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satorusugurugurl · 5 months ago

Note

You made geto sound so attractive in the leisure streamer fic esp w all the tatts and piercings and rings 😵‍💫😵‍💫 will u ever do a separate Drabble w him in the same universe? Maybe not the same reader bc I like them w gojo but w another reader who maybe works at the cafe?? You don’t have to at all, I was just wondering! 🩷🩷 you just made him soooo sexy I’m obsessed with him 😌 (also sukuna was so funny im the king of the cafe!!! 🤣)

My Boss is a Hottie!

Summary: Geto Suguru is your boss, and you want him to put you in a million different positions; of course, you’d never say that out loud until your best friend Yuki pushes you over the edge.

Pairing: Boss!Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3,372

Warnings Language, smut, pinv, unprotected sex, creampie

A/N: JENXMDJDKDK Thank you for the request! This is set in the same universe as The Leisure Streamer is a Hottie! I love Boss Geto! 🥴 bend me over the glass display case pleas!!

You stare down at the two coffee cups placed in front of you. Your best friend, Yuki Tsukumo, is watching you, smirking as you pick up the 1st cup and take a sip. You let the flavor sit on your tongue

Before swallowing, which you regret almost instantly. The espresso is bitter, and it tastes like rag water. You take a sip of your water before picking up the second cup, taking a sip of the nutty, almost chocolatey espresso, and sliding your mouth, making your eyes roll back.

“That is your stupid instant espresso from the supermarket.” You spit out as you jab a thumb at the first cup you, unfortunately, drank from. “That right there is my sweet Colombian beans roasted to perfection.” To emphasize your point, you pick up the second cup and take another sip of the delicious liquid inside.

“Holy shit! You can tell the difference!” Yuki reaches under the counter, pulling out a large brown sack of Colombian beans she picked up for you and Geto on her latest trip.

“Of course, I can tell the difference; I work with the self-appointed king of coffee, Ryomen Sukuna. I have drunk so much espresso you would think I would be more wired than I already am.”

Yuki shakes her head, patting the bag before stretching her arms above her head. “Sure~ blame your coworker for your sudden encyclopedia knowledge of coffee.” She shoots you a knowing smirk. “It’s totally not because of the boss you want to bang.” Your cheeks flush as you choke on your espresso, winning a cackle from your friend.

“That's fucking weird shut up!”

“Oh, you shut up! I can see the way you both eye fuck each other every time you’re near one another. Do the world the fucking favor and just fuck already.”

“There is no eye-fucking going on!”

Yuki narrows her eyes and looks back at her boyfriend, Choso, who is tinkering with the air filter for Yuki’s bike. “Cho, you’ve seen them, right?” her boyfriend looks up from his project at hand, streaks of grease on his face as he puts down the tool he was working with.

“Seen what?”

“My bestie eye fucking her boss!”

“Oh,” Choso glances between you and his girlfriend, “Yeah, I've seen it.”

You groan into your hands, shaking your head. “Nothing is going on between us! I swear!” Yuki cooed, placing another bag of beans on the table for you.

“But you want there to be!”

It was true you did want to be in a relationship with your boss. But there was one singular problem. He was your fucking boss! Sure, the two of you had known each other since college. Sure, you both got wasted together at bars and had cuddled on his couch countless times. He was the soul fantasy you dreamed about when you were diddling your skittle in the comfort of your bed. But things wouldn’t work out because he was your boss.

Yuki knew you had it down bad for him. And she loved torturing the absolute hell out of you because of that. She insisted that you could make it work, but you saw it as unprofessional. Plus, Suguru was so fucking hot. There was no chance in hell he would even go for a girl like you.

“You cannot look at me and tell me you do not want to see what he’s packing in those baggy pants.”

“No, I don't.”

“You're a terrible liar.”

“And you're being a terrible friend at the moment! I cannot fuck my boss!”

Yuki’s eyes dart behind you before smirking ever so slowly. “Oooh, so you do want to!” You clench your teeth as you down the rest of the espresso. “Oh, come on, just be honest with yourself! The truth will set you free!” slamming the cup down, you glared at your beaming friend.

“Fine! You wanna know, I’ll tell you! But don't bitch to me about said details!”

“Oooh, I wouldn't never!” she holds her hand. “Scouts honor!”

“I would be all over that man all day, every day, in the kitchen, in his car, on the counter. I would be in missionary, doggy, reverse cowgirl, the lotus! I would do the whole fuckin’ Kamasutra for Geto Suguru!” Yuki nodded as you took a deep breath. “I would gladly make that man a father of three! And you know the idea of being pregnant terrifies me!”

“Oh, I know!”

“I would suck that man dry! I would give him the best fuckin’ nut of his life! God, I wanna sink my teeth into him!”

Choso walked over, tapping Yuki on the shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt the horny confessions, but I found the problem; I need to borrow you away from Geto and your bestie.” Huh, you blinked, staring at Choso, who grinned at someone behind you. “Hi, Geto.”

No, there was no way Geto was behind you! “Oh, that's a good one, Choso!” a warm hand clasped your shoulder, making every nerve in your body jolt.

“Hi, Choso.” Your boss, the man you thought of when rubbing yourself under your sheets, squeezed your shoulder—making you want to crawl under the table and scream.

“Well, this has been fun! But I got shit to do! Have a great night!” Yuki was off without another word, tugging Choso towards the back of her mechanic shop.

Geto’s hand remained on your shoulder before his other hand gently massaged you. Heat pooled between your legs as he rubbed your muscles with the right amount of pressure. That soft, constant contact had you moaning, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate the throbbing you were experiencing. Oh god, was this just him being nice? Or was this his way of conveying his feelings?

You glanced up, biting your lip. Geto Suguru was a fucking hottie. The tail of his dragon tattoo ran along his forearm, moving towards his back, where the rest of the dragon was. Suguru’s other arm was an intricate sleeve of ocean waves and cherry blossoms. The black ink matched his painted black nails kneading into your shoulders. The touch of his hand left you hot and bothered, but the chill from the rings on almost every one of his fingers was a sharp contrast. His dark eyes were narrowed his pierced brow cock as he smirked. His long, luscious dark hair was in his signature half-up, half-down style, with bangs on his face.

“I-I got your beans, boss—haaaah—” you moaned, watching his pink tongue dart out over black lip ring. “Fuck.”

“Good job.” His fingers gently inched under the collar of your t-shirt up to the first knuckle. “I appreciate you, princess.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers trace your skin. They feel good, so good you don’t want it to stop. So you gulp before biting your lip. You gently grab one of his wrists and lower his hand underneath your shirt to the second knuckle. Suguru's barrow eyes widened before he chuckled breathlessly, sinking his hand further.

“Fuck—”

You gasp out as Suguru’s fingers gently trace over the top of your breasts. “So, the girls are out. They're going to have a sleepover with Nobara and Maki at their place.” His words are silky smooth, like the espresso you had just downed moments before.

“Oh? So will you and Satoru sit around and play mindless, stupid video games like always?”

“Satoru is in Sendai with my new designer artist.” Suguru’s slid his finger deeper, fuck he was so close to cupping your breast. “He told me not to wait up.”

Holy fuck, was this happening? This was a moment you had dreamed and fantasized about happening for years. Ever since you started working with Suguru at a local shop before he invested in his own, he easily convinced you to join him, as his coffee shop was a cult. The two of you were always flirting with each other; having been friends for the last two years, you would do that to anybody. But over the last few months, the flirting became less playful and more apparent that you didn’t want to be friends. You wanted to be more.

So, is this your boss's way of initiating an interaction that doesn’t revolve around work? It seemed like it. And you were going to take that hook, line, and sinker.

“Oooh, are you asking me to keep you company tonight?”

“Only if you want.” Your boss's earthy, minty smell crept up your nostrils as he leaned beside your ear. “I think I would be lying to myself if I didn’t tell you; you have me curious.”

His breath tickles your earlobe, making you rub your thighs together harder. “And what exactly is that?” Your grip tightens around his wrist, and you resist the urge to shove his whole hand down your shirt.

“I’m curious to see if you were being truthful about everything you said. If you want to do it with me all day, every day. In my kitchen, my car, on the counter back at the shop.” Wetness coats the inside of your underwear as he whispers those dirty words you had said back to you. For some reason, they sound even hotter and more vulgar coming out of his mouth. “I want to put you in missionary, doggy, reverse cowgirl. Fuck I want to try stuff, I’ve never tried with another person.” His whole hand slides under your shirt, cupping your breast. “I say we buy a copy of the Kamasutra. We try every fucking position in there.”

“F-Fuuck.”

“So what do you say, Princess? Should we take this back to my place?” His teeth take your earlobe between his teeth, making you gasp as you arch your back. “Are you going to give me the best fuckin’ nut of my life?”

“Oh~ you bet your ass I am.”

Your boss chuckles deeply into your ear, releasing the sensitive lobe from his mouth. “Hit me with your best shot, Princess.”

Suguru regrets those words an hour later as you lower yourself slowly, backing up on his cock, as your bent over the empty glass display case in the shop. You had not given him the best nut of his life not once but twice so far. Once with your delightful, talented mouth and the second from you just grinding on him. He felt like a fucking teenager, and goddamnit, he fucking loved it.

