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kameyyy · 1 month ago

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PASSION; atsumu miya x reader

CHAPTER 1: red

cw: ooc orobably, cursing, mention of a deceased grandparent, mention of dysfunctional family, lowkey unreliable memories, mention of alcohol use, umber is a color I don't mean amber, sry if I missed some [please refer to the general tags/warnings on the m.list !]

a/n: hi so I hope you'll enjoy !! this is my first ever written chapter in english and after like idk 4 years of writers block, so please be nice about it <3 I'm really excited to write this smau and I apologize for any grammar issues or typos !! I'm writing this at 6:30 am rn and I haven't slept yet lol so please bear with me

songs I violently played on repeat: Girl With One Eye ; Beatutiful Crime ; Claire ; Not

wc: 3.7k

She didn’t hear the front door of the shop creak open, nor the ring of the old bell attached to the ceiling sounding twice. He let his eyes roam suspiciously over the two steps of stairs in front of the door that led him further into the building, uneven and small, rough edges and splitting paint hidden behind a rug of yale blue that certainly has seen better years.

At first glance, the shop appeared messy. Countless rugs in various colors hung up on walls, spread out on the dark wood floor, or rolled up and stuffed together on shelves or any corners. The wallpaper was yellowed, partially wavy, and loose in places. Between the million rugs laid out underneath his feet, he spotted chipped parts of the wood floor and white dried-up paint smeared over it, seemingly by accident, as he moved over to the redwood counter and the person sitting behind it.

He wondered why his friend chose this specific shop for his rug. It was nothing like him, and not even close to the other stores he frequented. This one was cluttered, messy, and odd. The tips of the aloe vera on top of the counter were rolled tight and colored brown, balancing between life and death. Water and coffee stains adorned the counter top, dust settled in the corners and the jar with pens was tipped over. However, when his eyes landed on the stack of volleyball magazines spread messily next to the woman hunched over the counter, he suddenly understood his friend. He couldn’t make out her face since it was angled too far down, but instead, he clearly saw the video she was watching. A volleyball video. An interview of him.

This place reeks of a discount.

She doesn’t like the color red. It reminds her of the past she is trying her best to forget, or it announced bad times coming for her. But as much as she learned to hate this color, somehow, she found herself surrounded by all kinds of shades of it every day.

Her childhood bedroom had wallpaper colored in carmine red. Walls that witnessed her silent sobs, her figure slouched over the prickly carpet writing a myriad of essays, all those fights with her mother, and countless nights where the bed stayed untouched and cold. She used to love this specific shade of red, though all it did now was leave a bitter taste in her mouth.

Her school uniform had a tie colored in maroon. The fabric accompanied her to all those classes, where she repeatedly realized just how different she was from everybody else.

All her peers had their lives planned out already. They knew what to study, what job or company they wanted to work for, and at what age they wanted to get married. One child or two, the age difference no more than three years. A boy, or a boy and a girl. If they didn’t plan their life out this detailed, then they at least had an idea. Everybody had some sort of dream or goal to reach, unlike her.

She was lost in a maze with no way out, the fog imprisoning her growing denser with every passing year or thought she spent on ways to escape.

The counter was made of redwood and the countless rugs scattered around the shop, either hung or rolled up, were all colored in some shade of red. They watched her fail the attempts of trying to forget the past whenever she lets her gaze wander out the window. Her eyes focused on the building across the street as if she was looking for someone.

These rugs witnessed on cold fall days how she hung up a certain crimson red scarf on a coat rack behind the counter and sometimes stared at it a little too long, lost in thought. She got it as a gift a year before her high school graduation and never brought it over herself to toss it out of her life. It kept her warm on nights she turned her back to the locked front door of her house. Head hung low, sigh after sigh leaving chapped lips, a shiver from the biting cold of winter running through her body. Though moments later she was greeted happily in a certain house filled with warmth, laughter, and love. Umber eyes lifted unpleasant feelings and worries from her shoulders like a feather caught by a gush of wind. The scarf tagged along when she waited in front of the school gym, or when she laughed with the person that would later show her what passion truly felt like. Even when that passion was fueled by hate.

She was hunched over the countertop next to the cash register, her knuckles pressed against her temples as she kept her head low and eyes trained on the screen laid flat on the wood grain.

She couldn’t help it.

The wired earphones she wore were broken in and tangled, the sound quality wasn't the best, but it was enough for her 10-minute walk to work. Or, to watch this interview with her eyebrows scrunched while the shop was only filled with her figure and a faint buzzing sound coming from the break room. It went unnoticed — just like the person actually standing in front of her.

She doesn’t know why she keeps watching these stupid volleyball interviews with him in it. She doesn’t know why she googles his name at least once a month, on the lookout for new achievements he made in his life, but not to celebrate. And she doesn’t know why she keeps buying these damn magazines he’s printed on the cover of — or is somehow featured in.

She doesn’t know why she can’t let him go.

On her screen he stood proudly with a hand on his hip, the other running through his damp blonde hair while he answered the reporter's questions. His team won a match that was seemingly rather important. They talked a little too much about volleyball and teams she had never heard of before, though that was only because she always skipped the magazine pages that weren't about him, so she didn't really focus on what was said.

He carried himself with confidence, success was written all over his face. His hair wasn’t this awful yellow color anymore, it hadn’t been for a while, but rather a natural-looking blonde. He grew bigger, in muscles and size, compared to the last time she saw him in person years ago. He seemed more mature, though he was still the same and carried his signature smirk around, which she so desperately wished to wipe off his face.

It’s unfair. Life’s unfair. It had only been good to him, for some stupid reason. He had a happy family, confidence and looks like no other, passions and goals he worked hard for to achieve and maintain. On the other hand, life had been treating her like a pacifier lost on the streets. It made her bitter. It filled her with hate. It made her cry at night — because she doesn’t understand why.

He got everything he dreamed of, while she didn’t even get a dream.

“What is your ideal type of woman?” The reporter spoke, and the blonde man paused for a second, raising a hand to his chin in thought, before a sly grin spread over his lips. She found herself biting on the skin of her cheek, a small part of her anticipating his answer a little more than she’d ever admit.

“My type in women?” He blew a lost strand of hair out of his vision, his eyes glimmering in amusement. “Someone who knows what they want in life.”

She scoffed loudly, roughly ripping her earphones out of the shell of her ears, and throwing them on top of the table.

“What a dick.” She spat, venom rising to the back of her throat, daring to spill over like ink and red wine, staining her for years to come. She threw herself back in the creaking chair, nails roughly digging into the palm of her hand.

“Excuse me?” A voice sounded in offense.

Her eyes snapped up from the screen that still played the interview. In front of the counter, she was met with a broad figure in a burgundy red t-shirt and umber-colored irises. Her mouth went dry — and with it, her heart stopped beating for a second.

“What the fuck.”

Her sudden words of calling him a dick caught him off-guard. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he had his lips parted for more words to come out, offense painted across his face, though they died on his tongue the second she threw her head back to look at him.

A few moments of silence passed between them as they took in one another.

It was her, to his delight. And it was him, to her misfortune.

He desperately tried to find his voice. He wanted to express all the feelings and questions swirling and burning inside his mind about her, after all those years, since they last saw each other. She pressed her jaw together tightly in an attempt to keep calm, the fight or flight instinct within her triggered. But she was working right now. Punching a customer would likely result in termination, as well as abandoning the shop.

He was the first one to break the silence again, a weak and nervous smirk painting his lips as he spoke.

“You’re a fan?” His eyes flickered to the interview still playing on the screen.

“Quite the opposite.” She scrunched her nose in disgust and quickly turned off the video.

Though, he simply raised his eyebrows, not buying a word she said, and instead nodded towards the stack of magazines next to her. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that the magazine lying on the top of the stack had his face printed all over the cover. She cursed herself silently, the only one without him displayed on the front page, currently stuck under the left leg of her chair to keep it from tilting over.

“We sell those.” She said flatly, trying to seem indifferent about it, but the nervous biting of her lip betrayed her.

The corner of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the smile on his lips grew wide before his features ultimately softened. Umber eyes roamed over her face, taking in everything that changed or had stayed the same.

Her hairstyle was different, the bags she used to carry under her eyes weren’t as prominent anymore. But she still looked tired, her lips still chapped from her habit to gnaw at them whenever something bothered her.

He wondered if her troubles were different now. He hoped they were. Otherwise, everything he had given up — which was her — was pointless. Nonetheless, she resembled the same girl from years ago, though he knew she was different now. She looked at him differently, too.

“I didn’t think we’d see each other again.” He muttered, memories of their time spent together played in front of his inner eye.

“I wish it would’ve stayed that way, Miya.”

His name tasted weird and unfamiliar on her tongue. The last time they saw each other — which was years ago — she referred to him by his given name, though not nearly as civilized as she managed now. Ways were parted in hate and anger, insult after insult spat from her mouth like venom as she screamed at him, in hopes of making him hurt as much as she did in that very moment.

He wronged her. He broke the trust he had so patiently built up and did the one thing she begged him not to do, sealed with multiple pinky promises and reassuring smiles.

But suddenly her life fell apart. All because of him.

She was left with nothing except this ignited spark of hate, and she never managed to loosen the claw-like grip it had on her throat.

“How have you been?” He cleared his throat awkwardly, dying to know about her life since he lost her. It was the same soft tone and expression he had used on her years ago. On days when she came to him after she had found the front door to her house locked and her hopes for a better life in shambles.

“Don’t act like you care.” She pressed through gritted teeth, her voice trembling from frustration.

She shot a glance behind him at the only functioning clock hanging on the wall, next to many others that were either off by many hours or just stopped working completely. Some were small, some were big, and a few were oddly shaped. Metal, plastic, wood. Brown, gold, red. It was 6:53 pm and her shift for today would end in exactly 2 hours and 7 minutes. 2 hours and 7 minutes too long, stuck in this shop, with a man she never wanted to meet again.

His shoulders fell slightly, and he took a step closer to the redwood counter, placing his calloused hands on the rough edge of chipped wood. The murmur of her name fell from his lips like a low melody. “C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that?” She scoffed, disdain written all over her face as she jolted up from her chair, the palms of her hands slamming against the counter. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He winced when her chair hit the floor, avoiding her gaze as he tightened his grip, looking down to her hands sprawled out on the wood grain. Chipped redwood dug uncomfortably against his palms, he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a moment, biting his cheek as if to force himself to make his next move.

He gulped as he carefully lifted his gaze back to her, silence hanging thick in the air between them.

Years ago, on a day that began like every other, he messed up and lost her completely. Today was similar, though this time he won’t let her stray far from him again. Their friendship meant a lot to him, even if he never openly admitted it, and he wanted to win her back. Make up for past mistakes and fix things, see her laugh at his stupid jokes or hear her cheer loudly for him during a volleyball match again.

He missed their late night talks in the quiet of his living room, arms softly brushing against each other and acting as if both didn’t notice their knees touching underneath the thin blanket. Hushed voices conversing from the floor and bottom bunk bed in his childhood bedroom, trying not to disturb his brother who always fell asleep first, and giggles muffled by their hands when his mother returned from a shift way past their bedtime, rushing up the stairs with adrenaline pumping through their veins.

He was uncharacteristically soft with her, doing small things his brother teased him about, like holding her hand under the pretense that she was walking too slow, or so she wouldn't get lost. Physical contact like this normally made her uncomfortable, but for him, she made an exception.

A wary look was painted on his features and his warm, calloused hand slowly cupped over her own, his thumb softly brushing over her knuckles in a calming manner, voice just as gentle. “Look, I’m sorry for what I’ve done-”

“No, you’re fucking not!” She cut him off with a snarl, swatting his hand away like a nasty fly. “You’re only sorry because your stupid attempt to ‘save me’ failed!”

He opened his mouth to object, his hand pulled close again as if he had burnt himself, though his words died on his tongue and he pressed his lips together tightly, running a hand through blonde hair.

Never before had she seen him this close to looking remorseful, though, she knew it was just faux feelings. If he hadn’t met her today, after roughly four years, he wouldn’t have spared a single thought on her. She was just a side character in his story, after all.

Atsumu Miya was the type of guy who spoke a lot and couldn’t ever shut up. Even when the situation called for it.

She only slept 4 hours? Well, he only slept three and has a stomach ache.

She tries to talk about her life at home? Too bad, suddenly he’s reciting every moment of his life, starting from when he was just a cell in his mother's womb.

Something was always on his mind. Anything he deemed worth expressing he spoke out loud, and often it was unnecessary, stupid, or left her questioning his common sense. When he didn’t talk over her or made every conversation about himself, he was too busy training and bickering with his brother.

Emotional, soft, and heart-to-heart conversations were impossible with him. This includes when she first opened up about her situation at home. Her voice was quiet, her hands trembled, and she made him promise a million times not to tell anyone else.

Opening up to someone filled her with anxiety. Somehow, she even feared his reaction. Would he be indifferent? Dismiss her completely, or tell her to suck it up? Would he get angry at her? Would he tell her mother? Or his brother and mother?

These are things she never had to worry about whenever she emailed her deceased grandmother, emails in which she thoroughly spoke about the things that had happened to her, dumping her thoughts and feelings. She had tried diaries before, but the fear of her mother discovering them or someone else led to her lying about the things she wrote about. But that destroys the purpose she bought the book for, no?

So she stopped, and poured out her heart's content in emails instead that no one had access to anymore. Even though she will never receive an answer, sending those made her feel as if she really talked to someone. Something a piece of paper or the notes app on her phone couldn’t ever do for her. Unlike when she opened up to Atsumu, she felt heard and listened to.

He kept pacing around the room, muttering curse after curse through gritted teeth. She didn’t know if they were directed at her mother, her, or himself. He was ticked off and frustrated about the fact that this had been going on for years at her home, without him knowing anything about it, though they only recently started growing closer. So when could she have told him about it? Not only that, but she used to hate him too.

Many people her age actually preferred being friends with Osamu, rather than him. They were alike, but the grey-haired brother was rather laid back and kind of calm, more bearable to have a conversation with. But the blonde kept pestering her, walking her to class, eating lunch together and joining her on the swings by the playground at late hours. She eventually came to the realisation that he was only half as bad as originally thought, and that she actually kind of liked him.

Yet moments like these, where she opened up and made herself vulnerable in front of him, caused her to second guess her choice of friend. There were no hands holding hers, and no softly spoken call of her name to sooth her spiraling thoughts. Nor did they ever truly talk about the things she so slowly and carefully put together in words. He couldn’t comfort her the way she needed, and to a certain degree it seemed like he never truly cared, always swiftly moving to a different topic.

“I was doing okay, I was content. But you made my life sound so much worse than it actually was.” she said, her tone tight, edged with frustration and a hint of wounded disbelief. “I had you and your support, no one else needed to know what was really going on, there was only one year of school left anyway.”

