You get up as the look of shock still lingers on her face. “Common the waves are going to get cold soon!” You pull her hand as you get up and run to the waters. Laughter trailing behind you as you meet the waves again with your feet. The waves make you now realize that every relationship has its highs and lows, but the beauty of a relationship is working through those lows.

A/N: writing about women instead of doing my home work >>

[logbush]

Yay a Glee (Quinn) writer! lol I miss her! Can I request reader lending her sweater to Quinn, when Quinn is home, she realizes she still has r’s sweater and she find r’s iPod. Out of curiosity, Quinn looks through it and finds a playlist titled with her name, friends to lovers please! :)

Lost Something?

1,035 words

fluff

quinn fabray x reader

a/n: this was hard to write for some reason lol. keep sending your requests, im working on them right now and they should be out sometime soon!!

if someone would’ve told you that you would’ve fallen for your best friend quinn fabray, you would’ve laughed in their face. but here you were, sitting across from her at breadstix trying hard not to lean over and kiss her. she was wearing a red sundress, matching her red headband, and jeans. a look that made your knees weak. you, however, had decided to dress down for the occasion, a hoodie and sweats, you didnt expect her to dress up so you didnt.

she looked at you and laughed softly “whats going through your mind, y/l/n,” she said softly before taking a bite of her food. you shook your head “no nothing, dont worry” you replied before pushing your plate away, something you did whenever you were done with your food. “you’re already done? i just started!” she joked, trying to finish her food faster. “hey, we dont have to finish at the same time” she laughed softly before copying you and pushing her plate away towards you after she finished.

the waitress brought the check by, you and quinn looked at each other. you both wanted to pay but you didnt want to fight about it so you just let her. she smiled as she reached for the check and put her card in it. you sat back and looked at her with a smile. “you let me pay?” she questioned. “i didnt want to fight about it” you answered. she shook her head “we wouldn’t have fought, i would’ve just made us get my way” she smiled while you laughed, “sounds like a fight to me” the waitress brought back quinn’s card. the blonde said a quick ‘thank you’ to her before the two of you got up and started to leave.

it was cold outside, ohio in december isn’t exactly the warmest. you looked at the cheerleader next to you, watching as she was shivering. you quickly took your hoodie off before handing it to her “put it on” you instructed as you walked with her to your car. she looked at you, without your hoodie you were left in just a t-shirt. she shook her head “i dont want you to freeze” she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to conserve warmth, “i’m not going to freeze, q, you might though” quinn scoffed jokingly before taking the hoodie from your hands and slipping it on, the smell of you wafting through her senses.

quinn wouldn’t never admit this to anyone, but she was starting to catch feelings for you as well. you did the sweetest things try to make her happy, like giving her your hoodie whenever she was cold or making her her favorite pastry whenever she was sad. you remembered the small things and she loved that about you.

you dropped quinn off at her house about a half an hour ago. she had been sitting on her bed in your hoodie all that time. she turned on her side and put her hands in the pocket. the blonde felt something touch her hand. curious, she pulled it out of the pocket and looked at it. your ipod. god, you must’ve been dying without this. you can barely go five minutes without music.

quinn got curious about what you had been listening to all these years so she decided to go through it. show tunes, neil diamond, john denver, billy joel, simon and garfunkel. all people she was expecting, you weren’t very new with your tastes. she kept going through it before landing on a playlist. this playlist intrigued the blonde, as it was titled ‘quinn <3’.

the cheerleader smiled at the sight before quickly clicking on it before she could think. make you feel my love, lucky, something, but one song stood out to her, you belong with me by taylor swift. the only song from this playlist she actually knew and knew the meaning of.

quinn sat stunned, the thought of you actually liking her back made her crazy. she couldn’t wait til tomorrow to find out, she needed to know now. the blonde raced downstairs and outside to her car. she got in and drove to your house, breaking numerous speeding and stopping laws.

