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evilminji · 29 days

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Okay, so maybe it's just me? Projecting my new Tea Phase?

Cause for med reasons, no more energy drinks, only Teeeeeeaaaaa~☆

But honestly? Now that I am an adult and ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT? Really digging it! Am enjoying the Teas. Mmmmmmm~ leaf broth. I like the fruity ones.

So! IMAGINE~☆ If you will:

Danny. 14 and his parents are LOUD AS FUCK (CRASH BANG SMASH BANG WHIIII-) dispite it being, once again, a school night. This has been going one For Years. That STUPID fucking machine. All God damned hours. Crashes and bangs and powertools. Explosions.

When will it ever end!

He's... he's honestly used it.

Unknowingly? This is is a skill that will come in handy later. Living and functioning while sleep deprived. Healthy? Fuck no. But it's USEFUL. He IS the ten year old downing Monster drinks in the parking lot before school.

It makes him a jittery weirdo. Twitchy. Too much caffeine, not enough sleep, his parents either blew up or TOOK APART the washing machine AGAIN. He... he never stood a chance. It's a miracle the indoor plumbing hasn't been compromised yet... AGAIN.

His blood is more sugar, caffeine, and guarana or whatever those other things in the can are, then actual human blood. He doesn't CARE. He just needs too get decent grades, graduate, and become an astronaut. It's... it's FINE. This is normal. They're FINE.

(If they weren't... someone would have noticed, right? Would have DONE something. Cared. So it HAS to be fine. His family's just weird. It's FINE.)

But THEN...

The Accident.

And his biology CHANGES. Green goo, wrapped vicious and loving, around his very DNA. Like Kintsugi of the body and soul. In green, Green, GREEN. It... it's a lot. Everything changing all at once. Maybe that's why it takes him so long to notice.

Why he thinks "oh, I'm just tired cause I'm running more then usual. Fighting and flying. Doing ghost stuff."

When... when honestly? Some part of him always kinda KNEW. From the very moment he stumbled out of the portal. The aftershocks. The pain. Sam and Tucker crying, scrambling to help him up the stairs. Sam tearing her bag apart looking for her cramps medicine. Because... because pain medication is pain medication.

"It's gonna be okay, Danny. Please. Please god, just take it! I promise it's gonna be okay!"

How do you look your panicked, crying, strongest-person-you-know best friend in the eyes and tell her... you can FEEL it dissolving in your throat. Like the pills were dumped in a human shaped pot of acid. That... that the pain isn't changing... and you... you don't think it's going too.

When you're scared. Might be dying. And you can already tell they think it's their fault. W... when you're all just KIDS. And all you can think is... you can let them know how bad... how bad it hurts...

They'd never be able to live with that knowledge.

Yeah. Yeah, Sam. Thanks. T... The pills helped a lot. He feels better. You really saved the day. He lo... loves you guys so much.

...

.....

He thinks about that moment A LOT. About how much he realized and knew, before the denial kicked in. Before he got so... Tired. Fresh of all that energy. And? You'd think he realize. The mood swings. The irritability. The headaches that disappear the SECOND he goes ghost. That he's in caffeine withdrawal. But? Nope.

He kinda blames the constant ghost attacks for distracting him.

But see... Sam? Doesn't drink tea. Goes against her diet. Tucker was where he GOT his illicit borderline illegal energy drinks. And his sister? Big on flavored sparkling waters. Which are gross to him.

His PARENTS drink a thick tar they insist is coffee. It might be liquid fudge. Zone knows its nearly the same consistency. It's horrifying. No thanks, he wants to LIVE.

It's? Ironically? Mr. Lancer and his constant detentions, that help Danny realize somethings up. Because Mr. Lancer shares. If he makes a cup for himself, he'll make one for you. It's how he was raised. And, yeah, the after school detentions? Those were herbal blends. No caffeine.

But...

But they tasted nice. Were warm. The classroom was quiet and as frustrating as it was? The tea itself? Was always... the one exception to how shit the situation was. So Danny finally broke down and asked about it. Learned Mr. Lancer knew a? Surprisingly LOT about tea. Huh.

Then one day he gets SATURDAY detention. Oh joy!

Bright and early. One of the few times he could be trying, desperately, to be sleeping through his parents cacophony. Catching up on his desperately needed Zzz's. Here he is... getting a handed a new cup of different tea?

Breakfast blend? And a bagel..

N...none hostile breakfast? A quiet space to catch up on his homework? No Dash? Just... just a quiet classroom, some tea, and the sounds on a peaceful morning outside?

......oh.

It's the best time he's had in school in... God, in YEARS. He gets so MUCH done. For once can concentrate. And? Actually, now that he thinks about it? Feels... awake? Or at the very least, not as sleepy. And being a Fenton, whom to the LAST are a genius if eccentric family, it's pretty damn easy to put two and two together.

Tea.

He felt more awake after having Lancer's breakfast blend tea.

He obviously asks about it. Then, after detention is done. Calm packs up. Goes home. Drops his back in his room. Goes ghost. And SHOOTS for the Far Frozen with his phone and an energy drink. Because clearly he's missing something and it's time to ask.

The good doctors of the Frozen are... gently horrified. Clawed hands steeples infront of their mouths as they try to tactfully figure out how to word "Great One, WHAT THE FUCK!?!? Why would you DO THIS TO YOURSELF!?" Because that... is not professional. Breathe. In, out, in, out. We can do this.

They get the most patient and restrained of their elders to... CALMLY, very VERY Calmly, ask some medical questions. Listen. Without judgements! Because they are medical professionals. Who do NOT want to scream, forever, into the void. Certainly not. So Calm! (They are going to BURN THAT CAN IN-)

Which! Huh. Yeah, that explains the constant exhaustion. He was poisoning himself. Kinda. Not so much the GHOST but the human half. Putting to much strain and too much trace chemicals, minerals, and buckets of sugar. General "mmmm :/ Don't Like THAT ™" energy from the Goo causing it too try and constantly burning it all out of existence. Endlessly.

The more he put in, the more there was to burn. The more there was to burn, the more tired he became. The more tired he became... well, the more he put in. It was a slowly lethal starvation cycle. Big Yikes.

The TEA on the other hand? Those are leaves. The good recognizes leaves and water. Other various plants, dried or otherwise. It ignores them as "fine" until they reach a "problematic" threshold, apparently? So... *blank look at the doctor*

*sighs in medical professional*

Tea? Good. Satan Can of Halfa Poison? Bad. Please drink tea.

👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

And it's like MAGIC. He's suddenly BACK, baby! Ha ha ha! Skulker you fuckin THOUGHT?! Oh it's 2am? Well SUPRISE bitch! He's bright eyed and bushy tailed! His grades are up AND he's beating you like a drum! He has ice breakers for old people discussions now!! The local Tea Shops have NEVER been so well protected.

He actually manages to graduate with not just decent grades? But GOOD ones.

And the second. The INSTANT. He is legally his own man? Has his important paperwork squirrelled away and the go bags safely WELL outside of Amity. It's time. He meets OUTSIDE the house, because he's not an idiot. He's been practicing his Clones and has them ready to grab his parents so he can get out of there alive. Jazz is on video call from Star city.

His parents... suspected. Not at first, but as goofy as they are? They aren't ACTUALLY idiots. They've been watching, going over old research. Trying, failing, to get in touch with the League to have THEIR team test their research. Peer review is critical after all. They... they had been so certain. Are still somewhat certain.

But their research doesn't exactly ACCOUNT for this "halfa" phenomenon. So, there is a very real chance they are missing something. The one thing the DO know? Danny is their son. Stuck in some eternal mortally wounded state or not, he is a hero. And they weren't there for him.

They can't change their beliefs on a dime. But they've clearly missed a great deal. And refuse to fall to academic bias. The very thing that got them LAUGHED AT for decades. Mocked and belittled. This is their life's work. By God they WILL find out the truth.

It's? Better then he could have hoped. Not perfect. But better.

He helps set up safeties and a security check point at the portal. Both sides. He's kinda a big deal these days, mom, dad. Ghost scientists eager to work with them. A whole TEAM under their command. It certain endears ghosts to them a whole lot more. Then?

Copy of the blue prints, go bag turned into normal bags, Danny's off to college.

Bounces from major to major. Nothing really capturing his interest. As he aged, he's need less sleep. Gotten stronger. Grown into his father's height and grandfathers build. Tucker keeps calling him a dorito. Danny retaliates with Ancient Egyptian Cyber/Pharoah Twink allegations. According to SAM they are both dumbasses.

She's not WRONG... but hey D:<

Eventually? A really niche botany seminar run by Pamela Isely catches the attention of Tucker, who forwards it to him n Sam. Nice ™. It's being held in her Murder Park! Cool! Obviously they have to go. So off to Gotham they go. And? When they get there? Sam is APPALLED.

She may HATE landlords as much as the next activist.... but LOOK at all these run down, foreclosed, rotting buildings! Beautiful gothic infrastructure! Those could be businesses or homes! Danny, busy with signing them up, makes the mistake of tuning her out as she rants in fury. She does this some times. Needs to vent. Uh huh, you're very right. You should contact somebody. I agree. Mmmhmmm.

Hey, Sam, Ms. Isely needs your-....

Sam?

Oh FUCK ™.

By the time the Seminar come around? Sam has violently kicked in the door of more then a feel reality offices. Owns QUITE a few buildings. Danny is sweating. She... she's doing the THING again. The "gimme your Ghost Crew, I KNOW you have a highly specific Ghost Crew, don't you DARE lie to me or I take your knee caps, Danny" stare.

>.> Sam you can't keep doin- *stare intensifies* Yes Ma'am. *Pulls out Fenton phone* and so? Here come the renovation crew. The ONLY honest building Crew in all of Gotham. They cut no corners. Can't be threatened. Gangs, villians, and even local government office try to arrange... accidents on the build sites.

Nothing. Nada. In fact, it turns out more dangerous for THEM then this crew of outsiders!

Wtf!

Then? After these two College age weirdos finish Poison Fuckin Ivys HIGHLY SUSPECT biology seminar? Manson fucks off to who knows where! Leaving what HAS to be "the muscle" behind. Cause I mean? Look, at the guy! He's huge! And what does he do?

