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greta-van-fics · 2 years

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every day like sunday - ch. 2

a/n: ok i love this fic. first and foremost, i need to shoutout the people that i RELENTLESSLY bugged abt it and who edit and proof-read and reread within an inch of their lives and help me so enormously: @sparrowofthedawn @alwayzthere @jakekiszska @kiszkashorizons @daisiesyellow y’all are angels for putting up with this nonsense. i love you!!! anyway, enjoy snarky 20′s sam ♥︎ liv

CHAPTER ONE

5.8k words, sam x reader...jake x reader oops

taglist: @alwayzthere @godlygreta @serenitysammy @kk223478 @jakekiszska @tellmama-allaboutit @gretavanhoney @weightofdreams-gvf @daisiesyellow @kiszkashorizons @dannythedog @mywaysooon @tripthelight-fanfic @star-boxer @obetrolncocktails @greta-van-yeet @theweightofstardust @the-chaotic-cow @gretavanfleas @dakotadovato @fleetsonfire

warnings: brief heavy violence (tooth/mouth-related) (just trust me), brief sensual content, alchohol mentions, i accidentally made 20′s jake way too attractive...

The hallway wasn’t long, but it was pitch black, and you quickly shot one hand out to place against the cool, dank wall and steady yourself. Joe moved in front of you, and you could hear his shuffling gait leading you forward.

“Couldn’t afford any lights in this place? I thought business was booming,” you said, trying not to let the laugh that accompanied the words sound nervous. Joe grunted noncommittally and scraped his way down the hall, turning left ahead of you and disappearing from view for a moment. Your heart hammered for a second, thinking you had lost him, but a sliver of light from a cracked-open door at the end of the hall forced a sigh of relief out of you. You turned and hesitantly pressed your fingertips against the door. How many mysterious doors could one single building hold?

It eked open, curling a threatening finger of a screech to welcome you inside. Joe stood on the threshold, waiting with his hands on his hips as if annoyed you’d taken so long to follow him. He held up an arm and swept it out over the expanse of the room, and you couldn’t help the very unlady-like whistle that escaped your lips.

A sea of tables, all fixed with green banker’s lamps, filled the expanse of the room. Men were hunched over nearly every one, running counting machines and arguing angrily. Cigar smoke created a nearly opaque cloud that hung heavy in the air. A chalkboard hung on one wall held the names of horses, with bets slashed angrily next to each one. On the opposite wall, a chalkboard with men’s names had been given the same treatment.

Joe indicated that you should wait there with a grunt and ambiguous hand gesture, then walked away to a desk that sat at the back of the room. He engaged in hushed conversation with the man, although you wouldn’t have been able to hear them shouting with the cacophony of noise already filling the room. You looked around somewhat nervously, taking in the bickering bookies, gripping their cigars in their teeth to let out occasional shouts of laughter. Much discussion of who had taken whose wife to bed the previous night was thrown around, and you breathed a miniscule sigh of relief when several seconds passed and your presence didn’t immediately draw unwelcome attention.

In fact, the only attention it did draw was from a man stationed at the desk nearest the door, who turned to glance at you and offer a smirk that felt more friendly than invasive. Making a friend in Nashville may prove useful in the future, if you ever returned.

You crossed to him, noting his abnormally long hair, held back in a tie. What was he, some sort of delinquent? Who wore their hair that long? You stuck out a hand, which he shook jovially in greeting.

The man looked you up and down, but without the same leering entitlement you were used to men drenching you in. It felt more like the way you look over an old friend you haven’t seen in many years, taking in their appearance and appreciating the changes time has brought. “What’s your name, bearcat?” he asked. Strands of hair hung around his large eyes.

“What makes you think I’m a bearcat sorta lady?” you shot back, although an involuntary grin showed your hand too soon, and made him smile as well.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

He had that right. The trust put in you to transport the suitcase across the country hadn’t come without more than a modicum of feist and years of clawing your way, scrappy as you were, up the rungs of the rather unsavory ladder you perched on.

“Alright, Tiger, you got me.” His smile widened to reveal two rows of straight, white teeth, uncommonly perfect, and small wrinkles framed his eyes. This kid must get anything and everything he wants, you thought. That was certainly familiar.

“I’m Jake,” he said, reaching forward to clasp your hand in his and shake it vigorously. “As in, everything’s jake.” He winked and the resemblance slapped you even harder.

