#Fruit Concentrate Market

[dedicateyourheartt]

stay in bed. (zayne x reader)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ a lot of fluff, quite short. enjoy <3 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Y/N had never been much of a morning person, in fact, she hated mornings. The sound of her alarm waking her from her deep slumber was worse than any nightmare. She ignored her alarms often, let them ring on and on until they eventually faded into the background.

Unfortunately, she had met Zayne. Her wonderful boyfriend of two years who unlike her, loved alarms. He loved schedules, loved waking up early before his shifts as a doctor began. It was their schedule, he would wake her up despite her insistent protests, drag her to get ready, and then make sure she was out the door before he left as well.

But today was off. She opened her eyes, blinking a few times to adjust her eyes to the light. Her alarm was blaring on the nightstand beside her bed. She grabbed it, the small screen showing the time as 8 am. Her brows contorted in confusion as she turned to see Zayne asleep beside her. Had he ignored the alarms? Or had he been too tired to even hear them?

"Zayne," Y/N whispered, gently shaking him.

But he didn't budge, soft snores leaving his lips as his eyes remained shut. She rested her chin on his chest, tapping his cheek as she watched his sleeping face.

It was rare for her to see him asleep. Sometimes his shifts would run so late she was asleep before he arrived home. Other times, he would stay up reading medical journals, far past the time when she was already in a deep slumber.

She couldn't help the smile that spread on her lips. He looked so...serene. The brows that were usually furrowed in concentration were relaxed, his lips parted as soft breaths left them, his eyelashes resting against his cheek.

He stirred in his sleep, his eyes slowly fluttering open as they met hers. She just smiled wider, still resting against his chest.

"Is it a habit of yours to watch me sleep like a creep?" He asked, his voice raspy from sleep.

"I rarely get to enjoy the view," Y/N grinned, "it's late, aren't you running late for work?"

Zayne sat up, clearing his throat and shaking his head, "I asked for the day off, it's your day off too isn't it? Didn't you mention wanting to visit that farmers market where they sold fresh pomegranates?"

There was a soft pink color spreading on his cheeks as he spoke. They had been dating for two years now, but his timidness surrounding romance or dates never faded away. She had always found it cute.

"You asked for the day off to spend it together?" She sat up, unable to hide the giddiness in her voice.

"Yes, who else will help you pick out the best fruit?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but the ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

"Right, then we'll visit the farmer's market today," She laughed, pulling him down with her as she laid back in bed, "right after we lay in bed for a few more minutes."

She felt his body shake with a soft laugh as he held her in his arms, stroking her hair, "Alright, just for a while longer."

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[rainylana]

“Still alive?”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: a relaxing day at home and eddie wants to play.

warnings: smut, language, mentions of spanking, reader calls herself fat, rough sex.

There was something so sexy about watching you paint. Maybe it was how your face scrunched up in concentration. Maybe it was how cute you looked, hair put up and comfy clothes with old paint stains. It was a hot day, so it was spent inside for the both of you. Eddie had lounged on the couch all day watching movies, a cold beer in his hand. When you broke out your canvas and paints, he didn’t pay much more attention to the film on screen. He watched as the white board turned into a bowl of fruit. First it was grapes, then a red apple, then a pear. Now you were working on a pineapple, halfway down with the green and brown spikey stems.

You looked adorable. Little grey, snug shorts just cut at the curve of your backside, black crop top covered in colored paint stains. Your paintbrush end was in your mouth, your eyes into slits as you thought about your painting. You always criticized your work. He didn’t understand why. You were extremely creative. You’d entered into the local fair and won awards almost every year. You liked your paintings to tell a story, is what you always told Eddie.

The polaroid camera sat on the coffee table beside him, and he quietly reached over and brought it to eye level, clicking the button as the room quickly flashed. You jumped at the noise. “Hey,” You looked back with a smile. “I look a mess!”

“You look beautiful.” He corrected for you, setting the camera back down as he held the polaroid. “I’ve been watching you for hours now. I don’t know what the hell I’m even watching now.”

“Friday the 13th chapter 2.” You laughed, turning back to your painting. “I wondered why I felt eyes at the back of my head. Thought maybe we had a ghost.”

“Oh, no.” He shook the picture. “So scary.”

He groaned loudly as he sat up from the couch, glancing at the tv as Jason sliced someone up with his machete, and happily trotted over to you. “Look how pretty.” He swung his arms around your neck, bending down to show you the picture with a cheesy smile.

“God, I look fat.” You cringed. “I’m slouched over. Throw that shit away.” You waved your hand so you wouldn’t have to see it.

“Fat?” He said incredulously. “It’s amazing how you can turn my compliments into insults. You’re too harsh on yourself, babe.” He put the picture in his back pocket, clapping your shoulder. “So, tell me what the story is with this beautiful bowl of fruit.”

“Farmers market opens next week.” You touched up your stem on the pineapple. “Thought maybe they’d like to hang this up by the register.”

“That’s nice of you.” He smiled, admiring the bright colors. “Joyce get hired there?”

“Mhm.” You hummed. “Starts opening day. I think Nancy wants to get a job there too.” You tilted your neck to the side as he kissed it lovingly under your ear.

“Mhm.��� His vibrations warmed your neck.

You smiled, dipping your brush in yellow paint. “You’re gonna mess me up, Eddie.”

He dipped down to your shoulder, pulling down your tank top strap to kiss the exposed skin. “Don’t let me distract you, babydoll. Just lovin’ on what’s mine.”

“What’s yours?” You raised a brow in amusement.

He hummed back in response and you could feel his smile on your skin. “Eddie,” You rolled your head back. “I’ve got to finish this by tomorrow.”

“Come on, play with me.” He came up to kiss your cheek, making your smirk. “I’m tired of watching movies.”

You rolled your eyes and put down your paintbrush. “Fine,” You dramatized. “You want your dick sucked?”

“You make having sex with me sound like a chore,” He scoffed, pushing his curls out of his face. “I’m so touched.”

You chuckled and grabbed at his shirt. “Shut up.” You pressed your lips against his, standing on your tipy-toes. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he slowly walked you the both back to the couch. When the backs of his knees hit the couch he laid down, pulling you on top of him.

You kissed him slowly and lovingly, noses rubbing together, little sounds mixing with the violence on the tv screen. Your bare legs rubbed against his jeans, a little warmth growing in your belly of contentment. “Am I boring you?” He cupped the back of your neck, lightly pulling at your hair.

“A little.” You challenged, grinding your clothed body against his own. You whimpered when his large hand cupped the space between your legs, adding pressure in just the right spot.

“There she is.” He smirked slightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. “See, if I was boring you, angel, you wouldn’t make that pretty sound, now would you?”

“More.” You breathed, leaning into his opposite hand he had on your face, your pussy pounding in the palm of his other.

“I don’t know,” He tsked, petting your face. “You were getting a little too mouthy for my liking, sweetheart. Maybe I should spank that bad attitude out of you, huh? Maybe I shouldn’t let you come.” He rubbed his hand against your shorts, his dirty words making you throb desperately. 

“Please,” You begged, fluttering your eyes. “I want to come so bad. I’m sorry for being bad.” You could feel how hard he was against your bare thigh, and you reached out to palm his erection just like what he was doing with you.

He stiffened with a small groan. “Fuck. You’re a fuckin’ wet little thing, aren’t ya’?”

You nodded quickly, reconnecting your lips together in a quick tangle, rocking your bodies together like the ocean currents against the sand. You tumbled together, furiously removing articles of pesky clothing until your naked bodies were on display. Your wet arousal shined between your thighs, his hard cock resting against your slit as you tongue danced with him.