once the blonde got to your house she knocked on the door until someone answered. just to her luck, you were the one who answered. “whats up quinn? why are you knocking so much?” quinn looked up at you, looking at you dressed in sweats and a tank top. she gently bit her lower lip before holding up your ipod, “lost something?” she said with a smirk. you smiled brightly before yanking your ipod from her hands “oh my god i thought this was gone forever! was it in my hoodie?” you questioned while bringing her inside and up to your room. quinn nodded and sat on your bed “it was, you know, there was a certain little playlist that caught my eye”

your eyes went wide and you looked down, trying to avoid any and all eye contact “i dont know what you’re talking about” you mumbled. quinn smiled and looked at you, she didnt need your confirmation, your reaction made her know you liked her. you felt the warmth of her hand on your back rubbing soft circles “hey its okay, can you look at me for a minute?” she questioned. you looked at her, scared for whats going to happen. the blonde used her hand to cup your cheek, gently rubbing the apple of it. “you like me right?” she asked. you closed your eyes in fear, you didnt want to lose her. you just nodded in response, your eyes still closed.

quinn sighed and looked at you, she knew you weren’t going to open your eyes so instead of trying to talk to you, she just placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i like you too” she said softly. you opened your eyes slowly, making eye contact with her before kissing her again. she smiled and kissed back before laying down on her back, inviting you to lay on her. you laid your head on her chest.

“so are you gonna send me that playlist, love?”

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

AO3 LINK next chapter

PREVIEW

Work to achieve your dreams, they say. But what they don't tell you is that even if you work hard, some dreams won't come true. But for tonight, you will believe that your dreams will come true.

"Table six has been ordering the dish for half an hour. You know how these rich people are. If you don't want to lose your job, learn to walk faster." Your supervisor speaks almost shouting at you. It even seems like you're the only one who is a waitress in this restaurant. Five stars, my ass. Obviously at the moment, you can't respond back saying that the service is terrible because half the staff is busy waiting for the big celebrity who is coming to dinner here tonight.

"Yes, chef. I'll walk faster." You rush back with the last two orders you were in charge of taking. You were supposed to be dismissed almost two hours ago but we can't leave until the big star of the night comes. Pedro Pascal.

The man of the moment. Probably the face you've seen the most all year. They're coming to dinner at the restaurant where you work that night, they made a reservation for four. Everyone is speculating that he will bring some romantic interest.

Your manager has simply spent the last three hours warning you that any mistakes today will be resolved with a dismissal. You just can't imagine a worse time.

You almost trip when you're finishing serving the couple who ordered duck in white sauce. The restaurant is in chaos and thanks to that, your manager didn't fire you. You then decide to go outside to get some air, which might help you stay on your feet for the next few hours.

You're breathing chaotically, without any rhythm. You want to escape from this almost claustrophobic restaurant. In your haste, you don't see anything in front of you. You just feel that you bumped into another person's body. Your body was almost thrown to the ground with the impact. And when you looked up, you saw him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." You say it as soon as you realize what you did. An interesting fact is that Mr. Pascal held you tight with his arms so that you don't fall to the ground. If anyone saw from a distance they would think you were hugging each other. You immediately walk away, thinking that if your boss sees this, you're fucked up.

"Are you well? Your forehead is bleeding." He asks, touching his forehead lightly as if he were more worried about that than hiding. I bet he came through the back to avoid commotion.

"That was nothing, Mr. Pascal. You can follow me and I'll take you to your table calmly." You say, ignoring the burning in your head. What's a hurt next to losing this opportunity.

"Are you sure?" Pedro Pascal himself talks to you almost as if you were an alien because you don't allow your pain to show.

"Yes, sir. You don't need to worry about that, worse things have happened to me." You try to improve your expression so that Mr. Pascal can finally enter the restaurant. That's when you notice that you are being watched, by noises from what you imagine are paparazzi. You then take an unprofessional action. You push Mr. Pascal into the restaurant using his body as a shield so that the paparazzi cannot identify him.

"Is this how you treat your customers?" Pascal speaks as you lock the back door. Embarrassed, you turn to face Mr. Pascal after pushing him.

"Mr. Pascal, I'm terribly sorry. But I suspect there are photographers out there. I'm really sorry for the inconvenience." You say almost as if asking for mercy.

"Alright, miss. If you'll take me to my table, I promise to forget about this pushing." Mr. Pascal speaks as he watches you. You feel awkward, but you nod your head positively and lead him to his table.

[jesterfairy]

.♠︎.💜 𝐀 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭 💚.♠︎.

Chapter 3: Painted Shadows

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter Word Count: 4,331

Fic Summary: Alina Vale dreams of escaping her dead-end life as a diner waitress, finding solace in painting Gotham’s haunting shadows. But when a routine trip to the bank turns into a living nightmare, she finds herself face-to-face with the Joker—a man as captivating as he is terrifying.

