#night shift reader

[erwinsvow]

thinking about night shift reader getting jealous when a pretty temp nurse or patient won’t stop flirting with jack

YESYESYES!!🤭 i need that imagine him trying to convince her/ console her and she’s actually so jealous and mad w him

the squeal heard around the world. i loved writing this. i am soo sorry i am terrible at writing about the girl we are supposed to be jealous of, even though this was my own damn idea. i hope you like ♡ this is about 3.6k. oops

jack abbot is great at being your boyfriend, and he's even better at being a doctor.

he's the kind of boyfriend you spent all of your youth dreaming about, as though he had read the scribbles in your journals growing up, like he'd been right next to your friends when you'd tell them about what you want in a relationship.

sweet, devoted, caring. he takes care of you in ways that you didn't realize you needed to be cared for—does it so effortlessly that you're left wondering how it comes so easily to him. you know he's been in more relationships than you—he was married, and that is something you don't take lightly. he had already found the person he was going to spend forever with, and because of some cruel twist of fate, he ended up alone again.

you can't imagine that. you've been on the night-shift maybe six months, which means you've been official with jack for coming on four months now, and you can't even imagine what a single day without him would be like.

(you've experienced it in the broadest sense of the word—he once got called in at three in the afternoon on a day you both had gotten off. the two of you had only woken up an hour or two ago, and had spent the following time indulging in an afternoon delight, and when his phone went off, you were about to drift off to sleep again against his chest, to the sound of his heart. you still hold a grudge against shen for that day, and you know what it's like to be without him when you're so spoiled by what it's like to be with him—you were miserable until he came back home at ten that night.)

jack abbot is a great boyfriend. he surprises you with your favorite flowers, makes you breakfast because he worries about you not eating enough, and even though he's an old man, he replies to your texts as soon as he gets them, as soon as he can. (but he doesn't really need to, since you're always together anyways.)

but sometimes, your boyfriend is really fucking oblivious.

there's a travel nurse taking over for one of your favorite night-shift nurses' maternity leave. you were sad about it already, being without her, though it's hard to stay upset when she sends you photos of her cute baby napping and videos of him realizing he has fingers.

and you are nothing if not sweet, if not welcoming. you had been the newbie not that long ago, and even though you've settled into a great routine (that only partially includes jack, because despite the fact that the scheduler loves you, you don't get every shift with your boyfriend. that would just be wrong. and distracting, you think), you still remember how hard it was in the beginning.

so you beam at her with your smile, ask her about her hobbies and give her recommendations for the best coffee nearby. you do all the things you'd do if it was anyone else, trying to make sure she feels welcome. (jack told you once that you have a complex about making sure people like you. you told him to shut up.)

the first few shifts with her were fine. you've been on with shen and ellis for a week—that's just the way the schedule was. you and jack both have a golden weekend coming up soon, and there was another couple of days he took off to go visit his sister upstate, so you knew it would be a mildly sad few weeks without him there every night with you. it would be worth it for the forty-eight hours you had been daydreaming about, all of them in jack's apartment, not a single one outside of his bed.

but she'd been on with you every night you'd been there, and nurses only work three times a week—that's what's running through your head when jack comes in for his first shift this week with you. he'd come from his apartment, calling you to tell you that he'd made it back home safely and that he was going to sleep before heading in. you had ended the call securing a promise to get breakfast at the diner after tonight's shift, your usual routine.

but you feel sick to your stomach at eight-thirty, staring at the new nurse and your boyfriend, standing in front of a patient's bed.

jack looks good—he always looks good. his hair isn't as messy yet, his scrubs are still clean. he shifts his weight a little because he's had a long drive back from his sister's, and he didn't get to sleep that much, another reason why you are so excited for this empty weekend. were so excited.

you didn't even think you were the jealous type. how could you have known—with no one ever being so close to you that you had any reason to be jealous? you try to rack your head through a couple of first-dates and your sweet but boring short-term college boyfriend. no, you conclude, you've never been the jealous type.

except now, you suppose, watching the pretty nurse lean in a little too close to jack, showing him something on the tablet in her hands. she stares up at your boyfriend, and he stares at the tablet, and then the patient, and you stare at them. and then you see it—he looks at her and stays something, and she laughs. loudly, flirtatiously. you know that laugh, you see it all around you in a hospital full of flirts. and before either of them can catch you staring, you turn around and find a patient to take care of.

you tell yourself for the next thirty minutes that being jealous and getting angry is awfully immature of you, while stitching up a man with terrible knife skills who had secured his visit tonight during a failed attempt at making hibachi for dinner. you don't even hear him when he asks you when he should return to get the stitches out, and the nurse helping you looks at you in confusion. you never zone out while talking to patients, never leave them hanging. she fills in for you, telling him two weeks while you meander back to central.

and you feel a white hot ball of anger burning in your chest again. she's talking to him again. god—don't they both have jobs to do? she's doing the thing again, leaning in towards your boyfriend, looking at him with an expression that is entirely too familiar to you. it's the one that's constantly on your face—the one that the other night shift crew are probably sick of seeing by now. it's something like adoration and reverence and paying attention to every word he says so you don't miss anything. but hers isn't like yours, there's something else there too.

jack is talking to the patient now, taking a step closer to the bed and away from the nurse, and your thudding heart calms down for half a second before the nurse follows right behind him. and she touches his arm. not a tap, not a poke to get his attention. she wraps her fingers around his bicep, holds on for a little too long, and your boyfriend turns to look at her, and that's when you realize you need a moment.

you shut your eyes. it's times like this that you realize how green you really are when it comes to the whole 'dating a really handsome, really smart guy' thing. but jack has never given you a reason to be worried, has never said or done anything that even made you think he would entertain something like this. you know he wouldn't, he's too good for that, too nice of a boyfriend for that.

but it still stings. and so you turn away immediately, heading back to the desk and leaning against it. you report the two cases you dealt with to ellis, who asks you questions that take you too long to answer. you try to avoid staring at either your boyfriend or the nurse for too long, a storm cloud brewing inside of you when you see her trailing right behind him again.

you haven't even talked to him tonight yet, you think bitterly. miserably. and that nurse has been with him for two hours.

and unfortunately, you're also pretty green at hiding the fact that you're upset too. not to your patients—though you do let shen and ellis run the incoming and settle for debriding and wrapping up a burn instead, sitting behind a shut curtain so jack couldn't find you, if he was looking.

(of course he was looking. you're just caught up in your own head.)

and after that, it's almost ten. jack has a cup of coffee waiting for you, if he can find you. he tells the nurse who's been following him around all night if she can track you down for him, and then the patient with the chest pain he's been monitoring wants to speak with him, so he walks away to do that, stretching his neck to see if you're at one of the beds nearby. you have a pair of pink sneakers you wear, though every single person in your life had told you to buy black ones, him included. you don't listen, and times like this he's thankful, searching for the bright shoes under a few beds before giving up. maybe you had just walked away, maybe he had just missed you.

you're back at central, sending in an order for antibiotic gel and finishing a note. you're not a mean person, it doesn't come very naturally to you, but you do have to try really hard to resist the urge to roll your eyes when you see the nurse walking towards you.

you've been nice to her every day so far. it would be obvious if you started being mean—whatever your version of mean is—now. but it doesn't seem like she would notice, with that same love-sick expression as she sits in the empty chair next to you.

you're grumpy and tired and frankly too busy to deal with this, but when she starts talking, you listen anyways. (screw jack and screw your goddamn complex. you need to learn how to be mean.)

"how is this the first time i'm meeting him?" she asks, and you bite your cheek so hard you think it might be bleeding. you keep typing your note, looking in her direction and forcing a smile—stupid. complex. "he's so handsome."

"what's that now?" you grit, the screen in front of you not making much sense anymore. you backspace and delete the last two sentences that are filled with gibberish and abbreviations that don't exist.

"dr. abbot," she says to you and you think even your fingers are trembling. you are so, so incredibly bad at this. and you don't even realize why—so much anger and sadness pooling inside of you. normally you'd be caffeinated enough for a clear mind on this side of ten o'clock, but you've been avoiding your boyfriend, and therefore avoiding the cup he makes for you every shift.

the nurse rambles on, your heart beating faster with each word she says. dr. abbot is cute and nice and charming and, like, so funny.

i know, you want to yell. i know he's funny! you just met him three hours ago.

but you stay silent, stay nice, no matter how much it's eating at you. you are being extremely immature but everytime you think of how close they were standing and the fact that some other girl touched your boyfriend's arm, you want to black out.

she keeps rambling and you stay silent, trying for the most part to ignore her, until you hear it at the end of one of her sentences.

"he wears a wedding ring, though, i noticed it earlier when we were with that other patient. but i mean, he's a doctor right? they never care about-"

the thoughts you're thinking would get you put into the psych ward, you think.

"-oh, he was looking for you. you need to report to him, right? we were over by bed ten, i think, the guy with chest pain. we were-"

we, we, we. it's all she says.

"he was looking for me?" you repeat, tired of listening and frankly, a bit tired of the weight of your own emotions.

yes, you might be stupid for getting jealous about something like this, but if that's the case, then you accept your own stupidity. you would never touch some nurse's arm like that, not unless you were trying to give someone a hug after a bad loss. and you would never lean in close like that to anyone, no one besides jack. well, jack and that older radiologist who speaks very softly, so you always need to get real close so she doesn't have to keep repeating herself.

you guess you thought jack would feel the same about not doing those things for you. maybe he doesn't care, maybe it's nothing to him. but it's not to you, not right now, not while listening to a temp nurse gush about him all night.