Goes building to building. Rents them out to low income families. Honest, hard working shop keepers. And? Eventually decides to settle smack dab in the middle of Gotham, in the shadow of Wayne fuckin tower, spitting distance from the Space museum..... and open? A tea shop? The FUCK?

"The Zone".

In a weird shade of green. With little ghosts, wearing crowns, because and I quote "it's funny"? Certainly crazy enough for Gotham. But like, it's loud as FUCK here. Crowded. There are gas attacks and shit. It'll never las-....

It stays untouched for MONTHS.

Sometimes being the ONLY building near it to be untouched. Gas NEVER getting in. The damn place a BUNKER. And? Despite looking like it's two floors? It's three. You enter and your actually on the second floor. No one's even sure where the fuck the guy LIVES, since he never seems to leave.

Not only THAT. But it... it's like one of those old school apothecaries. Big ol bank of drawers. Guy'll mix up your blend for you right as you watch. Tea nuts are actually risking COMING to Gotham to try his stuff. Writing articles. Apparently he has some pretty rare shit in those drawers.

Some UNKNOWN shit, according to one guy on ViewTube.

There's this whole debate on if it's Ultra Super Rare or that means it's just super cheap knock off crap. Some of them he won't make for people, even if they ask. There's a rumor it's for Meta's with specific diets. Or alien blends. But no one can verify that. Cause like?

Anyone who tries to cause trouble?

Can't fucking FIND the place. And if you're already inside? You just... drop. Stone cold unconscious. It's definitely magic but no one knows if it's HIS or Manson's? You know? He won't talk. Gets annoyed when harrased.

Which off course!

Leaves Only ONE gentleman for the job. An elite special forces trained expert. Polite, dignified, enjoyer of fine Teas. Alfred "Why do you chucklefucks keep forgetting I was in the Queens Service and a Registered Badass" Pennyworth.

After all! He DOES have the days shopping to do.

@babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @lolottes

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #Tea Shop of Mysteries AU #alfred pennyworth

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moonstruckme · 4 months

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i’d love to see a doctor!remus with a reader that has chronic pain, if you’re interested in writing that <3

Thanks for requesting! I read online that migraines are considered chronic pain, so I hope that's accurate

cw: migraine, period cramps

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 726 words

The bed dips as Remus replaces the cold compress over your eyes, and you feel like you’re sandwiched between two temperatures, heating pad on your belly and ice pack on your head.

“Can I have more painkillers, please?” you mumble.

Remus’ voice is usually quiet, but now he speaks softer than soft. “You can have more in an hour.”

A self-pitying ache starts up in the back of your throat. Which is great, because what you really need right now is more aches. “Can you pass me my coffee then?”

There’s a second of hesitation, and you can hear the denial forming in it. “It’s too late for caffeine,” he murmurs. “You need to sleep soon or it’ll only be worse tomorrow, lovely girl. I’m sorry.”

He sounds it, but a petulant whine works its way out of you anyway. A hot tear leaks from the corner of your eye, dribbling into your hair. You know crying will only make things worse, but you’re feeling so wretchedly sorry for yourself that you almost don’t care. Worse isn’t something you can conceptualize.

“It hurts all over,” you whimper.

Remus makes a sound just as miserable, and then his hand is at your hairline, stroking tentatively. “I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m so sorry. Do you need the heating pad turned up?”

You murmur that you don’t. Your cramps aren’t great, but they pale in comparison to the throbbing agony of your head. And even if it helped your cramps, you don’t think you could handle the sensation of more temperatures right now.

“Okay.” Remus pets your hair gently, callouses scraping against the skin of your forehead. “All right, darling, let’s try this.”

He takes your hand in his, and you can feel the edge of his short nail as he presses into your palm, rubbing tiny, concentrated circles into your skin. For a minute you can’t muster the will to ask what he’s doing, but then the pain ebbs slightly, and you find your voice.

“What’s this?”

“Pressure point. Is it helping?”

“I think so.” Not a ton, but it’s something. You force yourself to relax the muscles around your eyes, and that helps a bit too. “Thank you,” you breathe.

Remus makes a soft sound, catching another tear as it skids down your face. His thumb still drills into that place on your palm. It hurts a tiny bit, but not near enough for you to ask him to stop. “It kills me to see you like this,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Yeah, couldn’t you get me some morphine or something?”

The little laugh that follows is odd-sounding, like he’s stifled it with a hand. “Actually, it might be worth losing my license for that. If you really want me to, just say the word.”

“I’ll let you know.”

There’s a few seconds where you can only hear each other breathing. It’s always a little bit weird, knowing he can see you when you can’t see him. You wonder, distantly, shamefully, if you look pretty. There’s no sense in asking Remus. You know what he’ll say.

“Can I touch you?’ he asks quietly.

“You’ve been touching me, Lupin.”

Another half-smothered chuckle. Remus’ hand rests delicately on the top of your head, his thumb stroking an upward path along your forehead. You hum in approval.

“If you go to sleep now,” he says softly, thumb lifting from your hand, “your headache might be gone when you wake up.”

You take a deep breath, gauging your own tiredness. You think you can do it.

“And so long as you sleep for more than an hour, I promise to get out of bed to get you more painkillers.”

“You’d better,” you mutter, and you can feel his smile against your skin when he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Hug me?”

You intend for it to sound light, almost like a joke, but the question comes out laden with all the neediness you’d hoped to hide. Remus doesn’t begrudge you, one arm needling under the small of your back while the other wraps across your ribcage. He scoots closer until your arm is pressed to his front.

“This okay?”

“Better than okay. Thanks, Rem.”

His lips brush delicately across your cheekbone, the soft bit of skin just next to your eye. “Don’t mention it.”

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writtenbymoonflower · 4 months

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hi!!! could i pls request some casual dominance polymarauders 🙈

Thanks for requesting, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders, kinda modern!au

cw: kinda d/s dynamics, boys order reader around a bit. if it's not your cup of tea feel free to skip!

810 words

You were attacked with affection the minute you had stepped foot in the house, but you weren’t complaining. It was like James had appeared from thin air to help you shuck your coat off and hang it up for you.

“Christ, babe. It didn’t know how freezing it was out there. You’ve got like, bits of ice on you.” He fussed, scrutinizing your shaking body and wind-pinched face.

“It wasn’t that bad, the walk was pretty.” You thought that would be reassuring, but James just looked more aghast.

“You walked the whole way here?”

“I mean, yeah. I didn’t have money for the bus.” You admitted shamefully. It seemed like Sirius had appeared in the room to give you a (loving) talking to as well.

“Then in that case, you call one of us, yeah?” He grabbed your face gently, turning you away from James to look at him. He had his whole intimidation thing going on that made you want to melt into the floor. “You don’t get to put yourself in danger walking in this.” He gave your chin an affectionate squeeze before dropping his hand from your face, you let your gaze fall to the floor.

“I will,” You muttered, barely intelligible. This time it was James who tilted your face up.

“Speak up baby, and look Pads in the eye when you talk to him.” He was gentle but still assertive. You quickly corrected.

“I will call you next time.” Still mousy, but at a discernible volume, and now you could see when Sirius’ usual grin overtook his concerned features. He pulled you into him, giving you a tight squeeze.

“You’re okay, babydoll. You’re not in trouble.” He kissed your neck, making it hard for you to breathe.

“Who’s not in trouble?” You heard Remus’ even tone from the kitchen. You tugged the two men next to you over to where Remus was. He was sitting at the counter, doing some work on his laptop.

“Well it seems like Y/N was determined to give us the fright of our life this afternoon.” James joked (rather dramatically in your opinion), but it’s all good now.

“They will be requiring some hot chocolate, though.” Sirius pinched at your nose, making an awful cooing sound. “Baby, your face is still all cold.”

Remus stood up to rummage through the box of hot drink mixes. “Pads love, could you run upstairs and grab the sweater off the end of the bed?” his voice turned more serious as he looked at you. “It doesn’t surprise me that you’re still cold, that shirt likely isn’t doing much to keep you warm.”

“Actually,” You spoke up, ignoring his comment. “Could I have some coffee instead?” James scoffed and Remus rolled his eyes.

“It’s half past five, baby dove. You’ll be up all night if you have caffeine right now.” Remus clearly wasn’t in the mood to be argued with, but you pressed in.

“I’ll be fine! Besides, my head hurts and I need to get some work done.”

“Yeah, well, get that idea out of your head.” James shook your shoulders affectionately. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately, you need a rest.”

“Who needs a rest?” Sirius trotted over to you, manhandling you to get Remus’ sweater over your head.

“Y/N,” James tattled. “They think they’re getting coffee at this hour.” He laughed like you were being obviously ridiculous. “They also have a headache and didn’t tell us.” You must’ve looked absolutely appalled and quickly floundered to control the damages.

“I didn’t think it was important! It’s not bad anyway.”

“Well, let’s try to keep it from getting bad.” Remus handed you a steaming cup of hot cocoa, along with a packet of biscuits. “Here, eat these so you can take some pain pills.” He glanced over to James, making the bespectacled boy rummage through the medicine box while Sirius set on getting a glass of water for you.

“I don’t need any medicine, it will go away on its own.” You pleaded, covering your mouth full of biscoff and feeling flustered from all the attention. Sirius clearly disagreed, because the comment earned you a hard pinch on your bum.

“Do what Moons said” He punctuated the order with a kiss to your forehead, letting you know he wasn’t really upset with you. Sirius may play stern, but he was really just silly and enjoyed ordering you around a bit, knowing that it made you heated and blushy.

You set down your hot drink and half-eaten snack to take the pills and water, swallowing your pills and finishing the whole glass before you handed it back.

“There you go,” James cooed, pulling you into his side. “That’s a good girl”

You groaned, earning a dark chuckle from Remus.

"Poor baby," He teased, clearly not feeling very sorry for you.

It was going to be a trying night.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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The Man 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A few days pass as the humiliation of your big lesson clings in the air. You think about it too much. Enough that you find yourself cringing to yourself on your bike ride home or even when lying in bed. You’ve never been the most socially adept so the encounter leaves you reeling.

As you help Bre with opening, you feel your heartbeat pick up once more. You need to chase the elephant from the room. You puff out and wet your lips as you glance over at her. She measures out grinds into the silver machine as her eyes pinpoint on the task.

“Um, so, Bre,” you approach her warily with a fresh sleeve of cups, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mm,” she grumbles groggily. She’s on her second coffee already and she only just got there twenty minutes ago.

