#I put so much cream in it to make it palatable that it was the color of sand

[freepassbound]

the last adventure you’ve been on?

how do you take your coffee?

the last adventure you’ve been on?

Well, I guess that would be going to see the eclipse? I did go somewhere I've never been before (and climbed a steep 50-foot dune) - that qualifies as adventurous, doesn't it?

how do you take your coffee?

To someone else 😂 - I don't drink coffee. 😄

[princesssmars]

ive stalled in my full fic so im thinking of possessive!victoria neuman... 18+

maybe you started out as her daughters nanny or teacher, or maybe she saw you one day walking by on the street as she was making an appearance for some political thing she cant really remember, all she knows is that as soon as she saw you she had to have you.

going the nanny route, she doesn't push you too much at first, not wanting to scare you away by seemin like the scary lustful employer trope. her flirting is subtle. the first few weeks. passing comments on if you changed your hairstyle, how she likes the scent of perfume you're wearing, noticing how you prettily you dress to take zoe out to hang out with her friends and how once you start to move in to work full time she can sometimes catch you in your pajamas.

(she swears she fell in love with you the time she caught you both in the kictehn eating ice cream at midnight, donned in your unseasonal christmas pants and college sweatshirt.)

once she starts to get the idea that you like her as well she enlists zoe for help, and its not hard since the girl adores you and is attached to your hip most of the time. you arent sure why she suddenly started asking you about your love life when she was practicing doing your nails one night, or how she absolutely begged you to visit her mom one weekend when she was called into the office.

you didnt really mind, though. when you were escorted into her office, ms.neuman smiling at and thanking you when you told her you brought her coffee and snack she loves to get from some place nearby.

you try to ignore the feeling of her fingers grazing yours as she takes the cup from your hand, and she tries to ignore the suspicious look her assistant is giving her.

but the two of you only grow closers, late nights spent drinking wine on her couch and when she 'casually' invites you out to a three-star michelin restaurant in manhattan as a thank you for all of your hard work. these little thank you's start to turn into little but increasingly expensive gifts. you didn't blink an eye when it was some cute coffee mug she said reminded her of you, but when she gently placed a gold chain on your neck one night after another wine-fuelled conversation, you were a little suspicious.

but blame it on the wine, or the ever-building heat inside your stomach and chest, but the fine line between employer and friend started to blur and the feeling of her hands pushing away your hair to put the necklace on broader display gives you that final push to grab her face and push her lips to yours.

at first she's stark still, and you fear that you've just ruined everything because you were tipsy on some stupidly expensive merlot until her hands are on your hips and she's dragging you to her soft cream couch.

when you wake up undressed and in her bed in the morning you're close to slapping your head in disappointment in yourself, wondering how you could jeopardize a well paying job that you actually enjoyed just for a few rounds of admittedly great sex. you dont get the chance to dwell in your shame any longer before victoria is coming inside, smiling and with a breakfast in bed palate in her hands, filled with delicious looking foods.

after that is when the light possessiveness starts. she loves the fact that you've moved in and majes sure anything you want or desire is readily available. if you ever realize that its been a while since you've even went grocery shopping alone, she tells you its just because she doesnt want you to have to worry about any of the little things since you already do so much for them.

that gold chain was just the start of her buying clothing and jewelry for you. her favorite is the three set of matching pendants she got for the both of you and zoe, hers filled with pictures of the both of you.

i imagine that she isnt too flashy with her wealth but does enjoy spoiling you. the most extravagant thing being how she offers to buy you an entirely new car once yours kicks the bucket. it takes a while for her to convince you to take it, and she definitely brushes off when you question her why its so high tech, deciding not to mention how there's an extensive tracking system inside it. and on your new phone.

but she always manages to dissuade any of your concerns you have for how attached and watchful she is over you. the world is so dangerous these days, and she fears that you'll become a target for being with such a controversial person on government. she also has a deep fear in her stomach about someone finding out that she's not exactly your avergae person, and the last thing she wants is for them to target you or zoe yo try to manipulate her.

and when she tells you the boiled down point of her view you can understand, not wanting to put any pressure on her when she has more than enough. so you start to settle, getting used to your new personal bodyguard or slightly advanced home security. zoe seems to enjoy her new private school, and you had to laugh off when victoria recommended homeschooling her.

but youve found a new family, new wealth and stability, and a new life that you fit so safely into. life is perfect. completely perfect.

guys i suck at this writing thing please make fics for her PLEASE

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Chapter 14 Premium Story

Chapter 14

♡———♡

--A gentle breeze blows through the deserted flower field.

Kate: Mmm, this feels so good...!

Elbert: ...Yeah.

We set the basket near a spot dappled with sunlight and sit down right beside it.

Kate: I love days like this, with such nice weather. How about you, Lord Elbert?

Elbert: I prefer sunny days too; they make me feel calmer. ...Though I don't dislike the rain either.

Finding out Lord Elbert's likes and what he finds enjoyable... something that can make him happy. That's my secret goal for today.

We chat idly as we arrange the bread and scones we brought onto a cloth.

Kate: Do you prefer your scones with jam, Lord Elbert?

Elbert: Ah... yes, I suppose I do tend to put jam on them more often than clotted cream.

Elbert: I'm not very fond of milk, to begin with.

Kate: You like bitter things and dislike milk... You have quite the adult palate.

Elbert: ...And you?

Kate: I... I like both sweet and bitter things... And I put both cream and jam on my scones.

Elbert: ...Hehe.

Kate: What is it...?

Elbert: Your... unexpectedly gluttonous side is... cute.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: You have some cream... right here.

He wipes my mouth with his finger, and I quickly turn my flushed face away.

Kate: Th-thank you...

(Dislikes milk, likes bitter things.)

(Doesn't have much of an appetite... but probably doesn't mind watching me eat...)

The casual conversation continues until we finish the scones, and Lord Elbert tells me all sorts of things.

How horse racing is popular among the nobility, but Lord Elbert isn't very interested in gambling.

He prefers to go horseback riding himself.

With each new thing I learn, my heart can't help but leap with joy.

Kate: ...I'm so happy to hear about all the things you like, Lord Elbert.

(I'm supposed to be trying to understand him to help him, but...)

(I'm the only one getting happy... It's almost a bit troubling.)

As I mutter this while sipping my after-meal tea, Lord Elbert suddenly turns to face me.

Elbert: ...Have you decided to give me your heart?

Kate: Eh!?

I almost drop the teacup I'm holding, but I manage to gently set it down on the saucer.

Kate: N-not yet... not yet.

Elbert: I see... That's unfortunate.

Kate: W-Wow, look! This flower is so pretty!

I deliberately changed the subject, avoiding his piercing gaze.

(...I need to stay strong.)

(If he realizes that my heart has already been stolen...)

(I might be taken away, just like...)

(Just like the other collectibles, displayed in that room.)

Elbert: ...Indeed, it's a lovely flower.

Whether he noticed my attempt to deceive him or not, Elbert shifted his gaze to a small flower blooming nearby.

Elbert: I used to enjoy making flower crowns...when I was a child.

Kate: ...Crowns...?

My gaze is naturally drawn to his profile, as if he's reminiscing about something.

Elbert: Everyone always smiled happily when I gave them presents...

His fingers, like those of an artist, gently pluck the flowers and skillfully weave them into a crown.

Kate: Wow... You're really good at this.

Elbert: ...Here you go.

Elbert gently places the flower crown on my head.

Kate: Thank you...

Elbert: .......

His happy smile makes my chest tighten with a bittersweet ache.

(He likes making flower crowns... and making others smile.)

I gently touch the flower crown.

I feel like Elbert, who continues to collect beautiful things, is fundamentally the same as the young Elbert who made these flower crowns.

(He wanted the people around him to smile...)

(That's all it was, wasn't it?)

Along with affection, pain wells up in my chest.

It's his overly pure kindness that's causing him pain.

Kate: ...That's a wonderful talent, just like you, Lord Elbert.

Lacking the confidence to hide my pain, I lower my head and tremble.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Suddenly, he calls my name in a serious tone.

Kate: Yes...?

(...!)

When I raise my face, jewel-like eyes are right in front of me.

Long golden eyelashes and porcelain-like skin are somehow so close...

(Ah, his lips...)

Just as I think they're about to touch, I instinctively push Elbert's chest away.

Kate: L-Lord Elbert, what are you...?

Elbert: I want to kiss you.

Kate: ...What?

His low, husky voice whispers, close enough for me to feel his breath.

That alone makes my head spin, to the point where I forget how we were even conversing a moment ago.

Kate: But why...?

Elbert: Because you won't kiss me.

Kate: B-But that's... I...

Elbert: I want to touch you more.

Elbert: .......I want to know your voice, your breath, your body temperature, everything.

Kate: ... N-no, I can't.

Elbert: ... Really?

Kate: ...

His probing gaze made her words catch in her throat.

(Because...)

(This is... to "possess" me, isn't it...?)

Elbert: The more I look at you, the more unbearable the pain becomes...

Elbert: ... It's like poison is coursing through my body.

Elbert: If you would become mine--- surely this pain would disappear.

(Don't look at me with such serious eyes...)

---My heart wavered.

I couldn't bring herself to believe that this plea was a trick to possess me.

Lord Elbert wasn't a man of many words or expressions, but he was a man who didn't lie.

That's why I couldn't help but hope.

I hoped that Lord Elbert simply wanted to touch me because he genuinely liked me.

(If I... confessed my feelings for Lord Elbert)

(Perhaps Lord Elbert would forgive himself and wish for happiness with me)

It's like "true love's kiss," breaking the evil spell that torments him—

I might be able to save the kind Elbert from the sins he carries and the acts he does to atone for them.

I can't help but wish for such a fairy tale.

(To be the key to saving Elbert)

(If only I could become it—)

Elbert: ... Move your hand away.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: Kate.

His voice, mixed with a sigh, makes his shoulders tremble.

Kate: ... Please don't whisper in my ear like that...

Elbert: Why not? ... Because you won't be able to push me away with your hands anymore?

Kate: Because I... I won't be able to stay calm...

Elbert: Does that mean... you're captivated by me?

Elbert: ... If so, I have no reason to stop.

Kate: ...

My heart is beating so loudly, it feels like it's going to break.

It's screaming, wanting me to give in to this impulse.

Elbert: Kate...

Kate: Ah...

Elbert's arms wrap around me from behind, embracing me gently.

Through my palm, still pressed against his chest, I can feel his heartbeat quickening too.

(How easily he embraces me)

I'm reminded that my resistance is but a trifle.

Elbert could easily hold me like this at any moment.

He could forcefully take my lips.

(But... he waits for my answer because)

(He's worried that if he's rough with me, he won't be able to captivate my heart...?)

(Or... is it because he doesn't just want to take me, but because he...)

A faint hope swells in my chest, threatening to burst.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Kate: ... Ah...

I feel the touch of thin lips on my earlobe.

It's such a faint sensation, I can't tell if it's accidental or intentional, but it sends a sweet shiver through my skin, making me feel unbearable.

Kate: ... Lord Elbert...

Elbert: Why don't you push me away?

Kate: ...

(Because...)

(Because I love you, hopelessly...)

(I really want you to touch me)

(I want to tell you that I love you and kiss you)

(But, what if)

(What if Elbert can't forgive himself, even if he's loved by me?)

Elbert will take me, who confessed to being captivated by him.

As an offering to atone for his sins.

(To hurt and "take" someone who says they "love" him—)

(It would hurt Elbert... so deeply)

Kate: ... N-no.

Exhaling a heated breath, desperately pulling myself together, I pushed back against Elbert's chest.

Kate: Please, don't kiss me...

Elbert: .............

It was a choice that wouldn't save him, but wouldn't hurt him either.

I didn't know it would be this painful to say words that go against my heart.

Elbert: ... Alright.

Elbert muttered quietly and gently let me go.

(... Ah... In truth)

(In truth, I don't want you to let go)

A burning impatience to chase after him and a slight sense of relief mingle together in my chest.