As his twisted games unravel her defenses, Alina is forced to confront the pull he has over her, a collision of fear and desire she can’t control. Trapped in his world of chaos and power, survival means facing not only him but the darker parts of herself he’s brought to life.

A story of obsession, control, and the intoxicating allure of letting go.

Genres: Dark romance, Gothic romance, Stalker romance

Pairings: TDK Joker x Female OC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: non-con, extremely dubious consent, violence, psychological manipulation, kidnapping, stalking, slow-burn, toxic relationships, trauma bonding, childhood trauma, graphic sexual content, stockholm syndrome, dead dove do not eat

A/N: I somehow managed to pull this chapter together much quicker than the last one. I'm trying to let go of my perfectionism and just roll with it—hopefully, it doesn't come back to bite me later. Enjoy! 🖤

*P.S. The Joker doesn’t make a physical appearance in this chapter, but don’t worry—he’s coming back in a big way in the next one.

___. ♡ ✦ ♧━━━♢ ✦ ♠️ ✦ ♢━━━♧ ✦ ♡. ___

Chapter 3: Painted Shadows

The diner was a madhouse. Plates clattered against counters, forks and knives scraped loudly, and the hum of voices blended into a din that seemed to press down on Alina from all sides. She carried a tray of half-empty coffee mugs, her hands trembling just enough that the cups clinked against each other. She set the tray down at the counter and exhaled slowly, trying to keep her nerves from fraying entirely.

Her gaze darted to the door every few minutes, the tiny bell above it jangling each time a customer came or went. Each sound made her jump, her stomach twisting with the irrational thought that she might look up and see him. That painted grin. Those eyes.

She shook her head sharply and turned toward the coffee pot, filling mugs with shaking hands. Get a grip, Alina. He’s not coming here.

But logic didn’t help. Her body remained locked in a fight-or-flight response, the Joker’s mocking grin burned into her mind like a scar. The weight of the card in her pocket seemed heavier with each passing minute, as if it were pressing against her ribs, daring her to pull it out and confront its existence. She’d brought it with her without thinking—too afraid to leave it behind in her apartment, as though its presence there would somehow summon him back. But now, as it sat nestled in her uniform, she wondered if carrying it was worse.

The card felt like a tether, a constant reminder that he’d chosen her, that he was still out there.

Her mind flickered back to the moment she found it in her wallet, the way her blood had run cold. Once home, she’d sat on the floor and stared at it for what felt like hours, the cartoonish grin leering up at her, mocking her fear. She’d considered calling the police then—she still thought about it now—but every time her hand hovered over her phone, the same questions clawed at her. Would they believe her? Would it even help? Or would the Joker see it as a challenge, a reason to escalate?

The Joker had a reputation—he was more than just some criminal. He was a force, something Gotham’s police couldn’t even control.

But why was he targeting her? She couldn't understand what it was about her that could possibly have caught his attention.

The question lurked at the edges of her mind, gnawing at her with a quiet, insistent pressure. There had been dozens of people at the bank, each one just as terrified, just as powerless. Why had he singled her out? She could still feel the weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to peel back her skin with his eyes, exposing something raw—something she didn't want to face.

What did he see? What did he want? Every possibility felt worse than the last, each one tightening the invisible noose he’d placed around her life. Whatever the answer, it was a game to him—a game she hadn’t agreed to play but was already losing.

“Hey, Alina.” Emma’s voice broke through the haze, warm and grounding as she walked up beside her, tying an apron around her waist. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Alina startled, nearly spilling the coffee pot she was holding. She forced a weak smile, avoiding Emma’s gaze. “I’m fine,” she murmured. “Just tired.”

Emma frowned but didn’t press. “Well, holler if you need me to cover anything. I’ve got your back, okay?”

Alina nodded, her throat tightening. She didn’t deserve Emma’s kindness. Not now. Not with the Joker’s calling card burning a hole in her pocket.

...

The hours dragged on, each minute feeling heavier than the last. Customers came and went, many of them still whispering questions about the news footage of the bank robbery—about the Joker.

Alina answered with a tight smile and vague, rehearsed phrases. “Yeah, it was scary.” “I’m fine, really.” “Just glad to be out of there.” She repeated the words until they lost all meaning, until she was saying them on autopilot.

But even the routine didn’t shield her from Eddie. He had been lurking all evening, his presence a dull, persistent weight pressing against her. She avoided looking at him, avoided being near him, but no matter where she moved in the diner, he always seemed to be there—watching.

