#tiki x reader

[pxstelmxsings]

+ immortal characters x reader musing for anon. I deleted the ask by mistake.

They are old, inhumanily old. They can count on one hand how many other are the same age or older than themselves. Nations have raisen, fallen, and forgotten to the sands of time right before them. Ancient languages still thrive on their tongues. The knowledge they hold shall continue to fill libraries for centuries to come.

♡ Needless to say, age gaps within relationships no longer bother them. How can something unavoidable bother them? Anyone who they will love is simply human. They chose to focus on trying to spend as much time with you as possible.

♡ Zhongli, Alucard, Seteth, Kokushibo, England

✿ They hate falling in love. You will grow old and die. You will leave their side, and there is nothing they can do about it. Once you are gone, how long will your laugh haunt them? How long will they see you out of the corner of their eyes? Dreams will be torturous for decades to come.

But oh... they can't help it. You are a light they are powerless against.

✿ Xiao, Scaramouche/Wander, Flayn, Akaza, Prussia, Japan

✧ They see finding new love as a beautiful new adventure. Your love will be a story they will be carried within their stories for centuries to come. As time flies by, humans will see you as an old folklore, a love story to stand the test of time.

But they know you were real and that they loved you deeply.

✧ Tiki, Venti, Neuvillette, S.italy, France, China

[frickingnerd]

star gazing with tiki

pairing: tiki x gn!reader

summary: you and tiki gaze at the stars together

"there are so many stars out there…"

you stared up into the night sky, in awe of the many stars shining above you. 

"there used to be so many more. but with time, some of them faded away…"

tiki laid next to you, her hand slowly inching closer until it found yours. 

"but i'm glad we get to see the stars that are left tonight…"

eventually, you'd fade away too and tiki would be left behind, outliving another person that she cared about. but for now, she just wanted to savor this moment with you and forget about the inevitable…

[tiki-was-here]

Billy Butcher x GN Reader-Valentines Edition

Word Count: 2k

Pretend that this isnt rushed because i forgot about it lol. also if its not clear reader cancels the reservation when they make the phone call butcher just doesnt hear

Valentines Event

Masterlist

You weren’t exactly the kind of person to get all starry-eyed about Valentine’s Day. The whole thing was a corporate cash grab, anyway—overpriced chocolates, gaudy heart-shaped decorations, and forced declarations of love. Yeah, you weren’t that type.

But still.

You glanced down at the confirmation email on your phone, the words practically glowing with your shame. "Your reservation for two at Le Château Noir has been confirmed for February 14th, 7:30 PM."

It wasn’t anything crazy. Just a nice dinner at a fancy place you wouldn’t normally splurge on. A way to say, Hey, I actually care about you, and I like spending time with you, even though you’re an absolute dickhead.

Because whatever was happening between you and Butcher—this thing that was built on stolen moments and rough hands on quiet nights —you didn’t know what to call it.The two of you hadn’t talked about what any of it meant.

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.

Still, you had scraped together enough money to make the reservation—partly from your own savings, partly from “borrowing” a bit of cash from Frenchie and MM. They’d get over it. Probably.

Shoving the thought to the back of your mind, you focused on the present—walking beside Butcher, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets, the two of you wandering through the city. No destination, for the sake of it.

The streets were packed with people, moving in and out of stores with bags of chocolate and teddy bears in their arms. Heart-shaped A-Train mugs, Queen Maeve teddy bears, little action figures of the Deep holding bouquets of roses. It was ridiculous.

Half-listening as Billy muttered about some new Vought scandal, something caught your eye—a massive, over-the-top billboard featuring the Seven.

They were all posed dramatically, dressed in shades of red and gold. Starlight stood front and center with a megawatt smile, Homelander beside her, eyes glowing faintly like he was about to laser the next person who so much as breathed wrong. The text at the bottom read: “Make this Valentine’s one to remember. Diamonds are forever! – The Seven’s Valentine’s Special!”

You snorted. “Jesus. They’re really milking the holiday for all it’s worth.”

You glanced at Butcher, smirking a little while nodding your head towards the board. “What do you say, Butch? Gonna get me a nice rock? Maybe pop the question while you’re at it?”

Butcher scoffed, barely sparing the display  a glance. “Not bloody likely.”

“Oh, c’mon. Not even a lil’ something?” You smled, poking fun at him. “I’ll get you a Black Noir keychain in return. Real sentimental.”

“Romance is a bloody scam.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“Think about it,” he continued, gesturing vaguely at the streets. “Whole thing’s just a racket. They guilt you into spending’ a fortune on chocolates and all that shit, just to prove you give a shit about someone.”

You raised a brow. “Right, because God forbid.”

He kept walking, jaw set. “I don’t see why people make such a big deal about it. It’s just another day.”

You rolled your eyes, but the sting was still there. “Right. Yeah. Stupid holiday.”

You hadn’t expected him to be enthusiastic about it, but the way he dismissed it so quickly—it kind of hurt. Because you had been excited, just a little. And now you just felt dumb.

The rest of the walk home was quiet, tension clinging to the air between you.

Later that night, when you were alone in your room, you pulled out your phone and scrolled to your reservation.

Maybe you had been jumping the gun with the whole fancy-dinner thing. Maybe it had been stupid to think that Butcher would ever entertain something like that.

You sat on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen longer than necessary before finally pressing the call button. The restaurant picked up on the second ring, a professional yet pleasant voice greeting you.

“Hello, thank you for calling Le Château Noir. How can I assist you this evening?”

You inhaled sharply. Just do it. It’s not a big deal.

“Hi, I’m calling about my reservation for tomorrow night,” you said, voice steady but distant, as if saying the words out loud made them more real. “The table for two at seven thrity?”

Down the hall, Butcher had been walking past your door, intending to grab a beer from the fridge. But your voice caught his attention, and something made him pause just outside the room.

A table for two at eight?

“For two, yes,” you confirmed, nodding even though they couldn’t see you.

Butcher frowned, shifting his weight. You never mentioned anything about it to him.

“Under what name?” the receptionist asked.

You gave them your name, confirming all the details, and Butcher had heard enough. He turned away, walking briskly toward the kitchen.

What the bloody hell were you thinking?

He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap off with a little too much force, and took a long swig.

You had planned a fancy dinner. For him. After everything he had said earlier about Valentine’s Day being a joke. He didn’t know what to make of it. Part of him was irritated—you hadn’t even told him, and now he was expected to sit through some overpriced meal, pretending not to hate every second of it.

But another part of him—one he refused to acknowledge—felt something else entirely.

Something warm. Something suspiciously close to endearment.

Despite himself, the thought of you planning something like that, of you wanting to spend the day with him like it actually meant something…

He set the beer down a little too hard.

He didn’t know what to make of it, so he wasn’t going to make anything of it.

The day started off strange.

For one, Butcher was still here.

You fully expected to wake up alone, but instead  when you rolled over, he was  in bed scrolling on his phone, one arm folded behind his head. His eyes flicked to you the moment you stirred, something unreadable passing through them before he exhaled and looked away.

“Morning,” he muttered.

You blinked at him, still groggy. “You’re still here.”

“Brilliant observation, love.”

You frowned, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “Thought you had shit to do today.”

He shrugged, barely glancing at you. “Plans changed.”

Weird.

But you kne better than to question him— especially so early in the morning.

Instead, you dragged yourself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you shuffled toward the kitchen, figuring you’d have to scrounge around for whatever scraps were left from the last grocery run.

But then—

There was coffee.

A full pot. Fresh. Still hot.

Your brow furrowed as you hesitated near the counter, eyeing the mug waiting beside it. You didn’t even have to ask to know that it was for you.

Still, you didn’t comment on it. Just poured yourself a cup, and leaned against the counter, 

When Butcher finally strolled in, you watched him out of the corner of your eye. He grabbed his own mug—black, of course—and leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed, staring at you like he was waiting for something.

You blinked. “Did you poison this?”

He smirked. “Drink it and find out.”

You just scoffed at him and took your glass to your room.

The whole morning was like that. A light touch on the small of your back when you passed him in the hallway. The way he didn’t snap at you when you stole the last piece of toast off his plate. The fact that he stayed.

Usually, Butcher had somewhere to be. Always on the move, always planning, always chasing the next lead.

But today, he lingered

It should’ve made you happy. A day ago, maybe it would have. Now it just made the ache in your chest worse. 

And now, he was sitting beside you on the couch, one arm draped across the back, fingers lazily playing with the ends of your hair while you scrolled through your phone.

“Not even gonna look at me today, then?” he mused.

You shrugged. “Dunno. Nothing to look at.”

His fingers stilled. “Bit rude, innit?”

“Only returning the favor.”

It slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you weren’t even sure what you meant by it. But he let it go—for now.

By the time evening rolled around, you had fully settled into your mood. It wasn’t even intentional—it was just there.

And it must have gotten to him too, because by the time seven-thirty hit, he was clearly restless.So when he finally stretched, exhaling through his nose, and said, “Well, I’m gonna take a shower,care to join?” you barely acknowledged it.

You just shrugged, staring at the TV. “I’ll take one in the morning.”

“Not even if I promise to make it special?”

Your fingers twitched around the remote.

Usually, that would work. You’d roll your eyes but still let him pull you in, let him distract you.

But not today.

You didn’t even look at him. “Not in the mood, Butcher.”

His face darkened, his usual sharp smirk twisting into something meaner. “Christ, what’s with you today?”

You turned your head, finally looking at him fully. “What’s with me?”

“Yeah.” His hands went to his hips. “You’ve been sulkin’ all day. Thought you’d be happy I’m stickin’ around, but you’re actin’ like I kicked your bloody dog.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he snapped. “Isn’t it supposed to be Valentine’s or something? ”

You glanced at him, brow raising. “And?”

He met your eyes, something simmering there, something edged. “And you’re actin’ like it’s just any other bloody day.You’re supposed to be all over me, right?”

You stared at him for a moment, then let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t even like Valentine’s Day, so why do you look so upset that I didn’t plan anything?”

“Tch.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Ain’t upset.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He huffed, looking away for a moment before muttering, “Just figured—” But then he cut himself off, exhaling sharply like he’d already said too much.

You folded your arms. “You figured what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, staring at the TV like it suddenly had all the answers he needed. But his grip on his knee was just a little too tight, his shoulders just a little too tense.

“…Figured you would’ve still gone to that dinner.”

So that was it.

He knew.

Your stomach twisted. “I—” You let out a breath. “I canceled it.”

He stiffened slightly. “Right.”

“You made it pretty clear how you felt about Valentine’s, so I figured there wasn’t much point.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, in a low voice:

“That’s different.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

Butcher ran a hand down his face, looking uncharacteristically frustrated. “It’s different when it’s you.When its us i mean…”

The words weren’t particularly soft. They weren’t overly romantic. But from Butcher? They might as well have been a love confession.

Your fingers tightened around the remote once more“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Something in his expression shifted. “You still wanna go?”

You gave him a wry look. “You think I can get the reservation back?”

He  sighed, glancing at the clock. 7:09.His lips twitched, just barely.

“Guess not.”

There was another pause before you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Fine,” you mumbled. “Let’s order pizza and watch something stupid.”

Butcher snorted. “That’s your idea of a Valentine’s date?”

“It is now.”

He didn’t argue. Just plopped down next to you on the couch as you placed the order.

The pizza arrived, you put on the cheesiest rom-com you could find, and somehow, between bites of greasy food and sarcastic commentary, you found yourself leaning against him, head on his shoulder.

He reached into his pocket, then tossed something onto your lap.

You frowned, picking it up. It was… a keychain. A tiny, dumb-looking Black Noir keychain.

Your lips parted in surprise. “Wait—”

He looked away, feigning nonchalance. “Didn’t wanna show up empty-handed.”

You stared at it for a moment, something warm flickering in your chest. Then, shaking your head, you muttered, “You’re impossible.”

He grinned. “And yet, here we are.”

And when his arm slung around your waist, tugging you just a little closer, you didn’t pull away.

