#and him reaching for the drink while his sun hat’s pulled over his eyes kills me for some reason 😂 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

honeyedmiller · 2 years ago

Text

Tailgate | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, very little fluff, 8-year age gap. use of y/n (i’m sorry ik lmao). 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 4.2k

synopsis: your best friend drags you to a tailgate party, and you end up being introduced to one very attractive Miller brother.

"Y/n, come on," Y/b/f/n whined at you, nudging your leg with her knee. You were sprawled across the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, and you groaned in protest.

"Why do I have to go? It's too hot to tailgate." Texas summer heat was no joke. You'd much rather be cooped up in your humble abode with the air conditioning on full blast while you mindlessly flipped through the cable channels.

"Because," She points a bright-red manicured finger at you, "You need to have some fun. Plus, I really want you to meet Tommy." Tommy was y/b/f/n's boyfriend of five months, whom you've yet to meet. Guess this would be a good opportunity to do so.

"Fine." You groan, rolling your eyes. You knew you'd give in eventually, but you needed to add the dramatics just for the hell of it. Y/b/f/n squealed in delight, jumping up a couple of times before reaching her arms out to you to drag you up from your lazed position on the couch.

She ushered you to your room so you could change out of your gym shorts and sports bra. You ended up wearing some distressed daisy dukes with a white tank top that buttoned down in the front, leaving the top two buttons undone. You put on your brown leather belt with a gold buckle, slipped on your cowgirl boots, and lazily put your hair in a low style.

You emerged from your room truthfully ready to get this night over with. You weren't much of a party person— anymore, that is. Those wild child party days ended the day you got your college degree.

"Well damn, hot mama," Y/b/f/n called out to you. You tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't help but crack a smile. "You're missin' just one thing." She places your cowgirl hat on top of your head, and you immediately felt the most country you've ever been since you moved to Austin.

You headed to the tailgate, sitting passenger in y/b/f/n's truck. Your feet were kicked up and sticking out of the window, summer breeze whipping through the cab of the truck as you drove down a dirt road. The sun was barely setting even though it was nearing 7 p.m., but you let the warm rays soak into your skin regardless.

The summer heat may've been a bitch, but you couldn't help but love the season regardless. You loved the long days and feeling of freedom.

You pulled up to the tailgate not even ten minutes later, setting sight on quite a few people already here. Country music was blasting through a speaker, multiple trucks parked in a big circle with the tailgates of their trucks facing a bonfire pit that was smack in the middle. Lots of ice chests lay on the ground, and many people already had a beer in their hands. Some were singing along to the song, some were dancing, and some were chatting amongst themselves without a care in the world.

The sight before you made you slightly smile. Y/b/f/n backed her truck up to fit into the circle, next to a black four-door truck with its tailgate already open.

You bring your legs back into the truck as y/b/f/n kills the engine, and you hop out. You help y/b/f/n unload the ice chest from the back of her truck onto the ground, only for her to be greeted by someone right after.

"Babe! There you are," A tall man with slicked back black hair approaches y/b/f/n, giving her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Tommy, this is y/n, my best friend I've been telling you about. Y/n, this is Tommy." Y/b/f/n introduced you both, and you shake each other's hands.

"Nice to finally meet you." You smile up at him, letting go of his firm grip shortly after you greet him.

"Likewise. Y/b/f/n talks about you all the time, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name," Tommy chuckles, then quickly looks up behind the black truck you were standing by. "'Scuse me just a moment." He puts his cowboy hat back on and walks away.

You raise your eyebrow at y/b/f/n. "Wow, you go girl. He's cute." You laugh, and she nudges you.

"I know, right?" You two had a small fit of laughter, but was cut short when Tommy approached you two once more with someone else by his side.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the man standing before you. He was tall, muscular, and quite literally one of the most handsome men you've ever laid your eyes on. He was wearing a gray shirt with dark blue jeans and black boots. He had a black cowboy hat atop his head, just like Tommy, except dark brown locks were peaking out of the sides instead of black.

His dark brown eyes seemed gentle and kind, but they were scanning your body just as yours were doing to him. He didn't fail to notice the incredibly short shorts you were wearing that made your legs look like they went on for miles, or the way the setting sun made your skin absolutely glow. You quite literally took his breath away with your beauty.

"Y/n, I'd like you to meet my older brother Joel." Tommy smiled, and a blush swept its way across your cheeks.

Why didn't y/b/f/n tell you Tommy had an insanely gorgeous older brother?

"It's nice to meet you, darlin'." Joel tips his hat down to you, and you muster up the best smile you could. You didn't want to seem too smitten by this beautiful man, but god, how could you not?

"You too." You say almost inaudibly. You felt slightly annoyed with yourself, because no man had ever made you shy like this. Why now? You shook the feeling off for now, not wanting it to ruin your mood.

As the night went on, more people showed and the bonfire started up. Soon enough the sky looked nearly pitch black but the air still carried a small, warm breeze. You were babysitting the beer Tommy had opened for you— not that you didn't like it, but you weren't really in the mood to drink.

You took another swig of the half-full bottle anyhow, figuring you'd at least have the means to finish it... slowly. You were perched up on the back of y/b/f/n's open tailgate, legs swinging back and forth over the edge. Your left arm was extended behind you to hold yourself up.

Y/b/f/n was mingling with Tommy and some of his friends in the distance, and the sight made you smile. You loved seeing her happy.

You heard dirt crunching under heavy boots next to you that pulled you from your thoughts, so you shifted your gaze until you met Joel's eyes. He gave you a lipped half-smile, standing next to you. He had a beer in one of his hands as well, but it didn't seem like he was drunk.

"Hey there, darlin'," He leans against y/b/f/n's truck, eyes never leaving yours. "Why're ya all alone?" The glow of the fire brought out the warmth in Joel's skin tone, illuminating half of his features.

You shrug your shoulders. "Just waitin' for someone like you to keep me company." You teased, earning a deep, guttural chuckle from him.

"Oh yeah? Well I hope I'm good company." He sits onto the tailgate next to you, and you offer him a smile.

"So, you and Tommy are brothers? You two seem like total opposites from what I've seen." You sit straight up, moving one of your legs up to your chest as you take another sip of the now semi-warm beer. You grimace at the taste, but swallow it anyway.

Joel chuckles softly, "Yeah, we are. I guess it's the true older brother-younger brother dynamic. He's always been the trouble maker and I'm the one that always saves his ass." Joel rolls his eyes, finding his brother's antics to be preposterous at times.

"What, like he hasn't had to drag you off of a few guys you've gotten into fights with?" You challenge, cocking an eyebrow up as you eye him wearily.

"How did you— who told you that?" He was shocked that you even knew that about him, because he sure as hell didn't go around telling people his business like that.

"Tommy's a little drunk, and apparently gets mouthy when he's on a good one," You laugh, nudging Joel in the shoulder. "Besides, I'm just messin' with you. I think that's kinda hot." The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even comprehend what you were saying, and a look of pure desire flashed across Joel's eyes.

His grip got a smidge tighter around the beer bottle he was holding, but you were too busy having the most naughty thoughts about the man sitting inches from you to notice. You felt your panties dampen at the way he looked at you, and just couldn't help but imagine what you two were capable of if you were left alone with each other.

"Okay then, what about you little miss innocent?" He tilts his head, his eyes giving your body a once-over.

"Who said I was innocent?" Your words suddenly brewed something deep inside you, and Joel's stare on you wasn't helping. It made you want to squirm.

"Are you not?" Joel provoked, moving noticeably closer to you. His left knee was touching your right one now, and the tension grew so thick in the moment that you felt like you could choke any second.

It was so fucking hard to breathe.

"Wouldn't you love to find out." You leaned in to him, your faces dangerously close. A couple inches more and you'd be kissing the man.

"Yeah," Joel was almost breathless, "I would." You looked around after he responded, noticing a house only a couple hundred feet away.

You nodded your head to the nice home, "Who's house?" You looked back at Joel, biting your lip.

If there was one thing about you, is that you loved to prove people wrong. You made damn sure Joel was no longer unbeknownst to that by the end of the night.

"Mine and Tommy's." He answers after a few seconds, and you smile devilishly.

"Perfect. I'd love to see your room, if you'll have me." You peered up at him innocently, trying to play the part of the version of you he had in his head.

He immediately hopped off the tailgate and held out his hand for you to take, which you graciously did. Once your boots touched the dirt beneath you, Joel was practically dragging you to the house. He'd truly never wanted anyone as bad as you before, and playing it cool clearly wasn't an option in his books.

He wanted to make it known.

As soon as you step inside the house, you sigh in relief as the cool air hits your skin. You look around a bit, liking how the house actually looks lived in. It was cozy, and definitely felt like a home.

"C'mon darlin'," Joel coaxed, jerking his head in the direction of the staircase. "Bedroom's upstairs." He let you lead, and on the way up, you catch a glimpse of a picture with Joel and a young girl in it. He saw you looking, and spoke before you even thought to ask.

"That's my daughter Sarah." He says, and you look back at him. You smile softly, looking back at the picture.

"She's beautiful." You tell him, and he grins before you keep walking up to the top step.

"She's not here right now, is she?" You ask him, causing him to suppress a laugh. You would definitely not want to do what you wanted with this man if his sweet daughter was under the same roof. No freakin' way.

"No, she's at her grandparents. Got the house to our selves all night." He spins you around and takes your cowgirl hat off of your head so he can dip his face down to be level with yours.

"Tell me, darlin', what do you want to do with such allotted time?" He's so close to you that the proximity between his body and yours starts to make you dizzy.

"I have a few things in mind, cowboy." You flick the brim of his hat, and he pulls you in by the waist so your body is flush against his.

"Oh yeah?" His voice is barely above a whisper, "And what's that?"

You couldn't take the tension anymore, so you finally closed the gap between you two and mashed your lips to his. You've never kissed someone with so much hunger and fervor.

His lips were velvety soft, just as you'd imagined. You moan softly into the kiss, and he moves you back so your back is pressed against his bedroom door. He immediately swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, and you instantly open your mouth, teeth clashing and tongue moving swiftly but in sync.

God, this man is a phenomenal kisser.

"I need that tongue somewhere else, cowboy." You brokenly spoke through the hot kiss, causing him to groan. He reached behind you to find the doorknob as the other arm snaked around your back to hold you steady against him.

He opened the door to his bedroom, walking you backwards to the bed in the middle of the room. Once the back of your knees hit the mattress, Joel broke the kiss and laid you down gently. He put your hat on top of his dresser alongside his, making sure to close and lock his bedroom door before returning back to you. He hovered above you, admiring your figure and your pretty face.

"Damn darlin', the hell you doin' to me?" He whispered mainly to himself, but you heard him perfectly clear. You reached up for his shoulders and brought him on top of you, smashing your lips to his once more. Your hands trailed down his abdomen until you reached the bottom.

He separated himself from you to look down at you, giving you a small reassuring smile before you slowly lifted the gray shirt above his head. You tossed it onto the floor somewhere, hands immediately moving to his belt buckle.

He chuckled at your eagerness, "Slow down there, pretty girl. Lift your arms for me." He coos, brown eyes boring into yours. You do as he asks, and he grabs both your wrists together in one hand, holding them above your head. He goes back down to kiss you then swiftly moves to your neck, the stubble on his jaw slightly tickling you.

Once his tongue made contact with the hot skin on your neck, you knew it was a wrap.

God damn soft spots.

You sigh in pleasure, and Joel takes immediate notice to your neediness becoming more prominent. He separates his lips from your neck, trailing them down to the top of your still-covered breasts. He dips his head down where the two buttons were undone, kissing you there once before nibbling on the area just in the slightest.

You let out a soft moan, unaware of your moving hips. They were trying to find something to move against to create friction. You needed something, anything— but Joel wouldn't let you. Not yet.

He kept kissing down your sternum, making sure his tongue consistently made contact with your trembling, hot skin.

"Joel, please," You sound whiny and begging, which you'd normally hate, but you needed this man so badly it nearly hurt. Your core was dripping at this point, but Joel wasn't done with the teasing just yet.

"Patience, darlin'," He tsks, making you instinctively bite your lip in agony.

He slid your tank top up your stomach with his free hand, finding its way to one of your breasts. He started to massage one, moving his lips lower and lower until he reached the top of your daisy dukes.

He moved his hand from your breast to unbutton the button on your shorts, immediately sliding his hand down the front. He almost hisses at the contact of your slickness.

"You're so wet for me already, baby. Fuck." He tries to keep his composure, but the way you were so needy for him in this moment made him want to lose his mind. But, the smidge of patience he had left in him overcame his rational senses, making sure to take his time with you.

He used his middle finger to move up and down your heat, and you started to roll your hips into his touch to cause friction.

"Needy little thing, aren't ya?" He chuckled, moving his finger down so it slowly entered you. You gasped, moaning at the newness of the feeling before he started to move his finger in and out of you, making sure to curl it just the tiniest bit.

Just this action alone had you writhing beneath him uncontrollably.

"Joel, fuck, please," You pleaded, "I need your mouth on me." He looked up at your pretty face, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes clamped shut.

He pulled his finger out of you, slick and warm. "Open your mouth." He says, and you once again do as he asks. How submissive of you.

He puts his finger into your mouth and you immediately suck on his finger, tongue swirling around the whole thing until he pulls it from you. Your hands were still being held above your head, but in all honesty, you enjoyed it. It was hot. He was hot.

Joel pulled your tank top up, just enough to cover your eyes. He let go of your wrists, but you didn't dare to move your hands. He slid your shorts off with ease, along with your hot pink panties. Joel smirked at the color choice.

"Open your legs for me, darlin'." Joel was suave with his words, sounding like butter to your ears. Again, you did as he asked, opening your legs for him. All you could see was the light from his bedside lamp, but other than that, not a damn thing. You had no idea where he was exactly, and the thought made your heart palpitate.

"So fuckin' pretty," He murmurs, moving a knuckle up and down your folds, "All for me."

You groan at his praise, suddenly feeling his lips kiss your inner thighs. The kisses were light and feathery, almost ticklish. He moved one hand up to rest on your lower abdomen, spreading his fingers out so it covered most of the area.

His kisses eventually made their way up to your aching heat, and he kissed you not once, not twice, but three times on your dripping core. His mouth was already slick from you, and fuck you tasted so divine to him.

He finally delved his tongue into your folds, flicking his tongue slowly and teasingly. His tongue lapped away at you, moaning into your core. He'd never tasted something so... so... addicting in his life. He would stay down there forever just to devour you if he could.

"Fuck, Joel, that feels so fucking good." You're panting, mind going blank of all other things besides how good this man is making you feel.

His skilled tongue worshipped you like you were a goddess, and in that moment, you were Aphrodite.

He added a finger back into you, pumping at a steady pace while he continued to lap away at you. The sensation became nearly unbearable, and you knew your undoing was short lived.

"Please, don't stop." You pant, and he moaned against you as if to say "message received."

You felt the hot pleasure burn through your core, and once Joel felt your walls clench around his finger, he lightly pressed down on your abdomen. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, screaming his name. He licked the inside of your thighs slowly as you were trying to come down from your high, your body still quivering.

He moved up from between your thighs, uncovering your eyes and taking your tank top off of you completely. You looked up at him, spent and woozy. His mustache and beard were still glistening from your wetness.

You bit your lip as you reached a hand up to his cheek, and you brought his face down to yours so you could kiss him. The kiss was much gentler this time, but tasting yourself on his lips aroused you once again.

"Take off your pants," You whisper, and he lightly smiles at you before standing up straight and removing his bottoms. "Underwear too." You laugh as he gives you a cheeky grin. He takes off his underwear slowly, letting his erection be known to you and your vision. You took in the sight before you, licking your lips before you got on your knees.

"Lay down," You coax him, and without question, he does. You move your body between his thighs, and you grin up at him innocently. You spit into your hand, moving it to his length and you slowly moved your hand up and down. Your thumb ran over his swollen tip a couple of times, hearing him sharply intake a breath.

You peer up at him through your lashes before lowering your head, and he tries to stifle a moan.

"Sweets, if you keep lookin' at me like that, I'm gonna finish quicker than we'd both like." He admits, and you purse your lips before moving your mouth down to his tip. He grabs a handful of your hair and you fix your position, so your ass is perched up but your mouth is at his length.

You start gently swirling your tongue around the tip, taking your sweet time before leaving a soft kiss before you use your tongue to lick all the way down to the base. You repeat yourself a few times before using your lips to glaze down the side, then back to the top before you took him into your mouth.

Your pace was so tantalizingly slow that he started to buck his hips into your mouth. You removed your mouth from him, looking up at him once more.

"Slow down there, cowboy." You smirked as he realized you were using his own words against him, causing him to groan.

"Fuck, y/n, quit teasin' me baby." His grip on your hair gets tighter, and you immediately move your head down again, no hesitation.

You began to move your head at a steady pace, trying to take as much of him in as possible. It was starting to become a wet mess, but neither of you quite frankly gave a damn.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum soon. I don't want to yet." He pulls your head up from him, and your eyes snap up to look at him.

"Let me ride you." You state, blinking at him before he lets go of your hair.

"Oh, absolutely darlin'. Please." He moves you up so you're now hovering over his body, skin hot to the touch. His hands slide down to your hips, positioning you above his length.

"Are you—" He pauses, and you nod.

"Yeah. IUD." You say, and he nods before you slowly sink down on his aching length. Both of you let out simultaneous moans, giving yourself a second to adjust to his length.

"Joel," You purr, resting your hands on his strong chest, "You feel so goddamn good." You start to move forward and backward slowly, rocking your hips. The feeling of him made you want to melt.

"So do you." He's breathless at this point, aching for sweet release. His fingers dig into your hips, coaxing them to move a bit faster. Once you found a good rhythm, Joel raised a hand and smacked your ass, hard.

You let out a loud moan, feeling complete bliss and euphoria in this very moment.

"That's it, baby— right there, darlin', please don't stop." Joel's desperation in his voice brought back that quickly brewing desire deep in the pit of your core, and you felt yourself clench.

That sent Joel absolutely insane.

"Fuck! Oh, god," He moans loudly, thrusting his hips up into you at that point. He wanted that damn release, and that's what he was going to get. "I'm gonna c—" Before he could even finish his sentence, he found that sweet goddamn release. His thrusts came to a slow, but he moved his hand down to your clit and started to move his fingers in circles at a fast pace, and in no time, you were relieved of the ache in your core. You lifted yourself off of him, both of your breaths an erratic mess. He pulled you into him as he kissed the top of your head, trying to steady his breathing.

One thing's for sure, though— Joel knew, he definitely knew— you were definitely not little miss innocent, and he was a goddamn naïve cowboy.

#joel miller imagines #joel miller one shot #tlou #joel miller smut #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal #the last of us #pedro pascal x female reader #joel miller x female reader

476 notes · View notes

cakeinthevoid · 1 year ago

Text

Drink rum, drink rum, drink rum...

Whumptober No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | (drunken) Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?” —— (2, 3)

Content: Heavy drinking, drunk character, loss of a loved one, memory struggles, dual pov, lowkey apocalypse setting

This is a one shot that came to me at the crack of dawn. As always, if you want to see or learn more, send an ask! I create nearly a whole world for all my little writing whether I like it or not bwahaha

Michael was on his fourth… no, it must’ve already been his fifth drink in half as many hours. More or less. Time escaped him.

Liquor was stronger now than it was in the Days Before—luckily for him. It took less drinks to disappear under a fog. Michael admired efficiency. He was an engineer after all.

Well, many would say had been, but he still wore his iron ring, despite it all. He still tried, in one way or another. He still…

He took another swig, killing a thought before it could even form. He put his bottle back down on the workbench that became his bar table somewhere between the first week after the Revolution and the day… the day when—

The bottle came back up to his lips, but stopped shakily an inch before. It was the day she died. She… she… he couldn’t remember her name. He suddenly felt extremely nauseous.

His eyes darted about his makeshift lab, looking for a memory trigger, but he hid it all away. Except... he kept one thing—a picture—signed, it was signed, he was sure!

Broken thoughts were coming to him in desperate panic. The picture, the picture, he tried to envision it. It was upstairs where Kyle was likely passed out on the couch. An insignificant corner in the living room. There wasn’t much living nowadays. Only surviving.

He wrenched back control of his thoughts, slamming the bottle back down on the table. Dark liquid splashed and stained forgotten blueprints and notes.

He gripped the bottle tightly. As soon as he could envision the picture, he’d see her face and the name would come back to him. He wouldn’t forget. He couldn’t forget.

Michael began to hyperventilate. He could barely imagine a frame, let alone what she looked like. Was her hair a flaming red like his? Or was it darker, more dirt brown? Was her face round and bright like the sun? Or sharp and rugged like mountains?

“Fuck,” he croaked, the first word of the night.

He knocked the bottle over as he pushed himself off the stool and to his feet. Blood rushed to his head, and he could only hear roaring and ringing in his ears. He didn’t even hear a bottle shatter.

He let go of the bench to make his way to the stairs, but promptly doubled over, nearly falling down on the bare concrete floors.

He grumbled and swore to himself, pulling himself upright on sheer force of will alone, because God damn it, he was a Cosat Engineer and he saw hell on this dusty earth and still did his fucking job.

A few drinks were nothing. So what if the room was spinning like a top.

He stumbled towards the stairs, crashing into the hard walls around them. It was dim and his depth perception was shot to shit. He rode out a wave of nausea before crawling up the stairs.

The ten steps felt like a hundred. It took much too long to reach the door to the entrance hall. But Heavens above, he did it, and he smiled a bloody grin at a task accomplished.

He shoved the door open, unaware that he didn’t lock it properly in the first place, and tumbled into the shoe rack. Or maybe it was that hat rack Kyle insisted on getting to clutter up their entrance.

He slurred profane curses, making some up as he dragged himself back up with difficulty. With a clear goal defined in his mind—find the picture with her in it—he forced himself towards the living room knocking a variety of items over as he went along.

Why was it so fucking bright? As though the auditory nightmare that was his ringing ears and pounding head weren’t enough, it felt like the living room had all the lights on and then some.

He blinked, but the room was spinning—when did he get to the middle of the room?—and his head hurt and he could feel consciousness slipping away as he tipped over—

And was caught.

“Woah hey, I said what the fuck is going on, not ‘pass the fuck out,’ jackass.”

“Shut the fuck up Kyle and let me go,” was what Michael was trying to say. It came out as more of a slurred mumble.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Kyle muttered as he dragged Michael to the couch. He dropped him there, pulling his feet up and pushing his chest down to lay down.

Michael resisted, pushing against the weight on his chest and trying to swat at Kyle—missing terribly.

“Oi, can you shut up?” Kyle gave him a halfhearted shove. What a big dumb idiot. “Bloody hell, Mikey—can you even tell me how many fingers I’m holding up?” But now he was his big dumb idiot so he had to… help him, he guessed.

Michael growled something at him. Kyle snorted. “You didn’t even let me put up a hand, because I’m too busy keeping you down! Stay down!”

Michael fought for another few moments before sinking into the couch. Kyle noticed tear tracks on his cheeks.

His friend muttered something, choking on the words.

“Say again?” Kyle asked carefully.

“…name, her name, her name…” Michael brought a hand to his head to pull at his hair.

“Hey, none of that,” Kyle pulled his hand back down. Michael was a strong son of a bitch but now Kyle was stronger. “Whose name?”

“Picture,” he said in reply.

When it hit him, Kyle sighed a harsh breath. No wonder he was in shambles.

He put his hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“Saffya, Mikey. Her name is Saffya.” Was, his mind corrected.

“Saffya,” Michael sighed in relief, lines softening on his weathered face. He repeated the name to himself, again and again.

“Yeah bud, here,” he patted Michael on the shoulder and went to grab the photograph.

Kyle picked up the frame from the small round table in the corner. In it, stood two young kids, arms over each other in a half hug and grinning at the camera. The trees were a vibrant green in the background, a sharp contrast not only to the bright red hair of the boy, but to the dull colours of the present.

He admired the photo as he carried it back. The girl’s long hair seemed alive with dark curls, matching with the black engineering company logo on the boy’s shirt. With the amount of contrast and matches in this single snapshot, Kyle thought it was something worth hanging up in a museum.

“Picture,” he said simply as he gave it to Michael.

He took it with a shaky hand. Kyle saw how he rubbed a thumb over Saffya’s cheek and looked away, as though intruding on something far too intimate.

Tears flooded Michael's eyes again and Kyle knew that he had been drinking far too much. And he thought he was getting better.

Knowing Michael would likely kick his ass if he knew Kyle was seeing this, he made his move to go.

“I’ll be in the kitchen, Mikey, don’t fall o—“ Michaels free hand shot out and grabbed Kyle's wrist. Kyle looked down and back up to Michael’s eyes, but he was focused on the picture.

When after a few beats nothing was said, Kyle tried, “…You want me to stay?”

Michael just tugged his arm down fiercely enough that Kyle nearly lost balance. “Shit, okay sure. I’ll just… sit right here.” He sat on the floor, back against the couch. If he tilted his head back, he’d bump into Mikey’s chest. Instead, he turned his head to his left and up, so he could see the picture again.

Michael and Saffya always had stunning green eyes. He turned back to look at the coffee table in front of him.

“I miss her too,” he said at length.

Time passed. He sighed as he heard snores, but didn’t get up.

FIN

0 notes

prettyboykatsuki · 3 years ago

Text

where were you when i was lonely (my divine - love, love, love) | k. tetsuro

♡ tags ;; fem!reader (wearing a dress, heels, makeup), friends to lovers (kinda), inappropriate workplace relations, jealousy, confessions, hurt/comfort, riding, protected sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f!recieving), handjobs, very vanilla and lovey stuff. this is the most soft thing i've ever written ever.