Just then—

Kate: —!

Elbert's head rests on my shoulder.

Elbert: ... Will you allow me this much?

His golden hair brushes against my neck.

I can't see his expression well, but... his voice sounds sad and relieved at the same time.

Kate: ... Yes.

Elbert: Thank you...

He nuzzles his forehead against my shoulder like a child seeking comfort.

(... I want to hug him)

It's painful not being able to tell him how much I cherish him.

We stayed like that until sunset, leaning against each other, swaying in a fragile peace that could be shattered by the slightest touch.

-

That night, after dinner, Victor and William called us over.

William: About the auction Elbert was invited to, the one hosted by Bernard Trading Company...

William: It seems highly likely that Bernard, the head of the company, will be there.

Victor: If we win the bid for the main attraction, we might have a chance to make contact with him.

(The main attraction... He must mean the blue diamond.)

William: It would be ideal if we could get Bernard alone during the event and eliminate him.

William: But even if we can't, just create an excuse to contact him later, that's all we need.

Elbert: ... Yeah... Got it.

William: We're counting on you. Oh, right.

William: Apparently, to attend this social party, you need to bring a partner...

William: Elbert, have you decided who you'll take?

Without hesitation, Elbert's gaze settles on me.

Elbert: Kate... I'd like you to come with me.

I somehow manage to regain my composure and suppress the pounding in my chest.

Kate: ... Yes, I'd be happy to.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 15

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[petermorwood]

Sausage Goulash...

...as mentioned in passing here, and requested by @aqueerpolysocialist.

This was a recipe seen and transcribed nearly 30 years ago, back when dinosaurs walked the earth and German TV channels (here ZDF) were available on Irish / UK satellite.

I have a feeling it was originally a Very Economical Dish, mostly potatoes and onions with a lot less (but more strongly flavoured / smoked) sausage and lots of pepper or the hottest paprika available.

It also makes a very good soup by dicing the potatoes / slicing the sausages smaller and more suitable for a spoon, and increasing the amount of liquid to at least 500ml / 1 pint.

I haven’t tried making either goulash or soup with a dark beer like Guinness or Köstritzer, but my Mind Palate suggests it would be rather good.

Ingredients:

3 medium onions, chopped

4 cloves garlic, chopped

1 oz / 30g butter

1 lb / 500g smoked sausage (any type) sliced

2¼ lb / 1kg potatoes, cut into 1-inch / 2.5 cm cubes

2-3 Tbsp hot paprika (or regular paprika + cayenne to taste) *

2 tsp dried marjoram

2 tsp crushed caraway seed

12 f1.oz / 350 ml water, stock or beer

Salt & freshly ground pepper

* ETA - depending on what paprika is used, this dish can be very (or too) hot; check the heat of your paprika before using this much of it!

Method:

Melt the butter in a heavy casserole, add the onions and garlic and cook over medium heat until softened and just beginning to colour, then remove with a slotted spoon.

Put the sliced sausage into the casserole and sauté until brown, then remove with a slotted spoon.

Put the cubed potatoes into the casserole and sauté until the edges begin to brown.

Return the onions and sausage to the casserole, add the paprika, marjoram, caraway and liquid and stir well. Cover and cook over low heat for about 40 minutes, or until potatoes are done. Uncover for the last 10 minutes so the sauce thickens.

Taste, then adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. Depending on the type of sausage and heat of paprika, little or none may be required.

Serve garnished with sour cream and snipped chives, either alone or over buttered noodles. Dust with extra paprika if desired. Depending on the thickness of the sauce, a spoon as well as a fork may be needed

Variations (besides using different types of sausage):

Fry chopped smoked bacon in the butter before adding the onions at step 1.

Add a seeded, chopped green pepper (or, as in the photo, some chopped pickled red pepper) with the other ingredients at step 4.

Stir the sour cream into the goulash at step 5 and garnish instead with croutons or fried onions.

[callsignthirsty]

Thirsty - 55 AND JAKE IM BEGGING YOU

HEY SUNNY!

YOU DON’T NEED TO BEG unless you wanted it in a timely manner. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!reader Word Count: 850 Warnings: smut, overstimulation, p in v, mentioned fingering, mentioned oral (fem receiving), the mortification of being walking in on Minors DNI

Smut Prompt #55

You’ve been seeing Hangman for a couple months now. Suffice to say, the uranium mission had made him much more agreeable. Easier to palate. Just enough of his edges smoothed to make his smart mouth charming where it had once provoked with sarcasm and biting wit. And in that time, you hadn’t exactly wanted for sex. Hangman’s appetite was something else; you can’t think of a single time he’s left you wanting. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like to take things into—ahem—your own hands every now and then. So when Hangman grumbles that Cyclone has wrangled him into a late night at North Island, you decide to have some fun.

Your assigned housing unit’s door doesn’t creak anymore since Hangman fixed it. Not that you’d have noticed after half a bottle of wine, anyway. You’d been too distracted to hear your spare key snick the deadbolt or the door open. So you were shocked into momentary stillness when Jake appeared in your doorway hardly thirty minutes after he’d usually roll around. Staying late, your ass.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asks, eyes drinking you in unabashedly where you’re spread out on your bed, fingers buried between your legs. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You heaved a sigh. That wasn’t how you’d planned on your night going. Reassuring your situationship that taking your pleasure into your own hands wasn’t a reflection on his ability to get you off. “It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like, then?”

You decide direct is the best approach. “Sometimes I just want to cum.” And you’d assumed he wouldn’t be stopping by after his apparently-not-so-late night.

Hangman hums as if he’s mulling it over while he unbuttons his khaki top, dropping it as he steps forward to tower over you in his undershirt and regulation pants. “Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

When Hangman gets something in his head, he chases after it with his entire being. It’s one of the things about him that had both infuriated and fascinated you.

So, the answer is five.

Once as he guided your hips in a sinful grind against his thigh, sucking a bruise into your collarbone. Again with his fingers massaging the sensitive walls of your cunt and pure filth caressing your ear. Twice with his face nestled between your thighs—technically a third when he used his tongue and fingers in tandem.

“Jake,” you whimper, lightly swatting his head away from your quivering, oversensitive pussy. “That’s– ah! That’s enough.”

He chuckles, the sound originating deep in his chest. “You sure?” he asks, crawling up your tired body. All you want to do is sink into your mattress, but plush lips catch your nipple, and you can’t help the way you arch into the slick heat. He lets your nipple go with a pop. “I think I can get one more out of you.”

He takes his time playing with your tits before he nudges your legs far enough apart for his hips to slot between them. He shudders as he presses himself close, lazily thrusting his long-ignored cock along the length of your cunt. Nudging your clit and sending sparks crackling all throughout your system before drawing back to start over again. You wonder, a little hysterically, if he broke something inside of you. If he’d knocked a screw loose for you to want it after the wringer he’s purposely put your body through.

As the sensation walks the fine line between pain and delicious pleasure, you wrap your legs around his hips and roll into his next thrust. Offer him more of the friction you know he craves. He looks every bit the cat who got the cream as he brings a hand down to position himself at your entrance, but he pushes in slowly. Relief and restraint warring on his face as his jaw slackens and he fights to push in slowly, the movement slick from how wet he’s gotten you.

“There you go,” Jake rasps, muscles bunching as he lowers himself to capture bitten lips in a kiss. The rhythm he starts is gentler than you think he’s been with you before, but he’s brushing all the spots that wind you tightest. His pale eyes are half-lidded. “This okay?”

It’s over far sooner than you could have anticipated, but with everything else you’ve endured and the way Jake grinds against your sweet spot with unerring accuracy, liquid gold rushes through your veins as he makes you fall apart in record time.

“So fuckin’ hot,” Jake groans, pulling out of you to strip his cock. Grunting as he shudders through his orgasm, pearly ropes decorating your abdomen.

“Six,” he says, pressing a kiss to your stomach before leaving the bed to retrieve a washcloth.

You’d throw your pillow at him if it weren’t so comfy… or if you could get your arms to work. “Don’t sound so smug.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.”

You’re asleep by the time he gets back to the bed with that washcloth.

[statusexile]

You Know What I Deserve? Dessert!

Summary: It’s your birthday and Ghost have agreed to become your dessert for the night.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: pwp, gender neutral reader, dom!Ghost, degradation, dirty talking, food play, mask kink, fellatio, nasty-slash-messy-slash-fun stuff in general.

Word count: 741 words

NSFW. MDNI!

a/n: The title is an excerpt from Dessert by HYO and now I’ve ruined that song forever. I apologize in advance if you like that song lmao. As always, feedback and suggestions are always appreciated, along with reblogs and likes. Thank you for reading! ❤️

This is a corresponding story to You Know What He Deserves? Dessert!

It’s your birthday and the only thing that you want on your special day is Ghost, naked, wearing nothing but his balaclava and dog tags. So, he did what you asked him to do.

Now he’s sitting fully naked on the loveseat in the bedroom that both of you share, sprawling in all his glory. You have the privilege of indulging in the exquisite allure of his tall, tanned and muscular body, complete with refined thighs and impeccably sculpted abs. All yours to devour for the night. You could see the tip of his cock already leaking with precum, made it look more delicious to you.

You went to the kitchen to get a bottle of whipped cream and chocolate syrup for a bit. You grab them with excitement, the promise of a delicious dessert made your mouth waters, and you make your way back to the bedroom, a sense of anticipation building within you. You’re going to devour this man tonight like he’s the most delicious thing on this earth.

You take a seat on the floor, facing his throbbing, rock hard member. The sight of them sends a shiver of excitement throughout your body. As you put a swirl of whipped cream on the tip of his cock, then drizzling it with chocolate syrup, you could see it drips down to the rest of this shaft. Your eyes fixate upon them as if it’s the most delectable dessert about to grace your palate.

You lick the base of his cock first, using your tongue to play with his balls. The taste of the salt of his skin mixed with the sweet chocolate syrup made you even more turned on. Slowly grazing your tongue upward, licking his thick, veiny shaft like a candy. Ghost let out a guttural, aggressive groan to the act as you finally start licking the tip of his cock very slowly, tasting the whipped cream on top of it. Ghost throws his head back as the intense sensation coursing through his body.

You finally finished lapping the entire condiments clean from his cock, but that’s not enough for you, so you put even more whipped cream and chocolate syrup on his shaft, basically drenching it with condiments at this point. “Happy fucking birthday to me” you muttered to yourself and engulfing his entire length in one go, nearly choking on it because of how gargantuan the size of his cock was.

You slowly bobbing your head as you suck his cock, the whipped cream and chocolate syrup dripping all over your clothing and your lap, smearing your entire lips and jaw with them. Ghost suddenly gripped your hair, pushing his cock even deeper inside your mouth. The sudden action made you almost choke again as he keeps deepthroating you over and over again like you are his personal little fuck toy.

“Enjoying your birthday so far, you nasty little fuck?” he said with a venomous tone in between his groans and moans that’s echoing throughout the room. You could only nod to his words as he keeps slamming the back of your throat continously. You could feel tears start streaming down your cheeks.

His thrusts start to become more erratic and sloppier. You could feel his orgasm is so close. It only takes a few more thrusts as he finally cum on the inside of your mouth, mixing his thick white warm cum with the now melted whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

“Swallow it all up” he said in a commanding tone, you tried to swallow it all up but it was too much as you accidentally spit some of it out because you don’t want to choke on it.

“You ungrateful little slut, you better lick it all up, you fucking bitch” he snarls as he suddenly grabbed your hair again, forcefully pressing your face to the floor. His grip is so strong that you have no choice but to obey him, licking the floor that's covered with the mixed liquid until it’s squeaky clean. You stick your tongue out to him as a prove you swallowed it all up.

He suddenly stands up from the sofa, pulling you up from the floor as he dragged and pushed you to bed, taking the whipped cream and chocolate syrup from your hands.

“Take your clothes off. Ass up, face down” he said as he unscrews the cap of each bottle.

“Now it’s my turn to enjoy my dessert.”