"oh, there he is now. do i look okay? that other incoming was coughing up blood and we-"

you look up, meeting your boyfriend's pretty hazel eyes while he leans on the other side of the counter from you.

"do you need anything, dr. abbot?" she pipes up from next to you, and this time you do roll your eyes. fuck—you're really bad at this. jack sees it happen, shaking his head at her and turning his attention to you.

a few hours ago, this would have made you perfectly happy. but it keeps replaying in your head—the arm grab. maybe it's because you have your own complex about jack's arms, but it's not okay. and you won't pretend like it is either.

jack sets down your yellow mug by your hand. it's filled with a light colored coffee.

"here's your cream and sugar with a side of coffee." you stare up at him blankly, forcing a small smile.

"thank you," and then you turn your attention back to the screen. jack looks at you, confused with furrowed eyebrows. you can feel the nurse's eyes going between your yellow mug and jack. "i discharged hibachi guy with fifteen stitches. and the forearm burn wants to pick up the gel from his local pharmacy, i guess he knows the tech there or something-"

"you okay, kid?"

you release a breath you've been holding all night. when you turn to your side, you see the nurse is still staring, but not at you, just at jack. you turn your attention back to him.

"yeah."

you watch it happen in front of you. he turns to the nurse, and she beams, just like how you always do.

"would you mind giving us a minute?" he asks her, and you can see her deflate a little. you get a smug feeling, which you immediately curse yourself for. that's mean of you, and you don't like being mean—though you are very pleased he said that. she nods and gets up slowly, making sure to ask him again if he needs anything before she goes. and she walks somewhere away, though you're sure she can still see him.

"hey," he starts, and you do have to look up now. you can't ignore jack if you tried. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you lie through your teeth, ignoring how weepy you feel inside.

you don't know how to handle being jealous, and you want to say something mean and biting but you can't really think of it. so you settle for the next best thing, staying silent.

"c'mon, kid. don't lie to me. i haven't seen you all night."

"i was on chairs," you say, eyes flicking between jack's arm resting against the counter and the cup of coffee he brought you. and then you look at the recently emptied seat next to you. "and you were clearly busy."

jack hasn't been dating you for that long, but he still knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. knows that you're too nice, knows about the new nurse that replaced your pregnant friend—distinctly remembers you telling him about it on the phone last week. he knows that he's never seen you like this, that you haven't given him that smile that makes his knees weak and his heart thud all night. that he was waiting for it after a few days without you.

you chew your cheek again, taking a sip of the coffee. it's perfect, just like every other night.

(you had once confessed to jack at three am during the first month you two were officially dating that your coffee always tastes better when he makes it. it's what he thinks about when he makes it for you—here, at your place, at his place, at the diner.)

"thank you for the coffee," you say quietly, briefly flickering your sad eyes to him. jack leans in, holding your hand that just set down your mug.

"hey," he starts quietly, and you try to wrestle your hand away, though he doesn't budge. "hey. what's going on? did i-did i do something?"

you stay silent, though he notices your eyes getting watery. it's so stupid, crying over this like you've just lost a patient or something. but you can't help it. jack abbot makes you feel every emotion like it's your first time feeling it all over again. your eyes look at the chair next to you again.

"i saw her touching you," you admit quietly. saying the words out loud lights a fury inside of you, getting angry all over again at the very idea that he didn't realize what was happening.

"oh, kid, i-"

"d-don't. you asked, i'm just telling you." it's hard for him to listen when he notices your chin trembling a little, thinking about how this might be the first time he's messed up in your short relationship.

he comes over to the other side of the desk, taking the seat next to you and holding onto your hand again.

"please tell me this is not about that-that nurse," jack starts, and you want to walk away from him so badly. "sweetheart. i have absolutely no interest in her, even if she does. i told her to find you for me, so i could get your coffee-"

"but she touched your arm," you say, not realizing just how sad that had made you. but jack realizes, knows that you must have seen it from somewhere where he couldn't see you. knows you didn't see him brushing her off, standing by the patient, figuring out how to get rid of his new shadow.

"hey, i'm sorry, okay? i would have made sure she understood that i'm very happily taken if i had known-"

"but you should have known," you say, though the words are covered with a tiny sob. "i-i'm not crying because i'm sad, i'm angry, i just don't know how to stop crying when i-"

"hey, it's okay. c'mon, let's go on a walk."

"no, i need to finish my notes-"

"sweetheart, come on." jack takes both your hands in his, turning you towards him. he stares right into your eyes and you feel slightly better—slightly. "i need to apologize to you and then i'm going to kiss you. and i know how you feel about me doing that sort of thing in front of everyone, so-"

"i don't know what you're talking about," you snip back. "i don't have any feelings about doing any sort of thing in front of any sort of people-"

and jack wants to laugh, not sure if you entirely understand how cute you are like this. he'll tell you all about it tomorrow morning, when he's got you in his bed, after he apologizes every single way he knows how, after he proves to you how little temp nurses mean to him when he's finally got you.

he leans in close, knowing he's got eyes on the two of you.

"is that so?" you have a habit of shutting your eyes when you know a kiss is coming, and your body does it automatically, despite what your brain is thinking. "so you're not gonna mind if i-"

and he bridges the gap, kissing you at central until he has to pull away to let you breathe. your eyes blink open, staring at hazel until you hear it from behind you—the charge nurse, clearing her throat, suppressing a laugh.

"doctors? if you're about done, we have an incoming mvc-"

"coming, bridget. thanks." jack speaks for both of you, and a little dazed, you stand up with him, still staring.

"i'm still upset."

"i know."

"she still touched you-"

"and i think she's gotten the message by now, but if she hasn't, i will make sure she understands."

"i haven't worked with you since last week." the last part you say sadly, realizing how long it's been since you've seen your boyfriend.

"i'll make up for it in the morning. promise." you take one last sip of coffee, knowing it'll be cold by the time you come back to it, following jack to the trauma bay. you walk right by the temp nurse, who you catch watching as you tie jack's gown and he ties yours, and though you really shouldn't, you beam your friendliest smile at her as she waits with you and the other nurse outside.

"you look great, by the way. and he is cute, isn't he?"

[gunwoo-bh]

THE NIGHT SHIFT

A MIN YOONGI x F!READER STORY

∞ Strangers to friends to lovers, university au, slow burn ∞

You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t.

SERIES MASTERLIST

»» the night shift part 1

»» the night shift part 2

»» the night shift part 3

»» the night shift part 4

»» the night shift part 5

»» the night shift part 6

»» the night shift part 7

»» the night shift part 8

»» the night shift part 9

»» the night shift part 10

»» the night shift part 11

»» the night shift part 12

»» the night shift epilogue

DRABBLES & YOONGI POVs

»» oppa? [yoongi pov] 2.3k, fluff

[pjs-everyday]

uuuuuhhh, I asked aizawa to pick me up after work and came out a bit late… do you think he’s mad at me? 😖👉👈

[feinv]

My period started and all I want is JW to put his massive hand on my lower stomach and make the cramps go away.

(I didn’t get to see my IRL loving husband today because my cramps were absolutely pissers.)

-H

john wick x f!reader. period stuff. fluff & a loving husband <3

this man would be stressing more than you on your period cuz he knows your emotions are all over the place, and if last month all you wanted was to be left alone, it could be the complete opposite this time. either way, he always has a drawer of your favorite snacks ready and if you want something else he would be on his feet in a second and take his car keys, telling you he would be back in fifteen minutes.

obviously he got a heating pad for you, but it never did much help. you were convinced his hands would do the job better, and lucky for you, you were right. ;)

so when you two were cuddling in the bed in a weird position with a random tv show playing on the laptop, your body shifted closer to his as he spooned you from behind. you guided his hands under your shirt and onto your lower stomach. a contented sigh left your mouth at that, unsure if it was the feeling of his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck, or just the fact that he was a literal walking human furnace, and his warm hands felt so so nice against your exposed flesh, his thumb drawing soothing circles and grazing your belly button every now and then.

“feeling better?” he whispered in your ear as he felt your whole body relax, his usually stoic and harsh voice always so caring and affectionate towards you.

you mumbled something resembling a yes as you felt yourself dozing off in his arms, the excruciating pain finally fading away. <3

[skmhlml]

Night shift Abductor x reader.

🥩 what’s worse the a cultist cannibal? A southern cultist cannibal. Take it from someone born and raised in peach Georgia- this man is crazy.

🥩 Despite his ominous and frightening exterior he doesn’t talk much, which often leads you (his victim) to wonder what’s gonna happen as the days protracted.

🥩 since he isn’t good with words, he shows his affection through actions. “Small” gestures like leaving food for you (possibly human), providing a blanket when you’re cold (since you're in a cage), bringing you a gift AKA a full still beating human heart, or even trying to keep the house cleaner for your comfort.

🥩 He enjoys sitting in silence with you, finding a strange comfort in your presence. His idea of love is twisted. He believes that causing you pain or fear is a way to show his devotion, thinking that by breaking you down, he can rebuild you to be entirely his.