♡ wc ;; 8.3k (please.)

♡ a/n ;; hi!! i haven't written anything cohesive in ages. but i managed to get this out. this was written for @spacelabrathor and @titan-fodder's better than fiction collab. please check out the masterlist here!!

additionally - this is very different from everything i've ever written before. it focuses a lot on feelings of? jealousy and how love changes as we get older so i hope you enjoy. title is from a mac miller song!!

♡ synposis ;; kuroo and you have known each other since you were 15. you've been through every milestone under the sun. but more and more you think to yourself - how nice it'd be if he wanted you.

“Do you wanna see a magic trick?”

Kuroo’s taken his suit jacket off for the night. The heather grey vest is still buttoned tight to his torso, accompanied by a silk red tie (a gift from the sponsors’ daughter) and the crispest white dress shirt you’ve ever seen. You look around for it, among the tables.

Eventually, your eyes land on said girl from before. What was her name again? You don’t remember, something with an A, maybe. She’s holding it over her shoulders with a soft flush on her face, cuddled into the material. You remember she’s still in college, and then roll your eyes as Kuroo steps beside you.

You shift your weight. The strappy stilettos dig into your heels, the bottoms calloused. You lean forward onto the table, cracking your neck.

“A magic trick?”

Kuroo lets his forearms rest on the table, mirroring you. He nods, grinning.

“A magic trick,”

The night air is starting to nip at your fingers, but you still reach over for a drink. A flute of champagne you steal off a server's platter with a grateful nod. Your lip color smears a little, dark on the rim as you take a long sip. Halfway between that and chugging it, until you feel a little warm from inside out.

“Not really,”

You laugh slightly as his face drops.

“Why not?”

“Are you gonna pull a deck of cards out of your pocket?”

He reaches into them with a mischievous grin, and you believe for a second he really will. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls out a paper napkin with a phone number and a lipstick stain smudged on it. Not yours, but someones.

Your face contorts, trying to determine how you feel. Just business, you think. It’s always just business, but the soft and sudden wave of melancholy is hard to ignore.

“I would’ve rather seen you pull a bunny out of a hat or something,”

Your response is non-committal. You let your body sway a little, standing tall as a song you like plays. The beat thrums through your chest, makes your spine tingle. Maybe you’ll go dancing. If you’re already here, and your feet already hurt - it wouldn’t kill you to go dancing. Maybe with that one girl from H.R., you’re willing to bet she’d dance with you. The thought cheers you up. Enough that you smile, lightly.

Kuroo takes the paper and folds it back into his pockets. And then he looks at you, while you look around. You see him, indefinitely - in the corners of your eyes and lingering. But you’re busy trying to take in the surroundings. The outdoor party, the dance music, and rich CEOs with girls a little too young to laugh at their jokes.

Mostly, you’re looking at the lights. Little set-ups of fairy lights all around the outdoor venue that feel like magic. It’s cold. You wish you wore tights after all, and the lack of hair on your legs makes you even chillier. Your hands smooth down the front of your dress when you take the last sip of your champagne flute. When it’s all gone, you peep at the empty glass.

Kuroo is still looking with an unreadable expression. You’re starting to wish you just said yes to him when he asked you about his magic trick.

“It was a good trick,” You say, trying to ease the tension. Kuroo lets out a sigh and steps a little bit closer to you. He’s doing that thing where he’s in your space.

Backing down, or stepping back - somehow always feels like losing. So when his hands reach to your earrings and tug at the thin, dangly things - you end up looking at his face too close for your own comfort.

An unsteady breath leaves your mouth. Suddenly your chest feels tight as he stares at you keenly.

“These are new,”

Too much, you think. You want to put your hands on his chest, but you put them on his shoulder instead. Your heels click on the floor (stone? concrete? you can’t tell) and you give him another smile.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” You say, louder than you need to. For the magic trick. It’s not true. You think he’s had a glass, maybe two - and it takes about 4 times that to get him drunk. You know cause you’ve seen it tens of times now.

He steps back. His hands travel into his pockets, and he fidgets with the paper anxiously. Subconsciously. Your eyes flick down to his shoes. Expensive Italian leather dress shoes. It suits him. The style, the color, the nice material.

“Do you want some water?” You ask.

“Not really,”

He offers you a smile at that. You think he’s being sincere. You think Kuroo is sincere most of the time but you never commit to that with any real certainty. You huff some air through your nose.

“Tough crowd,”

Kuroo laughs at that, and the tension eases off a little bit. You hear something buzz from your purse (oversized clutch), and suddenly - you’re brought away from the entire scene. You reach for it, rummaging past powders and glosses and a couple of loose sticks of gum.

You take your phone out and the bright light hurts your eyes as you stare at it. A text from your boss.

“Deal just closed,” You say. And Kuroo looks over to the magic trick, Ayame? And she’s waving over to Kuroo before blushing all over again. He waves back politely and then looks at you apologetically. You don’t say anything.

Your phone dings again. Not your boss this time, but a friend.

yakuuu: (sent 11:11pm) if i never run again in my life it’ll be too soon. tell tetsuro i said hi.

[1 ATTACHMENT]

There’s a picture of him laying on some grass fields, sweaty. You tap love onto the image with a small laugh, typing back.

“Yaku says hi,” You say, in the midst of typing. Besides you, Kuroo grows still.

you: (sent 11:13pm) i will. my deepest condolences, the idea of running that much makes me want to puke.

yakuuu: (sent 11:13pm) you’re cute im sure you don’t have to worry about it.

That makes you snort, and you type back something short calling him stupid before telling him you have to go. Having your phone out too long at these functions makes rumors spread. You click the device shut and tuck it back into your clutch.

Reality settles back in when Kuroo is looking at you as soon as you look up. He’s got a half-smile on his face, hands in his pockets again. Something lingers, unspoken in the air. His tongue smooths, pink over his lower lip as he leans one elbow on the table.

“How much longer are we… obligated to be here?”

Kuroo checks his watch. Another expensive piece, a ROLEX. It was a gift from Kenma. He stares at the small clock face for a second or two and doesn’t lift his head to speak.

“It’s probably safe to leave now. Just have to make the rounds,” Kuroo says, voice mellow.

“...Did you,” ― You clear your throat awkwardly, wincing a little ― “Did you… wanna stay longer or?”

His eyes widen. Shaking his head, he laughs under his breath.

“No…I’m good to go,”

“You sure? I don’t ask ‘cause of your… magic trick, I just ask cause you tend to stay late. I don’t mind leaving by myself, I can always fall ill like a maiden,”

Kuroo laughs a genuine laugh at your quip. A pleasant warmth spreads through you.

“No, I’ve done enough business tonight. I wanna go home and watch a movie before bed,” He says, off-handedly.

“Busy day tomorrow?”

“Nah. Off-day. But I wanna spend it being a whole-hearted lazy bastard so,”

He shrugs his shoulders and you break out into a smile that turns into a laugh.

“Yeah, I feel you. Let’s make a game plan and head out,” You say, yawning and grabbing your clutch

“Sounds good,”

“Going in such a hurry?”

You look over at Kuroo who’s entertaining Ayame and her father very briefly. It’s just a flicker, a glance to see how long you have left. A while from the looks of it. Your feet are killing you, but you’re quick to redirect your attention. No use complaining now. You let your gaze go shimmery. Soft, delicate, round.

Pushing your lower lip out, you laugh followed by a yawn.

“I like my beauty sleep, Mr….?”

“Hayashi. You can drop the honorifics, I think we’re the same age anyways,”

You struggle to put it together for a second. Chestnut hair styled back, a handsome face with sharp eyes and full lips. Mixed with something. Hayashi. A company that’s been friendly with the Jackals and especially Kiyoomi.

The realization settles but you try not to let it show. You laugh lightly.

“I look younger than I am,” You tease. He laughs.

“Is there a way I should address you? Nee-san, maybe?”

You arch your brows. A soft smile graces your features, looking him over. Tailored slacks, loafer shoes, a tie with a flowery print, and bright colors. Among the stiff collars and black-tie formality, he sticks out sorely. Not rigid or overly formal speech, and with good humor. You don’t feel bad appeasing him. You smile.

“I wouldn’t get so cocky,” You supply. He laughs at that.

“Never hurts to try,” ― His nonchalance is relaxing. Familiar, but you try not to think about it. His fingers loop into his belt loops, stretching slightly ― “Is sleep the only thing that has you hurrying home?”

You tilt your head to one side, brows furrowed with an amused smirk.

“Like what, exactly?” You prompt.

“Mm, a lover? I guess I’m asking if there’s a husband or wife whose toes I might be stepping on.”

You scoff, just barely before grinning. Your cheeks burn from warmth and a mild embarrassment. When was the last time someone approached you so openly, you wonder? You can’t help but giggle behind your palms.

“You’re confident. Kind of inappropriate for the setting, don’t you think?”

He steps just a little closer to you.

“Not a fan of the overly formal stuff, if that wasn’t obvious. Perks of being an heir, maybe,” He says openly. “I didn’t get a real answer to my question, yknow?”

You look again, at Kuroo who’s talking openly. Just business, you remind yourself.

You shake your head.

“Nothing like that,”

He smiles back at you.

“Good to know,”

“Yeah?”

“Yes ma’am. Not often I see a pretty woman looking bored at one of these functions,”

“Who taught you to talk like that?”

“Picking up sweet talk is why you’re here in the first place. Gotta know a thing or two, right?”

“Can’t say you’re wrong,” You say back.

Of all the events from tonight, this conversation has redirected your attention entirely. You decide to let it happen, going along with his whims. You’ll be home in an hour and it won’t matter by then so you let yourself be swayed by his charms. He’s straightforward, and you like that. It helps that he’s handsome.

“Can I ask what you do? Your formal title?”

“Brand and budget manager for the MSBY Jackals.” You say almost on automatic.

“Charming stuff,”

You chuckle.

“Very. Do I need to ask you or is my guess of department head pretty accurate?”

He laughs full-on.

“On the nose.”

A comfortable silence settles between you two as you shiver slightly from the cold. You ready yourself to apologize for it but Kuroo finally seems to approach. You don’t know if you’re allowed to feel disappointed or not when he calls out for you.

“Hey, sorry - they had stuff they wanted to ask me about,” ― Kuroo says sheepishly, before pausing completely ― “Oh, who’s this?”

“Mr. Hayashi from the Hayashi brand.”

Kuroo sticks a hand out to him out of habit which he accepts. They shake hands firmly, nodding to each other.

“Nice to meet you. Kuroo Tetsuro,”

“Much obliged,”

Before you can get a word in, Kuroo is turning to you curiously.

“You ready to go?”

“Ah.. actually Mr. Hayashi and I were uhm -”

There’s a pause where Mr. Hayashi pulls out a business card from his wallet and a marker from the inside of his suit jacket. You watch alongside Kuroo, silent, as he flips the card over and scribbles something onto the back in black ink before handing it over.

“I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of your beauty sleep,” He offers politely, grinning. He hands the card to you, making sure to squeeze your hand for a long while. He pats your palm, staring at him a little awestruck. From beside you, you can feel Kuroo’s prying gaze.

“There’s my card and my personal number,” He says, voice dripping with such flirtation it astounds you “I won’t take it personally if you don’t call, but I’d love if you did.”

He steps back giving you a warm smile. You stare back, trying to pick your jaw up off the floor. You do your best to mirror him.

“Right, thank you,”

“Get home safe, Nee-san,” He all but coos. Your eyes go wide and then, without meaning to, you laugh loudly.

“You too,”

With that, he turns on his heel to leave. You can practically feel Kuroo’s eyes on your silhouette. You make a firm choice to ignore it.

“We should uhm… get home.”

He’s quiet for a while.

“Yeah,”

You wish you brought your car. But you and Kuroo always go 50/50 on Uber rides home - so you’re in the backseat with Kuroo six inches away from you. You try your best not to face the window, or to turn away.

But the silence feels like a broad-stroke - heavy and a little demanding. You fidget with a ring on your index finger, palms in your lap. Your eyes flicker over your bare ring finger. It’s not like you’ve ever cared to be married. You chose work on purpose, but the thought crossed your mind tonight, admittedly.

A husband or wife wouldn’t be so bad, you think. It’s a step too far to think about marrying Mr. Hayashi, but you can’t really control it either. Suddenly you feel a little flush, and you smile without meaning to.

“So.. what were you and Mr. Hayashi talking about?”

Kuroo’s voice is smooth as it pulls you from your train of thought. You look up, turning to look at him.

“Oh, uh - nothing really. We just started chatting. I wanted to make a good impression since he works with the Jackals all the time,”

“...You weren’t friends before then?”

“Why’d you think that?”

“He called you nee-san?”

Your eyes widen and then you break out into another laugh, before waving a dismissive hand.

“Oh, that’s just - I think he was… he was just cracking a joke. He asked me to drop the honorifics since he thought we were the same age. And then I said I look younger than I am,”

“And so?’”

“So, he asked if he could call me that and I told him not to get too cocky. He was nice. Kinda weird, but nice.”

Another silence stretches between you, a thin membrane. Kuroo frowns like he isn’t sure what to say, or how exactly to say it but it quickly turns back into a smile.

“Nice because he was flirting with you,” He says. It’s provocative and a little irritating. You’re familiar with it - the little vein that pops in his neck. You have a guess as to why, but you think of Ayame and all the other company dinners where Kuroo is charming the panties off of old businesswomen. Suddenly, you don’t feel bad.

Just business, he always says. You know that, and you think that’d matter more if you knew where you two stood. But you don’t other than close colleagues and estranged friends, so you just kind of laugh.

“Yeah, I think he was,” ― You tuck your fingers underneath your clutch, curled and look down with a smile ― “He was pretty forward, but he wasn’t bad,”

Kuroo looks like he wants to say something. He opens his mouth briefly, only to close it again.

“Are you gonna call him?”

You don’t mask your surprise. You look again, not at the car floor but at Kuroo who’s got shadows on his face. Underneath his eyes are shadows you aren’t sure were there before. Your heart pulls taut. You can’t breathe for a second.

“Maybe,”

You settle on maybe.

You don’t want to have this conversation here. In the back on Uber on a Saturday night with sore feet and a heavy head. You especially don’t want to have it with Kuroo Tetsuro - the guy who falls asleep at your desk when you work together during late nights and who shares most of your friends. Who you’ve known since you were no older than 15 - who graduated and followed you all the way here.

All that history begging to be unpacked rises like bile in your throat, and you take a shaky breath. Tomorrow, it’ll be all fine. You’ll get a 7am text and Kuroo will bring you coffee. You’ll take the subway together. He’ll stand behind you to fend off creeps. And it won’t be close (sometimes you wonder if you ever were) but it’ll be fine.

Nothing will change if you just settle down. That’s what you tell yourself. So you take a deep breath and find yourself facing the window.

“Don’t call him,” He says in a rush. You look over your shoulders. He looks…panicked? Worried? You don’t really know, maybe both. You pause.

“Why?”

“I don’t want you to,”

Your brow furrows.

“Why?”

He looks uncomfortable. Nervous, like he’s gonna throw up. His brow creases and pinches.

“Because.” He says like he’s settled on it. Your face falls flat.

“I’m not doing this with you,” ― You say, rubbing your temples with frustration ― “It’s been a long-ass night. I’m tired. My feet are so sore and this dress is borderline itchy. I want to wash my face and pee in my own bathroom.”

You turn solemn. Utterly exhausted, you rub underneath your eye.

“If you’re not gonna tell me why, stop bugging me, okay?”

“Hey,”

“Tetsuro, I’m serious. Leave it, okay?”

“No it’s not - I’m not good at this. I’m sorry, I don’t mean -”

“You seemed good at it today,”

“That’s just -’

“Just business, I know. I get it. We work in the same office, went to the same university and high school. I’ve known you for almost a decade, Tetsuro,” ― You just barely keep it together. You don’t even know what you’re frustrated by. ― “You’re the most charismatic person I’ve ever met despite yourself and your stupid bullshit. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, but if you’re going too anyways - at least be honest with me.”

“Honest in what way?”

“I dunno. But don’t tell me you’re not good at it,” ― Your face burns flush with embarrassment ― “It’s fine if it’s me, like I… you don’t have to -”

“No, no. It is you but not in the way you think.” He corrects.

“In what way then?”

“It’s cause it’s you,” ― And then you see it when you drive past a streetlight, a warm blush painted on his cheeks that makes your heart stop ― “Because you’ve known me for almost a decade. Because you still like me through all of my stupid bullshit. It’s different when it’s work,”

Your heart does a soft pitter-patter. You breathe through your nose.

“But?”

“But that’s just work. I don’t care about those people. I just am what’s expected of me to close bookings and persuade deals. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And me?”

“You… well - obviously you mean something to me,”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” You say.

You feel tender. You can’t help it. Kuroo is a scar that never really healed. You never leave each other’s side, and he’s so considerate of your feelings. He means well, you know. You know everything there is to know about Kuroo, even now - because every attempt to avoid each other disengage has been split apart by the universe.

From going to the same university to working in the same field. You’ve done it all, been there for each other when you dated other people. You reminisce about Kuroo crying to you over his first real girlfriend. Kuroo drank with you when you broke up with the only other guy you loved.

And that’s life. Most people you meet come with love that existed before you did. Not often is it that we only experience love one time.

Your relationship with Kuroo often reminds you of the tide. With high highs, and low lows. Sometimes you crush. In high school and some time in your young adult life - Kuroo was a trigger for all your butterflies. After high school grad and just before college ended, you thought you hated his guts.

But lately, life doesn’t lend itself to either extreme. When your priorities change and your heartbeat is much steadier than it was when you were younger - lately you think Kuroo is handsome.

You think he makes you feel funny. That it’s not exactly butterflies. It’s just sort of warm and fizzy like soda pop or pop-rocks that melt on your tongue. It still gives you that giggly laughter, but you don’t feel hollow when it leaves.

Like always though, it lingers. He lingers, and sometimes that dull sensation aches.

So you’re a little jealous. A little petty, a little childish - but that’s because he makes you feel so awfully human. All he reminds you of is how awfully human you are, down to your wants.

“...It doesn’t?”

Your breath catches. When you look up, he looks almost angry.

You open your mouth only to snap it shut again.

“Do you really think I don’t care about you?”

“No, I know you do, and I care about you too.”

“Then what is it?”

And you kind of want to cry as much as you don’t. Frustration is present, but not drowning. It isn’t that raw, unbridled resentment that you would have once before. It isn’t even all that angry. It feels like hot wind on your skin.

For what it’s been, the long road looking back must’ve only been a few feet. You’re mostly just wishing you weren’t having this conversation in the backseat of a stranger’s car.

It’s here now, though. So you face it.

“I want you to want me,” ― You manage through an alarmingly soft whisper, strained and a little uncomfortable under the collar ― “But I don’t know if you do because I never really know where we stand. And I really didn’t have to be the one to say it. So, can we please drop it?”

There’s another pause. And you sigh. For what’s the equivalent of a confession - you feel strangely at ease. Not perfectly fine, but for the most part, you don’t want to puke. The rapid heart rate will settle with time and you’re relieved.

You get ready to go quiet for the rest of the car ride.

“I… It’s… I do,”

He stutters through every word. A flush on his cheeks and some sense of panic.

“You do?”

And he remains silent, the world is falling apart. This part is familiar too. Kuroo’s always been bad at honesty.

“Tetsuro,” ― You say, trying to encourage him just a little ― “What’re you still so scared of?”

“Of fucking this up,” ― He says with astounding sobriety, deep in thought ― “We’ve been through a lot, but - it could all go wrong. I don’t want it to end with me picking a box with my stuff in it,”

“We have been through a lot,”― You offer, with a soft breath. You lean your head back onto the seat ― “So even if we broke up, worst-case scenario - we take some time off. But we’re not good at being apart.”

“Yeah,” He laughs under his breath “That’s true,”

“I didn’t think you were such a wimp, Tetsuro.”

“I am not a wimp, you wench”

You snort.

“You are. Some rando hitting on me made you jealous and you can’t even tell me to my face that you like me,”

“Who said I even like you?”

“Oh?”

He shuts himself up.

And you laugh again a little harder.

You aren’t sure what you were hoping for it to feel like. You think you’d be content like this. Crystalized in ember, this soft hope. It’s not love in the way you wanted when you were young. Not a heart in your ribs. Not painful.

Like breaking in new shoes. The comfy kind that needs to be worn for a little while before they’re perfect - that you wear and wear and wear. You want to keep them. You hope they’ll always fit.

“I’m so tired,”― You say through a soft yawn and warm laugh ― “You’ve got ten minutes to say your piece before I fall right asleep,”

“Come home with me,” He says. Spits out like a loose tooth. Your eyes go wide. “Not like… you know. Just, I think it’d be easier that way. If we were together,”

You grin and then let out a laugh, a warm puff of air through your nose.

“Tetsuro, come here,”

He inches towards you, slowly.

And you face each other, just like that. You put a hand on his chest. Not his shoulder, on his chest. You can feel his pulse quicken underneath your palms. You smile, and the car ride is smooth and steady.

“Hey,” You whisper. He laughs a ridiculous laugh.

“Hi,” He says back. You grin.

“Are you gonna stop being a scaredy-cat?”

He laughs at that. You’ve never realized how weird it is to kiss in the backseat of a car, especially when it’s not your car. Still, Kuroo reaches a hesitant hand out. He cups your cheek gently in his palm and then giggles a little.

“Probably not,” ― He says, thumb smoothing underneath your eyes - just gentle enough your makeup doesn’t smudge. A moment slowed in time ― “But you could help me with that, right?”

“Yeah. I do with everything else, anyways,”

“Yeah… you really do,” ― He leans forward. The warmth of his breath, sweet and summery, fans onto your lips. You look up at him and smile ― “Can I kiss you?”

“You probably should,”

A grin breaks out into his face, and he’s laughing under his breath. He tries to kiss you seriously, but there’s so much unadulterated joy - that each one is broken up by a smile or whisper. Warmth spills from your fingertips. You hold onto his chest. You kiss him slowly, softly. Lips pressed together like shallow pecks.

“Will you come home with me?”

“Sure,”

“Even if I have bad intentions?”

You laugh brightly.

“Yeah, even then.”

“Don’t call that guy, okay?”

“Okay,”

Kuroo holds your hand the whole way through.

As you leave the Uber with a hefty tip, and as you make out in the elevator before his apartment. His fingers laced with yours or, a delicate hand wrapped around your own. He holds your hand through the hallways, and only lets go to open his apartment doors.

And when you stumble inside together, there’s this kind of tenseness that lingers. An awareness of how incomplete the two of you are, even together. You step inside, and you aren’t sure what you’re expecting.

Kuroo leads you into his bedroom, and you follow. But he doesn’t push you down against the sheets.

“Sit,” He offers. And you do.

Before you have a chance to question it, Kuroo is settling down on his knees. He’s still dressed, minus his shoes. But your heels are still on, and you thought maybe it was something kinky.

Instead though, his fingers carefully undo the faux leather. Your breath catches as you watch. The room is dimly lit, just one light in the corner of the room. But, Kuroo is looking - maybe right into you. His fingers are so careful undoing the straps slowly. He rubs, so carefully, on the indented skin.

He takes the first heel off and rubs the soreness on the soles of your feet. His lips are a ghostly sensation. But he kisses your calf, now bare. You stare for a long while, unsure of what to say.

He repeats it for your other leg. The same gesture, the same tenderness instilled. You can barely breathe as you watch him. Your hand reaches over to pet his hair back, and he smiles.

“Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much,”

“Good. C’mere,”

You stand, and you’ve lost height. Kuroo bends down to kiss you again, soft. When he pulls away he smiles.

“Lemme help you with this,”

You face away from him, feeling as he takes the zipper of your outfit and slides it down all the way. An exposed wave of air hits your back, and you shiver. He presses his lips to your neck, the nape of it - nose pressed against your skin. You ease the short sleeves off, and Kuroo’s fingers ghost over them. The fabric falls to the floor unceremonious. You step out of it, and Kuroo glances at you.

You’re not completely naked. You’re wearing a comfortable lace number, all of it matching. Kuroo grins down at you, sucking in a breath.

“Pretty,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… really pretty,”

You crane your neck up to kiss Kuroo in thanks. He receives you openly. The gentle air cools your skin as your nimble fingers reach down for his buttons. Your heart doesn’t hammer, but it beats loud. A gentle thrumming under your skin as you help him out of his vest.

He watches you with a cat-like grin as you loosen his tie. Then his white shirt, where your mouth goes dry at what’s underneath. Strong chest, flexing as the buttons of his dress shirt get undone. That comes off too, falls to the floor, and settles in the heap of clothes.

“You’re so hot, it’s so annoying,” You whine. He laughs at that.

“You really think so?”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t. Feels kinda conceited,”

“God that explains so much. Yes, you’re obviously hot. That’s why people throw themselves at you, all day,” You snort. You rest your hands on his collarbones.

“Except you, huh?” He tsks. You laugh.

“I have to humble you ‘cause no one else will,”

“We’ll see about that,” He teases. You scrunch your nose up at him then laugh, letting your hands smooth over his chest. Your palms glide on his torso before you end up at his belt buckle. You hold his eyes when you do it, undoing the metal before taking the belt off.

You can feel yourself grow wet. It’s not the touch, but the motion - the watching Kuroo’s face as you undo his nice slacks and let them fall to the floor. Your manicured hands linger at his waistband as he steps out of them and they enter the pile of clothes.

