#coffee bean roasting machine

[bhksonar]

Client : Do you have Roasted Coffee bean

Me : No but I have machines for Bean Roasting!

[timmurleyart]

Buzzin’ out! ☕️⚡️🟤☕️

[begouristore]

Home Coffee Roaster Electric Mini No Smoke Coffee Beans Baking Roasting ...

[omgcoffeecompany]

OMG Coffee Company

Website: https://www.omgcoffeecompany.com/

Address: Ocala, Florida, USA

OMG Coffee Company represents four generations of coffee roasting experience. From your first experience with us, you are welcomed as a part of our family. We roast your coffee to order and deliver it to you fast.

Our coffee company represents thirty years of passion for the perfect cup of coffee. We offer an array of the finest mountain-grown gourmet coffees to consumers, wholesalers, and coffee shops across the country.

We hand-select beans from coffee-producing countries, and our Roastmasters roast them to perfection.

We create a direct trade by partnering with our coffee growers and building friendships with them.

We roast our coffee beans to perfection and ship them on the same day as your order, promising you fresh Coffee every time.

We deliver the best customer service possible.

We are direct importers of Jamaica Blue Mountain Coffee, one of the most sought-after coffees in the world. This superior Coffee has been satisfying the expectations of the most demanding connoisseurs for generations.

What makes us different?

Like many other down-to-earth coffee lovers, we were tired of choosing between stale inexpensive grocery store coffee and painfully overpriced boutique brews. If you want the best fresh-roasted coffee in the world, try us. You won't be disappointed. Our direct-to-consumer model and common-sense commitment to roast-to-order freshness make quality coffee accessible to anyone with a computer and a mailbox.

Hand-packed Coffee:

Our hand-packed coffee service offers the highest-quality beans from around the world, freshly ground and sealed for maximum freshness. Our expert roaster will ensure your coffee is packed to perfection, giving you a delicious cup of coffee every time. Enjoy your favorite coffee with the convenience of hand-packed coffee from our store!

Fresh Roasted Coffee:

Our freshly roasted coffee is the perfect choice for any coffee lover. Our beans are carefully selected from the best sources and roasted to perfection. Enjoy the rich flavor and aroma of our handcrafted blend, with a smooth finish and no bitter aftertaste. Whether you prefer espresso, latte, cappuccino, or just a cup of black coffee, our selection will ensure you get the perfect cup every time. Enjoy the full-bodied flavor of our freshly roasted coffee and let it transport you to a world of flavor.

From Roaster to You:

Our From Roaster to You service offers freshly roasted coffee beans sent directly from our roasting facility to your door. Each order is customized based on your preferences and arrives within days of roasting, ensuring you get the freshest and best tasting coffee possible. Enjoy the convenience of freshly roasted beans delivered right to you!

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/OMGCoffeeCompany/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/omgcoffeecompany/

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[artaxlivs]

This is ridiculous.

Eddie has important stuff To Do. He's a busy rockstar with a never ending list of stuff his manager and agent keep reminding him that he needs to get done while he's not on tour.

But. His house is being remodeled. And one of the carpenters or handymen or journey...men? journey people? whatever. One of the dudes in a tool belt. Well - he's hot as all hell and Eddie can't seem to find a single fuck to mark off that To Do list.

Every day this man shows up in jeans that hug his ass, a tool belt slung low to one side and this pristine white polo shirt with a logo over his left pec. The other people - people not men because there are actually three women in the mix, all with arms that could crush Eddie, and if he was into chicks, he'd be looking respectfully - are all in various dark colored shirts with a similar logo on the back or in the same spot on the chest.

But White Polo is the only white polo. White Polo must be in charge. He does seem to give a lot of orders. He's got big sexy hair and a strong voice. The first time Eddie was close enough to hear him talk, he had some feelings about that strong voice giving orders. The kind of feelings he explored later that night in his own bed. Alone.

It's not a mean voice though, not aggressive. Rather, it's the kind of voice that steadies you in a storm, that you can rely on. The kind of voice that probably sounds gravelly and sleep mussed on a Saturday morning. The kind you want to wake up to. The voice that Eddie wants to wake up to.

And it's not just the voice and the looks. It's the competency, too. Earlier this morning, White Polo was helping the crew put some kind of wood frame up. He hammered something in and then twirled the hammer and stuffed it in the tool belt all without looking. That was going directly to Eddie's spank bank. Maybe he could find other things for them to remodel so White Polo never has to leave.

"Mr. Munson?"

Eddie startles, almost dropping his Garfield coffee mug. There's a lot of noise in the house and he was sort of doing one of the things on his list. Writing a song in his head. It was definitely not about a man in a tool belt. Nor was it about anyone getting nailed.

Jesus Christ.

Clearing his throat, Eddie turns to White Polo, "It's just Eddie."

"Well, Just Eddie, I'm Steve." His voice is soft, strong though, with that little bit of gravel. It's not Eddie's fault at all that he's imagining him whispering in Eddie's ear when they're both sleep warm and too comfortable to get out of bed. "Looks like we'll be done here in another two days."

"Oh." He says dejectedly, not meaning to have such an honest reaction but he can't help himself. He's wasted three days just glancing at White Polo - Steve - from afar. Now Eddie's on a time limit. Two days isn't nearly enough time. Would it be inappropriate to invite him to dinner? Or to stay? Ask him for --"Coffee?"

Steve smiles and it's kind of small, like it's a secret smile, just for Eddie. Brushing his hair back over his ear, Steve says, "I shouldn't but...your coffee smells kinda great so...sure."

Grinning, Eddie tells him that he gets the beans from this little mom and pop shop that brews their own beans. The band discovered them on tour years ago and he still gets his beans shipped from them every few months. He's babbling but he can't seem to stop himself, telling Steve about different roasts and his fancy machine that cost more than his first van back when he was sixteen and living in a trailer park.

Leaning against the counter, Steve listens patiently, watching Eddie with hazel eyes and that little smile. He's got these cute moles that Eddie wants to kiss. Broad shoulders he wants to feel pressed up against the backs of his knees.

Shit. He almost spills the coffee when his face suddenly heats up at that.

"Everything okay?" There's concern in Steve's voice and he reaches out to steady Eddie's arm. His callused fingers brush Eddie's arm just over his bat tattoo and...oh.

It's like nothing he's ever imagined. So much more than all the stories. It's the biggest, brightest, most intense thing Eddie's ever felt. Just a brush of fingertips and the spots light up with gold. Three brushes across the bats' wings and a fourth smaller one off to the side. Eddie can feel the tingling on the underside of his forearm where Steve's thumb must have brushed as well.

Surging forward, Eddie cups Steve's cheek, leaving a bright gold palm print on his jaw, a thumb smear up by the cheek bone, bits of gold in the shapes of fingers curling along the side of his throat, and one little dab on the lobe of Steve's ear. Their lips are pressed together before Steve's fully reacted to the soul bond but that's okay. They don't have two days, they've got forever.

A few years later, when Corroded Coffin wins album of the year at the Grammys, Gareth takes the mic away from Eddie as he's doing all the polite thank yous to managers and agents etc - and he thanks Steve, telling the world, "If Steve had never been a hot guy in a tool belt, Eddie would never have written Golden Bats, Hammer of Love or, Eddie's favorite," Gareth says, grinning and leaning really close to the mic like it's a secret, 'cause it kind of is, "Ride the White Polo."

My Masterlist

While there are other gold touch soulmate mark fics, I've only ever read them in @kangofu-cb's Gold on Your Fingertips in the Winterhawk fandom and it will always be both one of my favorite soulmate fics and one of my favorite Clint Barton fics.

[wooattackrr]

Brewing Relationships

MDNI

wordcount: 1,437

a/n: after some thinking i think im gonna be a mingyu writer :)

The bell above the door jingled softly as you adjusted the register. The familiar scent of roasted coffee beans filled the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of pastries displayed on the counter. You had been working at Brewed Awakenings for several years, and while your routine had become comfortably monotonous, you had recently noticed a change. A new barista had joined the team—Mingyu.

He was tall, with broad shoulders that were slightly hunched as he focused intently on preparing orders. His dark hair fell just above his eyebrows, and he had a charming smile that made customers blush. Each time he flashed that grin your way, your heart fluttered, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him while you were cleaning up around the shop.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow through the windows, you both found yourselves alone in the shop for closing duties. The light was dimmer now, and the gentle hum of the espresso machine was the only sound accompanying your thoughts. You couldn’t deny the spark you felt with Mingyu—there was something about the way he moved and how he interacted with customers that drew you in.

“Hey, do you mind taking out the trash?” you asked him, sliding the bag toward him while you wiped down the counter. “I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

“Sure!” he replied, grinning as he grabbed the bag. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, “But only if you promise to make me a special drink when I get back.”

“Deal,” you said, unable to suppress a smile in return.

He left, and you took a moment to gather your thoughts. You didn’t just think Mingyu was cute; you were starting to find yourself captivated by him. The way he carried himself, his laughter, the low timbre of his voice... it all made your heart race.

After a minute, he returned, his expression bright as he leaned against the counter. “So, what’s this special drink?”

You paused to think for a moment, biting your lip as a playful idea struck you. “How about a ‘Mingyu Special’? I’ll whip up something just for you.”

“Ooh, I’m curious now,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his attention entirely on you.

You busied yourself behind the espresso machine, carefully choosing each ingredient, the flurry of emotions inside you mimicking the steam rising from the spout. You were mixing a blend of espresso, steamed milk, and a hint of caramel drizzle. As you worked, you could feel his gaze on you, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Here you go,” you said finally, sliding the cup across the counter toward him. “What do you think?”

Mingyu took a sip, his eyes lighting up. “Wow, this is amazing! You really know your stuff,” he complimented, and a flush of pride warmed your cheeks.

“Thanks! I’ve had a lot of practice,” you replied, leaning against the counter casually.

The two of you continued to chat as the night progressed, your laughter filling the small shop. Every so often, you’d catch him stealing glances at you, and each time he did, your heart raced a little faster. The atmosphere was charged, the air thick with unspoken tension.

“Okay, I have to ask,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “What’s your secret? How do you make coffee taste that good?”

You paused, taken aback by the intensity in his expression. “It’s all in the passion, I guess. You have to really enjoy what you’re doing, or else what’s the point?”