Jake turned back to the table he stood at and picked up another stack of twenties, leafing through it with ease and muttering the count under his breath. You tried not to let your eyes widen at the casual way he thumbed over more money than you’d ever seen at one time in your life. His profile was quite darling, a pointed nose and full eyebrows both scrunched in slight concentration, and teeth skating over his bottom lip absently. “Seven hundred, seven-twenty, seven-forty一sorry, sweetheart,” he said, without looking up from his work. “We’ve got a big fight coming up later today and need to have everything in order, you understand.”

“Is everyone in the bar in on this racket?” You asked, setting the case down on the floor and perching on the table next to him. Jake glanced sideways at you before resuming his counting.

“Just about.” You thought of the beanpole that had so gracefully attempted to charm you at the piano.

“Even Slim out there tickling the ivories?” Jake threw back his head and laughed a deep, husky laugh, thumping his hands down on the table, fists stuffed with money.

“Even him. That’s my brother, Samuel,” he said. “‘Slim’一I like that. I usually just call him a mug. He’s newer around here, and, of course, you don’t get to come into the back room until you show them you’re worth it. So for now he ‘tickles the ivories’, yeah? And when he’s lucky, he, uh…runs little errands for us.” His voice dropped an octave and he moved closer to you, causing your face to warm. “Anything you need doing, he can do for you.”

Jake’s eyes were a dark shade of amber that reminded you of a grizzled old alley-cat that used to live behind your house. That cat used to hiss and spit at passersby as if that were its job. But when you would place a bowl of water out for it, and scratch it right between the ears, it would purr like a motorboat.

“And what if I need you to do something for me?” You asked, reveling in your boldness.

His eyebrows rose and he seemed close to sinking his teeth into一his lip or you, you couldn’t be quite sure一but then he chuckled again and kept his voice low as he said, “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

A cold bath of deja vu plunged over you, Jake’s wily grin replaced in an instant with a familiar, softer one, although similar in shape.

Are you trying to grow a mustache, Kiszka? Warm light filled your body every time you looked at him.

A snort. What do you mean, trying? Look at this wonderful specimen. He tugged his lips into a cartoonish frown and stroked the sparse hairs growing in, wavy and unruly.

Well, I’ll have to decide myself whether or not I like the feel of it.

A smirk. That can be arranged. Soft hands sunk into the skin of your waist.

I leave you alone for one week, and this happens. You pulled him close to you and held his head back, admiring everything.

It felt more like a year. You’ll never leave California for that long again, will you?

I think I might, one day. But you’ll come with me.

A smile. Naturally.

A snap, very much in the present and very much in front of your eyes. “Hey, where’d you go, bearcat?” Jake asked, his head quirked.

“Oh, n-nowhere,” you said. You felt like you’d just shown him something intimate, taken him some place where he wasn’t allowed, even though he wasn’t privy to your memory. “You just look a bit like someone I used to know.”

“Someone dazzlingly beautiful, no doubt,” said Jake, the easy spring returning to his voice. You laughed, not offering a reply, and watched as he finished thumbing through the stack of bills before placing it in the neat rows he’d created. Then he turned to you and asked bluntly, “Are you going to give me that case or not?”

Your heart hammered nails made of nerves into your chest. “Are you the one I’m supposed to be giving it to?” you said, attempting to remain shrewd. Jake nodded.

“Well, I’m gonna get it to the person you’re supposed to be giving it to. You don’t just get to walk into Rob’s office unannounced, but一hey, where are you…?” Jake spluttered into panicked disbelief as you started marching your way toward the office at the back of the room, cut off from sight by the frosted glass. You could make out the silhouettes of two men arguing in the office as you wove in and around the tables of flustered bookies whose jaws would have to be scooped up off the ground when you were done. Your heels clicked against the weathered hardwood. Jake was still pursuing you madly. “Lady, you can’t just go in there!”

You all but kicked the door down, case swinging in hand as you blew into the office. You spared a moment to glance over your shoulder and call to the bewildered and nervous stud behind you, “I’m not in the habit of waiting for men to be ready for me. None of them ever have been!” His pretty lips hanging agape in horror was the last sight you saw before the door swung shut behind you.

“What the fuck is this?” came an angry voice before you had the time to turn around. When you did, you saw a tall, well-muscled man in his shirt-sleeves standing over a withered, sallow loser slumped into (or, more accurately, onto) a rolling desk chair. The office was all mahogany, down to the huge desk that took up nearly a third of the room. Before a word of explanation could leave you, you noticed the taller man’s white shirt was spattered lightly with red. No doubt if you took a closer look at the sap in the chair, you’d see a broken nose or busted lip. But now was hardly the time.