He sat up and twisted you around so he could be on top, leaning down to kiss you hard, dark curls falling down like a curtain. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”

You blushed deeply at the demand, obeying his words as you did so. You whimpered when he looked down at your push, aligning the tip of his thick cock. “Beg me for it.” He pushed out a husky breath.

You groaned and rolled your head to the side, arching your back for me. “Please,”

He rubbed himself up and down, circling your clit that send electric shock waves into your body, making you shake. “More.”

“Please, please, Eddie,” You had tears in your eyes. “I want your cock so fucking bad, please- oh,” He pushed himself in, the both of you simultaneously moaning. He thrusted in, bottoming out, his balls against the curvature of your backside.

He grabbed your hands and put them above your head, holding them there tightly as he began pounding into you. You’d never done it in this position before, not with your legs like this. It only made it more exciting for you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cried, panting heavily as tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. He looked down to his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy, your arousal making him glisten. He grunted, the weight of his thrusts making the couch squeak across the floor.

“Oh, god!” You sobbed, trying to move your hands. “Right there! Just like that, please don’t stop!” Your praises only made him go harder, your legs still dangling on his shoulders. He fucked you hard and deep, his cock abusing your g spot. You knew you wouldn’t be able to walk after this.

Your orgasm brewed in your stomach, your legs shaking from how cruel he was with you. You loved it in every way. “Gonna be my good girl again?” His words came out shaky, still domineering.

“Mhm, yes!” You mewled, arching your back. “Oh, god, you feel so good, give it to me, give it to me-” You chanted, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone.

“Fuck,” His stomach warmed and the ball inside was tight, coming down to kiss your lips. He let go of one of your hands to slap your clit, making you squeal. “Bad girl.” He trembled, his thrusts becoming sloppy. “Been a bad- shit, bad little girl,”

“I’m close.” You cried, singing whimpers of songs that made him climb the ladder to release. “Almost, almost,”

Both of you came simultaneously, you sobbed and whimpered with you, his hips moving slower, but deep to ride through the release. He collapsed on top of you, his softening cock still inside of you. Your vision was blurry, your legs falling off his shoulders. Your breathing was erratic like you had been punched in the gut.

He gave you a wet kiss on the side of your neck, a tired graze of his lips that tickled. “Still alive?”

You chuckled, holding out a thumbs up to him.

[after-witch]

Peaches [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Peaches [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You smell like Peaches. Mahito thinks about it.

Word Count: 860

notes: yandere, discussions of dead bodies in a bit of detail, threats of harm, just a lil mahito something something in honor of tomorrow <3

You smell like peaches. 

He knows this now. But he didn’t always know what the scent that clung to your skin was actually called. It was knowledge duly gained by following his nose one day, having caught a scent on the wind that reminded him of you, although he knew it wasn’t actually you. 

Because the real you--the soul surrounded by flesh and blood--were currently holed up in the office building where you worked, stupid thing that you were, wasting your hours and energy on something entirely useless. 

But that windy breeze smelled like you, and that’s why he followed it on two feet, humming, until he wandered into some kind of open air market where baskets were bursting with all sorts of fruits and vegetables. He smelled them all, licking a few, taking bites when he felt like it, until he found the right one. 

It had yellowish-orange flesh, and it was soft, fuzzy. He took a bite and the juice ran down his chin, but the smell was stronger and that was particularly nice. The sign in front of the basket read: Peaches.

Ah, then.

A peach. 

That’s what you smelled like. 

Your scent was a bit different, though, if he got technical about it. You didn’t smell exactly like this real peach, all fresh fuzz and sticky bright juice. The way you smell is more… rich, low, consistent. Overripe. A peach amplified and concentrated.

Artificial.

That was how humans described such notions, wasn’t it? It must be perfume, or shampoo, or something else that humans rub on themselves to smell different. 

You, evidently, wanted to smell like peaches.

He couldn’t blame you. It was a nice smell, without considering personal taste. Pleasant and fresh. He supposed a lot of humans liked to smell that way. He didn’t mind dampness or decay, the low sweet rot of it was quite pleasant to him. Humans, on the other hand, tried to cover up any stench they could. Sprays for their bathroom, sprays for their skin, sprays for their hair, hastily emptying corpses of everything that made them bloat deliciously and spew out secretions and replacing it with sterile chemicals. 

Not that you were trying to cover up any such odor, corpse-like or not. He’s watched you in the bathroom on most mornings, scrubbing every bit of the human body that liked to produce a smell if left untouched. Your armpits, your back, that awfully special area between your legs. So that there was no trace of your natural scent about you by the time you were done, no chance that someone might walk by you and turn up their nose.

No matter what you smell like, though, your soul remains the same.

Souls have no particular smell, unless they are corrupt enough. Humans are truly pathetic for not knowing this fact. A corrupt soul is a bit like a dead body, he supposes, if he had to compare their scent to something else. Thrumming with rot, like decaying flesh moving with maggots. 

Your soul is not so corrupt. He would’ve gotten a whiff of it, if it was. Oh, but make no mistake: it’s not pure either. He’s seen the way it wavers, the darkened shimmers when you’re standing at a traffic light (sometimes he thinks about shoving someone into traffic, to see what will happen, what you’ll do) or when your boss is berating you for some nonsensical human failures (what might you do, if he snapped your boss’s neck here and now, in front of you?)--the curses that slither their way out of you are dark and low, stodgy little things borne out of feelings you try to stamp down.

That was the beautiful thing about curses. They were humanity, untethered. Just one reason why they were superior. 

That doesn’t mean he can’t want to play with humans, though. He’s never had a toy he wanted to keep around for so long, but there’s something about you. Something that keeps him just far enough away to avoid detection, on the off chance that you could see him. Sometimes he wonders, with the way your eyes dart around on the street, with the way you pause over something he’s moved in your apartment. Do you spot him in a crowd, and see that he’s different? Can you feel his presence, when he’s on the other side of the door, listening to you sing off-key while you shower?

Your soul shimmers then, too. 

He longs to touch it, to root around and see exactly what makes you angry, what makes you hate, what spots of mold might be hiding underneath that peach perfume. 

How long would you smell like peaches, if he dragged you to the damp tunnel where he lives? Would it linger on your skin like a memory? Or would it fade and fade and fade until there was nothing left but the sour, damp water of his sewer? 

Maybe he’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sprawl out on your couch when you come home, and find out if you can see him. 

After all, he can do whatever he wants. That’s what life is all about, isn’t it?

[pinkydevil16]

hii hope you’re having a good day or night! was wondering if you could do tomoe x fem or gn reader with anxiety? maybe she’s a land god like nanami and he’s her familiar :0

you got it!

"What are you doing?" Tomoe shouted as he slammed open the door to Y/n's room, his ears twitching in anger as he huffed. Y/n couldn't stop shaking as she held her head in her hands, her shoes thrown across the room as she counted her breathing. In and out, three seconds on, six seconds out, feeling the wood beneath her feet. How each of her toes felt against the surface of the ground, how her hair felt between her fingers. She tried to concentrate as much as she could, her mind racing and heart beating so fast she could feel it in her head. "Y/n?" Tomoe's voice was softer as he looked at her confused, he could hear her heart beating and see the sweat collecting all over her body. His tail twitched in concern as she shook her head, voice soft and shakey.

"I need a minute to myself Tomoe." Y/n dug her nails into her skull as if she could scratch the anxiety out of her brain, Tomoe scowling as he watched her closely. "Please Tomoe. I need you to leave." Y/n looked up at Tomoe with watery eyes, he could see the stress across her face and she looked like she was a second away from falling onto the ground and not getting back up. Stepping closer he crouched beside her, her eyes full of worry as he slowly took her hand and placed his fingers on her pulse. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as she watched him, her body still shaking and now her leg began to bounce with more anxiety. She didn't know why Tomoe being so silent made her more anxious, she felt calmer with him touching her and yet she felt more anxious that he was going to call her silly.