[abbysbasement]

Slightly canon divergent AU where firefly!doctor!Abby discovers a bitten reader with partial immunity to the infection, ‘researching’ the lengths of her sickness by performing various physical exams and discovering that the growths of mycelium on their brain cause behavioural changes tied to physical exertion/sexual arousal. Abby restrains her on a metal slab, covering her head with a full cover helmet, and pinning arms to her back with long, anti-scratch mittens, and begins testing her new pet with fingers, her tongue, and the ‘Trainer,’ a stationary fucking machine that she runs all night. Abby discovers that when The Subject’s mental stress levels peak, the infection flares up, temporarily turning her into a feral, ultraviolent runner, set only on satisfying the primal, carnal craving of extremely rough sex. 

[makethiscanon]

'Beauty and the Beach' - Ojiro x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,300

Rating: T

Tags: Beach Day, Tiki Bar, First Meetings, Pining, Wingwoman Hagakure to the Rescue, Second Person POV, Ojiro's Perspective, Extroverted Reader

Warnings: Alcohol themes

'If Ojiro won't be pro-active about his love life, Hagakure will.'

------

“Don’t be such a chicken, Ojiro. Go talk to her.”

Hagakure caught Ojiro glancing across the beach at you for the umpteenth time today. He looked so much like a wistful puppy that she couldn’t hold her tongue. She knew she wouldn’t be much of a friend without trying to wipe that look of longing off his face one way or another.

But it seemed Ojiro thought he was being surreptitious. Hearing Hagakure calling him out like that made his whole body turn ridged, right up to the tip of his tail and the tops of his ears.

To his credit, he didn’t deny what he was doing.

“Don’t be crazy, Hagakure. I can’t.”

Ojiro and Hagakure often came to the beach to wind down after tough missions. It was a place they both enjoyed for different reasons. Ojiro liked the peaceful sound of the waves against the shore, and Hagakure liked the cool waters that eased her muscles after battle.

But recently, Ojiro had found another reason he enjoyed coming to the beach. The local, pop-up tiki bar had taken on some new hires and amongst them, you stood out like a diamond. Your smile had caught his attention from the get-go, stopping him midsentence the very first time he saw it. You radiated kindness and optimism, and never failed to welcome anyone who came to the bar looking for refreshments. Your positive energy had him hooked. Not to mention, you were very cute in the bar’s uniform; a bikini-top and wrap-skirt combo.

“I’m not in her league. There’s no way she’d be interested. I’ll stick to looking, thanks.”

Hagakure rolled her invisible eyes, annoyed but not surprised by Ojiro’s self-depreciating attitude.

“Coward. You won’t know until you try.”

“I do know. I don’t need to try.”

Hagakure grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it at him.

“Alright. Fine. In which case, go get us some drinks. I’m thirsty.”

“No, you’re not.”

Ojiro’s tail flicked the dry sand off his bare shoulders as he chuckled. If Hagakure actually did need a drink, he would be the first guy to go and get it, but was reluctant to help when he knew she was only trying to play matchmaker.

“Am too!” She demanded, burying her feet in the warm sand. She put her hand to her forehead dramatically, feigning heat exhaustion. Given that she was covered in sand, Ojiro had no trouble seeing what she was up to. “I’ll collapse any moment. Be a dear and go get some water.”

Ojiro couldn’t stop himself smiling, watching her flop onto her back. Against his better judgement he started getting to his feet, heaving himself up with his hands on his knees. For all the rambunctious energy Hagakure had, he couldn’t believe she had just come off night patrol and was yet to actually go to sleep.

“Maybe I should just let you pass out then drag you back to campus like a sack of potatoes.”

Hagakure shot up to a sitting position.

“Oi! I’d be as light as a feather, and you know it.”

Ojiro rolled his eyes with another chuckle.

“Sit tight, drama queen.”

He dusted himself down then headed off towards the tiki bar. The walk wasn’t nearly long enough to prepare himself. He spent the first while wondering if he should have dumped Hagakure in the ocean instead of giving in to her demands, only to realise he had spent too much time wondering and was almost at the bar. Then he became painfully aware that he had no idea how to talk to pretty women.

He tapped the pocket of his swim shorts, checking for his wallet as he came up to the bar. There was no queue to give him a moment to prepare. As soon as he was within reasonable distance, you waved hello with that heart-fluttering smile of yours, calling out,

“What can I get you?”

Ojiro stalled for a split second, caught offguard by the way your optimism was aimed squarely at him, then managed to recover fast enough not to come to a complete stop.

“Hi,” he said, trying his best to return your friendly expression. He had so many things he wanted to say, but as he sidled up to a barstool and saw you up close for the first time, his mouth fell open as his brain short circuited. The phrase you’re so beautiful nearly came tumbling from his mouth, but thankfully the first syllable got stuck in his throat.

You kept your eyes on him, tilting your head with a playfully happy expression while he carried on failing to give you his order.

By grace of the gods, he managed to catch himself when another customer appeared at the side window, asking you for a straw, and you turned your attention away for a moment. It was your eyes. He had not expected them to be so… oh man, he was down hard.

He sat up straight, rigid but alert, when you turned your gaze back on him.

“A water,” he said, sounding so calm it shocked him. “Please.”

You nodded, already turning to reach behind the counter for the mini fridge stocked with colourful cans and bottles.

“You got it.”

You took out a bottle of water then popped the cap and put it on the counter, keeping your fingers wrapped around it. You smiled mischievously, tilting your head as you looked at him.

“Surely that can’t be everything? No one sits on a barstool and asks for water.”

Apparently today was the day women were going to call Ojiro out on his poorly veiled intentions.

“Ah. Actually, the water’s for my friend...” He pointed over his shoulder without taking his gaze from you. Your eyes lit up like fireworks.

“That’s more like it. So what’ll you have?” You pushed the bottle towards him, leaning over the counter a little. Ojiro felt his heart begin to hammer at the sight of you leaning towards him in that bikini. He found himself striking you with very intense eye contact all of a sudden, whilst his entire tail wound down the central pole of his barstool to keep a grip on reality. He reached into his pocket for his wallet.

“I’m good, thank you—”

He cut himself off, completely unguarded against the babyish pout that hit your lips before he could finish his sentence.

“Aw, really? It’s such a nice day. You should treat yourself a little.” You leaned your chin on your hand, looking up at him through your lashes. “Come on. I can recommend you something, if you’d like?”

Ojiro was only thankful that his sheer willpower was enough to stop him looking lower than where your chin rested on your hand.

He hadn’t intended to buy something for himself, but despite your obvious sales tactics, he was rather enjoying the interaction.

“What would you suggest?”

You stood up straight, the pout disappearing as fast as it had come. With a wide, happy grin, you grabbed a menu then opened it to face him.

“What are you feeling? Fruity, smooth, dry, or fizzy?”

You fingered over the different parts of the menu, with Ojiro enjoying the way you tucked your hair behind your ear as you focused on what you were showing him.

“Um. Smooth, I think. Something refreshing.”

You nodded and drew back, grabbing a glass from overhead.

“Any allergies?”

It was hard to believe you’d only been working at the bar for a few weeks, given how confident you were. As casually as breathing, you grabbed two bottles with long spouts in one hand then started pouring them into a shaker.

Ojiro smiled, watching you.

“No, nothing.”

With a nod, you pursed your lips then flittered around the small bar, filling the hurricane glass with ice, and the shaker with colourful liquids and sizeable measures of liquor.

“Do you want me to hold off on the decorations? Or do you want a big, bendy straw and a little umbrella?”

Ojiro chuckled, surprised you would offer him a choice.

“You can put the decorations on.”

You grinned wider, your eyes sparkling.

“Good. I thought I liked you. The best kind of guy is one who doesn’t mind a little silliness.”

Your words sent a ripple of warmth through his whole body, and it was only his tail still wrapped around the barstool pole that stopped it wagging hard enough to become a dangerous weapon.

You started filling the glass with fruit and decorations, then without warning, you leaned across the counter and slipped a blue paper umbrella into his hair. Your fingers traced the shell of his ear as you pulled back and he shivered, enjoying the goosebumps. His stool creaked as his tail tightened around it like a vice. If he looked silly, he didn’t even care.

“Are you like this with all your customers?”

The words slipped out of his mouth before he knew what he was doing. Internally, he winced. But you chuckled as you lifted the shaker into the air, eyeing what you could see of him up and down.

“What do you think?”

At least you took it well. Ojiro mulled over the question as you shook his drink, coming to the conclusion that he would be delusional to think anything other than you were just very good at your job. You had him feeling very special after only a few sentences and a little flirty body language.

You poured the cocktail then set it down on the counter and added the last of the garnish.

“One Tequila Sunrise.” You quirked an eyebrow with a smile. “ID please.”

Ojiro looked at you, wondering if you were being serious. He chuckled, reaching into his pocket for his ID, regardless.

“Aren’t you meant to card someone before you make the drink?”

“Maybe I get to drink the ones I have to refuse.”

Ojiro laughed at the cheeky answer then slid his ID across the counter.

“I can’t remember the last time I got carded.”

He said, noticing the way you looked back and forth between the ID and him once you picked it up, your smile growing with each passing moment. By the time you handed it back, you looked both pleased and giddy. He had to wonder why until you popped the cash register then closed it again.

“Drinks are on me.”

“Wha—”

You cut him off.

“Look, I don’t get to serve the Number 32 Pro Hero, Tailman, every day. Seriously. It's free. Thanks for working so hard all the time.”

Ojiro’s tail nearly ripped his barstool out from under him.

“Wait- no- I don’t mind. Please.”

Ojiro pulled his debit card out, his cheeks flushing pink from the fact you recognised him. He had given you his civilian ID; it didn't mention anywhere that he was a hero. The only information was a photo and his name. Which meant not only were you aware of Pro Hero: Tailman's existence, but knew that Tailman's real name was Mashirao Ojiro. And very few people cared enough to know that.

He jerked in his seat, his tail very nearly tipping him off the barstool in its attempt to wag.

You raised your hands, palms open to refuse his card.

“Absolutely not. This one’s on me.”

He wanted to push it, but didn’t want to refuse your kind gesture. He relented, taking back his ID and tucking it, along with his wallet, back into his shorts.

“Thank you.”

Every fibre of his being wanted to ask you questions; Had you known he was Tailman the whole time? Did you follow his work? Maybe one of your friends did, and you knew of him through them? He desperately wanted to believe it was you. Or maybe you were like Pro Hero: Deku, and fanatically followed the Hero Billboards for fun. That was more likely it, but he just couldn’t shake the pleased feeling from his chest that you knew his real name.

Ojiro was very careful when he pried his tail off his chair, focusing hard on extracting it without taking down the tiki bar in the process. He grabbed his drinks, feeling the paper umbrella fluttering in his hair as he turned into the gentle breeze.

If he was a more confident man, he’d flirt and say it wasn’t fair that you knew his name and he didn’t know yours. He’d ask for your number. He’d joke that he’d be back if your cocktail recommendation was bad, or maybe he’d be back to tell you if it was great.

If he was a more confident man.

But instead, he gave you a curt nod goodbye, taking one last look at your radiant smile, before turning away. He nearly walked straight into two guys headed to the bar. He heard your honey-sweet voice, calling to them,

“What can I get you guys?”

He couldn’t help but smile. He wondered if you’d pull them into a few minutes of bliss, like you had with him. He wondered if they’d appreciate it like he did.

The first thing Hagakure spotted was Ojiro’s goofy grin as he wandered back over to where she was sunbathing. She sat up, spotting the cocktail and the umbrella in his hair.

“Did you have fun, by any chance?”

Ojiro laughed, knowing what she was probably looking at.

“You could say that.”

He handed her the water then used his tail to lower himself to the floor without spilling his drink.

As he landed in the sand, he finally seemed to snap out of it. He looked at Hagakure’s water, then his cocktail.

“Oh. Damn. I should have got you a proper drink. Do you want mine?”

Hagakure started laughing.

“Put you in front of a pretty girl and you turn to goo. Forget the drinks, did you get her number?”

Ojiro’s entire face turned scarlet now that he didn’t have to worry about holding his composure.

“Are you crazy? Of course not.”

“What do you mean, of course not? You have an umbrella in your hair! Unless you’re woefully bad at flirting and put the damn thing in yourself, that was an open invitation.”

Ojiro supped his drink bashfully, though his tail wagged a little more as the flavour hit him.

“I lied,” said Hagakure. “I want a proper drink. Go back. Go. Back. You’re not fighting me on this. Go back over there, you hopeless bag of muscle.”