You tried to keep your voice even as you adjusted your stance so the case rested comfortably in front of your legs. “Sir, I believe this belongs to you now.”

The man didn’t move as you extended the case to him. “You see I’m in the middle of conducting some business now, huh?” he asked, his jaw moving in irritation. As a show of how busy he truly was, he yanked Mr. Sap up by his lapel and gave him a swift left hook. A tooth shot across the room, narrowly avoiding your head as you ducked to the side. It tinkled against the window of the door, ricocheting off the gilded words “Robert Sheridan, Proprietor”.

You bent down and picked up the tooth, calmly wiping the blood off the root with your thumb and tutting. “You poor thing,” you crooned. Sheridan’s power play notwithstanding, you made eye contact with him. “What’s his crime, sir?” The mobster looked caught off guard, but hurriedly cleared his throat and shook helpless Mr. Sap.

“You know, it’s funny, missy. He owes me money for some of what you got in that very case there,” Sheridan said in an easy tone that contrasted his earlier snap at you. He looked young, albeit with a good ten years on yourself. A dark beard, closely trimmed, lined his jaw. You could have sworn a wink was sent your way as you crossed the floor and bent down to look at the sniffling, bloodied man that had collapsed back into the desk chair.

“You don’t say,” you mused. A sickly smile that you hadn’t felt on your face in quite some time spread across it as you gripped Mr. Sap’s jaw and forced him to look you in the eye. “Do you owe Mr. Sheridan some cash, my dear?” The man gulped and nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Sheridan with terror. You tutted again. “Well then, it would appear that you owe me some cash. You see,” You lifted the leather case and brought it down on the mahogany desk with an earth-shattering crash. Mr. Sap flinched and began trembling even harder than he had been under your grip. “Mr. Sheridan bought this from my boss, so any money missing is coming out of my paycheck, I’m afraid.”

You held up the tooth that had flown across the room seconds ago. It was a bottom row molar, and you could see the gap near the front of the left side of Mr. Sap’s mouth. The low light of Sheridan’s desk lamp cast a shadow of it on the floor. “You got a good dentist?” you asked the cowering man in front of you. He stammered a string of incoherent, snuffling, sniveling pleas, at which you shook your head sympathetically. “I know, I know, it’s just impossible to find a solid dentist in the city! But you know what? I think I can fit you in for an appointment right now.” On the last word, you jammed the tooth back into its hole, causing Mr. Sap to scream out in muffled pain as your hand stayed firmly in his mouth, the other one clutching the back of his head to give your shove more force.

When his screaming subsided and you withdrew your hands, Sheridan was laughing. “Call me Rob,” he said, extending an open palm to you. You smiled and wiped your bloodied right hand on an inconspicuous portion of your jacket. As you took his hand, Rob said, “Billy told me I wouldn’t have to worry about you making the journey alright, but I had no idea he had someone so capable on his payroll! You whipping those other mooks in California into shape?”

“Of course, Mr. Sheridan一Rob,” you said with a slight chuckle and knowing grin. The cheery set of greetings was in direct contrast to the bloodied, whimpering man folded into the chair between the two of you. But that was just business. You bent down once more to be at eye level with him. “You’re gonna pay the nice Mr. Sheridan here the money you owe him, aren’t you, soldier?” He nodded fervently between sobs. “Oh, I think you’ll live.” You patted his head and looked up at Rob expectantly.

He was running his hands over the smooth leather of the case on the desk with fire in his eyes. “For you to come all the way across the country personally, well, it was so generous. And this一” He indicated the case with both hands and opened his palms to you. “Oh, it’s everything. Thank you.” He paused for a moment then said, “Any chance I can get that payment to you tomorrow? It goes without saying, but I’m a bit short.”

Billy had taught you to always be gracious, to a point. You held up your hands in peace.

“Anything for you, Rob,” you said. “My train leaves at 4:00 tomorrow.”

“Tell Billy that his best worker is being wasted as an errand girl.” Rob moved around Mr. Sap and held out his arm, ushering you from the office. You picked up your carpet bag and blew one last kiss to Mr. Sap, whose eyes were still wide and horrified. Rob opened the door for you and led you back into the betting office. You felt about a hundred times lighter without the case weighing you down, so you chatted easily with the bloodiest mob boss in southern America. How was your trip in? Well, it was delightful, thank you for asking.

You were so lost in conversation and the euphoria of completing your job, you didn’t notice reaching the entrance to the office. “Tomorrow, then,” Rob said, with a friendly salute as you made your way back down the dark hallway leading to the bar.

