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#just waiting on the announcement for that other job now lmao

lavender-devotion · 1 month

Note

Hi Hi! I wasn't sure if you're open but can I request a Alastor x reader who is a charlie's older sister and she is alastor's fiance. They never told their hotel friends, basically they're in a secret relationship, until Lucifer arrived (from episode 5 dad beat dad) and announced she's engaged. but no body knew who her fiance was until alastor popped up behind her and pressed a kiss on her. Charlie's happy and Lucifer D:

As soon as I saw this request I immediately ran to make this meme, lmao I'm sorry 😭

anywho, here we go lmao

Summary: You’re Lucifer's eldest and, much like Charlie, you’re desperate to have his support and approval---he’s your dad, of course you are. So, when he finally visits the hotel, you can't wait to tell him that you're engaged. And he's overjoyed...that is, until he finds out that you're engaged to the Radio Demon. What happens when your fiancé and your dad start feuding over you, forcing you to pick a side? Your family, or the love of your life?

Tags: Alastor x Fem!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), Reader is Lucifer's Eldest, Secret Relationship, Lucifer has a heart attack bc Alastor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, we're just gonna pretend Alastor has been at the hotel a longer time than in canon bc Plot, Charlie is a Good Sister TW: None <3 Word Count: 2.6k Read it on Ao3 <3

When you'd first met Alastor, you had been…skeptical of him, to say the least.

To be completely honest, you’d hated him—and that was putting it lightly. You hated how condescending he was, you hated the fact that he clearly had ulterior motives, you hated that he kept everything about himself a secret, you hated his damn smile, you hated…him!

And the feeling was definitely mutual.

Alastor hated your obvious distrust of him, he hated the fact that you neither feared nor respected him, he hated the way you’d constantly tell Charlie and the others to be wary of him, he hated the way you always seemed to get in the way of his plans, he hated…you!

And no matter how many lessons Charlie had on friendship and trust—lessons that she forced the two of you to attend, I might add—or how many lectures about how the two of you needed to get along or how much she begged the two of you to stop fighting, nothing ever worked.

But…then something changed.

At some point between then and now, the two of you began to soften and learn more about each other---often against your will, and your wishes---and you found...that you had more in common than previously thought.

You both preferred radio to television, you both had a love and penchant for cooking, you both enjoyed quite a few of the same novels, and on and on it went. And those similarities brought the two of you closer together and, although neither of you ever wanted to admit it, you actually began to get along. Eventually, after enough time had passed, the two of you managed to forget why you didn't get along in the first place---all of it becoming a distant memory.

Of course, one thing led to another, and now you were lucky enough to have a pretty little ring on your left hand---not married yet, but soon to be.

Obviously none of the others knew about any of this, by both of your wishes. You were both private people and, knowing everyone else, they would ask questions and the two of you would end up having to spill your entire life's stories to finally get them to leave it be---and even that wasn't guaranteed!

So, to avoid the drama of it all, you just...kept things quiet. Private.

It wasn't particularly hard---Alastor wasn't much of a PDA person, especially in public; neither of you were particularly big fans of pet names; your dates were always fairly simple; and the two of you had your own jobs within the hotel to attend to, so half the time you weren't even in each other's presence.

It was...nice. Having someone to lean on, being able to see another side of Alastor---and having him all to yourself. No one else had him like you did, and you preferred it that way. Of course, though, all good things had to come to an end.

Your and Charlie's father, Lucifer, was coming to the hotel for the first time and---knowing him---it'd be the last, so now was possibly your only chance to tell him about your engagement in person.

Part of you was nervous, considering that you hadn't even told him---or anyone else---you were dating someone and now you were just going to spring an engagement on all of them, but another part of you was relieved and excited. Obviously, you would miss the privacy, but who knew? Maybe everyone's constant curiosity wouldn't bother you as much as you thought, and you might actually end up enjoying a more public relationship.

One where you could kiss him whenever you pleased, instead of being forced to wait until the two of you were alone; one where you could wish him goodbye with an "I love you," instead of snarky "don't die" on the way out; one where you could simply blow off any potential suitors with an "I'm married," instead of having to convince them that you really weren't interested in dating. Maybe all of that would be nice too.

"Nervous?" Alastor asked, the static overlay of his voice drawing you out of your thoughts. You turned away from the mirror you were looking into, instead turning your attention to your beloved---his ever-present smile softening as he looked at you.

"A little, I just..." you sighed, "I just want this to go well, but---knowing my dad---he's going to freak out and it'll be a whole thing."

He chuckled and stepped forward until he was close enough to brush a stray piece of hair out of your face, "not to worry, my dear, I'm sure everything will go just fine."

"But-"

"And if it doesn't," he continued, "I'll be by your side to help you fix it all. You won't be alone."

You smiled and let him draw you into a chaste kiss, some of your tension dissipating in his presence. Somehow he always knew how to make you feel better.

"What would I ever do without you?" You asked, gently cupping his face.

He tilted his head slightly to press another kiss to your palm, "you'll never have to find out."

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of Charlie's voice made its way up to your shared room, introducing everything and everyone in the hotel to---who you assumed to be---your father. So there was no more preparing yourself for it, now you just had to do. Besides, maybe Alastor was right, maybe he'd take the announcement better than you thought.

There was only one way to find out.

----------

"WHAT??? HIM???"

He did not, in fact, take it better than you thought.

You tried to wait for the perfect time to break the news, but---of course---your dad had immediately spotted the ring on your finger- (a detail that, somehow, everyone else had missed) -and pressed you for more information, his actual reason for visiting long forgotten. By both him and everyone else, apparently.

Getting a meeting with Heaven was suddenly playing second fiddle to everyone's curiosity about who you'd been dating behind their backs---who you were now engaged to. So, after a lot of pressing and pressing, you'd finally relented and admitted that it was Alastor. Which had led to...all of this.

Charlie was vibrating off the walls, everyone else was in various states of shock, and your dad...looked like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown.

"You can't- I mean-" He laughed, more than a little hysterical, "you're not actually engaged to him, are you?"

Before you could answer, Alastor cut in---a sharp edge coloring his tone.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Your father's attention switched from you to Alastor, practically seething as he looked at him. You couldn't see Alastor's face from your place beside him, but you could tell that the feeling was mutual by the crackling electricity that crawled across your skin.

"Have you ever fucking met you?" Your father asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm very lucky to have her," Alastor responded, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss on your cheek---a kiss obviously done just to piss your father off, since you knew Alastor wasn't exactly fond of public affection.

The tension was thick in the air as the two just stood there, glaring at each other.

Then finally, your father laughed.

"Alright then..."

Jazzy, upbeat, music suddenly came out of nowhere, and—before you had any time to process what was happening—you were drawn into your father’s song and dance number, the world around you shifting to follow his words.

“Looks like you could use some help, from the big boss of Hell himself! Obviously, since I don’t know how you could’ve felt that this–”

One voice, “Bastard!”

Two, “Jackass!”

Three, “Arrogant piece of shit!”

Back to your father, “–would ever make a suitable husband! Especially for you, did you forget?”

He twirled you around until you were in an elegant dress and crown, falling backwards onto a throne.

“You’re a princess of Hell, so better yet! Rather than an old outdated crook—who’s probably just using you for your station, at least from the looks—why not let your dad give you pick of the lot?” He snapped his fingers, new people appearing with every beat, “men, women, or those in between; outgoing royalty or someone serene, anything but this walking tomato lookin’ prick—you could have anyone, so just take your pick!”

A streak of shadow suddenly shoved your father to the side, Alastor appearing in his place with a charming grin—his shadow twirling around you like it was trying to hold you.

“My dear it’s true that you’re one of a kind—everything anyone could ask for, a very rare find,” he knelt before you and kissed your hand, “I’m a very lucky sinner to call you my own, to stand by your side as you sit on your throne.”

He then moved to sit on the arm of your throne, pulling you into his side, “however I have to agree that someone around here is a crook, but it’s certainly not me, so let’s take a look!”

The first person he picked out of the crowd was Charlie, his shadow minions bringing her forward dressed in her own royal attire, “your darling sister, who’s been by your side—supporting you through your troubles, high or low tide!”

Next came the other residents, dressed in their own fancy clothing, although less detailed than yours and your sister’s, “your close hotel friends, do you dare suspect them? Even though they’ve proven they’d follow you to the end?”

Finally he knelt in front of you again, dressed in his own royal attire and placing a golden ring on your left ring finger, “or do you truly think it could be me, your doting husband-to-be? Could I be the traitor despite the love, trust, and devotion I’ve given to you, or everything I’ve done to prove that my affection is true?”

“Of course not! You know that, so why don’t you see?” Suddenly your father was shoved forward like a criminal, the shadows dressing him in peasant style clothing, “the only traitor around here is this snake, does he take you for Eve?”

“Excuse me?” Your father asked incredulously, pushing back the shadows and reappearing in his usual clothing.

“Trying to lead you to darkness with his tricks and lies, wanting you to be miserable and lonely instead of by my side.”

“Hold on now–” “All this unsupportive jargon, telling you how you should live your life,” Alastor practically snarled, looking your father dead in the eye, “no wonder that this bastard was left by his wife.”

Your head was left spinning as things quickly switched between your father playing a golden fiddle, to your fiance interrupting him on a vintage piano—the two practically seething at each other before turning their attention back to you.

First Alastor, “my dear, why don’t you pick your own path, instead of listening to this stick in the mud?”

Then your father, “why choose a shitty partner over your own blood?”

And that is how it went.

“And pick a deadbeat father, nothing more than a dud? Wouldn’t you rather find happiness with the family you choose?”

Over.

“Yeah, sure, pick a bunch of losers–”

And over.

“Can you butt out of my song?”

And over.

“Your song? I started this!”

Until finally– “I’m singing it, I’ll finish it!”

You had had enough.

“Oh you tacky piece of sh–”

"JUST STOP!" You shouted, bringing their argument to a screeching halt and drawing a deadly silence into the room, "for fuck's sake---how can the two of you not see your own hypocrisy?! Even when it's sitting right in front of you!"

The two of them stared at you, wide eyed, but you kept going before they could respond.

"You're arguing over what's best for me, while not even fucking asking me what I want! This isn't even about me, this is about the two of you hating each other," you took a breath, desperately blinking back tears, "well you know what? BOTH of you are hurting me! BOTH of you are ignoring my wishes! BOTH of you are treating me like shit! And I don't want to fucking be around EITHER OF YOU!"

And without another word you turned on your heel and left the hotel.

----------

The moment you heard footsteps coming near you, you flipped around and snarled---prepared to snap at your father or Alastor, whichever one decided to come kiss your ass to one-up the other. But, instead, you only found Charlie standing behind you, a concerned look on her face.

You immediately turned away from her and wiped your eyes, not wanting your little sister to see you like this, but she didn’t seem to mind—just sitting beside you and resting her head on your shoulder as you sniffled.

After a moment, you broke the silence.

“I just…I don’t understand,” you said, voice shaking, “they’ve known each other for five fucking minutes and already hate each other. Why can’t they just get along for me? Do I seriously matter that little to them?”

Charlie was quiet for a moment, mind churning.

“I don’t necessarily think that’s it,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, as if she was thinking through each word, “I think that, for the first time ever, both of them are dealing with the fact that they might not be the most important man in your life and…I guess this is just their way of reacting to that.”

You turned to her, eyebrows raising, and she continued to explain.

“Family is important to you, Alastor knows that, but he hasn’t had to…complete, I guess, with anyone for his place by your side before—so, when dad showed up and openly disapproved of him, I think he just got scared that you’d leave him because of what dad thinks,” she took a breath, still thinking through her words, “dad, on the other hand, has always been the one who you’d run to for everything—if you were scared, sad, happy, or needed help, he was the one you’d go to. Now you have Alastor and that’s who you go to for everything, so I think dad just got scared that you wouldn’t need him anymore now that you’re getting married.”

“Congratulations, by the way,” she added wryly, squeezing your arm with a smile.

You gave her a small smile back, “how’d you ever get to be so smart?”

“I learned from the best.”

You sighed, “I just wish they’d get over themselves, I can—in fact—have more than one important man in my life, there’s not a fucking limit.”

“Yeah well…men can be stupid, I guess.”

You snorted and pulled her close, gently ruffling her hair, “you’ve got that right…between you and me, though, I like you better than both of them.”

Charlie giggled and hugged you, the two of you inseparable, just like when you were kids. You took a little longer to just breathe and enjoy the sweet moment with your sister, before finally releasing her.

She then got up and dusted off her suit, bright smile now firmly back in place, “now, let’s head back! I’m pretty sure Vaggie’s already got them working on their apologies, and I already have so many ideas for a new lesson plan on: selflessness and communication!”

You shook your head, but didn’t manage to quite hide your smile. Whatever happened, at least you would always have Charlie by your side…and Alastor and your father, if the two could manage not to kill each other.

“Those apologies better not be in fucking song format.”

“…I’ll text Angel.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #devotion's posts: requests🪻#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻

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taeyegu · 1 year

Text

introduce me a good person — 014. the light

previous // next

word count — 839

warning(s) — wonwoo fainting lmao

by the time y/n finally arrived to wonwoo's office (thirty-five minutes late by the way), she finds wonwoo curled up into a shivering ball on his couch in front of his desk.

"wonwoo?" y/n's soft voice startled wonwoo and despite his messy appearance from almost having a mental breakdown at the thought of y/n ditching him, he got up to allow his friend in and to shut the door of his office.

"y/n, h-how are you?" wonwoo wanted the ground to swallow him up... it's been almost a few weeks since you've seen her and the most he can muster up is 'how are you'?

he was grateful to see her smile, "well i just got out of a five hour surgery if that gives you a hint." she giggled, "and by the way, i'm sorry for keeping you waiting, i wanted to freshen up a little bit before i saw you." the softness in her voice almost made wonwoo melt.

"no problem! i was fine!" his awkward smile totally gave everything away but y/n didn't bother to say anything. she was probably just as nervous as he was.

the two friends sat down across from each other. wonwoo took a deep breath to ready himself for this conversation. despite them being friends for a majority of their lives, this was probably one of the hardest conversations wonwoo was about to partake in. even his med school interviews cower in the face of wonwoo having to actually talk about his feelings in front of the person he's been in love with since he could remember.

"i'm sorry." the both of them announced at the same time.

"what? why are you apologizing y/n?" wonwoo was puzzled, "i should be apologizing, i was acting stupid this entire time."

"i know!" y/n laughed, "but i was being stupid too and i was basically egging on soonyoung, jun, and jihoon to help me." y/n startled twirling the ends of her hair. it was a habit she had picked up during their med school rotations as a way to help soothe her whenever she was nervous. however since they started their job at svt hospital, she decided to cut her hair shorter to keep herself from fiddling.

"joshua and i are just friends. i don't know whatever plan the three stooges put up but joshua and i are just friends wonwoo."

a huge weight lifted off his shoulders because honestly if this was going to be another unrequited love situation, wonwoo was honestly going to probably move to live at the north pole and wallow away in his sadness.

"oh thank god." he couldn't even hold that comment in, "y/n, i'm not the best at timing but you should know i've been in love with you for as long as i can remember." his deep voice tinted y/n's cheeks pink. "i thought i was always content with just being in your life but when i found out sejun was cheating on you, i couldn't control myself. i know you deserve the best... even if the best isn't with me."

before wonwoo could continue with his speech that he spent the last two days rehearsing in his room, y/n interrupted him.

"wonwoo you are the best for me." it was wonwoo's time to sit there stunned, "i liked you since college but sejun always told me that you only saw me as a friend and i just believed him since you two were friends/roommates--"

"i hated that guy with all my guts y/n, he makes me sick!" wonwoo interjected like a child.

"i realize that now..." a small sigh left y/n. "even though the timing for us is a little off, at least we're here now."

"that's all i could ever ask y/n." wonwoo reached across the coffee table to grab her hands. "but before we continue with anything else, i also wanted to apologize. i was being stupid and irrational. i hurt you and our friends and i'm so sorry."

y/n's soft hands covered his in a reassuring way. "i know i'm emotionally constipated but i'm working on it. i'm bettering myself for myself and hopefully for you too y/n."

"you don't have to better yourself for me wonwoo." y/n's gentle voice comforted him, "i love you just the way you are."

"i know but-- wait what?!"

"hm? did something happen?" y/n questioned, genuinely confused as his reaction.