[blueberryarchive]

Peaches and Cream. (Pt.1)

In which Jungkook, a one-star Michelin chef, gets the information: a new blogger, you, gave him a bad review of his restaurant, and he gets obsessed with the things you wrote; and in the process, with you. Wanting to show you he's a good chef, he invites you to a good meal cooked by him.

—⁠☆Pairing: Bi Chef!Jungkook & Blogger!Reader

—⁠☆Genre: au, enemies to lovers.

—⁠☆Word Count: 4.3k

—⁠☆Warnings: filthy mouth Jungkook, like so much for no reason. smut, two doms trying to dom each other, stalking, dub-con, masturbation, prejudice/bigotry, depictions of queerness and family. (these are the warnings for the whole two-part series)

—⁠☆a/n: this the first part of a 2 part ff, i hope you gals can help me get better at writing in english since it's not my first language. as always thank you for reading.

The morning painted the windows of his office with a slight dew, the clouds announced how gray that Friday would be. Every time it rained it wasn't busy in the restaurant, but Jungkook appreciated the sweet aroma the concrete emanated in the alleys. 

The smell of the city of rotting garbage and asphalt goes to give way to childhood memories of him. Running home, jumping through long puddles, the taste of freshly cooked rice. Mild and fluffy in the mouth. 

Jungkook dropped his cigarette halfway to the ground as a van turned the corner. Grocery shopping was one of the favorite parts of his job. Maybe the best. At 4 in the morning, he would open the back doors of his restaurant, clean and file his knives, which he kept wrapped in cotton cloth that his grandmother sewed for him with his initials. In a rather old mocha pot, he used to put three spoons of freshly ground coffee and water and stayed waiting for the men from the market, who came to bring him the freshest products for that day's dishes. Cup of coffee in hand and a lot to say.

He loved to touch, press, smell, taste and pinch the vegetables; pick them up on the light and complain that the salmon was from yesterday and the courgettes were too big. Loved to bargain with Tomas the price of trivial things. 

"Tom, don't be a bitch. I'll have to throw away half of these tomatoes before four o'clock." 

"Jung-" Tomas, a Hispanic man with the face of that painting from Alexandre Cabanel, inhaled sharply, placing two fingers on the bridge of his nose. He didn't know what Tomas was saying in Spanish, but Jungkook knew, somehow, that it involved fucking his mother. 

"You take the two boxes and the Montserrat." Tomas repeated.

"Tom, what am I going to do with shit as acid as Montserrat tomatoes. Green ones." Jungkook yelled, almost spitting out his coffee, taking a healthy tomato in his hand. 

"Shove it up your ass." Tomas shrugged casually. Jungkook hit him on the shoulder, and both laughed. 

"Okay, give me both. Maybe Vic will think of making something with your fucking tomatoes..." the imaginary disgust on his palate at the thought of a Montserrat tomato sauce or a salad. Worse: fried. 

Tomas knew that silence and the lost look of Jungkook's idiot fuckface. "You can't change your mind anymore, chef. I already had my boys put the boxes down." 

"I know. I'm just regretting letting you win." 

Tomas clicked his tongue, revealing a perfect smile to the ched. "Sometimes you have to let it go, chef." 

"Go away, motherfucker." Jungkook smiled, still looking at the boxes of green tomatoes. 

"Bye, Chef." 

"Mmm," Jungkook took the last sip of his coffee as the truck pulled away. Now it was time to lift the boxes. That kept Jungkook's arms in good shape. He rolled up his baggy shirt to reveal his colorful tattooed arm. Smoothly tying his wavy hair in a low ponytail. With one arm, he lifted the sack of rice to the kitchen island, then the oysters, then the crate of vegetables. 

With precision and finesse, he grasped the knife with the curved edge from his collection and began to peel each vegetable. Everything was with the accuracy of a surgeon. 

If lifting sacks was his daily exercise, cutting and peeling the preparatives was his meditation. With so much attentiveness to his peeling, he almost cut himself when he heard his cell phone vibrate. He growled and cursed in a breath. He hated getting called on the phone. If it weren't for his mom, he would have thrown away that piece of plastic years ago. 

Vic, the screen said, the face of a curly-haired man in a perfect afro, teeth so perfect as he smiled into the camera. Jungkook took that photo about a year ago, just outside his favorite café. He had months without buying a cup of coffee there.

With his knuckles, he opened the call. "I thought you were coming over to help me with the oysters, Vic," he demanded with a frown concentrating on peeling the shiitake mushrooms until soft and white. 

Vic didn't answer until after a lengthy silence. Pretty long, considering he had just finished peeling a couple of mushrooms. Jungkook looked at his cell phone. "Victor?" 

"Here I am," he replied reluctantly. 

"Why the hell are you calling me if you aren't going to talk? I'm busy." 

"I thought, when I met you, that you cuss so much and act like a piece of shit because you wanted to be like Gordon Ramsay or something." 

"What's the point, Vic? The oysters are still here unopened, and Helena doesn't come in until six, and I-" 

"You're busy." They both spoke in unison. That made Jungkook feel a sting in his throat, a slight tickle. 

"Are you going to come, yes or no?" 

"My God, Jeon, just for a moment, stop thinking about the damn oysters and pay attention to me." 

"I do, Victor, and you still don't answer my damn question. Do I have to pick up a fucking bum off the streets to do your job?" 

"Why did you come to my house on Tuesday?" Jungkook stopped the fluid movements of the knife, his eyes on the phone. 

"You wrote me to go," the chef replied.

"Yes, but for you to pick up your things." 

"I did that." Jungkook snorted, finishing with the mushrooms and starting with the carrots. 

"Yeah, after fucking me and telling me you loved me... like twice in the process." Vic sounded hurt. Jungkook hated it when he did that because he knew how dramatic Vic could be. 

"And after that, you kept treating me as your sous-chef the next day."

"You are my sous-chef, Victor." He interrupted, leaning on the metal table.

"Yeah, but I'm talking like outside of work."

"Yes, because you're still my sous-chef, Victor. I don't get-"

"Do you do this to Marianne? Or Helena, Joseph, or every waiter with an innocent little face when you tell them they're your favorite." 

"Vic," warned the chef. 

"Or maybe you were in a year-long relationship with your maitre d' so he wouldn't fire you. No, that was me. If it weren't for me, that place wouldn't have the popularity it has" 

"Vic," Jungkook growled, feeling the blood rush to his head. 

"You are a pest to your restaurant, Jeon Jungkook." 

That was it. Jungkook dropped the knife on the table and gripped the device as close to his mouth, thin lips brushing the screen. 

"Victor, if you hadn't opened your legs to me, you wouldn't even have the chance to lick the leftovers from my alley." 

"Bullshit, if I'm the whore, what makes you?. Who did you have to fuck for your place, chef?" 

"Everyone." Jungkook laughed sarcastically, "And yet, I'm the one who has a fucking Michelin star under my name and my sweat... what have you done with the fucks on your record?" 

Victor was silent. "You are a prick." 

"Okay" Jungkook didn't understand where this was going, but it was almost six in the morning, and he had to start removing the skin from the salmon. His walking around the station didn't keep him calm, nor it was productive. 

"I don't know why I let you into my house." 

"You were alone, just like I felt that day too. And you also act like it doesn't turn you on when I drunk fuck you." Jungkook waited for an answer, but there was nothing. "Vic?" Silence. When he saw the screen of his cell phone, there was no longer the photo of Victor or the creaking of the telephone line. "Vic, the oysters" He didn't even know why he was trying, he closed his eyes and put the cell phone in his pocket. 

The door opened suddenly, startling Jeon. It was Helena, a curvy thirty-something girl taking a last puff from her vape. With a rush, she put her hair in a high ponytail. 

Jungkook tried to act as naturally as possible. 

"Good morning, chef." Helena hastened to say, putting on her apron. 

"Mm," he muttered as he followed his work, musing among the damn green tomatoes that he had no idea what Vic asked them for.

A long time passed while both, Jungkook and Helena, worked at their stations. 

"Chef," Helena broke the silence by pressing her lips together. 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm trying to make a list for my future...you know I want to open my place one day." 

"Everyone wants their own little place," Jungkook interrupted, opening the oysters with swift movements. 

"Yes, yes. But I really don't like getting fucked in the ass, and it's not that there are a lot of women in this business, much less lesbians." She burst. Jungkook grinned against his own will when she wasn't looking. 

"Fuck you, Helena. Cut the mangoes for the sauce." Jungkook hissed, and set the oysters aside as Helena laughed at him. "I'm going to the market for more onions and tell Joseph to finish the oysters by himself" 

"Yes, Chef." voiced Helena with a grand smile.

Jungkook left the station, the cold air soothing the remains of his anger. Without thinking much, he reached into his pocket taking out a cigarette.

He started walking through the streets of New York. Vic had worn him out, and his 14-hour shift hadn't started.

The steam rising from meats, the incessant sound of vegetables being cut, three different sauces being stirred. Jungkook's kitchen was alive, it was seven at night and this was the time when his guests arrived like flies on the cake. Men in Italian brand suits and their girlfriends of the week, older women with picky palates, fanatics, high-class tourists…you name it, you find it.

Normally, Jungkook would be in the front. Preparing each dish, tasting each sauce, checking each cut, and scrutinizing that each dish looks like something he is proud of.

But here he was, in the dark alley behind his restaurant as he called Vic over and over on the phone, the cigarette in his hand melting with the wind and light drizzle. His hair and his white suit getting wet as he left the umpteenth voice note for Vic.

"Victor, for God's sake, I have the restaurant full tonight. It's a fucking Friday, why the fuck aren't you here?" he breathed sharply, the tension had his shoulders tense and the veins in his arms looked like they were going to explode.

The messages did not reach him, the wretch had turned off the phone.

"Shit," he muttered as he thumped into the kitchen that blazed with the heat of thirty pots on the stove. What happened after going through the door seemed…uncanny. All of his cooks looked at him at the same time, fleetingly to return to their tasks again.

They knew something that Jungkook didn't.

He sighed deeply before tying his hair into a half-bun. He rolled up his sleeves and went to his station, reading the orders aloud.

"One duck, two mussels, one Bok Choy" Jungkook ordered.

"Yes, chef," the others said in unison.

Food was piling up around Jungkook, sauces, and stir-fried vegetables. With a spoon he tasted the first and nodded slightly, then the shiitake. With agility he grabbed an empty plate and began to order each detail: first, the sauce spread like a brush, the green color so bright; then the piece of meat, glistening with juice, three drops of yellow radish sauce, a delicate yellow flower for the final touch.

"Service!" Jungkook pushed the plate away towards the waitress on the other side of his table.

"Fuck," Joseph muttered in the kitchen.

"Stop being an imbecile and attend your damn station," Charlie, the poissonier, snarled, hurling a frying pan into the sink with a crash.

"Where are my mussels?" Jungkook was sweating, his eye trembled slightly.

"Joseph just screwed them up, I have to do them again"

"And what are you doing wasting time talking?" Jeon interrupted on the verge of screaming. The others tensed, again that look from everyone.

"Sorry, Chef" said Joseph and Charlie.

"Hurry up, damn." Jungkook continued with his task of plating each meal, tasting over and over again everything that was within his reach.

"Where is my sauce?" he growled when his hand reached to his right, and Helena nor the sauce wasn't there. 

"In a minute, sir." 

"I don't have a minute."

Helena took the pan and stirred while going to the prep station. Jungkook took a small spoon and tasted it.

"More salt," he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

Helena seemed confused. "More, Chef?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, dear." 

"Yes, chef." Helena went back and added more salt, a few seconds later, he was pouring the sauce into the mushrooms. 

"Service!" the waiter took the plate, he started to feel a pain in his lower back and was exhausted. "Helena," he called, continuing his job. 

"Chef."

"Call Vic, tell him that if he isn't here in twenty minutes, I'll fire him."

There was no 'yes, chef', no answer at all. Actually, it was a little quieter in the kitchen. He didn't look back. "I said-"

"I don't think you want that, chef." This time, he turned around, and there it was: the look.

