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[sashascripta]

A cup of coffee (Luke x male!reader)

This is a request for @thewheat-thins69, hope you enjoy!

Luke pulled out his old roller-skates and eyed them, in a weird amalgamation of disdain and wonder. Rushed to his mind were memories of gliding down the pavement in his teen years, returning home from school, eager to see his dad. His teenage years were the very definition of a mixed bag. It was filled with dreams, hope and energy, the efforts of his wonderful parents, but then tragedy worked its cruel hands in the affair.

He shook off those memories, focusing instead on the wonder. On you. He was absolutely enraptured by you. You were the only person who could bring a cup of Weston's egregious coffee and only receive in turn a mild reproach.

You had started off as friends but Luke couldn't deny his ever-growing feelings for you. Once, as a joke, Lorelai proposed the two of you spent so much time together, you acted like a married couple. You both turned away from each other. He anticipated rejection or puzzlement on your face, you didn't know what to expect on his. When Lorelai noticed both of your forlorn yet hopeful expressions, she went: "Oh my god. Did I just inadvertently play matchmaker or ruin yet another friendship?"

"It's fine," Luke remembered brushing off in his cliched way. "I-I don't know if (Y/N)'s acquainted with your exasperating sense of humour, Lorelai. It probably caught him off guard."

Lorelai had shot an annoyed look Luke's way. "Hello? (Y/N) works at the inn. We spend many evenings laughing at your expense, appreciating my wonderful, perky, very welcome sense of humour." 

She'd turned to you in the middle. "That wasn't even my best work," she reminded you, only to notice how out-of-it you seemed. And by out-of-it, out of the friendly dynamic the three of you shared. Your attention was fixed on Luke, and he seemed to you the only person in the room.

In the way she quickly walked and talked, Lorelai also abruptly took the hint. "I should get going. Rory's home from Yale and claimed to have brought with her a pizza the size of our kitchen table. I didn't think we ever needed that thing but now it seems to have finally found its calling-okay, bye bye." She had stumbled out the door, awkwardly chuckling.

"Luke, I–"

"(Y/N)"

You spoke at the same time, emitting a chuckle that finally cut the tension in the air. "You first," you coaxed.

Luke looked caught off guard instead and swallowed nervously. "So, I-uh, I don't know what to say exactly. I'd be lying if I said I never thought about this, never thought about us. Or that I hadn't thought about this exact moment in my head either, but we're friends and I never wanted to ruin that. I know the move to Stars Hollow wasn't easy for you, and I can't blame you. This place would repel Walt Disney, for god's sake. But I-I can, very awkwardly, say that things here haven't been the same since I met you."

"Luke," you said.

"Wait," Luke interrupted, "before I lose my resolve. Would you like to go out sometime? I mean, can I take you out sometime? On a date."

You smiled, a wave of comfort running through you, at what you wished to transpire but never imagined would so perfectly unfold. However, when you saw Luke's nervous, pleading expression, you wanted to make this moment easier on you. "So long as it's at Weston's!" you teased, provoking another laugh from the both of you.

Now Luke was wistfully rolling back and forth his roller-skates on his apartment ground, thinking about the moment when everything fell in place. God, he neither thought he'd have to recruit Lorelai Gilmore as his wingwoman, nor be so pleased she was there that second.

He set off for the rink Taylor recently opened to compete with that of Woodbridge. He tried not to think about Taylor at that second, lest his mind fill with annoyance instead.

When he got to the rink, he looked round, only to discover how crowded it was. "Luke!" he heard a cheerful young girl's voice. It was Lane who skated up to him. "Come on in. We have a bet on which job Taylor hired Kirk for, and the largest sum is on concession stand!"

Luke resisted the inclination to roll his eyes at what Stars Hollow considered gambling but then spotted you walking in and absentmindedly patted Lane's shoulder. "You go ahead, I'll-uh, catch up." Confused, Lane agreed and skated off.

Luke met you close to the entrance. "Hey," you said with a smile that made his knees weak. You both lingered on the way to greet each other until you ended up in a bear hug. Luke's arms felt so strong and safe, like nothing, not even your pesky worries or doubts, could plague you at that moment.

"I have my skates right here," said Luke. "My feet grew exponentially when I was a kid, we had to buy new ones every few years. Then when I was 18, we seemed to hit a plateau, so I finally fit in these, still." He stopped. "And now I realised I spent the last twenty seconds talking bout shoes, I'm sorry."