"y-you just said that you l-love me..." wonwoo barely whispers.

y/n nodded confidently. "yes i did." she smiled, "you said you love me too!"

wonwoo felt his head spinning again. the love of his life knows that he loves her? it's not the end of the world but when did he confess? isn't love too serious right now? oh god why is he seeing the light right now.

and the last thing wonwoo hears is y/n's shocked voice calling out his name as he passes out on his couch.

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chelseeebe · 7 months

Text

gasoline.

so this was supposed to be like a the bear au and then i just got carried away and now it’s just whatever the hell this is lmao it’s been sitting in my docs since july and i thought it finally needed to see the light of day :)

this is two parts in one bc i hate doing two seperate parts but it’s highlighted where p1 ends and p2 begins

wc: 12k+ oops

‎♡‧₊˚

Look, the sleazy, deteriorating walls of Frank’s had never been his idea of a dream. But flunking high school and a failed band had meant limited this is where he’d ended up. Running the line at the frankly failing restaurant was more like his idea of hell but it paid the bills and with a solid team of other degenerates, meant that it wasn’t all that bad.

Well, that was until the devil incarnate came along. And by devil incarnate he means you.

Eddie couldn’t grasp why someone of your stature would ever take a job at such a shitty restaurant, with your fancy knives and kitchen lingo that really meant nothing to him, why wouldn’t you look for something else? Something better?

You’d ended up here because… well, despite going to culinary school, getting the big job after you had graduated and doing everything by the book so to speak, you’d missed that burning passion that could only be found in the shittiest, dirtiest kitchens.

Well that, and the fact you’d been let go. But that wasn’t relevant.

“Honey, I’ve been here for years, I really don’t give a shit about anything you’ve gotta say,” flapping his arms around at your suggestion of maybe washing his hands when he got back in from smoking, “Helen never had a problem with it, so why do you?”

“First off, I have asked you not to call me honey or whatever other stupid pet name you wanna give me… it’s chef,” brows furrowed, the rest of the kitchen pretending not to listen to your latest bickering, “and secondly, Helen is gone, so whatever rules she implemented mean nothing now, okay? You wash your hands when you come back in or… or…” struggling to come up with a suitable punishment.

“Or.. or what?” he mocks, turning to his colleagues for a little backup, “you gonna fire me? ‘Cause I’d love to see you try,” refusing to back down.

It was the principle, you see. Eddie really would’ve had no issue with washing his hands if literally anyone other than you had asked. He was positively fuming that you had just flounced in here and started laying down a bunch of bullshit rules that no other soul had cared about in his five years working here. Not only that, you’d beaten him to the head chef role. He was certain that he was a shoe in the second Helen announced that she was moving on. Only to walk in one morning to your grinning face, your uniform crisply ironed and this certain energy only Eddie had seemed to sense.

You sigh, you never liked to be the first one to resign after an argument but Eddie was relentless and would’ve kept at it all day if you didn’t, “Just wash your hands.. chef,” it was entirely too busy to spend all day going back and forth with the man child.

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he’s smirking now, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wanted you.

“Please,” you frown, hand firmly on your hip as you stare back at him. You felt pathetic begging for the tiniest bit of respect in your damn kitchen but it was simply the only way to get him to cooperate.

“See, that wasn’t so hard was it?” he goads, brushing against your shoulder as he makes his way to the sink, the rest of the kitchen is in complete silence, watching and waiting to see how this one would end.

You readjust your collar, pressing your lips together in a firm line, choosing to ignore his childish remark. There would come a day that he’d regret every horrid thing he’d said to you and maybe that day wasn’t today but it would come and you could not wait.

It’s another month of butting heads with the long-haired prick before things come totally to a head. His inability to just follow simple orders had you at wits end, because Eddie truly believed that he knew better. A suggestion to add thyme to the mash potatoes had caused all out war in the kitchen.

“No, we add rosemary… not fuckin’ thyme,” he spits, aggressively stiring the pot, his back to you, guarding his precious dish from your grabby hands.

“And I’m saying to add both- actually no, I’m not saying, I’m telling,” grabbing the container of thyme and attempting to sprinkle it into the pan, “move out of the way, that’s an order.”

“Oooo,” he mocks, knuckles turning white from his grip on the handle, “An order.. I’m so scared,” chuckling as he blocks you from reaching over his shoulder, “why d’you think you know better, huh? You don’t know shit about this restaurant, we’ve done it my way for years and that’s not gonna change now.”

“Because I’m the fucking chef and I know better than you,” finally snapping at the man, slamming the container down onto the stainless steel countertop, “move. now,” you bark, widening your eyes as he twists around to meet yours, you could feel the disgust radiating from his glare.

“No.”

You huff, wanting nothing more than to wrap his fucking ponytail around your hand and slam his head into the worktop, “Step out chef,” a simple order that you thought was far more gracious than he deserved.

His mouth falls open, still gripping onto the now-overworked potatoes, “What the fuck?” frantically flailing for some comradery from his fellow workers, it seemed that they’d all fallen into place, no longer the bunch of grimy assholes he once knew.

“Step out,” you persist, teeth gritted as you stand strong on your order, tilting your chin to meet his harrowing gaze. Eddie didn’t frighten you per say, but he was intimidating and if it came down to it, you probably weren’t going to be the one to win that fight.

“Fuck this,” he exclaims, slamming the pan down onto the stove top with a loud bang before storming off out of the fire escape door, not before grabbing his cigarettes from the shelf you’d repeatedly told him not to keep them on.

There’s now mash potato all over the hob that would probably need some extensive scrubbing and would ensure that your kitchen would absolutely reek of the stuff all night. If you could have it your way, you’d have made him scrub the entire oven with a dang toothbrush until you could see your face in the metal.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your cheeks burn as the rest of the kitchen watches on in utter amazement, even the old, hardened chefs had taken to your ways even if it had taken a little bit of pushing. There was no understanding as to why he couldn’t just listen, just shut up and get on with his job without trying to constantly argue and bite back. Maybe because you were a woman? You were younger than him? Or maybe it was simply because someone was finally up to the job of challenging him and he hated that fact.

Whatever it was, it was getting on your last nerve.

Eddie wasn’t by any means a bad chef, he was innovative and knew how to make shit taste good, he was just incapable of accepting that maybe his way of doing things wasn’t the only way.

You smooth your clammy palms down your apron, nodding at Tina. A subtle way of telling her to carry on and take charge while you dealt with the pathetic man outside.

The door slams as you step outside, looking around the dark alley for the man, following the trail of smoke to his slouched position around the corner. Now, this was the difficult part, you weren’t really looking to fire him but what choice did you have if he couldn’t just accept that you were his boss now.

“Have you calmed down?” breaking the silence, fingernails pressed into your palm leaving tiny crescent moon indentations.

You never were one for confrontation.

He scoffs, refusing to look in your direction as he puffs on the cigarette, “I’m calm.. are you calm?”

Even now, he couldn’t just smile and nod, always had to say something else, “I’m calm,” swallowing the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “do you want to work here?”

“Nobody wants to work here, shit- even you don’t wanna be here,” chuckling to himself, smoke falling from his lips.

“Yes I do. Do you? Because I can help you if you don’t, trust me I am not scared to just let you go.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, tossing the cigarette to the ground before finally meeting your gaze, “you’re firing me?”

“No,” relaxing your shoulders, “but I need to know that you want to work here. That you aren’t going to keep arguing with me about stupid shit because I truly do not have the energy for it anymore,” watching as his expression falls, at a stretch you’d say he looks remorseful but that could very well just be the moonlight reflecting on his face, granting him more grace than he deserved.

The alley falls into silence, the only sounds being that of the bustling city around you and Tina’s faint voice barking instructions inside the kitchen.

His eyes avert to the concrete, with a pained expression he breaks the silence, “I do… wanna work here,” it’s like that tiny sentence caused him physical pain to get out.

“Good,” you nod, his words may mean nothing but it’s a relief to finally hear that he gives somewhat of a shit about this place running smoothly, “Eddie, for what it’s worth, I think you’re a really good chef… but even the best chefs have to take orders sometimes and you are no exception to that.”

Eddie untenses his jaw for what must be the first time in ten years, that tiny bit of affirmation was exactly what he was looking for, “...thank you,” he turns his head towards yours, “I think you’re… you’re an okay chef,” the tiniest traces of a smile on his face as he pushes himself from the rough brick.

Your eyes roll instinctively but you’re not mad, for once, “get back inside,” waving him off towards the door without turning to look at him.

Taking the moment to gather yourself and your thoughts. Who knew if Eddie had meant what he said or if it was even going to change anything but it had definitely meant something. It wasn’t a burning desire of yours to come in and be the new evil boss in fact, it was the very opposite of what you’d pictured. There just wasn’t much lee-way when you were given a team of stubborn assholes that had gotten far too used to slacking off.

Frank’s could really become something if everyone wanted it and were willing to put in the effort required to get there. Sure, you probably weren’t going to earn a Michelin star but you were sure you could make it worthy of something.

Eddie had mostly kept to his word. Finally washing his hands and keeping his hair out of his face, even if you had had to nag at him a little. There wasn’t as much kick back as before. Sure, he’d roll his eyes and huff and puff but he’d actually do it.

It’s another Saturday night, you’re not so busy but enough to keep you on your toes. Just longing for the moment you collapsed into your bed and didn’t have to think about this place until Monday morning.

Eddie sidles up to where you’re working, going over the rota for the next two weeks. Weighing up if waking up at the ass crack of dawn was actually worth all this.

“So I was thinking..”

“Uh oh,” you add, snapping the book shut before turning to him, he’s hopeful. Well, that or he’s about to say the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah great thanks.. so I was thinking, it’s getting warmer, right? I think we should put sandwiches on the menu, and not just boring old sandwiches.. like, like good ones,” his vocabulary is limited but you get what he means.

You ponder for a moment, staring into his wide, optimistic eyes. It was a good idea to be fair to him, you just weren’t sure if you had the time to conjure up a whole new sandwich menu on top of everything else on your plate.

“Okay, I actually think that’s a great idea,” you two were civil, not exactly the best buds but you think maybe now you could trust him. “If you can come up with some ideas and make them for me.. I’ll think about it.”

His grin is infectious as it spreads across his face, “I got you… what are you thinking? Something with chicken or..” fishing for ideas.

You throw your hands up, a shadow of a smile on your lips, “that is entirely up to you, okay?”

He nods knowingly, slowly backing away, eager to get started on his first individual project since your arrival.

“I’m trusting you with this!” you holler after him, getting back to the mess of a rota in front of you.

“Yes boss,” he calls back from somewhere in the kitchen, “I mean chef,” catching himself.

Your heart warms a little. Maybe your lectures hadn’t gone so unnoticed after all?

No matter how hard you stare at the screen, willing for something to magically appear, it doesn’t. The line marker blinking at you, taunting you, pleading with you to just write something. Anything!

There’s a quiet wrapping of knuckles against the door causing your head to fly up, finding a surprisingly clean Eddie standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” spinning your chair slightly, “shit, sorry I forgot to say you’re good to go, I’ll see you tomorrow,” flashing him a tight lipped smile.

“Oh no… most of ‘em have already gone,” vaguely motioning to the now empty kitchen, “uh… a few of us were gonna grab a drink and wondered if you’d wanna join us?” He resembles a shy child, fingers tapping along the battered door frame.

“Oh!” you must’ve sounded shocked as his eyebrows travel up his forehead in surprise, getting invited out by your crew had just.. never really happened before, “I’m sorry, I actually can’t tonight,” pointing at the blank word document, “the menu is due next week and I uh- I have nothing but you guys have fun,” shooing him off.

It was a Thursday night and you couldn’t think of anything worse than waking up tomorrow with a blinding hangover.

“You need help with that menu shit? I mean, my sandwiches are a hit so.. maybe I could help?” placing his jacket on the old cabinet in the corner, prepared to help no matter what you replied.

You’re not exactly in the position to say no to help at this point..

“I mean.. yeah, if you can think of six amazing, brilliant, showstopping new dishes then be my guest because I sure as shit can’t,” unintentionally coming off a little rude.

It’s just frustrating, the first big step you were taking for this restaurant and you were still somehow managing to fuck it up

“Okay, what’ve you got?” he peers over your shoulder at the blank screen, “ah, right,” he sucks his teeth, “not great.”

“No.. no it’s not,” slouching down the chair, “I’m completely fucked,” pushing the loose strands of hair from your forehead.

“You’re not completely fucked- not yet,” dragging the spare chair around to the other side of the desk, “I’m sure we can think of something tonight,” pulling the laptop closer to him.

You smile at him, grateful for his positivity even if it was fake.

The pair of you throw some shoddy ideas back and forth for a half hour. None of them good enough to make it to the word document, instead getting scribbled onto a ripped out page from your notebook.

“I am fucked, aren’t I?” you frown, rubbing your sleepy eyes.

He chuckles softly, “nah.. there’s some good stuff here,” running his finger down the messy list.

You feel completely vulnerable with him here, it might have been the lack of sleep or just the fact that you appreciated his presence so much but you foolishly begin to let your thoughts wander.

“I just feel like I’m fuu-,” immediately regretting opening your mouth, “no, you know what? Doesn’t matter,” you look at the clock on the wall signalling that it had gone well past midnight, “you should get going, it’s late,” pretending to scroll on the still-bare document.

“No, what were you gonna say?”

You keep your eyes on the screen, tapping your foot against the leg of the chair, “I said it doesn’t matter.”

“It obviously does,” he pushes, egging you on.

You take a sharp intake of breath to signal that you weren’t willing to go any further with this. Why couldn’t he just fucking drop it?

“Oh my God, you started this conversation and now you don’t wanna finish it,” frustrated that it had seemed like you were finally beginning to seem like you were somewhat human, he grabs his discarded jacket, rolling his eyes as he starts to exit the office.

“I’m scared I’m not doing a good job… you all obviously care about this place and I’ve just come in here and ruined it,” biting down onto your bottom lip, “and as much as you all pretend to like me, I know you don’t and- and that’s fine,” you shrug, exasperated with the weight of a thousand bricks hanging onto your shoulders, “I don’t care about being liked, I just want this restaurant to work but it feels like I can’t even do that,” slumping forward, confounded and slightly in shock that the first person you’d spilled all of this to was fucking Eddie.

“I do like you,” he says quietly, stopping in his tracks, throwing his jacket back down, “everyone does… you’re making this restaurant better,” rejoining you at the desk, “we’re all just stubborn and mean so no one’s told you but you’re doing good,” a reassuring smile overcoming his lips, his hand wavers, unsure of whether to reach out to touch your shoulder or if that was a step too far.

He flops back into the chair and you offer him a genuine smile for his words. It was really all you could muster without starting to cry. Coming into an already established restaurant with new ideas and ways of working was never easy but to be met with such pushback from him had made it even harder. So to now have him say in front of you, telling you that what you’re doing is right, well it meant the world.

“Thank you,” you mouth, blinking earnestly as you flip the laptop lid shut, it was too late and you were far too tired to even try to continue. “That really means a lot from you,” attempting to turn your vulnerability into a joke.

“I mean it, though,”scooting closer on the chair, “I just enjoy arguing with you too much to admit it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, that much was true, he definitely enjoyed getting under your hair and pissing you off as much as he could.

“We should go, it’s super late and I’ve got all day tomorrow to do this,” sliding the pen into the pot, feeling his eyes still boring into the side of your face.

You stand from your seat, expecting him to follow but he stays firmly planted in his chair. Hand reaching out to grab your wrist as you grab your bag. Jolting away as you’re not expecting the sudden contact.

He swallows, standing up before deciding whether to just fuck it or if this was about to get him fired. You’re blissfully unaware that this internal battle was even happening until his hand is on your cheek, tilting your chin upwards before closing the distance between your bodies, smashing his lips to yours.

Oh shit.

It takes a second for your brain to process what was happening but you don’t.. dislike it. He tastes like cigarettes and coffee, sliding his tongue into your parted mouth with a quickness.

Leaning into the kiss, your hands hesitantly coming to rest on his shoulders. You’re taken aback by how easy it feels, moving together just right. The small of your back crashes into the rigid desk, pulling you out of the kiss and back into reality. Staring back at his darkened eyes with a slight bemused expression.

“No.. not here,” squeezing his shoulder. His hand paused on your shirt button, getting ahead of himself. Maybe you had found yourself wanting to fuck Eddie but not here. You weren’t that stupid.

His hand falls, swinging to his side, “oh.. you didn’t- did I fuck up?” still mere inches from your face, so close in fact, you could feel his breath on your flushed cheek.

“No.. no, I just..” deciding to just bite the bullet and go for it, “do you wanna go back to my apartment? It’s not far,” blinded by the haze of lust that was filling the small room to the brim.