Toward the end of her shift, Alina retreated to the back room, hoping for a few moments of quiet to steady her frayed nerves. She crouched by the supply shelves, organizing loose bottles of ketchup and stray packets of sugar into their proper boxes. The fluorescent light above flickered faintly, buzzing with a high-pitched whine that set her teeth on edge. The air smelled faintly of grease and mildew, thick and stale in the cramped space.

The faint hum of the diner outside barely reached her here, muffled by the thin walls. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe, her fingers stilling as she sat back on her heels. But the reprieve was short-lived.

The door creaked open behind her.

Her stomach clenched.

“Hard worker, aren’t you?” Eddie’s voice slithered into the room, far too close. The door swung shut with a soft click, cutting off the last traces of noise from the diner outside.

Alina didn’t turn around. Her fingers tightened on a stray ketchup bottle, gripping it like a lifeline. “Just organizing,” she said tightly, keeping her voice steady as she continued working. Maybe if she ignored him, he would leave.

He didn’t.

“You’re a good girl,” he said, his tone thick with condescension as his footsteps thudded harshly against the worn linoleum floor. “Always trying so hard. But I’ve been noticing… you’ve been distracted lately.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, quickly sliding the ketchup bottle into its box. Her movements were sharp, precise, as if putting everything in order could somehow steady her racing pulse.

“Are you?” Eddie’s voice dipped lower, and she heard the faint scuff of his shoes as he stepped closer. “Because I think you’re slipping. Showing up late, not paying attention. Makes me wonder if you really want to keep this job.”

Alina stood up and straightened, her back brushing against the edge of the shelf as she finally turned to face him. “I do,” she said firmly, her tone flat, her gaze darting past him to the door. Her exit.

Eddie smirked, slouching against the edge of a metal rack with an air of smug entitlement. His gaze slid over her, lingering too long, making her feel unclean in a way that no amount of scrubbing could fix. “You know, I’ve been real generous keeping you on. Most managers wouldn’t put up with this kind of thing. But I like you, Alina. I want to help you out.”

Her throat tightened as he reached out, his hand brushing her arm. The contact sent a jolt of revulsion through her, and she pulled back sharply. “Don’t,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best effort to sound firm.

“Don’t what?” His smirk widened, and the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead caught the flickering light. His breath wafted toward her, sour and laced with stale coffee. It made her stomach churn as he leaned in closer, his voice a shallow rasp. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

She tried to sidestep him, her heart racing, but he moved with her, blocking her path with deliberate ease. His arm brushed against her hip, and she recoiled, her breath catching in her throat.

Eddie leaned in closer, his voice a hoarse murmur that made her skin crawl. “You should show a little gratitude, Alina. I’ve been real patient with you.”

The room seemed to shrink, the shelves pressing in around her as his shadow loomed over her. The faint flicker of the light overhead cast his face in uneven shadows, making him seem even more menacing.

The door swung open suddenly, flooding the room with harsh fluorescent light from the diner.

“Alina, you back here?” Emma’s voice cut through the tension like a lifeline, light and casual as she stepped into the room. “I was—oh.”

Her words faltered as she took in the scene. Eddie straightened quickly, his smirk vanishing as he turned to Emma with forced nonchalance. “Just giving Alina some pointers,” he said smoothly, brushing past her toward the door. “Carry on.”

Emma stepped aside, her gaze following Eddie until he was gone. Then her eyes shifted to Alina, her brow furrowing. “What was that about?”

Alina didn’t answer right away. She let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the edge of the shelf beside her. “Nothing,” she said quietly, avoiding Emma’s eyes.

“That didn’t look like nothing,” Emma pressed, her voice sharper now. “Did he—did he do something?”

Alina shook her head, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of the shelf. “It’s fine. I just... I didn’t handle it well.”

Emma frowned, stepping closer. “Alina, I’m not stupid. You’re shaking.”

Alina hesitated, her throat tightening. She didn’t want to talk about it—not with Eddie still lurking nearby, not with everything else weighing on her. But the concern in Emma’s eyes softened something in her chest.

“I hate this place,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hate... feeling like this.”

The silence stretched between them, worry blossoming over Emma's face. For a fleeting moment, Alina considered telling her everything—about Eddie, yes, but most of all the Joker. The card, the suffocating weight of his attention, the terror that gripped her every time she thought about him targeting her. Her mouth opened, words trembling on the edge of her lips, tears pricking at her eyes.