There’s something about being naked with someone you like, or even love - the way pleasure and want stretch and cling so neatly to every part of your psyche. You want Kuroo. You want him to touch you. You want to touch him, so even when your hands shake - you want him. So you let yourself touch him, your palms cup his cock through his boxers

He’s hard, warm in your hands. You squeeze, letting your eyes flicker up to the ragged breath.

“Tetsuro,” You say, squeezing again. He inhales.

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get into bed,”

So you fall together, Kuroo sits on the edge of the bed and you sit upon his lap.

And you’re so wet. It smears through your panties, sticky and see-through - and you hover above his hard-on with a mischievous smile. Kuroo makes note to kiss you, the soft tug of teeth and gentleness of his tongue that swipes your bottom lip. He lets his palms squeeze your ass, massaging the skin.

There’s nothing you like more than letting him feel you. The soft way the kisses linger as he guides your hips together. Your rut yourself into him, the outline of his cock sometimes catching in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

The flames lick gently in your stomach. That fall-apart, gooey feeling that makes your mind sink. You let yourself succumb to the haze as you kiss and touch. Every particularly hard thrust makes you laugh or breathe into his lips, and Kuroo pauses in the middle. You’re so wet now, so throbbing - the dull need startles to settle in the pit of your stomach.

You get greedy when you wrap your arms around his neck and push yourself. But Kuroo leans back on his palms, keen to let you do what you want. The soft heat of your cunt over the clothes, the layers of fabric that tease.

“Tetsuro,”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I like when you call me that,”

“Mm, yeah. I like when you talk to me,” He says back.

“You should touch me,”

He grins at you, mischief dancing in his eyes. And then he hauls you up, flipping you until you’re on your back. A laugh spills out of you at the sudden movement, clinging to him.

“Jeez, you scared me,” Your legs wrap your his waist as he hangs off the edge. He leans his head down to kiss your jaw.

“Sorry,” He says, not sounding apologetic.

“Better be,”

His knees hit the floor again as he drags you over the side of the bed. Your legs dangle as he spreads them apart. His fingers trace around the dampened material, cotton soaked in arousal. He avoids where you need him most, massaging just the outside. It makes your stomach tight, the purposeful gestures.

Your toes curl when he decides to stop teasing you. Thighs tensed as his middle finger glides and pressed to your clit smoothly. Your voice gives in. You prop yourself onto your elbows to look but it proves to be a bad idea. Kuroo is right there. He moves the stretch of the fabric to one side and he touches you. Really touches you, skin to skin.

You’ve done it before, but not with Kuroo. Kuroo does it kindly. Kuroo touches you like you’ll break apart - with enough teasing to keep you wanting more, but not enough to make you agitated. You think the word for it is sexy. Kuroo is sexy, so terribly sexy when he watches for you.

“Does it feel better here,” ― He switches pace and position, more firm ― “Or here?”

“There,” You breathe. His lip meets your inner thigh. He rubs your clit with care and concentration. His free hand touching at you, warming you from the inside out. More heat, more pressure, more want - it all builds so steadily inside of you. You let yourself fall back as the stimulation to your clit proves to make you feel hazy.

When you’re warm, when you’re there - Kuroo lets his fingers go a little further. You aren’t expecting that sudden intrusion of his middle finger, circling just barely at your entrance. You throb a little, heartbeat in your clit fluttering at the gentle look on Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo is so much for you. You must be a lot for him too because he looks surprised when you clamp down on his fingers.

At first, it doesn’t feel like anything but invasive. Kuroo’s fingers are thick as they are long, and so much bigger than yours. You stare for a second, as he pushes. The stretch of your pussy suddenly grows, but it’s tipping on the edge of unpleasantness. There’s an ache inside, deep.

Then, Kuroo dips his head down. His tongue lays, flat on your clit before taking it into his mouth. You feel your spine arch at the sudden sensation. When you look down, Kuroo’s eyes are narrowed at you in a grin.

“You asshole,”

He smiles against your clit.

And then, you jerk - because Kuroo curls his finger inside of you until it hits a spot that makes your mouth drop open. You’ve never had someone else touch it before, not a person. Always some toy you bought on a whim, but Kuroo reaches it. Your mouth falls open completely, head feeling heavy as can be.

You groan, loud and shameless as it stops feeling like nothing and starts to feel like everything all at once. It’s such a sudden shift you almost miss it. You throb between your legs as Kuroo pumps his middle finger in and out of you - and you feel a rush of wetness run lewdly into his hands.

Another deep breath as he lets another finger. Time feels like it’s moving at a lethargic pace. The way Kuroo moves inside of you. There’s a staccato on how it feels with every move or change, but Kuroo always builds you back up. He knows how to get you on the edge every time you stay from it - and this time, he takes no short effort in making sure you stay there. You stay in that steady pleasure. The movement feels as natural as an oceans wave, enveloping and comfortable, and cool. You know at any moment the water could rush over and drown you, but you somehow how feel confident that it won’t.

You know you won’t mind if it does.

The two fingers stretch and stretch and stretch. You keen into the touch, moaning his name softly. Kuroo goes easily, steadily - and you almost feel relaxed. You’re not alarmed, just tense. Yearning as he fucks you right open on his fingers, and arousal drips onto everything.

“Tetsuro,” You moan.

He pulls off, slowly. And the heat cools rapidly, but he kisses your clit soft.

“Just let go when you feel it,”

And you nod, shakily. He gets back to it. A little more pressure, a little more suction, a little more giving. Enough that you feel all of it in some rapid succession. What felt like it would take minutes now starts to impend. You want it, want him - and you don’t have the strength to be propped up on your elbows when that syrupy warmth settles in the bottom of your stomach. Everything pulls you.

Kuroo’s fingers rubbing against your g-spot, the hot sticky suction of his mouth, his free hand holding you so gentle, like you’re pretty. He touches you in a way that makes you feel wanted. You wonder if that’s on purpose.

It’s dark, but you can see his eyes still. Light and hazel and piercing. A wave of electricity spikes through you.

You cum hard, the first time. Your entire back arches off of the bed, mouth dangling open and legs jerking. Your toes curl as you try to close your legs, overwhelmed. Kuroo doesn’t pull off from you, just guides you through it as a wave of euphoria hits you all at once. Startlingly hard, you cum for what feels like an eternity the first time.

When you open your eyes - Tetsuro is giving you a big grin. He gives you a laugh as you lay in his bed, limp.

“Don’t tell me you’re already giving up?”

“Never ever. Come fuck me,”

He laughs at that. You watch as he walks towards his drawers, pulling a condom from them before returning to you. You’re sitting up now, leaning back as he comes back towards you.

“Do you wanna put this on for me?”

You nod. Kuroo laughs at you and stands tall, hips jutting out. It’s funny enough that you laugh, as your fingers dip into his waistband.

“I hate you,” You say through a smile. He laughs back.

But you do take them off. Slowly, you watch as his boxers drop to the floor. The sound that leaves your mouth is nothing if not shocked. You weren’t expecting him to be… small. But seeing it so upfront, he’s much bigger than you would’ve expected. Bigger than average at least.

There’s a clean bit of hair, well kept. Kuroo is longer than he is thick, and cut - brown tip, and heavy. Your palms wrap around the shaft, eyes wide.

“You’re so big,”

“Y-Yeah?”

You know you’re getting distracted but with it so close to you it’s hard not to be. You can’t focus, so you lean into the urge to touch. Your grip goes a little tighter, and you spit onto the head. Kuroo hisses under his breath as you tug, jerking him in your palms with a sparkle in your eyes.

“Fuck, that’s -”

“Huh?”

“You’re… fuck - I’m so hard. Kinda hurts,”

“From me touching you?”

“Yeah. And seeing you spit on it. And you in general, I guess,” Kuroo huffs, wincing. You take your time, feeling the weight of him in your hands. The curve, the warmth, the veins - you watch as his eyes go lidded from lust and suddenly there’s warmth in your stomach you can’t control. You practically shaking.

It’s you who’s making him like that. The thought of that has you squeezing your thighs together.

“Tetsuro, I want -”

He looks down at you, smiling.

“Me too, ‘s okay. Put it on,”

You pull away your hand with hesitance and the condom comes on. The wrapper crinkles, gets discarded somewhere you’re not paying attention. You pinch the tip and roll it down his length with a warm grin. When it’s on, you look at each other and there’s another bit of warm laughter.

“How do you want it?” He asks, cupping your cheek in his palm. You lean into the touch.

“I wanna ride you,” You say. He chokes on his breath and you laugh at him.

“Seriously? Kind of a lotta work for someone with sore legs,” He teases.

“Guess you’ll have to help me then. Think you can do it, Tetsuro?

“Fuck, you’re killing me. Come on,”

You watch as Kuroo gets on the bed, rearranging some pillows before laying down. He pats his thigh, signaling you over. You smile, throwing your legs over either side of his thigh.

He rests his hands on your hips, traveling to your torso. You size him up against you and he groans.

“Don’t hold out on me,”

“I won’t, I won’t,”

You adjust your hips a little, sitting up. You let yourself lean on Kuroo, holding his chest as you try and line yourself up.

There’s this second where you catch his eyes. You sink down on his cock, and the stretch of it is just right. He’s big, so it burns pleasantly. It’s a lot, immediate. The feeling of being full and the familiarity of another body. Everything realigns in your togetherness and you think about how much you want him. When your eyes meet, it’s all that’s on your mind.

You want, you want, you want. You want so much you can’t help but cry out a little at the feeling. Kuroos fingers dig a little harder in your hips as you slowly adjust. You don’t know how you’re keeping it together, so you breathe then grin.

“You feel so good,”

“You look so fucking good,” Kuroo says back. You moan as he bottoms out. The sudden feeling of completion. You lean forward as you get adjusted to it, rocking forward. Kuroo watches you, awestruck.

You’re together and you feel like something that’s been missing clicks together. So suddenly, does the realization hit you that you’re with him. You think it’s a weird time to get emotional since he’s inside you, but you do. You feel yourself overwhelmed with affection as you rock against him. You let him hit that soft spot in your core and then hold his face in your hands.

“Tetsuro,” ― You say with the happiness spilling through every syllable ― “I like you,”

His eyes go wide. And then your infectious smiling nips at him, and his whole face goes flush. Maybe embarrassed, but happy too. Happy together like some kind of magic.

“I like you too,”

You kiss him softly, a short reprieve. A break in between everything.

“Can I move?”

“Mhm,”

Kuroo holds you up. You secure yourself on his shoulder, burying your face in the space between his shoulder and neck. He smells like cologne and sweat. You breathe in sharply.

Then he’s moving. Not fast at first, like he’s trying to ease you into it. The soft drag of his cock is enough to make you moan. It’s a broken jagged sound. This position makes you feel it so deeply, makes it touch in places you didn’t know existed. The soft stroke is enough to make you feel so good all over again. It’d be fine if you didn’t cum again, but it feels like you just might.

Kuroo doesn’t fuck into you hard enough to make you cry. But he does hold you, tight to his chest. He fucks you like he wants you to feel every inch, not too slow or too fast. There’s a rhythm to it, a constancy. It’s harder than you could ever do on your own. Deep thrusts that you can feel him all the way in your stomach. Over and over and over.

“You feel perfect,” He huffs. You moan into his neck, cheek pressed to his skin.

“Wanna cum again,” You admit as he fucks into you. His thrusts stutter, slowing.

“Touch yourself for me,”

You feel your whole body shiver, nodding.

You managed to sneak a hand between your sweaty bodies. Kuroo lets you get used to it.

“Gonna move again, kay?”

“Okay,”

And then it’s there again. At the same pace, hard enough to feel good - but slow enough to feel too painful. Your fingers shake as they rub against your clit. The pleasure washes over you. You cry out.

“Oh, fuck,”

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah. God, yeah.”

He presses a kiss to wherever he can reach. For now, on the side of your head.

You move with each other, just like that. Soaking each other in like basking in the sunlight at high noon. Warmth and pleasure envelops you as a familiar knot twists in your tummy. Your thighs are tight from the position. Tense and clenched muscles as you get so close to another one. You’re a little overstimulated, so your movements are rushed. Sloppy, but it does the job. So close, so close.

“Cum for me,” ― Kuroo encourages, soothing ― “One more,”

Your voice crackles as it hits you with astounding impact. You cum, and you cum hard. This time the waves are a little longer. Instead of a constant one after another wave, they’re long and drawn out. Much deeper than before. You say his name like a prayer from your lips. Love like worship.

“Oh, god. Tetsuro, shit,”

“Shh, shh - it’s okay. I got you,”

You ride your high out together. Kuroo moves with you until you’re finished, and then he stops. Your eyes are bleary when you open them to look back at him.

“Hey stranger,” He hums “You okay? Can I keep going?”

You nod, bracing yourself.

“Yeah… give it to me,”

“Anything you want,”

You can feel Kuroo let himself loose. You encourage him through it. Tell him to go hard, to cum. You have just enough energy to match him, so you do. You move your hips with each thrust, smiling as he throws his head back. His hold gets tight, teeth gritted and eyes screwed shut hard as he finishes.

“Shit, shit,”

You can feel his whole body spasms, jerking as he buries himself to the hilt and finishes. It’s a shame you can’t feel him. Another time, you think to yourself.

You feel lethargy, bone-deep, creep into you when you finally manage to come back from everything. Kuroo is still inside of you, but you don’t want him to pull out. The two of you stand together like that. Relaxed, and steady. You blink tiredly at Tetsuro, and he smiles back.

“You can’t fall asleep like this,” He muses. You frown, yawning.

“I’m not falling asleep,” You insist.

“You’ll break out from having your makeup on,”

“Hasn’t happened yet,”

“Do you sleep with your makeup on?”

“I try not to, but sometimes I nap with it on, you know?”

He snorts.

“C’mon. Up and up.”

“Sir, yes sir,”

He chuckles.

Kuroo hovers around you as you take your makeup off. He watches as you rub it away with soaps and oils that he had around his house. Promising that next time you’re here, he’d have everything you need.

You peed over the toilet like you wanted to earlier, and Kuroo sat with you. You were expecting the transition to intimacy to be much harder. Maybe it’s because you’ve already seen the worst of it that it hadn’t been bad at all.

Kuroo lends you old clothes. The pants don’t fit but the boxers do, so you take them.

And after changing the sheets together, you let yourself sleep in Kuroo’s bed. You watch as he turns the lights off and then comes with you under the sheets.

You stare at him as he finally comes into your view. Your expression contented, you reach out to him. He lets you touch him, fingers on his jaw before he scoots it.

He kisses the tip of your nose, so softly it startles you.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” He says with transparency. You laugh.

“I’ve gotten good at that,”

He chuckles.

“You should put it on your resume,” He says thoughtfully.

“Mm, good idea. Number One Tetsuro Tamer,”

And then you both giggle. Stupidly, maddeningly content with each other. Comfortable.

“Sleep soon,”

“Mm, okay,”

When you close your eyes you know he’s still grinning.

“Okay,”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #writing tag #formal #wub wub wub #betterthanfictioncollab #I KNEW I FORGOTT A TAG

1K notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

hi! i love your writing literally so much and when i saw the golf photos i was wondering if you could write about harry golfing and y/n is driving the golfcart and theyre flirting or harry and y/n are bf and gf and they go golfing together?

okay so first Denver tour blurb everyone cheer!

It was “sandwich” day, as you liked to call it.The day between the tour shows - the filling, if you will.

As it was Harry’s day to do “nothing” so to speak, you decided that it might be a nice idea to go golfing. Harry hadn’t really been since the pandemic had started and so you thought it might be a nice time to get back into it, to help calm his nervous jitters in between shows. So you invited Harry, Jeff and two other friends of Harry’s, whom lived in the area, to come golfing with you.

You pretended like you were good at golf, but in reality you couldn’t even do well when it was crazy golf. You made the effort to get in the spirit of the sport though, putting on the only golfing attire that you packed with you; a skirt and a sports vest shirt with trainers made especially for golfing. Harry on the other hand just went for some regular sports shorts and a yellow shirt, yet he still looked like he was about to out-do Tiger Woods.

“We ready?” Jeff asked, climbing onto the back of the golf buggy, next to the two other guys, Tom and Benny.

“Yup.” Harry says, hopping into the passenger side of the cart next to you in the drivers seat. His arm swings around the back of your seat and he rests his fingers on your shoulder. His close proximity really helps comfort you.

You started to drive away from the main building and out onto the gold course, carefully so you didn’t topple the cart or accidentally run anyone over. Harry kept his fingers dancing on your bare shoulder and he leaned over his shoulder to talk to the guys behind. You were quite content just driving along, watching as the green grass and blue skies passed you along the way. The drive to the first hole was about 5 minutes and once you arrived Harry was quick to give you a sloppy kiss to the cheek.

“What was that for?” You asked, killing the engine and shoving the keys in your pocket so the cart couldn’t be just stolen.

“Just love y’so much.” He smiled and now kissed you on the lips. His mouth was soft and yet his kiss was so passionate and forceful. He was trying to convey just how much he did love you, and you could feel every single bit of it through his energy.

“Love you even more.”

“Yeah, no that’s not happening.” Harry shook his head, hopping out of the cart and grabbing all his gear. You hopped out too, but just grabbing your water bottle and suncream.

“What?” You laughed, as he took your hand and you both walked off to where the other boys were setting up. Harry purposefully walked slowly so he could have a little more time with you.

“I love you most. End of.” He answered, squeezing your hand just because.

“I’m not having this argument with you.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head.

“Yeah, because i’ll win?” He asked smugly, setting down his gear and standing close to you. You could see the bitter cheek in his eyes. Prick.

“Because i’m not going to fight with you over how much we love each other.”

“Okay, okay.” He sighed, pulling out the club that he wanted to use first. Before he went to join the boys though, he stopped by you first. “I love y’most though.” With a kiss of the lips he was away from you and focused on the game, leaving you to chuckle at how sly he was and thinking about just how good a boyfriend he really is.

After around 12 out of the 19 holes, Harry was leading out of the four of them by a long-shot even if he claimed he was a terrible golfer. They were very hot and sweaty now. Even though gold isn’t exactly a laborious sport, the heat of the Colorado sun made it quite unbearable at some points. You had to sit under the roof of the gold buggy at one point, feeling so hot that you were quite faint. Harry sat with you for a while, making sure that you were okay before he went to play his hole. He regularly told you to drink water and gave you a cap to wear to protect you better, which had been quite sweet actually.

“This says ‘Harry is my friend’?” You questioned, putting on the hat regardless. It was his new tour merch and you absolutely loved it to the point where you were considering buying one for yourself.

“What? Are you not my friend?” Harry asked, looking almost offended you’d ask such a thing.

“No. I’m y’bestfriend.”

“Damn right you are.” And the moment had ended with his lips on yours and then a shouting from Jeff for you both to get a move on.

Now you were on the last hole and Harry was the last one to swing, or rather just putt. He was on the green and could easily get a hole in one with a steady shot. Harry had already won the mini tournament they had going on, so he didn’t mind at all when he offered of you wanted to tap his last shot.

“Seriously?” You asked, confused that he’d want you to do this considering you’ve never played golf well before.

“He’s won anyways, Y/N, might as well!” Jeff laughed, in other words reminding you of how shit you actually are at this sport.

“Oi, leave m’girlfriend alone, y’dickhead.” Harry shouted in pretence at Jeff, motioning for you to come and join him.

“I’m sorry in advance.” You giggled, taking ahold of the club that he was holding.

“I trust you.” He smiled and backed away slightly to watch you. You took your place next to his golf ball and eyed it up, trying to stand in line with the hole to make sure you didn’t fuck this up for Harry. I mean, you were going to miss but you didn’t want it to be by miles. You tried to form a good body position, but clearly it wasn’t that great.

Harry’s hands came to your hips first, whispering in your ear for you to be less tense in your stance. He then slid his hands up your sides until they reached your shoulders, loosening them and pushing them down slightly so you weren’t so hunched. His hands then trailed down both of your arms until his body was over yours, hands on your hands clutching the hold of the club. His touch shivered goosebumps onto your skin, yet his warmth and closeness wanted to dissipate them all away. “I trust you.” He whispered to you once again, singing your arms with his gently. Everything was in perfect alignment. You two were in perfect sync.

Ball in hole.

“Yes!” You jumped and cheered like a little kid excited on Christmas morning, dropping the club to the floor to throw your arms around Harry and kiss his neck a few times. “Did you see that?” You asked, as Harry’s hold tickled your sides. He was giving you his happiest and most proudest grin he could.

“I did baby. Y’so amazing!” He laughed, coming down to give your forehead a long pressing kiss.

“‘Cause I did so well I get to say I love you most, okay?” You smiled up at him, waiting for his response.

“Uhhh… no.” He dragged out his hum but definitely gave his answer, making you pout and squint your eyes at him. God, if only he knew just how much love you actually had for him, but then again if only you knew how much he had for you.

391 notes · View notes

yougotthat-write · 3 years ago

Text

Tinder (Rafael Barba x Reader)

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: Female reader, fluff, Rollisi shenanigans, cringey and inappropriate pick-up lines, potential PTSD for former/current users of dating apps and all the awkwardness that ensues from it :)

Summary: Amanda and Sonny try to find the perfect match for their uptight (and while he would never admit it - lonely) A.D.A.

Read on AO3 here!

It had started off as a joke, really.

Rafael Barba would never sign up onto a dating app if it wasn’t against his will. When he heard the snickering of Amanda and Sonny when he stopped by the 16th precinct, his feet couldn’t help themselves but bring him over to the two detectives.

Amanda bit her cheek to settle herself as the ADA’s polished shoes made their way over. Sonny’s ears turned pink at the tips, which gave Rafael the tell-tale sign that Sonny and Amanda were up to no good.

Hands in his pockets, Rafael quipped, “What?”

Amanda and Sonny exchanged glances. The silence between the two was not a normal thing but when Rafael asked a second time - more aggressive - Sonny held out a cell phone to the lawyer. Rafael’s brows went up in question but when Sonny motioned him to take it, Rafael grabbed it. Looking down at the device, the screen lit up and a plethora of information singed itself into his brain.

Rafael Barba, 37

Manhattan, NY

Assistant District Attorney

Oh baby, I’ll give you so much due process, standing will be the only issue.

Rafael’s eyes widened at the dumb pick-up line. His thumb swiped through the photos. One was of an appearance on the news - dressed up in a suit on the steps of the courthouse with a furrowed brow and serious look on his face. One was him at Forlini’s - scowling over the rim of his bourbon while sitting at the bar next to a grinning Sonny. He remembered when Amanda took this picture. It was the day he told Sonny he could be his second chair. Another picture showed him actually smiling - dressed in a Tom Ford tuxedo, champagne flute in one hand while the other was resting on the waist of his date for that night. She was an oil company lobbyist that he hooked up with sometimes when she wasn’t in D.C.

“What is this?” Rafael’s eyes hardened as he looked up at the two detectives. Sonny flinched at Rafael’s tone. Amanda simply blinked at Rafael. She wasn’t one to deal with attitude willingly but given how uptight Rafael could be sometimes, she was letting it slide. Rafael’s eyes went back down to the dating profile and he felt an annoyance bubble within him. “What the hell is this?”

“Calm down,” Amanda said as she grabbed the phone back with a roll of her eyes. “It’s just a dating profile.”

“Of me!” Rafael looked at Amanda like she was speaking some foreign, alien language. “Why does it exist?”

Sonny’s face seemed to become more pink. A hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it as his mentor for all intents and purposes became more annoyed. “We just thought it would be fun-”

“You thought it would be fun impersonating a Manhattan A.D.A.!” Rafael’s voice was raised. A few passing officers gave some glances to the group. Amanda waved a dismissive hand to one of them, letting them know that Rafael wasn’t someone to worry about when angry. “You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested.”

Amanda snorted, “We were going to tell you about it when we got you a date.”

“Yeah,” Sonny added, “we just thought you were stressed lately and needed someone to... ya know.”

If looks could kill, Rafael Barba would have murdered two very well-liked and very hard working detectives right then and there in a New York police precinct. He would have to tell Olivia that she would be short staffed for god knows how long.

Rafael’s fingers came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, taking a hard breath before looking back at the detectives. “You think I need your help getting laid?”

Sonny’s mouth gaped like a goldfish, trying to find words but nothing seemed to make itself at home in his pretty little head. He looked over at Amanda with wide eyes, hoping for her to smooth over the situation. Amanda simply shrugged her shoulders, “It’s not that we think you can’t get laid, Counselor,” she paused, eyes almost sympathetic and it made Rafael’s nostrils flare, “you just haven’t had… anyone around… long-term, you know?”

“I’m struggling to find where this is any of your concern,” Rafael pointed a finger at the two of them, “or why you would think I would find it on a dating app.” Rafael’s mind was flooding with things to make the lives of these two detectives a living hell. Maybe if he pulled some strings with Olivia, she’d put them on desk duty for a few weeks. “I want it deleted - get rid of it!”

Amanda held the device out of the prosecutor’s reach, giving him a few nods of understanding but she needed to tell him of one important thing, “But before we do that, you should know that there’s someone who matched with you-” Sonny nodded enthusiastically, “and she messaged you - us? - back.”

“It’s why we were laughing,” Sonny’s smile faltered when met with the fiery gaze of Rafael. He cleared his throat before continuing, “we found the dumb pick-up line on the internet and she shot back with one of her own.”