His eyes grow wide, realising exactly what you meant, buzzing with impatience and excitement. “Yes.. yeah I’d love to,” his plump lips still wet with the remnants of your mouth.

You nod, letting go of his shoulder to gather your things, and yourself, before pulling him out of the restaurant. Eddie is more than willing to leave his van in the parking lot, jumping into your car with an primal eagerness.

The car journey is quiet and you wonder if this maybe wasn’t the best idea. What would everyone at work say? Maybe they didn’t have to know? This could be a one time thing and you’ll both just never mention it again. Well, you hope anyway.

You think your head might just burst the second he walks into your apartment, somewhere you had never expected Eddie to ever appear.

You’re quick to continue the abandoned kiss, not giving him any opportunity to make wise cracks about your apartment. It somehow felt easier if it was just mindless sex where you didn’t speak.

Guiding him towards your bedroom because the couch felt just a tad too casual. His hands are everywhere, sneaking underneath your blouse and then back down into the waistband of your pants. You shove him backwards onto your bed, clambering on top quickly so as to not give him a chance to start speaking or to do anything stupid.

Eddie’s obviously not keen on giving you the higher ground, gripping onto your waist and flipping the both of you so that he led on top. He’s got this devilish grin on his face that is so smug, you just want to slap it off of him. You chase the taste of his mouth with yours, becoming accustomed to the mixture of cigarettes and mint. God, you hope this doesn’t become a regular thing.

He pulls away from you to gawp down the space between your bodies, mouth hung open, gasping for breath while his fingers skillfully unbutton your pants, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips, “woah… when the hell d’you get that?” staring at the black ink covering your thigh, a rose curling around the length of your flesh.

A dumb decision you’d made the first week of culinary school. You felt out of place alongside the other chefs who were absolutely covered in tattoos and felt the need to join them. Except, you hadn’t exactly thought about it and just went along with the first thing the dodgy artist had suggested. He’d also quite purposely left out just how much such a large piece would fucking hurt, especially for a first tattoo.

You join him in looking down at it, curling your lips in disgust, “when I was like… eighteen, it’s ugly and I hate it so thank you,” continuing your task of getting his jacket off, ignoring the fact that he was still ogling the inking and slightly starting to regret your decision to bring him here.

“It’s fucking sick, what are you talking about?” he’s smirking, running his fingers along the thick lining as your pants hang around your knees, “I thought you were like… boring,” finding the hem of your lacy underwear and tugging on it.

Your lips hover above his, eyes hooded as you glare at him, “can you just shut up before I regret everything and make you leave?”

He nods instantaneously, connecting your lips with a quickness, shaking his jacket off of his arm and onto the floor with a thud. Repositioning his knees to either side of your thighs, you’d done a good job of getting your shirt half-off, his fingers fiddling with the rest of the buttons as you break from his lips, leaving wet kisses along his stubbly jawline.

“Holy fuck, you’re joking?” his eyes just about popping out of his head as your pierced nipples spill out of your bra. Another spontaneous teenage decision you hadn’t got round to getting rid of yet.

His hand is immediately drawn to your exposed breast, full of pure glee, “you’re a dark horse, you know that right?” thumb running over the erect nipple as you fumble with his tattered old belt.

Your mouth opens to protest his ogling but is quickly replaced with a soft gasp, his thumb working miracles on the sensitive bud. Head falling back against the pillow when his lips replace his thumb, licking and sucking on your nipple with a wicked grin.

“Shit,” you moan, his growing erection rutting against your core, “can you- please hurry up,” it sounds strangled coming from your throat, embarrassed that you’ve completely melted into a pile of putty beneath him. If you’d have known that his mouth could be put to such good use, maybe you’d have tried this earlier.

Thankfully, he takes the hint, leaving one last kitten lick to your chest before rushing to get his pants down. Kicking them off to the side somewhere, the clunk of his belt buckle hitting your bed frame on the way down.

“Oh baby, that all for me?” remarking on your absolutely sodden underwear, hurriedly pulling them down your thighs, before using the same hand to position himself at your dripping entrance.

You’re too desperate to think of anything smart to say back, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d probably just start begging.

His face mere inches from yours as he pushes himself inside, a groan from somewhere deep in his chest falls out, “Jesus Christ,” he stutters, willing himself not to cum right now. Sex is always better with someone you detested. Now why is that?

Your arms loosely knot around his neck, intertwining your fingers with his hair, trying your utmost to hold eye contact as his hips begin to move. Slow at first, reaching the hilt before pulling back and sliding in, it’s excruciatingly slow and your legs tighten around his waist, begging for more.

“Faster.. please Eddie,” whining as his pace quickens, eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah yeah.. yeah, say my name,” he blabbers, one hand sliding between your, thumb tapping against your swollen clit before rubbing tiny circles to the sensitive surface.

“Shit,” you breathe, feeling incredibly full as his tip nudges against that soft, spongy spot. Your eyes squeeze shut, illuminated with an illustration of stars and white hot light. Your heart wasn’t eager to just adhere to his demands like that but shit, when he sounded this desperate, you couldn’t help it.

Chanting his name like an oath in time with his thrusts. The filthy sounds of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room, accompanying the strained groans coming from his throat. It was far too late and your neighbours could surely hear every single thing.

“Fuck,” he breathes and you can feel his hips stutter, “you gonna cum for me? Huh?” dropping his forehead to rest against yours.

Your thighs squeeze around his torso at the words, feeling yourself grow closer to your impending orgasm. His thumb still expertly rubbing your clit, slow but deep thrusts as he nears his own end. Your brain too hazy to think coherently about anything as you tighten around him, overcome with the blinding pleasure of your orgasm.

“Yesyesyes,” you garble, trembling as you come undone completely, back arching from the mattress which brings your bodies impossibly close. Tugging gently on his curls as a means of encouragement, not that he needed it.

“Ohhh fuck yeah.. shit,” unable to stop himself in time, spurting thick ropes of cum inside of you. You’re too fucked out to truly think about the implications yet, still gasping for air as he pumps his cock a few measly times before pulling out and sitting up on his knees.

His wild hair stuck to his moist forehead as he looms above, trying to catch his own breath between your knees. “I’m so sorry.. you’re not.. you can’t get pregnant, can you?” one hand coming to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes roll on their own, accelerating back to Earth at an insane pace, “no,” reshuffling so you laid comfortably on the pillow, “but you can’t do that again,” glaring up at him without any realisation as to what you just said.

“Again?” his brows raise, still poised between your legs, “there’s a next time?”

You huff, turning on your side, away from Eddie and his stupid doe eyes and that ridiculous smirk. Reaching down to grab a shirt from your bedside table while he chuckles to himself.

Ashamedly, your heart skips a beat when he slides in behind you, pressing his body into yours. You were losing it, and embarrassingly quickly too. Ah fuck.

A hand snaking around your waist pulls you from your sleep and for a brief moment you start to think someone had broken in and decided to crawl into bed with you. Until said hand creeps down to your hip and those lips you’d hung off last night press a small kiss to your shoulder.

“Morning,” you grumble, placing your hand atop of his to stop it creeping into the waistband of your shorts.

“Ah c’mon..” frowning against your back, “best way to start a long day.”

“I have to get ready for work, so do you actually,” keeping your head firmly on the pillow, there were no real intentions of getting up. Not yet.

“Hmm.. five minutes,” hand descending even with yours on top, his smirk evident, dripping through his words. You shudder as his hand reaches your cunt, leaning backwards into his chest, ever so slightly parting your legs.

“Five minutes,” you agree, fully acknowledging that you were slipping into dangerous territory here.

“Did you fuck Helen too?” you ask, not really wanting to know the answer but just having to know if you were right in your stereotyping.

Every kitchen had one. The one that seemed to make their way around everyone eventually. You were sure Eddie was that one and you were the last on his hit list.

“What? Helen was like fifty dude,” messing with the volume dial on the radio.

“So? Did you?”

He’s silent for a second, throwing his hands into the air, “it was one time,” raging that you’d caught him out on such a baseless accusation.

“I knew it,” nodding smugly to yourself, he most definitely has the aura of the kitchen bike and that was for sure.

“Yeah but… you’re like actually hot and I know what you’re thinking but no, I am not a slut… it was once and we were drunk and that was it, so you can shut up,” deciding to turn the stereo off, not a fan of your choice of Taylor Swift records.

“I’m like… actually hot?” mimicking his tone.

His eyes roll into the back of his head, of course that’d be the only part of the sentence you picked up on, “hon, you don’t notice me pop a boner everytime we argue?”

Your face screws up, unsure of whether to take it as a compliment or if you should be speaking to HR, “wasn’t generally looking in that direction if I’m honest,” swinging round into the car park, just past Eddie’s abandoned van, “thanks though… I think,” smiling at him as you gather your things.

“It was a compliment, by the way,” stepping out of your car, tapping the doors of his rusty old van before walking inside, going on and on about Peggy (his van) and how important she was to him.

You’re not entirely paying attention as you walk into the kitchen, startled by the presence of somebody already clattering about in there. Eddie follows closely behind, just as confused as you that anybody sane would be here this early.

“Hello?” you call out, rounding the corner to spot Marcus who had taken it upon himself to come in early to start prep, making a monumental mess of the counter.

“Oh yeah, hey… I wanted to start now ‘cause I need to leave early- you two came in together?” perplexed by the sight of Eddie peering over your shoulder, the batter covered wooden spoon pointed at the pair of you.

“Right… er- his van broke down last night and I said I’d give him a ride,” nodding at your obviously fabricated story, looking to Eddie for some back up.

He nods along happily, “I’m gonna take a look at ‘er later, fingers crossed or you’ll be givin’ me rides all week,” slinking away into the locker room with a sly smirk on his face, thankfully hidden by the shoddy wall as he winks.

“God forbid,” you quip back, scrunching up your nose as you leave the two of them and make your way to the office, throwing your bag onto the cluttered desk and collapsing onto the desk chair.

You had to get this damn menu done by Friday or you were completely, utterly fucked. Already three days behind on the schedule, you’d be lucky if you even made it home tonight. Flinging the discarded laptop lid open to be met with the very much blank menu once again. An email pings through that makes your heart jump. It must’ve gone unseen when you were otherwise occupied last night.

Hello,

I hope this email finds you well.

I just wanted to confirm that Joan will be in attendance on May 18th as per your invitation. She is looking forward to trying the new menu and will subsequently write a review expecting to be published on or around the 20th.

Thank you,

Imogen Smart, The Indianapolis Star

Oh shit oh fuck oh balls.

It had slipped your mind that you’d even invited her along to try the new menu. What a colossal mistake this would turn out to be.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You’re slouched over the desk, head in your hands when Eddie creeps through the open door, startling you when he speaks, “you good?” making his way to the desk, leering down to look at the screen as if it was any of his business.

“I really do not have time for you right now,” smoothing out your new-found forehead wrinkles. You never had time for his bullshit but you certainly did not have time for them now.

“Eh, what the fuck? I was inside of you like three hours ago and now you’re being weird again?”

“Shhh- shut up,” you whisper-shout, the chair rolling back as you stand rather ferociously, staring at the gap in the door and just praying that Marcus was too busy doing whatever the fuck he was doing to hear.

“Jesus… chill out,” his hands are on your shoulders, soothing your nerves irregardless of how much you cared to admit it.

You blink at him, cheeks burning, “I just- I have so much to do today, this critic is coming and I still haven’t finished the men-”

Your sentence is rudely interrupted with his soft lips pressing against yours, caressing your cheek with his rough hand. It’s automatic, but you’re leaning into it, finding yourself gripping onto his bicep as he nudges you back towards the desk. It’s probably a good thing that your tailbone smacks into the sharp edge, pushing him from you as you come back to planet Earth.

“Stop.. stop,” gently squeezing his arm, the other consoling your throbbing spine, “I need you out there today, okay? You’re gonna have to take charge, get shit done and do not bother me unless that kitchen is on fire or you’ve cut your arm off, okay?” lowering your head to meet his eyeline.

“My arm? That’s a bit extreme,” deciding to turn your high stress situation into a joke.

“Yes your arm, finger you can deal with, capiche?”

“Yes ma’am,” hand lingering on the small of your back, “you sure you’re good?”

You exhale slowly and perhaps a tad too harshly snap, “yes.. I’m okay, now unless you have a brand new menu for me.. get out,” sweetening the blow with a sickly smile, motioning for him to leave.

“Okay okay..” he begins walking to the door, “I’m in charge, right?” ever the opportunist.

“Yes, but do not make me regret it,” flashing him a warning look.

“Sweet,” winking at you as he slips out of the door, rubbing his hands together like the little demon he is. You roll your eyes but can’t deny the way your heart thuds with affection.

Whatever was blossoming had the potential to fuck up every single good thing you’d done for this place, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to at least see how far you could go before total chaos.

- p2

You had meant for it to be casual. Like a few times a month sorta thing. And yet somehow you’re sat with your head on Eddie’s shoulder, half asleep as the gory horror film he’d picked plays on.

It had started that way, to be fair. After a stressful day or on a quick lunch break you’d catch him and pull him into the office. It’s no surprise really that it didn’t take long for the rest of the kitchen to catch on.

But back to right now, you’re only supposed to be resting your eyes as you lean into his shoulder. He smelt like kitchen, cigarettes and the new cologne you’d bought for him as his old one was quite frankly disgusting and had irritated your nose. He jolts upright when the screen flashes, knocking you from his shoulder and rudely pulling you out of your slumber.

“You’re a prick,” you mumble, glowering in his direction before opting for the opposite side of the sofa, the side that wasn’t rude.

He snorts but quickly realises that you are very serious and very much not happy, “I’m sorry.. come sleep on me again,” pleading with you, “or d’you wanna go to bed?” clicking the pause button on the remote.

“I wanted to go to bed an hour ago,” grumbling into the cushion as he’d ignored your request and swore that you’d just love this new movie. You didn’t. It was fucking boring.

“Okay okay, let’s go to bed,” he shuts the television off before standing from the couch, towering over your curled up body, “I’m not fuckin’ carrying you,” already wise to your tricks.

You groan something incoherently, something deeply offensive to his entire bloodline, before pulling yourself from the couch. “You know, if we’d gone to bed when I’d asked, I would’ve let you put it in my ass,” shrugging innocently before leading the way to your bedroom.

“Wait what? You didn’t say- I didn’t know that was an option!” speed-walking to catch up with you, incredibly eager to figure out if this offer was still on the table.

It was not.

“Yup, shame really.. you should probably listen to me more,” clambering into the unmade bed with the tiniest smirk on your face.

He’s not far behind, leaping into your bed, “we can still do that though, right? It’s only..” glancing at your alarm clock, “..two” he doesn’t even sound sure of himself.

“Nope,” pulling the blanket over your shoulders, purposely choosing to face the other way, “you missed your chance buddy.”

Whoever had done the ordering (you) had royally fucked up and left tomatoes off of the list. So as a consequence of your stupidity, you were now in Bradley’s trying to balance ten packets of stupid fucking tomatoes in your arms.

You’re not even looking where you're going, too focused on not dropping the damn horrid red things as you skulk through the store. It’s already too late when you bash the elbow of some innocent bystander, knocking multiple packets to the ground.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you grumble, grabbing at the discarded fruits with your spare hand.

The kind gentleman had already started to try and balance them back in your arms. You look up to thank the stranger to be met with a face you hadn’t seen since high school.

“Steve Harrington? I- what the fuck?” you remark, clutching onto the produce so as to not cause another collapse.

“Holy shit, it’s you,” he’s utterly dumbfounded, staring back at your face in amazement.

You’re suddenly extremely aware of your dirty uniform and messy hair, eyeing his well pressed suit and just general put-togetherness. His hair still perfectly styled though just a bit shorter now.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you lived in Indiana anymore?” the last you’d heard of him, his father had sent him away to his office in New York, desperate for his son to have the life he never had.

“Ah.. well, I do now, bit of a long story,” chuckling awkwardly as he takes the majority of your tomatoes to the counter, lightening the load.

“Oh well, that’s cool..” you nod to the cashier who asks if you’d like a bag or multiple bags in your case, “I’d love to catch up but I’ve got a bit of a tomato crisis, uh..” digging in your pocket for the company card.

“Yeah definitely… here let me,” he grabs one of the jam packed bags under his arm, “I’m gonna assume these aren’t all for you?” leading the way to the parking lot.

“Oh no, I fucking hate tomatoes.. I messed up at work so it’s my job to fix it,” loading the bags into your dusty old car, “here, take my number and we can plan something.. it’s been so long,” grabbing for your phone in your apron.