You smiled. "No, don't be. I was going to rent but then Lorelai told me Taylor found three different loopholes to hike these prices up and bought a pair of these bad boys. If all goes well, perhaps I'll get to use them again." Luke grinned warmly, which immediately eased your worries. You realised the implication behind your last phrase meant that you were dreaming of a second date and proper future with Luke, but didn't want to be so presumptuous to assume Luke was on the same page. But his smile conveyed an understanding that you actually reassured him, rather than frighten him away.

"So how bout we take a few rounds? If you want a coffee or something, we can stop at the cafe. Or I can take you to Weston's. They do make a pie there which makes me stop thinking about how much butter they use in the crust," Luke rambled once again. When he started talking to you, he felt the need to both confide in you as much as he could in those few breaths and add the necessary provisions to his words, in case you got the wrong idea. He didn't want to ruin anything before you properly explored it.

You laughed, wondering if Luke would ever recognise how endearing he was in his nervousness. You were so sick of men who compensated for their insecurity with brazenness and ego, that Luke was a breath of fresh air. You could tease him and he wouldn't crack. He'd just smile and banter back. He could keep up with you and that felt so reassuring. Everything about him felt secure.

You both entered the rink and skated close to the edge, because everyone was gathered near the middle, in a huddle. You heard Babette argue with Taylor: "You're crazy! Why would you put Kirk in charge of guarding the door?"

You smiled. Stars Hollow was a unique place, that's for sure. But it was also so peaceful yet full of excitement. And it was a community, so people all helped each other and were there for each other, in a way they didn't bother to match in the city. 

You only half-paid attention when Taylor pushed that Kirk was the only one who could spot and stop a Litchfield spy, attempting to copy the design and layout of their rink, to beat it as the best in Connecticut.

Luke noticed your faraway look and said, "To have Taylor's problems." Humour was the way you bonded as friends so he assumed it would carry on in your relationship too.

You laughed politely, only partly in the loop on Luke and Taylor's incessant rivalry. When someone bumped into you and went on in a fashion inconceivable with the camaraderie of the town, Luke grabbed onto you with more haste than was necessary. "You okay?" he asked. His gruff voice had the surprising ability to both calm and ground you. "Why don't we get out of here?" He immediately blushed at the implication and quickly went back on his words: "I mean out of the rink, get you a coffee or something!"

You realised it was getting a bit rowdier, what with Kirk entering the circle and attempting to proclaim his winnings for having bet on himself. "It's rigged now, Kirk, you ruined everything!" Patty protested.

You and Luke walked back to the diner, silently enjoying each other's company. "Ah shoot," he said as you both ambled in. "I know you prefer the coffee at Weston's and I brought you here. Am I a cheap date or what?"

"I don't go to Weston's for the coffee. Yours is far superior."

"Really? Well, I thought everyone enjoyed their whipped cream disasters they call 'specialty,' but that may just be Lorelai and Rory."

You smiled. "There's a time and place for that, but daily, I prefer Luke-Luke's!" You stumbled on your words as well. Luke smiled, turning to pour your coffee and omit the glee on his face.

After you nursed your cup for a bit, Luke suggested you go upstairs and watch a movie, only to, midway on the staircase, remember he didn't own a television. Before he opened the door, he told you this, expecting you to want to return downstairs, but you diverted his expectations.

"No, let's stay. You'll make tea and you keep the good tea up here," you said. Luke hadn't dated a friend before, but he so enjoyed the different awkwardness that came with it. Gone was the embarrassment of having to share with a virtual stranger the intimacy of a couple, on a one-on-one date. What unfortunately lingered was the fear of saying the wrong thing and making it worse. But what was entirely new was knowing the person so well that you could predict what the wrong thing was to say. It is different, though. We're friends and we know each other, and I keep thinking I can't say the wrong thing. But I inevitably do, Luke's mind debated with itself.

He opened the door to the apartment and put the kettle on, while you made yourself comfortable on the sofa, rearranging the cushions the way you knew you liked it at home. You took a sip out of the diner-large cup and sighed in pleasure. Luke made coffee like no one else in Connecticut.

Luke watched you and smiled to himself. He brought his tea and you both finally fell back into comfortable banter and conversation. Neither of you were as nervous as you were when the date began, but the anticipation and slight wariness of saying the right thing remained.

You set your cup down on the coffee table and leaned into Luke slightly. He adjusted you so you were rested on his chest. I'm cuddling with Luke, you thought. I'm cuddling with Luke. You ignored the excitement in your chest and leaned in further. 

