#crumble apart like a coffee cake

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 6

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; semi-sexual content

Chapter Summary: In which Simon's neighbor gets drunk with his best friend and ends up, once again, on his couch.

Word Count: 3.1K

On a cold, rainy Friday night, Riley Thomas knocked on her neighbor’s door in sweatpants and a hoodie, a large pizza box from the restaurant down the street in hand. When Simon finally reached the door, the young woman slid inside quickly, sighing in relief at the comforting heat of his apartment.

“Why’d you take so long? The hallway is freezing!” She complained as a way of greeting, setting down the carton box on his table before rubbing her hands together.

“I took two minutes, you big baby.”

She rolled her eyes playfully.

“What’d you pick for tonight?” Riley asked curiously, peeking at his TV as she settled on the couch and quickly covered herself with their designated movie blanket.

“Mamma Mia.” 

“Fuck off.” She stared at him in disbelief, a mocking grin slowly creeping about her cheeks.  “Guilty pleasure?”

“One of many.”

She shook her head in amusement “You’re a man full of surprises, Simon.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” He chuckled.

A slow, tentative friendship had begun blooming between them over the weeks, as Riley found herself in her broody neighbor's company more often than not. Simon’s icy walls had started to crumble increasingly easier at the young woman’s terrible jokes, finding comfort in her amiable invitations for a movie night, a dog walk, or something as simple as a quiet talk while each of them did their laundry in the building’s basement.

Tonight was different for Riley, as it had been Simon’s idea for them to share the evening together, excitement bubbling in her stomach at their new found companionship. She spent her work days longing for their moments together, when she would come home to find he had prepared dinner and “accidentally” made enough to share, dropping by as soon as he heard her turn the key on her door. She noticed the recurrent acts of service with a soft, yearning heart when he took out his trash and offered to take hers as well, maintaining a neutral expression and shrugging awkwardly when she beamed at him and thanked him endlessly. 

A few days before, when she had invited him over for a hot cup of tea and cake, Simon had ended up washing the dishes, despite her constant protests, appearing nonchalant as he claimed he was just checking for leaks in the fickle plumbing.

Despite growing closer, the pair still maintained a set of respectful boundaries that assured their mutual trust: as Simon filled each of them a glass of wine, placing them on the coffee table along with the pizza, Riley knew she shouldn’t look as he removed his usual black facemask to eat, keeping her eyes on the screen as she made occasional remarks about the movie.

“I can’t believe you like this.” She laughed as the dramatic musical unfolded, cheesy and cheerful songs filling the dimly lit flat. “Big old broody man enjoying Abba songs in a rom com.” 

“It’s entertainin’.” He grunted as he grabbed another slice of pizza, trying to ignore how close they sat to each other under the blanket, her feet up and near his muscled thigh. Simon’s phone buzzed and he quickly grabbed it with his clean hand, reading the notification and stifling an affectionate smile.

He could almost feel how hard she tried not to stare, as well as ask about it, as she took another long sip of wine.

“Still interested in findin’ the pup an owner?” His deep voice made her snap her head at him on instinct, quickly looking away as she realized his face was still bare.

“Sorry.” She felt her cheeks heat, but Simon merely shrugged, eyes glinting as he put the mask back on. “Yes, I really can’t keep him trapped in such a small flat, let alone keep listening to Mrs. Parsons complain about the noise.”

“The old hag still botherin’ ya?”

“Every single day.” Riley sighed in defeat, running a nervous hand over her messy braid.

“My friend’s coming back from deployment in a few days. Might come visit and stay over to meet the dog, see how they get along.”

Riley felt her insides boil with something hot she tried hard to conceal. It wasn’t pleasant, and she felt ridiculous as she asked:

“Do you think she’ll be interested?” Her tone was almost casual enough that Simon didn’t pick up on her small trap. Almost. 

“I think he is very interested.” He made sure to drag out the pronoun and noticed her flustered expression, even as she kept her eyes on the screen. “He’s always wanted one.”

The young woman nodded silently and hummed to the music as she took another bite of her slice.

“Why’d you take on rescues anyway?” He asked, killing the awkward silence between them.

“They were gonna be put down! I couldn’t just let them die! Can you imagine being sentenced to death just because of undesirable traits or features?”

“I can. It was called the Holocaust, love.”

“Simon!” She scoffed, smacking him on the arm. 

He pretended it hurt, and she pretended he wasn’t funny.

***

Johnny MacTavish was a burly, five foot ten, crackling ball of energy that put any other force of nature to shame. With bright blue eyes, a questionable hairstyle and a barely understandable accent, the Scot appeared unaware of the existence of the very concept of shyness or social anxiety.

When Riley Thomas had opened her door on the next lazy Friday evening, in nothing but leggings and an oversized sweater, she found herself in the man’s bone crushing hug before she could even utter a simple “hello”.

“Christ…” She gasped, unable to process why, exactly, the stranger was so excited to see her, until she peeked over his shoulder and saw Simon leaning against the hallway, arms crossed as he rolled his eyes at the scene.

"There ya are lass" he cheerily put her down, and the young woman discreetly gasped for breath, laughing nervously at the unexpected display of affection. "I'm Johnny. I heard so much about ya."

"Did you?" She scowled at Simon "Unfortunately I can't say the same."

Simon's facemask covered his smirk.

"Aye, do not worry lass, I know Ghost can be an old grump"

Simon grunted in response and Riley quirked an eyebrow.

"Ghost?" She turned to Simon inquisitively, but he gave no signs of willingness to indulge her curiosity.

"Aye, it's his call sign becau-"

"Johnny" Simon warned firmly, and the Scot toned down a notch, nodding.

"Right...anyway lass, I thought we ought to invite ya to the pub with us tonight." His smile was so endearing she couldn't possibly refuse, despite looking down at her own clothes with a frown.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea you were coming today." She shrugged anxiously "I'd have to go get ready an-"

"That's alright! Wouldn’t want to steal yer night with him. We'll wait, won't we Simon?" He nudged the man with an elbow, his frame so much larger than Johnny's that it was almost comical.

Simon was silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the outcomes of what he was getting himself into, before looking her in the eyes and nodding once in approval.

“We wait.”

And that was how two hours later, the trio had ended up bumping shoulders at a packed bar in downtown Manchester, the two men always by her side. Riley glanced over her shoulder, amused by the view: it was like walking with a very intimidating Dobermann, alongside an overly excited and friendly golden retriever. Opposites in every possible way.

 Simon wore his casual black face mask and hoodie, along with denim jeans, his blonde locks handsomely swept back, the only indication he had made an effort to look better than usual, other than the smell of his expensive cologne that Riley kept discreetly trying to get whiffs of. The young woman had opted for a pair of her best jeans, the ones that didn’t yet look too washed up and hugged her curves just right, along with a warm, modest top that didn’t reveal too much cleavage, covered by a faux leather jacket.

Simon quirked an eyebrow at her gaze, silently challenging her to say something, to which she giggled, flushing slightly as his hand lightly nudged her lower back to steer her into the right direction. The three of them ended up sitting on a corner booth, after venturing to the counter to fetch their drinks: for Simon, a bourbon, for Riley, a gin, and for Johnny, a massive pint of beer that would make him carry his weight in piss in half an hour.

“I gotta say, you’re a bonnie lass.” Johnny was slurring out by the time the fifth pint was half way gone. By then, Riley was feeling tipsy from her own alcohol, her cheeks flushed as she giggled at Johnny’s predicament.

“I’m gonna pretend I understood what you just said.” She lazily twirled the straw on her third drink, playing with the ice at the bottom of the glass.

Simon rolled his eyes, the bourbon barely warming up his blood,  but there was a glint of affection in his eyes as he countered “Easy, McTavish.”

“Don’t lose yer wits, Simon, just trynna’ help you remember how to treat a lass.” He leaned forward, confiding in Riley “Did ya know he hasn’t gotten laid in-”

“Sergeant.” A low growl in warning as Riley pressed him on, curiously.

“Go on! Now I wanna know!”

“No ya don’t.” She could almost swear she saw him blush under that mask.

“I can’t count the months on me fingers, I’ll tell you that.” Johnny lifted his hands playfully, and Simon glared at him, a silent threat ever present as his dark eyes squinted at him.

Riley roared with laughter, her dimples more noticeable than ever.

“Months? Those are rookie numbers. I haven’t gotten laid in four years.” She drunkenly blurted out, and Simon stiffened by her side, as Johnny choked on his drink. 

“What? How’s that possible?” The Scot coughed as the young woman shrugged, amused by his reaction.

“I don’t go out much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people much.” She avoided his gaze shyly, downing the rest of her gin “Plus, I work a lot.”

“Ya’ two are a match made in heaven.” He pointed out, ignoring Simon’s scowl and her playful eye roll.

“Cheer up Simon Riley, yer best friend is back and ya have a lovely lady by your side.” The Scot taunted before downing the rest of his pint.

Riley Thomas halted, looking up at the broody man sitting by her side, eyes glassy and sleepy as her drunken mind tried to comprehend what she had just heard.

“Wait…Simon Riley? Your last name is Riley?” Simon sighed deeply before looking her over, grunting in agreement.

The young woman chuckled to herself, leaning her head playfully against his muscled arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s hilarious!” Simon stifled an amused smile as he pretended to dodge from her touch. “Do you realize…” She poked his chest with her pointer finger “Do you realize that if we ever got married I’d be called Riley Riley?”

“That’s exactly why.” Simon retorted, rolling his eyes for the millionth time since the beginning of the day, but he felt himself buzzing at her words, at the fact she had considered, even if just for a moment, even if just playfully…

 For a moment, he found himself lost in her inebriated gaze. The droopy eyelids, the soft smile dotted by those damn dimples. The chipped tooth that always caught his attention, and the way she was leaning against his arm made something warm bubble in his stomach. She looked up at him so innocently, so curiously, that for a split second he almost forgot his best friend was right across the table.

“Get a room!” He taunted, almost breaking Simon’s usual stoic expression. “Save tha’ for later. Now we need shots!” 

“You’re a sip away from death, mate. I’d call it a night.” 

“But I haven’ even told her the Al Mazrah story!”

“And it’ll stay that way if ya want to live.” Simon threatened, and Riley perked up once again, eyes glimmering with humor.

“Tell me right now!”

“Imagine this, lass: scorching heat of the Middle East…”

“Soap.”

 “A food poisoned Simon on a sniper recon mission, no toilets in sight-”

“I’ll smack ya so hard I’ll turn that mohawk into a fade.” 

The young woman had tears rolling down her cheeks as she roared with laughter, picturing the situation so clearly she was out of breath.

“Away n’bile yer heid!” Johnny retorted at Simon’s threat.

“English, Mctavish.”

“Sorry L.T. Let me translate… “Go fuck yourself.”

“Much better.”

***

It must have been four in the morning when Riley Thomas felt herself being carefully placed on a familiar couch, strong arms under her back and legs. She felt so dizzy she knew it would be over if she so much as lifted her head, opting to remain still as Simon’s comforting scent temporarily disappeared. She could hear him guide a stumbling, barely conscious Johnny into his bed, not trusting the intoxicated man to sleep properly on his couch. 

When he finally returned, seemingly the only semi-sober one of the bunch, he once again reached down to carry her to her own flat in his arms, halting once he saw her open her sleepy eyes. Simon felt himself stiffen as she wrapped her arms around his neck clumsily, inhaling his neck deeply.

“You smell so good, Simon.” She slurred out, tone soft in his quiet, barely lit living room. He couldn’t move, unsure of how to react to the sudden affectionate touch, hands holding his weight on the couch.

“You need to sleep, love.” He muttered gently through his face mask, giving her shoulder blades a quick rub through her jacket and hoping she would free him from the awkward position.

“I’m fine.” She nuzzled further into the curve of his neck and he shivered, feeling the smell of her own perfume, mixed with alcohol and sweat.

“Riley…”

“Simon.” She let go of his neck, but forced him to sit down next to her, barely making out his face through the dim lighting and her blurred vision. “I…”

“Shhh. You’re sloshed.”

“I know, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“Let me get ya to your bed, yeah? Where are your keys?”

She had never heard him speak so softly, in such a caring, gentle way. Her heart was beating furiously, as deep, joyful warmth spread through her stomach when she looked at him. At his half covered face, dark eyes framed by blonde lashes that she found so endearing.

She silently moved closer, reaching over his lap and turning off the only source of light from a small table lamp. She heard him release a shuddering breath, his large hands gripping the couch for dear life. Riley placed a cautious hand on his shoulder in the dark, to guide herself into slowly straddling his muscled thighs, careful enough to sit closer to his knees, instead of his groin.

Simon Riley’s heart thudded so hard against his chest he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, his body frozen into place, nervously awaiting her next move.

Riley’s trembling hands reached up ever so slowly, fingertips trailing a curious path over his soft blonde locks, down to the crease on his forehead, the perfect arch of his eyebrows, all the way to his strong nose, where her finger locked in the black mask. Unmoving and barely visible, she was unsure of his reaction, as she slowly began pulling it down.

“Do you mind?” She whispered, so close their breaths mingled. 

“Hm.” Was all he could mutter, but one of his hands gently gripped her hip, steadying her in his lap. His thumb circled the small patch of exposed skin on her waist, where the top almost met the jeans.

She continued her ministrations leisurely, giving him enough time to stop her if he wished. But he didn’t, and her finger pulled his mask all the way down to under his chin, where she felt the stubble. Riley could barely breathe, doing her best to contain her excitement as her cold fingers trailed his face in the dark.

She felt the contour of his lips, slightly chapped as her thumb parted them tentatively. The raise of a scar, that seemed to have been carved all the way to the jaw, where she rubbed slow, careful circles lovingly. She felt his trembling breath on her flushed skin, the sounds of her faux leather jacket as she moved about, the only noise in the room. 

Riley placed a tender kiss on his cheek, feeling embarrassed as she felt the warmth that immediately soaked her underwear once her skin came in contact with his. The mixture of alcohol and desire in her blood seemed to burn, making her ache with longing as she kissed his nose, his forehead, and then his other cheek, until she was trailing his strong jaw, the stubble tickling her lips.

“Riley…” He muttered, their mouths so close she could almost drink in his words.

“Please.” She begged in a silent whisper, joining her forehead to his, hands cupping his face tenderly. 

His other hand held an iron grip on the couch, not letting up.

“You’re drunk.” He whispered back, teetering on the edge of self-control.

“I need you.” She replied, her lips ghosting his in the dark, skin almost grazing. She began moving her hips lower towards his groin, but although Simon had held his breath at the confession, his heart hammering in his chest, he finally gripped both of her hips firmly, keeping her away from the raging boner she would have found.

“I can’t, love.” He murmured softly, hoping she would understand.

“Please Simon.” She clumsily tried to fight off his grip, eager to press her aching body to his. “I need you so bad.”

Simon bit his lip so hard he was surprised he wasn’t bleeding as he did his best to keep his fraying sanity through her tender pleas.

He knew he was done for if he felt the softness of her lips, her wet tongue and the grind of her hips against his rock-hard shaft.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

“I’m so wet.” She admitted, and he felt the crease of her frustrated frown against his own, words coated with need and shame. He sighed deeply, his bruising grip on her hips tempting him to just pull her into him. He could feel himself pulse in his briefs, so painfully hard.

“Four years is a long time.” He grunted softly.