Rafael’s fire was lessened with the mention of a match. And she happened to message him? Amanda stepped closer to Rafael, finger mindlessly swiping from one screen and to another. There Rafael had seen the actual large amount of messages he was getting. “Seems like more than one match.” He muttered under his breath. And while this whole ordeal wasn’t something he necessarily wanted, the temporary boost of his ego made his shoulders straighten and his tongue dart over his lower lip.

“You’re very popular, Counselor,” Amanda’s brows wagged.

“But we like her the most,” Sonny said, “she seems fun!”

Rafael’s eyes rolled, before they settled on Amanda’s phone.

Are you the Court of Appeals because I’m tryna get overturned.

After he read the message, he couldn’t help the snicker. Back in his Harvard days, Rafael had heard just about every dumb pick-up line you could think of that was in the realm of lawyers. He may have even used a few of them but could you blame the guy. Rafael watched Amanda switch over to your profile.

Rafael swallowed. And then he grabbed the phone out of Amanda's hands. She let out a protest but Rafael had taken a few steps away and studied your profile like it was a law book and he had a final the next day.

It stated your name and your age. Then the same location as Rafael - Manhattan, NY. Your job was stated simply as a lawyer. Huh. That certainly piqued Rafael’s interest. In your bio, you had:

What better alibi could you have than spending the night with me?

He swiped through your photos. One was of you at the Central Park Zoo, scowling at a monkey who was seemingly doing the same thing back at you. Another was of you at a bar or a club - one arm thrown over the shoulder of another woman and a fruity drink held in your free hand. Your attention was focused on your drink rather than your friend or the person taking the picture. The last photo was of you at a brunch of some kind. You held up a mimosa with a wide smile and a large sun hat atop your head.

“Did you say anything back?” Rafael asked. Amanda shook her head with a smirk. You were certainly attractive and if you had taken the time to message Rafael on the cursed app then you must have thought that he was attractive too. He went back to the message you sent and swallowed again. “W-what should I say?”

Amanda’s smirk didn’t falter as she stepped over to Rafael, plucking the phone out of his frozen hands. Rafael heard the speedy tapping of the blonde woman’s fingers, tapping out a message quickly. Sonny stepped over, peeking down over Amanda’s shoulder. Rafael watched Sonny’s face as it went from curiosity to what Amanda was writing and to a lopsided smile, essentially giving his approval of the message.

Rafael didn’t like the idea of Sonny approving anything of his - especially if it came to how he got a date but he patiently waited until a swoosh noise came from the phone. Rafael stepped over to see what she had written but Amanda’s fingers were quick with logging out of the app and swiftly deleting it off her phone.

“Hey-” Rafael couldn’t stop the protest from his lips, brows furrowed. Amanda ignored him, grabbing a sticky note and a pen. She scrawled the login information for the account and slapped it onto his chest.

“I don’t want it on my phone if that conversation starts to get dirty,” Amanda said. Sonny chuckled.

“I think it started out pretty fiery.”

Rafael held the sticky note in his fingers. He could feel his phone in his suit pocket. It felt hot and electric against him, even through all the layers of clothes he wore. “Nevertheless, I’m deleting the account,” he looked over the two detectives with a hard gaze, “and you are to never to do this again. Or else I will be put in jail for voluntary manslaughter.” Amanda swiftly ignored Rafael’s threat whereas Sonny seemed to take it more seriously. The lanky man gave a nod before settling himself at his desk.

Rafael stepped away from the detectives’ desks and dug his phone out from his pocket. His fingers twitched and he felt this wave of embarrassment wash over him as he searched the app’s name and watched it download onto his phone. It seemed to take hours for the dumb thing to fully be situated onto his device. He tapped it, used the sticky note information to log in and was greeted with new profiles to swipe across. He ignored them and went to his messages to see what the pesky blonde detective had said. He hoped it wasn’t something too inappropriate. The last thing Rafael needed was headlines of him sexually harassing women over social media.

He hesitated for a second before tapping on the messages with you. He took a deep breath. He felt nervous. Was it because of the potential can of worms that Amanda could have unleashed? Was it because he found you attractive? Was it because the two detectives were right and it had been a while since he’s had anyone around? While Rafael was capable of finding a temporary suitor to share his bed, he couldn’t find anyone to become something more permanent.

His eyes searched the screen, brain trying to quickly decipher the jumble of letters on his screen. “Ay Dios mío,” Rafael muttered under his breath and the grip on his phone tightened. Rafael thought he read the message a dozen times, just over and over again, trying to really see if Amanda truly did send this to you. He tapped various spaces on his phone, trying to see if there was an undo button but to no avail, the message taunted him.

Something something dictum. Sleep with me.

Rafael was caught off guard by Olivia who called his name from her office door. Rafael cleared his throat, slid his phone back into his pocket with one hand and slid the other down his chest, smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt. Rafael finally remembered why he was there at the precinct. He needed to do his job and watch a line-up be conducted. Olivia had sounded very confident over the phone, so he figured he had a simple day.

He had spent the rest of his day watching various victims come forward to pick out their attacker confidently. When the defense lawyer monotonously asked to speak with his client after the lineups were done, Rafael felt his phone buzz. For a brief moment, Rafael had forgotten the dating app debacle. He wondered if it was Carmen, telling him of more paperwork and messages that needed to be signed and answered.

But no, it wasn’t Carmen.

It was a notification from the stupid app.

You have a new message!

Rafael bit down on his bottom lip, finger hovering over the notification. He took a breath and tapped his phone. God, what is wrong with me? Grow some cojones, Barba. Rafael watched the screen load and then plaster your message into his line of vision.

Ah, this definitely is a catfish account because there’s no way an ADA would use a line like that.

Rafael smirked. Took a moment to think and then started to type.

The DA has very low standards these days.

You messaged back quickly.

If they’re hiring based on looks, then I’d say they have very high standards, Counselor.

Rafael’s hand lifted to scratch at his jaw, a smile breaking across his face. His eyes widened at another message from you.

Does the prosecution want to rest at my place later tonight?

The forwardness from you made Rafael’s smile turn into a smirk. If Olivia or Sonny had seen him, they would even consider to call it a cocky smirk.

Would you want to meet for drinks first or just take this back to chambers?

I suppose I could side-bar for some drinks.

Great!

He paused before sending another message.

Let’s just agree to not use any more lawyer puns.

Objection!

After setting up a time to meet up at a swanky bar later that night, Rafael entered the bullpen again but with an air of confidence about him. Amanda noticed the shift in energy within the counselor. The corner of her mouth ticked up, fingers fiddling with a pen as she leaned back in her chair, side-eyeing Rafael. “Line-up went well?”

Rafael picked a piece of nonexistent lint off his suit jacket. “It went great, Rollins.” She hummed quietly, eyes studying every inch of his face with amusement.

“We’re heading to Forlini’s tonight,” Amanda stated, “would you like to come?” At the mention of Forlini’s, Sonny peeked over at the two of them from his laptop.

Rafael gave one curt shake of his head. “I’m afraid I’m busy tonight.” And with that, Rafael had turned and exited the bullpen and towards the elevator. Even though he hated it in theory of what Amanda and Sonny did, Rafael couldn’t deny that he didn’t not like the outcome of it.

#rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba fluff #rafael barba #raul esparza #raúl esparza #law and order fanfiction #law and order #law and order svu #svu #svu fic #rollisi #amanda rollins #sonny carisi #esparz-uh

191 notes · View notes

jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Hayloft (p.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts...)

Warnings: Abuse, mentions of drinking, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

__________________

When your car finally pulled up the old dirt driveway to your family's farm house, the sun was already setting, casting an orange hue over the acres of land that your father had inherited from his father. It was beautiful, really. The sun was behind your old two story home made of wood planks that were covered in chipping white paint. The door’s paint was also chipping, only this time it was old navy blue paint - at least that’s the color it was supposed to be when it was painted who knows how many decades ago - that peeled back to reveal the wood beneath.

Your father’s truck wasn’t in the driveway yet when you pulled up and you sighed in relief because it gave you the opportunity to get dinner started before he got home. You headed straight for the kitchen. The only moment taken for yourself was the moment of silence when you leaned against the counter top and stretched out your back from the long day's work at the diner. The refrigerator was mostly empty and you made a mental note to run to the store after work tomorrow before your father could notice the lack of food. Thankfully, there was still enough scraps to piece something together for tonight between the fridge and the cupboards.

The house was swimming with the delicious scent of herbs, onions, potatoes, and stock as you boiled a stew on the stove when you heard the front door open. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?” You asked over your shoulder before you even heard his steps enter the kitchen, not actually caring but knowing he’d be upset if you didn’t ask.

He came around the corner but you could hear from the moment the door opened that there were the footsteps of more than one person entering your home. With a frown, you turned from the stove and took a few steps so you could see around the wall that blocked your view of the front door but your father and new mystery person stepped around that corner and into the kitchen before you could get that far. You stopped in your tracks, startled by their sudden appearance, and your hand flew to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry!” You chuckled awkwardly, apologizing for your jumpiness, “Didn’t think you’d be comin’ in here.”

It was a man about your age that stood just behind your father, a navy baseball cap twisted in his hands and his footsteps light so as to not knock dirt off onto the floor from his work boots, both welcomed displays of manners that you appreciated, unlike your father who left a trail of chunks of dried mud and grease everywhere he walked. This new boy, though, he was cute. Short curly hair that was messy, either from work or wearing the hat, big expressive brown eyes that reminded you of a puppy in the best possible way, a tight lipped expression that showed he was a little nervous and uncomfortable to be here, they were all a welcome, albeit unexpected, surprise.

"Work was good. This here is Arvin Russel. He'll be staying with us, at least for the night." Your eyes flicked back to the boy you now knew as Arvin when your dad introduced him and your heart skipped a beat at the eye contact.

He nodded his head slightly, a small cordial smile flashing on his face for just a moment, "Pleasure to meet you,..."

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you as well. If you're staying the night, let me add some water to the soup and then I'll go make up the spare bed." You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the pot of stew that was nearly done.

"That's very kind of you. Thank you."

Before you could notice him moving, your dad was already beside the fridge and you reached out to try to stop him before he could open it. "Let me get you something! What about you, Arvin? You want a beer or some water?" You scurried to try and beat your dad to the fridge that you knew would earn you a reprimanding that you didn’t deserve.

You were too late though and your dad already swung the door open wide. You stepped back nervously, rubbing the sharp edge of your nails against your thumb. "It's damn near empty." He noted, voice stiff and dissatisfied. He stood, managing to produce the last two beers from the refrigerator before slamming it shut.

You flinched at the loud sound, hearing the few glass jars of preserves and jams clanging against each other inside from the force. Your eyes rolled beneath closed lids at his overdramatic reaction, even though it was one you expected. "I'm gonna hit the market after work tomorrow but I checked that we have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow." Your voice was sweet and placating, careful to respond in a way that would keep his temper in check.

"It's that damn job of yours. I told you women shouldn't be working. They belong in the house where you should be. Now look. You went and let the kitchen run out." He passed Arvin a beer, which he reluctantly accepted, watching the way your father pointed his finger at you accusingly. “Ain’t no man gonna want a wife who can’t even keep the kitchen stocked up.”

Your tongue was raw inside from biting down on it so hard in order to keep yourself in line, as he called it. You didn't need a blow out tonight, not with Arvin here. "I manage to work and keep up with the house just fine, Daddy. We just got a little low on groceries but I'll be heading to the market tomorrow to fix it. Don’t you worry." Even you were surprised with how even and sweet your voice came out, that ever present fire of anger towards your father having been fanned into a decent blaze.

He popped the tab on his beer and sighed, dropping the topic for the time being, "Fine. But make sure to pick up some fixin's for that chicken roast you make. Patty is lookin' nice and fat in the coop so why don't you cook her up tomorrow."

You grimaced at the thought. Patty was one of the chickens in your coop out back that had been pretty slow when it came to laying eggs but you’d grown attached to her nonetheless. Ever since you were a young girl, your daddy warned you not to become attached to the animals out back but you never listened. Back then, you’d had your mother to step in and convince him not to kill the animals for whatever reason she could come with and opt for buying meat from the market instead. You hadn’t been able to convince him like that since she’d passed. Everything had been different since she passed.

“I don’t know, Daddy. Patty’s been layin’ a lot of eggs lately and we’ve been gettin’ extra money from sellin’ all those eggs. Why don’t I just pick up a chicken in town tomorrow at the store.” You insisted, walking back over to the stove to stir the stew.

“Don’t go wastin’ money on things we already got! We got some chickens out back. Just cook one of ‘em up tomorrow!” Your father’s voice was hard and stern now, enough to fill the air with tension in Arvin’s presence. You turned slowly, making eye contact with Arvin briefly before quickly avoiding it. You didn’t like the way he stood awkwardly, silently watching the interaction he clearly didn’t think highly of. Your father was already getting worked up and it would only get worse the longer the night went on.

Biting your cheek, you nodded, “Yes, sir. Now why don’t you boys go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in just a minute.”

Dinner went relatively well, despite your father’s occasional grumblings about there not being any beer. Once you finished, you stood up and picked up yours and your father’s bowls before noticing Arvin’s was empty as well. “Did you want some more? There’s just enough for one more if you’d like it.” You offered Arvin that last bit of stew but he just shook his head and stood up.

“Oh, no thank you miss. Dinner was delicious though. Let me help with that.” He grabbed his own bowl before your hand could reach it and then took the bowls from your hands as well before setting them down at the sink.

You chased after him, “Thank you but you don’t have to do that! Please, sit. I’ll make your bed up when I’m finished cleaning up dinner.”

“She’s right, son. Kitchen ain’t no place for a man. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you the room you’ll be stayin’ in.” You father’s chair screeched against the beat up wooden floor as he stood, beckoning Arvin to him.

Arvin was standing right beside you, his arm only a few inches from yours as he lowered the stack of bowls into the sink. He looked over at you with deep soulful eyes that seemed to look right through your calm facade in a way that made you feel seen like never before. It was highly uncomfortable, almost violating after all these years of hiding away what you felt for the sake of keeping the peace, and you forced a smile, “Please, you’re our guest. It wouldn’t be right to make you do the dishes. You go with him.”

He gave you a drawn out hesitant look but turned away nonetheless and walked towards your dad. “Thank you again for letting me stay here till I get things figured out. It’s mighty kind of you.” Arvin thanked you and your father for your hospitality, shooting you one last glance over his shoulder before following your father down up the stairs towards the spare room.

You made quick work of the dishes, having cleaned most of them as you were cooking earlier anyways and scurried to the closet that held your extra sheets. As you passed the bathroom, you heard the shower running and knew it was your father bathing after his long day of work, like he always did right after dinner. The man was a creature of habit.

With your arms full of neatly folded faded steel blue linens and the thicker burnt sienna colored wool blanket, you made your way towards the guest room Arvin was staying in to find the door wide open and the man looking through his bag that was set on the bed. “Knock knock,” you announced your presence, waiting at the entryway for Arvin to notice you before entering.

He spun around, dropping something that you didn’t see quickly into his bag and pressing it down while flashing you a small polite smile, “Hello, ma’am.”

You walked into the room, raising the linens in your hands, “I brought some sheets so I could make up your bed.” You walked over to the wooden chair and set the top sheet down before making your way back over to the bed, unfolding the bottom sheet as you did, waving it up and down in the air to straighten it out before laying it flat on the bed.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, miss,” He moved his bag to the ground and jumped to lift the corner of the mattress and tuck the sheet beneath it.

You blushed at his kindness, not used to such help from your father, but shook your head, tucking the sheet beneath the mattress on the opposite side of the bed “If my daddy came in and saw you fixin’ the bed yourself, he’d kill me,” you chuckled to make it sound like a joke but you knew better than that. He wouldn’t actually kill you but you would certainly get some less than kind words thrown your way, maybe even a few beer cans thrown your way depending on how drunk he was.

Arvin shook his head, his hands falling on his hips, “Looks like you do most the housework ‘round here.” What he was insinuating was clear even though his tone didn’t change but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t need to concern himself with the difficulties between you and your father.

“So how’d you and my dad meet?” You changed the topic, going to grab the top sheet and unfolding it. You laid it over the bed and tucked your side in, Arvin reaching down to tuck his side in as well in a silent act of defiance against your insistence that he didn’t need to help. It occurred to you suddenly after the question left your lips that you didn’t actually know anything about this boy but, for some reason, you still didn’t feel uneasy around him.

Arvin pulled the top corner of the sheet up to the head of the bed as he answered, “I just started workin’ at the garage with ‘im.”

“You like cars?” You questioned, spreading out the final layer on the bed, the wool blanket.

Arvin shrugged, “Never been really into ‘em but I can fix ‘em alright enough. Just needed the work and happened to see the wanted sign when I was passin’ through town.”

Your brow raised in curiosity, “You were just passin’ through and stopped in this old town cause of a help wanted sign?” The little town you lived in wasn’t terrible but it was far from a destination that people really moved to for work unless you a doctor desperate for a place to practice or something like that. “You must really be desperate,” you joked but immediately felt a slight pang of regret when a shred of truth could be seen in his eyes.

“Just tryna figure out where I’m goin’ ‘n what I wanna do. Figure I’ll find somewhere I like eventually.” Arvin picked up his bag and set it off to the side where it was a little more out of the way.

You stared at the man standing before you, taking every bit of him from the grease stains on his white t-shirt to his scuffed up brown work boots to his messy hair, dirty from dried sweat. It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you realized that you’d been staring in a settled yet weirdly comfortable silence. You stood up straight and smiled to diffuse the awkwardness you’d unintentionally fostered, “You’re more than welcome to take a shower. My daddy should be finished any second. I’ll set some extra towels in there for you.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” He nodded in appreciation but offered no further conversation. You could tell from the moment of silence that it was time for you to make your exit.

“Well, uh, I better head to bed. You need anything before I go?” You asked, backing towards the door and swinging slightly with it once your hand hit the old bronze knob.

Arvin shook his head, “No, thank you. ‘M all set.”

“Alrighty, then. You have a good night.” You chewed your lip as you opened the door to make your exit.

“G’night, miss Y/N.”

Butterflies flew wildly in your belly as you walked to your bedroom. It had been a long while since you’d seen somebody worth looking twice at in this old town but now a mysterious handsome man rolls into town and stays with you. In your house. It probably wasn’t the safest of situations but Arvin genuinely looked like a nice man. From your very brief interactions with him, you couldn’t really imagine him trying to hurt you or your father for no reason. Even if he did, you knew where your daddy kept his shotgun and you had no problem defending yourself. But like I said, you had an unearned sense of peace with Arvin that you hoped wasn’t a misjudgement.

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” Your father’s gruff but thankfully not entirely drunk voice made you stop in your tracks and turn towards his room with a suppressed groan. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but an undershirt and long johns with his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides.

You shook the smile off your face. “Just thought of somethin’ funny that happened at work,'' you lied. “You need somethin’?”

“I watched you come out o’ that boy’s room with a big ol’ grin on your face. Better not let me catch you ‘n him. Ain’t no daughter o’ mine gonna be whorin’ around with some boy blowin’ through town, y’hear?” He threatened, his hands reaching down to pull up his worn out long johns.

Your blood boiled at the accusation and despite your best efforts to keep peace while Arvin was here, you spat words with venom, “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ with Arvin. God forbid I have a damn smile on my face.” Your voice was low enough so that you hoped your guest hadn’t heard your outburst but when your father’s face darkened and he began taking slow, heavy steps towards you, you weren’t sure if your charade of normalcy would last much longer.

Your father hovered over you, exaggerating the size difference between the two of you, “I put a roof over your head. I put food on the table. You play make believe with that little diner job but I'm the head of this house. I'm your father. You watch that fuckin’ tone with me girl."

Your jaw was clenched tightly, matching your fists, as you glared up at him with indignantly furious eyes. Father your ass. He once had been your father, an imperfect but loving man who used to try. Now he was merely a selfish broken sperm donor. He inherited this house from his father, didn’t pay a darn cent, and you couldn't remember the last time he pitched in a dime for anything but alcohol and the occasional dinner he made when he was in a good mood. He did do that- have these strange out of character nights where he pretended to be kind and loving. They were far and few between though and, while you enjoyed the change of pace, it felt like walking on eggshells in some fantasy world.

A heavy silence settled between the two of you that crackled with a tension that could snap at any moment and turn into a full blown fight. Your eyes were narrowed on his as you refused to let him think he intimidated you anymore. Nevertheless, you turned on your heel, nails digging into your palm, and walked down the hall towards your room, leaving him alone.

“He wouldn’t want you anyways, fuckin’ attitude like that.” Your father grumbled to your back, hoping for one last reaction out of you that you refused to give.

It took all the control in the world to not slam the door in his face but you knew there was no way it would escape Arvin’s attention. You’d have to resort to the therapy of muffling your furious tear-soaked screams into your pillow until you finally fell asleep, like you did many nights.

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x reader #Arvin Russell #arvin x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics

463 notes · View notes

helpimhyperfixating · 3 years ago

Note

May we have 6taro telling FtM reader that “You are a man, through-and-through.” Calling reader handsome, and other masculine compliments. Maybe Joot saying “I know you’re a man, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a dumbass.”

I need some comfort rn 🥲 tysm ♥️

Of course!! I do hope you are feeling better anon! I hope this helps!! I don’t really have experience with this but I tried and hope I didn’t fuck something up. Go be awesome! ❤️❤️

You Are - Jotaro x Trans! Reader

Word Count: 1484

Walking through town with your husband, Jotaro, the two of you were happily spending your day off together.

The sun was shining as you walked hand in hand. The day so far was pretty relaxed and fun. You and Jotaro had just walked around sightseeing, later on going to a small café for something to drink and some small baked goods. Afterwards the two of you walked deeper into the city, window shopping.

It still surprised you how much of a fashionista Jotaro could be. It might not always be the most conventional things that he picked out and wore, but he always put some thought into it, even finding enjoyment in doing so. And, though he’d never admit it, window shopping was something he very much liked to do.

And thus you gladly came along to help, occasionally pointing to some clothing items stalled out in the windows that you think he might enjoy, or answering his questions when he asked what you thought of a particular thing.

Jotaro was thinking of maybe updating his current outfit a little, since the snakeskin pants seemed to garner a bit too much attention for his tastes. Even though he didn’t care most of the time.

Your laughter rang through the air at Jotaro’s deadpan face after you had pointed out some neon orange pants to him. He sighed and tipped his hat down with his free hand, saying his famous words, making you laugh even more.

You suddenly realised how much noise you were making and tried to stop yourself, a big grin still on your face while Jotaro rolled his eyes and just tugged on your arm to take you past the shop with the terrible pants. You snickered at his childish behaviour and your eyes just happened to roam around when something caught your attention.

You didn’t know if it was your imagination or not but it felt like those two across the street were staring, discreetly whispering to each other. Your smile fell a bit and you looked around but no, you and Jotaro were the only ones in this vicinity. And then, crossing the street just ahead of the two of you, a couple walked past hand in hand. More specifically: a man and woman.

Unconsciously, you stiffened up, your smile now completely gone and tightly squeezing the hand you were holding. Jotaro looked at you, taking in your expression and furrowing his brows at what he saw; you were staring off in the distance, seemingly lost in thought but with creased brows. You were just smiling so brightly a few seconds ago and Jotaro turned to see what you were looking at.

“Hey.”

You faintly heard the voice but were too lost in thought for it to really register and Jotaro cursed softly to himself.

It was plain as day to him that you were starting to get dysphoria. He had been with you long enough to see the signs. Not much else would suddenly make you do a 180 like that and it hurt the 40 year old that it could still creep up on you like this.

Something was suddenly plopped on your head, breaking you from your almost trance as you jumped, your vision dark as something heavy was on your head and blocking your eyes.

“Jotaro?”

“C’mon, let’s go home.” He started coaxing you along, going back to where you parked the car and you sort of just... followed.

Realising his hat was still on your head, you reached up to take it off and give it back, but Jotaro didn’t even turn around as he continued dragging you along while saying, “Leave it. You can keep it on.”

Meekly nodding, you just left it as it was and allowed him to whisk you away with him, hiding your face behind the brim.

Reaching the car in no time, the two of you got in and you decided to take this time to put his hat back on his head after all.

Jotaro sighed softly as he looked at you but as soon as it was on his head you were looking down at your lap and picking at your hands.

You loved Jotaro, you really really did. But sometimes, when these thoughts came up in you, it was just hard to look at him. He was the picture of the ideal man. Handsome, muscular, strong, reliable. And, in these moments, you just felt like you were anything but. And looking at him could hurt.

Your hand being grabbed brought you back to the present as Jotaro held it firmly while pulling it a little closer to himself, keeping his wrist on the gearstick. He wasn’t looking at you, just giving you a moment to yourself while still comfortingly holding your hand.

Three of his fingers were still curled around yours while he used his thumb and pinky to move the gear stick, getting out of the parking spot and driving away, back home.

- - - -

The moment the door was closed and the rest of the world was shut out, Jotaro wasted no time in pulling you towards him. His arms tightly wrapping around you and pulling you against himself as he tightly held you.

“Put it out of your head.” He softly spoke and that broke the floodgates, your head falling onto his shoulder as you hugged him back, finding comfort in his hold.

Jotaro just simply held you, his right hand moving up eventually to card through your hair as he lightly scratched the back of your head.

Only once you had slightly calmed down and pulled back did Jotaro let go.

“What happened?” He questioned and you raised your head a bit to look up at him.

“Across the street there were these two... And, I don’t know, they were just looking in distaste.” You softly spoke, remembering the looks on their faces as they looked at you, only making you feel worse. Jotaro replied before you could spiral further however.