“I get that,” he said, stepping closer. The space between you felt electric now, your breaths mingling in the dim light of the shop. “I really enjoy working here.”

Your heart jumped. “Me too,” you admitted softly, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, the world around you faded. It was just you and Mingyu, two souls drawn to each other in this little coffee shop. And then, as if the air around you thickened, he took a step closer, closing the distance.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” you murmured, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’ve had a crush on you since my first day here,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re amazing at your job, and I think you’re really cute.”

Your breathing hitched. “You’ve had a crush on me?”

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. “Yeah, and I wasn’t sure how to say it. But now… I think we should do something about it.”

Your heart raced, excitement and nerves intertwining. “What did you have in mind?”

Mingyu stepped even closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Maybe we could—”

Before he could finish, you leaned in, capturing his lips with your own. The kiss started softly, tentative, both of you consumed by the thrill of the moment. But soon it deepened, the warmth of his body pressing against yours, igniting a fire that spread through your veins.

You pulled back slightly to catch your breath, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and desire. “Wow, I didn’t expect that,” he said breathlessly.

“Neither did I,” you admitted, your heart racing.

He grinned, an infectious smile lighting up his face. “So, what’s next?”

You took a step back, biting your lip as you played coy. “Well, we could close up the shop… and see where the night takes us.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

You nodded slowly, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips. “I think it’s time we take our relationship from coffee shop colleagues to something a little more... personal.”

His smile widened. “I’m all in.”

With the shop closing for the night, you locked the doors, ensuring privacy, leaving only the soothing glow of the fairy lights illuminating the space.

The atmosphere was heightened, your breaths synchronizing with the palpable anticipation in the air. You stood close to him, gazing into his eyes as the silence enveloped you both.

Mingyu reached out, his hand brushing against your hip as he edged closer, grounding himself against your body. The kiss this time was hungry, filled with urgency as he pressed you against the counter, the cool marble contrasting against the heat radiating from your bodies.

You let out a soft gasp as he deepened the kiss, his hands exploring your sides, fingers brushing over your curves. You reciprocated, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, while the kisses grew more passionate.

“Let’s take this to the back,” he murmured against your lips, a hint of desperation coursing through him.

You pulled away slightly, breathless but excited, and nodded. “Lead the way.”

He took your hand, guiding you through the shop and toward the storage room. The dim light from the small overhead bulb cast shadows on the walls as you entered. The air was thick with desire, and within moments, he pushed you against the wall, capturing your lips once more.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, his breath warm against your skin.

“Yes,” you breathed, craving more than just kisses now.

With renewed urgency, he pressed himself against you, his hands exploring your body as he devoured your mouth. You felt yourself melting into him, heat pooling in your core as he kissed his way down to your neck, sending shivers cascading through you. You let out a soft moan, tangling your fingers in his hair as your body responded instinctively.

“Mingyu,” you gasped, your heart racing, as his lips found the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured achingly. In one swift motion, he closed the gap, grounding himself against you as his fingers slipped beneath your clothes, finding you already wet and waiting. His touch sent shockwaves through you, the pressure building with every stroke. Your back arched off the counter, the world outside fading away as you lost yourself in the moment, in him.

“Mingyu,” you cried, your voice echoing off the walls. You could feel the heat in his gaze, the way he watched you as if you were the only thing that mattered. Every flick of his wrist, every brush against you sent you spiraling closer to the edge, and you could see it in his eyes that he wanted to push you over.

With one final thrust of his fingers, that wave of pleasure crashed over you, pulling you down into its depths. You clung to him, gasping for breath, as he kissed you deeply. In the back of that little coffee shop, with nothing and no one else around, you both lost yourself in a world that belonged only to the two of you, a moment in time suspended forever in the echo of every heartbeat.

——————————————————————

brrrrr

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 02. peripheral

pairing ☆ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS: none. (except that the yearning starts..)

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

TAGLIST: open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous

peripheral. (adj) related to the key issue but not of central importance

The soft chime of the coffee shop door was as familiar to you every morning, likewise your bitter espresso you ordered. It wasn’t just a part of your routine – it was your peaceful oasis. It was your moment of solitude and silence before the day demanded too much from you. With a content smile and a sigh, you stepped in the shop.

The comforting, aromatic smell of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries wrapped around you, quite a stark contrast to the beachy smell right outside the other side of the door. It was early enough that only a handful of customers lingered, their quiet murmurs of all different conversations blending with the low hiss of the espresso machine and orders being yelled out.

You had already ordered your usual, picking it up from the counter. But then a sharp laugh cut through the hum of the coffee shop.

It was him.

Rafe Cameron.

Of all the places and all the mornings, he had to be here. Leaning casually against the counter, his phone in one hand, looking all effortlessly polished and annoyingly at ease.

Your first instinct was to leave. No coffee was worth this. But then you caught yourself. Why should you let him ruin your morning? This was your place, your time.

You turned your attention back to the pickup counter, as if you were searching for your order. (There was only one drink on the counter.) Maybe, if you stayed quiet and kept your head down, he wouldn’t notice you.

But it’s Rafe, and Rafe always notices.

“Well,” his voice carried across the shop, loud enough to attract a few people’s attention. His smirk followed shortly after, all sharp and cocky. “We meet again. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You ignored him, busily shoving napkins inside your bag.

“Not even a hello?” he teased, stepping closer.

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t look at him. “I didn’t realize we were on ‘hello’ terms.”

He let out a soft chuckle, more amused than offended. “Fair enough. But you’re not very good at pretending I’m not here, you know.”

You turned then, fixing him with a glare. “What do you want?”

He leaned away from the counter, standing up, tilting his head as if your question genuinely amused him. “What do I want? I guess a conversation. Isn’t that what normal people do?”

You scoffed. “Normal people don’t start conversations by picking fights.”

His grin widened. “I wasn’t picking a fight. Just saying hi.”

“Right,” you said flatly, crossing your arms. “Because you’re so friendly.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You’ve got a lot of fire for someone who barely knows me.”

“And you’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who barely knows me,” you countered back.

Rafe laughed again, the sound surprisingly genuine, though it did nothing to soften the edge of his presence. “I think I know enough.”

“Oh, really?” You challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re stubborn,” he said, his tone low but teasing. “Quick to snap. And you're getting haughty for no reason.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And you’re arrogant, condescending, and way too full of yourself.”

He held your gaze, his smirk never wavering. “You’re not wrong.”

The audacity of his admission left you momentarily speechless.

“You don’t make conversation. You make trouble,” you muttered, carefully picking up your coffee.

“Trouble?” he repeated, mock-offended. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” you said flatly.

He laughed again, a low sound that grated on your nerves and sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. “So, is this you're way of proving that you’ve got me all figured out already, huh?”

“I don’t need to,” you replied, your voice sharp. “You make it easy.”

For a moment, his smirk faltered, just a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual smug expression. “And here I thought you were full of surprises.”

With a roll of your eyes, you were heading straight for the door. However, you didn’t get too far.

“Hey, wait,” Rafe said, his voice stopping you in your tracks.

You turned halfway, one hand on the door, your patience wearing thin. “What now?”

His expression was oddly casual. “What’s your name?”

“You don’t know my name?” Your eyebrows shot up. Huh. You never realized that your name was never mentioned between each other.

“Not yet,” he admitted, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “But I figured I’d ask.”

Your pulse quickened – whether from irritation or something else, you couldn’t tell. “Why do you care?”

“Curiosity,” Rafe said simply, his gaze steady.

“Curiosity kills the cat,” you replied, your tone clipped.

His grin widened, and he leaned in closer, slightly dropping his voice. “Good thing I’m not a cat.”

You stared at him, torn between annoyance and the undeniable attraction of his presence. There was something irritatingly pleasant about the way he looked at you, like he was slowly peeling your layers as if you were an orange, trying to reveal a secret deep inside you.

“You don’t need to know my name,” you said finally, forcing your voice to stay steady.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. For a moment, the cocky grin slipped, replaced by something almost close to genuinity. “Fair enough,” he said quietly, surprising you.

But the moment passed quickly. His smirk returned, all sharp and confident. “But you know this isn’t the last time we’ll see each other, right?”

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Neither,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Just the truth.”

Your stomach twisted in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge. Teeth gritting, you answered. “If you’re done wasting my time, I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. “Hm. See you around then, mystery girl,” he replied with another cheeky smirk – the words somehow seeming to be more promising than needed.

You turned without another word, pushing the door open and stepping into the crisp morning air.

The street outside felt cooler than earlier, a sharp contrast to the heat that Rafe’s presence always seemed to stir. You walked briskly, your coffee in hand, trying to shake the strange sensation away.

But as you walked down the street, his words stayed with you, echoing in your mind.

This isn’t the last time we’ll see each other.

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a threat. It was just a fact.

And the worst part? You weren't entirely sure you hated the idea.

Back at the shop, Rafe watched you leave, the door swinging shut behind you with a faint chime. He turned back to the counter, his drink now ready, but he didn’t care about that for now.

He didn’t know why he was so intrigued. You didn’t seem like the other girls he usually spent time with – those who laughed too easily at his jokes and stuck around despite knowing better. Or the ones who listened too easily to what he asked them to do.

You were different.

Maybe it was the fire in your eyes or the way you never backed down even when he pushed. Or maybe it was something else entirely, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Whatever it was, he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d see you. All for some reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he didn’t want it to be. 

And he liked it.

NOTES. second day and chapter teww!!!! ngl i was not expecting much interactions but i am already sososo thankful for all the love it's been getting!! very very excited to share the constant yearning and tension (unresolved...??) between rafe and reader.. stay tuuuned

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl

[milkypompon]

Chapter 1 | Midnight Musings

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

content: coffeeshops, fluff, innuendo (thanks to Jake), poor shy and tired Marc who just needs his drink

wc: 1.2k

a/n: HELLO Moon Knight luvers!! I'm sweeping out this fic since I've had it around for some bit!

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

—

Working the closing shift has its disadvantages… and occasional perks. 

People weave in and out of the café from the crack of dawn, then scurry away when the moon is at its highest. Rarely did they stay to settle down on the rickety chairs late into the night, ever so eager to drag themselves home after a long day.

You hardly remember the customers’ faces, usually down-turned with a sour look of annoyance on their phones who impatiently tap their shoe on the wooden floors. 