Somehow, she noticed, their roles were reversed now. He grew up and learned to manage and express his emotions better. He was successful in his job and his passion. Everything she prayed to god to was ignored and fell into his lap instead.

It filled her with hate and bitter jealousy.

They both came from somewhat similar backgrounds. A deadbeat father, a single mother, and issues with making friends. She was an only child, he was a twin. She expected his mother to be exhausted, overwhelmed, and stressed, unable to control her emotions or lash out at them sometimes. It’s what her mother was like already, though she only had to feed one extra mouthful, and not two. Instead, she was met with nothing but love and support in the four walls of his home. Something incredibly foreign to her.

Now, she directed her frustration and anger at people close to her who deserved it the least. Her emotional control kept slacking off with every passing day. She’s been fired from previous jobs often, goes out drinking instead of attending her classes, and her relationship turned from something that gave her joy and a will to push through, to this never-leaving sense of guilt and exhaustion.

“I had plans, Atsumu. I knew how to get out, I knew how to help myself. But you robbed me of every opportunity and broke your stupid fucking promise.”

Everything he had dreamed of was just one breath away, while she’d been drowning for years.

They’re two sides of a coin.

He woke up early with a smile, feeling refreshed and energized. She hadn’t moved an inch the moment she opened her eyes, even though she’d been meaning to get up for the past hour.

He kept in touch with his mother and called her every Sunday. She hadn't heard a word from hers since she moved to Osaka.

He doesn't know who his father is and doesn’t plan on knowing. She was forced to find out about hers.

He was a role model for many children. She never understood the concept.

The blonde stepped back from the redwood counter, hands buried in his pants as he shook his head slowly. “You would have lost yourself.”

“And I’m not lost right now?”

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osaemu · 1 year ago

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KAMISATO AYATO: BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME!

.ೃ࿐ modern!au: you run into your ex-best friend's brother after a long time

contents: fem!reader. use of she/her pronouns. ayaka's a little ooc. this was supposed to be 800 words but ended at over a thousand..

author's note: comm'd by @/kruinka, thanks for the trade!!

"shit, i'm so sorry—"

you look up sheepishly at the man in front of you, wincing when you see the dark, coffee-scented stain on his crisp white shirt. your face burns in embarrassment as you trip over your words, coming to a halt when you see his face.

a name registers in your brain, but you don't actually connect it to him until he clears his throat and starts to speak. "ah, don't worry about it. i have a lot of these shirts," he says awkwardly.

kamisato ayato.

your ex-best friend's older brother.

ayato tilts his head, soft blue eyes surveying the brown liquid dripping down his chest before looking at you. thankfully, there's no sign of recognition in his face as he offers you a comforting smile. "really, there's no need to look that horrified. you're fine."

"i'm so sorry," you mumble, setting the half-empty coffee cup on a table nearby before snatching a couple napkins and stiffly handing them to ayato. "i should go."

you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and start turning around before he calls "wait," essentially forcing you to stay back. ayato studies your flustered expression intently, and unfortunately, luck doesn't seem to be on your side today.

"you're my sister's friend, right?" he asks, looking down at you thoughtfully. you bite the inside of your cheek and force yourself to shrug. it'd be rude to leave now, especially since ayato's made that connection between you and his sister.

he dabs one of the napkins on his shirt, but it only makes the brown spread from his shirt to the cuff of his sleeve. you curse profusely in your head, but common courtesy forces you to take another napkin and help him out.

"so," ayato continues, "what did that mean?"

you pause, looking up at him with a confused look on your face. ayato smiles ruefully and clarifies, "why'd you shrug?"

shit.

"oh," you say nonchalantly, busying yourself with folding another napkin and soaking the coffee from his shirt into it. "nothing."

"really," ayato deadpans, slipping his hands into his pocket. "am i supposed to believe that?"

"really!" you insist, pressing the napkin into his chest a little harder than you meant to.

the truth was that it wasn't nothing — in fact, far from it. you and ayaka had a pretty bad falling out, and worst of all, it was over him.

just under a year ago, you had offhandedly told another friend that you sort-of liked ayaka's brother (even though he was older than you by a couple years). it wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but of course, word got around that you found you had a crush on your best friend's brother. naturally, ayaka was pissed, but in your eyes, it wasn't a big deal and it wasn't even a real crush.

but rumors change stories, and what once was said to be a crush was now viewed as true love. people told ayaka that you wanted to marry her brother, and as word got around more and more, the stories just kept getting worse.

you never did find out if ayato heard the rumors. maybe ayaka told him, or maybe she didn't see the need to bother her big brother with matters as trivial as you.

"it doesn't look like it was nothing," ayato presses, a soft lilt of amusement coating his words. "tell me, pretty please? i'd love to get some dirt on my little sister."

ayato grins, widening his eyes playfully as he begs you to tell him. "c'mon, you just ruined my shirt. the least you can do is tell me what happened between you and my sister."

you shake your head, and ayato groans stubbornly. "you owe me," he tries, but you still don't reply. "please? it can't be that bad."

"oh, it's bad," you say dryly, flicking two soiled napkins into a nearby trash can. "i wouldn't want to ruin your opinion of me this soon."

ayato scoffs, removing his hand from his pocket and grabbing your chin. a little hm? escapes from your lips, and it makes ayato laugh. he eyes you pleadingly, and although you know enough about him to know that this is all just a means to an end, your heart still skips a beat at the way his cool fingers grasp at your skin.

"what are you—"

"tell me," he breathes, cutting you off as he leans in teasingly. ayato knows exactly what he's doing, and the way he sees it, there's no reason why he can't make his sister's friend (or not) blush just a little. it's cute, really, the way your breath catches in your throat. and maybe the way he can practically see the gears turning in your head makes him smile.

"ayato," a familiar voice calls from the coffee shop doorway. "what's taking you so lo— what is going on?!"

you stumble back from ayato, eyes widening in surprise at the all too familiar voice of your ex-best friend. ayaka pauses for a second, surveying the scene before narrowing her ice-blue eyes at you.

"so, ayato," she says, resting both of her hands on her hips. ayaka turns to her brother and glares at him. "wanna explain why you're flirting with her?"

ayato laughs and gestures at the coffee-colored stain on his shirt before turning to you and offering an apologetic smile. "looks like i'm the one who should get going. we should do this again sometime."

he waves bye, and you nod in response. ayaka gives you a suspicious look before looping her arm in her brother's and sweeping him away. they gradually fade into the distance, and you eventually leave.

a couple hours later, you recieve a text.

hey it's ayato, got your number from ayaka

you wanna treat me to boba tmrw? then you can tell me everything ;)

#osaemu #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #ayato x reader #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato x y/n #ayato kamisato x reader #ayato kamisato x you #ayato kamisato x y/n

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arienic · 9 months ago

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GENE x FEM!READER - not my best work but ive sunken back into the aphmau fandom and i wanted to get something out, so here u go!

warnings: infidelity, zenix slander (i love him i promise), maybe ooc gene??

You tilt your face away, laughing. "You're fucking joking."

Your boyfriend — your ex boyfriend now — frowns at you from across the table. "Look, I'm sorry but — I met her four months ago and — I don't know, she just gets me —"

"Oh, shut the fuck up," you snap, then leap up and grab your things. "Save it for someone who gives a shit."

He has the gall to look offended. Him, offended! You roll your eyes as he splutters out an "Excuse me?"

"So fucking long, asshat," is the last thing you say before you're out the diner door.

You hear his shouts from behind you, so loud that even when you're across the parking lot and by your car, the echoes still chase you down the pavement. Fucking lunatic, you think bitterly, unlocking your car and throwing your things onto the passenger seat. After you clamber in, you're tempted to slam the door closed.

It's only when you've settled into the leather, hands braced against the steering wheel that it hits you.

My boyfriend cheated on me. He cheated.

Holy fuck. What the fuck. He cheated.

You wish you'd screamed at him a little more. You wish you'd ordered a little more, wish you'd left him more than twenty-seven dollars poorer at that ugly red booth. You wish you'd maybe thrown your water at him and had his ugly-ass face sopping wet, frozen in shock.

(But then you start wishing that you'd tried a little harder.)

Last week, when you'd both gone to the mall. You should've suggested the movies, instead of just dragging him around the shops and talking his ear off. Or the other day, during lunch. You should've taken his hand in yours on the walk back home and leaned on his shoulder. It could've been fine — perfectly fine — if you'd only tried a little harder. You could've kept him. If you hadn't gotten so distant all those months ago, maybe he wouldn't have been tempted to run into another girl's arms. Maybe he wouldn't have continued returning to her. Maybe he wouldn't have kissed her, loved her — preferred her over you.

Maybe he would've stayed.

You take a deep breath, gripping the wheel harder. No, you tell yourself, not now. You need to — to — (a glimpse of him, rushing out the dinner and catching sight of you in your car — his shadow against the golden lighting from inside) — you need to get out of here.

Another deep breath. The keys into the ignition — enter, twist — and the car starts. Your mind whirls. But where, it asks, where do we —

There's a name that jerks to the forefront. Jagged, sharp, tapering off at the ends like cigarette smoke — but still so comforting.

Gene, it spells, and you step on the gas.

"I'm telling you, Sasha, it's not like that," Gene groans, spinning one of his dozen silver rings round the stained coffee table.

"Whateeeever you say." Sasha's drawl crackles from his phone speaker, propped up on a spare coffee mug. Her sharp, violet eyes manage to dig into his soul even through the barriers of Facetime and a cracked screen protector. "You're obvious as fuck, though."

He rolls his eyes, flipping the ring into the air. "There's nothing to be 'obvious as fuck' about."

"Even Zenix has noticed."

Gene pauses, and reaches out for the falling jewelry a moment too late — he's fumbling for it as it clatters to the floor.

He doesn't need to look back up at his phone to know the look on her face; the silence speaks volumes.

"I got distracted," he says defensively, leaning down to pick it up. "There was a mosquito."

"Sure," she says — and snorts when he bangs his head on the table trying to sit up again.

Gene grimaces, but leans back and rubs the sore area. "Fuck off, Sasha."

"Don't think I will."

"Fuck you —" He jumps when a series of knocks rain down on his front door. "Shit!"

Sasha frowns, leaning closer to the camera. "You good over there?"

"Someone's at the door," he sighs, slipping his ring on.

He watches her lips lift into a grin. "Maybe it's —"

"No, it's not her. She's on a dinner date today." Gene shuts her down — although he wishes he didn't have to. He's never told anyone (and he never will), but he likes when you show up to his apartment unannounced. He likes when you rap your knuckles on his door and shove takeout in his face, declaring that night as a movie night.

It won't be you, though. Gene's sure of it. Ever since you started dating that guy, your impromptu visits have happened less and less often.

He still stands up, though. "I'll call you back later," he tells Sasha. She throws him a pixelated thumbs-up before ending the call.

Gene sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Who is it now, then," he mutters to himself, making his way down the hall. He drags a hand down his face one last time and moves to look through the peephole — and damn near chokes on his own spit.

Why the fuck were you here?

You don't look good, either. Your eyes are swollen and red, and your bottom lip trembles ever so slightly. You lift a hand to wipe roughly at the tear that slips down your cheek.

Something protective and furious flaring in him, and he practically throws the door open to find you why the fuck you're so upset.

You flinch, take him in, then relax. "Gene," you croak — and immediately start crying.

He blinks. "Woah, hey, no." Gene rushes forward and wraps an arm around your shoulder to bring you close, leading you into his apartment. He closes the door with his foot. "What happened, sweetheart? I thought you were out with…" he trails off, then shakes his head. "Why are you crying?"

"He—" you blubber, "—I left him— "

"Relax, let's relax. Deep breaths," he says, arms curling around your back to bring you closer. "It's okay," Gene murmurs, letting you lean into him as he walks you over to his couch. "You're okay. In and out, sweetheart, in and out."

Gene's thumb rubs circles into your shoulder as he sits down with you; he's breathing loudly, slowly, to coax you into mimicking. It's only when you take a last, shaky breath that he gets up.

"Where are you going?" you blurt when you see him move away.

"Getting you some tissues," he says, and disappears down the hall. When he returns, you’re perched on his couch, sniffling and rubbing at your nose.

"Now,” Gene says, handing you a wad of tissue, “mind telling me why you were bawling your eyes out on my doorstep?"

You wipe your nose again. "It's" — you hiccup — "it's not…" The shame curls deeper into your gut. "Um."

"Yeah? Take your time."

You swallow. "He… he cheated."

Gene stills. "He what?" he says, voice dangerously calm.

"He invited me out for dinner today," you continue. "I told you, right?" Gene nods. "He was really quiet. Really awkward. And whenever I tried to start a conversation, he just wouldn't, like, entertain me, you know? It'd just be so quick. And, um, he was really short with me." You pause, take a deep breath. "I should've expected it. I don't know why I didn't. I don't know why I was still so — so shocked, so… surprised — when he told me. I mean, he's been so distant, and I don't…" Your throat closes up. "I guess I thought…"

"Just to be clear, you shouldn't have had to expect it," Gene tells you, his fury creeping into his tone. He catches sight of your face, though — embarrassed, guilty, heartbroken — and reels in his irritation. "No one should have to expect cheating," he says. "Fucking dick. Should've given him a black eye, too."

You give a small, hoarse laugh and wipe your eyes. "I did leave him to pay the bill on his own."

"Good." Gene smiles at you, cups a warm hand 'round your elbow. "Fucker deserved it. And, uh… you know, if you want, I can sic Zenix on him too."

You snort. "What, like he's a dog or something?"

He gives you a look. You laugh again, this time with your shoulders. "You're so mean," you tell him.

"He barks like one."

"Gene!"

"What? I love him, you know I do, but sometimes —"

"Stop!" you huff, kicking at his thigh. He raises his hands in surrender.

"Okay, okay!" He sighs and settles back into the couch. You're picking at the lint on your socks, sitting comfortably in silence, when he mutters, "Offer still stands, though."

You roll your eyes. "Thank you. I'll let you know if I'm ever in need of your services."

He hums. "Good."

Silence again. In it, you realize just how much comfort his touch brings you. You adjust your position on the couch wordlessly, inching closer to him. Gene's kind enough not to comment on it.

He opens his mouth to say something. It closes quickly, but doesn't take so long to open again. You watch him carefully.

"What?" you say.

Gene clears his throat. "What do you think about a movie night? It's been a while. We can order takeout."

You blink, quiet for a moment (during which he hears his heart pounding loudly in his ears) and then a small smile pulls at your lips. "As long as I get to pick the movie."