“I know.” She practically whimpered.

“You’re very drunk, love. You can barely stand upright.”

“But-”

“Riley.” She stilled at his commanding tone. “I’m taking you to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow once you’ve rested up, yeah?”

Her shoulders slouched in defeat, the rejection still stinging as she placed another kiss to his cheek before muttering:

“Okay.” 

A/N: I'm back! And I managed to bring my work laptop home, which (hopefully) means quicker updates! :) Once again thank you to everyone reading and keep that feedback coming - seriously, it keeps me going. The slow burn is finally burning and the next chapters are gonna be spicy.

TAG LIST (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone)

@xaestheticalien @bossva @missmae3004 @yyiikes @lillysfrogsandbogs @missmae3004 @spicyspicyliving @shuttlelauncher81 @generaldestinychild @semendreaminsblog @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @iloveghost900

#ghost cod #ghostxreader #ghost imagine #cod #simon riley imagine #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #modernwarfare2 #neighbor!ghost #TGND

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

ok so since rollos birthday is feb 2nd and i am now declaring that amyis birthday is valentines day (i didnt give him a b-day before lmao) what if they do like a mini party for rollos birthday like a small cake and a couple gifts but for valentines day is when they go all out

like imagine them going to dinner at a rlly fancy place that amyir paid for and just having the sweetest, most romantic time

oh and also they rented a room at said hotel and had a very *rough* night which led to rollo + giles not being able to walk for like three days and being covered in hickies, bruises and scratch marks everywhere

long ask but can I actually get hcs on their *spicy* evening?

OOOOooooooooo~

I love the fact we have an official birthday for our little choir boy of the bell tower~!

As it is his very special day, let's get messy~

Rollo's birthday starts off rather mellow and simple as you mentioned, coffee bakery trip for breakfast and gifts from everyone

If this was in the Kalim Harem AU then everyone video called with him during breakfast and again right around late afternoon where the three are going to catch their dinner plans, gifts were sent by them that either came in time or will show up the next day

Though Rollo was a touch confused as to why Floyd purred "Have fun Flathead Gray Mullet~"

But nevermind that, dinner!

The place was lovely and the night sky was perfect!

Though Rollo was a touch curious as to why his lovelies text him letting him know they're here but he can't see them

Then, the lights dimmed...

Soft plucks of strings happen as a single candle fueled spot light shined to the small stage to show Giles and Amyir standing there

Then they began to dance close together, like a ballet of sorts, their story told based of their movements and while Giles sings

Giles is dressed like this-

While Amyir is dressed like this

As the temp sped up the two took the air and began to dance up there in twirls and soft smiles

As the song was coming to an end, the two landed by Rollo's table and gave him each a kiss as the restaurant's chef brings over a gourmet chocolate cake

Rollo was a bashful red mess over the surprise and the three enjoy the rest of their night so far, especially happy to see Giles showing off his wings without fear.

Then as Amyir got the bill he gave them a wink as he spoke, "How about we go to the hotel now and make the night more fun~?"

The trio were barely in the hotel room for more than a minute before hands and lips were already all over each other and clothes were decarded and forgotten on the floor

Amyir picked Rollo up and brought him to the bed like a princess being rescued, giggling at his red cheeks already

Giles and Rollo were first, Amyir just wanted to watch the two crumble in lust and passion before he tapped in.

Doesn't mean he didn't help~

Giles was panting and moaning at the feeling of Amyir touching and groping at his wings from behind, flustered as hell at Rollo's eyes of awe on him

"You like it~? Arie told Ester and Ester blabbed to me~" The demon cooed as he stared at Rollo watching as his childhood friend turned lover gets very hot and bothered over the pets of his wings that puff out and tremble

After Giles and him were done, Rollo didn't have much room to breath before Amyir already was going down on the lad much to his shock

It only got worst when the two held up two velvet fabrics to bound his hands together and cover his eyes

The sounds of the bed rocking, loud pants and moans, skin against skin, and animalistic growls were all Rollo could hear as he dives deeper and deeper into the black abyss that covered his eyes as pleasure wrecks him apart into tears

The feeling of harsh grips, scratches, bites, and smacks of his legs and buttocks was all he can feel, the bedsheets was barely even there in his mind

Rollo was now seeing white in his vision as Amyir takes him from behind a third time, legs shaking, throat hurting and voice close to hoarse with how much wails he lets escape

The next thing he remembers was waking up the next morning sore and speaking in a very soft whisper, laying beside him naked is a equally (honestly very less) bitten up Giles who smiled sleepily at him

"Morning our angel~" he giggled, rubbing the white hair on top of Rollo's head

Rollo snuggled his cheek into that warm palm and asked, "What happened last night?"

Giles giggled again, a yawn leaving bruised lips from kissing one could guess, "You passed out after round five and Amyir took you to the bath for aftercare, then he snuggled you in here, took me up to aftercare as well, then we fell asleep together."

Amyir showed up with breakfast in hands and a smile on his face as the two snuggle up together recovering from morning air and the soft sting of pain, kisses ready for who ask for them

#twisted wonderland #rollo flamm #rollo flamme #twst oc #twst amyir #giles pierre #twst giles #amyir x giles #rollo x amyir #giles x rollo #amyir x rollo x giles #spicy ramen

[menuandprice]

Gloria Jean’s Coffees Menu With Prices

Gloria Jean’s Coffees menu with prices may slightly vary according to your nearest location. The menu of Gloria Jean’s Coffees is taken from Chicago, US. We have updated the prices of Gloria Jean’s Coffees menu from 1st March, 2023 onwards. For the accurate prices, you might have to look for the menu of your nearest Gloria Jean’s Coffees outlet from its official website, android app, or iOS app, or any other food delivery app. Gloria Jean’s Coffee menu with prices offers American classics, nitro, coffee over ice, European classics, mocha chillers, and smooth espresso chillers. You can also order eggs and sandwiches, wraps, salads, and much more alongside the coffee. A good coffee at the restaurant will cost you $4. But this information is not enough. Find the menu with prices, franchise details, contact information and nutritional information. Before you proceed with the menu check out the history. Gloria Jean’s Coffees is an American-Australian coffee chain. It was founded by Gloria Jean’s Kvetko in 1979 in a small town near Chicago. Till then, the brand has managed to open more than 1000 coffee stores.

Gloria Jean’s Coffees Menu With Prices

Gloria Jean’s Coffee menu includes a wide selection of coffee drinks that are ultimate chocolate, mint chocolate bomb, mocha truffle, caramel mocha, and many more. Their best-sellers are cinnamon flavored coffee, chocolate flavored coffee, vanilla flavored coffee, and nuts and caramels flavored coffee. Besides coffee and beverages, Gloria Jean’s menu also include turkey dishes, grilled cheese, pastries, cakes, cookies, muffins and many more items. You will relish the other food items offered on the Gloria Jean’s Coffees menu like eggs and sandwiches, wraps, salads, and much more. One of the biggest reasons why people love to visit Gloria Jean’s Coffee is that you can work with no disturbance and the atmosphere is very relaxing and calm. On top of that, the menu prices of Gloria Jean’s Coffee are reasonable when compared to other coffee brands and lie between $3 to $8. Get familiar with the detailed list of Gloria Jean’s menu prices. Apart from the menu prices, find the important links to order your favorite food online from Gloria Jean’s Coffees. Fresh Brewed Menu With Prices Brewed Coffee$ 1.99Red Eye$ 2.59Hot Teas $ 1.99Americano$ 2.59Cafe Au Lait$ 2.59 Also, check out the official Braums menu with prices. Hot Classics Menu With Prices Cafe Latte$ 3.39Cappuccino$ 3.39Chai Tea Latte$ 3.39Hot Chocolate$ 3.09Espresso$ 1.79 Specialty Hot Lattes Menu With Prices Tuxedo Mocha$ 3.99Caramel Latte$ 3.99Creme Brulee Latte$ 3.99Caramel Turtle Latte$ 3.99Cafe Mocha$ 3.99White Chocolate Mocha$ 3.99Matcha Creme Brulee$ 3.99Madagascar Vanilla Latte$ 3.99 Also, read the complete Burgerville menu with prices. Iced Classics Menu With Prices Iced Coffee$ 2.99Cold Brew$ 2.99Iced Americano$ 2.99Iced Teas$ 2.99Iced Tea Lemonade$ 3.09Iced Latte$ 3.89Iced Chai Latte$ 3.99 Iced latte Specialty Menu With Prices Iced Cappuccino$ 4.99Iced Creme Brulle$ 4.99Iced Matcha (Unsweetened)$ 4.99Iced Crazy Coconut Chai$ 4.99Iced Caramel Coconut Macadamia$ 4.99Iced Mocha$ 4.99White Chocolate Mocha$ 4.99 Also, check out the official Salt and Straw menu with prices. Fruit Chillers Or Smoothies Menu With Prices Mango$ 4.99Strawberry Banana$ 4.99Raspberry Coco Flow$ 4.99Hawaiian Punch$ 4.99 Espresso Chiller Bar (Blended Ice) Menu With Prices Creme Brulee$ 4.99Mocha Java Voltage (Extreme- Coffee)$ 4.99Mint Chocolate Bomb$ 4.99Chocolate Caramel Turtle$ 4.99Caramel Coconut Macadamia$ 4.99 Also, read the full Blake’s Lotaburger menu with prices. Cookie Chiller Bar (Blended Ice) Menu With Prices Cookies’ N Creme $ 4.99Cookie Crumble (No-Coffee)$ 4.99White Chocolate Caramel Cookie$ 4.99 Also, check out the updated Heine Brothers’ Coffee menu with prices. Specialty Chiller Bar (Blended Ice) Menu With Prices Red Velvet Cookie$ 4.99Pistachio Creme $ 4.99Madagascar Vanilla Caramel$ 4.99Matcha Creme Brulle $ 4.99Chocolate Caramel Avalanche (No-Coffee)$ 4.99 Also, read the official Cherry Berry menu with prices. Extras Menu With Prices Shot$ 1.00Extra Shot$ 1.00Alternative Milk$ 1.00 Also, read the complete Cold Stone Creamery menu with prices. Loaf Menu With Prices Marble$ 3.00 Also, check out the latest Farrell’s Ice Cream and Restaurant menu with prices. Muffins Menu With Prices Chocolate Chip$ 3.00Banana Nut $ 3.00Blueberry Crumb$ 3.00Cranberry Orange$ 3.00 Also, check out the complete Bakers Delight menu with prices.

How To Order Online From Gloria Jean’s Coffees ?

You can order food from Gloria Jean’s Coffees by referring to their official website, android app, or iOS app, or any other food delivery app. To order food from Gloria Jean’s Coffees online, you can also refer some of the leading food delivery service apps like Doordash, Grubhub, Seamless, Postmates, and UberEats. We have shared the detailed screenshots that shows how to order food online from Gloria Jean’s Coffees. Finding The Latest Gloria Jean’s Coffees Menu With Prices Of Your Nearest Location 1. Open the UberEats and place the order online from Gloria Jean’s Coffees.

2. Add the location of any nearest outlet of Gloria Jean’s Coffees.

3. Once you add the location, the complete menu will be displayed.

Gloria Jean’s Coffees Nutritional Information

Nutritional Informationgloriajeanscoffee.com/nutrition To check the nutritional information of the items present on the Gloria Jean’s Coffees, you can visit the link mentioned above.

Gloria Jean’s Coffees Franchising Details

Gloria Jean’s Coffee has more than 1,000 coffee cafe locations in 39 locations in all over the world including 460 in Australia and it has more than 900 employees in their franchise and if you want to buy their franchise it is their cost. Name Of FeePricesInitial Franchise Fee$ 7,500 – $ 15,000Real Estate (Rent And Security Deposit)$ 6,000 – $ 15,000Leasehold Improvements$ 60,000 – $ 215,000Equipment, Furniture And Fixtures$ 61,000 – $ 143,000Signage$ 5,000 – $ 20,000Professional Design Fees$ 5,000 – $ 10,000Point Of Sale System $ 3,800 – $ 10,000Initial Coffee Inventory$ 2,400 – $ 6,000Other Initial Inventory And Supplies$ 4,500 – $ 6,500Grand Opening Fee$ 5,000 Training Expenses$ 3,500 – $ 8,000Miscellaneous Opening Costs$ 5,000 – $ 12,500Additional Funds (3 Months)$ 10,000 – $ 30,000Estimated Total$ 178,700 – $ 496,000 Royalty Fee6% Of Gross Sales

Gloria Jean’s Coffees Contact Information

Gloria Jean’s Co-operative Office Address: Gloria Jean’s Gourmet Coffees 14071 Stage Rd., Santa Fe Springs, CA 90670 Gloria Jean’s Co-operative Office Phone Number: 1-877-320-JAVA Gloria Jean’s Co-operative Office Email: [email protected]

Important Links 

Official Websitegloriajeans.com/Menugloriajeans.com/pages/our-menusAboutgloriajeans.com/pages/about-1

Social Media Handles

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Frequently Asked Questions Related To Gloria Jean’s Coffee

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[keaywrites]

2. Baking (together?)

Sometimes baking christmas cookies is perfect to get into the holiday spirit. Sometimes you do it because you already are in the holiday spirit.

Sometimes you do it because you work in a restaurant as a waiter and you want to show everyone that you can bake better than them - which is also the reason why you regularly bring cakes and pies to work with you.

So you spend the 8 hours you have between shifts with baking instead of sleeping. But everyone loves your cookies and cakes and pies and that's enough reason to do it. So you make a rather simple dough, which isn't actually that simple because one of your coworkers has a bunch of food allergies so you have to make it gluten- and lactose free. Now you have to look up a glutenfree recipe because you can't just use glutenfree flour for a normal recipe.

So you make your dough and put it in the fridge. After that you clean the entire kitchen and start with the next dough. The one you told yourself last year that you'll never make it again because it's a pain to make and roll out. But no one makes those cookies - because of said reasons - which means everyone will love you if you do.

After putting that dough in the fridge you look up at your kitchen clock and realize that it's already after midnight. You should really get some sleep, so you put your flour stained clothes in the washing machine and immediately regret it because you could've put those clothes on for finishing the cookies tomorrow. Oh well, now it's too late.

After just four hours of sleep you get up to finish your cookies, because you only have about three hours left until you have to go to work.

You get your doughs out of the fridge and make some coffee. When you're done with that it's time to knead that dough once again and roll it out. After rolling it out you realize that you did not put flour onto your table so you scrap that dough off there and do it again.

After two hours and seven trays full of cookies you are feeling a mix of accomplishment and exhaustion. You swear to yourself to never do this again, knowing full well that you'll do the same thing next year.

At work everyone loves your cookies and compliments you, so you make another batch that same night because half of your colleagues weren't in today.

This may have been how my last two days have been going. I will not share the cookie recipe that's an absolute pain to make but I WILL share the easier one because the cookies actually turn out delicious and I'm proud of them.

For the dough you need:

375g of gluten free flour (preferably corn based)

125g of powdered sugar

250g of butter (I used vegan butter, works just as good)

2 egg yolks

1 teaspoon of xanthan gum

1/2 teaspoon of baking powder

a bit of salt

Just mix all of that with your hands until you get a dough. It's going to take forever. Don't worry if the dough seems too crumbly. If you can make a ball out of it without it falling apart immediately that's enough.