“So, um, that guy, from the other day,” you rub your boiling neck, “with the mustache. You said he’s the boss. So he owns this place?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes as she shuts the lid of the machine and turns the silver dial on the front. She shakes her head as the machine starts to brew and she plants her hand on the counter in front of it. She faces you, her other hand going to her hip.

“Mr. Hansen? Lloyd. Hansen.” She enunciates as if you should know the name.

Your lips downturn and you shrug, “is that his name?”

“Are you new in town?” She asks hotly.

You nod, “yeah, actually. I used to live about forty minutes out of town but there was nothing there--”

“It shows,” she retorts, “he owns this shop, he owns the street outside, he owns me, he owns you. He owns this city. Got it?”

You hum and nod as you look thoughtfully to the ceiling, “not really. But he’s important, got it.”

“Just if he comes back in, come get me and say as little as you can. And please, for the love of god, do not ask him for money,” she snips.

“Oh, alright,” you deflate, “I didn’t know--”

“Now you do. Just trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to fuck around with him. If he tells you to pour boiling water on yourself, you’re better off just doing it,” she sneers.

You wince, “okay, sorry, Bre, I was just asking.”

“You ask too many questions,” she turns and goes into the backroom. She returns, dangling a keyring from her finger, “open up. It’s time.”

You take the key and go to unlock the door and flip on the sign. You retreat back behind the counter, swallowed up by the tension between you. You regret asking. You thought it might help clear the air but now you can barely breathe.

When the first customer enters, you volunteer to help them. Bre just mutters and slurps from her coffee. She might have less of a headache if she takes it easy on the caffeine. You don’t say as much to her, nothing really at all as you work through order after order.

She hops onto prep as you man the till while the queue grows. The morning rush is in full effect as you slide baked goods into little paper sleeves and hand them over before sending customers down to the window to wait for their drinks. The hectic flow helps you forget about the awkward start.

When at last the crowd trickles down and the cafe hums with voices sitting at the tables, you have a moment to catch your breath and center yourself. You like this job, it’s just like your last one, but the company isn’t as pleasant. Bre taps her thumb on her phone screen and ignores you.

The ebbs come with hide tides and soon lunch has you scrambling once more. The smell of toasted bread and cinnamon has your stomach grumbling. You’re too busy to let the emptiness bother you for long. When high noon influx subsides, Bre yawns.

“Lunch,” she announces, “I’m going to head down to Tabitha’s. They’re having a clearance sale.”

“Oh, alright,” you agree, not mentioning that she said earlier you could go first, “I’ll be here.”

She doesn’t respond as she disappears into the back to get her things. You hear her leave through the side door that leads through to the alley. You sigh out and watch the sit-in customers on their laptops or chatting with friends.

You resist the temptation of the tarts staring at you from the display. You can hold out until it’s your turn. The door jingles and a new customer enters. You’re too fixated on the painting of a latte to glance over. Not until you sense the sudden shift in the air. Several people quiet and pack up to go.

Footfalls scuff across the floor and customers leave their unfinished drinks on the table as they hurry for the door. You peer around then at the approaching shadow. It’s him. Oh no. Bre isn’t here.

“Um, hello, Mr. Hensen,” you smile shakily, “how are you?”

He stares at you as he comes to stand across the till from you. His blue eyes darken as he lets a long exhale out through his nose. You gulp and your cheeks tremble. He tilts his head and arches a brow.

“Hansen,” he corrects.

“Right, Floyd Hansen, I remember--”

“Lloyd,” he hits his fist on the counter and you gasp. “Lloyd fucking Hansen.” He leans forward and bares his teeth, “get that through that thick fucking skull.” He reaches for you, grabbing the front of your shirt, “you won’t forget who I am.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m bad with names--”

“Shut up,” he twists the fabric until it strains against the back of your neck, “if you weren’t so goddamn pathetic, I’d drag you across this counter.”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. He’s only an inch away from you. You shiver as he opens his hand and presses the vee of his index and thumb to your throat. You’re frozen, terrified. Who is this man?

“Get me my fucking coffee,” he squeezes then shoves you so you choke.

You stumble back and bring your hand to your neck. You nod, eyes glittering with unspent tears, and look around. You can’t remember what he ordered. You’ll just have to make something up. Or maybe you could just sneak out like Bre...

#the man #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #drabble #series #au #mob au

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prettieinpink · 8 months

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LOWERING YOUR CORTISOL LEVELS: THE MAIN STRESS HORMONE

Hi lovelies! If you didn’t know, cortisol is the main stress hormone of your body. Cortisol is a good thing for our bodies, it manages how our body uses carbs, fats or proteins, keeps inflammation down, regulates your blood pressure, increases glucose, controls your sleep cycle and boosts energy for when you have high levels of stress.

However, your body can produce too much unnecessary cortisol which is when it can start taking a toll on us, leading to

Anxiety or depression

Headaches

Heart diseases

Memory problems

Trouble staying focused

Digestive complications

Sleeping complications

Weight gain/loss

and more!

below the read more, there’s ways to lower and regulate our cortisol levels <3

getting adequate sleep

Prioritising and optimising our sleep is already beneficial for us, but it can help with lowering our cortisol levels. To make the most of your sleep, have an winding down routine, sleep and wake at similar times everyday, limit your caffeine intake(including soft drinks!) and reduce your screen time before you go to bed.

Moderate intensity exercise

Too intense exercise or no exercise, can increase the levels of cortisol but intense exercise usually has a temporary effect. It helps with managing our stress better and promotes better sleep which also helps with lowering your cortisol levels.

Practise deep breathing and meditation

This time to clear our minds, helps stimulates our resting & digest system in us. (Parasympathetic nervous system). You can do this wherever, whenever.

Eating a nutritious diet

Only you know what’s the best diet that suits your lifestyle, so I won’t say much about this, but make sure that you’re getting quality nutrition in your body.

Take your supplements

Make sure you talk to your doctor before taking any supplements! Before you consider taking any supplements, do some individual research first.

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evertidings · 9 months

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A likes waking up next to you in the morning. they like turning over to see your still sleeping state, eyes closed and chest rising and falling softly. they like knowing they’re the only person who gets to see you this way, mouth slightly open and face free of any creases or worry lines that they see so often on you at work.

A likes to stare. they like to memorize every part of your face and body, trace your skin until they’re sure they could know you by simply standing beside you. they like holding your hand, not minding the callouses because they have the same ones. they like cupping your cheek, rubbing the back of your hand with their thumb, jumping on your back and making the both of you topple over from the sudden weight.

A likes to fantasize. they like to dream, imagine touching the stars and doing laps around the moon because if they’re already there, why waste the chance? they’re eager. energetic. they’ve often heard themself described as a golden retriever, and it’s usually a compliment, sometimes they hear it as an insult.

because waking up next to them will get boring one day. staring will become creepy. their fantasies will become too much and their passion and devotion too intense.

you grow tired of them. they can see it when they drink too much caffeine and all you do is give them a small smile. they hear it when you snap at them, irritated that they’re talking too much when you’re nursing a headache. they feel it when you whisper a halfhearted goodbye at the end of the day, their playful “i love you” hanging heavy in the air between you.

and while they know this doesn’t mean anything in the long run, they can’t help but glance at the calendar and wonder how long they have left before you eventually decide they’re too much.

#last one until i decide to hurt you all again #ty for all the love and support on these tho !!#drabble #a devereux

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meowufff · 11 months

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This is my first actual post on Tumblr ever so pls bear with me. Also, English is not my first language so pls excuse any mistakes I make :)

So, this whole thing here started just as a joke bc I was curious if anyone else was feeling constantly tired all day no matter how long I sleep. But it all somehow escalated a bit and I may have started hyperfixating on it so well, now it actually became a little survey.

I also wanted to mention that I only asked the artist in my little Tumblr bubble, which is mostly tmnt content, so my results are mostly referring to tmnt artists.

In total, I asked 143 people if they could remember the last time they woke up and just felt actually rested for more than half of the day.

I probably could have been more specific with my question but again, I did not actually planned to let it become so big. Personally, for me being rested means, having a clear head, no headache or foggy mind without consuming any caffeine.

So out of 143 people, 100 answered me and I tried my best to sort all of the answers after the criteria “good-sleep-schedule” and “bad-sleep-schedule” and also noted when exactly they last felt actually rested into either the last days, weeks, months, years or “???” when they couldn’t remember or didn’t mention anything specific.

And let’s just say… it does not really look good. Out of 100 people, only 18 have an actual good sleep schedule. Out of these 18 people, 13 felt really rested in the last days, 2 in the last weeks, only one person in the last months and 2 in the last years.

Out of the 82 of people who have a bad sleep schedule, 10% lastly felt rested in the last days, 11% in the last weeks, 11% in the last months, 30% in the last years, and 38% couldn’t remember or didn’t specify it.

While reading all your answers I came to realize being sleep deprived is not just bc any of them thought “Oh it would be really neat to stay up till 4 am!” or smth like that.

A lot of the artists who answered me mentioned that they have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep due to stuff like insomnia, chronic pain, other issues, or children (yeah, ok, there was just one who had a child but still).

While analyzing I mostly referred the situations to my own experience with going to sleep or rather not going to sleep...

I usually don’t have problems falling asleep but trouble actually putting my stuff away and going to bed bc I don’t want to end the day or just don’t want to go to sleep (don’t ask why, I have no idea why I am like this). While having these “episodes” I often doodle smth, binge reading some fanfics, or watch whatever I can find on the internet until I’m just falling asleep or can convince myself that it is 3 am and I really should go to bed now.

So, my personal theory about why sleep deprivation is so common among Tumblr artists is not bc they do art all night. My theory is that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep due to insomnia, pain, or other issues are filling the time until they hopefully fall asleep with their art, doodles, writings, or whatever their creative minds can bring up, to help the time pass.

In total that would mean that not all artists are sleep deprived but more that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep do a lot of art or creative stuff in general.

Something I could also imagine is, that if they start doing art while waiting for sleep, they start to concentrate a lot on creating more and start procrastinating sleep even if they actually get tired bc they wanna do art and fuck up their non-existing sleep schedule even more but that could also just be me projecting here.