There was some enchantment about you. You always drew him like a moth to the flame. Whenever you were, he knew it would be a great day. You were like his personal ray of sunshine, brightening his day wherever he went. Everyone teased him at the shop, asking him if he was going on a date with you, and you both were strictly on business. But lo and behold, he wanted to take you out on a date. He couldn’t bring up the courage to ask you.

It was hard enough for him to ask you to leave your job at the coffee shop you both met at to join him on an adventure of opening his shop. He thought he would say, but you agreed. He felt that there might be something there between you. That was both exciting to explore but also terrifying at the same time.

Now here you both were, your face pressed against the glass display case, with his cock buried deep inside of you, stretching you out with his fat cock. Suguru can’t help but grab your waist, squeezing it gently, savoring the moment. It wasn’t like he would let this be a one-time thing. He had just purchased the Kamasutra, which would be delivered the following day. This was the beginning of a very long and satisfying relationship. One that had started with friendship and was now turning into something more.

“Haaah fuck~ fuuuck baby.” Suguru groans, pressing you further against the glass case, watching as it fogged up with your heavy panting. “You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about this.”

“Nnnhh,” you turn your head, looking back at him with a smirk. “Fuck~ I could say the same thing about me. Is that way you would have such long meetings in your office with nobody?”

Suguru pulls out, his eyes glancing down at the cock wet with your spit and arousal. “Yeah, it is.” He shoved all the way back inside of you, making you yelp. “Is that way you’re always late returning from your lunch break? Don’t tell me you’ve been rubbing that pretty little clit in your car.”

Your palms press against the cool chill of the glass underneath you. “Rubbing it~? Oooh no, but I do put my vibrator on it.” Suguru’s grip on your waist tightens as he groans out with a huff from behind you.

“You’re so fucking hot. Is that why you didn’t let me in your glove box that one time? You keep an emergency vibrator in there when you come to work?” His cock begins sliding in and out of your tight walls hugging him snuggly with each jerk of his hips.

“Oh~ I’m cumming alright.”

Suguru’s hips buckled, eyes going wide before he growled, shoving himself deeper inside of you, forcing your hips back. Being filled to the brim made your eyes widen as you hissed out a whine through your teeth. His thick pulled out before slamming back into you with such force your fingers grabbed the edge of the cool counter.

“God, you're such a dirty girl. I fucking love it!” He growled, snapping his lips forward, pushing you harder into the glass. “Next time you get all hot and bothered, come see me~ I’ll fuck you so good.” He leaned his head down, humping slowly against your ass with slow thrusts that hit every sweet spot inside of you. “You could even bring your vibrator~” his teeth snapped gently, tugging at your ear.

“Holy—” your eyes rolled back as Suguru’s hips had your clit rubbing against the smooth glass. “I-I’m dirty~ listen to—hnnngh!” His teeth tugged at your earlobe, silencing your retort. “Oh my god~! Ooooh, my fucking god Sugu!” You rocked yourself back against him, his kisses and nips at your sensitive ear and neck driving you mad.

A shaky chuckle sounded from your boss, “You’re sensitive, aren’t you, princess~?” You answered with an eager whimper and nod before looking back at him.

His tongue ran over his lip piercing as his ring-covered fingers slipped down, groping the fat of your ass. The cool metal, the way his slick cock slid in and out of you faster and harder, had your eyes rolling back as your walls tightened around his cock. Suguru growled; one of his eyes twitched slightly as your walls tightened around him, squeezing his cock with almost pained pleasure. He was drowning in you and your tight cunt.

Suguru pressed his whole body against your back, bucking into you; his thrusts were hard and fast, pushing you closer to your release. Suguru’s hands slammed on either side of your head, keeping himself up not wholly to crush you under his weight. His right hand slid up, covering yours with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours, holding your hand as he fucked his cock deeper into you.

“S-Sugu~!” You cried out, turning your head to meet his. “Suguru~!”

His lips caught yours, kissing you as he squeezed your hand tight, his hips buckling as he felt you getting closer and closer. Your walls hugged him, making you squeak as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. The chill of his piercing against your lips and his tongue wrestling yours for control had your eyes shut tight as you squeezed his hand back.

“Oh~ fuck- mmmm—“ Suguru’s orgasm was fast approaching, his once well-patterned thrusts becoming messy and frantic. “Fuck—cum with me, please, Princess.”

You kissed him harder, gasping against his lips, breathing hard. “Gonna cum~ Suguru harder~ harder!” Your grip on his hand is almost crushing as he does exactly as you ask. His hips bucking yours as hard as he can the display case, shaking under each frantic thrust. Your eyes shut tight as Suguru rests his mouth against your cheek, moaning as loudly as you were. His breath is hot, and his dress is messy, and you can’t stop it from happening. “C-Cumming!” You scream as your walls convulse around his cock, squeezing the loving life out of him.

“Fuck!” Suguru hisses out. “Haaah~ ooooh! Fuck that’s right cum on my cock. He whispered against your cheek as pleasured cries filled the room. “Yeah~ yeah fuck~ gonna cum~ you want it?” All you can do is scream out, nodding, legs shaking as your orgasm keeps rocking through you. That is what has your boss’ balls slapping against your clit as he fucks himself into his orgasm. “N-Nnngh!” Suguru's face presses harder against yours as his cock throbs with every spurt of cum he thrusts into you.

You blinked slowly, humming happily as Suguru stayed buried inside of you, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. This was everything you wanted, and more, like your dream, finally came true. Suguru sighed, nuzzling his face in your neck as his heart rate slowed.

“Remind me to thank Yuki for pushing your buttons the next time I see her.”

“Heh~ you and me both.” You wince as Suguru slowly pulls out of you, his hand sliding your hips to help steady you as you stand up. “Fuuuck, that was amazing.”

“Mhmm, you’re amazing.” Suguru wraps his arms around your waist. “Would you be opposed to round three in the shower? That way, I can thoroughly clean you up~”

Your arms snake around his neck as you bite down on your bottom lip. “I would not be opposed to that at all.” Suguru leans down, his lips inches from your own, as a chime sounds above you. Both your eyes go wide as you listen to stomping through the kitchen. Nanami storms through the back, his eyes dark with anger. The anger is displayed as Suguru struggles to pull his pants up while you shakily hide behind him as Nanami looks towards you both.

“Nanami! Turn around!”

“Oh, god, sorry!” Nanami flushed, turning away, giving you and Suguru a chance to readjust your clothing. “I-I didn't see anything! Sorry, I was looking for my idiot client!”

“He hasn’t come home yet,” Suguru says, clearing his throat and brushing his hair out of his face. “He was staying the night in Sendai.”

You peek at your blonde friend, blinking as he clenches his fists with a growl. “And he’s not answering my texts or calls!” What could be so crucial that Nanami needed to talk to Gojo at midnight?

“Did something happen?” You ask, wobbling on your jello legs as Suguru sprays disinfectant on the counter you just fucked on. “Did he say something stupid again, and you need to do crowd control?”

Nanami turns to gawk at you as Suguru wipes the display case clean. “You haven’t seen it?”

“Seen what?”

Nanami sighs, pulling up his phone and showing you both the screen. The number one trending headline on Twitter is Gojo Satoru, the headline: Popular Leisure Streamer Checks into a Love Hotel with His Girlfriend!” Underneath the article was a photo of a beautiful girl and Satoru at a receptionist's desk.

“Oooh shit.” You whisper, covering your mouth with your hand as you giggle. “Where’s his mask?!”

“My thoughts exactly!” Nanami snapped, dialing what you assumed was Gojo’s number again. “Geto, I hope you’re not too attached to him because I will obliterate him.”

Suguru sent a quick text before wrapping an arm around you. “I’ll miss him, but as long as my princess is by my side, I’ll live.” You beamed up at your boss, who was now much more to you. Fuck thanking Yuki; you needed to get her a gift basket.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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nemo-writes · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; a new face arrives in town, and everything begins to shift. something is terribly wrong strange, but no one is talking.

★ warnings; none!

☆ story masterlist

As the first light of dawn filtered through the windows of the apothecary, you buzzed around, busy with substituting half-way empty jars with new ones full of elixirs and various herbs. The heavy scent of sage hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of brewing potions bubbling in the cauldron nestled in the corner. With a flick of your wrist, you lit the candles scattered around the shop, their soft glow casting long but warm shadows around the shop.

Your familiar Sybil, a snow white Borzoi, twitched from her spot under the counter, slightly raising her head in attention. Not a second later, the bell above the door chimed with your first client of the day.

“Well, well, still up with the dawn, I see.” The deep, raspy voice was unmistakable.

Alex stepped into the apothecary with his usual long strides, his dark blonde hair a touch wilder than you remembered.

“And you're still sneaking around at sunrise," you teased lightly. “Here for Farah’s order? I was just about to pour a fresh batch.”

“Yeah,” he replied, as he handed you his usual green thermos for the refill. “She’s been feeling… well, she’s hanging in there. Just a bit more tired lately.”

You hummed knowingly, tightening your apron and moving to get the order ready.

“Have you heard?”

“About?” You replied absentmindedly, focused on getting the exact quantity of steaming liquid into the thermos.

