#i haven’t raided her tag in a bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muffinsin · 10 months ago

Note

the real miracle is someone still writing for her in 2024 XD i’ve been following you for a looong while for the re8 content(which is absolutely amazing), and accidentally stumbled upon some long gone Faith Seed fanfic from yearss ago, the brainworms came back and I remembered seeing that my favorite dimi sister writer also wrote about her and i went 👀👀👀So I was wondering if you’d be willing to write some relationship hc’s about Faith and a badass gn!s/o(they could be the deputy or a reader insert whichever you feel more comfortable with) who looks as mean and as tough as they come but are like an overgrown puppy around Faith. I know your blog is mainly nsfw buttt ik you make some exceptions for sfw content ;) Also it’s my first time ever requesting something instead of just lurking from the side so im sorry if everything sounds messy af😭

Honestly yeah, the ao3 tag even is bombarded with her brothers instead of her, it’s a struggle ;-;

But, as the famous line goes

“Fine, I’ll do it myself” XD, gladly so!

Let’s get into it! :))

Masterlists

Not relationship HCs yet but overall dep/reader being a soft puppy around her XD

Faith has been called many names in the past; daughter, friend, traitor, manipulator, child, herald

A monster. A liar

The one with the flowers

When you stumble to the henbane river, she wonders

What will your name for her be?

It seems, you haven’t quite made up your mind yet

Truthfully, she is awfully curious about you from the moment you’ve stepped into her region of the land

Word is, you’ve caused her brothers quite a bit of trouble

Especially John

Having burned silos left and right, raided bases and taken those that were meant to be “freed”

She ached to visit her brother, if only to catch a glimpse of you

Of course, this is forbidden. She is to stay within the henbane river region

Joseph will not debate on this, she knows

Oh, but what is she doing at the river when her interest lays in the valley?

This changes, one day, when she receives word of your appearance near one of her outposts

From within the flower field, she can’t help but watch you

Joseph surely doesn’t have to know she just watches idly as you take the gas station over

What’s the harm in losing one outpost, after all? She knows, she’ll get it back

It’s unusual for her to be this disobedient. She knows, the Father’s word is law

And she knows, he would disapprove of her curiosity

She is tasked to convert you, not watch as you advance into her territory

She can’t help herself, though

Your rough appearance, the guns and knives, bats and blades strapped to your body, the self crafted weapons she knows to be in your backpack…

The scars along your body, at the very least the ones she can see and are not covered by clothing

Like her, you have a reputation

Rough, badass, mean, unrelenting, stubborn, wrathful, arrogant, merciless

Like you, she doesn’t cling to these terms. These names

She wants to create her own picture of you. Find out who you are really

In a way, it’s her job, to analyse, to pull in, and to take

She jumps at another gunshot, fired into one of her angels. More and more follow

She pities the lives that are lost that day

Oddly enough, she sees you aiming for her flowerfield

Have you received warning about them? Likely

Faith watches from behind a tree as you step into it. She knows, she shouldn’t be this close

She shouldn’t be outside her bunker at all. She shouldn’t be outside the Bliss. Joseph would disapprove

It’s curiosity, though, that pulled her out

The same curiosity that had her find the cult in the first place, too, only pointed towards you this time

She watches, wide eyed, when you suddenly jump back

An illusion of hers, yes. You must see it

Now, Faith is no stranger to the reactions of those who see such illusions of her

She anticipates the gunshot, or the tight beat of the bat that will cause her form to turn to mist

But, you do neither of these things

You don’t attempt to kill her on sight, even if you’re not yet aware it’s not truly her

You don’t even attempt to make her disappear. Instead, you merely tilt your head to the side, as though trying to figure her out

You seem to attempt to talk to her, but she cannot hear. She’s too far away, too far from her Bliss to reach into it and hear your words

Faith shudders for a moment. She feels the ground below her, too hard for her liking. The air, too cold on her bare arms and legs. Her feet are dirtied

This is not the Bliss. She knows, she must return soon

But, you’re so captivating…

You merely stare at her, until the illusion seems to poof away and you shake your head

As you exit her field of white flowers and step away, she frowns

You aren’t burning them down, like the rest of this resistance you’re a part of

You aren’t quite following their goals, she suspects

As she watches you drive off again, her head turns to the sky, far too blue. It’s never this blue in the bliss

She knows, she must return

Faith is- confused- by you

At first, she believed you to be hostile towards everything

And you are, in a way, to most things

And yet, you’re so tender with the illusions you practically drag from her

Never before has someone stepped into her flower fields as often

Once, you attempted to reach out to her, and drew back in shock when she turned to mist

Faith cursed herself. She couldn’t help but wonder, then, how you felt

At the same time, Jacob’s words ring in her mind often enough

Of manipulation and danger, the danger you pose. The wrath you’re bringing, supposedly

Faith doesn’t understand. There is no wrath in the way you treat her, even if it isn’t quite her

She decides to pull you into the Bliss properly

She fiddles with the flower in her hand nervously as she sees you approach, cautious, but eager

No one is with you, it’s only you

Just the way she likes it

“You’re back”, you whisper

She can’t help but giggle a little

It’s rather: you’re back

Faith has been finding you in her flower fields nearly every hour, as though you’re searching for her

And she always appears to you, in the form of the smoke of the bliss

But yet, not this time. This time she drags you into it. This time it’s her

And it’s making her nervous. Has her wish to drag you into it personally made her foolish?

What if you notice it is her in the flesh and fire?

Jacob has warned her of the dangers of the resistance members

She tries not to let it show. She knows, she is meant to appear confident

Carefree

Her white dress flutters in the wind and she shivers

As she walks around her field, she notices you follow eagerly

You always keep your distance- the exact distance to avoid her illusions poofing away. You’ve been paying attention to them

You’re not farther away, nor closer

Until she stretches out her hand

“Let me show you the Bliss”, she whispers

To her surprise, your eyes and expression does not turn angry, or alarmed

You smile at her, and cautiously reach out

Faith automatically takes a step back when you suddenly step into her personal space

You’re grinning, a full on smile she has never heard anybody describe on you before

She didn’t think you would smile

“You’re real”, you realise. She gasps when you poke her shoulder

“Stop that!”, she giggles. She can’t help the peaceful moment

She’s not in the Bliss yet, this is the real world. Joseph has no way of knowing she’s allowing herself this interaction

You don’t pull your gun, nor your other weapons. In fact, your hands are empty as you reach for her again

“Show me”, you seem to plead

And Faith all too happily does

She laughs gleefully at the feeling of the Bliss around her, her lips pursing as she blows some of the powder to your face

As you awaken, you immediately move back to her side, now too in the world of her creation

She giggles, her fingertips stroking the petals of the flowers below her

She sees you follow her, no matter where she goes. When she steps back, you follow

She knows, her goal is to bring you into the Father’s statue, to test your faith

But she is curious, and is having to much fun

How come you are following her like a lost puppy?

How long will you indulge her?

She giggles happily and carelessly as she grasps your hand and runs through her flowerfield

The world seems so soft, so warm and light. She loves the sensation

Faith gasps when you come to a halt, her hand in yours tugged and keeping her from running again

Even in this world, you’re strong

For a moment, she fears what you will do, standing still with her hand clasped tightly in yours

You’re holding hers even tighter than she holds you, but not uncomfortably so. It doesn’t hurt her

In fact, you seem very careful around her, as though she was as petite as the flowers she is known for

The auburn haired woman watches wide eyed as you pick one, and another

She feels her face heat up even in this Bliss world of hers when they are handed to her

“For you”

Faith likes to think she isn’t one to easily fluster (Yes she is)

And yet, she finds herself with pink cheeks every time her dear deputy crosses her path

And it’s often, really

There are countless times she is summoned to one of her fields by your presence, doing her best to concentrate so she will not simply poof away when you near her

She knows, you won’t hurt her

And she knows, you travel alone, and don’t allow anybody else to do as much as aim at her

And each time she is summoned, she feels your leathery, gloved fingertips press against hers when you push another flower into her hand

It’s almost as though you’re retrieving them for her

She expects no less this time, but is surprised when she receives more

“Stay still?”, you ask

She knows, her brothers would scold her for her delusion and nativity, for she closes her eyes and stands still with her hands clasped together behind her back

She’s vulnerable to attacks, she knows this

But, funnily enough, she has faith in you

And this is not betrayed. No harm comes to her, only the feathery soft sensation of flower petals brushing against her head

First her cheeks, then her forehead

Her unpainted lips part when she feels you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear

Next, something is sat on her head

Faith knows the familiar sensation of a flower crown

“Okay, open!”

She adores your excitement

Faith smiles as she opens her eyes, bright and happy when she raises her hand and petite fingertips brush against the white flower petals

You smile down at her, wide and happy, satisfied with yourself

“Thank you”

She knows, in time you too have put your faith in her

Not Joseph. Her

She never speaks of your soft nature to anyone

She never lets anybody know how you are around her when she hears of the trouble you’re causing her brothers whenever you venture into their regions

She isn’t stressed when you leave the henbane river

You always return

With gifts, usually, such as honey and apples from a farm in the valley

Or perhaps even magazines, and once- Faith remembers, you even retrieved her a red dress found in the mountains region of Hope County

She didn’t have the heart to tell you she was to only wear the white one gifted to her by Joseph

Still, she likes to look at it and hold it in front of her at mirrors in her base, the fabric tucked away in a suitcase under her bed

She also notices in time- you’re quite touchy with her

Whether in the real world or the Bliss, you like to stick close, and ideally hold onto her

She knows, you’re fond of holding her hand

At other times you like to pick flowers and hand them to her. Faith is not stupid, but allows you the action as an excuse to touch her

She often feels your hand on her hip, playing with the fabric of her dress

Never do you tug

Never would you dare attempt to tear it

You’re careful with her, clingy and sweet, and in return, she’s free with you

A secret shared between the two of you

#faith seed #far cry 5

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sapphicsaints · 2 years ago

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sweet solutions

Tamar Kir-Bataar x female reader

NSFW

A/N: I'm still new to writing these, but theres not a lot of Tamar Kir-Bataar fics anywhere so I figured I'd try my best :) I'd love any feedback.

Summary: You keep slipping your guards and Tamar comes up with a solution.

Warnings: Mentions of violence and slightly spicy content.

Word Count: 3.1k

You were sick of Nikolai’s hovering. Ever since the civil war ended and you returned home, he insisted on always having guards with you. The last straw was when he decided you needed two extra guards – even though there hadn’t been any assassination attempts in months, let alone on palace grounds.

That night, you convinced a friend to tailor you, and snuck out your window with her at night, going to have a few drinks in one of the many taverns. Later, after she’d fixed your face, you stumbled back through your window, landing on the carpeted floor with an oof. You groaned and slowly pushed yourself up, just to see Tamar sitting on her bed.

“Oh, you’re finally back”, she said.

“Yes, why are you in my room?”.

“Why do you think?”

“You wanted to raid my closet” You answered, swaying back and forth with a cheeky smile.

Tamar glared at her, and your mouth snapped shut – her gaze was furious.

Tamar’s hands rubbed over her face, “I have eyes everywhere”, she said finally. “I haven’t told your brother yet but you’re getting reckless”.

“Who gave you the right to spy on me?”

“Who gave you the right to sneak away in the middle of the night!”

“I didn’t need the right” you yelled, “I’m not some naive little girl”.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow”, Tamar said, she pulled you into a hug and kissed the top of your forehead. “Go to bed”.

She headed out the door and you flipped her off behind her back.

“I saw that”, she yelled out. You’d forgotten about the mirrors.

You brushed your teeth, washed your face, threw your clothes off, not bothering to change into a nightgown, and collapsed on your bed into a restless sleep. You never could sleep well after drinking.

-Break-

You woke up to knocking on your door.

“Go away” you yelled, pulling your pillow over your head.

“I’m coming in”, you heard Tamar’s voice.

She took one look at you sprawled out, half-naked, on your bed and threw a dressing gown at you. You caught it, sat up, and tied it around yourself.

“You didn’t like the view?”, you said with a pout

“Oh I liked it”, Tamar winked, “But it’s a bit distracting right now”. You rolled your eyes.

You rubbed your temples, trying to ease the headache from your hangover. “Any chance you’ll help me with the headache”.

“Nope. You earned that”.

You groaned and threw a pillow at her, which she dodged before walking over to sit next to you on the couch.

“I can get your brother to loosen up on the guards”, she said.

It seemed too good to be true, you narrowed your eyes, “what’s the catch?”

“I teach you how to fight”.