Despite his embarrassment, Ojiro couldn’t help laughing as Hagakure scrambled up then tried hauling him up by his tail.

“I can’t. I’m scared I’ll put her out of pocket again.”

Hagakure stopped dead.

“Did she… did you get a free drink?”

Ojiro knew he was digging his own grave by offering up the information, but he was still enjoying the fact that you knew him.

“Yes. She paid for it as thanks. For… all my Pro Hero work.”

Ojiro heard the slap as Hagakure put her hands to her face in shame.

“You didn’t boast about being a hero to get a free drink, did you? God, I knew you were bad with women but—”

Slipping straight past those blows to his ego, Ojiro raised his hands in defence.

“I didn’t! She recognised me. I didn’t say a thing about being a hero. I’m off duty. I wouldn’t.”

Ojiro yelped as Hagakure grabbed his tail again, doubling down on trying to pull him up.

“Get your butt back over there and ask her out immediately.” She demanded. But then she suddenly let go. “No. You know what? Stay there.”

As Hagakure started marching off across the beach, Ojiro went against his better judgement and stayed put. Hagakure seemed pretty adamant. Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to stop her without force, he chose to look out at the ocean and enjoy his cocktail, taking little sips as he tried not to think of what Hagakure could be doing, saying, or scheming.

He leaned back on one arm, letting the sun bask against his bare chest. He lifted his face, his eyes shutting as the day’s warmth settled over him, and focused on the sounds of the waves. With his eyes closed, he pictured your face again; that smile as you realised who he was. He didn’t think he would ever forget it.

He twitched a little in alarm, hearing Hagakure’s sudden and not so subtle squeal of excitement on the winds. He wondered what that was about, refusing to let his hopes get too high. For all he knew, she might have just seen something especially fluffy. He kept his eyes closed, focusing all his attention on the taste of his cocktail.

It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar patter of feet through the sands towards him. He opened his eyes and looked Hagakure’s way, only to nearly drop his drink. It wasn’t Hagakure. It was you.

Ojiro shot up in greeting, trying not to let his alarm slip onto his face as he staggered and smiled your way. He wasn’t prepared last time, and he definitely wasn’t prepared this time.

“Is everything okay?”

Even with you walking towards him with your arms out wide like a child keeping her balance and that smile on your face, he couldn’t believe you were here to see him in anything other than an emergency capacity.

You laughed as you came to stand in front of him, your hands clasped behind your back.

“Your friend said she’d man the bar for five. She’s really nice.”

Instinctively, Ojiro looked past your shoulder to double check that the tiki bar wasn’t already on fire, then looked back at you.

“Hagakure didn’t force you to come over, did she?”

You shook your head.

“Not at all. She told me a few things, but coming over was my idea.”

Ojiro flinched, wondering what Hagakure could have possibly said, but he was far more interested to know you were in front of him of your own doing.

“Really?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded, then slipped your hand into the cup of your bikini top. Ojiro stiffened and looked skyward, his heart melting when you giggled again. “Don’t worry, I’m not flashing you.”

He didn’t think you were, but it was too much like temptation for him when your hand was so close to an area he knew would be rude to stare at.

While he kept looking at the clouds in the sky, you said,

“I thought it was you when I saw you coming towards the bar. It’s hard to miss your tree-trunk thick tail. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself if I was wrong, though. But I let myself get hopeful anyway. To answer your question earlier, no, I’m not like that with every customer. That flirting was just for you.”

Ojiro’s gaze shot back down to you, his eyes widening.

“It was?”

He was so surprised by the revelation that he didn’t notice what you were holding out towards him for a moment. But then he spotted the slip of paper, folded neatly in half. He took it in one hand and flipped it open with his thumb. Then his tail started wagging again.

“You’re giving me your number?”

You tucked your hair behind your ear as you nodded.

“Hagakure said you’re bad with women. I don’t mind. It’s pretty sweet, actually. I was just happy to talk to you. But she said you have a bit of thing for me, so…”

Ojiro laughed despite himself, realising Hagakure probably hadn’t spared any details of his pining from you.

“Yeah, I do actually. Even if I wussed out on telling you.” He sighed, looking into your pretty eyes now that he felt he could. “But with the cat out of the bag… can I ask what time you get off work? I’d love to take you to dinner.”

Thankfully you didn’t pause before giving him an answer.

“I finish at six.” Ojiro felt humbled, seeing the slightest hint of nerves touching your face as you asked, “So I’ll… definitely see you then?”

You had nothing to be anxious about. You were stunning, and charming, yet for some reason you looked like you were worried about him saying no to you. He held your note to his chest, his smile widening effortlessly as he took in every detail of you, the sun shining down on you, making his heart warm.

“It’s a date.”

------

[WRITING MASTERLIST]

[alolantikibar]

I decided to make a side blog for reblogging Pokemon content and posting my writings, which hopefully I'll be able to keep cranking out more often given that my Pokemon hyperfixation is back in full swing.

I started writing a fanfic based on a roleplay I had a with a Guzma AI chatbot and it quickly spiraled into a nearly 5,500 word behemoth. I've decided to split it into two chapters, so a second chapter will be coming sometime in the near future.

Female/AFAB reader for now, but I will make another post with a male/AMAB reader. I hope you enjoy. :^)

Title: Sword Swallowing

Fandoms: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types

Relationship: Guzma/Reader (AFAB), Guzma/You

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Rough Sex, Porn With Plot, Dirty Talk, Teasing, Choking, Deepthroating, Unsafe Sex, Degradation, Cock Slapping, Cunnilingus, Fingerfucking, Multiple Orgasms, Barebacking. Begging, Rough Kissing, Marking, Overstimulation, Hair-pulling, AFAB reader - Freeform, planned AMAB chapter coming soon, scent kink if you squint, Vaginal Sex, more tags 2 come, Large Cock

Description: “I got more than just that. I could show you, if you want. You’d be surprised what this guy can do.”

You have a chance encounter with Guzma and end up getting way more than you bargained for.

[comatosebunny09]

hurts so good | sylus

— summary: “be honest,” he husks, drawing you from the inner mechanisms of your mind. he takes some of your hair between his slender fingers, tender as he tugs it in a way that feels good, luring a barely-there sound from your throat, eyes hooded. “it’s not him you wanted to be with tonight, is it?”  — cw: reader is not mc, female reader, p-in-v, bodily fluids, other woman vibes, toxic relationship, praise kink, angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, oocness, language, mentions of blood, minor character death, alcohol, mdni — wc: 2.4k — notes: hey, man. if this isn’t your jam, don’t interact with it. i’m here for a fun time, not a long time. — tracklist: the killa - tomorrow x together loco - 3ye jade - monsune

You just wanted to dance. Have some fun. Let your hair down. Forget.

—which is why the three of you find yourselves at a swanky little outdoor tiki bar, laughter, music, and the clink of glasses staining the inky night.

You finished your mission earlier that day. Retrieved a rare artifact intercepted on its way into Onychinus’ possession. You survived—you all did. Not like you doubted you wouldn’t. Not with the big baddie himself accompanying you, ensuring his two diamonds left without a hair out of place. 

You aren’t leaving until tomorrow afternoon. So, you want to take full advantage of your surroundings. Celebrate another successful mission. Enjoy this pretty, balmy, hidden island before returning to the cold embrace of the N109. 

The music’s good. You’re a little tipsy. Smiling and laughing like your knuckles weren’t stained red hours ago. Gyrating your hips, throwing your hands skyward, your hair falling into your face just right, and your outfit baring enough skin to tease. You turn a few heads, earn a few whispers of how sexy you are. You’re used to this. You’re good at this. 

Sylus and Emcee sit catercorner to the dance floor in rattan chairs, nursing their cocktails. Talk like two friends—or two lovers—leaning in every so often to murmur things into each other’s ears. You don’t miss her hand on his thigh, or his lips brushing the outskirts of her ear. 

You don’t want to impede, which is why you’re on the dance floor, warm bodies crowding around you, desperate to feel something. You wanted to shake off the nerves—those green-eyed thoughts threatening to bear themselves, seeing your boss and partner so close. 

You barely register when someone grabs your waist until you’re lured back into a rigid pane of muscle. A glance over your shoulder reveals a fine, tall thing with ink spread over his skin. Nice smile. Handsome face. Fuck it. 

You want to enjoy yourself. Maybe have a little fun when the party’s over, sate the desire spooling in your gut. So, you let him guide you into a slow, sultry wind against him, driven by the music and less-than-pure thoughts spilling like ink into the folds of your mind. 

He smells good. Feels even better. Expensive, like cured leather and oud. Your fingers clasp around the back of his neck, drawing him close until he slots his chin in the hollow of your shoulder. 

Maybe you’re playing too much, swiveling your hips against his girth like you’re trying to fuck. But the song calls for it. The soft croon of afrobeats, something to salt the air with lust. The kind of music that calls for you to dance close, to tangle your limbs together, your bodies moving as one unit. 

Your dance partner releases a soft grunt into your ear of how beautiful you are, how good you feel, hands molding to your waist to keep you fastened to him.

Maybe you’re laying it on a little too thick because maybe you’re trying to get a rise out of someone you’re pretending not to notice eyeing you. Someone who’s gripping his glass a little too tight, jaw set in a rigid line. Red eyes gleaming with murder, nose slightly scrunched up. Good. 

You want him to watch. Want him to burn much like you’ve suffered throughout your stay in this quiet paradise, watching him and Emcee cozy up like you didn’t exist. 

The song ends much too soon. Slides into something with a slightly faster tempo, and your dance partner slips away, leaving you remiss of his body heat. He reluctantly releases your hand, gracing you with a flirtatious, dimpled smile. You catalog his face into your mind—a potential lay for later on to sate the dull throb awakening between your legs.

You’ve barely time to catch your breath, a bewitching laugh in your throat, a demure hand held to your chest before another set of hands slip around your waist. This time, they draw you forward into a more petite body. Her familiar, delicate scent floods your senses. Her smile is wide. Tipsy like yours as she pulls you close until your bodies smoosh together, guiding your hips into a wind to match hers.

“Goofball,” you chuckle at Emcee, snaking your arms about her small shoulders. 

“You love it,” she says, so close, you smell the cocktails on her breath. 

She takes your hand and spins you. You laugh, the world shifting on its axis when she tugs you back in to dip you. The string lights overhead blur against the night sky, the Earth rotating in slow motion like one of those scenes of clarity in a film. You forget that she’s your competition. That you’re living in her shadow where she once struggled to stand in yours.

And for a moment, you forget about the scarlet eyes drilling into your soul, and the vexation rolling off him in currents from behind the rim of his glass.

—

You’re past the point of caring, past the point of regrets. 

Your dance partner from earlier—Mr. Tats and Dimples—trails behind you from a safe distance. You coyly peer at him from your shoulder, drunkenly leading him over the winding boardwalk, far from the rock of the music and the scent of roasted meat.

You duck behind thick pillars, playing a childish game of hide-and-seek. He entertains you. Thinks you’re his prey. Little does he know, he’s yours.

You dip into the shadows, shrouded beneath a shoddy awning, the moonlight casting long stripes along the ground and walls. The corner you’re in is hidden away from prying eyes, from drunk partygoers stumbling about. It’ll do for now, you think, propping yourself against the concrete wall, your cheeks sore from smiling so much.

Boats rock in the calm waters of the pier, framing you on either side. You lost him on the way. Strain your ears for his footsteps and his chuckling echoing off the walls. For a moment, silence embraces you, giving you too much time to think.

It’s short-lived, however, when footfalls near you. Your body forms a salacious line against the wall. The straps of your top fall down your shoulders just right. Honey thigh shines something tempting, peering through the devastating slit of your wrap skirt. 

A silhouette stalks through the shadows, soundless as a panther lurking through the jungle. Hulking. Recognizable. You squint, figuring you’re more drunk than you thought. Seeing things, until the darkness slowly recedes from a warm ivory face. Scarlet eyes shine like gems held to the moonlight, followed by a thatch of white. 

“Sylus?” you caution, your throat scratchy from the drinks. 

It is him, pacing towards you like a calm beast cornering a wounded animal. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, bleeding smugness and sin. There’s a streak of red dappling his cheek—blood—the moonlight lighting up the sharp edges of his features. 