"When I say something, misses Gallo, I mean it" he felt more intense than usual if, that's even possible. Helena felt like she just saw a ghost. Jungkook knew she joked around with him, but she knew her time and place.

"Vic it's not coming back, sir." The youngest, Joseph, tilts his head down in fear. 

"Why is that?"

"God, how I abhor when things like these happen." The elegant man entered the kitchen with his sleek blonde hair and a black suit, calico eyes, and the most pretentious-looking glasses you could find. It was Jimin Park, his maitre d'. 

Jimin was the one who gave the classiness Jungkook lacked when it came to treating his clientele. He greeted and took care of everyone like they were his friends. 

"She's here." 

"Who?" Jungkook couldn't be more out. Jimin gave him his phone, and on the screen was a girl eating a plate exactly like the one he made minutes ago. Wait, that was his restaurant. 

"Oh my God, she's actually here. I didn't know Vic was such a petty bitch." Helena laughed while watching the live stream. Jungkook turned off the screen. 

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Vic tweeted to her to come here because his ex fired him for being a good cook, something like that." Jimin shrugged. Jungkook felt his chest contract, he started biting the ring on his lower lip.

"Who is she?" 

"She's a mukbanger but like a mean one, she's an icon," Joseph said smiling. 

"She's like the new wave of food criticism." Jimin took his phone and put it in his pocket. "Our world doesn't care anymore about magazines or what the paper says."

A waitress came bursting from the door.

"Mr. Park, the girl went away." 

"Am I supposed to be scared because she's going to tweet about some overcooked lamb?" he asked the waitress who didn't know what to say. 

"She's gone?" Jimin raised his glasses taking a deep sigh, he looked at Jungkook and lightly smiled. "You're fucked, Jeon." 

"Fuck you, Park. No, I'm not" he was offended, how could he say that in front of his group?

Jungkook took Jimin by his forearm and took him to his office. The others were left watching through the little window looking for the infamous mukbanger.

For a second, Jungkook was going to look back and ask his sous chef to take care of the kitchen. But he didn't have a fucking sous-chef. 

This couldn't be possible, he had a Michelin star because of his discipline, the way he cooked, his crew, and the stories he told through the food. He had the perfect ambiance, the most amazing maitre d' in New York, and the perfect culinary experience. He worked his ass off for this.

He was above the trolly reviews from Yelp, the people who thought he just did something to fill stomachs. But why did he feel this was not the same? Why did she leave? He made sure everything was perfect. Everything. 

"Hey!" Jimin snapped his fingers in Jungkook's face. For a moment, he put his palm on Jungkook's forehead. 

"Jesus, you're burning" he saw the expression on his chef, with his eyebrow rose, the pierced end moving slightly. Lost in thought. 

"Do you really think this is going to ruin me?"

Jimin's heart felt heavy, he denied occupying his hands with some papers. 

"I don't know, Kook. Perhaps she went away because she didn't find anything bad to say, or maybe she had to go and that's it. You know how those people are."

Jungkook nodded, none of them were sure that Jimin said the truth. But it had to do for now. 

"Now go, the kitchen will be a mess without you."

It's already a mess.

Jungkook nodded again, hands behind his back. He needed to know who you were. As soon as possible.

Jungkook doesn't remember the last time he sat on the couch in his apartment, his legs were covered with two sheets and he had a black hoodie covering his chest and lanky hair. He doesn't remember how strange morning TV was: everyone was wearing makeup and smiling as they talked about how climate change was inundating homes in India. It couldn't be more bizarre. Maybe it was the fever that had him glued to the screen in front of him or the ache in his tired muscles. 

The icing on the cake, he was sick. 

The night of the influencer's drama, Jungkook came to his room. His hair was wet from the rain that fell that night and his body soaked. His body sank into the sheets with his uniform, the fever began to make him have strange dreams where orders came but never came out. He woke up around four in the morning the next day and called Jimin, his voice raspy as he changed out of his uniform.

"Call Jin, tell him to cover me this week."

"Okay," Jimin replied with a breath.

"Okay? No questions?"

"No, I already knew you were going to get sick." Jungkook pursed his lips into a small smile, eyes closed from exhaustion.

"As soon as the fever stops, you won't need Jin. I promise."

"As much as I want that to be true, I don't want you in the restaurant until you're completely well. It's enough for the restaurant that a cute girl says absurd things about your food and then we get rumors about you cooking with your boogers" Jimin blurted out.

"Absurd?" Jungkook looked for some boxers and changed, throwing his body on the living room furniture. "What did she write?"

"Um...," Jimin put the chef on hold as he thought of an honest but not unseemly way to tell him the review. "Well, she said she was sick of seeing the same wave of elite restaurants for the decadent new yorker elite, the same exotic cuts of a bird, and the environment with walls as white as a psychiatric hospital. She said that I looked like a nurse going from table to table to give them their pills in porcelain saucers to the long-lived of New York," Jimin laughed. "That was funny...it's like the truth-"

"And about me?" Jungkook felt the fever consuming his body, a headache approaching like a shadow behind his neck.

"Well, she said the food was tasteless and you screwed up the only thing she was looking forward to"

"The mushrooms?"

"How did you know?" 

"Of course, it was the mushrooms," Jeon muttered, squeezing his eyes shut, cursing Vic with the wrath of a thousand seas, wanting him to be engulfed and convulsing for all eternity looking for oxygen. 

"The sauce was salty to the point that she wanted to throw up, she said."

"The sauce was salty," he repeated and then smiled so as not to destroy the room in his sickly state.

He doesn't remember much of what he did those three days that had passed. Jimin would stop by his apartment to bring dinner and pick up the shirts from the floor. He complained about Jin for half an hour with a glass of wine in hand, until Jimin realized that Jungkook couldn't even stay focused.

"Hey, wake up." Jimin patted his cheeks and Jungkook didn't even flinch.

"Vic has been there? In the restaurant, I mean," Jungkook grabbed the wine from Jimin's hand, drinking it all in one gulp.

"No, he had a friend go get his things the next day."

"Who, the youtube whore?"

"No," Jimin chuckled. They both saw each other and laughed under their breaths.

"It was a redhead."

"Oh, you mean Chris."

"Yeah," Jimin answered looking at his friend with tipsy eyes. "When was the last time you got laid?"

Jungkook began to fidget around, looking for something to occupy his hands with.

"It can't be that Victor-" Jimin's mouth tightened. "Of course," he chuckled, a light rose painting his cheeks.

"What the hell do you know, Park?"

"I would have known."

"Are you spying on me through the cameras you have in my bathroom to see if I jerk off?" His hoarse voice was screeching, and Jimin couldn't take his anger seriously.

"There's a certain je ne sais quoi to it when you fuck, like you stop yelling so much and actually do your job."

"I do my job."

"But it would be better if you didn't scream all the time like a fucking maniac."

"Mmm," tiredness wouldn't let him continue answering. He had taken a pill for the flu but he didn't know it was going to hit him so fast. Jimin noticed.

"Well, I'll let you rest. I brought you a couple of plums and oranges from the market."

"Tell Jin I say hi in the morning," Jungkook mumbled.

Jimin patted him on the shoulder and left Jungkook's phone on the table with your Instagram open. "Stop watching morning TV, your brain will melt."

Jungkook didn't touch the phone for a long while thinking about the words that were repeating like a broken record: "tasteless" and "elite for the elite"...Jungkook didn't even come from a wealthy family. It was foolish.

He lazily swiped his way down through your profile, looking at the thumbnails of your photos where you smiled like nothing was wrong. 

You liked showing cleavage, he realized. In addition to being a liar, you liked the attention. There was one where you were in a jacuzzi with a glass of champagne and another where you were on the French shores.

Besides the fact that you liked the attention, it was for a reason. The way your lips curved into a smile as if your breasts weren't pinched in that bikini two sizes too small. 

What kind of reporter were you?

Without realizing it, Jungkook was lying on his bed looking at your photos while eating a plum. He didn't know if it was the sweetness of the ripe fruit or the fever, but he felt strange. His body felt like it was floating between the satin of his bed. 

Another brush up to your profile: more food, more cats, travel, you in a bikini. One, in particular, caused the lower half of him to brush against the sheets. It wasn't that different from the others, but for some reason this time you weren't smiling. You looked at the camera with a certain judging that made Jungkook's throat boil.

His fingers were covered in prune juice, the wrinkled seed clenched between his teeth. What he was going to do wasn't one of his most dignified moments, but the meds made him delirious, not fucking someone besides Vic made him even sicker. 

His sticky fingers trailed from his navel to the edge of his boxers. When he felt the wetness of his slimy fingers on his tip he clamped the seed harder into his teeth, growling in loathing.

Your face caused his chest to swell with anger and his dick to rise at the slightest touch of his tattooed hand. Thinking of your tongue tasting his cock on a plate, no garnish, no cutlery. He wanted you to swallow it and shed tears on your cheeks.

A shriek. He tossed the phone onto the bed and covered his embarrassed face with his forearm. His hand trembled under his Calvin boxers, saliva pooling in his mouth as he couldn't swallow. 

His tongue flicked over the seed in his mouth, and like a flash, the image of him covering your clit with his spit flashed by. He growled like a fleeing animal as his orgasm made him arch his back. He removed the seed from his mouth.

"Fuck," he mumbled when he saw the stain on his pants. Air rushed out of his nose for the first time all day. He closed his eyes in pure bliss. Two minutes later, he wrinkled his nose and repeated: "Fuck," this time rolling his eyes, angry with himself for what he was going to do. He turned on his cell phone screen and opened the dm of your profile.

jkookcooks: So what kind of reviews do you do when you leave mid-meal? You didn't even try dessert. If you really want to do something worthwhile and not your unnecessary sensationalism, maybe you should come try something made by me.

He almost threw the cell phone when he hit send. Feeling the cold of his cum in his pants and the words he send to make him cringe.

When he got up to clean himself up, he heard his cell phone vibrate almost immediately. 

Didn't you have things to do on a Friday night?

CherryCloud: Just say the day, chef.

A smile left Jungkook's lips. He'd love to grab your face and make you eat the best meal you ever had, to see if you'll shut up that way... He'd have to plan the menu for the night.

Why did he feel a sudden fear? He saw the photo again: your judgy eyes, hugging your knees.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Mise en Place, Chapter 4

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Here

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness, no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, things gone get SPICY later 🔥 (aka smut in future chapters)

Word Count: ~2600

A/N: Here we are with another update!

Divider by the phenomenally talented @theradioactivespidergwen!

Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @capylore @mattmurdockstateofmind @yarrystyleeza

“New text message.”

Matt finished blending the batch of Daredevil's house salad dressing he was currently preparing and put it in the fridge to set before pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen.

He smiled when his phone announced that the text was from you.

“Thank you so much for the flowers,” it read off to him. “They're beautiful. By the way I'm thinking of you too and also can't wait to see you again. Heart emoji.”

Matt's smile widened into a grin. He had spent thirty minutes at the florist this morning trying to choose the perfect bouquet of flowers to send to you and come up with the perfect message to go on the accompanying card.

“Ooh, heart emoji,” Foggy teased good-naturedly from over at the sink. “You two must've had a really good time last night.”

Matt chuckled. “Not in the way you're insinuating, but yeah, we did.”

“And? Tell me all about your evening with your woman.”

“One second.” Matt hit the reply button and dictated, “I'm glad you like them, smile emoji” before sending his response.

He put his phone away and moved back to the prep counter to peel potatoes for the day's batch of gnocchi. “Okay, so…”

He began to recount his evening with you to Foggy, from the hug the two of you had shared when you had first arrived at Matt's apartment, to holding your hand while you went up to the roof and your gasp of delight at the decor, and the long conversation that you two had shared during dinner. “We talked for so long that I almost forgot about dessert, so rather than having her wait upstairs while I finished making it I suggested that we just have dessert downstairs, which she said she was fine with.”