You shuddered. You’d been able to draw with Tamar once. Just once. And you still considered that one of her biggest achievements. The girl was uncanny in a fight – silent and as cold as steel. She loved to tease and antagonize you too, or at least she used to. The two of you hadn’t sparred since Spinning Wheel.

Your stomach dropped thinking of that place. You’d gone back once to visit with Nikolai and the twins after the war ended. Nikolai decided to permanently close the base, as a memorial. There were too many painful memories littering that large room, the halls, the four flights of stairs that were angels compared to the giant metal contraption Nikolai had rigged.

You’d barely survived the escape from Spinning Wheel, tagging along with a group of first army soldiers. You’d served in the first army as infantry – following in your brother's footsteps. Marksmanship was your best skill – and you could hit a target 500 feet away easily. It was pure luck you came across the Soldat Sol and Alina’s group a few days before the ambush. Luckily, they recognized you and you convinced them to let you join in on the ambush.

“It’s my country too” you argued. You proved your skills with a rifle and they let you fight. Alina had argued against you going, but Tamar stood up for you. You’d grown closer since she’d decided to stay at the little palace. Neither of you had put an official label on what you had, but you both understood you were exclusive – Tamar had a jealous streak. Something you liked to tease her about, in good faith. Your brother liked to dangle the possibility of an engagement to you with influential nobles and foreigners as a bargaining tool. He knew not to cross the line and try and set up a real engagement, last time he brought up marriage you decked him in the face. His pride prevented him from getting the bruise healed. There was zero chance you’d end up with some grubby-handed noble, and your brother understood that.

You came out of your daze, turning to look at Tamar

“When do we start?”

“I have some things to do but I’ll find you mid-afternoon”.

You nodded, “Alright”.

Tamar gave you a quick kiss before you left. You caught yourself smiling for a few moments after she left, holding a hand up to your lips,

“Pathetic” you mumbled under your breath.

Tamar did find you later in the library, you were brushing up on some liturgical Ravkan. It was horribly dull but you wanted to keep up with your language studies. She laughed at your choice of reading and put the book aside before pulling you up out of your seat. You were excited about the lesson.

“No weapons”, Tamar said, starting to off her axes, pistols, dagger, and all of the other weapons she carried on her at what seemed like all times.

‘She probably sleeps with them’ you thought.

You took out your pistol, pulled the daggers out of your boot, inside your shirt, and the ones tucked into your waistband. The war had left a sense of paranoia in you, and your weapons almost felt like a safety blanket. You felt a bit naked without them.

“Your hair knife”, Tamar said with an amused expression

“I almost forgot about that, thank you” You replied genuinely, and you had forgotten about it. It was a dull blade – it wouldn’t cut through your hair, but someone would feel it if you jammed it into their eyes. Once that was removed, you both took up your stances. Tamar tweaked your form, pushing your front elbow in slightly.

You felt nerves trickle up into her, you’re a little rusty on hand-to-hand combat – and haven’t been practicing as much as you should’ve. Tamar leapt into action without warning – silent, cold, and deadly as always. Your nerves started to disappear as you dodged the first blow, and the second, the third landed and winded you a bit, but you aimed a knee right for Tamar’s stomach – and it hit before the other girl lifted your knee to push you right on your back. You wasted no time rolling to her feet, skipping the kick, and this time running straight towards her, you faked a blow to Tamar’s stomach and went straight for the headbutt, your forehead smashing into her nose. It was something of a classic move of yours. But, Tamar didn’t miss a beat. She took the chance to trip you, and fell on top of you, straddling your waist. When you kept trying to punch her, she pinned your wrists down to your side.

Tamar was too strong for you to buck off with your hips, so you just squirmed as much as you could, bringing her leg up to push against a certain area … Tamar jumped in surprise and you took the chance to flip her over, you on top this time. She hesitated too long, and Tamar flipped you so your back was pressed against her chest, her legs locking yours down, and with you in a headlock.

Tamar POV

Y/N did well in their first round. Tamar released her from the hold and stood up, offering the other girl a hand, she yanked her up, so her mouth was close to her ear. “Good one princess”, she said in a low tone. Her face flushed and she pushed Tamar away. Tamar loved teasing her, they’d grown closer since Tamar and Tolya decided to stay on with the King. Everyone knew they were together in some way, but the two of them hadn’t put a label on anything.

“Again”, she said.

They went another round. The fight lasted almost the same length, and Y/N was giving everything she had, Tamar didn’t hold back. It ended with Y/N on her back again, Tamar straddling her – carefully positioned so she couldn’t pull the same trick, although Tamar thought she really wouldn’t mind it. She shook that thought from her head before standing and offering another hand. She whispered in her ear again this time,

“I think you can do better than that”.

Tamar saw the fire build in Y/N’s eyes. The last round was a good one, Y/N’s movements were more aggressive, and she hesitated less – but she had some tells. She would give the smallest bounce before she made any move. Although she seemed on fire, Tamar could sense her growing tired. Y/N had landed awkwardly at some point, and even though she got back up – Tamar noticed her wincing and favoring her left shoulder. Tamar ended the fight quickly.

She stood up again, on shaky legs, “another”.

Tamar shook her head, “that’s enough for today”.

“Come on, please”

“No”, Tamar gave Y/N a look that told her it was the end of the conversation. Y/N rolled her eyes but let Tamar wrap her arm around her waist and lead her back inside. She walked her to her doors, intending to say goodnight there but Y/N pulled her inside, closing the doors behind her.

“Why haven’t you actually kissed me yet?” Y/N blurted out. They’d been flirting and dodging around each other for weeks. Tamar relished the stolen moments, small kisses, and general affection they had together but feared pushing anything too far.

Tamar’s eyes raised, “Why haven’t you kissed me?”

“Because I’ve been waiting on you”.

Tamar reached for her, one arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against her body – the other hand came up to fist the hair on the back of her head. The kiss wasn’t gentle, it was rough and full of passion.

Y/N looked down at her clothes, “I need to change”. She walked off to the corner without another word and started stripping out of her clothes. She threw them into a corner before walking towards her bathroom, “feel free to join me”, she said turning back to look at Tamar, as she headed to fill up her bath.

Y/N must have seen how Tamar’s jaw dropped through a mirror, she said “Close your mouth. You’ll catch flies”

Her mouth snapped shut, her cheeks flushing. Tamar wasn’t surprised often, but Y/N seemed to have a knack for it.

“At least I’m not on duty tonight”, she thought to herself. Tamar wanted Y/N to be officially hers. They’d dodged around the conversation for a while, preferring to show each other how they felt through actions. They’d also avoided anything too intimate – holding hands, cuddling, and small kisses were about all they’d shared.

She was lost in her thoughts for a few moments before she stripped and followed the princess into the bathroom. She admired her figure, lean muscle, with scars littering her arms and torso. A black sun tattoo stands out on her upper right shoulder. Tamar had given it to her the night before the ambush. She turned and caught sight of her rosy, pale nipples and forced herself to look Y/N in the eyes.

Y/N POV

“Like what you see?” You asked with a flourish, filling the bath with hot, soapy water. You were pleasantly surprised Tamar had decided to follow her. It was your boldest move yet – and she was hoping it would pay off.

“Yes, yes I do” Tamar’s eyes were roaming over her body, taking in every inch of her. You were doing the same, from the glint of muscle on her forearms to the perfect shape of her breasts, and the chiseled lines built into her stomach.

You turned and climbed into the tub, waving Tamar over to follow you. The other girl rolled her eyes, it was a ridiculously oversized tub, ornate and ugly. You hated it and knew Tamar thought it was obscene.

“This is the gaudiest tub I’ve ever seen”, you commented as she settled in the water. Tamar moved behind her, letting you rest up against her – she hummed in contentment.

“Let me clean you up”, she said – Tamar reached for a rag and started dabbing at your split lip from training and scrubbed away the dirt you’d accumulated during the day. You turned around and returned the favor. You sat, enjoying each other’s presence, till the water started turning cold. Tamar climbed out first, lending you her hand, and grabbed two towels for both of you.

You toweled yourself off, heading towards your wardrobe. You found a pair of comfortable loose black pants that looked like they could fit Tamar, and a rough spun top. You tossed them towards her and Tamar caught them gracefully, slipping on the clothes.

You looked out the window, it was getting late – the sun had already set – and they’d missed dinner. Towel wrapped around you, you turned to Tamar, “will you spend the night with me?” you asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

“If you want me to I will”.

“But do you want to” You pushed

“I do” Tamar smiled, she slipped around her and pulled out one of her old nightgowns she never uses anymore –

“Here, I like this,” she said, you elbowed her but Tamar’s expression was serious. You sighed and dramatically rolled your eyes,

“If you insist,” you said, quickly slipping it on. You grabbed a blue dressing gown and tied it around herself, “wait here”, she said, heading towards the doorway, “I’ll get us some dinner”.

You took a secret passage out to the kitchens and saw Enya in there, cleaning up the last of dinner.

“Any leftovers for me?” You asked

Enya jumped, “Quit scaring me”, she threw a towel at you. You ducked it and laughed. You’d grown up around Enya, and she was one of the few adults that didn’t treat her differently.

“I’ll send you up a tray, now shoo,” she said.

“Could it be two?” You asked.

Enya hmphed but nodded, waving you away.

You hurried back to her room as quickly as you could. You were happy Tamar was still inside, leaning back in an armchair, reading one of your books. She closed it as you entered the room.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Getting us some food” you smiled.

“You could’ve rung for someone? That’s what your brother does”

“I like to visit Enya”

“You know the kitchen staff?” Tamar asked, without a tone of surprise, more one of admiration

“I did grow up here” you replied to her.

You flopped down onto Tamar’s lap. “I hate these rooms”

“Hm … why?” Tamar started kissing down her shoulder, biting gently near her neck as Y/N let out a small moan.

“They’re too lonely”.

Tamar stopped and turned her head to look at her. The other girl shrugged her shoulders and Tamar pulled her in for a kiss.

“Move in with me”, she said without thinking.

“I would in a heartbeat”

“What would your brother say?”

“Who cares”

“He is technically my employer”

“He would never get rid of you”

Tamar just hummed in reply.

“Plus, he hasn’t quit telling me to make a move on you”

Tamar leaned back to look at her, “Funny. Zoya’s been saying the same thing to me”.

“Maybe we’re both just idiots”

“Just you, princess”.

“Okay, humbug”

“No”, Tamar started laughing

“Humbug” Y/N said in a sing-song voice.

Tamar pinched her side, Y/N squirmed in her lap, “Quit doing that”.

Tamar whispered into her ear “Quit moving like that”.

“Are you sure you want me to”, she answered, slightly breathless

Then, a knock sounded on the door and you leapt up to answer it. You opened it and found two trays left on a table outside, ‘Enya must’ve told them to do that’, you thought.

You smiled and brought the food in – it was your favorite type of meal. A bowl of some sort of stew, some bread, and grapes. You threw a grape at Tamar, who caught it in her mouth.

You ate in silence; you didn’t realize how hungry you both were and devoured your food – it tasted like heaven. After you finished, you silently stood up to take the trays back outside the door. When you turned back around, you started to feel shy – and maybe a bit insecure.

Tamar POV

As Y/N turned back to look at her, Tamar could see the hesitation on her face. She stood up to meet Y/N halfway, and pulled her into her arms, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

Y/N pulled her face back to look at Tamar, she leaned up on her toes and kissed her, “yes”, she said and kissed her again.

Tamar grinned before picking her up and spinning her around. Y/N laughed, and it was a sweet sound. She picked her up, letting her wrap her legs around her waist, and carried her to the bed. They collapsed onto it together, a tangle of limbs and laughter.

“Can we just sleep?” Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

“Of course, love,” Tamar said, she pulled the girl in closer, and let her cuddle up on her chest. She ran her fingers through her hair, and slowly fell asleep – listening to the sound of her heartbeat.

Y/N is an early riser like Tamar, she felt the other girl slip out of bed in the morning. She sat up to see Y/N standing next to one of the mirrors in the room, tilting her head to the side. Y/N slowly turned around, hands on her hips,

“TAMAR KIR-BATAAR” she screeched.

“Yes?” she answered slowly.

“What is this?” Y/N pointed at a purple bruise forming on her neck, stalking back over to the bed.

“It’s a gift” Tamar grinned.

“Take it back”

“No”

“Can’t you fix it?”

“I won't”

Y/N groaned and Tamar pulled her in for another kiss.