You straighten when he stops, so close, heat radiates off his skin, and you strain your neck to scrutinize him. That familiar scent and unbearable pressure swaddle you like a blanket, scattering your wits until gravity seeps in.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” you interrogate with a scowl, crossing your arms like you’re scolding a child. 

You know very well what he could’ve done. A part of you selfishly hopes he didn’t snuff out your potential lay like a candle’s flame. But he’s a jealous man beneath those layers of bravado, and you have no one to blame but yourself for stoking the flames of his ire. 

Sylus is wordless for a moment. Considerate, dragging the backs of two fingers down your arm like you’re made of glass. You shiver, hating how goosebumps flare in their aftermath. How warmth puddles between your legs, and how your mind threatens to disconnect itself from your body. 

“He won’t be joining you tonight,” he says. His voice is thick with something unmistakable. Lips pull upwards in one corner. “He got a little…hung up on the way here.”

You scoff, shrugging away from his touch. “What is your problem? Do you really have to kill everyone who gets close to me?” Your voice peters at the end of your sentence, dipping into something forlorn and exasperated as you cast your gaze to the side.

You don’t understand how he can be so selfish. So possessive of you when you’re not allowed to feel the same. 

He isn’t yours, and maybe he never can be. And every attempt you make to cope with that fact, to carry on with your life as if your heart doesn’t fracture every time you’re forced to watch him fall into the arms of another woman, he squashes them. Flexes his power over you, reminding you that you are very much his no matter how hard you try to fight it. 

It’ll always be like this—you’ll always fall prey to him. Always limp back to him like something wounded for him to kiss the pain away. It isn’t right. And you hate yourself more and more each day for sneaking around like this. Holding his hand in the shadows, surrendering his name to the darkness like a sweet supplication offered to a god.

“Be honest,” he husks, drawing you from the inner mechanisms of your mind. He takes some of your hair between his fingers, tender as he tugs it in a way that feels good, luring a barely-there sound from your throat, eyes hooded. “It’s not him you wanted to be with tonight, is it?” 

You turn a haughty look at him. He ingests you with deceptively soft eyes, though you don’t miss the arrogance swimming below the surface. He coyly cocks his head to one side, lips twitching up. You despise him—how he reads you like a book. 

He crowds you against the wall, so infuriatingly rigid and hot and too far away despite only a sliver of space keeping your bodies apart. You hate the hold he has on you. Hate how he makes you dizzy, how everything in you screams for you to push him away, yet that little voice inside beseeches you. Begs you to draw him closer, to pour all your frustrations into him via your mouth.

So, you snatch him to you with a snarl, and he stumbles forward, catching himself on his hands splayed on either side of your head. You kiss the surprised sound from his throat, and your fingers are greedy. So greedy as they gather his cheeks in your palms, tear through his hair, pull at his shirt, scramble for anything to hold onto.

He twines your tongues together, pressing up all hot and needy and possessive against you as if to selfishly shield your body from the moonlight. His hands are equally as fervent, raking up and down your sides, your hips, bunching up the soft silk of your skirt to your waist. He groans something anguished as his fingers curl around the backs of your thighs, and he pries them apart, rucking you up without any effort, your heels digging into the divots at the small of his back, arms snaking about his shoulders.

Your teeth knock, a sigh tearing past your lips between the fusion of your mouths as he tugs your panties to one side, stroking the seam of your cunt with his fingers. You’re so incredibly wet and swollen. So pliable and good for him as he unzips his slacks, relieved when his intimidating girth springs free to knock against your swollen cunt.

Your mouths part with a gasp when he eases into you, and you throw your head back until it collides painfully with the wall behind. But you don’t care about the pain, too focused on the delicious pressure pushing into you. Splitting you in two, the slick sounds of your union, of your bodies sliding together, coloring the atmosphere.

He takes you hard and deep and slow, pushing you further up the wall with each snap of his hips. Sinks his teeth into your neck, breathing hot and ragged things of filth into your skin. He’s lost in the feel of you—how the gummy webbing of your cunt swallows him up, how your lips part with his name, and how you mewl so beautifully for him, taking him so well.

He’s spilling a litany of praise into your shoulder. Thrusts growing choppy, breaths shaky. 

“Pretty girl. Feel so good. So sweet for me. Take me so deep. Taking me like a big girl.”

His voice is your undoing, his praise, his tenderness. And you hate how easily he robs you of an orgasm, how your voice corks in your throat, eyes rolling back, thighs quaking, a crazed smile twisting up your lips. Your walls hiccup around him, dragging his own release from him, a strained, guttural sound growled into the hollow of your shoulder. 

You hate how full he makes you feel. How molten spurts of cum paint the warm channel of your sex a sticky white. How it scorches down the inner cut of your thigh, intermingled with your own slick, to stain the ground below in a steady drip. 

He doesn’t pull out of you right away. Content with holding you in his hands like this, kissing you with teeth and tongue and passion as if he’ll never see you again. Only when he stops twitching inside you—when he’s fully satisfied he’s stuffed you full of cum—does he let your feet fall back to the ground, and he draws out of you with a sharp hiss. 

You’re a love-drunk fool as he fixes your dress, smooths over your hair, your cheeks. There’s a softness to his eyes, a reverence that makes your stomach twist as he peppers your lips with kisses, ensuring you’re good to stand on your own before drawing away.

He bends to replace your sandal on your foot, so fucking gentle, it hurts. Makes you feel sick. He takes your hand once you’ve both smoothed your clothes into some semblance of neat, tugging you away from the wall to lead you back to the bar.

And when you confront Emcee with a wide, knowing smile, throwing your arms around her to draw her into a hug, you try to ignore how you clench down, selfishly trying to keep as much of Sylus’ cum inside you as possible. 

[rafesbabygirlx]

jj x kook!reader enemies to lovers short story (could go like, they've always had a huge rivalry, always messing with each other, then one night at a party they're both drunk/high, they hook up and their chemistry is off the charts so they just keep coming back to one another)

I love any idea of JJ with a kook!reader!

𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚢 - 𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

You hated him. The rivalry between you and JJ Maybank ran deep, like the marshy waters that separated Kooks and Pogues on the island. He was reckless, all salt and sweat, a boy who lived by the tide, while you were carved from privilege, groomed for a life of summer soirées and silk sheets.

You’d been at each other’s throats since middle school—petty pranks, heated insults, the occasional shove in passing. But it never mattered more than the game you played. A Kook and a Pogue were supposed to hate each other. That’s just the way things were.

So, naturally, when you saw JJ at the party that night, you were already bristling, ready for whatever bullshit he was about to pull. The backyard was packed—drunken laughter, the scent of weed hanging thick in the humid air. You took another swig from the bottle in your hand, the warmth settling deep in your stomach, making your limbs feel slow and heavy.

Then, across the yard, you saw him.

JJ, sprawled out in a lawn chair, the glow of the tiki torches painting him in flickering light. His usual cocky smirk was absent, replaced by something more unreadable. His eyes were hooded, heavy-lidded. Red-rimmed. Just as low as yours.

He caught you staring.

A slow smirk curled his lips as he lifted his chin, nodding toward the house. No words. Just a silent question.

You should’ve ignored him. Should’ve rolled your eyes and turned away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, your feet moved on their own, carrying you through the crowd, past the couples making out by the pool, through the sliding glass doors. JJ was already halfway up the stairs, throwing a glance over his shoulder, checking to see if you were following.

You were.

The house was quieter up here, the party reduced to a distant hum. JJ leaned against the wall in the dim hallway, arms crossed, his head tilting slightly as you approached.

“You lost, Kook?” he drawled, voice thick with smoke and whiskey.

You scoffed, leaning against the opposite wall. “You nodded first, Maybank.”

JJ exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“Fair point.” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, a teasing glint in his bloodshot eyes. “So what now? You gonna call me a dirty Pogue and storm off?”

You should’ve. You should’ve thrown out some sharp insult, something to put you both back in your usual roles.

But standing there, your head buzzing, your pulse drumming in your ears, you couldn’t find the fight in you.

JJ studied you for a long moment, his gaze dipping ever so slightly, lingering. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips.

“I don’t hate you, y’know,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched, but you recovered fast. “Yeah, well… could’ve fooled me.”

JJ grinned, slow and lazy. “You make it easy.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you.

A beat of silence stretched between you. The tension was different now, charged. Your heart kicked against your ribs.

You didn’t know what you were doing. Maybe it was the liquor. Maybe it was the weed.

Or maybe, for the first time, you were finally admitting the truth—

That falling for JJ Maybank was a hell of a lot easier than hating him.

Your breath hitched as he took another step, slow and deliberate, testing you. Daring you.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “That’s new.”

You wanted to snap back, but the words wouldn’t come—not when his fingertips ghosted along your cheek, barely there, his thumb brushing your jaw.

“You’re really not stopping me,” JJ mused, head tilting slightly. “Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think.”

That did it.

Without thinking, you grabbed the back of his neck and yanked him forward, crashing your lips onto his.

JJ barely hesitated before kissing you back just as hard, hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. He tasted like whiskey and trouble, and maybe that should’ve been a warning, but you didn’t care.

The rivalry, the taunts, the history—none of it mattered.

Only the way he sighed against your lips, fingers tangling in your hair, your body pressing against his like you’d done this a hundred times before.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, JJ grinned.

“Well, shit,” he murmured. “If I knew pissing you off would get me kissed like that, I would’ve tried harder.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Shut up, Maybank.”

His smirk widened. “Make me.”

And so, you did.

You and JJ busted through the door of an unoccupied bedroom. Lips stuck together and both of your hands exploring every part of each other. You pushed him down onto the edge of the bed and pull off his shirt. You brushed his sun kissed blond hair back from his face. His hand ran up your inner thigh, slowly reaching your core.

As you leaned down to kiss him again, JJ grazes his fingers over the wet spot forming in your lace thong making you let out a shaky breath, already feeling sensitive.

"I, a Pogue, turn you on this much?" He asks cockily.

"Touch me already," you tighten your grip on his hair you're holding back.

JJ wasted know time, pushing your panties to the side and rubbing your clit. He moved his finger down, coating them in your wetness and plunges two fingers inside you. Your hands drop to his shoulders to steady yourself as he pumps in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

The bubbling feeling in your stomach comes quicks making your legs wobble. You throw your head back and let out a loud moan. JJ grips your hip with his free hand and pumps his fingers quicker when he feels you clench around them.

"You gonna come for me, kook princess?"

"Ah- fuck, y-yes," you cry out.

In a rush of ecstasy you release all over JJ's fingers. He slows his movements slower and slower letting you ride out your high. Once you've finished, JJ pulls out and licks your come off his fingers.

You push him back onto the bed. JJ sits up on his elbows as he watches you pull your dress over your head and your thong down your legs. Next, you unbuckle the belt holding up JJ's tattered cargo pants and unbutton then pulling them off of him.

You straddle his legs and begin to pump his hard cock in your hand as you sit up to line it up with your entrance. You sink down onto him in a swift motion. You grind down on him before lifting back up and dropping yourself back down on him.

You bounce up and down as JJ digs his fingers into your hips. Your moves start to falter when you get tired and JJ notices. He pulls you to lay flush against his chest and he wraps his arms around your waist, planting his feet on the bed, and he starts to thrust roughly up into you.

You moan into the crook of his neck and he presses kissing into yours. You felt the bubbling feeling yet again. JJ doesn't let up on his trust, somehow going harder even if he sounded out of breath. You come hard and JJ is quick to follow.

You fall to his side, and begin to laugh a bit at how crazy what just happened was. JJ gives you a nervous look but you reassure him by pulling him in and planting a kiss on his lips.

You're pulled out of your trance when an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you into their chest. JJ's head nuzzles into your neck and you smile to yourself. You think back to your first encounter with JJ. That was 6 months ago and you still can't get enough of the boy. Breaking down the kook vs pogue war between the two of you feels so ridiculous to you now. You can't explain what this boy does to you and you wish you knew sooner so you could've been doing this longer.

tags + some moots 💗

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @maybankslover @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @percysley @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slut-4-gojo @akobx @jjmaybankmylovee @slurpdew @rafesheaven @cameronsprincess @littlelamy @nemesyaaa @inthelibrarybtw @frankoceanluvr11 @writingroom21 @v3n1ce-bxtch

[i-love-ptv]

Melting 🍹࿐ ࿔.˚

Pairing: Kiara Carrera x Fem!Smoothie/Juice Bar Owner!Reader

Who knew a smoothie could bring a summer of love, Kiara surely didn’t.