Put it in the fridge for at least 4 hours (just leave it there over night)

Roll it out (put flour underneath) and use whatever cookie cutters you want. I like to use small ones and make little holes in half of them with even smaller cookie cutters (you'll see why in the picture)

Put them in the oven for a few minutes. They're done when they're still pretty pale but just a tiny bit darker than when raw. You'll know what I mean.

You can use some raspberry jam (or any other kind) and rum to stick them together (cook them both together first) put some powdered sugar on top and you're done. Theyre absolutely delicious and everyone will love you for bringing them to work with you.

#I wrote something completely different at first but I didn't have any ideas so... yeah #have this recipe #writing ideas #writing prompts #writing prompt #holiday prompts #christmas cookies

[batmads-ao3]

Written in the Stars

After Yakov decides to take a break from coaching skating to focus on his crumbling relationship with his wife and soulmate, Lilia, Victor is forced to move away from his beloved home rink to Detroit so he can begin training under Celestino Ciandini. With his young friend Yurio in tow, they befriend their new rink mates and are quickly folded into a new little family unlike any Victor has had before.

Soulmates!AU • College! AU (kinda) • Slowburn

Read Chapter Fifteen here!

In which Victor and Theia discuss the nature of soulmates, Victor wholly rejects the idea that Yuri could be his soulmate, and Yuri makes music with his body (while skating).

Posting every day at 5:00, chapter preview below the cut

Everyone was there waiting for Victor at the airport, complete with balloons and confetti. If it had been anyone else, Victor would have been surprised, but when he saw them, he just laughed. How so typically like them to go over the top for him. To be even more excited about everything than he was. They truly were the family he had always needed. Naturally, they went straight to Colonel’s afterwards, where Donald had prepared quite the cake (this, of all things, was a surprise. Victor considered Donald to be capable of many things, but making gourmet cakes shaped like a gold medal draped set of ice skates was not one of them).

The cake was fantastic, as was to be expected of all of Donald’s cooking, and the group of them stayed crowded around their table far longer than Donald normally would have let them. They celebrated. And for the first time, Victor allowed all that he had accomplished hit him not as some brief points of interests on the way to a big finale, but as something great on his own.

He smiled. He laughed with his friends. He ate a good quarter of his cake in one sitting. Afterwards, Yuri and Patrick predictably wandered off while Victor tried his best to not think too hard about where they were going and what they were going to do. Theia dropped Phichit off, then Yurio, and then they were idling outside of Victor’s apartment. He summoned the courage to ask her to get coffee with him later in the week just as he was climbing out of the car, and while Theia quirked her eyebrows in interest, she finished saying her goodbyes to him calmly before driving off.

But that was Theia. She took everything in stride. And now, if she thought he was beating around the bush at things while they sat together at the back table in Graeme’s she didn’t comment on it. He was still working up the nerve. Bravado, he was good at. Flashy misdirection from what he harbored in his heart of hearts was second nature to him, after all. But this…this required sincerity. Honesty. And that was harder. It required something he wasn't sure he had. He knew he didn’t have to tell her, after all. She probably guessed. And Chris had already gotten him to admit it to himself. He didn’t need Theia to help him work through his thoughts and feelings because he knew what he thought and felt. He didn’t need to share the secret because he already had. Still, though, he wanted to tell her, even if he couldn’t explain just why to himself. Maybe because she was so deeply involved in the situation. Maybe to ask her to be a buffer. He didn’t know. But he couldn’t keep running away from it forever.

���So no one has seriously ever done this before, ever?” she asked.

Victor nodded. He’d been killing time telling her about his goals for the season, winning Worlds now that he had the Grand Prix title and the European Championships claimed. He was also aiming to set some records while he was at it, but that was secondary. Records could be broken, and maybe later skaters would pull this off as well, but still. he would be the only one with the claim of “first” on this run if he succeeded.

Theia nursed her tea appreciatively. “You can do it,” she said. “I don’t know much about skating, but I know you, and if anyone can pull it off, you can.”

“Thanks,” Victor said.

Continue on Ao3

#yuri on ice fic #yuri on ice #yoi fic #yoi #victuuri fic #victuuri #Yuri!!! on ice #victor/yuri endgame #victor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #phichit chulanont #yuri plisetsky #christophe giacometti #makkachin #celestino cialdini #yakov feltsman #mila babicheva #does include oc's #The read-along continues! #written in the stars #defy the stars #defy the stars trilogy #posted fic

[gretavandutchy]

a kind stranger | one

{josh kiszka x fem!reader} fake it til you make it collection: phase one!

summary: a stranger in a bar comes to your rescue by pretending to be your boyfriend, but the ruse quickly takes on a life of its own.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: language, creepy men/exes, alcohol, brief descriptions of alcoholism/violence, one mention of blood/assault

You really should have known better than to go to the bar you used to frequent with your ex, Joseph, by yourself.

For years The Styx had been your stomping grounds. All through college and up until the end of your relationship with the man who'd single-handedly destroyed your faith in the male species, you'd frequented the little hole-in-the-wall establishment. In fact, you'd become such a regular, the owners knew you purely by the scent of your perfume alone--Antoinette didn't even have to turn around and see you to know you'd arrived.

Every weekend, every hard day, every night for celebration... they were all spent at The Styx, and damn it all if you were going to let Joseph ruin one more thing for you. He'd already ruined cheesecake, and Christmas music, and road trips. The Styx was your thing, and you refused to let him take that away from you.

You should have known he would feel the same.

Two years prior, the two of you had met in that very bar. He'd been different then; a polished, clean-cut man with a killer smile that easily charmed you. He was older, with an already established life and career, and something about him had drawn you in like a moth to a flame. For a while, you'd thought it was the sense of stability and security he offered, but oh, how things changed.

Somewhere around the one-year mark, Joseph had lost his job, and things went on a steady decline from that point forward. It started with a reasonable desire to take his time in finding a job, and by the end of it all, he'd only managed to find a beer-gut and a DUI. You called it quits the moment he punched a hole in your drywall, and you hadn't looked back since.

A few months had gone by since he'd finally moved the last of his things out of your apartment, and things were looking up. Except, you'd had quite possibly the worst day of your life, and it only seemed to get worse with every passing moment. They say drinking to solve your problems is a bad idea, and you were definitely wishing you'd have listened.

It all had started early in the morning. You'd woken up to find the picture you'd hung to hide the fist-sized hole in your wall had fallen, courtesy of the drywall cracking and crumbling into an even bigger hole. Then, you'd discovered you were out of coffee on the one morning you'd managed to oversleep following a late-night tossing and turning for a reason you still couldn't pinpoint.

The saga continued with your favorite work pants tearing. And then, the cherry on top of the shit cake that was your day, your car broke down on the side of the road. So, now you were sitting on an egregious bill from Triple-A along with an even heftier repair bill that was sure to follow, a written reprimand for being late to work twice in one month, and somehow amidst the mess you'd dealt with you'd managed to lose your ID.

Sue me for needing a fucking drink on a Thursday evening, you'd thought to yourself, and that's how you ended up at The Styx. It was the one bar you knew, for certain, you wouldn't get carded. Antoinette's enthusiastic greeting had almost been enough to make your whole day better, and the free gin and tonic she slid down the bar into your hands certainly helped.

You saw a few familiar faces milling about, but none of them were more than passing acquaintances. None of your friends were out that evening, which wasn't a surprise considering they all (and you as well) were expected to work in the morning. The crowd was mostly college kids, courtesy of the college-town tradition of Thirsty Thursday, and you were happy to sink into the anonymity that came with being alone in a bar.

But, then you saw him.

Joseph stood next to the pool table at the far end of the room, and your heart nearly fell out of your pants. He was with a group of equally as greasy men, and if you hadn't seen what he'd turned into at the end of your relationship you'd never have believed it was him. Gone were the slacks and dress shirts, and he stood before you in a stained t-shirt and threadbare jeans that were equally as dirty.

As if he could sense your presence, he turned suddenly. Despite your haste to turn away and hide your face, you were caught--you could smell him before you could see him. He reeked of booze and sweat, and from the bloodshot in his eyes, you determined he was either stoned out of his mind or running on little to no sleep. The stench told you it was the latter, but you couldn't be certain with the lethargic pace of his movements.

"Well, well, well," he gruffed, "look what the cat dragged in!"

He stood far too close for comfort, although if you were honest, you wouldn't have been comfortable until you were certain he was gone. "Joseph." you greeted plainly, nursing your drink in an attempt to convey your distaste with his presence.

Like always, though, subtlety was not his strong suit. Joseph pressed further inward, wedging himself between yourself and the older man who'd slipped onto the stool beside you, and a chill ran down your spine as you could feel his breath on your face. He leaned against the bar, angling himself to block your view of Antoinette, and his opposite hand came down onto the back of your stool.

You were trapped, essentially, and the thought of it momentarily caused you to panic. "I haven't seen you around here in a long time, baby. Where've you been?" he crooned, and your eyes widened as he leaned in even closer. "Been hopin' we could catch up, sweetheart."

"I've been... around." you lamely answered, doing your best to avoid giving him any details of your day-to-day life, "Listen, Joseph--"

Your attempts to ward him off were thwarted as he spoke over you, the hand on the back of your stool drifting away from the cracked leather to brush over your bare arm, "You look tense, baby. Want me to buy you a drink like old times? I bet I could make you feel better, I always could."

His hand swept up into your hair, twisting a strand around his finger, and your breath caught. As his face dipped closer to your own, your entire body stiffened and your fight-or-flight response ramped up. "Don't touch me!" you snapped, slapping his hand away.

You winced as your hair caught on his fingernail, a few strands tearing away from your scalp, and he held his hands up in defense with a taunting laugh. "Come on now, sweetheart, don't be like that!" he cooed, "It's just me. No need to get all feisty."

He tried again to touch you, the same hand that had just ripped out your hair coming down onto your thigh far too high up to be considered publicly decent. You clawed at his hand, but his grip tightened to the point of pain, and you gasped, "Let go of me!"

Your nails cut into the skin on his hand, red welts instantly weeping a few drops of blood. Normally, you'd have been horrified--but you felt relief as he hissed and snatched his hand away in pain. It was short-lived. His eyes narrowed, and he growled, "You always were a fucking bitch."

The noise in the bar seemed to dial up to eleven, the overwhelming surge in volume coming in time with the rapid uptick in your heart rate. Your eyes were scanning your surroundings frantically, every muscle in your body geared up to make a break for it, when suddenly Joseph squared his shoulders and scowled over your shoulder instead of at you.

A warm hand slid along the back of your shoulders, and an arm wrapped around you and gently tucked you into a solid body. Soft lips pressed to your temple, and the smokey voice that followed greeted you sweetly, "There you are, mama, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

People always say that the eyes are the window to the soul. If you want to know someone's intentions, their spirit, their essence--it's all in the eyes. You'd never really believed the cryptic tale until you looked into those brown eyes.

Those brown eyes were like a life preserver in the middle of a stormy sea. Never before had you seen that man, not once in your life, and yet as you looked into his eyes you felt as if you'd known him for a million lifetimes. An old friend, a comforting face in a sea of strangers--you didn't know him, but at that moment, you knew him.

"Hey, honey!" you put on the performance of your life, wrapping your own arm around his back and gripping his white shirt like your life depended on it. If it hurt when your nails scraped his back, he didn't show it. His lips spread into a blissful smile that revealed startlingly white, perfect teeth, and you almost lost your train of thought simply from admiring his beauty. "I was just about to call you."

The kind stranger tucked you tighter into his side, and his free hand swept your hair behind your ear softly. "I hope you weren't waiting too long," he continued the charade, and his voice was so sweet and silky it nearly melted you into a puddle, "who's this?"

For a moment, you'd almost forgotten all about Joseph. The brown-eyed man with the chocolate curls who'd suddenly gathered all your attention had very nearly fooled you into thinking this was real. Your eyes flickered to your ex dismissively, and you were disappointed to find he remained wedged between your stool and the next.

It did please you, if only slightly, to see the frustrated pinch of Joseph's face. His cheeks were reddened from irritation at being ignored and rejected, and you did your best to seem un-bothered as you plainly introduced, "Oh, this is Joseph."

"Joseph!" the stranger repeated, loudly and with such a genuine tone of recognition you yet again found yourself believing the lie, "Right, you're the one she warned me about!"

Joseph was too drunk, or too angry, to pick up on the subtle insult of the stranger's remark. He did, however, seem to perk up at being acknowledged. His shoulders rolled back in an attempt to seem bigger, though you weren't entirely sure why.

The stranger who'd come to your rescue was short. His head matched the height of your own from where you sat in the high stool, and Joseph easily towered over both of you. The slight sway to his body, though, from his obvious intoxication did not aid in his ploy to appear threatening.

Before Joseph could think up something to say, most likely inflammatory in some sense or another, your savior was easing you off of the stool and further away from your ex. "Well, Joseph, I hope you have a good night, man!" he stated, "My girlfriend and I are gonna head out, though."

He didn't give the fuming man a chance to protest. The moment your feet hit the ground, he was leading you further into the bar and toward the rear exit with his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders to keep you from getting lost in the small crowd of people. You didn't turn back to see if he followed, despite the nagging fear of the possibility.

Your rescuer didn't let go of you until the heavy, exterior door to the bar closed behind you. Even then, he merely released his hold and slipped his hand down your arm in a comforting embrace as the adrenaline of your near miss caught up with you. All at once, the stress of what could have been washed over you, and your breathing became ragged.

Brown-eyes threaded his fingers between your own, and squeezed your hand gently as he let you take a moment to collect your feelings. He didn't say a word as you clutched his hand desperately, your other hand wiping under your eyes to catch the tears that burned at them. It wasn't until you sniffled and a quiet squeak, a broken sort of sound that only births from sheer terror, that he pulled you back into him.

His hug was tender, and despite not even knowing his name, you'd never felt so loved and protected. "I'm sorry--" you choked out, fully crying as your nose buried into the soft cotton of his crewneck, "you probably have better things to be doing, I don't even know why I'm crying."

"Hey, none of that," he soothed, "it's okay to cry."

For a few minutes, you stood in silence as you worked to calm yourself down. His hand rubbed slow, broad circles over your back and he swayed you back and forth, and his scent was above all incredibly comforting. He smelled like incense, and an earthy cologne with just the faintest spice that made you feel warm. Beneath it all was a trace of smoke, like cigarettes and something else, and god, what you would have given for a cigarette.

Eventually you did stop crying, but he didn't let you go until you peeled yourself off of him first. You wiped your face jerkily, scrubbing under your eyes and around your nose to dry the remnants of your breakdown, and you were relieved that you'd never had a chance to put on makeup that day. If you had, his shirt surely would have been ruined.

You cleared your throat and scuffed the toe of your shoe over the ground, the anxiety and stress fading away slowly to an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. This gorgeous man had had to rescue you, like some damsel in distress, and now he stood before you with a wet patch on his chest of your tears and snot.

"I'm sorry about your shirt." you mumbled shyly, and for the first time you heard his laugh. It was loud, piercing the quiet of the night, and just boisterous enough to make you startle. You liked it, though, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you watched his head fall back with the force of it.