#mystreet x reader #gene x reader #mystreet gene x reader #aphmau mystreet #mystreet gene #aphmau gene

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rue-in-hatchetfield · 9 months ago

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tw// mentions of violence, injury detail, stabbing mentions, fairly negative thoughts

[ rue reappears on the floor of cal's apartment, between the coffee table and the couch, breathing heavily. she sits still for a minute, taking in her surroundings. the laptop still lies open on the table, a comb beside it, a clock is ticking somewhere in the apartment and her hoodie is on the couch behind her. she fiddles with the ripped fabric of her shirt, checking to see if there was any wound where she was stabbed but there was nothing but a thin, white line where the knife had been embedded. ]

[ rue reaches behind her shakily, pulling her hoodie off of the couch and over her head so that she doesn't have to look at her blood-stained top. she feels something sting against her neck as she pulls it on but can't see what it is when she looks down. rue runs her finger along the area softly, feeling a scab forming over the skin where the knife had been pressed. ]

[ she's completely drained. all she wants is to sleep. but she could barely sleep before today, never mind now. rue pulls her knees up to her chest, trying to stop thinking, even for a second. she doesn't think she'll ever be able to speak to ethan again without seeing wiley behind his eyes, even if he isn't there. she's not sure if she'll be able to close her eyes without seeing the knife, or the basement, or tony, or the farmhouse, or his hand on her throat, or- ]

[ rue squeezes her eyes shut, tight before she opens them again. she doesn't want to think about that. the pain had been insurmountable and she hadn't been able to scream. she didn't even know if she could talk, now. but even if she could, rue isn't sure she'd want to. ]

[ she has to stay awake. she catches a look of her reflection in the black screen of the laptop. she looks like shit. her hair is matted and disheveled, bruising starting to develop on her neck where 'ethan' had held it. the scab on her neck wasn't as noticeable as she thought but the sigil on her forehead has scabbed too, much more obviously. she reaches up, her fingers tracing the symbol, remembering the knife again. ]

[ rue pulls her hand back down, fiddling with hair, trying in vain not to think about... anything, really. she notices the comb beside the laptop again. she's not going to sleep anyway. rue picks up the comb and starts sectioning her hair, slowly and carefully. braiding was usually relaxing, and when it wasn't, it was a good distraction. the repetitive, methodical movement of separating and weaving her hair took enough concentration that her mind wasn't likely to wander, not until she was finished anyway. ]

[ usually she braids with music, or on facetime, or watching true crime. tonight, she braids with the soft clicking of a clock behind her. ]

( ooc - feel free to interact in any way that works !! )

#hatchetfield roleplay #hatchetfield rp #rp #starkid rp #oc

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riaki · 1 year ago

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— last train at 25 o' clock | suguru geto x reader fluff(???)/light angst @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat please take this bc coffee shop geto is gonna take a bit

it's 1am in the morning, the train platform's a ghost town, and the hum of the vending machine is all the noise in the world as you and suguru wait for the last ride home after a mission.

wc : 2.6k cw : brief mentions of blood ; references to hidden inventory arc , shoko typical smoking , probably some other stuff i'm forgettin not proofread!!!! also he may be ooc srry

i cooked this up last minute cus i remembered my promise of posting every weekend last week so my bad if u can tell its rushed lol post hidden inventory pre defection

suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.

the song of summer insects reaches your ear as you clamber up to the train station platform; a pandemonium of cicadas and crickets that sing odes to the full moon in the sky partially curtained by dark clouds and the dew on the grass that's begun to form.

"damn, it's hot." you muttered, wiping your forehead as your arm shot out to grab the dirty railing, white paint cracked and peeled as a splinter pricks your fingers and you flinch. suguru follows after you; a small hum is your acknowledgment.

"careful. shoko doesn't like dealing with splinters," he says from behind you, stepping up the stairs two at a time to straighten up on the train platform, hands in his pockets. “i don’t have reversed curse technique healing either.” there's the smell of a storm in the air, and the lights overhead buzz and flicker with the intermittent beat of a moth's wings. you just give a dip of your head in acknowledgement as you pry your hand away from the railing, the scent of old wood lingering on your hand as you wipe off the dust clinging to your palm on your pants.

(geez, you two have no sense for these types of things.)

suguru holds a hand out, and you take it eagerly to let him pull you up the last step, before politely letting go and slipping it back into his pocket once more. you let out an exhausted sigh and stand up, rubbing your tired eyes as you look around.

the platform is deserted save for the stray cat beneath the station bench, sniffing at a clump of weeds growing from the metal leg. there's a vending machine up against the wall to the elevator, an obnoxious painted 'out of order' sign on the lift's muddy glass doors, stained with dust, dirt, and fingerprints. there's some... creative graffiti on the wall, and a starch yellow section of caution tape flutters in the humid evening wind.

the cat scratches at the concrete floor, and its matted white fur and crystal blue eyes remind you of someone. you glance up at suguru, poking his arm to get his attention.

"look. it's satoru." you huffed, still a little loose for breath as you reach out and grab his shoulder, leaning against him for support. the dark-haired boy just laughs a little, taking his phone out to snap a picture and no doubt send it to the white-haired brat. "i see it." he leans a little closer to you; it's subtle, and you don't notice it, but the way his shoulders sag just so you have an easier time holding on speaks volumes. "don't send it to him! he's probably asleep right now. think it's past his evening sugar high?" you asked, glancing up at him with a tilt of your head.

"most likely. i think he got sent on another solo mission today." there's a tiny bitter bite to suguru's voice that underlines its usual velvetiness; like an ocean current beneath the waves that you only find once you've been dragged underwater. you don't say anything about it, though. the sleeves of his uniform crumple beneath your fingers when they curl into the fabric, a shiver running down your spine as goosebumps spring up on your skin like shroom caps after the summer rain.

suguru is observant.

"you cold? you can have my jacket." it's immediate, and his voice is as smooth as cream silk and marble as he shrugs your hand off (much to your dismay-- shown with a bite to your cheek) to unbutton his uniform jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and offering it to you. when you stand there, feeling a little daze and a lot tired, he just smiles, shoving it in your face with a low chuckle that sounds like honey pouring from a jar.

"you sure? you can hug a cursed spirit if you get cold, 'cus you're not getting it back." you sighed after a moment, reluctantly taking his jacket and tugging it over your shoulders. it's warm, and it smells like his cologne- like some natural incense that soothes your nerves and loosens your body to the marrow in your weary bones. you bury your nose in it and forget to think about the warm hue on your cheeks that you'll later chalk up to the humid air.

"i'm sure." the cat by the bench perks up, staring directly in your direction. it yawns, before bounding away, disappearing behind the vending machine with a flick of its cloud white tail. the machine is missing a few rows of drinks, but the green of a melon soda can that's far too saturated to have a name to the original fruit and the cream and red of a yakult bottle are enough to catch your eyes beneath the harsh light of the display.

"still don't understand how you get cold on a night like this, though." he makes a gesture towards 'this' with one hand, fingers flexing in a way that makes your heart flutter unreasonably.

a moment of silence passes; you can see the distant lights of some prefecture over the hill, and your mind briefly wanders to rainy afternoons, puddles reflecting the red neon of passing cars and distorted faces under plastic umbrellas sandwiched between painted concrete and a dark sky.

"you want a drink? on me, as thanks." you say, breaking the sound of silence and nodding towards the vending machine as you look up at suguru. it takes him a moment to respond, so you use the opportunity to admire his profile; the slope of his nose, the deep hazel of his eyes that shine a copper rust beneath the pale yellow light overhead. his hair is a little messy; it's falling out of its slicked back bun, a product of your earlier fight. there's a scrape on your ankle from tripping through the bush in an attempt to put distance between the curse when you had been engaged earlier; it still stings. there's a tightness to his jaw, you notice- and some part of you wishes you could take it for yourself.

the section of dark hair in front of his face sways as he turns to look down at you, gaze charting the corners of your face (your cheeks look soft, he notes) before he opens his mouth to speak.

one kick to the machine, a disappointed frown when nothing comes out, and two yen bills later, the pop of can tabs fills your ears as condensation seeps into your skin, a pleasant relief from the heaviness of the summer air. it's too much when the cold side of a drink is pressed to your cheek, though-- and you let out a yelp of protest, shooting a quick glare up at suguru, who just laughs it off and takes a sip of his drink.

you down a sip of your own; it's a sweet fruit tea that's your go to whenever it's hot out. sweet, citrusy, like starfruit. it tastes like a summer of youth and a warm blue spring. it's pleasant.

a distant rumble echoes from the dark horizon, and both of your gazes simultaneously snap towards it-- at last, you think. the last train is here. you adjust suguru's jacket around your shoulders, catching a whiff of something that smells like rosemary and new leather as his voice fills your ears.

it's an easy night when you pass the threshold and step into the train car, speckled white floors and blue hard seats greeting you. somewhere, there's a ticket stuffed into one of your pockets; a memento of late evenings that blend into early mornings when there's a bruise on your face and a knick on suguru's wrist that soothe themselves with the harmony of small talk and sensation of fizzling bubbles in cold metal cans as the train jostles you along. you're sitting, and he's standing, one arm on the hangers overhead as you talk about everything and nothing. he catches himself every now and then, watching with minimal interest as the sliding doors part themselves like gateways to the afterlife for ghost passengers. it's not your stop yet; far from it.

"say, suguru-- do you miss going on missions with satoru?" you asked after a moment, fingers drumming against your knees as the automated voice overhead announces the next stop, empty farm plots and tangles of wire passing by as the lights inside cozy houses dim and go off.

he doesn't answer that, so you just look out the window.

(suguru, you gettin' enough sleep? heatstroke?)

"how's the cut on your leg?" he finally murmurs after a moment, his eyelids heavy before he tears his gaze away from a tacky advertising on the wall and back to your scrunched nose.

"annoying." you just sighed, and you watched as he gave a small smile; his eyes fluttering shut, long lashes resting against his cheeks. you wondered if the wings of a butterfly would be heavy enough to weigh them down.

he moves after a second, sitting down one seat away from you in a swift motion and beckoning for you to lift your leg. you comply, not entirely sure where it's going- until he gently rolls the hem of your pant leg up, pressing the cold edge of his half-empty soda to the angry red scratch, and you wince a little before letting out one, long sigh. you melt into the chair, feeling like a senior citizen with a hunched back and one too many shrine visits under a bleached kyoto sun.

"thanks." you mumbled, leaning your head against the window as the train jostles ever so slightly to its own tracked rhythm.

he just hums in response, pulling a worn bandaid out of his pocket; the plastic top has pen smudges on it and the white wax gets caught between his pearly teeth as he tugs it off, taking time to make sure he positions the healing strip properly before flattening it down on your leg.

"shoko makes no sense when she talks about her reversed curse technique, so this'll do." he says quietly, and you let yourself fall into the pool of molasses that comes from his throat as you close your eyes, feeling the dull sensation of pain drain from your muscles and melt away like the first waves of spring and the ripple of lake water as a lone sakura petal disturbs the mirrored blue surface.

"i could learn it." you said after a moment, pressing your lips together in an attempt to snuff out the feeling of his fingers lingering on your skin, toying with the loose edge of the bandaid. he just snorts, and you crack one eye open to glare at him.

the rest of the train ride is spent in silence; you slip in and out of a hazy sleep, and you're faintly aware of the timeline-- somehow, your drink ends up on his lips. your head ends up on his shoulder, and your ears pick up his quickened heartbeat. his warmth is nothing like the humidity that clings to your skin like a layer of smoke and vapor, accompanied by sticky dango and raucous laughter weaving between the sounds of fireworks and the crunch of dirt beneath pairs of geta. he smells like home and his soft hair tickles your face as your little breaths squeeze past your parted lips, a warmth like bumping shoulders and linking fingers seeping into your body like the steady stream of fine sand in an hourglass. a warmth like empty classrooms lit by golden hour; windows cracked open to let in a fresh breeze as the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifts up to the room from the brunette and her lighter beneath the patch of shade from a tree in the courtyard below.

(need a light?)

this is how it's been for the past month. tired mumbles and hushed murmurs exchanged between two people who are more than friends but less than lovers after each harrowing mission; shared drinks and linked pinkies, the warmth that stains cheeks rosy when fingers that look small against calloused ones brush with another hand reaching for the metal pole on the train. heavy silence as you fall asleep on his shoulder; faint tingles when his fingers graze your knuckles as he stares at the dark reflection in the windows across. even the windows know how to make him relax.

one day, it'll be just him. a white bird stained black by apollo's hand in a sea of dirty geese, silent as the others hawk and squawk for a place on the lake. one hand hooked around the hard plastic of a hanger, supporting heavy shoulders with weight that could rival atlas' burden. a boy so tired of being beaten by the waves that he succumbs to the undercurrent with the same practice as before, only the paint on the railings has chipped past repair and not even the greenery of the countryside can touch the stains on the windows to his soul; eyes that used to shine with mirth and crinkle with gentle smiles become sunken and heavy with experience more suited to those a decade older.

he'd already chosen his path when he offered his jacket to you; when he laughed at the way you'd sneezed after investigating the patch of weed that had captured the stray cat's attention from before. and he knew that you'd noticed, and he knew that you'd try, and he knew that he wouldn't let you.

he knew when he woke you up with a gentle nudge to the forehead, suppressing the fluttering feeling in the heart he didn't know he still had when you made a grumpy tired face and stood up with much effort and a stumble or two.

(damn monkeys.)

it was easy nights like these that he'd eventually miss the most. walking you back to your dorm, past the candy wrappers and empty cola cans in the halls stained with imaginary blood and passing glances. departing with a kiss goodbye when he knew you were too drowsy and delirious to be able to remember it come morning.

the swing of a jazz rhythm would get stuck in his throat when you stumbled, only catching yourself from the jolt of the train's stop by latching a hand onto his wrist like some evil little lamprey and muttering a small 'sorry'. he'd laugh it off, collect the empty bottles of drinks of debt, and tug on the sleeve of his jacket on your arms, gently helping you off the platform as your pant leg slid back down to cover the bandaid on your leg, rough fabric scratching away the ghost of his touch on your skin. he wished it would just stay for a little longer.

and when the morning came and you woke up in your bed with his scent on the fabric of your shirt, you'd do it all over again. the only part of the terrible cycle he ever took pleasure in. even when the vile taste of a cursed spirit sunk into his stomach, it would be washed away with the right pop and fizzle of sugary drink followed by an even sweeter kiss to the knot between his tired eyes.

there was nothing about your time together he wouldn't ever miss.

you'd be his past, his present, and his afterlife. even when it was his turn to get off the ghost train and step past those sliding doors that held new meaning, you were the last thought on his mind.

one day, he hopes to see you again, when the last train comes in the night so late it could be considered early morning and the platform can relive old memories of peeling paint on a past summer spring once more.

hope u guys enjoyed the catoru cameo my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

#yes the title is a lamp song sue me #meant to practice sugu dialogue but he spoke like twice the entire time #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto suguru #jjk x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #billet-doux #think i genuinely started tweakin halfway thru #i asked mt friend for a prompt and she said train station and this amalgamation was born #jujutsu kaisen

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moominvalley-state-of-mind · 2 months ago

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/wild life spoilers & a little fic thing :D

(Idk if this should be under a cut or not so)

The winner's lounge - calm and quite, a stark difference from the death games evreyone there were used to

Five people, talking lightly, sit across three sofas, arranged to open twords the long hallway, a rug stretched between them and the door, giant purple curtains tucked to the side to emulate another room

Colored light shines through the stained glass windows, each of either side representing a new victor and how they won

A new one had appeared yesterday (was it yesterday? It could have been last week - it was a difficult thing, keeping track of time)

(the clock on the wall was no use anyways, only showing the turn of the day & night)

In that new window stood a man, perched atop a pink cherry tree, axe loosely hanging at his side

Purple light from the dark sky pictured seemed to stain the floor and rug below it

From across the hallway, something thumped at the large double doors, drawing the winners' attention twords it.