The man in front of you with waves of hair swept back to reveal his gruff demeanor, albeit a ruggedly handsome one, wasn’t any different from the others. Yet, you try to catch his eye as he sends a text. 

“You work the late hours like me?” You ask and crack a smile, immediately regretting it after realizing how wry it must’ve appeared from your exhaustion. 

He merely grunts in confirmation.

You clear your throat and idly tap your fingers on the granite countertop. “What can I get for you then?”

“Just a cup of coffee. Make it black.” He retrieves a leather wallet from his jacket pocket and pulls out a few quid in exchange for the kick of energy he desperately needs. 

“Your name?”

“Marc.” 

You whisper his name to yourself before reaching beside you to grab a paper cup and scrawling it on there.

Marc watches you catch your bottom lip between your teeth in fierce concentration as you doodle a smiley face next to his name. He wonders if you did this for every customer or if it was a way to keep yourself awake.

Before you made your last mark, you saw him through your peripheral vision staring at you intently. Usually, customers appreciate the little pick-me-up from the drawings you made. You inwardly wince for holding him up. “Sorry, you must be in a hurry”. You quickly cap the pink Sharpie and toss it into a small ceramic pot filled with other writing utensils. 

Marc notes how some were more appropriate or journaling, like the bright glitter pens, than for work. But it was well-loved all the same since it was nearly flatlining from use. 

“I’ll have it out for you in a minute.”

He shook his head, the black locks of curls bouncing slightly. “No rush, really.”

You situate yourself behind the coffee machine, tinkering with the buttons and opening the wrinkled bag of coffee beans. The warm scent permeates the air, even more so when the brown liquid dribbles into the cup. You quietly sigh in relief at the simplicity of the process. You’ve had a fair share of blended and iced drinks often brought back to the counter by unamused customers, claiming that it didn’t taste the same as last week even though there was a clear-cut recipe list plastered in front of your face when you made their orders. 

You carefully fiddle the cap over the cup and hand it to Marc with a tired smile. 

Marc felt your fingers brush along his. It was warm, but he wasn’t sure if it was just from the coffee. Regardless, he nodded in thanks and was soon swallowed by the darkness as he left to sip his coffee at nearly 1 a.m.

The London weather constantly nipped at his fingertips. 

He curses under his breath and shoved his free hand into his jacket pocket. He longed to settle back into his flat and curl up into layers of blankets, which was truthfully a sorry excuse for warmth because of the godawful heater he just couldn’t find the time to fix. His mind drifted to your touch, it was light, brief if anything. But it sparked a warmth that a blanket or a cup of coffee couldn’t quite satiate. 

A snarky voice filled his headspace, Fuckin’ touch starved.

Marc rolled his eyes. Shut your damn mouth, Lockley. 

He crosses the road, not bothering to look left or right, there’s only him, the moon, and some bloke smoking a dying cig by a closed convenience store. When he squints he saw Steven picking at the loose threads of his shirt in the window. 

Quite a looker with a pretty voice. 

Marc sighs in response, Not you too. 

He takes one last gulp at the bitter drink before raising it over the tin can filled with other rubbish. The streetlamp’s yellowish light caught your handiwork on the cup, his name with half a smiley face messily written with your pink Sharpie. He chuckled at the unfinished doodle, remembering how your eyes widened when you realized he was watching you closely. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Steven remarked.

Marc chuckles at his words.

–

It was another closing shift. 

You begrudgingly accepted it from your coworker who reminded you with a smirk that the pastries behind the glass was up for grabs the moment you flipped the “closed” sign by the window. Anyone with half a mind would have sticky hands for the chocolate croissant dusted with powdered sugar. Just the thought of warming it up in the oven toaster as you wipe the counters and stocked the shelves with mugs made you a little hungry. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be eating sweet treats considering the time, but said sweet treats were going straight into the rubbish-bin if you didn’t house them in your stomach. 

You happily hum a familiar tune you heard on the tube while sliding the glass door separating you and your beloved reward for the hard work.

A pleasant jingle of a bell rang over the front door abruptly ending your monotonous tasks.

You toss your head over your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re closed—” 

The same man (Marc, was it?) nods down in apology for entering after hours. He truly was a man of few words.

“Oh! It’s you. I was afraid you were a customer with a complicated drink coming in at the last second.” You dusted your fingers down the seams of your apron and beckoned him inside. “But, it’s the same as last night?”

Marc runs his fingers through the tufts of his curls, the strands wrapping around each finger. You wondered what it felt like. The thought in passing rises to the forefront of your mind. It left as quickly as it came when you hear him call your name after reading it across the embroidered stitching of your apron.

The corners of his mouth turn up in amusement, hardly an exchange for pleasantries, but it was more than what he’d given before. He slides a few quid on the counter. “Yeah, coffee. Black.” 

You pluck your pink Sharpie and begin to write his name on it. After a few quiet moments of gurgling from the machine, you hand the cup to him. 

He furrows his eyebrows.

You quip with a grin. “Did I manage to mess up the easiest order known to man?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You didn’t draw on it this time.”

You almost laugh but the serious crease on his face was a testament to his genuine disappointment. “Well it wouldn’t be very good service if I didn’t complete my job, eh?”

His eyes shift to the glass covering the pastries as if seeing something you couldn't. “You wanna talk about good service?” A playful lilt tugs at his voice, almost unfamiliar. 

Before you can respond, he mumbles a thank you and scurries out of the cafe. 

Did he just flirt? And… get embarrassed?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Waste My Time I

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her)Reader  Word Count : 4.6k Warning : Some curses. Fluff. Some cliff hanger, I think? Sets on Matt's uni years. Notes : I will do some updates on the prologue to better fit the plot. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters. Cheers! x If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

↞ Prologue

The smell of sugar and roasted beans were thick in the air. The establishment was packed with people. It wasn’t the usual cafe Matt and Foggy would go to. No, the cheap coffee truck on the way to the campus or perhaps the vending machine by their Advanced Constitutional Law class would do to grab a cup of americano from, but today isn’t one of those days. 

Today is one of those days when Foggy would drag him to the other side of the city just to pick up some special sandwich that would guarantee a forgiveness pass from Marci. Today is one of those days when Foggy would pay for his americano, only to forget his wallet by the bedside table. Today is one of those days when Foggy would have to make another promise to pay for his meal as the blonde had to bail and run to give Marci her sandwich.

Now Matt, ever the understanding friend, certainly paid no mind with all of the troubles Foggy dragged him into this morning. He figured he could use the long way to his classes this morning. To try and see what exactly is on the other side of the campus when the sun is still out. When he was in his normal clothes and not hunting robbers. When he could actually be Matt Murdock and not the Daredevil.

But now standing by the side aisle to pick up his order, Matt knew that the lady who was too busy arguing on the phone with who seems to be a disastrous ex-husband, accidentally picked up his americano and left him with what smells to be a matcha latte with twice if not thrice the normal sugar level.

Matt’s lips pout a little. He’s certainly not in the mood to jump start his day with a lethal dose of diabetes, but Foggy’s left minutes ago and he couldn’t just call the barista to exchange his order without actually tasting the beverage. What excuse would he give? That he could smell that the drink in his hand isn’t what he ordered?

“Hi, sorry,” A voice of salvation echoes from his right. A woman who’s now approaching him with a gentle voice greets. Matt could taste the uncertainty in her tone, how her heart beats a little awkwardly as if she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing yet she does it anyway “I’m really sorry to be coming off as a creep like this, but I don’t think that’s your order.”

“No?” Matt asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I think the lady before you mistook your order.” She explained, taking the cup away from his hand “I overheard your order with your friend earlier, I was queueing behind you. You ordered an americano, right? This is a hot matcha.”

“Oh,” Matt says, feigning surprise “I wouldn’t have known.”

“Yeah.. Here, you can take my americano.” She offers, pushing her cup to his hand “I haven’t touched it or anything, I promise. It’s clean.”

“No, it’s fine I can just ask the barista—” Matt’s words were interrupted when his phone beeped, followed by the automatic reminder: his Conflict of Laws class starts in five minutes “Shit.”

“Yeah, just take it,” She insists “I’ll ask the barista to redo my order. It’s fine, really.”

“Thank you.” Matt says, accepting the warm cup at last “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Matt wanted to prolong their conversation. She seems to be a genuinely kind person. Had he not been in a rush for being on the other side of the campus and having to come to class on time as Professor Barton would lock the door a second past nine, he would have stayed and continued talking to this one kind soul. At the very least, he would have asked for her name and asked if he could repay her kindness, perhaps with a slice of pizza and cold beer after class. But today isn’t one of those days.

Today is one of those days when he passed by someone he would wish he had more time to spare with. Today is one of those days when he met someone he would think of longer than the time he spent with said person. Today is one of those days when he hoped that he would meet her again.

—-

Her hair was dishevelled. She dares not to look at the time as it would only fuel her anxiety even worse. She planned to have her essays done before the clock strikes nine, but it has been hours since and she could barely call herself half way there.

The bigger side of the library has now turned dark. Students have retreated back to their bedrooms or have found themselves better things to waste the night with. It was Friday, afterall. Most wouldn’t even think of stepping their foot inside for the night, yet here she is, trying her best to stay afloat on the ocean of assignments that she’s evidently drowning in.

But when she was ready to take the consolation prize for being the most pathetic student of the year, a boy took the seat in front of her. He took out the things from his bag—several heavy textbooks and a laptop—as he tried to find comfort on the table, completely oblivious to her presence.

It was that boy. The boy she helped the other day in the cafe. Well, the word help would certainly be an overstatement as she only pointed out that he was holding the wrong order and offered hers in replacement, but she had a slight nervousness in her bones as she felt it was overstepping of her when she offered the proposal, so thinking that she was helping him feels a little rewarding and helped soothe her nerves a little.

She silently stares at him as he continues his work. His fingers trace the braille on his textbooks, mouth slightly moving as he tries to read the passages. The boy was beautiful to say the least. Like a beautiful painting you wouldn’t grow bored of even after hours of staring. The soft light of the library was hitting his face in all the right directions, enhancing his features that truthfully need no betterment yet it accentuates his beauty nonetheless.

Five if not fifteen minutes after her staring, she realises that she has to make her presence known. She wouldn’t want him to be startled if she makes any noises or movements, or worse makes him feel unsafe by her stealthy actions. The last thing she would want is to make him feel like she was a threat instead of a friend.

