#beer flavored restaurant

[lesbienneanarchiste]

My Mexican aunt wanted to check out the local Mexican restaurant and my mom was like "..... Ok. Don't get your hopes up" and then guess what!! White people food.

[rathockey]

honestly this is the first situation that has actually truly tempted me to drink to feel better

[ingoodtastedenver]

Fall Flavors In Good Taste

Do you smell that? No, it’s not the earthy smell of decaying leaves, or smoky roasting chilies. It isn’t even pumpkin pie spice. It’s all of the wonderful, “warm” aromas of squashes, toasted nuts, chocolate, roasted veggies, whiskey and dark beers plus lots more. These area restaurants are embracing all those things (well, not the decaying leaves…) so we’ve created this Fall Flavors roundup to…

[kurooh]

SUMMERTIME SEX.

☆ includes: aged up! bakugō katsuki, todoroki shōtō, kaminari denki, takami keigo.

☆ warnings: 18+ content, fem! reader, fluff + smut, not proofread..

☆ note: thank you to pinterest’s summertime bucket lists. happy summer! even if you hate it (: also experimenting with a new layout

KATSUKI.

— though he usually doesn’t care about what you wear and finds you gorgeous in everything, there’s something about seeing you wear sundresses or skirts that genuinely makes him go insane.

— “the red is fuckin’ beautiful on you, baby.” katsuki’s rough hand rests on your thigh, pushing the skirt of your dress up ever so slightly. he’s driving to the your favorite restaurant, reservations already booked and awaiting for you in a half hour.

— suddenly, not far from the restaurant, he pulls over into a semi empty parking lot and exhales hard, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “okay, get in the damn back seat.”

— “why, katsu?” you ask innocently, adjusting your skirt so that it hikes up further, the lacy edge of your slutty panties peeking out at him.

— of course, he stares, his face warm. crimson eyes meet yours and he demands, “get in the backseat right now.” as you unbuckle and start to climb into the backseat, you wiggle your ass ever so slightly and he slaps it hard, drawing a surprised moan from you.

— immediately he’s in the backseat with you, all over you; his lips desperately slam into yours, his hands groping you all over. despite how badly he wants to see you naked, he doesn’t make any moves to pull your clothes off and instead twists his fingers into the fabric of your skirt in frustration.

— dazed from his kisses and on fire from his touch, your body falls back onto the seats and your legs spread for him, still in your skirt. he tugs your clothed pussy towards him, nearly tearing off your lace panties as he yanks them to the side. “careful, kat.”

— katsuki ignores your warning and eats you out rather roughly and quickly, sucking on your clit just right. he groans when you cum all over his tongue, his cock growing tight in his pants; he draws you into a sex flavored kiss and allows you to taste yourself on his lips.

— now, he yanks off his pants and boxers, leans back on the seats. he grips his cock at the base, “be a good girl and fuckin’ sit on it.” you reach to take your dress off and he shakes his head immediately.

— panties to the side and slicked up, you slowly push down onto his cock, gasping when the head nudges right against your sweet spot. katsuki groans desperately when you roll your hips onto him slowly, smacking your ass hard, another way of telling you not to be a tease.

— “okay, okay,” you relent, suddenly bouncing on him fast and hard. your red skirt rises and falls steadily, and he’s so fucking breathless. it’s uncharacteristic for katsuki’s eyes to roll back as much as they are now, for his mouth to be entirely dominated by sounds rather than words.

— “you like it, kat?” you smile at him, and it quickly dissolves into an expression of absolute pleasure. “i—fuck! you know i do, don’t stop,” his cock throbs inside of you, almost pulsing as he shakes beneath you.

— he cums with a shout, hissing as you ride him through it steadily, fending off your own in order to stay in charge like this. when you do eventually get close, he flips you over and fucks you through it, yanking your skirt to ground himself.

SHŌTŌ.

— the two of you were at a bonfire with friends and assistants of the agency, when you snuck away with shoto after one too many beers. now, behind a barnacle covered rock, you’re on your knees in front of him.

— “sho..” your moan is muffled on his large cock, which is pressed tightly between your lips and deeply at the back of your throat. he’s been stressed at the agency lately, coming home and having dinner with you and going to sleep, leaving no time for sex.

— of course, you were frustrated by this, hoping that the cause for his stress would finally blow over and he’d be back taking you in the hallway again. you’d seen his stress dissipate over the course of the 3 hour bonfire at the beach, over some beer. together, you drank and drank until he was grabbing at you and leading you behind some rocks on the shoreline.

— shoto hushes you, cupping the back of your head firmly and bucking his hips into your mouth. “oh god, i m-missed this so much, you have no idea,” he gasps, slurring some of his words. “i’ve missed you so much, my love.”

— your fingers slip past your swimsuit and rub sloppy patterns against your clit, trying to keep up with the pace of his thrusts into your mouth.

— you choke when he spears his cock into your throat a little too deeply; “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry—fuck!—your throat feels amazing, i’ve needed you so badly.”