“The new girl that Laswell took in.”

That made you pause and turn to look at him.

Laswell was a witch like you, and a deeply influential one at that. That made her difficult to approach, but even harder to earn her trust. It had taken you a year of back and forth before she allowed you to set up shop in this part of the city. So to say that you were slightly intrigued was an understatement.

“Who now?”

He snorted, stretching over the counter to wriggle his fingers down at Sybil, and who in response raised her large snot to meet them in greeting.

“Apparently a few nights ago Ghost saved this rando girl from the Rose District―”

“What the hell was she doing in the Rose District?”

“Well clearly she’s not from around here.” He retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which clearly wasn’t. Even people from out of town knew to stay away from that place, especially at night. She was either from another country altogether or really, really, dumb.

“Anyways, he took her to Laswell and she offered her a job on the spot. She even let her settle in the loft above her bar and all.”

“Well, that’s….unexpected? But good for her I guess.”

“But wanna hear the best part?” Shrugging you rang him up, throwing in a few stray herbs in a satin pouch as an extra for his wife.

“She’s magicless, and a total smokeshow.” He was clearly trying to get a rise out of you, and honestly, he was successful. Rolling your cleaning rag tightly, you snapped it against his hand. He yelped in surprise, cradling his hands with mock-indignation.

“Anything else?” He shook his head and dropped the exact amount for the order into the ornate dish you kept beside the register.

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, stashing the flash into his bag before pointing at the satin bag. “What’s this?”

“They should help with Farah’s morning sickness. Just mix them in with her morning tea, a dash of honey will help with the bitterness.”

He gave you a wide boyish grin. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Waving him off and as if telling him ‘oh I know’, you watched him leave with a spring to his step, clearly eager to go back to his wife. You waited for him to disappear from sight, before reaching for your phone in your apron’s pocket.

9:15 am

you: hi

you: everything k? alex told me about the rose district

9:17

👻: 👍🏻

9:18

you: lmk if u need anything

you: btw your order’s ready, you can drop by anytime

you: sybil says hi

(picture attached)

You didn’t get a reply right away, which was strange, but not uncommon for the half-wraith. In the end, he always got back to you. Telling Sybil to stay put and care for the storefront, you moved to the back to organise the rest of the day’s orders.

Once upon a time, Ghost’s go-to place had gone out of business (he had personally taken it down after discovering it was a front for a fairy trafficking ring), and as per Laswell’s recommendations, he had appeared one day to commission you with a list of potions and ingredients, each tailored to his pack’s specific needs. He gave you three days, and you had gone above and beyond to deliver.

You knew you had succeeded in meeting their expectations after he came back the following month with a much bigger and more detailed list in hand. And it was through his monthly visit that you got to know the rest of the pack.

Simon took care of pickups and never stayed long, but long enough to listen to you rant about lousy customers, all while answering to Sybil's demands for pets.

You never got much done with Johnny around, but his charm definitely helped you with sales, especially with the older gnome ladies. The werewolf also played tug with your familiar when the shop became notably busy and you couldn’t take Sybil for her daily walkies.

As the only son of a witch, Kyle liked to help you with just about everything. He especially enjoyed peering over your shoulder whenever you delved into one of your many experiments, smiling like a child whenever you asked for his opinion.

You got to know John last, a human Hunter and their de facto leader. He never dropped by, but whenever you encountered him outside your shop, he never failed to greet you with a warm smile and ever warmer shoulder-squeeze. The older man also was a worrywart to his core, always asking about you and Sybil, as in have you had breakfast/lunch/dinner yet? Did you get your windows insulated for the winter? He can take care of it for you, and oh he got a good bargain on some chicken, let him share some of it with you.

Slowly but surely, they each had wormed itself into your stiff-witchy heart.

10:30

👻: can’t today

👻: sendin’ alejandro

The curt answer made you falter, a mix of disillusion and confusion settling heavily on the pit of your stomach. His lack of response to Sybil's picture was also worrying, that never happened. You struggled not to push him for an explanation.

And so, you waited.

Alejandro made his appearance a few hours later. Again, you left Sybil in charge while you greeted him and his partner, Rudy.

“Preciosa, it’s good to see you.” Alejandro enveloped you in a tight hug and kissed you on the cheek, Rudy following right after.

You returned their greeting just as warmly, guiding them to the back and to the crates stacked neatly and ready for them to take. You watched them work, swaying a little from side to side, before finally mustering up the courage to ask them about Ghost’s unusual absence.

“Is Ghost okay?”

Alejandro grunted as he loaded the crates into the trunk, hand falling over his hips before he turned to regard you with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah he’s fine, por (why)?”

You shoved your hands deep into your apron’s pockets, a nervous habit. “He has never missed a pickup, and he’s not answering my texts.”

“Oh, it’s probably that girl.” He acknowledged dismissively. As if sensing your dismay at Alejandro’s lacklustre response, Rudy chimed in.

“Leah, the new girl working for Laswell.”

Making the most of his receptiveness, you prodded Rudy for more details. “Have you met her?”

He shook his head, tilting his chin towards his partner. “Nope, but Ale has.”

“Well she’s cute, in a mousy kind of way.” He supplied while scratching his chin, and something about his pensive gesture told you that he still hadn't exactly made up his mind about her.

They were quick to leave however, busy with their own things, plus having to drop off the pack’s order. You watched them go, fingers twisting and turning

Yes, hopefully this strange episode would pass.

. . .

Things did not pass, if anything, they only got worrisomely stranger.

A few days later, you found yourself in the supermarket. It was just another part of your routine that you usually enjoyed. You reached for a jar of honey, when you felt it—a shift in the air, a tingle at the back of your neck. Straightening, you allowed your gaze to wander, searching for the source.

And then you saw him.

He stood a few feet away, staring intently at a shelf of cereals. Your heart skipped a beat, not from surprise but from the pleasant flutter you always felt when you saw him. You instinctively moved closer, a full smile already settled on your lips.

“Johnny, hi!”

His head jerked up as if startled, eyes widening when they met yours. For a moment, he looked at you with a strange mix of confusion and surprise, as if he barely recognized you.

“Och aye! Hello there! Whit ye daein' here?"

“Uh, I always shop here on Sundays?” But you know that, you’ve come with me more than once!

"Oh, dae ye no? Well, anyways!” Johnny’s brows furrowed, and he blinked rapidly, like someone waking from a deep sleep. His gaze flickered away from your face and back to the rows of cereal “Whit dae ye think Leah would fancy the most?"

That caught you off guard, so much so that you couldn't give him a rightout answer.

Suddenly, a second figure came from around the corner. It was Gaz. He walked up to the two of you, but something was off.

“Mate, stop running off! We need to get back to—” Gaz blinked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. “Oh, hi?”

“Hi?” You parroted back with an incredulous guffaw.

You just stood there, feeling an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation—like the ground beneath you had shifted and you were the only one who noticed. This wasn’t right. Your relationship had always been so easy, and filled with laughter. But now, it was like there was a barrier between you and them, unseen and unsettling.

“Is…everything okay?” You asked them, voice laced with a mix of worry and disbelief.

Gaz looked at you again, but there was no warm recognition in his eyes. “We’re fine,” he said, though his voice was flat. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, Johnny following him like a shadow, a box of chocolate flavoured loops in hand.

He hated that kind, not even bending whenever Gaz tried to coax him into getting them as a treat.

You watched them disappear down the aisle, dumfounded. The vibrant hum of the grocery store around you flickered slightly as your mind whirled.

Taking a breath, you forced yourself to stay calm. You should head back to the apothecary and Sybil, maybe even check in with Laswell.

She’d know what to do, right? She always did.

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 5 months ago

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Look for the Soul and the Meaning

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Early Alexandria

Warnings: Depictions of illness

Summary: You’re sick. Daryl makes sure you’re not alone.

A/N: I have been uber sick this week and just needed some self indulgent comfort. Idec if he’s ooc this time.

*gif is not mine

Groaning, you rolled your head from side to side, even the soft cradle of the pillow intensifying the ache in your skull. Your throat was a tunnel of razor blades, your lungs trying their best to eject themselves over your tongue. Your body ached and protested, skin sensitive from fever. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think.

“I feel gross.” You whimpered. You raised a hand toward your face but found it to be too much work, letting it drop to the mattress beside you.

“Know ya do.” His raspy whisper acted as a balm to your pain.

A blessedly cool cloth touched your forehead, remaining there for a moment before it was pressed against each cheek and then your neck. Your sigh came unbidden, shameless and sudden.

“That’s nice.” You croaked before being seized by a coughing fit. It was dry and unproductive, the mucus coating the inside of your lungs like slime, unmoving. It hurt. “Daryl.” You whimpered.

The flu hit Alexandria during your first autumn within the walls. Though some fell victim, just as they had at the prison, the community had medicines readily available. IV fluids, oxygen tanks, and fever reducers. This virus was different, thank god; a less intense influenza. That, however, was not a comfort when it came to feeling the symptoms.

“M��right here, Sunshine.”

The coolness left your skin to burn, but once his fingers began carding through your hair, his lips touching your forehead, you could no longer feel the heat. And for one moment, coherency filtered through.