#tamar x reader #tamar kir bataar x reader #tamar kir bataar #shadow and bone #grishaverse #grishaversefanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #grishaverse imagine

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blueeyeswhitegarden · 1 year ago

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Day 29: Into the Games! @arcvmonth

I wanted to have more proper Arc V video games so badly back while the series was running. I would have paid some good money for a 3DS Arc V game. I'm not surprised that didn't really happen. While I liked a lot of the DS era YGO games, I suspect that they weren't selling well in either Japan or the U.S. So the Arc V World in Duel Links is probably the closest we'll get for a Arc V video game and I really love it. I had been waiting for years for that update and it was worth the wait. Honestly, I was just happy to get new artwork of the characters and lines recorded by the cast. That has always been one of the selling points of Duel Links in my opinion, along with the character interactions.

I adore seeing the new artwork for the characters. I love that their victory and defeat poses often are references to poses they made in the anime too. I love getting to hear the voice actors record new dialogue for their characters. Getting to hear Yuya and Yuzu perform an Action Duel chant while loading up Duel Links is a thing of beauty. I do wish that there were more dialogue reactions when they face off against a new character, but that's been a bit of an issue with Duel Links for awhile and they'll still have some unique reactions when characters duel each other. I adore getting to hear new lines for all of the cast, but especially Yuya and Yuzu. Hearing their unique lines when they duel each other is so sweet. I love getting new music for the characters. Getting mew mats and sleeves based around the Arc V cast and their cards has been really fun too. I loved the Action Duel events. Getting to hear different characters perform the Action Duel chant has been great and I love getting to see some of the Action Fields. The Action Duel event with chibi Yuya riding on Odd Eyes Pendulum Dragon was really cute too. I love that the Arc V cast is included in the Riding Duel Tournaments. Having a few more characters and skills as options really made getting to the end of that tournament actually doable for me. I love the Tag Duel Tournaments featuring the Arc V cast teaming up together. Seeing different team ups between different characters is really fun.

Getting to unlock the first few characters shortly after the update when live was so great. I love being able to play as the Arc V characters. I finally got to use Pendulum cards for the first time. I don't play the game outside of video games, so this was my first experience with actually using the summoning method and it was so great. I love being able to use both Performapal cards and Odd Eyes cards. Yuya's current skill to get Odd Eyes Raging Dragon is so cool and probably a bit too overpowered, but I love power decks, so getting an easier way to summon his new Dragon is pretty cool. I love playing Melodious cards as Yuzu and this is where my desire for Pendulum support for that archetype started. I really love playing Reiji's D/D/D deck. It has been a huge help in every Riding Duel Tournament since they started to include Arc V characters. Getting to play Superheavy Samurai with Gongenzaka at last was so great too. I'm still getting used to Raid Raptor cards with Shun, still don't have a lot of cards I need for Yuto's Phantom Knights deck and haven't done much with Sawatari's decks yet, but I've enjoyed playing with pretty much every character. I'm trying to get Sora's skills while getting used to his Frightfur deck. I need to work on Yugo's Speedroid deck since the one I used during his event was really good too. I'm looking forward to getting Serena later this month since I'll be able to use Lunalight monsters with her too. I love a lot of archetypes introduced in Arc V, so finally getting to use them has been a lot of fun. So far, I've only fully leveled up Yuya, Yuzu and Reiji, but I'm also trying to just enjoy dueling as the Arc V cast instead of just level grinding them like I do with most of the other characters in different worlds.

The character interactions and events have been really great too. Sometimes Duel Links will provide interactions for characters you never thought of bringing together. I think Yuto not having memories when he first arrived made a lot of sense given he was the first to merge with Yuya. Sora apologizing to Yuto was also really nice. While I don't like that Shun's event kind of fueled the notion that he was sad and alone post finale, an interpretation that I strongly disagree with, his reunion with Yuto was still nice too. I loved getting to see Yuya and Shun interact again too since I liked their friendship. Getting to see Yuya and Yugo interact was really fun too. Honestly getting to see Yugo in general interact with the cast was fun. I never really had a problem with how isolated he was from most of the cast. I figured that was kind of the point given that he and Yuya meeting each other could have led to Zarc's revival even sooner. While I don't consider this a canon continuation of the anime, it still provided some interesting ideas like Yuzu having some memories from other other counterparts and that merging instantly allowed the Dragon Boys to understand each other. I think that those are cool concepts for this post-canon AU setting for the characters

I prefer the implication that Yuto, and by extension all of the counterparts that will appear in Duel Links, recreation based on memories instead of actually unmerging with Yuya and Yuzu. I think that makes more sense within the lore of Duel Links, it's what they heavily implied at the end of the Yuto event given that Yuya felt that Yuto was still a part of him and doesn't negate the anime's ending. I actually like the ending, so while I can understand why fans want the counterparts to get their own bodies back, I'm a bit to burned out by that premise after all these years to really get behind it at this point. Although, I'm positive that they're using the counterparts appearing less as a means to change the anime's ending and more so to buildup to future events, especially Zarc. It seems like they've been hinting at Zarc's inevitable arrival in Duel Links since the end of the Yuto event. It seems like they've been acting as if they have really unmerged starting with the Shun event, but I don't know if that's a translation issue or just an issue with how it's framed, especially with my interpretation of the characters and ending in mind. I'm also probably really over thinking things about a mobile gotcha game designed to eat our money, but it has admittedly kind of upset me with the last couple of events, especially when I'll see comments using Duel Links to further complain about the anime. It doesn’t sour the events for me fortunately, but it is a bit upsetting to say the least.

Given the lore behind Duel Links itself and some of my issue with the characterizations or framing in mind, I still think it makes more sense to see the Arc V World as basically a post canon AU fan fic rather than a continuation of the anime, or at least I think it makes more sense that way. I'm still happy to have new Arc V content and getting to play as the cast has been something I've wanted to do for years, so I'm more than happy that it exists.

I also want to give a mention to Cross Duel. I love getting to see 3D models of the Arc V cast and new dialogue as you level up your friendship is wonderful too. I really liked the Sawatari event too. It made him more endearing than I thought it would. I don't dislike Sawatari, but he just came off as more likable than I was expecting, especially when it seemed like he was more genuine about Entertainment Duels. It was a nice surprise and a fun event that turned out to be the only Arc V event for Cross Duel. I still need to unlock all of Yuya's lines at least, but it is a shame that the game couldn't even last a full year. I'm not surprised since the gameplay itself is really not fun. It's rather tedious and relies too much on gotcha luck and skill mechanics for the monsters. Honestly, they should have leaned more towards this being the friendship/dating YGO simulator fans have always wanted since that was the main selling point of the game. Either that or just make it a Tag Force mobile game featuring characters from across the franchise since fans would have been all over that too. I still really love getting more Arc V content from this game as well and I hope that those resources can be somehow used in future games. Getting the voice actors to record new lines and animating the 3D models probably wasn't cheap, so hopefully they can be used again in the future at least.

#Arc V #Arcvmonth

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marvelmusing · 3 years ago

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The Other Side

Mob Boss!Billy Russo (Jigsaw) x Fem!Reader AU Overview

A/N: I’ve got a few ideas for some little drabbles for this AU but I wanted to post a bit of background first.

My Masterlist

The events of the Punisher season one are the same, with Billy betraying Frank, and the showdown at the carousel which leaves Billy scarred.

When he wakes up, the majority of his memories are intact though he feigns amnesia to manipulate his therapist - Dr Durmont.

He’s familiar with people using him to achieve their own means, and he can see that Durmont is slowly becoming infatuated with him.

So, once he’s broken out of the hospital he seeks out Durmont who provides him with a place to stay, and access to a number of other former soldiers which he recruits into his business.

From there, Billy rebuilds his empire.

He picks up contacts he knew through Rawlins, establishing himself as a name in the weapons smuggling business.

He makes his money, buying more and more of the city, until he owns a number of clubs and hotels, establishing his territory clearly.

Durmont was a means to an end, though there were times where Billy believed her words. That she was the only one who would ever look out for him.

He kills her himself. As a statement to her, and himself, that he doesn’t need anyone to look out for him.

Then you appear.

You work for the FBI or some other government agency.

You had heard about the nickname he had earned from the scars on his face - Jigsaw. No one ever called him Billy. It was Mr Russo, or Jigsaw. He had any images of him wiped from as many databases as possible. Aside from an old grainy photo from his time in Afghanistan, you didn’t know what he looked like.

You were impressed by how quickly he had established himself in the city’s underground activity. Of course, that meant your workload increased, so you weren’t too impressed.

It was after yet another fruitless raid on a warehouse by the docks, when you receive the first phone call from him.

At first, you’re terrified. He’s remarkably casual as you talk - though in truth he does the majority of the talking - his voice is smooth and light and you find yourself still reeling hours later. You’re wary as you walk home that night, constantly looking over your shoulder.

In his next phone call, he assures you that he doesn’t mean you any harm. Which only proves that he was watching you the other night. You’re not sure whether you’re actually reassured by that.

The next time you’re tired and stressed when he calls, and you end up snapping at him. As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re frozen in fear. But then he laughs softly, a genuine laugh that you’ve never heard from him before.

From that point onwards, you accept that he’s too clever for you to actually catch him, and he certainly isn’t going to stop his phone calls, so you might as well enjoy the company.

Billy grows attached to you quite quickly. He ensures your safety, buying your apartment building through a few of his subsidiary companies. He keeps tabs on you, sometimes even tailing you himself just to make sure you’re safe.

Part of him wants to keep you at a distance. He doesn’t want to rely on anyone. Now that he’s finally fought his way to the top again, he can’t afford to have a weakness. Even though he won’t admit it, he’s also afraid of your rejection. Whilst you seem to be warming up to him, you haven’t seen his face. He’s convinced himself that, should you see his face, your interest in him will turn to disgust.

Whilst you’re curious about his scars, you’re far too occupied by the fact that you might be falling for this incredibly dangerous criminal. Which will put your career, and entire life in jeopardy.

»»---------------------►

Billy Russo Tag List: @blackbirddaredevil23 @restingbitchsblog @tiredbeebo @rafaelakelley @theysayitscrazy @hummelmi @nyx2021 @skybridgerton @dragon-of-winterfell @profoundme444 @misstimeless

#billy russo #mob boss!jigsaw #mob boss!billy russo #the punisher au #billy russo imagine #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo drabble #billy russo the punisher #marvel au #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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thyshadowwriter · 3 years ago

Text

Lost & Found. Chapter 3.

Ivar Ragnarsson x oc.

Summary: being rescued by Helga in one of the raids and reluctantly tolerated by Floki, a young girl finds herself amidst a strange place with strange people, but if adapting to the cultural shock wasn't hard enough, catching the attention of the volatile and beloved son of the Queen would soon prove to be the ultimate proving. That is if she realizes just how much being around prince Ivar is walking on thin ice.

Author's note: family dynamics and fluff.

Tagging: @youbloodymadgenius

Understandment is hard when you can't speak to each other, but gestures may reach further than words.

--------

A few weeks after they returned, Floki's home had fallen into a strangely peaceful routine.

Floki would do his work, busy with Bjorn's request, while Helga would teach Revna their language for hours a day, every day, their voices being background noise for him.

Helga was radiant with joy. She loved taking care of Revna, spending a lot of time combing the long hair and doing beautiful and intricate braids while talking to her, to which Revna would sometimes reply and even if they couldn't understand each other an odd sort of dialogue would emerge.

While this arrangement made Floki uneasy, he could be thankful for his wife's happiness, she hasn't been happy in a long time. Even if happiness was a passing moment, it hurt him that Helga carried so much sorrow, most of which, if not all, he knew to be his fault.

Now, Revna was sitting on the chair shaking her leg and looking down, Floki occasionally looked at her and he didn't need to understand her words to understand her lately. She wasn't allowed outside yet and that was getting to her.

Helga came with a bowl of stew for Revna and tried to hand it to her.

"Here, I brought you food." Helga said to Revna.

She looked at the food then turned her head away to the floor and continued shaking her leg.

"You need to eat to get better, please." Helga tried to reason with her.

Revna answered with a small grunt, resting her head on her hand.

"What is it, my dear? You were doing so well." Helga said to her stroking her hair.

The girl didn’t answer, but Floki did it for her:

"She's bored, Helga. I think she wants to go out."

The realization dawned on Helga, making her smile kindly to the girl, carefully caressing her head. Poor thing, she had every right to be bored, but Helga wanted her to get stronger before facing the city.

Helga sat behind Revna and cupped her face, making the girl look at her. She spoke softly, trying to make her understand:

"I know you're bored, but you need to get strong before I show you Kattegat" she gestured to the door "I'll show you everywhere, but please, keep eating well and get better."

The girl studied her face for a while, then gave her a pout but accepted the food. She ate slowly and in small portions, an empty stare in her eyes.

That was good, Helga thought, that was great. She begged the gods for another child and they gave her one, a beautiful girl that she had already fallen in love with and would do everything in her power to protect.