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the mystery woman, part ii (Luke Danes x female!reader)

Hi everyone, I'm so sorry for the lack of update for over a year! Truth be told, I was never planning to follow up on this story. It was just a little project to have fun with, but I saw how many people enjoyed it and wanted to get back into writing, so I hope you enjoy this as well. Since I wasn't certain on the reader's character yet, this still takes place before their date. (Scroll down for Part I)

Luke ran his hand through hair nervously a few times. "Hey, uh, Jess." He glanced over at his sullen nephew, poring over novels that probably weren't for school.

"What," Jess responded in a statement, not a question, as all the Danes men did.

Luke sighed, bracing himself for the favor he was about to entreat. "When you use hair mousse, how much do you actually apply?" He held the jar between three fingers tentatively.

Jess looked up, finally intrigued.

"I mean, I know you use it like water, or shampoo, judging by how often I have to buy shampoo. I tell you, Jess, if you cover your hair in this oily stuff, of course you need lots to wash it off-" Luke started rambling again. He was nervous about his date later that night and found solace in taking it out on his surly nephew.

"Shut up, will you?" Jess stalked towards him, grinning. "Why are you trying to look like you don't fry potatoes for a living?"

Luke smoothened the collar of his leather jacket and turned to Jess. "Hey!" he pointed. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with what I do. I'm just trying to fix myself up tonight. I have a-" he sighed for what seemed the hundredth time that very hour. "I have a date."

"Mrs Slutsky?" Jess prodded.

"(Y/N)!" Luke glared at him. "You don't know her, lucky for her. Not so lucky for you, she seems like an incredibly lady." He cringed, whilst Jess raised his eyebrows, holding back the urge to wiggle them.

"So I assume you've talked to her? Is she a friend of Lorelai?"

"We had a–a brief conversation back in the diner. She's a hotel consultant, here for the inn. But not a friend of Lorelai.

"I don't know. You know I don't do this often, Jess, because I find the whole courting process nauseating. But, I figured, if everything goes to hell, at least she doesn't live here," Luke conceded. He was happy to talk to someone other than Caesar and Patty, who were all too eager to engage in Luke's love life and gossip about what could be. Probably for their morning gossip column, Luke thought with disdain.

"Ah, how romantic. Just the way every great romantic novel starts: if it all goes to hell..."

"Shut up." Luke directed another pointed look to his nephew. "I didn't think you'd have much interest in romantic novels, other than the ones you write in and gift Rory."

Eager to move past the conversation of his love life, Jess quickly screwed open the jar of the conversation starter. "So about the mousse, just scoop up a dollop and run it through your hair. I'm not going to do it for you, because this isn't some stupid–"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Luke said, quickly following the directions.

Ten minutes later, Luke was ready. He brushed his hair multiple times until Jess made a snarky remark, guided him out the door and promised to lock up after. Although grateful for his nephew's uncharacteristic benevolence, Luke was glad he asked Caesar to check in an hour later.

Luke got in his truck and drove over to the restaurant you agreed to meet at. He enjoyed the hum of the vehicle over the busy highway he either detested or tuned out, focused on the drive instead.

He looked back to his conversation with you. Despite it only occurring a few hours before (well, about 7), he still cringed at nearly everything he said. Did he say he was full of surprises? Not only was that a god awful way of flirting, it was also a lie.

He thought back to what Jess said, watching Luke comb his hair. "So when you were waxing poetic about your future, you said it's okay if it goes to hell because she'd eventually leave. But what if it doesn't go to hell?" Luke cracked a joke about Jess's sudden optimism, enjoying he and his nephew's relatively pleasant moments, engaged in banter, and even confiding in and advising each other.

What if it doesn't go to hell? Luke's head spun. After Anna and Rachel, he assumed heartbreak was around every corner. It was why he avoided new relationships, why he didn't take those chances, why he got back with Rachel so many times. He always wanted to follow every strand of wool to the rest of the ball to see if it was worth it, he couldn't leave a possibility he invested time and effort in, unfinished. That's why he finally approached Lorelai and realized she wasn't the one. But what if you were the one? What then?

His mind raced for a second, before his coping mechanism of overwhelming practicality kicked in. He didn't need to think that much. hell, you barely knew each other.