“Daryl—Daryl, your bandana.” You wheezed, reaching for the fabric he had pulled down to hang around his neck. Looking at him, even your eyes felt like they would singe out of your skull. “You’re gonna get sick too.”

“M’gonna be fine.” He caught your hand easily—your movements too sluggish—and kissed the inside of your wrist. “Means ya gotta get better so ya can take care’a me.”

You chuckled weakly, triggering another cough. It jostled your sore body, earning a whine and a few tears. Your eyes had screwed shut to ride out the ordeal, but opened when something touched your lips. The bottle felt odd, warm and scratchy.

“Gotta drink for me.” Blue eyes flickered up to the bag of fluids hanging from the bedpost but didn’t linger. “Help them fluids do their job.” You reluctantly obliged, fearing the feel of the water against your already irritated throat.

Turned out, it was heavenly.

You drank greedily, not even thirsty but lost in the relief the cool liquid was providing. When it was suddenly taken away, you chased it with desperation.

“Gimme.” You pouted.

“In a bit. Ya gonna make yourself sick.” The cool cloth was back and the water was forgotten. With weak uncoordinated movements, you pulled the blankets up further, your entire form trembling with chills.

“Tell me a story, Daryl.”

The cloth ceased its travels. “A story?”

“Mhm. Don’t care what it is.” Sleep was standing in the corner, pulling at you incessantly, your eyelids growing heavier and heavier despite the heat and pain. “Tell me about your chupacabra.”

It was Daryl’s turn to laugh, a sharp exhale through his nose. “Nah, that ain’t no sickbed story.”

“Tell me—something.” You yawned, wincing when you could feel the pull on your inflamed throat. It was quiet in the room, your eyes closed and chest wheezing. But then:

“Once upon a time—”

You mimicked his earlier laugh, your eyes remaining closed. “So cliché.”

The man at your bedside scoffed. “Ya want a story or not?”

“Mhm. Sorry.” You whispered, already fading, the cloth pulling away to be replaced by his fingertips in your hair, ghosting over your face.

Daryl cleared his throat, the deep breath he sucked in was unsteady. “Once upon a time, there was a woman. She was a smartass. Pigheaded as all get out.” The corner of his mouth lifted when you began to snore, your stuffy nose making it impossible to breathe properly. “She met a redneck drifter, a real asshole.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to your overly warm forehead, letting them linger there. Pulling back, he stayed close, just watching you sleep, stroking the hair on the crown of your head. “An’ somehow, she changed him.”

Sitting back, he grabbed the cloth and dipped it in the bowl of water, back to battling the flames beneath your skin.

“S’far from the end, Sunshine.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #sick!reader #daryl dixon fluff #Spotify

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rafesapologist · 5 months ago

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the boy is mine ─ rafe cameron; chapter two

summary: you were an erudite kook with her life ahead of her, very highly sought after by almost every man from figure 8 all the way to the cut. but you only wanted rafe cameron, and just in the typical nature of getting everything you wanted, you were going to have him.

warnings: suggestive themes, mentions of touching, mentions of alcohol

You woke up the next morning full of energy and excitement, a surge of confidence pulsing through you in a way you hadn’t felt before. The memory of the previous night lingered in your mind, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. After you had returned home, you had spent hours meticulously preparing yourself for the day ahead. You had carefully placed your hair in rollers, ensuring each curl would fall just right, and applied a face mask to sleep in, hoping it would leave your skin glowing and flawless by morning. Today, you needed to look your absolute best.

The anticipation of possibly running into Rafe at Sarah's house added an extra layer of excitement. You wanted to make an impression, to stand out in his memory. It was more than just looking good; it was about exuding confidence and poise, about being memorable.

You sprang out of bed, feeling a burst of determination. The morning sun streamed through your window, casting a warm, golden light across your room. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and smiled, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

In the bathroom, you carefully removed the face mask, revealing soft, radiant skin beneath. You took your time getting ready, savoring each step of the process. The rollers came out next, and you gently tousled your hair until it fell in perfect waves around your face. Makeup followed, applied with a precision that reflected your dedication to perfection.

Lastly was your outfit, and you knew it had to be jaw-dropping. You rummaged through your walk-in closet, fingers trailing over fabrics and textures as you searched for the perfect attire. Before anything else, you slipped on your favorite bathing suit—a berry blue string bikini that hugged your body in all the right places, leaving just enough to the imagination. It was bold, daring, and exactly the statement you wanted to make.

You stood in front of your closet, contemplating your options. The light from the window filtered through sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Your eyes landed on a short, form-fitting sundress that was pure white, like freshly fallen snow. The dress promised to highlight your tan and contrast perfectly with the vibrant bikini beneath.

Slipping into the sundress, you admired how it clung to your curves, the delicate fabric whispering against your skin. The white dress exuded an innocent charm while hinting at the allure of what lay beneath. You added a few touches to enhance the look—a pair of gold earrings that caught the light with every movement and a matching bracelet that jingled softly with each step.

Standing before the mirror, you took in the complete picture. The white sundress and berry blue bikini created a striking image, a balance of purity and boldness that made you feel both confident and captivating. You added a touch of lip gloss, a hint of shimmer that made your smile even brighter, and a spritz of your favorite perfume, a scent that lingered in the air like a promise.

You knew that you had a few hours to spare, so you spent your time trying to calm your nerves, each moment stretching out like a thread in a delicate tapestry. You packed with meticulous care: sunscreen to guard against the sun's embrace, sunglasses to shield your eyes from its dazzling glare, and shots to fortify your courage for the encounter you both dreaded and longed for. You knew facing Rafe Cameron would require more than just poise; it would require liquid bravery, so you prepared accordingly.

As the minutes slipped by, you double-checked your bag, ensuring every essential was in place. The anticipation thrummed beneath your skin, an electric current of excitement and anxiety. You could almost feel the cool blue water of Sarah's pool, the sun’s warm caress, and the mingled sounds of laughter and splashing.

By the time you were ready to leave, your heart pounded with an eager rhythm. You hurried out the door, each step quick and purposeful. The morning light spilled over you, casting everything in a golden hue that seemed to shimmer with promise. You left little room for your parents’ inevitable questions, offering only a swift, “Goodbye, love you!” as you breezed past them.

Their voices called after you, faint echoes in the morning air, but you were already moving forward, the door clicking shut behind you like a final punctuation mark. The world outside was vibrant and full of potential, each step bringing you closer to Sarah’s house and the day’s unfolding adventures. The thought of seeing Rafe again sent a shiver of anticipation through you, blending with the fresh evening air into a heady mix of expectation and excitement.

The ride to Sarah's house felt quick, though you were sure it was your nerves speeding up time. As you pulled into her driveway, you found yourself gawking at the sprawling white mansion ahead. You knew she was a Kook, but the scale of her family's wealth hadn't truly registered until now. The mansion stood like a gleaming palace, its grandeur almost surreal.

Hopping out of your car, you felt a fluttering excitement mixed with anxiety. Your nerves burst in the pit of your stomach as you approached the front door. Hesitantly, you knocked, the sound echoing in the still air. Stepping back, you crossed your arms, trying to contain the nervous energy coursing through you while you waited.

The door finally swung open, revealing Sarah herself, her smile bright and welcoming. She looked effortlessly chic, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold.

"Hey! Come on in," she greeted you warmly, pulling you into a hug.

"Hey, Sarah!" you replied, returning the embrace. "Your house is...wow."

She laughed, a musical sound that immediately put you at ease. "Thanks. It's home, I guess. I hope you're okay with a few other people being here. Rafe decided to invite his friends without telling me." She rolled her eyes, but your heart fluttered at the mention of his name. The realization that he was there sent a fresh wave of nerves through you, your excitement now tinged with anxious anticipation.

As you followed Sarah through the grand foyer, the mansion felt almost surreal in its grandeur. The air inside was cool and refreshing, a sharp contrast to the sun’s heat outside, each step on the polished marble floor echoing your heightened heartbeat. The rooms you passed were filled with elegant furniture and art, each piece meticulously placed, reflecting a wealth that was as old as it was vast.

Stepping out onto the patio, the sight before you took your breath away. The pool sparkled like a sapphire, its surface kissed by the sunlight, surrounded by lush greenery and perfectly manicured lawns. A few people lounged by the water, their laughter and conversation blending harmoniously with the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of cicadas. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a sensory reminder of the opulence that enveloped you.

Sarah led you to a set of cushioned chairs near the pool. "Make yourself at home," she said, her gesture inviting you to relax. "Do you want something to drink? We’ve got everything."

You nodded, trying to steady the nerves that fluttered in your chest. "Sure, that’d be great. Surprise me."

As Sarah walked over to the bar to fetch drinks, you took a deep breath and let your eyes wander, absorbing the atmosphere. The water in the pool shimmered under the sun's golden light, and the sounds of distant laughter and soft conversation created a soothing backdrop. Your thoughts drifted to Rafe, wondering how he would react upon seeing you.

Before Sarah got back, you snuck a shot from your tote, swallowing it quickly and savoring the burn as it went down. You made sure nobody saw you, tucking the small bottle back into your bag with a swift, practiced motion. The liquid courage began to warm your veins, steadying your nerves just as Sarah returned.