Not long after, the door swung open and Ivar came into their room, dragging himself until he was inside and on his usual spot like that was his second home, which has been since the day his mother brought him there.

"Hello, Floki. Hello Helga." Ivar greeted them.

"Ivar." Floki greeted him back, spotting right away the faux innocent smile the young prince had whenever he was up to be a pain in someone’s ass.

Ivar turned his attention to the girl, who was eating and either uncaring or ignoring his presence.

"Revna." He said her name with a slight pitch to his voice and squinting at her. He had her name memorized from the odd fit it made for her, but mainly it was for the fact she slapped his hand. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, and no one that ever as much as said something wrong to Ivar got to live much longer, let alone someone stupid enough to try their luck against him, those he took delight in dealing with. Though to Revna, he probably was just a harmless cripple. Ignorance is bliss, he thought.

Revna, apparently taken back from her thoughts, looked at him. Her dark eyes gazing upon him with a spark of curiosity and interest. She had memorized his face after his first visit, how could she not? The complete stranger with very blue eyes, pale skin and a fingertips rough and calloused like the ones found on peasants, slaves or warriors. This complete stranger that touched her like it was normal or acceptable, the nerve!

The voice in her mind screamed: ‘Was it normal to him?’, “Is this normal these strange people I’m living with?’, ‘Was that how he acted around outsiders?’, ‘What am I even doing here?’, ‘What will they do to me?’ Questions, questions, they came and went in circles for all these days.

But she put a stop to them for now, like it or not, for good or ill, he was the only other sight she had other than the couple, she could indulge in a quick distraction from the walls of the home she was living in that were starting to feel smaller by each day.

"Ivar." She said, looking straight at him, trying to pronounce what she inferred to be his name as best as she could. Adding a pitch to her pronunciation, just like he did, just because she could.

His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side, stare fixed on her and her every minimal movement. He was sincerely surprised that she actually spoke directly at him.

His name on her lips was carried by a foreign accent, it sounded different, almost like it belonged to someone else, but her gaze on him, with expectancy in her eyes and a hint of pride on the corners of her lips turned slightly upward left no doubt she indeed meant him.

Ivar heard her before, annoyed and agitated at his first visit, so he hoped to have the same effect, but now that she spoke camly, trying to pronounce his name correctly and seemingly proud of herself for it, she threw him off balance. He had expected the annoyance she had from before, he expected her disgust at him as she wasn't pleased with his touch, why would she want the hands of a cripple on her? He even expected fear from her, but he didn't expect to hear his name slow and soft on her lips, he didn’t expect to hear her trying to reach out for him and how his own name would sound so foreign coming from her lips.

He wanted her to say it again, wanted to hear the strange way his name sounded from her, but he didn’t know how to demand it, so he nodded at her, not really knowing what to say, not that it would matter. She probably wouldn’t understand him anyway.

Revna smiled proudly to herself, a beautiful smile, if he had to say anything, he mimicked her smile shyly, though he quickly felt self conscious under her gaze and looked away, trying to find somewhere other than her eyes to look at, but nothing seemed to quite hold his attention.

Ivar felt as Revna looked away from him and continued to eat, he glanced a few times at her, the shy smile he held gone as she paid him no further attention. He noticed, however, how her legs began shaking in a slow, lazy rhythm. A stream of thoughts began in his mind: ‘Is she playing with me?’, ‘Is she bothered by my presence?’, ‘Does she pity me?’, a frown forming on his face with each thought.

He turned his attention to Helga, who was distracted with the girl's hair:

"I haven't seen her around yet. Why? When are you going to show her off?” he made a pause before adding the last part venomously “Unless she is to be a house slave."

"She's no slave, Ivar. We're adopting her." Helga corrected him, a tad annoyed at the slave mention.

"Then why haven't I seen her outside, hm? If she's to live here as a free woman, then she needs to know her way around."

"It's too soon yet. She doesn't speak our language."

"It’s not too soon, it’s been weeks! And if all the problem is that she doesn’t speak our language, then it’s another reason to do it. She'll learn much faster by experience."

"I'll take her out when she's ready." Helga answered a bit tense. She didn't want to go into detail of why she was so careful but she also didn’t want to lie to Ivar, who by the frown seemed to be growing angry.

"She seems ready enough." He said pointing to her legs.

Revna stopped shaking her legs, staring at Ivar wide eyed and lips slightly parted as she just took the spoon from her mouth. She arched an eyebrow looking lost as a puppy in the forest. Good, Ivar thought. Revna then looked confused from him to Helga, who caressed her face reassuringly.

"So, why don't you take her outside?" Ivar insisted.

Helga couldn't find an answer to stop Ivar's questioning and looked to her husband for help. Floki seemed entertained, holding a smile of his own, but as soon as he felt his wife’s eyes on him and her silent plea he intervened.

"Since when do you care about things that don't involve you?" Asked Floki.

"What?" Ivar countered astonished, "What do you mean by it? Of course it involves me. I was in this home before her, I have a say in whether she can stay or not."

"Is that so?” Floki said amused, “In this case what your mighty self has to say?"

Without missing a beat and with a self assured tone that didn’t transpired his shyness just a moment ago, he answered:

"I say this girl better adapt to our ways else she brings the wrath of the gods down on us..."

"The gods love her, Ivar. They gave her to me." Helga interrupted him. She realized the mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.

"How can you be so sure?" He inquired, renewed curiosity in his eyes.

"I just know it."

"If you say..." he eyed her suspiciously, before continuing to Floki, "...I say she better learn manners. No one should dare to hit a prince and go off unscathed."

Floki chuckled from his spot then said:

"You deserved that one. You could have used some other way of introducing yourself rather than touching someone you’ve never seen before and is not here as a slave. However, I thank the gods for letting me witness your face that day."

"You old fool..."

"Ivar. Be patient with her." Helga said to Ivar softly. She was very aware of how badly he took insults, even when none existed.

"I am patient,” he countered, “but the girl needs manners."

"Ivar..." Called Floki.

Ivar sighed before continuing:

"However, I am willing to forgive her for you,” he said looking at Helga “and an apology from the girl, once she learns how to speak our language, of course."

"Ivar, she's just a child, give her some time, I'm sure she'll adapt." Said Helga, looking at Ivar while she tied the end of one of the braids on Revna's hair.

Ivar lived with them long enough to see she truly wanted that girl to be part of their lives. He had seen the glimpses of sadness throughout his upbringing, the lost gaze Helga had when she thought no one was looking, the unsettling feeling that lurked under the surface when she saw mothers with their newborn babies. Perhaps the surprise wasn't that she took a girl to raise, but that she took that long to do it.

But he loathed the idea that in Floki’s home would live someone that would regard him in the same way the rest of Kattegat did, an outsider to add insult to injury.

"If you say, I'll try to tolerate her. If at least she can pretend to not be annoyed whenever I’m here.” Ivar said as he pointed to Revna.

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about her shaking her legs was irritating him. If it was the repetitive pattern, the slow rhythm, the proximity of her feet to him, or what was to him, a clear display of her displeasure with his presence. Though why would she have smiled at him with that beautiful smile if she was annoyed by him?

‘She’s playing you’, His own mind answered the question.

Both Helga and Floki looked to each other confused as to what he meant, Floki being the one that asked:

"What do you mean by that? She doesn’t even know who you are to be annoyed at you."

He pointed to Revna’s legs, this time the girl didn’t even bother to look at him and continued eating as if there wasn’t an annoyed young man pointing at her for no reason at all. Which bothered Ivar even more.

Floki couldn’t help but laugh. It was like he was a naughty child again that got all pouty and angry until he got things his way. At least he didn’t scream anymore. Not as frequently at least. His boy was maturing.

"She's bored, Ivar. Been like that for a few days, it has nothing to do with you." Floki made a point to emphasize the last part.

Ivar stared at Floki speechless. His eyes open wide, darting from Floki to the surroundings as his lips parted, which pretty much told the boatbuilder that the young prince hadn’t considered a possibility that didn’t involve him. He then rolled his head before asking:

"Then what have you been doing with her all this time?"

"We’ve been taking care of her, Ivar. Teaching and getting her used to us before she faces the others." Answered Helga.

Ivar pondered her words for a while, then agreed with her.

"What does she do in her spare time?"

Floki was quick to answer that one:

"Snoops around the house, messes up my tools… Oh, she also has a fondness for magic tricks, they make her happy like a child."

"Really?”

“Yes. I’ve done a few for her and it never fails to get her attention.”

“That’s childish.”

“She is a child, Ivar. It’s no surprise at all.”

Ivar looked like he just realized what Floki said to him. Turning his attention back to Revna as she looked around the house with that same little pout on her lips. He had of course noticed she was young when he first saw her and when he touched her face. Younger than him, in fact. Skin too soft and face still with some roundess to it, but he didn’t stop to consider what that would mean. Of course she would be like that being so young and housebound, he knew the feeling all too well from the days and days and more days he had to be inside his home because he was too sick to go out without serious risk of breaking his bones.

Looking to Helga, who hadn’t got her hands away from Revna, he knew that was her doing. ‘Why won’t she let the girl out? She’s not crippled.’ was what he thought. He knew it was her because she had the same look his mother had when she would smother him with her love as if he was still a baby and not let him do anything food himself, which only got worse when his eyes would turn blue. He loved his mother more than anyone and anything else, but he hated feeling useless.

Maybe that was what Revna felt. He was strangely relieved to not be the reason for her annoyance. At least not this time.

Then a silly idea crossed his mind. He reached for a pouch of leather he carried and took a coin from it, he then got a bit closer to Revna and touched her foot. The girl gasped startled but relaxed when she looked down at Ivar, who expectantly tried to measure her reactions to him. She tilted her head and arched her eyebrow inquisitively at him, which coupled with the cute pout on her lips made for an adorable sight. He beckoned her to come closer to him.

“Go on, my dear.” Said Helga to Revna as she looked to Helga for permission.

Revna got off of the chair and sat on the floor close to Ivar, close enough to be within arm’s reach, but not close enough to accidentally brush her legs against his, she then rested her hands on her lap and looked at him with curiosity. He studied her expression carefully, searching for the all too familiar signs of pity and disgust but found none of those. Even though he noticed she kept a distance, he was pleased she sat near him.

He then showed her the coin, playing with it between his fingers deftly, she giggled, trying to follow the coin with her eyes and relaxing a bit from her position. He then halted his movements, holding the coin between his index and middle finger, Revna froze in her position as soon as he stopped and looked from the coin to his very blue eyes. There it was, that beautiful smile together with an innocent shine in her eyes.

He then put the coin flat against the palm of his hand, closing both of them into fists and bringing them close to his lips, he didn’t take his eyes off her, enjoying her full attention as she looked from his fists to his eyes. He blew air against his fists and slowly opened them, showing her the palms of his hands, the coin nowhere she could see.

Revna looked at him, giggling happily with a wide smile, a smile Ivar found to be quite beautiful and contagious, making him smile himself, although more reservedly. When she calmed down and silence fell between them, they were looking at each other’s eyes, hers filled with joy and his with pride for being the reason for it.

He soon felt self conscious again and looked away.

#ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings fanfiction #ivar x oc

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plaidbooks · 3 years ago

Note

I get SO EXCITED when your fic requests open up!!!!! I would love to request some mutual pining/yearning between Dodds and one of his SVU detectives. Prompt "I'd do anything for you," maybe where his dad has noticed them eyeing each other secretly and gives Mike the old "WE've worked too hard to get you to this position." (Idk, maybe those should be 2 different requests? You can choose whichever you prefer!)

Every request i send in gets more and more long-winded 😅😳

Exchanging Glances

A/N: This was a fun prompt! I'm sorry it took me so long to write it, but I hope you enjoy it!

Tags: shootings, otherwise none

Words: 1918

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @imalostredheadinablondeworld

Mike being assigned to SVU was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because the squad was short staffed, and he more than pulled his weight. He was also a great detective, and a great leader. The curse was how goddamn attractive he was.

He was your superior; there was no chance of a relationship with him. But you couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach when he smiled at you or complimented your work. The worst was when you walked into the locker room one day and found him in his undershirt, his dress shirt hanging open. The soft, white shirt left nothing to the imagination as he stretched against his broad chest, and it was a struggle to not stare…or drool.

He hadn’t even seemed embarrassed about it, talking easily with you as he slowly buttoned his shirt, his long fingers moving deftly. You had quickly made an excuse and practically fled the room. But after that moment, you couldn’t help but picture those strong arms holding you against his broad chest.

You often caught yourself staring at him while at your desks, before you’d look back to your computer screen, hoping no one noticed. Though of course, both Rollins and Carisi saw, and they teased you relentlessly for it.