"Your heart is beating too fast, i will help you slow it down." Y/n's eyes widened as she suddenly found herself laid down on the futon, her head resting in Tomoe's lap and his tail curled around her chest. She felt her body stop shaking as she tried to comprehend what happened but didn't have time before she felt Tomoe's fingers rake through her hair.

"Close your eyes." Y/n instantly followed his orders as she began playing with her hands, his claws lightly scrapping her head in a soothing way as she felt his tail tickle her arms. She tried to concentrate on her breathing but her mind wouldn't stop, she could feel herself spiralling again, hands now picking at her nails before Tomoe's other hand pulled one of them free.

"I was thinking of cooking Soba this evening, what do you think?" Y/n shrugged as she felt his hands begin to braid her hair, the hand Tomoe had pulled away now laid next to her but she didn't move it.

"How was school?" Y/n shrugged again as she gulped, her breathing beginning to quicken as she thought about the horrible day, Tomoe noticing as he ran his fingers through the base of her head to relax her.

"Onigiri found a butterfly today and tried to catch it for you, he said you would love the patterns." Y/n smiled slightly as she listened to Tomoe, his eyes concentrating on her chest as her breathing began to slow once more.

"We should go to the market on saturday, they have lovely fruit and veg that you would enjoy. I could teach you how to make that soup you love." Y/n nodded as she felt her body slump against Tomoe's lap, her mind calming down and switching off. Tomoe continued talking softly until he watched her chest steadily rise and fall, lifting her off his lap and placing her on her pillow as she slept soundly.

Now to find what had hurt his Mistress.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Cocktails

"Cocktail," like many words, has evolved over time, broadening its meaning.

While it once indicated a narrow range of drinks—perhaps originally a single drink—it is now customarily used to cover nearly the full range of mixed drinks available in the bars of the world.

Purists may insist that a true cocktail include at least 3 ingredients, two of which are distilled liquor and bitters. Others may argue that any drink mixed on the spot from two or more ingredients, at least one of which is alcoholic, is a cocktail.

The first known references to drinks called cocktails come from the late 18th and early 19th centuries. At that time, alcoholic beverages were largely served in inns and public houses, and weary travelers and thirsty locals would order concoctions.

LONG DRINKS

Also known as tall drinks, are simply drinks in tall glasses with larger amounts of mixer than short drinks.

Some, like highballs, are simple and straightforward; others are complex concoctions.

What they have in common is a relaxed quality, in that they present a relatively low concentration of alcohol and, often, an easy-drinking accessibility.

SHORT DRINKS

A drink served in a tumbler or old-fashioned glass.

Since they contain a higher concentration of alcohol than long drinks, they tend to be built more for slow, deliberate sipping—but there are no hard and fast rules here.

UP DRINKS

The classic image of a cocktail: shaken or stirred with ice and served, almost always strained, in a cocktail glass.

The most elegant of the cocktails, and not only because of their presentation.

Subtle or intense, austere or rich, they tend to have distinct personalities.

SHOTS & SHOOTERS

The most recreational of cocktails.

Despite their popular image, most of them are actually rather low in alcohol; the danger of shots lies in the temptation to drink too many, too quickly. Given how delicious many of them are, that can be all too easy to do.

HOT & FROZEN DRINKS

Hot cocktails have a long history, having been used for centuries to warm chilled travelers and bar customers.

Frozen cocktails are a more recent development, but they offer a bracing kind of refreshment that is perfect for steamy summer evenings.

Some Cocktails

Classic Cocktails

Some drinks have become timeless, iconic libations of cocktail culture:

THE MARTINI Despite a myriad of variations since its first appearance in the nineteenth century, the classic Martini remains the quintessential elegant cocktail: a cool, somewhat austere drink, not showy, but certainly powerful.

THE MANHATTAN The richness and power of whiskey gives the Manhattan slightly rougher edges than the Martini. It gained prominence in the 1930s as one of the five Borough cocktails of New York.

THE OLD FASHIONED Long before Don Draper of Mad Men revived interest in this classic, adding bitters and sugar to whiskey was a mainstay of cocktail culture and one of the most basic drink preparations.

THE DAIQUIRI The classic rum cocktail, the Daiquiri was a favorite of Ernest Hemingway and John F. Kennedy, and has spawned a host of variations.

Seasonal Drinks

Though most cocktails inhabit the perpetual season known as cocktail hour, many capture—or help create—the distinct mood of each quarter of the year.

SPRING & SUMMER Light, refreshing cocktails dominate the spring. Consider such classics as slings, smashes, lemonade drinks, and colorful coolers. Go-to cocktail: a French 75 Summer is, of course, the season for clear and tropical cocktails. Fresh fruit fills the market stands, the sun pours down through long days, and a cold, sweet-and-tart drink is what you crave. While you could always go for a Gin and Tonic, for a bit more personality try one of the great Caribbean drinks—a classic Daiquiri will keep you cool.

FALL & WINTER As Keats put it, autumn is the “season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,” and that vibe is what you’ll want in a cocktail. Deeper, richer drinks come to the fore. Any drink involving apple juice or apple brandy chimes with sentimental visions of autumn. Go-to cocktail: a Sidecar. When winter comes, linger over an Irish Coffee or Hot Toddy; or brace yourself against the cold with a potent whiskey drink—stay toasty warm with an Old Fashioned.

Champagne Cocktails

Occupy a distinct niche in cocktail culture.

At once colorful and elegant, festive and intimate, they lend themselves not only to romantic settings but also to expensive parties.

Source: The Ultimate Cocktail Encyclopedia by Walter Burns More Writing References: Wine-tasting ⚜ Drunkenness ⚜ Drinking

[palabraasinnecesarias]

secret kisses ao3 | ff.net ship: ranma/akane words: 1,625 Ranma and Akane would steal kisses at every chance they got, secretly behind closed doors...usually. They hadn’t known how it began happening, but once it started it was hard to stop.  

Akane had just reached the bathroom’s door when a gentle squeeze at her wrist pulled her away too easily. She yelped at the sudden movement, her body twirling to land perfectly onto Ranma’s chest, as her eyes widen when she felt his soft mouth press itself against hers. She couldn’t help but allow her lips to widen into a dopey grin, feeling the way his hands snaked themselves against the small of her back to pull her in further.  

The young woman indulged effortlessly, relishing at the way he continued to pepper a number of kisses, her brain losing its trail of thought. Even after he pulled away, taking her a moment to readjust her mind and shake herself awake, remembering where they were. Still, his arms continued to stay hooked around her body, his face centimeters from hers as he whispered, “Morning, tomboy.”  

She huffed a chuckle, nervously looking behind her as she smiled bashfully, warning, “We’re gonna get caught, idiot.”  

He shrugged his shoulders, seemingly not caring of such consequences, his rather bold smirk tangling her insides. He was so handsome, his chiseled jaw now rubbing itself against her cheek before kissing her temple, and she could feel her feeble stance betray her completely as her knees wobbled at her nervousness.  

It had been a few months of this taking place; Ranma and Akane would steal kisses at every chance they got, secretly behind closed doors...usually. They hadn’t known how it began happening, but once it started it was hard to stop. Ranma usually had the upper hand, as it was easier for him to sneak up on the shorter woman, planting one quickly and walking away just as fast before she could say anything.  

Although that morning, he lingered just a tad longer, wistful to her essence. And like always, he released his hold and began walking away, leaving her completely abashed before making her way into the bathroom for her morning shower.  

That afternoon, the duo had found themselves home alone, as their parents were having dinner with family friends and the eldest Tendo sisters had gone to the market, Nabiki only tagging along because the marketplace was nearby a clothing store promoting a store wide clearance, and she wanted to stroll the aisles in case something caught her eye.  

