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isaut · 10 months

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𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒚 — chrollo x f!reader. 2.8k. ao3.

set in the 'wishy washy' era of my longfic. you haven't agreed to be kuroro's girlfriend yet, but he's still sticking around because he knows that one day you'll agree to be his girl. after all. he's got some freetime until he gets his nen back. so he'll pick you up from brunch. tw: reader is drunk (brunch) and gets a flush from it, reader reads acotar. kuroro is goofy, y'all just don't know him like i do.

The ping from his phone pulls Kuroro from the book he was currently reading. He isn’t one to be attached to his phone, normally, but recently he’s had reason to keep his phone nearby. There’s a familiar notification, only instead of a text popping up, there was an audio message.

“Coucou Kuroro! I don’t know if I responded to your text earlier but I’m at brunch and—” Your voice trails off into a giggle as you’re distracted from your phone before you go back to the voice memo. “Well I’m at brunch and I don’t want to take the metro home. Will you please come and pick me up?”

There’s some more chatter in the background. Kuroro can hear your friends teasing you in the background, before the message cuts off. His French is bad, and even after a few listens, he still can’t figure it out. It’s infuriatingly interesting.

Moments later, a pin of your location comes in. Kuroro pulls it up, and he knows exactly which brunch spot it is. It’s one of your favorites that gives discounts for the professors who frequent it. Their mimosas aren’t bottomless, but they’re made with mango orange juice, which makes all the difference.

I’ll be right there, Kuroro texts back. He sets his book aside, heads to his room to change out of his robe into casual clothes— Trousers and a white button down that he’s sure to not button up all the way. He hides his tattoo, applies cologne, slides on his loafers and picks up his keys from the foyer.

The drive down to the brunch spot is short. He only gets stuck in traffic for a few minutes. He puts his hazards on outside of the restaurants and politely walks up to the hostess stand. Kuroro surveyed the restaurant, and his eyes landed on a rambunctious group. He gestures over to the group, and gives the hostess an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I’m here for them.”

The hostess gives a little giggle at that, before letting him walk over.

He’s immediately met with a chorus of squeals that would align more so with a group of schoolgirls than a group of decorated professors. However, champagne can do a lot to the mind.

“Oh my goodness, you came!” You say excitedly. Your face is flush from the drinks, spreading down past your neck and the pretty pearls that rest there.

“I got your voice message,” Kuroro says, unable to help the little smile that was pulling at his lips. “Did you get my text back?”

You shake your head, “I haven’t looked at my phone since I called you.”

“Ah,” Kuroro says, standing behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Where’s your waiter?”

It takes a few seconds of Kuroro scanning the room before he makes eye contact with the man he took to be your waiter. “I’ll be right back, okay? Go ahead and get your things together.”

He leaves you to your own devices and crosses the restaurant to the waiter with a pitcher of water in his hands. “Sorry to interrupt, is that your table over there?”

The waiter nods. “Yeah, I was about to—”

“Here, let me save you the trouble,” Kuroro says, handing over a card. After a few moments, he closes their tab with a signature that is not his own, and heads back over to the group of rowdy women. If he was six months younger, he would have pickpocketed them all.

Instead, he helps you to your feet, and tells your friends that the bill was taken care of, and to have a wonderful rest of their Sunday (he’d offer to take them home, but he drives a two seater to avoid having to do that). With perfect posture, he holds out a hand for you to take while you stand, alcohol making you slightly wobbly in your heels. Kuroro plucks your purse off the back of your chair so you don’t forget it, and focuses on escorting you out of the restaurant and to his car. His hands never leave your waist, keeping you steady.

He opens the door to his car, and gently guides you in to make sure you don’t knock your head against the roof. Once both legs are neatly tucked away in his passenger seat, he sits your purse in your lap and carefully shuts the car door.

With the free time you have, just while Kuroro rounds the car, you fiddle around in your purse. Not looking for anything in particular, just to look. To feel the cool of your lipstick tube against your fingers, hear the little clicks and clanks of your trinkets.

Kuroro slides into the seat beside you and glances over at you. He slides his fingers down the length of the phone charging cord and offers it over to you. You glance at it, blinking once, before gasping and taking it from him. While you plug in your phone, Kuroro leans over to grab the seat belt and buckle you in. His cologne wafts over you, and you can’t help but slide your fingers through his hair, tracing up the nape of his neck and twirling one of the black strands around your finger.

While he pulls back, he pauses before your face, and gives you a little half smile before settling back into his seat.

He peels away from the curb onto the road. As your phone connects to the console, the music you’d been listening to while getting ready hums through the speakers, cutting off the radio.