“They saw two men walking hand in hand. Homophobes are never gonna stop.” He said with a bit of distaste, clearly angry with those people.

At this you bit your lip and shook your head however. “No, I think they noticed that I... was not born this way.”

The moment you said that, Jotaro gripped your shoulders, actively making you look at him as he held a stern gaze. “Y/N, there is nothing to notice. You look like a man, you sound like a man, you act like a man, you are a man, through-and-through.”

“But there is so much wrong with me! And I’m not the one you fell in love with those years ago... Maybe you would rather be with a wo-“

Jotaro didn’t even let you finish your sentence as he grabbed hold of your face, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. And he didn’t even bat an eye as he spoke, “Y/N, I am gay. And by fuck am I gay for you.”

“But you used to-“

“-Exactly. I used to. I am no longer attracted to women just like you no longer are one. You are my husband. Don’t let your brain or anyone for that matter tell you otherwise. And I wouldn’t even want anyone else so don’t ever entertain that thought again.”

He almost sounded genuinely offended as he said the last sentence and his confession had you swallowing the lump in your throat, your heart thumping loudly. It was clear that Jotaro was waiting for a response so you nodded while your lips turned up ever so slightly at his words. “So, we’re not getting a divorce anytime soon?” You joked a little weakly and Jotaro scoffed.

“We are not getting a divorce fucking ever.” A small silence fell and Jotaro’s eyes softened before he broke it. “Y/N, I love you. You’re handsome, good looking, you’re strong and so fucking manly it kills me sometimes.” His hand ran over your arm, his eyes following the movement before he looked at your face again. “I am so proud of who you are and who you’ve become.”

“I-“ You couldn’t even say anything beyond that, just closing your mouth again, and Jotaro re-gripped your head to get your eyes on him again.

“I know you’re a man, and anyone who thinks otherwise is a dumbass.”

“So right now-?”

“You are a real big fucking idiot, yes.” Jotaro confirmed but the tiny quirk of his lips near the end and the loving look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“Ouch.” You remarked, but the small smile fighting its way onto your face could not be denied.

“I love you, Y/N.” With that, Jotaro wrapped his arms around your waist while you automatically put your hands on his hips as he connected his lips with yours and kissed you.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jotaro x trans reader #jjba #6taro #jjba x reader #sfw

133 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt - Nie Mingjue's temper is already not great at the Phoenix hunt, so when they haul out men and women, some who look a great deal more like frightened peasants than cultivators he snaps, this is not how you treat POWs, it turns into a riot/battle and Jiang Cheng has had enough of kowtowing to the Jin and he and the new Jiang sect members and Wei Wuxian all rally to Nie Mingjue, does anyone else? Where to the Lan fall? Was nie mingjue's snap directly at jgy or more in general?

ao3

Nie Mingjue was, probably for the first time in his life, tired of fighting.

He’d fought in secret against the Wen sect for years, thanklessly defending the other sects that had refused to even acknowledge Wen Ruohan’s actions for years on end, and yet it had not prepared him for the brutality that was open warfare, for the difficulty of being the general of the entire Sunshot Campaign, for the burden of knowing that so many lives depended on him and him alone. He’d fought battle after battle, won tremendous victories, and yet the last hope had seemed out of reach – he’d eventually resorted to a desperate stratagem that had gone wrong – he had been tortured, mocked, his men killed – and at the moment of when all seemed lost, he was saved.

Saved…only to realize that it was Meng Yao being credited with it, with being their spy, and Lan Xichen had not told him.

He’d limped back to his camp, but they’d chased after him, and the news of what Meng Yao had done got out – not really a surprise; given the man’s ambitions, if someone else hadn’t spread it he would have done it himself – and in the end, politics had meant that there really hadn’t been much of a choice about swearing sworn brotherhood with the two of them, binding them together in life and death, not unless he wanted to risk another war.

Nie Mingjue very, very much did not want another war.

He had still not fully recovered from his injuries by the time the Jin sect had set up a celebration in the Nightless City, with Jin Guangshan using Nie Mingjue’s refusal to take on any of Wen Ruohan’s ridiculous trappings as an excuse to all but name himself Chief Cultivator in the man’s place. Nie Mingjue knew he should have protested then, but he was tired, his sect in need of rebuilding – they had been the ones bearing the brunt of the war, as they always had, and the only reason they were not the worst off of the Great Sects was because of what the Wens had done to the Cloud Recesses and the Lotus Pier – and he’d never really wanted personal advancement, anyway.

After what had happened with his father, he’d had a lifetime’s worth of being promoted.

Besides, as part and parcel of their self-granted promotion, the Jin sect had promised to take care of the worst of the clean-up, including dealing with the prisoners of war, and that had seemed fine, even a good result. After spending half his life doing things for other people, Nie Mingjue would return home to focus on that which matter most to him, and for once someone else would take the lead in caring for the rest of the world.

It wasn’t like the Jin sect couldn’t afford a few more mouths to feed.

It wasn’t like their coffers were anywhere near empty, or that they needed to rebuild; it wasn’t as though they’d ever stopped trade with Qishan or actually led in a major battle or - he should stop thinking about it before he became angry.

He’d been angry for so long. It would be nice to stop for a while.

Of course, it felt as though he’d barely settled in back at home before he was being summoned for yet another celebration hosted by the Jin sect, this time at Phoenix Mountain. A hunt, no less, and it was so pointedly designed as the sort of thing that the Nie sect favored that it would have been impossible to turn down the invitation. Not to mention, the invitation had oh-so-casually mentioned that Jin Guangyao, his sworn brother, would be the one in charge of setting up the hunt, meaning that any disruption or failure cause damage not only to his own reputation but to Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen’s, for having sworn with him.

Jin Guangshan would either have his day in the sun or a reason to tear everyone else down - a win-win situation for him, lose-lose for everyone else.

Fucking politics.

Still, there wasn’t anything for it. They had to go, so they went.

Nie Mingjue felt himself drifting back into that disconnected state that had allowed him to survive years of discussion conferences hosted by his father’s murderer. It was a strange sort of state, that allowed him to do the things he had to do to support his sect while feeling as though the world was separated from him by a window through which he watched everything happen. Anything that occurred beyond that window – all sounds and sights and even emotional reactions – was dulled or even muted; he could look Wen Ruohan right in the eye and think to himself of how much he longed to slaughter the man where he stood for his crimes, look at Jiang Fengmian smiling quite sincerely at Wen Ruohan and Lan Qiren bowing to him as if he was a man worthy of respect, as if they weren’t hypocrites that took Wen Ruohan’s money in trade and said apologetically that there wasn’t anything anyone could prove about Nie Mingjue’s father’s death, and yet, no matter how much he hated them all, his body would do nothing.

He would drink tea, and nod, and he would not breach etiquette, he would not bring war down on his sect’s head, he would do nothing.

Sitting in a place of honor at Phoenix Mountain felt much the same: yet another burden to bear, a torment that he could only hope passed quickly.

(It wasn’t healthy, but then again, what was? His entire life was grist for the mill that was his sect’s well-being, shortened by excessive cultivation and stress and endless rage, and knowing it didn’t change anything.)

He saw in the corner of his eye the way his little brother’s eyes flickered to him and then frown – he’d never liked it when Nie Mingjue went quiet and passive, knowing how alien the feeling was to him, knowing through fellow-feeling what it felt like, though perhaps he was wondering why the state had come upon him now again when Wen Ruohan was already dead and gone, even though it had never really just been about Wen Ruohan.

Perhaps because of that fellow-feeling, Nie Huaisang found a conversational interlude hat allowed him to slide over a little closer than politeness dictated, casually putting a hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm as if to beg for something. He knew that Nie Mingjue took comfort in the touch, in the reminder that with his saber at his side and his brother within arms’ reach, Nie Mingjue felt as thought he had everything he valued most in this rotten world close enough that he could try to protect it.

And then the Jin sect – using Jin Guangyao as their mouthpiece, though whether it was because of his skillful silver tongue or simply because they didn’t think he was worth anything more than that, only he would know – announced that they would kick off the hunt with some entertainment.

Nie Mingjue lifted his cup of tea to his lips, feeling pained, and his eyes briefly met with Lan Qiren’s across the hall, no longer in the place of the sect leader but slightly behind, his expression making clear that the same thought was on both their minds – anything but the prostitutes again.

(Surely Jin Guangyao had a bit more self-respect than that…?)

When a bunch of people in chains were marched out, Nie Mingjue had only enough presence of mind to be briefly relieved that the presence of mixed genders meant that they were probably not prostitutes – Lanling Jin abided by rules relating to birth gender and sexuality that seemed nearly as strict as the rules they were always criticizing Gusu Lan over, and according to them no one ever switched or was misaligned or deviated at all, which frankly seemed more than a little bizarre and unbelievable – and then uncomfortable because, well, they were in chains. Weren’t they supposed to be done with war?

And then Jin Guangyao started announcing the rules of some sort of ridiculous archery contest that the younger generation would engage in, and for a moment that seemed almost a relief as well – as a sect leader, Nie Mingjue was excluded from the younger generation despite being only a few years older than the rest of them, and of course there was no point in expecting his brother to participate in any competition of martial skill, and so for a moment it seemed as though this could be another part of this torturous endless experience that he could just tune out.

Indeed, that he was obligated to tune out. No matter how idiotic it was, whatever it was, whatever he thought about it (and he wouldn’t like it, he knew he wouldn’t like it, he’d never liked anything Wen Ruohan – no, that Jin Guangshan, insofar as there was that much of a difference – he’d never liked anything Jin Guangshan had set up in nearly ten years of working together, and odds were good that he wouldn’t like this), Nie Mingjue still had to think first of his sect and the consequences of making a fuss, and that meant he didn’t. He didn’t want a war, and so he had to be polite, restrained, quiet, no matter what he thought.

It wasn’t that hard to simply pull back even further. Nie Mingjue had been suppressing righteousness in favor of etiquette at these horrible conferences for such a long time that it came naturally to him, the way all bad habits did.

Only this time he’d brought Nie Huaisang with him, which he’d always resisted before, and his brother’s hand tightened on his arm to the point of pain.

Nie Mingjue’s first thought, stupidly enough, was to be pleased by the discovery that Nie Huaisang actually had some arm muscle underneath all those prissy frills he favored. His second was concern that Nie Huaisang had suddenly taken ill – with admittedly a bit of hopefulness that perhaps it would be something they could use as an excuse to leave early, as long as it wasn’t that serious – but when he turned to look at him his brother didn’t seem sick.

He seemed – angry?

Not Huaisang, Nie Mingjue thought, heart abruptly seized with an ancient fear. He knew perfectly well what he’d gotten himself into when it came to the saber spirits, had accepted years ago that he would die young, die early, die horribly and alone with nothing but his rage, but that was not going to be Nie Huaisang’s fate, not if he had anything to say about it.

The fear curdled in his chest, and it felt as though a crack appeared on the window that shielded him from all sensation, all pain and desperation forced far away.

No one was talking, other than Jin Guangyao droning on and on about whatever the new entertainment was – Nie Mingjue had stopped paying attention long ago – and so he couldn’t ask Nie Huaisang what was wrong, but he looked at him and furrowed his brow, trying to convey the question silence.

Nie Huaisang caught the glance and understood, and his mouth moved, shaping silent sounds – it’s an execution, they’re going to kill them –

What?

Baxia, lying by his side as she always did during these meetings, shifted a little, her rage nudging against Nie Mingjue’s mind as it always did – sometimes he thought she hated these meetings as much as he did, other times he was sure of it – and the crack in the window got a little wider, let in a little more light and color and sound, and Nie Mingjue found a thread of willpower to force himself to listen to what the entertainment Jin Guangyao was proposing actually was.

He replayed the words in his mind, turned to look at the people in chains – Wen sect, apparently, and though he couldn’t tell on sight whether they were civilians or cultivators, that didn’t matter. Not even criminals were executed like this, by standing at a distance and waiting to die, not even able to hope for an expert aiming to kill quickly and cleanly, but through a misplaced arrow that could strike them anywhere, cause them a lingering and painful death…this was supposed to be a game?

This was meant to be their entertainment?

The window between Nie Mingjue and the world shattered.

And suddenly all he felt was rage.

“What,” Nie Mingjue said, even as Jin Zixuan got up with a set expression on his face to accept a bow from his servant, “are you doing?”

Jin Zixuan paused, looking puzzled – and no surprise, since Nie Mingjue hadn’t said anything beyond the most mundane greetings when he first arrived. “Sect Leader Nie..?”

Nie Mingjue rose to his feet, his brother’s hand falling off of his arm as if he’d shaken him off like a dog. “What are you doing?” he demanded, louder this time. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Da-ge –” Jin Guangyao said, an obvious hint, a reminder of their relationship – Nie Mingjue was the one bound by it, the older brother responsible for setting a good example, and for all that Jin Guangyao was supposed to listen to him and follow his lead Nie Mingjue had never seen a hint that he’d ever planned to do so – but Nie Mingjue didn’t listen to him.

He was angry.

It felt good to be angry – a clean anger, a righteous anger, anger at injustice being perpetrated right before his eyes.

(Something so poisonous as rage shouldn’t feel this good.)

“This is an abomination,” he said, a touch of the battlefield in his voice so that it would be audible throughout the hall, would spread far and wide for all to hear. “Those are people you’re putting on the line.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Jin Zixun, Jin Guangshan’s nephew, broke it with an abrupt laugh. “Sect Leader Nie,” he said, pretending to smile, “surely you don’t think so little of us to suggest that my cousin would miss –”

“I don’t care even if he does strike true,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “You do not play with the lives of men.”

“Hardly men,” a minor sect leader, closely affiliated with the Jin sect, said. Sect Leader Qin, if Nie Mingjue placed him right. “Perhaps you did not hear, Chifeng-zun –” It was always his title they used when they wanted to avoid calling him sect leader, when they were trying to make a point about how young and angry and foolish they thought he was. “– but those are Wen-dogs.”

“I don’t care who or what they are,” Nie Mingjue shouted, and now he had fallen back into his body, back into the battlefield, because this was a battlefield; it was only that he had allowed himself – through tiredness or shock or a desire for peace – to forget it for a moment. “Is this not a celebration of peace, the end of war? If they are criminals, sentence them; if they are condemned, execute them with a sword. Even a rabid beast deserves to be put down cleanly, not to be used as target practice by children for the entertainment of others!”

There was movement in the crowd, multiple people shifting from one side to the other, the audience abruptly uncomfortable when faced not only with a gory spectacle but their own complicity in it.

“Sect Leader Nie, calm yourself,” Jin Guangshan said. His voice was stern, irritatingly condescending – as if he thought that styling himself as Chief Cultivator gave him the right to act as if he were Nie Mingjue’s father. “You go too far for proper etiquette; will you not give any face to me, as your host? Naturally, if you have a complaint, I will hear it –”

“I don’t recall the moment I yielded to your authority in matters of ethics, Sect Leader Jin,” Nie Mingjue snapped. “Please, feel free to remind me – the last I recall it, you were the one begging me for assistance.”

“Sect Leader Nie!” Jin Guangshan shouted, rising to his feet with his face starting to purple.

Nie Mingjue saw the furious glance he sent at a frantic Jin Guangyao – control him already! – and it makes his own rage surge even higher. It was not that he didn’t know that his sworn brother was being used as leverage against him, but to have it shoved right into his face like that, to think that they thought that etiquette and brotherhood would be sufficient to make him complaisant – to allow Jin Guangyao to run roughshod over his morality – to think that it had nearly worked –

“Sect Leaders, please.” That was Lan Xichen, standing up as well, his hands outstretched. “Is this not meant to be a celebration of peace?”

For a moment, Nie Mingjue thought he was standing up for his sake, supporting him in decrying what was happening in front of them – something he despised as much as Nie Mingjue did, that much was obvious from his stance – but then his eyes flicked from Nie Mingjue to Jin Guangyao as well, silently beseeching Nie Mingjue to remember how his actions could hurt Jin Guangyao’s standing, and Nie Mingjue felt cold.

So much for brotherhood, it seemed. How much was he supposed to bear on behalf of Jin Guangyao without receiving anything in return?

He turned his face away.

If the Nie sect had to make this stand alone, so be it. Even if it meant war, war against the rest of the cultivation world, war that would be ruinous to his sect...

There was no choice. The Nie sect stood for refusing to tolerate evil; to do any less would be to throw off the traditions of his ancestors more wholly than Nie Huaisang’s refusal to train the saber had ever been. Even on a personal level, he had long criticized others who stood quiet when evil was happening, and he would not let himself become the hypocrite that so many others had been.

Nie Mingjue had never before willingly backed away from doing the right thing, the righteous thing, simply because it was hard to do – he would not start now.

“It seems strange that a celebration of peace would begin with death.” That was Jiang Cheng standing up as well, the fourth of the Great Sects. His sister had once been engaged to Jin Zixuan, and she had been invited to the hunt as Madame Jin’s special guest – popular thought had it that the Jin sect would snap her up soon enough, allying with the last remaining sect, and leaving anyone who opposed them to stand alone. But even if that was the plan, it hadn’t happened yet, and Jiang Cheng was putting his voice on Nie Mingjue’s side – Nie Mingjue would have to find a way to repay him for his support later. “Weren’t the Wen sect supposed to be resettled somewhere peaceful? Or was the news I received incorrect?”

“The innocent branch members and civilians were of course resettled,” Jin Guangyao said, and his smile was strained – or was it? Was it actual concern, or some sort of show? Nie Mingjue could never tell with him, not now that he knew how easily the snake changed its skin. “These however are war criminals, sentenced to execution in the manner of our choosing. I hope you all understand: their deaths are in no way comparable to their crimes –”

You would know, having participated in so many of them, Nie Mingjue thought, and levelled a glare at his youngest sworn brother to remind him of that fact. It briefly interrupted the smooth flow of words, making them catch in Jin Guangyao’s throat; at least he had that much shame.

“Can I see?” Nie Huaisang asked in the brief interval, his high voice just as carrying as Nie Mingjue’s shouting – all those music and singing lessons had clearly been worth something.

“See what?” Jin Zixun sneered, stepping forward – and interesting that it was him that did so, while Jin Zixuan, the heir, remained still and silent. His expression was frosty, but he hadn’t yet spoken up in his own father’s defense; hardly filial, but given such a father it was difficult to see what else he could do. “See their crimes? Do you want a list, or for us to drag out their victims to testify? Is this how little your Nie sect thinks of our Jin sect?”

A strong effort on Jin Zixun’s part – it put the burden on them to prove that these were not evildoers and criminals who deserved what was coming to them, made the issue their rudeness and lack of etiquette, made it seem as if they were the ones looking down on everyone.

But for all that Nie Mingjue despaired of Nie Huaisang’s skill at arms, he had never doubted his skill with words.

“You misunderstand me,” Nie Huaisang laughed nervously, hiding his face behind his fan in a gesture of shyness – he made it look as though he were being bullied by Jin Zixun, rather than debating him. “I just meant, well, they’re criminals, right? They must be truly impressive cultivators to fight against the brave soldiers of our Sunshot Campaign…could we see their strength?”

Nie Mingjue knew a cue when he heard one. “Such strength must be considerable to deserve such a fate,” he said scornfully. “Even Wen Ruohan, who killed hundreds, was merely cut down, rather than tormented in the same manner he tortured so many of our cultivators…Or do you think to emulate him in this manner as well?”

“How dare you?!” Jin Guangshan was florid with rage – as if rage would ever stop a Nie. “You come to my home and accuse me with no basis –”

“I do accuse you!” Nie Mingjue shouted, letting his voice trample down Jin Guangshan’s. “But by your own acts you are condemned, by your own callousness and indifference. So much Nie blood was shed to stop Wen Ruohan from running rampant over us all – I would die rather than have spent that blood to buy us nothing more than the same dominion in a different color!”

And then everyone was talking at once, shouting, yelling, and Nie Mingjue took the opportunity to turn on his heel and stride over to Lan Xichen, standing there looking lost. Lan Wangji was beside him, only a step behind, and he caught Nie Mingjue’s eyes as he came over and nodded – he, at least, was with Nie Mingjue in this, and his support gave Nie Mingjue more confidence in what he was about to do. What he had to do.

“Will you abide by your Lan sect’s values and stand with me in this?” he asked Lan Xichen in a low, clipped tone. “Or was my oath of brotherhood only worth the benefits it could get for Meng Yao?”

“Da-ge!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, looking horrified. “Don’t think that, please. Of course I stand with you in this – what they were planning for the Wen sect members goes beyond bad taste and into the horrific.”

He hadn’t meant it the way Nie Mingjue had taken it, then. It must have only been Jin Guangyao’s pleading looks that had led him to take a stand the wrong way, seeking peace and friendship over justice.

“One should not look away from righteousness simply because it would be easier,” Lan Wangji added smoothly, sounding almost as though he were agreeing with his brother and not subtly scolding him. He saluted Nie Mingjue. “You have our full support, regardless of who is on the other side.”

Nie Mingjue continued to look at Lan Xichen who hesitated – no doubt thinking of the tough position they’d just put Jin Guangyao into – but in the end he nodded.

That was fine. Okay, no, it wasn’t fine, but right now he needed Lan Xichen’s support, regardless of his level of enthusiasm; the rest could be dealt with later.

He turned again and went to Jiang Cheng – Wei Wuxian was there as well, having appeared at some point, and he was vociferously yelling at some minor sect leaders. In Nie Mingjue’s favor, at least.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Wuxian said, turning to him before Nie Mingjue could say anything to Jiang Cheng – not that he really need to confirm his support, given the public display from earlier, but it was only polite to come convey his thanks. “There’s something else you should know. I’ve heard some things about the innocent members Wen sect that were supposedly ‘resettled’ – and what’s been happening to them…”

Nie Mingjue glanced at Jin Guangshan, still shouting, and did a quick calculation. “Take Lan Wangji and go check it out at once,” he ordered. “They were supposed to be resettled by the Qiongqi Path. If Sect Leader Jin has been treating these ones so cruelly as this…I’m willing to believe anything right now. But whatever it is, make sure it’s both of you that see it with your own eyes, to make it harder to doubt your words.”

Wei Wuxian saluted him and headed towards Lan Wangji without even seeking approval from his sect leader. Nie Mingjue abruptly felt awkward and looked at Jiang Cheng, but the other man nodded his agreement before he could apologize for commandeering Wei Wuxian as if the other man was still his subordinate.

“At least he listens to you,” Jiang Cheng said, a rueful smile on this face. “Can I convince you to talk some sense into him when all this is done..? I must admit I wasn’t expecting another war so soon.”

“I had hoped we wouldn’t see one for another generation,” Nie Mingjue admitted. “I still hope we can avoid it – it depends on how the smaller sects fall out, and how determined the Jin sect is to dominate the rest, rather than willing to accept equality. But no matter how it goes, we can’t turn our faces away from injustice.”

“Agreed,” Jiang Cheng said with a sigh. “I think we have the better of the argument, and hopefully it sways the rest of them. But have you considered what happens if we win?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sect Leader Jin has been setting himself up as Chief Cultivator. After something like this, even if there’s no actual fighting, that’ll be impossible. You need respect to lead. So who will it be?”

Nie Mingjue experienced a brief moment of horror at the thought of having to take it himself – but no. It was a reasonable solution, of course, but it would also taint the whole thing. It would make his decision to stand up into a tawdry political play, designed to increase his power, rather than a genuine outburst of offended principle.

He might have proposed Lan Xichen as a compromise – he would have, even a shichen earlier. But after that display of weakness from earlier, however brief, he feared that it would somehow end up with Jin Guangyao (and Jin Guangshan behind him) pulling the strings from behind the scenes, using Lan virtue as a cover for their iniquity…no, that wouldn’t do at all.

The only other option was –

Well.

Nie Mingjue had thought to himself that he needed to do something to pay Jiang Cheng back for his support earlier, hadn’t he?

(And at worst, he’d owe him yet another favor.)

Nie Mingjue put his hand on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “You have my full support,” he said solemnly, and ignored the sudden look of panic on Jiang Cheng’s face. “Think it over before you say no.”

Being Chief Cultivator would do more to restore the Jiang sect to prosperity than anything else Jiang Cheng might do, and he’d put that together himself sooner or later even if the idea of that much responsibility had to be fairly terrible. But before they could decide things like that, they needed to win.

One more fight.

He could do that much.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #lan xichen #jin guangshan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #my fic #my fics #roseunspindle #spectacle

848 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Give You Hell (one-shot)

Synopsis: When you’re in a relationship with someone famous while being famous it can be difficult. But not for the Reader and Harry, yet when her past comes knocking, she’ll make sure to know where she stands.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, some minor angst, like microscopic

Warnings: swearing, reference to past abusive relationship, but nothing explicit.

Word count: 3428

100% inspired by ‘All American Rejects’’ ‘Gives You Hell’

Dating someone famous while being famous yourself had pros and cons, much like everything in life. The cons mostly came from the outside, not from the inside. It was the opinions of others, thinking what they said mattered, the scrutiny of the press, hoping one of them would mess up, and they could run some bullshit article just so their numbers could go up, without a second thought of how the people involved felt, and it was some jealous fans who didn’t seem to comprehend the people they admired were actual human beings with feelings and thoughts and emotions and autonomy. But other than that, Y/N’s and Harry’s relationship was just like any other. Save for when their emotions bubbled over, millions of people heard them in songs. They’d met at the iconic yellow-suit-Harry Brit awards. She’d been right next to Hugh Jackman opening the show, a red glittering bodysuit with a black and gold ring-master jacket, a top hat adorning her head as she dominated the stage. If Harry had been sloshed at that point (much like he was later on, but who was Y/N to say, given how most of the night was a blur for her), he would’ve absolutely started drooling at the sight of her, and he was one of the thousands who stood up, hollering and clapping as she and Hugh ended their performance.