— his balls smack against your chin and shoto continues to groan, the alcohol and horniness making him surprisingly talkative as he fucks your mouth. “it’s just, the people at that a-agency!” his cock stays hard, despite the fact that he’s thinking of his coworkers.

— out of the corner of you eye, you watch the waves crash on the sand, and after a particularly large one, the pace of his hips grows erratic. “ah—shit, i’m gonna fill up your mouth!”

DENKI.

— you and your boyfriend had been enjoying a picnic in the middle of a grassy field, far away from anyone in all directions. you shared fruit together, cuddled, watched clouds, but then things got a little sweeter.

— “denki!” you giggle with him as he lays you down on the picnic blanket, shifting his body so that he’s on top of you. his lips mesh with yours, and you taste the sweetness of the watermelon you’d shared with him earlier. your hand tangles in his soft golden hair, tugging gently, but just enough to draw a whine from his lips. denki’s hips grind against yours with a sloppy desperation, the lovely picnic and its food forgotten.

— he pulls his lips away, peppers kisses all over your cheeks, then starts to trail some down your neck. denki takes in your smell, the sounds you make, the feeling of your hips twisting beneath him; he nips at the soft skin, then sucks at it lovingly. “i want some more sugar,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your hot skin.

— “denki, we just finished a whole watermelon.” “mmm, i’m not talking about fruit.” unable to hold it back, you let out a laugh, and he finds himself laughing with you.

— “may i?” he pulls away, and moves towards your pelvic area. his eyes sparkle with joy, and his fingers rub quick circles into your thighs. “of course.” your breath hitches when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. he flips your skirt up, then makes himself comfortable on his stomach, facing you. your thighs fall open easily, and his eyes are on yours as he moves to give your clit a kiss.

— denki’s large hands rest on your ass cheeks, his fingers digging into your skin as he swipes his tongue against you. he savors your taste, whining slightly as he dips his tongue inside you. all you can do is moan and shame as he fucks your pussy with his tongue; it feels so good, and yet so teasing.

— “babe, stop teasing me.” you jerk your hips towards him, spreading your thighs wider.

— “but it’s fun,” he disagrees, now licking your clit slowly. he stops playing his little games with you when your fingers twist in his soft hair, yanking his face right into your pussy.

— now, he’s fingering you roughly, and sucking at your clit as though it’s a lollipop. denki holds your thighs open when they shake, threatening to close on him as your orgasm mounts, the pressure inside of you becoming stronger by the second.

— “denki, i-i’m gonna cum, please please don’t stop..” he doesn’t stop, licking your clit hard as you cum and fingering your puffy pussy even after you do; he likes to hear you cry about how sensitive you are.

KEIGO.

— when there’s a blackout in the early evening due to a thunderstorm, the temperature in the house quickly rises to 85° f / 29 c. you and your boyfriend sit on the floor, covered in a thick sheen of sweat. you’re both eating melting popsicles and worrying about how you’ll sleep without the ac on. you are the first to rise to your feet, dropping your thin shorts and shirt on the floor. his wings flutter when he unabashedly looks over every inch of your body, and your cheeks warm at the obvious desire visibly thickening in his shorts.

— “kei, let’s take a cold shower together.” you groan in distaste as you sweep your fingers over your perspiring forehead. he stands, strips off his clothes, and pulls you into his arms bridal style.

— “where to, dove?” he nuzzles his nose against yours, then gives you a sweet kiss. giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck, “the shower!”

— when you arrive to the bathroom together, you’re barely out of his arms before his lips are on yours, eager hands impatiently pulling at boxers and panties. keigo moans as you lightly palm his hardened cock, fingers sliding from the base to the tip.

— “you’re perfect,” he mumbles against your cheek as he practically claws off your bra with one hand, the other tugging your body impossibly closer. thunder rumbles outside of your apartment, the room darkening as it starts to rain and storm outside.

— “oh, we probably shouldn’t be doing this,” you giggle, remembering the dangers associated with showering during storms. “fuck that,” is his swift answer, and he pulls open the glass door and turns on the faucet.

— as you stand closely beneath the misty spray, a warmth presses against your backside; you gasp when he angles his cock to slip between your thighs, his hot tip bumping against your slick folds.

— his wings shift behind him when you turn to look into his eyes. he kisses you, “bend over for me, okay?” you plant your hands against the shower wall and angle your ass towards him, arching your back just right. his wings flutter, and he moans at the sight of you, wet and ready for him. with one hand, he reaches behind him and shoves down his rising wings before he finally presses into you.

— just feeling your tight heat on his tip already has him gasping out, his eyes rolling back and his face crumbling as he pushes all the way inside. “o-oh, angel,” he moans, then laughs nervously, gripping your hips and thrusting into you steadily, “god, i’m already gonna cum.”