"It'll dry," he waved his hand as if to brush the thought away, "if anything, I should be apologizing. I just kinda swooped in with no context, but--well, it just looked like you needed help, and that guy looked like a real asshole. I'm sorry if I overstepped--"

"No!" you spoke, surprising even yourself with how loud your denial was, "No, not at all. Thank you, you really saved me back there. I just froze like an idiot, and--"

The stranger really did not like you speaking badly about yourself, you realized as he interrupted again, "It's a natural reaction, don't beat yourself up. It's called fight or flight, but really it's fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. You're not an idiot for having a totally natural response."

You smiled, and he smiled back, and the silence that settled over the two of you was comfortable if only for a moment. Despite the events that had led the two of you to cross paths, you were a bit desperate to keep the kind stranger around, and only then did you realize, "Hey, what's your name?"

He laughed again, curls bouncing as he threw his head back once more, and he dragged a hand over his face bashfully as he realized you'd never introduced yourselves, too. "Josh, and might I learn my lovely girlfriend's name?" he teased, and you smiled probably a little too much at the faux title.

"(Y/N)." you introduced, and the handshake that followed was dramatic. Josh swung your arm up and down just hard enough to cause you to stumble, and you laughed as he rushed to stabilize you with a few muttered apologies.

This time, Josh didn't let the conversation settle into silence. He dragged his fingers through the small patch of hair at the base of his chin, and he seemed almost shy as he asked, "Well, (Y/N), should I walk you to your car, or can I buy you a drink?"

Pretending to think about it for a few moments, you felt giddy as his lips turned down in a subtle frown at the thought of you parting ways so soon. "I think I should be the one buying you a drink," you relented, grinning at the sight of the beaming smile that split his cheeks, "I have to repay you for being such a good boyfriend."

"How about we buy each other a drink?" he proposed, and you scoffed a laugh.

"Josh, that doesn't make any sense--"

"It does if you don't think about it!"

#josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka series #josh kiszka angst #josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka #josh kiszka au

[juminsmysticmc]

Hey again!

Same anon who had asked your name here. Ruka sounds like a really cute name btw. I also like anime and mangas, i haven't read much though.

My kpop phase ended and im kinda sad about it.

Also, I want to request a soulmate au where the name of your soulmate appears on your wrist the first time they touch you. I had thought of requesting this with mc and 707, but since jumin is your favorite character, you should definitely write this with jumin instead (if you can and you want to).

Ps. Love u a lot, you seem like a nice person

Saeyoung x Mc - Soulmate AU

Hey! Yes, do you know these memes where every letter has his own ,,letters in japanese’’ or ,,write your ninja name’’? Back then I saw such a post and I was pretty obsessed with anime and my full name would have been ,,Rukataki’’ according to my real name and that post. And somehow I shortened it to ,,Ruka-chan’’ and name myself like this ever since…same here, ever since GOT7 kinda disbanded everything crumbled T.T

And I decided to write Saeyoung instead of Jumin because I always choose Jumin and I thought for once I could choose someone else XD HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND YOU SEEM LIKE A NICE ONE TOO.

Update: I began writing a few sentences, read Mystic Messenger Wiki to refresh my mind about his route, and deeply regretted not choosing Jumin since he would have been much easier to write since I ALWAYS try to keep my stories based on the original game! But I got it.

,,You still haven’t found out who your soulmate is?’’ your friend asked you, rubbing her wrist as the name of her new boyfriend was on her wrist. She happily looked at the name of the man, touching every letter with her fingers before she looked back at you. ,,I…I think this whole soulmate stuff is kind of off… I don’t know, what is a soulmate for you? You had a boyfriend you loved and suddenly you touch someone else and leave your first love for a stranger! A soulmate - in my eyes - can also be someone platonic,’’ you told her. ,,I believe that you’re just jealous because you haven’t found your soulmate,’’ she hissed at you and perhaps she was kind of right. Maybe you were just unsure because whenever you had the feeling that you found the person you had a bond with, you always got disappointed. But you would never tell her, despite her being your best friend and knowing you the best. There was no way you could tell her your feelings. The feeling of being left out and alone…you wanted to believe that there was no need for you to search for your soulmate but that instead, the meeting itself would simply happen. Luckily, the both of you quickly changed the topic and could enjoy the remaining time of your afternoon, drinking coffee and eating the cake the both of you ordered. ,,It’s getting late. I should get back,’’ your friend suddenly said after she checked the time. ,,Tell me as soon as you’re back at home,’’ your friend asked you before she hugged you and left, leaving you alone. You were left behind with your thoughts, your eyes on your wrist as you slowly walked back to your apartment, not noticing that you took a different route. Your eyes were fixed on your wrist as suddenly a little tattoo shop caught your eye. You kept looking at the beautiful art on the skin of strangers and couldn’t stop holding your writing. Maybe you should get something tattooed on your wrist to not see if there was a name? But what if you someday wanted to see the name of that special person? ,,Beautiful lady,“ a woman approached you, surely not Korean as she had an accent. ,,What you‘re looking at are henna tattoos,“ she whispered. ,,They’re not forever, not bad for your skin, and will be gone after some time. We usually do this on women who are about to get married in my country. It's a beautiful thing to do to the happy girls before the wedding,“ the lady explained. Tattoos were actually not something used in Korea, but knowing that they would be gone after some time made you curious. ,,How much would it cost to not see my wrist because of the henna tattoo?“ you suddenly asked her. A few moments later you were sitting in front of the lady, your arm stretched out so that she could work as she softly was creating wonderful patterns on your skin. Dots and circles as well as patterns that seemed like flowers were drawn on your wrist with the black henna. The woman didn’t say anything about the fact that you put something on the place where the name of your soulmate was supposed to be written on, but you knew that she did her best to hide the whole spot… ,,It looks very good….’’ you chuckled to yourself, walking in an aisle Things changed quickly afterward. In fact, you found a phone and loving every human being and wanting to help them whenever they were in need, you agreed on returning the phone to the owner, entering a strange apartment and ending up living there. You entered a group chat with different people, who at first were totally suspicious about you. But who wouldn’t be under these circumstances? However, there was one person who caught your heart more than anyone else, despite you never meet that person. He could make you smile whenever his name popped up in the group chat. His jokes were sometimes tasteless and you had the feeling that he was more like a dork loving to tease others, but you couldn’t change the fact that you had the feeling that whenever he wrote something, your heart was beating quicker and more quickly. Five days later, when you were kind of on friendly terms with everyone, something happened. ,,How can the chatroom get hacked when he’s a hacker himself?’’ you asked yourself in the middle of the night as you were chatting with him and the woman called Jaehee. ,,So I guess I should ask Mr. Han to send everyone a bodyguard… but what about MC?’’ Jaehee asked, making your hands feel sweaty. You would be lying if you told them that you would be okay as you in fact were very scared already for the past five days. When Seven, however, said that he would have to go to your place as the address was still classified, you felt a bit happy for being under these circumstances. ,,Yey!! God Seven!!’’ you commented, chuckling to yourself and forgetting what it was all about. However, the happiness quickly quieted down after he confessed he would have to keep an eye on you through the CCTV as he still had some work to do… The time went by and you kept chatting with the member of the RFA, still not knowing what danger you would have to face soon enough. For now, however, you were getting worried over the maid at his place. The henna on your wrist was still visible as you wondered if under these circumstances you would ever be able to see a name on your wrist… ,,Again, a warning,’’ you sightened, but was quickly distracted by Seven and Jaehee chatting in the chatroom. Seven was working hard for you and you couldn't help but blush at his words. Earlier he called you, telling you that you would stay safe, however you still urged for his voice and his touch. ,,I knew it! I felt as if you were working for me every 2.35 seconds!!’’ you responded, laughing as you could imagine how Jaehee was feeling reading these messages. ,,Oh my God, he build a robot for me!’’ you gasped later on when he sent you a picture of the roboter which was supposed to keep you safe. Your cheeks were burning as you kept chatting with the both of them, feeling more than blessed. The day went on and evening came. Once again you were chatting with Seven and Yoosung, finding out that Seven planned on throwing out the robot, making you anxious. He denied that he had feelings for you, making you very sad, but knowing that he was still worried for you and that the others were sure that he had feelings for you, made you stay positive until he asked you to not get too curious about him. Seven suddenly pushed you away, making tears come up to your eyes as you still tried to be supportive. ,,Please don’t…’’ you begged, feeling hurt but trying to still show off your good mood in the chatroom. ,,Why is he so sad lately?’’ you wondered, trying to get him to come over to the place you were staying. The special security system has been activated. The special security system has been deactivated. The special security system has been activated. Afterwards things turned out even more complicated as all RFA members received some weird messages, beginning with Jaehee and followed by Zen. The two of you also chatted about Seven feeling low for those few days and how you wanted to get to know him better. Things quickly changed when Seven suddenly ordered you to stay in the apartment and when he warned you that something bad might happen to you and indeed something did happen. Moments later someone broke in, coming through the window. The white haired man confessed his sins and was ready to take you with him and he held you closely to him. In your mind all you could think of was Luciel, who promised to save you. And just when you were prepared to die, the man you were waiting for came in. The golden eyes caught your eyes and for a second you were in a trance. You had the feeling to flow, despite being in great danger. He was sweating as he was talking to the unknown person, calling him Saeran. You wondered if they both knew each other when suddenly the system was activated. ,,Get out of here, Saeran! It’s sensing a stranger! This place will blow up!’’ he hissed, making your heart skip a beat. Was this the way you were going to die? Luckily, however, with Seven’s help, you bit the stranger’s arm and quickly ran into Seven’s warm arms, holding you close to him. ,,Good…’’ he whispered as the countdown kept going. Only when eight seconds were left, the stranger called Saeran went out again, making it all calm down… ,,You shouldn’t get too involved with me,’’ the red haired man hissed at you after he just protected you from the Unknown person who tried to break in through the window, trying to kidnap you. You were still scared, frightened by what just happened. However, Luciel, the person you seemed to know and like, was a totally different person. He was cold and distant, always working on his computer and ignoring you. He was like a different person, and once again you felt sad. Sitting on the soft bed in that room you looked up, wondering if a soulmate was really a thing. Was there even a person like that? Your heart was aching, seeing Luciel sad and angry. However, seeing that he was keeping his distance showed you that there was no way that you could get close to him. At that point, you still didn’t know how wrong you were… Hours passed as all the members of the RFA were worried for you. You managed to calm them down and you also shared your worries about Seven as he was really mean to you. He wasn’t even eating with you, only constantly in rage and aggression. The person you first fell in love with seemed different as you observed him from afar. ,,Are you sure that you don’t want to eat? I ordered us chicken,’’ you mumbled after you just paid the delivery man. ,,I SAID YOU SHOULDN’T GET CLOSE TO ME!’’ he hissed, making you shiver. Tears slowly filled your eyes. ,,You even broke the cat… how can you change so much? Is it so hard to trust me?’’ you asked him and turned away. Although, you didn’t really have enough space to keep your distance. You only felt better after showering. The henna tattoo on your wrist was fully washed off by now. You looked at your wrist, seeing an unknown name when it suddenly hit you. ,,OH MY GOD!’’ you screamed, making Seven twitch, turning his head to you in horror. ,,I…I found my soulmate!’’ you giggled, immediately dialing the number of your best friend. You didn’t see how sad Seven suddenly looked and how disappointed he was in himself. Only when he heard the name you told your friend over the phone, a lot of things changed. ,,It’s saying ,,Saeyoung!!’’ ‘’ you laughed, making Seven turn his head over to you after you called out his name. The red-haired man's hands began to tremble, making him realize that you didn’t call him out but were still on the phone. ,,Huh? No, I… well, I had a henna tattoo on my wrist and actually could never see… what? Yes! I know it was stupid of me,’’ you said over the phone. Seven could see the smile on your lips as your fingers touched the letters of that name. ,,I don’t know who he is, but I guess it’s the delivery man from earlier!’’ you said. Seven quickly turned his head around, his eyes on his laptop as he slowly pulled up his hoodie, checking his wrist. ,,Mc…’’ he whispered, as your name appeared on his skin. He felt lucky and at the same time Seven feared the worst. You were the one, you were his soulmate, you were the one who was bound to be in danger because of him. He hated himself even more… Since that day, you ordered food from the same delivery three times a day. Seven on the other hand was very happy to hear that it was always the wrong person you were waiting for. Not even the other delivery men could tell you the name of the man who brought you food that evening. Seeing that you were still struggling at getting to know the man’s name, and finding out if Saeyoung was indeed his name, Seven used his chance to get closer to you, hiding the fact that he was your soulmate and that his name was Saeyoung. He guessed that on the day Saeran broke in and you ran into his arms, the names appeared on each other’s wrists. And he was quite lucky that you had a henna tattoo… Things changed and quickly the both of you came to become friendly with each other again. You even seemed to not care about the name of the delivery man. What surprised him even more was that you agreed on coming with him to save his brother after he confessed everything. ,,What will you do about your soulmate?’’ Saeyoung asked you, to make sure you were sure about this dangerous trip. ,,We’re soulmates. After all, we already found each other once, we will find each other again… besides, you are the one I fell in love with… my soulmate doesn’t have to be the person I have to have a romantic relationship with. He could also be my platonic soulmate,’’ you answered, warming up his heart. You were indeed the person he needed, the person he needed to get to know. The special one. The RFA too supported you. Despite them only knowing you for ten days, they forgave you for not being able to come to the party and were happy that you and Seven seemed to be on good terms again. And finally, they were also able to see a picture of you as you and Seven were on your way to saving Saeran, his twin brother. ,,We look like a couple,’’ you giggled, making Seven smile as he was driving. However, there was still something he had to confess to you. A new chatroom was opened where Seven mentioned that he didn’t want to have any secrets between the two of you anymore. ,,Do you want to know my real name?’’ Seven asked you. ,,Saeyoung,’’ he wrote, making you look up, your eyes meeting his. He was already observing your reaction as you tried to read his name over and over again. ,,Mc, my name is Saeyoung. Luciel isn't my real name… The name on your wrist is mine. Yours is on mine, actually,’’ he laughed. This trip would be a dangerous one, you knew, but you also knew that with him, your soulmate, everything would be alright….

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

11.04.2022 // 22:11 MEST

#jumin han #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung x mc #mystic messenger saeyoung #saeyoung fanfic #seven x mc #seven x reader #seven choi #mystic messenger seven #mystic messenger 707 #707 x reader #707 x mc #luciel choi #mystic messenger luciel #luciel x reader #luciel x mc #saeran choi #jihyun kim #Headcanon #Mm headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messeger headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #mm fanfic

[quillsareswords]

I keep my visions to myself

D. WAYNE X READER

SUMMARY: Damian has never loved simply, for short stints, or with restraint.

WARNINGS: vague mention of kids, mention of a wedding dress

MASTERLIST and REQUESTS in BIO

Damian Wayne rarely thinks in short-term. He plans his weeks on Sunday, decides what to wear the day before, sorts his belongings by easy of access, and makes his plans according to weather and atmospheric pressures and what he ate for breakfast.

He's all calculations and predictions. He expects everything so that he's ready for everything.

He wasn't ready for you. Not how weak your smile makes him, how safe he feels in your arms, or how easily he falls asleep next to you. He wasn't ready to have someone so important to him so early in life.