I know that is probably no kind of big revelation but for me it was kind of surprising to see how many people here are as sleep deprived as me and due to what reasons.

I’m not going to preach to any of you to get that problem solved or smth, I have no right to tell you what to do and would be a major hypocrite so instead I really which everyone to get some kind of good sleep schedule one day and the joy of waking up and feeling completely rested at least thrice per week.

I absolutely love all your art and thank you a thousand times for helping me with this spontaneous survey!

I would love to hear your opinions on my theory and conclusion so pls don’t be shy and feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made or tell me your own theories :D

Also, if my question is still sitting in your inbox, feel free to answer! I’m gonna keep ma big ass excel table so I can edit all the results anytime. And maybe, one day, I'm gonna continue this survey and go into more detail but for now I need to leave it like this.

Ok, that's all I got

BYE!

Thanks to all participants

@abbeyofcyn @angelpuns @beannary @bulbabutt @camilieroart @cementgeek @cheesyescapade @cokowiii @easterartist @frosteaart @gemini-forest @happyfoxx-art @heckitall @hellishgayliath @holy-sweetsour-milk @icepopcider @idiot-mushroom @iscreamkitty @kovalitics @laseralligator @lieutenantbiscute @matchstique @mightyanxiety @miiukkaa @mr-doodles @pezhead @probably-not-a-rutabaga @pumpkster @sad-leon @sassatello @sewercrocodileart @sheep-turtles-and-pizza @signanothername @spectra-bear @stephuart @tangledinink @tapakah0 @tasenwiththerobots @tblsomedoodles @thegunnsara @triona-tribblescore @turrondeluxe @valen-timez @vangh17a @wraenata @zinovi768 @debb987 @dianagj-art @goatedgreen @indieyuugure

#Average Tumblr artists sleep deprivation #Sleep survey #Survey #If I had put at least half the effort I put into this survey into learning I wouldn't need to do a retake of my finals #Hyperfixiation is kicking HARD #that escalated quickly

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moonstruck-poet · 5 months

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Let's Have One

Pairing - Ben Barnes x reader!

Summary - Seeing you play and bond with his sister's baby sparked a new feeling of want and love in Ben.

Warnings - none!

This one is a thank you for a hundred followers!! I love all of you sm <33

"You ready, love?" His soft voice addressed you as you finished applying some light compact powder, thus finishing your simple and elegant look.

"Yeah just done," you gave yourself a scan and smoothed down the simple blood red dress. And even with the three cups of caffeine that you had downed in the past two hours, a yawn still managed to escape.

"God I'm hopeless," you chuckled lightly, fighting the urge to rub your eyes so as to not ruin the eyeliner.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and pulled you closer by the waist. "I can see how tired you are and I can't do anything at all".

"Hey it's fine," you kissed his cheek, lingering for a while and nuzzling into his neck. "It was my fault for staying up late on that case".

"You sure you're feeling okay? No headaches or anything?"

"I'm fine," you smiled at his worried expression before grabbing his hand and leading him out of the door. "And besides it's Sarah's birthday party, I wouldn't miss it for the world, you know?"

"I know," he replied and followed you without a doubt, opening the car door like an absolute gentleman before getting in himself.

"I should've done that since I'm driving," you laughed when he shook his head.

"You open the doors for me at restaurants and I do it for cars. I think it's only fair".

The drive to the party was spent in silence, with the radio and Ben's humming being the only source of sound.

"You need to have a small holiday," he interrupted the quiet and took your free hand in his. "You're working too hard".

"I'll get one as soon as I finish this, I promise. This one's a lot more complicated than we expected so naturally it is taking more time".

"I find you absolutely cool have I ever mentioned that?" He asked with a teasing smirked on his face.

You couldn't help but laugh and smile yourself, "I think you have, indeed! For the past week or so".

"Seriously though, I still can't believe that I'm married to a crime branch officer. Who could've thought?"

"And it's beyond my understanding how I managed to snatch for myself a literal Disney prince for the record," you retorted and he grinned proudly.

You two had arrived at the destination and the car was parked quickly by your efficient hands.

As usual, he got out first and opened your door, offering a charming smile and his hand as if you were a queen.

You accepted it without a moment of hesitation and placed your palm on his cheek to give him a rather unexpected kiss, one that he immediately reciprocated.

"Goodness," he whispered to himself after you pulled away, leaving him rather breathless and following with a wink.

Ben just felt himself fall a little more in love.

As soon as you opened the doors, you were swarmed by his family members. Eveybody coming closer to greet you with enthusiasm while your husband watched from the sideline, a fond and adoring smile on his face.

"It's so good to see you sweetheart!" His mother cupped your cheeks and surveyed your face in the most motherly way possible. "You're resting well aren't you? Eating properly and getting enough sleep? He's taking care of you isn't he?" She pointed towards her son and playfully narrowed her eyes as if threatening him.

"Don't worry, Mum. He's always taking care of me," you laughed at his nervous and scared face.

"He better be," Thomas, his father patted him on the shoulder sternly before chuckling and pulling his boy in a hug.

You finally managed to extract yourself from his loving family and he joined your side a second later, straightening his blazer.

"I honestly think they love you more".

"Well, I know they love me more".

He rolled his eyes at your smirk and extended his arm which you took, placing your palm on his bicep.

"You look beautiful by the way," he muttered in you ear as you searched for an empty table. "Like breathtakingly gorgeous".

"Thank you," was all you managed to utter because the way he was looking at you made you feel all sorts of things.

"All these years and I can still make you blush huh?" He grinned knowingly while you poked and slapped his abdomen.

"Let's sit here," he pointed to one with two empty seats and you followed, settling down at last and letting out a sigh as you slipped your heels off.

His hands found their way to yours, as though it was second nature to do so. His fingers fiddled with yours, occupying his attention till the party began.

And it started soon enough with everyone standing up as the birthday girl cut her cake and both her husband and son placed a kiss on her cheeks.

"Awh," you said to yourself, a smile forming on your face at what you saw a perfect family. You wanted that too. You already had a loving husband, the only thing left now was an adorable little one.

You lips were pressed together as you looked at your man, letting your eyes rest on his sharp but smooth features.

How beautiful would it be to have a little baby, a perfect combination of yourself and someone whom you held so dear. Maybe they'd inherit his dark eyes and hair or yours, it would be beautiful either way.

How lovely would it be to see this small, tiny human being blossom into a fully mature adult with their own unique personality while also sharing some common traits.

Your heart felt heavy with love at the thought and Ben could certainly feel you planting holes in his face and he looked at you quizzically, though a smile was still there.

You shook your head, suddenly overcome with emotions as you rested your head on his shoulder, wanting to be close.

He didn't say anything and merely pulled you closer, if that was even possible while pressing a kiss to your hairline.

The celebrations were in full swing and all of the couples were currently on the dancefloor, swaying to the romantic rhythm which soon changed into an energetic beat.

"Goddamn," a breath escaped your lips as you pushed your sweaty hair out of your face. "You're quite the dancer, Barnes".

"Care for another one, my love?"

"Unfortunately though I have to decline your offer, darling. I'm quite tired," you laughed lightly and he guided you to sit on a chair.

He knelt down on the floor and touched your feet making your eyes widen as you instantly grabbed his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Shh just relax and trust me," he whispered and you watched as he undid the buckles of your heels and removed your sore feet from their tortuous clutches.

He then went forward to gently rubbing the top and sides and then moving towards the sole. The slight pressure helped immensely and you had to literally push him to get the man to stop.

"Thank you," you said into his ear once he settled down next to you, his chair close.

"Always," he murmured back and leaned down, capturing your lips in his and savouring the moment before it was broken by the party host.

Drinks and food were served once again, probably to energize the crowd for another round of crazy dancing. And Ben too had been dragged away by his many relatives, you laughing at his face that screamed 'save me from these hooligans'.

The sound was getting too loud for your rather sensitive ears so you decided to go to the more quieter areas but suddenly a loud crying stopped you in your tracks.

Pinpointing the source was easy enough and your heart dropped in your chest on seeing a toddler sitting on the grass all alone.

"Christ," you almost sprinted to the baby, recognizing him to be Louis, Ben's nephew. You sat down on your knees, offering him a smile and slowly moving closer.

"Hey Lou," you whispered, the smile still intact as you held out your palm. "You remember me, love?"

Fortunately the one-year-old had stopped crying though tears still stained his cheeks. He looked at you through wide set of eyes, his mind racing as he tried to identify.

After some time of silence you concluded that he didn't recognise you, which was fair considering you had only ever seen him twice in his life.

"Come here," you beckoned, now sitting on your heels and grinning as he raised his arms, allowing you to pick him up.

"Now what might you be doing here all alone, hmm?" You spoke softly, tucking him close to your body and finding a secluded spot in the party which didn't invite a lot of noise.

A sudden giggle was heard from him and you looked, surprised and laughing upon finding the cause. His tiny fingers had found your small butterfly necklace.

Sitting down on a chair you placed him on your lap, facing you. "Yeah that's a butterfly!" You smiled and gently wiped his moist cheeks.

"Fieee!" He grinned, his voice melting you immediately. He was an adorable boy, with blond hair and sea blue eyes.

"You wanna play a game? Let's play a game," saying so you kept him engaged for quite a long time and were entertained yourself.

"More!" He said happily, swinging his little feet as you tickled his sides making him squirm away but also lean in.

There was a tissue box kept on the table and you folded one to create a boat, an aeroplane and some simple shapes much to his excitement.

"Boat," he pointed towards the craft kept on the left and you clapped.

"Good job!" You chuckled and kissed the top of his head with every ounce of love. A wave of pride filling your chest at his correct answer.

Your shenanigans went on for another thirty minutes before Louis started yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Someone's getting sleepy," you adjusted his position so that his face was resting comfortably on your chest and your palm was patting his back.

Ben's blazer that had been resting on your shoulders for almost the entire night was now shielding his nephew from the cold. You draped the black coat on him and it fit like a warm blanket.

"Goodnight sweetheart," you murmured and kissed his forehead before resting your cheek gently on his head.

"Nigh Nigh," he replied, eyes closed completely and one of his fist grasping on your necklace.

Looking at him sleeping so peacefully made your tired body feel dizzy as well and before you knew it, you were knocked out.

Ben Barnes on the other hand was roaming around the hall for the past ten minutes, trying to locate you amongst the crowd. He was getting agitated and couldn't help but release a sigh of relief upon seeing you.