🥩 develops habits like checking the locks multiple times or creating elaborate traps around the house (fucking bear traps), all in an effort to ensure “your safety”. This can sometimes be overbearing

🥩 He keeps detailed notes about your habits, preferences, and routines, ensuring he knows everything about you. His need to control and monitor you can be suffocating.

🥩 keeping you in a cage all day can be suffocating. But since it's too risky to let you outside he lets you watch the victims in backward under his supervision, the screaming for help coming from them isn't wonderful at least breathing normal clean air is.

🥩 He manipulates you psychologically, making you doubt your memories and sense of reality. This gaslighting ensures you remain compliant and reliant on him for guidance and support. Just shushing you when you get too rowdy.

🥩 If you disobey or try to escape, he doesn’t hesitate to punish you. These punishments can range from locking you in a dark room to more severe physical harm, all justified in his mind as necessary to keep you safe. If it happens a bit to often he will snap and cut off the limb.

🥩 He installs hidden cameras and microphones throughout the house to monitor your every move. Privacy becomes a distant memory, as he’s always watching, ensuring you don’t try to leave or contact the outside world.

🥩 He has dark, ritualistic behaviors that he forces you to participate in. These can be terrifying and disturbing, meant to bond you to him through shared trauma and fear. Or guiding you on how to chop up humans.

[livlaughloveluke]

its been a while but im brewing a luke fic up so be excited

i’m about halfway through but it is indeed super long soooo

little preview!!

comment if u wanna be tagged

EDIT- P.1 OUT NOW!!

[seuonji]

night shift ★彡 xu minghao

xu minghao x yn ln

— a smau with written parts.

notes ๑ gn!reader, fluff, humour.

warnings ๑ profanity

彡when yn’s juniors finds trouble with some fellow college mates, yn goes through mountains just to get them justice, even if it means needing to infiltrate and make friends with the most intimidating clique on campus.

masterlist

profiles — folder.yn — folder.minghao

#1 expel him!

#2 observing!

#3 please hire me!

#4 i want to resign!

#5 better days when?!

#6 a bittersweet encounter!

#7 7th chance!

#8 wasted times!

#9 yn’s boyfriend!

#10 paracetamol!

#11 monopoly!

#12 an easy man!

#13 kuromi pic!

#14 white tee!

#15 lucky charm!

#16 …!

more to come…

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

���Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

[erwinsvow]

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

summary: jack abbot thinks he's too broken to fix. you just want to take care of him the way he takes care of you.

author's note: here it is! the first longer night shift reader and jack fic ♡ i hope everyone enjoys!

word count: 3.7k

tags: night shift reader x attending jack, comfort and angst, people are making bets (guess who wins!), patient death/loss, age gap relationship (implied but no ages specified!), idk i went a little crazy for two hours

it’s not an easy thing to take care of him. 

he knows that. there haven’t been that many people in his life who have been able to manage it. his wife was one, robby’s sort of another. jack has this thing—he has to at least try to take care of those around him before he can accept any of their help for himself. it’s almost a test of worth, to determine that it’s not a burden he’s placing unduly on anyone. it’s an exchange, he decides, a fair exchange. that way he’s not forcing anyone, because he knows how hard it is, how hard it can be. robby sees a side of it. his wife saw another.

and out of the black, heading into the blue, you are beginning to see it. he doesn’t know how it happened this way, just knows that the sweet resident who had come onto his night-shift because the day shift was beginning to be too much, was now the very reason he doesn’t head straight up to the roof after a very, very long night. 

he knows it’s not easy, that every time he loses a patient, he glances at the clock. the moment someone’s life was over, and the very moment that is going to ruin the lives of all the people who loved them. before he’d start the countdown—how many hours left on this shift? how many until he can go to the roof and breathe, scream and yell and sit in silence and watch the city wake up beneath him. 

it’s selfish. he momentarily checks out after time of death is called. robby does moments of reflections. maybe that’s how he’s able to manage it sometimes, break up the grief into little pieces throughout the day. 

jack isn’t like that. he’s always been the kind to bury, nestle it somewhere deep inside and keep adding, adding, adding. add until it’s about to burst, and then go to the roof and let some of it out. maybe if he tried robby’s way, he wouldn’t have felt like this for so long.

where can so much grief go? there’s no outlet for it, not the way jack does it. some of the things he buries are lost inside him forever, no escape, no exit.

and then you come along. 

jack’s prided himself in the fact that he’s good to the residents. they get more confident under his tutelage, make decisions more firmly, make them quickly and execute them correctly. that’s why robby had sent you over to him, hadn’t it? because you doubted yourself too much. because you felt like you weren’t making the right call.

from seven in the morning to seven at night, the place is crowded. it’s all hands on deck but there’s just a smidge too many hands, especially when there’s students. you were able to blend into the background for a couple months, but it’s just plainly wrong to let it hinder your education.

that’s why robby had sent you to him, right? for your education. to make you a better doctor, better than you already were, which was saying something. 

because jack abbot thinks that you’re incredibly gifted. gifted in the things that he can’t teach someone, in ways that he can’t explain. you have a special touch. patient-care is your forte. if he had to pick the nicest resident, it would be you. but you don’t believe in yourself. 

and he had sent himself to the task of fixing that. it’s what jack does, what he’s always done. patch it up and send it out.

(you’re a little different—he wants to make you believe in yourself more. he wants you to prove it to yourself. make yourself say it and mean it, not just because he’s telling you. that you are capable, that you were meant for this. that this is where you belong. that you have a safety net in the form of your attending—that he’ll be there with an outstretched arm, waiting incase you need him. you won’t, he knows. but you still need to feel him there. it’s working, he knows it is.)

it had been working perfectly fine so far. you build your routine, get yourself settled, start answering trauma calls with a run. 

one time he has you and ellis start the incoming together. tells parker to ask you questions, justify all of your decisions to her, but let you call the shots. when the charge nurse tells you the details, you head straight outside. you pull a yellow gown for yourself and the gloves in your size—those ones are baby blue. and then you pull another gown and the black gloves—the ones in his size. he watches from the nurse’s station, watches ellis take them and watches you look around, like you’re waiting for him to show up. he doesn’t, not this time.

you handle the case perfectly. oddly enough, he can’t seem to remember any of the specifics about it, even though he’s the one who signed off on your detailed note. 

jack watches from the door. you’ve got your back to him, and ellis looks up and sees him, but he shakes his head. he wants to see how you do without him, after so many with him. and you’re perfect—just like he knew you would be. the nurses move in tandem around you, listening closely to your orders. ellis asks questions and you answer, and you don’t sound like your answers are questions themselves—though you had at one point, not too long ago. 

that’s something he’d worked you out of, he thinks, a certain smugness seeping into his veins, satisfaction rolling through every muscle. 

you look out the other door, the opposite of where he’s standing. you stretch your neck like you’re trying to see what’s out there, and then you turn your attention back to your patient right away.

and once the patient is stable, that’s when he comes in. you’re doing it again, looking out the wrong door and as much as he wants to deny it, as wrong as it is, he knows you’re looking for him.

“good work, doctor,” he says, and you jump a little. you turn to look at him, but he’s looking at your senior resident for the assessment.

“dr. abbot, i-” 

“she did great,” parker comments, and you stop to beam at her.

“thank you.” ellis peels off her gloves and gown, black gloves that had been meant for him going into the bin. she gives you further instructions and you nod, and when it’s just the two of you, he finally turns to meet your eyes.

and the way you smile at him blows him away. it’s all over your face—from your gleaming eyes to the cheeks that must hurt, the lips that he can’t stop thinking about. there’s something else there too. neither of you want to say it, though you try.

“thank you, dr. abbot. i-” the words falter and die on your tongue. but in your joy, how pleased you are with yourself for once, you find the confidence he’s been wanting you to have all along. “i was looking for you.”

and jack swallows hard. it’s one thing to have a flirtation, to teach you, to mentor you. to make you cups of coffee and tea and buy a box of those protein bars that you like the best, because the other ones taste weird. to defend your yellow cup with his best glare, to stop in the aisle at costco and buy a duplicate pair just incase he ever needs to replace it. you love that yellow mug, and well, he loves—

“dr. abbot? you okay?” 

and it’s normally him asking you that.

“i’m fine, kid. you did great.” 

“so did you.” 

-

when jack walks by dana at around seven-ten, her and the other nurses go remarkably silent. 

“yes?” he asks, grabbing the black thermos from the counter where he’d been finishing his notes. it’s also from costco—chipped and bent all over the place, little flecks of silver making an appearance around the bottom. you’d made a joke about it once—even your cup is salt and pepper. and now he thinks about it every time he picks it up.

“what? i didn’t say anything,” dana replies, settling an ipad back in the charging port, moving around papers at the station. “but just so you know, the pool’s up to three hundred.”

jack sets his cup down a little harder than he means to, forearms resting on the sterile counter.

“what pool?” he demands, and dana shrugs. if he didn’t love her so much he would kill her.

“i’m just saying. if you’d like to help your favorite nurse contribute to her retirement fund, then you can—”

“oh? i can what?” 

it’s just not this easy for him anymore. you are full of all the good things that he so clearly lacks, made of so much sunshine it’s pouring out of you. you have love in stores, ready to be doled out at any time, to anyone. patients, coworkers, even the medical students you just met a couple minutes ago. he hears you—offering the flashcards you made for boards and the interview tips that got you to match at your top choice. 

he is entirely unworthy of your love. he knows it, deep down. loving him would break you. trying to piece him back together would drain you dry. and he doesn’t want to do that to you, you deserve better. maybe he can take care of you at work, but outside of these four walls, if you saw what he was like with idle hands and an empty apartment, or if you saw him up on that roof-

“dr. abbot?” 

your voice seems to always be enough to snap him out of it. 