You could hear some laughing and cursing from the other side

In a flurry of splinters, exaust, and hinges, a long black car flew through the doorway, picking up carpet as it fired down the long hall

You could hear whooping from somekne inside

The car did not slow down, rather speeding through the (rather nicely made) coffee table inbetween the couches, sending the five to scramble off in opposite directions as the car then proceeded to crash into the wall behind them, whoever was inside still screaming with laughter.

A man tumbled out of the passenger seat and breathed heavily inbetween fading laughs.

"Ha ha, HA!! I DID IT!!! I WON!!" He shouted, getting up, raising his arms and spinning around the wreck his car had created.

"Didn't die to my own blummin trap but I WON!!"

He was still celebrating in a fit of exhausted joy when Scott clambered over the couch he had ducked behind, catching the eye of the man in the middle.

"YOU DIED BEFORE ME, YA LOSER!!!" The man laughed, pointing at Scott.

"FINNALY GOT AHEAD OF YOU!!" The other winners slowly got up from where they had taken cover or fallen, staring at the man in astonishment.

"No - no, I killed you -" The man started a giddy ramble about his 'revenge' as the winners just looked around in confusion.

Evreyone there had seen a guy like him before - a brunette with a colored streak, broken brown vest and a comically short fuse

How did this bloodthirsty man win, when it had been his downfall all these games ago?

" - and honestly grian" - he laughed, motioning to the first victor, a man in desert attire, "terribly sorry about pushing you off the tree, but you didn't really give a fight"

Martyn said, astonished, what evreyone in that room was thinking - "how the HELL did you win!?"

"Through family, Martyn, through family" the man said, seeming quite serious.

No one there really believes that.

(Idk how to end this it's probobly ooc I might add into it idk but wanted to get this out of my head rn okay bye)

(Thank u for reading :])

#life series #wild life #wild life spoilers #joel smallishbeans #life series winners

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pascalpvnk · 1 year ago

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Pour Choices // You & I

pairing: bartender!joel x f!afab!reader

summary: Austin, Texas was never a dream destination for you, however your work trip there might’ve changed your perspective of the Lone Star State, and it absolutely was not work related.

word count: 6.6k words (oops…)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut (dubcon [both drank alcohol], handjob if you squint, oral [f receiving], fingering, unprotected p in v sex [wrap it up!], Joel has had a vasectomy, premature ejaculation, double creampie, alluding to aftercare), possibly ooc, no outbreak AU, Joel is 36 with no specified age for reader, reader described as a woman, use of she/her pronouns, minor body descriptions (reader described as having curves, reader has hair long enough to grasp/pin up, reader is shorter than Joel, he picks up reader for like half a second), time jumping (indicated by solid orange divider), religious euphemisms (?) from Joel (i know that man has religious trauma), alcohol consumption, food consumption

a/n: hello! I know this is a long time coming but she’s finally here. thank you for being patient with me during this writing process and thank you to those who helped and encouraged me! a special thanks to @delicaatefl0vver for beta reading and supporting and adding to my thots. welcome to the rebirth of my fanfic writing. I hope you enjoy xx (dividers by @/saradika)

main masterlist | series masterlist

Sat in the corner of the rustling bar, you were sipping on your Manhattan. The drink tasted medicinal, not how you’d usually prefer it. You had watched the young bartender pour heavy on the vermouth, but chose not to say anything. Red lipstick stained the rim of your glass with each sip of the cocktail. The whiskey mixed in and the maraschino cherry garnish were its only saving graces.

A low hanging light illuminated a warm hue across your features. You were surrounded by classic Texan bar decor and architecture; high ceiling rafters, support beams strung with fairy lights, the walls packed with framed posters of all varieties, the occasional beer branded neon sign, and license plates tacked up behind the bar. Two televisions sat flush against opposing walls, both playing a pregame show of Rangers highlights as they counted down to first pitch. The air was thick as the feet of the patrons shuffled around and chair legs scraped against the wood finished floors. Groups of friends, couples, and everyone between flooded through the doors, ushering themselves to an empty table or stool at the bar. Being there on a Friday night right as the outside rush hour died down was a bold choice, but you had one goal in mind.

The moment the music changed from country to rock and roll, you knew it was time to set yourself out to accomplish it.

The click of your high heels contrasted from the stomp of sneakers and cowboy boots. Glass in hand and head held high, your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, you felt it in your throat. You sure as hell weren’t living up to your stoic, stone cold hearted reputation back home. It’s almost as though your heart thawed in the Texas heat. Though your heart changed with the state, your attire didn’t. You stuck out like a sore thumb among the other consumers in your black maxi dress and perfectly pinned up hair. Some eyes gazed towards you, but you were set on finding one pair in particular. The set of eyes that were darker than the coffee he brewed, but the same ones that looked like honey when the sun was setting. The eyes that were facing away from you at the bar as you found a stool. The ones that snapped up towards you with one word.

“Texas.”

You called for him like a melody. Your throat immediately felt dry as a lump formed. He either felt the same way you did or it was a one off fling. You were hoping it was the former. But…it had been two years since you met, so there was a decent chance he was the one that got away.

The way his muscles tensed under his tight Henley gave away that he recognized you simply from your voice. Those beautiful eyes met yours, and his jaw went a little slack, the corners of his mouth curved.

“Evenin’, Miss New York,” Joel drawled, leaning against the counter. “How are ya, darlin’?”

Joel’s mind was preoccupied before he had seen you the first time, filled with important nonsense that about drove him up the wall.

Gotta make the next schedule. What time is that birthday party Sarah wants t’go to? Wonder if Tommy would be willin’ to take her. No, he’s workin’ on a job site out of town. I need to find someone to cover part of my shift so I can take her. Gotta pay the rent for this month. Can’t keep running the bar if s’gonna be slow like this and that bastard won’t cough up his half of it. God dammit.

“Welcome in, what can I get for ya?” The southern man drawled absentmindedly, tossing a rag over his broad shoulder. The moment his eyes caught yours, his worries washed away. He was only interested in you and your big, beautiful eyes and bright, red lips.

“Whiskey on the rocks. Make it a double please,” you practically sang to him…or at least it sounded like music to his ears. Your ID slipped out of your billfold with ease, and you slid it across the bar as you took a seat. Joel examined the horizontally wide piece of plastic, deciding it was real, especially for a lady ordering a whiskey. A lady from New York, no less.

Joel took in your features for a moment, noticing the difference in your attire and even your accent compared to the other bar patrons. Your beauty was striking to him, making all of the women he’s seen come in flee his memory. He repeated your name over and over in his head, wanting to know how it felt on his tongue. To say he was intrigued would be the understatement of the year.

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. He poured a generous portion of whiskey into a cut crystal glass and added several cubes of ice, then slid it over to you with a smile. He leaned forward to rest his arms on the bar, eyes lingering on your curves. "So, what brings you in here tonight? The Big Apple too small for ya?"

“Work,” you responded simply, taking a sip from your drink. He watched as your eyes raked down his frame. There was no visible emotion behind them, so he was unsure if you were checking him out or simply giving him a once over.

Joel’s eyes on the other hand drank in your features, not even attempting to hide his gaze. It lingered across your chest and the way your dress contoured your breasts so perfectly. He was damn near drooling at the sight of you taking down your whiskey better than he would. Your face remained expressionless, zero signs of your mouth twisting in distaste. The simple action had him hooked.

He cleared his throat and began polishing some glasses as he continued to have small talk with you.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked, lining the cups along the bar as he shined them one by one.

“Flight just landed. I checked into my hotel and dropped off my stuff. Wanted to take a walk around to see what this city has to offer and I landed here,” you shrugged, taking another drink of your whiskey. “Nice place, are you the owner?”

“Co-owner, yeah,” Joel chuckled. “So I take it, your work stuff starts tomorrow? Or are you drinking on the job?”

“The former,” you smiled softly. “I’m not trying to get fired, they barely trusted me to come out here in the first place.”

His head nodded gingerly. He couldn’t quite tell if you were shooting him down or just quiet after a long day. He wanted to know more. Wanted as much information that he could get from you without coming off as a creep. Deciding to take a minor risk, he continued conversing with you.

“What kind of work are ya doing all the way out here, hm?” He asked politely, restocking the freshly polished glasses back on their designated shelves.

“My uh…my peer, I suppose, is on maternity leave and she represents most of our buildings in Texas. I’ve been doing most of the work over the phone but one of the Austin buildings required a visit. A lot of incident reports to go through.”

The whiskey in your glass was almost gone and he could tell it was opening you up a little bit. First time in the whole conversation you said more than what his question asked for.

“Darlin’, that’s some big wig stuff, and yet you make it sound so inconspicuous,” he drawled, a low rumble of laughter rolling from his chest. “What field are you in? Or is it top secret?”

“Oh! I work in HR,” you let out a small laugh. “Probably should’ve started with that.”

He smirked at how you fumbled over yourself, admiring the way your smile folded the skin around your eyes and exposed a dimple. He could definitely tell he was breaking down your stone wall. His eyes took you in once more. Your lip prints stained red on the once clean glass, immediately grabbing his attention. Arousal shot through his body, directing into his pants. That’s not something he knew he was attracted to.

“Need another, ma’am?” He asked politely and swallowed hard, attempting to look anywhere but your chest. You accepted his offer and opened a tab. Joel was thanking his lucky stars that the universe brought such a beautiful woman into his bar that night. Thanking fate for having him cover this shift.

“Well, I’ll leave you alone, miss. Just holler if you need another drink or y’wanna close out. My name’s Joel,” he smiled with his boyish charm, flipping his towel back over his shoulder before reluctantly diverting his attention to another customer in need.

You stuck around for a bit, snacking on peanuts and watching the baseball game running on the television. Joel felt your eyes burn into the back of his head as he worked.

It was innocent to start. He popped tops off of beers, poured shots, and shook cocktails all while his cheeks burned pink under the heat of your gaze. Then he intentionally reached up to the top shelf more often, flexing his muscles and letting his shirt ride up his back to grab your attention again and again. It became increasingly difficult for you to peel your eyes off of him the more you drank.

And he noticed.

A couple hours passed, and before you knew it, the clock was nearing midnight. Joel walked around the bar, going to each empty table and wiping them thoroughly. He restocked everything as most of the small crowd filed out. He took a look at you from the front door, admiring the curves that were hardly hidden under your snug dress as you watched the TV mindlessly.

“Well darlin’,” he began as he approached the bar again. “I don’t know what time you have to work in the morning but it’s getting late. Wanna close out your tab?”

“I s’pose so,” you chuckled, copying his accent a little by accident. Your tired, drunken smile made his heart flutter.

A small smile plastered itself across Joel’s face as he ran your card. He let it process, grabbing both receipts and scribbling something on them.

“Can I call you a cab, sweetheart? They aren’t driving around all the time like they do back home for you,” he offered, handing you the merchant copy receipt. He crossed out all of the options to tip, just requiring your signature. You tried to protest, but he silenced your argument.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped. “That would be nice, thank you.”

Joel examined you cleaning up your peanut shell debris as he called for the cab. You signed the receipt, and slid his copy back across the bar. He noticed your subtle smile as you noticed ten digits written neatly on the customer copy.

The line went dead when the conversation concluded, and Joel put the phone back on its charger. He noticed how you folded the receipt paper and tucked it safely into your clutch along with your debit card.

“Cab should be here in ‘bout ten minutes. Um,” he cleared his throat. “If ya need someone to recommend restaurants or if you want a tour of any sort, I hope that’ll come in handy.”

Joel gestured towards your clutch, the current home of his phone number. He wanted to ask you out, so so badly, but you were intoxicated and he didn’t want to give a bad impression. If it was meant to be, you’d take the initiative, at least that’s what he told himself.

“I bet it will,” you openly flirted. Joel knew better than to return the sentiment, but it was so damn difficult. His mama would’ve smacked him upside the head if he had, and that was enough to stop him. All he offered was a smirk before turning away and gathering dishes to be brought back to the pile of other used utensils.

“D’ya need a water or anything?” Joel asked, already reaching for a clean cup. You nodded and he filled the glass first with ice, followed with water and a straw. Laying a napkin on the counter, Joel gently set your water down with a close lipped smile.

“Thanks for stopping in, darlin’,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the rock music he had playing. “Get back to that hotel of yours safely, alright? Don’t wanna hear about Miss New York on the news. They never show anything positive nowadays.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” you chuckled, gathering your things to leave after drinking most of the glass. He took these moments to really take you in, dramatically telling himself that this could be the last time he’d ever see you. Last time he’d witness your cherry stained, stunning, yet intoxicated smile, your soft skin, and those gorgeous eyes.

His admiration was interrupted by the honk erupting from the impatient taxi driver’s vehicle outside. You turned on your heel, offering a ‘goodnight, Texas!’ before walking out the door. Joel scrubbed a hand across his beard, huffing a self deprecating laugh and a muttered ‘shit’ before continuing to close up shop. He beat himself up internally while cleaning the dishes until his phone buzzed. He dug the device from his pocket, flipping it open to see a text from an unknown number.

“Didn’t end up on the news. What a bummer! Maybe next time ;)”

Joel smiled to himself, tucking his phone back into his pocket. He finished his closing tasks and made a little to-go Shirley Temple mocktail for his daughter. Before exiting the building for the night, he turned off the glowing ‘Pour Choices’ sign and locked the door behind him. His smile faded as he left his bar behind, remembering his life’s reality and his responsibilities. Those stressors sat heavy once more upon his shoulders until he fell into a deep slumber that night.