But then she stopped.

No. She couldn’t drag Emma into this.

Emma would insist they go to the police, her determination unwavering, her kindness relentless. And if they did, there was no telling how the Joker would react. The thought chilled her to the core. She wouldn’t risk it—wouldn’t risk dragging her friend into this tangled, nightmarish mess. Whatever this was, it was hers to bear. Alone.

Finally, Emma reached for Alina's arm, her grip firm but gentle, her eyes searching Alina's face with quiet urgency. The concern etched into her features deepened, and in a soft but steady voice, she said, “You have to report him, Alina. Enough is enough.”

Alina let out a faint, bitter scoff. “Sure. And you think management is going to care? Say they do fire him. Then what? They’ll just replace him with someone like Eddie, or worse.”

Emma’s lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration barely contained. “That’s not a reason to let him keep getting away with it. You shouldn’t have to put up with this.”

Alina’s gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers twisting the hem of her apron. She wanted to believe Emma was right, that someone would step in, that she didn’t have to endure this. But every choice felt like a trap, and the weight of everything pressed down on her like a stone she couldn’t lift.

“I just…” She trailed off, her voice trembling. “I can’t, Emma. Reporting him will only make it worse.”

Emma stepped closer, her voice soft but determined. “Alright. Then I’ll do it for you. You don’t have to say anything. I’ll handle it.”

Alina’s head snapped up, panic sweeping through her like a tidal wave. The words spilled out before she could stop them.

“No! Don’t!”

Emma froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell, Alina?” she said, her tone sharp now. “I’m trying to help you. Why won’t you let me?”

Alina’s stomach twisted, shame burning in her chest. “I… I don’t know,” she muttered, her voice cracking. “It’s just… I can’t deal with this right now.”

Emma took a step back, crossing her arms as she studied Alina carefully. “You’ve been a mess ever since the bank,” she said bluntly, though there was no malice in her tone. “I get that, but you’re shutting me out, and I don’t understand why.”

The words hit a nerve, stirring the tangled mess of guilt and fear that had been eating at Alina for days. “Yeah, no shit,” she snapped, the words flying out before she could think better of them. Her chest tightened with regret as soon as they left her mouth. Emma didn’t deserve that. Not a bit.

Emma’s flinched, her arms crossing tightly as she stepped back. Her expression flickered, a mix of hurt and frustration. “Alina,” she said softly, her voice edged with restraint, “I know you’ve been through hell. But this isn’t like you.”

“I know,” Alina said, her voice barely audible. Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. “I’m sorry, Em. I just… I can’t deal with this right now. You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” Emma said, her voice steady but tinged with hurt. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

Alina shook her head, her chest aching. “I can’t,” she whispered, looking anywhere but at Emma. “Please, just… promise me you won’t say anything.”

Emma hesitated, her concern sharpening into a guarded expression. Finally, she let out a slow breath. “Fine,” she said, her voice clipped. “I won’t.”

Without another word, Emma turned on her heel. She reached the doorway but hesitated, her hand brushing against the frame. For a moment, she stood still, her shoulders tense, as if debating whether to say something. Finally, she glanced back at Alina, her eyes shadowed with hurt and something close to disappointment. “You know where to find me if you ever decide to let me in,” she said quietly, then walked out without another word.

Alina stood there in the empty room, her chest hollow and her heart heavy. The guilt churned in her stomach, sharp and unrelenting. She leaned against the shelf, letting out a shaky breath.

She’d pushed Emma away, and now the shadows felt deeper, darker. And for the first time, Alina realized how utterly alone she truly was.

...

Alina flipped her hood up as she stepped into the cold, foggy night. The streets were slick with rain, the faint glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement and casting distorted halos on the misty streets.

Her boots splashed through shallow puddles, her steps uneven, her legs heavy with exhaustion.

Eddie’s voice echoed in her mind, creeping like a shadow she couldn’t shake. The way he loomed over her, cutting off her escape, the touch of his hand on her arm—it made her stomach churn. He was getting bolder. That much was clear. And if she didn’t find a solution soon, it was only a matter of time before he went further.

I have to get out of there, she thought, panic rising in her chest.

But where would she go? What could she do?