Akane usually tagged along, shopping being one of her favorite pastimes, but she needed to study for finals – considering they were in their last year of high school. She had brought her studying materials to the family room in hopes that her fiancé would want to tackle the books with her; of course, he didn’t. At first, Ranma got lost in a book, not paying any mind to Akane as she silently read her textbook and scribbled mindlessly on her journal.  

It wasn’t until he stepped away, going and coming back from the kitchen with some snacks Kasumi had premade before heading out after knowing Akane would be studying. He held a plate of diced fruit, munching on an apple slice as he noticed Akane’s concentrated face. She hovered over the kotatsu table, her eyebrows furrowed as she mindlessly chewed on her lower lip, and he could feel his entire body heat up.  

Without much thought, Ranma made his way towards her and set the plate on the table, offering her some. She glanced quickly at it and shook her head, murmuring, “No, thanks, Ranma,” under her breath as she continued to study. He grumbled, his face souring before breathing in deeply.  

“Really got your nose in that book, huh?” He muttered quietly, not thinking she’d actually hear him, or stop her study to look over at him.  

“This is what studying looks like,” she replied quite sarcastically, offering him a quizzical look as to where his attitude had come from. Did it bother him that she was studying in the family room?  

He took a seat next to her, rather closely she noticed, propping himself with his arms, leaning back as he looked at her. His light eyes seemed to bounce about her face before landing on her plumped lips, finding himself leaning forward to kiss her. He pulled away after a moment, his smile widening as he said, “And you look real cute doing that.”  

Akane could feel her entire face change color, her heart racing at an absurd speed, having to look away otherwise she’d melt into a puddle right there and then. “G-geez, Ran-Ranma,” Akane stuttered, looking back at the table in a sense of going back to her studies, but she knew that boat had sailed. Not when Ranma decided that he wanted to kiss her instead.  

“What?” He scoffed, leaning towards her with a suspicious stare, “you don’t wanna’ kiss me no more?”  

“I- that’s not what- uh,” and then he kissed her again, his hand having reached for her head as he tangled his fingers into her short strands of dark hair to pull her forward. She sighed merrily into his mouth, her large eyes easily fluttering themselves shut, shivers running through her entire body at the way Ranma’s lips caressed hers.  

His kiss was always soft and tender, warm with the rest of his skin. And he smelled so good, like soap and sandalwood. Yeah, she was done studying for the night.  

Ranma’s eyes widen as a new parfait glass was placed in front of her, her lips widen in pure bliss, unable to hide how much she enjoyed the dessert. She sat next to her fiancée, quickly digging into a new spoonful, glancing over to catch the now-taller woman watched her with an amused expression.  

“What?” Ranma asked, swallowing and finding himself get embarrassed at the way Akane’s soft smile never faltered, shaking her head as an answer.  

“Nothing,” she replied quietly, “you just seem to be enjoying your sweets.”  

Ranma was now blushing, not knowing exactly why. Still, she shrugged her shoulders, “What can I say? They serve a mean parfait here, I tell ya’.”  

“Yeah, I can tell. This is your third serving,” she chuckled endearingly, noticing the way her blemished cheeks only managed to deepen their shade of red. “You look cute eating your dessert,” Akane confessed, now resting her chin against her propped hands, her cheeks round at the way her smile lifted them high.  

She didn’t know what to say to that.  

Not expecting much, Ranma’s eyes widen when she felt Akane lean forward and softly press a chaste kiss on her lips. It lasted a moment before she pulled away, the tip of her tongue licking her lower lip as she said, “That strawberry flavor is strong.” And she couldn’t help herself but laughed a tad louder as Ranma’s crimson face almost camouflaged with her red, oversized mandarin top. Now she knew why he had so much fun catching her off guard.  

“Ak-Akane,” she whispered harshly, looking around seemingly paranoid, “we’re in public.”  

“Ranma,” Akane scoffed softly, “Shampoo and Ukyo hardly ever come to this ice cream shop,” she assured her with a wider grin. “I think it’s okay if we kiss a little.”  

Of course, they both knew that wasn’t what she meant by her statement. Still, Akane kissed her again, just as soft and just as long.  

Akane had walked in to see Ranma self-train with some katas, dressed in his own gi, finding that they were matching. She smiled softly at him, shamelessly walking over to him and taking a seat in front of him. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, admiring the way his skill was easily reflected in his performance.  

He stopped soon after, noticing she had sat and was watching him, admiring him. His ego was already past the roof, he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly at her, “Watching ain’t gonna help ya’ get as good as me.”  

“If you sparred with me once in a while, maybe I'd get better,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.  

He walked over to her, crouching right in front of her, “Whaddya’ mean,” he retaliated, “I do spar with ya’.”  

“Nuh-uh,” she accused, “all you do is avoid my hits.”  

“I ain’t wanna hurt you, is all.”  

“I’m going to start avoiding all your kisses, so you can see what it feels like.”  

He grinned mischievously, “You can try.” His arms went to wrap themselves around her body, pulling her towards him, ready to plant one when she turned her head, chuckling under her breath.  

“Not until you spar with me,” she said.  

He was now pecking her entire face, her sounds of laughter and mirth loud and beautiful, and pleasing to his ears. “But you want to kiss me,” he accused, finding themselves with Ranma atop of her through all the wiggling and wobbling.  

She was breathing heavily, looking up at him, his dangling braid brushing her cheek. “Not anymore.”  

“Liar.”  

Akane shook her head, her teasing smile never leaving her face, “I am not.”  

Ranma quickly leaned down and kissed her, pulling away fast, “You like my kisses.”  

“Nope.”  

He kissed her again, “See?”  

She wrinkled her nose, “No, that’s not doing it for me, I’m afraid.”  

“What about...” And this time, Ranma’s mouth spread fuller, taking in Akane’s lips completely, his shut eyes not letting him catch the way her wide eyes twitch at how good it felt having him kiss her like that. His kiss was rough, full of passion each time he pulled away and angled his head to kiss her again and again. The pit of her stomach churned, and she shivered at the intensity of it all.  

After a long moment, Ranma pulled away, their heaving chest pressed against each other's as he said, “I told ya’.”  

[luvrgreyy]

CHERRY FLAVORED

childhood friend!leon x reader

wc: 1.6k summary: sweet and sour motivation, wish i could keep concentration. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

no warnings. just alot of angst, mentions of marriage, cheating/infidelity, kissing. based on ‘cherry flavored’ by the neighborhood.

a/n: daddy’s home ;) super happy to be back, missed you guys so much mwaa! so i was actually working on this piece before i decided to take a break and i’m super happy i finally finished. but be warned, this doesn’t make any sense and i strongly encourage you to ignore the grammatical errors and my horrible writing. p.s. i swear the next part of ltts is almost done, just need to fix a few things and proofread (yes, this is for u @lottiies)

he had always liked cherries.

ever since you we’re kids, he would go out of his way just for those silly fruits.

you used to tease him about how much he loved them, but deep down, you enjoyed his enthusiasm too. he claims to remember how cherries were your favorite too, which is why he'd share his stash with you, and you'd pretend to savor each bite, even though they always made your face scrunch up in an exaggerated grimace.

you never really liked cherries. you found them too sticky, too sweet, but you had always made an effort for his sake.

the sticky fingers and cherry pits were all worth it though, just to see that slight, knowing smile on your face when you humored him. those small, secret moments were like little treasures he'd collect in his heart, each one more precious than the last.

he remembered the times when they'd steal a few from the farmer's market, giggling as the juice stained your fingers and lips. now, as adults, the habit remained. sometimes, on late summer mornings like these, he'd swing by your place with a bag of fresh cherries, a nostalgic smile on his face.