When you had exited the darkness and stepped into the, well, slightly-less-darkness of the bar, you looked around the room and said to no one in particular, “I need a fucking drink.”

A loud sigh from the corner behind you and the scraping of the piano bench made you turn around. “I suppose that’s my problem,” Sam lamented. He folded the sheet music he was reading from and stood, making his way toward you. “You’re not going to attack me again, are you?” he asked, voice pitched in mock fright. For a moment, you truly felt bad, and opened your mouth to apologize, but snapped it shut promptly when he said, “You know, you’re supposed to flick kittens that claw at you on the nose so they learn to stop.” He actually made a show of pressing the nail of his index finger into the pad of his thumb and stretched his hand to your nose.

“I can’t imagine how you think this will end well for you,” you said, a cool, calm deadliness in the stare you gave him. For probably one of the first times in his life, Sam made the wise decision and withdrew his hand. He slunk over to the bar, his lanky form casting candle-lit shadows on the floor as he went. You wondered how his skin got so darkly tanned if he worked in this hole day in and day out.

Sam looked at home behind the bar, his long fingers wrapping around various bottles with ease as he poured an old fashioned for one of the groggy patrons sitting near the door. You sat on a stool that wobbled dangerously in front of him.

“Can I tempt you?” he asked, waggling an eyebrow. You fought the urge to snatch the bottle for yourself and decided to knock this cocky mug down a few notches.

“I met your brother, back there, you know,” you began. Sam splashed some gin in a glass that had certainly seen cleaner days. He made no comment, so you plowed forward. “I’ll bet he’s got ladies crawling all over him. God…” you chuckled to yourself as you raised the glass to your lips, “...he might have another one real soon.”

You knocked the gin back without making a face, the welcome bite of it feeling familiar and homey. Sam gazed at you with those big, brown eyes as if sizing you up.

“Am I supposed to hear that and grovel at your feet, miss?” he said after a beat. You looked up at him with surprise, afterwards cursing yourself internally for giving him so much, and he leaned forward onto the bar, placing his hands across from yours on either side. “Would you like me to beg, and plead, and say, ‘Oh, please, ma’am, I’m ever-so-much bigger than my brother, won’t you let me keep you company tonight?’” He pulled his face into a ridiculous shape and used an affected southern accent. You stared back at him with hardened eyes as he scoffed and began wiping down some tumblers with a rag. “You drew blood, you know.”

Sam offered his wrist, and you saw the four crescent-shaped cuts your nails had left from your little altercation earlier. Blood had scabbed around the wounds already.

“You tried to take my case.”

Your intrepid bartender threw his hands in the air, tossing the towel with them. “I tried to help you, to assist you, miss,” he hissed in irritation. The little nickname was making you want to wring his neck. “And you, in a delightful show of gratitude, attacked me. Pardon me if I’m not falling over myself to sleep with you.”

Rage bubbled in your stomach over the sheer nerve this boy had. “Jog my memory,” you spat, reaching behind the bar and leaning into his face as you did so. “I can’t seem to recall the bit where I said I wanted anything to do with you. I’m here for one night, which I’ll be spending blissfully alone.” You snatched the bottle of gin from its place on the counter and poured another, generous shot into your glass.

“And my brother?” Sam shot back. “You seem quite taken with him. And from what I hear, he’s quite the cake-eater.” Your faces had grown uncomfortably close throughout this whole exchange, angry heat palpable. You threw back your shot, the second one burning more than the first.

“A ladies’ man, is he?” you purred. Your brain was beginning to fog, frosting over like the windows of Rob’s office. Kiszka could always get you to do some truly daring things with the help of gin shots. The thought of one night that ended with the two of you ducking in a dark alley and trying to keep your giggles to a minimum as incensed bar patrons pursued you made you blush.

Sam reached forward absently to take the empty gin glass from you, but your hand gripped his lightning-fast, and he let out another pained yelp. “When will you learn,” you said through gritted teeth, your nose a hair away from brushing his, “to not take my things before you’re handed them.” A piece of hair fell onto Sam’s forehead. Your hands were still interlocked and his chest heaved as you both stared daggers into the other’s eyes. His nose was infuriating to you, for some reason you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was longer and less pointed than his brother’s. He leaned forward, his long smirk slashed lazily across his face now, and stopped just short of touching your lips with his.

“And when will you learn that this is no place for a woman?” His words dripped humiliation and disgust that rolled directly off your hardened exterior. The only thing poking at the miniscule chinks in your armor was his mouth, the softness of which you were trying desperately to avoid feeling.