— he does end up filling you up rather quickly, but he doesn’t dare to pull out. keigo fucks your creamy pussy with tears in his eyes, shuddering as he forces himself through his refractory period and cums again. this time, he’s rubbing your clit, desperate to cum at the same time.

[writing-fanics]

strawberry lemonade

Sanji x LuffyOlderSister!Reader

the waiter walked over the table holding the plate of bread, "Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food." He said annoyed, his hand stuffed into his pockets as he placed the plate of bread onto the table

“My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?” Sanji said, looking at the table his hand in his pockets.

Luffy grabbed the bread plate. "One of everything, please," he said. [Y/n] shook her head, smiling at her always-hungry little brother who could eat a whole buffet and still ask for seconds.

The waiter approached the table with a friendly smile and a suggestion: "May I interest you in one of our signature cocktails to elevate your dining experience?" As he spoke, [Y/n] swiftly and deftly took one of the warm rolls from the basket in the center of the table. Luffy was taken aback and protested with a playful "Hey!" [Y/n] responded by sticking out her tongue, teasingly. She then tore off a piece of the warm, crusty bread and popped it into her mouth, savoring the flavor.

As she looked up, her gaze met the waiter's. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed his flirtatious smile. "My apologies, madam. I didn't see you there. Would you like to start with an apéritif?" he asked, still smiling at her.

Her face turned bright red. "We have some rare Micqueot vintages in stock," he said, trying to impress her. "Or maybe you'd prefer a glass of Umeshu?" He continued to stare at her, captivated by her beauty.

The moment he flashed a flirtatious smile, her heart raced like a horse galloping on a race track. He leaned towards her and whispered, "You know, something sweet for someone sweet," causing her cheeks to flush with a bright red hue, reminiscent of a freshly picked ripe strawberry. She couldn't explain why she felt so nervous around him all of a sudden, her heart pounding relentlessly against her chest as if it wanted to break free.

He watched her intently, his gaze unwavering as she averted her eyes and looked down. Her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as she fiddled with the gold Roger coin around her neck, a precious keepsake that Shanks had given her and Luffy when they were children.

He smiled at her and she looked up for a moment, smiling sheepishly as they locked eyes. Usopp clears his throat and says, "Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?" He tells the waiter ordering the drinks, "Two beers. I usually have three, but…" He said,

"Water." Nami said looking at him.

„And a milk." Luffy interrupted, "Three beers and a milk. a water. And, uh, for madam?" Sanji asked, his gaze once again falling on [Y/n] looked up at him and blushed, "U-Um, I would strawberry lemonade and a cup of strawberries," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of shyness. He smiled at her and said, "Right away." just as he left to walk towards the kitchen.

[Y/n] hid her face in her shirt while the other crew members chuckled, Luffy looked towards his older sister playfully. "Y/n's gotta boyfriend," He teasingly said to her. "S-Shut up!" She whispered shouted, elbowing him in the arm before, as the Sanji brought out her drinks. He smiled, at her as he placed the strawberry lemonade in front of her, along with the side of strawberries. Sending her a wink as he did so, her heart almost seemed to stop and her soul could've left her body.

"Y/n's gotta boy-" [Y/n] grabbed some meat on a stick, and shoved it into her brother's mouth silencing him.

[bellyasks]

menu for a restaurant that specializes in overstuffing its customers (aka a silly prompt list)

Ask your server about dietary accommodations. Each meal is made to order, substitutions and alternative ingredients are available! All meats may be replaced with plant-based alternatives upon request. (And pick a meal to feed your favorite character--if they can finish it, they get one dessert on the house!)

Breakfast (all orders come with a side of home fries, fresh fruit, or your choice of meat)

Full Stack of Pancakes - Emphasis on "full." Lucky seven big fluffy pancakes, each with a different additive of your choice.

Big Ol' Bagel - A hefty bagel the size of your plate, toasted to order and topped with whatever you'd like.

Ostrich Egg Omelette - Okay, not really, but this omelette is made with two dozen eggs--the equivalent of one ostrich egg--and filled with your choice of meat and veggies.

Loaf of French Toast - A dozen thick slices of French toast topped with whipped cream and fresh berries.

Plus Size Pork Roll - A classic pork roll egg & cheese on our signature giant bagel.

Lunch (all orders come with a side of chips or fries)

Peanut Butter & Jelly Belly - The biggest PB&J you've ever seen, slathered generously on a buttery toasted baguette.

Quadruple Decker Club Sandwich - Your choice of meat with mayo, lettuce, tomato, and bacon, heaped on between four slices of bread.

Piece-A Pizza - This slice is equivalent in size to an entire large pizza and covered with your choice of toppings. Perfect for people who are lying to themselves when they say they'll just have one piece.

Double Footlong - Two feet of classic Italian hoagie on a fresh-baked roll.

Stomach Stretcher - They say eating a head of lettuce is a great way to stretch your stomach out, and that's exactly what this giant salad will do. We bring you the lettuce, you take it to the salad bar and add the rest.