Much to his dismay though, Y/N wasn’t one of the people assigned to sit by his table, instead, she was a couple of rows behind, whispering something into Billie Eilish’s ear, the two erupting into uncontrollable laughter. He felt like a creep as he tried to catch every possible glimpse of Y/N, her smile making his heart race. She’d been on his radar for a while, had even thought about asking her to collaborate on a song for ‘Fine Line’, but at the end of the day, it was an album of personal discovery (and when one of his producers told him Y/N was halfway across the world in the middle of Norwegian woods for the next half-year working on her own music, he didn’t want to be a bother). But seeing her then, Harry wondered why he hadn’t reached out on his own, especially after at the after-party Lizzo had dragged Y/N to him and introduced the two. The following day, pictures of them dancing together, drinks in hands and drunken grins on their faces would sweep the web, sparking millions of rumours, but, at that moment, they didn’t care, nor did they care about what was written because as Harry twirled Y/N under his arm, as much as the connection was there, that night they went their separate ways. Even when they were drunk, they understood that about the other person, and wouldn’t accept anything else, but a sober and coherent ‘yes’. Sometime midday the next day, Harry reached out to Y/N through a DM on Instagram checking in on how she was doing, which then turned into a six-hour FaceTime call. “What do you mean you’ve never had a hangover?!” Y/N laughed at Harry’s almost offended expression. “I mean I’ve never had a hangover. I’ve never thrown up while drunk or after being drunk, my head’s never hurt – nothing. I mean I’m tired, but that’s because I’m still on New York time and got to bed at like five AM.” “You… are something else.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Is that something else something good?” Y/N didn’t know, but when Harry saw her eyes sparkle, his heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew – she was it. “The best.” “Well…” she bit her lip. “If I’m the best, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for a coffee?” What Harry didn’t know was that when she saw him smile as if those were the best news in the world, her heart skipped as well, and she knew he was the one. “Only if it’s my treat.” “But I was the one who asked you out.” “Yes, but you can pay for the second date.” Holding in her squeals of joy was tough, but she raised her eyebrow, giving Harry a sly smirk. “Already so confident there’ll be a second date?” Harry scoffed. “And a wedding!” Seeing Y/N throw back her head as she laughed, made all sorts of butterflies fly through his stomach. “Okay, Styles. I’ll take your word for it.” Three months into the relationship, the two were booked to appear on The Graham Norton show together, which was also the first time they’d appear officially as a couple at a work/outing kind of a setting since the rumours started floating, and a picture of Harry kissing Y/N outside of a hotel room had sort of confirmed that. “So, you two.” Graham pointed between Y/N and Harry with his cards. “Have started to date? Not to say anything Harry, but Y/N… I didn’t think boy-bands were your type.” That made her lean over in laughter as Harry gave everyone a shocked face, before slumping back and pouting, nudging Y/N with his knee. “That’s not funny.” “I mean it kind of is.” “She was twelve when she swore off boy-bands.” Graham nodded, taking a sip of his wine. “Isn’t that what you said last time you were here?” “Hey, it’s been ten years since I said that!” Y/N laughed. “Cut me some slack. All the people I was crushing on are married anyway… with kids… and could probably be my dads… I have issues, don’t I?” Everyone exploded into giggles while Harry shook his head, chuckling. “Love you with all of your issues.” He nudged her shoulder, and she nudged right back, taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, give it a couple of months. You’ll regret your words.” The thing was Y/N was so wrong, and she’d never been happier to be so wrong. Each morning they were together, Harry woke up to her showering him with kisses or vice versa. As private as Harry was, his Instagram stories were now filled with pictures and small videos of them, of Y/N’s face half-covered by a blanket, glasses crooked as she smushed her cheek to his chest and watched a movie, or her eating breakfast while re-watching old Bones and Castle episodes with captions like ‘dunno how she keeps the food down’ and ‘she swears it’s just for research’, while her feed was full of candid Harry photos or her rummaging through his closet and showing everyone his immaculate style, and giving tips how others can recreate it (also she may or may not just use that as a reason to steal his clothes). Generally, people loved it, and their love for one another. It was refreshing to see them enjoy each other’s company, and not be afraid to do so, especially now, given how it was a couple of days before Y/N ended her tour in New York in Madison Square Garden, to which Harry had specifically flown out for despite being in the middle of filming for ‘The Little Mermaid’. Three AM blinked on the clock, as the two finally drifted off to sleep after five hours of a passionate reunion when her phone dinged, indicating a message had arrived. “Turn it off,” Harry grumbled into the skin of Y/N’s back. “’S too early.” She hummed in agreement, furrowing her brows as her palm blindly searched for the offending device, and she squinted her eyes as the light burned her retinas before widening in shock at the message. Harry felt her body go rigid, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Everythin’ alright, lovie?” “Uh – “ she stuttered, trying to process the words on the screen. “Uh, yeah. Yes, everything’s fine. Just… some last-minute changes for the show. They want something really big for the ending, and some of the propositions are just…” She could feel a smile stretch across Harry’s mouth. “Extravagant?” “You could say that, yeah.” “Sounds like it’s gonna be one hell of a show. Not that the others weren’t.” Y/N switched the phone off wiping away the message first and then turned to cuddle into Harry’s chest. “It most certainly will.” For the next two days, she was an anxious ball of mess, as her crew got everything ready, and her and her band rehearsed relentlessly before she asked all of them to gather at the studio to add a song to the setlist. “It’s gonna be a couple more hours, Hazza,” Y/N murmured into the phone as Harry had called in to check on her. “ ‘M sorry. You don’t have to wait up for me. I know you’re still adjusting to New York time.” “ ‘S alright,” he slurred, clearly already falling asleep but determined not to. “Can’t sleep without you anyway.” At those words, Y/N’s heart did that stupid flipping thing it’d been doing ever since Harry entered her life to stay, and a shy grin blossomed on her lips. “You’re exhausted, sweetheart. But I’ll tell you what - if you do go to bed, I’ll be sure to wake you up with a kiss when I get back.” “You promise?” She could hear the smile on his face. “Swear it.” “Alright, lovie. I’ll be waiting to cash in on that kiss.” “I’ll run to give it to you as soon as I can. G’night.” “See ya’ in a bit.” Y/N let out a shudder as she heard the call disconnect. She entered back inside the studio and clapped her hands, drawing the attention of her producers and band members. “Where were we?”

***

The hour before a show was always nerve-wracking for Y/N. It’s when the adrenaline truly started to rush, when her feet and palms got all tingly, and her ears and cheeks heated up. It was when their warm-up band exploded on stage, and the crowd got pumped up. But the best moment that night by far was right when she was about to run out, Harry had pulled her back by the wrist and kissed the living daylights out of her. “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” he muttered against her lips, words skimming her mouth and making her smile as bright as the sun. She seemed to do that a lot around him. It’s why he now dedicated Golden to her every time he sang it. “Thank you. For being here.” Harry flicked her nose. “Always. Now go. People are waiting.” When Y/N finally appeared on stage, pretty much glowing as brightly as the stage lights, her fans went wild, and even more so when she jumped, starting off the show. The whole time, her gaze flitted to backstage just to get a glimpse of Harry, and whenever she did, she saw him dancing, singing along, filming her having fun and some clips of himself as well, going absolutely ham to her songs. As the night was moving towards the end, usually, she’d feel euphoria from giving a great performance, after hearing thousands of people sing her songs in unison, now Y/N felt closer to throwing up and fainting. “So uh…” She pushed back strands of sweaty hair, hollers of people echoing in her head. “This is a very special show tonight. Umm… this is the first concert my boyfriend’s come t - .” She didn’t even get to finish the sentence before the cheers of the people interrupted her, deafening the girl even with the earplugs. “But umm… it’s also a special show because two days ago someone reached out to me, and uh… he… well, he was as important of a person once the same way Harry is right now, and he wrote this.” Y/N went over to where the piano chair was, lifted it and fished out her phone from it, revealing the message that’d been basically haunting her nights and days since receiving it. “Breaking up with you was the biggest mistake I ever made.” To her own surprise, her voice was steady and sure, unlike her hands which were trembling like leaves in a storm. “I know you look happy and in love, but I know it’s not true. I’ve known you for five years, I know how to see through the mask you put on every day just to make sure others are happy while you yourself suffer an inauthentic life. But you do deserve to be happy. And I’ll be waiting for you if you decide to give us a chance again. I’ll be at your concert in Madison Square.” She looked out into the crowd. “You wrote a song once for me. If you sing it, that’s how I’ll know you feel the same.” By the time she got to the end, there were no more shouts or screams, but confused murmurs. Y/N let out a shuddering breath, hoping that she could manage to do what she wanted, and everything didn’t fall apart. “The thing is, I’d like for Harry to come on stage, please.” She could see the fear in his eyes as he jogged to stand next to her, but he disguised it with an overenthusiastic smile as he waved over towards the raging sea of people. He’d seen the message, had seen her reread it more than fifty times by that point, and as sure as he was in their relationship, when someone who held such importance, no matter if good or not, in someone’s life came knocking again, you could never be too sure what would happen. Harry didn’t want to say anything, believing if it was important enough, she’d tell him. Guess that was it. “So, uh…” Y/N pulled Harry’s arms over her shoulders and grasped onto them, grounding them both. “This is for you.” Y/N looked over into the crowd before glancing over her shoulder, Y/E/C eyes meeting Harry’s wavering green ones. “And you,” she whispered so that only he could hear. “Hope you know I mean everything.” As the cords started playing, she felt Harry unwarp his arms from where she’d been holding them over her shoulders and a smile erupted on her face. “I wake up every evening,” Y/N sang, “with a big smile on my face, and it never feels out of place.” “And you’re still probably workin’,” Harry’s voice joined in, grin as wide as the Cheshire cat’s, as he now had a microphone in hand, the other placing earplugs in his own ears, “at a nine-to-five pace… I wonder how bad that tastes.” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the two harmonized, Y/N’s eyes locked onto the masses, imagining the face of her ex-boyfriend who had the audacity to send that message. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell.” Harry was looking at the crowd as well, now fully understanding the message and the person behind it, and although he lived by ‘treat people with kindness’, he couldn’t help but gloat at the fact he got to sing with the love of his life on stage, and basically serenade a break-up song to a person who didn’t know how to appreciate what he’d had. Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Now, where’s your picket fence, love, and where’s that shiny car? It didn’t ever get you far. You’ve never seemed so tense, love. I’ve never seen you fall so hard. Do you know where you are?” It was hard not to smile, knowing where she was and who she was with. Harry threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulders as she sang, giving a mock sad look, while Harry pouted. “And truth be told, I miss you… And truth be told, I’m lying!” “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Y/N pointed towards where she imagined her ex was standing. “Then she’s the fool, you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell! Hope it gives you hell!” For a split second, the music slowed down, guitar strumming in the air, as Harry pulled Y/N by the palm and towards his chest. When the next lyrics came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true as he sang them to the man, he’d heard Y/N talk about, to the man who thought everything he’d done to her, every horrible word and deed was justified, to the man who thought breaking someone else down was the only way to bring themselves up. “Now tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself, where did it all go wrong, but the list goes on and on.” “And truth be told, she misses you,” Harry hummed, Y/N letting out a large laugh, holding onto his bicep, as he slightly changed the lyrics. “And truth be told, she’s lying! When you see her face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you walk her way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well.” Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. “Then she’s the fool you’re just as well hope it gives you hell.” “Now you’ll never see,” Y/N took over the song. “What you’ve done to me.” She placed a hand over her heart. “You can take back your memories, they’re no good to me. And here’s all your lies, you can look me in the eyes, with that sad, sad look that you wear so well.” She dragged her finger down her cheek, giving a pout while Harry mimicked her stance before turning the mic to the audience. “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell,” the crowd sang back with such vigour, Y/N was sure the whole ground was shaking just from their voices, and the clapping and stomping to the drum rhythm would bring the whole world down. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell! When you find a gal that’s worth a damn and treats you well, then she’s the fool you’re just as well, hope it gives you hell!” The two were jumping around the stage like madmen, adrenaline filling their veins. “When you see my face hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” Everyone else repeated. “When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell, hope it gives you hell!” “Hope it gives you hell!” “When you sing this song and sing along, well you’ll never tell. Then you’re the fool, I’m just as well, hope it gives you hell!” Y/N grinned once more, placing her hand over her heart, meaning every word – she was just as well. She had amazing friends, a career that’d flourished, and a person who loved her more than words could describe. “When you hear this song, I hope that it will give you hell!” Harry crooned down the mic, knowing their happiness would, Y/N’s happiness would give him hell. And he enjoyed it, knowing how good her life was. “You can sing along I hope that it puts you through hell!” Her voice became the only sound as the last word echoed around everyone, her chest heaving up and down from the exertion, from all of the emotions running through her body as well as the overwhelming feeling of not only having Harry watch her perform but to end up performing with him. When his hands wrapped around her body, it startled her out from the daze, and the popping confetti startled her even more, as the rest of her band joined the two to take their bows, grins on all of their faces while they did so. “Not the song you thought I’d sing, is it?” Y/N laughed into the mic, Harry’s arms tightening around her waist. “There’s a reason I blocked your number, let alone you from my life. Don’t think I won’t do it again.” “But I would like to say thank you, to the asshole in question,” Harry said, making Y/N’s forehead scrunched up. “You let go of the best person ever; you had the honour of calling yourself her boyfriend, but instead, you chose to walk away. So, thank you for that. Because now I’ll have that honour and pleasure for the rest of our lives.” Yeah. It was one hell of a show.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: I love ‘All American Rejects’ and have been listening to ‘Gives You Hell’ non stop. It’s the best break-up song ever, and you won’t convince me otherwise.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my work on other platforms without my explicit written permission. reblogs are fine :)

616 notes · View notes

pedrosbisch · 3 years ago

Text

My Sun and Stars

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x Reader w/ nickname

Chapter 1- Call Signs

Chapter 2

Summary:You go out on a Friday night with your buddies, and meet Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia for the first time Rated M for Mature themes, but would prefer the fic stayed 18+ since it gets a little spicy later 👌

AN: Hello everyone! This is my very first fanfic I’m posting, and I hope it’s up to par 😅 I’ve been delaying posting it for so long but I’m so excited to finally get this posted and starting this journey.

TW! Alcohol, Slight Violence. Please let me know if I need to add anything else!

It was just another Friday at the bar after a dull day at work. Your friend Will invited you out for drinks with him and a couple of his buddies to celebrate a friend coming home.

“Where is this guy anyway, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating him?” You ask, frustrated by the fact the person they were celebrating was nearly an hour late.

“Pope’s always late, he runs on his own time. But he’ll be here.” Will took another sip of his beer before glancing toward the door.

“He better be, I can’t stay late. I have to go back home to Maria, I promised her I’d help with the baby after I got back tonight.” Retorted Frankie.

“Speak of the devil.”

Up walked a man with curly hair and sun kissed skin. He's undoubtedly handsome, smiling before he claps a hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“What’s up cabróns? Sorry I’m late, there was traffic coming from the airport and then there was this girl out in the parking lot who had this ass that-“

“Ah-hem.” You clear your throat, hoping to cut off whatever vulgar story he was about to tell.

“Pope this is Hail. We met through the VA, thought I’d invite her out with us.”

“Hail? Cute, what’s that short for, Hailey?” He pours himself a mug of beer, barely looking your way.

“Hail Mary.”

“That’s a hell of a name. Parents were religious huh?”

Benny snickers and Frankie leans back, preparing for the shitshow to unfold.

“Call sign. Hail Mary, as in the prayer most people say before they’re about to die; A last ditch effort. For a man whose nickname is Pope, seems like you’d know better”

“Oh baby, people call me Pope because I bring them closer to god, whether it’s out in the field or in bed.” He side eyes Benny and they fist bump behind your head.

“Classy.” You roll your eyes and look over to Will who pinches the bridge of his nose and mouths 'sorry' over to you.

“Anyways- glad to have you back safe man, but I really gotta go. Wife’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the baby like I promised.” Frankie fixes his hat and slaps Pope on the back before walking out.

“Yeah man me too, I’ve got my fight tomorrow and I already got too drunk waiting for you. You gotta come though!” Benny says as he wobbles standing up.

Will quickly stands after and steadies him propping him up on his shoulder. “I better drive Benny home, what about you Hail? You need a ride?”

“I’m alright, I’ll probably stay a little longer. I need to decompress from work.”

“Whatever works for you darlin, text me to let me know when you get home safe.” He says goodbye and shakes Pope’s hand before walking away with his brother.

“And yous better be coming to my match tomorrow!! I need my Hail Mary!!” Benny yelled with his head flopping back and forth.

“I’ll be there Benny.” You punch his ass and send them off, leaving you entirely alone with the menace of a man you’ve just met.

“So uh— you and the Miller brothers seem close.” Pope eyes you up and down, clearly trying to figure out what he’s missed while he was god knows where.

“Sure. Like Will said, we met through the VA. We’ve been pretty close since then.”

“I take it you’re a vet then, with your call sign and all?”

Was he actually trying to get to know you? “No, my dad served. 20 years in the Marine Corps, I just drive him to the meetings. He tried dragging me in one day to set me up with Will.”

“So you two are together then?” He looked up quizzically.

“Ha! If he’s interested he sure doesn’t show it. Plus I don’t think he’s really my type.”

“What is your type then?” Pope raises an eyebrow and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Definitely not a man some of whose first words around me were ‘there was a girl who had this ass’”

“So you don’t like me because I appreciate the female form?”

“Ha! I don’t like you because you make assumptions. Like how you just assumed that you could get me to go home with you.”

“I’m offended you think so lowly of me Princesa, and how are you so sure I want to you to sleep with me?”

“Don’t call me Princesa, and because if you didn’t want to— you’d be off chasing that girl with the ass down. But you’re here, talking to me about if I’m taken and what my type is. Now if you excuse me, I’m going home.” You gulp down the rest of your beer before grabbing your purse and speed walking to the door.

Pope rushes through the crowds and grabs your arm before you raise it to hail a taxi. You break from his grasp and slam your palm into his chest before realizing it was him.

“Agh! So you’re not all bark after all.” He rubs his shoulder and winces. “Listen, I truly am sorry for this bad first impression. But I don’t think Will would be happy with me if I didn’t at least offer you a ride home in your inebriated state.”

You roll you eyes before you look in your purse and realize all your cash went toward tipping the bartender; You sigh and toss your head back in defeat. “Fine. But you’re not coming in for a nightcap.”

He leads you to his Jeep and you buckle yourself in as he pulls out of the bar parking. You punch your address into his GPS and lean your head against the cool window as the music plays softly. The alcohol hits you all at once like a tidal wave, and your head starts to spin.

You’re thankful the ride home is quiet, and even more so when the car comes to a stop. The car door opens letting the fresh night air hits your face waking you slightly.

“Can I at least walk you to your door?” Says Pope, but this time his tone is different. It’s not assertive or defensive, almost like he cares you get home safe. And he has this look on his face, what is that look? You’re too drunk to tell.

"That would be great, actually." He walks beside you, careful not to touch you unless you expressly needed help. You were doing better than expected, swaying slightly and bumping arms as you walked side by side. You were about to send Pope off, all up until you came to foot of the stairwell.

“Shit. You can go, really I’ll be fine. You’ll be here all night watching me climb these stupid things. Without an ounce of of dignity, I may add.”

He chuckled as you planted your palms on the stairs and began to crawl up them like an overgrown toddler.

“I have all night to help you up the stairs Hail, but I’ll have to touch you. If that’s ok?”

Why did those words send fire through your cheeks? ‘But I’ll have to touch you.’ You quietly nod your head in defeat and feel two strong arms lift you from under your knees and behind your back. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your head to his chest. The world is spinning and you’re doing anything to anchor yourself, even if it’s to him.

You turn your head and shut your eyes, taking deep even breaths into his chest doing everything in your power to calm yourself. ‘Focus’, you tell yourself. Focus on literally anything but the spinning. You take another deep breath, but this time you take a second to appreciate the scent of Pope’s cologne. It smells expensive, but sooo nice. You hear his heart beating, or—wait. Is it yours? Your mind continues to wander further as footsteps echo off the stairwell. His arms feel so nice, maybe you could invite him… No, you decide. You won’t just be another drunken conquest.

You reach the second floor of your apartment complex and tell him your door number. He steadily places you down, and keeps a steady hand on your back as you dig out your keys. You open the door and catch yourself on the frame turning yourself to face Pope.

“Thank you for taking me home, and for carrying me up the stairs. This is so embarrassing, I swear this never happens.”

“Shh, it’s alright Princesa. Drink some water and get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at Benny’s match. I’ll bring my best manners, and hopefully we can forget about today.” He gets you a glass of water and places it next to your couch where you ungracefully plopped yourself down.

“Mmhh. Pope?” You reach, as if trying to reach him without knowing where his is.

“Santiago. My real name is Santiago, but you can call me Santi if you want.”

Your brain is far gone, blacked out in a half asleep state with no filter attached to your mouth. “Well then Santiago, thank you again for bringing me home. Sorry it wasn’t in the context you wanted. Next time if you want it to go more smoothly, ask me to dinner. You smell too good to say no.”

He chuckles and looks at you with a soft expression before locking your door behind him as he makes his way back to his car. For the rest of the night, he replays the way you said his name in his head and makes a mental note to wear the same cologne again tomorrow night.

#santiago pope garcia #tf fanfic #pope x reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #tw alcohol #fanfic

52 notes · View notes

justnerdthings · 4 years ago

Text

New Beginnings Ch. 3

Female reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao (Not sure which yet)

Wow, guys. Thanks so much for all your kind words, favorites, reblogs, and follows! I didn't think this fic would do well. But I'm glad I was wrong!

Someone had asked about being added to a tag list for updates. I'm certainly willing to add one! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future updates. I'll try and make sure I get everyone.

Without further ado, here's the much requested chapter 3!

You didn't sleep worth a damn that night. Not only was your anxiety running wild, but it gave you nightmares of being killed in fights your subconscious conjured up by remembering what Raiden told you about Mortal Kombat.

That… And this wasn't your bed.

You managed to fall asleep early into the morning.

A harsh knock banged on your door. You nearly jumped out of your skin as it woke you. Wide-eyed, you sat straight up in your bed and watched the door as if it was about to attack you.

Another harsh knock startled you. Quickly you got to your feet and answered the door. Kung Lao stood in front of you, an impatient look on his face. A large black, brimmed hat was on his head… was it made of metal? "Put on a gi," he ordered.

Your brows bunched.

One of his brows rose quizzically.

"What?" You said. You could feel how dry your throat was. God, you needed a drink.

Lao inhaled sharply. With a nod he gestured vaguely for you to step back. You did, and he stepped past you to the wooden chest at the foot of your bed. With a swift kick the top swung open. You stepped over to look inside and saw a small selection of clothes, very plain, but similar to Lao's and Liu's that you remembered. There was also a long, simple gown that you guessed was for sleeping. That would have been nice to know about last night. Lao reached in and pulled out a gi. He tossed it on your bed. "That is a gi," he told you, turning his attention back to you. "Put this on, then step outside into the hall. I'm training you this morning."

You brushed a hand through your hair and realized it was a mess. Bed head. Your fingers tried combing out the knots as you looked at him. "When's breakfast?" You asked. Really. Food sounded good. You hardly ate last night.

"After your morning training," Lao said.

"Why after?"

"Because it is. Wake up. Train first. Then breakfast. Then train again. Lunch. Train. Dinner," he listed off. "After dinner you can do whatever you like, but you'd be wise to rest up. You're going to be sore."

Your jaw hurt as it clenched. "Everyday?"

"Everyday."

"Even weekends?"

"Everyday," he repeated sternly.

You almost groaned.

"Unless you'd rather give up and go home?" He mocked.

God, would you. Home sounded great.

But you were needed here. Raiden needed your help to fight Shang Tsung. Sure, you were useless right now. And sure, he gave you a choice to not be involved, but Raiden had been able to paint a very real picture of what Earth would be like if Shang won Mortal Kombat just one more time… Earth would be destroyed. Everything gone. You. Your home. Everyone.

"No," you said. "No, Raiden wants my help… Can't exactly tell a god ‘no.’" Was that defeat in your tone?

"Good. Now change," Lao said as he turned and stepped out of your room, closing the door behind him.

It only took you a minute to get changed. The gi felt strange. You weren’t used to such loose clothing, but you did like that it let your body breathe. Stepping out into the hall, you saw Lao leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked you up and down, then nodded in approval before turning and walking down the hall. You followed, but kept your distance.

“Can I get something to drink?” You decided to ask after a moment of silence.

“We’ll have water there,” He said, glancing back at you.

“Is Liu going to be there?” You asked.

“Already don’t like me?” Lao asked.

“He’s just not an asshole to me,” you quipped, and immediately regretted it as Lao stopped in his tracks. Goosebumps covered your arms and neck.

“I’ve been called worse,” He simply said and continued walking.

A relieved breath escaped you. You saw that going differently in your head. You expected some shouting. But he just… accepted it.

The rest of the walk was in silence as he led you to an open area, sand covering the ground, pillars to the left and right. An array of training dummies and tools were placed around the sand. This was a fighting arena, you realized. And it had a view...