“goodbye, dana,” he says, walking up next to you, thermos in hand. your eyes briefly glance down at it, smiling. “what’s going on, kid?” 

“remember what you had said? about breakfast?” and you smile at him like getting breakfast with jack abbot sounds like the great thing in the world right now. it’s almost seven-thirty and you probably haven’t slept in fifteen hours, and yet you keep smiling, big eyes blinking at him while you wait patiently for an answer.

“yeah.” he clears his throat, looking back at dana momentarily. she’s smiling at him, and then she turns to smack the side of robby’s arm, pointing him the direction of you two. “that sounds great. after you.” 

he shouldn’t have said yes. he knows what’ll happen if you start thinking that you can fix whatever is wrong with jack abbot, and he would like to avoid that entirely. but you beam at him again like you had earlier with ellis, and jack is a lot of things, but one thing is he is not, is a jerk. he won’t disappoint you about this, not when he’s secretly relieved you’re eating after shift. he’s seen you with sugary granola bars and pastries when you should be filling up on protein after a shift like this.

so he follows you out, ignoring the exchange of money behind him. 

breakfast is nice. you get chocolate-chip pancakes and he makes you get eggs too, and then hands you strips of bacon from his plate too. he hasn’t seen you like this before, and he tries to soak it into his memory. 

(something deep inside says that he should cut the tether before you get too attached. it’ll only hurt more to prolong it, to let it linger. the possibility of something between the two of you. and then you offer him a bite of a pancake drenched in syrup and everything in his head goes silent.)

breakfast becomes a weekly recurrence. there’s a twenty-four seven diner he loves just up the road from the hospital, and he’s been before with shen once, robby a couple times if their schedules lined up. it’s not particularly unusual to see him there with you, though he feels like he’s committing some sort of a crime.

you wear pullovers from your alma mater. the backpack you bring to work is the same one you used all four years of college and medical school, a fact you are very proud of. when he looks at it—his chest hurts. it’s hardly worn, looks like it’s in great condition—a couple of pins tacked on the side where your water bottle sits and a pocket for your badge and wallet in the front. he has to force himself to remember that you’re younger than any woman he’s seriously talked to before. his wife had been two months older than him, something he used to tease her about all the time. 

would you do that? would you tease him about the age difference? or would you prefer to ignore it, set it aside and try to forget about it? it’s a heavy question for breakfast after twelve hours on. 

you take him to another place that you like, too, closer to your apartment. you both eat bagels and sip on juice—orange for him, apple for you—and that’s where you learn more about his time as a medic. the breakfast burrito place near the park is where you tell him about how you’ve wanted to be a doctor since you were twelve, that you thought you’d had a calling for pediatrics and you’d even been the president of the peds club in medical school. and then you’d rotated through the emergency department third year and completely changed your plan.

you share a stack of waffles—chocolate chip with strawberries and whipped cream, at your insistence. he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to say no to you, not when you ask him so sweetly. he learns about your kitten and how you’ve always been scared that you’re going to do the wrong thing and until very recently, that you’ve just been playing pretend and you’ll get caught one day. 

and back at the diner is where he tells you about his wife. and you listen intently and nod and hold his hands when his voice breaks and run your fingers over his knuckles. you don’t let go of his hand the entire walk back to your apartment, and outside the door, you give him a hug. and the two of you stay like that for a while. that’s when you and jack kiss for the first time. slow, steady, a kiss that you’ve been dreaming of for months. it takes all the air out of your lungs and when you finally go inside, you realize your shoulder is a little wet and your lips are swollen. 

even hours later, jack can still taste apple juice on his tongue.

another week after that, you both answer the incoming trauma together. it’s six-thirty, so someone might come and take over, but it doesn’t work out that way. it’s a man who got t-boned at an intersection on the way to school drop-off. his wife and daughter are getting their cuts stitched, you think, and the patient had been slurring at you when he came in. thank god i put her behind her mom today. thank god, thank god- and jack does something he doesn’t always do. 

“get the mom, get the kid. let-let them talk.” 

and while you do the ultrasound and the e-fast and order for type and cross-match, you hear his daughter crying and a wife telling her husband how much she loves him. 

and you and jack try everything, everything you can think of, but sometimes, there’s just no coming back. he doesn’t even make it to surgery. jack walks out first, and then you, and you see his daughter turn away from the medical student that’s tending to her wound, standing up with hopeful eyes like you and jack have good news for her.

and you feel incredibly broken. your day hasn’t even started yet. and you lock eyes with jack for a second—just a second, and he stares back at you, hardened, in a way you haven’t seen before. you’ve both lost patients, lost patients together. sometimes it’s just different, in a way that you can’t explain. 

it must have been an hour, an hour and a half you spent in the trauma room. the entire day shift is there now. 

“head home, kid,” jack says. “i’ll talk to the family.” 

you bring your hand to his shoulder, pulling back until he turns to face you. 

“i’ll talk to the family.” 

it’s not an easy thing to take care of. he tries to tell you something but you shake your head at him, the hand on his shoulder lingering. people are looking, he thinks. but then again, he’s never cared that much. and in this moment, neither do you. 

you head over to the family, excuse the nurses and the student doing the stitches. you pull the curtains, and all he hears is sobbing. 

and when you come back out, he know you held it together in front of them, but your shoulders are shaking, your chin is wobbling. and in front of all those people, he brings you in for a hug. 

a real hug—like the one you had in front of your apartment. jack’s grip is tight on you, his arms caging you in, covering everything so you can’t see anything, can’t think about anything else but him. he rests his chin on your head, and closes his eyes, and then the two of you walk back to the lockers together. 

it’s not an easy thing to take care of him. and somehow, without ever telling you, you know all about how to do it. you know a lot of things about him. you know what this job does to him and that if he had gone to tell that family they lost their father and husband, that he would’ve ended up on the roof this morning. you know that jack abbot doesn’t halve any of his burdens, that he’s been afraid to rely on you like how you rely on him. to need you in the way that you need him. and you know that he won’t tell you what he needs, but you’ve gotten somewhat adept at figuring him out, just like how he has with you.

that day you leave holding hands. neither of you are in the right mood to go out for breakfast, so he elects to take you back to his apartment, an arm swung around your shoulder the entire walk there. you’re still a little teary-eyed, wiping them away at his front door while you head inside with him. 

you’ve never seen the inside of jack’s apartment, but he’s mentioned it in one of your many conversations. the record collection, his wife’s plants that he takes care of, the kitchen that’s too big for one person. 

the morning light hits the place beautifully. you stare out of his window while he heads to the kitchen, and you look around. first the records, then the plants, just like he’d described. there’s pothos and peace lily and little succulents along the windowsill. you look at the rest of it—incredibly fitting. a brown leather couch and a bookshelf with medical textbooks and a couple of mystery thrillers. you laugh to yourself, imagining jack curling up with one of those books at night.

when you turn back, he’s cracking eggs and laying out strips of bacon on the pan. you head over to the other side of the island, taking a seat on one of the stools. 

“no pancakes?”

“you’re gonna get cavities, y’know,” jack says, and you smile at him. 

“it’s worth it.”

“i love your smile the way it is right now. don’t go changing it on me.” and that does make you smile, staring at jack making breakfast for the two of you. it all feels so domestic. like you’re just walking into the life that was meant for you all along.

you’ve only been on the night shift for a couple of months. 

how could he have been so stupid? trying to fight what you did to him when it was like gravity, like the tide, like every other force in this world that he knows about and cannot control. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and so is he.

“mel texted me. she won the bet,” you say, setting your phone down. you lean against your hand, inhaling the smell of the first of many home-cooked meals you’ll eat, made by jack abbot.

“that so? i thought dana was a shoo-in.” 

“dana got the timing wrong. thought it’d happen during the night shift. but technically, you hugged me at eight-thirty, so..” 

“and what was the winning combo?” he stares at you, probably for the millionth time since you met him. and still, somehow, it’s enough that you feel it in your bones. you want to look away but you don’t. “you want toast, kid?” 

“yes please. she didn’t say, but i’ll ask. later.” 

you and jack settle at his wooden dining table ten minutes later, a plate full of protein and a promise that he’ll get you something sweet when you wake up later. jack lifts up his pant leg and takes off his prosthetic, setting it against the chair and relaxing a little bit more. you can see his shoulders loosen up. when he catches you staring, he smiles back.

“what?”

“nothing. do you have juice?”

“i think there’s some apple in there. i can-”

“no, i got it.” you get up, walking towards to the fridge. “i thought you didn’t like apple.” you know he doesn’t—he prefers orange. 

“i changed my mind.” you smile back at him, finding the apple juice and setting it on the counter. 

“cups?” 

“the cabinet on your right. no, your other right.”

you laugh and open it up, your laugh dying in your throat as you stare at two yellow mugs sitting front and center in the cupboard. you pick them up, bringing them over to the table with jack, and stare at him.

“oh,” he says. “i can explain. it’s incase-” but you don’t want to listen for another second, so you sit on his lap, pressing your lips together and forgetting all about breakfast and apple juice.