“I uh- I actually have your number,” he nods, not bothering to get his own phone out.

“I’ve changed my number since high school, Steve.”

“No, yeah I know.. I got it from Robin, I was s’posed to call you when I got back..” rubbing his thumb along his forehead and into his hair, “I’ll give you a call later and we can do something,” smiling softly as he closes your back door.

“Oh, okay.. yes please call me, I- uh I really have to get back,” sliding into the driver's seat, fumbling with your keys, as you roll the window down to continue the conversation.

“I will, I hope your tomato crisis.. gets better,” shrugging awkwardly as you start the engine. Wincing at his choice of words.

“Me fucking too,” rolling your eyes as you pull off, not entirely registering what had just happened, focused on getting these stupid vegetables back to the restaurant.

It’s not until an unknown number flashes up on your screen that you think about it again. He’d left it until you were right in the middle of stuffing dinner down your throat to call of course.

“Hello?” you muffle into the phone, chewing on the lukewarm piece of chicken.

“Hey! It’s Steve.. you said to call so.. I called,” he sounds nervous, like he was calling a stranger and not you.

“Oh hey.. sorry I’m eating,” covering your mouth as you loudly swallow, “how are you?”

“Yeah I’m good, hope your crisis turned out okay,” laughing into the receiver.

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad.. thank you for your help, you saved me from squishing a ton of tomatoes.”

“Of course,” he clears his throat, “would you wanna grab a coffee or something tomorrow? I take it you’re busy with your.. tomatoes but I’m free pretty much whenever.”

“Yes.. yes erm-,” you set the phone onto loudspeaker and flit through the bookings for tomorrow, it wasn’t insanely busy and you were sure they would manage without you for an hour or so, “does ten sound good for you?”

“Ten is perfect,” you can hear his smile through the phone, “I’ll see you there then, enjoy your dinner,” still sounding as awkward as ever.

“Okay.. I’ll see you then, then,” making a mental note for tomorrow that you’d probably end up forgetting anyway.

You end the call, locking your phone and finally giving all your attention to the cold plate of food in front of you.

“Who was that?” Eddie appears out of nowhere, frowning as he walks into the office.

“Hmm? Oh, my friend Steve,” devouring the chicken without a second thought as to why he was even questioning it.

“Your friend? That you’re going for coffee with…?”

“Were you listening to my conversation?” blinking up at him.

“No.. I overheard you- don’t change the subject, you’re ditching work for a date?” he’s scowling, coming to perch on the desk.

“It’s not a date,” you warn, prodding the fork into his rib, “he’s a friend from school and we’re catching up while it’s quiet tomorrow, is that okay with you?” shaking your head, not that you were genuinely asking for his approval.

He narrows his eyes, “I suppose..” he takes the fork from your hand, helping himself to your dinner, “it’s just coffee?” asking tentatively as his greedy ass tucks in.

“Oh my God yes, it’s just coffee,” he was incredibly jealous for someone who was not your boyfriend.

“Okay okay.. sheesh, no need to get defensive.. date whoever you want,” shrugging as if he couldn’t care less.

“You’re the one getting jealous, not my fault you never ask me to go for coffee.”

“Because we spend every waking moment together anyway,” repetitively banging his heel into the desk, irritating you to no end. “But I’ll make sure to ask you to go for coffee from now on.. don’t want some loser taking my place.”

You huff, pulling the plate away from his greedy hands, “are you done?”

He shuffles backwards, still picking at your food despite your obvious attempts to get it away from him. “Okay okay.. I’m done.”

Eddie, in fact, does not drop it.

He’s still pouting when you climb into bed, sighing to himself like a pathetic old dog. Except now, he’d become desperate and slightly weird about it. Making all sorts of promises and hypothetical dates for you two to go on.

“Why don’t we go for coffee tomorrow? I’ll even pay,” walking his fingers along your side.

“Eddie please, can you stop? Who am I in bed with right now? Because it’s not Steve, I can tell you that,” exasperated by his incessant attempts to piss you off.

“Okay.. okayy,” retiring this tired bit for the night at long last, “you’re still taking me to work, right?” settling his hand on your waist, cuddling into your back.

“Yes, you bum,” switching the lamp off before setting your head on the pillow.

“I’m not a bum,” feeling him frown against your back, “it’s not my fault you refuse to get in my van.”

“It’s a death trap, I’d rather risk walking along the highway,” smiling into the darkness.

“Yeah whatever, good night,” he mumbles, pretending to be pissed off until you feel the tiniest, sweetest kiss to your shoulder.

You’re running late, as usual. Something about the bookings being fucked for tonight meaning you were either going to have a full restaurant or have absolutely no one show up.

It didn’t matter to you, not right now anyway because you’re jogging along the sidewalk to get to the dang café before Steve thinks you’ve abandoned him.

You’re huffing and puffing when you shove open the door, making a royal fool of yourself as anyone would believe you’ve just sprinted in a marathon to get here.

Steve jolts up the second he hears the door go, giving you a small wave from his table in the corner. It’s a relief that he hadn’t just up and left considering you were fifteen minutes late.

“I am so so sorry,” you say hurriedly, sliding into the other chair, “another crisis and obviously I’m the only one who’s capable of fixing things so..” you stop your rambling to look at him properly, “sorry- you don’t care, shit did you order?”

He chuckles nervously, “yeah.. I didn’t know what you wanted so I didn’t get you anything,” he stands up, “what d’ya get?”

“Uhh a cappuccino would be great.. thanks,” setting your bag down on the vacant chair beside you.

You chat about nothing and everything for a while until Steve turns the conversation back to high school. Now, you and Steve had a weird relationship during high school; hung around the same group, had a massive crush on the guy and was pretty certain that he at least liked you too. It had just never amounted to anything.

“I remember in school, you always used to cook shit for us.. it’s crazy that you’ve got your own restaurant now,” shaking his head in slight disbelief.

You’d bring tupperware full to the brim with whatever random shit you’d cooked up the night before. Forcing your friends to eat it and share their opinions no matter how harsh they could be.

“It’s not really my restaurant,” sipping the cappuccino he’d kindly bought, “I just run it and make sure it doesn’t burn down or go bankrupt,” laughing to yourself.

“So it’s technically yours..” fingers fiddling around with the empty sugar packet, “I’ll have to come by sometime, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

“I mean, I could probably get you in tomorrow.. if you wanted?”

“Well yeah, that sounds great,” smiling earnestly across the table.

“Great! I’ll text you the details later but you should definitely bring your wife, I’d love to meet her,” you vaguely remember seeing the extravagant wedding pictures on Facebook a few years back.

You hadn’t paid much attention as to who he’d married just recalled noticing the absolutely gargantuan manor house in the back and how stunning her dress was.

His smile fades and his mouth opens to speak but doesn’t manage to squeeze anything out. You get the feeling that that might have been the wrong thing to say. Immediately wanting to slide down your seat and hide under the table.

Steve takes it well though, laughing softly, “Ah.. not anymore but uh- thank you for bringing that back up,” playfully shaking his head.

“Oh no, oh my God.. I’m sorry,” grimacing because of your big fat mouth, “I thought I’d seen it on Facebook but maybe that wasn’t you.. oh fuck.”

“No.. it probably was me, we just- yeah not anymore,” wiggling his empty hand in your direction, only just now are you noticing the lack of a ring.

“I’m sorry,” smiling apologetically, “I’ve gotta ask though.. what happened?”

He sits back in his chair, preparing for the absolute novel of a story he was about to tell, “well, my dad moved me to New York, wanted me to learn how to be a man or whatever,” waving his arms about, “and I met the love of my life- I thought I met the love of my life.. we got married and it was great for a little while but she..” he inhales, recalling the still bitter memories, “..obviously didn’t feel the same way,” you’re sat eager eyed, waiting for the real gossip, “she was fucking her boss.. whole time.”

“Shittt…” baring your teeth in a pained expression, “that’s awful Steve, I’m so sorry,” gingerly patting his outstretched arm, “what a bitch.”

He nods along, “yeah she is,” his fingers drum a rhythm into the table, “that’s why I’m back here… I’m sick of New York.”

“God,” guilt rising into your chest for being the one to bring that back up, “at least you’re home now, right? Must be nice seeing everyone again,” your eyes flitting to your phone that had lit up for the umpteenth time.

eds:) : when r u coming back??

eds:) : helloooo?

eds:) : stop fucking ur boyfriend and come back 2 work

eds:) : i’m being serious now we need u

Steve follows your gaze to your phone screen, realising that you’d been sitting here for a while now and he’d just pulled you from your work to talk about his messy divorce. “Work?”

You look back at him, “yeah.. I’m gonna have to run, but I’ll get you a table for tomorrow,” pushing your chair back, grabbing for your bag, “bring whoever.. I’ll text you the details!” offering him a small smile as you rush out of the busy cafe not bothering to wait for his reply.

Eddie is just as irritating as expected when you get back, hanging off of your arm the second you walk in the door.

“So, you just had coffee? You were gone a long time, man,” an attempt to play off his jealousy, though it was hardly working.

“Don’t call me man, and yep, just coffee. Like I’ve said a hundred times before,” hanging up your bag and tying the apron around your waist.

“Right.. he wasn’t tryna do anything though, was he? ‘Cause I can tell him straight if you need me to,” hanging around your ankles like a lost puppy dog.

“He’s in the middle of a divorce. I don’t think you need to do anything, big boy,” gently patting his arm.

“Ohh so that’s why he’s back and trying to fuck you now.. I get his game.”

You turn to face him, sandwiched between his body and the rusty lockers, “will you just relax? Please,” running your hands down his chest.

Eddie frowns slightly, but nods, “he’s got nothin’ on me anyway..” a silhouette of a smirk forming on his face, “you know who’s givin’ it to ya good,” planting his lips on yours before you get the chance to express your utter disgust.

You’re smiling when he pulls back but push him away from you regardless, “do not ever say that shit to me again,” tightening the straps around your waist, walking away from the freak and into whatever hell awaits you in the kitchen.

It’s not very surprising that Steve comes in alone, your heart aches a little seeing him sat at the table on his own.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie is watching your face with a foul scowl on his. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you announce that you’re going to see how he is, practically snarling at the thought.

He knows the dish in front of him is Steve’s order, he’d audibly criticised the fact that Steve had removed the mushrooms from his food, is he a fucking toddler or something?

His eyes dart around the room, pursing his lips as he prepares to maybe just let the glob of spit fall out of his mouth and accidentally into Steve’s childish dinner.

“Don’t,” Tina’s hand clamps over his mouth, stopping his despicable plans in motion.

“I wasn’t actually gonna do it,” he protests, glowering at his co-worker. He definitely was going to do it and she knew it.

“Leave him alone,” flashing him that universally understood look that tells him not to even dare, “can you blame her, though? Meow,” grinning as her eyes flicker to you and Steve through the tiny window.

Eddie kisses the back of his teeth, whipping the dish towel at her, “ha ha very funny,” she’s desperate to rile him up as much as possible, taunting him with her mean quips.

His eyes slide to the window, met with the image of you absolutely cracking up at something Steve had said. It was the kinda laugh he loved to force out of you, usually late at night when you were overly tired and a little hazy. Unheard by most people. It was a slight comfort to know that Steve definitely wasn’t that funny, he could almost bank on it.

It’s like torture watching the pair of you interact for what feels like forever. Pulling his eyes away, deciding to go for a cigarette instead of putting himself through any more of that.

The air outside is still, it’s getting colder again but it seemed like Indiana was still hanging onto the dregs of summer; the sky illuminated with streaks of pink and orange. Maybe that’s what he was doing? Desperately clawing to keep your thing alive all the while you were trying to wriggle out of it.

He’s harshly pulled out of his self-pitying cloud, “Eddie?” you call out of the door, bounding over to where he was slouched against the brick wall, “thank you for doing that.. he said it’s great,” your toothy grin making an appearance.

Eddie grunts something in response, trying desperately not to think of you smiling at Steve like that.

“What? You okay? Why’re you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird,” he shrugs, lying through his teeth. He couldn’t help it, his heart twisting and contorting with every mention of that prick's name.

“Yes you are,” sighing softly, “you’re actually jealous? I thought you were just joking,” stepping toward him as he throws the cigarette to the floor.

His eyes eventually find yours, “I’m not.. jealous,” curling his finger into the bow of your apron strap, using it to pull you in, “I don’t get jealous,” another blatant lie.

“Mhm is that right?” you giggle, his behaviour over the past few days had proven that statement to be false. Wrapping your arms around his waist as your cheek begins to rest on his chest.

Desperately trying to convince himself that this is a sign. That if you’d really wanted to, you’d be in there, doing this with Steve. But you’re not. You’re here. You’re clinging onto him and everything is fine.

The door handle at the front of the store rattles a couple times before whoever is behind it gives up and knocks, you all look at each other slightly confused before Eddie takes the plunge and goes to answer. You’re standing behind the counter with a guarded expression, not prepared for whatever crazy was trying to get in at stupid o’clock in the morning.

Steve is standing behind the open door with an apologetic smile, holding up a takeaway cup obviously bought for you. Eddie is less than thrilled, skulking back into the kitchen with the most horrendous scowl plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry.. I should’ve text first,” kicking the door shut behind him, offering out the warm cup for you to take.

You breathe a sigh of relief, “yeah.. that would’ve been a good idea, thank you though,” gladly taking his offering.

“I just wanted to say thank you for last night, I didn’t catch you before I left so thought I’d stop by,” sipping on his own coffee, poised in the middle of the restaurant floor.

Eddie’s stood leaning against the wall that separates the kitchen from the front of house, arms crossed against his chest. Disapproving glare set solidly on Steve.

“Yeah absolutely, I’m glad you liked it,” smiling fondly at the man, sipping appreciatively on your cappuccino.

“I uh- I have a question for you,” his eyes flit to Eddie who was still stood with his eyes narrowed, scowling, “in private.. if that’s alright?”

You spin to look at Eddie, nodding towards the back, “I’ll meet you in my office in a minute,” shooing him off, “please.”

He snarls back at you, looking back over his shoulder to shoot daggers into Steve before eventually disappearing into the kitchen. For someone acting so jealous, you’d think you’d have been in a committed relationship for years.

Rolling your eyes as you trundle closer to Steve, “ignore him.”

“He a handful?”

“Mm and a mouthful sometimes,” perching on one of the tables, totally oblivious to your innuendo.

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead, blinking ferociously as you finally catch on.

“Oh no- I just meant he’s like.. rude,” stumbling over your words, cheeks beginning to burn.

“I know what you meant,” Steve assures, though he looked a little flustered himself.

Your eyes squeeze shut, “just continue,” rolling your hand, desperate for him to forget you’d opened your mouth.

He clears his throat, “so I was talking to my buddy.. he owns Garson’s in the city and he was saying there’s a spot opening for a sous,” glancing at you, “I just mentioned your name and I’ll give you his number but he said he’d love to meet you,” his mouth twitching into a smile.

Well, that was not at all what you were expecting.

In fact, it was a massive curveball ball that you’d not rehearsed a response to.

Garson’s was insane, they’d just earned their first star and everybody who was anybody was trying to get a reservation. It would be career defining to even stage there.

“Oh wow… Steve I actually don’t know how to reply to that,” placing your coffee onto the table in fear of dropping it on the floor.

“Well obviously think about it, I’ll text you his details later, he seemed pretty eager to get someone in so.. don’t take too long,” drumming his fingers onto the table.

“Yeah.. right, holy shit,” you remark, trying to take it all in. It’s unclear what to even say to him in this situation, thank you seemed too small but slathering his face in kisses was probably a step too far.

“I gotta go, let me know what you decide,” his smile honest and genuine as he grabs his coffee and heads to the door.

Just before he slips out, you jump back into action, “thank you!” beaming with pure unadulterated joy.

He nods, disappearing into the street as the door slams shut behind him.

You can barely contain yourself, practically skipping through the kitchen to go and find Eddie who you were absolutely certain was not going to share the same level of excitement you possessed.

“What’s got you so happy? He ask you out on a real date finally?” turning up his nose without you saying a word.

“Noo..” you chime in, still riding the high, kicking the door shut behind you, traipsing over to rest your hands on Eddie’s shoulders, “so.. Steve said there’s a position going in Garson’s and it’s basically mine if I want it..” struggling to contain your grin.

His hands falter, brushing down your sides to now hang limp beside him, “what?” Unsure if what he had heard had been correct.