Walking closer a small noise of surprise left him as he saw you fast asleep with his nephew resting on your chest. His heart took up its pace as he gazed at the domestic scene, his brain already creating various scenarios which depicted you and a tiny one nestled in your arms.

He swallowed, sitting down in the empty share and pulling out his phone to click a picture, knowing it would last longer.

His eyes surveyed every inch of you in that beautiful moment.

Moving from your creaseless eyelids to the small movement of your lips while you were asleep, then to the protective but gentle hold you had on the baby who was snuggling closer to your cozy figure under his own blazer making his smile widen.

"God I adore you," he said with a small chuckle, getting up to press his lips to the top of your head.

"Oh thank goodness," his sister Sarah's voice was heard from behind as she panted a little.

"What's wrong?" He stood up straight, concerned upon seeing her frazzled state.

"I left Lou with an uncle of ours and I saw the said person drunk some time ago and freaked out," she took deep breath, glad that her son was safe and sound.

He scoffed is disbelief at the carelessnes shown before turning back to you as you were rubbing you eyes and blinking rapidly, trying to move before remembering the child that was alseep too.

Ben and Sarah watched with a smile as you adjusted the coat, tucking it carefully and brushing the small strands of hair from his face.

"Oh hey," you greeted when your eyes fell upon the pair and you stood up, "He fell asleep as we were playing," you explained and handed him to his mother.

She took her son in one arm and pulled you in a warm embrace, "Thank you. I was worried sick after not seeing him," she said, shuddering slightly and you offered her a comforting smile.

"Its okay I can understand, glad to say he was in good hands," you said softly and they nodded while laughing.

"See you around then, visit soon, Ben," she hugged her cousin and bid goodbye.

"You slept well?" Your husband asked and brought you close to him while you arms went around his neck.

"Mhmm, needed that power nap".

"I've been thinking.." He began slowly making you pull away to look at his face, noticing the slightly nervous expression.

"Go on," you encouraged him, leaning ahead.

"We've been married for almost four years noe, yeah? And have been together for ever longer," he said and you nodded. "How about- How about we have a child now?"

Your eyes widened and you stilled in his arms, your heartbeat increasing with both nervousness and excitement at his declaration, "Y- You sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He questioned and gently swayed you two together. "I want a future with you, my love. Have been dreaming about it for ages".

"Me too," you admitted, a small smile forming against your lips. "Seeing Lou again just increased that feeling tenfold".

"I second that. And honestly? I really want to take the next step now. I think we're ready. What'd you say?"

"I think I'm ready too".

"Well then, I supoose we should start practicing soon," he said, now a teasing smirk on his face making you blush.

"Indeed," you replied and the two of you laughed, placing your foreheads against each other and simply staring into each other's eyes, making a whole new world of promises by sharing looks.

===============================

#ben barnes fanfiction #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes ff #benjamin thomas barnes #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader wife #ben barnes x reader fluff #ben Barnes fluff #bin bons

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jasperthehatchet · 6 months

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Hi so here's my altiods tin chronic pain/migraine kit! Also including some stuff that doesn't fit in an altoids tin. (Also this isn't for general use this kit is specifically for taking with me on trips and stuff, for general use I have a large drawer specifically for pain/disability things <3)

Inside the tin:

- 2 small packets of a sugar free caffine drink mix, strawberry flavor. Caffine helps me when im feeling a migraine coming on, but I only resort to it if i absolutely need it since im not a caffeine drinker. I don't recommend caffeine AND medication together though. but I DO recommend finding similar sized drink mixes with electrolytes

- a small bag of safety pins and those little aluminum ace bandage clasp thingies. These are for when I go out wearing ace bandages or need to bring them with me during periods where my joint pain is really bad. It's not often i need bandages though, usually I just bring a few compression braces. Those take up less space and are easier to carry

- three little bags of medicine, all labeled. One for nausea, one for general headaches and the last one is ibuprofen (the medication is never sitting in the tin for too too long, I usually store it properly when I get back)

- I'll put an unmedicated migraine/forehead patch in the tin if I think I'll need it, that's not in the picture though

-These two things don't fit in a little tin but they are just as important imo, 2 ankle/elbow compression braces and a pack of hand warmers. The heat from the hand warmers soothes joint or muscle pain in my personal experience

This kit is specifically put together with my personal needs in mind, but if you have any ideas for what to add or different ways you'd make one I'd love to hear about it in the notes! <3 <3 <3

#chronic pain #chronic headaches #chronic illness #chronic migraine #physically disabled #disability #cripplepunk #punk #solarpunk #i think my next altiods tin project will be a survival kit or a watercolor palette #mint tins are extremely useful #i highly recommend collecting them if you can #hopepunk #hatchet makes stuff

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pizzaqueen · 1 year

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This was meant to be a few sentences… It is now more than that haha

1.1k of fluff and silliness

Eddie gets drunker than he usually gets one night, when he’s home alone. He’s feeling sorry for himself, which is also unusual for him, but he’d hung out with Steve earlier and Steve had looked even prettier than normal. Fuck. He is so so pretty.

Eddie’s never felt like this before. It’s driving him crazy. He can’t stand being some kind of lovestruck idiot, even if Steve is beautiful and funny and brave and kind and being around him feels like heavy metal and D&D all in one.

Jesus Christ. This is ridiculous. He just needs to get it out of his system somehow.

And, in his drunk mind, the best way to do this is write Steve a letter. Lay it all out. Each and every feeling, no matter how embarrassing. No holds barred.

He finds a pad of paper and a pen and writes furiously. When he’s done, he shoves it in an envelope, writes Steve’s address on it and—

Shit. No stamps. It’s fine. He’ll have to mail it in the morning. And then he collapses on the couch and passes out, the letter clutched in his hand.

Eddie wakes up with a blanket draped over him, a pounding headache, and the feeling he’s done something spectacularly stupid. He manages to get himself off the couch, takes the aspirin left on the coffee table with the glass of water by them, and makes himself some coffee.

As the caffeine kicks in, last night comes back to him. Pining over Steve. Writing the letter—

The letter! Shit. He’s so glad they didn’t have stamps. He’s going to tear that stupid thing up and never think about it again. Except… It’s not by the paper and pen he’d used to write it.

Eddie searches everywhere for the letter, starting to wonder if maybe it was a beer-fueled nightmare after all, when he spots a note on the coffee table. It’s by the empty glass and he doesn’t know how he missed it earlier, but, as he reads it, his heart sinks. It’s from Wayne. And he’s gone to the post office.

Eddie dresses quickly, hangover forgotten, and races to the post office. He tells them he sent a letter by mistake, can he get it back but, no dice. They won’t give him the letter back no matter how much he pleads. (He actually gets down on his knees but they only kick him out.)

He considers breaking into the post office—he’s pretty sure Gareth would help—but dealing to people looking for a good time is one thing. Breaking into a government building is another. And, okay, Eddie would totally do it because these are extreme circumstances—and it’s his damn letter anyway—but he doesn’t want to let Wayne down.

So, he’ll just have to intercept it after it’s been delivered but before Steve gets it. Shouldn’t be too hard so long as Steve is at work or somewhere else (like on a date, which Eddie doesn’t want to think about) and his mom’s not there. And Steve’s dad is guaranteed to be at work.

He stakes out the Harrington house and, after the mailman delivers the day’s mail, he scurries over and is about to open the mailbox, take back his letter, when a car pulls up.

“Eddie?”

Eddie looks over to see Steve’s mom getting out of the car, one hand on her hip, looking at him oddly. “Mrs. Harrington. How are you on this fine day?”

“Fine, thanks.” Her eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh…” Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “I was just passing and… Need me to bring your mail in?”

“I can manage it, thanks.” She raises a brow, shakes her head. “But you can help me with the groceries.”

“Yes! I would love to help you with the groceries.”

She shakes her head again and goes around to open the trunk. Together, they haul the groceries in, Eddie keeping one eye on the mail the whole time. There’s a moment, in the kitchen, when Mrs. Harrington is putting eggs in the fridge that Eddie tries to slip the letter out of the pile but Mrs. Harrington turns back around too soon.

“Steven will be home soon,” she says, “if you want to stay for dinner.”

“Uh, can’t… I have to…” He looks at the letters. This is never going to work. Fuck. “I have to go now Bye.” And he turns tail and runs.

New plan: he’s going to move to Canada, change his name to Freddie Bunson, maybe cut his hair… No, too dramatic. Canada and the name change is enough.

In the end, he doesn’t go to Canada, but he does hide. It’s just… He really didn’t hold anything back in the letter and now Steve will know exactly how he feels and Eddie is pretty sure Steve won’t hold it against him but, even if it somehow doesn’t ruin their friendship, nothing’s ever going to be the same again.

But the thing about small towns is you can’t hide forever. That and Steve knows where he lives. It’s the next night and Eddie’s waiting for Gareth when there’s a knock at the door, so he opens it without thinking (not that smart of him, but Gareth’s bringing pizza and Eddie’s hungry.)

But it’s not Gareth with pizza. It’s Steve. And he’s holding the letter.

Eddie slams the door shut.

There’s another knock and Steve calls out, “Hey, man, open up.”

Shit shit shit. Eddie runs a hand over his face and opens the door. He leans on the frame, aiming for nonchalant. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I got your letter.”

“Letter?”

Steve holds the letter up.

“Oh, that letter.”

“I thought we should talk about it.”

And Eddie breaks: “Look, man, I was drunk and I just… I shouldn’t have written it, okay? Can we pretend that I didn’t?”

“Uh, yeah, if you want, but…”

“But what?”

“I kind of liked it.”

Eddie blinks. “You… What?”

“I liked it. A lot, actually. I wanted to write one back, which is why I didn’t come as soon as I read it but I’m not good at writing shit down.” Steve shrugs. “So, I thought I could tell you, instead.”

“Tell me?”

“Yeah.” Steve swallows. “Can I come in?”

Eddie nods numbly, standing aside to let Steve in, heart beating hard.

And Eddie’s right. The letter does change everything. But it’s a good change. A really good change. He’s so damn glad Wayne mailed the letter.