"hey," he'd say softly, as you opened the door to greet him, the sunlight catching the wisps of hair escaping your bun.

"thought you might like these. still got a sweet tooth, right?" he'd hand over the bag, watching as your expression transform from a sleepy haze to something short of appreciation.

“leon,” you rub your eyes begrudgingly, stepping aside as to let him in. “it’s like.. six in the morning. you can’t keep doing this,”

“i know, i know,” he chuckled, stepping into the dimly lit foyer, the overpowering scent of the fruit carrying over to you. "sorry, couldn’t help myself," he said with a shrug, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "old habits die hard, you know." he set the bag of cherries down on the entry table, the red fruit seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the front window.

“no, seriously.” you deflect, hands on your hips.

“you’re getting married next month, leon.”

he winced at the reminder, his free hand raking through his hair. "i know," he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

his smile faltered slightly, the corners of his mouth dipping into a small, regretful frown. the cheerfulness draining from his features like water down a drain.

"can't wait." he forced a smile, but you were certain it looked more like grimace. "ada’s been planning everything for months... i’m just along for the ride at this point." he laughs awkwardly, trying to deflect the underlying tension in the air. but he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, the words sticking in his throat like a cherry pit.

he swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, unable to hold your gaze any longer. he fidgets with the strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“okay,” you try to ease the awkwardness. “do you.. wanna go sit on the porch? i can make us coffees,”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he looks up at you, some of the tension dissipating from his frame. "coffee sounds great, thanks,"

he follows you to the kitchen, the silence between you thickening like a dense fog that clung to the trees outside. he’s perched on one of the bar stools, his long legs stretching out before him as he watched you move around the kitchen with practiced ease. the morning light highlighted the subtle lines of fatigue around your eyes, the tiny creases on your forehead, your shoulders hunched slightly in a gesture of quiet contemplation.

you hand him a steaming cup of coffee, the warmth of it seeping into your palms as you slid it across the counter. he took a sip, the flavor both bitter and sweet on his tongue. a small, contented sigh escaped him, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation.

“c’mon,” you tilt your head towards the door, and he’s quick to follow behind.

the morning air is crisp against his skin as he stepped outside, the chill of it seeping into his bones. he followed you to the porch steps, its wooden planks worn smooth with years of use. the world seemed to come alive in the golden glow of dawn, the leaves rustling in the gentle breeze and the smell of petrichor carried by the wind.

he sat down beside you, the cool wood biting into his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable. you were quiet for a moment, the only sound being the soft crunch of cherries as he munched on the fruit. his fingers stained a deep red from the juice, the color matching the rosy hue of your cheeks in the soft morning light.

"i— i know i shouldn't keep doing this, i'm not supposed to still have feelings for you." his words trailed off, lost in the gentle lapping of the breeze against the porch railing.

he took a deep breath, steeling himself. "but i do." he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "i always have. and i probably always will,”

“leon,”

"you're still my best friend, you know? my person." he let out a short laugh, the sound a little shaky. “and—“

“leon.” you know what’s about to come next, and you don’t know if you can handle it.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“i…” he lets out a strangled laugh, the bitterness of it written plainly across his features. “i’m sorry, don’t know why i’m like this,” he bowed his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers tangling in his hair. “i’m awful.”

“yeah,” you scoff, offering a pitiful smile. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed mirthlessly at your words, the sound raw and broken. “i know." he shook his head, his hair swishing against his wrists.

"never thought i was good for you, ‘ts why i stayed away for so long." he laughs bitterly, the sound hollow and empty. "i thought i could move on, forget about you.” he breathes, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own inadequacies.

he turned to you, his eyes, normally a bright, warm blue, were dark and heavy-lidded, the rims a deep shade of red. "please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling of the leaves. "just one kiss. for the sake of what we could've been."

"please?” he repeated, his hands dropping to his knees, fingers curling like he wanted to crawl towards you and envelop you in his arms. your shoulders form something short of a shrug, your mouth dry, unable to respond.

he leaned in, hands coming to cup your cheeks, eyes closed, his lips pressed against yours in a soft, chaste press of mouth to mouth. he lingered for a moment, every fiber of his being silently begging you to reciprocate, praying that you'd meet him half way, that you'd kiss him back.

and for a moment, you really do think of doing so, to kiss back and feel him as more than a friend one last time. but you didn't. your lips were cold and unresponsive under his, your body stiff and unyielding. he taste of cherries and bitter regret that eventually seeps into your very core.

the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips, lingering, yearning. he didn't move away, didn't pull back, just held himself there, suspended in the moment of his foolish hope. after what felt like an eternity, he broke the contact, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

"okay," he whispered, his voice small and defeated. "okay, i get it." he pulled back, sitting up straight and wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the ghost of your lips lingering there. "i shouldn't have..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence.

“know what, i think i should go,” he stood up, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet with its strings cut.

“you should,” you swallow.

he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. his eyes downcast, feet shifting nervously on the porch steps. "yeah," he mumbles, voice barely audible. "yeah, probably for the best." he picks up his bag and turns to leave, but hesitates, his hand on the railing. he spares you one last glance, his eyes a deep, aching blue. you look down, not being able to bear the weight of his gaze.

he’s out of sight the next time you look back up.

he doesn’t call or text after that, his visits become infrequent, until he they stop completely.

the world didn't slow down for you, nor did it wait for your heart to catch up. everything seemed to keep spinning, the sun rising and setting, the seasons changing, though your feelings remained stagnant. you tell yourself its for the best, that moving on is inevitable. reality is cruel that way — it never delivers on the promises of our fantasies.

eventually, you’ll start to miss him a little less, the hollow ache in your chest slowly starting to dull. life will move on, and so will you.

though the thought of him would still occasionally cross your mind, it no longer feels like a stab to the chest, but a nostalgic memory from a bygone era. something that could’ve been.

maybe you did like cherries after all.

tags: @crowleyco

[lonigiri]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ALL SIGNS LEAD TO YOU˚ · . tsukishima kei

๋࣭ ⭑ content warning: strangers to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, tsukishima is a cutie pie, karaoke ! , just a really cute fic

๋࣭ ⭑ wc: 875

๋࣭ ⭑ an: this is so cute im gonna combust

tsukishima stands in the middle of the fruits isle. basket in hand, staring at the strawberries intently. eyebrows furrowed trying to pick out whichever ones are the best. "i like getting these ones, they're always the juiciest." a voice broke him out of his concentration. turning his head and looking down, she held out the strawberries to him. her smile as sweet as the strawberries--presumably-- "sorry that was kinda weird, i saw you staring at the strawberries and i thought i would help." her face pinkening slightly. he let a slight smile grace his face, listening to the cute girl ramble. he nodded "thank you, i'll make sure to use them well." he took the strawberries from her and placed them into his basket. giving her the smallest smile ever before walking off with the strawberries.

- one week later -

like clockwork, in the same spot. tsukishima standing there at the strawberries, trying to remember what brand the strawberries were that he got last week. eyebrows furrowed staring even harder then he did last week. "wow i guess this is fate!" the familiar voice gracing his ears. he turned over to see the cute girl once more. "d'ya forget what brand they were?" she smiled at him. his ears turning a slight shade of pink as he nodded slightly. she laughed and reached for the box of strawberries and handed them to tsukishima with a smile. "thank you." he mumbled out bowing slightly. "wow dont gotta be so formal with me ! we're basically acquaintances now from how much we've bumped into eachother!"