Dinner (all orders come with a side of rice, fries, baked or mashed potato, or a fresh vegetable medley unless marked *)

Sushi Bloat Boat - A sushi boat big enough for a full table, pricey to share but free for any one person who manages to finish it alone.

Box of Pasta - A full 16oz box of pasta (your choice of spaghetti, penne, or linguine) tossed in Alfredo, marinara, or a white wine sauce. Add your choice of meat for an extra $2.

Full Size Fish & Chips* - An entire 10-20lb cod (ask your server about choosing a fish) cleaned, battered, fried, and served with steak fries.

The Whole Farm* - A barbecue variety platter. Pulled pork, brisket, ribs, and chicken breast slathered in our signature sauce, with an ear of corn, baked beans, and coleslaw on the side.

Raised Steak - A 48oz grilled ribeye. Also available as an equivalent weight of seasoned and grilled portobello mushrooms.

Dessert

Paint Can - A creamy and colorful milkshake served in a one gallon paint can. See the ice cream counter for today's available flavors.

Loaf of Bread Pudding - Warm bread pudding made with an entire loaf of bread, topped with an optional scoop of vanilla ice cream.

Root Beer Bloat - A classic float with your choice of ice cream. The twist is that this dessert holds two liters of root beer and a portion of ice cream to match.

Burp-day Cake - A seven-layer slice of chocolate cake guaranteed to be the size of your head or it's free, topped with a thick crust of fizzy Pop Rocks.

Gobbler Cobbler - A pie-sized dish of peach, blueberry, or apple cobbler, topped with three optional scoops of vanilla ice cream.

[copperbadge]

Behold, a slightly longer video of the cheese conveyor belt!

This is at Culture & Co. in Nashville, which is incredibly and delightfully the second charcuterie conveyor belt restaurant I've eaten at in the last two years, the other being Pick & Cheese in London.

As with Pick & Cheese I do know myself, so I set out the rule ahead of time that I could only take three plates, and thus I chose with care. First course: "Bruleed Brie" with passion fruit caramel cultured butter. This is a brie-style cheese from Pennsylvania (where my yinzers at) which has had one open side dipped in sugar and then presumably melted with a culinary torch; it looks like jam, but as you can see in the second image, when you tap the brulee it cracks like toffee.

Both the brulee brie and the butter were fantastic; the acid of the passion fruit cuts the sugar and the fattiness a little, but it also really emerges as its own flavor. I think this is the most imaginative way to upgrade brie I've seen in a minute. I kinda wanna try it at home.

Second plate was a Cumblerland "tomme-style" natural rind cheese from Tennessee (specifically Sequatchie Cove) with house made potato chive crackers and rosemary. The real highlight of this cheese is, honestly, the rind -- it has a flavor unique from the rest of the slice, which is much milder and reminded me of a young gouda, almost. The crackers don't look like much but however they make them they were really packed with this nice earthy salty flavor.

For "dessert" I almost went with a vegan cashew-based "Gouda" with shiitake bacon, mainly for the bacon I'll be honest, and you can actually see that plate go by, it's the first one you see in the video up top. Instead I decided to go with...I'm not sure even what kind of cheese this is because it's called GOAT RODEO BAMBOOZLE. I mean, the menu said it was a semi-soft washed rind goat's milk cheese, so there's that.

Normally I avoid goat cheese because I find it very dry texturally, but this was nice, it had that kind of gamey goaty taste but was much more buttery. It came with two pecan shortbread cookies (sandies) and a little cup of root beer caramel, which you can see dripping down a bite of the cheese in the second image. I don't know how you make root beer caramel (sasparilla in the milk?) but it had a nice peppery note to it. I wanted to down it like a shot but resisted.

Anyway, all three were fantastic, not a loser in the bunch, and the wait staff were super pleasant and knowledgeable, so it was a pretty great meal, especially for $30 (including tip).

I don't know who's setting these cheese conveyor belts up across the world but whoever you are, if you bring one to Chicago I will be grateful and I will eat there and bring visiting friends there. Some of my friends even drink wine, so we won't be cheap dates, I promise. We're so close to Wisconsin! Think what you could do with the curds, man, the curds!

[2tcs]

Danny’s Journal or A Countdown to the Beginning

Summary: A look into the year leading up to the accident from the perspective of a forgotten journal.

February 9, 2002

Dear journal. Mom and Dad said they had a surprise for me and Jazz when we get home from school. Please God don't let it be another ghost gun or something. My hair is still singed from the last one.

Update. It was, in fact, a gun. Jazz now has a mild burn on her arm and is screaming how they need therapy. Not disagreeing but I don't think it's going to happen.

February 12, 2002

Dear journal. Happy birthday. A year ago Jazz gave you to me for my birthday. How my parents haven't accidentally destroyed you I don't know.