“Why not ask him out?” Carisi asked you one day during lunch.

You choked on your egg roll. “A—absolutely not! He’s our boss,Carisi!”

“For how much longer?” Rollins chimed in. “I heard daddy’s tryin’ to move him.”

That made you pause; if Mike left SVU, you wouldn’t see him anymore…but maybe you could ask him out then. “Well, I’d rather wait until he’s gone before asking,” you replied, picking at your food.

“Come on, he’s a good guy,” Carisi said. “I bet Mike would love—”

“Love what?” Mike asked, coming into the break room and snagging a takeout box.

You felt how hot your face got, and you ducked your head, pretending to eat. Thankfully, Liv came into the break room, saving you all.

“We have a hostage situation. Let’s go,” she ordered before leaving. You all glanced at each other, fun times fading, before you were up, scrambling for your things in your desks.

*********************

You were huddled outside the door to the kitchen, gun in hand. Mike was on the other side of the doorframe, eyes locked to yours, gun in his hand as well. You were both flanked by the squad and officers, waiting for the go ahead from Liv. You knew she wanted to be in there with you, but as Lieutenant, she had to be outside, calling the shots for everyone involved.

“Green light,” she said into your earpieces. Mike nodded at you, and you nodded back. Then he took a step back and kicked the door in. You cut in front of him as he caught his balance, heading into the kitchen, eyes scanning. You had your gun up, and once you found your perp, you swiveled to aim at him. But he was faster; he fired before you even had the chance.

You grunted as you took a bullet in the ribs, your vest absorbing most of the impact. You still stumbled, though, the wind knocked from you. You being off balance turned out to work perfectly, as Mike was able to get a shot off, clipping the guy in the shoulder.

Both Carisi and Rollins headed for the perp while Fin checked on the woman who was being held hostage; she was shaking in a corner, hands and mouth duct taped. Mike, however, went straight to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, face full of concern. He helped guide you towards the door, hands on your hips to help you walk.

You nodded. “Fine, fine. Got the vest,” you grunted, hand on place you were shot.

Mike led you down and out of the house, out onto the street. Liv read the situation and quickly came over, but you waved off her questions. Both of them guided you to a waiting ambulance, and the paramedics helped you get the vest off. They gently lifted your shirt to inspect the spot, which was already deeply bruised, a small bit of dried blood there from where the bullet broke skin.

Your face heated as you caught Mike’s eyes glued to the injury. “I’m fine, really. Just a bruise,” you muttered, trying to pull your shirt back down.

“We should take you in, make sure you didn’t break anything, or have internal bleeding,” one of the medics said.

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue. They helped you in the back, and you sat on the gurney.

“I’m riding with her,” Mike said to Liv. He handed her his gun before he climbed in, sitting next to you. You ducked your head in embarrassment as the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away.

******************

You sat on the hospital bed, and Mike was outside the room while you were patched up—mostly because your shirt was off. Once considered decent, though, he came in, giving the nurse a smile and nod in thanks.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, that concern still in his eyes.

You smirked. “Like I was shot.”

Mike shook his head, grinning. “Glad to see you still have your sense of humor…. Thank you, though.”

“For what?”

“I was going to go in first, but you ran in front of me before I could stop you. In a sense, you took that bullet for me,” he explained.

You blinked at him, then blurted out, “I’d do anything for you.” Your face heated, and you dropped your eyes to the floor. “I mean, y—you’re my sergeant; of course, I’d take a bullet for you….”

“Well, I’d do anything for you, too, including taking a bullet, if it came to that,” he replied softly. At first, you thought he was just saying that. But the meaningful look he gave you made you pause. Was he saying what you thought he was?

Slowly, timidly, you reached out and took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away; in fact, he stepped up close to you. His free hand came up to your face, and he cupped your cheek lovingly. You leaned into the touch, and his face got closer and closer—

“There you are, Mike! Benson said you were at the hospital with a detective,” a voice called from the door. Mike quickly moved away from you, dropping your hand, and you swallowed in fear as Deputy Chief Dodds stood in the doorway to your room.

He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and you wondered how much he had seen. Then he strolled into the room, fixing his gaze onto his son.

“Uh, yeah, sorry dad. She got shot during our raid today—”

“Oh no,” he lamented, though it almost sounded sarcastic. “Well, it at least looks like you’re fine. Listen, Mike—” his eyes went back to his son’s— “I need to talk to you about an opportunity. If you’ll excuse us,” he said to you, then turned and strolled from the room.

Mike gave you an apologetic look before following his dad, closing the door behind them and leaving you alone.

***

“What the hell were you thinking?” William asked as he headed out of the hospital. “Getting close with a detective.” He said the word like an insult, and Mike flinched.

Once on the street, Mike replied, “she’s a fantastic detective, and I like her a lot. Why does my romantic life involve you?”

“Because we’ve worked too hard to get you to this position," he responded, poking Mike in the chest.

He rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to ask “we?” Instead, he said, “If I follow your plan, then I’m leaving SVU anyways. Why can’t I date her?”

“You need someone on your level, someone who’s as eye-catching as you are,” William explained. But Mike knew the truth; his father wanted him with a trophy wife, one who knew how to keep her head down and attend to her husband’s wants and desires. In other words, someone Mike wanted nothing to do with.

“With how good she is, she could make sergeant in no time,” Mike countered. He wasn’t just saying that, either; he believed it. You were incredible. He almost wanted you to go to Joint Terrorism with him, be his number two. But then, you couldn’t have a relationship together.

“Who cares about sergeant—”

“I’m a sergeant, dad.”

William waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just a placeholder until you’re lieutenant. Come on, Mike; do you really want someone with the same profession as you? Where you work late nights, weekends, holidays?” Translation; do you want someone who won’t be home to cook your meals or run the household?

“We’d have the same life experiences, we’d understand each other on a deeper level because of it,” he shot back.

William rolled his eyes. “Deeper level—”

“And I’m not going to stand here and defend her or myself from you. I’m sorry dad, but I don’t really care what you think about her. We haven’t even started dating or anything. But I’m going to go back upstairs and ask her out. I hope you can find it in yourself to come to terms with that,” Mike said before turning on his heel and marching back inside. William was too stunned to say anything back.

***

You collected all your items and were just about to leave the room when there was a knock on the door.

“Uh, come in?” you called, wondering if the nurse had more info outside of “it’ll heal on its own, but it’ll be sore for a while.”

But your stomach dropped when it was Mike peeking his head in, giving you a sheepish smile. “Uh, hey, sorry about that.”

“O-oh! No, it’s, um, it’s fine. Hopefully that was nothing too important,” you replied, laughing nervously.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a mumble of, “no, no, it’s nothing…” before trailing off. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at you intently. “Would you like to go get dinner with me? Tonight?”

You were stunned; true, you were both off after the raid—you to heal and pass a psych evaluation, and him while IAB investigated the shooting—but you never expected him to ask you out. “I—I would love that…but could we? Unless the Chief just transferred you, you’re still my boss.”

“He didn’t, but I don’t care. I’ll be leaving the squad soon enough as it is. Plus…I know you’re not seriously injured, but the thought of you being shot on the job…it worries me. I’d rather shoot my shot now, while we’re both still alive and well,” he finished.

You nodded slowly, your mind swirling. “Well…as long as neither of us will be fired over it…. I’d love to have dinner with you, Mike.”

You noticed how his eyes narrowed when you mentioned getting fired, and you wondered if the possibility never crossed his mind until you said it. He quickly masked his face with a smile, then held the door open for you.

“You won’t get fired; I’ll make sure of it,” he promised, and you wondered if it was a legit possibility. Either way, a date with Mike Dodds seemed like a good payoff. Plus, if you were fired, you could continue dating without the fear of 1PP.

#mike dodds x reader #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfics #fanfic #my writing

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alatismeni-theitsa · 3 years ago

Note

I have no idea when you posted asking about the experiences of Greek diaspora / Greek heritage but I just saw it so I thought I’d send in my stuff.

I am so disconnected from it because my grandma didn’t want to pass the language into her children so she could have adult conversations they wouldn’t understand. And she didn’t pass on the culture because her husband was Jehovah’s Witness. And so I just feel an intense feeling of grief over a culture that I’m apart of but know very little about. I have some recipes my Yiayia made, a cookbook by women from the Greek Orthodox Church in NYC, and two lullaby’s. (We lived in the US with my great grandma so we had more interaction with Greek culture than our cousins who’s lived with my grandma in Ireland)

And there’s not much out that I’ve found where I’ve been able to learn about my culture and not felt like I’m intruding. Especially because I don’t “look Greek” like some of the other greek kids at my school. I look Irish. I don’t have a Greek name and I don’t speak any of the language. The only way I’ve found to connect is through food but I’m limited to the cookbook because if you look online it’s hard to find recipes that aren’t just trendy mediterranen inspired health food. My mum is starting to reluctantly tell me a little about my family from Greece. And my grandmas cousin and her family is very very greek. So if I fly down to see her she’ll teach me stuff (though she’s the matriarch of the family so she’s pretty intimidating). Anyway. That’s my experience with my my greek heritage.

I just sent the long-ass ask about Greek heritage but I forgot the bit where I was Greek enough to get bullied over Greek food. Yay. Dolmades are good though I don’t care if they “look little poop”

___________________[END OF ASK] __________________________

Hey and sorry for the delay 💙 I asked some time ago but that doesn't mean newer answers aren't welcome anytime!

Dear, I am grieving with you for the loss 😔 I can't say the reasons the language wasn't passed on seem very logical to me. There are things that didn't get passed on to me because my grandparents thought I would automatically know, or they didn't bother teaching, so I can relate to that feeling 😔

You are definitely NOT intruding! I can understand why it feels this way after what you told me, but it seems to me you have every right to know! Greek culture welcomes anyone from Cameroon to Japan, so, realistically, nothing should stop you from having access to it. Plus, it's your own family!

Oh damn, the "I don't look Greek" plague 😩 As everyone knows there's no specific qualifier of appearance for being part of Hellenismos. On this particular occasion, I'll go one step further and say that, unless you have raid hair, you probably look like a lot of Greeks.

There are Greeks whose appearance is rare for this ethnicity, but "looking Irish" is a thing that 1/4 (at least?) of Greek people relate to. One thing Greeks of diaspora often hear is that "they don't look Greek enough", aka they look "too white". Your surrounding Greeks might not look like you but if you go through my tag #Greek people, which has hundreds of videos, portraits, and photos of Greeks from all eras, you might realize you look like many Greeks.

Again, appearance doesn't matter in the slightest when it comes to culture, but I sensed your appearance issue was the flavor of "too white looking" and it's the most infuriating thing to me because many, many Greeks look "too white looking" for the standards foreigners have made for them!

Anyways, on to the food! I am so happy you are trying some of the recipes :D (And that you are doing everything to connect to your heritage if it brings you joy!) How dare they speak badly about dolmades??? 😭 Many countries close to Greece also have that dish and we must find them so we can have a dolmades alliaaaaanceee!

I'd also like to add, don't feel pressured to get too much into the culture if you don't want to. Many Greeks in Greece keep different types of distance from their tradition and that should also be your right. Again, do and learn whatever pleases you! Just keep in mind that you are valid in your current state without going the extra mile to learn every Greek thing possible.

People across the globe can have various degrees of Greek heritage and if that "amount" of heritage is "less" then it's okay and natural because it's what happens when people immigrate. The more generations pass, the more this old part is left behind. For example, many Greeks in Greece can also come from other backgrounds (Austrian, Egyptian, Slavic (various countries), etc) and they, too have many parts of their older heritages lost. They practice Greek customs almost exclusively now.

There's a cultural plane that shifts all the time in countries around the world and families assimilate to a new culture as they adapt to a new place. At this moment you are also part of a US regional culture and there is no shame in *also* identifying as part of it. That won't erase any Greek part of you.

The above doesn't aim to discourage you in any way on searching more about Greek culture! It's only a general disclaimer. People from inside a culture (usually in diaspora) tend to judge those who participate less, as if any person with X heritage is in a place to keep the same amount of touch with it 🙄

Sure, tradition is very important but nobody should be forced to practice it if they don't want to - or if they just can't. Tradition is people, and some traditions change or die naturally because many individuals from the inside wanted it to.

It's hard being caught in between - not "American enough" and not "Greek enough". The paradox is that you must first feel secure in this position. Granted, it's easier said than done but mentally it will save you the mindset of needing to be "more American" or "more Greek". As you understand, you don't need to feel apologetic to Americans for who you are, and you don't need to feel apologetic to Greeks in America or anywhere else for the exact same reason.