Wc: 4,521

Angst if you squint? (Not sure), Fluff, Like 2 sexual innuendos.

An: PHEWW GIRLL….this is a long one. actually the longest fic I’ve ever written. Sorry if Kie is a lil ooc, i tried to do her justice 🌚.

Also!! Reader’s ethnicity n stuff isn’t mentioned, but I imagined reader as a woc (personally!!) it’s totally okay if you’re not, you’re still very much welcome :)

Feedback always appreciated!! xx

Another “are we there yettttt?” is dragged out from JJ.

“JJ, you asked me that five minutes ago, and if you ask again I swear I’m gonna punch you.” Kiara huffs out with a glare to the blonde.

John B purses his lips, “where are we going again Kie?”

“We’re going to this juice and smoothie bar my mom told me about, she basically begged me to go.”

Sarah’s walking with a pep in her step. “Am I the only one that’s actually kind-of excited to go?” She practically squealed.

“Considering that there’s a smoothie truck at nearly every corner in the Obx, yes.” Pope sighed, wanting to just sit down since it was so hot outside.

Cleo wipes the slight sweat off her forehead, “Next time, let’s bring the Twinkie, i’d rather have the shitty air conditioning than none.”

John B’s head snaps to her, looking like he’s about to say something before Kiara’s shout rips through the humid air.

“Right here! This is it!” She exclaims with an airy chuckle.

The group of pogues look at the tiki-style bar, surrounded by tables, some being occupied by other teens and families.

The banner on the shack read ‘Shelly’s Smoothies & Juice’.

“How cliche.” JJ muttered, earning a sharp elbow to the ribs by Sarah.

“Oh shut up JJ! I think it’s cute!” Sarah steps back a bit and takes a picture, Kiara throws her an amused glance.

The pogues get closer to the shack, getting a slight glimpse of all of the equipment in it, and John B rings the bell.

“Uh hello?! Thirsty, sweaty customers here!” JJ yells.

The group all groan and growl at JJ for his outburst, they’re all so distracted that they don’t see you approach the counter from the inside.

“Oh! I’m so sorry for the wait! I had to chase away a squirrel just now!” You yelp out sheepishly, feeling silly for being slightly out of breath, and for not keeping that embarrassing fact to yourself.

The group of six turns to you, their argument dying down immediately.

Sarah steps forward first, locking eyes with you.

“Ooh! Can I get a….Passionfruit smoothie please?”

You smile, taking in account her huge, beaming smile.

“Of course,” you replied, “and what about y’all?”

They each take turns telling you their orders, but Kiara doesn’t seem to care.

She can’t help but stare at you.

The way your lips move whilst you speak, the way your hair is slightly frizzy from the North Carolina heat, the way that your tan lines are peaking out from your shirt. Your lips are slightly glossy, is it crazy that she wants to know what it’s from, but she’s not interested in looking at the gloss itself?

“You okay, Curly Girl?” Your question breaks her out of her thoughts. Now she notices everyone looking at her.

Pope coughs and nudges her.

“Oh..! Right! Sorry, uhm, I’m not quite sure what I want…” She murmurs softly. God what is up with her today?

You gasp with a smile, “It’s totally okay babe! Do ya got any allergies? ‘Cos I’d love to make you a smoothie I think you’d like!”

The brown haired girl whispers out a “no I don’t have any” and you immediately get to work after collecting the money from everyone.

While JJ is resting against the counter talking to you, the rest of the pogues look at Kiara suspiciously.

“Uhm okay..So what was that?” John B asks, while Cleo looks with a smirk.

“You think she’s pretty, don’t you girl?” This makes Kiara sputter.

“What? Well, yeah she’s pretty, like obviously. But like, not in that way!”

Cleo’s smirk turns into a cocky grin, “I didn't say it was in that way.”

Kiara looks at the others for support with wide eyes, but they all just shrug at her, and Sarah slightly grins at her.

She then tunes into the conversation JJ is having with you.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, you new here?”

You let out a loud ‘huh?’ over the noise of the blender.

“I said-“ JJ tries again, which is when you finally turn the blender off.

JJ lets out a charming laugh, “I asked if you were new here. I’ve never seen you around before, and trust me, I would’ve noticed a pretty girl like you.”

“Ugh, JJ, tone it down.” Pope complained.

You giggle at him, showing off your slightly puffy cheeks.

“Nah, I moved here for the summer, ‘till late August with my Aunt Sally, this is her bar! We just finished it up last week.”

You start handing out the smoothies and juices to the others, making sure not to spill any of the sweet drinks.

They sit down at the only other unoccupied table when they see a slightly older woman, pulling up in a navy blue pickup truck.

You jog over to their table and sit yourself down.

“There’s my aunt now! Since she’s here, I can finally take my break” You drag out playfully, you continue, “Oh I totally forgot to ask, is it okay if I sit here? I don’t wanna interrupt anything, but I’d love to get to know y’all!”

They all replied happily, and you made yourself snug between Cleo and Kiara.

The group sip excitedly at their drinks, letting our groans of satisfaction at the taste.

Pope pipes up first, “Wait, so if your aunt’s name is Sally, why’s this place called Shelly’s?”

“It’s a nickname we have for her! ‘Cos y’know that one tongue twister, ‘Sally sells seashells by the seashore’, and now that I say it out loud it sounds…kinda silly..” You finish meekly.

“That’s actually kind-of cute.” Kiara whispers under her breath.

“What was that Curly?” You ask her while looking at her with a glint in your eyes.

Kiara clears her throat, “Nothing! I was just saying how good this smoothie is, mind telling me what it is?”

You beam at this, “Well I can’t tell you, silly! It’s a secret!”

The pogues continue to look at the two of you, some with quirked brows, while the rest look slyly.

“Wait! Before we go any further, I need to know everyone’s names! Mine’s ___, but you can call me Cherry.”

They all introduce themselves, JJ boasts, while Kiara tries to find her footing, but only lets out a timid “Kiara, but everyone calls me Kie”.

You look at her, like you want to say something to her, but Sarah shouts abruptly, “Oh my god, this shirt is so cute! We definitely have to go shopping one day!”

You both laugh and talk excitedly, both talking over one another, but not seeming to care. Cleo eventually joins in too.

Kiara wishes she could, in fact, she doesn’t understand why she can’t. She’s never normally been like this.

With the pogues, she’s normally confident, and sarcastic, sometimes a little cocky too.

But for some reason, she can barely give out a sentence without squealing like a mouse. It makes her sick.

She thought she was bad when she was with JJ, but they didn’t last very long last summer.

But with him, she was still normal, she never acted like this.

She’d be lying if she said she hasn’t done her fair share of questioning her sexuality throughout life, but she’d never tell anyone that.

She honestly just feels pathetic, she just met this girl today.

She doesn’t know what spell this witch has on her, but god, she wants to get to know her.

{what is this spell baby? please show some mercy.}

Kiara’s spent an entire month trying to navigate these newfound feelings. It’s July now, meaning you leave next month.

To make matters worse, everyday she learns something new about Cherry, the timid, but confident girl that makes her a smoothie every single day; speaking of which..

“Hey Curly Girl! The usual?”

“Of course!” Kiara chuckled.

You notice that the group of pogues aren’t with her, you’re not that surprised though, she’s been coming by lately without them.

A part of you is glad that she visits alone, it gives you a chance to get to know her more without the constant teasing from the others.

You can’t help but crave to know every detail about her: what hair products she uses to make herself smell so heavenly, what her bedroom looks like, what her bed feels like…

An enraged shout makes you blink and look around wildly, “If I have to wait another fucking minute for a drink, I’m gonna start breaking every appliance in there!”

You gasp sharply, looking at the tall, burly man that’s spitting his words at you, both physically and figuratively.

“Uhm..Your juice is almost done sir! Just a minute…” You croak, letting out a breathy chuckle, trying to ease the tension in the air.

You have the burning urge to chew this man out for thinking he could come to your business and disrespect you, but Kie beats you to it.

She angrily walks up to him, “Dude, fucking lay off!”

He looks at her in disbelief, his eyes bulging and his nose flaring. You could faintly see a vein start to push against the skin from how he was almost screeching.

“Get the fuck outta’ the way, you runt.” The man starts to grit his teeth.

‘All this over a fucking juice? Jesus Christ.’ You think to yourself.

Kie steps forward, now almost chest to chest with the man as she looks up at him.

She speaks lowly, “The Cameron’s are real good friends of mine, and I can easily have you ran off this fucking island you prick.”

The stranger continues to hold eye contact with the brunette, their eyes boring into the other.

He scoffs, and begins to back up, “Whatever bitch.” He snarls, grabbing his money that you put out on the counter.

Kiara continues her glaring while you finish using the blender. You giggle and look at her amused, “Woah guys, watch out…I think she’s friends with the Cameron’s.”

She snaps her head at this, “Oh shut up loser. He was such a dick, it’s insane.”

“Yeah, he literally had just got here before you did, don’t know what the fuck his problem was.”

“Welllll, you might as well drink it, don’t want the juice to go to waste and all that.” She smirks.

You chuckle, “Wow, thanks for the free drink at my own bar. Here, Curly.”

You hand her the smoothie, and you notice how she accidentally put her fingers on yours, at least that’s what she believes you think. She’s not exactly the sneakiest.

She sips on it and moans in delight, is it crazy how you wish you could hear more of those?

“Will you ever tell me what’s in here? I mean, it’s been this huge mystery for an entire month now. For all I know, you could be poisoning me.”

“Yeah Kie, I’m definitely poisoning you slowly every day with smoothies.”

You continue, “It’s fun, having you guess the flavors and stuff. You’re so determined.”

Kiara groans at this, maybe your wish is coming true today.

“C’mon, just give me a hint.” She drags out.

“Maybe one day Curly Girl.”

August.

Normally, Kiara Carrera loved August.

She enjoys summer, but the feeling of the slight chill in the air, especially at night, as the weather begins to change for the new season, provides her a sense of comfort and nostalgia.

But now, all she can feel is dread.

You’re leaving soon. In two days, to be exact.

You’re going to be leaving her soon, and she hasn’t even told you how she feels.

That’s the thing…She doesn’t know how she feels.

Everything is so different with you, but she can’t describe it, and it’s killing her.

She wants to talk to someone about it, she honestly wants to talk to you, since you understand how she feels.

She only knows this because the night before when JJ had one too many beers at the Chateau, he had blabbered out that he wanted to get to know you, more romantically, that is.

At first, you looked at him like he had grown another head. Then you explained softly, “Oh JJ, I’m flattered sweetheart, really! But, I’m just..Not into guys like that.”

Kiara swore she felt her heartbeat in her ears, and she almost missed how quickly JJ sobered up after hearing that.

He looked like a kicked puppy who was left out in the rain, but Kie couldn’t bring herself to feel bad. In fact, she felt ecstatic at that moment, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Well, she refused to, anyway.

Kiara would go to JJ, given he’s a ‘Chick-Magnet’ - his words - but that would be awkward. John B and (or) Pope would end up somehow blabbing to JJ.

She tried to talk to Cleo, but it didn’t go as successful as she thought it would. All she received was a ‘just go for it!’ As if it were that easy.

So she’s left with no choice.

If you woke up and told Sarah Cameron that she’d have Kiara on her doorstep asking for advice, she would’ve laughed in your face, three separate times.

Although they aren’t at each other's throats like before, Kiara was still a little standoff-ish towards Sarah.

So when Kiara was standing at the front door of Tanny-Hill, Sarah couldn’t help but stand there with wide eyes, mouth gaping like a fish out of water.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, but I really need your help. I think you’ll be able to give me the best advice out of everyone…” Kiara looked down at her vans, bending her foot around on the steps as she twiddled with her rings.

“Uh..Yeah! Sure! C’mon in…” Sarah hesitated, slowly moving her body away from the door frame, allowing the brunette to enter.

Sarah walks her up to her room, not without asking Kiara if she wanted anything from the kitchen.

Kiara looks around Sarah’s room, feeling a little bit out of place since she’s the only one standing now.

Sarah looks at the girl, “You can, y’know, sit on the bed if you want.”