Me Tucker, Sam, and Jazz went out to eat for my birthday. Sam even had her family driver take us a town over to try that new restaurant. Well, that's what their excuse was.  I think they were trying to get me out of the house for a little bit since Mom and Dad are going on a rampage through the house disassembling all the appliances. It's 10 pm and I can still hear noise coming from the basement.

March 26, 2002

I have the best idea for an April Fools prank. It involves chez whiz and glitter.

April 1, 2002

The prank worked like a charm. The jocks are going to smell like cheese for weeks. And they ain't ever getting the glitter out.

On the downside. Dash broke my arm and Mom and Dad put a “Fenton Anti-ghost Cast” on me. It kinda glows and makes my arm feel weird.

April 23, 2002

Sam’s birthday party was a glorious disaster this year. Her mom decided to do a princess-themed party. We have been preparing for this day since Sam found one of her mom’s work journals. We managed to sneak paint and glitter bombs into the venue before anyone got there. We even managed to get one on each of the chandeliers. It was awesome. Everyone got covered in black paint and red glitter. 

What we didn’t account for was Grandma Ida hiring professional snake handlers to bring in a bunch of snakes for Sam. The snakes were non-venomous and luckily were all caught after one of the rich people bumped into the table that the snake cage was on. And the paint was non-toxic so it was easy to clean off the snakes too without them getting sick. Still kinda feel bad that the snakes got caught in the crossfire though.

May 20, 2002

🎵Schools out for the summer!🎵 Lol this is going to be so exciting. Our last summer as middle schoolers. Nothing but the big leagues after this!

June 13, 2002

Dad wants to go camping for Father's Day so we're going to head out tomorrow morning. Think I heard them mention Lake Arrowhead. That'll be cool. Haven't fished there before.

June 15, 2002

I don't know how but we're in Gotham. Apparently, there's some stupid ghost conversation going on so we're going to be stuck here for the next week. On the pulse side though I found a really cool cafe not too far from the hotel. And they don’t seem to care if you just hang out as long as their not busy and you buy something. Me and Jazz will probably be spending a lot of time here or at their library. It’s huge and has an entire section of space!

June 16, 2002

Turns out I'm allergic to something called Blood Blossoms. Mom and Dad ended up having some guy try to cleanse me of “the evil spook” after I accidentally brushed up against the flowers he had on his table. Jazz had to convince them to get me to the hospital. Luckily one of the guys walking around had an epi pen. So that helped. Still sucks and now I'm stuck at the hotel while Jazz frets like a mother hen. I don't think she's even realized that she has a rash on her hand from when she threw the flowers away from me.

June 19, 2002

So… Batman is real… wtf? He apparently has some questions for Mom and Dad but they haven't come back yet. He apologized to me and Jazz for waking us up and gave us suckers? Which. Weird. And Jazz threw them away when he left because “stranger danger is still a thing even if they are a hero”. RIP little Root Beer flavored DumDum. You will be missed.

And on the other hand, Robin was pretty cool. He's snarky and brave and hilarious and he is just so cool. 10/10 New favorite Robin. He even gave me a book recommendation for the report I'm supposed to turn in at the start of freshman year.

June 22, 2002

We were supposed to leave Gotham today. We were supposed to finally head to one of the lakes on the way home to do some camping and fishing. We were supposed to have a relaxing time. So please journal. Can you tell me why the giant wannabe scaly just threw the GAV? Now we are going to be stuck in this stupid city for another week while Mom and Dad fix it.

June 24, 2002

I made a new friend! Do you remember that cafe I talked about a few days ago? Well, I met a guy there. His name is Jason. He’s an absolute lit nerd but is way cool. The guy’s got muscles underneath his school uniform too. The guy looks like he could snap me like a twig yet isn’t at all like Dash. Hopefully, we can keep in contact after we head back to Amity. For now, we are planning on meeting up at the cafe tomorrow with our favorite books. I found “Star Stories”at the library so I’m bringing it with me. I don’t know if he likes stars but I hope he likes some of the stories about them.

July 9, 2002

Finally back at home. Dad had smuggled fireworks into the GAV (how they didn’t explode when KC threw it in Gotham idk) so we spent the 4th of July shooting them off at the lake. We ended up going to Lake Erie for the camping trip because Mom heard something at the convention about a ghost hanging out around there. Didn’t see any ghosts but the fishing was good. I even caught a bass the size of my head! All around it was really fun! Oh and the stars were so clear! The Summer Triangle was so clear you could point out Vega, Deneb, and Altair! It was so cool! Did you know that Vega is in the Lyra constellation? Or Deneb is in the Cygnus Constellation. And Altair is a part of the Aquila constellation!

Maybe I should ask if Mom and Dad could get me another journal for charting the stars. I’ll need the practice if I want to become an astronaut.

July 29, 2002

It’s a good thing that I got two of everything when me, Sam, and Tucker went shopping for school supplies. I got a lot of new space-themed stuff but the moment I got home Dad insisted on ghost-proofing my new backpack… It melted. I don’t even know how he managed to melt a canvas bag. It didn’t even catch fire first. Just started melting the moment Dad started spraying his new “Fenten Ecto-Rejecto Spray” on it. Wtf Dad.