“Did you have a good time?” Kuroro asks, holding out his free hand for you to take. You gladly do, trailing your fingers over his long ones.

“Mhm,” You hum, using your other hand to trace over his knuckles. “I’m so glad you came and picked me up. Do you want to come over to my place?”

“You don’t want to come over to mine?” Kuroro asks, casting a long-lashed gaze over in your direction. You ignore his gaze, focused on his hand instead. The hands move smoothly and silently on his watch.

The candid desire you feel towards him only shines through when you’re under the influence; it aches something within Kuroro, something foreign that he hasn’t felt in ages.

In all honesty, Kuroro is a little wounded that the only time you’re candid about wanting him over is when you’re under an influence. He wishes you’d be under his influence.

You ponder his question, looking from your hand joined with his to his lips.

“Is it closer?”

But Kuroro can play the long game. He’s got time. He can’t do much without his nen.

“It can be.”

You ponder on it, glancing out the window for a moment. “Okay. Even though my place is better.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” You hum. “You don’t live at your place. It’s all cold.”

“We can go to your place, darling,” Kuroro reassures you, a smile pulling at his lips. “I didn’t realize you were so... Averse to my apartment.”

“I’m not averse, I’m just. My place is nicer,” You pout. “I have throw blankets. And art. And incense.”

“I have throw blankets and art,” Kuroro hums.

“Do you have incense?” You counter.

“I’m already heading to your place,” Kuroro says, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back. Into the skin, he says: “You look very beautiful today.”

You hum, giving him a wide smile. “Really?”

Kuroro nods. “Absolutely.”

“I think you look hotter with your tattoo out,” You say, not missing a beat.

Kuroro chuckles. “I just don’t want to attract unwanted attention when we’re out.”

You pout. His hand falls back to your thigh.

“I also don’t think you’d be able to last ten minutes if I left the house with it uncovered.”

Your mind immediately wanders, mainly to Kuroro after a night out, not a date night, where he immediately takes off his covering and runs his fingers through his hair, shaking it out and pushing it back. Instinctively, your thigh comes to cross your other, only to sandwich Kuroro’s hand there.

He doesn’t move his hand.

Going up to your apartment, Kuroro makes sure to keep his hands on your waist, steadying you in the elevator, letting you lean back against him.

“My apartment’s kind of a mess. I was getting ready.”

It was easy to imagine the mess before even entering the apartment. A bounty of clothes strewn on the bed, makeup littered along your bathroom counter. Perhaps your coffee mug would still be by your chair, and your morning journal not yet tucked away.

He’d give a peek if you took a nap.

Upon arriving at your door, he takes your keys from your purse. For being so small, it certainly is an endless pit. Even for his deft fingers, it takes a few moments to locate them. Keys clink against their chains, and within moments the door to your apartment is open.

Within moments of stepping in the apartment, you wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. Kuroro makes a noise of surprise when your lips make contact with his.

You’re also considerably more under the influence now that you’re inside your apartment. Kuroro’s hands come to steady your hips, legs already moving around a bit more than they would had you been stone cold sober.

Kuroro indulges you for a breath more, before he’s pulling away much to your displeasure. You whine, high in the back of your throat, and look up at him with big eyes that you had no business making at your grown age.

He smiles, a little lopsided with charm, patting your hip.

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” He suggests.

You nod in agreement, reaching your hand up to slide your manicured nails under the bandana covering Kuroro’s tattoo. You manage to push it up so it sits on his hairline, making the bangs of his hair stand up.

“I was talking about you, not me,” He states, but acquiesces, removing the garment and setting it on the hallway table. He then drops to a knee before you, undoing the straps of your shoes and helping you out of them.

“You didn’t wear boots,” Kuroro notes, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before standing.

Back on flat feet, you cross your legs for a brief moment before shrugging. “It was brunch.”

Kuroro’s gaze is anything but discreet as he takes in your earrings, necklace, down to your dress before back to your face. Whatever he was going to say, whatever he was going to comment on, he decides against it. Instead, he toes off his own shoes and places his hands back on your hips, leading you further into your apartment.

“I’m hungry,” You declare, walking into your bedroom and sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders, reaching back to try and unzip it.

Kuroro’s fingers glide over yours, taking hold of the cheap zipper and sliding it down. He ducks his head down to press a kiss to your shoulder, holding your hand as you step out of the dress. He scoops it off the floor to place it on your chair of discarded options for the outing.

“What would you like to eat?” Kuroro asks, a small smile on his face as he helps himself to your dresser and pulls out a slip of silk for you to wear. He passes the fabric over you, which you mindlessly pull over your head.