♡ thanks for reading!

[lolitac0re]

Working nightshift with Trafalgar Law.

plot: working in pediatric ward and getting food at 2AM.

word count: 775.

genre: realism, drama.

gender: all. (Female intended.)

credit to fan art.

Law sat at his desk, around 7 feet away from you. His fingers clicked away at the computer keys, typing in some patient’s information.

The hospital was quiet and dim. That made sense—it was 2 AM. You and Law were working on the women’s and pediatrics floor, which was mostly delivery rooms and children’s rooms.

The walls were decorated with childish patterns, like buzzing bees or grasshoppers bouncing in the spiky grass. It was peaceful. The beeps of the machinery were a mix of comfort and terror for you and Law. A beep in a hospital could mean anything—from the first heartbeats of a baby to the last moments of a dying man. Every beep carried weight, good or bad.

Valentine wasn’t doing much, just scrolling on their phone. You had already finished all your documents and put the children to sleep, so you didn’t have much to do during your slow shift, which was far from over.

An awkward silence sat between you and Law. It was tight and uncomfortable. You put on some headphones, started listening to music, and began reading on your phone.

A while later, the man next to you stretched and groaned. You didn’t hear him, but he got your attention when he stood up. He said something to you, but since your headphones were in, you couldn’t hear him. You took one of your headphones out.

“I’m hungry. Can you order some food?”

“Sure. What do you want?” you asked, setting your phone on the desk and spinning your chair to face him.

“Eh… Taco Bell,” the tired male yawned, his eyes blurry and watery from the yawn.

“Really?” you questioned, surprised by his choice.

“Yeah.”

“Mkay…”

Law walked off to the bathroom, and you opened DoorDash to place an order from Taco Bell.

“He never told me what he wanted…” you thought.

Since Law hadn’t specified his order, you started with your own: a Crunchwrap Supreme, cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a strawberry lemonade. Once you finished your order, you set your phone aside and looked at the hospital computer in front of you. The computer screen displayed the hospital logo as its screensaver: a gray and teal-green cross with three white curvy lines running through it, separating the colors.

Law returned from the bathroom, and you slid your phone over to him.

“Here, order what you want. Under 20 bucks, please,” you said tiredly.

“Hm,” he replied, scrolling for something that sounded good.

The male slid the phone back over to you a few minutes later. You pulled out a debit card and paid for the food.

“It says it’s gonna be here in like 20 minutes.”

“K…”

A knock came at the heavy wooden doors. You pressed a button and spoke into a microphone.

“Hello. State your purpose of visit.”

Your voice came out on a speaker on the other side of the door. A female voice replied back.

“I’m here for Y/N. I’m a Dasher with Taco Bell.”

“Push the doors open when you hear the gears stop moving.”

You pressed the unlock button on the heavy wooden doors. Some gears turned, and then the Dasher came through. The doors were about 50 feet from the desk where you and Law were, so it took a moment for the Dasher to reach you. They set the bag on the desk and left.

After the Dasher exited, Law grabbed the bag and took out his food. He slowly slid the paper bag over to you while taking a sip from his drink. You grabbed your food and took a bite of your Crunchwrap.

“Thanks…” Law mumbled, opening the off-brand Chipotle bowl.

“You’re welcome. It’s on the house,” you replied, taking a sip of your strawberry lemonade.

“Oh, double thanks,” the man replied.

“You’re welcome…” you chuckled.

[gunwoo-bh]

The Night Shift - Part 6 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, lotsa flirting, yoongi is so far gone for reader, some swearing, reader is starting to use the word oppa as a weapon A/N: WELL. I have figured things out. We are just about at the halfway mark of this series. I'm so grateful for all the love you've given this. It inspires me to keep going. I have updated the tag list, but if I forgot anybody? Let me know please! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I promise this slow burn WILL come to an end. :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 6

Yoongi [3:14 PM]: I do not have dimples.

You [3:14 PM]: I hate to break it to you but you do. 

Yoongi [3:15 PM]: Well, do you like them?

You [3:15 PM]: (rolling eyes emoji) You never stop do you?

Yoongi [3:15 PM]: Never will (winky face emoji)

Since getting that first text from Yoongi, neither of you have been able to stop texting the other. Every time your phone buzzes, you anticipate with excitement a message from him and are rarely disappointed. He’s such a texter and that has been your blessing. You have discovered more about him through texting than any interaction you’ve had, and this only proves to you just how much you like him. 

“Iced Americano for…” you hear your name get called out, getting up to pick up your drink. 

You’re at a café to study, needing a change of scenery from the four walls of your bedroom. Eunji’s family is still visiting, leaving the next day but you’re still wanting to give them the space to enjoy time alone. You walked around to find a nice café with enough space for you to spread out at a table. 

Since your last meeting with Yoongi you’ve been venturing out of your comfort zone, going to new restaurants that look interesting or visiting a store that had something you liked. This is how you ended up at this coffee shop in the first place. You had resigned yourself to studying at the library until you spotted this quaint spot. 

As you’re sitting back down your phone buzzes in your hand.

Yoongi [3:18 PM]: I’m free, want me to walk you to work?

You smile, biting your lower lip.

You [3:18 PM]: Not working today, remember? Days changed. I’m studying.

Yoongi [3:19 PM]: Ahhh. So…can I come pick you up from the library where you’re studying to go grab some food?

You snort. What an idiot.

You [3:20 PM]: I’m not at the library. (shocked emoji)

Yoongi [3:20 PM]: Where are you?

You send him a photo of your view from where you sit. 

Yoongi [3:21 PM]: (shocked emoji)

Yoongi [3:21 PM]: A café! Shocking! 

You [3:21PM]: Ha. Ha. (sighing emoji) I’m trying new things. Saw this café from the street and I’m trying it out. 

You [3:22 PM]: You keep saying I need to try new things.

Yoongi [3:22 PM]: Is it nice? How are the Americanos?

Yoongi [3:23 PM]: Are there snacks? Is it cold or warm?

You chew on the straw of your americano, shaking your head and looking around to make sure no one sees your goofy smile.

You [3:25 PM]: Oppa.

Even writing that makes you nervous. 

Yoongi [3:25 PM]: Mhm?

You [3:26 PM]: (sends location pin)

You [3:26 PM]: Come on over. Just know I’m studying and I’m boring.

He reads the message right away but says nothing for a while, making you wonder if he’s unsure he wants to come until you see him typing. 

Yoongi [3:28 PM]: Make space for me.

You [3:29 PM]: Always.

You put your phone face down on the table, sighing softly and grinning. You go back up to the counter and order another iced Americano for him. You’ve figured out his order based on your texts over the last few days. He’s a simple man. A black iced Americano. 

You tell the employee to start preparing ten minutes from when you ordered it, assuming he wasn’t too far off. Or that he would be here soon. And you’re proven right when he walks right in as you hear your name be called again, he hears it too. He follows the barista’s eyesight directly to you as he grins, walking to pick up the drink and walking to you. 

“How many have you had so far?” He teases, placing it in front of you.

“Just one. I ordered this one for you.” You slide it to him.

He looks down to it, then back at you as you smile. He’s surprised, because this is the first time you’ve actually bought him something.

“You didn’t have to do that. I have money.” 

You frown, glaring at him, “I know you do. But you don’t get to buy me stuff all the time. Sometimes, I’ll buy.” 

“Mhm.”

“Say thank you like a normal person, Min Yoongi.” He starts grinning at that, grabbing the iced americano and sipping it. 

“Thanks.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, “I’m gonna study now. What are you gonna do while I do that?”

He lifts his bag, taking out his laptop and textbooks, “Same thing. Writing an essay.”

You give him a sly smile, looking back at your laptop with the smallest shake of your head. You put one earbud back in, looking back at Yoongi as he does the same.

7 PM

You don’t realize how much time passes until you hear the familiar dong of the clock, snapping you out of your hyperfocus to glance at your phone and at the time. You gasp softly, realizing a little over three hours have gone by as you look to Yoongi, still buried in highlighting a section of his textbook. You reach out to tap his arm, leaving your fingers there as he looks up. 

“Oppa…” His mouth falls open at that, prompting you to resist a grin from forming. “I’m hungry.”

He looks up at the clock on the wall then back to his phone to confirm he didn’t imagine, leaning back and stretching, reaching for his earbud and taking it out too, “You’re what now?”

“Hungry.”

He smirks, licking his lips, “Wanna wrap up and find food?” 

You start smiling at that, nodding softly while shutting your books and laptop, “Yes, and yes, please!”

You feel him reach for the strap of your bag as you slip your laptop last into it, not protesting his desire to carry it for you. He lets you walk ahead as you exit the café with you waiting for him at the bottom of the steps.

“So, where did you have in mind? I’m sure you already have a spot.” You say when he meets up with you.

He grins while looking at you with warmth, “I do, actually.”

“Then lead the way.”

You look at his profile as you walk, your gaze tender as you avert your eyes when he turns to look at you. He makes you nervous, but the kind of nervous that leaves you feeling giddy. You’re enamoured with him, every new facet of his personality making it easy for you to like him even more. You glance down to his arm hanging by his eyes, moving closer to it before swiftly wrapping your fingers around his forearm. 