“There’s a job at Garson’s and it’s basically mine.. isn’t that great?” grabbing at the back of his neck. You were expecting a little more happiness than this, you can’t lie.

He looks almost offended. Features screwed up in pure confusion, as if you’d insulted his mother. “So you’re leaving? Some fancy job pops up from your fancy pants boyfriend and you’re suddenly abandoning us?”

“Wha- no? I’m not abandoning anybody,” removing your arms from his shoulder, “this is an opportunity to actually do something with my career, show everyone what I’m capable of,” you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just pretend to be happy for you.

He stands up, the chair making a god-awful noise behind him, “so you get to come in here, change everything and then jump ship as soon as something better comes along?” eyes that once looked at you with pure adoration now full of disgust.

You’re gobsmacked. Utterly speechless that he was acting like such a petulant jerk. You hadn’t seen this side of him since that night so many months ago in this very office.

“Eddie, what has got into you? This is good news! You didn’t expect me to stay here forever, did you?”

“I don’t know,” exasperated, “I just didn’t expect you to run to the next best thing so soon,” he looks venomous, mean.

“I’m not! He’s my friend and he’s helping me out.. why are you being like this?” he may as well have torn your heart from your chest and stomped on it in front of you.

Eddie scoffs, running a hand over his mouth, “your friend… who you haven’t spoken to in years suddenly has this great new job for you and has absolutely no ulterior motive? Ha, right.”

It finally clicks in your brain, he doesn’t really give a shit whether you stay or go. This was about hating Steve and being a jealous loser despite still not asking you to be his girlfriend.

“That’s what this is about? You think Steve.. what? That he wants to fuck me? You’re pathetic, do you know that?”

“It’s not about that,” raising his voice, chest puffed out. This was the Eddie you’d met and hated six months ago. You were sure you’d never have to deal with that prick again. “I don’t.. I don’t care what or who you do, I just think you’re a traitor and I don’t want anything to do with someone like that.”

Your face falls, blinking rapidly as the tears prick in your eyes. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat. He could be an evil prick when he wanted to be and before, it never would’ve upset you this much. But now it felt personal, like you’d let him in only for him to use everything you’d told him against you.

“Get out,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction at least, waiting until the door is slammed in your face to let them fall.

Humiliated and utterly pathetic as you flop into the chair, letting the tears fall free.

If he was trying to convince you to stay, then he’d failed. Majorly.

You’re hidden in the office for the remainder of the day. Courtesy of Eddie’s horrible words.

And he’s just a ray of sunshine in the kitchen. Clattering about as he drops pans, recklessly launching knives and utensils onto the counter.

Marcus has had enough of his tantrum, tapping on his shoulder, “let’s get some fresh air, yeah?” steering Eddie towards the back alley.

He slides down the brick wall, cigarette poised between his lips while Marcus mouths something to the rest of the beady eyed staff.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Marcus asks, he’s genuine but stern. Has talked the boy down a multitude of times but this seemed different.

“She’s fucking leaving..” blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth, “some stuck up restaurant that dickhead Steve got her into.. that’s what’s wrong with me.”

Marcus’ mouth opens but doesn’t speak, deciding to get down to Eddie’s level, perching next to him on the floor, “and why’s that made you so angry? She break up with you as well or somethin’?” struggling to understand why he cares so much.

“No,” Eddie glowers at the floor, “you can’t break up if you’re not together. I’m just.. I’m pissed off, she came in here.. changed everything and now she gets to just move on like it’s nothing.”

Poor Marcus is trying to piece it all together in his head. Settling on the only sensible conclusion that maybe whatever was going on between you and him was perhaps a hell of a lot deeper than either of you were admitting.

“So.. you’re pissed that she made this shithole better? You sure that’s it?” questioning the validity of Eddie’s anger.

“What’re you tryna say?” Eddie snaps, gritting his teeth together. How dare Marcus not believe his incredibly flimsy words?

“That you’re not really angry ‘cause she’s moving on, you’re pissed because of this new guy and you think he’s.. he’s gonna take your spot or something? I can see right through you bro,” clapping his hand emphatically on Eddie’s shoulder, having caught him red handed.

Eddie glares at the man, snarling but unable to respond. Because he was right. Eddie is a pathetic, insecure loser who can’t bring himself to just admit to you that he was jealous of Steve. It was easier for him to just make you hate him than to be honest with you about how he felt, at least that way you didn’t have the opportunity to shut him down. You couldn’t reject him if you didn’t know.

“You’re gonna fuck this up forever if you keep acting like this,” Marcus sighs, getting up from the floor, “get in there and apologise or you’ll just push her right into his arms and I really don’t wanna deal with you if that happens,” flashing him a stern but well-meaning glare before disappearing back into the kitchen.

His eyes squeeze shut, and as much as he didn’t want to hear that, he knew he was right. Self-sabotage had always been his forte except this time he was truly terrified of the possibility of losing you. And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

There’s a quiet knock on your office door and you’re just about prepared to bite the head off of whoever dares to disturb you.

“Come in,” you bark, dropping the pen onto the desk in frustration.

A very meek Eddie peeks around the door, testing the waters to decide if it’s safe to fully come in without you throwing something at him.

Nothing collides with his head so he pushes the door open, holding onto a plate of pasta he’d made especially for you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, still deciding on the right words to say.

“You haven’t eaten all day..” he decides on, gingerly placing the plate in front of you on the desk, “you don’t have to eat it but don’t throw it away,” stepping back from the desk with extreme caution.

You’re taken aback, not at all expecting the kind gesture, blinking at the delicious food in front of you. “Can I have a fork..?”

“Shit yes I got one,” digging in his apron pocket for the utensil, laying it down next to the plate gently.

“Thank you,” you nod, poking your fork into the food. It is delicious and it was still warm which is an even better bonus.

He smiles slightly, “I wanted to say.. I’m sorry for being an asshole, you should..” trailing off into silence, swallowing the lump in his throat, “you should go for it, it’s a great opportunity,” reassuring himself even if he didn’t quite believe it.

You chew slowly, apprehensive about his sudden change in attitude. This surely hadn’t been a conclusion he’d reached on his own and you wonder just who in the kitchen had given him a pep talk before sending him in here. You appreciated it nonetheless. As weird and complicated as you guys were, you weren’t quite ready to give it up already.

“Really?” you look up, trying to gauge his reaction. It was evident that he was putting on a brave front and he still had some apprehensions about it all but for you he was willing to ignore them.

Your heart swells. Which makes you feel a little sick. In a good way though, well, you think so anyway.

“Yeah.. you’re a great chef and you deserve better than this shithole,” one side of his mouth twisting into a smile. The words are heavy and difficult to get out, but they’re true. He means it and would really do anything to ensure you were happy. Even if it did mean swallowing his pride and letting you follow that douchebag Steve.

You stand from your chair, rushing over to wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you..” resting your chin on his shoulder. His arms wrap around your waist, placing a soft kiss upon your forehead.

He was going to miss these little moments the most, he thinks. Shaking his head slightly when his mind flits to the thought of you in some other kitchen doing this with someone other than him.

“You want some food? Don’t wanna eat this whole thing myself,” pulling away from his grip, motioning back towards your desk.

“Thought you’d never ask,” masking the ache in his heart with a sloppy grin.

If his uncle had taught him anything, it was that you had to make sacrifices for the people you loved. Or thought you loved. Whatever.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to show his stupid little face again and it irks Eddie to know that you were probably texting with him this entire time. Getting excited about this new position with another man. Blergh. It was knocking him sick.

You look over Steve’s shoulder to give Eddie a small glance, smiling ever so tenderly as you disappear into your office. That should be enough confirmation that he truly had nothing to worry about. It was just a job. Oh God, what if you find someone else to bicker with? Look what had happened to you two.

That sicky feeling returns and he wants to bolt. But he doesn’t, he’s big and brave and instead chooses to focus on finely dicing some onions until you reemerge from your office. Whenever the fuck that would be.

It must be a whole half an hour before Steve walks through the kitchen, giving Eddie a sly pat on the back on the way out. Smug prick. He just grips the knife tighter, waiting for you to confirm that you’d be gone next week and that he should really start moving on before you left.

“Ed’s can I talk to you outside?” your voice snaps him out of his pity party, giving the rest of the crew what looked like a sympathetic smile, you’d tell all of them the bad news later.

He knew this was it. You were about to lay it all bare, tell him it’s okay, maybe we can still be friends? I hope you understand but I have to go and work at this fancy restaurant with my fancy high school boyfriend, sorry!

Reluctantly walking into the alley way, the alley way you’d shared many sneaky kisses, reassuring words and that one time you’d got carried away and almost gave him a hand job right then and there. It was painful, the once comforting aura of the brick walls had since vanished.

He’s already bracing for the worst, keeping his back to you as he walks further down the path. It’s the only way he could be sure that he wouldn’t end up begging on his knees for you to stay. And even then he couldn’t guarantee that wouldn’t happen.

“Will you look at me?” your voice echoing through his veins.

He does, turning on his heel excruciatingly slow. Bottom lip starting to sting as his teeth cut into the skin.

“When are you going?” solemn and miserable, honestly trying his hardest not to start pleading with you.

“Never,” shaking your head, “I’m staying here,” feeling incredibly smug. You looked it too, nose scrunched up as you grin at him.

Fuck. He’s not even sure if he’s heard that right. But the blood rushes back through his body and he almost crumbles, falling to his knees to thank whichever being up there had answered his prayers. The glum look he’d seemed to possess had vanished, grinning like a fucking maniac as he bounds over to you. One minute you’re on the floor and the next you’re being spun around, his arms almost crushing you.

“What? Why’d you change your mind? I- fuck I’m so happy,” setting you back on solid ground, much to your relief.

“Well, the thing is.. there’s this guy who works here, he’s a bit of an asshole but for some reason I really like him and he’s convinced me to stay,” fingers digging into his biceps, still afraid that you might become airborne at any moment.

There’s not time to catch your breath before he’s crashing his lips into yours with great force, sending you flying backwards against the wall. His hands grabbing at anything he could touch, travelling the length of your body to brace your cheeks. Keeping you steady, making sure this was actually real. Christ, he thinks he loves you.

Scrap that, he’s fucking certain that he loves you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic

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sugarywishes · 1 year

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I'VE FINALLY FINISHED MY QUINN AND TIMM TIMELINE 😎 (it's not as cool as it sounds but it would be rad if you CHECKED IT OUT!!)

Childhood

So *ahem* (🤓) in my little silly headcanon world, Quinn comes from a very academic oriented family. You either study and become successful or you become a failure (just like her sister). And as the 'savior/golden child' of her family, she was very often pressured into becoming as successful and educated as possible, even if it meant she would be surrounded by books and essays all throughout her childhood. (And also she had no friends :( )

As for Timm, he's always had the 'competitive dancer' dream, even as a little kid! But growing up in a relatively less than financially stable environment, he soon realized that maybe his dream career could possibly end in failure (homelessness, broke etc) , and maybe it wasn't worth risking your future for a childish dream. So he tried his best to forget and studied as much as he could, he'd rather settle for a well-paying job that a dream that could totally fail, right? (Also he was totally a theater kid growing up I MEAN COME ON HIS HALLOWEEN COSTUME IN THE GAMES IS LITERALLY ERIK)

Law School Days (awe yeaaa)

(Can you tell I am indeed very consistent with my art, no random anatomy or facial structure changes here!)

Huzzah! We've made it to the time period where they find meet!!

So at this point, Quinn is jaded and studious and stuff, and dislikes talking to anybody (which includes professors/teachers LMAO, she needed to stay on that independent knowledge grind) and by a random coincidence, she happened to have classes with none other than Timm himself, she found him very annoying at first but by the end of her education, she was more than ready to marry him

And Timm is still a huge dork, albeit a very burnt out dork, he studied long and hard to be able to have a well-paying career, and now he's at law school! Surely he'll enjoy a life as a rich lawyer, right? Anyways, he accidentally got a crush on that mean and quiet chick in his classes, so what better way to get with her than to ask her out to any event the school had! For the first few years she'd reject him immediately, but eventually she caved in, and hey! They got married, what a wonderful couple! Hopefully they sta-

POST DIVORCE ERA 🔥🔥🔥

So...uh, what exactly happened?

Quinn woke up around 4 AM (yes really, that's when she always gets up for work), and she expected to find her husband of many years still sleep and she'd had to wake him up. She didn't find him, the left side of the bed was empty with the exception of his wedding ring, a hastily written note that doesn't explain shit, and divorce papers with his signature already on it.

So needless to say, she's still really pissed off about that, and petty too (she renamed Quinn, Timm and Associates to LITERALLY Just Quinn and Associates!!) And she refuses to acknowledge her marriage with Timm (Penny keeps pestering her about it but Quinn just dodges the questions everytime)

And oh boy, Timm, HE REALLY MESSED UP, like yeah, you were miserable with your life as a lawyer and you didn't feel like your true self at all, but you couldn't have waited to get a divorce until Quinn woke up?? And blah blah blah, the events of Papa's Bakeria happen, Cecilia canonically gets the dance studio, leaving Timm to STILL work at the Bakeria (at least until he can actually get money, he left all of his to Quinn as compensation for literally abandoning her 😭😭)

ALSO ALSO!! Super funny little detail I wanted to mention, but when Quinn and Timm were announced as divorced, both of their respective families CELEBRATED (Quinn's parents had what was essentially a birthday party styled divorce celebration, complete with pinatas and goodie bags) (And Timm's family partied like there was no tomorrow) Quinn's family thought Timm was an idiot who wanted to marry Quinn to steal her money, and Timm's family thought Quinn was some mean and cruel woman who was going to isolate Timm away from them (You can tell how upset the families will be when Quimm gets back together 👀)

*DON'T REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION*

*NO RESUBIR SIN PERMISO*

*НЕ РЕПОСТИТЬ БЕЗ РАЗРЕШЕНИЯ*

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love--galore · 1 year

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bullet train // gojo satoru x fem!reader AU!

˗ˏˋ PAIRING ˎˊ˗ gojo satoru x fem!reader

˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ˎˊ˗ gojo is an assassin who boards a bullet train to complete a mission. little does he know you were also called to the train for the same mission. (inspired heavily by netflix’s new movie, “bullet train”)

˗ˏˋNOTE ˎˊ˗ : word count: 2.9k. y'all go watch the "bullet train" movie on netflix right now if you can! it's so good and funny! idk what made me write gojo into it lmao but hopefully y'all like the short story au. sorry for being MIA and sorry this is not edited so forgive me! !

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Gojo did not usually take cases on trains, let alone the fastest bullet train.

The motion of the high-speed train paired with the lack of mobility of being squeezed into a tight metal vehicle provided little room for error and escape, but this mission was an exception.

According to his mission leader, this mission was an open and shut case. Acquire a briefcase with ten million dollars, and get off at the next station. He was pretty good at treasure hunting, anyway, so there he was, flipping through a magazine as he sat in the cramped seating area of the economy cart.

Today was a holiday, so not many people were boarding the train, which also made his job easier. Less people to be caught in the crossfire and witness the bloody requirements of being an assassin.

However, a young woman sat in the seats across from his own. You wore a neutral coat and a cream white scarf that was tucked neatly into the collar and were slowly flipping the pages of a thick hardcover novel, deeply engaged in whatever it was you were reading.

It was a shame you might have to witness the likely traumatic events that were to come in the near future, but if fate put you on this train today, then that was that.

Gojo sipped on his ice water, waiting for the train to depart from the station so that he could ensure the amount of people on the train. According to his current count, it was 22.

“The train will depart in one minute.” The automated voice crackled overhead, and Gojo set his magazine down to check his phone. His mission leader had texted.

“The briefcase is silver with a train sticker on the handle. Be cautious of the other professionals who are also seeking the money.”

Gojo chuckled to himself. As if he needed the reminder. It was unknown who was also searching for the briefcase, but any assassin hired to acquire the money would be extremely alert for the potential of someone stealing their ten million dollars away.

Gojo was confident, however. Besides his natural talent for his unusual occupation, he was rather lucky, he would say.

The train departed shortly after the announcement, and Gojo slowly rose to his feet to stretch. As he stretched, he observed the amount of people in the cart. Besides him and you, there were four other occupants sitting by the automatic sliding doors approximately twenty feet from where the both of you sat.

He moved to the aisle just as you stood up and met him in the middle.

“Oh, my apologies.” You said, your voice a soft and sweet sound. He tilted his gaze down and met your innocent eyes.