Luke pulled up before the restaurant, its lights glaring harshly against the dark night sky. He silently cursed the consumerism and skyscrapers in the big city, before he got out of his truck. Change is good, change is necessary. Change leads you to dining with pretty women at 6 o'clock in the evening.

He wasn't sure whether to enter and linger in the waiting area, because he wasn't yet invited in, or to wait outside. The first was awkward. He'd hang around, because his party hadn't arrived yet and people would conjecture that his date didn't show. But waiting outside seemed desperate in his own way, like he was watching you pull in, ready to pounce.

He wished he had a dial by the side of his head, to turn his thoughts off, or at least, to slow them down. He knew nothing about you would make his life easier, because, right now, you overwhelmed him with how cool you seemed. You weren't Lorelai Gilmore or Rachel (what was her last name again?) cool. You turned heads simply by walking in the room and had a quiet, effortless charm about you that just drew him to you. He wished you hadn't such an effect on him, because he was too far in. And because it would hurt so much if you truly did stand him up.

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gilmore girls big three, pt ii

here's pt i! in this post there's gonna be the parents and the boyfriends! this is shorter than last post (pt i here) but i hope that's okay.

emily gilmore

scorpio/sagittarius sun - capricorn asc - aries moon

i want to say she is a scorpio/sag cusp sun because my grandmother was one and she, in many ways, reminds me of my grandmother. controlling, emotional but firm, filled with a little poison. i want to say she is a aries moon, due to her emotions getting the best of her and basing some impulsive decisions on them. i also find that cap asc due to her ability to be serious, grounded and organized.

richard gilmore

capricorn sun - sagittarius asc - capricorn moon

super hardworking, putting work and family above the rest, even though social status is quite important. wanting to know more and travel a lot, really enjoying knowledge, pure knowledge. we know both his and emily's love language has to do with material things, so a 2h moon fits perfectly. doesn't show his deep emotions that much, but does when it is most needed. sweet person, always willing to help, though with strong opinions, who has no problem sharing.

dean forester

virgo sun - cancer asc - libra moon

so, we now get to the boyfriends! extremely nice and patient, with the best feeling and intentions, is always looking for the best for everyone. but he has the tendency to not share his feelings, but swallow them, just to see everyone else happy, which can make him blow up at times. he has an amazing sense of parenthood and responsability, making him look quite serius, though he is one of the best people you've meet.

jess mariano

scorpio sun - aquarius asc - scorpio moon

needs freedom and feels a neccessity for learning new things, more on the unconventional side, but still is a little grounded, though his scorpio moon and sun doesn't help, and he is disperse all the time, trying to get away with his ideas everytime, without really wanting to draw attention towards himself.

logan huntzberger

aquarius sun - sag asc - aries moon

kinda rebellious, but respects traditional things. loves to work and study, but in an area he's passionate about. super caring and romantic, a free spirit, who can mess up big time, and will do anything to make the world better.

hope you enjoyed this!

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The exchange (Bucky Barnes x female!reader)

Possible TWs: mentions of trauma and insecurities

In terms of the story, Bucky's not on a mission. He's just at a hotel, for no actual reason.

This was a random idea I thought of. I'm not sure if I have anything to continue it but if anyone's interested, I'll give it a try. I hope you enjoy reading!

"Your room will be ready in about half an hour," the front desk clerk said apologetically, handing him a key. "You can head up then. We're more booked than we usually are, for we'd normally have a room ready this late in the evening." It was only 5 but the dark-haired man with an intent gaze and frown intimidated her, so she felt the need to over-explain.

"That's fine," Bucky said quietly, taking the key. He hadn't even wanted a hotel stay, since he could travel in the morning and didn't mind long car rides, but Tony insisted on a little taste of luxury every now and then.

"You can head on over to the bar for a drink now, or the restaurant for dinner in half an hour," she suggested.

"No, I think I'll get a drink and head up to my room. Thanks." He offered a stiff smile and went to find the bar, one of the few places he still felt comfortable after everything that had happened. He was glad to find that bars hadn't changed much since he enjoyed frequenting them.

This hotel bar was extravagant and slightly intimidating but he went in anyway and ordered a sazerac to start with. He met the gaze of two businessmen across the bar, who he tried to smile at and they grinned back. He didn't trust them and kept his distance, finding the most isolated seat around.

The bartender slid his drink on over, and Bucky wondered if he should've found a booth or table away from the bar. He didn't know if the bartender would feel uneasy being watched, and he didn't want to risk scaring anyone. He tugged at his fingers nervously, looking around the bar, hoping he didn't attract unwanted attention.