On the plus side, Sam found a new coffin backpack and Tucker was able to get a new bag that had a pouch that he can put the walkman he got yesterday for his birthday. He is so hyped about it. 

August 6, 2002

School starts next week and I am so hyped. Finally going to be a high schooler. Cool Kids Club here we go!

August 15, 2002

Kill me now. May the Gods strike me down and end my suffering. May the Faits find me lacking and cut my string. May the Crone tear me from the tapestry, the mother rejects my thread from the loom and the maiden take the wool of my youth and set it aside.

Sam has just informed me that that isn’t quite what the Mother, Maiden, and Crone do but whatever. Just know that everything sucks because apparently someone called the house phone and told Mom and Dad that there was a ghost in the school. The A-listers are blaming me for ruining their high school debut.

August 30, 2002

Mom and Dad have started making more noise in the lab than normal. It’s gotten to the point that Jazz has been spending more time at the library to study. Speaking of Jazz, she has been obsessing over self-help and psychology books lately. I mean. Jazz has always talked up therapy but now she’s kinda getting snooty about it. Sam suggested we start hanging out at that gazebo thingy at the park so we can get our work done on the nicer days. We’ll have to hang at Tucker's place though on the rainy days. Sam’s parents have decided that it’s time to put their foot down and get Sam to “socialize with your actual peers Sammy-kins so that you can make better connections and start networking” or whatever. So basically Sam’s mom doesn’t want her to be associated with us plebs I guess.

September 8, 2002

Mom and Dad repurposed the fridge so they could put samples in it. Apparently, the one in the lab broke. The green stuff in the tubes kinda creeps me out. Jazz is yelling at them about it. I kinda agree. Cross-contamination anyone? Think I’m gonna eat out at Nasty more often.

September 28, 2002

Either I’m going crazy or the leftover chicken and noodle soup in the fridge was moving. Like the noodles were wiggling around like worms or something. Jazz ordered pizza.

October 5, 2002

There are new wires in the house now and they glow? Mom said that they had some sort of breakthrough and are using the samples that they have to coat some of the tech in the house to “ecto-proof” it. Apparently, the ectoplasm doesn’t like electronics so they weren’t really able to mix it with tech too well. Some of Mom’s blueprints look like Star Wars blasters. Dad’s are less impressive.

October 29, 2002

Mom and Dad have locked me and Jazz in our rooms because of the “Ghost Menaces”. Me and Jazz have both taped warning signs on our windows so some brave trick-or-treaters don’t accidentally get hurt.

November 1, 2002

The signs worked but I saw Mom and Dad taking off in the GAV around midnight. Whatever. Me and Tucker did manage to reach a new level in DOOM last night so that was cool. And it’s World Vegan Day today so Sam is going to take us out to eat at a vegan place for dinner. I have no clue what Tucker’s going to eat. Well probably get it to-go so he can get something.

I found out where Mom and Dad went last night. The cops showed up and gave Mom and Dad a ticket for destroying a part of the park's water fixture. Someone had organised a haunted forest thing in the park and my parents went absolute ape.

November 2, 2002

Who told Mom and Dad about Dia de Los Muertos? Or that there was a little remembrance celebration/party thing going on today because of it? I’ve decided to make deviled eggs in protest of their chaos and have also bought candy skulls to eat.

November 18, 2002

Apparently, there is an Occult Day(?) and Sam insists we spend the day researching cults. Tucker has found a tech cult online that says there is “Techno Magic” and he is now trying to learn it. Sam has found a book of curses and has been giggling since she found it. Sam giggling is terrifying. I am concerned.

November 28, 2002

The turkey came to life and attacked us. Mom and Dad are blaming ghosts but me and Jazz agree that this is totally their fault for putting the stupid ecto in the fridge. At least the rest of the food was edible. I mean. It had a kinda glowing but I haven’t gotten sick yet. So yay?

November 29, 2002

So the food wasn’t good and I ended up getting sick this morning. fml Jazz is mad that I ate some of it. I am fully aware of what food safety is Jazz. But I was hungry and after the turkey, I was just tired and hangry. I had no clue you had ordered pizza so :p

December 5, 2002

On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me! Nothing because my family is insane. Mom and Dad are already starting their yearly Santa argument. Sam and Tuck are both out of town to visit family for the holidays, Jazz is avoiding the house because it’s “disruptive to my mental development” and I’m grounded for yelling at Dad when he burst into my room and accidentally made my little Rover fall off the shelf and brake.

December 9, 2002

Mom and Dad’s insanity is ramping up. They almost never leave the lab now and whenever I try to bring food down to them they either just mumble and keep working or start arguing again. The whole in the wall has a frame now too.