“No, it’s my fault. You can go ahead.” He replied, and you bowed your head swiftly, shifting to the right, but suddenly, you tripped, seemingly over your own two feet, and fell straight into his chest. The two of you fell ungracefully back onto his side of the aisle.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!” You exclaimed, reeling back.

Gojo chuckled. “No, really. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Your eyes widened and you turned away, a pink blush flushing your cheeks. You slowly and shyly took the seat next to him and tucked your hair behind your ears, offering your hand.

“I-I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Gojo raised his eyebrow at the sudden introduction, but took your hand anyway, shaking it gently. Your hands were soft and warm compared to his calloused fingers.

“Nanami Kento.” He lied. His partner would literally kill him if he knew he was using his name as his own during solo missions. Too bad he was hung up with stomach problems to attend.

“Nice to meet you, Nanami-san. Where are you headed off to?” Your interest in him made him automatically suspicious, but he already observed the bags beside you which were a mere hand purse and a plastic shopping bag. You were not a threat. Maybe just a girl intrigued. He had that effect on women.

“I’m late to visit family for the holiday,” He replied. “And you?”

“Me too. I’m a student at the local university and had to finish my exams first, sadly.” Your voice was so sincere and innocent. If he wasn’t on a mission, he would gladly entertain your curiosity.

“Oh, is that so? What are you studying?” He didn't want to draw out the conversation, but he had time to spare.

“Political Science. I’m trying to become a lawyer.” Your smile was shy and a faint blush remained on your cheeks. He wished he didn’t have a gun in his jacket.

“That’s cool... but I do have to go to the restroom if you would excuse me for a moment.”

You stood up quickly and you bowed your head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude-”

“No worries, love. I'm glad we bumped into each other.” He smiled. You smiled, too, then promptly moved back to your seat.

He then made his way to the restroom which was located behind your seat, and checked his phone after sliding the door closed.

His mission leader texted again.

“Intel reported that the other assassin has likely boarded. Be on the lookout.”

He rolled his eyes. Of course he would know that. Who did they think he was? Some amateur?

Gojo washed his hands and returned to his seat. He glanced over to you and your eyes remained on your phone, scrolling through social media. He wondered what he would do if he wasn’t taking on assassination missions for a living. He considered becoming a police officer when he was younger, ironically, but that idea was long gone with his lengthy critical history.

A woman strolled down the aisle pushing a beverage cart. She turned to you, who asked for champagne. Classy, but alcohol on a train? He didn’t ask where you were going, but maybe you had a longer journey ahead. Hopefully you left before the carnage began.

Gojo declined a drink and moved to wander the train. He had to find the briefcase sooner than the other assassin. Not that he couldn’t take on whoever was also looking for the money. It would just make his job simpler.

As he passed through the various carts, he counted the heads of the occupants and glanced at each person’s profile. He passed an elderly woman, a young couple, and a handful of lone men. He scanned the men, the bags they had and jackets they wore. Some of whom were not wearing one, so he wrote them off on his list of suspects. But one, in particular, wore a heavy dark coat.

The balding man looked to be middle-aged with a newspaper across his lap and a hand resting on a plastic water bottle. This man sat in the cart in front of his own and glanced up at Gojo as he walked by.

Bingo.

Gojo asked a worker for the dining area as a cover for wandering the train, and followed their direction to the cart ahead. He checked his phone again, but no text.

As he reached the dining area, the train stopped and people slowly filtered out. At this point in the evening, there weren't many people boarding. Now was his time.

He waited until the aisles were clear before checking the luggage shelves in between each cart. There were large suitcases and bags, but no briefcase. He did find one, but it was black and did not have a train sticker on the handle.

He sighed in disappointment and returned to his seat. He could not afford to be greedy and risk blowing his cover. He would try to find the briefcase again at the next stop.

As he made his way to his seat, he found the suspicious balding man who had left his original cart and was looming over you. Your eyes were wide with fear, and without a second thought, Gojo grabbed the man's shoulders and threw him across the aisle. He apologized internally for letting you witness the sudden violence before promptly slamming the man’s forehead onto the window. The man slumped down quickly, falling limply onto the seat.

“Sorry about that, love. I can explain-” Gojo laughed, preparing to lie through his teeth once again, but as he turned around, he was met with the metal barrel of a pistol.

You were on your feet now, pointing the gun between his nose and smirking as you met his shocked gaze. Your sly expression made you almost unrecognizable, and Gojo realized that he had been deceived, and so cleverly. It was always the innocent ones.

“Thanks for taking care of him. Makes my job easier.” You said, and Gojo raised his arms in surrender.

“I shouldn’t have underestimated you.” He chuckled, but your slim finger shifted, clicking the gun.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” Your voice is harder and deeper than before. If he wasn’t staring at a gun, he would have taken notes from your clever deception strategy. But before vocalizing his respect, he swung his arm up and grabbed the side of the gun, pushing the barrel down.

A stray shot rung in the air and hit the floor, but you were quick to counter, pivoting until your back was to his chest, and slammed your elbow backwards into his ribs.

The pain was surprisingly harsh given your much smaller stature. Gojo resisted a smile. While unexpected, this turn of events was rather interesting. Dare he say- fun?

The two of you struggled to gain control of the weapon. Your back was still to him as you continued shoving your free arm back into his groin, but Gojo grabbed your shoulder and shoved you forward.

You were stubborn, however, never letting your grip up on the gun. Gojo closed the distance between you again, using his free hand to push the gun to the floor. It dropped beneath a seat, and you turned around, throwing a meticulous punch aimed at his throat. He dodged swiftly and jumped back, mimicking your stance with your fists raised and knees bent.

He tried to withhold his laughter, but he proved unable and your eyes narrowed as if he was your deepest enemy.

“I’ve never put my hands on a girl before. Guess today’s the day.” He teased, and you clicked your tongue.

“Surprising coming from you, Satoru. You seem like a violent kind of partner.”

“Ouch.” Did he really? He considered himself a gentleman. “And we’re on a first name basis, now?”

“Cut the shit.” You cursed, and Gojo could not help but smile as he reached for his own gun from his jacket.

You were swift as you charged him, aiming your fist for his jaw with practiced precision. He finally slipped his gun from his jacket, but you revealed another weapon, a dagger, and with a reverse grip, you swiped at his bicep. The metal left a long cut on his skin and he hissed, shoving his shoulder into yours until you stumbled backwards.

You did not know how to stop, however, reaching for your hardcover book and flinging the novel at his face. The spine flew towards him, but he caught the book with his left hand, throwing it to the side. In those moments, you closed the distance and shot your heeled foot into his stomach.

Gojo winced from the impact, but grabbed your heel before you recoiled and yanked your body towards him. You stumbled forward and he caught your neck with his free arm, spinning behind you and lifting your chin up in a tight chokehold. He pressed his gun to your temple as you clawed his arm with your hands.

“Won’t hit a girl, but shooting is fair game?” You questioned as you gasped for air, and Gojo laughed, leaning closer to your ear as he stood behind you.

“Of course not, sweetheart. I just want to know who sent you, that’s all.”

You kept your grip firm on his arm that was tight around your neck, but loose enough for you to speak. “I was c-contracted to obtain the briefcase, but I don’t know who sent me.”

“Interesting.” Gojo tapped his chin with the barrel of his gun. “A tad suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Desperate times.” You replied dryly, still attempting to pull his arm down.

“How about this…” Gojo pressed the barrel back onto your temple. “You agree to forget this mission, I let you walk free at the next stop, and this can all be over.”

He smiled as you huffed for air. “W-Why would you do that?”

Gojo shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t find a reason for killing a pretty girl. It’s against my morals.”

The bald man groaned and shifted in the seat, and Gojo did not hesitate to click the gun and shoot the man. You strained your neck to look at the man who now laid dead in Gojo’s seat. Your forehead drenched with sweat. Even as you faced away, you could see the sly grin sitting on the pale-haired man’s face.

But before you could reply, you heard low voices and saw the outline of multiple shadows approaching the sliding door. Gojo ducked and shoved your body back to your seat, and you gasped for air as multiple shots rang in the air. Your hand quickly settled on your stray gun.

Gojo clenched his jaw as he peered above the seat, firing at the group of three men who were charging towards the two of you, hitting two of them in the shoulder and one in the chest. They tumbled down onto the aisle, and without thinking, Gojo grabbed your arm and yanked you up to your feet, dragging you out of the cart and into the neighboring one.

“What the hell are you doing?” You jerked violently but his grip was firm.

“I’m guessing the person who sent you wants you dead.” He replied, continuing to pull you further down the train.

You glanced behind you at the group of the men lying lifeless in the previous cart’s aisle.

Gojo dropped your arm and began shoving stray luggage items in front of the door, barricading the area.

“Y-You’re insane.” You breathed, watching as he peered through the window of the door.

“I know.” He quipped, still barricading the door. “But I just saved your life, so you kind of owe me now.”

“I…” You began, but you were at a loss for words. Just a minute ago, you were pointing guns at each other, and now you were confidants? You pointed your gun back onto the pale-haired man, and he raised his arms up.

“Hey, I know the person who put up the ransom.” Gojo revealed. You raised your eyebrow and he met your confused stare. His piercing blue eyes were no longer playful, and an unreadable emotion took the previous expression’s place.

“Who is it?” You demanded, and he dusted off his jacket, his eyes turned towards the ground.

“He’s a drug and gang lord named Sukuna. The Red Curse.”

Your mind spun as you recalled the name. You completed a mission taking out a person from his gang, an advisor.

“Fuck.” You breathed.

“Yeah, he’s not someone you want to mess with.” He shrugged. “Well, I guess we’re already too late.”

“When’s the next stop?” You glanced towards the window as the city flew by, maintaining your gun that was pointed at his head.

“Considering we’ve been lured here, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve taken control of the train by now.”

You glared at him as if he was the reason you were sent onto the train. “So we’re stuck?”

“Yes, most likely. Until we take out him and his little followers, that is.” Gojo replied.

You sighed, closing your eyes and touching your temple.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ve got this all under control.” He grinned.

“You knew about this?” You accused, clicking your gun.

“No, but I’m the best there is, so it would be in your best interest not to kill me.” He replied casually as if there wasn’t likely an entire gang chasing you as you spoke.

“That’s not very reassuring.” You said dryly. “And why are you even trusting me?”

Gojo laughed, a deep baritone sound. “I don’t know…But I feel like I'd rather have you than no one. Helps that you're pretty, too."

His words made you utterly speechless. From what you knew, Gojo Satoru was one of the best assassins out there. But here he was, calling you pretty?

“Aww, you’re blushing.” He pointed out.

“I am not!” You aimed the gun mere inches from his face as a warning. The bullet hit the wall behind him, and Gojo let out a slow whistle. “And we could be killed if you keep this annoying act up.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He said casually. Part of you wanted to believe him, that you could get off the train with your life and leave this mission behind, but the two of you have found yourselves in an impossible situation. His confidence, however, while very vain, was slightly reassuring.

You return to your current reality and quickly shed your coat, unraveling your scarf. As you revealed another dagger tucked into your coat sleeve and the bulletproof fabric across your chest, you did not miss the intense stare from the man beside you, your new partner.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen prompt #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru fluff #gojo #satoru #satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk fluff #satoru fluff

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nikathesiren · 2 months

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Not-Jojo content for a hot minute! Let's talk about the Borderlands movie...

First things first, I don't know if you know this, but my nickname comes from Borderlands. Although now I only talk and draw about Jojo's, I'm still a big fan of the Borderlands games.

When I played the first game, I loved the concept about sirens, and it was back then when I started using my actual nickname (circa 2010). Then, when Borderlands 2 came out, I was obsessed with Handsome Jack. And when I say obsessed, I mean OBSESSED with huge and bold capital letters. I consider Borderlands 2 the best Borderlands game of them all, and The Pre-Sequel is a close one just because of my full Jack obsession, lol.

Keep reading for my opinion about the trailer...

I don't remember when they announced that they were making a Borderlands movie, maybe 2017-ish??? I was extremely excited, thinking that they would adapt the story of the games (back then, I think Borderlands 3 wasn't even announced, but they could have started as a trilogy...). I even fantasized about the idea of Dameon Clarke, Handsome Jack's VA in English, being Jack in the movie as well. But that dream was long gone when I read that the film would not exactly follow up the story we all know. And the wait to see something about this movie was LONG.

I finally watched the trailer when they released it, and even it's not the story I was hoping to see... I kinda like it. I didn't feel the hype I expected being a huge Borderlands fan, but I think I can still enjoy it. Some stuff from the movie feels off (like Roland's personality... he doesn't feel like Roland at all... and where are Lilith siren tattoos!?!?!?), but other stuff feels total in the style of Borderlands (people bullying Claptrap in some way is a must). The movie has its flaws, but people on Reddit keep bitching about Lilith and Tannis being too old, Roland being too short... ugh, I don't fucking care about the cast not being aesthetically perfect (but I admit that I would have liked them to). If the actors and actresses do a good job interpreting their characters and the story fits the Borderlands' universe with good humor and action, I'll consider myself lucky.

That was my impression of the trailer in English, but I'm from Spain, so the next day I watched the trailer again, but dubbed in Spanish, and... it felt way funnier! At least Tina's phrases sounded funnier for me (instead of saying "it's in my mouth!" she says "I swallowed it" lmao), and some voices suit the characters better than the original ones. Usually, it's the other way around, lol!

I think the localization will improve the movie for me, and that gives me some hope to enjoy the movie besides all the bitching on Reddit. Seriously, guys, stop complaining about people's bodies... there are other things to be criticized...

To try to introduce myself into the mood, maybe I'll do a redraw of an old Borderlands fanart... it'll be coming soon!

#personal #borderlands #borderlands movie #opinion #i tried to be respectful #at least I'm more respectful than some people out there

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lavenoon · 1 year

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Imagining Dawn and Robin get called to separate day missions unexpectedly and both desperately claw to find valid excuses to slip away and do their job without being “that” person who leaves every social interaction

Anon your mind. It keeps happening, and they're both so preoccupied with their own social blunders they don't even notice the same thing happening with the other lmao

In fact, have a little drabble though be warned, it's been a while since I published some writing

Your phone chimes, that particular sound announcing work specifically, and there's a twitch in your easy smile as Sun tells you about his latest project. It's rude to interrupt him, you know that, but the urgency combined with his extensive explanation has you biting the bullet.

"No, yeah, a birdhouse for the garden sounds great! You don't need to ask, really, you rent it too and as long as it's nothing permanent, I don't really mind."

"Great!"

There's still a certain stiffness to him, and you fear you only worried him more with your rudeness as you watch him wring his hands.

"A birdhouse... Will surely liven up the place."

A soft hum from his pants - now his phone is going off, too. Faint as they are, you see his pupils flicker down, and jump on the chance.

"Do you want to -"

"Yes! Yes, could be urgent. You also?"

"Ah, yup, yes, didn't want to be rude -"

"Of course, yes, I won't be offended."

You manage a tight-lipped smile at the awkwardness, but then take out your phone to check the message.

Great. A spontaneous mission - your least favorite. Today was supposed to be your day off, too. You mutter some half-audible expletives under your breath, though you miss how Sun turns to look at you at that.

"Something bad?"

You jump, quickly turning off the screen and shoving the phone back into your pocket.

"Ah, no! I mean, uh, just something. With work, they, well, need me to come in. Unexpectedly."

Sun's smile may be permanent, but you can see his expression fall nonetheless. You try not to think about that too hard.

"They really shouldn't demand your time like that. Can you decline?"

Oh, if only he knew. You chuckle.

"Unfortunately no. It's okay though, really."

His frown tells you that he isn't convinced, so you scramble for a deflection.

"What about yours? Nothing bad either, I hope?"

Wrong move - the tension is back. Curse you and your fast mouth.

"... Also work, a slight... change of plans. Neutral, as far as changes go."

The curiosity really is killing you, but you're not sure the satisfaction would be enough to make up for the risk of having him ask for details, too. Sun is a good tenant, and you'd hate to lose him, for multiple reasons. So you'll simply have to live with the mystery. You'll get a birdhouse for your trouble, even.

You still need to exit this interaction stat though. Time waits for no one.

"Soo..."

You trail off with an awkward wince, and you swear Sun's hand (still holding his phone) twitches. As if noticing your look, he glances down at it before pocketing it again.

"I really don't mean to be rude -"

Yes, good, perfect.

"No, no, it's all good! Work's important, and all that!"

"I suppose you also have to get ready?"

"A-yup, might need to. Need to hurry, actually -"

"Well, don't let me keep you!"