She handed you a glass filled with a burgundy liquid, a pleased smile on her face. "I hope you like vodka. These are my favorite," she chirped, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

You took the glass, surprised and delighted. "Actually, vodka-crans are my favorite, so you did well," you said with a smile, lifting the glass to take a sip.

The tart, sweet flavor washed over your tongue, blending perfectly with the warmth from the shot you had taken moments before. Sarah settled into the chair beside you, her presence warm and comforting.

As you both sat there, the sunlight playing on the water's surface, you felt a sense of calm begin to settle over you. The distant laughter and soft music created a serene backdrop, blending with the scents of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees. Your earlier nerves began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation.

As the energy on the patio began to wane, the sound of male voices emanating from inside the house caught your attention like a sudden gust of wind. You turned to Sarah, your expression knit with confusion, prompting her to follow your gaze and investigate the noise.

"It's just Rafe and his friends," she groaned, her frustration palpable as she tossed her sunglasses back over her eyes.

The voices grew louder as they approached, the sound of laughter and conversation becoming more distinct with each passing moment. Your heart quickened its pace, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you like a tempest.

Sarah sighed, her irritation evident as she shook her head slightly. "I swear, they always manage to show up and cause a scene."

You watched as the sliding patio doors opened, revealing Rafe and his entourage. They strolled out with an air of confidence, beers in hand, their laughter echoing off the walls. Rafe led the group, his presence commanding attention effortlessly. His stride was casual yet purposeful, his gaze scanning the patio until it landed on you.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still. Your breath caught in your throat as you met Rafe's intense gaze, the weight of his scrutiny sending a thrill down your spine. In the daylight, he looked even more striking, his tanned skin bathed in sunlight, his crisp white shirt accentuating the lean lines of his physique.

"Rafe, can you not take over everything for once?" Sarah called out, her voice a mix of exasperation and affection. She rose from her chair, her arms crossed as she approached her brother.

Rafe offered a nonchalant shrug, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Just having a little fun, Sarah. You know how it is."

His friends dispersed around the patio, some heading for the pool while others made a beeline for the bar. The atmosphere shifted, an infectious energy buzzing in the air. Rafe lingered by the door, his gaze lingering on you like a beam of sunlight.

"Nice to see you again, Y/N," Rafe remarked, his voice smooth like honey, with a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the lines of your dress with an intensity that made your cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you wondered what thoughts were crossing his mind, oblivious to what lay beneath the fabric.

"Hi, Rafe," you replied, your voice coming out almost sheepishly as you struggled to maintain eye contact with him. Your heart hammered in your chest like a wild drumbeat, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. You found yourself holding your breath, waiting for his next move, unsure of what to expect but unable to tear your gaze away from his magnetic presence.

"Where's your Yale friend? She busy trying to get an acceptance letter or something?" Rafe's voice, laced with mischief, broke through the chatter like a sudden gust of wind. His gaze lingered on you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, as if he found amusement in your presence.

"Rafe! Leave her alone," she interjected, her voice carrying a hint of exasperation. She shot her brother a reproachful glare, a silent warning not to push further. "Sadie couldn't come because she was sick, okay?"

Rafe's smirk softened into a grin, a glint of mischief still dancing in his eyes as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get defensive," he replied, his tone teasing but affectionate.

Rafe finally made his way over to his friends gathered at the pool, his movements exuding a casual grace that seemed effortless. With practiced ease, he stripped off his shirt, revealing a chiseled physique that drew your gaze like a magnet. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he discarded the shirt, the fabric landing with a soft thud on the ground beside him.

Undeniably, you found yourself gawking at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you drank in the sight before you. The way his abs were perfectly defined, each muscle carved with precision, made your breath catch in your throat. His bronzed skin seemed to gleam in the sunlight, accentuating every contour and curve of his body. As he moved, the veins in his biceps stood out like a network of rivers, a testament to his strength and vitality.

You felt a sudden wave of weakness wash over you, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you as you struggled to maintain your composure. Your eyes followed his figure as he strode confidently to the edge of the pool, the anticipation building with each step. With a fluid motion, he dove into the water, the surface rippling and shimmering in the sunlight as he disappeared beneath the surface.

You watched, transfixed, as he resurfaced, joining his friends in whatever game they were playing. The laughter and splashing echoed in the air, a backdrop to the scene unfolding before you. Despite the playful atmosphere, your thoughts remained fixed on Rafe, his presence casting a spell over you that you couldn't shake.

You were brought out of your trance by the sound of Rafe's friend calling out to you and Sarah, his voice cutting through the air like a playful challenge. "Hey, you guys wanna join? We're playing water polo and we need another player!"

Your eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected invitation, uncertainty flickering in your gaze as you glanced over at Sarah. You weren't sure how to respond, torn between the desire to join in the fun and the reluctance to disrupt your carefully arranged appearance.

"Well, I can't," Sarah replied with a wry grin, her tone laced with humor. "I just got my hair bleached; I can't get it wet!"

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of their collective gaze, their expectant stares burning into your skin like a spotlight. The pressure to join in was palpable, amplified by the intensity of Rafe's gaze as he watched you with unabashed interest.

Despite the overwhelming urge to retreat, you knew that backing out now would only lead to disappointment, both from the boys and from yourself. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly agreed to join, your voice tinged with reluctance but determination.

"Alright, I guess I'll play, but just one round," you conceded, the sound of the boys' cheers and excitement washing over you like a tidal wave.

As you stood up to join them, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Sarah, who offered you a sympathetic look in return. The unspoken understanding between you was comforting, a silent reassurance that you weren't alone in this moment of vulnerability.

With a deep breath, you turned your attention back to the pool, steeling yourself for what was to come. Slowly, you began to strip off your sundress, the fabric slipping from your shoulders like a whisper. Your movements were hesitant, tentative, as you prayed that none of the boys were still paying attention.

But as the dress slid down to your hips, you couldn't help but look up, your gaze inadvertently meeting Rafe's. Time seemed to freeze as you caught him staring back at you, his expression caught between surprise and admiration, his mouth slightly agape.

Heat flooded your cheeks as you quickly averted your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat. The intensity of his stare lingered like a lingering echo, sending a shiver down your spine as you hurriedly finished removing your dress, the fabric pooling at your feet in a silent surrender to the inevitable.

As you finally stood there, fully exposed in your berry blue bikini, you could feel Rafe's gaze burning into you, more intense and unyielding than ever. It was as if everything else around him faded into background noise, leaving only the sharp focus of his eyes on you. He made no effort to hide his scrutiny, his stare lingering on every inch of your exposed skin, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable under his watchful eyes.

You watched, your heart pounding, as his tongue slowly grazed his bottom lip, a deliberate and almost predatory motion. His eyes darkened, and he took his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it subtly. The action was slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth pressed together afterward, as if he were physically trying to restrain himself from reacting more openly, to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor in sheer astonishment.

The moment stretched on, thick with unspoken tension. You felt your own breath hitch, caught between the thrill of his attention and the anxiety of being so completely seen. Finally, summoning every ounce of confidence you had, you gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before turning your gaze away, stepping towards the edge of the pool. The cool water beckoned, a welcome respite from the heat of Rafe's gaze.

You took a deep breath and dove in, the water embracing you, its coolness momentarily washing away the intensity of the moment. As you surfaced, you felt a sense of liberation, the water providing a comforting shield from the penetrating stares above. You ran your fingers through your hair, slicking it back, and allowed yourself a moment to adjust to the new sensation.

The boys were already dividing into teams, their laughter and shouts filling the air, a stark contrast to the charged silence that had just passed. You swam over to join them, your heart still pounding but now with a mix of excitement and adrenaline.

"Alright, let's get started!" one of Rafe's friends called out, tossing the ball into the center of the pool. You positioned yourself strategically, ready to play, feeling a surge of determination.

As the game progressed, you could feel Rafe's presence in the pool, his movements fluid and confident. Whenever he came near, the air seemed to crackle with electricity, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had sparked between you. He was an agile player, his strength and speed undeniable, and you found yourself both admiring and competing with him.

At one point, you found yourself face to face with him, the ball between you. His eyes locked onto yours, a mischievous glint in them, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, the rest of the world fading into the background. You lunged for the ball, your bodies colliding in the water, a tangle of limbs and splashes.

"Nice try," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, as he managed to wrestle the ball away, his touch lingering on your arm just a second longer than necessary.

You grinned, a mixture of frustration and exhilaration coursing through you. "Don't get too cocky," you shot back, determined to hold your own. The two of you paused for a moment, the world around you dissolving into a blur of motion and sound. His eyes locked onto yours, and for an instant, everything else faded away.

The water shimmered between you, rippling with the energy of your silent exchange. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath mingling with the cool air as you tried to steady your racing heart. The intensity of his gaze was magnetic, pulling you into an unspoken conversation that felt both dangerous and thrilling.

Rafe's lips curved into a cocky grin, a silent promise and challenge in his eyes. He held your gaze for a moment longer, the air thick with tension, before he turned away with a fluid grace. His movement was almost predatory, a display of confidence and strength that left you breathless.