December 24, 2002

I made a mistake when I brought Mom and Dad their dinner today. In my defense, I was just tired of them yelling about Santa. So I asked why they had hazmat suits but me and Jazz didn’t if ecto was so dangerous. Because if it’s that dangerous then the fact we have ecto in the fridge means that we should all have suits. Jazz is furious with me cause now our parents are making us try on our new suits tomorrow. I am terrified of whatever monstrosity they create no matter how “fashionable” Dad claims they will be.

December 25, 2002

It’s worse than I thought. Mine’s white.

January 15, 2003

Gods, I hate this. I’ve been sick for the past week and Jazz says we’re almost out of soup. I keep going back and forth between being hungry and puking up whatever Jazz feeds me. Mom says that she has some tea that may help but when Dad brought it up it tasted funny. It did make me feel a little better but it just had a really weird taste. Dad said it’s just because I’m sick so everything tastes funny right now.

January 19, 2003

Is it weird that I want to lick the ecto in the fridge? I’m pretty sure it is but it still kinda looks lickable to me. Like how you know that D batteries are not edible but almost everyone has licked one at some point?

Jazz just gave me a lecture about putting things in my mouth that I shouldn’t… Again…

January 27, 2003

Jazz scared me this morning. I walked into the kitchen this morning and just saw glowing eyes. Like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Jazz thinks I’m hallucinating from lack of sleep because of the all-nighter I pulled with Tuck trying to pass the next level on DOOM but I swear that her eyes were glowing.

February 9, 2003

I’m starting to worry. I know they're obsessed with their dumb portal but they haven’t eaten in 2 days. Jazz is planning on going down there and persuading (yelling at them) them to eat if they don’t come up for dinner tonight.

February 12, 2003

Happy Birthday to me. I am now 14 years old. Mom and Dad forgot it was my birthday again. They ran into the kitchen this morning because they completed their portal. They even dragged me and Jazz down into the lab to see them turn it on before we went to school. It didn’t work and now Mom and Dad are going to take a drive around town to clear their heads. They probably won’t be back until dinner time. Sam and Tucker are coming over after school though so at least it will be quiet while they are over. And I think Jazz is going to make a cake if the box of mix I saw her trying to hide from me yesterday is any indication. 

[samwisethewitch]

How I Get the Most Out of Meat When Cooking

As someone who 1.) was 100% vegetarian for ethical/religious reasons until very recently, and 2.) recently had to reintroduce meat for vitamin deficiency reasons, limiting waste as much as possible when I cook with meat is really important to me. For one thing, I feel like I owe it to the animal that died to get as much use as possible out of its body as a way of honoring its death. For another, meat is expensive (ethically raised meat even more so) and I want to get my money's worth.

I recently bought a bunch of lamb for my family's holiday dinner, so I wanted to share my attempt to practice the Honorable Harvest in my meat consumption. This is new to me, but I wanted to document the attempt because it's been a fun learning process for me! If you want to actually learn about honorable consumption I encourage you to read the works of Robin Wall Kimmerer and other indigenous ecologists, since the Honorable Harvest is based on indigenous North American practices. (Though there are other cultural practices all over the world.)

Step One: Sourcing the Meat

I am very fortunate to have enough disposable income to buy ethically raised meat, which tends to be more expensive. This is a privilege. Other people are not able to spend this extra money on their meat, and that doesn't make me better than them. Feeding yourself is morally neutral, and a tight budget is not a moral failing. Most meat alternative products (Beyond Beef, Impossible, etc.) are also pretty expensive. If the factory-farmed meat at the supermarket is the only thing in your budget, use that.

If you DO have some extra funds, local farms are a great place to source meat. The reason we had lamb for the holidays is because a local farm recently culled their herd and had lamb on sale. In the past we've gotten beef from a relative who raises cattle. I encourage you to learn about farms in your area and what they have to offer. CSAs and farmers' markets are great places to start. You can also ask around at local restaurants about where they source their ingredients.

When I say "ethically raised meat," what I'm really talking about is pasture-raised animals. Cage-free animals may not live in cages, but they can still be kept in cramped, dirty, inhumane conditions and be sold as "cage free." Pasture-raised animals are able to graze and forage and generally wander around within a paddock. For some animals like chickens you can also look for "free range," which means the animals are unfenced and are able to wander freely. Since I don't cook meat often, I try to get free range or pasture-raised meat when I do buy it.

In some areas, you may also be able to find certified ethically slaughtered meat, which means the slaughtering process has been designed to cause as little suffering to the animal as possible. That kind of certification isn't really available where I live, but it might be for you!

And of course, hunting or fishing yourself is also an option. If you kill the animal yourself, you know exactly how it died and can take steps to limit suffering as much as possible. Hunting isn't a skillset I have, but if you do more power to you!

Step Two: Cooking the Meat

This is the easy part. Depending on the cut of meat you got and the dish you are cooking, you may need to remove bones or trim fat, but aside from that it's just following a recipe.