(Steve keeps the letter tucked away safely and, years later, when he and Eddie move in together, he gets it framed and it hangs in their living room, and happily tells anyone who asks the whole story, including the parts he didn’t know at the time, but Eddie filled him in on later. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but Eddie doesn’t care. Because Steve is always so happy when he tells it and it’s the best time Eddie’s made a fool of himself.)

#steddie #Steve x eddie #Steddie fic #normally I’d post something this long on AO3 but this is kinda not!fic and I don’t like posting that there lol #pizzaqueenfic

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romione-trope-fest · 3 months

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Sleep Hexed

Title: Sleep Hexed

Author: cheesyficwriter

Selected Trope: Only One Bed

Brief Summary: A No Voldemort tale featuring two idiots in love who don’t quite know it yet. Post-Hogwarts years.

Rating: T

Word Count (if applicable): 3,738

Trigger Warnings: N/A

---

Chapter One

Sleep.

Interesting, isn’t it?

All humans need to have the energy to go about their daily lives. Although sleep is unavoidable, the task can become significantly compromised at any moment.

For Hermione? Sleep has always seemed so simple, yet it causes her much more grief than she cares to admit.

It’s midday during an impossible season of trials at the Ministry, and she can’t focus on the work that needs to be done simply because she tossed and turned all night long. Instead of her brain deciding that she needed proper rest before a full day of work, Hermione found herself laying awake for the fifth straight night in a row.

Why can’t she sleep when it feels like she’s tried everything in the books to help her? Hermione always maintains proper hygiene, avoids caffeine as much as possible, performs a nightly Atmospheric Charm to keep her bedroom at an ideal temperature, and even has a set bedtime—no matter how often she has to remind Ron and Harry that the use of her Floo after ten in the evening should only be for emergencies!

Although the cafeteria is bustling with energy during the busy Ministry lunch hour, Hermione’s only point of focus is to mentally strategize ways to get at least an hour of shut eye tonight. Yet she nudges the food around on her plate with her fork, lacking any appetite to eat.

Her legs are restless beneath the table as she fights the urge to bounce her knee in a jerky rhythm. Ron slides into the empty seat across from her, kinking an eyebrow in her direction as the table shakes from her incessant knee movement. He opens his mouth as if he wants to address it, but says nothing. Hermione bites her lip to hold back a yawn, her eyelids drooping of their own volition.

“Ron!” Harry plops into the open chair next to Hermione without warning, his eyes bright. She jumps as his lunch tray clatters onto the table. “Mate, that match last night—”

“Was fucking brilliant!”

The two boys fall into a natural conversation, allowing Hermione’s thoughts to drift to topics that don’t involve her. She takes a long sip of her water, hoping the sensation will keep her engaged long enough to excuse herself to the loo without appearing suspicious.

Harry and Ron discuss Quidditch stats for the next five minutes, but her red-headed best friend steals glances her way every so often. A throbbing headache beneath Hermione’s temples grows stronger and stronger with the excessive noise in the room. As she reaches for her glass of water again, her hand collides with the rim and tips the clear liquid onto the table.

“Bugger!” Hermione withdraws her wand and mutters a quick Scourgify, but nothing happens. She inwardly groans, agitated over her inability to even hold her wand with a steady enough hand.

Unfortunately, she isn’t the only one who notices. Ron frowns and stops speaking mid-sentence, studying her movements with sudden interest. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?"

"You. With your wand, just now.” He nods at the 10 and ¾ inch of vinewood dangling loosely between her fingers. “You fumbled a simple spell.”

Hermione scoffs at the critique. “Thanks, Ron.”

“No! It’s just—” He blunders, gesturing towards her face. “I mean it’s you. You’re brilliant. Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel a bit off today. That’s all.” The retort snaps out of her mouth all too quickly. “Maybe I’ll leave early to get some rest.”

“Leave early?” Ron snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You mean actually leave on time with the rest of us for once?”

Hermione rolls her eyes but clamps her mouth shut. It’s baffling how he manages to keep track of her work hours when he’s usually the one cutting out early. But she’s certainly not going to tell him that.

Ron sighs, propping his elbows on the table as he leans forward. A whiff of sandalwood hits Hermione’s nose, and she struggles to find a way to hold her own underneath the intensity of his gaze.

The growing lump in her throat is too difficult to swallow down, so instead she averts her eyes while mulling over a way to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“Are you getting enough sleep, Hermione?”

He’s so dangerously close, it’s unnerving. Can he spot the dark circles around her eyes? She’s tried so hard to conceal them with magic this week. Hermione blinks as she fights off another yawn. In a curt tone, she responds, “I’m getting sleep, yes."

Hermione omits the max one hour a night part, but still.

Both of Ron’s index fingers shoot out from the fists propping his chin up. "Your spell must be wearing off. These weren’t there earlier.”

He’s pointing right at her eyes. Oh Merlin.

The implication of Ron’s words rings loud and clear. But Hermione is determined to remain Silencio regarding her sleep cycle. She just needs time to sort out what to do with her dilemma.

“You’re still coming to our party at Grimmauld Place tonight, right?” Harry asks through a mouthful of pea soup, cutting in like he hasn’t been listening to their conversation, even though it’s obvious that he has. It’s so like him to want to maintain the peace. “Gin will hex you if you don’t.”

It kind of feels like I’ve already been hexed.

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to see how the rest of the afternoon goes.”

Ron tuts, clearly not happy with her answer. “What are you on about? You have to come!”

“I don’t think I have to do anything, Ron.” Her scathing reply comes out much snappier than she intends. She can tell her mood is starting to swing in the wrong direction, and she needs to put a stop to it before her friends pry any further. “Look, I’ll try my best to make it. I’ve got to get back to work.”

As she stands up with her tray, Ron mutters under his breath, “Got to get some sleep is more like it.”

He’s right. Of course he’s right, and that’s what’s so frustrating.

Hermione ignores his comment and starts on her brisk walk towards the Floo, as fast as her legs can carry her. She’s got a stack of files on her desk at home. Maybe taking a half day and tending to those would be a sufficient amount of work for the day. Kingsley will understand, and she’ll make sure to send him notice as soon as she arrives at her flat.

Although not certain she’ll have the energy to even make it to the gilded fireplaces, Hermione has to try. There’s a good chance that she might give in to her fatigue before she is even out of view from her two best friends. And she certainly doesn’t want to be caught drooling all over the papers on her desk in the Law Enforcement department if Ron pops in to check on her.

A part of her still believes it’s useless to go home right now—with the intention of getting some rest—when there is so much work to be done. She already knows that as soon as she crawls into bed, she’ll be wide awake again.

–

It’s no surprise that Hermione ends up at Harry and Ginny’s party, after all.

Even though Ron had sent an Owl to persuade her to attend—five times, to be exact—it’s still a decision that she made on her own.

After giving it much thought, instead of getting her desperately desired sleep, it occurred to Hermione that exhausting herself at a large gathering might be exactly what she needs to fall into a snooze-filled dream tonight.

So here she is. Along with every other witch and wizard from her year at Hogwarts, apparently. It didn’t occur to her that this would be a class reunion. Harry really does like to embellish when he insists that “it’ll just be a small gathering with a few friends” but there’s no turning back now.

Music surges over the boisterous conversation as Hermione steps out of the Floo, and the atmosphere is immediately electric. The party is in full swing as she squeezes her way through the sweaty bodies of many familiar faces who greet her upon arrival.

Luna is twirling underneath the large overhead chandelier in the center of the entryway. The twins are giving out free demonstrations of their joke products to individuals who are none the wiser. Ginny is already the life of the party, stumbling around and singing off-key to a Celestina Warbeck classic.

The air is hot and sticky, clearly evidenced by the prickle of sweat developing on Hermione’s forehead. It’s quickly apparent that even with so many partygoers pressing in all around her, she still feels alone, as ridiculous as that sounds.

At least until Ron appears out of nowhere, as if he’s just apparated straight into the middle of the drawing room. It’s a possibility, but it would be an impressive feat for someone holding two drinks in his hand. He thrusts one cup in Hermione’s direction.

Her nose wrinkles as she catches a strong whiff of cheap whiskey. “What is this?”

“It’s a drink,” he yells over the music, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You look like you need one more than anyone else here.”

She knows exactly what he means without needing to go into more detail. Loosen up, Hermione. You’re too proper.

A heavy sigh leaves Hermione’s lips, but she takes the drink he offers. “Thanks. Great party.”

Ron cups a hand around his ear, leaning closer. “What did you say?"

"Nevermind,” she shouts, just as her gaze falls on a man standing across the room, waving both hands in their direction. “I think Dean is looking for you.”

He follows Hermione’s point, snorting when he spots Dean and Seamus gesturing to the pyramid display of flipped over plastic drinkware set for another round of the wildly popular House Cup. Before jetting off, Ron’s fingers close over her arm. “Will you stay?”

The urgency displayed in his eyes warms Hermione’s cheeks. She falters, but agrees. “I’ll stay.”

Making such a promise turns out to be a hard one to keep. Apart from frequent check-ins by Ron, she keeps to herself. While her time at Hogwarts was great—fantastic, really—the best memories she has are with Ron and Harry, navigating their classes and gorging themselves on monthly Hogsmeade trips.

Many of her classmates once spread rumors that she was in a love triangle with Ron and Harry. It was absolutely absurd! None of them had ever crossed that line. Can’t men and women be just friends without any romance brewing? She was there for Harry as he sorted out his feelings for Ginny and helped him come up with a solid plan to tell Ron, which turned out to be not so solid, but Ron got over it eventually. The boys were also there for her when she got her heart broken by Viktor Krum—well, more so Harry. Although Ron used to worship the Bulgarian Seeker, he is always in a foul mood nowadays whenever the subject of Viktor is broached. That particular period of Hermione’s life is now hidden away in the Forbidden Forest of conversational topics.

Throw Lavender Brown in that forest too, but no need to go into detail there.

Regardless of her close friendship with Ron and Harry, she’s now surrounded by many people who have better relationships with the boys than anyone else ever did with her.

Is that Hermione’s fault? Did she not socialize enough at school? Sure, she took her studies seriously and spent more time in the library than on the Quidditch pitch, but Ron and Harry did their part to remind her to take breaks long enough to have some fun from time to time.

The thought consumes her, enough to crave more breathing space. Hermione scans the olive green walls that seem to be caving in on her, looking for an escape. She locates the grand staircase at the end of the hall, which spurs a new idea. Of course! Harry recently converted one of the bedrooms upstairs into a library. She’ll take a short perusal through the stacks and then return to the party afterward, refreshed and ready to mingle.