She taps on the table lightly, catching his attention, “Uh, I just want to let you know that you’re not alone at this table.”

“Oh, right,” The boy answers “Should I move?”

“No, no! I just wanted to let you know, that’s all. Please don’t move.” She says fast.

The boy’s lips curved into a smile but his brows knitted, “I’m sorry, have we met before? You sound familiar.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m the girl from the cafe,” She says, the same uncertainty lacing her tone “I swear I’m not trying to stalk you or anything. I just happen to be in the same place you are for some reason.”

“I never thought of you as one,” The boy says with a smile “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She tells him her name.

Matt whispers her name, letting it roll on his tongue like it’s going to settle for a long time there, “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing in a library on a Friday?”

“The same reason as you have, I’m sure.” She says with a sigh, not wanting to elaborate “What major are you taking?”

“Law, you?”

“International Affairs.” She answered, biting on her pencil as she judged him “Law, huh? Well, aren’t you a smarty pants.”

Matt chuckles. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Stupid heart.

“Listen,” Matt says after a visible nervous lick of his lips “I hope this isn’t too straight forward, but I really appreciate what you did the other day, and I figured I owe you some form of gratitude, so I was wondering if.. You’d be free some time soon? Maybe this weekend? We can grab some food and sit by the park or do whatever it is you find amusing.”

Her smile grows, “Are you asking me for a date?”

“No, I’m showing you my gratitude,” He argues “But masked as a date, yes.”

It was practically impossible for her to bite down her grin by now. Eternally grateful that most of the lights in the library are out and that he couldn’t see the stupid smile on her face. She was sure that her cheeks were red and that her eyes were as big as puppy’s with how charming Matt is. Exactly how more perfect can the man sitting in front of her be? Beautiful face, delightful talking, and certainly a brilliant mind. At this point he could either be her knight in shining armour or a complete psychopath, no in between.

“So.. Would you have any free time?”

“How’s next week? Friday?”

Matt nods, smiling softly, “Friday it is.”

—-

Days leading up to the date passed as slow as it could get, even when they were spent by meeting her at the library before his night patrols. Matt knew that it was practically wrong of him to insert himself in her life. To come uninvited to her table that night, acting as if he didn’t know it was her nor did he not know of her presence, but in his defence, he didn’t deliberately plan to meet her. It only so happened that he finished his nightly patrol quickly that night and that she was in the library when he initially wanted to spend the rest of the night finishing his paperworks.

At that moment, he thought that God was aligning their stars. It wasn’t everyday that he had the urge to finish patrol early. It wasn’t everynight that he wanted to spend the rest of the night in the library. It certainly wasn’t every Friday that he would find her there. In fact, he couldn’t recall if she’s ever been to the library before. He would’ve caught the familiarity of her scent at the cafe if she was a regular there.

Though Matt knew that he couldn’t offer much to her, not his full time nor attention as they’re both reserved to keeping Hell’s Kitchen a little safer each night, Matt was willing to give everything he has left to get to know her better. It wasn’t everyday he could meet someone who would treat her with kindness that is pacifying without any hint of humiliation. She knows just the right amount of care to show without having to walk on eggshells around him and that’s something Matt very much appreciates.

All of it felt like it was meant to be. That he was meant to get that wrong order and that she was to intervene and rescue him from that God awful latte. It felt like he was meant to go to the library that night and meet her once again. And it certainly felt like their date tonight was meant to happen.

“Oh, this is gold,” She moans as she takes another bite of their pizza.

Matt smiles, satisfied to hear her blissful commentary, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“The best,” She says shortly. There was a sudden silence from her and Matt wonders if something had happened but she quickly speaks “Uh, you’ve got.. Um, you’ve got some sauce on your lips.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, his free hand wiping the sides of his lips.

“It’s still there. I think it’s dried a little,” She says, that hint of uncertainty reappearing in her voice “Can I just?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

And she wipes the corner of his lips gently. The warmth of his skin was in contrast to the cold wind that gushed their way and it only amplified the butterflies in her stomach as their skin made contact. Supposed he felt the unexpected jolt of electricity too because his jaw tenses a little before he lets out a sigh when she finishes wiping his lips.

“Thanks.” Matt whispers with a smile.

She didn’t say a word, only humming a little to show response.

Had Matt not have his heightened senses, he would have thought that something wrong happened but he could hear the not-so-steady beat of her heart and how her body heat rises a little. She was just nervous, just as much, if not less erratic than he is. If only she could feel his heart and hear just how loudly it’s beating right now, acting as if it’s trying to burst forth his ribcage, she would perhaps feel a little less agitated.

It was too soon to say, but Matt couldn’t ignore all the blissful connections they’ve shared. He felt as if he’s finally met his match. The knot to his strings, the solace to his rage. He knew that there’s still so many layers of himself that he’s yet to show her, the sides of Matt Murdock and Daredevil that he’s yet to expose to her, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like he could take his time and savour the moment as it unfolds.

A little egoistic of him, but what exactly can he do at the time?

“This is great,” She says, breaking his train of thought “I very much enjoyed tonight.”

“Oh no, are we reaching the end of the night?”

“No,” She chuckles, shaking her head “I just wanted to say it, just in case I forget to and you wonder if I’m having a great time or not.”

Matt grins, his heart swells in pride and joy, “I’m having a great time, too.”

The night passes far too fast for either of their liking. There seems to be a never ending topic for the both of them to discuss. From the major they’re taking, their roommates, down to how honking your car is illegal here in New York, everything feels like an interesting subject to dissect. Like an overflowing flow of soft ripples that hit your ankles on the beach shore. Soothing and intriguing at the same time.

Both their feet now carry them around the city, directionless yet certainly not lost. She was clutching on his arm, trying to make sure that he wouldn’t trip as they walked through the park and around the neighbourhood. For most it would certainly be the most bland date as neither of them knew where to go nor what to do, but neither of them had any complaints. It was perfect as it is.

Until it wasn’t.

Matt could feel the sudden spike of her heartbeat. Whoever it is that’s standing by the porch, whoever’s house party it is that they stumbled upon, she certainly didn’t have any intention to join nor stopped by at it, yet from the sweat that’s starting to build on her skin, he knew that she has to.

“About time you appear!” Some girl yells, clearly directed at her.

“Shoot,” She mutters, sounding like she was caught red handed over some crime he wasn’t sure about “She’s going to have my head on a spike for this one.”

“Is everything okay?” Matt asks, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s just my friend’s birthday and I— Fuck,” She curses, running a hand through her hair “I completely forgot it’s today.”

Matt forces a smile, “It’s fine, we can call it a night.”

“No, I’ll be right back,” She whispers to him, squeezing his arm a little before she jogs a little to the group of people on the porch.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” One of the girls says as she approaches them “Gaby’s been asking for you for hours! Your phone’s dead, we couldn’t reach you—,”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She apologises, she was honest with her apology, Matt could hear it in her heartbeat “I completely forgot about her birthday party, and I double booked tonight, and I just—”

“So you chose to bail on your best friend's birthday instead?” Her friend argues.

“I mean, he’s cute, I would totally bail on Gaby’s birthday too,” Her other friend commented, making Matt smile a little “Who’s he? I didn’t know you’re seeing someone.”

“I— It’s a long story, okay? I’ll tell you guys later,” She frantically says, trying to save herself from the wrath of her friends “I’ll call it a night with him. Please don’t tell Gaby that I forgot about her birthday, okay? Just tell her I overslept or something.”

Matt bites the inner of his cheek. One of the downplay of hearing every and each conversation others have is knowing what’s to come before it actually hits you. Sure it might come as useful for certain times, but Matt was reluctant to bid his goodbye just yet. He wanted the night to last just a little bit longer, to feel her presence just a few hours longer and to walk around with her just a few miles further. Now it’s clear that he would have to scrape those desires off of his list.

“I am so so so sorry about this,” She says as she comes close to him, her words dripping with regret and guilt “I completely forgot about her birthday party and I just— God, we should’ve taken a left from that park.”

Matt chuckles, “We should have, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry,” She says once again “I’d invite you in but I don’t know how Gaby would react with me being four hours late to her birthday party and I really don’t want you to be trialled for it with me.���

“I understand, don’t worry about it.”

“God, I’m really the biggest arsehole there is, huh?”

“For now, yes,” Matt jests “But don’t worry about it. I had a great time.”

“I had a great time, too. Do you.. Do you know the way back?”

Matt nods, “I’ll manage.”

“Okay,” She smiles apologetically, clearly not wanting to part either yet her feet are already moving towards the house as her friends continue to call for her “I’m really sorry, Matt. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Once again, Matt nods and smiles.

He turns his body away from the house, retracing his way back to the campus. Sure it wasn’t the most ideal way to end their date, he feels like he could and deserves to yell a bit to her friends for stealing her away from him ever so rudely like that, but he figures that he’s had his fair share of her tonight. He reminds himself that it was a Friday night. It was honestly a little too good to be true for someone as delightful as her to have her night free of dates and appointments, so to find out that she’s actually booked for a party is certainly not much of a surprise. Matt only wished that he didn’t know it the way he did.

They certainly should’ve taken a left from the park and avoided this neighbourhood altogether.

“Wait, Matt!”

Matt’s pace was put to a halt. He turns back to face the direction of her voice. He could hear her slight pants and the slight jog she made toward him. A small smile returned to his face, “Yes?”

“You surely didn’t think I’d let you go without a kiss, did you?” She asks, her breathing fickle from the short exercise “Or did you not want one?”

“I’d love one,” He says fast “Please.”

Matt’s grip on his cane tightened a little as she took a step closer. She places her arms around his shoulders and Matt swore he suddenly forgets what’s to do with his limbs. He wasn’t sure if he should put his hands on her waist or should he keep still. It was very much out of character for him. He’s had kisses before, had dates with plenty of other girls, but how is it that he has no idea how to act when it comes to her?

When their lips met, Matt swears that he could climb the Empire State Building with his bare hands. It was an uneventful kiss, certainly not the most creative that he’s ever had, but the electricity he felt was beyond compare. It was as if the kisses he’s had before were mere teasers to what it truly is. Like he was deprived of something he’s been so hungry from. Like he was deprived of her.