She didn’t have any savings left, no safety net. After the accident, her mother's sister, Aunt Marlene, had taken her in and gained control of everything her parents left behind. But instead of safeguarding it for Alina’s future, Marlene had squandered it all. Alina had been barely surviving ever since, narrowly scraping by.

Quitting wasn’t an option; she needed the paycheck. Reporting him felt futile. Who would believe her? Eddie had worked there for years—everyone knew him. She was just another waitress who couldn’t afford to lose her job.

A heavy sigh escaped her, misting in the damp air. The weight of it all pressed on her chest, a constant reminder of how trapped she was.

Her thoughts drifted to Emma, and a new wave of guilt twisted in her gut. She replayed the moment she’d snapped, the hurt in Emma’s eyes cutting through her like glass. Alina had pulled away, burying the truth in a silence that now felt like a betrayal. Emma deserved better.

But what could she say? How could she open up to Emma without risking putting her in the Joker's crosshairs as well?

She glanced at a darkened shop window as she passed, her reflection distorted by streaks of rain. For a fleeting moment, her own wide eyes stared back, filled with exhaustion and fear.

Her fingers brushed the pocket of her waitress uniform, where the card still sat—a grotesque, silent reminder of his hold over her life. Compared to Eddie, the Joker was a storm on the horizon, massive and unstoppable. Eddie was a pest, small and slimy, but the Joker… the Joker was something else entirely.

She replayed the moment he’d slipped the card into her wallet, the way his gaze in the bank had pinned her like prey—like a puzzle he was determined to solve, a toy he wasn’t ready to discard. Her pulse quickened at the memory, fear coiling tightly in her chest. What had she done to capture his attention? Why had he spared her, only to haunt her afterward?

Her thoughts spiraled to the question gnawing at her all day: Should she call the police?

It seemed logical, the responsible thing to do—but the thought of it made her stomach twist. The Joker wasn’t bound by rules. Calling for help might unleash something far worse.

What if telling the police was the wrong decision?

The fear rooted itself deep in her chest, blossoming into something colder—something achingly familiar. Her thoughts slid unwillingly to another moment when a choice she’d made had led to disaster. The night of her parents’ accident. The memories clawed their way to the surface, sharp and unforgiving, tearing through the fragile walls she had built to keep them buried.

She had been twelve, impatient and desperate to go to the fair. Her parents had been tired—her father just home from work, her mother nursing a headache. They’d said no at first, but she had begged, pleaded, promised it would be quick until they finally relented.

Alina squeezed her eyes shut, her nails biting into her palms. The screech of tires. The crunch of metal. The world flipping end over end. And then—the silence. The kind that swallows everything, leaving only emptiness behind.

They had died, and she had survived.

The guilt was a heavy, unrelenting shadow that followed her every day. She had begged them to go, insisted on that drive. It was for her. Because of her.

What if she hadn’t begged? What if they’d stayed home?

What if she hadn’t made the wrong choice?

Her chest tightened, the same paralyzing fear wrapping around her now. The Joker’s card burned like a brand, its weight in her pocket a cruel echo of the decision she couldn’t make.

Her fingers curled tighter, the cool drizzle of rain slipping under her hood and down her neck. She shook her head, trying to dispel the panic creeping through her.

Suddenly, the distant sound of footsteps sent her heart lurching into her throat. She stopped abruptly, her breath catching as she glanced over her shoulder.

Nothing.

The wet pavement stretched behind her, glistening under the dim streetlights. But her paranoia didn’t abate. Every shadow seemed darker, every alley an open mouth waiting to swallow her whole.

She quickened her pace, her boots splashing louder against the puddles, her hood casting her face in shadow.

But her thoughts raced faster than her footsteps: Eddie. Emma. Her parents. The Joker. The card. The guilt. The fear. It all blurred into a suffocating weight.

She pulled her coat tighter, but the cold wasn’t just outside—it was inside her, settling deep in her chest.

Finally, she reached her apartment building. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with her keys, the cold metal slipping against her damp fingers. The weak bulb above the door flickered erratically, casting fleeting shadows across the brick wall. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, her heart pounding in her ears.

Still nothing.

The moment the lock clicked behind her, she let out a shaky breath, pressing her back against the door. For now, the world outside was locked away.

But the card in her pocket reminded her the real threat wasn’t out there. It was already inside her life, and no locked door could keep it out.

...

Something was wrong.