Once she navigates through her schoolmates and reaches the landing at the top of the stairs, her attention goes over the banister to the people down below. Hermione catches a flash of ginger hair in the entrance hall and meets Ron’s gaze. His brows furrow as she ascends the stairs, as if he has been keeping his eye on her the whole time.

Oh well. He can follow me if he wants.

Hermione continues on her path until she reaches the library, jiggling the rusty doorknob until it creaks open. The darkly-lit room has a faint, musty scent of wood, and she could sneeze from the amount of dust clouding the air. Harry really needs to tidy up the place.

Yet she could still spend hours in this dark corner, looking for hidden treasures or important insights. Harry’s bookshelf, she soon discovers, leaves much to be desired. It’s mostly filled with miscellaneous titles, such as Charm Your Own Cheese, and a stack of old periodicals, like the Sunday Prophet and Which Broomstick. The real eyebrow raiser though has to be his copy of 12 Fail Safe Ways to Charm Witches. Was that one a Ginny purchase?

And not a single one of their textbooks from school!

“Don’t tell me you’re going to hide out here all night.”

Hermione grins despite the disruption, knowing that Ron would follow her. His curiosity always wins in the end. After setting one of the books back onto the shelf, she turns to find him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

Taking a step forward, she goads, “I didn’t realize I needed a security guard to keep a watchful eye over me.”

Ron’s eyes twinkle. “Did you just label me as a security guard? That’s a bit insulting.”

“Says the Auror with a massive ego—which proves my point, honestly.”

It’s amazing how their banter is doing wonders to re-energize her. Getting into a compelling argument is the only strategy that really works to keep her mind off her present situation. And for that, Ron is the best partner.

“And furthermore,” she continues before he has a chance to contend her claim, “it’s clear that you managed to lose your game of House Cup, seeing as how you have nothing better to do than to visit me in a library—of all places to find the likes of Ron Weasley!”

Ron’s eyes narrow as he takes a slow step in her direction. “Why are you picking a fight right now?”

“I’m not.”

I am.

“You are, and it usually means you are avoiding something.”

All these years of knowing Ron Weasley, and she had somehow forgotten how well Ron Weasley knows her.

“Are you deflecting?” He continues, not loosening up on his interrogation tactics. “Is this still about our conversation from earlier? Please tell me you at least got some rest when you went home.”

“Rest, maybe. Actual sleep, definitely not.”

His lips press into a firm, thin line. She hates when he gets concerned. Ron is so fussy and determined and stubborn. The minute he sniffs out a problem with her, he gets all bent out of shape until he solves it.

“Have you taken any Dreamless Sleep? I don’t recommend extended use of that stuff, but if you need something to give you a little push—”

Hermione holds back the urge to roll her eyes, not interested in hearing a list of solutions that she’s already worked through herself. “Tried it. Didn’t work.”

“How about seeing a Healer at St. Mungo’s?”

After two days of minimal to no sleep, it was the first place she went. “They say I’m perfectly healthy and there are no physical indicators as to why I’m not sleeping.”

“Well, have you tried counting Hippogriffs?”

Hermione’s forehead crinkles at the absurdity of his suggestion. “What?”

“You know, as the saying goes?” Ron waves a flippant hand. “Don’t Muggles count to one hundred in their head using some sort of quantifier? Like Chocolate Frogs?”

“It’s sheep, actually.” Hermione covers her mouth, stifling a giggle.

“Even better!” Ron gives an exaggerated head roll when she doesn’t react. "Well, I think it would be fun.”

She really can’t think of something she’d rather do less, honestly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Ron taps his chin, giving this unauthorized role of being her Healer for the day a considerable amount of thought. “Have you tried keeping your room dark and cool?”

“Always.”

“Ear plugs?”

“It’s almost too quiet.”

“White noise charm in your room?”

“Doesn’t work.”

Ron’s shoulders sag as he slumps back against the wall, blowing out a steady stream of air that removes a stray ginger curl out of his eyes. “Of course you’ve bloody tried everything.”

Hermione releases a frustrated groan before sprawling herself out on the black velvet chaise in the corner of the room. Ron follows her, nudging her boots hanging off the edge of the furniture.

“Budge up.”

“Fine,” Hermione grumbles, lifting her legs up long enough for Ron to slide in. He lowers her legs down over his lap.

“Well, you just recently transferred from Care of Magical Creatures to the Law Enforcement Department.” He squeezes her ankles in a supportive manner. “Give yourself some time to sort it all out. You’re probably just in your head too much.”

The longer Hermione goes without so much as a power nap, the less convinced she is that Ron’s theory is true.

She flops a hand over her eyes and allows a small yawn to escape her. Where did that come from? “I’m actually pretty tired right now.”

“Good. Sleep.”

Although she can feel her consciousness ebbing away, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor because all Hermione wants to do is continue talking to Ron. She needs to convince him that she will be just fine, and that she will figure out a solution on her own.

Still, her eyelids flutter closed as she allows the world to fade to black.

–

A blazing ray of sunlight filters through Hermione’s eyes. The tingling sensation in her hand indicates that it must still be heavy with sleep, and her eyes shift to find the culprit.

Ron.

The last visual she can recall is him sitting next to her on the chaise. Now he’s sprawled across the length of the seat, squashed in between her and the backrest. It’s also very likely that she’ll fall flat on her face given the precarious position she is now resting in, much in thanks to Ron’s body taking up most of the available space.

Her legs and feet dangle off the edge of the chaise, and the lack of proper pillow support has her head tilted downward towards the floor. She’s even got sore limbs and a kink in her neck to prove it.

Wait, is it morning?

Hermione gasps, making a quick attempt to sit up, but she can’t move with the weight of Ron’s arm curled tightly around her waist.

What in the world—

“Ron, wake up,” she hisses, nudging an elbow back to poke him in the ribs.

“Mmm…no.” Ron sniffs the air, shaking his head down into her curls that are splattered across his face. “Not the spiders, Mum.”

Hermione holds back her laughter, giving him a rougher shake. “Wake up, Ron!”

He groans, an action that only pulls her tighter against his chest. The pressure steals a significant amount of air from her lungs. “Ron, oomph, I can’t breathe!”

“What?” He finally croaks, his eyes clouding over in a sleep-filled haze. “Hermione? Wha—oh, fuck, sorry!”

Unfortunately Ron’s sudden realization of their positioning doesn’t fare too well for Hermione, who tumbles to the ground with a squeak as he releases his hold on her. It’s sheer luck that her forearms break her fall, preventing her from actually landing on her head.

Ouch. That’ll leave a bruise later.

“Shit!”

Hermione rolls her eyes, huffing stray pieces of hair out of her face. “Language, Ron!”

“Fu—er, I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t know…wait, is it morning?”

She clammers to her feet, rolling out her wrists. Glad you’re catching up, Ron. “We must’ve fallen asleep.”

Ron nods, letting out a yawn and stretching his arms above his head. “That’s good though, right? Looked like you needed the rest.”

A throat clears, alerting Hermione to another occupant in the room. Harry stands in the doorway clad in his pajamas and full of messy bedhead, squinting his eyes through his glasses.

“Blimey, I thought you two had left. I saw the light on when I was walking to the loo.”

Hermione meets Ron’s gaze, both sets of their eyes widening. “Uhm, actually we were just chatting. Must have lost track of time,” she manages to get out through shaky breaths.

Harry’s eyes dart between both of them, appearing unconvinced. “All night?”

“Yeah.” Ron’s gaze remains fixed on Hermione, a slight twinkle in his eye. “All night.”

Hermione’s fists clench into two tiny balls at her sides. If Harry had shown up just mere moments earlier, he would have found them asleep together. What could he have possibly imagined then?

“You do realize it’s morning now?” Harry continues on with his line of questioning.

Ron tilts his head towards the window in the room. “Worked that out for ourselves, thanks.”

“Got to be honest, Ginny was pretty miffed when she thought you two left without saying goodbye.” Harry crosses his arms, a devilish grin curling onto his face. “Wait until she sees that you’re still here!”

“I’ve got to go actually,” Hermione blurts out. There is no possible universe in which she will stick around long enough for Ginny to take the mickey out of her over this. “Crookshanks needs his breakfast and he’s a right terror whenever it’s late.”

Ron harrumps. “Bloody cat. Want me to see you home, Hermione?”

“I can get myself there, thanks.” With a brief wave at both of the boys, she exits the room in a hurry before either of them can see her flushed cheeks.

She fell asleep. She fell asleep.

And it was all because of Ron Weasley.

#submission

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cookiesuga55 · 5 months

Text

Full of Life (Minimoni)

TW: eating disorder.

You know what I adore. Healthy fat. Round soft jiggle laid over muscle, proving that someone is loved. Gaining weight as a form of healing. Comfort and safety and trust.

Jimin gets "healthy fat." His previously malnourished and over-exercised body is finally getting more than the bare minimum number of calories to function. This all begins when he starts dating Nutritionist Namjoon, and his boyfriend purses his lips at just how little Jimin consumes in a day. Jimin is so exhausted all of the time. He complains of headaches, and Namjoon knows exactly why.

"Six cups of coffee and one granola bar is not enough fuel to last all day, little chick."

Despite Jimin waving him off with excuses about being too busy in the dance studio to eat, Namjoon hauls his own meaty, bulked-up ass to the kitchen at 1 am and cooks balanced meals for Jimin to snatch from his fridge on the way out each morning. He knows just what kinds of calories Jimin's deprived body needs. Moderately portioned rice and grains mixed with peppers, tomatoes, and a sprinkle of olive oil. A slab of seared salmon or some other healthy protein for Jimin's body to actually have enough energy to last the day. Sauteed vegetables, sliced cheese, and a healthy portion of fruit. A little bar of dark chocolate that he knows Jimin adores. A protein smoothie full of nutrients and calories for Jimin to sip in the morning instead of overdosing on caffeine. He adds an apple and draws on a sticky note. A little wobbly smiley face with a speech bubble. "Eat me!"

Namjoon presses another sticky note on the coffee machine for Jimin to see when he wakes up. A "breakfast and yummy lunch in the fridge for you. <3 Joonie."