“I had a great time tonight,” She says as they part, sounding as if the kiss didn’t just flip her whole world upside down like it did to him “I’ll see you soon?”

“Tomorrow,” He promises “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” She agrees through her smile “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

She chews on her lower lip as if determined to make them bleed once again. Her eyes were glued to the clock, watching as it ticks with each second instead of averting her focus back to the papers on her table. Finishing her tasks prove to be a more challenging issue to tackle with each passing day.

Before she knew it, it was already Thursday. Matt promised to meet her the next day after their date, yet such a promise was never fulfilled. She figured that he might just have to do a rain check about their meeting, perhaps having some last minute task that he has to finish before the weekend ended, but even when Monday comes, he still was a no show.

Sorry, something happened. Will be in touch once it’s resolved. M

Now what should a girl do with such a short message?

Each day she would wake up early to go to the cafe where they first met and each noon when her classes were finished, she would try to run herself to the library, hoping that he would magically pop up out of nowhere like he did the very first night they met. Those efforts prove to be no avail as the expected man never bothered to make an entrance.

She wonders if their abrupt separation was what caused him to ghost her. She argues, the kiss they shared should’ve been enough to make him overlook the unpleasant farewell. It was much more than enough for her end, but could it be that it wasn’t the same for him? Could it be that he was more baffled about her last minute dick move that he decided to cut it off? Could it be that he’s had enough of her?

“Is this seat reserved?”

Her head perched up, excited to hear the familiar voice that she so missed about, “Unfortunately, yes. It’s been reserved for a week, actually.”

Matt shows an apologetic smile, “Is it still reserved?”

“Depends,” She teases, closing her laptop as she realises that there would be no work done for the rest of the night “If the culprit could explain and give a life-threatening excuse to save himself, I suppose he can still claim his reservation.”

“What if he could only offer an apology and say that he’s desperately sorry for being a douche?”

“No explanation?”

Matt hesitates, “No, none that he could disclose.”

“Not even a little?”

“I—,” Matt licks his bottom lip. It was a habit he does whenever he’s nervous, she notices. He takes the seat and rests his white cane on the side of the table. He looks troubled, like he’s trying to piece words in his mind that he’s not familiar with “Look, I.. I don’t exactly have any explanations to give you. I just.. I have been away. And I fear that I will have to be away for more times than I’d like in the future.”

She remains quiet, listening and watching as he tries to speak.

“I like you, a lot. We had the best date of my life last week, but I don’t think I have what you’re looking for,” He continues, looking conflicted and hurt with his own words “I just— I’m sorry, I really hope I could give more than what I have, but at the same time, I selfishly don’t want to lose you either so if we could just— If we could just be friends, I think I would like that very much.”

Matt could sense the piqued beating of her heart. The news he came to bear was certainly bitter, even more to him than her if he could only be so honest. But what happened earlier this week made him realise that he wasn’t in a position to be in a relationship with anyone. Especially not with someone who looks like she’s willing to go the extra mile for him.

It was supposed to be an easy rescue mission. Some petty robbery that happened on some dingy alley of Hell’s Kitchen that he expected to be settled an hour at most, only to turn out to be a complicated one as he came home with more bruises and wounds than he could count. He had to once again lie to Foggy and say that he was the one being robbed by a group of thugs in order to be able to go to their dorm room and sleep in. But as the lies roll off of his tongue, Matt realises that she would be another person he would have to lie to everytime he comes back bruised from a patrol. She would be another person he would have to deceive with excuses that never truly touch the truth. She would be another tally in his long list of people to ask forgiveness from.

And that’s something he doesn’t think he could live in for long.

So he figured to lock himself inside for a couple of days until his bruises heal. He refuses to meet her when he’s still littered with wounds he couldn’t explain to her about. Even when his finger itches to text her, even when his feet were begging him to let them carry him to the library, even when he was yearning for him more than ever, Matt has to hold himself within the walls of his dorm room that feels like they’re closing in with every passing day.

Now that he finally looks decent enough to go back to his classes, he finally gathered the guts to see and talk to her. There was a mix of bittersweet feelings when he sensed her sitting by their table alone. Relieved to know that she’s waiting, yet sorry that he has to come bearing bad news.

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She says, blinking rapidly as she tries to digest his words “Are you in some kind of trouble, Matt? You can talk to me if you are. We can try and figure it out.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” He answers “It’s more of a.. Me thing. I just have to deal with some things first.”

She nods, feeling a hint of grief pooling in her heart, “I see.”

There was a pause. Neither have the slightest idea to go forward from this. Both clearly want to continue whatever it is they left off, but they’re truly on a stalemate here, aren’t they? What could she do when he’s asked her to let this go and stay as friends instead? What could he do when he wanted to have her close but only have just started to be the Daredevil? What could they do when they have so much to say yet so little to share?

“I’m really sorry,” Matt says instead.

“No, I understand,” She shakes her head, forcing a smile “Friends it is, then.”

And so it begins. The never ending loop of wasting each other’s time for the sake of wasting time. The never ending cycle of stealing a brush of the other’s hand under the table for the sake of accidental touches. The never ending series of pouring each others’ heart through the stories they share just for the sake of sharing. Always more than what friends do, but never less than what lovers should.

[multifandom-pleasures]

shadow x reader

you walked into shadow staring intently at the coffee machine set inside the kitchenette of robotnik’s ship. he’d been recently freed from his cryogenic chamber and was growing accustomed to the more modern life; considering the time he was last roaming was 50 odd so years ago; and figuring out the functions of everything onboard. he always bragged of his power and intelligence, so it was quite humorous to see him grumbling to himself as he attempted to figure out the little machine that sat atop the counter.

“ figured it out yet? “ you called to him from the doorframe, the only signal that he heard you was a small twitch from his ear. after a beat of silence he spoke.

“ how long have you stood there for. “

“ long enough. “ he seemed annoyed at that, shoulders hunching for a moment before he crossed his arms and turned to face you, his constant face of stoicism remaining.

“ I have not. “ he admitted, looking like the statement didn’t affect him - even though you knew he knew that you’d seen him glaring at the coffee machine. a smile twitched at the corner of your lip as you made your way over to him.

“ have you ever even had coffee? “ you asked as you slipped beside him to open up a cabinet, stretching for a mug that lay on the shelf.

“ no, but it’s tempted me. dr. robotnik - “ he paused and grimaced, “ gerald, my creator, would drink it often when doing tasks and experiments on the ark. he would not let me try it. “

“ what, he said no and you listened? “ you teased, and he frowned at you, looking somewhat sheepish. it was silly through other’s eyes, “ well, anyways, I’ll show you how it works. wanna try a flavor or just plain coffee? “

“ flavors? “ shadow seemed intrigued, watching as you pulled over a little pod carousel. you couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the way he peered over your shoulder to examine the selection, which caused him to promptly step aside.

“ yeah - there’s like.. caramel, vanilla, hazelnut, toffee nut, pumpkin spice.. and then just regular one without any flavor. robotnik likes that one. it’s gross. “ shadow gave you a pointed look and reached to nab a pod from the holder, giving it to you. you judged him silently for the selection, but obeyed and popped open the top.

“ you put this little pod in here, and then close it. “ you explained your actions as you did them, and then grabbed the mug to put into the slotted section in the machine, “ then, these buttons up top are for the size cup. always just pick the middle one, all our mugs are the same. “ you could feel the hedgehog’s body heat returning close beside you as he watched you, looking too intensely considering the fact it was just coffee, “ then, you press this big button and it’ll do the rest on its own. “

you stepped back as the machine began to make a subtle sound, and coffee began to drip into the cup. you looked over to shadow and smiled smugly.

“ can the ultimate life form handle that next time? “ he huffed at you, throwing a glare before his focus returned to the machine before you, watching the steady stream and the scent of roasted coffee beans beginning to fill the room.

“ and it stops on its own? “ you nod, and he looked slightly impressed. you both stood in somewhat comfortable silence as the machine worked, and as the final drips settled into the mug, you motioned for him to grab onto it.

“ it’s hot though, so careful - don’t burn yourself. “ shadow scoffed as his gloved hand reached for the ceramic.

“ I think I can manage it. “ he replied, bringing the mug up to his face in order to sniff, and when he seemed pleased at the aroma he sipped. you noticed his eye twitch slightly, and he turned away as he swallowed down the liquid. when he faced you again you held a smirk, raising a brow, “ shut up. “

you both moved to the little dining table - two chairs, one for each of you. there was never any need for more as it was only you and robotnik who ever used the kitchen. shadow had allowed his drink to cool down considerably before attempting another sip, and you watched as his eyes slid closed and a soft little hum rise from his throat. when he opened his eyes again, you gave him a smile.

“ like it? “

“ it’s.. pleasant. bitter but, not unbearably so. “ he replied, lifting the mug once more to drink from it. he nodded and sighed, “ yes, I like it. “ you gave a small, triumphed cheer as you rose from your seat.

“ great! now we can spend our morning making coffee together. “ you padded your way to make your own cup of coffee, unaware of the steely, red eyes following your movements, “ maybe I can get you to try the other flavors - they’re definitely better than just plain black y’know. and there’s soooo many.. “

too enraptured in your talking and moving, you didn’t catch the glimpse of a smile shadow wore, sitting patiently awaiting for you as he continued to sip from his mug.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Does Zack like coffee? How does he take it?

Other firsts/seconds/grunts/ Crisis Core ppl?

Zack: He grew up in the sweltering heat of Gongaga, so he's automatically a sucker for cold drinks. He drinks iced coffee, drowned in so much syrup, whipped cream, and sprinkles that it barely qualifies as coffee anymore.

Genesis: Prefers his coffee piping hot and complex, orders the most elaborate concoctions like a triple-shot caramel cappuccino made with special roasted beans, steamed soy milk, extra foam, an sprinkle of cinnamon and a generous drizzle of Banora White syrup, finished with a dollop of diet whipped cream, dusted with more cinnamon, chocolate shavings and a pinch of sea salt to enhance the flavor.

Sephiroth: Hojo never allowed Sephiroth to have caffeine, so when he leaves the labs, Genesis and Angeal introduce him to the joys of coffee. He quickly develops a love for coffee mixed with milk and sweetened with honey—simple and comforting.