He smiled at the memory. His original plan had been for the two of you to have dessert on the roof then head downstairs to cuddle on Matt's couch, but he had to admit that the alternative had been quite enjoyable as well. “She also said that she likes watching me cook, even if I'm just making whipped cream in a mixer.”

Foggy joined Matt at the prep table to start peeling and chopping some carrots. “Aww, that's sweet, although I think it's more of the fact that it's you making it, buddy.”

Matt grinned. “Anyway, I had been wanting to kiss her all night but hadn't really had the opportunity, so while we were having dessert I told her she had chocolate mousse on her mouth and made my move.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Matthew Murdock, you smooth sonofabitch.”

Matt shrugged. “Turns out I wasn't that smooth, because right after I kissed her she asked how I knew she had something on her face.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh shit, what'd you say? She doesn't know about your freakishly sensitive senses, does she?”

Matt shook his head. Foggy and Karen both knew about how the chemicals that had blinded him had also enhanced his remaining senses far beyond normal human capabilities, but he wasn't comfortable sharing that information with you quite yet. “No, I’ve only told her that my palate became sensitive after the accident and that's how I got into cooking.”

“So then what'd you say?”

“She didn't really have any chocolate mousse on her mouth, so I told her that I didn't actually know and had just wanted to kiss her.” Matt grinned. “She said I didn't need to make up a reason to try to kiss her, so I took that as permission to kiss her again and we wound up making out like teenagers in my kitchen.”

Foggy lightly bumped Matt with his shoulder. “Yeah, go Matty.”

Matt shook his head. “Anyway, needless to say that the evening turned out really well, so I told her in no uncertain terms that I wanted to see her again then walked her home and kissed her good night.”

“And bought her flowers this morning.”

“Yeah.” 

Foggy stopped chopping. “You know, I know things haven't been easy for you since She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I'm honestly really glad to see you happy.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, Fog.”

While you genuinely seemed to enjoy watching Matt cook and didn't mind having to wait while he finished preparing and plating your meals, Elektra had never been one to be willing to wait for her food or hang around the kitchen -- she had always wanted her meals fully prepared and ready to eat before she sat down for a dinner date and refused to be Matt's taste-tester whenever he was experimenting with new recipes. “Honestly, Matthew,” she had said the first and only time he had asked her to taste-test for him. “I have much better things to do with my time than to sit there and watch you play around in the kitchen.”

In hindsight, Matt should've realized that Elektra had been using him. You, however… 

You were genuine. I don't want to have to wait until later to ask her out again.

He set his vegetable peeler down. “I'll be right back.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Tell her hi for me.”

Matt grinned and headed to the office, pulling his phone out of his pocket in order to call you.

“... Anonymous sources tell the Bulletin that the surprise inspection stemmed from a report of food poisoning originating at the restaurant. Requests for comment from owner and executive chef Wilson Fisk were not returned by press time.”

Skyler huffed out a laugh as you finished reading your story about Kingpin's closure out loud. “Pretty easy to fact-check when we're the ‘anonymous sources’, isn't it?”

You grinned. “Plus we got an exclusive.”

You paused as your phone rang, Matt's name flashing across the screen. “Oh, hold on a second. It's Matt.”

You answered. “Hello?”

Matt said your name. “Hi.”

You couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hi, Matt.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“No, not at all. I'm just finishing up an article to send to my boss for approval.”

Skyler lightly tapped on your desk and mouthed, “I'll talk to you later.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“So what's your article about?” Matt asked.

“Kingpin's closure,” you replied. “It's just a short thing for the online edition since we weren't able to make the print one this morning. We're late reporting about it but at least we have information that the other publications don't about what triggered the closure.”

“Ah, yeah, Foggy did say that Skyler mentioned that the Bulletin was covering that.” Matt paused. “Hey, um, speaking of Kingpin, I don't know if you can mostly write about whatever you want or if your boss assigns all of your articles, but major violations like the ones that got Kingpin shut down don't just happen overnight, so if you're able and have time you might want to dig into their past health inspection records and see if anything looks funny to you.”

Your eyes widened. Matt could possibly be handing you a major scoop. “Are you saying that you think they were falsified?”

“I honestly can't say for certain,” Matt replied hesitantly. “ But there's been rumblings within the industry for years about Fisk being involved in a lot of shady and underhanded dealings, so it really wouldn't surprise me if it turned out that he had someone at the Health Department on his payroll.”

You were pretty sure that the health department’s inspection records were publicly available, but even if they weren't you would easily be able to file a request through the Bulletin . “My boss does assign some of my articles, but he gives me enough autonomy to where I can at least look into it.”

“Okay, thanks.” Matt paused. “Anyway, that's not actually why I called. I was wondering if maybe we could meet for lunch tomorrow? Say around noon?”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of getting to see Matt again so soon -- you honestly hadn't expected him to have time for you until the weekend at the very least. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd love to.”

“Great! I thought maybe we could go to that little park near the Bulletin , have a picnic then take a quick walk together if there's time?”

You knew which park Matt was referring to -- you occasionally took walks along the walking path there on your lunch break when you needed to escape from the chaos of the office for a bit. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, and one other thing. I wanted to let you know that business at the restaurant has already picked up thanks to your article -- we got 12 reservations overnight just for this evening alone, and I'm sure at least a few more have come in since Foggy checked the reservation system this morning.”

You grinned. You had hoped that your article would help get the word out about Daredevil. “Oh my gosh, Matt, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you.”

“Thanks. And actually I have to run so I can get back to helping Foggy with prep since we know we'll be busier than usual, but I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. And I'll let you know if I find anything that seems suspicious about Kingpin's health inspection records.”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Talk to you later. Bye, Matt.”

“Bye.”

You hung up, a smile on your face.

You read over your Kingpin article one more time before emailing it to Ellison, then got up and headed to his office. 

You knocked on his open door. “Hey, Mitch, you got a second?”

Ellison looked up from an article he was proofreading. “Yeah, what's up?”

“I wanted to let you know that I just sent you the article on the Kingpin shutdown, but I also received a tip that Wilson Fisk may have been bribing employees at the health department to falsify their inspection reports.”

Ellison's eyebrows raised. “Holy shit, really?”

You nodded. “Chef Murdock told me that there's been talk in the culinary industry for years about Fisk engaging in shady business practices and that the health code violations that triggered Kingpin's shutdown don't just happen overnight, so he suspects that Fisk had people from the health department on his payroll. It seems like it's worth at least looking into, so I figured I could submit a public records request for Kingpin's health inspection reports to see if I notice any kind of discrepancies.”

Ellison thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, go ahead. Let me know what you find and we'll proceed from there.”

“Okay, thanks. I will.”

You returned to your desk and pulled up the website for the New York Health Department, then submitted an online request for hardcopies of Kingpin's health inspection records.

You smiled as the bouquet of roses Matt had sent you caught your eye once again.

It had been an incredibly kind and sweet gesture and needless to say that you were definitely looking forward to your lunch date with Matt the next day. Yeah, he's nothing like Kelsie had made him out to be.

“Hey, so what did Chef Hottie want?” Skyler said as she stopped by your desk. “Did he ask you out on another date?”

You shook your head with a grin. “Okay, first off, can you please start calling him Matt? I don't know how Foggy would feel hearing the woman he's dating referring to his best friend-slash-business partner as ‘Chef Hottie’.”

Skyler laughed. “Okay, fine. Did Matt ask you out on another date?”

You nodded. “As a matter of fact, he did. We're having lunch together at the park down the street tomorrow.”

Skyler wiggled her eyebrows. “Ooh, a picnic lunch. How romantic.”

“He also said that the restaurant got a boost in reservations yesterday.”

Skyler huffed out a relieved breath. “Oh, good. I know Foggy had been worried about that.”

“Matt too.” You thought about telling Skyler what Matt had suspected regarding Kingpin's health inspection records, but decided to keep it to yourself until you knew if there was actually any weight to it. “I was thinking about picking up some dinner from Daredevil tonight but I don't want to bother him, especially if they're extra busy.”

Skyler shrugged. “How about drinks after work instead? We can hit up happy hour at that new library-themed bar near my place, fill up on wine and appetizers, gossip about our guys.”

You nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Okay, great. I've got to go cover the Rotary Club’s monthly luncheon, but I'll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay.” You winked. “Don’t have too much fun.”

Skyler shook her head with a smile. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll try.”

You grinned as Skyler headed out on assignment. Last week may have been a shit show, but this one was definitely looking up.

[newvegascowboy]

Proposal based on your food post and some things in Fallout.

:readmore:

Homemade sodas and sweet drinks are incredibly common based on home recipes passed down through the generations.

In Fallout new Vegas, and in Fallout 4 you can make drinks such as Nuka-Cola.

Filtering water and making it drinkable will be a big priority wherever you go. But making it palatable will also be a big goal.

Local settlements will probably mix sweeteners like syrup, juices, or even honey to mix it in the water.

Tea will be very popular too with all kinds of local teas made from local plants, sweetened with local sweeteners, and traded or even sold to each other.

Tea has the advantage of being boiled, filtered, and flavored making it a popular drink with massive variants between region to region and even settlement to settlement.

Brahmin milk will have a lot of nutrients and apparently good for treating radiation so odds are its also used as a medicine and a big part of a lot of diets.

Some rare drinks may still be possible but take a lot of work such as coffee, and ice cream.

Coffee needs specific growth and a lot of space to grow. So maybe it'll grow in small quantities.

There's ways to make ice cream without machines but it takes a lot of salt, ice, and milk. So you'd have to be very wealthy or very well located to have it

Shaved ice with simple syrups and fruits may make good treats in areas where there's a lot of ice

I fully agree with all of this! Not including it was probably a bit of an oversight on my part, but this is exactly the kind of extrapolation and worldbuilding I was aiming for.

Soda was invented in the mid 1800s, so I don't think it's beyond the realm of possibility for people to have reinvented soft drinks. Originally, the water was taken from springs that were naturally carbonated and today, we can do it at home with compressed CO2. Even if the drinks aren't carbonated, I totally believe and agree with the idea that they're making sweet drinks.

I was going to mention in the original post and forgot, but lemons? Those things totally still exist. Citrus is too much of a botanical freak not to have survived. It might not be lemons (or limes, or oranges) as we know them, but they are OUT THERE and that means lemonade is real.

Tea is canon within the realm of fallout because you can brew several different varieties in 76. Also, hot drinks are comforting, especially in the winter and I think it's totally reasonable to think that new brews have popped up with the addition Coffee grows in Mexico at a similar latitude to Florida and parts of the southern united states, so I think you could claim that certain strains have been cultivated and grown in those areas, though it might be rare and extremely expensive.

Ice cream's origins are known to reach back as far as the second century B.C., although no specific date of origin nor inventor has been undisputably credited with its discovery. We know that Alexander the Great enjoyed snow and ice flavored with honey and nectar. Biblical references also show that King Solomon was fond of iced drinks during harvesting. During the Roman Empire, Nero Claudius Caesar (A.D. 54-86) frequently sent runners into the mountains for snow, which was then flavored with fruits and juices.

Ice cream is one HUNDRED percent a thing in the wasteland. The milk and cream is easy to source from Brahmin milk. Cane sugar can be grown in Florida and Louisiana, so it's not unreasonable to think that that's another rare and expensive import. It would be easier and cheaper to get your sugar from tree sap or malt grain or reduced fruits, but cane sugar is out there. Making ice cream is a pretty popular thing for kids to do -- put some rock salt and ice in a bag with cream, sugar, and vanilla, and shake it until it freezes. On the coast, salt is probably pretty abundant, even if it's time consuming to harvest, but vanilla is probably one spice that nobody has access to in the wasteland.

Ice houses and cold cellars are probably pretty common in the wasteland, so ice could be available all year round. Plus, refrigeration is useful in the process of preserving foods rather than canning or bottling.