Just then, a lovely woman with bright (e/c) eyes sauntered in, like she owned the place. Bucky envied your confidence and admired how you attracted all the attention in the room, as well as that of those haughty businessmen, who actually looked impressed.

He saw you glance between the bar and table, presumably choosing your space for the rest of the hour or evening. You didn't strike him as someone who spent their entire evening at a bar, even on holiday. You probably had work, or a list of things to do, or even a date.

Bucky found himself surprised at his sudden jealousy, not toward you for having a date and presumably numerous romantic prospects, but for the lucky person who caught your attention. That person was probably wealthy, confident, handsome and aware of his or their attributes. That person certainly wasn't him. For one thing, his wealth, which wasn't prolific enough to properly be considered wealth, was hidden and saved away because he didn't like to make a big show of things. He certainly wasn't confident and while he felt handsome before, he didn't know if his trauma and insecurities reflected on his face like a big prominent scar. He didn't feel as handsome as he did when he confidently sauntered up to women and chatted them up, convinced that he could charm them and confident that he'd be all right if he couldn't.

For another thing, you weren't interested in him, he glumly realised. He knew this already without even talking to you, because you were way out of his league. He smiled humourlessly as he imagined his friends teasing that you weren't even playing the same game, let alone being in the same league. Why did it matter anyhow? He couldn't date. He wasn't ready for a relationship, or to inflict his crazy life on someone else. Who wanted to share a life with him anyhow?

To his surprise and slight embarrassment, the beautiful woman chose a space close to him, with a little distance, presumably to respect his privacy, since his face evidently begged for it from everyone. If he'd known you were close, he would've changed it to something more inviting, or less intimidating at least. He wanted you to think he was approachable, even if he found it too daunting to approach you.

He looked down at his drink, shaking the glass to amuse himself. He could always look at his phone but he was bored of it. He didn't care to learn what people's thoughts were on the new Starbucks drinks or emojis were. Hell, he didn't overthink his emojis. Why should you? At that moment, he glanced at you quickly from the corner of your eye, actually happy to see you on your phone. He didn't mind if you were tweeting your opinion on the new Starbucks frappuccino or reading the news, he'd feign interest either way.

Why was he creating an imaginary scenario where you actually talked to him? He felt helpless. On one hand, he was clearly attracted to you, and wanted to get to know you. On the other, his insecurities would always get in the way because he wasn't the man you deserved. If you were in this bar, you had an extravagant lifestyle or worked at a company, which paid for this stay or drink, and you probably expected your partner to follow along, much less provide it for you. You probably didn't expect it, he shook his head, but you deserved it.

"Excuse me?" a gruff voice said to the right of Bucky. He jumped slightly, wondering if it was you and realising it sounded too far away to be. It was probably some tipsy man attempting his pathetic charm on you, he bitterly thought. "Excuse me, you with the metal arm?" the man said louder. Bucky looked and glared at him, for attracting all the attention. He kept his stare focused on the man, even though he could see you watched, innocently and intrigued from the corner of his eye.

"What's that you're drinkin'?" the guy asked with a grin.

"Sazerac," he said quietly and went back to staring down at it. Why couldn't he ask the bartender that? His face and ears became red, since he realised you must've seen the interaction and felt put off by how annoyed he was for having to talk to a stranger. It wasn't talking to strangers though, it was the way the man referred to him and yelled at him across the bar. His experience with similar people made him wonder if it was because he didn't look as polished and highbrow as the other men who entered establishments like this.

He got caught up in his glum thoughts when the inviting scent of a new person engulfed him. He glanced to see you right next to him, leaning across the bar to get the bartender's attention. When you noticed his stare, you smiled (Bucky's eyes widened and he forgot to exhale again) and said quietly: "I'm sorry about that guy. I think he had a bit much to drink and now he's trying to start a conversation with the entire bar. He asked me what I was drinking and I told him I'd only say if he was planning to start a tab or something." He laughed with you, liking how sharp you were. He wished he'd seen the interaction, so he could see that smug idiot being taken down multiple pegs.

You placed your room card on the bar, next to where Bucky had his. "I just needed to start a tab," you explained in the same hushed tone that Bucky enjoyed. He knew you'd sound good louder too, but it was soothing like ASMR. He took out his phone to give you some privacy while you discussed everything with the bartender. He realised he had six new messages from his group chat and decided to read through to see if he missed anything important. When he realised they were just jokes and re-posts, he glanced up to see you gathering your things. He silently wished you'd spoken more.