Both of you fumble slightly, and the embarrassment at how clumsily you're handling this is almost enough to make you shrivel up right then and there. Your only saving grave is the fact that Sun struggles just as much, wringing his hands until you can hear them creak.

You take a step back towards your door, and he takes it as an excuse to take a step towards his door, too. He blindly reaches for the handle, but finds it immediately. You're not quite so lucky, and miss it on your first try.

"Good luck! I do hope that one coworker will leave you be!"

Oh, right, Dusk. You don't think you'll see him today, you don't think you've seen him during any of your day missions. That's a thought to pocket for later...

"Right! Same to you, hope things go smoothly! Looking forward to that birdhouse!"

By now the awkwardness is so palpable, you don't blame him for freezing. Your grin feels pretty stiff by now, too. You both duck further into your spaces, a tense chuckle shared between you.

"Quite, yes, I'll - I'll let you know when I finish."

"Bye!"

"Goodbye!"

Two doors click shut, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Time for work.

#answer let luce #anonymous #fnaf sb #fnaf sb au #fnaf sun #accidentally undercover #was stuck on the other thing I was writing so this came in at just the right time lmao #they're both so stupid <3 #so relieved when the other isn't obviously mad but still feel bad about their own excuses lmao #okay draw time. maybe #not beta read obviously we die like men here #my fic

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arlecchno · 1 year

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asphodelus

scaramouche x fem!reader, a purple hyacinth au.

masterpost

full masterlist of my works.

being an exceptional detective isn't always an ideal job— yet scaramouche's ability to read through lies has made him the person he is today. an unfortunate event of a showdown with him while on the run have arisen a very promising deal that could benefit the both of you. with everything happening in teyvat, his only plan right now is to fight evil and avenge the people he loved— even if it means teaming up with you, the deadliest assassin from the most feared organization of all.

wanna join the taglist?

enemies to lovers, slow burn, detective!scara x assassin!reader

warnings: graphic violence, lots of murder & suicide mentions, blood, guns, reader uses a dagger, alcohol consumption, very slow burn, death mentions, assassination, mostly scara's pov, abduction, tragedies, bombs, angst, angst, angst. will add more in the future.

status: ongoing (hiatus)

extra note: most povs will be in scaramouche's perspective.

1. prologue.

2. the dendrobrium.

3. a dreadful deal.

4. sparrings and duels.

5. you're on your own, kid.

6. tba

other chapters will be announced soon.

a/n: couldn't resist myself from letting this rot in my drafts. i just had to post this now or else this will eat me up terribly. crime and murder are my forte now no one can change my mind... i won't start this series until mid january as my finals will end on the 11th and i need time to adjust with a new fic lmao. while waiting, maybe reading my other work, mission accomplished, will kill you some time 🤫 and maybe your next target too.

extra note: this series is highly inspired by the webtoon purple hyacinth, therefore its settings and themes will be influenced by the webtoon itself. i do recommend on giving purple hyacinth a read, it's a really good webtoon!!!! with so much angst

#scaramouche x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche #genshin impact #genshin x you #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #h✧˖— asphodelus

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emblazons · 1 year

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As much as I dislike that we will probably get a delayed season (in most likely 2025 lets be real), I also would not want a rushed sort of production or writing for the show's last season. Also the strike is important.... and i think it does extent the writers but also that other production staff is involved too. Idk, i definitely get some ppl's frustration but also that it is a needed strike.

I mean (and this isn't directed at you, but generally)...I get the frustration as a consumer, but as a young professional and often creative worker, I say let them go as long as they need to for the protections they deserve. I don't mind waiting two more years for my favorite show if it means writers and showrunners get the professional respect they need to not struggle to live—especially given how they've dedicated themselves to a job that so many people enjoy constantly, despite not valuing it as much as they should.

sidenote: I know a lot of people outside of this anon will probably read this, so I've included links to things explaining/detailing the points I've made here, just in case you're new to writer's strikes or how the ST production staff fits in.

That said: given that this strike means that writers and showrunners won't be on set for shows still filming, in the editing room or the sound stage, I'm fairly certain the production on Stranger Things will come to a clear halt beyond a few scenes they might want to get done that don't require much oversight from The Duffers—especially given that Matt and Ross are both WGA members on top of being writers and showrunners, and therefore are literally bound not to do work while the strike is on (x)

We also know for a fact that M&R do writing while on set and filming (see: the scene they added with Jonathan in the SBP being written as filming was happening)—

—which they aren't allowed to do anymore either...leaving Stranger Things especially in a clear "this has to halt" place, given that the masterminds/primary storytellers behind ST are obligated not to do their job right now.

While it does give a bit of comfort to know that ST is so deeply tied to The Duffers themselves as storytellers as much as showrunners, networks have historically tried to have everyone from novelists to novices outside the WGA write scripts during writer's strikes—hence the clear drops in quality in shows throughout the 2007 strike (iykyk), and why there is still some concern on my end should this strike go on long enough for Netflix to get antsy and start trying to get back to production on one of their most popular shows.

The UK Writers Guild has announced their solidarity with American writers in the hopes that they won't take on US projects to accommodate networks as the WGA strikes, but. If this goes on for a long time, I don't think it's impossible that several shows people love won't be cancelled or extremely delayed, or that Netflix won't get testy with ST. If networks start doing what they did the last time though, we might get some really shitty TV (and really bad seasons) for a solid year before we recover from the damage of the strike...even outside of anything that goes on with Hawkins lmao.

That said, Stranger Things is in the (blessed) position to have already had 9 months of writing + being ready for filming as soon as the strike is over, so. For most of us here, it's just going to be a waiting game....which. I mean. Like I said before, I'll take another three year turnaround if it means the quality of the show stays high, and The Duffers (and their wider writers room) get to "stick their landing" the way they've talked about before.

This got long sorry lmao. But still—given what's probably going to happen to a lot of shows during this strike, I'd day we're rather lucky as a fandom, so long as we're open to being patient.

Thanks for the ask!

#yes. yes I I did do deep dive research on this to soothe my nerves yesterday lmao #also dying that the dash is yelling about cheating mike and I'm just like 'BUT THE WRITERS STRIKE' lmao I'm somewhere else entirely #asks #do the write thing

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pianocat939 · 1 year

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Ik I've only done announcements in the last couple of days instead of writing (apologies for that) but anyway, I'm gonna start doing commissions soon.

Now before people start saying like "You already have so much shit to do"- I have a reason why I'm doing this.

In simple words, I need money to buy a car. As a busy, devoted band/music kid, I am going to lots of events nonstop. And well, it would be nice to not have to wait for my family every time I need to go home.

Now, when I say I'm doing commissions that does not mean I'm going to stop taking requests for this blog. It's just if you want to help this shitty writer not take a job of working with greasy weirdo ppl at a restaraunt, then please, be willing to pay me for some sleep deprived writing.

So my plans for like commissions is basically the same as my requests, except I'm more open to different topics.

I want to write for more fandoms, only because I think it gets a bit too repetitive if I ONLY write for turtles- not that I'm necessarily bored of them or anything.

I'm thinking (Other than TMNT)

Twst (Ik this came out of nowhere, but I love Riddle ok?)

HxH (You know the Wattpad fic sugar and Molasses? Yeah that was 13 year old me btw-)

Splatoon

Disney. Yes Disney. (Ok hear me out some of the characters have potential-)

Uhh anything else on my fandom list Ig- but no one really looks at it anyway lmao

Also, the genre doesn’t HAVE to be yandere. Like I know I write for it like 95% of the time, but I am definitely open to other things, I just have an upper hand for yandere.

Now although I haven’t really like decided the prices yet (I’ll officially decide that in a formal post-)

I’m thinking:

$10- Headcanons/Theory/Writing under 1K words

$10 + 3(x) - The base number of words is 1K and then for every 1K it’s a plus 3.

Also one more thing, if you live outside the US, there may be complications- sorry if it doesn’t work out well ;-; (I’ll check if you’re able before I start writing tho-)

(If the word count is like 2.9K then it’ll be charged at the 3K range. In other words, if the word count is within 100 words of the next price then it will be rounded up.)

If you have any suggestions or questions for the prices please do so ask!

Now one thing that will benefit you is- if you do order a commission know that you will have priority compared to if you requested (and hell, you’ll actually have the CHANCE to request).

Oh and one more thing! This is for ppl who are willing to give me some money for free- I also might set up a tip system on this platform as well. (I would be happy with like $1 tip ngl-)

I’ll have an official post out soon- but anyway, just cuz I wanna see this for demographic purposes-

Why do I sound like some whiny kid help-

#announcement #rottmnt x reader #Tmnt x reader #yandere rottmnt #yandere tmnt #hxh #twst #band kid moment

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multitrackdrifting · 9 months

Note

In light of the recent Limbus shitshow, are you still gonna finish up library of runia or are you just done with Projmoon?

Well I can't refund it so the least I can do is play it - but I don't plan on publishing my lobcorp video that's about 2-3 hours long for the time being. I probably won't resume streaming Ruina however.

It leaves a bad taste in my mouth if people would use a labour of love of mine to say "hey look there's something good here", I know there is something good there - but the CEO and his unquestionably stupid decisions makes the game impossible to talk about. I'm gonna be honest as far as boycotts go you and I probably know people who play league, overwatch or cod or something (maybe) or play something from a company with just as bad of practices that are either not as publicised or simply too far in the past for people to care.

I don't expect people to boycott nor do I think it's the bare minimum standard, people I know, especially those with larger platforms refuse to post about it even if they do play it or still keep up with it but yeah it's basically branded as a game now because of the controversy.

The thing about boycotts a lot of the time and I know this will be kind of bizarre to hear but I think they're very aesthetic in nature in that a lot of people usually clamour for them when they have less stakes in the matter so it's much easier to put pressure on others to do something they would not do for League (Riot Games), or Overwatch (Activision Blizzard).

This exact scenario has actually arisen with people talking about the game in that way and honestly it's not even like a what-aboutism kind of thing it's like, people really do not truly care about the ethics of the situation a lot of the time and many others simply do not know when they make their game-playing decisions, so it's really difficult to get mad about in most cases. That said, this game is niche enough where people probably know, but I wont assume their reasons for playing. Some people, however, are reveling in the backlash about the game bc they're not real fans or something for being upset about seemingly capitulating to reactionaries. This exchange I saw earlier honestly boggled my mind lmao - when the dog whistle is loud as fuck.

We don't have the complete facts, but unlike the nuance enjoyers on youtube & twitter that doesn't automatically mean I'm obligated to financially support a company because I obviously am concerned about the broader company and their job security.

On one hand it makes me frustrated beyond all belief that the decision makers (because lets be real falsely assigning blame to the artists, programmers, writers etc. at pmoon that aren't in a decision making role) are stupid that their art has to be undermined. Yeah, I don't doubt that there is more to the situation but if you make a tweet saying "we didn't do shit and we will sue u lol" and then announce a new banner the next day of course people are going to think you're a slimy company.

I'll put it like this anon: I might enjoy LCorp & Ruina privately at the very least, but Limbus is probably the most embarassing piece of media to be openly associated with, especially when you have people reveling in that a lot of women & lgbt+ members are going to be "filtered out" of the company by what they're reductively describing as "drama". Whether people boycott or not is up to them, but I'm waiting to see if they just brush it aside and pretend like nothing happened over time - I won't spend or post about the game, but I expect we won't actually see a genuine resolution until Canto IV ends and they realized that they didn't actually net anything from firing the artist or capitulating to an audience that will just as soon threaten their financial stability the moment they're validated for having achieved this outcome once before.

It's completely embarassing to be an open project moon fan right now, and honestly I could care less whose comfort media it is, I don't really care what they post or like - for me personally, this ordeal is so shameful that a video I worked hundreds of hours on is probably never seeing the light of day. That's about the gist of how I feel about how icky it is to even bother talking about their games. Fanart is one thing I guess, maybe I'll rb some from time to time, but honestly yeah I don't feel like making anything PMoon related pretty much until we have clear cut facts and if we never get it then yeah I'll just make peace with the reality and stop caring about Project Moon.

To answer your overall question, I probably won't bother making anything anything content wise for the game or even bother talking about it outside of DMs with my friends because yeah it's pretty much embarassing as fuck to even associated with this world. I think the art here is good, in terms of its writing & the artstyles of each of the games, I respect what is made there - but unfortunately we're the laughing stock of every other gacha community & honestly Idec about the hypocrisy of it all, I'm just astounded that they keep making it worse without ever really getting to the heart of the backlash. For LCorp & Ruina fans specifically I feel for them because it's not like they could've ever foreseen that this whole gacha endeavour would send everything up in smoke.

As for being Project Moon's strongest soldier (joking), I have less than zero interest in promoting their work until I have a decent confidence of vellmori's side (which I suspect is not even known because of either unknown factors, or a generic NDA that prevents them from commenting on their contract termination, not that unusual, especially if some kind of severance package is offered alongside it). Basically, I don't want to do any heavy lifting, even though I don't have that big of an audience, it just feels gross to bring them money when KR fans are outwardly begging other fanbases to stop playing and whether you do or not is up to you, but I'm personally just waiting till they shoot themselves in the foot enough times to completely walk away from this community/world. I do think that expecting everyone to express a deep remorse about a situation they did not create nor can they really control for the time being and self-flagellate about it is stupid though.

Hope vellmori & the pmoon staff get an equitable outcome out of all of this because as mad as I am I'm not so selfish as to think that having a dumb boss means you should have no job.

tl;dr - I don't want to openly associate with the "brand" even if the company =/= the community, it still feels weird, but that is just my own choice. I don't expect others to boycott. I'm waiting to see what happens, but judging by the reactionary replies to the latest banner it's probably nothing good in our future if Limbus survives this ordeal - since you will mostly have people who revel in the exodus of LGBT+ & women from the fandom.

#asks #long posts

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kwanisms · 1 year

Text

Idk if anyone wants to know or if anyone is still waiting for it but I finally (finally) finished Wonwoo's part for Tales from Camp. Yeah, I know it's been years lmao trust me. It's been agonizing for me not having this done. But if anyone wants to be tagged, please let me know. I started this series before I started making taglists but I do want to tag anyone who has been looking forward to this or just wants to read some good old fashion Wonwoo smut.

Just send me an ask or DM if you wanna be tagged.

Side note: the sequel to Did You Hear That? is coming, too. I've been working on it as well. I'm also going to finally finish the last piece for the Bet with Shownu, so if you've been waiting for that, please know it's also coming.

More announcements under the cut.

I wanna start by saying sorry I haven't been updating Hiraeth. I've been working on these other, much older pieces but updates with Hiraeth will resume shortly. I've been job hunting like crazy.

Once I finish the last part of the Bet, I will no longer be actively writing for Monsta X. I haven't kept up with the boys since Wonho left the group. I will still write if something comes up and works for one of the members but I won't be actively writing pieces for them. The same goes for EXO, got7, and BTS except for a series that is part of my Colonization Project. Space Sweepers will be the last BTS series I actively write.

The groups that I will be continuing to write for are:

Seventeen

Ateez

Stray Kids

TXT

Day6 (minus Jae. He will be moved to the soloist list)

NCT127

NCT dream

wayv

I'd also like to announce that I'm going to start writing for Super Junior as they have a serious lack of content. I won't be writing for Ryeowook since he's in a public relationship. I also won't be writing for Siwon or Shindong for personal reasons. I've already written something for Yesung and I have a story planned for Heechul and Leeteuk but it's not high on my list right now.

Another announcement is that I'm going to start taking requests again but please note that getting them out will not be my priority. My series will come first and requests will come second. I miss interacting with you guys and I'd really like to bring interaction back. Whether it's hard thought, soft thoughts, not kpop related, etc. I just ask that you keep your messages kind and free of politics, religion, etc. This is my safe space and I'd like for it to be safe for others as well.

Finally, I'm going to be remaking my masterlists in the coming weeks and they will probably go up after the first of the year as the holidays are always so hectic. I will be making a priority list at the end of this post so you can see what my priority pieces are.