I think it's important to keep in mind that people are smart, and just because the bombs dropped, we didn't revert back to the stone age. The knowledge of canning, bottling, making jams and preserves, cold storage, curing meat, making cheese -- all that knowledge is old. Just because modern technology makes it easier doesn't mean people couldn't do it two hundred years ago. If the knowledge is lost, logic and human ingenuity will rediscover it eventually.

[nelapanela94]

you should write about how the reader would be treated on their birthday!! from fluff to smut, i want it all (and definitely not because its my birthday tomorrow)

Warnings: Female bodied reader, Fluff and smut, post war.

Happy Birthday (delayed) Anon!!!! I hope you had a great day. Sorry for the late reply but this week was leaden with work and on top of that I had an allergic reaction to a medication.

I hope you like it!

Frightening, tantalizing.  

Vertigo.  

At what point did life begin to sound different? At what point did he stop seeing you as just another comrade? Perhaps when you fell wounded in his arms, or when you spent all night with him when he caught a fever that makes you hallucinate? The world tipped under his feet and your thunderous laughter turned into a silky caress.  

The buttercream is not smooth enough, and with three fingers he pins the last dot of Happy Birthday! A little choppy but readable. The two brain cells left in your head will catch it. For the first time you moved in together, he does not grumble for you waking up late on a Sunday; he is glad, indeed, that you are still snoring under the duvet. He rose before the sun to bake and decorate the cake, to sweep and mop again, to festoon the living room with balloons and confetti. Great! More to clean after, but Gabi and Falco convinced him with puppy eyes. And as long as it makes you smile; it is all worth it.  

From your room breaks a yawn and the trepidation ripples through his nerves. He hangs the apron and dusts off his hair from remnants of wheat flour. Then takes a last look to the kitchen-slash-dining room. Happy Birthday glints in gold on the walls.

Water gurgles in the sink; he puts aside the piping bags and the scraper and sets the cake stand in the middle of the dining table.  

“Levi?” The balls of your feet pat-pat on the wooden floor. “Why are you awake so early?” The creaking at the end of the corridor is his cue. He clears his throat, but his voice lacks glee and enthusiasm.  

“Happy birthday.” 

Yet your eyes spark, you cover your gasp, and relief soothes him. 

“You… Levi!” You dash with open arms and pounce on him in a tight, air sucking hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You shriek, but all his brain can process is the smell of your hair. Rosemary, ginger, a tinge of sweat.

Air plunges back into his lungs, and you pad to the table. “You didn’t have to! You even made a cake.” You swipe a finger on the white cream, and hum as the sweetness coddles your palate.  

Levi smiles.  

You are lucky to keep your inner child. The ability to marvel at trivial things.  

“May I?” The tail of the ribbon swirls around your licked finger. Levi nods and you pull the lace. The brightness in your eyes intensifies, a heart-melting smile curves the corners of your lips. “No way!”  

A dress. A dress you spot on a display once roaming the most exclusive neighborhood in town. The dress you have spent months saving for. The shimmery maxi dress with a deep v neck, opened back, layered skirt. Revealing but far from slutty, skimming your hands.  

Your eyes shift to him. “This is too much, Levi.” 

“We can return it to the store.” He says, meaning, it is never too much for you. You drop the dress on your bed and rush back to the kitchen.  

“Can we have cake for breakfast?”  

“Uh-huh.” He rummages through for a knife and two plates while you flit around the place with your camera-last year’s present-freezing in time the wobbly cake, the decoration, Levi covered in confetti and other cake ingredients; but it is so hard to focus on something else other than your bare legs, those pajama shorts hardly concealing the end of your ass.

To burn with desire and keep quiet is the worst of tortures, and he himself is the executioner. He controls himself, brushes the salacious thoughts away.  

You do not leave a crumb on your plate. “Keep an eye on me or I will eat it all before dusk.”  

You look pretty, with messy hair and puffy face, with that old T-shirt that is close to becoming a cleaning rag.  

“Are you listening?” 

He raises his brow.  

“I’d like to go on a walk today. I don’t know, you and I…” You blush. “I was wondering how your leg is feeling.”  

“Good.” He piles the dishes and heads to the kitchen, stainless steel clattering on porcelain. “It’s your day, we can do whatever you want.”   

You notice his limping, his face twitching in discomfort, the shifting of weight from leg to leg.  

“I’d like to stay at home all day.”

He peels away his eyes from the foam, and stares at you. He does not flinch, just stares. Waiting. You moist your lips but the words clog your throat.  

Levi, wine, living room dance, souvlaki and agioritiki from the restaurant down the street for lunch.  

“I’ll take a shower,” you say, striding back to your room.  

Levi wipes his hands dry and flops on the couch. His head rolls toward the corridor that leads to the bedrooms, and he sighs. Nothing pains him more than your pity. You giving up your plans because of him.

Chopped, half blind, scarred. Crippled. His body does not respond as it used to, his muscles have faded along with his strength. He chuckles at the absurdity not to cry. He would never be enough. 

His good eye darts to the pictures on the coffee table, Hange thumbing up with a beam on their face, and he scowling with folded arms on the chest. Pins of nostalgia that hold us without permission; how selfish is the clock . The remnants play in his mind like kids in a merry-go-round.

His eyelids are leaden, and finally, the weariness washes over him.  

When he wakes up, the window is open, the balmy breeze of the Indian summer tosses the curtains. The temperature has risen, and he glances at the wooden clock across the room.  

11:30  

Flimsy snores stir him, and his eyes go wide when his consciousness switches the notch back to reality. Your shoulders rise and fall steadily, and your feet dangle over the armrest. You are snuggled on him, your warmth fondling him. The spaghetti straps of your white top slings around your upper arm. Nothing divulges the presence of a bra. He tosses his head back and focuses so his blood continues reaching every corner of his system, avoiding a cluster of red blood cells in his groin.  

“Levi.” Your sleepy voice coats his name in lemon and vanilla ice cream. He cracks open one eye. “You always smell so good.” You mumble, making him smirk. He feels like he is walking on a mined field. The wrong move and he will obliterate everything. But your lips are plump and dewy, and he cannot stop himself from dragging a finger along the curve of your mouth. Suddenly, your eyes blink open, but he does not back away. You stare at him, your lips parting for him.

You shift your weight, wriggling up until your foreheads touch.  

You cradle his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs on the curve of his cheeks. His fingers linger on your back. You can feel his erratic heartbeat against you, his breath stroking your lips.  

“Kiss me.”  

His eyes flick from your mouth to your eyes searching for any hint of doubt, repulsion, or regret. But the shackles have always been tied to his feet.  

“I know you want it too.” You whisper. “Kiss me.” 

He nods, his nose bumps yours, a tease that makes you giggle. Slowly, you lean in, your breaths mingling. His lips touch yours lightly, pull back, and this time, they lambaste you. Time stands still, and in that fleeting moment, you feel an electric connection that sends shivers down your spines. Your lips are juicy as passion fruit. His heart leaps between two elements: excitement and fear. The fear of hurting you, the fear of rejection, the fear of losing you. But you kiss him back, and the walls of the fortress he built to protect himself crumble at his feet.

Panting, he pulls away, his fingers thread in the unmoored strands of hair on your back. Your cheeks are ruddy, and a shy smile peeks on your lips. Your pupils have drowned the color of your eyes, tiny diamonds glinting in their depths. Levi kisses your cheeks, your nose, the arches of your brows, tips your head up and drops kisses in the curve of your neck. You close your eyes, your nipples are firm like bitsy pebbles, a tingling sensation fluttering in your lower belly. You rake your fingers through his hair, your hands tangling in the back of his neck. You kiss him again. A kiss filled with longing, desire, and a promise of sweet surrender. Passionate, urgent, needy. Igniting a grenade.  

“I want you.” A moan breaks from your mouth, and your desperate hands slip down his body, fidgeting with the button of his pants. A playful smirk curls your lips when you notice the painful strain under his briefs. He pins your hands off him, warning you with his gaze. A point of no return.  

“Are you sure?” His husky voice is like a path of gravel. And you would gladly walk barefoot.  

Without breaking eye contact, you nod.  

“Pieces of you are not enough. I want you all.”  

He wraps his arms around you, trying to coax those three words from his chest. His hands sneak under your top, moving around the smooth hot skin of your back, trailing the knobs of your spine. Your breath rags, and warmth spreads under your navel, aching with desire. You unravel from his embrace, and the wood slabs fret under your feet. You swiftly discard your top, loosen your hair, and hurl it back.  

“Beautiful.”  

You bite your lips, hands trembling. You sit astride on his legs, his hands roaming the supple skin around your hips. The tenderness and lust with which he looks at you makes your soul tremble and assures you that he is the one. “Touch me.”  You guide him to your breasts and then you leave him in his own devices. His eyes are full of love, admiration and awe; quivering hands explore you. He tweaks your nipples between his fingers and wheedles a gasp before taking one into his mouth. You loom closer gripping the back of his neck, releasing the coiling tension by rocking your hips against him. Your skin is hot and burning, glowing like an ember, searing under his touch. No man has ever made you feel this cherished and desirable, despite the scars on your skin, vestiges of the battles.

Your nipple pops out of his mouth, his lips paving the road in the valley of your breasts to pamper the neglected side. His tongue swirls around the hardened peak, captive between his teeth.

"Holy shit!" You hiss, pain vanishing and giving way to pleasure.  

His name drips from your mouth, the throb between your thighs driving you insane, ravaging any trace of rationality. You urge him, pulling his head up by his hair, and catch his ravenous gaze. His smug smile pinkish and sodden. He pushes you off him, and you veer to the side, landing on your knees. Then he tugs you by the back of your knees, dragging your butt to the edge and kneels between your legs, caressing the back of your thighs.  

“Please” you bring a finger down the curve of his nose. “Fuck don’t make me beg on my birthday.”  

“I’m not that of an asshole.” He grins, raises your hips, and pulls down your bottoms with one hand. Pushes your legs open and presses kisses on your inner thighs. Your slit glistens with the urgency of being touched and filled. You close your eyes, and your fingers dig into the cushions. Breath itching, heart racing. You turn off your thoughts and insecurities and just give in to the pleasure of his fingers thrusting inside you, of his tongue laving your engorged clit. A spool of moans bursts from your mouth, and your hips jerk forward, seeking solace, prompting him for more.

Your neighbors better plug their ears.

He pulls his finger out, leaving an aching void. But the disappointment fades at once. Nasty suckling sounds fill the living room, drool runs down his chin. He parts your lips with his tongue and glides it flat from your asshole to your clit. Your eyes bang open as two, no, three fingers plunge inside you, rocking back and forth, hitting that spot that draws constellations on your skin. He knows where to touch, where to lick, where to nip, your body opens to him at its own will. Your walls spam and contract around his fingers, his tongue doing wonders, circling and flicking on your clit. Your knuckles lose their color, and strangled whimpers shatter your breathing. You bite your lips and your back arches in a beautiful bow, and all the tension dissolves into waves of pleasure.  

“Levi Levi LEVI!” You wear out his name, pumping up his ego. He does not let you catch your breath, and instead, he drowns you with your taste on his mouth. Your resistance is a tickle on his chiseled chest. He lays you on the couch and undresses, your hair tangled and soaked in a crown around your head. You turn your head to the side where his clothes fall to his feet, your gaze skimming up his legs, relishing in his erection. The head of his fat, veiny cock grazing the trail of hair that chalks all the way down. You lick your lips, wondering what it would feel like inside you.  

“I want your cock inside me.” You blurt with grabby hands, cajoling a genuine laugh. His body is beautifully sculpted, his muscles flexing with the slightest move. “You’re so fucking handsome.”  

“You should write poetry.” He quips, shaking his head. But you throw a cushion at him. 

“Come here, my pussy needs your cock right now.”  

He crawls on top of you, parting your legs with his knees. “Are you sure about this?” He leans down, his elbows pressing into the foam, and kisses you again. You feel the tip of his dick poking around your entrance, tempting. You curl your hand around his length, coaxing a little gasp form him, and rub him up and down your wet slit. You find the entrance and spur him to move forward. Haughtily, he nudges your hand of the way. “Too nosy.”  