"It was nice talking to you," you said politely. Even though it was just politeness, you were effortlessly sophisticated, and Bucky wished he could speak to you more. You weren't haughty, you were approachable and intimidating in unison. "See you around."

A few minutes after you left, Bucky took the last sip of his drink and decided it was time to go upstairs too. He wanted to change and do his hair before going down to dinner. He ignored his initial plans of room service when he thought about running into a possible lady at the restaurant. Maybe he could do something to impress her, or get her attention then, like sending over a drink. Was that too cliched? Perhaps he could put her dinner on his room, she liked that, didn't she? Or would it look like he was trying too hard?

He decided to mull while brushing his hair. He didn't notice the multiple keycards on the bar and took one. The bartender asked for his room number and he read out what was on the pocket. The man smiled and said goodbye, which Bucky gladly returned. He was scared of frightening the bartender or of the bartender insulting him, but they had a pleasant experience.

Bucky scanned the key to get in the elevator, the new sophisticated security systems fascinating him. He looked at himself in the mirror and enjoyed the luxurious vibe of the hotel. Maybe he would enjoy this.

He walked down the hall and scanned the key in his room. He walked in. It was a lovely room with a massive, high king bed in the middle. It had an espresso machine and large TV. One of the cups was filled with coffee in them, but Bucky figured that housekeeping might've missed it. Trivial mistake, he said. He could pour it out and use the other one.

In spite of his hard exterior, the inviting elegance of the room encouraged Bucky to fulfill one of his more childish dreams. He walked in front of the bed and leaped forward, letting out a groan as he got on the bed. It was a heavenly comfort and Bucky knew he'd have the best sleep of his life on it.

Just then the bathroom door slid open with such a certainty and speed that Bucky didn't realize it until a woman came out, with wide eyes. To his surprise and fear, it was the (e/c)-eyed woman, who'd charmed him at the bar.

She didn't look frightened, just a little annoyed. "This isn't really what I meant when I said I'd see you around?"

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a magician's tricks (college!Phil Dunphy x college!reader)

This is a one-shot of Phil before he met Claire and had Haley, because I love Claire and Phil together too much. The reader isn't referred to with specific pronouns but they are called "pretty," and receive a flower that's placed in their hair.

You gathered your things in your dorm room, kicking some clothes under the bed and marvelling at how messy everything was. "Jesus, I have to tidy up soon," you muttered to yourself. A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

It was Phil Dunphy, the sweet guy in your Russian literature class, who'd been asking you out repeatedly. Right now he held a rose out, earnestly offering it to you.

"Hey Phil," you tried, not ready to reject the kindhearted soul once again.

"Hey Y/N!" he brushed the hair out of this face. "I had time before tumbling and wanted to stop by and give you this for all your help with Tolstoy. Inspiring man, isn't he?"

"He is," you said slowly. "I was actually headed out."

"Wait!" he stood in front of you. "Take this rose before you leave." He threw it in the air and caught a blue flower instead. "Oh wait, it's a daisy now!" He offered it to you once again.

"Daisies are my favourite, thanks," you smiled to the ground, trying not to blush at his flirtations. With his penchant for magic, you suddenly thought of something. "That flower doesn't emit water, like one of those clown props?"

"Oh no," he shook his head resolvedly. "Absolutely not. I hate clowns, always have. There's actually a funny story to that–"

"I'd love to hear it, Phil, but I'm headed out right now. Do you think we can catch up later?"

His eyes widened. "Like a date?"

You sighed. Your last few relationships exhausted you, and you weren't ready to jump into a new one, unless the guy was worth it. Having known Phil for months, you knew he was. He was kind, selfless, funny and intelligent in his own way.

"Yeah, sure," you said, smiling. He smiled back, clearly rejoicing his head. Then he thought of something.

"No pressure, by the way," he said, "I wouldn't want to... force you into anything. I know I've been really insistent these last few weeks, it's just that you're so pretty and kind. And no one ever really listens to my stories or likes to talk about tumbling or the AV club, well, besides the guys in the AV club. And I-I love being friends, so I'm not going to take it wrong if you don't want to—"

You blushed at his chivalry. "No, Phil, I wouldn't say I would if I didn't want to. You're not a pity date, I promise."