Some Greeks of diaspora feel distressed about their accents in Greek (or they don't want to admit they have an accent) or for not being perceived as Greeks automatically by other Greeks when they visit the country. But that's unavoidable because these differences exist and people raised in Greece can spot them. Therefore, people in the US whom you are afraid might feel superior to you for knowing more things about Greece, may come to Greece and feel like foreigners.

So they shouldn't make this a race beacuse it's not one they would normally "win" by their own standards. Chances are, after you learn anything you can, you will also have distance from what is considered the "default" Greek culture. It's part of the organic process of time + distance from the country, and Greeks with half a brain won't look down on you for that.

What I mean to say is that there is no certain bar an ordinary person can ever pass to be given any prize of the "ultimate Έλληνας". Not even Greeks in Greece know where that bar is when it comes to their own touch with tradition. There is no golden standard, no finishing line!

I encourage you to continue your journey on learning Greek things and while you are at it, know that objectively you have nothing to prove to anyone, even though you might feel otherwise. I say, fly to your grandma's cousin and let her teach you stuff!

You know that the intimidating demeanor Greek aunties and grandmas have doesn't necessarily reflect their love for you. You might also know that older Greeks are more reserved in showing appreciation. And in the hypothetical scenario where they don't really like you that much, they are still bound to you because you are family, so feel free to use their expertise 👀 If they don't give their knowledge to their family, whom are they going to give it to?? The neighbor??

If they throw any shade at you for now knowing enough take a deeeeeep breath, remember this isn't a race, and continue learning from them. (And you will feel the Greek experience of not deemed worthy enough by your relatives 😂 It's a win win!) If you haven't, check the poem Ithaca by K.P. Kavafy! I think it applies to this situation in a way!

You can always come here and browse thousands of posts about Greece! (In the Desktop version the most important show up on the left of the main page). I have #modern Greece #Greek custom #Greek tradition #Greek dance #Greek cuisine #Greek literature and whatever else your heart desires!

If you want to slowly learn Greek, Greekpod 101 and Easy Greek channels on YouTube have great content! I also have my tag #learn Greek on this blog with sources and explanations. (#Greek language and #Greek word can also be useful!) They are all accessible to English speakers!

You now have a distant Greek auntie who is at your disposal for any type of question (even the "stupid" questions)! Literally, ask me anything and I will try to answer it or find more info for you! You can DM me if you don't want to leave an ask. You are not intruding and it's my pleasure to help!

#thank you for your message <3 #it's hard for me to give tone in text - i hope i wasnt too intimidating either :p #the blog is here for your questions about greece so dont hesitate to ask!#answered #greek diaspora #greeks in the us #greek speaks

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labselkie · 5 months ago

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fuuuuck these twoooo

original down here

#olivia octavius #i haven’t raided her tag in a bit #so there #༺ Shell & Spine ༻#self shipping #self ship #selfship #oc x canon #spidersona #sky spider

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deanstead · 4 years ago

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Not A Child Anymore

Pairing: Jay Halstead x HalsteadSister!Reader

Requested by anon: Something like Jay and crew raid a house for a suspect and he gets angry when he finds his sister with the suspect, as they’re old friends? They get into an argument as she’s upset that he’s not treating her like an adult?

Word Count: 1,054

Warnings: mild cursing

A/N: Reposting this because of the tags issue!

---

Jay turned the last corner, following closely behind Kevin’s car as they hurtled towards the suspect’s house.

They had barely made the determination after two days on this case. It had been wild goose chase after wild goose chase but they had finally zero-ed in on one person of interest and if this suspect was indeed guilty, they needed to bring him in and make the charges stick. Fast.

Jay pulled his truck up outside, jumping out of the car with his gun, Hailey following close behind. Kevin pulled the battering ram from the back of his car, letting Adam lead the way in.

Jay exchanged looks with the team, holding his gun up before nodding to Kevin.

Kevin pounded the door with his fist. “Chicago PD!” He hollered just before he rammed the door in, Adam leading the way in.

“Don’t move!” Adam yelled, pointing his gun at three young men in the living room.

Jay moved further into the house, clearing one room after the next until he reached the last room.

“Chicago PD, don’t move!” Jay yelled, pointing his gun at the boy sitting on the chair, his head swivelling to look at the other person in the room.

He froze as you raised your head, his confused expression echoing yours.

You knew better than to open your mouth so you closed it, your eyebrows scrunched together.

“David Bale?” Jay asked, looking back at your friend. He didn’t respond but Jay didn’t need an answer. “Get up. We have a warrant to search the place and you need to come in with us to answer a few questions.”

Kevin jogged towards Jay, his eyes flicking from you and back to Jay. “I got this, Jay.” He said, moving forward to take David by the arm.

“Wait, what?” David asked, as he was led out of the door by Kevin.

Jay lowered his gun and spun towards you.

“Follow me.” Jay said through gritted teeth, almost kicking open the back door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jay turned on you the moment the both of you had left the house.

“How about you start with telling me what the hell is going on?” You snapped. “You are the one who burst in here pointing your gun around. What the hell are you doing here?”

“We’ll talk later. Come on, I’ll get Will to pick you up from the station.”

You wanted to argue but you took a look at the expression on Jay’s face and bit back a snarky comment that would do you no good.

—

Jay didn’t speak to you at all after that. Not in the car, not at the station, not even after Hailey had asked you all the routine questions and Will had come to get you.

You were still annoyed that he had called Will to come and pick you up, as if you couldn’t find your own way home, but you didn’t say anything.

By the time Jay walked through the door of the apartment later that night, your annoyance was at its peak.

“Where’s Will?” was the first thing that Jay said as he stepped into his apartment.

You looked up from where you were sitting on the couch. “Med.”

“You going to explain now?” You asked, standing up to look at him.

Jay took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with David Bale, you hear me?” Jay said, his voice rising a little.

“Since when do you get a say in who I hang out with? I’m not six anymore Jay!” You retorted.

“Since you started hanging out with murder suspects!” Jay yelled.

Jay’s voice echoed around the apartment. You took a deep breath trying to steady yourself. “Jay, David’s a friend. He’s not a murderer.”

Jay turned away from you. “Yeah, tell that to Voight. The evidence against him is overwhelming, we don’t even need a confession, Y/N. Okay? So either he’s one unlucky son of a bitch or he’s a damn murderer.”

“Why don’t you let me talk to him?” You said, “Maybe he’ll talk to me.”

Jay spun around to face you again. “No way in hell. You’re not going to talk to him. Ever.”

“Jay! I’m not a child, anymore!” You yelled, feeling a rush of annoyance again.”

“Then stop behaving like one!” Jay retorted, his voice rising again.

You grinded your teeth. “Jay. He’s a friend. He’s a good friend. He’s always taken care of me.”

“We take care of you. Since when did you need someone else to take care of you?” Jay snapped.

“Since you left for Afghanistan and Will left for New York!” You yelled, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes.

Great. You hated angry crying.

Jay froze. “What?”

You turned away. “You guys left me here.” You said after a prolonged silence. “David was the one who was there for me. Okay?”

Jay didn’t say anything.

“He’s not a murderer.” You repeated, turning to look at Jay again.

Jay sighed, softening, looking at you, before moving towards the couch and pulling you to sit next to him.

“You’ll always be my baby sister. And I will never stop looking out for you. But I’ll try to take it down a notch okay?”

You looked at Jay. “Look, I just… I wouldn’t trade you or Will for the world. But you have to stop treating me like a child, okay? I know what I’m doing.”

Jay gave a small smile. “Compromise?”

You gave a little chuckle. “You know, considering you’re not even the oldest, you’re a real hardass.”

Jay laughed. “So we good?”

You shrugged but smiled.

“I have to go back to the district. I promise you if he’s innocent, we’ll find out.” Jay said. “I haven’t changed my mind about him yet.

You gave a dramatic sigh. “I know.”

You shook your head a little as you watched Jay get ready to leave the apartment. He could be really difficult and it really got on your nerves when he got up in your business but you also knew this was Jay’s way of protecting and taking care of you.

“Jay.” You called out, as he opened the door.

Jay turned to look at you. “Thanks.” You whispered.

Jay smiled, “See you later, sis.”

---

This is a repost because of problems with the tags so I won’t be retagging everyone!

#Halstead!Sister #Halstead!Reader #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x sister!reader #resanoona request #halstead!sister oneshot #halstead!sister imagine #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead oneshot #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd oneshot #chicago pd imagine

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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inkandpen22 · 4 years ago

Text

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (7/?)

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4k

Part Summary: The Talmarines arrive at the Howe and everyone struggles to figure out what to do next

Masterlist

"Y/N! Y/N wake up!"

I jolt awake from my dream and gasp for air. My vision is blurry at first but adjusts to land on Lucy hovering over me.

"What?! What is Lucy?!" I panic.

"They're here! The Talmarines!" She rushes out.

I rise from my laid position on the floor with a grunt of pain. My side is a bit sore from my experience earlier with Jadis.

"Where's your brother?!" I question the youngest urgently.

"Outside with the others!" She informs me as she helps me off the ground.

I hurry toward the tunnels leading out of the Howe. Again, Peter leaves without telling to face Miraz. He'll claim it's to protect me but that doesn't make it any less frustrating.

"Has the fighting started?" I worry.

"No, Peter sent Edmund to make a deal," Lu explains vaguely as she struggles to keep up with me.

"Deal?" I stop in my tracks and turn to the girl. "What kind of deal?"

Lucy hesitates and it doesn't exactly ease my nerves.

"Lucy, what kind of deal?" I repeat, giving her shoulders a pleading squeeze.

"Instead of a battle..." she mumbles as she stares down at the dirt beneath us. "Peter will fight Miraz to the death."

I growl, turning my attention again toward the tunnels. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"It's for the best, Y/N!" Lucy attempts to convince me as I hurry to stop her brother. "Think of how many lives will-"

"I refuse to lose Peter! There has to be another way!" I bark. "Where is he?!"

"The cove... getting ready," she answers solemnly.

This moment parallels the night of the castle raid almost too well. I rush out of the Howe to find Peter and Lucy chases after me. Why is it that it's always Peter getting into messes and it's me trying to save him? One of these days I fear I won't be quick enough.

"Peter!" I shout once I turn to corner toward the dim-lit cove.

The blonde boy whips his head around toward me. Caspian and the others stand with him around the stone table. He jogs toward me with a worried expression. Caspian shares the same look in his eyes.

Peter grips my shoulders and lowers himself to my level. "Y/N, are you alright?!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I insist. "But what about you? What are you thinking?! If Miraz accepts you could-"

He sighs as his features fall. "It's the only way..."

"There is never just one way!" I argue, jerking his hands off of me with annoyance.

"Let me take your place," Caspian interjects from across the room.

Peter and I shoot our attention to Caspian's direction.

"Oh my..." I withhold my frustration. "Does everyone have a death wish? Should I put in my name to fight Miraz too?! Stop trying to play the hero, both of you!" I snap between the two boys.

"Y/N, you don't understand," Caspian dismisses as he steps forward.

"I understand perfectly well," I hiss through my teeth. "I already know what it's like to lose someone to war. You may act valiantly now, but remember the pain you'll cause the people you leave behind."

Caspian's features strike cold as comprehends my meaning or has he forgotten our discussion by the river?

"It's only to buy time while Lucy goes to find Aslan," Peter explains to me quietly.

"You're going to send a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone!" Trumpkin interrupts bitterly as he crosses the room to Lucy.

"Haven't enough of us died?" He mutters to the girl.

"She won't be alone..." Susan assures. "I'll go with her, at least part of the way."

Trumpkin starts arguing which erupts a frenzy of chatter amongst everyone. Each of them wants to be the sole savior and refuse to alone anyone else help which will only lead to more death. They're all acting as if there's only one way for us to possibly win. There has to be another way.

"I'll go," I shout over the many voices.

"What?" Peter questions as though he didn't hear me. He heard it, he must have, but he doesn't want to believe it.

"I'll go find Aslan," I reiterate confidently.

"But Y/N, you don't even know what he looks like nor do you know the woods," Edmund reasons.

"I do actually," I tell him and the others calmly. I wasn't planning on telling anyone of my dream but I suppose I must. "I know what he looks like. I... I had a dream about him. It sounds crazy but I think I'm meant to do this."

"No, no, it's far too dangerous," Peter refuses... typical.

"Oh, so you'd send Lucy and Susan out but not me?" I laugh mockingly in disbelief.

He would risk his only two sisters no problem, but I'm far too important?

"That's different," Caspian argues in agreement with Peter.

They choose now to see eye to eye?!

"How so?" I growl at the prince.