He states at you. The ends of his silky hair grazing your forehead.

The infinite always tries to hide in your eyes.

“Just fuck me,” you whimper and kiss him, wrapping your arms behind his head. His chest pressed on yours as he pushes in, inch by inch stretching you. “Mmmm, Levi.” He is halfway in, and your pussy is working overtime to take him all. His frazzled breath fans the cradle of your neck, his lips quivering at the ambrosial sensation engulfing him. He relishes in your warmth, your tightness, your body adjusting to his size. 

“You feel so good, you feel so good.” You mumble, raking your nails down his shoulders and back.  

“Are you ok?” He rises by a fraction to look at your ruddy face and brushes away a strand of hair.  

You nod, and smile at him, mapping each one of his scars with the tip of your finger as he remains nestled inside you. Two stars lost in the infinite, you and him, that converged in this life. “It’s you what I’ve always wanted,” you coo, caressing his hair. “You always protected me, Levi. Now, let me take care of you.” You press a light kiss on his right eyelid, and blinking the tears away, he casts a tender smile. His soul sparks and his skin frissons as he rocks his hips, grunts wrenching out from his chest. His pretty sounds fall into your ear, your bodies zooming in and out at a luscious, lazy pace.  

You embrace him as if there was a way to get even closer, as if you could trade atoms with every thrust. You bite your lips, holding back moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your nails carve red half-moons in the back of his shoulder as e increases the tempo, desperate to take you to the edge.  

“FuckShitFuckShit, Levi. Fuck, don’t stop.”  

His cock twitches, his hips stutter, his last thrusts are erratic as if he can’t control his movements anymore. You mewl his name, your gut tightening, as your conscience slips out from reality. He pushes deep into you one last time, groaning his repertoire. And your walls flutter around him, milking every last drop of him.   

The world whirls and he loses his balance. Vertigo.

Before he collapses, he mutters, “happy birthday.”

[thenightfolknetwork]

I've had problems with eczema for most of my life. Or at least, I thought it was eczema. What else would those patches of dry, hard, cracked skin be? It's never bothered me too much. I've always just slapped some cream on it and got on with my life (not those creams ever seemed to make much difference).

But a few weeks ago, a friend of mine (who is a creature themself) said that it looked less like eczema, and more like, well, scales. And now that I've actually thought about it, those strange patches don't really match the usual pictures of skin with eczema. They're too smooth, with an almost silver pigment in the right light.

So I've been researching, and wondering, and thinking about how I was always able to stay under the water so much longer than the other kids at swimming lessons, and contemplating the days I have when the air feels too thin, and wondering about the wrinkles on my neck.

The thing is... I've always thought I was sapio. I've tried to be a good ally to the creature community. I've tried to educate myself and support campaigns for creature rights. I've listened to the Nightfolk Network for years. I've got loads of friends who are creatures and I thought I was fully accepting. I've always said that the diversity of genuses in the world is a wonderful thing. But now that I'm wondering whether I might be a member of the creature community, I'm not sure that I'm as accepting as I've always thought. I've always talked about how members of the creature community are valid, but I'm only now realising that I saw them as definitely Other, definitely Not Me, perhaps even... not normal.

Questioning whether I'm fully sapio feels like a really drastic identity crisis. It feels uncomfortable. And surely if I really believed everything I used to say about decentering sapio narratives, I wouldn't feel this unsettled by the idea that I might be a member of the creature community. And how can I ask the creature community to accept me, if I don't really accept them as much as I want to?

I don't know what my question is really. I guess I'm just looking for a way to come to terms with this possible new information about myself. More importantly, I want to actually unlearn the idea that sapio is the norm, rather than just pretending to. Any advice?

I must say, you're being dreadfully hard on yourself, reader. You have put a tremendous amount of work into unlearning the sapio-centric narratives you've been immersed in since childhood, and it sounds as if you've made good progress to that end. But of course there is a difference between being accepting of diversity as an external question, and accepting a sudden, unexpected and unlooked-for change to your own identity.

You say you want to unlearn the idea that sapio is the norm. But I'm not sure I see any evidence here that you haven't already done that. The issue is that sapio has been your norm. That's not a matter of perspective or politics – it is simply true.

You didn't choose to be sapio, you don't think it is preferable to be a sapio than to be a person of the night. You simply believed yourself to be sapio. That's not prejudice, reader, any more than it is prejudiced to happen to have brown hair and so not consider yourself to be blonde.

I worry that your concerns on this front might be getting in the way of dealing with the emotional impact of this discovery. You are more than a mouthpiece for all the correct political opinions. You are more than a collection of opinions, each vetted and approved according to some external standard of moral purity.

You are a living, feeling, emotional person who has made a profoundly disruptive discovery about yourself, one which challenges every assumption you've held about your own identity and your place in the world. Take a moment. Breathe. Let yourself feel whatever it is you're feeling, whether or not you consider those feelings palatable. Let yourself be angry, or confused, or frightened, or any of the other very reasonable emotions this situation might have stirred up.

Your feelings don't make you a bad person. They don’t undermine the hard work you've done being a friend and ally to the creature community. And they aren't going to go away just because you argue with them.

In terms of helping you move forwards, you already have a strong network of liminal friends to lean on. Talk to them, get stuck in with the community, and learn by their example how to love your liminal self.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[poisonappletales]

@automaticcheesecakenacho’s Valentines + White Day Replies [4/5]

@automaticcheesecakenacho submitted the following Valentines:

She wrote:

Here is the 2nd Valentine of the 2nd Valentine batch to Arsenik~ ❤️ (Note: I did mention "Wall of Meat" last year in the Discord "Beauty & War" server when it was around my b-day, but I didn't provide an image so here at least you see the image of what the "Wall of Meat" looks like - I still love the birthday story + Thank you again Crown Ruler~) 🙏

She wrote:

Here is the 9th Valentine of the 2nd Valentine batch to Onyx (Second batch)  (Note: I actually love how this Valentine gram turned out~ ❤️) 

She wrote:

Here is the 11th Valentine of the 2nd Valentine batch to Dev (Second batch) 

She wrote:

Here is the 12th Valentine of the 2nd Valentine batch to Dominic (Second batch) 

♥♥♥

These are the White Day replies!

[chuckle] "That's all you have to put on your White Day card, Onyx?"

"Happy White Day."

"Oh my. Sir Dominic really ruined that wedding certificate..." [giggle]

[teasing] "Ruined it? Or improved it?"

"If I was at a Niku no Kabe cafe, I feel like I wouldn't be able to stop blushing..."

"I'd never want to leave!"

"Oh, and the answer key to this 'quiz' will be coming soon. Shall we make a bet? If you get most of the answers right, I'll give you a treat. But if you get most of them wrong, I might have to punish you..."

"So why did you choose that one, Onyx? You had four date options."

"Out of all the options, it seemed like the safest location to take her on a date."

"I'm guessing the dog in the lower left won't be a very nice doggie..."

"That's a dog? Well, if anyone could tame a dog-like beast like that, I'm sure you'd find a way."

[sarcastic] "Sure, just feed it some ice cream. Or that sushi of yours."

"Nobody touches the sad sushi! Also, I don't think it's wise to feed dogs treats like those...they would have to be made of dog-safe food or dog treats."

"Why are there fruits on the header when it's called a Wall of Meat?"

"Well, after having so much meat, fruit will be a refreshing palate cleanser."

"What would a reverse Wall of Meat look like?"

"You mean, if a man were to be surrounded by shapely women? I imagine it'd look like the king's harem."

"Good luck with your guesses, everyone!!"

"Tick-tock, tick-tock."

[commsroom]

Happy birthday! I always love seeing your posts :] As for an Eiffel question, here's a purposefully vague one: what are your favorite and least favorite things about him?

thank you! and okay, good question. hm.

some things i like about eiffel: he's expressive. he's genuine about his feelings, and that feels very... safe? or reassuring, to me. like, you know where you stand with doug eiffel. he loves the things he loves without any concept of irony, and as much as pop culture is a part of his personality, he's never been a gatekeeper. if he's upset about something, he will complain about it; he never stops asserting that the horrible situations he's in are not normal or okay. he will go to absurd lengths to not do his work, just out of principle, to the point where his methods of procrastination are definitely, frequently more work than just doing his job would have been. he never stops trying to reach out. he believes very strongly in every person's right to life and autonomy, and will defend that even when he doesn't personally like them. he doesn't resort to violence. he has no respect for authority. he calls hera "baby" and "darlin'." he's good with his hands. he's just some guy who used to work at pizza hut. he's very, very human. i love his voice. i love his voice when he's tired. he's always making little noises and whistling and humming to himself. he's got a ridiculous sweet tooth; i'm kinda enthralled by "triple white chocolate mochas with whipped cream." he definitely smells like stale cigarette smoke, and canonically just kind of stinks, and unfortunately i like that. it's his raw animal magnetism. i don't know. he makes me smile.

some things i don't like about eiffel: he's self-centered and avoids self-reflection, which means he's got a lot of unexamined privilege and assumes everyone navigates the world the way he does. sometimes he can be too willing to go "why can't we all get along?" with people who have no interest in getting along. i love his unwillingness to work, generally, but he has a lot of learned helplessness and weaponized incompetence to unlearn. and sometimes he really is such a good, compassionate listener, but sometimes he's so caught up in whatever conversation he's having with himself that he doesn't listen at all.

maybe paradoxically, one of my other favorite things about eiffel is that there are things i don't like about eiffel - very real, human things. he has serious flaws that are taken seriously in the show, but nothing about him would be a dealbreaker for me in a real person, as long as we're accounting for his good qualities, too. and i know there are smaller, less serious ways he would annoy me; i'm under no illusions about him. he snores. he chews with his mouth open. he would make me watch movies i hate, and get frustrated with me for hating them. he can be unbelievably clueless. i know he has atrocious domestic habits. that guy is not doing dishes or laundry, he is not even putting his leftovers in the fridge, he's leaving his dirty clothes and towels on the floor, he doesn't clean up his toenail clippings, etc. i know these things. eiffel is as appealing and compelling to me as he is because of how much he feels like a real person, and the less palatable things about him are crucial for that. he's contradictory. he's a dirtbag, and he's kind of a dick sometimes, and i love him more for that.

[ariadnewhitlock]

Timing: Current (well, on Tuesday) Location: Ariadne’s apartment Feat: Ariadne and Teddy ( @eldritchaccident ) Warnings: None Summary: Teddy comes over for tea. Aria is rhyming. At first Teddy thinks it is a bit. It isn’t. :/ 

Tuesday Tea dates, something that was supposed to happen quite regularly but due to life, the existence of terrible wonderful supernatural things, and distractible ex-demons, sort of just… hadn’t. Teddy wanted to make this one special. A little buddy moment meant to break up the bleak. With arms loaded up on treats and totes filled with various teas, Teds made their way to Ariadne’s apartment. 

The doorbell was a challenge. 

For a good minute or two the caster struggled with the bags, unwilling to put them down (because that was an admittance of defeat) but unable to get something up to the level of the button. Eventually, Teddy used their nose. Poking it just enough to hear a response. Checkmate. 

__

Teddy was super cool. Like, top ten coolest people Ariadne knew. Which made sense, because, again, Wynne had good taste in people (maybe Jade, notwithstanding) and Teddy had proven themselves to be just wonderful. So the fact that they wanted to have tea dates with her was something she’d be grateful for for as long as they were in her life.

She’d just gotten cups and everything all set up when she heard the doorbell ring and she glided over to the door, opening it. “It’s really nice to see you. Nothing in here should be askew.” Or at least she hoped. Ariadne wasn’t the neatest person around, but she liked to make a good impression wherever she could. “How’ve you been? Seeing you really makes me want to grin!” __

Now, Teddy was hardly the most perceptive person around, but even they noticed the strange cadence. Or perhaps word choice was a better way to notate the change. Maybe it was a bit. Teddy loved bits. Rhyming? They could hop on that train. “Howdy hello, the Tea’s good to go!” The long limbed guest wormed their way into the apartment, but not before bop-ing Ariadne on the hip with their own. 