He's never loved lightly, either. From the moment he realized his feelings were reciprocated, he's been all in. If people really do feel emotion in specific parts of themselves, he feels his love for you everywhere. His arms tingle and his hairs stand on end when your hands skate up them. His chest melts and seizes and melts again when you stare him so lovestruck. His hands tremor just so slightly when they decide yours are too far away. His whole face is a puppet on strings tied up to tour fingers, betraying all will he has when you make him smile and laugh or crumble and wilt on your behalf. Even his knees go weak when you smile at him just right. But all that is for a different story.

He doesn't think in short-term. He thinks in permanent effects and affects. His brain winds through domino lines that race through time differently depending on the choices he makes, each decision knocking into the next. And these days, most of his dominos have your name on them.

He sees the future in every minute of the day. He makes predictions constantly, about the weather and which stores will be out if business and how annoyed he'll be by the end of the day.

And it's a future you're part of. Even some instances you don't entirely belong, the thought of you is hovering on the outskirts.

If he thinks of getting food or a coffee after class, he wonders if you'd like some too. If there's a chance of rain, he questions if you've got an umbrella (or if you'd like to share his). If he hears your favorite band, he's wondering if they'll be on tour soon.

You're visiting the Manor one random afternoon in early May. A long day of classes has you slinging your book bag to the floor of his bedroom and flopping down on his mattress. You're laying on your back, arms sprawled to either side, on a bare mattress before Damian had the chance to get the clean sheets back on. You flop down tiredly on a bare mattress with a long, relieved huff. All of a sudden, he's imagining you collapsing on a new mattress after a long day of stacking boxes, excited for the first night in your new shared apartment. Penthouse. A penthouse with tall ceilings and a big kitchen and an open floor plan and plenty of space for family to visit. Time resumes, and you ask why he's still standing by his bedroom door.

You're helping him remake the bed and he goes quiet when he starts thinking about making a shared bed on a random Saturday morning with you chattering on about what you might do with the rest of the day.

You link your am with his on a walk through the gardens behind the Manor and he accidently zones out halfway through a conversation about endangered species of plant because would that penthouse have space for a little garden? Window boxes, maybe? A balcony spotted with potted plants? Fresh herbs in the kitchen window?

One of your friends makes a joke about you being an old married couple at lunch and he spirals. Married catches him first. What kind of wedding would you have? What color scheme? How many guests? What flavor of cake? What time if year? What sort of venue? His heart just about explodes in his chest at the thought of you in a wedding dress. And then he's staring straight through his water glass while he daydreams about growing old with you—no matter how far fetched his current lifestyle makes it.

And there are thoughts and predictions he shoves aside. What your last wishes might be. What your will might say. How many people would turn up at your funeral. What kind of casket your family may choose—it would have to be the rest of your family, weather you were married or not; he wouldn't be able to bear it. If you'd cry at his funeral or if you'd do all your grieving in private.

But lord help him if he ever catches sight of you with a child in your arms. He could spend hours on that one.

But for all his daydreaming and non-committal planning, he's careful about how often he allows himself to really dwell on any of it. Mindful of how long he spends thinking about the long term.

After all, what's the future worth to him if you're dozing off with your head in his lap in the present?

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne blurb

[chubbology]

The Munchies

prompt: a stoner feedee's girlfriend uses him to test out new edibles and deals with his munchies

Remmy returned home from visiting relatives on the last day of December, and he was very glad to be back. They’d fed him well and his pants were tight, but all the small talk and bad vibes had been as much of a drag as usual.

He opened the door to his apartment and breathed in a familiar, potent scent.

“Baby!” Brianna ran from the kitchen and tackled him.

“Happy almost New Year! Wanna hear my resolution? Baking and getting baked. Check it out.”

She brought him over to the counter, where she was almost done filling up three containers of what Remmy had no doubt were various edibles. He ignored the kitchen mess.

“I’m liking what I see,” Remmy laughed.

She preened and then pinched his love handle. “I bet you do."

"These aren’t your typical brownies, though," she said. "This is gourmet.” She kissed her fingertips in a muah.

The first container was full of moist shortbread, the second with a kind of apple crumble dish that looked divine. Last but not least, the third had a jumble of what like peanut butter cups.

“Try something!” Brianna gushed. She seemed to be a little floaty already. “You’re gonna be my new taste tester. I think I could really be good at this. Make some cash, too.”

So Remmy tried one of the peanut butter cups. His eyes widened, and he smiled. “Bri, these are incredible.” He ate another.

“Take it easy. Two should get you stoned. So says the recipe anyway.” Brianna rubbed his pudgy forearm as he eyed the rest in the container, biting the inside of his lip. “Hey. If you’re just hungry, I can fix that. You wanna eat?”

“I’m starving,” Remmy said. A lie, since he’d had a big lunch before driving back. But he could eat.

“Okay, I’ll get you something! Pay day was Monday. Let’s splurge. What do you want?”

McDonalds, Remmy’s mind supplied easily, in an almost salacious tone. His relatives thought they were too good for McDonalds, and now his body thrummed with the desire to just get a truckload of those greasy combos and revel in the guilt and satisfaction of eating every last unhealthy bite.

Then again. Brianna probably wasn’t okay to drive right now, he didn’t feel like getting back in the car, and the scale told him he’d hit 240 recently, “Let’s just order in.”

“Sounds good to me.”

That night, as they ignored the idiots on television bringing in the New Year, the two of them picked at the apple crumble - which tasted as brilliant as Remmy had suspected - and lounged around, enjoying their high. Brianna barely touched her Chinese takeout, and Remmy ate all of his. Then hers. Then he started grazing the kitchen for more food.

Over the course of the next week, the two of them finished off the rest of what she made, plus some more recipes that turned out delicious. Brianna got a pleasant high every time, and Remmy enjoyed the edibles, too, although his experience was slightly different. It was just—

He just—

He got hungry. Munchies but on unholy overdrive. Cranked to eleven and a half. With every high, Remmy became a little more overwhelmed by the sheer amount of food he felt compelled to pack away, savory and sweet. Takeout and fast food and quarts of ice cream. Nuts and fruits, too. Jar of peanut butter here. Tub of icing there. He’d never been very active, so it came as no surprise when his clothes began stretching over his chest and belly and thighs and ass. He popped a button getting dressed one morning and couldn’t stop thinking about it the rest of the day. He hadn’t realized it would happen so quickly, his body converting all the calories into flab. Flab that padded him out chubbier than he already was, and then more on top of that. In the mirror, he started to look big.

Brianna seemed unfazed by her boyfriend’s growing girth. She took to her baking resolution with as much gusto as she did anything that interested her, and even into March, April, and May, she was selling the edibles well and raked in money that almost made her day job obsolete. Remmy was constantly praised for being “the bestest taste tester ever” and enjoyed a steady stream of free highs to balance out the lows of spending most of his time working his IT job from home.

Working, gaming, watching old movies. Remmy already stayed sitting most of the day, but as he gained weight, gained a lot, filling out his desk chair to its limits, crumbs becoming his constant companion, he felt even less like standing up. His weight climbed to 280, 290, 300.

June, July, and August passed uneventfully, and pretty happily, too. Brianna stopped asking him what food he wanted from the grocery store and just bought him things. Bought him things she knew he’d eat when he got high, things that made his ass spread wider on the couch, his arms round out like sausages, his pudgy chest start to really droop. The scale said 320, 330, 340.

Remmy gave up trying to gain control of the new appetite Brianna’s heavenly edibles seemed to install in him irrevocably. When he craved, he ate, and he ate. And like a dam breaking, his body surged with so much excess fat he began spilling out of even his newest clothes.

He was a little ashamed, sure. But quite a few of his relatives were fat, so they couldn't talk, and it felt like sweet revenge to embarrass his irritating parents by becoming so overweight. As for everyday life, well, he just moved around from room to room slower, wore the same stretchy clothes a lot, and that was it. Remmy did mention his weight in passing sometimes to gauge Brianna’s feelings about it, but Brianna only ever giggled, called him cute, and passed him her venti sugary monstrosity of a coffee concoction, which he thoughtlessly sucked down to the dregs, ingesting a thousand-plus calories just like that. This made her eyes sparkle, huge and utterly endeared.

“Like a piggy,” she said, thumbing his fat cheek. “Always willing to eat.”

In bed, she made it clear she liked him the way he was, and was becoming. And it wasn’t long before Remmy realized he was into how big he was becoming, too.

They continued like this. Getting high together and watching movies and making out and snacking. Well, Brianna snacked. Remmy feasted. Gorged himself, to put it precisely, with Brianna’s enthusiastic help. “You look good soft,” she’d tell him, playing with belly fat that his stretchiest t-shirts couldn’t cover anymore.

Remmy would swallow another bite of a snickers and spread his huge thighs a little, with effort. “You call it soft, but I’m the one who gets tired moving from the office to the kitchen.” I’m so heavy, he wanted to say. God, I’m so heavy.

“Just move your computer to the kitchen then,” she said. “Duh.”

It was a seed planted that came to fruition a month later - when Remmy’s food cravings became unmanageable and his weight climbed past 360 - that he felt he would simply be more productive during his day job if his breaks to get food from the kitchen were shorter.

By November, whether he was high or not, Remmy was grazing all day, everyday. What Brianna got from the store became insufficient, and he started a habit of ordering take out most days. In big portions. His scale creaked at 375. When Brianna wasn’t home, he sometimes ate takeout on the scale to see if the number would rise.

On Remmy’s birthday in early December, Brianna made a fresh batch of his favorites again: the peanut butter cup edibles. After ordering pizza for delivery, she got in the shower, and Remmy scarfed down three of the big cups as soon as they cooled. Then he waited, leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone, belly hanging, feet hurting. He didn’t want to go to the effort of sitting on the couch and getting back up again when he could just stay in the kitchen, where he knew he’d end up anyway.

He scratched his supple underbelly. Found a pack of Twizzlers and started eating those.

Soon enough, his breathing slowed as he felt the high slowly come over him. And, as expected, his whole body immediately began to tingle for satiation. Fattening food sung to him from the pantry and fridge and freezer all at once, and it was all going to make him so huge and heavy he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own wide feet, but he wanted it anyway.

He didn’t care if he was pushing 390 now. He’d blown up, yeah. Inflated from a thick guy to obese and waddling. At this point, he was so pumped so big with blubber that he couldn’t twitch without jiggling, but so what? He was hungry. Being high made him want to consume, and so he did. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

Remmy opened the fridge and took out his birthday cake, which Brianna must have stuck in there after getting home from work. He couldn’t wait to eat it properly. There was no way he could wait until after the pizza came. Besides, it was his birthday. Remmy took off the plastic lid of the round, triple chocolate cake and felt his nerves light up with anticipation. He was going to eat it all, and there was no stopping him.

He found a knife and cut himself a slice three times the size any reasonable person would take. Desperate to get the goodness into his mouth without delay, he skipped a fork and bit right into the gooey, dense cake and mouse and fudge. God, Brianna was so perfect for getting him the unhealthiest cake imaginable. She knew he didn’t care if he was ten pounds heavier tomorrow, if his fat ass ripped his sweatpants open, if he ate so much he couldn’t haul himself to bed—she knew he needed this.

He ate slice after slice, and it was mostly gone when Brianna got out of the shower, looking sexier than usual in her matching purple lingerie. She’d gotten chubbier with so much junk food in the apartment, and fat clung to her in all the right places. But her pudge was a far cry from his angry-red stretch marks and neck rolls. Hell, his moobs had grown bigger than her tits.

She found him in the kitchen, eating and holding his drooping belly, and she rubbed his back, cooing at him when he apologized.

“It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t be able to wait all night. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Remmy said, but all he could think about was getting his next bite. As she watched him, he tried to hold out. Tried to prove he could stop eating for two seconds. Three seconds, four - his resolve broke and he crammed the rest of a slice into his mouth and chewed, choking back a moan.

“You get the munchies so bad, don’t you?” Brianna grinned and leaned against his belly, patting and cupping his weighty breasts in the way she knew pleased him. “Let’s get you sat down. I’ll bring you what you need. Just sit and relax and watch whatever you want.” They moved to the couch and Remmy sat, the cushions wheezing, his thighs and belly quivering. Brianna tucked the remainder of the cake into his pudgy hands. “Don’t worry about a mess. It’s your birthday. And there’s more where that came from.” She winked. “I just needed to keep this cake refrigerated because it’s fancy. There’s a whole sheet cake on top of the fridge that’s cheap and huge. Covered in icing. Perfect for munchies.”

Remmy could only feel a wave of relief at this news. There would be more cake. And after that, there’d still be more junk in the cabinets. There was pizza coming. His high was just right. Brianna turned on the television to his favorite show and he settled further back into the cushions, feeling his second chin swell out and engulf his first. Everything was just right. He was lucky to have Brianna and food. So much food.

A year later, around the same time, Remmy skipped his usual trip to see his relatives for the holidays. At 520 pounds, it was simply too much effort to move.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

#weight gain #fic #female feeder #male gainer #named

[cryptiql]

riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

[hxt1b]

As Long As I’m Here

Masterlist 

Taeyong x Reader 

Genre: Angst, CollegeAU (Hockey Player Taeyong)

Words: 5.7K

Warnings: Mature Themes (Mentions of Drunk Driving and Death. Sex.)

Accompanying Story: Isn’t It Lovely All Alone (Yuta)

A/N: I really hope you guys like this one. Please let me know what you think, it really means a lot to hear feedback from you guys. I also apologize about any grammatical errors, I did my best but some may have slipped through. Again, thank you for reading, I hope you guys like it. Ps. You guys don’t have to read the accompanying story to read this. This can be read as a stand alone!

“You were once told that guardian angels existed. You were sure yours brought you him.”

Smile, wave. Smile, head nod. Smile, say hi. They did it all, you were tired of it all. People would see you but no one wanted to get to know you. You were the silent girl in the corner of the class that no one gave a shit about. No one cared that one day you had the happiest life and the next it was crumbled at your feet. A dead limp hand crushing every sense of normalcy you had. Destroying any little hope you had in one wrong turn. 

Scowling at the ground you kept your eyes away from those smiles, you made your way to your first class of the day. As each day passed by you began to regret this class more and more. She had been the one to pick it. Her obsession with him had been what had driven her to want to be in this class roping you along in the process. 

“He’s bound to be in sports medicine.” She’d said to you in the summer while you had made your schedules. You’d just laughed at her, but you agreed. You always agreed. 

Now she was gone, laying six feet under the ground in a cold grave and you were the one stuck in this class. Having to see their faces every day, they laughed and talked to each other loudly in class. You didn’t blame them, but you did. 

The classroom was empty when you got to it. Which made sense you were early. You went to the back corner of the room and took your seat. As a fourth-year class, it was small only about a hundred kids in the class. Putting your bag down you pulled out your laptop getting ready for the class. 

They came in laughing, they were always laughing, you leaned your head onto your hand and looked out the window keeping your gaze away from them. Slowly the classroom filled up and the professor entered last. You actually liked the prof she was younger than all the other profs you had, and she was easy to talk to, she understood the pressure university put on you and accounted for the fact that each kid had a lot more on their plate and suited her syllabus to that, too bad you just simply hated her class. 

“I’ve graded your quizzes I will be handing them back at the end of today’s class. Speaking of which, today's class will be only half our regular time -” You tuned her out as she continued not caring to pay attention any longer. You watched the breeze outside the window as it made the trees dance, the green leaves giving way to the oranges and reds of autumn your mind drifting off to all the places you try to forget, to all the memories you won’t relive and all the memories you’ll never make. 