An updates and wips list will also be coming soon so keep an eye out for that please and as always, thank you so much for all the support you've given me since I started this blog. I've met some amazing people and made some even better friends and I'm so grateful to each oand every one of you that has stuck around this long. You all are so amazing and wonderful people and I'm so glad to have met and interacted with all of you. ♥️

Until the next post, ~𝐤。

Priority List

Tales from Camp: Are You Scared? - Wonwoo × reader

Did You See That? - Jihoon × reader

To the Sky - Seonghwa × oc

Under Your Skin - Changbin × reader

Petrichor - Bang Chan × reader

Jam the Ice - Hyunjin × oc

The Colonization Project - multiple pairings

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birbfeeder2artisticboogaloo · 1 year

Text

thousand autumns donghua, episode 8~

OHHH he's the junior preceptor?? what an interesting title!! i have no idea what it means!! is that like 'guoshi' from tian guan ci fu, perhaps?? a similar title, maybe?? WAIT THE OLD MAN IS BULLYING BIRBS??? UNACCEPTABLE. I WILL PECK OUT HIS EYES >:V oh so they're competing for Number One Temple now?? have they already decided on the top ten brothels and five-star inns of the jianghu?? are the temples the only thing left to be ranked?? lol yan wushi curled up on the other side of the table before he stands up looks so fecking funny, i wish i could take a screenshot, he's like a lil purple daruma 🤣 SHEN QIAO IS OUTRAGED!! yws: why do u care what those losers do?? btw u lost this game so u have to do my chores >:) shen qiao: i mean….i guess i'll do it :/ ilu announcer man whose job is to shout the guests' names jfc shen qiao u couldn't even be bothered to dress up?? put on a different jacket or something?? ok then i actually find the random 'normal looking' side character and bg characters to be a bit more pleasing to look at than the super-pretty main dudes lol. might just be personal taste tho 😅 UH-OH HE LOOKS FOREIGN. WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS ngl he's kind of hot tho Duan Wenyang is STYLISH AF. vaguely menacing, but TOGGED TO THE BRICKS, as they say!! (idk anyone who actually says this) dwy: OH CHIEF DISCIPLE?? u can be our witness!! sq: im blind :/ WHY DO FIGHTS ALWAYS BREAK OUT WHEN PPL ARE EATING owo who dis??? he's even MORE stylish!!! wow ;A; the old man splayed out over his divan like a TART, robes hanging open like a TART, his hair LOOSE and FREE like a TART honestly i have the most fun with the fight scenes and watching yan wushi menace random ppl for his own amusement OH SHIT ITS JGY'S BIG BRO i don't TRUST HIM, he wears a HAT and MISTREATS MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS >:( yws: wow, ur such a creep. #cancelled BIG JGY U STOP HURTING THAT POOR INSTRUMENT!! is that a qin?? it makes such a pretty sound ;A; i want oneeeeee ;A; OOOOH PHOENIX POWERS!! YWS IS SUCH A BADASS OH MY GOOOODDDDD!!! HOLY SHIT!! GET EM OLD MAN, SHOW EM WHAT'S WHAT!!! WELL DONE!!! :DDD yeessssss MORE FIGHT SCENES!!! duan wenyang has got a whip and the li qingyu has got a really pretty sword!!! dwy: see y'all another time! :D poor shen qiao has to keep telling ppl that he's not the chief anymore, that can't be easy on him ;A; OH LOOK DWY IS BACK. i guess when he said 'another time' he meant 'in ten minutes' lol GET EM SHEN QIAO!! li qingyu thought shen qiao was a bad dude??? wtf??? WHO HAVE U BEEN LISTENING TO. WHO COULD CALL MY SWEET SHEN QIAO A BAD DUDE. HE'S LITERALLY SO INOFFENSIVE??? god the music SLAPS OH CRAP HE BROKE THE BAMBOO STICK----OOH NICE CATCH!!! lmao shen qiao immediately showing the other guy up after praising him for his good martial arts 🤣 HE'S SO POLITE. I LOVE SHEN QIAO lmaooo li qingyu seems quite nice as well, 'u can stay with us instead of the old man, if u like, we don't mind! :D' ASDFGHGFDS THIS KID WANTS TO PAINT SHEN QIAO 'bro ur like. SO HOT. LIKE A CELESTIAL BEING. WAY HOTTER THAN ANYONE ELSE. LET ME PAINT U PLS ;A;' i roast him, but as an artist i understand his pain 😔 sometimes u see someone so beautiful, u really can't help urself 😔 OH I SEE. duan wenyang and kehan dude and big jgy are all IN LEAGUE with each other!! innnnch restinggggg 👀👀 DON'T TRUST THE JGY SHAPED MAN, FELLAS. DON'T U SEE HIS HAT. DIDN'T U SEE WHAT HE DID TO THAT INSTRUMENT. IT'S A BAD IDEA ALL ROUND u know yan wushi barely evil laughed AT ALL during this episode. how disappointing 😔

#birb watches #i really am loving this donghua #probably not the way im MEANT to love it #but i do love it lmao 🤣#we met a bunch of new friends today #like duan wenyang and the khan #and li qingyu and big jgy (idc what his real name is. i am calling him big jgy)#also su qiao and his mum!!!#what a fun episode!!!#can't wait to see what'll happen next!!#thousand autumns donghua #qian qiu #birb still says

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dam-peace · 1 year

Note

Hello, back again just to bring a rather lighthearted scenario for VV

Scenario: The MC dances to music (think cartoon or anime theme song *cough* DUCKTALES *cough) inside their office with the door locked and blinds closed. It’s a secret they do not share due to their rather intimidating reputation(and it’s embarrassing as shit)

So how would the RO’s and/or platonic peeps would react to the seeing the MC so in the zone that they hardly recognized being watched. And if it was brought up they dismiss it or would threaten them to keep it a secret (unless the person who saw them see it as blackmail lmao)

Tobias

"Well, well, well..." I trail off with a smirk, causing the Detective to whip their head around in my direction. Where they then quickly scramble to shut off the music emitting from their mobile phone.

"Didn't know you were a fan of the kiddy tunes." I point out in a mocking tone of voice, making my way into their office.

"What are you even doing here?!" They bark back.

Taking a seat on one of the plush office chairs, I wave a hand dismissively, replying back in boredom. "Babysitting you against my will", folding one leg comfortably over the other. I lean back into the chair with a smug look, "And look, the toddler's even putting on a show, how thoughtful." I tease, gesturing towards the horror stricken Detective.

Anger and embarrassment encapsulates their gaze as they march over to where I'm sat. Finger pointed in my direction, they proceed to make a poor attempt at threatening me.

"If you ever tell anyone about this I'll-"

I cut them off, "You'll what?" I scoff. "Jump me with your little duck buddies?"

"Shut up", They say through clenched teeth, fists shut tight by their sides.

I raise a brow, "Why should I? You're the one who thinks they can sing. Which you can't by the way, you sound more like a poorly made siren, if that." Peering down at their legs, I continue. "And if that wasn't bad enough, you also dance like a pensioner with two left feet, and a bad hip replacement."

Then, looking back up to meet their eyes, I watch as their top lip curls into a mean snarl. "Better quit while your ahead and keep that day job of yours Detective. Much less painful for the rest of us." I snark back incredulously, the horrors of whatever hell they were doing moments ago flitting through my mind.

"I mean duck tales, really?"

Nicholas

"Oh my God!" The Detective hollers out, practically barrelling themselves over the table to shut off the music emitting from their phone. Now here we both stand, frozen in complete silence, surprise on my part, whilst the Detective burns with red hot embarrassment.

Clearing their throat, the Detective speaks. "You saw nothing." They state matter of factly in a stern tone of voice.

I blink, "Of course Detective, I apologize for...." I trail off in uncertainty, causing the Detective to cringe slightly, as I do so.

What do I even apologize for? I certainly didn't barge in, I knocked, twice in fact.

Shaking my head slightly, I quickly compose myself. Smiling softly, I reply back without an ounce of awkwardness. "Anyway Detective, I just came back to inform you that the new batch of evidence has been sent over to your crime lab."

The Detective clears their throat again, turning away slightly whilst rubbing the back of their head. "Thank you..." They mutter back quietly.

My smile widens, "No problem, anyway I'll be taking my leave now, goodbye." I answer back smoothly, quickly announcing my departure without waiting for a reply. Closing the office door behind me, I start to walk down the hallway into the main office.

Ducktales.....who would've thought.

Kacey

"Oh my God! You're a duck tales fan too?!" I practically scream at the top of my lungs, causing the Detective to jump up in a fright.

"Jesus Christ!"

*Bang!*

"Ow!"

Slamming their leg against their solid oak desk, I cringe at the sound.

That's gotta hurt.

I rush over in an instant, "Are you okay?" I ask in concern, reaching out to rub their leg in an effort to ease the pain.

"Uh yeah" The Detective chokes out, inching away from my touch. I drop my hand, looking over their face. I take notice of their discomfort, raising a brow, I ask again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine..." They trail off, looking off to the side.

I tilt my head in confusion, "Then why don't you look it?"

"Probably because you caught me doing something so f*cking embarrassing." They choke out, a pained expression etched onto their features as they utter every word.

Causing my brows to scrunch up in confusion, "Embarrassing? what did you do that was embarrassing?"

They look over at me with a deadpan expression, "You're kidding right?"

"No." I answer back, shaking my head from side to side. Before hopping on top of the Detective's desk. I look over at them with bright eyes.

"So who's your favourite character in duck tales?" I ask in excitement, practically bouncing on the desk top. "Wanna guess who mine is?!

Shuri/Shyam

"Ducktales again, really?" I ask with an all knowing smirk.

"AHH!" [Insert MC's Name] screams, jumping back in surprise at my sudden appearance.

"What the f*ck?!" They scream back at me, practically slamming on the touch button on their phone to shut the music off.

I raise a lone finger, "Uh! don't catch an attitude with me, I did knock, twice actually. Soooo pack it in, will you?" I ask in a mocking tone of voice.

They only huff back at my rebuttal, causing me to chuckle. I make my way over to their desk, sitting on top of it, I cross one leg on top of the other with a teasing smile.

"I'm surprised you're even doing this at work now..." I trail off, looking over pointedly at their phone. "Looks like your addiction has gotten worse."

They cross their arms, glaring back at me. Causing me to chuckle back, "Hey, what do you think about a duck tales theme party for your birthday this year? I'm sure the office would love it-" I try to finish, though my next words are cut off by a small rubber hitting me square in the face. Just before [Insert MC's Name] marches out of the door with a cute pout on full display.

"Is that a no?" I yell out to them, though my only reply is the bird they flip me back in response. I laugh, "Love you too!"

Leena/Luther

"AHH!" The Detective screams aloud, finally taking notice of my presence. Practically jumping on top of their office desk to shut off their ridiculous choice in music. "Have you ever heard of knocking?!" They yell back at me, more so in embarrassment than annoyance.

Though that doesn't make things any better, "I did" I answer back harshly. Marching over to their desk, I slam down two files on top of it, causing them to jump back in surprise. Turning on my heel, I make my way to the door without a second glance. Slamming it on my way out.

F*cking imbecile.

"Hey! Leena/Luther wait!" I turn at the sound of my name, watching as the Detective faces me with an uncertain expression. I cross my arms impatiently, waiting for them to speak.

"Umm" They start, rubbing their arm nervously. "I was wondering if we could keep what happened a minute ago, just between us....please?" They ask softly, looking up at me with earnest eyes.

I raise a brow, watching them in silence. I can't help but to scoff at this pathetic display, before turning sharply on my heel and walking away.

How disappointing.

Elias

"Jesus Christ!" The Detective cries out, nearly jumping out of their skin at the sight of me. Knocking their phone off their desk in the process. The Detective cringes at the sound of their phone plummeting to the ground. Causing the music to come to a complete stop, their eyes then travel back up to meet mine. Fixed on my face, as does mine to theirs with a raised brow.

Quickly they hold up a lone hand, "Don't" they plead. As if the embarrassment of this moment is painful enough as is. Now raising both brows, my eyes flit over to the sitting area. Where I had been moments ago, spotting the reason for my sudden return to the Detective's office, I make my way over.

Reaching just under one of the cushioned seats for my black velvet lighter, with a fiery wailing skull embedded onto the surface. Which had unknowingly fallen from my jacket pocket ,onto the Detective's office carpet earlier on. With the item now in hand, I turn towards the Detective once more, giving them one final look before pivoting on my heel and heading for the door.

Sliding a cigarette into my mouth, I can't help but to replay the scene of the Detective singing and dancing in their office from earlier on.

Ducktales, huh?

Mason/Marley

"Mother of God!" The Detective belts out in horror, causing me to flinch. As they catapult over to their phone, shutting the music off. They clutch their hand tightly to their chest, wrapping the soft fabric of their button down shirt into a tightly closed fist.

"Make a sound next time, would you?!"

"I'm sorry!" I holler back in surprise, quickly marching over to the Detective's desk. I practically slam the files I had in hand on their desk top, then swiftly making my way out of their office without a second glance. Accidently slamming the door on my way out in a panic, cringing at the sound it makes upon impact....

SLAM!

Fuck!

I scream at myself internally, now frozen in place in front of the Detective's office door.

Should I apologize....?

With that thought in mind, I take a few tentative steps towards the door, my hand hovering just hovering over the door knob.....Until the familiar sound of the duck tales theme song seeps out from the other side once again, causing me to jump back from the door as if it was on fire.

Nope!

Turning on my heel, I instead make my way back over to the lab. The scene of the Detective dancing around to duck tales of all things evading my mind. I smile at the all be it embarrassing memory, treasuring the scene.

Cute.

#VV-if #VV: Team1 #VV: RO Ask

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citrusreadstoa · 1 year

Text

Reading The Hidden Oracle: Chapter 20 (SPOILERS)

"Of course, the previous Oracle had been a withered corpse, so perhaps the bar was low." Yeah, that's... that's a pretty low bar. Is the Oracle a job you can really bring excitement and vigor to? Most of the time it's just going about your day and making sure you're prepared to be possessed at any moment, right? Sometimes getting prophetic visions (in Rachel's case, prophetic paintings) and the occasional prophecy poem?

"Miss Dare looked thinner and older . . . She was not the same person." Wow, I guess the capture of Delphi not only affects the Oracle spirit but also its host vessel? That, and she just came from the Clarion Ladies' Academy, which cannot be a fun experience.

"stale crackers from the Oracle's larder." LARDER (n.): a room or large cupboard for storing food

"[Millard and Herbert] arrived at my house badly wounded. They... they didn't make it." What killed the satyrs??? Did the Beast send someone or something after them to try to keep Rachel from getting to camp? Omg imagine being Rachel: the Oracle suddenly stops working, all prophecies stop working even after Gaea is gone, then in the middle of your miserable boarding school year, two satyrs arrive at your home bleeding to death and you come to camp hoping for answers only to find the god that's supposed to help you fix the prophecies has been turned human. Bad year. Anyway, neither of them were the satyr that was teaching the music class or announcing the death race, right? No, I looked it up. That was Woodrow.

"That is the building you described last summer . . . where you parleyed with the Romans." "how did the Romans take over such prime Manhattan real estate on such short notice?" WAIT THAT'S RIGHT. I always thought we were just supposed to suspend our disbelief on stuff like that, like how and where the Romans got enough cars to take them and all their stuff across the country or whoever Octavian bought those HOUSE-SIZED onager catapults from. I just assumed they had connections with demigods who made it out in the mortal world.

"The mother company is something called Triumvirate Holdings." That sounds very Roman. "a ruling council of three . . . in ancient Rome." "three shadowy figures stood talking together--men in business suits" Is this serious? Is the Big Bad of this series going to be a corporation? Is Apollo's task going to be to... Is Apollo going to have to take down capitalism? Is the Big Bad capitalism? LMAO prophecy and capitalism: the two themes of TOA (jkjkjk)

"Adult demigods? I can't imagine they would be Greek, but perhaps Roman?" PFFFT HAHAHA Yes, because CHB doesn't prepare their kids for life in the outside world; they just assume they won't live 'til twenty and if they do, they won't last out there for long! :D

"the weapons were paid for by Triumvirate Holdings." Oh, so they paid for it, but they still bought them from somewhere. WHO??? Who sells ancient Roman siege weapons? "Luke Castellan mentioned he had backers in the mortal world . . . enough money to buy a cruise ship, helicopters, weapons . . . mortal mercenaries." OH AND LUKE! This goes far back! And lol, yeah, cruise ship with mortals included. This goes deep...

"What if this company is the root cause of... well, everything?" What are they, the Illuminati? Did they cause the Great Stirring or at least profit off of it?

"Rachel sat up straight. 'Excuse me? Oracles plural?'" Lol Rachel, you should be familiar with the gods and their infidelity by now. Jkjk but it's funny to see her jealous of him having other Oracles even though Delphi is obviously his favorite.

So, a triumvirate is a leading group of three -- a trio. And it's implied that Triumvirate Holdings is run by three ancient Romans. But the Roman emperors quiz I took on the Read Riordan website had four possible results! (The words "YOU GOT CALIGULA!" will forever haunt me.) Let's just see how this goes, then.

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