Angeal: He thinks those elaborate coffee orders are "not real coffee", so he sticks to good old fashioned homemade brewed coffee. He drinks it from a goofy mug Zack once got him for his birthday that reads "Tired mother of three" in bright colors.

Cloud: Not very fond of coffee, prefers a cup of hot milk with honey. But he'll occasionally sip on coffee socially, masking a grimace and pretending he enjoys it.

NOTABLE MENTIONS

• The coffee machine in the SOLDIER break room that has broken down more times than anyone can count, and when it does work, the coffee is either too bitter or tastes like it was brewed in a dirty sock. Lazard refuses to replace it, claiming it's "character-building," and punishment for whoever broke it the first time by brewing coffee with energy drink (spoiler, it was Zack).

• The rumor that Rufus drinks imported coffee beans out of a solid gold mug.

• The jar of instant coffee that was sitting in the break room cupboard, unopened, until Zack poured milk into it, shook it, and downed it in one go. He managed to finish all his reports and paperwork within 30 minutes.

• The rumor that Sephiroth and Genesis spike their morning coffees, after a witness claimed to have seen Genesis remove a flask from his coat pocket and pour it into their cups in the elevator. (Spoiler: it was Banora White juice).

[lvrgirlrey]

Hi there, can you do a Dazai x reader where she's the coffee shop owner's daughter returning from college and working there. She and Dazai are always bickering (mostly because of his ever growing tab) but beyond that they're kinda into each other???? Then like in that episode where those thugs attacked the coffee shop, she gets taken and Dazai is actively losing his shit. Ending with fluffy confessions. Please feel free to ignore if you can't

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: hello!! of course i can do that for you and thank you for requesting >v<

𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: none! hope you enjoy!

it had been a while since you'd come back home. college had swept you up into its relentless tide, but now that you were back, there was a strange comfort in returning to your family's coffee shop, *aroma's haven*. the familiar scent of roasted beans and warm pastries greeted you the moment you pushed through the door. it was peaceful, soothing... until the bell chimed again.

"ah, if it isn't my favorite college grad!" a familiar voice sang.

you rolled your eyes immediately, already knowing who it was. osamu dazai—self-proclaimed genius, infamous loafer, and perpetual thorn in your side. he leaned against the counter with that lazy, almost mischievous grin of his. it had only been a week since you'd returned, and he had made a habit of showing up like clockwork. every. single. day.

"aren't you supposed to be busy with agency work or something?" you sighed, wiping down the counter. "and don't even think about asking for coffee unless you're ready to pay for that massive tab you've racked up." he placed a dramatic hand over his heart, as if wounded by your words. "so cold! after all we've been through together—"

"you mean all the coffee you've stolen?" you interrupted. "dazai, i swear, i'm going to start charging you rent at this point."

he laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "i can't help it. the coffee tastes better when it's from here... especially when you're the one making it."

there was a warmth in his tone, just a slight change that made your heart stutter for a beat. you masked it with a scoff and turned away, focusing on the coffee machine instead. dazai always had a way of throwing you off balance, with his lazy charm and soft words that always seemed to hold more meaning than they should.

"you know, i could just cut you off," you said, a bit more quietly now.

"you wouldn’t," he replied, voice dropping into something more sincere. "besides, where would you be without me to keep you entertained?"

you could feel his eyes on you, like a warm weight, and you couldn't resist a small smile. okay, maybe you were a little entertained. your bickering had become a part of your day—a strange routine that brought a spark of energy to the otherwise mundane hours behind the counter. "i could do without the headaches," you muttered.

"but you love it," dazai said, his voice playful once again. "you love our little back-and-forths. admit it."

you glanced over at him, meeting his gaze. something flickered between the two of you—something unspoken but undeniable. and for a moment, you almost said something. almost admitted that maybe he wasn't completely wrong.

but the door jingled again, and a group of customers entered, breaking the moment. you sighed, setting your shoulders and moving to help them. dazai slipped into his usual spot at a corner table, watching you with an unreadable expression.

later that evening, after the rush had died down and the café was quiet again, dazai lingered. you didn't mind. in fact, you were a bit used to him staying past closing hours, joking about anything and everything while you cleaned up. today, though, something felt off. there was a tension in the air that you couldn't quite shake.

"you alright?" you asked, catching him staring out the window, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by something more serious. he hummed, his eyes distant. "yeah. just... thinking."

"dangerous," you teased, trying to lighten the mood. but when his gaze shifted to you, all traces of humor vanished.

"you should be careful," he said softly. "there's been some... trouble in the area lately. i don't want anything to happen to you." your brow furrowed. "dazai, what are you—"

before you could finish, the door to the café was suddenly kicked open, slamming against the wall. a group of rough-looking men burst in, their faces twisted into ugly sneers. dazai was on his feet immediately, his posture tense, his usual playful smile gone.

"well, well," one of the thugs sneered, his eyes locking onto you. "look what we've got here."

your heart pounded in your chest. you could feel dazai's gaze on you, sharp and calculating. he was assessing the situation, already thinking a hundred steps ahead. but before he could make a move, one of the men lunged forward, grabbing your arm and yanking you toward him. "let's make this simple," the thug growled. "you come with us, and maybe no one gets hurt."

"dazai—" you gasped, struggling against the thug's grip, but his hold was too strong. dazai's eyes were dark, and there was something dangerous simmering beneath the surface. "let her go."

the thug laughed, clearly thinking dazai was no threat. "or what?"

before you could blink, dazai moved. faster than you thought possible. his hand shot out, grabbing the thug by the wrist and twisting it sharply. the man let out a howl of pain, releasing you instantly. dazai pulled you behind him, placing himself between you and the others.

"i don't think you understand," dazai said, his voice low and icy. "if you touch her again, you won’t live to regret it."

the men hesitated for a moment, clearly not expecting this side of dazai. but then one of them lunged, and everything erupted into chaos. dazai fought them off with ease—fluid and precise, like he had done this a million times before. you watched, wide-eyed, as he dismantled each of them, his movements almost graceful.

but even as he fought, his eyes kept darting toward you, as if making sure you were still safe. the moment the last thug hit the ground, dazai was by your side, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly.

"are you alright?" his voice was laced with a panic you hadn't heard before. you nodded, still a bit shaken. "yeah... i'm okay."

his hands didn’t leave your shoulders, his grip firm as if he was afraid you might slip away. his face was inches from yours now, his eyes intense in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"i swear," he muttered, his voice rough, "if they had hurt you..."

"but they didn’t," you whispered. "i'm fine, dazai." for a moment, there was only silence between you two, the tension in the air thick. then, without warning, dazai pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. his breath was warm against your ear, and you could feel his heart racing.

"don't scare me like that," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "i don't know what i'd do if something happened to you."

you were frozen for a moment, stunned by the vulnerability in his voice, in his touch. slowly, you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself relax into his embrace. "you don't have to worry about me," you said quietly, your heart pounding in your chest. "i'm tougher than i look."

he chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "yeah, well, you scared the hell out of me tonight."

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. for the first time, there was no teasing smile, no playful glint in his eyes. he was just... dazai. raw and unguarded. "why?" you asked softly. "why do you care so much?"

his eyes searched yours for a moment before he sighed, his breath shaky. "because i..." he paused, his brow furrowing as if the words were difficult to say. "because i think i might love you."

your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. his confession was so simple, so quiet, yet it hit you harder than anything else he had ever said.

"oh," you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"oh?" he repeated, and for the first time that night, a hint of his usual playful smile returned. "that's all i get? just 'oh'?"

you rolled your eyes, trying to hide your own smile. "you know what i mean."

he laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar, and before you could think of a response, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, most delicate kiss. it wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was just... right. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel his smile.

"i think you might love me too," he teased.

you sighed, but there was no bite to it. "maybe i do," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "but don't get cocky about it."

his smile widened, his eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like happiness.

"too late," he murmured, pulling you back into his arms, holding you close. and in that moment, you let yourself relax completely, feeling safer and warmer than you had in a long time. you'd never admit it to him, but maybe... just maybe... you liked having him around after all.

[wadewnstonwilson]

pumpkin spice & profanity;

summary: in a cozy coffee shop filled with the warmth of autumn, Logan Howlett’s quiet coffee run takes an unexpected turn when he meets Wade Wilson, a loud, crass, and endearing stranger sporting a "Spooky Season" hoodie. despite Wade’s relentless swearing and over-the-top flirting, Logan finds himself charmed by his energy.

word count: 1.1k

suggestion by @creativijay!

The smell of pumpkin spice and roasted coffee beans mingled in the air as Logan Howlett pushed open the door to a small coffee shop, a bell tinkling above his head as he stepped inside. Outside, fall was in full swing: golden leaves scattered across the sidewalks, a crisp chill hung in the air, and pumpkins were propped in various places, creating a warm, festive atmosphere. Logan had never been one for pumpkin spice or seasonal hype, but he couldn’t deny he liked the smell. Besides, it wasn’t like he was here for the décor; he just wanted his coffee—black, strong, and preferably scalding.

As he moved up the line, he tugged his jacket closer, catching a glance of his reflection in the glass display case. He looked scruffy as always, his stubble a little rougher than usual, his hair sticking up in wild tufts he hadn’t bothered to smooth down. But if anything, it added to the intimidating air he carried, which was probably why he usually didn’t have to worry about anyone striking up a conversation.

“Large black coffee,” he grumbled when it was his turn. The barista nodded, looking slightly intimidated as she keyed in his order.

Just as he was paying, Logan’s ears picked up a familiar sound: swearing. A constant stream of it, in fact, laced with occasional snorts and chuckles, coming from a guy at the end of the counter.

Logan turned, trying not to look obvious, and his gaze landed on the man causing the racket. He had on a beanie that read *Spooky Season* in a horribly ironic Comic Sans font. The beanie matched a hoodie emblazoned with the same words and font, and as the guy shifted, Logan noted that he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as if he had too much energy and nowhere to put it.

“Oh, come on! I swear if this machine screws up my order one more time, I’m gonna come back here with a chainsaw and reenact Texas Chainsaw Massacre in the name of every caffeine-deprived citizen out there!” The guy’s voice was loud enough for most of the shop to hear, and several customers shot him dirty looks. He, however, was oblivious—or just didn’t care.

Logan found himself smirking, even as he tried to keep his expression impassive. It wasn’t every day he saw someone go off on a coffee machine, and there was something oddly endearing about the guy’s sheer volume and lack of shame.