Jimin is so pouty with affection when he wakes up and sees the notes and the food made with love from his hyung. He tosses it in his bag on the way out, chaotic and haphazard as always, almost late as he shucks on his trainers and snatches the delicious-looking smoothie instead of the stale coffee that he forgot to empty out the night before.

Namjoon keeps up caring for his boyfriend, and it isn't long before Jimin's frail and exhausted body begins filling in. Namjoon kisses his baby chick's pudgy cheek before heading to the early shift at the clinic, and murmurs as always, "love you-" before leaving.

Jimin having actual food and a well-balanced diet helps his body so much. He starts coming home from work with more energy, smiling and glowing at Namjoon with fuller cheeks, asking if he wants to go for a bike ride together along the river. Namjoon practically beams as he can see the life pouring back into his boyfriend now that his body is approaching a healthy weight. Jimin has a soft waist, and Namjoon can't help but adore it. Rubbing in his hands as he hugs him from behind in the kitchen, feeling the sweet, warm curves of his body and leaning down to kiss his neck. Jimin melts into him like usual, and Namjoon feels so much pride in the way Jimin's tummy gently pushes out into his hands. Jimin is so healthy. He's full of life and love, and Namjoon makes sure to worship the ever-living hell out of him, so Jimin doesn't slip into any of the negative thoughts that he confessed to him one night over a bottle of shared wine about why he started dancing- to lose weight.

Jimin is just so happy these days, and he knows that Namjoon is a major contributing factor. He finally has enough energy to start going to the gym with Namjoon whenever his cute, huge koala asks him with hopeful eyes. Jimin follows the exercise plan that Namjoon's personal-trainer friend at work whipped up for him.

"Nothing for weight loss," Namjoon had told Jungkook privately during their lunch break, "I just want him confident and healthy again. He was so frail, Jungkookie. I was scared he was going to break."

Jimin jogs on the elliptical and watches Namjoon squat with a bar of weight hiked over his shoulders. Tiddies and ass to die for. Namjoon is so fucking thick and yummy. Jimin licks his teeth after taking another drink of the protein shake that his boyfriend gives him every morning. They chase their weekly gym-runs with shower sex at home, and then Namjoon cooks them up a hearty breakfast to offset all of those burned calories.

His hyung is a little obsessed with clean-eating, but Jimin doesn't mind. It's cute how Namjoon always goes to the organic section of the store and bikes to the farmers market. Jimin practically has a personal chef with how good Namjoon's cooking is. There's always a delicious meal on the table for him, with seconds ready to be dished onto his plate.

Jimin finishes filling in, and starts filling out. He lays in the morning sunshine glimmering across their bed, thoroughly fucked. Both of them softly pant and bask in afterglow. Namjoon's warm, ringed hand is resting on Jimin's tummy and gently rubs circles.

"Have you noticed..." Namjoon's voice is fucked from moaning. Jimin turns to him and can't help but glow. It's his favorite sound. Namjoon's morning voice, deepened and scratchy from pleasure. "That sex has gotten so much better since you started eating more? You have more energy, baby."

Warmth floods Jimin's cheeks, but he nods, a little bit shy. Namjoon's hand caresses the curve of his waist, fingers sinking into the supple weight. "I love this, by the way," Namjoon whispers and gives Jimin's love handle a little squeeze. He squishes in his hyung's hand. "I prefer you healthy and soft over sharp and exhausted," Namjoon nuzzles into his neck, and Jimin wraps around Namjoon's warmth.

The truth spills out of Jimin before he can think twice, "me too..."

"You haven't had a headache in months too, lovely. You're full of life." Namjoon cuddles him back, pulling him into his thick chest. Jimin burrows into it, breathing him in. Jimin isn't dumb. He's noticed the way that his body has been rounding out, filling up with muscle and a healthy layer of supple padding, making him curvy and plump. His hips even have stretch marks over them, complete with bruised kisses painted over them by Namjoon. His hyung has done such a good job of making him feel comfortable and loved in his new body.

"I know," Jimin whispers into the safety of Namjoon's chest, knowing that it's all because of his boyfriend's care. "Thank you, Joonie. I'm so happy like this."

That's all that Namjoon needs to hear to practically rumble in his chest, and kiss the top of Jimin's head. He pushes Jimin onto his back, laying his hearty weight on top of him and sliding his big hands down to Jimin's waist. One of Namjoon's dimples presses into his cheek as his lips curve up into a smirk. "Now that I don't have to be so careful with you..." He squeezes Jimin's plump sides, "You're fucking sexy with some weight on you, baby."

Jimin's cheeks heat up, and a whimper bubbles out of his throat. Embarrassing. That's embarrassing that he just whined from Namjoon squeezing his tummy. "I- I am?" He looks up at his hyung's hungry face. Namjoon pets his palms over him, squeezing everywhere that's warm with fat. His lidded eyes darken.

"I told you that I love this- Healthy. Curvy. Soft. You're perfect for squeezing and biting." He licks his lips as he drinks Jimin in. The look that Namjoon is keeping him pinned with has Jimin wanting to mewl and arch up into him. To hook his stretch-marked thighs around Namjoon's waist and beg.

All Jimin can do is whine and tug on his boyfriend's thick biceps.

Namjoon purrs as he worships him. "A healthy mix of muscle and enough pudge for people to know that I'm taking good care of you. That you're finally being kept well-fed." He shoves his hands underneath Jimin's back and slides down, getting a thick handful of his ass cheeks. Jimin feels like he's going to catch on fire with how much pleasure is thrumming through his body, settling in the core of his belly. Namjoon sinks down and hums against his fluffy belly, like he knows where the heat blooms inside of Jimin. "Softened tummy and tits for me to worship, and a plump peach for me to bruise-"

Namjoon's teeth scrape against Jimin's padded hip bones. Jimin whines uncontrollably, dissolving into melted desire at the body worship. He desperately clutches at Namjoon's hair, tugging hard just how his hyung likes it. His back arches, making the sweet curve of his belly push up into Namjoon's face. He can feel his boyfriend's lips stretch into a smile against his skin.

"I'm taking advantage of all of that extra energy you have for my own pleasure. That makes me a bad hyung," Namjoon drags his lips up Jimin's stomach. God that feels so fucking good.

"Take advantage- Please-" he gasps and frees his pillowy thighs to hook them around Namjoon and lock him in place. He wants him to keep kissing his tummy. "Gods, Namjoon, please fucking take advantage- I'm all yours-"

Namjoon laughs in delight against Jimin's softened stomach and begins pressing firm, needy kisses down his belly and across his waist. His voice is teasing and thick with desire.

"If you insist, baby..."

Jimin is cut off by a moan. "I fucking insist..."

#minimoni #bt5 feedism #namjoon's tiddies #soft #comfort

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the-chronicles-of-a-bookworm · 1 year

Text

you met meguru for the first time when you went to your usual coffee shop for your regular when you see a new worker there. to be honest, what really brought your attention to him were his eyes. they were intense and beautiful. your first thought was:

"damn, he's pretty."

it was almost cliché how the cafe was empty and his co-worker went out for his lunch break. it was almost like it was only you and him (except for the two people on their laptops, not minding anything going on around them.)

you walk over to the counter and meguru turns around to take your order. his first thought when he saw you was:

"damn, she's pretty."

you guys started talking to each other. you, a random stranger who walked into the coffee shop. and meguru, a high schooler who just felt like working a part-time job because he needed to buy new cleats.

you placed your order and slowly, your relationship developed. you always came in during his shifts and he would always make sure he would help his co-worker so he would leave for his lunch break when you come in.

you talked about school, family, funny or memorable things that happened during the day or sometimes just, basking in the peaceful silence. you'd sit near the counter, so you could be closer to him. (meguru, however, would randomly break the silence by making weird noises. his usual one being cat meows.)

today, however, was not the best of days. one, the shop was crowded, and all the seats next to the counter was taken. so you had to sit at a table at the back of the shop. you could see meguru and his co-worker struggling to make sure all the orders would be ready. you felt bad putting your own order, but to be honest, you didn't think you could go another moment without your shot of caffeine. you could already feel a headache coming up.

meguru flashed you a grin before telling you to go back and sit and that he'd come and give you your coffee when he was done making it.

"hi there. he's your coffee and your 3 packets of sugar."

exactly like you ordered it.

"i didn't think they give you your coffee with the sugar packets.", you teased.

two can play that game, he thought.

"a special customer deserves special treatment, don't they?" he winked.

he winked and walked away. he winked that annoyingly beautiful wink of his and walked away.

the tension. the tension between you both was so thick that you could cut it with a metal ruler.

you quietly sipped your coffee, and that’s exactly when meguru decided to bump into your hand, making you spill a few drops of your drink.

“great. thank you so much for spilling this for me.” you said, slightly sarcastically, but you couldn’t really stop the smile from reaching your eyes because what’s better than seeing your crush barista holding your favorite dessert?

“well sorry about that. you do have some napkins, so i believe i made your cleaning process much easier.” he nodded towards the napkins.

“such a good barista, and didn’t the sign say that customer satisfaction for guaranteed?” you muttered.

you picked up a napkin and there it was. meguru bachira’s number. you stared at it for a whole minute, and you could just see meguru’s smirk. without skipping a beat, you took the same napkin with the number on it, and wiped the coffee off the table, successfully smearing the number.

“oops. guess i can’t call you, huh?”

the look of pure surprise on his face was almost comical, and followed by the sputters was even better.

“i hate you. you don’t deserve customer satisfaction.” he pouted and said.

you noted that there was no real malice behind it.

you giggled before winking at him. you took a bite of your almond croissant and smiled.

“at least the croissant is good.” you grinned.

“i’ll make sure i’ll never heat it up again then. you know how hard it is to control the knob on the microwave yet i still do it for you. you’re so mean, you know?”

that pout added more years to my life, you thought.

“sorry meguru. maybe shoot your shot tomorrow?”

“yeah, yeah sure. shoot my shot, my ass. i’ll not heat up your croissant. then we’ll see who’ll shoot their shot.” he pouted before walking back to the counter.

little did meguru know that you had memorized his number and that he’ll be getting a call tonight.

#hannah's dairy entry #dairy entry 19: blue lock!#blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #meguru bachira #meguru bachira x reader #meguru x reader #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock meguru bachira #blue lock meguru #blue lock

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