Kiara meekly walks over to the bed and sits down on the right of Sarah.

“I hate to sound harsh, but what exactly are you..Doing here?” Sarah asked, deciding to break the silence first.

“I need advice..”

The blonde quirks a brow at this,“Go on.”

“So, I think I like this person, but..I don’t know how to

go about it.”

“The Kiara Carrera is getting shy over a boy?” Sarah says out of shock, putting emphasis on her words.

“Ugh, that’s the thing, it’s not about a boy.” Kiara flops back on Sarah’s bed, finding comfort in the soft blanket resting beneath her head.

“It’s Cherry, isn’t it? You like her?” Sarah says trying to mask her happiness, but quickly failing due to the growing grin on her face.

There’s a beat of silence consuming the room.

“… Is it that obvious?”

“To everyone but you, yeah.” Sarah giggles.

Kiara smiles grimly, “Do you think she knows?”

Sarah looks at her with sympathy, “I think so, and even if she didn’t, that kiss didn’t look very friendly.”

The kiss.

While at the Chateau, the pogues decided to play truth or dare at the fire pit.

Cleo had dared you to kiss the person you found the most attractive, and with a bit of liquid courage in your system already, you kissed Kiara.

It wasn’t a quick peck by any means, in fact, it lasted for quite a few seconds, but Kiara wanted more.

Kiara had spent the rest of the night trying to gather her bearings, everytime she would look over to you, she’d see you looking right back at her. You would smirk and tilt your head at her.

“You still with me Kie?” Sarah asks gently, putting a hand on Kiara’s knee.

“Sorry, it’s just that like, everything’s so confusing! She flirts, I try to flirt back, but nothing ever happens! I just don’t get it!” Kiara is flailing her arms around, trying to get her point across, and her sentence trails off.

“Well, you’re just nervous. You really like her, and actually having a full-blown crush is wayyy different than just being a questioning and wondering middle schooler, Kie.”

Sarah’s dragging her finger along the curve of Kiara’s knee, trying to provide even an ounce of comfort for the girl.

After an hour-long talk between the two girls, and a tight hug, Kiara finally made up her mind and figured out what she wanted to do. She just hopes she’ll have enough time.

You get a text from Kiara, she asked you to meet her on the beach, the same beach where she taught you how to surf.

You look at the time on your phone, the 9:20 is practically blaring into your retinas.

You have to be at the dock at 7:45am, so you can get on the ferry.

The fact that your summer is over still hasn’t fully registered in your mind.

The pogues have planned a ‘goodbye’ party for you, and you’re endlessly grateful.

They've treated you with so much kindness, you felt like you were a part of the group.

You’ve made more friends than you thought you would, but you can’t help but wonder if you and Kiara [specifically] would become something more than friends.

Kiara.

Kiara.

Shit, you’re supposed to be meeting her at the beach.

You rush out of your aunt’s house, and ride your bike to the beach.

You were a little confused though, you thought that your party was going to be at the Chateau, that’s what Pope had told you.

After a bit of riding, you make it there, and you see her sitting by herself in the sand.

Kiara cycles her head around and when she spots you, she smiles.

“Howdy Curly Girl.”

Kie giggles softly at this, “Howdy.”

She pats the spot next to her, signaling you to sit down.

You lay your head on your shoulder, watching the waves glisten in the moonlight.

“So..” You drag out while drawing shapes in the sand.

She mimics you, “Soo…”

“Any…Particular reason for summoning me?”

“Uh,” There’s a beat of silence after she lets out a breathy chuckle.

She finally continues, “I kinda..Just wanted to talk to you, I suppose. Since you’re leaving in the morning ‘n stuff..”

“Yeah? You could’ve talked to me at the party babe, y’know I’ll always make time f’you.” You whisper, gazing at her, you find yourself getting lost in her deep brown eyes.

You analyze her face. She looks scared, you don’t think you’ve ever seen her so nervous.

“What’s going on Kie? Are you alright?” You ask, you’re beyond concerned at this point. She’s jittery, and fidgeting with everything in her eyesight, rather than looking back at you.

She takes a deep breath then exhales, “I was gonna tell you to turn around so I could tell you, but that’s just stupid as shit so…”

You look at her expectantly, silently urging her to continue.

“Cherry. I really like you.” She mutters.

“…..Like in a gay way?”

“Jesus Christ, yes in a gay way.”

Nothing comes out of either of your mouths.

“Took you long enough, huh Curly Girl?”

Kiara’s eyes widen, and her jaw almost drops to the sand. “Are you serious?”

You giggle, suddenly finding a rush of energy, “Yes! Oh my fucking god! I’ve been waiting for you to do something all summer. You had me thinking I was gonna go home without a girlfriend.”

Kie swears she feels her heart skip several beats, or maybe they’re doubling, she can’t even fucking tell at this point.

“Who said anything about you getting a girlfriend?” She teases.

You give her your best blank look, unable to keep it long since your body betrays you and you let out a cackle.

Kiara’s smiling ear to ear, laughing with you, when suddenly, you tackle her.

“Stop! My hair!” She yells through laughs.

After continuing fooling around, you both decide its best to head back to the Chateau.

You both get there together, side by side on your respective bikes.

You sneakily intertwine your pinkie with hers, locking it while walking through the Chateau, where you eventually see your friends.

You gasp, standing still with your mouth agape, “You guys!”

There's a banner with ‘See You Soon Cherry!’ on it, the writing isn’t very straight, it’s actually pretty damn slanted. There’s little drawing of different fruits, some smudging due to what you can only assume is paint that wasn’t dry at the moment.

There’s balloons everywhere, and your eyes eventually land on the cooler, knowing there’s a few beers in there for you.

That’s when suddenly, you hear two loud ‘pops’ and multiple colored confetti pieces cloud your vision.

You look to your left and see Sarah, you look over at Kiara and notice John B on her other side.

Your pinkies are still locked, and you’re not the only one that notices.

“Well would you look at that.” John B shouted, making the other pogues direct their eyes to you and Kiara’s hands.

Sarah jumps up and down, clinging to your shoulders, “Holy shit! Holy shit! Did it really happen?!”

You look dead at her, giving her a knowing look with a smirk.

JJ, Pope, and Cleo are rushing over while John B keeps Sarah from doing a cartwheel into a table.

JJ speaks up first, “Wait! When the fuck did this happen?!” He cried out, nearly howling. This makes both you and Kiara shrug.

There’s questions and exclamations flying everywhere, you don’t even know where to begin.

The night carries on, there’s music and lights everywhere above the hot tub.

You keep your drinking to a minimum, not wanting to be on the ferry for hours while hungover.

When you decide that it’s getting late, you declare that you’re going home.

The pogues protest, but eventually, you’re able to convince them to drive you, since your aunt’s house isn’t too far, but far enough to the point where you guys can’t walk.

Kiara walks you to the doorstep while the pogues stay in The Twinkie, they’re trying to pretend as if they aren’t eavesdropping.

“Y’know you still haven’t asked me.” Kiara bites her lip softly.

“Asked you what, Curly Girl?”

“To be your girlfriend, idiot.”

You hum at her antics, “Mm, you’re so needy, do y’know that?”

She slaps your arm playfully, yelling out a “I am not!”

You get down on one knee, being careful of the slightly rocky parts of the concrete, you hold her hands in yours, and Kiara whines.

“No you are not, you are literally unreal.”

You giggle at her, directing a ‘shush’ her way, making her roll her eyes.

“Will you, Kiara Carrera, make me the happiest girl alive, and be my girlfriend?”

Kiara puts her finger on her chin, pretending to think about it, you pinch the exposed skin of her stomach.

“Ah! Okay! Yes, yes I’ll be your girlfriend you loser!”

You get up and hug her tightly, wrapping your arms around her midsection.

She giggles into the crevice on your neck and holds you tightly.

You hear cheers and howls from the Twinkie, but you can’t take your eyes off Kiara.

You squeeze her waist one last time, and send her back to the van, not without her giving you a kiss on the cheek.

You go inside and see your aunt, smirking at you from the living room couch. You roll your eyes and begin to go to your room.

“You better tell me all about her!”

“I will!”

It’s 7:43 in the morning, you’re staring at your converses solemnly.

All of the pogues are in front of you, accompanied by your aunt.

“Are you sure you have everything, Cherry?”

You groan, “Yes, I’ve already told you a million times.” The girls snicker at you, especially Kiara.

“Not sure what you’re laughing at, Miss Thing.” You quirk a brow at your girlfriend. God, it felt so good to finally be able to call her your girlfriend.

She scrunches her face at you at first, but then her smirk drops into a deep frown. She steps forward into your embrace.

“You can totally jus’like…Stay. You don’t have to go home.”

You smile softly against her head, leaving a small peck behind. “I’m sorry my Curly Girl, but I have to

go home. I have to go to college and all that.”

John B pulls Kiara off of you, earning several shouts from the rest of the group.

“Oh shut up, I’m not gonna let Kie hog her before she’s gone for a year.”

He hugs you tightly, it makes your eyes water. He pulls back and notices your pout. “I’m gonna miss you guys so much..”

The pogues, alongside your aunt, gather around you, squeezing you tightly, whispering promises of ‘We’re gonna call and text all the time!’ and ‘We’re gonna miss you so much, it’s never gonna be the same without you’.

“Does anyone know what time it is?” You sniffle.

Kiara immediately whips out her phone, showing the time. It read 7:48.

“Okay so what if it’s not coming, does that mean you can stay forever?” JJ asks, reminding you of a child on Christmas morning.

You look over and see the ferry slowly coming towards the dock.

“It’s here JJ..”

“I know..” JJ pouts.

Cleo shouts abruptly, “Wait!”

She picks up the bag off the dock, nearly forgetting it.

“All of us put something of ours in it, so you can remember us!” She smiles warmly at you.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, especially when Sarah swats your hand when you go to look inside the bag.

“You can’t look now, silly! You’re supposed to wait until you miss us.”

“Oh my god whateverrr.” You trailed off with a laugh.

The ferry officially stopped moving, signaling that it’s your time to go.

You look at the ship, and look back at Kiara.

You grab her face with both of your hands, stroking gently while she bats her eyelashes at you.

“You’re the reason why I had the best summer of my life. I love you Kiara.”

“I love you more ___.” Kiara croaks.

You grab her left hand, slipping off one of your rings, and putting it on her finger, you kiss it softly.

She pulls you into a passionate kiss, holding your head in place, like she’s not ready for you to go yet.

You pull back slightly, making sure you're leveled with her ear.

“Cherry and coconut.”

Kiara pushes your face back so she can look at you properly, “Huh..?”

You wait a second, watching intently as it slowly dawns on her.

You leave a kiss on her nose, and begin to walk towards the end of the dock.

Kiara faintly hears shouts of “We love you!”, her hearing’s fuzzy, and all she can focus on is you.

Cherry and coconut.

The recipe to the smoothie of love.

[pxstelmxsings]

Hate isn't a strong enough word to describe how your countless deaths make them feel. Grief lost its effect cycles ago, something once so painfully potent is now gone. No matter what, your next life still leaves you mortal. Regardless of what they try you are unable to reach immortality, or even semi immortality.

It is almost like your soul isn't meant to truly be theirs.

And almost like a cruel joke you meet them the same way every new life cycle. Your hair falls in the same way, so perfect for them to tuck behind your ear. The same beams of light shines through that damn window to make your eyes shimmer like the stars. And your voice still makes their heart skip a beat.

No matter what the cycle starts the same and they can't pull away from you. To them you are their eternal spider web to be forever trapped in. You are free to feed from them no matter what- suck them so dry they are nothing but dust in the wind.

They are yours and yours alone no matter how many times they will watch you die.

⋆˚࿔ Hidan, Madara, Lotor, Xiao, Ei, Venti, S.Italy, England, Russia, Lord Death, Greed, Lust (FMA 03), Tiki, Adrian Țepeș, Lenore

[frickingnerd]

Awakening Women Masterlist

Lissa

lissa with a protective s/o - headcanons

Sumia

sumia having a crush on you - headcanons

Cordelia

there's so much to live for - oneshot

Maribelle

enemies to lovers with maribelle - headcanons

Tharja

Olivia

tharja when she's jealous - headcanons

tharja with a s/o who's her polar opposite - headcanons

olivia with a sweet s/o - headcanons

Cherche

not afraid of heights - drabble

Sully

arguing with sully - headcanons

Miriel

flirting with miriel - headcanons

Panne

panne with a flirty crush - headcanons

Tiki

star gazing with tiki - drabble

Emmeryn

secretly dating emmeryn - headcanons

Aversa

aversa with an intimidating s/o - headcanons

[anjee0]

In the car

Female!reader x BRabbit (Feel free to put in your own oc insert as well)

Description - Y/n decides to help Rabbit take off some of his stress.