The air felt different—heavier, as if someone else had been there. She froze in the doorway, her grip tightening around the knife in her pocket, clutching the small blade for reassurance. Her pulse quickened as her eyes swept the room, but everything seemed untouched: the old couch, the table by the door, the unopened mail stacked just as she’d left it.

But still… the feeling wouldn’t leave her.

Her pulse raced as she moved deeper into the apartment, her eyes darting from corner to corner. A faint, strange scent hung in the air. Something sharp and abrasive, like leather and smoke, lingering faintly. It stuck in her throat, unsettling and unfamiliar, making her heart pound.

Was she imagining things?

Frantic, she continued her visual search of the room, her breaths quick and shallow as her gaze landed on the couch.

She frowned.

Hadn’t she flung her nightgown there that morning in her rush to get dressed? She remembered pulling it off, tossing it carelessly over the arm of the couch, fully intending to leave it until later.

But now it was gone.

Alina scanned the room, her eyes skimming over the coffee table, the chair by the window, the empty cushions. There was no sign of it, anywhere.

Her chest tightened as she took a slow, shaky breath. Maybe she’d moved it. Maybe she’d picked it up without thinking and tossed it in the laundry basket.

But deep down, she didn’t believe that.

A cold sweat prickled her skin as she turned, her eyes falling on the easel in the corner of the room. Her throat tightened, a chilling dread wrapping around her like icy fingers, squeezing the air from her lungs.

The canvas wasn’t blank anymore.

Alina stumbled backward, her heart slamming against her ribs as her mind scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing.

A bright red grin, jagged and raw, stared back at her. The paint was still fresh, dripping in vivid crimson streaks down the stark white surface like blood.

He had been here. He had been inside her apartment.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of that realization settled over her. The room seemed to close in, the air thick and suffocating. Her eyes darted around, searching for something—anything—that could explain how.

And then, panic surged, breaking through her paralysis.

She rushed to the door, her shaking fingers gripping the lock. She checked it, again and again, even though she knew it had been locked. Her stomach churned with panic, her skin crawling with the realization that he had gotten in somehow—with no signs of entry.

Her gaze frantically flicked around the room, searching for other signs of his presence. The lamp by the couch had been turned slightly, its shade crooked, casting a strange shadow across the floor. Her shoes, which she always left in disarray by the door, were now neatly lined up as if placed with care. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but now that she was looking for it, she could see the evidence everywhere. The faintest signs of his intrusion, as if he’d wanted her to know he’d been here without leaving a single fingerprint.

Her stomach twisted with nausea as she backed away from the canvas, the red grin still taunting her from across the room. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone in her pocket, the cold weight of the Joker card still sitting beside it.

She pulled out her phone and stared down at it, her panicked reflection lightly visible in the glossy screen, and for a moment, she swore she could hear his voice, low and deliberate, echoing in her mind.

Well hello beautiful.

She flinched, her breath catching in her throat. Her fingers hovered over the keypad, torn between calling the police or doing nothing.

But what if telling the police only made things worse? What if this was exactly what he wanted?

And if she did call them, what would she even say? That the Joker had left a card in her apartment and might be targeting her for reasons she couldn’t understand?

Why was he doing this?

The question screamed through her mind, but there was no answer. There never would be. The Joker wasn’t the kind of person who operated on logic or reason—not in any way she could understand. To him, she was probably just a new toy, a new game to play.

The thought made her stomach churn. He had seen her in that chair, looked into her eyes, and decided she was worth keeping. That realization was worse than any gunshot or threat he could have leveled at her.

She paced the small living room, her mind spinning with fear and indecision.

Her thoughts spiraled back again to the night of her parents accident. The pleading, the begging to go to the fair, the regret that had followed her ever since.

She'd insisted, made them go, and now her parents were gone. What if this decision was the same? What if, by calling the police, she was setting off a chain reaction she couldn’t stop?

Tears stung her eyes as she stood in the center of the room, her body trembling. She had to make a choice. But every option felt like the wrong one.

The fear was all-consuming, tearing her apart piece by piece.

She collapsed to the floor, clutching her head in her hands, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Tears blurred her vision as she rocked forward, trying and failing to pull herself together.

She was unraveling, spiraling, completely at the mercy of her panic.

And there, in the darkest corner of her mind, the truth settled in: it didn’t matter what she did.

He had woven himself into her life, and there was no escaping him.

Taglist: 💚

@furisodespirit

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