As he walked away, the sunlight glinted off the droplets of water on his skin, creating a halo of shimmering light. You stood there, rooted to the spot, the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears. The game continued around you, voices and laughter blending into a distant hum, but your focus remained on the lingering sensation of his presence.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of irritation at his arrogance and excitement at the intensity of his attention. The undeniable attraction simmered beneath the surface, leaving you craving more of the electrifying connection. The water, cool and refreshing, was a stark contrast to the heat of your thoughts and the fire he had ignited within you.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to regain composure, and joined the game once more. But now, every move, every splash, every moment was charged with the memory of that gaze, that grin, and the tantalizing possibility of what might come next.

"Okay, I'm done!" you declared, throwing your hands on your hips as you tried to catch your breath. You realized you were too weak to keep going. "I'm gonna go get a drink. You guys keep playing." With that, you exited the pool, feeling the cool air against your damp skin.

Grabbing your towel from the nearby chair, you wrapped it around your hips, securing it with a tight knot. You glanced at Sarah, who had been watching the game from the sidelines. "Where are the drinks?" you asked, your voice slightly hoarse from exertion.

She motioned toward the kitchen with a smile. "Just inside. Help yourself."

Nodding in gratitude, you made your way inside, the sounds of the pool fading behind you. The cool tile underfoot was a welcome contrast to the heat of the afternoon sun. Entering the kitchen, you immediately headed for the fridge, your mind focused solely on finding something to quench your thirst.

You pulled open the fridge door and, to your relief, found a row of cold water bottles neatly lined up. You snatched one, twisted off the cap, and tilted your head back, taking large, satisfying gulps. The cold water was refreshing, soothing your parched throat and cooling you from the inside out.

As you lowered the bottle, you closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation. The kitchen was quiet, a peaceful contrast to the lively scene outside. You could still hear faint laughter and splashing from the pool, but in here, it was just you and the cool, calming stillness. You leaned against the counter, catching your breath and letting your thoughts settle.

The brief solitude gave you a chance to process everything that had happened: the unexpected intensity of Rafe's gaze, the way your heart had raced under his scrutiny, and the unfamiliar feelings he stirred within you. It was exhilarating and unsettling all at once, leaving you with a sense of anticipation you hadn't felt before.

You took another sip of water, lost in your thoughts, when the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to see Rafe standing in the doorway, his presence instantly commanding the room. His hair was damp, and water glistened on his skin, catching the light in a way that made your breath hitch once more.

"Couldn't handle the game?" he teased, his voice low and slightly breathless, matching the intensity of his gaze. You were caught by surprise at the sound of his voice, feeling small and vulnerable in his presence.

Peering up at him in silence for a brief second, you felt your mind racing as he stood over you, his eyes never leaving yours. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of charged silence. "I just needed a drink," you managed to reply, your voice softer than intended, almost a whisper.

Rafe nodded at your reply, a small hum escaping the depths of his throat. "You were pretty good out there, Princeton," he commented, the nickname carrying a subtle edge, as if he was both taunting and admiring your goody-two-shoes ways. His voice was a velvet drawl, laced with a challenge that made your heart flutter.

A flush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks at the unexpected compliment and the moniker he’d chosen for you. Clearing your throat, you averted your eyes to the tiled floor, feeling the intensity of Rafe's gaze burning into you like the summer sun. "Oh, thanks," you laughed half-heartedly, the sound more a nervous flutter than genuine amusement. "Sports aren't really my thing, so..."

He leaned closer, just enough for his presence to envelop you, the faint scent of chlorine and his cologne mingling in the air between you. "Could've fooled me," he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You held your own out there."

The compliment, however backhanded it might have been, sent a thrill through you. You risked a glance up, meeting his piercing blue eyes that seemed to dance with amusement and something else, something darker and more compelling. The kitchen, despite its airy openness, felt suddenly intimate, a bubble separating the two of you from the rest of the world.

"Well, maybe I’m a fast learner," you said, trying to match his nonchalance. Your fingers toyed with the edge of your water bottle, the cool condensation a stark contrast to the heat blooming in your chest.

Rafe's smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours. "Maybe you are," he agreed softly, the words hanging in the charged air between you. "But I have a feeling you're good at a lot of things, Princeton."

The way he said it, with that low, almost predatory purr, made your pulse quicken. You wondered if he could hear the rapid beating of your heart, feel the electric tension that crackled in the narrow space between your bodies.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words tangled on your tongue. Instead, you took a steadying breath, the cool air of the kitchen filling your lungs, and tried to regain your composure. "Thanks," you said finally, your voice more composed. "But don't expect to see me at the next water polo match."

Rafe chuckled, a rich, resonant sound that made your skin tingle. "We'll see about that," he said, pushing away from the counter with a fluid grace. "Maybe I'll have to find another way to see what else you're good at."

He toyed with the string of your bikini on the side of your hip, twirling it around his finger with a casual confidence. The simple act felt charged with a silent promise, an acknowledgment that he had the power to undo it if he wanted to. The gesture made you feel even smaller beneath his commanding presence.

Your entire body felt hot, your cheeks surely blushing as you stared down at his fingers, your mouth slightly agape. The room seemed to close in, the air thick with an unspoken tension that left you at a loss for words. Your breath came shallow and quick, your mind racing as you tried to process the whirlwind of sensations his touch ignited.

Rafe’s smirk grew as he observed your reaction, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His eyes, dark with intent, bore into yours, and you felt the intensity of his gaze like a physical touch. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Just let me know if you need any help... learning new things. Seems like you're good at that."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your pulse quickening at the proximity of his body to yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, a magnetic pull that made it difficult to think clearly. The room seemed to shrink around you, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you became acutely aware of every breath, every heartbeat.

Rafe's fingers lingered on the string of your bikini for a moment longer before releasing it, the brief contact leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He pulled back slightly, just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze unwavering and full of promise.

You swallowed hard, trying to regain your composure and not let your facade crack under the weight of his suggestive words. "I'll let you know if I do," you replied, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying the mix of excitement and nerves coursing through you. Each word felt like a tightrope walk between desire and restraint, and you fought to maintain your cool exterior even as your heart raced in your chest. Swallowing thickly, you held his gaze, determined not to show any sign of weakness in the face of his undeniable charm.

Rafe chuckled lowly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as his eyes lingered on the string of your bikini for a moment longer. You could feel the weight of his gaze, intense and electrifying, tracing the curve of your body with an almost palpable hunger.

With a subtle smirk draped across his tanned features, he finally tore his gaze away from you, meeting your eyes once more. There was a magnetic pull in the air between you, a silent understanding of the unspoken tension that crackled between you like electricity.

"I'll see you around, Princeton," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to echo in the space between you. The nickname rolled off his tongue effortlessly, a teasing reminder of your status as the Ivy League hopeful amidst the chaos of the party.

As Rafe turned away, a rush of conflicting emotions swept over you, leaving you speechless as you watched him confidently make his way back to the patio. His fluid movements and undeniable charisma left you momentarily breathless, a flutter of butterflies erupting in your stomach at the memory of your interaction.

In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, you were left to ponder the significance of your encounter with Rafe. Each moment replayed in your mind like a broken record, the intensity of his gaze and the weight of his words still lingering in the air around you.

Part of you yearned for more, a silent whisper echoing in the recesses of your mind as you replayed the tantalizing moments with Rafe. You couldn't help but wonder what might have transpired if time had slowed, if his touch had lingered a heartbeat longer, or if his words had delved deeper into the depths of your soul.

The questions that danced in the wake of your encounter left an ache of anticipation blooming within you, like a hunger for the forbidden fruit, ripe with the promise of revelation. Each thought, each memory, stirred a longing within you, a primal desire to unravel the enigma that was Rafe Cameron himself.

As you stood in the quiet sanctuary of the kitchen, the distant hum of the party fading into the background, you were consumed by a yearning for more. It was a craving for connection, for intimacy beyond the surface-level exchanges and fleeting glances.

Shaking off the lingering warmth of Rafe’s touch, you took one final gulp of water, bracing yourself for the transition back to reality. The sun’s golden rays embraced you as you stepped onto the patio, your skin tingling from more than just the heat. You approached Sarah with a smile that barely masked the whirlwind inside you.

“Hey, I should get going,” you said, your voice steady despite the tumult within. You reached for your tote bag, its familiar weight grounding you. “My parents want me home for dinner, and I still have to study for exams. I’ll catch you at school?”

Sarah’s expression flickered with disappointment but quickly softened into understanding. “Of course! Thanks for coming by. We’ll definitely do this again soon.”

You nodded, embracing her in a quick hug, the scent of saltwater and sunscreen clinging to both of you. As you turned to leave, the magnetic pull of Rafe’s gaze was almost tangible, an invisible thread that made each step feel weighted with significance. You risked a final glance back and found his eyes still on you, a dark intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

With a final wave to the group, you slipped into your car, the engine’s hum a stark contrast to the lively chatter of the party. The drive home blurred past in a haze, your thoughts replaying the day’s interactions like a symphony of emotions. Each moment with Rafe was a note that resonated deeply, leaving you both exhilarated and yearning for more.