“We’ve got cookies and cakes, and some new flavor takes.” The bag wiggled in their hand as Teddy showed it off, a fine prize, hard won by… going to the store. “What’s new with you… Scooby Doo?” 

__

They started to rhyme too and she shook her head curiously. Well, maybe then they wouldn’t call her out. “Oh, that’s really good. We wouldn’t want to make it out of wood.” Ariadne shrugged. “What did you get? I think my palate has very much been whet.” Which wasn’t a word she figured she had ever used before. “I don’t usually talk like that. I’m not even wearing a hat!” She exclaimed.

“I’m alright. I got to try the new flavor of Sprite!” Which was at least true, so she wasn’t lying on top of everything else. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

__

“Y’know, Cinnamon is made from a bark–” Teddy pondered for a second, thinking of the next rhyme. “Perhaps we should try normal wood, on a lark.” There were probably a few other tea ingredients that were technically wood. Which of course, started Teds on a spiraling path of thought as they placed everything out on the little table. 

“We’ve got a spicy chai and a sweet strawberry cream, both are new but I hear they taste like a dream.” Two ends of the spectrum of taste. “Oh no worries, no need for sorries.” A slant rhyme at best. Honestly Ariadne was amazing at this. They knew she was quick witted, but this was on another level. 

“Ohh, Sprite’s real nice, I like it over ice.” New flavor though? How behind the times had they gotten? “Lots of relaxing and resting… Making Emilio stay still is quite testing.” 

__

“Oh, I don’t know if I knew that fact. I don’t mean to lack tact.” Ariadne watched them spread out the contents of their bag. The strawberry cream sounded especially good. “I might wanna try the strawberry cream first. Anything sweet like that’ll quench my thirst.” She’d meant to say that she just liked anything sweet, but it didn’t come out that way.

“Me too! I’ve gotten it at the zoo. The zoo’s sort is pretty pricey. But it’s very nice and icy.” Ariadne grinned. “I’ve been told I can’t stay still too well. But I guess only time will tell.” She paused. “I think I have some in my fridge over there. I can get some if you want, or even a pair.” She bit her lip. “Pair of glasses or cans, I mean. It makes for a nice scene.”

__

“Lacking facts don’t put you in the sack.” Did that count? Wasn’t the rhyming couplet structure, but ahh well. “Lemme set up that treat, cause you deserve something sweet!” Teddy grinned and headed to the kitchen to fetch the hot water. “This tea pot is so cute!” They called over, then stopped for a second and added; “–and matching teacups to boot!” The looseleaf was scooped into the little basket, the water poured and the tray retrieved. Perfection. 

“I’ve still never been to the zoo, maybe we should hang out there too.” Zoos were… a difficult thing to parse. It took Teds a long time to realize that now-a-days they were more of a rehabilitation and education center rather than a prison for animals. There may or may not have been a few places in Canada that had lost a few apex predators in the early 90’s. Oops. “Oh Emilio is the worst at it, that boy cannot just sit.” A brief silence and an incredibly fond and goofy smile later, they added. “I love him so much Jellybean, even if he’s sometimes stinky and mean.” 

A taste test could be fun. “I’ve heard some use sprite to make their tea, I dunno ‘bout you, but it sounds questionable to me.” Tea and Soda seemed like a practical joke more than an actual ‘food hack’ but Ted would try anything at least once. 

___

“If you say so. I promise that you can always say no!” Because she didn’t want them to feel pressured into anything. That was never something that she would intend to do, and never something she wanted to seem like she did. “I can never get enough candy. The fact that I have lots is pretty handy.” Ariadne grinned. “I do like to match, I guess. Maybe that’s why I play so much chess.” It wasn’t, but she was a fan of the game, and it was something that made her brain think and made her feel successful in a way that few things other than dance did.

“We could if you want. I’ve been there with my aunt.” And Chance, and her uncle, but apparently that wasn’t something she could finish that sentence with. “Except I, uh, well, animals are afraid of me. I don’t want to make them try and flee.” Ariadne frowned for a moment, but quickly shook her head, not wanting to make things sad. “I’m glad you love him as much as you do. There’s hardly any couple out there as wonderful as you two.” 

“I feel you, Wynne’s the best thing in my life. I’d love to someday be their wife.” She smacked the palm of her hand against her mouth. “I don’t mean to overshare about that. I just would do anything, even wear an ugly hat.” Ariadne hoped they wouldn’t tell Wynne what she’d said, because she didn’t want to make them uncomfortable. “Yeah, I love a good sweet, but that sounds like something easy to beat.”

__

“I trust you on that, maybe we’ll see a bat!” Damn, Ariadne was really committed to this, hmm? Ah, right, Teddy thought, the mare thing. No animals unless they were… supernatural-ey. Maybe. Still unsure on that one. As versed as they were in the world of the extraordinary, the undead eluded the Jones fam. They knew enough to stay away unless it was really necessary or really fun. Though, that’s pretty much how Leviathan raised them about people too. Most if not all connections outside of the pair were for ‘necessary’ things. 

“We’ll just have to get you some more, treating you is never a chore.” It was a rhyme, but they meant it too. Teddy had a soft spot for kids, especially ones who didn’t seem like they had the best homelife or childhood. Kinda saw it as their duty to pass on the good fortune Leviathan brought to them with the adoption. Five, Twenty, did it really matter that much? Nah. She was still a kid, and deserved to be treated the best. 

“While the zoo is quite neat, it can be hell on your feet. So we could always find another fun, don’t have to stick to just that one.” They offered, not wanting to dishearten her with the sore subject. “Ah, well you say that right there, but I’ve seen how you care. You and Wynne are a great coup—” Ted’s mind skipped like a scratched record, hearing what she said and seeing the way she reacted. The words just kept slipping through, as if she had no control. 

“—wait, babes, are you not rhyming on purpose?” 

__ 

~To be continued~

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 24 - Do a Grouch a Flavor Day

This week we are covering a fun topic - Do A Grouch A Favour Day (link to the page explaining more about it and giving some fun facts) - thanks @caelenath for introducing me to it! It is a mix of stories that cheer ME up and stories where the characters do that to each other (even if we are a couple of days late - it was celebrated on February 16th this year)!

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Following stories cheer me up when I am feeling grumpy or need a palate cleanser after reading a darker story:

Trapped! - For Eden

So right off the bat I want to say - keep an open mind! In this story Mamoru has parents, with his mom getting obsessed with getting him married off and actually proceeds to go to an agency to find him a wife. Interactions between Usagi and Kunzite in this are hilarious, keeping the story lighter. And Mamoru realizing he won't cut it as a secret agent was *chef’s kiss* 

Swipe Right: A Tinder Tale - @daikon1

Mamoru is told he needs a date for Motoki's wedding, and Minako decides that Usagi should get Mamoru out of her head and sets up a Tinder profile for her. As our protagonists sit down to swipe away, they come across each other in the first 30 minutes on the app. After freaking out about swiping right, both proceed and get to have a conversation that was years in the making. This one is a bit of a 🍋

A Nice, Relaxing, Normal...Date? - @wishwars

Usagi has a date, based on a suggestion from Motoki, and is super excited to tell him about her experience. Except Mamoru is sitting RIGHT there and getting more jealous by the second. 

Drink Me - @queenrisa14

Cute one-shot of Usagi picking up a very drunk Mamoru from a night out with Motoki. He proceeds to make out with her purse and tell her how much he needs to not lose her again, being an adorable emotional mess. 

A Christmas Story - @caelenath @goddessalthena @linlamont @reispinkoveralls @riverlethe

The love I have for this poem knows no bounds. I might have even gotten a few people to do dramatic readings of it to their significant others when I first came across it (because it is THAT amazing), and so completely in character for our favorite duo. Usagi and Mamoru take a bath together, doing some experimentation. 

---

The following one-shots are the flip side, where characters cheer up each other:

Bad Day Blues - @kaleidodreams

Makoto has an absolutely awful day at work, only to come home to pass out on the couch instead of making dinner. Nephrite inadvertently cheers her up, showing up with flowers just because he thought of her.

Rainbow - @kasienda

Usagi drags a semi-unwilling Mamoru outside in the rain so he can truly appreciate the beauty of a rainbow.

These Games We Play: Chapter 12: Put the Laptop Down  - @allyunabridged

Mamoru gets too caught up in doing his work on his laptop to notice that Usagi has been trying to get him to go get dinner for over an hour.

Desperate Measures - @idesofnovember

King Endymion has to win back Neo-Queen Serenity, who has been giving him the cold shoulder, as the freshly developed memories of the split in R arc have begun to flood in.

Stuff Tippy Wrote -- Sailor Moon edition: Chapter 17: Usagi's bad day - @tiptoe39

Usagi is having one of THOSE days, where nothing goes right no matter how much she tries. When she eventually makes her way to the arcade to try and cheer herself up, Mamoru sits down next to her. Except this time, instead of continuing their verbal sparring, he offers to buy her some ice cream to make her day a little better. 

---

Next week we will cover Soulmate AU trope! I know @sinjazz has been looking forward to that one :)

Here are the links to the previous Tumblr posts in these series to explore more amazing works based on different themes - make sure to check them out if you haven't had a chance! (Click on title name to go to the post) - I will keep updating the list every week as new posts come up:

Week 1 - Groundhog Day

Week 2 - Established Relationships

Week 3 - Sex Positivity

Week 4 - Unfinished Stories

Week 5 - Darker Stories

Week 6 - Potions 🧪

Week 7 - Reveals

Week 8 - 👻Halloween🎃

Week 9 - Wrong Perceptions

Week 10 - Non-Senshi AU

Week 11 - In-Progress Fics

Week 12 - Mutual Pining

Week 13 - Enemies to Lovers

Week 14 - Slow Burn

Week 15 - Christmas Part 1 - Ugly Christmas Sweaters and Santa!

Week 16 - Christmas Part 2

Week 17 - New Years

Week 18 - High School AU

Week 19 - Slice of Life

Week 20 - Coffee shop AU

Week 21 - Huddle for Warmth

Week 22 - Friends to Lovers

Week 23 - Valentines Day

[danothan]

BARRY ALLEN HEADCANON: FOOD EDITION

some autistic ppl have the same few comfort foods they eat over and over, while some adhd ppl can’t consecutively eat the same thing more than once bc they get bored of it so quickly. so in the context of barry allen (who definitely has both), i hc that he likes to get experimental with his safe foods! he’s the type of person to crave stability, but i think his scientist habits and natural curiosity would have him wanting to spice things up in little ways to keep things fresh. so, as a small example, he might eat pizza every night for a week, but the toppings are gonna be different every time.

generally speaking, i think barry knows his way around a kitchen. i’d imagine that darryl wasn’t much of a cook as a single man of the house, so barry had to learn to cook for the both of them growing up (partly out of gratitude, mostly out of missing that sense of familiarity and homeliness).

now with these headcanons established, i’d like to introduce DC superhero girls into the picture. we all know that scene where barry’s trying to cheer up babs by making her his latest ice cream concoction, right? (“latest” also implying that this is smth he does frequently!) he gives her what he calls a “jalapeno toffee twirl sundae,” which is. obviously an abomination of a combo, but he’s ofc none the wiser. like babs straight up spits it out and he’s wondering if the problem is that he didn’t put enough salt 🤦🏻 (thank you dcshg for everything you’ve done for the barry allen community 🙏)

merging these ideas together, i believe that barry is a decent cook with a knack for experimentation + a picky eater with terrible taste. AND, may i remind you, is from the MIDWEST; he’s already starting off with what can only be called failed food experiments as his standard. what all of this adds to is that barry’s cooking is… a hit or miss. he’s had years of experience but a palate that challenges that skill. so be careful if you dine at the allen household; he’ll feed you with love, certainly, but it may come in the form of watergate “salad.” or… his version of it at least.