Your first full day of work was exhausting to say the least, and the small hangover you suffered did not help one bit. And whoever decided you should come to Austin in August had become your own mortal enemy. You’re used to your mild summers back home, not sweating so much that your clothes stick to you uncomfortably. But the thing that bothered you the most was the imminent, distracting thought of Joel, especially as the sun retired behind the horizon. The way the fabric of his shirt pulled taut around his thick biceps and how they flexed every time he mixed up drinks. You had watched him use his charm to get tips practically thrown at him by the other patrons, he really put that handsome grin to work.

You were alone in your hotel. There wasn’t a scheduled dinner with your team, so you sat in bed watching Scrubs reruns and eating what constituted your dinner: cheese, crackers and pepperoni slices you picked up from the grocery store. A little disassembled charcuterie board if you will.

Beckoning your attention, your phone buzzed against your nightstand. The caller ID had your heart pounding against your chest. Joel. It was almost like he could read your mind.

“Hello?” You started, wiping the crumbs off of your fingers and lowering the volume on the show.

“Evenin’,” he drawled out your name. His voice came across gruffer and frankly hotter over the phone than in person. The way it fed directly into your ears had a chill running down your spine.

“Night off?” You asked nonchalantly, a sad attempt of remaining mysterious, knowing if he was sat next to you, you’d melt into a puddle.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing for a moment and chuckling quietly. “Sorry for callin’ late. I’d text but that would’a taken me a decade. How was today? Hope that whiskey didn’t ruin your morning.”

The smile you sported grew in size. It felt nice having a normal conversation that wasn’t work related…even if it was with someone you just met.

“It was good! Busy but good. I had a headache but nothing I couldn’t handle. It’s stupid hot here though, didn’t appreciate that,” you hummed to yourself in thought. “Nothing much happened, lots of meetings. Now I’m just hanging out in my hotel. How about you?”

“Same here, nothin’ much. Are ya doing anythin’ or just wallowin’ in your loneliness?” He teased, testing the waters a little. You wish you could see his face. See whether he was sporting a shit eating grin or if he was gnawing on his lip nervously.

“Ha-ha,” you shot back, pressing your cell between your cheek and shoulder to stand up and settle near the window. “I’m watching TV and eating my nutritious dinner of cheese, crackers and pepperoni, thank you very much.”

“Dinner?” He scoffed. “Now I think you need'ta hustle on over here and have a real meal. You can’t possibly be callin’ all ‘f those HR shots with that diet, hm?”

You gotta give it to him, you aren’t that smooth on a whim, that takes practice. Looking out at the Austin skyline, you snickered to yourself and leaned against the window’s frame.

“C’mon, I have almost all of my food groups in front of me, I don’t think that’s too horrible,” you retaliated jokingly. “What do you have to offer, huh?”

“Well you got me there, darlin’. I do have wine if you wanna round out your meal,” he offered. You could hear faint tapping coming from the line. He was nervous.

Considering the proposal, you decided to take it, despite your early morning and full day approaching. Joel offered to pick you up so you didn’t have to pay for another cab and you gratefully accepted. You quickly got changed back out of your sleepwear into something almost equally as comfy and perhaps a bit more revealing.

So you find yourself sat on Joel Miller’s couch. The ride was fine, you chatted like before, but with a bit more direct flirting. You observed his spaces. His truck was simple, a little, beat up pickup, but you were sure it got his work done. There were scuff marks from tennis shoes on his dash. Your mind wandered as you imagined if they were from a friend or former lover, but you didn’t let it bother you.

There was a little pine tree air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The smell of its woody scent combined with his warm, leathery cologne and a hint of Irish Spring all flooded your senses. And god, he didn’t just smell good, he looked so good.

Joel looked perfect in the driver’s seat, his biceps straining against his smooth skin as he gripped the wheel, prominent veins popping through his forearms. Looked so cozy in his small kitchen, pouring both of you a hefty glass of rosé. His hands enveloped his cup entirely as he brought it to his plush lips. The way they framed his teeth when he smiled down at you gave you heart palpitations.

And even sitting comfortably in the corner of his L-shaped couch, Joel continued to look amazing. His leg was crossed over the other, creating the perfect shelf on his knee for his wine. Those arms stretched far across the back of the couch as he fidgeted with a loose string stuck on the cushion. Everything about him screamed disciplined. The way his spaces were mostly neat, organized and decently decorated added to your observation. He belonged here, and it seemed like he worked hard to get the things he earned.

The casual facade you had faded away the longer you chatted about your lives and sipped on your glasses. Topics like work and hobbies came into conversation, and you learned that Joel liked to play with guitar and sing a little—only when he was alone of course. Then you began talking about more personal matters, like your relationship statuses.

“You’re kidding!” You exclaimed, feeling warm from the wine in your system. “You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

Joel chuckled and shook his head down at the couch. You watched as he observed the cushions-worth of space between you two. By that point, you were fully turned ninety degrees to face him in conversation, your legs tucked comfortably under you. Your face felt hot as you wielded the half empty, stemless wine glass.

“What about the kid in your pictures? Is she your niece or something?” You were referring to the framed photos both nailed to the wall and decorating the table in his entryway. Most of them contained himself and the child, whether she was celebrating with a soccer ball and a trophy or blowing out candles on a cake, her wild curls spilling every which way from her party hat.

“Nah, she’s all mine. My Sarah turned fourteen a few weeks ago,” he smiled to himself, making your heart clench and pound against the confines of your ribcage. The proud look he had on his face told you about everything you needed to know about his relationship with his daughter.

“Fourteen? You don’t seem old enough to have a teenager,” you chuckle. “Where is she tonight? Seems like you got the house to yourself.”

“Why I'm flattered. She’s got a friend’s birthday party sleepover thing. That’s why I had to take the night off. I’m her personal chauffeur, of course,” Joel offered a curtsey jokingly.

Your smile widened as you brought your now second glass of rosé up to sip once more. You don’t care to ask about Sarah’s mother, it was a personal matter and possibly a sensitive subject.

A comfortable silence fell between you as you looked at one another. You watched the automatic rise and fall of his chest and the way his cheeks burned from your gaze. His chocolate eyes bore into yours, melting your heart without even trying. His exterior was gruff and masculine but he had proven time and time again that he was probably one of the kindest men you have met. Must be that southern charm and hospitality, but man was it addicting.

“What?” He barely asked above a whisper, copying your actions with his wine. His attempt to hide his smile behind his clear cup obviously failed. His blush spread down his neck and you could only imagine if it went any farther down. Your thoughts of Joel were beginning to become tainted by your blooming arousal. You wanted him. On top of you, under you, you’d take anything and the growing wetness pooling in your panties was evidence of that.

“Can I be blunt, Joel?” You grinned as you sunk a bit further into the cushion against your side. He responded with a hummed ‘mhm’ so you’d continue, bringing his hand back into his lap. The fabric of his joggers barely contained his strong thighs, making it more and more difficult to contain your urge to see what else lied beneath his pants.

“I really wanna kiss you,” you admitted cheekily, fairly certain that he was thinking the same thing.

“Oh, do ya now?” He smirked, leaning over to pluck your glass from your grasp and put it safely on his coffee table along with his own.

“I think you’re a little mind reader,” Joel continued. “‘Cause I was thinkin’ the same thing. Bet those pretty lips are real soft.” His hand found your waist after you confirmed he had consent as he guided you onto his lap. You hummed contently as you draped your arms over his shoulders, toying with the stray, chestnut curls at his nape.

“What happened to Mr. Shy Guy, huh?” You teased, letting his calloused hands explore the expanse of your back as your lips ghosted over his.

“Not shy, just polite, sweetheart,” he rasped before closing the gap between you two. His palms were flush against your lower back, radiating heat through the thin material of your shirt.

You melted into him, bodies pressed as close as possible without your knees sinking between the couch cushions. Lips slotted together and hands wandered as you filled all of your senses with Joel. His tongue was stained with a familiar smoky taste, which was definitely not coming from the wine

“Why do you taste like whiskey?” Your mouth formed a smile against his matching one. His hand cupped your cheek as a chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.

“Had some before I called ya,” he admitted bashfully. “Doesn’t matter now.”

In an instant, he was kissing you once more with increased passion, making you completely forgo the subject. His tongue flicked into your mouth, teasing the delicate skin on the inside of your lips. He gripped at your hips, trying to pull you closer to him but your legs protested against his furniture.

“Scoot forward,” you mumbled against him. And he did what he was told. His hips shifted forward, granting you more room to sit directly on his lap. Sighs were drawn from both of you as you settled back into each other, his cock already half hard under you. Your fingers messed with the hair behind his ears, earning a pleased moan from him.

“This doesn’t have to go anywhere if you don’t wan’ it to,” he panted between kisses. Just above a whisper, you uttered, ‘I want it,’ and Joel’s hands took it as permission to explore further down your body, palming at your ass through your shorts.

A whimper slipped between your lips into Joel’s, and he swallowed it whole. He pressed your body closer to his, your clothed sex dragging over his sweatpants. His cock twitched up in response to your mouth finding his jaw, his short beard scratching against you.

“Lemme take care of you,” you mused, bringing your hands up the sides of his face. He relaxed back into the couch, his blunt nails pushing under your shorts into the meat of your bare thighs.

You started by kissing his lips once more, then the two prominent patches of missing hair on his chin, and made your way down to his throat. His adam's apple bobbed under your touch as pants grew tighter on him.

“Knew you’d have the best lips, fuck,” he mumbled as you licked up the side of his neck, his pulse racing under your tongue. “Can’t wait to feel your pretty pussy ‘round my cock, sweetheart.”

“Patience, handsome,” you whispered into his ear, your breath sending chills through his body. He let go of your legs as you bunched his shirt into your palms, sitting up to help remove it. Hair scattered sparsely on his chest, pausing on his upper stomach only to come back thicker as it disappeared into his boxers.

Your palms dragged down his torso, skimming over his nipples and ribs as he naturally recoiled from the stimulation. You gently kissed and sucked at his collarbone so it could be hidden away under his shirt. Color rose to the surface of his skin the more you worked at it, flattening your tongue against it once you decided your mark was left properly.

Joel was breathing heavily under you, his hands snaking under your shirt to your breasts. Your nipples were already pebbled through your bralette, becoming unbearably hard the moment Joel started running his thumbs over them. He gently pushed your shirt and bra above your tits, leaning forward to bring one to his mouth as his hand toyed with the other. His tongue lapped your skin, rounding the hardened nipple and sucking it back slightly. An image of him doing the same to your clit had your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“Joel,” you mewled as he switched breasts. He spread his saliva around your areola as he picked up his ministrations on the other. A groan vibrated against your skin as your nails raked down his happy trail.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you continued, holding onto the waistbands of his pants and underwear. His unused hand covered yours entirely, pushing it down to free his throbbing cock from its confines, the tip weeping with precum. Never in your life had you seen a dick so big before, and you couldn’t wait for it to split you in half.

“I won’t last a minute in your mouth, sweet girl,” he drawled, reaching back up to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Don’t wanna come before you.”

Spitting onto your fingertips, you mixed it with the slick seeping from his tip then dragged it down his shaft, squeezing it in your palm on the way back up. Joel groaned into your neck. He wedged his hands back under your top, lifting it over your head and forcing your hand to leave his cock.

“Need’ta taste you first,” he muttered, his amber irises completely eclipsed by his pupils. Joel removed you from his lap and laid you down onto the couch. You watched as he settled between your legs and hooked his thick fingers into your bottoms, licking his lips. Raising your hips, he pulled everything off of you, leaving you bare. Cool air hit your glistening pussy, sending a shiver up your spine. You whined out his name after he stared at you for a moment.

“What?” He cooed, smoothing his hands over your inner thighs. “Wan’ me to touch ya, hm? Fuck you with my fingers ‘n stretch that pretty pussy out? Maybe suck on your clit. S’that what you want, darlin’?”

You nod your head furiously, dying with anticipation to have his hands, mouth, something on you. Wordlessly, your foot hooked around the back of his leg as you attempted to pull him closer to you.

“Ah ah,” he tsked. “I think ya gotta ask for it, honey. Ask for it nicely.”

“Fuck,” you whined with desperation. You could feel your arousal dripping down your ass and ultimately onto the couch. “Please fill me up, touch me, taste me, whatever you want.”

“Good, so good f’me. Open up,” he encouraged, slotting his first two digits between your lips. He spread them on each side of your tongue. Saliva collected on his thick fingers as you swirled your tongue around them in figure eights. A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest.

“Yeah I’m gonna put my cock in this pretty mouth next time, baby. Feels perfect on my fingers,” he grumbled. His fingers came out of your mouth with a pop, a string of spit connecting him to you.

Joel finally slipped his fingers through your swollen folds, teasing your entrance and collecting more slick. His fingertips circled lightly around your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat. His free hand tapped against your hip, signaling you to raise them with an ‘up.’ He grabbed a throw pillow and positioned it under you. You relaxed your already trembling legs, and he had barely even touched you.

He settled onto his stomach, spreading your legs apart as far as they’d go. A pointer finger breached your entrance as he kissed the seam where your thigh and pussy came together. Soft moans escaped you as you carded your fingers through his curls. His smug eyes met yours as his tongue moved everywhere but your clit. He looked better than ever between your legs, and you didn’t know that could be possible. His teasing was deserved for what you were doing previously, but it was agonizing.

“Please, Joel,” you groaned. “Please gimme more, I need you.”

Obliging to your request, Joel added another finger into your cunt, curling them both and stroking your g-spot expertly. All of the air left your lungs the moment his flattened tongue finally found your clit. Joel’s groan vibrated throughout your entire pussy, adding to each sensation deliciously. It didn’t take much more for your legs to start shaking and squeezing his head between your thighs, a hot sensation bubbling in your lower belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, don’t stop,” you cried, grasping Joel’s hair much tighter than before. He suckled your clit and flicked his tongue over it with a moan, sending you flying over the edge. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he rode you through your high. He kissed your trembling thighs until they relaxed, his unmoving fingers still stuffed inside you.

“God, you’re even sexier when you come, sugar. Taste even sweeter too,” he hummed, shifting himself up your body until his lips found yours again. He tasted still of whiskey but with a mix of your arousal.

Joel brought his now soaked fingers back into your mouth to replace his tongue, urging you to suck all of your spend off of them. You hummed around his digits and wrapped your quivering legs around his waist.

“And you were preachin’ to me about patience,” he teased, removing his fingers and stroking his cock a couple times. He was sitting up and resting on his heels, looking like pure sex. His proportions were perfect, he was broad and you’d happily let him crush you under his weight.

“It’s hard to be patient when you look at me like that,” you muse, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Joel snickered quietly, dragging his nails over your inner thighs. Goosebumps followed behind his light touch and your legs twitched when he got close enough to your sensitive core.

