Jeffrey Dean Morgan Imagines || JDM's One Shots || En

Casinò | Luke X Reader

It's 9.00pm, it's Friday night and you've just finished working overtime because your boss is a fucking asshole who has decided to assign you extra work that does not suit you, but which in his opinion is "absolutely urgent and necessary to the company".

Screw him. You hate him and he hates you.

A really deadly combination for your mood and especially for your life that now only revolves around crazy work shifts. You are sick and tired of him and of this job that you do not like, but you can't make without it because you have to finish paying for your studies and your family is not helpful.

You get in the car and start driving home along a different road than usual, until you see the lights in the distance that disappear and reappear rhythmically in the sky attracting your attention. You direct yourself in that direction and notice a building that you have never noticed before, whose sign informs you that it is a casino. You've never entered one of those and decide to get rid of it. Stand nearby and walk towards the entrance.

All those lights and that luxury make you feel inadequate: that place exudes money on every side and the people who frequent it seem to have no idea how a dollar bill is made for less than 50 dollars. Men wear strictly elegant tuxedos and women signed clothes that you've only seen probably on television. You could not even afford one of their velvet gloves.

You stop before resting your hand on the handle, bitterly noticing that the world does not belong to you and you will never be part of it, and you turn to get back to your car. Beat against a person, letting your bag slip from which things inevitably fall.

<Shit> you start <sorry, I'm sorry, I did not really see you>. Yours was definitely an excellent presentation.

<Do not worry, it's nothing, rather it's my fault actually: I should not have come in this door tonight> says the man bending to help you collect your things. To ease the embarrassment, you keep on talking.

<Why not from this door? Do you work here or are you trying to make a robbery?> The words that come out of your mouth do nothing but make you feel even more uncomfortable because sometimes your sense of humor is not received. So you try to remedy it a second time and before you can answer you talk again:

<Sorry, I didn't mean it, it's none of my business. Let's pretend that I did not say anything> you say nervously carrying a lock of hair behind the ear.

The man hands you the last piece to put back in the bag and then gently gives you his hand to help you get up.

In all this you did not even bother to see what was his expression and when you take his hand and you lift, finally meet his gaze. His eyes are dark and radiant, but thanks to the lights you can see some shades of green in his irises. His gaze is magnetic and his smile hypnotizes you as it had never happened before. Stay silently staring at him for what seems like an eternity until he takes you back to reality.

<Are you okay?> asks you looking at you, wringing his mouth.

Your cheeks turn red suddenly and you feel the temperature rise dangerously.

<Yeah yes... it's just that... you know sometimes I speak too much and I say more than what I should say> you answer him thinking that he drinks it, but besides being incredibly beautiful he's also smart and does not fall so easily but behaves like a perfect gentleman and changes the subject by noting that you are obviously embarrassed.

<What's a young girl like you doing here in front of a casino?> he asks curiously.

<Good question, I was asking myself the same thing... that's why I did not enter in the end>

<Do you like gambling?>

<I've never actually tried. The only card game I know is solitary... but for sure with that you do not make money at the casino> the man laughs tastefully showing you his sparkling teeth again.

<Well if you need some lessons to learn how to play cards, I can give you a hand... so maybe you can really beat the casino> he laughs.

<Really? Do you really feel so bad for me that you would be willing to help a stranger make money at the casino for who knows what evil reason?> you ask self-deprecating.

<I don't feel bad for you - he laughs again making it look more like a lie than a compliment - in fact, I offered you my help because I'm pretty sure you're not a terrorist or a dangerous criminal, but rather... I find you rather cute>.

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water: he just said you're pretty. He said cute. With a rather in front, but always pretty. You laugh nervously touching your hair and to shift attention away from you, you ask him some questions.

<Let's assume that I accept your help... why should I be taught to play cards by you?> You ask, rolling a falsely accusing finger in the air.

<Because I work in this casino - he says, pointing it out - I'm a croupier>

Shocked and sunk.

<In this case, I think I have nothing left to do but accept your kind proposal> you say, showing a beautiful smile and trying to prevent your heart from jumping off your chest as it is beating fast.

<Perfect, then deal done> he answers you proudly smiling back.

<However, I'm Luke> he says, holding out his hand.

<Y/N> you answer by shaking his hand unaware that the tight shack was the seal of a deal that would have led to rob the same casino not long after with him.