Just then, the barista handed Logan his coffee, and as he turned to find a seat, he realized the guy had caught him looking. With a quick, almost mischievous grin, the stranger sidled up to him, coffee in hand.

“Hey there, tough guy. Didn’t peg you for the seasonal coffee type,” he said with a lopsided smile that revealed a glimpse of his teeth. His voice was smooth but laced with a wicked edge, like he knew he was about to say something offensive and couldn’t wait.

Logan grunted. “I’m not. Just here for a black coffee.” He gestured with his cup, arching an eyebrow as if to dare the guy to say something about it.

“Oh, look at you, all rugged and classic. Black coffee, huh?” The stranger snorted. “Sounds like my high school gym teacher. Guy was a real hardass—smelled like wet dog, too. Hopefully, you don’t have the same cologne.”

Logan couldn’t help it; he chuckled. The guy’s energy was contagious, and it had been a while since he’d met someone so… vibrant. And, frankly, ridiculous.

“Yeah? Didn’t realize my coffee order was up for public scrutiny,” Logan replied, trying to keep the smile out of his voice.

“Oh, everything’s up for public scrutiny,” the stranger said with a grin. “You look like you walked out of a lumberjack calendar—seriously, how do you even get your hair like that? Do you roll around on a carpet first thing in the morning, or is it natural?”

Logan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “What’s it to you?”

The stranger shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, just appreciating the view. Don’t get your plaid in a twist.”

“Didn’t catch your name,” Logan said, leaning back against the counter, intrigued despite himself.

“Oh, I didn’t throw it,” the stranger said, extending a hand. “But since you asked so nicely, the name’s Wade. Wade Wilson, professional caffeine addict and part-time lover of all things spooky.” He gestured to his hoodie with a flourish, giving Logan an exaggerated wink.

Logan blinked, taken aback by the guy’s brashness but unable to suppress a smirk. “Logan.”

Wade’s eyes lit up as he clasped Logan’s hand, giving it a shake that was a little too enthusiastic. “Logan, huh? Like the Wolverine? Badass name.”

“Yeah, something like that,” Logan muttered, feeling an odd warmth under Wade’s intense gaze. The guy was practically buzzing with energy, and it was both exasperating and oddly charming.

“So, Logan,” Wade continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “what do you say we skip the awkward part where we pretend like we’re not totally into each other and just grab dinner sometime?”

Logan froze, not expecting Wade to be so forward. A faint flush crept up his cheeks as he stammered, “Are you… are you asking me out?”

“Damn right I am!” Wade said, utterly unfazed. “And trust me, you’d be lucky to have a date with me. I come with terrible jokes, relentless flirting, and, if you’re lucky, I might even buy you a coffee.”

Logan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “A little forward, don’t you think?”

Wade shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, life’s short, Peanut. You don’t think I came out of the womb this charming, do you? Had to work at it. And I’m not one to waste time.”

Logan’s lips twitched. There was something about Wade’s cocky grin, the way his face lit up when he talked, that was infectious. For the first time in a long time, Logan felt his guard slipping. He glanced down at his coffee, debating. It wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

“All right, Wade,” he said, surprising himself. “You got yourself a dinner.”

Wade’s grin widened, if that was even possible, and he pumped a fist in the air like he’d just won the lottery. “Hell yeah! All right, so here’s the plan. I pick you up at six, we go somewhere semi-classy, and I promise I’ll only make, like, five inappropriate jokes. Sound good?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Better make it three.”

“Oh, you’re killing me, Logan! Three? That’s like… child’s play!” Wade groaned dramatically, but the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“See you at six,” Logan said, turning toward the door before he could change his mind. As he walked out, he heard Wade shouting after him.

“Wear something cozy! I’m thinking plaid. Gotta stay on-brand!”

Logan chuckled as he stepped into the crisp autumn air, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe he’d finally met his match in Wade Wilson.

[elryuse]

Hey can I ask for yandere xiaoting ?

Devil In Disguise

YANDERE XIAOTING X MALE READER

Xiaoting, a vision of flawless beauty sculpted by stylists and fueled by caffeine, pushed open the familiar door of her favorite cafe. The air, thick with the aroma of roasted coffee beans, was a welcome escape from the sterility of her practice studio. But today, the enticing scent was overshadowed by a different kind of allure.

Behind the counter stood a boy with hair the color of dark chocolate that seemed to absorb the warm light filtering through the window. His eyes, a deep brown that held a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine, were focused intently on the espresso machine. He was handsome, yes, undeniably so, but it was his smile – genuine, unburdened by the pressures of fame that she carried like a second skin – that truly captivated her.

"Can I get you something?" he asked, his voice a pleasant baritone that rumbled in a way that made her knees weak.

"Hmm," Xiaoting purred, leaning against the counter. Her stage persona, a mix of icy cool and smoldering sensuality, came naturally. It was a shield, a carefully crafted armor that protected her from the emotional onslaught of constant scrutiny. Here, though, in this tiny cafe with its worn wooden tables and mismatched mugs, it felt heavy. "Idk.. Surprise me."

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine once more. "Coming right up," he said, his smile widening. As he worked, she stole glances, memorizing the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he steamed the milk, the way his fingers danced across the espresso machine with a practiced ease. Finally, he slid a steaming cup towards her, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Here you go," he said, his voice warm and inviting. "Hope it surprises you pleasantly."

"I'm sure it will," Xiaoting said, her voice a husky murmur. "By the way, I'm Xiaoting."

He smiled, his name tag reading "Y/n. Nice to meet you, Xiaoting. So, what brings a beautiful girl like you to my humble cafe?"

The question was simple, but it sent a jolt through her. Rarely did people see beyond the mask she wore for the cameras. An idea, delicious and dangerous, sparked in her mind.

"Just looking for a little escape," she said, her voice tinged with a calculated vulnerability. They talked for what felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a stolen half-hour between customers. She learned about his dreams of becoming a musician, his love for classic novels that she'd only ever seen adapted into movies, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at a particularly bad joke she told. It was intoxicating, this taste of normalcy, of genuine connection.

But as she went to leave, her heart plummeted.

"Hey," Y/n called. "I don't usually ask this, but…" He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a napkin. "Would you like to keep in touch?"

A thrill shot through her. This was better than she could have hoped for. But then, a girl, blonde and bubbly, linked arms with Y/n, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Hey babe, sorry I'm late!"

Xiaoting's smile froze, the warmth in her replaced by a chilling emptiness that spread through her like ice. "Girlfriend?" she croaked, her voice devoid of its usual playful lilt.

Y/n's face fell. "Oh, right. This is…" His eyes darted between them, confusion etched on his face. "This is Xiaoting, and…"

"No need to introduce me," Xiaoting cut in, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that tasted like ash in her mouth. It was a performance, a carefully crafted mask once more, but this time, it was fueled by something far more potent than practiced charm. "It's lovely to meet you. Y/n tells me wonderful things about you."

The lie flowed effortlessly, a seed planted in the fertile ground of the girl's insecurities. Later, alone in her luxurious apartment, the mask shattered. Rage contorted her face, a terrifying transformation that would send shivers down the spine of anyone who witnessed it. A mere pop star, a nobody, dared to have someone she desired? The thought was an insult, a challenge to her carefully constructed world.

The following days were a blur of activity. Xiaoting, the master manipulator with a team of loyal and discreet individuals at her beck and call, orchestrated a flawless plan. A carefully placed photo, an anonymous tip to the tabloids that fueled the ever-hungry gossip machine, and a manufactured public meltdown on Y/n's girlfriend's part did the trick. Days later, Y/n, heartbroken and confused, found himself sitting across from Xiaoting in her opulent apartment, a stark contrast to the cozy cafe.

Y/n stared at Xiaoting, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Tears had carved glistening tracks through the caked-on makeup his ex had insisted on before their "emotional" break-up video.

"It's all a lie, isn't it?" he rasped, his voice raw with betrayal. "The cheating, the whole thing."

Xiaoting, perched on a plush velvet sofa, her designer dress impeccably styled, reached out and squeezed his hand. Her touch, usually electric, felt cold and calculating. "Oh, Y/n," she cooed, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. "Don't listen to the media vultures. They just want to create drama."

Her practiced smile didn't reach her eyes. Y/n, however, blinded by grief and the subtle shift in her demeanor, clung to her words like a lifeline.

"She seemed so genuine in the video," he mumbled, his voice thick with despair. "She even had… proof."

A flicker of triumph passed through Xiaoting's eyes, masked by a concerned frown. "Proof that can be easily fabricated, darling," she purred. "You know how these things work."

Y/n nodded numbly, his mind reeling. Xiaoting leaned in, her voice a seductive whisper. "You deserve better, Y/n. Someone who will cherish you, who understands you. Someone like me."

He looked up, his gaze searching hers. In that moment, a flicker of something dark, something possessive, glinted in her eyes. But Y/n, lost in his emotional turmoil, missed it.

"I don't know what to believe anymore," he whispered, defeated.

Xiaoting's smile bloomed, genuine this time. "Then believe in me," she said, her voice laced with a dangerous possessiveness. "Believe that I can make you happy."

And in that vulnerable state, Y/n did. Blinded by the illusion of comfort and the toxic sweetness of her words, he allowed himself to fall into her carefully constructed web.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Xiaoting, the idol with a seemingly perfect life, became his haven. But the haven was a gilded cage, its bars disguised as luxury and affection.

His phone calls with friends became "intrusions into their healing." His attempts to pursue music, his long-held dream, were dismissed as "unrealistic distractions." The outside world became a blur, filtered through Xiaoting's carefully curated narrative.

One evening, amidst a candlelit dinner, Xiaoting casually mentioned a camera crew arriving the next day to film a "day in the life" segment.

Y/n froze, a flicker of unease crossing his face. "A camera crew? Here?"

Xiaoting, all innocence, feigned surprise. "Oh honey, didn't I mention? It's a surprise! They want to showcase our beautiful love story."

His unease morphed into terror. The manufactured reality she'd created suffocated him. But before he could protest, she reached for his hand, her grip a vice.

"Don't worry, darling," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "It'll be perfect. After all, the whole world deserves to see how happy we are, right?"

Y/n's pleas were drowned out by the manufactured sweetness of her voice. Trapped in her gilded cage, his future stretched before him, not a haven of love, but a prison built on lies and a terrifying obsession.