“So,” Joel began, settling comfortably on top of you and kissing your jaw. “I haven’t been with anyone since I was tested last n’ I’ve had a vasectomy. But I’ll gladly get a condom if ya want me to.”

“Hmm, a gentleman,” you grinned, your fingers finding their way back into his hair as you enjoyed his affection. “I’m clean and more than okay without it.”

Joel slotted his cock into your slit with a smirk, groaning at the new sensation. His tip nudged at your clit with each pass, earning moans from both parties.

“Almost came all over this couch with you clenchin’ ‘round my fingers like that, honey,” he drawled. “Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long.”

You gave him a reassuring kiss as you wedged your hand down between you two. Lining up his tip with your entrance, you watched as he disappeared into your welcoming cunt. His face pressed into your neck as he slowly sank into you, anchoring himself with his hands planted on your waist and thigh. Strings of profanities left him as he stretched you out, the pressure you felt quickly morphing into pleasure.

“Shit,” you hissed when he bottomed out. “Feels so good, Joel.”

You urged him to continue, and he complied. Starting slow, he pulled out halfway and pushed back in to test the waters. The drag of your core had his toes curling. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t last long. His cock swelled in you after a few minutes as he panted into your neck.

“Fuck, fuck I’m sorry,” he grunted.

“S’okay, come for me, Joel. Please,” you consoled him, wrapping your legs around his hips tighter. He spilled into you, the sticky fluid coating your inner walls. Your nails dragged along the expanse of his back as he caught his breath.

His face emerged from the crook of your neck, flush and sweaty. He tried apologizing once more but you shushed him. Your lips met again as you grasped his dampened curls, pulling at his locks harder than before. Cock stiffening up again, Joel resumed thrusting into you slowly. A squelching sound emitted from your pussy as his pace quickened.

“Joel,” you gasped, tangling yourself around him tighter. He took it as an opportunity to scoop you up and change positions, sitting on the couch and giving you the freedom to ride him.

“Wan’ you comin’ on my cock, beautiful,” he moaned. His calloused fingertips circled your clit as he fucked his load deeper into you. You bounced on him, his cock spearing you. The tip hit your g-spot with each thrust. Stars sparkled in your vision as you clenched down on him hard.

“C’mon, use my cock, make yourself come. That’s it, fuck.”

His hips bucked up to meet yours halfway, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout his living room. You were a moaning mess, chanting his name haphazardly. Your walls clamped down around him and milked any remaining cum from him as you both reached your second peaks.

“Christ,” he groaned, stilling inside of you. The mixture of your fluids seeped from your fluttering hole. Joel smoothed his palms over your sweat slick back, peppering kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. Praises flew from his mouth like a prayer and you were his goddess, all his to worship.

Joel used his sweatpants to catch any leakage as his softened cock slipped out from you. He took his time with you, helping you regain your composure with more kisses and lingering touches. You followed him to his room where he properly cleaned you up and gave you a Texas Longhorns shirt and boxer shorts.

“You’re more than welcome t’stay,” Joel offered. “Or I can drive ya back. Your choice, sweetheart.”

Your arms snaked up and around his shoulders, stretching yourself up on your tiptoes. A smile crept onto your face as Joel held you steady by your ass. You peeked over at his unmade bed with only two measly pillows, one of them crumpled up in the middle of his bed. A shy smile adorned his face as you refocused on him. He was going to be the death of you.

“Set an alarm and take me to bed, cowboy.”

Late into the following evening, you found yourself back in Pour Choices. A lingering soreness twinged between your legs the entire day. You weren’t there to drink. You wanted Joel.

He started his usual greeting until he realized you had stepped through the doors, another black dress clinging to your body and lips stained a deeper shade of red than before.

“Hey, darlin’,” he smiled breathlessly. You sauntered over to the bar, leaning in close and cutting to the chase in a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna sit in the corner and wait for you to close up. Wanna return the favor from last night.”

Joel can confidently say that was his quickest close of his career, and you can just as confidently state that you successfully returned the favor, covering that poor man with crimson lip prints. He’d never complain about the physical reminder of you, using it as inspiration on the nights he craved you while you were away. He never thought he’d go from having everything from you for a couple weeks to having nothing for over a year.

“Wasn’t sure if you were gonna remember me,” you smiled softly, a twinge of sadness in your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing a new glass and some ice.

“I could never forget you, sugar,” he smirked, grabbing a top shelf whiskey and pouring it into the glass. The crackle of the ice drew your attention. You were always a sucker for whiskey. He remembered.

“On the house, darlin’. Want me to take your other drink? Doesn’t seem like you enjoyed it,” Joel pointed to the condensation lined cup with the half dranken Manhattan. “I know you’re not the sipping type of gal.”

“Yeah, thank you,” you smiled brighter as he took away the used cup. “Y’all don’t make Manhattans like they do back home,” you jabbed, taking a big gulp of the chilled whiskey. Those familiar lip prints stamped on the glass.

“But,” you continued, glancing at his bare ring finger. You observed the sprouting grays in his sideburns and deepened creases on his face, seeing the effect that the last two years had on him. “Y’all have something that New York doesn’t.”

You traced the rim of the glass, trying to pick up any emotion from his expressionless face. He did however crack a small smirk at your comment and leaned against the bar with both hands. Suddenly it felt like everyone else disappeared and it was just you and him in the moment.

“Hm, and what’s that, sweetheart?” He leaned closer and replied softly, but just loud enough for only you to hear.

“You, Joel.”

to keep up to date on upcoming parts, follow @pascalpvnk-writes and turn on notifications. thank you for reading!! <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #fic: you & i

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sl-vega · 11 months ago

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ SUNSHINE ON A RAINY DAY

Pairing: Karasu Tabito x [FEM!] Reader

Genre: fluff, comfort, angst (?), canon compliant if you squint, mainly an au tho, oneshot/drabble

Synopsis: in which you get stood up by your asshole of a date, and a certain crow-looking boy comforts you

CW: mild language, ooc karasu (?)

Karasu set his phone down as he rubbed his temples. He was sitting down on a bench outside of a local coffee shop. The smell of the rain surrounded him as the downpour continued falling.

It was a slow, boring, day. Practice was cancelled, and most of his friends were busy. Otoya had several dates planned for the day, and Hiori's parents never let him go out with company unless it was for soccer.

He sighed gazing up at the grey clouds. The droplets just barely missing his eyes.

Today was far less than mediocre

He thought. Watching the clouds move by, little by little. Just barely moving.

Maybe I should've taken up Otoya on that double date offer...

He groaned, looked back down at the stores and shops surrounding him, he wasn't expecting anything to have changed during his cloud-watching session.

And he certainly wasn't expecting you.

You were drenched by the downpour, hugging yourself for some semblance of support. He noticed your tear stained face and your puffy red eyes.

He also noticed how fucking gorgeous you were.

You were dressed up. Like really dressed up. Bedazzled dress, fancy heels, and makeup that probably took you hours. Must've been on a date or somethin' he thought.

Even from a distance, he could tell that you were freezing. He couldn't help but feel sorry for you. So, like the gentleman he was, he approached you, umbrella in hand.

You hadn't noticed him yet. You were leaning against the outer wall of a book store. Your body was trembling, and he could see your chest rapidly rise of fall from your shallow breaths.

He placed his hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him, your eyes were glassy from your tears. Now that he was closer to you, he noticed a lot more details about you.

He noticed he way your dress clinged to your body due to it being soaked by the rain. The way it showed off your curves and how-

God he was staring wasn't he?

He cleared his throat, realizing his hand was still on your shoulder, he swiftly moved it away not wanting to make you more uncomfortable.

"You okay?"

You shook your head, averting eye contact. He lifted his umbrella over your head. He could still hear your faint sobs. He didn't know why, but he felt a strong urge to make you feel better.

You were still shivering, so he unzipped his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You whispered a quiet "thank you" to him as he fixed the garment to make sure that it wouldn't fall off.

"Are you sure you'll be okay? I don't want you getting sick 'cuz of me." You said, finally speaking up.

Even your voice was pretty

He thought, first time hearing you speak but he would kill just to hear you talk again.

"Eh, I've been through worse." He shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant. He noticed you grip onto the jacket, making sure that it wouldn't fall of your shoulders.

"You have somewhere you need to be?" He asked, keeping the conversation afloat.

"I'm on my way to the station." You replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"What a coincidence, I'm heading there too."

Lies, your house is a five minute walk away from here, why are doing all this for a girl you just met? She probably thinks you're a creep.

You smiled, it was small, barely noticeable but it was adorable nonetheless. He gestured to the other direction, right where the station was, and you followed.

As the two of you walked side by side, you spoke up again.

"Thanks again, um...?"

"Karasu."

"(L/N)."

If he were Otoya, he would've said something corny like "beautiful name for a beautiful girl." Thankfully he didn't, but he settled for a simple: "Hm, pretty name." He watched your cheeks dust with a rosy hue from the comment.

Easily flustered too huh?

He made more mental notes about you, he didn't know why he found you so fascinating, or why he was so curious about you, all he knew was that he wanted to know more.

The two of you walked in silence for a bit, the pitter patter of the rain filling both of your senses. Karasu looked over at you.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"

"Guy I was seeing stood me up."

Your once peaceful expression reverted back to it's down and mopey face. He didn't know what to say so he opted for the usual.

"Sorry to hear that." He felt guilty for using the usual phrase that he told most of Otoya's sidechicks whenever one of them found out that there was "another woman".

"Don't be." You replied, sniffling. "I honestly should've seen it coming. He's got a reputation." You said, bitterly, chuckling.

"What made you stay?" He asked, now curious.

"Same old, same old, I thought that I was "different" or that I could "fix" him." You rubbed your temples, sighing.

"Were the two of you close?"

"Very, at least that's what I tell myself."

You sighed again, and Karasu felt guilty for bringing it up, especially when you were feeling fine a few moments ago.

"This guy reminds me a lot of someone I know." He said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. "I've been roped into several of his problems." He groaned, recounting all the times he had to cover for Otoya.

You chuckled. "Do tell."

"We're gonna be here for a while then."

"I don't think I'll mind as long as you're here."

You smiled.

Were you flirting with him?

You grabbed his hand and your fingers intertwined, you were still smiling.

Oh God, you were definitely flirting with him

Partially a gift to the lovely @latay7 who has indirectly motivated me to make more bllk content

#karasu x reader #karasu tabito #karasu tabito x reader #tabito x reader #bluelock x reader #bluelock x you #bluelock #otoya eita

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genesiseven · 2 years ago

Text

𝑭𝑺𝑴 ✩ 𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ(adj.) incapable of expressing oneself clearly through speech

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᥕᥲrᥒ . Fem reader, ooc kaiser?, Tiny spoilers, mentions of alcohol, drunk kaiser, ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ nicknames (mein singvogel [my songbird], princess, bastard), not exactly ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ proofread, angst w/ comfort, part ii INARTICULATE

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsᥙm . With the stress and frustration from losing to mr. Blue Lock, from the ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ humility of being called a clown of his story, and bottling up his emotions ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ into a tiny bottle since the start of his career, he finally let it burst behind ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ the doors of your shared bedroom, in which he thought you were gone.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤᥴһᥲr . Micheal Kaiser

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ☔︎⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A nervous figure sat on the couch, accompanied by slow jazz playing in the background with a calming rain lending comfort to the anxious and paranoid figure, who did anything to distract herself from the pang in her chest, the rising pace of her heartbeat. You who scrolled through any media your eyes can take, you who ignored your jittery legs, who tried to ignore the thoughts clouding your mind were now growing exponentially anxious.

The clicking clock neither help in your comfort, only making you more nervous – nothing had helped in your case, drinking, taking long breaths in&out, working, writing, none helped your beating heart, the absence of your teasing and loving boyfriend worsened it. Oh where could your prince be at such a time like this?

He hasn't texted or called you of his whereabouts since his game, which resulted in a loss for bastard munchen, ended. Finally having enough of it, you opened your phone once again, instead of scrolling mindlessly, you opened the phone call app, searching through the many saved contacts of loved ones and friends and clicking on the one you were after, probably, the most trusted friend of your boyfriend, Alexis Ness.

Within a few seconds he picked up, your tone was shaky as you spoke, trying to calm it and speak normally. You knew what Kaiser does to himself when a defeat was upon him, and now the passing hours of his absence, you don't know if he ended up drunk at a bar, or beating himself up at some alleyway "hi, ness?" "Ah y/n, why must you've called so late at night? It's nearly 10:30 pm." "I- uh apologise if I had uh awakened you from y-your sleep but have you seen kaiser anywhere? His whereabouts, is he training late or is he at your or your teammate's house?" Before you bombard his ear with your ongoing rambling of his friend's whereabouts, he asked a question you most dreaded. "Wait, he's not at your house? He told me he would be going to your house as soon as our match ended." "A-ah.. no, well I better get going now, sleep well ness. Don't overwork yourself too much Kay?" "h-hey wai-" you cut the phone without a second thought, leaving it on the coffee table. Taking your car keys you made your way to the locked front door but coming to an abrupt stop as you heard keys rattling and the door's lock unlocking. With the only person who has the keys to the shared penthouse was Kaiser, your thoughts ran berserk, 'oh dear, has someone murdered Kaiser and stolen his keys?', you thought. Positioning your keys in such a way it can injure a person. Stepping back as the door opened revealed a drenched in rain, drunk and cheek stained with defeated tears man, it was him who stood before you, the narcissistic, princely, asshole and bastard munchen's greatest, Micheal Kaiser, who now stood as a broken man.

Your keys fell to the ground, rushing to his side having no care of his drenched clothes staining yours and locking the door behind you. "Oh darling, what have you done to yourself.." your caring and comforting voice filled his ears, a small faint smile forming at the hearing of it. "Will you have the comfort of knowing the doings of mine?" You scrunch your nose at the smell of alcohol reeking from his mouth, sitting him down on the couch leaving behind the trail of water you have to clean up, you left to retrieve water for him but stopped at the feeling of a tug at your shirt. You looked back, Kaiser raising his head to face you, new crystal tears "don't leave me here all alone." His mouth quivering, it broke you, so, so bad. You failed to lend him the comfort he needed, you failed to notice how much he needed you. Leaving him to fulfil your own duties and work, rubbing off his needy behaviour, unable to see the chagrined face behind his smiling and whiny voice. The past three weeks were tiring and ridden you both of life, sleeping through even when Kaiser woke up from reoccurring nightmares, unable to brave through no matter how often it happens. "Alright, I won't go, I won't go. I will be beside you, every moment of it, I will never leave you, even after death" you reassured calmly, moments away from crying with him. He pulled you into a tight hug, sobbing quietly, choking on his tears every now and then, barely able to speak of his emotions through speech. You silently patted his head, combing his hair with your fingers. You didn't even care about the wet spots on your shirt, some with spit and some with tears. He needed this, never had he had this comfort in his life. "I'm s-sorry-" "for what?" You spoke gently, he looked at you with wide teary eyes. "Micheal, you are an amazing boyfriend, everything I could ask for. Everyone has their moments of failure and such, those are unable to face it, fall, week. And those are, rise, strong and you are one of the strongest man I have ever met, physically and emotionally. You faced everything alone, I want to accompany you, in your struggles and mote. Will l you let me face your struggles together like you do with me?" "God, why do you love such an asshole like me, you should just leave like they said.." he spoke despondently, wiping away his tears aggressively "who told you you were an asshole? I don't care what they say, I don't care what the media says, I don't care what anyone says, I will never leave you, no matter. You are worth everything in this world, the things you do for me are thoughtful and always held with good intention, everytime you buy me a gift, it has a meaning behind it, and I wish I had the money to buy you something back, fuck if I was rich I would give you the entire world if I could." He hid his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you, more gently and less tightly. His brows furrowed, the thoughts, the nightmare in his mind were leaving the more you spoke. Other than ness, no one had ever thought of him so lovingly this much. A smile was slowly plastered to his face, it stayed hidden.