You reared back, thoroughly annoyed and finished with this thorn in your side. “I think you’ll find that I can handle anything you can, and then some. And then quite a bit more, actually,” you told him. You released his hand and smoothed down your jacket. Sam didn’t move, but rolled his eyes at you (not for the first time that day) as you gathered up your carpet bag and straightened your hat. “Now, would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the Hermitage Hotel?”

Sam spluttered. “The Hermitage? That’s the nicest hotel in Nashville! There’s not a chance you think Rob’s going to pay for that!”

“Correct,” you seethed, tossing a bill you retrieved from your purse onto the bar. “I think I’m going to pay for it.”

Just as Sam opened his mouth to undoubtedly say something stupider yet, the door that led to the bookies’ office swung open and Jake crashed through, emerging into the speakeasy with a bang. “Oh, bearcat, good! I thought you might be gone already!” Your cheeks colored at his attention, and something within you stirred as his dazzling smile sparkled in your direction. He had taken his hair out of the tie so it now hung loosely below his shoulders. Sam grumbled something under his breath and moved to the opposite end of the bar, but you barely took notice.

Jake approached you and took your hand, bending over to kiss it lightly. “So old-fashioned,” you fawned with exaggeration, batting your eyelashes and laughing.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Jake murmured, his eyes flashing up at you. “I’ve never seen a man with the guts to walk straight into Rob’s office!” He was getting worked up, excited. “I know you work for Billy and everything, but you’ve just got nerves of steel, baby! Where’d you learn to put the screws to someone like that?”

“You said it yourself: I work for Billy.”

Jake’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you were once more graced with his husky laugh. “Is it true you jammed a TOOTH back into his mouth?! God, you’re incredible.” He held you at arm’s length by your shoulders and shook you gently as he said it, making you blush harder still. His touch was so warm and inviting and so familiar…

“...and I want to take you out,” he was saying when you snapped back to reality. “You are the toughest broad I’ve ever seen in this drum, and I like it.”

Part of you wanted to say yes. Part of you really wanted to say yes. But when you made the decision to do so, the words died suddenly in your throat. Jake looked at you expectantly, his teeth once more skimming his bottom lip. What an adorable habit. He just looked far too much like一

“Yes,” you choked out, surprising yourself. “Yes, alright, let’s go to dinner.” You hated yourself for saying it, knowing exactly why you were attracted to this man. But the way his eyes lit up when you said it…you might say anything just to see that expression again. “I’m staying at the Hermitage.”

Jake whistled and leaned over to pull your bag off the chair you had set it on, but Sam interrupted with a barking laugh, “Careful, Jakey! She might take a knee to your cock!”

You launched forward, leaning over the bar as far as possible and grabbing the idiot’s shirt collar in one fist. “I’ve had ENOUGH out of you!” you growled, and shook him by the collar. His slicked hair was now quite disheveled and flying madly around jawline. “Quit whining and close your head.” You released him and stepped back, readjusting your clothing for a second time. Jake was gaping at you, perhaps even more stunned than when you’d marched into the most feared mobster in Tennessee's office unannounced.

“I think I might be in love.”

☞

Dinner at the Hermitage was a pleasant affair, Jake’s conversation amiable and light. He had the steak, and you had the chicken. His hand would skate over yours on occasion, thumb rubbing your knuckles. When your plates had been cleared, he joked with the waiter: “A glass of wine, please, sir.” The waiter glared at him, apparently not finding the fact that he could lose his job for providing any libations humorous. Jake waved him away with a chuckle of his own.

“This dry spell is driving everyone mad! It’s 1924!” he said. “The fact we have to hide a shitty bar behind a dress store, and ‘cerulean’? What kind of a code word is that? I told Rob when he一” Jake stopped short, catching sight of your tired expression. “I’m sorry, bearcat. I’m boring you to tears.”

You sat up, mortified to have let your guard down in front of him so much. “Oh, no, Jake, it’s not you at all! I’ve just had a very long day, coming straight from the train to Miss Juliette’s and meeting you all…I’m just about wiped.” The dim atmosphere of the swanky restaurant had done nothing to energize you.

“I’ll escort you to your room, then.” You tried to hide your flushed face.

“Oh, you don’t have to一”

“Bunk. This swanky, highbrow hotel is no place for a lady,” Jake winked. The imitation of his irritant of a brother made you roll your eyes, but you stood as he pulled your chair out. The soft tinkle of silverware cutting against fine china seemed worlds away as Jake’s hands slid down your arms and reached around you to retrieve your hat from the table. “Madam,” he mumbled, as you turned to meet his face, inches from your own. You took the hat and ignored the way his eyes flicked to your lips.