As you pulled into your driveway, the sky painted itself in hues of twilight, the world bathed in a soft, dusky glow. You paused, taking in the serene beauty of the evening, the contrast to the storm within. Stepping out of the car, you felt the weight of the day settling on your shoulders, a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

As you entered your house, the familiar scent of home mingled with the residual aroma of sunscreen and saltwater, creating a unique blend that encapsulated the day’s adventures. The moment you stepped through the door, your parents were upon you, their voices echoing in the foyer with a rapid-fire barrage of questions.

"Who were you with?"

"Where did you go?"

You sighed, trying to muster the energy to answer them calmly. "I was with Sarah Cameron," you said, the name dropping from your lips with practiced ease. "She's in honors society." The mention of Sarah's reputable background seemed to appease them instantly. Their expressions softened, their curiosity sated, and they nodded in approval.

"Alright then," your mother said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Just make sure you get your studying done."

You nodded, relieved as they stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to the sanctuary of your room. The door clicked shut behind you, and you leaned against it, exhaling deeply. The quiet of your room enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the party and the intoxicating tension of Rafe's presence.

You took a moment to collect yourself, pushing off the door and moving towards your bed. The evening sunlight filtered through your window, casting soft, golden beams across your room, illuminating the stacks of textbooks and notes that awaited your attention. You dropped your tote bag by the bed, the weight of the day’s events finally settling in.

With a sigh, you changed into more comfortable clothes, the soft fabric a welcome comfort against your skin. You settled at your desk, opening your books, but your mind wandered back to the afternoon. The memory of Rafe's intense gaze and the feeling of his fingers toying with the strings of your bikini played on a loop in your mind.

You tried to focus, but the thought of him lingered like a whisper in the back of your mind, making it hard to concentrate. You imagined what it would be like to see him again, to share more moments that left you breathless and yearning. The pages of your textbook blurred as your thoughts drifted, and you found yourself lost in daydreams of possibilities.

As your mind wandered, thoughts of Rafe Cameron wove their way through your consciousness like tendrils of smoke, curling and dissipating only to reform, more vivid and enticing each time. His smirk, a crooked promise of mischief, lingered in your thoughts. You imagined the scene in the kitchen playing out differently, with Rafe staying just a moment longer, his presence filling the space between you, his gaze never wavering.

What if you had dared to bridge that gap, to step closer and voice your desire? The thought sent a thrill through you, a tantalizing mix of fear and excitement. You pictured his fingers trailing along your skin, their touch electric and gentle, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His breath, warm and intoxicating against your ear, whispered promises that made your pulse race.

Cold chills raced up and down your spine as you let your imagination roam freely. You envisioned his hands exploring your body with a blend of urgency and tenderness, tracing the lines of your silhouette, his touch both a comfort and a provocation. The memory of his fingers toying with the strings of your bikini resurfaced, each imagined brush of his skin against yours igniting a cascade of sensations.

Closing your eyes, you allowed the fantasy to unfold with cinematic clarity. You saw yourself reaching out to him, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His breath mingled with yours, the heat of his body a palpable presence against your own. The kiss you conjured was a heady blend of need and gentleness, his lips exploring yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

In your mind’s eye, you felt the strength of his hands on your waist, guiding you closer, deepening the connection between you. The way his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, was so vivid it felt real. You imagined the texture of his hair beneath your fingers, the solid weight of him grounding you even as he sent your senses spiraling.

The fantasy was a sweet escape, an intoxicating reverie that left you flushed and eager. Each imagined touch, each whispered word, added to the heady mix of anticipation and longing. The more you indulged in these daydreams, the more you craved another encounter with Rafe, another chance to see where this tantalizing spark might lead.

It was a rush of adrenaline, unlike anything you had ever experienced. Boys had never held much sway over you; you had never felt the desire to pursue relationships like your friends did. Your parents had instilled in you the unwavering belief that studies should always come first—without them, your future held little promise. Marriage, they assured you, was a distant concern, something to consider only after college and a stable career were firmly in place.

The sensation of Rafe's touch lingered, electrifying your senses in a way that was entirely new. You were accustomed to boys making advances, attempting to win you over, but you had always kept them at arm's length. None had ever touched you the way Rafe had earlier.

His touch had been different—confident yet gentle, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. It was a touch that had stirred something deep within you, awakening a desire you hadn't known existed. In that fleeting moment, his fingertips grazing against your skin had sparked a rush of sensations, each one unfamiliar and exhilarating.

As you reflected on the encounter, you felt a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Part of you thrilled at the prospect of exploring this new terrain, of discovering what lay beyond the boundaries you had so carefully maintained. Another part of you felt a twinge of guilt, a nagging reminder of your parents' expectations and the priorities they had ingrained in you. Yet, amid those conflicting emotions, there was a growing sense of liberation. The brief exchange with Rafe had opened a door to a world of possibilities you had never dared to consider. It was a tantalizing glimpse of a different path—one that beckoned with its own set of risks and rewards.

After an intense hour buried in textbooks, you gratefully closed them and sank into bed. With a swift unlock, you navigated to Instagram, driven by an insistent urge to search for the name that had dominated your thoughts—Rafe. Thanks to Sarah and mutual acquaintances, locating his profile was effortless.

As your finger tapped on his profile picture, anticipation knotted in your chest. What if he was entangled with someone else? What if he was notorious for playing with hearts? Despite these apprehensions, you pressed on, yearning to unravel more about him. His profile unveiled snippets of his life—pictures from exotic getaways, moments with friends, and snapshots on the golf course where Topper, Sarah's boyfriend, featured prominently. Their closeness didn't surprise you; it was evident in their behavior.

You scrolled deeper, each image and caption offering a fleeting glimpse into his world. With every post, your intrigue grew. Who was Rafe Cameron behind these carefully curated snapshots? What did he cherish? What was he like beyond the filtered frames?

You found yourself drawn into the depths of Rafe's Instagram profile, scrolling through his life over the past few years. Each photo captured a different facet of him: lounging on sun-soaked beaches, laughing with friends on golf courses, and even a few candid shots that exuded his effortless charm. With each swipe, your smile widened involuntarily, captivated by his magnetic presence in every image.

But then, amidst the series of carefree snapshots, you stumbled upon a picture that shattered your burgeoning admiration. There he was, on a picturesque beach, arm wrapped around a girl with a bright smile and eyes that mirrored his joy. They shared ice cream on a bustling boardwalk, kissed under the soft glow of sunset—a glimpse into a life that seemed worlds apart from yours.

Your heart sank as you stared at the scene frozen in time, feeling a mix of disappointment and disbelief wash over you. You had allowed yourself to get lost in fantasies, caught up in a momentary thrill that now felt hollow. The reality of his relationship with someone else hit hard, snapping you out of the enchantment that had momentarily clouded your thoughts.

You felt an insatiable curiosity gnawing at you, craving to unravel the enigma of Rafe's relationship with the girl in those photos. Each snapshot on his Instagram page painted a picture of a life filled with adventure and camaraderie, yet it revealed nothing about the depth of his connections. The ocean breeze seemed to whisper secrets as you scrolled, each image telling a story of laughter and shared moments against stunning backdrops. But behind those smiles and frozen frames, the truth of their bond remained elusive, leaving you to wonder about the untold chapters that lay between them.

You wrestled with swirling thoughts of the mysterious girl in Rafe's photos, pondering the depth of their connection, its duration, and whether it still persisted. Lying in the dimness of your room, you stared at the ceiling, consumed by thoughts of Rafe Cameron and all that he represented. Each question about him spun through your mind like a whirlwind, relentlessly tugging at your attention until weariness finally overtook you. Drifting into sleep, thoughts of Rafe lingered at the edge of your consciousness, a silent presence that followed you into dreams.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

taglist: @yawnzshit, @saintchxx4

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe

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hatsukeii · 3 months ago

Text

fragrance: coffee break, replica / timeskip!akaashi keiji x barista!reader

notes: coffee (top), lavender (heart), milk mousse (base)

description: the first shot of espresso after a long shift, freshly dripped coffee from the brewer

disclaimer(s): a love or hate fragrance for many

wc: 2470

warning(s): mentions/depictions of puke and anxiety, overworking culture and capitalism LMFAO but no nsfw!! angsty akaashi is a corporate slave and reader is a free soul who just likes brewing coffee </3 gn reader too!!

Akaashi Keiji doesn't like coffee at all, especially not when the black liquid that pools in the abyss of a flimsy paper cup on his desk is only a means to stay awake, to keep editing. But if anything, the instant coffee stand in his office is a necessity to keep him alive these days. He stares at his monitor, and his phone goes off in clicks and whirs just as it has for the past seven hours; messages from Koutaro, who has just won his qualifiers with MSBY, the qualifiers that Keiji wanted so badly to be at. He glances at the time that blinks at the corner of the screen.

22:45:01

Just another fifteen minutes, he thinks. Just another fifteen minutes until he can finally flick the lights off and lock himself out of this hell for the next two days. His eyelids grow heavier by the second as his fingers click impossibly quickly at his keyboard, regurgitating words on a blank canvas the way he throws up black coffee into the toilet every night. Despite that, his hand reaches for the paper cup that sits on his coaster, a pandora's box of putrid bitterness waiting to be consumed. After all, the vile, soured sensation of puke flushing out from his esophagus is infinitely more enjoyable than falling asleep at his desk and being berated by his dickhead of a boss again. He flips the swampy black liquid into his mouth, wincing at the tartness that claws lines down his throat all the way to his stomach.