"I.. I love you so much.. Thank you for staying beside me.., even when I'm being hard sometimes, you still deal with me. Thank you for bringing me comfort, mein singvogel. I never felt so.. happy. Thank you" he spoke quietly, he felt small but secure. Your soft voice spoke yet again "there's no need to thank me, kai, now let's get you cleaned up shall we?" "Will you join?" He spoke slyly, revealing his tiny sly smile, you chuckled joyfully "even after all this, you managed to be such a sly lil shit, that's what I love the most about you" without a second, you cupped his face kissing him fervently. His wife eyes now glued shut, pushing you, hugging you into a kiss. You both broke apart, "stop looking at my lips and look at my eyes you bastard" you giggled "just let me have this moment princess" you huffed out a falsely annoyed 'fine', softly pinching his cheeks "ow, stop thattt your hurting mee" he whined, it was moments like this you cherished most, it felt most lively, most wholesome and most loving. "C'mon now, let's get you to bath" "only if you join" he retorted back "alright fine, now c'mon, get going" with ecstasy, he followed, like a lost but happy puppy, thinking of a stranger as it's new mother.

𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 —

mein singvogel - my songbird

Fufufu I finished this within the day, kaiser is such a silly man sometimes

Tags: @kaiserkisser

#bllk angst #bllk comfort #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #micheal kaiser #micheal kaiser x reader #micheal kaiser bllk #kaiser #kaiser bllk #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x reader angst #kaiser x reader angst w/ comfort

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shutit-haha · 1 year ago

Text

Kit-Kat | a baby Bakugo/reader

I know it's been done a thousand times before but I needed something meaningful and self indulgent. Sorry if this is a little OOC for him I'm trying to work out where exactly the line is when it comes to emotionally constipated five year olds.

You were exhausted when you had arrived at your shared apartment. It wasn't anything grand or luxurious, just some place you stayed with your boyfriend occasionally. (If the two of you were ever so lucky to be home at the same time.) Katsuki was hustling to become a hero and with the media having their eyes trained on him from high school he had to be mindful of the steps he took. Then there was you, trying your hardest to get to where you wanted to go in life. Slaving while you waited for him to start his own business. Once Katsuki's company was open you'd work with him in a partnership and all would be as it should.

Until then you entered your apartment with sagging tear drop shoulders. You hadn’t slept properly in two days and had ended up working overtime today despite having planned on leaving early. No matter, you were here now and if you were lucky perhaps Katsuki would be too. So with heavy limbs of lead you shut the door behind you and hung up your jacket. Spring was supposed to be arriving within a week's time however the winter chill was holding on for dear life.

When you bent down to slip off your shoes you noticed the living room light was on. It spilled into the mudhall where you were bent over your feet. Without a second spared you were bouncing off into the living room to greet your boyfriend whom you had only seen in passing lately. By the time he came home you were already climbing into bed. Each and every night you’d promise to wait for him to finish his shower and each and every night you’d fall asleep before he was out. Due to his late shifts you found yourself waking up earlier than him, something that was certainly odd for the two of you. By the time he would wake to start his day you were already long gone, your only trace a post-it left on your pillow.

He’d never tell you, but he loved how you kissed it as a sign off. Your perfume would always stay behind on the colorful paper right where you left a stain of puckered lips. Your heart ached for him and he had been dying to see that lipstick on some skin instead of just paper.

“Katsuki!” You shouted from where you stood at the end of the entry hall and the beginning of the living room. “Katsuki,” you called again. The kitchen was to the left of you a space far too small for your burly boyfriend and fully stocked with kitchen ware. You had decided to buy the cheap stuff in the meantime, glad you did since the two of you rarely ever used any of it. There was no dining room.

The living room laid right in front of your disappointed gaze. A low coffee table situated in front of the T.V and a single sofa that could sit three. The back of the sofa faced the kitchen where Kaminari was rifling through your cabinets in search of snacks. Mina bounced a baby on her lap, shushing and cooing at it in an attempt to keep it from wailing. Kirishima and Sero were debating on the best way to calm the baby down while a children’s show played in the background.

Their heads all swiveled to look at you, including the pale baby boy’s. Kaminari looked as though he had been caught, Kirishima and Mina seemed worried and Sero…smug for some odd reason. “Right feeding a baby is better than distracting it,” Sero placed his hands on his hips.

“Yeah,” you nodded absentmindedly. “Is Katsuki here?” You tried to listen for the sound of your bathroom shower, or maybe some kind of movement in your bedroom. No matter how hard you strained though it was obvious he wasn’t here. “Does he know you’re here,” a follow up question.

“Technically,” Mina spoke up.

“Found them,” Kaminari shouted from the kitchen bag of chips in hand. “I knew I left a family size here last time.”

“Get out of the way,” Sero shoved him to reach the fridge. Mina’s fluorescent eyes darted to look at Kirishima who seemed to be sweating bullets.

“Ok guys, there’s no way you can just stay in my house and keep secrets from me. Especially when they’re about my boyfriend so…”

“Well you know how he is, he gets into fights with people and-” Mina was the first to reply.

“That guy was looking for it though. He was being rude and then he wussed out when Bakugo stepped up.” Sero added from where he was cooking something in your kitchen.

“Like they said the guy was messing with him and then he got scared, and his quirk malfunctioned.” Kirishima continued, hands up to calm you.

“Who’s quirk malfunctioned?” You were worried now and this story was taking too long.

“The guy’s,” they all replied. All except for Kaminari who was stuffing chips down his throat and surfing channels. The baby on Mina’s lap had started fighting with the blonde over the remote.

“And well,” Mina said as she tried to keep hold of the baby.

“He kind of,” that was Kirishima speaking to you gently. The red head was walking on eggshells here and you really didn’t understand why.

“Where is my boyfriend?” You stalked further into the room, growing hostile with your tone.

“Bakugo man, just give me the remote!” Kaminari shouted at the baby trying his best to tug the control out of the baby’s pudgy hands. Your head whipped around to take in the baby’s blonde spiky hair, something you hadn’t paid any attention to at first. It seemed softer than it was supposed to be, less spikey and more curly. Instead of the ends shooting straight out they curved a little, giving his hair a bounce to it.

“I can track the guy down for you,” Kirishima spoke quickly. Sero snorted from where he was now hunched over a pot.

“Kami you idiot,” Mina screeched at the other blonde yanking the remote from his hands. You sunk down into the floor, slumping against the wall and laughing. What the hell were you gonna do with a child? You didn't even want kids right now, you still had work. Were you supposed to take a day off? Do you pay for daycare? Do you have money for that? Does his boss know?

“You broke them,” Kaminari shouted from the couch.

“I’m not broken,” you reached a hand up to wave it at him. “How old is he now,” you asked Kirishima.

“Five-ish.”

“Does he have his quirk?”

“No.”

You winced, taking a sharp breath in through your teeth. This sounded like some hellish nightmare for your boyfriend. He’s small and helpless, no quirk and no muscle. “Does his job know?”

“They’ve been notified.”

“Great,” you sighed, getting back up from the floor. You made your way back into the entry hall so that you could take off your shoes and slide on your slippers. With a heavy head you walked back over to the living room.

“I wanna buy him clothes,” Mina chirped, still bouncing him on her lap. He had those angry red eyes and what was supposed to be a scowl only looked like a pout on that face.

“That won’t be necessary, he'll be back soon.” You made your way straight for him, dragging your feet along the floor. You felt conflicted, just a moment ago you had wanted to spend time with your boyfriend and well here was your chance. Except that he was a child, one you had to care for and couldn’t just simply love. You couldn’t lay on him like you wanted to, sinking into his warmth.

“Well..” Mina handed him to you.

“We’re not sure, it's a quirk malfunction so it could last for more than 24 hours.” Kirishima sat on the armrest unable to find space on the crowded couch.

“Days?” You asked, staring down at Katsuki, his little red eyes stared at you in awe though he still tried to look mean.

“Could be a month,” Kaminari shrugged, shoving more chips into his mouth. Mina shoved him off the sofa and onto the floor, Kirishima was quick to take the now open spot.

“We’re all gonna stay with you tonight,” Mina quickly assured you.

“Yeah,” Sero added in agreement. He was going through your lower cabinets now in search of you weren’t sure what. You looked sound at your friends, they were amazing people. And you wanted them to stay truly, you just weren’t sure how they were all going to fit. Your sofa could fit two people if they really squished together. And well your apartment had never had to fit more guests than that.

Sometimes Kaminari gets wasted at a bar and Sero will have to go and pick him up. Somehow your apartment ends up being closer to them and in they come stumbling late in the night to Katsuki’s dismay. They’ll fall onto the sofa where you’ll find them sleeping in the morning. Sometimes you and Bakugo will go out to events with Kiri and Mina, and the four of you will wind up back here. They always end up giggling away on your couch while you and Katsuki collapse onto your mattress cracking jokes with one another.

You’ve never had the whole gang stay the night and staring at your small apartment you weren’t sure how it was going to work. “Mina can share the bed with me and Katsuki, or maybe we can go and buy an air mattress?”

The boys all stared at each other realizing only one of them would get the couch. “Air mattress,” they spoke in unison, already feeling the back pain.

“Ok,” you laugh and Katsuki’s heart hurts. He whimpers looking down at your pants. “You ok?” His big eyes glare at you before looking away, pink dusting his cheeks. You smile at him softly, taking it as him just being flustered. “You think he still remembers me?”

The room was silent. Sero kept on with his cooking, various spices open on your counter and a cutting board with nothing to cut. He made a face at that, opening your fridge to go through it for what was now the third time. Kaminari seemed to have finally found a channel on the t.v and sat down comfortably on the floor. Kirishima and Mina exchanged a look while you waited for an answer.

“Maybe,” Mina watches your face carefully.

“We hope but aren’t entirely sure,” Kiri then added.

“Oh,” you exhaled deeply, “ok.” You leaned forward then nuzzling the skin behind Katsuki’s ear with your nose. His hair was soft though very dry, and his skin was nice and warm. “It’s ok if you forget me,” you whisper to him softly. “I know you’ll remember me later,” you kiss his cheek before pulling away. “You all ready to go to the store, I need to get some sort of clothes for him and I think Sero is struggling to find food.”

“Already made a list,” he replied from where he was still scribbling on the counter.

“Alright then Katsu baby, ‘you ready to go?” You lifted him up into the air trying to get at least a smile from him, but to no avail. His arms were crossed over his chest, lip jutting out in a pout, eyebrows pulled down in a nasty little glare. “You’re gonna like me,” you place him on your hip. “I know you will. Did it once I can do it again,” you walked with him back into the hall.

💣

“These are cute,” Mina held up a powder pink shirt.

“Uhh,’ you eyed little Katsuki.

“I’ll pay for it,” she smiled brightly from behind the shirt.

“Put it in there,” you whispered to her. You tossed some black sweatpants in the kart, “we gotta get you some shoes little man.” You ruffled his hair, dodging the hand he swiped at you. “Come on little man,” you take his hand and lead him to where the shoes are. Of course he’s instantly drawn to the sneakers with heroes on them. You watch as his little eyes widen and then narrow to analyze the gym shoes. His attention bounces from shoe to shoe, comparing the colors and how the hero is displayed. Eventually he takes hold of two pairs; one with Allmight standing tall and another with him in the midst of a punch.

“One day I’m gonna have shoes of my own.”

“Yeah you will,” you smile at him.

He glares at you, still comparing the two shoes to one another. “I’m serious,” he sits on the floor to try them on.

“I am too. I know you’ll do it.”

At this point he has one shoe on each foot, rocking back and forth to get a feel of them.

“So which one’s the winner?” You’re amused by all this, he’s five and being far too precise.

“These are cooler,” he points to the one with Allmight punching. “These feel nicer though.” ‘Has good dialect too. Crazy how smart this guy is. “These,” he settles for the comfier shoes.

“Ok,” you nod. “You want another pair?”

His eyes sparkle, lips parting to speak before he suddenly reels himself back in. He scowls, shoving his shoes at you. “Yeah,” he then stomps off down another aisle.

“Ok,” you sigh, following him. “You know you’re bossy, and mean.”

He stops in front of a pair of combat boots, black ones similar to what he uses for his hero suit. “These,” he points, awe visible in his face.

You do your best to stifle your laughter trying not to embarrass him. The moment he realizes he’s making a cute face you know it’ll be gone so you keep quiet. You bend down to search for a box with his size written on it but are unable to find any. “Uhh,” now you gotta tell him. Great. You look again, maybe you just didn’t try hard enough the first time. “Baby,” you coo, still checking over all the boxes. “I don’t think they have it in your size.” You're kneeling down on one knee in search for these damn boots but can’t find any.

“What?” His mouth’s agape, eyes wide and glossy.

“These are big kid shoes, they don’t have any for you.”

His chest quickly rises and falls as he starts to breathe heavily, hands curling into little fist. You watch his features curl and fold into a deep scowl. Tears form in his eyes, welling up in his lash line while his cheeks go red. “But-”

“I know, I’m sorry.” And would you believe it, he cries. His bottom lip quivers while fat tears roll down his cheeks. His fist are curled so tightly you worry about his little hands. He hiccups and sniffles but doesn’t wail and bawl like other kids do. It’s silent, something you see but don’t exactly hear. “I know.” You pick him up, uncurling his fist as he wraps his arms tightly around your neck. He clings to you, clutching tightly while he sniffles and cries. “It’s ok baby, I’m sorry, I know you really wanted them. I’ll try and find you a pair ok?” You rub his back, rocking him back and forth.