You feel him tense for a brief moment before he relaxes again, glancing down to your hand then up to your face as you look ahead. You try to hide your amusement at his look, which you spot from the corner of your eyes. If he wants to say something he doesn’t, instead keeping quiet as you walk up a familiar street.

You gently apply pressure to his arm, stopping him as he stops in front of the restaurant.

“Here?”

Here is his parents’ restaurant. Why do you suddenly grow nervous? You don’t know. It’s food. You’re just grabbing a bite to eat. 

With your crush. Admitting it is much easier than denying it.

“Yeah? I seem to remember you ordering three tons of food once…” He teases as you playfully shove him.

“I told you it was for me and my roommates! I didn’t eat all of that by myself, jeez…” He laughs as you let go of his arm, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He reaches for you, “I’m sorry, I was just teasing again…” he wraps his fingers around your forearm. “We can keep working while eating, my parents will let us use a table…”

You look back to the building then him, feeling his fingers gently squeeze your arm while tugging you closer. You start smiling before following him inside, his hand still holding your arm but you don’t pull it out of his grasp. 

He only lets go once you walk inside, Yoongi holding the door open for you as he says hello to his mom whose eyes move from brightly looking at her son to looking over to you walking up closely behind. You see the light shock on her face but she manages to keep it under wraps, to not break out into the smile you know most moms would break into seeing their son walk in with a girl. 

He points to a table in the corner as he guides you to lead the way, following behind you as you settle at the table. You both begin to take your work out as his mother walks over with side dishes and water.

“Oh, hi it’s you again…” she says, sweetly smiling at you. 

Yoongi looks at his mom, “She’s not here to raid our kitchen this time, though.” 

You look to glare at him, kicking him under the table, “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“It wasn’t just for her, you know?” His mom defends as you look up full of adoration.

“See! Even your mom knows!”

Yoongi just sits there looking between you and his mom with amusement, like this is what he wanted out of the comment he made. You look down to your hands and then back to his mom, “Was he always like this?” 

“A little demon, you mean?” He snaps his head at his mother, mockingly offended. “Yes, sweet angel most times, mischievous sometimes.” She reaches over to squeeze his cheek while Yoongi protests loudly but does nothing to stop her. 

“Alright, alright! Mom, can we get food. We have to work still…” he pleads with her, and you watch them have some sort of silent conversation as she cups his cheek instead. 

“Mhm, fine. Let me take care of you kids.” She looks between you and Yoongi one final time before disappearing in the kitchen.

You raise your gaze to meet his, “Your mom is nice.”

“She likes you.” He must see the shock on your face because he grins, eyes softening when looking at you. “But yes, she is nice. Sometimes she’s too nice.”

You nod while opening your textbook, “I think you get that from her…” you comment while not looking at him, too embarrassed to see his look on his face. 

He stays quiet but you still feel his eyes on you, and before long he turns his focus to his own school work. His mother brings over some japchae, some galbi jim and kimbap on the side. You eat in between work but soon enough, you push your books off to the side to focus solely on the food. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, still works diligently without eating much. He takes a bit here and there but his eyes remain glued to his textbook. You even stare at him for longer than necessary and he doesn’t even notice. With your chopsticks you grab a kimbap and raise it before reaching over the table, placing it in his eyesight as he startles at the sudden object in front of him. 

“Eat, please.” You keep holding it there, expecting him to refuse it or to ask you to put it down on his plate but he instead manages to surprise you yet again as he leans forward with his mouth open to take it directly from you. 

The faintest smile tugs at your lips, grabbing some rice and kimchi, doing the same. And in between bites of food, some reading and some talking, you manage to finish the meal prepared by his parents. 

The restaurant begins to empty as seven turns to eight and then nine. And as you approach 9:30 p.m. you lean back as you respond to a text on your phone. And another one. Yoongi is still reading and taking notes this entire time, but he takes note of your work pushed aside as he glances over the edge of his book. 

“Everything okay?” He asks, looking back down to his book to not show the light concern he’s feeling right now. 

You snap your head up and realize you’ve been on your phone instead of working, “Shoot, yeah, just…trying to organize something with my friends and it’s slowly falling apart…” you sigh.

He stands up suddenly, catching you off guard while you watch him go behind the counter to grab another soda and a beer for himself. He returns, opening the soda and giving it to you as he pops his beer open, “I think we’ve done enough studying and work tonight. What’s not working with your friends and your plans?” 

You grab the can, taking a sip while opening your phone up and looking something up under his curious gaze. You turn it around to show him a photo of an ad online about a couch being sold.

“My friends and I have been looking for a bigger couch to be able to host friends or like, have movie nights without ending up on the floor. And we found this one but,” you stand up to come around as he pulls out the chair next to him, “our problem is, we need a van because it’s too big. Even though it comes in sections.”

He nods while looking at you, waiting for you to keep going, “And the second issue we have is the location. The person selling it lives an hour away, just outside of Seoul. The main issue is that none of us drive, or have a car. But we can afford it. We’ve been trying to see if they’d be willing to deliver it but no luck so far.”

He looks at the address on your phone, looking at the location and then back to the couch. He looks deep in thought as you sit there, picking at your nails. 

“You like the couch?”

He looks up at you, “We love it.”

He nods softly before handing your phone back, “Gimme a sec…”

He stands up, walking around and disappearing in the kitchen for a moment as you sit there, bewildered. You look down to your phone, biting your lower lip as your friends’ texts still come through. 

You hear Yoongi’s voice even from the back as he hums his thanks to his parents, stepping out to jog back to your table and finding his spot next to you again. He asks for your phone again and when he holds it, he sends himself the location. You take it from him, frowning as you mouth the air, but he beats you to it.

“I asked my parents if I could borrow the restaurant van we use for deliveries for one day and they said yes. Mom said as long as we have it back within one day it won’t be a problem. She also says to let her know which day, she’ll make us snacks so we save our money.” He chuckles at that last part, not realizing all the information you have to process.

“Wait, what?”

He laughs, his gummy smile showing, “Tell your friend speaking to whoever owns the couch that you’ll take it, and to figure out a day. I’ll ask my friends to help with moving it up to your building.”

Your mouth hangs open as he adds, “Preferably on the weekend, obviously.” 

You shake your head as you reach for his hands, “Oppa, I didn’t mean…I wasn’t asking–”

“You said you liked the couch. Right?” He turns his chair to face you, holding your hands now in his. At your small nod, he smiles. “Then let’s get you the couch.”

You sit there still in shock, looking at his face and how simple it seems to be for him to say such things. You exhale before launching yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hugging him. 

You don’t realize as you half sit, half stand there with your face buried in his neck that he looks over your shoulder with his cheeks bright red as he finally wraps one arm around you. 

“Are you sure?” Your breath hits his ear, sending a shiver down his spine and goosebumps all over his body.

He nods, “Mhm. One hundred percent.” 

“Thank you…” Yoongi squeezes you tighter before removing his arm, prompting you to pull back as you clear your throat. “And sorry about…” you point between yourselves. 

“The hug?” You nod when he asks, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Don’t. I like that you felt you could do that with me.”

He grabs your hand and shakes it, “So, text your friends now! Let them know you figured out a way.”

You jump to it, texting away on your phone for a moment as he watches you. You’re so excited you can’t even contain it as you smile while texts are coming in from your friends. 

When you put your phone face down a little while later, you turn to him with the softest smile, “Have I said thank you?”

He grins at you, “Yes, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again.”

“Thank you…” you watch his gummy smile, his cheeks flush, “Oppa.” You see his smile falter as he mouths the air at that. 

You figure that there must be some mutual interest in some way, shape, or form. Otherwise he wouldn’t blush this hard when you call him that. You nudge his leg with yours so he looks at you.

“You made my day.” Your voice is timid as you tenderly look into his eyes. 

He nods while looking away, “Any time.” Squeezing your leg he stands up, “I’ll walk you home, okay? I’ll just let my mom know.” 

You sit there watching after him as he disappears again. These last few weeks would have overwhelmed you had it been anybody else but Yoongi has somehow made himself a space in your life you can’t see him ever leaving.

You like Min Yoongi. 

And maybe, just maybe, he likes you too. 

And that is why when you hug him one final time in front of your building that night, you press a sweet kiss to the high point of his cheek before pulling completely out of the embrace. You keep your hands on his shoulders, “Goodnight. Thank you for everything.”

“Anytime.”

Here we go! Another chapter down! I'm so excited for what's next, I can't wait to show it to you all! ENJOY :D

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[hansslut]

just reminding y'all that this happened btw

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Chapter 30.

the day before the concert, tara and i spent hours putting together our perfect Falling in Reverse concert outfits. with the two of our closets combined, and with the help of Jake and Johnnies too, but they don't need to know that, we were finally content with what we were going in. clothes were scattered everywhere, but we'd worry about that later.