You slowed your pace. Oh no. Not a view. And this one didn’t have any sort of railing. It just dropped off! Oooh fuck this, you thought and stepped back even though the ledge was about a hundred feet away.

“Come here!” Lao called over as he stood in the center of the arena.

You didn’t move. Moving to him would put you closer to the ledge. No way.

But he grew impatient again. His voice raised and it echoed through the ravine. "COME. HERE!"

Those goosebumps came back. Hesitating, you slowly made your way over to him.

"Good. Sit."

You did. Right in the sand. Lao took his hat off and swung it down. You jumped as he made a deep line in the sand not even an inch from you. The sound of metal grating the sand sent a shiver through you.

"This is Lord Raiden’s arena. Each day you will step closer to that ledge," he said, not having to point to it. "You will learn to meditate and control your fear until you can sit on that edge comfortably."

Oh no.

"Are you ready?” He asked.

“No…”

“Good.” It was like he heard you say ‘yes’ instead. You groaned and he slipped his hat back on his head and secured the strap under his chin. “Sit with your legs crossed. Like Buddah.”

You moved your legs, sitting as you knew ‘criss-cross applesauce,’ but Buddah style did sound more mature.

“Close your eyes, straighten your back, and rest your hands on your knees.”

You did, but felt him close in on you, then his hand on your shoulder. Goosebumps again. A knot in your stomach. Grip firm, he pulled you back slightly, straightening you out more. You opened one eye to glance up at him, seeing a focused look to his eyes as he critiqued your posture silently. His eyes then shifted to your open one.

“Close your eyes,” he repeated. That impatient tone returned.

You did. You felt him step away.

“What do you see?”

“What?” Your eyes were closed. You saw nothing! What kind of question was—

“What do you see?”

“Nothing,” You said in annoyance.

“Do you see the ledge?”

You hesitated. “No.”

“It’s about seventy feet away from you.”

Your jaw stiffened.

“The drop is miles deep.”

Your fingers curled into your knees.

“If you'd fall off, you’d die.”

You took a shaky breath as panic began building in the pit of your stomach. That’s when you remembered you didn’t have your anxiety medication here… wherever here was.

“These are facts. There is nothing you can do about them.”

Now came that helpless feeling.

“Relax.”

You couldn’t. The images of the ravine, the ledge, and you falling to your death were flashing in your mind.

“Relax,” Lao repeated and you could feel him come closer again.

“I can’t,” You admitted.

“You can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.” Your tone became defiant. You could feel a presence circle you slowly.

“Focus on the sand under you. The wind as it blows around you. My voice. You are not falling. You are sitting on the ground. Safe.”

You tried. You really did. But the ledge had its grip on your attention.

“What are you doing?”

“Freaking out…”

“What are you doing?”

You hesitated. “Sitting in the sand.”

“Are you falling?”

“No.”

“Are you going to fall?”

“No.”

“Breathe.”

You took a hard, deep breath.

“Feel the air fill your lungs then leave as you slowly exhale. Feel your chest expand and contract. Focus on what’s real.”

You took another breath, and did your best to breathe out slowly. It still shook.

“Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

You took another breath. You kept taking breaths. You kept trying to focus on the air and your chest, and not the death trap this arena was with an open ledge into the ravine. Would you even feel it when you hit the bottom? Or would you die in mid-fall?

Lao tapped your shoulder. “Focus.” He must have noticed. You weren’t sure how long it’d been. You’d gotten tapped, reminded, and straightened several times. But by now, your breath wasn’t shaking anymore. You could swear your lungs had grown. Your breaths were deeper as you fought to focus. You could even feel the heat of the rising sun kiss your face and arms. Eventually, the ledge faded away from your mind and Kung Lao told you to stop.

“Open your eyes.”

You did. A blue-ish hue tinted the world as your eyes adjusted to the light.

“Relax.”

You let your back slouch again and stretched your fingers out.

“How do you feel?”

“Stiff.” You cracked your knuckles and rolled your shoulders and neck.

“Get up. Stretch.”

You rose to your feet and rubbed your face. Turning around to face him, you stretched your arms behind your head. He was sitting on the steps leading to the sand pit, leaning back against a pillar, very much relaxed as he watched you. You had been out here in the middle of the arena all by yourself. For how long, you weren’t sure. Turning back around, you looked out at the ravine.

“Scared?” Lao asked, not moving from the steps.

Weirdly, not so much. “Not as much…”

“Good. Tomorrow morning you will be a step closer. We’ll do this again.”

“Until I’m out there…” You looked at the very edge and imagined sitting there, knees almost hanging off the ledge, alone… What if a strong wind blew you over? What if he tried to straighten you up but accidentally pushed you? Oh, there was that panic again. You turned away, breath starting to shake again as you hurried towards the safety of the steps.

Lao had watched you. He noticed your breath shake again even from several feet away. You’d almost thrown yourself into another panic. “Breathe,” he coached. “You got a while before you’re there.”

You nodded. He was right. He’d said you were about seventy feet from the edge. If you only took a step closer each day, that meant it was about sixty days away. Give or take. Okay. Two months. Two months sounded do-able. You pulled your shoulders back tight. Your upper spine cracked and popped with tension. You’d feel better once you got away from here.

“Thirsty?”

You looked over to him and he pointed up the stairs. Following his gesture, you found a clay pitcher and cups on a table. You’d forgotten just how thirsty you were, and now your throat felt sore.

After climbing the steps, you poured yourself some water and felt it rush all the way down to your empty stomach.

“You’re horrible at meditation,” Lao said, breaking the silence.

You looked back at him.

He just grinned at you.

You rolled your eyes and turned away. Of course you were horrible at it. It was your first time and you were in the middle of a panic attack. Breakfast. Finally. Lao sat in his usual spot at the table. You sat across from him and looked at the array of food already set out. It was mostly vegetables and proteins… though no actual meat. Right, you thought. Monks. Monks were vegetarians weren’t they? Well… At least there were some eggs. You reached for the simple white rice to start off your plate.

“Take it easy on the rice,” Lao ordered, which made you look up to him with confusion. “Focus on vegetables and protein. You need to get into shape.”

Did he just call you fat? You glared at him, but it did nothing to move the critical look from his face. With an annoyed sigh, you slid some of the rice off your plate and back into the bowl. You looked back to him, as if to ask for some much unwanted approval. He nodded. You then filled your plate with vegetables and poached eggs. You didn’t care much for tofu or beans, so you ignored them.

“I’d kill for some pancakes,” you unknowingly whispered under your breath.

“If you kill Shang Tsung, I’ll get you all the pancakes you want,” Lao said, jarring you.

“Oh... Didn’t mean to say that out loud,” You admitted sheepishly.

“Offer still stands.”

You glanced to him and couldn’t help the grin that pulled your lips. Hearing the door open, your smile faded and you turned to look behind you. Liu Kang had walked in, flushed, face and arms glistening with sweat. He offered you a smile before sitting next to you.

“Good morning,” He said, not wasting time in filling his plate.

“‘Morning,” You greeted and watched him fill his plate with rice and beans. A bit of vegetables.

You looked back to Lao with furrowed brows. How come Liu could eat all the carbs?

Lao noticed your fuss. He pointed his chopsticks at Liu, but looked at you. “He needs the energy.”

Liu, lost, looked up, then to you, then back to Lao.

“I told her to take it easy on the rice,” Lao explained.

“Ah,” Liu nodded. The gentleman that he was, he didn’t comment on your weight, but you felt it. Okay, you weren’t in the best shape. You didn’t have the six or eight packs you figured they had. But you weren’t fat… Right?

You looked down at your stomach, hidden under the baggy gi, and folded an arm over it tightly in a futile effort to hide it.

“Being a nurse, I’d think you’d know about nutrition,” Lao judged, mouth full.

You huffed. You got it. You were fat. Okay. Shut up, Lao. “Being a nurse, I hardly have the time to cook for myself,” You defended.

“Lucky for you, you don’t have to cook here. The monks will. Shouldn’t be an issue anymore. No excuses,” Lao said.

“Yeah… Lucky me,” You said, still annoyed. You began to eat, starting with the vegetables.

Liu, again being the saint he was, had decided to change the subject. “How was morning meditation?”

When you didn’t say anything, Lao answered for you. “Fine.”

That caught you off guard. Fine? He told you you were horrible!

“Really?” Liu’s interest was piqued.

“Her posture needs work, and her mind isn’t yet disciplined enough. But she did fine.”

“That’s great.” Liu looked to you.

You bit your tongue, but couldn’t hold it. “You said I was horrible,” you said to Lao.

Lao grinned and filled his mouth with food.

What was this? A give and take? Or take and give? Tell you you’re horrible, then say you were fine?

“I’m sure he was only kidding,” Liu suggested.

“Was I?” Lao questioned with an inflection, which earned him a stern look from Liu. Lao’s grin only grew.

Liu sighed in accepted defeat. “How did you sleep, Y/N?”

“Awful,” you answered quickly.

“Oh?” Liu frowned.

“Yeah.”

“Anxiety?” Liu asked.

You nodded. “And nightmares. And it wasn’t my bed. Always takes me a while to get used to a new bed.”

“Well, yesterday must have been stressful enough,” Liu reasoned.

“Bit of an understatement,” You mumbled before filling your mouth.

“Did you decide if you were going to stay?”

Lao answered before you could swallow. “She’s staying.”

Liu looked so relieved to hear that, but looked back to you for confirmation. “Is that true?”

You nodded.

A smile came to his face, the smile you liked. So sincere. So real. “Thank you.”

You looked to your food. You didn't feel much like talking anymore as thoughts raced through your mind. Now it was concrete. You were staying. You were crazy, but you were staying. Liu was training you now. This was a different arena. It had a view, but the walls were high enough that you didn’t mind. Still sand on the ground, it looked like a smaller version of the colosseum… but without the thousands of seats surrounding you, and more oblong. A huge statue of Raiden sat off to the side, just outside the arena, in a fighting stance seeming to watch your every move. On the other side, some other statue, ready to fight Raiden. You quickly realised they were two parts of a monument. Some fight that had happened. Who won, you wondered.

“Time to test your might,” Liu said.

“What?” you turned away from the statues to look at him.

“Have you ever had lessons in self defense?”

“Uh. No. Not really. Remember? No experience.”

He nodded and walked over to you. So you were starting at square one. He could handle that. “Try and hit me,” He told you.

“What? No.” You stared at him as if he was crazy.

“The best way to learn is to practice. And the best way for me to gauge just what you can do is for you to try and hit me.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Liu.”

“And what do you intend to do when Mortal Kombat begins?”

Okay. You had to admit. He had you there. You wouldn’t be much use if you couldn’t fight. You sighed in your defeat and looked him over. He took no particular stance. He just stood there, eyes locked on you.

Okay. You could do this. Not like you could hurt him. You doubted you could hit that hard anyway. Without much warning, you swung a fist. Unsurprising, he dodged it easily. You swung again. He dodged. You tried a kick. He blocked. You still weren’t surprised, but after a few more attempts, you were getting annoyed.

“I can’t hit you if you keep moving,” You hissed.

“Do you expect Shang Tsung’s fighters to just stand still and let you hit them?”

Again, he had a point. You kept trying. You kept failing.

“Keep going,” Liu coached gently as he gracefully dodged your futile attacks.

You took turns pushing each other across the sand pit. You would push him to one end, then he would take the offensive, and you would dodge, backing you up to the other end. You knew he wasn’t really trying, he hadn’t even broken a sweat while you were sure you dripping. Eventually you stopped. You walked away and gave him a ‘time-out’ sign as you leaned back against a wall. Heavy breath after heavy breath came out of you. You really were out of shape. Fuck it. You gestured your forfeit vaguely as Liu walked towards you.

“Not bad,” He offered.

A single, exhausted, “Ha!” escaped you. Yeah right. You were awful.

“You’ll get better.”

“Maybe in a hundred years,” you only half joked.

“If you stay determined,” He joked back. It earned him another laugh from you and he smiled in that small victory. “Between myself and Lao, you’ll be in shape within a few months.”

“If you two don’t kill me in the process.” Again, only a half joke.

“I assure you, we will not kill you,” He said, that sincerity in his voice. “However, you may feel as though we have.” That wasn’t a joke.

You groaned. You already felt that. “Can I just go back to meditating? I can handle that.”

“I think you deserve a small rest. We can meditate until your breathing comes down,” He’d accepted and gracefully fell to the sand. His legs went into the Buddah-like position, but instead of his hands on his knees, he held one up as if to pray and the other gripped the prayer beads that hung from his wrist.

You slid down the wall and positioned your legs. Your hands went to your knees, and you leaned on them. Liu didn’t seem to mind that your posture wasn’t correct, and you were thankful for it. You just allowed yourself to relax and closed your eyes.

Alright, you thought. You remembered what Lao had told you only a few hours earlier. Focus on what’s real. The sand. The wind. The air in your lungs. Breathe. And you did. You focused on all of it… Which quickly backfired.

Okay. Focus on one thing. You focused on the air. It was so dry. It was dry earlier too, but you’d forgotten during breakfast. Were you in a desert? The Sahara? Would explain the quietness of the place. And come to think of it, you hadn’t even seen a plane in the sky since you got here. Where did the water you’d been drinking come from? It had to come from somewhere. The ground? Maybe there was a well here. Where? But wait, you had a bathroom in your room. It didn’t have a tub or shower, but the toilet and sink did work. Was there plumbing? There had to be if the sink and toilet worked.

“Your mind is wandering,” Liu said softly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah,” You answered, keeping your eyes closed. You straightened up. “Sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?” He asked curiously.

“Nothing. It’s fine. Sorry.”

“Tell me,” he pushed gently.

You breathed a laugh nervously. Well, if he insisted... “Just wondering if there was plumbing in this place.”

Liu didn’t say anything for a good minute, which prompted a knot to build in your stomach. God, you were stupid.

Then you heard a soft laugh. You opened your eyes to see Liu chuckling to himself. That knot melted away along with some tension in your shoulders. You smiled, then shared in the laugh. @miss-nori85

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings

77 notes · View notes

voidcat · 4 years ago

Text

— fangs dipped in wine

characters: chuuya nakahara, you

info: vampire au, lowkey suggestive, 2.3k

a/n: let's all pretend for a hot second bram stoker was an actual author in bsd and that instead of abilities, there are vampires<3 I'll probably do a p2 to this in a timeskip way so itll b more fun yay,,

Several days ago, it was just an idea. A laughing matter. A ‘what-if’ to build scenarios on and giggle.

Several days ago, it was night time too, the taste of alcohol fresh, her laugh right beneath your ear, it was warm, and bubbly and there was a sense of direction, a certainty.

Several days ago your friend hadn’t suddenly announced dropping out and moving out of the shared apartment you two had yet. Maybe she had been considering for a while now but in that very moment, it hadn’t happened yet, your world wasn’t upside down.

“Just imagine!-“ her breath fawned over your ear, glasses clinking against one another. “So I’m talking to this guy, right? Like music stuff, and movies, and all. No feelings whatsoever,” you found it hard not to roll your eyes and was met with a shove. “Not like that!” she protested. “He tells me about his boyfriend, I even helped him plan a surprise party once.”

“You cannot know if he’s faking…” you remember saying, in that knowing tone, smooth like silk and lecturing. “Yea whatever. Anyways! Get this:” placing the glass down in concentration that was foreign to her, you were intrigued.

“They don’t have vampires.”

“No way.” Slowing taking another sip from your drink, it sounded like a fantasy almost. Sure, there were rumors of not every country having vampires but it was numbered, there were so little, and the vampires? They were ever present.

“So he says: ‘Hey, aren’t they all rich peeps always wanting fresh blood? What if you have lots of blood already, and make a deal? You can trick them to pay you loads for it and you’d not even have to have them near your neck!’-“ she paused to let out a bark, you’re sure she’s been doing it since she first saw the message.

“And-“ another pause, to shed a tear, “and he says, ‘and if the vampire is hot? Bonus points! They got those fancy houses, you’d no longer pay rent either.’” The mocking of the voice comes to an end. “Can you believe? A deal, with a Vampire of all people! And he says rent fixed!”

You had to admit, for someone who claims to not met any vampires, it sounded charming on paper, but in Yokahoma?, not so much. At a moment of weakness, you looked at one another, daring, and next, breaking into a fit of laughter and downing the glass in one gulp.

How many days has it been since that night? Five? Maybe seven? It was long enough to miss her presence now, but too short to be threatened by the landlord.

One night you’re at your favorite pub with your dearest friend downing drink after drink. You can remember the stars in the sky that night, you thought it was just your brain imagining it, as well as the crescent moon hanging so delicately.

And next thing you know, you’ve just left this bar, despite the temperature it was cold on your bones, and here stands the redhead, his breath fawning over your neck, mouth open, but not to tell a story for the laughs.

He didn’t bother to hide the fangs and you didn’t bother to leave the place.

An idea you called stupid few nights ago just happened to make sense in that sad sulking state. And then he had to appear, with a glass of expensive wine, locks covering his face just fine, a vest that fits his body perfectly and fangs shining under the dim lights of the bar.

“Oh-kay, that’s enough.” You push his face off with your palm in one go. The ‘thump’ of his hat falling on the floor and the yelp coming from his lips fill the air.

“You’re no fun.” he pouts as he picks up his hat.

“So, how we’re doing this? And no, you cannot drink straight from my neck!” you finish before he can raise a finger.

A moment of silence follows the two of you, it’s a nice place. Expensive looking furniture though it’s more like a house from a catalogue than a home. Still, impressive –he, ‘what was his name again?’, definitely has a taste. The empty crystal glasses sit on the table, next to the bottle, a candle close to burning out completely flickers its flame lazily as your eyes wander.

Your gaze moves onto his sapphire eyes then, watching your every move and breath carefully, but not patiently. You can hear him vibrate with every molecule in his body, trying so hard not to lunge forward or speak up, maybe grab your arm and pull you back towards his chest.

“So? Hello?..” you drag the the ‘o’ and wave a hand in front of his face, “Anyone home?”

Like someone hypnotized stepping out of a trance at a snap of fingers, he jolts, pupils narrow, then widen and focus on your face. “Ah, sorry-“ he starts walking away.

Then he fakes a cough, as if you didn’t catch him staring already… Just how the hell did you find this guy in a city filled with vampires?

He stops, turns back, reaches for your hand and you let him. “Did you drink the wine?” he walks a step ahead, still hand in hand.

“If you ask me one more time, I’ll start suspecting you added some sort of drug.” This seems to get to him, obvious from the way he almost trips on his foot and turns back in a hurry, both hands up in defense and shaking his head like crazy.

“Wh- No- No, no no! It’s nothing like that- I-“ if he didn’t look so embarrassed, you’d even say he looks flustered. His rambling stops when you snort and decide to take pity on the guy.

“Relax I was just joking.” His shoulder drop in relief. “Besides, if you put anything, it’d have kicked in by now.”

“Ah, yeah, right…” he looks down, to his right, and that’s when you see the velvet couch there. He extends his hand, in an offering manner and follows you right after.

Reaching for a pocket in his vest, he whispers to himself, you barely hear. “I just like the taste of wine in blood...”

“Weird, not what I expected, but could be worse. I’ll take it.”

Another silence follows, he avoids your gaze while your eyes never leave his eyes fumbling with his vest and cape. Maybe it’s like one of those cape like jackets, certainly matches the vibe he carries.

Under the shivering candle light, he looks so different from the bold smug suave guy who brimmed with confidence, flashed his teeth like nothing, as if the world belongs to him and anything that does not care for him simply does not exist.

And now with the same face, sits besides you someone else, eyes cast down, hands fumbling, there’s comfort in knowing this is as awkward for you as for him.

(You wonder for a second if there’s something you can do to clear the atmosphere.)

“Maybe you should be having another glass instead of asking me.” You try to say nonchalantly and it takes him a second to get what you mean. Then he smiles, and the hint of a small giggle comes out and his body seems to calm down.

“Give me your hand.” He holds out his, the palm facing the ceiling. “Well? This is the easiest way to do it without leaving permanent marks.” He sounds irritated.

“Or noticeable.” You say and he repeats, a little impatient.

Giving him your less dominant hand, you eye the dagger for as long as you can. When the cold blade meets your palm, you can barely feel its weight.

“Okay, I’ll be honest here.” He stops midway, the dagger in the air. You raise an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. “I’ve never done… this before.”

“So- uh- whatever’s the standart payment, or the whole, you know,” he waves the hand holding the dagger in the air “etiquette for this.” He sounds to be relaxing with each word. And with him, so do you. Then comes back that familiar confidence from the earlier, decorated with a hint of threat and a dare. “Just- Don’t ever try to scam or fool me.”

And goes away the determined face, replaced with surprise, as you start laughing loud, one hand over your stomach.

“Look, listen-“ you stop as you’ve begun. “Chuuya.” He fills the gap for you.

“Listen, Chuuya.” You test his name on your lips. “I’m a broke college student who can get kicked out of their flat any day now. Crossing a vampire is the last thing on my list, trust me.”

Eyes soften, a genuine smile blooms and the silence to follow isn’t heavy anymore.

When he slashes the dagger over your hand, it doesn’t sting. The blood soon reaches the surface, red thick liquid glistening in the candle’s flame, ‘life’ it says.

This is what they want, why they want it, drink it, kill for it.

Hidden in the blood, is life, with all it has seen and will see, warm, moving, trusting.

You watch in a daze as he brings your hand to his mouth. Cold lips make content with your skin, how cold and lifeless they feel against you, you see in clear contrast. The sinking of teeth doesn’t come, you don’t flinch. You can tell he’s making an effort not to bite too hard into your giving hand. Drinking the blood slowly, trying to contain himself from getting greedy, there’s no sound in the air except for your loud heartbeat, echoing in your ear and fastening with each move of his back.

The glimpse of a smile you catch in this scene before you tells, he can hear it too, and probably relish in it.

With each flicker of the flame, his lips start to feel warmer and soon he straightens up. Not a single speck of blood on his frame, he offers you the same smug smile from earlier.

Blood makes place for itself on his face, like roses blooming under the sun. His skin gains color, you didn’t notice just how dull and gray he was up until now. Life spreads so fast in his limbs, soon you can feel his warmth near you, in the air, in your hand, on the spot your knees touch. Once the base color is done, pink decorates his cheeks faintly, most likely an after effect of all that wine.

Maybe if he intervened his fingers with yours, it’d feel warmer, and in a weird way, safer.

Watching your eyes on him with amusement in his crystal ones, he seems to enjoy this, that is until his eyes focus on a spot of yours and cannot stop examining every other spot, every single pore, mark, hair and color you have, memories you carry.

The flicker of the light blends in, the warmth pulls the two of you in, time feels gone, like it never existed, maybe nothing every existed except for the two of you sitting before each other.

A sudden crash, from the outside and the magic is gone with a snap.

Noticing your hands, you pull it back to your chest fast.

His goes back to his head and he looks away, anther shy smile on his face.

“What- How should we proceed next?” he breaks the silence first, attempting to gather back a sense of seriousness to his voice. In a way, he should too, this is technically business, isn’t it?

Glancing at your palm, you open and close it few times. Not a speck of pain is there.

“Once every week maybe? If that’s alright. Although we may cancel few weeks, you never know what comes up last minute.”

The dagger nowhere in sight, probably returned to a pocket of his already, he looks pleased with your reply. “Sounds good to me.”

Without further ado, you get up to look for the door you first walked in.

“Wait!-“ he follows in a hurry, almost slipping, again, and trying to find something in his jacket.

Go you! For forgetting why you agreed to a vampire’s house in the first place. “Is- uh- is this alright? Or is it so little? We never discussed payment, y’know.” He holds out a lot more than you expected, but then again, vampires live for thousands of years. He must have quite the amount lying around somewhere after all.

Unsure what to do with the money he slips into your hand, you meet his eyes. “That’s… more than enough actually. Thanks.”

He rests one hand on hip, taking in your surprised face. “Don’t mention it. I’ve got plenty.” Touching your elbow lightly, he guides you to the door, dragging his feet. By the time you reach the door, he makes no move to open it, not that it was ever locked in the first place.

Turning of the knob, you take a step ahead, motions limited on both sides; dragging, waiting for something to happen, something to be said, for the air to be broken.

By the time you’re one foot outside, he clears his throat with a fake cough, covering his mouth. “Same time, same place, next week?” his gaze cast on the floor, stealing glances to see what you will do next.

You turn to him with a smile. “Works for me.” And tilt your head “but what if one of us cannot find the other?”

“Oh I’ll find you alright.” He chuckles with a grin. Truly a sight to sell the whole vampire image he got going, even if he hadn’t been one.

Feet standing next to each other, you’re out now, furrowing your eyebrows with a look of disapproval to match his grin, unimpressed.

“You sound like a creep. Don’t do it again.”

And with it, you turn your back to him, already on your way. The ginger left behind, an unfinished “okay” hanging on his lips, eyes focused on your form, swallowed by the shadows, waiting for the next night to be spent with you, already impatient.

135 notes · View notes

in-my-feels-probably · 3 years ago

Text

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Seven

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of.

Chapter Seven

Now in Kribirsk, East Ravka, the Crows and Arken sat around a table in a pub, mindlessly eating and drinking, thinking about the past days events. Kaz had left them there, leaving Elham in charge of making sure everyone stayed put while he scoped the city out, finding out what he could.

Arken was grumbling, slamming a flyer onto the table. “The Little Palace winter fete. There’s just no way he can find a way to the Sun Summoner without Nina. Especially during this ridiculous party, the place will be crawling with Second Army.”