“Lobster,” You sigh, flopping face first onto the bed. You follow with a muffled, “Please.”

Kuroro tilts his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “What brought this on?”

“They had a lobster eggs benedict. But I didn’t get it because I really wanted avocado toast and pancakes,” You bemoan, rolling onto your back, throwing an arm over your eyes dramatically.

Kuroro sits on the bed beside you, smoothing his hand over your nightgown, from your stomach to your waist and back again.

“We can go again next weekend,” Kuroro promises, smiling fondly.

You drop your arm to rest on the bed above you. “Really?”

Kuroro nods, “Really.”

You sigh happily, rolling over to rest your head on his thigh. “I think I should take a nap.”

Kuroro rubs your back. “I think that might be a good idea. Do you want some water?”

You nod, slowly sitting back up. “Will you nap with me?”

“I’ll stay with you,” Kuroro says, standing and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m coming with you,” You insist, following him out of the room.

In the kitchen, you wrap your arms around Kuroro’s middle and slide your hands up and down on his abdomen, feeling his abs through the material of his tucked in shirt. He pats your hands, turning to give you the glass of water.

You take a few dutiful sips, standing there far too close to the man. The entire cup is gone by the time you’re slipping under your covers and Kuroro is shirtless in sweatpants that he allegedly ‘left’ at your apartment. Forgoing your pillow, you instead place your head on Kuroro’s lap, closing your eyes.

His fingers play with your hair, carefully moving the strands away from your face.

“‘M readin’ some stuff. On the table.”

Kuroro looks over his shoulder, at the nightstand that does have a few books stacked up on it. A Room of One’s Own, Mary Oliver’s Devotions. Your Kindle is being used as a coaster for an empty glass of wine.

That is more interesting to him than two books he knows front to back. He shifts to grab the Kindle, flipping over the cover.

Hearing your Kindle front cover magnetize itself to the back of the cover, your eyes flash open.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I’ve read both the books, I want to see–”

You sit up quickly, almost too quickly, and try to grab the device back from Kuroro. A small smile tugs at his cheeks as he holds the device far away from you.

You huff as you fall on his chest, hand resting on a pec to catch yourself.

“I didn’t know you had one of these,” Kuroro says, his grin evident in his voice.

“It’s for book club,” You mumble.

“Oh?” He asks, “I didn’t know you were in a book club.”

“‘S who I had brunch with today.”

“Is it?” Kuroro asks, raising his eyebrows. “No wonder you drank so much, you left the source material at home.”

“Je peux av– Je–”

Kuroro raises an eyebrow.

“I can have a conversation about a book sans le livre,” You huff, sitting back on your knees and crossing your arms.

Shamelessly, Kuroro drops his eyes to the way your breasts are pressed together before back to your face.

“So why can’t I see what’s on here?” He asks, gently shaking it side to side in his hold.

Your blush spreads down your neck. Resoutly, you look away from him.

“It's a secret.”

“Lay back down, darling,” Kuroro urges, patting his thigh and setting the Kindle back down on the nightstand.

Seeing the offending device put down, you climb back under the sheets and rest your head back on Kuroro’s thigh. He picks up one of the other books from the nightstand, opening it to a random page. Once your breathing evens out, he trades it for your Kindle, curiosity piqued. Almost as much as you wanted lobster eggs benedict about an hour ago.

A week later, when you’re sitting across from him in the same brunch place, in the same shoes and a similar dress, lobster eggs benedict in front of you and two mimosas in that Kuroro brings it back up again. He washes his bite down with a sip of water.

“So, I read those books on your Kindle. I got them from the local library. I can see why you didn’t want me knowing you read them,” He says.

You pause, mid-cut. “From… The library?”

Kuroro nods. “I told the woman checking me out that the woman I was interested in had them and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. Do you want to know what she said?”

You take another sip of your mimosa. “Do I?”

“She said, I wish I had a boyfriend like you.”

You suck your teeth. “No she didn’t.”

Kuroro grins at that. “She did. Anyways, they were much different from what I’m used to reading. I do think it’s interesting that Maas took such a strong female protagonist and turned her into a traditional wife. A ruined opportunity if you ask me.”

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. Instead of being defiant, you take another bite of the food before you and finish your mimosa in one fell swoop.

“Yeah, it was kind of a cop out.”

Kuroro nods. “I can also see why you would need to be so drunk to talk about it.”

You roll your eyes, groaning. Embarrassed but touched. “Will you drop it?”

Kuroro smiles and shakes his head. “After the two thousand pages I read? Absolutely not.”

#chrollo x reader #.ophelia #library #named after the coco and clair song x

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