“Ever the gentleman.”

The two of you crashed into your hotel room, ignoring the stares from passersby in the hall. He had you up against the closed door in seconds, lips furiously working against yours and hands gripping your waist. He ground his hips against yours, and you instantly felt your core react, your attraction to him that had been growing all day reaching a peak. Your hand tangled into his long hair, winding tendrils around your fingers and tugging. Jake moaned and moved his mouth to your neck. Your heart was pounding, and not in the delicious way you would have preferred.

This was wrong. You knew it was wrong, knew you were only attracted to him because he looked so much like一

I love that perfume on you.

Something about the way you can’t keep your hands off me may have already alerted me to that fact. You giggled. Kiszka groaned and buried his face deeper in your neck, lips ghosting all over the soft skin.

I love when you wear your hair like this. He extracted a few pins from the coil of hair you’d piled on your head and threw them to the side. I love when you get nervous and your face goes all pink.

I love you, you moaned, head thrown back. I love you so much,一

“Joshua,” you whispered in the present. The man currently ripping the buttons off your blouse and kissing your collarbone froze. Not Joshua. You closed your eyes tight and felt his mouth leave you.

Slowly, Jake said, “What did you say?” His voice was a sheet of ice in April, at the point of shattering.

None of the thousand options for what to say at this moment would have made the situation better. “I’m sorry,” you whispered meekly. “I didn’t mean to say…” Jake slid off of you and stepped back, clearing his throat. The air had gone from thick with tension to thick with discomfort in the time it had taken for you to say…well…

“You said, before, that I looked like someone you used to know…” His words were slow as he sat down on the bed. There was a beat, and then he said, “I think this Someone used to kiss you like I want to.”

How could this man you’d known a matter of hours wreck your heart until it felt like a piece of wet newspaper, discarded in the street on a rainy day? He was beautiful, even stifling his obvious distress. Both lips pressed together, he looked around the room, at anything but you. A dimple formed in his cheek when he did that. “I’m sorry,” was all you could offer again, this time even more pathetic.

You stayed pressed to the wall, hands folded behind your back. You could tell that your lips were still swollen from being explored by him. This was all so stupid, you thought as you gazed at Jake and he averted his. Why couldn’t you just let yourself fall in love with someone else, anyone else? Or even just…kiss anyone else without thinking about him?

Tentatively, you moved from the wall and sat down beside Jake, about two feet away from him. You both stared at the doorway. “Do you have a brother?” you asked finally, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, you kicked him in the groin and pulled him over a bar earlier.”

“No, I mean…” You trailed off with a groan, already frustrated at how difficult it would be to explain this. “You don’t have another brother, do you? Anywhere else in the country?”

“No.”

“Not in California?”

“Not since the last time I talked to my mother.”

“Oh, and when was that?” You smiled and tried to make a joke of it all.

“Yesterday.”

“Ah.”

Jake sighed and fiddled with the fabric of his pants. He seemed still unable to look up at you. His face was Joshua’s, it was just too similar, and although your brain warned you not to, your heart continued the fruitless line of questioning.

“What’s your surname?”

“Kirschner.” Your heart jumped a beat. A very irrational part of you wondered whether that wasn’t a derivation of Kiszka that came from years of migration and customs-declaration. The much larger, rational part of you told you to stop it.

Jake turned his head to look at you at last. “Why do you ask? Do we look that much alike?” You bit your lip and nodded. He inhaled through his nose, then sighed. “Me and the… Someone?”

“You’re a dead ringer for him. I’m sorry.” You felt your next words spilling out of you faster than you could catch them. “You look so much like him and I一it’s not fair if that’s why I’m…Oh, God, Jake.” You pressed your hands to your face, feeling how incredibly warm it was. Embarrassment, shame, everything swirled inside you until you felt like you were in one of the cocktail shakers back at the bar.

“Hey,” he said, and you looked up at the sudden softness in his voice. “Listen, bearcat. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’ve known you all of five hours, and clearly, Someone一” he paused a beat and waited for you to fill in “Someone”’s name.

“Joshua,” you murmured, for the second time that evening.

Jake nodded and swallowed thickly, remembering. “Clearly, you’re in love with Joshua,” he said gently.

“Not anymore,” you whispered.

His head snapped to you, and now it was your turn to avoid his gaze at all costs. The fresh, floral wallpaper of a hotel had never looked so interesting to you as it did then. In a play of maturity you thought he could do well to pass onto his brother, Jake didn’t press you.