The camera crew bustled around the apartment, their presence a suffocating weight on Y/n's chest. Every stolen glance at Xiaoting confirmed his growing suspicion. Her smile, practiced for countless interviews, seemed strained around the edges. Her eyes, usually sparkling with manufactured cheer, held a glint of something manic.

As they filmed their "candid" interactions, Y/n fumbled for words. Xiaoting, ever the professional, filled the silence with fabricated anecdotes about their whirlwind romance, peppered with possessiveness disguised as affection.

Later, after the crew departed, the air grew thick with a suffocating tension. Y/n, his hands clammy with unease, finally found his voice.

"Xiaoting," he started, his voice barely a whisper. "It felt… staged. Everything."

Xiaoting's smile faltered for a brief moment, then reappeared, wider and somehow colder. "Staged? How silly, darling. It was just a little awkwardness, that's all."

He wasn't convinced. The way she'd hovered over him, her touch lingering a beat too long, the way her gaze flickered to the phone whenever it buzzed – it all screamed control.

"Can I… can I call my friends sometime?" Y/n asked, his voice small.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Xiaoting's face, quickly masked. "Oh, honey, you know how the media is. They'd twist anything into a story. We wouldn't want them to paint a wrong picture of our perfect relationship, would we?"

Y/n swallowed the retort that rose in his throat. He felt a growing sense of isolation, a gnawing loneliness that her constant presence couldn't fill.

Days blurred into weeks. Phone calls became a distant memory, replaced by Xiaoting's curated schedule of "romantic outings" and "couple interviews." He was a prop in her meticulously crafted narrative, his own dreams and desires pushed further and further out of reach.

One night, while Xiaoting slept, Y/n stumbled upon her phone. A morbid curiosity gnawed at him. He knew it was wrong, but the need to understand his situation overpowered his conscience.

His breath hitched as he saw text messages exchanged with a private number. The messages were cold, calculating, filled with instructions about manipulating interviews and maintaining their "perfect" facade.

But what truly sent chills down his spine was the final message: "Target successfully isolated. Phase two: public declaration."

Y/n's blood ran cold. He wasn't Xiaoting's lover; he was a pawn in a twisted game orchestrated by a woman consumed by a possessive obsession. Fear, sharp and primal, clawed at his throat.

He knew then that he had to escape. But how? Xiaoting controlled everything – his access to the outside world, his finances, even his reputation.

He spent the next few days formulating a plan, a desperate gamble fuelled by a newfound strength. He started subtly leaving messages for his old bandmate on social media, hidden in plain sight within innocuous comments. He pretended to be enthusiastic about Xiaoting's upcoming album release, subtly planting seeds of doubt about their relationship in interviews.

The night before the album release party, Y/n finally made his move. He waited until Xiaoting fell asleep, then packed a small bag with essentials. He knew she'd wake up soon, so he had to be quick.

He tiptoed towards the door, his heart hammering in his chest. Just as he grasped the knob, a cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Going somewhere, darling?" Xiaoting stood there, her eyes blazing with a terrifying fury.

Y/n's mouth went dry. "Xiaoting, I… I just need some air."

"No," she said, her voice a steely whisper. "You're not going anywhere. You belong to me now."

Y/n knew then that reasoning was futile. He had to fight his way out. He lunged for the door, but Xiaoting was faster. She grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

A struggle ensued, desperate and brutal. Y/n, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, managed to break free and sprint towards the window. He threw it open, the cool night air a welcome shock.

"Y/n don't!!" Xiaoting screamed, her voice laced with a chilling desperation.

He didn't look back. He scrambled onto the fire escape, adrenaline masking the fear threatening to consume him. He descended quickly, ignoring the burn in his legs, until he reached the ground and melted into the night.

He knew this was just the beginning. Xiaoting wouldn't give up easily. But for the first time in months, he felt a flicker of hope. He was free, and he would do He sprinted through the deserted streets, the rhythmic pounding of his feet the only sound in the night. Glancing back every few seconds, his heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs. He didn't see Xiaoting, but the chilling memory of her desperate plea sent shivers down his spine.

Reaching his old friend's apartment, he pounded on the door with shaking hands. Relief flooded him when the familiar face of his bandmate, Mark, appeared. But before Y/n could explain, a car screeched to a halt outside, its headlights momentarily blinding him.

"Y/n!" Mark gasped, pulling him back inside just as the apartment door splintered. Xiaoting, her face contorted with rage, stormed in, a gaggle of security guards flanking her.

"There you are!" she hissed, her voice laced with venom.

Y/n's frantic pleas for help fell on deaf ears. The security guards, well-versed in the art of celebrity wrangling, subdued him with practiced ease. Mark, powerless against the tide, could only watch in horror.

Back in the gilded cage, Xiaoting's rage had morphed into a chilling calm. Gone was the facade of the loving girlfriend. Y/n sat across from her, his wrists bound with silk scarves, the very picture of a dethroned king.

"You shouldn't have tried to leave," Xiaoting said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Now, things will have to change."

A cold dread filled Y/n. He knew then that escape was no longer an option. Xiaoting wouldn't simply lock him away; she would control him. His career, his reputation, his very identity – all would become pawns in her twisted game.

The following days were a blur of media manipulation. Xiaoting, the heartbroken victim, spun a tale of a troubled boyfriend on the verge of a breakdown. Public sympathy flowed freely, further isolating Y/n.

He was allowed to keep his phone, but under constant surveillance. His band, ostracized and pressured by Xiaoting's powerful team, reluctantly distanced themselves. The world he once knew crumbled around him.

Weeks turned into months. Y/n became a ghost of his former self, a talented musician reduced to a silent shadow beside the ever-smiling Xiaoting. He was forced to participate in interviews, his every word carefully scripted.

One day, during a live performance, a flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. As Xiaoting launched into a love song, he reached for the microphone, his voice hoarse but resolute.

"This isn't real," he rasped, the words catching in his throat. "She's keeping me prisoner."

The music screeched to a halt. Shock rippled through the audience. Security guards rushed the stage before Y/n could utter another word.

But the damage was done. The carefully crafted facade had a gaping hole. Whispers turned into accusations. Public opinion shifted, a seed of doubt planted.

Xiaoting, however, remained unfazed. Public scrutiny was a game she knew how to play. She painted Y/n as delusional, a victim of his own mental breakdown. Her carefully calculated tears and veiled threats of self-harm swayed the narrative back in her favor.

Y/n, isolated and silenced once more, sank deeper into despair. He knew he might never truly escape Xiaoting's grasp. She had woven a web of control so intricate, so pervasive, that it had become his reality.

The story ended not with a dramatic escape or a heroic rescue, but with a slow, suffocating descent. Y/n remained a prisoner, not behind bars, but within the gilded cage of a twisted obsession, his music and his dreams forever silenced by the chilling melody of Xiaoting's love song.

[boozenboze]

Dose of Caffine

Tf 141 x Male reader

Summary:Being a Captain in the military causes a lack in sleep.Drinking some coffee could convince them to stay awake, while a certain someone encourages them to sleep

Captain John Price x Male reader

Being one of the captains on the base was tough. No matter what you always have papers to sign and recruits to put in line. Feeling his body beginning to relax. He pushed himself out of his seat and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed a coffee mug from the cabinet, as well as some fresh dark roasted coffee beans. Once the coffee finished brewing he poured himself a cup and let it cool for a moment. l took a sip of it and sighed at the comforting warmth traveling down my throat. After I finished, my heart was beating much faster and I felt more awake. “I’ll be able to finish those papers, hopefully.” I said to myself as I went back to my office.

M/n’s body was slouched over his desk. He had fallen asleep and some of his drool dripped onto the papers. Sure the Caffine should’ve kept him awake but it seems that it failed. His light snores could be heard because of the silence in the room,besides the slight crackling noises of a candle that he had lighted. The rhumps of his heart got louder until his eyes snapped open.

.

.

.

The male jolted up, eyes averting in every direction. He looked down at his paper that had small drops of his drool. He sighed as he wiped the excess of, leaving the paper slightly damp. He glanced at his coffee for a moment before sighing. He suspected that he hadn’t been sleep long since the mug was still warm. It was about to be a long night.

.

.

.

How long has it been now... 2 hours? Its 3 am now and I feel tired.I really wanna get this shit done now. I understand im a Captain but jeez, I think my eyes wanna pop out their sockets. I don’t know how much longer i’ll be sitting here, I just hope it’s not for long. My sleeping schedules already been fucked up for the last few days, I think I’ll start going crazy if I don’t sleep.

The male hadn’t slept at all that night. The amount of caffeine he had consumed the previous night made his adrenaline high. Not to mention he was anxious and it didn’t help that his heart was still pounding against his chest. He had dropped off the documents to their respected places and took a breath kf relief. After that he had his breakfast and downed a tall glass of orange juice.It was sweet, not to mention healthy. Despite that, the taste of that french vanilla dark roast still lingered in his mouth, and gave him an itch to drink some.

A sip of coffee wouldn’t kill him right? It’s just coffee,plus it was his favorite flavor. Then with a splash of milk made it so much better. The h/c haired male stood up and went to the coffee machine. Someone must have dumped out the coffee he had made the previously since the pitcher was empty. He sighed and repeated the process he had done the previous night. Just as he was about to take a sip a familiar voice filled his ears.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough C/n?” The voice said, M/n looked and saw John Price. The two knew each other quite well and M/n chuckled lightly, blush dusting his face.

“Hey Price...didn’t see ya there.” M/n said as Price took the cup out his man making the h/c haired male sigh.

“Price come on, it’s french vanilla it’s the best flavor!” M/n complained as Price put the coffee to the side.He examined the males face and saw how red his eyes were, which made his gaze soften.

“Did you sleep at all L/n?” Price asked as he gently put his hand on the males cheek, which made him hum and lean into the mans touch.

“Negative, had to finish those damn files and documents so I couldn’t.” M/n responded as Price hummed to himself, stroking the males cheek before leaning in and kissing him on the tip of his nose.

“Lets bring you to bed eh, your gonna need it.” Price spoke as M/n nodded in response, allowing the man to lead him to his room.

“Can I have my coffee afterwards though?”

“Negative.”

That ended up being the best nights sleep the male had in a while