“Okay, that’s it. Come up to my desk and grab your quiz from me as you go.” You slowly began to pack in no rush to be anywhere particular, your empty apartment was waiting for you nothing else anyway. 

You rose from your seat swinging your bag on and making your way to the front of the classroom. The professor looked at you as you walked up to her and fished your quiz out from the pile handing it to you with a small smile of pity. You weren’t shocked when you turned the quiz around and looked at the thirty-four percent at the top of the sheet. Shrugging you turned away from her desk bumping straight into a hard shoulder. Somehow, he managed to knock your quiz out of your hand. 

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” Taeyong said. You rolled your eyes and quickly bent to grab your quiz. You ignored him as you straightened up and pushed past him making sure you didn’t look at him. Taeyong. You hated that name so much; your feelings were beyond your grasp. They always tunnelled into a monumental force that you could never reign in. 

Making your way out of the classroom you decided to go to the library instead of back to your apartment. You didn’t have any other class today but going back to the silence of your apartment seemed like torture you weren’t ready for. 

The heat in the library never seemed to work, but you didn’t mind the cold helped to numb your brain while you read. You made your way to the corner of the library that was home to the books that weren’t about academics. Dumping your bag down in a corner on the floor you made your way through the shelves looking for something to read. Something to take your mind away from the bitter anger that you constantly stayed in. Finding the book you wanted, you head back to your spot and sank into the ground next to your bag and opened the book. 

You heard them like usual before you saw them. Their loud whispers carrying through the air to you accompanied by their footfalls as they neared. You didn’t look up you didn’t need to, you knew they’d ignore you and you were fine with it. After a little bit, you couldn’t hear them anymore, getting sucked into your book you ignored the world around you, your mind falling into the faraway world of the book. 

“Hey, can I sit here?” You were startled when the voice harshly pulled you out from your head and back to the real world. Lifting your head from your book you looked up. He was standing there with a soft smile on his face. His friends were gone. 

Taeyong, Yuta, Johnny, they were always together, and you hated them all. You couldn’t help the words that fell out of your mouth.  

“Did your friends ditch you or something? Go find them to sit with.” You quickly turned your head back to your book staring at the words on the page, but he didn’t move and you couldn’t read. The words morphed together on the page as the seconds ticked by before you looked back up at him. A slow laugh floated out his lips as you met his eyes. 

“They did in fact leave me. They had a meeting for some class that they're in.” He was still smiling his smile more amused than before. 

“You still can’t sit here.” You replied. 

“Well,” He started and looked around, “I guess I’ll just sit over there then.” 

He moved about five steps to your right and dumped his bag down taking a seat beside it and pulling out his laptop. You frowned in his direction glaring at him slightly before returning to your book trying your best to read and ignore the imposing boy near you. 

You didn’t turn the page before he spoke again. 

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?” You glared at him again before rolling your eyes and digging into your bag to grab an extra pen. You lightly threw it in his direction before going back to reading. Or at least trying to. 

He cleared his throat again a couple of minutes later grabbing your attention, “Uh so do you have sticky notes?” You sighed deeply moving towards your backpack again to grab a pad of sticky notes and chucking it at him. The silence lasted about fifteen minutes before he spoke again. 

“Do you -”

“No.” 

         The next morning you didn’t leave your apartment, you didn’t want to your brain was too weighed down to move out of your bed. You wasted away the morning falling in and out of sleep. At two pm your mom called, you sighed answering the phone. Her cheery tone coming in through the speaker asking you how your day was. You lied telling her about how you had a good day, making your tone much happier than you felt. You told her a false story about how great you did on your quiz for the sports medicine class and she cheered for you telling you to keep up the great work. 

When she hung up you felt the tears prick at your eyes. Closing them as they stung you took large breaths to calm yourself down before forcing yourself out of bed. You dragged your feet into the bathroom and took a quick shower before getting dressed in warm layers of clothing and made you way out of your apartment. You made your way to the café two blocks away from your home. The warm ambiance of the café welcoming you in as you sniffled from the cold. 

“Hey, wow you come to this café too?” His voice slammed into you as your eyes widened. You looked to your left from where his voice came. Taeyong was sitting at a table with his laptop open in front of him, an empty coffee cup pushed away from him and a half-eaten piece of cake. 

“Looks like it.” You replied flatly before moving towards the line. Pulling your wallet out of your pocket you pulled out your card. You didn’t need to look at the menu you already knew what you wanted. 

“What are you gonna get?” He was behind you. 

“Didn’t you already order?” You asked in return glancing at him over your shoulder. 

“I – uh well, yeah.” You turned your head back towards the front. “But I wanted another drink.” 

You ignored him the rest of the time that you stood in line. When it was your turn you ordered a coffee and chocolate chip muffin. 

“Anything else?” The barista asked smiling at you. 

“Oh yeah, an iced americano as well please,” Taeyong said cutting you off before you could speak. The girl behind the counter didn’t bat an eye as she punched that in and then told you the total. You were staring at Taeyong with your mouth slightly open due to the shock that you felt. You narrowed your eyes at him and moved to pay, you were again cut off by him as he moved his card over the machine. 

“I got this.” He said and smiled at you. You didn’t smile back. 

“Well thank you I guess.” You said and moved out of the way so that the next person could order. 

The both of you stood beside each other silently as you waited for your order to be done, your drink came out first followed by your muffin. You moved to grab them but Taeyong scooped them up before you could. 

“Uh-”

“I’m just gonna take them to our table. Grab my drink when it gets out.” You scowled at his back as he turned away from you and went back to his seat. His drink came out not even seconds later. You thanked the barista and made your way over to his table. Putting his drink down in front of him you made to grab for your stuff and leave. 

“Whoa, where are you going?” He asked grabbing your wrist as you grabbed for the muffin. “I bought it, come on the least you can do is sit with me.” You stared at him for a second, finally properly looking at him. His big eyes were looking up at you expectantly, his lips formed into a small pout. You sighed and wiggled your wrist out of his. This was the hockey team’s captain? His pout gave way to a large smile as you took the seat from across him. He closed his laptop as you got comfortable in front of him. 

You took him in as you took a sip of your coffee, his dark hair was died a blue so dark you thought it was black, and his skin was smooth. It made you jealous just looking at him a hockey player had no business looking this…beautiful.

“You’re staring at me.” He said snapping you out of your daze. 

“Why am I sitting with you?” You asked in turn ignoring the fact that you had indeed been staring at him. 

“Why not?” He asked in turn, “It’s better than sitting alone isn’t it?” 

You stared at him again, he took a sip from his straw you watched as his throat worked, swallowing the drink. You didn’t say anything in reply. He was right it was better than sitting alone, but he and his friends were a reminder of what you had lost. 

The rest of your time was spent with him talking and asking you questions about your day, you told him the same story you told your mom. 

        The next day you had the sports medicine class again. Your alarm went off and today you got out of your bed not wanting to repeat yesterday. You dragged yourself up and got ready for the day. 

The class was the same as always, you not paying attention as the prof spoke about whatever topic. When the class ended you didn’t pack slowly, today you packed quickly to get out of the room before Taeyong decided he wanted to talk to you again. 

You rushed out of the classroom, and out the building, you were halfway down the stairs when your ankle rolled and you plummeted down the five stairs left. Your hand slammed into the ground hard and your foot ached. Luckily you didn’t slam your head into the ground. 

Groaning you moved slowly to get up, grabbing the railing you heaved yourself up by using the hand that hadn’t been hurt. You took large breaths as you finally came to stand. People around you ignored you walking by you as you clung to the railing trying to not cry at the pain. 

“Are you okay?” He was there staring down at you with a worried expression on his face. You couldn’t look at him for longer than a couple of seconds. Why was he all of a sudden everywhere? Why was he always around you? He didn’t even know you.  

He came down the steps taking in how you were standing, noticing the water gathering in your eyes. 

“Did you fall?” He asked. You only looked down letting your hair fall around your face. You didn’t need this from him. You didn’t need him to hound you, you didn’t need him to buy you coffee, you didn’t need him to sit with you in the library. You didn’t need his pity. 

“Leave me alone Taeyong.” He didn’t reply and you didn’t look up. But he didn’t move away from you. 

“Let me help you home.” You closed your eyes pain rolling up your foot as you put it flat on the ground. 

“I’m fine I can make it myself. Just – just go away.” You moved off the railing talking a slow and painful step away from him. You couldn’t help but limp. 

“You’re clearly not fine. Just let me help you.” He said grabbing your arm as you took another painfully slow step. 

“Look I don’t need your pity.” You snapped at him yanking your arm out of his hand. He was silent for a second before he laughed. Snapping your head towards him again you frowned. 

“You think I pity you?” Even though he laughed you could see that the statement bothered him. His eyes weren’t shining the way they always did when he spoke. “I don’t pity you Y/N. Some people can just be nice to others without having an underlying reason.” 

You still frowned at him, but you let him take your bag. You let him wrap his arm around your waist as you wrapped yours around his shoulder and you told him how to get to your apartment.

For the rest of the week, he checked on you, making sure your foot was getting better, taking you anywhere you wanted to go. He kept you company and for the first time in a long while you felt less lonely.      

        Loud knocks pulled you away from the Netflix show you were watching. You knew it was Taeyong, only because no one else came to your apartment.    

“You know I’m fine now. You don’t have to keep coming over.” You stated while pulling open the door. He laughed pushing past you. He put the takeout he brought onto your coffee table making himself comfortable on your couch. 

“Maybe I just like you.” He spoke. Your breath stopped for a second. Like you. You turned away from him to lock the door. You willed your face to calm down as you turned back around, not having anything to say back to what he said. You made your way back to the couch and sat beside him. He passed you cutlery as he unpacked the food. You tried not to stare at him as he sat across from you on the couch and ate. Periodically stealing a glance, you tried your best to not be obvious. Halfway through the show that you had started, you stole another glance at him, only to find him already looking at you. 

“You're cute you know that?” The words that he said didn’t register in your head. He leaned to the side of his hand getting closer to you. “The way you keep glancing at me thinking I’m not noticing.” Your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned further towards his other hand moving onto your thigh. 

“I’m going to kiss you Y/N.” His face a centimetre away from yours. You didn’t stop him. 

You didn’t stop him when that kiss turned from a simple kiss to something more. When his hands travelled under your shirt, into your pants. You didn’t stop when he guided your hand to him when he pushed himself into you. You didn’t stop yourself from letting his name roll off your tongue as the world split in two. You didn’t stop him when he pulled you close to him after whispering into your ear how perfect you were. 

“I like you Y/N.” He said again as you drifted off in his arms, your head pressed into his chest. You didn’t stop yourself when your heart melted at his words. When your brain said them back to him. But you stopped yourself when the words made their way to your lips. You stopped yourself then. 

You wanted to blame him still. You wanted to blame him and his friends still. But every day that he spoke to you, every day that he went out of his way to find you. You realized you couldn’t because he started coming with you to the library every Monday. He went to the café with you on Tuesday. On Wednesday he’d walk you home. On Thursday he’d bring over dinner to your apartment after his practice, and Friday to Saturday he was busy with hockey, so you didn’t see him. But each day that passed you realized he was not to blame, he was a kind-hearted boy who chose to see the good in the world, and for some reason, he was forcing his way into your life, into your heart. You found yourself looking forward to the moments that Taeyong would come and find you. To the moments where he would text you or call you at night to see how you were. He saw you, you realized, and he stayed. He stayed even though you were a mess. Even though you would snap at him, even though you didn’t deserve him. He stayed, he showed up. And slowly you were faced with the fact staring blankly in your face that you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. Because despite everything you didn’t show up that day. 

“Come on Y/N, Yuta will be there, and he actually invited us himself,” Ara begged. You just shook your head at her. 

“I can’t today. I’m not feeling it.” You stayed seated on the couch as she tugged on your arm, a laugh erupting from you at her childish antics. 

“But you’re my best friend in the whole wide world I need you there with me!” Her expression was desperate, it made you laugh even more. 

“Sorry Ara, but I don’t feel like it. I’ll go next time though. If he invited, you once he’ll invite you again.” You reasoned. She stopped tugging on you and sighed obviously annoyed but letting you go. 

“Okay fine.” 

You passed out on the couch and woke hours later. Seven missed calls from Ara, and then a missed call from an unknown number only a couple of minutes ago. Confused you called Ara back, but she didn’t answer. Worry etched away at your stomach as you tried again, Again no answer. 

The unknown number called again. You gripped the counter to not fall over as shock ran through your body your mind being taken over by a loud ringing you couldn’t understand what the voice on the line was saying any more just that she was gone. 

You were pulled out of your head as your phone started to ring in your hand. Taeyong. You were sitting alone in your living room in the dark, your eyes glued to the phone as you tried to push away the dark thoughts that entered your head. The call ended the screen going black and a sense of urgency ripped through you a panic that rattled around your insides. Unlocking your phone quickly, you called him back. 

“Hey.” He chirped through the phone. 

“Are you okay?” It spilled out of your mouth before you could stop it. You sounded winded and frantic. 

“Yeah,” His word was slow, “Y/N are you okay?” he asked in turn. You froze. No. 

“Yes.” If you’d been awake and answered maybe she’d have answered just the way he did. 

But you let her die. You didn’t go with her. Then you fell asleep and didn’t answer her call. She got into the car with a drunk idiot and died. You could have stopped it. If you had answered right away maybe she would have replied just like he did. With a happy ‘hey.’ 

“Y/N?” His voice tugged at you again, pulling you back to him and away from your own mind. “Are you there?” 

“Yes, what did you say?” 

“Did you wanna come out for a drink with me and the guys?” 

“Yes.” 

        You didn’t understand why he was being so kind. You hadn’t done anything to deserve the kindness that he was just giving you. He was making sure you didn’t feel uncomfortable with his friends. In the time that you two had been hanging out he’d learned so much about you and you were realizing it only just today. He knew what drink you wanted and had it for you before you even got there. He let you sit on the outside of the bench in the booth because he knew you’d hate it on the inside. He gathered so much information about you in the time and you knew what? Nothing.  

“So, you’re the girl that’s been keeping our captain busy for the past month and a half.” Johnny teased you once everyone had settled into their spots. You smiled at him red painting your cheeks. Taeyong pulled you into his side shooting Johnny a warning glare that you noticed. 

You sat with them as they spoke about their upcoming game schedule. As they commented on the games that appeared on the screens all around the bar. You spoke only when they asked you a question or when you had a question yourself. You’d direct it to Taeyong, and he’d answer back softly explaining whatever thing you’d asked him about the sport he played. Slowly it became too much, you looked at the boys around you at the table, at their laughing faces and you realized you didn’t fit in here. You didn’t fit into his world. You didn’t fit into anyone’s world, you barely fit into your own. You didn’t deserve to sit at this table, not with the laughter that floated around you. You couldn’t help but feel that there was a laugh missing. This was what Ara had wanted so bad. To sit at a table with them. to sit next to the boy sitting right in front of you, she’d wanted to be tucked under his arm just as you were tucked under Taeyong’s. 

“I have to go.” You said and abruptly got up, shocking them into an abrupt silence as you ran out the bar and down the street. Tears began to run down your cheeks, and you tried to get far away from them, far away from him. 

“Y/N!” You didn’t look back, but you knew he was following you; you couldn’t take it. You didn’t deserve to sit with them, you didn’t deserve to be with him. Not when this was what she’d wanted. Not when she should have been here with you. With them. 