He nods vigorously, still sniffling and hiccuping. Mina finds the two of you at the end of the aisle, Kirishima right behind her with the shopping kart. “Is he ok?” She whispers to you, approaching slowly. Katsuki clutches to you tighter, burying his face in your neck and hair.

“A little embarrassed I think,” you hand her the box holding his sneakers. “They didn’t have the other pair of shoes he wanted.”

“Oh you poor thing, I cry over shoes too.” Mina rubbed his back softly, laughing to you silently.

“Surprised he cried,” Kirishima said.

“Me too, I think he might just be tired. Or maybe missing home.” You followed them out the aisle and over to the self check-out.

“Missing home?”

“Yeah, maybe he knows he’s supposed to be big.”

Katsuki listened to your conversation carefully, face still covered by his hair. What you’re saying seemed right to him in a vague kind of way. He wasn’t sure that was what he felt but nothing else seemed to make sense. All the other feelings he knew didn’t fit how they were supposed to.

💣

“We bought clothes,” Mina sang, entering the apartment with bags in hand. She went straight into the living room, leaving the door open, and still wearing her shoes.

“I thought they were for Bakugou,” you heard Kaminari reply to her.

“They are,” she huffed.

You were the next to enter the apartment carrying a sleeping Bakugou in your arms. You sat him down on top of the wooden shoe rack, slipping off his sandals and putting them away. You then sat down next to him just as Kirishima came in through the door. The red head carried the groceries Sero had asked for and the air mattress your apartment so desperately needed. “Kami start moving the table!” Kirishima ordered, slamming the door behind him with his foot.

Bakugou jumped in his sleep and you placed him back on your lap. He rested his head on your breast while you rubbed his back soothingly. You waited a minute or two before sliding off your own shoes. You put your shoes back where they belonged, sliding on your slippers and then carrying Kastuki to the living room. Once again you found yourself stopping at the doorway.

The apartment felt so alive, Sero was cutting vegetables in the kitchen while the other boys worked together on moving your coffee table. Mina was pulling clothes out of the bag to show everybody and then folding it into a neat pile. She had offered to pay for the clothes and Kiri paid for everything else so you spent nothing. It warmed your heart to the point where you nearly wanted to cry. This was home, here with all these lovely people. “Here,” Mina handed you a pajama set.

“Wake him up so he can eat, I cooked something nice for him.” Sero smiled at you from where he was putting all of your spices back.

“Shower him,” Kiri said before yelling at Kaminari about scraping your floor.

“Will do,” you nodded and smiled at everyone heading off to the bathroom. The cutout that led to the bathroom was aligned with the hall to your entryway. The door to your left opened up to the restroom, the one opposite leading to your bedroom. You shut the door softly behind you, gently shaking Katsuki awake. “Gotta bathe you,” you speak softly to him.

The drowsy blonde sways where he stands in front of you on the cold bathroom tiles. His little fist comes up to rub at his eyes. “‘M hungry,” his stomach growls.

“You’ll eat right after this,” you tug off his pants slowly. Your nails graze his soft little thighs on accident and he winces. “I’m sorry,” you kiss where you scratched him.

“I like your nails,” his hand curls around your index finger. He keeps a tight hold of it while he steps out of his pants.

“Thank you,” you smile at him despite his eyes being shut. “Arms up.”

He yawns and reaches for the sky letting you take off his shirt. “Are you gonna shower with me?”

“What?” You laugh, tugging off his boxers.

“I want you to shower with me, I miss when you used to do it.” He yawns and steps out of his boxers. “Why don’t we do it anymore? Are you mad at me?” He finally opens his drowsy red eyes.

“What? No,” you shake your head, running the bath water. “We’ve just been busy.”

“I’m not busy anymore.” Silence falls while you check the temperature of the water. “Do you shower with your other boyfriends?”

“I don’t have other boyfriends.”

“Good,” he huffs. “I’d have to beat them up.”

“Katsuki you’re five.” You stand from the edge of the tub drying your hand.

“So you’ll shower with me,” he looks up at you.

“When you’re a big boy again,” you cup his cheek.

“But I’m not busy anymore,” he whines.

“I know,” you lift him up to put him in the bath.

“Are you gonna leave me?”

“What?” You stare at him.

“Are you going to work tomorrow?” He sputters, embarrassed by your intense stare. His face heats up, cheeks turning a bright red.

“Think I might just stay with you.”

“Can you wash me?”

“You can do it, you’re big enough.”

“But I like your nails,” he reaches for your hand. For a moment you look at him so sure that you can see your Katsuki somewhere inside. He wants you to shower with him, he likes your nails, he’s ok with you scratching him. He’s worried that you’re leaving him.

You wash him. And when you’re done you dry him. And when that’s done you feed him. The whole gang gets comfortable in the living room eating together and watching a movie. Throughout the film they rotate who’s taking a shower and by the end everyone’s clean except for you. The t.v turns black and you lay Katsuki down in the bedroom. He fell asleep about halfway through the film. You sneak off to take a shower and when you come back he’s up and waiting for you.

“I missed you,” he sniffles, reaching for you in the darkness. You take hold of his little hands, placing him on top of your chest. His little hands slid around either side of you just barely reaching your back. You rub in between his shoulder blades, scratching his scalp lightly with your nails.

“I missed you too,” you sigh drifting off to sleep.

When you wake in the morning, he’s still a baby.

#bakugou katsuki #x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #bakusquad #domestic fluff #found family #baby boy #quirk accident

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meianslo · 2 years ago

Text

Secret Stains

George Karim x GN!Reader

summary: reader accidentally stained george's fav book and he seems like... calm?

word count: 2.1k

warning: kinda ooc george, and mild cursing

a/n: btw, if anyone is wondering the reason i've only been writing about george bc my boy and the george lovers needs some justice here :))

disclaimer: -

Walking into the kitchen with George's book in your hand, you greeted Lucy who's turning on the stove to boil the water that's in the kettle. You set the book down on top of the dining table took and took a cup of coffee that you prepared earlier from the coffee machine and went to sit down on your spot by the table.

"Where's George?" You asked, taking a sip of your coffee. You winced at the taste of the coffee. You're still not used to drinking coffee but you don't feel like having a cup of tea today because you're feeling much more tired than usual so you needed something to energized you.

"Dunno, he just told me to boil the water and went somewher-." Lucy was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you

You turned around to see George who just came out of the basement. "I'm here, need anything, (name)?" he asked.

"Just wanted to return your book, George." you smiled thinly at him, pointing at the book.

George approached the table and picked up his book. He shuffle through the pages, checking if you might have left something in the pages accidentally.

"Oh, I think I left my bookmark in there." You peeked as he shuffle through the thick book.

He hid a smile and finally found the page where you've left your bookmark. There was three bookmark. One is his and the other two is yours. He took one and gave you the bookmark. Still on the same page, he flipped the other bookmark you left and read the writings you left in there as well.

Why do ghosts like to ride elevators?

Because it lifts their spirit.

George stifle a laugh and let out a snort instead. He glanced at you for a second then looked back at the book. Seeing his reaction, you pressed your lips, holding back a smile and you took a sip of your coffee to hide your expression.

The two of you have been doing this for the past few weeks. Leaving little notes, puns, jokes, or anything to each other. You can find his notes in the magazines you bought or your favourite fiction books. And he can find your notes on his comic books, under his favourite mug, or his apron (You attached a safety pin to your note and to his apron). No matter how stupid the notes you gave to each other, it still somehow made the other one laughs, smile, or at least entertain them a bit.

"George! Get over here!" Lockwood shouted from upstairs. George set down the book back on the table, across from where you are a seated and quickly left the kitchen to go up the stairs.

Lucy turned to you and grinned at you playfully. "What was that?~" she said teasingly, leaning on the table hovering over you.

Hearing her tone, you almost choked on the coffee that's still making its way down your throat. "W- what?" you held back a smile, the corner of your lips twitching.

"Well, whatever it is, it's so obvious." she softly bumped her elbow on your shoulder. You just hummed at her little announcement.

Taking one last sip of your coffee, you stood up and tried to make your way to the sink. But that wasn't going to happen, apparently.

When you were about to make a turn around the table, your knee accidentally bump on the table making you yelp and fall on your knees. You only scraped your knees a bit because of the fall but you'll be fine.

You might be okay... But George's book was not.

As you fell, the cup of coffee that was in your hand, freed themself onto the table. The cup felt so light you forgot there was still a bit of coffee in it.

The coffee made its way out of the cup and onto George's book, staining a few of the last pages.

When you saw the mess, you stood up quickly and held the book gently, "Oh no.." you put it back down and fan your hand to dry it up. "No, no no... George is gonna kill me, Lucy!" you pick up the edge of the thinking cloth and fan it fast enough but not too fast so that all of the things above it won't fall.

The girl quickly went beside you and cover the entrance of the kitchen just in case George suddenly came in. She tried to help as well by fanning her hand and blowing air out of her mouth.

They were too caught up that they didn't notice Lockwood standing behind Lucy. "Ahem, what are you guys doing?" Lucy shrieked out of surprise and you just freeze on the spot. Lucy pointed at the book and the stain of coffee.

Lockwood looked at the book and his eyes widen. "Isn't that George's book?" he almost shouted because of the shock. You and Lucy shushed at him.

But it was too late.

"What about my book?" George asked, standing by the entrance of the kitchen. All three of you looked at each other and backed away to let the confused boy see the mess.

He approach the table and his eyes widen up a bit. "It's okay." He stated calmly. All the three of you looked at each other with wide eyes then at George like he was crazy. The boy looked at you.

He knows it's you who did it.

"How'd you know it's me?" the boy just pointed at the mug that's still laying beside the book.

"It's yours right?" George asked to make sure.

"Yeah, but you're okay with this?" the only thing that is now in your head is if George had went crazy.

"It's just the author biography." He shrugged.

"No offense, George. But taking in the fact that you're a nerd, I'm pretty sure all part of the book matters to you." Lockwood chimed in.

You and Lucy nodded at what Lockwood added, agreeing with what he said.

"It's alright. It's just coffee stain." George pick up the book and went out of the kitchen.

You looked at Lockwood and Lucy out of concern.

"Last time I accidentally spilled a drop of tea on his book, he went on rampage!" Lockwood muttered.

"I also have this time where I almost dropped my tea on his comic book, he gave me an hour lecture on where I should step and where I should not to avoid spilling anything on his book." Lucy added.

The three of you sighed in distress.

A few hours has passed by and the afternoon has arrived. You're laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling of the attic room.

"I still can't process what happened, Luce" You muttered out of the blue.

"You're not the only one, (name)." Lucy added. She's lays her stomach on the bed with her head resting on her palm.

You jolt up and stare blankly to whatever is Infront of you. "I'm gonna talk to him." You stand up, and walk to the stairs.

"What? It's good enough that he didn't get mad at you. Don't go around looking for trouble with him, (name)."

You stayed at edge of the stairs. "But I feel like I'm in more trouble if I don't talk to him.." you stare down at the stairs, biting your bottom lip in consideration.

You give Lucy one last glance and ran down the stairs.

You forgot how quick it is to get from Lucy's room to George's that you're already standing in front of his door without knowing what to say.

Just when you lift your hand up to knock on the door, the curly haired boy opens the door.

"Oh, hi (name), to what do I owe the pleasure?" he greets you with a smile. The smile that suddenly makes your heart skip a beat.

You give him a little wave with your hand that's still in the air. "Uhm, I want to ask you about earlier. About your book?" you ask, placing both of your hand behind your back to hide the cold sweat that is coming out of them.

"Yeah, what about it?" he straighten up, looking a bit more tense than when he opened the door.

"Why weren't you mad? I mean, I know it's good that you were okay with it but you'd literally go crazy over a book, George." You explain, trying to keep calm and not burst into a rambling of how confused you are.

"It's nothing, really. And like I said, It's okay, (name). I don't mind." He assured you, shrugging his shoulder.

"George." You say sternly. This caught his full attention because he doesn't exactly know the reason why your tone changed. "I poured coffee on your favourite book. Your favourite. How is that okay for you?"

He sighs and push up his glasses up to his nose. "I wasn't okay with the book being stained." He leaned on his doorframe, "What I meant earlier is that your bookmark that you left is okay. That's what I was worried about. And to be honest, it's my favourite book because it's the one you mostly use to.. you know.. Our secret notes."

He wasn't worried about his book.

He was worried about your note.

You gulped, "Whaaa..?" You backed away to sit on the stairs that is in front of his room.

George just watch as you scoffs and run your fingers through your hair. He closes his door and sit down beside you.

He just fiddle around with his finger and waits for you to talk.

You finally let out a big exhale and place your elbows on your thighs and leaned forward.

George heard a sniffle from you and just assume that you're crying.

"Uhm, (name)? Are you ok-" he's interrupted by the sound of giggles and cackles that came out of your mouth.

"Oh, god. I really thought you might kill me earlier when I spilled that coffee." You chuckle and bump him on the shoulder.

George's jaw just dropped when he realize that you're just laughing and not crying. But he can't help to smile as he saw you did too, filled with laughter.

He stood up and took out his and offered it for you. "I wanna show you something, come on." You took it and he helps you stand up.

He didn't let go of your hand and just opened the door to his room with his free hand. He lets you in and closes the door behind you then starts rummaging through his drawers.

Finally, he took out a gray box and places it on his bed. He sit down on the bed and gestured for you to sit down with him.

He finally lets go of your hand and lift the lid of the box to reveal a bunch of papers, sticky notes, or anything that you can write on.

It's your notes.

You shuffle through them. You saw a note where you talked about the weather because nothing was interesting to talk about that day.

You saw a piece of napkin with a knock knock joke written on it messily. You just smile as you go through them.

When you're done, you close the box with the lid and finally look up at George who turned out to have been staring at you for the past few minutes as you looked through the box.

You set the box aside and smile at him.

You can't hold it back anymore. You jumped at him and attack him with a hug that threw him into the bed.

"George Karim, you precious boy!" You hug him tightly. George, is obviously surprised by your sudden movement but he relaxes at your touch.

Skin contact is very weird for both of you but it just feel so comfortable when it's with you two.

When you finally feel like he has gotten all the hugs he deserved. You pulled away, and stare at him. Suddenly, you are very aware of the position you're both in.

You were on top of him while he just lays there under you.

Your faces are inches away. You could see the detail of his face and he can see yours at this rate.

With this closeness, you're able to admire the face of George. Your eyes wander around his face, and ended up looking at his lips.

George made a small movement by lifting his chin a bit. This made you lower yours.

Now, your lips are now probably an inch away from each other.

You gaze into his eyes as he gaze yours one last time and finally went into the kiss and close your eyes.

a/n: this is very forced :D

#george karim x reader #george karim #lockwood & co #lockwood and co x reader #lucy carlyle #x reader #x gn reader #anthony lockwood

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