Warnings - Smut, sex in the car.

Requested by @mandmilovehim

Y/n waited outside the hospital as the cold Detroit breeze brushed along her face. The sky was dark and littered with twinkling stars, along with the pale moon. She had just finished her shift at the grocery store. It wasn't the best job when she had to deal with rude customers and unpleasant staff. But it paid her, so she stayed.

She was waiting for her boyfriend to come and pick her up. Rabbit was the only person she looked forward to seeing after a long shift of constantly being on her feet. He knew how to treat her and make her feel loved.

Eventually, a red car pulled up in front of Y/n. She furrowed her eyebrows as she didn't realise the car in front of her. The window rolled down to reveal her boyfriend, smirking at her.

“Who's car is this?” Y/n asked as she got in.

“Future's. He's at Chin Tiki. Thought I'd steal it for now. My car's busted up.” Rabbit replied.

“Do you think he'll realise?” 

“Eh, he's fine.” 

Y/n chuckled and shook her head at her boyfriend's antics. As he started to drive out of the car park and onto the main road, Y/n could notice something off with her boyfriend. His lips were pressed into a thin line and he looked bothered about something. His grip on the steering wheel seemed tighter than usual too.

“You okay?” Y/n asked.

“Not really. I've just been kinda stressed lately about the demo I sent in. What if I get turned down?” Rabbit replied, concern laced in his voice.

“Babe, anyone would be stupid to turn you down. You're so talented. You won the battle at the shelter, you're a champion.”

“I know but… but the anxiety is bothering me so much. I don't know.”

“Turn right.” Y/n suddenly instructed, suddenly.

“Turn right?” Rabbit asked, confused.

“Yes, turn right.”

“To the field?”

“Yes, come on quickly.”

Rabbit obeyed his girlfriend's orders and turned right as they drove into an empty, grassy field. The grass was cut short with clumps of grass hay scattered around.

“What are we doing here?” Rabbit asked.

“You're very stressed and perhaps you just need something to help take your mind off it for some time.”

“Yeah, I know. Is that why you bought us into the field for? To tell me your revolutionary idea?” He asked sarcastically as he chuckled.

“No. I asked you to turn right for some privacy.” Y/n said as her voice got lower and a smirk appeared on her face.

“Oh…” Rabbit replied, realising what his girlfriend was implying. “You have any ideas to take the stress off me?” He asked as he leaned in closer.

“I've got a few.” Y/n whispered.

And in that moment, Y/n and Rabbit's lips immediately crashed into each other as they leaned in for a hungry kiss. The kiss was full of excitement and sultre. Y/n quickly undid her seat belt as she got on Rabbit's lap and undid his belt too.

They both struggled to get their pants and underwear off as they shuffled around the seat without trying to accidentally elbow each other. Their shirts came off with ease and Y/n quickly undid her bra. Rabbit immediately cupped her breasts and started massaging them.

Y/n lined her pussy up with Rabbit's dick before pushing herself forward. They both moaned loudly at the sensation. Y/n started rocking her hips as she rode her boyfriend's dick. She grasped onto Rabbit's shoulders for some grip and tried to go faster.

“Could you help me please?” Y/n asked.

Rabbit nodded before placing his hands on Y/n's hips and helping her move quicker. The thrusts became quicker with more energy. They could both feel the car getting hot and stuffy as they moaned and gasped.

Rabbit twisted both of Y/n's nipples, making her moan loudly and nearly lose her balance. He started sucking on Y/n's collarbone, leaving purple love bites all over it. He went back to massaging her breasts as he praised her quietly underneath his breath. Beads of sweat rolled down the back of their necks and made their foreheads shine.

“Don't stop baby, you're doing so good.” Rabbit praised as he placed his hands back on Y/n's hips and helped her thrust harder.

Rabbit stared in awe as he watched Y/n's breasts bounce up and down within each thrust. He sucked on her tits, leaving hickies that matched perfectly with the ones on her collarbone. He sucked Y/n's nipples and flicked his tongue across it.

“Babe, I'm gonna come.” Y/n moaned as her thrusts became sloppy and slow.

“Come, baby.” 

With one final thrust, Y/n came as she collapsed on top of Rabbit. Rabbit came too at the same time and groaned in Y/n's neck as he whispered one last praise in her ear. They stayed in that position for a while, wrapping each other in their arms in a tight, warm embrace.

Eventually, Y/n got off Rabbit and moaned as she felt her pussy leave his dick. When she sat back down, she couldn't help but stare at how her boyfriend's dick that was glistening in her juices.

“You sure know how to help with my stress.” Rabbit chuckled.

“I'm glad I did.” Y/n replied, leaning in for a short peck on the lips. “Do you think Future will find out?”

“Shit.” Rabbit whispered under his breath. “This is Future's car. We’ll clean it up. I just wanna rest here with you for now.”

Rabbit reached over and placed his hand in Y/n's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too.” She whispered back.

[abbysbasement]

ROYAL ADVISOR ABBY BLURBS

cw: sex, blood, violence (all glossed over), age gap of about 20+ years, not proofread.

Royal Advisor! Abby who’s older. If you’re a young princess in your twenties, she’s fast approaching her forties, with gentle creases around her eyes and greying strands in her neat, tightly coiffed braid. On the nights when the two of you talk, your hands draped around her waist as she courts you on horseback, she rolls up her sleeve and flexes a pulsing muscle, laughing that she’s still got it. 

Royal Advisor! Abby who’s strict, pulling you every which way, always chiding you, always shadowing you, her hand always gripping yours tightly.  She’s always been guiding you, so there’s never been a moment of discomfort for her. It comes naturally, and you know whatever she says, it's in your best interest.

Royal Advisor! Abby who chose a different life. Whose years as a knight; of drinking and brawling and whorehouses are over. Her body is covered in scars, a canvas of muscle like wrought iron, and a mind as alert as an owl and tenacious as an ox. You’ve never seen her brow quiver, let alone seen her cry, but she always holds a deep affinity and care for you.

Royal Advisor! Abby who carries an ancient guilt and an endless hunger for the tang of blood. Her past, a toothy grin at the end of your father’s blade, led her to this place, your arm hooked under hers, starry eyes that looked to her for guidance, that trusted her implicitly. In your presence she shudders, watching her only frailty, the bend of your neck, your fingers against the harpstrings, the softness of your skin. She touches the warmth of your cheek with a calloused hand and feels the urge to sink teeth into flesh. 

NSFW

Royal Advisor! Abby who has never desecrated a space this holy. Who's throat goes dry at the sight of your body, the endless vortex between your legs. Who pounds into your willing body with sharp precision, torturing you with each stroke, smoothing her hand over the arc of your forehead, pressing her own to your temple to growl obscenities in your ear.

Royal Advisor! Abby’s who is secretive. Who presses a thumb to your lips and shushes into your ear as she wades her hand through the ocean of your slip, and prods her fingers into the creamy depths betwixt your thighs, splaying your chastity open to work the spot that makes you squeal. Who chides you for your silence just as well as she bids you to continue, as a lady’s work is never finished.

Royal Advisor!Abby who’s all ego and arms, splayed out across an aubergine chaise as you bounce pitifully atop her smoothed wood and calfskin phallus, your skin prickling with goosebumps and overwhelm, tangents of pleasure creeping through each nerve in your body. She chuckles, kneading your ass in an imposing grip, smoothing her lips into the space between your drooping breasts.

Royal Advisor! Abby who's made peace with death. When she bends you over in the night or dives her head between your thighs, she thinks deeply about what it'll be like at her execution for high treason, for consorting, for spoiling you for marriage, for sullying your honor. But when she hears your piteous cries and whines, when she takes in how you clench around her cock, how your walls quiver around her fingers and tongue, she knows her death will be resplendent.

[radio-fmm]

Bathing suit

Sanji x reader

Warnings: afab reader, comfort fluff but a little suggestive, CW reader is not comfortable with her body so she talks terrible about it (don’t worry this has a happy ending)

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: In which you hate how you look in your bathing suit and Sanji comforts you

Masterlist

It was a hot sunny day, the waves of the ocean made their way to the shore in a calm rhythm, so steady that the Strawhats found themselves having to dock on the beach for the day, awaiting for the ocean’s ferocity to comeback so they could sail away to continue their adventure

A day in the beach, everyone was more than happy for the idea. Having to spend your days at sea with the same faces looking back at you every waking moment could be a little nagging, having this time to unravel and enjoy the beauty of the island was something everyone looked forward to. Franky and Ussop had even set up an improvised tiki bar, just an excuse for Sanji to make everyone drinks really

And there he was, mixing up a fruit drink that he handed Nami which she took gratefully, before making her way back to her assigned place under an umbrella besides Robin. A smile was quick to make its way to the cooks face, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, wether it be savoring his drinks, fooling around in the ocean or constructing an impressive sand castle near the shore

But his smile was quick to fade when he noticed you were nowhere to be found, how strange. Earlier that day, when Luffy happily shared the news of how the crew was going to spend the day, he clearly recalled your enthusiastic response, happy to finally have some sand under your feet and enjoy a relaxing day under the beaming sun; so… where were you?

Worry seemed to be building up on Sanji’s core when he asked about your whereabouts and no one really knew where or what were you doing

“Last time I saw her she was getting ready, said she’d catch up to us” Robin commented, which did nothing to ease his worries since that had happened when you had just docked

“I’m just going to make sure she’s ok” Sanji said after taking a drag of his cigarette that burned hastily under his fingertips. Robin smiled and nodded, knowing that whatever it was, Sanji would take good care of it

So he looked for you, all over and under The Sunny, but it seemed like you had dissipated into thin air, that was until he heard a sob reverb from behind the girls quarters door. Thinking something absolutely terrible and unthinkable had happened to the sweet sweet you, Sanji kicked open the door, making you jump out of your skin as his eyes examined the room

When he saw you, eyes puffy, nose red, wrapped under a blanket looking like a sad wet dog Sanji found himself stunned, glad you were in one piece, but his heart breaking at your sight

“My dear… what happened?” You stayed in place, only answering with a sad sob and a shiver, the blonde eased his position, softening as he approached gently “dear?”

“Nothing… I’m just, not feeling well” Sanji had never seen you like this, in his eyes you were a strong and brave woman that carried herself proudly, to see you so vulnerable made his heart clench. Hesitantly, he sat at your side of your bed, his eyes never leaving your form, taking note of your fingertips dragging your tears away in a hurry. A salience fell, deafening as you fought back the pain blossoming form your being, hiding into yourself

“Are you sure?” A sigh left your lips, your eyes watering meeting his blue worried ones, you shook your head slowly

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was barely a whisper, as if afraid you’ll get scared and run away again. You stayed still for a moment, hesitant but too hurt to even deny, you nodded shutting your eyes as new tears peeked at the sides

Sanji scooted closer, his hand reaching for your back rubbing confronting circles “I feel disgusting”- your voice came out broken and tired.- “I look so bad in my bathing suit, nothing like Nami and Robin… why am I like this?”

Every single word that came out of your mouth was like a dagger hitting Sanji’s stomach repeatedly, hurting him like nothing had ever before and leaving him confused

Every since Sanji had landed his eyes on you, he was absolutely star struck. He swears he had never crossed paths with someone like you, your beauty beyond compare. Sure he was known for his admiration for women and tossing around the word perfect almost to every single one he met, but you? Perfect was not enough of a word; it was not only your dazzling beauty with your star lit eyes and your addictive smile framed by those soft lips of yours, your sun kissed skin and your free hair waved by the ocean’s breeze the only thing leaving him breathless, it was your heart, your bravery and kindness that you always extended towards the people around you, your soul was even far more precious than anything Sanji had ever encountered in the vastness of the sea

It was really confusing to know that you couldn’t see what he did

An incredulous “What?”- was the only thing that slipped from his mouth at the idea of it, your eyes turning confused just as he was

“But, you’re gorgeous” Sanji expressed without hesitation, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, as if stating a clear fact

“You’re just saying that to be nice” he immediately shook his head repeatedly, his hands reaching to hold yours in hopes you’ll understand

“I mean it!”