"Okay," he said, grinning. "I'll pick you up later then! And you'll find the concert ticket" - he reached behind your ear "right here!" he sang. And tucked the rose behind your ear instead. You laughed.

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Thanks for replying! And I agree 100%. It's on both of them. Good luck with your story! Let me know if you need help with anything, not that you'd want anyone writing for you. If there's anything I can do though, lmk! 🥺

Hi! I decided to sign in this time. I hope you're taking care, staying hydrated and rested! I re-read SN and it was quite the journey! I have to say I'm a bit annoyed at everyone annoyed at Y/N right now. I know that what she did was selfish but did they forget about Gojou's emotional abuse? His neglect? His infidelity? The fainting spells, angina attacks and low self-esteem it caused? I really respect his redemption arc but it took a lot to get there. 1/2

Also, you're such an amazing writer, I'm still in awe! I wanted to profess that I'm still staunchly tojixy/n. I think that people have multiple soulmates, and I love their banter and the way they're alike in their selflessness and kindness. Either way I know you'll make a beautiful story. I'm excited for the tojixy/n scenes even if they don't end up together. My theory is that she'll cancel the wedding, get back with Satoru and decide they're better off as friends, and then get with Toji instead

I'm sorry for spamming you cuz character limit. I just had a few qs: what does Gen think about Y/N marrying Toji since she doesn't like Satoru now? Do people care about their age difference since he's a decade older? Do you think Gojo's love for Y/N developed because she helped him recover from his trauma? If he'd sought therapy instead, I wonder if things would be different.

gen trusts toji since he and ian go way back, plus she’s mostly ok as long as the man won’t deliberately hurt her sister. no, not many people care about their ten-year age gap since they’re both grown adults.

also, gojo has always loved yn tbh. we know he lost a part of himself after his mom’s abandonment / father’s abuse, but being married with yn made him remember the kind of solace he used to seek from her when they were children — which also ended up reminding him of his affections for her.

thank u for reading !! and yea, well people have varying opinions abt the ending bc i meant for yn to do something drastic that is equal (or much worse) to what she experienced from gojo. it was kind of like her breaking point where she just decided to act rashly and selfishly for once — though it was also something that would haunt her back in the future.

that’s why to me, i’d rather put the blame on both sides rather than blaming one more than the other. but also i’m unbiased bc i’m the writer haha

[sashascripta]

the mystery woman (Luke Danes x female!reader)

This is my first imagine ever so I'd love some feedback 🥺👉👈. This takes place round the end of Season 2, beginning of Season 3, except Luke's not pining for Lorelai here.

Luke looked around, the morning rush was dying down and he hoped the early afternoon lull would give him some time to get some work done. He counted the tables left: Kirk (of course), Patty and Babette (they weren't usually in this late) and a mystery woman.

Who is that? Luke wondered, facepalming at how he referred to her as a mystery woman. He watched her flip through her book, enjoying how the sunlight framed her face elegantly. He quickly averted his eyes when she moved her chair closer to the window, afraid she caught him.

"Curious about our new customer?" Caesar appeared mysteriously beside Luke, a coffee pot in hand.

"Uh, no," said Luke, his gruff and sarcastic exterior never failing him. "And keep serving. We have customers, so no time for our usual tête-à-tête."

"Tables are clearing out," Caesar reminded him. "And the lady might need some company."

"Yeah, well, I run a diner. I don't have time to lounge around with customers. I've got work to do - danishes to bake, orders to fill, tables to clean—" Luke's voice drifted off as his eyes found you, while his resolve weakened. "Hey Caesar, who is she?"

Caesar circled around the counter to face Luke and ease their conversation in low voices. "I overheard Patty and Babette talking—"

Luke raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed. "Ah, using their own tricks against them?"

"Let me finish, will you? I overheard them talking and she's been at the Independence Inn a lot. Not that weird, right? It's the best inn in town, she's probably staying there. Then apparently Kirk was having lunch there and saw her go into the kitchen. She came out a few minutes later, and Lorelai and Michel were talking about her in hushed tones in the corner. Babette overheard Lorelai and Rory talking earlier, and apparently, she's a hotel consultant."

"A hotel consultant? Lorelai would love that," Luke said dryly.

"She does!" Caesar insisted animatedly. "Y/N brings the tourists in and keeps the customers happy!"

"Y/N," Luke said softly, enjoying how melodic her name sounded in his gruff Northern accent. "Well, what, she isn't another Taylor, is she? With bringing customers in? And attracting tourists?"