“Well, anyway, you’ve still got a friend in Nashville.”

Your spirits rose. “Oh?” Jake chuckled and nodded to himself.

“I meant it when I said you were the toughest broad I’d ever seen! I’ll like you no matter what. Nothing I hate more than being sappy but you一” He dug his fingers into your sides, tickling the places he’d been caressing before, “一are the bee’s knees.” You shrieked with laughter and pushed at him, throwing him gently into the bed.

“Thanks, buggy,” you smiled as he pushed his hair away from his face.

“Buggy?!” he cried with mock outrage. “Oh, what, because I said ‘bee’s knees’? I’ll get you for that one!” He jumped up as you did and chased you around the room while you giggled almost maniacally.

That night, you lay in bed and stared at the crown molding on the ceiling. Your silk nightgown felt cool against your tired skin. Sleep began clawing at the edges of your vision as you noticed the cherubs hidden carefully in the room’s corners. Jake is wonderful, your brain mused happily, drifting ever closer to blissful darkness. He didn’t make me feel bad about all that nonsense, or ask me about Kiszka. I’d almost like to stay here longer, with a friend like that.

And his brother, interrupted an annoying voice. You scoffed to no one. I hate him, you reminded yourself. He’s such an irritating little…

So why are you thinking about him?

You turned over in bed and hmph’d in frustration.

Rob seemed like a boss you wouldn’t mind running with, even if he did still frighten you, for all his good-naturedness. And Miss Juliette, with all her understated elegance and kindness to the girl she thought had wandered into her little “shop” off the street. It seemed that Nashville wanted you to stay.

As you finally drifted off, the eyes that featured in your dream weren’t their usual light, golden-brown. Much to your confusion, they had heavier brows, and occasionally, ever-so-subtly, they would roll at your words.

#if ur like me u will have whiplash from the word 'bearcat' after reading that #hope you liked this chap!!!#sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka x reader #gvf fic #by liv :)

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hiddenleafstoryteller · 4 years

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🐱 with shikamaru pls!

A/N: Thanks for the request anon! I love writing for Shika, and this prompt was amazing. I really got into writin this one, I hope you enjoy it!

🐱: “She’s not yours anymore, so you might as well leave.”

Word Count: 1,395

Check out the master list for my prompts here!

Squicks: Alchohol mention, drunken behavior, hints of abusive relationship

Shikamaru stared across the room as he watched [Y/N] dance with Daichi, her fiance. Her lavender dress flowed around her with every twirl, she was the only source of color among the black tie affair.

“Could have been you.” Choji remarks standing to his right as he nods towards the couple.

“Yeah, right.” Shikamaru huffs, “Marriage is a drag, definitely not for me.”

Choji laughs and looks at his best friend, “This coming from the same man who practiced proposing to [Y/N] in front of me almost a hundred times?”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes but is unable to meet Choji’s knowing gaze. His hand touches his best friend’s shoulder and gives him a squeeze, he knew how deeply this was affecting Shikamaru even if he wouldn’t admit to it.

“If you love her Shikamaru, go get her. Girls like her don’t just appear every day.” Choji chimes into Shika’s thoughts before he goes back to the table where he sat with Ino.

Shikamaru watches as [Y/N] breaks away from Daichi’s grasp and makes her way to the bar. He decides to make his way over.

“A whiskey straight with a water back for myself and whatever this lovely lady would like.”He says to the bartender coming up behind [Y/N] who glances over her shoulder at him in surprise.

“Shika! I didn’t expect you to come.” She says with a soft smile, and he shrugs with a casual smirk etched onto his face.

“Choji said it would be rude if I didn't, so here I am.” He explained and she awkwardly nodded as she glances at the bartender.

“Make that two straights, no water back on mine.”

“Since when do you shoot whiskey?” Shikamaru teases her as their drinks are poured and slid across the bar. Shika pays and leaves a decent tip before picking up both of their drinks and leading her away from the bar.

“It’s been three years since you last spoke to me, things change.” The bluntness of her voice almost makes him laugh, she was trying so hard to sound mean. He hands her the cold glass as they steal away to the garden outside.

“Evidently.” Shikamaru nods towards the ring on her finger, “If I remember correctly, you told me you were never going to get married.”

Before she can respond, he continues, “If I also remember correctly, you said that as I was down on one knee in front of you.”

Y/N pauses and clenches her jaw, “If you came here to just make me feel bad about something I did when we were seventeen, I’ll see you out of the door myself Shikamaru.”