- two weeks later -

she drummed her nails on the table as she waited for her blind date to come in. her friends set her up with a random guy and told her it'd be a perfect fit. she said yes just to humor them but they actually set the date up. "oh my god you're kidding!" her eyes widened as she saw the male sit down across from her. "you're the grocery store guy this is actually crazy." a big smile forming on her face. a pink hue creeping up on tsukishima's face. for some reason tsukishima had such a soft spot for her, he didnt know why, he couldnt place his finger on it. hes only met her twice but whenever he sees her he cant help but smile. as soon as he saw her at that table he knew he was set.

- an hour later -

"wow so you really like strawberries huh?" "guess so? never really thought about it." he shrugged his shoulders. of course he's thought about it, he loves everything and anything strawberry flavored he just doesn't want to say that in front of the girl that he's on a date with. "you dont have to act cool around me you know. i've found you staring at the strawberries at the produce market twice now." she laughed. his face turning a light pink. "fine, i guess i kinda like strawberries a little bit." "oh do ya' now i woulda never guessed!" a big smile apearing on her face. tsukishima stuffed the strawberry shortcake in his mouth as he face blushed.

-6 weeks later-

tsukishima and yn stayed in contact after their date, going on 7 more dates after their first one. their friends had asked them to go karaoking with them but tsukishima wasnt a fan at all. he had rejected everyone when they asked him to go. so naturally all of yns friends had begged her to ask tsukishima because he "wouldn't say no" to her. and suprisingly --not really-- he said yes. so there they were at karaoke. yn had sang 3 songs already by herself and 2 duets with her friends, and drank quite a bit of soju. now she was bothering tsukishima. "please just one song! you can pick whatever you want please just one!" she sat next to him pleading, due to her being drunk she was a little touchier then usual, placing her hands on the sides of his face. his face flushed red, not knowing if it was the alcohol settling in his system or the physical contact that he was experiencing, still shaking his head no. she batted her eyelashes at him and jutted out her bottom lip. "please! im begging you! just one, for me!" somehow im the loud room with 6 other drunk people and loud off key singing, the only thing that tsukishima could focus on was yn and how pretty she looked. a big sigh released from tsukishima as he gave into the pretty girls request. "fine just one song-" "YAY!" "and i get to pick the song." "deal!"

-one horrific song later-

"oh my GOD, i didnt know you liked kpop, especially not girl groups!" tsukishima deadpanned at her but couldnt keep that look on his face because of the gigantic smile on her face. a smile formed on his face, his eyes connecting with hers before she wrapped her arms around his neck, wrapping him in a tight embrace. she pulled away slightly from the hug placing her hands on his cheeks, "i think you're really cute tsukki." she whispered to him before pressing her lips against his. everyone around cheering for the two of them. 

[probablyasocialecologist]

While the agricultural revolution based on the Norfolk four-course system significantly increased the production of wheat, peasants lost access to common lands and forests, where they used to raise pigs with acorns, collect mushrooms, woods and fruits, and catch birds. Living in the countryside, they also had access to the river to catch fish and for fresh water. Now driven into the city, they almost completely lost access to such natural wealth and could consume much less meat. Even if they remained in the countryside, their previous daily activities in the commons were now criminalized as acts of trespass and theft. Furthermore, enclosure concentrated lands in the hands of fewer capitalist farmers. As they hired peasants only during the busy season and fired them thereafter, the farming villages disappeared, and the small vegetable gardens maintained by the villagers ceased to provide fresh vegetables for their dinner tables. As it was no longer clear by whom and how the vegetables sold in the market were grown – they might, for example, be smeared with excreta of cattle and poultry – they became inedible without cooking, and fresh salads disappeared from the menu.

In addition, all family members had to work in the factories to make a living in the city. The loss of access to the commons significantly increased the financial burden on households because now they had to buy their means of subsistence from the market. They began working in factories from an early age, so children were not able to attend school. They could not acquire basic cooking skills at home or during the festivals and ceremonies of the farming villages, where they were served free and luxurious meals. Even if they acquired and maintained some cooking skills, working-class families in the city were no longer able to buy expensive meat and other ingredients but only the cheap potatoes that were sold on the street. Consequently, the traditional English recipes based on ingredients available to the rural villages became useless for working-class families living in the large cities.

Kohei Saito, Marx in the Anthropocene: Towards the Idea of Degrowth Communism

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

Millions of U.S. apples were almost left to rot. Now, they'll go to hungry families

NOVEMBER 27, 2023 By Alan Jinich

It's getting late in the harvest season in Berkeley County, West Virginia and Carla Kitchen's team is in the process of hand-picking nearly half a million pounds of apples. In a normal year, Kitchen would sell to processors like Andros that make applesauce, concentrate, and other products. But this year they turned her away. ... Across the country, growers were left without a market. Due to an oversupply carried over from last year's harvest, growers were faced with a game-time economic decision: Should they pay the labor to harvest, crossing their fingers for a buyer to come along, or simply leave the apples to rot?

Bumper crops, export declines and the weather have contributed to the apple crisis

... While many growers in neighboring states like Maryland and Virginia left their apples to drop. Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia was able to convince the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) to pay for the apples produced by growers in his state, which only makes up 1% of the national market.

A relief program in West Virginia donated its surplus apples to hunger-fighting charities

This apple relief program, covered under Section 32 of the Agricultural Adjustment Act of 1935, purchased $10 million worth of apples from a dozen West Virginia growers. Those apples were then donated to hunger-fighting charities across the country from South Carolina and Michigan all the way out to The Navajo Nation.

Mike Meyer, head of advocacy at The Farmlink Project, says it's the largest food rescue they've ever done and they hope it can serve as a model for their future missions. "There's over 100 billion pounds of produce waste in this country every year; we only need seven billion to drive food insecurity to zero," Meyer says. "We're very happy to have this opportunity. We get to support farmers, we get to fight hunger with an apple. It's one of the most nutritional items we can get into the hands of the food insecure."

At Timber Ridge Fruit Farm in Virginia, owners Cordell and Kim Watt watch a truck from The Farmlink Project load up on their apples before driving out to a food pantry in Bethesda, Md. Despite being headquartered in Virginia, Timber Ridge was able to participate in the apple rescue since they own orchards in West Virginia as well. Cordell is a third-generation grower here and he says they've never had to deal with a surplus this large.

At the So What Else food pantry in Bethesda, Md., apple pallets from Timber Ridge fill the warehouse up to the ceiling. Emanuel Ibanez and other volunteers are picking through the crates, bagging fresh apples into family-sized loads. "I'm just bewildered," Ibanez says. "We have a warehouse full of apples and I can barely walk through it." "People in need got nutritious food out of this program. And that's the most important thing" Executive director Megan Joe says this is the largest shipment of produce they've ever distributed – 10 truckloads over the span of three weeks. The food pantry typically serves 6,000 families, but this shipment has reached a much wider circle. "My coworkers are like, 'Megan, do we really need this many?' And I'm like, yes!" Joe says. "The growing prices in the grocery stores are really tough for a lot of families. And it's honestly gotten worse since COVID."

"It's the first time we've done this type of program, but we believe it can set the stage for the region," Kent Leonhardt, West Virginia's commissioner of agriculture says. "People in need got nutritious food out of this program. And that's the most important thing." Following West Virginia's rescue program, the USDA announced an additional $100 million purchase to relieve the apple surplus in other states around the country. This is the largest government buy of apples and apple products to date. But with the harvest window coming to an end, many growers have already left their apples to drop and rot.

[smokersbaby]

Smoker eats an aphrodisiac fruit

Request's text -> Captain Smoker gets hit by an aphrodisiac devil fruit but it takes awhile to take effect. But when it does let's just say breeding kink + degradation kink. 😩 This man has been my fever dream ever since he showed up in Loguetown. And post time skip Smoker? Now that's a fine piece of man. But yeah if I could request that for his bday and if you could leave my name out please? 👉👈

Thank you for your request! It was a bit difficult for me to write about degradation kink but I tried so I hope you enjoy it anyway even if it's not as much as you requested! This prompt was sooo good, I'm glad you requested me the aphrodisiac fruit since I've read fanfics about it but never with Smoker! This is the third and last fanfic about "Smoker's birthday event" I hope you enjoyed this little event!