Tara decided on a mini skirt with 3 different belts that we had found in jakes closet, which she had stacked strategically. she took one of my blinged up hot pink crop tops that i hadn't worn since 8th grade and had that as her top. she threw a fur coat over the top of everything. she threw on her chunky black boots with spikes and a cute pair of leg warmers on to finish the look. she had been planning on the makeup she was going to do for months, but all it was was her usual makeup with pink eyeshadow and eyeliner stars on her cheek.

i ended up wearing [outfit of your choice] and paired it with [makeup of your choice].

johnnies outfit was jaw-dropping. he chose his black lace button up and obviously wore it halfway unbuttoned. he layered about 10 different necklaces and rings. he also decided on wearing a new pair of dark red skinny jeans with his usual black boots. he tied it all together with his leather jacket. for johnnies makeup, he smudged red lipstick under his eyes and streaked black eyeliner down his face.

jakes outfit was just as cunty as the rest of us; he wore a cropped black tank top paired with his favorite pair of flared jeans. he also chose his belt with bullets on it. he decided on not even bringing a jacket with his reason being "he has tattoos for a reason." he also wore platform shoes and an arrangement of bracelets, some i had never seen before. jake decided to wear no makeup to the concert.

tara slept over so it'd be easier for all of us to take the 4 hour drive early in the morning. we had decided to rent a hotel so we could all get fucked up during the concert and not have to worry about driving home when we could just call an uber. all of us were restless that night, but forced ourselves to sleep so we were really ready for the concert.

i woke up the next morning wrapped in johnnies arms, per usual. the alarm was reverberating in my ears as Johnnie was also starting to stir awake. he opened his eyes and squinted them to look at me, a small smile forming on his face. "mornin'." his groggy sleep voice greeted.

"good morning. you excited?" i asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. i climbed out of the bed and stretched, making a million different bones in my body crack at once. "we gotta hurry up and take our showers since everyone else needs to, too."

Johnnies eyes scanned over my body. he sighed and propped himself up on his elbow. "do you want to just take a shower together? it'd save time." he smirked, gently squeezing my hand before he began fidgeting with my fingers.

"i like that idea." i placed a gentle kiss on his lips before dragging him out of bed into the bathroom.

i started the shower, making sure it was nice and warm as Johnnie got undressed. i wasn't far behind him, getting undressed myself before stepping into the shower with him. the warm water on my back woke me up as much as it was relaxing. i watched as the water trickled down Johnnies body and seeped into his inked skin. he ran his moist hands down my body and grabbed the body wash. he squirted some into his hands and began to wash my body. he had nothing but admiration in his eyes as they trailed over every part of me. he made sure no part of me was unwashed before going to wash himself. i did the same for him, helping him wash every inch of his pale skin. he shampooed and conditioned my hair, and while i wash washing mine out, he cleaned his own. he kissed me softly, but passionately before turning off the shower and climbing out. he wrapped me up in a soft towel, as well as himself.

we made our way back to our bedroom to pack our 1 day trip bags quickly. i stole johnnies pair of chunky pajama pants to wear on the drive, as well as my Lana Del Rey tee that was beaten up and bruised from all of the use. i packed all of my makeup and my concert outfit. i didn't bother packing an outfit for the second day there since we were leaving and heading home as soon as we got checked out of the hotel. Johnnie packed pretty much the same thing as i did, the only difference being he did pack an outfit for the second day. he threw on a pair of black skinny jeans and a My Chemical Romance tee shirt to wear on the drive there.

there was a small knock on the door before tara's bright voice called out, "you guys up?" we both answered yeah at the same time. she opened the door and greeted me with a hug. "morning!" she greeted excitedly.

i hugged her back tight. "morning, Tar." i heard the shower start from down the hall. "damn, is Jake just now getting in?"

"yeah, it took me, like, 20 minutes to actually get him out of bed. he snoozed his alarm 3 times before i had to go in there and drag him out of bed myself." she sighed, sitting on the bed next to me.

Johnnie shut down his PC so it wasn't wasting electricity while we were away. "well, that's Jake for you."

tara rolled her eyes. "yeah, well, he needs his beauty sleep, anyway."

"did you get your bag fully packed?" i asked, tossing my bag over my shoulder.

"duh, i got everything ready." she smiled.

the three of us moved down to the living room, bringing our bags and everything else we needed with us. Johnnie sprawled himself out over the couch. i made my way into the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of water bottle and a few snacks for the road, putting them in one of my goat bags and setting it with the rest of our shit. Jake ended up joining me in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"okay, slut." i mumbled under my breath jokingly. i walked back out of the kitchen to join Johnnie on the couch.

"i know you are not talk to me, skank." he snapped his fingers and grabbed his zyns and decaf coffee off of the counter. he threw that shit in the microwave like it was nobody's business. he leaned against the counter and went on his phone.

i rolled my eyes, "is your bag even packed?"

"no," he answered nonchalantly before taking a selfie. i realized later on that he had posted it on his instagram story.

"that's wild that you're worried about your coffee right now, then." i laughed, "what if we're late to see Ronnie?" i over exaggerated.

he pursed his lips, "well, Ronnie can wait for my coffee." he smiled, taking a sip before heading up to his room.

tara had hopped in the shower immediately after jake did. she always took extremely long showers, but she made it quick today.

Jake made his way back downstairs with tara by his side less than 10 minutes later. with all of our bags and shit we needed on hand, we headed out the door.

Johnnie and I climbed into the back seat while jake and tara took the front. tara had music privileges for the first hour of the drive. her music taste was definitely different from mine, but I didn't mind it.

I leaned my head against johnnies shoulder and stared out of the front windshield, watching as all of the buildings and cars sped past. he wrapped his arm around my waist, his hand resting on my hip as he went on his phone to scroll through tiktok. my eyes flickered to his phone, watching as he reposted silly edits of himself, and of me and him, that fans had created.

Jake and tara had begun bickering about her lip smacking that annoyed jake ever so much. I felt johnnies shoulders jiggle, signaling that he was laughing. I quietly laughed along, aswell. they fought like a married couple, sometimes.

I could feel myself becoming drowsy as the car lulled me to sleep. my eyelids felt like bricks. it was way too early in the morning for this, especially when I was in and out of sleep all of last night. I gave in, letting my eyes fall shut as I slowly fell asleep on johnnies shoulder.

I woke up about an hour and a half later. johnnie was now watching Netflix on his phone. tara was passed out in the front seat, and jake was next to her, gently bobbing his head to the slower song playing on the radio. johnnie had felt me stir awake and began to rub my hip gently.

johnnie cleared his throat, "was that a good nap?" he teased.

I stretched my back before placing my head back on his shoulder. "Actually, yeah. your shoulder is a great pillow." I placed a kiss on his cheek, nuzzling my head further into his neck. "we should stop and get breakfast somewhere."

"I second that." jake stuck up one finger before rubbing his tummy. "I could eat a horse pussy right now."

his weird comment made tara finally open her eyes, as she had been stirring for a while. "what a great sentence to wake up to, jake."

he patted her knee, "sorry, sweetie."

we pulled into the closest McDonald's and bought breakfast. jake ate with one hand as he continued to drive, nearly fisting the breakfast sandwiches he had gotten. Jake and I both got coffees and the same breakfast sandwiches, a mcgrittle. we were practically twins at that point. I smiled at johnnie as he happily munched on his breakfast next to me. he smiled back.

by the time we were all done with our breakfast, we were about an hour out from the hotel. jake and tara switched seats since she offered to drive the rest of the way.

the rest of the drive was silent except for the soft music on the radio. I could tell we were all pretty tired from the long drive, and we'd all probably need a nap whenever we got to the hotel. to be fair, the coffee did wake up me and jake, though. honestly, nothing slaps like a good McDonald's coffee with extra creamer this early in the morning.

we had finally made it even earlier than we expected. I climbed out of the car and stretched, cracking my back before grabbing my things out of the car. Jake got the key card for the hotel while we unpacked the car, although there wasn't much to unpack. we brought all of our bags inside and made out way up to the hotel room.

the room was extremely nice. there were two beds, a large window with a beautiful overview of the city, and the usual hotel room accommodations.

I threw myself onto the bed I was claiming for Johnnie and i. I watched as jake filled the mini fridge with water bottles. we all took our concert outfits out of our bags so they wouldn't get wrinkled from staying cramped up for too much longer.

Jake and I ordered lunch from the hotel, although it was a pretty late lunch. the three of us started on our makeup, which influenced jake to actually do his own. he ended up smudging eyeliner in his waterline before calling it a day.

none of us changed into our outfits. we all sat on our respective beds and ate our lunch-dinner while watching some random ghost hunting show on the channel that was already on whenever I had turned on the TV.

before taking another bite, I spoke up. "are we going to leave as soon as we're ready so we don't have to wait in a long ass line to get inside?"

Jake gulped down what he was chewing. "That's what I was thinking, yeah." Tara and Johnnie agreed with him. 

after finishing our food 10 minutes later, we all got changed. I smoothed out my outfit in the mirror.

Johnnie came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. "you look great, baby." he smiled, planting a kiss on my cheek.

"thank you," I turned around, hooking my arms behind his neck and kissing his lips softly.

Tara's chunky shoes clumped down the hallway as we made our way to the elevator. "over here sounding like a fucking elephant, damn." jake teased her, gently shoving her shoulder.

she shoved him back harder. "shut up, they're cute!"

Johnnie gripped my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. I scanned his whole body, admiring how good he looked in his outfit. fuck, he looked hot. I smirked slightly before turning away. a blush was painted across his face as he smiled.

Jake called the Uber as we waited out front of the hotel.

"why did you just now call it? why couldn't you have called the Uber when we were getting ready, it would've been here by now." I scolded, not actually caring, just wanting to complain and annoy jake.

"because I didn't know how long it'd take you ladies to get ready. don't act like I haven't heard the conspiracy theories about girls taking forever to get ready."