"If anything happened to you, I would never be able to forgive myself," Peter answers hushedly at my side.

"Peter..." I turn to my oldest friend and cup his cheek. "I can do this."

Peter nods solemnly as he takes my hand that rests on his cheek. He stares down at my hand within both of his with a frown. I can see how difficult it is to let me do this, but he also knows that I'm right.

"Have Susan go with you," Peter insists.

"No, you'll need her more than I will. All I'll need his time," I assure him.

_____________________________________

After Edmund and some soldiers finish setting up my horse, Peter escorts me over with my katana.

"Don't do anything reckless," he requests lightheartedly, but deep down I know he means it.

"Isn't everything we're doing right now a tad reckless?" I snicker lightly.

He chuckles for the first time in a while. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Be alive when I get back," I request of Peter in return as we reach my horse.

"I'll try my best," he assures.

"At least you didn't promise," I snicker, referring to my hatred for empty promises.

"Peter!" Susan calls from the entrance to the tunnel leading out to the field. "You're needed."

Peter gives his sister a sharp nod before turning to me. He pulls me into his embrace. "Make it back."

"I plan on it," I remark wittily to keep his hopes at least level.

Peter is reluctant to let me go but does so rashly and without meeting my gaze. I don't take it personally. I suspect if I'm finding it hard to go, he's having trouble letting me.

"Here." Caspian appears beside me, holding out Susan's horn. "In case you need us."

"You hold onto it. You might need to call me again," I wink as I turn toward my horse to mount it.

"Y/N?" Suddenly, Caspian grips my wrist to stop me.

"Hmm?" I pause.

Caspian wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest yearningly. I can hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he apologizes quietly against my shoulder.

I tighten my arms around him and press my cheek to his chest.

"I never blamed you, Caspian," I whisper.

It pains me that he blames himself for Jadis's actions.

"I blame myself. If I hadn't been so weak to give into-"

I part from him, but not far, only to meet his eye. "I was tempted too. The more important thing is we didn't give in." I offer him a weak smile.

"But if you hadn't pushed me aside you wouldn't have gotten hurt," he reasons.

"I would do it all over again," I tell him wholeheartedly. "At that moment, I didn't hesitate, not for a second!"

"That's the second time you've saved me now," he smiles with a light chuckle falling from his lips.

"I guess so huh?" I chuckle. "When are you going to return the favor?"

"Hopefully I never have to," he remarks wisely.

Caspian helps me onto my horse and hands me my katana. I slip the sheath strap over my chest so that the blade rests against my back. He peers up at me longingly.

"Goodbye for now," I bid farewell with optimism.

"Be safe," he pleads as his hand lands on mine.

"You too," I swallow hard, suddenly finding it painful to leave him.

______________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89 @i-hav-no-life

#narnia imagine #narnia #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #peter #caspian x reader #prince capsian x reader #prince caspian #peter x reader #King Peter the Magnificent

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imjustwritingg · 4 years ago

Text

maybe it was fate: chapter 4

Thank you once again for all the love and comments and messages. You guys have no idea how happy it makes me when you send your thoughts on this story. It really makes my whole day that much better. This next chapter is a bit of a long one. Buckle in lovelies and I'll see ya again soon for the next one! 💜

Read on AO3 and FFNet!

Tagging @onechicago-upsteadrhekker @anniesardors @ilithiyarys @snowwhite013 @stephanie708 @carissalizz @wookailing

----------

“She’s my daughter.”

He’s been quiet since she’s said the words, unmoving as he stands on her doorstep, and she stays planted in place in front of him in the open doorway.

She can’t entirely read the expression on his face other than the look of hurt that glistens in his eyes and it sends an ache through her. The tears pooling in the corners of her own eyes threaten to spill at any moment and she blinks them back, not wanting to fall apart in front of him.

“Jay, I - “

He shakes his head at her and tries to give a small smile, trying to play it off as though her omissions of truth for the duration of their partnership haven’t completely gutted him. He has so many questions going through his head, but he keeps coming back to the same one.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

All Hailey can do is shrug as she lifts a hand to her face to wipe at a traitorous tear that slips out of one eye.

“I wanted to. I tried. Then a couple weeks turned into a month. Then three months. And then it just got away from me and I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not exactly a piece of information I can share during a night of surveillance or a drug house raid.”

“But any other time Hailey? Six months. Six months of us working together, being partners, being friends. I mean, God, what if something happened to you? What if you got hurt? What then?”

“I have emergency contacts and a will. She’d be taken care of,” Hailey tells him.

It sounds so simple the way she says it, as if they’re just talking about the weather or the score of a hockey game.

“That’s the only thing you got out of what I just said to you?” He scoffs as he runs his free hand over the back of his head.

“All I can think to say right now is I’m sorry, but I know that’s not enough. Me having a kid changes things and if it bothers you I’ll talk to Voight, okay? I’ll ask for a different - “

“Hailey, come on. I know you know me better than that. I don’t care that you have a kid. What bothers me is the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“I do trust you! I wanted to tell you, I just - I really didn’t know how. I don’t like talking about my past, okay? And she’s a big part of that and I knew you’d ask questions that I wasn’t ready to answer. Questions that I still don’t think I’m ready to answer, but I know that I have to.”

She wipes away at the tears that have since fallen and roll down her cheeks. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her fast beating heart. This wasn’t how she planned to spend her evening. She hadn’t been anticipating this conversation happening the way it was and she can’t help feeling as though it’s getting away from her just like everything else has lately.

“I know I should have told you sooner. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry, Jay,” she tells him, her voice cracking with each word as they fall past her lips.

He shakes his head at her again, making her go quiet and he blows out a deep sigh as he tilts his head off to the side towards his truck parked on the street.

“I should go,” he says.

He takes a step back, ready to turn away from her, but she follows after him onto her front steps and calls out his name, making him freeze in place.

“Please just come inside and we can talk. I’ll try to explain. I - “

“Mama!”

Hailey turns around at the sound of Avery’s voice and a second later the little girl appears in the doorway behind her mother. She’s got a big smile on her face and completely unaware of the tension building around her.

“Are you gonna eat with us?” Her girl asks, but she’s quick as a whip just like her mother and her smile fades as she eyes Hailey suspiciously. “Why you cryin’ mama?”

Hailey swipes her hands under her eyes one more time and moves back to the door. She puts a smile on her face as best she can before kneeling down in front of her daughter.

“I’m fine baby. I’ll be in soon okay? Go eat with auntie,” Hailey tells her as she smiles through half-blurry eyes.

Avery gives her mother a look, scrunching her little eyebrows together, silently calling her mother out on the lie she tells her. She stares at Hailey for a moment until she notices Jay standing a few feet away with his eyes on them and she looks at him curiously. “Who are you?”

Jay glances between the little girl and Hailey, still reeling from the bomb that’s been dropped at his feet, and swallows almost nervously. He’s not sure if he should say something or just leave. Of all the things that had gone through his mind throughout the day as he worried over his partner, her having a kid he didn’t know about hadn’t even blipped the radar of possible scenarios.

He still doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, and both his partner and her daughter stare back at him, waiting. He realizes he has a choice to make. That he could go home, take himself away from this uncomfortable situation, and drink the rest of his night away, but he’s pretty certain that doing that would also cost him his partnership and friendship with Hailey. And despite the confusion and the hurt he feels, he knows it’s not a choice he’s willing to make.

He walks forward until he’s just a couple steps away from them now. He forces a smile and gives a short wave of his hand, not wanting to scare the little girl in front of him.

“I’m Jay. What’s your name?”

Avery looks back at her mother, unsure and silently asking for permission.

“It’s okay. He’s a friend,” Hailey says as her eyes dart between her daughter and her partner, and Avery looks back at Jay.

“My name is Avery Charlotte Upton,” the little girl says with a shy smile as she leans in closer towards her mother.

“It’s very nice to meet you Avery Charlotte Upton. How old are you?” Jay asks as he grins back at her.

He thinks he should feel more frustrated than he does, should maybe be angry. He’s not entirely sure if he even has a right to feel the way he does at all, but the longer the little girl stares back at him, smiling with bright blue eyes that look so much like his partner’s, all of it somehow just floats away. As if the last ten minutes haven’t happened, as if he’s known about this little girl’s existence the whole time he’s known her mother.

“I’m three!” Avery tells him with another big smile as she holds up three little fingers. “Are you a police officer too?”

“Yeah, I work with your mom.”

“You get the bad guys with my mama?”

“I do.”

“Are you gonna have pizza with us?” Avery asks.

“I don’t think so,” Jay says as he shoots a glance at his partner. “I just came to talk to your mom.”

“Oh. You can have pizza if you want. Right mama? We can share,” Avery says looking back at Hailey.

Hailey can’t help the full smile that creeps onto her face as she looks back at her daughter and reaches out a hand to brush some of the little girl’s blonde hair out of her face. She’s so sweet and innocent and so smart for her age, but she has no idea of the situation that surrounds her. Hailey peeks over at Jay, catching him looking like a deer caught in headlights, as if he’s still not sure whether to stay where he stands or bolt. She knows there’s a conversation that needs to be had between them, one that she can’t put off any longer than she already has despite the trepidation she stills feels regarding her past.

“Yeah, we can share baby,” Hailey tells the little girl before she turns her head to look back at Jay. “Ya want a slice?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly not expecting an invitation to stay after he was ready to walk away just moments ago, but he’s still hesitant and Hailey can tell.

“You sure?” Jay asks.

She knows what he’s really asking and she stands to her feet. “I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything Hailey,” he tells her.

“Yes, I do,” Hailey tells him as she leans down and lifts Avery into her arms. She settles the little girl on her hip and turns to look at her partner, giving a tilt of her head towards the inside of her house. “Come on.”

She’s expecting him to leave, but he surprises her when he takes the last few steps towards her and Avery, closing the distance until he’s right in front of them.

Hailey lets out a sigh of relief and leads him inside, Avery in her arms and distracted by a necklace hanging around her mother’s neck. Jay closes the door behind them and as he follows Hailey past the entryway and into the kitchen, he realizes this is the first time he’s ever been inside his partner’s house. He takes in the modern details as he sets the six pack in his hand down on the counter. Notices how clean the place is despite the fact that a young child lives there and he finds himself smiling when he spots several sheets of artwork hanging on the refrigerator that have no doubt been made by the little girl in his partner’s arms.

“Who’s this?”

Jay turns at the sound of a voice he doesn’t recognize and his eyes land on a brunette woman walking into the kitchen from the living room in back. The woman stands next to Hailey, giving him a once over, and he glances at his partner who sets Avery down on her feet.

“Vanessa, this is Jay, my partner in Intelligence. Jay, this is Vanessa,” Hailey says as she looks between the two, her eyes lingering on Vanessa for a moment.

The brunette’s eyes widen, a look of realization crossing her face as she looks between Hailey and Jay, and then she steps towards him with a smile as she extends a hand to him.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Jay. I’ve heard stories.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he smiles back kindly and shakes her hand, and then watches as she makes her way back to Hailey and Avery. “Good stories I hope.”

“Yeah,” Vanessa tells him, still beaming as if she knows a secret that he doesn’t, and then she gives a short nod down at Avery. “I’m the roommate and awesome auntie to this little one.”

“She’s also incredibly conceited and the annoying little sister I never wanted,” Hailey teases.

Vanessa scoffs at the blonde and sticks her tongue out at her, and Jay just smiles on as he watches their interaction.

“Case in point,” Hailey says as she gestures to her friend’s antics.

Vanessa just shrugs and looks back down at Avery, placing a hand on top of the little girl’s head. “Come on Ave. Let’s go finish our pizza and we’ll start a movie. What do ya wanna watch tonight?”

“What about mama?” Avery asks looking up at her mother and grabbing onto one of her hands.

Hailey squeezes her daughters hand and nods to the other woman. “You go with Vanessa and finish your dinner. I have to talk to my friend for a bit. I’ll come and watch with you after, okay?”

Avery shakes her head at Hailey. “You said pizza and movie night.”

“And we’re still doing it. You’re just starting without me for a little bit.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Hailey tells her, squeezing her hand again. “Go with auntie. I’ll be in soon.”

“Okay,” Avery sighs. She lets go of Hailey’s hand and takes Vanessa’s outstretched one, and the two disappear into the living room.

Hailey turns back to face her partner, but he’s standing off to the side of the kitchen now and looking at the frames of photos that hang on the wall. She walks over to him and smiles immediately when he sees what photo has his attention.

“It was her second birthday,” Hailey says as she stands beside him with her arms crossed in front of her chest. “She stuck her hands in the cake while we were singing, smeared it all over her face and then my face, and just shrieked over it. We were in such a laughing fit. Vanessa snapped the photo of us.”