Caesar raised his eyebrows. "Does she look like another Taylor?"

"Well, she doesn't look like the old-fashioned, pedantic grandpa on one of those insufferable 70s sitcoms. She doesn't look like she spent the entire evening ironing out the pleats in her cardigan either," Luke grinned at his own jokes, and Caesar rolled his eyes. "You know what? I'm going to go over after all."

"Go get her!" Caesar patted his back encouragingly, and raced around the counter to pretend to make more coffee. He had to see the interaction for himself. Kirk came up to the counter just then and asked for another cup of coffee. "It's still brewing, Kirk."

"You've got another pot right by the machine though," Kirk protested, his careful eyes sweeping around.

"Shh, quiet!" Caesar demanded. "I have to see this."

Luke was five steps away when he wondered how he should walk on over. You looked so peaceful and concentrated. He felt like he was interrupting a movie scene by stalking on as he usually would. What would Jess do? he wondered and felt confused at why he wondered that. Who the hell cares what Jess does? He steals gnomes for fun.

Just then, he noticed a pair of curious eyes look up at him. He felt his face turn red. Since she was served by Caesar the entire time, she was probably wondering who this tall, broad man in a flannel and baseball cap was. Or did she not care? Luke's mind and heart raced.

"Hi?" she tried.

"Hi! Uh, hi!" Luke rushed to fill the gap. "I'm Luke. I, uh, run this place."

"I figured," she nodded slowly with a smile.

"Yeah," he chuckled. "When Caesar isn't around to help, which is never, since it seems like he's always around. And my nephew's supposed to be here helping too, but he isn't. I'm not sure where he is actually," he rambled.

"You could probably find him pretty easily. This town's small yet lovely."

Lovely? Well, that's a first. Even Lorelai didn't go that far when she described Stars Hollow.

"Are you – ahem – are you from out of town?" he asked, pretending he hadn't learnt that from Caesar a minute ago.

"Yes, I'm from (the city/state/country you're from). Just visiting on a little business trip, I suppose."

"Oh, wow! Yeah. Not sure how you could call this place lovely, if you're from (the city/state/country you're from)."

You laughed, finally placing your book down. "Well, this town is certainly one-of-a-kind. I heard that it's pretty peaceful and quiet, until this teenager came in and started causing havoc by stealing gnomes and money and baseballs! He also did a pretty elaborate prank in front of the store."

Luke panicked, hoping you wouldn't associate his character with that of his restless nephew. "Ah, that's Jess! My sister's kid- my nephew actually!"

Your eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise—"

"Oh no, he does cause havoc," Luke softened up and calmed down considerably, his irritation of Jess taking over his nerves about you. "Quite a lot of it actually. He was causing a lot in New York too, where his mom lives, and she sent him over to me, because she thought I might - I don't know - be a positive influence or straighten him out."

"How's that going?" you asked playfully.

"Well, I think I've secured a spot in his memoir, but it's definitely not the foreword."

You laughed, and Luke's heart skipped a beat. Why did you insist on making him feel those things people only thought about in romantic novels and films? He'd never felt this way about a woman before. Well, there was Lorelai but they decided they were better as friends. And there was Rachel but she was always the one who got away, and once she left, he stopped wondering what if. Maybe Babette was right. Maybe he just needed to put himself out there.

"So I hope I'm not interrupting anything," you said shyly, studying his rugged features. You ignored that he came over in the first place and decided to try being extra polite.

"You're not! You're not!" Luke's initial nerves returned tenfold, when he forgot about everyone else and focused on you. "Say, were you planning to come in for dinner today?"

"No, I was planning to eat at the Inn, why?"

"I, uh, know a good place in Hartford if you're interested. I can drive, or you can meet me there. I know it seems like nothing ever happens here but Hartford is a whole different playing field."

"Funny, I didn't take you for a big city guy," you teased playfully. You didn't want to say anything but you noticed how nervous this stoic and gruff man was and knew you had the upper hand in the conversation. You were only playing around, you weren't going to do anything to hurt him of course.

"I can be sometimes. Let's just say, I'm full of surprises," he cringed inwardly at how bad his flirting was when he was nervous.

"Well, I look forward to finding out what those surprises are," you stood up and gathered your things. You glanced at him coquettishly. "Bye Luke."

He didn't want to love the way you said his name so much. He watched you leave, entranced, ignoring - or not realizing - how everyone else in the diner watched and whispered.