Kaz suddenly approached the table, in an immensely better mood than the rest of them, despite his disheveled look. “We’re in luck. There’s a good chance we can crack on. Now that we’re three days’ travel from the capital, the next play is finding a way inside the Little Palace. It turns out the Kribirsk archives house the Little Palace blueprints. But, they’re kept under lock and key. Far from the prying eyes of the masses.”

Elham scoffed. “As if that’s ever stopped you.”

Jesper had perked up, high fiving Elham. “Yes.”

Arken looked confused, suddenly uneasy around the group. “What does that mean?”

“Time for a heist!”

“Jesper, I don’t think you could sound any more excited. Excited to get that kruge, finally pay me back all you owe me?”

“Oh, but Elham, isn’t my company a good enough payment?”

She threw her head back laughing. “Oh, honey, you’d have to be around me the rest of your life to pay off your debt. Honestly, I don’t get it, Kaz pays you as much as he pays me, how is it that you’re always asking me for more kruge? I must say, though, the satisfaction of watching you lose almost makes it worthwhile.”

Jesper gasped. “Elham! Rude!”

“It’s my money you’re losing anyways. Now come on, let’s go say goodbye to the goat, and get this show on the road.”

---

Elham stood next to Arken, watching Jesper hand off the goat that he had dubbed Milo, to a barmaid, giving his tearful goodbye. She rolled her eyes, and called out a goodbye to Milo, turning her attention back to Kaz, who was giving Arken instructions. He handed him a wad of money.

“I have a job for you. We need to hitch a ride east to the Little Palace. Make friends.”

Arken nervously chuckled. “But that’s the hardest job.”

Kaz tapped his cane to the back of Elham’s leg, signaling her to follow him. Over his shoulder, he called back to Arken. “You managed to win us over, didn’t you?”

Once out of earshot, making their way out the door, Elham muttered. “Hardly. He was our only option. I still don’t like him.”

“I’m not asking you to like him, I’m not overly fond of him myself. But he’s our only shot. We aren’t getting in the Little Palace without him.”

“Oh, come on Brekker, not with that attitude we aren’t. Now, what’s your big plan here, where are we going?”

He almost smirked. “You’re not going to like this.”

Kaz led them over to the alley Inej and Jesper were standing in. “Alright, Royal Archives heist, here’s the game plan. Watchmen are on guard around the clock. We want to get in and get out as quietly as possible. That means the hardware stays in the holster, Jesper.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Inej, the dome on the roof is directly above the repository where the blueprints to the Little Palace are kept.”

“Got it, that’s my way in.”

“I’ll set a trail of phosphorus that will lead you straight to the target. The repository is secured at all times behind a two-part lock mechanism. So Inej, you have to leave the way you came in. Two hours after sunset is when you’ll go in, Jesper. You’ll need to blend in.”

“Easy.”

“The lighting valves are on the second floor.”

Inej nodded. “I’ll take my cue once I see the lights go out, and then follow your trail straight to the blueprints.”

“The archivist has to pull them a number of times a day, so we can’t steal them or they’ll know something is up.”

“So? Make a copy.”

“But careful, if you're heavy handed, you'll bleed the ink.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Elham listened to the Crows talk back and forth, and then interrupted. “Well, I don’t. What am I supposed to be doing this whole time?”

The smirk crept back onto Kaz’s face.

“Well first, you’re coming with me to plant the phosphorus. I’m going to need you to keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum while we’re there, you are going to hate this part of the plan, though. I’m sure Jesper would love to hear them after we’re done. After we leave the archives office, I need you to distract the guards if Inej or Jesper get stuck...maybe take out one or two if necessary.”

“How am I supposed to do that? I can’t distract anyone. Kill, yes, but that seems like a bad decision.”

“It’s a last resort. Now, do you speak Suli? Zemeni?”

“No, I grew up in Kerch, I only learned Ravkan before coming to Ketterdam.”

“Well, let’s hope you don’t come across any guards then, otherwise you’re going to have to fake it. Now let's go, everyone get into place. El, you’re with me.”

---

Kaz and Elham stepped out of the carriage in front of the archives building in town. Kaz was dressed in clothes he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in the Barrel. His usual hat was replaced by a beret, his black coat for colorful drapes. Elham, however, definitely got the shit end of the stick. She was wearing a knee length poofy dress, bright fabrics and Suli silk adorning it. She wore a matching drape around her neck, the same one Kaz was wearing.

Elham was grumbling, rolling her eyes. “What, I don’t get a hat too? Honestly, Kaz, I look ridiculous! Not as ridiculous as you, but still, you had to pick this?”

“You have to blend in, El.”

“Blend in? I look like a wedding cake! At least you get to wear something semi-normal.”

“You’re supposed to look like a foreign artist, El, one good enough to be working for the King. You couldn’t show up in your normal attire, could you?”

She huffed, smoothing down the folds and fabrics of her dress, and Kaz stifled a chuckle.

“Oh, this is funny to you? Is that why you brought me, just needed a good laugh? Bastard.”

“I brought you to play the part. You’re here for the guard. Men fall for plots like this much easier when there’s a woman in a dress around.”

“Well, if you’re wanting me to seduce someone, you seriously missed the mark. Should've let me pick the dress.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, sighing. “You’re here to be the distraction. He’s not going to pay much attention to me if he’s looking at you. I don’t need you to seduce him, hence this dress. Stop grumbling, let’s go.”

---

They stepped inside the office, and Kaz greeted the man at the desk. Elham looked around, uncomfortable after having to pass so many people on the way in looking like that.

“Good day to you, sir! My name is Ivanovski, the sculptor.”

Kaz turned and motioned to Elham, who stood awkwardly behind him. “This is my wife, she’s the artist, a very good one at that. She doesn’t speak any Ravkan, she’s Suli, but she wanted to come along and see the archive building, right, love?”

Elham stifled her shock, and gulped, turning to the man at the desk, who, as Kaz predicted, only had his eyes on her. Elham hesitated, before slightly bowing, and nodding her head towards the man.

The man seemed to lose his annoyed attitude, smiling at Elham. “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? Exotic, there seems to be a lot of pretty women at the capital this year, it must be the winter fete. You’re a lucky man, Ivanovski, aye?”

Elham fought the heat that rose to her cheeks, stepping from foot to foot, flustered. Kaz’s face had gone cold for a second, his jaw clenched. He quickly recovered when the man turned back to him.

“Yes! Yes, she’s very beautiful, I’m the luckiest. Actually, the winter fete is what we’re here for. I am in desperate need of your assistance.”

Elham tilted her head towards the floor, no longer able to look in Kaz’s direction. She pretended to fiddle with the ribbons of her dress, lost in thought, while listening to Kaz talk.

“I am working on a real showstopper for the winter fete. I need the dimensions to the Little Palace entrances. The grand piece may be too grand to fit through the door frame. The King will have my head if his statuary must be parked in the courtyard. Can’t leave my wife here alone, can I?”

The man sighed, looking at Elham, before heading into the archives room to retrieve the prints. “Damned fete. I have to pull the blueprints every day. Wait here.”

Elham watched Kaz reach into his pocket to pull out the phosphorus, and so she shuffled in front of the man, stepping closer to Kaz, a bright smile on her face. She nodded again in the man’s direction, and he smirked, turning to head through the door. Kaz dropped the phosphorus to the floor, using the end of his cane to sweep it under the man’s foot, and it stuck to his shoe as he walked through the door, leaving a trail for Inej to use later.

Once through the door and far enough away from earshot, Elham let the smile fall from her face, whipping around to face Kaz, who looked very pleased with himself.

“I hate you. I can’t believe you made me do this. That man stared at me the entire time, eyeing me. You’re lucky I took my knife off of my thigh for this dress, otherwise I would have been tempted to use it. You weren’t much help either.”

“That was the plan. Can’t say I didn’t want to stab him for having to listen to him speak like that, though, but it worked, didn’t it?”

The sound of footsteps slowly approached them, and Elham quickly moved back behind Kaz as the man walked back in, handing Kaz a piece of parchment.

“Ah, may the Sun Summoner bless you!”

“Oh, I’m not a believer.”

Kaz leaned closer to the man, like what he was saying was supposed to be a secret his wife couldn’t here couldn’t hear. He eyed Elham, before turning back to the man. “No, truth be told, neither am I.”

The man chuckled, leaning in as well. “Why would you, you’ve got enough to believe in standing right behind you.”

Elham saw Kaz go rigid, and she stepped closer to him, getting his and the man’s attention. Remembering she was supposed to not know the language, she spoke brokenly, sounding unsure. “Ready? We go?”

Kaz was relieved to be leaving, placing a fake smile on his face. “Yes, love, we go.”

Elham waved goodbye to the man, smiling. He waved back, eyeing her as she and Kaz walked back out of the building to the carriage.

---

An hour later, and Elham had changed back into her regular clothes, knife strapped back onto her thigh. Kaz had decided the dress was too risky if she were to get caught on the grounds, and opted for the pair to both wear guards uniforms. Still, Elham was to remain scoping for other guards or for Jesper and Inej in trouble. If she had to, she’d attempt talking her way out. The knife was still a last resort.

Kad had also decided to keep her within eye shot near him, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. Elham was stealthy, but she was no Wraith. And truthfully, although Kaz would never admit it to himself, after today’s events, he wanted her close. He didn’t very much like her being the distraction.

They were heading to their positions, Inej already inside, Jesper soon to follow. Kaz and Elham were slowly patrolling, on opposite sides of the courtyard, making their way to the meeting point outside the exit Inej would come out of.

Thankfully, Elham didn’t run into any guards. She had seen one on the way around, and quickly ducked behind a wall, clutching her knife. Kaz had held his breath watching her, but he remained at the door Inej would come out of, releasing the breath when the guard walked away. Elham made her way up the courtyard to where Kaz was standing. She took her place by his side, and hoped that if any other guards came by and saw them from a distance, they would just assume the two had been placed on watch together as an extra security measure.

It was a waiting game at this point. Elham every once in a while glanced at the door, scanning the windows and balconies for any sign of trouble. She let her thoughts shift away from the heist, knowing Kaz would be alert.

She had felt something on this heist.

She always felt something around Kaz, but she so often pushed it away.

She thought about how long she had known Kaz, when he brought her in at 14. He had told her about the girl he met when he was a kid, who turned out to be just another part of Pekka Rollin’s scam on him and his brother. He at the time had thought she was the prettiest girl in the world. He refused to say much else about it, it taking years for Elham to piece together the story.

But when they were 14, and Elham had been part of the Dregs for a few months, he met another girl. Elham couldn’t even remember her name, but she remembered how she felt around her when she would see her on a rare occasion. Jealous. The girl could hold her own in a fight, she was confident around the other members of the gang, and she had gotten Kaz’s attention. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, she was a year older than them, and she showed interest in him too.

The one thing about her that was distinct in Elham’s memory was the girl's walk. She walked like she owned the very place she stood, exuding confidence. Like she knew something you didn’t. Elham by now had grown into herself, she could be confident as well if she wanted to, but it took some time. Imogen was long gone, a fleeting moment in their past, but she left enough impact for her to stick in Elham’s mind.

While lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed Kaz’s gaze set on her, trying to figure out what she was thinking. He grew frustrated, finally just asking in a hushed tone.

“What are you thinking about? You’ve got that little crease in your brow, like when you’re really concentrating on one of those books you leave in my office. You’re distracted, so spit it out.”

Elham hesitated, before speaking. She knew he wouldn’t let it go. “Do you remember that girl from when we were younger, who had a kind of sidle when she walked? She had smashed that bottle over that one guy’s head for getting too handsy?”

Kaz stiffened, unsure of where she was going with this. He cleared his throat. “Imogen.”

That was her name. It fit her, Elham decided.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I was just thinking about her. You...you--”

Elham stuttered, and Kaz grew uneasy.

“What, Elham? I what?”

He had turned to face her completely now, and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze, like she wanted to shrink away.

“Today, when the man was looking at me, saying all of that stuff...you looked at me like I would see you look at her.”

Kaz said nothing, but he was fighting to keep the heat from rising to his cheeks, his posture becoming rigid.

“And I was just thinking about where I had seen that look on your face before, and it was when you’d look at her.”

Kaz stayed quiet for another minute, just staring at Elham, who was beginning to regret speaking up in the first place.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t--”

Kaz interrupted. “You know, you don’t walk like her.”

Elham’s face scrunched up, confused. “What?”

Kaz continued, eyes glancing over her. “She walked with confidence and her hips forward, but it was too cocky. She’s going to get herself killed, if she hasn’t already. You don’t walk like that. You walk with your knees slightly bent, like at any moment you could get into a fighting stance. And your weight pivots to whatever side you have your sword on. You walk like a Valkyrie.”

Elham knew she was blushing now, unable to hide it. She couldn’t think of a response, just staring back at him. She was growing and more insecure under his gaze, and he had picked up on it, of course he had, he always did.

He couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t thought about the earlier events of that day, the rage he felt watching the man eye Elham and talk about her like that. He felt a pit in his stomach watching her smile at the man, and fiddle with her dress. He had noticed Elham’s glances at him in the archives office, studying his face.

He couldn’t pretend like, even though he had picked one of the most outrageous outfits he could find for her to wear, that she hadn’t looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful, even with the cuts and bruises on her face from just the events of last week alone. But he had never seen her in a dress, even if it was that dress, and she was a sight to behold.

She was supposed to be the distraction for the guards, but she ended up distracting him. He hadn’t decided whether or not that was a terrible thing yet.

He looked at Elham a moment longer, sucked in a breath, and broke the silence.

“I remember Imogen. She was pretty. Would’ve been good in any gang. But she’s not here. She didn’t stick with me all those years, did she? She’s not my Valkyrie. That’s you, El.”

She felt tears prick at her eyes, and she gave him a nod, her voice shaky. “Yeah. That’s me.”

She stared a bit longer, and then broke their gaze when she heard the door open behind them, immediately getting into a stance ready to attack if need be. Inej walked through the door, Jesper following after her.

Elham cleared her throat. “Are you both alright?”

Inej nodded, sending her a smile, Jesper coming up next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder.

“One step closer to paying you back, love.”

She laughed again. “I don’t know, Jesper, might not be enough. I may just have to settle for your company.”

“Come on, we have a heist to plan.” Kaz nodded at the Crows, motioning them to follow him off the property and back into town.

Elham took a deep breath, and Kaz turned to her, watching her collect herself, getting more comfortable again. He nodded his head towards the path once more, and she stepped in stride next to him, Jesper and Inej on the other side of her.

---

A/N - hi everyone, this is a longer chapter. i'm starting to put in some elements from the books, mostly involving kaz's backstory, i hope that's ok and not too confusing for those of you who haven't read it and have only seen the show. i'm a little unsure about how to feel about this chapter, so let me know your thoughts. feel free to comment or message me with anything, and thanks for the support!

#wattpad #grishaverse #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #six of crows imagine #six of crows #in my feels probably #ineffable #x reader #oc

29 notes · View notes

maybebanks · 4 years ago

Text

Something About Him

JJ Maybank x Reader

“He’s just an asshole, Kie,” you sighed, flopping onto the couch of the Chateau.

“Yeah but you should get your stuff. Just ask him to put it on his porch so you can pick it up,” Kie suggests.

You recently broke things off with your 2 month boyfriend because you were feeling out of love. It wasn’t a sudden thing, if fact, each and every one of the pogues had run into you crying over something he did to you.

Except JJ. There was something about him that made you never want to let him see you vulnerable. In the 3 years you’ve known him, you’re sure he’s never seen you cry, and you’d like to keep it that way.

It was like you and JJ had an ongoing battle, of who was stronger. You hoped you could win that mentally, because almost every day he proved he was physically. It was always playful, but it did irritate you sometimes.

“Heads up!” You heard JJ shout suddenly. Kie rolled her eyes at the interruption of girl talk.

You jumped up, expecting a soccer ball to fly at your head. Then, JJ approached laughing.

“False alarm,” Kie said, getting up and walking outside, saluting you.

“It was not a false alarm! Y/n’s head is up!” JJ argued.

“What the fu-“

Before you could argue, JJ picked up up by your waist, pulling you up from the couch and throwing you over his shoulder.

You gasped when your stomach collided with his shoulder.

“See??” JJ laughed. When you finally got your breath back you started punching his back.

“Put me down!! I’m not fucking kidding JJ! Let go!” You screamed, not in the mood currently.

“What’s up your ass?? Oh wait lemme see,” JJ joked, gently tapping your ass as it was basically next to his face.

“JJ!” You shouted again, but your voice cracked, in a sad way. You wanted to be playful like you always were, but you were sad at heart.

JJ frowned, but he didn’t up you down. Instead he walked with you outside to the rest of the group.

You groaned, “JJ it’s not funny! Please,” you pleaded,

His arm had a hold on both of your legs below your butt.

Pope was the first to notice, “JJ, stop harassing her,” Pope joked.

“C’mon were just having fun, like we always do. Right Y/n?” JJ asked.

You didn’t answer.

So JJ helped you off of him, setting you down on a hammok.

“What’s wrong? It was just a joke,” JJ suggested.

You frowned, “yeah good fucking idea JJ,” you said sarcastically, getting up, and bumping shoulders with him as you passed him.

“Whoa. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” JJ added, looking at the group for help.

You ignored him. Walking away and then inside.

“Jesus! Y’all see that? Why is Y/n the only girl that is nice to me one day and the next a total bitc-“

“Whoa dude, watch your mouth,” John B interrupted, lightheartedly.

JJ sighed, grabbing a can of Coors and sitting beside Kie.

“She’s going through a lot of shit right now, JJ. Cut her some slack,” Kie reasoned.

“What kind of shit?” JJ asked, now concerned if something was seriously wrong, like something at home.

“Not my place,” Kie shrugged, she knew how you would be mad at her if she told JJ about your boy problems.

“It’s it about that boyfriend dude?” John B asked, totally insensitive to what Y/n might want.

“Did he fucking try something? God if he hurt her-“

“If he hurt her? Dude where have you been this past week?” Pope said jokingly.

“Guys, she probobly wouldn’t want us talking about this,” Kie interjected.

“No! What’s going on? I told that douchebag if he ever hurt her I’d kill him,” JJ paused and grabbed the gun holstered in his waistband, “guess it’s time to keep my word,”

Kie raised her eyebrows and instantly grabbed the gun from JJs hand, holding it awkwardly so it slipped out of her hand, “don’t be ridiculous!” Kie scolded.

“You can’t grab a gun like that!” JJ suddenly argued.

The group laughed at JJ’s statement, and silence fell. JJ felt a nervous feeling in his gut at the thought of something hurting you. He didn’t want to lose his best friend.

“I should talk to her,” JJ blurted, standing up and walking from the group.

Kie and Pope attempted to reason with him, but he didn’t seem to care. He knew you wouldn’t want to be alone.

When he got inside, it was dark exept by one light. He followed the light to John B’s room. You were sleeping. You head on the foot of the bed, no blanket on you.

He sighed, you looked so sweet.

You took a deep breath, and JJ though you might be awake. But you weren’t.

JJ found a blanket and decided to drape it over you, but when the fabric touched your bare skin, you immediately awoke.

JJs eyebrows rose, “good morning,” JJ said on instinct.

You mumbled a few things, then sighed, “hi,”

JJ smiled softly, then looked down at the bed, next to you, asking if he could sit there.

You nodded, then moved to sit up as well.

“Hey...uh..we usually have fun messing around...I shoulda let you down when you asked, though.” JJ said, his eye contact wavering.

“Is that..an apology?” You joked sarcastically.

JJ smiled, “why don’t you show me...and we’ll find out?”

“I’ve got nothing to apologize for. You were being a dick.” You answer bluntly.

“As much of a dick as your boyfriend?” JJ asked.

You first thought of correcting him, ex boyfriend. But then you wondered how he even knew your boyfriend was a dick to you in the first place. When you tried so hard to keep that from him.

“Can we not talk about my life mistakes for one night please?” You asked.

“Sure..fine.” JJ answered.

You suddenly felt cold, so you cling to the blanket JJ gave you.

“What? You just gonna sit here, watching me all night?” You joked. Leaning back towards the pillow.

“Maybe I will,” JJ challenged, laying beside you.

A few moments later, your eyes were heavy, and when you started to close them, you opened them again, remembering JJ.

“You can sleep, you know. It’s late.” He said, taking off his baseball hat and throwing it on the floor somewhere.

“You gonna stay here with me?” You asked, it wasn’t in a rude tone, almost as if you wanted him to.

“Sure,” he shrugged.

You moved deeper under the covers, struggling to find a comfortable position on the pillow. Finally resulting to JJ’s shoulder.

JJ laughed to himself, you were so salty to him before and now you were cuddling him like a teddy bear. If he had to admit anything, he was enjoying it.

You shuffled a bit, moving your hand over his chest. In return, he put his arm around you. Closing the gap between the two of you.

JJ wanted to stay awake, just in case you needed anything, but soon, he succumbed to his tiredness.

It is said that boys don’t feel the emotions after a breakup for a while, until they realized what they lost. But your ex boyfriend, being the possessive asshole that he was, hated that you broke up.

He managed the leave you alone during the day, but that was before he decided to have a ‘few’ evening drinks.

Tonight, he was drunk, and he knew you’d be at the Chateau, so he drove there, stumbling inside without waking up anyone.

He found you. Lying in bed with JJ.

So he read it. How else was he suppose to read it? You were in bed with JJ. Your bodies tangled together. JJ had his shirt off. What guy didn’t sleep with his shirt off in the outer banks?

He thought about beating the shit out of him, but instead, it hit him. A way to hurt you more, emotionally, permanently.

So in a silent fit of rage, he stormed out of the Chateau.

The next morning, JJ woke up before you. He gently moved you off of him so you wouldn’t wake up. And turned to his phone to check the time.

When he did, though, he was surprised by the messages he received by an unknown number. He sat up, sitting at the edge of the bed, and unlocked his phone.

When he opened the messages, there was no text. Just images.

“Fuck,” JJ mumbled in a disappointed tone. They were pictures of you.

He scrolled through them, there were only two, but he felt ridden with guilt at the sight.

You were topless, covering your chest with one arm. And wearing a flimsy white thong-like underwear.

You didn’t take the picture yourself, it was taken with flash, probably by the person that sent it to him.

You had one hand out, as if saying stop, and the next one you were covering your face. There was a small smile on your face. But more of a nervous one than overwhelmingly happy.

JJ frowned. He’s never seen you in this way, he knew if you ever found out you would hate him. This is not how he wanted it to go.

JJ pressed the off button and set his phone down. He needed to get this guilt off of him, maybe a smoke would help.

You felt JJ gone, so you decided it was time to get up as well. You groaned at the intensity of the sun. Your window was facing the sunrise.

You hoped it wasn’t too early, you reached for your phone on the beside to check the time.

Instead you grabbed JJs. You could tell because it was cracked all over. You knew his password too, it was something like 911.

Nonetheless, you pressed the screen and saw the time it was 7:00am.

You decided to text Kie and see if she was awake. So you opened messages.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears. Nude photos of you were on JJ’s phone. You immediately felt sick inside, so vulnerable, so afraid. JJ saw these.

The tears fell, you were crying now. Not able to look at the photos anymore. You dropped the phone on the floor.

It made a somewhat loud noise, and soo after JJ entered the room.

He didn’t say anything until he saw you, he saw your face decorated with tears, “oh shit...what happened?” He said, oblivious as usual.

“N-nothing...I’m ..Im going home,” you muttered, sniffling and trying to walk past him.

“Hey, hey. Uh.. hold up. Didn’t you say you got locked out of your house,” JJ added.

“I’ll break a window,” you deadpanned, trying to get past him. Again he stepped infront.

“Y/n. Please hold up,” he gently grabbed both of your shoulders, so you were facing him.

But you avoided eye contact, you didn’t want him to see you cry.

“You- you can’t do this....how could you do this to me?” You shuffled, trying to push past him still.

“Do what?!” He asked, completely shocked.

“Whatever JJ. I don’t want to look at you. Get the fuck out of my way,” you demanded, pushing his hands off of you.

“Chill! Explain to me what I did Y/n/n,” he pleaded. JJ used your nickname, maybe to show that he really cared. Which was odd for him to show.

You sighed, realizing he was stronger than you anyways, you couldn’t get past him.

You opened your mouth to speak but instead more tears fell down your cheeks.

JJ sighed is sadness, pulling you into a hug. You didn’t return the hug. But felt nice to let him.

As he was hugging you, he finally noticed his phone on the floor, and understood what you had seen.

“This about those pictures? Y/n I swear I didn’t ask for them, some random person texted them to me last night while we were sleeping.” He explained.

You cried harder, finally clinging to JJs shirt.

“Why would he do that? JJ, I didn’t want you to see that. I didn’t even want them to be taken. I’m not a slut...please...” you mumbled, pleading for him to believe you.

“I know. I know okay? You’re beautiful. I’ll keep this between you and me okay? It’s gonna be okay.” JJ suggested, rubbing your back.

You’d never seen him so soft, maybe this was what you needed from him.

You told JJ that your ex sent them to him, and JJ took it upon himself to later beat him up until he deleted the photos and swore to never send them out again.

It took you a minute to see JJ the same way, he’s still your best friend. And maybe, you could appreciate his sweetness another way. Was it normal for best friends to share the bed together the way you do?

🤍 thanks for reading 🤍

JJ masterlist

#jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #outer banks #obx netflix #jj imagine jjxreader obx #obx jj #obx jj maybank x you #outerbanks #jj outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank x reader #pogues for life #obx kiara #jj maybank imagines #jj x reader outerbanks

339 notes · View notes