“You don’t have to pretend, I know loving every woman on earth is part of who you are but be honest with me Sanji. I am not as skinny or gracious as all the girls you fawn over, I am not the kind of girl someone double takes at-“ you paused your rambling when you were met with something you had never seen before, Sanji was upset… upset with you; angry eyes piercing you in place, holding his breath hoping that the words you used to talk about yourself would stop flowing out of your mouth, he was fuming

“Sanji?” His strong grip shifted from your hands to your shoulders, blue eyes full of determination burning right into yours but not a word was spoken. The cook knew if he was to spill every thought that swam around his mind right now it would only bring to the surface his clear love for you, a feeling he had tried to bury deep down on his being and failing every time you’ll cross his line of vision; regardless, he weighs his options, you deserved better than him he said to himself but… maybe he wanted to be selfish

“Darling, it’s true… you’re not like Nami or Robin, but that’s exactly why you’re so…”- his heart jumped to his throat as he tried to get his words out, desires being held back by a thin rope about to snap.- “so perfect” Sanji’s words echoed trough the room, blush settling on top of your tear stained cheeks, but still you doubted him

“I am no-“

“Y/N!” he shook your shoulders in hopes you’ll come back to yourself

“You think I’m lying? Look!” You stood up getting away from his grip and tossing the blanket that shielded your body aside, opening your arms as you showed your bathing suit “My belly looks so bad, my thighs are huge and I have marks all over and…” your voice faded as Sanji admired you from his seat, ogling you form head to toe, his heart went from his throat to the floor reddening his face and hitching his breath

Fuck it

The cook stood up just to fall on his knees immediately after; there he was in front of you, his hands on your plum thighs as pure adoration looked back at you -“If you only knew what you do to me” your pink tinted cheeks turned red at his words and your heartbeat went wild, threatening to make your heart jump out of your ribcage. His slender hands touched your cold skin with pure devotion burning themselves into you, his eyes made another roll of your figure taking in every detail he was able to as he remained close. Sanji’s grip faltered only to move his hands around your legs, savoring the way your skin felt under his fingertips; his hands reached near your bottom making you jump immediately pulling his hands back to your thighs

“SORRY!” He exclaimed as his mind catches up with the actions of his body, hand pulling away from you leaving you cold.- “You’re just so… unreal”

There it was again, that twinkle in his eyes that made its appearance whenever he glanced at you, beaming over your insecurities and making them disappear on its wake, but why? why you? In your eyes you were just pathetic but for him… you were everything

“Sanji” you called and he answered without a doubt, raising to his feet as he awaited for your words.- “Do you mean it”

Finally, a shadow of a smile casted on your lips, melting the cook in a puddle at your feet, but he managed to not crumble because he needed to answer

“Sweetheart, theres so much more I want to say to you and nothing would be enough to show you how crazy you make me” hearing the thrumming in his chest sparked the idea to maybe just show you. Again, his hand took one of yours in his and placed in on his chest, there it was clear as day, his heart jumping around because of you… for you

You flushed at the feeling, another smile gracing Sanjis view as you thanked him in a whisper, both of your gazes staring back at each other lost on the feeling of one another, awaiting for time to take you

“I feel so much better now” taking advantage of your position, you jumped on the cooks arms, wrapping yourself on his tall frame smiling like an idiot which Sanji welcomed happier than ever, you body melting into his in a sweet hug that he would forever remember

“Glad to be of service”

—————————

This was supposed to be a prompt with several characters but I got carried away… anyways Laws version is in the making

[alolantikibar]

I'm a little down bad for Hassel. Have a ficlet.

Title: Insatiable

Fandoms: Pocket Monsters: Scarlet & Violet | Pokemon Scarlet & Violet Versions

Relationship: Hassel/Reader (AFAB)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Breeding, Overstimulation, Married Couple, Married Sex, Vaginal Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Gloves, Multiple Orgasms, Age Difference, Creampie

Description: You love your husband dearly. But good Arceus above, you wish he’d give you a break.

[abbysbasement]

daily tiki debposting

⟢ ◞ blackberries; e. williams

desc. a small part of a larger fruit anthology — ellie has never had blackberries before, and you get to introduce them to her. rated pg-13

an. short and fluffy and fun! i've been sitting and fermenting on this for a year now and i felt like it deserved to see the sun. also i love unpacking ellie's trauma box by box. enjoy!

by the time your shift ends, daylight has already beat you home.

there was a time where this land was nothing but that — land. a dimple on the jagged smirk of the mountainside. your sights were set on somewhere north — sun bound and damp with the promise of not an unforgiving winter, but here is where came to you first — the promise of a nap and a fireside meal after miles and days walked. here is where you could finally rest, you thought.  and then you spoke it into existence, and there the seed was planted, and began to shape root…

thick, wonky slabs of wood block the sun, one sliding off the other like a big oaky thumbprint, and the crows bark just above it all, sweeping one another into an endless circle. a tornado of black beaked trumpets ushering the morning light into your home.

you tug your boots off and shlep them to the other side of the room. that’s a mess for a much more capable version of you to deal with. you opt to let your muscles take over, work by memory and tend to the swell that blossoms beneath the ball of your ankle. years ago, on your first patrol, you rolled it while trying to outrun a swarm.

the jackson medic assured you, in his weathered, sandpaper drawl, that you should be grateful that you only came out with a twisted ankle. and you were — you ended up in the logs only two weeks past the incident — but the pain still persists in rolling phases. like today, when the air is honeyed with spring.

usually ellie takes great pleasure in greeting you at the door, ever punctual. it’s a welcome relief for the both of you at the end of the day — as much of a reason to make your way back home as it is for her to believe you will.

she’s the one who removes your boots, and does it just right, unlaces them and everything, leaving too much room for the fabric to even near your phantom injury. treats you like a princess from the moment you step foot into your home, like your return is the answer to the murky planes of her forethought. with her knees planted into the runner and your socked foot cradled to the cotton bound splice of her chest. she kisses you, where the sun never dares to roam, where she can without being accused of tenderheartedness. her palms run up the hill of your calf — to clear room if not blueprint the trail of her lips as they flag out your dimpled knee. “there, all better,” she decides, and forbids you from walking unless it’s crutched by the support of her arm.

today, however, seemed to be an exception.

that's when you decide to find her, and dread doesn’t prickle within you as much as concern. you’ve done nothing wrong, and you’ve allowed yourself enough time to realize such, and yet the world still runs with veins of uncertainty. finding her right where you left her would never be a guarantee, but a  privilege.

“ellie?” prodding, you lurk through your halls, tracing the map of the walls with your middle finger. “i have a surprise for you.”

once you pass your bedroom, you think you finally find her. you crawl into the bed and mistake a massive heap of blankets for ellie, kissing and nosing at the cotton until you realize that it’s unresponsive. so you continue your journey, ego bruised.

two rooms and many corners later —

you’re greeted to her silhouette, back to the kitchen, framed by the seam of the sunroom and its sharply lit doorway. to disrupt her feels depraved. you rarely get to see her so at peace, with her hand watercolored and calloused with the fruits of your latest harvest, her head stuffed into a thatch of goldenseal.

but you must, after countless seconds of self-arduous debate, it’s better to taste the death of such a peaceful moment than stand and ponder whether there’s enough room for you in it..

you tap on her shoulder and wait for her, knowing well enough that you must allow her just enough time for her body to sink back into the comfort of her skin before you can touch her further.

it serves just as much of a reminder as it does a testament — to time, to growth, to evolution — it lies just beneath your hairline and blends into the curly horizon of it, and no further does it travel nor does it fade.

“thyme’s not coming in.”

“is that so?” you push loose strands of hair behind her ear, a nervous tic you’ve transplanted onto her.

“i think it’s being stubborn…”

“you don’t say. ”  you brows twitch upward. 

“Hey! don’t tease,” she finally turns to face you and her eyes are wet with mischief. deft fingers circle and roll at your wrists, mulling at the bone of your wrist like a joystick. “you’re the one out of a good ol’ fashion steak.”

“do you even know how to cook it?”

silence. 

“well how hard can it be?”

she can tell you’re impressed, what with your expectant stare, somewhat mirroring her own silly one. “i really thought it would work.”

It being some intricate propagation method, found dog eared in the tomb of a vintage almanac. dated from a time far from now, far from disease and blood and mycellium. at least of this caliber.

“you’ve never liked cooking beef, anyway. you keep giving them names.” she offers a pitiful smile, you can feel it slow against your skin as she hugs her arms around it. Her body crooked and tired against yours. earnestly, you answer the question she never wants to ask.

“it will.”

She barely moves from your neck when she hums. “you think so?”

and assurednly, you promise, “i do.” as you shuffle away, you say. “don’t worry about the thyme. i’ve got a surprise for you.”

— ⟡ —

“what are they?” ellie’s brows pinch. her head tilts like a small bird.

“blackberries.” 

they settle in dark bunches and peek between your fingers. If you focus just enough, you can see them glow, catching on the light that creases between your eyes —amazement, sparkling like little beads of snow.

you smile, meek and cautious. something kindred, begins to siege — it dimples at the corners and folds beneath the crush of your lashes until there’s no space left that hasn’t been swallowed by sheer joy.

she had never seen them; well, not in person, at least. tiny midnight bulbs, clustered together and staining the skin of their burlap sack. her knuckles brush against their pinprick stubble and fly back, a scorched touch.

you had to parse some out to jesse as well when you found them — a finders fee of sorts, though you gloss over the fact that the only discovery he had made on your patrol was your newfound surplus of fruit, bulging from the corner of your pack. fuck jesse.

maybe this is what joel meant.

how, before his passing, and even after she shunned him from her life altogether, he still saw her — bright, almost scarily so, as the day he met her. how she wasn’t meant for this world, that she stood for everything it lacked, and no matter how many times they tried to take it away from her, there was a spark of fire still roaring behind her eyes. a lovely yearning, a wonderful ache that flourished and swelled like a smile on the face of oblivion.

there were days where she wore it well, dancing in the kitchen, tending the garden, her sighs hugging sound her shoulder like a hug of relief. but other days were not as kind. sometimes the memories sit inside of her. take root and fester beneath the dirt of her father’s almost grave, refusing to grow. to leave him behind in the shallow earth is one way to go, and so she clings to him, buries him deep in her mind and hopes for another.

but then you’re there. despite her life and how hard it bends to the company of everyone she’s known, you’re there. in spite of it. and with the smallest sign of tenderness, a simple gesture, helped a dull bud blossom.

“wait! wait!” you pull the container close to your chest, throw your hand over it limply like you have a wounded wrist.  just beneath the sparkle of your gaze lies a shyness, peeking out from behind your tongue like a child curled around their mother’s leg. you stretch your free hand out, fill the ample space between you. “wait.”

a pause settles in between, and once you gain her attention, you continue. “i thought, maybe — well, of course we would eat the berries.” ellie visibly deflates, releasing a sigh of relief. “but i've heard …well, i’ve read that if you mull the berries, you could make paint! and… your drawings.”

“my? —” ellie is baffled. for years the two of you weaned off poultry and potatoes, in every form, every flavor, and yet you stumble upon the rarest of finds, a bramble of sweet summer fruit, untended yet ripe for the picking, and see only her. it makes her wonder… “fuck, my… you don’t-”

you cut her off before she can backpedal, convince herself more than you that she's never deserving of such nice things. little luxuries, like food and dye. 

“i quite like your drawings. they just need a bit of…” you pop half of the berry between your teeth. a tartness traces the sides of your mouth, coaxing a smile from you that’s every bit as bright as it is warm, and then the sugar follows, jaw soothed and kissed with the sultry tongue of summer. 

and then you offer her the other half. a promise between the pads of your fingers. “substance?”

“We’ll always come across more of these.”  she concedes, cranes her neck, fully contented with her resigned half truth. You probably wouldn't, not in this lifetime, within the perimeter of jackson. and she would wallow about it for sure.

you pull the fruit away before she can bite into it. “even if we don’t. make something special for me.”