He caught your wrist spinning you around to face him, but you didn’t look at him, you turned your head to the side biting your lip as tears ran down your face still. 

“Let me go Taeyong.” You said your voice small and shaking. His grip on your wrist only tightened. 

“No.” 

A sob threatened to rip out your mouth. You closed your eyes and took in slow breaths. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He said and pulled you closer to him. 

“I – I can’t -” It was getting hard to breathe as you buried your head into his chest. He wrapped his arm around you holding you tight as you silently cried. Pulling away only slightly when you calmed down a little bit, he looked at your red face. Your eyes were swollen and your lips cracked. You looked like a mess, runny nose and all. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” He spoke. You stared back up at him, you took in the way his gentle eyes looked at you the way his hair blew in the autumn wind, the way his ears were tinted red from the cold. You couldn’t help yourself you pushed up on your feet and pressed your lips against his. He instantly replied, his mouth moving against yours. His hands tightening on the fabric of your jacket. You kissed him until you couldn’t breathe again until every breathe you had felt like his. Until you couldn’t take anymore. You didn’t deserve him. 

Pulling away from him you pushed him away from you. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t -” You couldn’t finish your sentence. You ran away from him again. He yelled your name again into the night air, but you didn’t look back didn’t look to see if he was following. You ran, ran until your lungs were gasping for breath until your throat was so dry that you couldn’t swallow your own spit. Until your legs gave out and you fell onto the grass gasping for air. 

This was how your life had been, this is what you deserved.

        The following week you didn’t go to school, you didn’t answer any of his calls. He came to your door every day and you ignored him. You barely ate and slept. You didn’t even make it to the shower most days. I deserve this. You’d tell yourself over and over in your head. Until there were no other thoughts but those three words drowning you. 

It was Monday, and he’d had enough. You could tell because the banging at your door was so loud that you could feel it in your head. You’d just gotten out of the shower and had gotten back into bed. Pulling the covers over your head. Slowly you got out of bed and made your way to the door. He wasn’t going to leave today. You could tell. You opened the locks and then the door. 

The lights in the hallway were so bright they made him look ethereal. He was in a black bomber jacket paired with jeans. His nose and ears were red from the cold again. You squinted up at him. You watched his pained eyes take you in, the dark circles under your eyes the way you looked small. 

“Go away.” You said, not being able to look at him any longer, not being able to stand the emotions in his eyes. He caught the door as you closed it, he pushed back against it opening it and moving in past you. 

“Stop ignoring me.” He said and closed the door. He reached for you, his hand grabbing air as you stepped far out of his reach. 

 “Did I do something wrong?” His face breaking as he asked you. Your eyes widened at him and your heart cracked more than it already had. 

“No.” 

“Then why?” You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. He took a step towards you and you moved back again. “Why?” His voice was small, pleading with you. You closed your eyes as tears gathered again. 

“I don’t deserve you okay?” Your voice harsh. You didn’t look at him as tears spilled down your cheeks, you turned your head down letting your hair cover your face. Opening your eyes, you watched as your tears hit the hardwood floor of your living room. 

“I don’t deserve anything. She died because I couldn’t help her.” Your vision blurred more and more, as you spoke. You felt him take a step towards you and you took another back. “I’ll just ruin you.” 

“Ara?” He asked. Your head snapped up to him, his eyes were tearing up as well as he looked at you. You were shocked that her name came out of his mouth. You put your hand over your mouth as a sob tore from you. He took another step towards you, and you took one back hitting the wall behind you. Finally, he had his arms around you, he pulled you into his chest. 

“That wasn’t your fault.” He spoke. “That was on the guy who lied to her and told her he didn’t drink. That was on the guy who let her get into his car.” You sobbed into his chest as he spoke. “I know about her Y/N I was at that party. Yuta was wreaked for weeks after that. But it isn’t his fault. It’s most certainly not your fault. I didn’t realize that you were her best friend until Yuta told me after he met you at the bar.” You only sobbed harder into his chest. 

“I can’t change your mind baby; I can just tell you that you deserve happiness. You deserve good things in your life. I didn’t know Ara, but I do know that she'd hate to see you like this.” His hand moved from the back of your head to the side of your face, pulling your face up to look into his eyes. 

“If anything, babe I don’t deserve you.” He said, more tears slipped down your face. He was perfect. That was the only thing your brain could think as you looked up at him. His warm hand on your cheek, his arm wrapped around you. The warmth of his body against yours. Everything about him. He was perfect. 

He put his forehead against yours, your breathing turning into his as your breathing became shallow. His mouth inches away from your own, your hand knotting into the front of his t-shirt you pulled yourself up, closing the small gap between you and him. His mouth was warm and careful. He was going slow, afraid you’d scare away. But you weren’t going to. You may not be okay yet, but you weren’t gonna get better without him. You needed him. You wanted him. He was your cure. You’d get better for him, with him. 

Ara’s mother told you the day of her funeral that people never truly leave us, they come back to watch over us. You full-heartedly believed that this had Ara written all over it. Taeyong randomly showing up to sit by you in the library, at the café, helping you when you got hurt, calling you at the right time all the time, cheering you up before you could even get down, moving his way into your life. This had the scheming hand of your best friend all over it. 

You deepened the kiss leaning into the wall, pulling him with you. His hand moved under your shirt pulling it up over your head, only leaving your mouth for that one second to get it over your head. 

Somehow the two of you were in your bed, all your clothes gone, his mouth was moving down your neck leaving small marks down your throat on your collarbone to the swell of your breasts. With each bite a small moan left you, each kiss took your breath away. His mouth closed around the hard nub of your nipple pulling on it gently with his teeth, drawing his name from your mouth. His head moved lower, lower until you couldn’t take it anymore. Pulling him back up to you, you pressed your mouth against his, his tongue finding his way to yours instantly. 

“I need you now.” You said, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. He looked down at you with so much emotion in his eyes, so much care you almost melted from just his gaze. “Please.” With that, he pressed his mouth back to yours lining himself up at your entrance. His lips moved against yours as he pushed in, swallowing your moan as he filled you. 

You moaned, your mouth leaving his as his hips moved against yours. Only the sounds of moans and your skin against his filing up your small room. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, “Look at me, babe.” You opened your eyes and held his gaze your back arched as the world faded to a bright white, his name rolling off your tongue as he nipped at your bottom lip. His thrusts became rushed as he soon followed moaning into your neck, before relaxing on top of you. You kissed him again as you both calmed down. 

After some time, he pulled out, laying beside you and pulling you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you started to drift off. 

“I love you Y/N.” This time you didn’t stop yourself. 

“I love you too Taeyong.” 

A/N: The next part will be Yuta’s I’m going to make this a three part trilogy! Please let me know your thoughts, it means a lot to hear what you guy think!

#nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct blurbs #nct x reader #nct x y/n #nct x you #nct angst #nct college au #lee taeyong #taeyong #taeyong imagines #taeyong smut #taeyong scenarios #taeyong x reader #taeyong x y/n #taeyong x you

[kroerms]

Lifeline

Oneshot || pairing: kenma x reader (gender neutral, but I tried to stay clear of any pronouns)|| genre: angstisch, hurt/comfort ||

warnings: depiction of depression/ symptoms of a depression || if I forgot to mention something, please feel free to tell me...

a/n: sooo, this is my very first fanfic since like 2013, please be gentle with me haha

y/n: “I’m sorry, but I can’t make it to our date today…”

Kenma: “What do you mean you can’t make it? We planned this for over a week and are supposed to meet up in an hour...I’m already out of my house…”

y/n: “I’m really sorry, I just can’t.”

You sighed, tossed your phone next to you on the bed and pressed the pillow closer to your chest.

You couldn’t really pinpoint what triggered all these negative feelings. But your whole life there have always been these days where you felt completely drained of energy and the negativity of your own mind played tricks on you. You had always called it your “social battery” being empty. But in reality, it was more than just that. It was more than just not wanting to see your friends or family. It was a consuming tiredness paired with negative thoughts and sadness rooted deep within your very heart. Days like these would come and go, you learned that over the years, which is why you preferred to be alone on those days because you didn’t want to burden anyone with your pointless feelings. Sure, sometimes those feelings would almost consume you completely and would persist for weeks, but you always managed to handle them one way or another. You knew this all too well, you had had to deal with this part of yourself since your early teens after all and now that you were 28 it just didn’t seem like you were ever to grow out of it like your parents used to say you would. It wasn’t their fault though, since you never really talked about what it felt like to anyone after your so called friends seemed to dismiss it as just you being lazy and so your parents thought your tendency to hang in your room and lay in bed all day was just due to hormones. And you always felt like no one would believe you anyways and you weren’t prepared for all the follow up questions that would drain the last bit of energy you had, and so you stopped explaining yourself altogether.

You’ve known Kenma for a while now. The two of you started to form a friendship after you accidentally took his coffee order from the barista because he had ordered your usual. And with your head always being in the clouds you had just heard “vanilla latte” and without waiting for your name to follow the order you’d taken the beverage.

“Uhm, excuse me but I think this is supposed to be mine - well unless your name is Kenma as well, but I highly doubt that”, a monotone voice next to you spoke. Your gaze shifted from the to-go-cup in your hand to the man beside you. The faux blonde with the dark roots and the almost bored facial expression stood next to the take-out section of the coffeeshop, switch in one hand and the other in the pocket of his red tracksuit.

“Oh, I’m very sorry, I must have zoned out again. I sometimes get stressed in overly crowded places and tend to lose myself in my thoughts to calm down aaaand I just overshared, didn’t I?” You bowed slightly and handed the man in front of you his drink just as the barista called out your name with a “vanilla latte” attached to it. You quickly turned around to take the coffee so that Kenma wouldn’t notice the slight blush that spread over your cheeks from the embarrassment.

“y/n’s a pretty name, suits you.”, Kenma said, flashing a slight blush of his own as the words left his lips. “Well thank you...Kenma was it?”. The faux blonde nodded slightly. An awkward silence infolded the two of you. Just as you wanted to excuse yourself so that you could finally leave this utterly embarrassing situation, Kenma spoke up again: “well if you want to make it up to me for almost stealing my drink, I’d really appreciate a piece of apple pie from the bakery down the road. If that’s not too crowded for you.”

After that encounter, the two of you quickly grew closer and developed a bond to one another. Just like you, Kenma enjoyed lazy days at home gaming or watching movies together more than going out on adventures. So the two of you would often hang out at his house playing Mario Kart together or you’d watch movies on your projektor at yours. Sure, occasionally the two of you would go out to get something to eat or to watch his friends at a volleyball game, but these outings were rare. And it was because of those cozy little hangouts that you never once had to cancel plans with him, thus not once did you have to explain to him why you didn’t have the energy to go out and do stuff….well at least until today.

The familiar wave of guilt washed over you for not telling him why you had to cancel on such short notice. But you really didn’t have the energy to explain that your inner demons had taken control over your body and mind today. You were already feeling exhausted because work had been hell the last couple of weeks and it didn’t help that seemingly everyone in your family needed something from you which resulted in you spending your off-time after work either at your fathers house or your mothers. This left little to no you-time to relax and recharge yourself.

It was now near lunchtime on your well deserved day off and Kenma and you had plans to check out the new cat café that opened up just a few blocks from your home. But you hadn’t even made it out of bed, let alone under the shower yet. The comfort of the warm blankets was just too good. The mere thought of leaving this safe haven stressed you out and you had to hold yourself back from crying. You felt so overwhelmed with the world today that you couldn’t entertain the thought of participating in anything right now. All you wanted - no - needed to do was sleep until that heavy feeling on your chest would lift off and let you breathe again.

Just as you were dozing off, you heard your doorbell ring. You didn’t expect a package or anything today, so you didn’t exactly know who would want something from you right now.

Wrapped in your pink aristocats pijama and your very wild bedhead you padded to your door. What you didn’t expect while looking through your peephole was Kenma, standing in front of your apartment, arms full of paper bags.

“Open up, these are heavy you know! I know you’re standing behind the door.”

You took a deep breath before opening the door to let Kenma in. He immediately made his way to the kitchen, where he placed all the bags on the countertop before looking at you.

His gaze was intense. With what seemed like worry in his eyes, he scanned over your tired form.

“What’s wrong y/n?”, he asked.

“Nothing, I’m just tired, didn’t sleep enough last night I guess, but it’ll be better by tomorrow, so you really don’t have to worry about little old me”, you meekly said in an attempt to lighten the mood. You tried giving him the most reassuring smile you could manage, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You knew he noticed by the way his gaze softened. In one swift motion Kenma pulled you into his chest and cradled your head with one hand, while the other found its way around your waist, pulling you closer into him in the process. This took you by surprise, since Kenma and you didn’t really hug a lot.

“Tell me what’s really wrong y/n. I can clearly tell that you are not okay. You are a measly liar”, he whispered into your hair. Damn him and his observation skills, you thought. Well, this is it, you couldn’t hide that part of yourself from him any longer. You were scared to open up to him about that part of yourself, the fear of losing him because he didn’t want to deal with someone as broken as you are was immense.

“y/n?” Kenma spoke up again. You must’ve lost yourself in thought again, you didn’t even notice the tears that slipped past your eyelids and were making their way down your cheeks, before coming to a halt at your chin.

“I’m s-sorry, I - I don’t want to w-worry you… I just, I feel so tired and I f-feel like my battery is completely e-empty. I don’t feel like I c-can handle anyone, including m-myself right now. I j-just want everything to s-stop. I am exhausted, I feel like I a-am drowning within m-myself and t-there seems to b-be no lifeline”, you sniffled into Kenma’s chest. His hold on you tightened at that. He knew you got overwhelmed in crowds sometimes and that you preferred quiet, lazy meet-ups at home over going out. It was one of the reasons why he liked you so much, you didn’t expect him to be outgoing and you always accepted him for the person he was. He knew you were someone who liked their personal time and that the world, especially the people living in it would overwhelm you sometimes, but he had never seen you like this. Small, so fragile, almost as if you crumbled within yourself. As if the slightest blow of wind could knock you over and break you.

“Do you want me to leave? I brought food from that new café. I can just leave it here and go, if you need time to yourself…” Kenma said.

You were torn. On one hand, you really didn’t have the energy to entertain someone right now. But Kenma felt so warm and his embrace made you feel secure. As if the world couldn’t get to you as long as he held you like this. So you tightened your hold on him and shook your head lightly.

A small smile appeared on Kenma’s face.

“Alright, how about you go lay down on the couch then, while I unpack the food and we watch some cheesy movie together?”

The thought of leaving Kenma’s arms didn’t please you at all but you obliged and went to your couch in the open living room. You watched as Kenma started unpacking of cake slices, sandwiches and chocolates out of the bags. He even brought avocado-onigiri. Your favorite. After he displayed everything on plates he came over to put the food and two lemonades on the coffee table. He sat down next to you and turned on your TV. He started your favorite rom-com before he pulled you close to him again so that your head was resting on his chest. As the movie went on, he started to stroke your hair with his hand, while the other was on top of your arm that was draped over his torso. This was still very unfamiliar to you, but it felt nice.