Surely enough, right as the numbers at the corner of his monitor blink into 23:00:00, Akaashi Keiji is already frantically shoving his documents into his messenger bag, inevitably folding them in the wrong spots as he haphazardly slips them through the free cracks amongst his laptop and other miscellanous items. He flicks the lights off and sprints out the door, missing the key hole twice before finally managing to lock the office up properly, and makes a run for the bathroom, where he kneels in front of an empty urinal, and throws up everything he’s consumed in the past six hours. This consists of a single cream cheese bagel from the office fridge, and five cups worth of pure instant coffee.

The streetlights buzz above Keiji's head, moths feeding into their brightness as they dance around a ghastly tungsten glow. The walk home is tiring. He is so very tired. His guts have been emptied out in an office bathroom and the buzzing of the streetlight makes him want to crawl up its post and shatter it to shards, taking the moths down with it. Walls of glass on both sides line the night streets, mannequins staring him down as he slumps and turns the corner to his own.

Warmth.

The corner he has just turned heats him up like a fireplace does when the wind howls and screams at his windows, and he turns to the warm glow of a usually unnoticed cornerstore. It's fifteen past eleven, yet one person resides behind the counter. The sign at the door is flipped to ‘closed’, and Keiji can do nothing but stand at the entrance, watching you meticulously swirl steaming water into filter paper. He turns away in embarrassment when you look up at him, and place the long-spouted kettle in your hand down. He steps away from the corner as you swing open the door, the bell jingling in a merrier fashion than the droning streetlights.

"Are you good? You look a bit pale."

He turns back, and your body is halfway out the door. He doesn't say a word, yet his feet move towards the store unconsciously, and he doesn't realise it until his body is lined up with the doorframe.

"Do you, by any chance, have any food? I can pay."

Keiji sits at the coffee bar, where your steaming kettle sits amongst a plethora of brewing tools. Brown liquid falls into a roundbottomed flask drop by drop, tantalisingly slow. You flick on the television behind him, and the unmistakeable sound of leather against hardwood rings loud from the speakers as you reach into the fridge behind, searching for anything edible.

"You allergic to anything?"

"No, anything's good. Thanks."

Grabbing a leftover croissant, you throw it in the microwave, pressing carelessly at the buttons until the little glass dish begins to spin and whir. Facing the counter again, fingers return to the handle of the kettle as you continue swirling steaming water into coffee grounds on filter paper. Keiji's eyes are trained to the television, the reflection of a volleyball on the screen following the motion of his eyes.

"Volleyball fan too?"

"Yeah, my best friend plays on that team. Black Jackals."

Your eyebrows raise, still trained on the brewing batch of drip coffee. One circle, two circles, and down. You're not sure why your peculiar visitor is here instead of in the stands, but the bags beneath his eyes and his ghastly figure at your door are enough to give you a clue. You set the kettle down again, and the coffee begins to drip faster with the addition of water.

"Oh, really! Which player?"

"Kou- Bokuto. Bokuto Koutaro."

"That's cool, he's my favourite player. Got his jersey sitting somewhere at home."

The microwave beeps, and you reach for a ceramic plate, sliding the crispy croissant onto it and handing it to Keiji. He reaches for it hesitantly, the crust crunching beneath his fingers as layers of flaky pastry steam and fold against each other, before taking a bite. Buttery soft layers of bread, warm flakes dancing on his tongue, a hint of salt between each sheet of croissant pastry. His face stretches into a barely noticeable, but satiated smile as he chews. For the first time this week, Akaashi Keiji swears he is in heaven.

"This...this is a really fuckin' good croissant." He chuckles out with his mouth stuffed, a rare occasion given his usual schedule of throwing up, then going to bed. You wink at him, clicking your tongue proudly.

"In-house favourite, took me months to get right. I'm glad it's good."

Keiji pushes his glasses up with his knuckles, glancing back at the television. Koutaro graces the screen now, piercing golden eyes wide with enthusiasm. His voice rings through the speakers.

"I'm dedicating this win to my best friend! He was supposed to be here, but he must've been busy, so he couldn't make it. But that's okay! I know he's watching me back home, right, Keiji?"

He wants to cry, his mouth still stuffed with your croissant. His Adam's apple shifts ever so slightly, and you take notice of his neck tensing. The whites of your visitor's eyes are more red than anything, the bridge of his glasses sliding down when his nose scrunches at Bokuto's words. You eye the croissant on his plate, half-eaten in the two minutes it's been out of the microwave for.

"Would you like some coffee? Freshly brewed, new recipe."

Akaashi Keiji doesn't like coffee at all. Yet as he turns around to meet your eyes, lips pursed in guilt, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it might be what he wants right now. You swirl water into the coffee grounds again, brown liquid dripping into the flask alluringly.

"Are you sure? It looks like it's taken a while to collect."

"You'd be doing me a favour by telling me if it tastes like shit."

You wait for the droplets to cease, before swirling the flask once, twice. Brown coffee trickles into a white mug as you hand it to your visitor, who takes it timidly with both hands cupping its warmth. Notes of lavender and almonds peek from the cover of coffee, flushing his sinuses clean from the biting acidity of the instant coffee he's become so accustomed to.

"Sorry in advance if I end up puking this out. It happens with instant coffee, and it's not going to be because of the taste, I promise."

You shoot your visitor a questionable look, and he grimaces in shame.

"You must be drinking a lot of shitty coffee, with too little water. Could be acid reflux. This should be much better, but let me know if you need anything."

Keiji does not down the coffee in one go this time. Instead, he takes such small sips from the mug, that he may as well be taking kitten licks at the liquid. It slides past his tongue and into his throat, smooth as silk. Hints of vanilla fill his tastebuds, offsetting the innate bitterness of caffeine, and for once coffee does what it's meant to. He feels alive again.

"This is incredible. I think I can actually hold this in my stomach."

"Coffee shouldn't make you worry about keeping it in your stomach, so I'm glad."

He smiles, a real one now, taking in another sip. His bag hangs from the wooden frame of the chair, papers still crumpled between laptops and binders and files. He watches you swirl water into the filter paper again, and wonders how long you might be willing to keep him here for. The street is desolate, spare for the leaves that flutter in the midnight breeze. He would like to stay in this seat forever.

"So, why aren't you in the stands? Bokuto was clearly looking for you."

He freezes, initially unsure how you've figured him out, before recalling his declaration of comraderie with Koutaro upon the flick of a television remote to the volleyball match. The mug of coffee is half empty when Keiji places it down on the counter, and he rubs his face in his hands. His nails are short, evidently chewed on, and you catch onto the way his thumbs instinctively massage against the fleshy cushions at the bottom of his palms, and the centre of his inner wrists.

"Office work, manga editing is no joke."

"Yeah, I can tell, you've worked yourself into anxiety and carpal tunnel."

"Must be nice brewing coffee without a dickhead boss on your back for everything."

You grin sadly, because he's right. You've seen it on the faces of every visitor, tired eyes searching for hope on laptop screens, teeth gnawing at peeling lips at seven in the morning for no particular reason, restless feet bouncing on the floor as they wait for their coffee, and almost burn themselves trying to finish it in one go, before rushing out the door without so much of a thank you. Your midnight visitor is no different than the rest, other than the fact that he displays genuine human emotion, and is willing to slowly enjoy your five hour brew.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do for everyone who comes here. Fix them a good cup. They're tired enough as is."

Keiji chokes up at your words. The past year of manga editing has graced him with screaming seniors, hours upon hours of overtime, throwing up food and drink every night until all he has the guts to eat are microwaved frozen bagels. His throat closes up, Adam's apple swallowing thickly. Shoulders begin to tremble, and you place a hand on the side of his bicep, rubbing it soothingly over the counter. His sobs fill up the shop, drowning out the television as he rubs at his face even harder, wiping his tears with his jacket. In one night, you have shown him more care than anyone else has in the past year combined, and all you've done is microwave him a leftover croissant and fix him a mug of real coffee.

"S-sorry, 's been a shitty week."

"You're okay, you're fine. Let it out, as much as you need."

And for just a moment in his bleak existence, the sterile white lights of the office become a lamplit cafe, hidden in the corner of his street. The stench of air freshener is swapped out for vanilla, and coffee, and lavender, and all that is right. For just tonight, Akaashi Keiji, who doesn't like coffee at all, thinks that he might actually be able to enjoy it, as long as it's from you, and only you.

author's note:

bet you didn't expect this series to get angsty!! i really wanted to write a coffee shop romance, but i also wanted to get a little ambiguous, like a sorta fateful meeting, and i thought this would work!! the idea of throwing up coffee makes me want to cry because i love coffee so much i could not imagine my life without it icl

hope you guys enjoyed this though! it's not as romantic as the other ones i've done on the cologne series, but it's a change in pace that im looking to achieve!! might be the most gentle piece i've written for this series in terms of atmosphere as well :333

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @fiannee @afyrian @bailey-reeds @iiwaijime

ok love u guys see u in the next one bye bye

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