He sighs, almost immediately regretting the words that had left his mouth. He places his glass on the tall table next to where they stood in the glow of the fairy lights.

“Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to come say congratulations?” He offers, sitting on the garden wall.

“Not in the slightest.” She chuckles and sits next to him. She sways her feet slightly as they don’t touch the ground.

“I figured.” He picks up the glass and throws back what is left of the whiskey. She quietly nurses her drink, her body swaying softly to the music that played around them.

“So why are you really here Shika?” The question slaps Shikamaru across the face, why was he really here? He glances sideways at her and then gives a halfhearted shrug.

“Well my fawn, I just wanted to see you one last time before you became somebody's wife.” He smiles softly as he watches a soft blush paints itself across her cheeks.

“Wow, it's been a long time since someone called me that.” She chuckles and raises the glass to her lips again.

“You know why I called you that, don't you?” He inquires as he gently moves a stray hair away from her face, she shakes her head ‘no’.

“Your eyes, they remind me of a doe’s eyes. Soft, brown, full of mysteries no man will ever understand.”

She cackles, nearly spitting out some of her drink.

“Oh Shika, I have to wear boots around you.” Her voice twinkles across the night air as she wipes the bit of the liquor off of her dress, “You create more bullshit than my father’s cows.”

“I missed that laugh of yours.” He remarks suddenly, “The way I could hear it in a crowded room and immediately know where you were.”

She goes to speak but he stops her before she can utter a sentence, “I miss that little chipped tooth you have. From when you smashed your head against Hinata’s during training at the academy, I also hoped you would never get it fixed. I miss the way you always had a smile on your face when I walked in the house after a mission. I miss getting lost in the woods with you, I miss the way my father used to tease me in front of you, trying to embarrass me. I miss everything sweetheart, and it makes me physically ill to know you're marrying Daichi.”

The words crash over his lips like a captured wild horse who finally broke free of its ropes, it didn’t care what damage it caused. It just wanted to be free, just as Shikamaru wanted to be free of these thoughts he carried around with him like a permanent set of luggage.

“Shika, Shika I’m so sorry.” Her hands grab onto his and squeeze gently, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Than don’t say anything my fawn.” He kisses her forehead and then stares down into her eyes a glimmer distracts him as she looks down at the engagement ring that adorned her left hand.

“If he ever, and I mean ever, lays a hand on you in a way that isn’t out of love, [Y/N] I will kill him.” Shikamaru’s voice is cold, as if something else had taken over him. If he couldn’t protect [Y/N] by being by her side, he at least would be on her side, through everything.

“There will never be a day that goes by where I will forgive myself for saying no to you all those years ago. I was just a dumb little kid, and you deserved so much more than that.” Her voice shakes slightly and she throws back the rest of her drink.

“[Y/N!]” A voice calls from across the garden and they both looked up to see Daichi, followed by his friends, approaching them. His face flushed from the amount of liquor he had consumed.

“Daichi! I would like you to meet Shikamaru Nara, we’ve fought beside each other since we were children.” [Y/N] jumps up and stands with her fiance, “We were just catching up.”

“You’re the little fuck who proposed to her aren’t you?” Daichi spits at Shikamaru who doesn’t flinch.

“Daichi! You’re drunk.” [Y/N] tries to direct him away, “I’m sorry Shika, please excuse his behavior.”

Daichi shakes her off with a swift but hard shove and she has to grab onto the table to keep her balance. Shikamaru stands and steps up to the man who stood between him and the girl he loved.

“You’re lucky she didn’t fall, otherwise I’d make sure you found yourself falling from the roof.” Shikamaru fumed, not paying any mind to the men who stood behind Daichi.

“What are you even doing here? Hoping to steal her from me?” Daichi laughs, “Well, newsflash lover boy. She’s not yours anymore, so you might as well leave, and I better not see you anywhere near our wedding. Otherwise, you’ll have a few people showing you the way out.”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

Daichi clenches his jaw, he wasn’t used to someone not being intimidated by him.

Shikamaru turns to [Y/N] who still had a grip on the table she had fallen into. He reaches out and gently strokes her tear-stained cheek. Their eyes met and Shikamaru tried hardest to remember them because after tonight, he knew he would never see her again.

“Take care of yourself my little fawn, if you need me, tell Choji. He’ll know how to find me.”

He walks away from the party and onto the road heading back towards the village, he tried to remember ever step he took. He wouldn’t be coming home for a long time.

#shikamaru #familiar prompts #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara #squick: alcohol #tw: abuse #squick: drunken behavior

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