Characters: Smoker TW: not proofread (hickeys, receiving oral sex, choking, praising kink, degradation kink, breeding kink, no protection used, creampie) Words count: 1,5k MINORS DNI

Gardening was a new thing to you, but you decided to give it a chance when you heard someone talking about a special fruit with an aphrodisiac effect: a strange man at the fruit and vegetables market sold you some seeds, he defined the fruit that should have grown from them having an "aphrodisiac" effect, so you decided to give those seeds a try. It's not like you and Smoker needed a boost on intimate moments, not at all, but you wanted to see if what you were told was true about this kind of fruit. One day, eventually, after weeks of cures towards the little plants, the fruits were grown and ready to be eaten: they looked like tomatoes, with a red and yellow fuzzy peel, and they seemed kinda juicy tough. The moment to harvest them had finally come. As you bring the fruits into the kitchen, you spot Smoker sitting at the dinner table, reading the marine's report. He greets you with a head movement, eyes fixed on the paper and mind concentrated on the daily news. You lean towards the sink to wash away the dirt from the fruits and to make them ready to eat. Little blueish leaves were still attached to the stem of the plant, you separate the fruits from it as you throw away the unedible parts. "What's that, love?" he asks you suddenly. You turn towards him, his brown eyes were now full of curiosity and fixed on you and the fuzzy fruits you were holding in your hands. Useless to say that you didn't want him to know what the effect of the fruit was, since you didn't want to conditionate his behaviour or to give him a chance to refuse to eat one. "It's a new kind of tomato I've found at the market, do you want to taste one?" you reply while handing him one fruit. "Sure…" he grabs one and starts squeezing it a little "It's softer than an actual tomato" Smoker seems quite hesitant but eventually bites it. You didn't waste a second to ask him how it tasted and if he was feeling different from the habit. His gaze showed a little bit of concern as you say so. "It's like an ordinary tomato. W-why should I feel different?" he questions. "No, it's nothing…" your face shows a bit of disappointment. Smoker grabs his marine's papers and starts reading again as if nothing happened. Maybe it needed more time to have its effect on him…? You decided to wait a little bit longer, staying in the kitchen and minding your own business, but controlling his behaviour changes now and then. He manages also to eat the whole fruit but after twenty… thirty minutes you notice nothing different about him. You lose all your hopes as an hour pass. Probably it was just a bizarre but normal fruit without any kind of power. And you got scammed: you've paid a lot for that seeds. The fruits you cleaned were still in the sink, you were red with anger and decided to throw them away in the garbage. You pick up all the fruits and bend over to the trash ready to throw out them. But something suddenly stops you from doing that. Your head turns slightly as you feel something grabbing your waist while you were bent over the can. Smoker was standing right behind you, his large hands on the dips of your waist and his hips rubbing against your butt. "S-Smoker…" you try to say, but he puts two of his fingers in your mouth to let you wet them.

This is happening so fast that you can't help but follow every move of his and satisfy his desires. Your tongue whirls around his two fingers, he pulls them out a second later just to stick his hand in your pants, pumping two fingers inside your core without hesitation as you are still completely dressed. A growling moan escapes your mouth, now you can feel his bulge against your butt as he fucks you with his thick fingers. "What did you do to me, love?" he whispers in your ear, his deep voice sending shivers of excitement all along your body. There's no need to reply to him since he acts so fast pulling down your trousers and panties and making you lay face down on the cold kitchen counter, your waist bent perfectly at his hips height. His face is now at your butt's height, Smoker wastes no time and starts eating you out while pounding again his fingers deep inside of you. His tongue manages to caress your slit so heavenly as if he's starving to make you cum all over his face. "You taste so good" he moans against your core as he sucks your cunt with his lips and tongue. His fingers curl inside of you reaching spots you never know you had and that makes you archer your back, losing your mind in pleasure. He pulls away from you for barely a second as you hear him unbelt his trousers and trowing every clothes he had on the ground. The tip of his cock rubs against your dripping slit, he places his hands over your waist and leans closer to you to whisper something in your ear. "Now, be a good girl and take it all for me" he sounds like he's praising you. In just one move Smoker trusts his thick cock inside your cunt, making it stretch heavenly to let him fuck you just as he desires.

You can't help but moan as you feel his length buried so deep inside of you, your gummy walls clenching around his cock as if you are begging for more. He feels how much you desire him at that moment. "My little slut… begging for my cock" he whispers with a grin on his face. Your eyes widen as you hear Smoker saying that, he has never said those things to you, the fruit affected him for sure. Hearing him saying such smutty things to you makes your body tremble in excitement, tough. You never expected to like such things. He grabs your butt and spanks it a little while trusting his length so slow and deep that makes you want to move your hips against his to let him fuck you faster. "You want more my little slut? Do you want me to breed you?" he says almost chuckling feeling you move your butt to feel him more. You can't say anything but moan in agreement, you'd let Smoker do anything as he's so wild right now. He leans his face closer to yours, you turn your head slightly thinking he's about to kiss you, but his lips start to lick and bite your neck to let you know how involved he is. His hand grabs softly your neck to choke you just right: that thing made you feel more excited than ever. His trusts become faster and faster, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix as if he wants to breed you with the biggest load he has. But Smoker is not selfish, even though he has lost his mind and has become like a wild animal due to the aphrodisiac fruit. His other hand goes down between your legs and starts to rub your clit in a circular motion while continuing to pound his thick cock as deep as he can. His breath becomes heavier, and you feel it against your neck since he won't stop biting it as he claims you as his. "S-smoker… I can't hold it anymore" you whisper to him as if you are praying for him not to hold back. "Beg for it," he says mercilessly with a grin, telling you to ask him what you want. "I beg you, Smoker, breed me" you beg him with a lewd voice. The way you asked him made something snap in Smoker's head, as he pulls you closer to him trusting his cock inside of your cunt without taking a breath and continuing rubbing your clit, ready to fill you up whole. You can't resist anymore, the way he touches you and fucks you so heavenly made your orgasm approach so suddenly that you almost didn't have time to tell him. Your moans and the way your gummy walls clenched around his length spoke for you, Smoker feels that you are cumming all over his cock and can't hold back his climax too. "Let me breed you now…" he growls against your ear as he releases probably the biggest load in his whole life inside of you. There's so much of it that starts leaking from the sides even without pulling out his cock. You can feel him pant after cumming inside of you. "Good girl… such a good girl" he whispers as he's still buried deep inside of you. You turn your head slightly to give him a wet kiss. After a couple of minutes of making out so sweetly, you try to move away thinking that moment was over. "Where are you going? I'm not done breeding you yet" he says with a deep voice pulling you closer to him, his cock has become hard-rock again. Smoker is ready to fuck the life out of you one more time. The effects of the aphrodisiac fruit would have lasted a long time.

[affordablepunk]

How to DIY energy drinks for cheap

First, required reading: link to article

Energy drinks have a few vital components:

>sweetener

>flavor

>water

>caffeine

>bubbles (i never do that and don't know how)

Here are some of my favorite things to use:

>granulated sugar (sweetener)

>stevia leaf or granulated artificial sweetener (sweetener)

>kool aid (flavor, sweetener)

>loose-leaf herbs (flavor) (try hibiscus petal, chicory, even lemongrass and mint can be nice)

>lemon juice (flavor, preservative)

>kool aid (easiest flavor/sweetener combo)

Supplies you might need:

>kettle or pot for heating water

>tea strainer ball to keep your leaves out of the final product

>a nice ragu jar or old Gatorade bottle for pre-made stuff

>funnel for pourin

>ladle for scooping liquid into the funnel

Kaffn-8 or any other such liquid caffeine product will do you for caffeine. That brand is super easy and convenient. Kaffn-8 is my favorite for the quality and ease in dosing, as well as the value (15 bucks has lasted me 2 months of daily use).