“Looks like it was a fun day,” Jay says, his tone matching her quiet one as he turns his head to look at her, but her eyes don’t meet his.

“It was a great day. Every day is with her though. That kid’s laugh is my favorite sound in the whole world. It’s an instant mood lift. No matter what kinda day I’ve had.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Jay says and it makes her finally look over at him. He’s got a soft smile on his face and his eyes are kind, not a speck of anger held in them, but he can tell his words catch her off guard. “I just mean our jobs aren’t easy, ya know? But somehow with you as my partner, the bad days are a lot easier to deal with.”

She gives a short nod of her head at his explanation and then gestures her hand towards the kitchen. “Did you wanna grab a slice? A beer or something?”

“Nah, I’m good. Not very hungry,” he tells her.

“I know the feeling,” Hailey says.

She tilts her chin towards a hallway behind him and he follows after her as she leads him down the hall to an office. She closes the door behind them and they take a seat on a small couch pushed up against a wall.

She hasn’t looked at him directly since they entered the room, almost seemingly unable to, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of her. He watches as she takes a deep breath, her hands shaking in her lap, but he doesn’t speak. He knows this has to go at her own pace, so he waits.

Seconds that go by turn into several minutes, and then she’s taking another deep breath before she finally finds her voice.

“I’m not exactly sure how to start this conversation. I must have thought about it a thousand times and I still don’t know,” she says to him and he’s certain it’s the quietest he’s ever heard her speak. So quiet that if he wasn’t sitting as close to her as he is, he might have thought she hadn’t spoken at all.

He can’t imagine how difficult this must be for her, he doesn’t pretend to, and as confused and caught off guard as he was standing on her doorstep, all there is now is a need to understand. But he also knows he threw a curveball at her by showing up at her house announced and it’s put her in a tailspin. As much as he wants his questions answered, he doesn’t want to make her feel backed into a corner any further than he’s already made her feel and he needs her to know this.

“Hailey, we really don’t have to do this tonight,” he tells her, his voice as soft as he can make it so as to not make her uncomfortable or feel worse than she already so obviously feels.

Hailey turns her head, eyes landing on his within a second, and he quickly notices the way hers glisten again with fresh tears and with what he thinks looks to be confusion of her own.

“Why aren’t you angry? You should be mad at me. You should hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Hailey. I could never hate you. I’ll admit, I was pretty confused outside. I’m still confused, but not angry. When I saw her, it was like a rug had been pulled out from under me and knocked me on my ass, but I don’t care that you have a kid. I’m just hurt that you felt like you couldn’t tell me, even when you thought too much time had passed.”

She looks at him for a moment, seeing nothing but sincerity in his eyes as he stares back at her, and all the worry and stress she’s felt over the last few months somehow begin to just slip away.

“Every time I thought about telling you, I just panicked. We work really well together and you’re one of the best partners I’ve ever had. I didn’t wanna lose that so I just kept putting it off. I wasn’t lying when I said I haven’t been sleeping well. The last few days, weeks even. I haven’t been sleeping at all really. I keep having these flashes, these nightmares. Things I really wish I could forget.”

He gives a slow nod and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s not sure if she’ll say anything more when she drops her gaze to the floor, but he keeps his eyes on her and waits, and then he remembers.

Remembers how she nearly jumped out of her skin when he startled her, shrugged off his hands when he touched her. The way her own hands trembled, her whole body nearly shaking. He’d recognized the behavior easily enough as a form of post-traumatic stress, but he hadn’t wanted to push her despite how concerned he had been for her. How concerned he still is. Especially now when her hands are shaking again and she’s trying so hard to control her breathing.

“The truck...and the break room today,” he says softly, a linger tone of question laced through his words.

Hailey glances over at him and his assumption is further confirmed by the look in her eyes. She runs a hand through her hair as she breathes in, blows it out, and her eyes fall back down to the floor.

“I was undercover with my partner. His name was Garrett, but we weren’t just partners. We were together.”

Her face contorts in an almost painful way as if the words she speaks are shards of glass slicing at her throat as they tumble out through her quivering lips.

“When you say was?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, wiping under her eyes as the tears she’s been holding back finally slip down her cheeks. “The undercover gig went sideways and I got hurt. Really hurt. I was in the hospital for a while and when I was there, he went missing. He was presumed dead, but we never found his body. We were pretty sure it was a revenge thing. We just couldn’t prove it.”

He knows there’s more to come and he watches her as she swallows back, trying to keep the fresh batch of tears that pool in her eyes from escaping and she continues.

“Eight weeks later, I’m back at the hospital getting my evals done to go back to work. Nurse comes in, tells me I’m pregnant. I kinda lost it after that. My Sergeant put me on leave for another month, told me to get my head right. I went to therapy for a while, but I stopped going when Avery was about a year old. I just didn’t have it in me anymore, ya know,” she pauses, glancing up at him for a brief moment. He gives a slow nod, letting her know he’s still there, still with her. “Garrett was gone and I knew we’d never find him. One of those ‘is what it is’ kinda things I guess. My head still isn’t quite right, but I just kinda learned to live with the ghosts.”

As she speaks it takes everything inside him not to reach out for her. It’s a sudden urge, a need that he can’t quite explain, and all he wants is to wrap an arm around her and hold her against him. He’s never seen this part of his partner before. This complete rawness, this vulnerability that she’s trusting him with despite how it takes so much out of her.

He stares at her. It’s all he can do. His eyes burning into hers and the sight of her face as she looks back at him makes his chest ache. Eyes red and swollen from all the tears she’s cried since he showed up on her doorstep, and then follows the moment where he hates himself.

He’s the reason she’s crying, divulging to him some of her deepest and darkest secrets, and he can’t take it anymore as he runs a hand through his hair and blows out a long winded breath.

“Jesus Hailey,” he breathes out as he leans back against the couch cushions.

“Not what you were expecting huh? Maybe a one night stand or a douchebag ex that just took off after knocking me up,” she says trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. His heart is broken for her.

“Did you have anyone? Family? Friends?” Jay asks, ignoring her attempt to make a joke at her own expense.

Hailey gives a slight shrug of her shoulders and leans back against the couch, running a hand through her hair again and trying to ignore the pounding that starts ricocheting inside her skull.

“Vanessa is the only friend I had through all of it,” she tells him and then she lets out an almost maniacal chuckle. “God, if it weren’t for her, I don’t even know how my life would be right now.”

“No family?” He asks carefully, it not being lost on him how she evades that part of his question.

She shakes her head. “Not really. The only real family I have are my two brothers, they live out of state, and I barely talk to my parents. I don’t have the best relationship with ‘em. They all know about Avery though, they’ve met her, but they don’t know the details like you and Vanessa do.”

“I’m really glad you weren’t alone,” he tells her.

“Me too,” she whispers.

He pulls himself forward on the couch and turns his body so he’s facing her completely and she looks at him, almost expectantly.

“Hailey, I - “

“You don’t have to say anything Jay. I know it’s a lot.”

He shakes his head at her. “I just wanted to thank you for telling me. For trusting me with it.”

Jay keeps his eyes on hers and when she doesn’t break their gaze he says, “Ya know, earlier when you said you owed me an explanation? You didn’t owe me any of what you just told me. I can see what it’s done to you and I need you to know that it doesn’t change anything for me. You’re still my partner.”

Hailey was certain she couldn’t cry any more tears than she already has tonight in front of him, but as soon as he says those words to her there’s a familiar sting in the corners of her eyes again. She looks over at the man sitting beside her through slightly blurred vision and does her best to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks for listening. For staying,” Hailey tells him.

The urge to reach for her takes over again and before Jay can think twice he stretches out his arm towards her. He lifts his hand, moving slowly so he doesn’t spook her, shifting his eyes between her face and her shoulder. When she nods her head at his silent question he places his hand on her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“We’re good Hailey. We’re always gonna be good.”

Her bottom lip quivers and he can’t be sure if the way she breathes out a sigh of relief is because of his touch or his words, but he squeezes his hand once more before he pulls it away from her and sets it back down in his lap.

A veil of silence soon settles over them as they sit on the couch together and the heaviness of their conversation slowly starts to thin out. Her tears dry, leaving splotches on her skin, and her fast beating heart has slowed, allowing her to breathe a little easier. Her eyes are going to be swollen in the morning and she’s definitely going to wake with a headache, but she somehow feels lighter after finally opening up to him and telling him the truth.

They continue to sit side by side for a little while longer, enjoying the comfortable silence they’ve somehow fallen into, until Hailey lifts a hand and gestures to the closed door of the office.

“I should probably get out there. I promised her a movie night,” Hailey tells him, using both of her hands to give a final swipe under her eyes.

Jay gives her a quick nod and the two of them stand from the couch. He follows out behind her and they head towards the living room.

They find Vanessa sitting at one end of a couch, dim light illuminating the room from a nearby lamp, and as he and Hailey get closer he spots the mini version of his partner cuddled into the side of the young brunette. She’s got a stuffed teddy bear under an arm and her blue eyes are completely transfixed by the animated movie playing on the television.

Jay watches as Hailey walks behind the couch and leans over the back of it, down towards the little girl.

“Ave?” Hailey whispers.

Avery turns her head up and her whole face lights up when her eyes land on Hailey, who is beaming at her daughter and it causes Jay to smile at the sight in front of him.

“I’m gonna say goodnight to my friend and then I’ll be right back, okay? Just another couple minutes,” Hailey tells her.

“Okay mama,” Avery says before her eyes land on Jay standing back behind Hailey.

There’s no hesitation this time when he smiles and waves a hand at her again before he says, “Bye Avery.”

“Bye,” she says to him with a quiet little voice and a toothy grin before turning her attention back to the movie.

He catches Vanessa tilting her head at him with a look in her eyes he once again can’t read, but he smiles at her regardless, offers her a goodbye wave as well, and then Hailey is leading him back through the kitchen. She stops at the island, points down to the forgotten six pack he had left on the counter earlier, and then looks up at him.

Jay waves her off and throws a smirk at her. “You keep it. My parting gift for ruining what should have been a fun night for you.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” she tells him, reaching for the pack and putting it in the fridge. “But I’ll never turn down free beer.”

Jay shakes his head as he follows her to the front door and they stand in the entryway for a few beats until Hailey tilts her head and stares at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“I have a question,” he says.

“I know. Shoot.”

“Does Voight know?”

“Yeah, Platt too,” she tells him, not missing a beat. “They’re the only ones that know, well, besides you now. It’s why I don’t usually get called in on Sundays. So I can have at least one full day with her with no interruptions.”

“It’s all making so much sense now,” he says with a smirk. “How often our D.O. falls on Sunday, all those times I asked where you were when it didn’t. Little scary how good Voight is at lying.”

A small smile appears on her face, but it’s quickly gone a second later, an almost dreadful look coming over her.

“Um, look, I don’t want you thinking I don’t trust you because that’s not the case at all, but - “

“I’m not gonna say anything Hailey. Your secrets are safe with me.”

It should probably scare her just how well he knows her. How easy it is for him to know exactly what she needs without having to even say it or ask for it, but somehow it doesn’t.

She gives a slow nod and then lets out a breath of relief. “Thank you.”

He nods back and steps away from her, opening the door, and he steps out onto the front steps.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Thank you, again, for - well, for being you. I’m still not sure I deserve it, but – “

“Hailey, I meant it in the parking lot earlier and I still mean it now. If you need anything, I’m here for you,” he tells her and then he nods behind her. “For both of you. Okay?”

She’s still not sure she deserves his kindness. Especially when she was so certain he would hate her, but he looks at her with those same sincere eyes, no anger or lies to be found in them, and it makes her eyes burn again with more tears.

“Okay,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, for real this time. I promise I won’t show back up unannounced later,” he attempts to joke, hoping it’ll get her to smile again, and when she does he grins back at her.

“Goodnight,” she tells him.

With one more nod of his head he turns around and walks to his truck, and when he hops up into the cab Hailey closes the door, locking it up for the night.

She turns around, dropping her head back against the door, and blows out a long breath of relief. Relief for finally telling him, despite it being unplanned, but she told him. It hadn’t been easy or pretty, but she told him and he didn’t hate her, and they would still be partners.

She doesn’t know how tomorrow will go, how she’ll tell the rest of the team or when, but she still has him, and somehow it’s enough for now. The thought of those unknowns don’t cause her panic or fear like she once believed they would, like they used to.

It brings an unfamiliar feeling instead, one she can’t quite place. It’s one that has her thinking that tonight might be the first in a really long time where she might actually sleep through the night.

#upstead #upstead fic #upstead fanfiction #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #cpd fic #jay x hailey

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