"conspiracy theories?" I repeated, "conspiracy theories is wild."

"well, they seem to be true." he crossed his arms, popping his hip out to the side.

"like you don't take 2 hours in the bathroom every morning playing with your hair." I retorted, looking around to see if the Uber was close.

"okay, well, that's different." he rolled his eyes.

"mhm, right."

the Uber arrived eventually. we all piled in the back, pretty much sitting on top of eachother. we were all buzzing with excitement, and we weren't even buzzed yet.

"I think my first goal when we get there is to get a drink," I admitted with a sly smile plastered across my face.

"I second that." Tara was fixing her makeup in her phone camera.

"me too." jake and Johnnie responded in the same tone at the same time.

the 20 minute drive to the stadium felt like a 20 year drive, but I knew that was just the excitement and eagerness getting to me.

whenever we arrived, it took us 30 minutes to get inside, which was much better than it could've been.

we wandered around the stadium, looking for a good bar that had been set up. we ran into 3 before finding one with a good menu compared to the other ones.

we hurriedly ordered our drinks and made our way to our 'seats,' although none of us would be sitting during the actual concert.

we were an hour and a half early, or at least an hour and a half early for the openers. I had high hopes for the concert, I mean, it was a rock, emo, whatever you wanna call it, concert after all.

I sat back in my seat, propping my feet up as I sipped on my drink. to say it was strong would be an understatement, even though I was far from a lightweight.

"wanna try a sip of mine?" johnnie offered, handing me his clear plastic cup.

I gratefully accepted, handing him mine in return. I hummed at the taste of his, "I think I like yours more."

"honestly, me too." he laughed. we ended up trading drinks.

tara took a video of the four of us. "holy shit, falling in reverse!" she screamed over the hundreds of other people in the stadium that were most likely saying the same shit. she ended up posting it on her story.

the openers came on with a bang. smoke covered the stage before a much smaller artist, I wasn't sure of the name, strutted onto the stage.

the crowd cheered, but not as loud as I knew it'd be whenever Ronnie came on.

the small band played 6 different songs, and they were all surprisingly good. they were more of a nu metal band compared to Falling in Reverse. I mean, I wasn't complaining.

the four of us spent majority of that time taking pictures for our Instagrams. I mean, obviously. what else would you expect?

Jake and I were on drink duty. we sped back to the pop up stand and ordered everyone the same drinks they had had before, except me and johnnies were flipped.

we made it back just in time for the openers last song. it was a bug finale, to say the least. the LED screen behind them flashed before everything went dark. the crowd roared with excitement.

we were left in the dark suspensully. i was practically shaking with excitement as i heard the low murmurs of the crowd. the LED screen turned to a dark red moments later.

finally, Ronnie walked out onto the stage with the rest of the band members following. everyone cheered and shouted as they came out on stage. johnnie and jake seemed over the moon with excitement. but, so were me and tara.

Ronnie greeted the crowd, earning a screaming mess of greetings back. he laughed before getting into the very first song.

of course, he had to open with one of his most popular songs, 'The Drug in Me is You.' I knew this song like the back of my hand, just like every other song by him.

I gripped johnnies hands, shaking him as I screamed the lyrics in his face. I was as dramatic as I could possibly get, and he returned the same energy.

Johnnie took out his phone and recorded a snippet of the first song before flipping the camera to us and pulling me in, kissing me on the lips before ending the recording. I knew his fans would eat that shit up whenever he posted it.

we went just as hard for the next few songs before another one of my favorites came on, 'Get Me Out.' I practically screeched whenever I heard the first few words of the song.

to say everyone's hair was a mess at this point in the concert would be an understatement. Me, Johnnie, jake, and tara were sweaty and dirty, but that didn't stop us in any way.

Johnnie gripped my waist tightly as we screamed the lyrics out into the crowd and towards eachother, our energy never fading.

there was a short intermission, which gave me and jake just enough time to run and grab more drinks. to be fair, all of us were pretty drunk at this point in the concert, but who was there to tell us no?

we scrambled back to our seats as we heard the drum rhythm for 'I'm not a Vampire' begin.

I could see johnnie singing the lyrics as he watched the performance on stage. since we were still a bit of a walk away, I took a picture. seeing him in the stadium lighting was heavenly, and he seemed so into the music, it just made for the perfect picture of him. I planned to set it as my lock screen as soon as we got back to the hotel.

there was not much different about the last few songs, except for the fact that I was exhausted and out of breath. I had a feeling I wouldn't have a voice in the morning, either.

as the last chord of the song rang throughout the stadium, Johnnie gripped my waist and kissed me passionately. I reciprocated, kissing him back with the same intensity. he pulled away, his eyes sparkling. "I love you."

my lower lip quivered as I couldn't help but smile. "I love you, too."

[cr4yolaas]

the night shift — workaholics

an apartment in the heart of tokyo houses three high-school friends. their lives are so vastly different, but they’re bound by love regardless.

y/n l/n ᡣ𐭩 convenience store employee who takes up almost every shift. chronic sleeper. copes in unconventional ways. avid enjoyer of the big three — coffee, tea, and matcha.

kenma kozume ᡣ𐭩 twitch streamer with a plethora of other careers. owns a cat that no one except yn is allowed to touch. rich homebody. drinks an unhealthy amount of monster daily.

kuroo tetsurou ᡣ𐭩 JVA employee with a twitter addiction. depop warrior. probably doesn’t read half of the books he owns. loves debriefing over coffee, no sugar, no cream.

[skmhlml]

NightShift Abductor x Reader (HC)

Note; slight sfw, unhealthy relationship, yandere (not necessarily abuse, but he hurts you so you can't get away.) PS: slowly getting into his character in a way that respects the characters and creators of the game.

Game; Stay out of the House (By; Puppet combo)

Wordcount:

He is much like Pyramid Head in a way but more empathy due to the placement of his mother. it makes some sense...he is not just a killer, but a follower, a worshiper, and a cultist.

(Copied of the wiki)- "Coupled with the total abandonment of his hometown due to economic decline, it was likely during this crisis of faith that he came into contact with an alternative religious group known as CFV, which had gained traction in the local area and ironically contributed to the mass exodus of small towns in the region on account of their twisted interpretation of the Bible."

And you...You weren't seen as a regular victim of the so-called god he worshipped but as a gift to the great undying loyalty he always gave to his god. a gift...someone just for him. That's how he saw you. And that's what you're going to be.

yeah sure- his home is as decrepit as the ruined buildings of the rest of town, with barricaded windows and doors, junk scattered all over the floor, rats running around, the walls covered in mold and paint peeling off. but no home is perfect, right?

The state of his mother, who appears to be partially decayed and the presence of the mutated baby also point to either him or 'his god' possessing the power of organic life manipulation, so even death can escape you from him, hell always comes back, be immortal, together forever...

-

He's a biter, a cannibal after all (I could make a real good joke about being eaten out but I haven't been that ruined yet. Human meat is tough by itself depending on age, health, and strength. That's why he bites so hard, so so hard. he draws blood and leaves it deep enough to get infected.

His victims are kept in squalor and are imprisoned in either large cages inside of his house or in the backyard inside two reutilized chicken coops in cells of six...

Usually killed right away or left to starve and then slaughtered, and you would have gone through the same fate if his mother, who seemed invisible to death, got sick. With a desperate plea to live, you hesitantly offered to take care of her with a sledgehammer only inches away to the back of your head.

Even if he could bring her back if she did die, taking care of her would save him the trouble of doing all that. Plus, he had 'work' and other victims to attend to.

His silent mother, as much to him, was grateful in her own way. You were smart enough to ignore the victims who so desperately cried out for help. As much as you wanted to, sometimes the only way of survival was to turn a blind eye...

After she got better, you were sure that your time was coming, though somehow, with silent communication between the two, you stayed. You didn't cause any problems or go against his mother at all while taking care of her, so in a way, you were useful.

That didn’t mean liberty, you were still a victim but just a long-term one. You weren't kept in a cage but you were still locked in a bedroom by the ‘NightShift abductor’, or for shorter, the ‘butcher’.

The only advantage you had was not being slaughtered. That and his mother liked the extra company of a more normal living person, one who she knew wouldn’t blow her brains out to escape.

Being a live victim meant you just had more cameras on you everywhere, want to take a filthy ass bath? BAM, camera. Changing? Camera. Other stuff…

📸😳

📷🤨

Freaky ahh…

But catching shit like that on camera for this 6,4 brainless, aggressive, monster of a man can make him question some stuff. Soon enough he doesn’t even notice the sledgehammer in his pants!

*Vine boom insert*

He’s a violent man with sick thoughts that would make the devil hurl…the thoughts about what he wants to do with you are ten times worse, he doesn’t know its wrong, he wasn’t molded into knowing his rights and wrongs only to give to his belived god.

If you had enough one day and ran off he wouldn't hesitate to run after you. Following the reacker he implanted into you while you were asleep. Grabbing your ankle and yanking it as you fell on the ground grabbing his sledgehammer and slamming it on your ankle, tears swelling in your eyes as you cried your lung out, to the point where it felt like there was blood in your throat.

He had no remorse for his actions as he dragged you back to his house while your wailed out. Dropping you on the ground and walked away, leaving you in agony.

[nessanooska]

gang mark grayson and pwrcy javkson i love yhem hoth so mych

i hate having to choose one dr at a time, party poopers