I like to make a sugar-flavor concentrate, then assemble each glass as I need it. Sugar tastes better when melted with heat than when dissolved without heat, even once chilled. This also allows me to tweak caffeine content. Here is how to make it:

Fill tea ball with herbs (use about a handful or 1/2 cup for every quart of water, you're making it strong)

Heat water and pop the tea ball in

Simmer or keep hot for 10 min

Remove tea ball and turn off heat

While hot, add as much sugar as you had herbs, and mix until melted.

Mix in as much lemon juice (or other assorted acid or preservative) as you can stand. The more preservative, the longer it'll keep

Allow to cool enough to handle

Jar it up, put it in the fridge for later use. You can and should re-use all manner of bottle, just be wary of melting anything plastic or burning your hands w hot water.

A note: the smaller your batches, the less you waste. But high concentrations of acid and sugar keep it good for up to a month in the fridge.

To use: mix water in a cup with your syrup, tweaking concentrations until it tastes good. Add caffeine, measuring your dose carefully.

Then, do bubble magic to add carbonation if you can do that. Maybe you found a soda stream somewhere. If you don't have bubbles, you'll just have to enjoy your energy drinks flat.

And, you're all done!

Now, where to get everything:

(Grow your own herbs if you are mega brave. Mints are nearly indestructible little plants.)

Lemon juice, dollar store. Quality is the same, you've just got to shake it up.

if its a foreign grocer, they likely have herbs cheap. If its a Mexican grocery, they 100% have the best herbs. (Aguasfrescas drink mixes are cheap and THE BOMB, and hibiscus flower always comes in mega bulk) .

Herbalist and spiritual shops have herbs too, and are likely to have tea balls. Branch out! Catnip has been my favorite oddball herb.

Farmers markets also have some (like three if you're lucky) herbs, and you may have to dry them yourself. Since it's punk to reach out to your community, ask around at the farmers market to see if you can get any herb or dried flavorant that's on your mind- small businesses love consumer feedback! You just might have to wait for the plant to grow, heh, but if you're friendly then you'll make friends. Some examples: ask the jam bottler for dried fruit peels, the farmer for mugwort

I get my artificial sweeteners on closeout, my stevia from herbal shops, and my sugar at Walmart (bite me, its cheap and I'm poor).

Kaffn-8 can only be found online, as far as I'm aware. I promise I'm not sponsored, just a grateful caffeine addict.

Do Google your herbs for drug interactions if you take meds. Healthline has good info on herbs. Dried grapefruit rind can mess with my psych meds, for example.

Again, be careful about caffeine. Always dose your caffeine. Having high levels of caffeine on tap is a bit of a big responsibility: I know I nearly bit the dirt from the all-you-can-eat espresso bar at my college. Immaturity could kill you, caffeine is a drug. Count doses, never go above 500 a day, try not to go more than 200 in the same hour.

Now take that money you've saved and give it to a charity to blow a very mean raspberry at nestle. Or, yknow, feed yourself. Its a tough world.

[wordy-little-witch]

ODA!!!!!! GIVE ME A GHOST POV OF ROGER AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!

Fr tho, Ghost Roger being a lil shit is a treat.

I can fuxking see Roger give Buggy the wiggly eyebrows on day when Crocodile and Mihawk are in the same room. (Maybe it was the first day those two subconsciously nicer to Buggy)

Coff coff ((They started to love the clown)) coff coff

Hell, Perona coming in with a letter to Mihawk from one of the spirits that asked for him specifically.

Mihawk: clown?

Buggy: hmn?

Mihawk: who is 'Ms.Rouge'?

Buggy : -choke-

Afterlife be dammed, she may have not raised Buggy, but Rouge loves him like her kin!

LITERALLY YES YOU GET ME

Also Roger just "eyy?? Eyyyy???????" Is fucking hysterical to me.

Buggy is blindsided when Crocodile drops off an extra cup of coffee at his desk, when Mihawk deposits a few snacks. He's pointedly not looking into Roger's Corner, something he has been doing for ages and will continue to do. It all comes to a head when someone offers Buggy a candy at a negotiation dinner and he's partway through unwrapping it when he hears three voices tell him to stop. Mihawk reaches out, Crocodile's sand whisks the little treat from his fingers to the other.

A quick glance reveals Roger still partially glaring at the other group but also giving considering glances to the quote unquote lieutenants.

Buggy is just confused.

"This brand is rather popular in the north blue," Mihawk remarks casually, turning the candy in his hand. He never once looks up from the wrapper - Buggy wonders what he's looking at or looking for. "They've been in business for decades now, despite the uproar some thirty one years ago."

The dealers avert their eyes, hesitant and stuttering timid agreements.

Mihawk continues. "Rather odd that they'd only list a partial ingredient list on their wares, wouldn't you think? They are marketed as a dynamic company, but their synthetic flavors are but mere facsimiles of the real deal - fakes built upon, more disgustingly, the lies they print on such foils." He flips the candy, dropping the little morsel onto a napkin so he can straighten the wrapping. "See, it even boasts to be free of common allergenic ingredients: peanut oil, dairy, fruit juices. That's the real ingenuity however."

Sharp golden eyes cut into the opposition.

"So long as a company is favored by those on high, they can skirt certain rules. They barely toe the line in the world government's book as is, but they are an infamous vendor in Marie Geoise. No peanut oil but still peanuts. No dairy, but traces of lactose. No fruit juices but concentrated extracts are certainly abundant. And all of their tropical lines contain a key ingredient. Did you know?"

Buggy very adamantly stomps down on the urge and need to blush and swoon as he watches Mihawk and Crocodile tear these people a new asshole over pineapple extract. Roger's approving nod and bouncing brows do NOT help the situation. Nor does Rouge's fond head pats and succinct "I approve, they're good for little bug."

Buggy is suffering.

<><><><><><><><><>

On the topic of Rouge, YEAH!!! She may have met Buggy after death, but she already loved him so much. She knew loving Roger meant stepping into an established family and she was very much okay with that! She knew Ace would have brothers and she would have step sons and not once did she hesitate. Roger was big, bold and loud - he loved with all he had and then some, even to disastrous results. She adored him. And she trusted him. He has a good sense of taste, after all.

So when she met Buggy the first time, she absolutely went into Mom Mode immediately. It was awkward and strange for a deal of time, and Buggy took a while to come around to her but Ms Rouge is his mom as much as Captain is his dad - it's a fact of life and he's long since lost the self consciousness of it all.

But hearing your boyfriend mention receiving a letter from your shared daughter who wrote it on behalf of your long dead mother, well.... weirder shit has happened but Buggy is a dramatic boy - it's his bit and he's committed to it.

Rouge's shovel talks are lowkey terrifying. She isn't as directly threatening as Roger. She's subtle, and observative, and she plots before springing her track. On that front, she may even be scarier than her husband.

And while she and Mihawk would absolutely get along well for their love of plants and gardening, they're equally likely to cross breed and make a lethal poison just because it "seemed interesting at the time".

((Bonus points of a semi related topic, sometimes Rouge sees so much of Roger in Buggy that she aches with it.

And sometimes Roger sees his wife in the movements and glint of his blue haired son's eyes.

Buggy's a product of both, for better or worse, and it's somehow incredible and horrible in equal measure))