“You know, you never have to hide your feelings from me. Not even the negative ones. I know I sometimes seem a little distant and I am not very open about my own feelings either but you mean a great deal to me and I’m always gonna be here for you. Even when you feel like drowning, I’ll always be a lifeline for you to hold on to. And I know I can’t fix everything, but I’ll try my best to help you with fixing what needs to be fixed.” he whispered softly. You closed your eyes, new tears forming in them making your eyelids heavy. Even if all those inner demons were loud within you, Kenma’s voice and reassuring words slowly drowned them out and you finally felt a bit of the weight on your chest getting lighter. You knew you had to work on these things and you would need more than just Kenma, you’d need professional help to cope with all of this, but with Kenma by your side like this, you felt like anything was possible. Before you dozed off in Kenma’s embrace you whispered back: “thank you so much for being here”.

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #hq x y/n #hq x reader #haikyuu x y/n #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma kozume #kenma x gender neutral reader #kenma kozume x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot #kenma #kenma hurt/comfort #kenma angst #haikyuu hurt/comfort #haikyuu angst

[sweetestofchaos]

Fᴏʀɢᴇᴛ Iᴛ 📅 609

Waring(s): SFW. Pure Angst. No happy ending. Breakup.  Description: Bambam messed up...bad Paring(s): Bambam and Reader

“What do you mean you’re done?”

“Exactly what I said, Bam. I’m done. I’m tired of this-” You motion around to the pigsty that use to be your living room. “You don’t care about anything! Not my apartment, my time, my feelings…nothing. It means nothing to you.”

Bambam stares at you, confusion swimming clearly in his brown eyes as he tries to understand your words. You shake your head feeling your anger quickly morphing into an uncontrollable rage as you stare at his face. How can he be so clueless to all the issue?

“How many times did I call you today asking where something was because you moved it and didn’t tell me? How long did your coffee cup sit on the nightstand until I finally cleaned it up? When was the last time you made the bed? Do…” You bite your bottom lip feeling tears starting to burn your eyes as you speak. “Do you even know why tonight was the last straw? Why I’m breaking up with you tonight of all nights?”

Bambam looks down at his feet and you can see the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. The humorless laugh that leaves you makes Bambam shiver, and he slowly looks back up to your face. “…I’m sorry Y/N.”

“No. Bam, sorry isn’t going to fix this. Not this time.” Walking past Bam you head towards the kitchen, and he follows. You walk over the fridge and pull the door open, stepping to the side so Bambam can see inside. Bambam looks at you, clearly uncertain if he really wants to move forward or not. Seeing his hesitation, you roll your eyes. “Come on Bam. You’ve kept me waiting long enough tonight.” At your words something seems to click in Bam’s mind, and his eyes widen.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t- please. Just…don’t.” You step away from the fridge and Bambam can see the homemade cake sitting on the shelf with a messy Happy Anniversary writing in royal purple frosting. The sound of wheels rolling on hardwood catch Bam’s attention and he rushes out of the kitchen to find you pulling a suitcase behind you towards the front door.

“Wait! Y/N! Please…j-just wait!” Bambam grabs your wrist lightly and you refuse to turn around. If you see his heartbroken face, you know your own heart will brake even more and you’ll fall back into his arms crying; forgiving him for all the hurt he’s caused. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” Bambam steps closer and you can feel his body heat seeping through his black turtleneck sweater. “I got caught up with work and time escaped me. You know I always get the days confused…l-let me make it up to you?”

“I can’t do it anymore, Bam. This disappointment hurts and it hurts even more because I keep thinking you will change. I keep hoping that you will give a damn about me enough to at least remember our anniversary.” Tears are rolling down your face as you speak. “I’m tired of being the only one in this relationship who cares. I don’t want to care anymore.”

Bambam tries to pull you into a back hug, and you shake him off, “Y/N…please?”

“I’ll be back another day for the rest of my things.”

You walk out of the apartment and pull the door shut behind you, feeling the last few pieces of your heart crumble away with each step down the hall. It hurts. It hurts so much, and it seems like it’s hard to breath, but you need to do this. Bambam isn’t ready and you won’t allow yourself to waste any more time.

#soc bambam #angst #got7 #got7 bambam #bambam #black!reader #breakup #forget it #exqueuese me

[bouncyirwin]

So after reading Knock Knock, Let the Devil in again (I can’t praise you enough with how good that story is ♥️) and I’m so invested in the the dynamic between Shikamaru, Sakura, and Kakashi!

And because I have a question (and I hope I’m not bothering you by asking this 😭) how do you think Kakashi and Shikamaru would react if Sakura either came back from a mission seriously injured or if they found her seriously injured from a mission?

Hiii, thank you so much for this ask, I’m always so ready to gush about these three!

When I read this ask, inspiration quite literally slammed into me and I churned this out in a sprint session. Oops.

Word Count: 2,126 words

I present to you a one-shot in the knock knock-verse.

It was too early in the day to function, yet Shikamaru was in the Hokage’s office bustling about, feeling only half-human as he guzzled on his third coffee. “Fuckin’ paperwork,” he muttered disdainfully at the sight of an ungodly pile marked with his name.

That had to violate some natural law. How this became Shikamaru’s routine was beyond him.

Once upon a time, he professed that his deepest wish was to lead a mediocre life. And here he was.

Tsunade showed up ten minutes late, visibly drunk and doing very little to conceal it. “Morning,” she tossed over her shoulder and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, studying the dark circles under her eyes and her ashen pallor. “You look …”

He clamped his mouth shut. Was it worth getting assigned a D-rank to let her know she looked like shit? Probably not.

“Save it kid, I know,” she waved a casual hand and slumped in her chair. “Couldn’t care less with the night I pulled.”

“Drinking again, Hokage-sama?” he inquired with polite interest.

“Ha,” she said. “I wish.”

When he raised an eyebrow, she elaborated, slumping even further in her chair. “Sakura,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They brought her back yesterday.”

Shikamaru’s heart sank. “Brought her back?”

“Yes, there was an ambush and she was badly injured—cracked every one of her ribs, that idiot. And the hospital was out of B-positive blood so Shizune had to sit the healing session out to donate blood. Nearly ran myself dry trying to keep her breathing…” Tsunade was scrubbing at her face but Shikamaru wasn’t listening anymore—he could barely hear her over the deafening roar of his heartbeat.

“Is she alive?” he demanded once he found his voice. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, but she’s going to need plenty of rest—” the rest of her sentence remained a mystery for Shikamaru tore out of the room with a single-minded focus.

In the space between heartbeats, rationality was tossed out of the window. It left behind a desperate and half-crazed person—he needed to see her, to hear her heartbeat, to see the lively green of her eyes and he wasn’t going to rest until it happened.

He burst through the hospital doors undoubtedly looking like he’d escaped an asylum. The nurse he cornered shot him a bewildered look. “Sir, are you—” she began to say when he cut her off.

“Haruno Sakura,” he demanded breathlessly. “Her room. Where can I find her?”

“Sir,” she attempted again, sounding a little exasperated. “Haruno-san just underwent extensive surgery, she’s not allowed visitors, only family members can see her.”

Shikamaru pinned her with a no-nonsense look. “Akane-san,” he read off her name tag. “By order of the Hokage, I’m here to see Haruno Sakura.”

Akane shuffled nervously. “Do you have an official slip?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, as if to say ‘really?’.

“I-I might get in trouble,” her eyes shifted unsurely. “I need to put you down as a relative and you’re… what would I mark you down as, sir?”

It occurred to him a second later that he was being a total ass. But rationality had already fled. He was now a mess of frayed nerves.

The toddler bawling in the background wasn’t helping his case, and neither was the frantic husband demanding to see his wife at the reception, babbling about … oh.

Shikamaru turned back to the nurse, and before he realised what he was saying, he blurted. “Her husband. Mark me down as her husband.”

Akane blinked. “Oh.”

Shikamaru stared her down, daring her to argue with him. But she simply nodded and scribbled something on her chart. “Right. Of course. Follow me.”

As they stalked through clinical hallways, Shikamaru’s heart rose in a crescendo, worry and nervousness swirling in his chest in a toxic mix. What would he see upon reaching her room? Was she in pain? Was she even lucid? Gods, what if she was in a coma? What if she’d hurt herself so irreparably that it cost her career?

His mind raced with sickly thoughts until his stomach roiled and his face tinged green.

Akane stopped at room 217 and there she was.

“Oh gods,” Shikamaru whispered.

She was hooked to so many wires. Oxygen tubes and an IV and a heart monitor and tubes he didn’t even recognise. She looked frail and broken, too small amidst white sheets and beeping monitors.

He heard Akane quietly slip out of the room and was glad for it because his knees nearly buckled.

Sakura wasn’t awake. Hell, she didn’t even look alive, her face so pale where it wasn’t bruised blue and purple.

Numbly, his feet carried him to her side, his breath a short and rapid thing that barely saturated his lungs.

There was blood caked beneath her fingernails and in the cracks of her lips. His eyes stung faintly as they slid over to the heart monitor.

It was too slow.

“Oh god,” he said again, every cell in his body congested with fear.

He was afraid to even reach out and touch her, lest she broke apart under his fingertips. Delicately, ever so delicately and with trembling fingers, he ghosted a light stroke across the apple of her cheek.

“Sakura…” he said feebly, wishing her eyes would just open.

Except they didn’t. And her heart monitor droned on sluggishly in the background, crawling heartbeats that served more in adding to his anxiety than diminishing it.

It was beating. But it wasn't beating enough. What if it stopped beating?

Shikamaru wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. Not ever. He didn’t care what laws governed this cursed world, this was Sakura, she was spring incarnated, and she wasn’t allowed to die.

His fingers curled around her hand, and he wished for the first time in his life that he could heal. That he could bleed strength into her the way she did to him.

It was getting difficult to breathe. What if she died?

What then?

Fuck, he hadn’t even told her he loved her.

His vision swam, rendering the room a splash of colours and pink. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t breathe.

In the muddled daze of anxieties and fears, Shikamaru wished he had the foresight to grab Kakashi.

He’d never needed an anchor more than he did in that second.

*

Kakashi was having an incredibly shitty day.

His coffee machine broke down, he spilled tea over his mission report and he mixed a black shirt with his coloured laundry and now half of his clothes were beyond repair.

“Dammit,” he sighed, tossing his book aside. He couldn’t even read, busy as he was dwelling on his ruined laundry.

He took one dispassionate look at his soggy report and groaned. “What a mess,” he’d actually attempted to do this one on time. Served him right for breaking his routine.

Kakashi grabbed his weapons holster and stepped out for some much needed air. Maybe he should just turn in a tea-flavoured report—perhaps if he offered Tsuande a bottle of sake she’d make an exception and accept it.

He made a beeline to her office, remembering he was due for a debrief. But what he found upon his arrival wasn’t what he expected.

Tsunade was shouting to Shizune, clearly exasperated: “—and he just upped and left! I’m his Hokage, and he upped and left!”

“Maah…” Kakashi began unsurely.

Tsunade’s gaze cut to him. “Hatake, there you are,” she huffed. “I’m too fucking hungover for this. We’re one man down, I need someone to look over these reports.”

Kakashi frowned, finally noticing how empty her office looked. “Where’s Shikamaru…?”

“The idiot left,” Tsunade growled, raising goosebumps on his arms. “I told him I spent all night healing her, what did he think, that I’d leave her to die? Fucking hell.”

“Leave who to die?” Kakashi said, confused. “What happened?”

“Sakura happened,” Tsunade ranted tiredly. “They brought her back almost half dead, I’ve been patching her up for the better part of eight hours and this is how I’m rewarded.”

But Kakashi had stopped listening after ‘half dead’. Half dead? “Half … dead?” he echoed, his mouth dry.

No. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

“Yes,” Tsunade sighed. “But I operated on her and she’s going to be fine.”

Kakashi barely heard the words. His brain was a string of very adamant denial. No, no, no, no.

He didn’t want it to be true—all those years he had been certain, was so sure that it was him, that he was the reason the people he loved always died. That he was a curse to those he cared about.

Every person he loved came back in a body bag.

Fuck.

Kakashi turned tail, a sudden manic urge to see her rising unbearably in his chest. What if Tsunade was lying, what if Sakura wasn’t fine? What if she was fine, but she died anyway?

Fear pumped through his veins, rendering him dizzy. This was his worst nightmare come to life—how could he have forgotten that people, even those that could mend bones and heal what was broken, were so damn breakable?

His legs couldn’t carry him quickly enough.

He didn’t waste time interrogating the nurses for her whereabouts, he knew her scent like she was a part of him. It led him to her now, her unique sweetness tainted with blood and antiseptic.

Gods, he was going to be sick.

He nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get to her.

Shikamaru was already there, looking wrecked, looking worse than Kakashi had ever seen him. “Is she—”

He couldn’t even say it.

“They … they said they don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Shikamaru whispered hollowly.

Kakashi felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. “No,” he whispered, leaning back against the wall when he teetered off balance.

His hip jarred against the doorknob but Kakashi barely registered the sting. Barely anything registered beyond the fear-terror-fear coursing through his veins like poison. “Please, no,” he said.

This couldn’t be happening again.

His father and Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei—hadn’t they been enough? Was Sakura going to be another name on the too long list of losses that haunted him?

He really was going to be sick. He clenched his jaw against the reflex, forcing his brain out of the dizzying tornado of anxieties. His gaze focused on Shikamaru, the only other person that mattered as much.

He didn’t look good at all, pale and shaking and appearing ready to fall apart.

The sight of him was strangely grounding.

Kakashi found his elusive strength, located his knees under him and was at his side in the next second.

“Shikamaru,” he rasped, clutching the other man’s arm.

“She looks dead,” Shikamaru whispered. “I … I …”

Words eluded him.

Kakashi tugged at his arm, drawing Shikamaru against him. He went without a fight, slumping against Kakashi’s chest like a puppet whose strings were cut.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kakashi lied, surprised by how much conviction he could bleed into it when it was for someone else’s benefit. “She’s going to be fine.”

Shikamaru shook in his hold, his shoulders minutely trembling. But just as suddenly, his body calmed down and he gripped tightly onto Kakashi’s middle. “What if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” Kakashi stressed because … anything else was not an option. “It’s Sakura. She punched a goddess in the face.”

Shikamaru let out a short, pained laugh against him. “Gods, don’t remind me; what a reckless idiot.”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kakashi confessed in a soft murmur against Shikamaru’s hair. He tightened his hold on him, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “As beautiful as the two of you together.”

Lean fingers dug in his back. “I’m glad you’re here,” Shikamaru said sincerely. “I’m glad you came. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cry.”

“You can cry,” Kakashi soothed, sinking his fingers in lush, dark hair. “Hell, I might cry.”

Shikamaru let out a wet chuckle. “Yeah.”

Kakashi’s face bowed, nuzzling the side of his head as he took a shuddering breath. He clutched Shikamaru closely, his breath shallow and his heart a warbling mess in his chest.

He couldn’t think about if she died. He would die, then, if not from sorrow then from a broken psyche. It was easier to focus on the beeping machines and Shikamaru’s sure, thudding heart. Kakashi tuned in on every shuddering breath, his palm mapping his expanding ribs.

His focus narrowed down to his senses, to Shikamaru, to Sakura’s fighting, beating heart and prayed like he never had before.

She was going to be alright.

She had to be.

#bouncyirwin writes #kakasakushika #kakasaku #shikasaku #kakashika #naruto #angst #hurt/comfort #knock knock let the devil in #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #Shikamaru nara