For our holiday lamb stew, I used this recipe. I have Celiac disease, so I subbed gluten-free flour and replaced the beer with red wine. I also added rosemary and garlic for a more Mediterranean flavor to compliment the wine.

Step Three: Organs and Bones

This is where the breakdown is for a lot of Americans. We don't cook with bones or organs very often, and we tend to throw away whatever parts of the animal we don't want. That is not honorable consumption. Part of the Honorable Harvest is using every part of the being that died to feed you.

Most organs make great stew meat. My favorite Nicaraguan beef stew is made with tongue, and my indigenous Hawaiian relatives make stew with pig feet. And while I don't like them, lots of my Southern family members love chitlins (pickled pig intestines). Lots of cultures eat organs, and you'll find plenty of delicious recipes if you look!

Bones are typically used to make stock, which can be used as a base for future soups and stews. There are lots of recipes for DIY stocks and broths, but I usually fry some onions and/or garlic, deglaze with wine, and then add the meat/bones and the water, plus salt, pepper, and herbs for flavor. Most animal bones can produce two batches of stock before they lose flavor. (For really flavorful stock, leave some meat on the bones.)

Once the stock is done, you'll still have bones to deal with. Contrary to popular belief, cooked bones are not safe for dogs to chew on. (But raw bones usually are!) Instead, I strip any remaining meat and gristle from the stock bones, give those scraps to my pups as a treat, and then use the stripped bones for something else. With a little extra processing, the bones can be used as a fertilizer in a garden, a calcium supplement for chickens, or a safe treat for dogs and/or cats.

This was my first time processing bones, but after boiling them for, like, 12 hours in water with salt and vinegar, they were soft enough to break apart with my hands. I'm going to grind them to make bone meal.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Pity Party | p. 2

Carmy Berzatto x gn!reader

Masterlist Part One

Summary: Carmy takes you home, but you find yourself not ready to go yet

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, some mushiness, fluff, possibly incorrect info about cars

A/n: hi. I’m sorry for taking a million years on this. and I’m sorry it’s not longer. Thank you to anyone that read the first part and shared their interest <3 and thank you for reading this one. You all are the best

“Holy shit,” you said, food still in your mouth and hand wrapped around the taco. Your wide eyes glanced up to Carmy’s.

“Right?” He swallowed down his bite before grinning, his head bobbing up and down in an approving nod.

You’d replaced the claustrophobic party with a small taqueria that, despite the occasional yelling between the front person and cooks, was much more peaceful. It had too few people in it for how good the food tasted, but you wouldn’t complain about the lack of noise or drunken singing.

“All the dishes were created by Rosa. She owned this food truck back when I was a kid — way before she could open up this place. If you come back–”

“When I come back,” you corrected.

“When you come back,” he said with a grin, “Their shredded beef is top shit. She spends hours getting it just right. Or the nachos. Even their fucking nachos are insane.”

You laughed, suddenly wishing you’d ordered nachos — maybe if you had more time here. As you ate, you listened to Carmy continue telling you about the restaurant and Rosa and how the tastes come together just right. You didn’t think you’d ever thought that hard about food before, but you just listened to him explain.

Well, mostly. Sometimes you watched his eyes light up as he spoke. Or you focused on the smooth way his mouth formed around the words.

“Sorry, this can get annoying,” he said after a minute of explaining the flavor profile of the tres leches cake a past restaurant he’d worked at had, and how it was a twist on Rosa’s tres leches cake he’d had as a kid.

But you shook your head, your expression dropping into a frown at his sudden cynicism. “No, no. Keep going,” you offered, hoping your tone sounded as sincere as you felt. “It’s fascinating stuff. Does Rosa know that she inspired you?”

You kept asking him questions. Most of it was to feed your interest, but part of it was to hear him keep talking.

Taking a sip of water, you washed down the different flavors of the taco. “Thank you again for taking me here. You’re a two-time lifesaver now,” you said with a tired but grateful laugh. Your eyes glanced down to your phone, seeing that Richie gave a thumbs up to your message saying you got a ride home from Carmy.

“Course. And thanks again for paying,” he said with an almost incredulous laugh. “Though I still can’t believe you paid the guy before I could see what you were doing.”

You nodded, happily chewing. It was the least you could do since he saved your night from complete disaster. “You can grab food the next time you drive me home from a party while I’m covered in beer.”

“Christ, I hope that doesn’t happen again for your sake.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, balling it up onto his plate. He gestured a finger toward you, saying, “The guy that spilled on you sounded like a total douche.”

A smile broke out across your face as you swallowed down a bite. “He was. He had the ugliest polo and cargo short combo I’ve ever seen doing the grossest hip thrusts I’ve ever seen with a full cup. And that wasn’t even the worst part!” You couldn’t contain the giggles popping up through your words now. “I looked back at him while walking away — from the most half-assed apology I’d ever heard — and saw his toe shoes… The fucker was wearing toe shoes!”

Carmy almost spit out his water, choking on it as you spoke. When he finally recovered, he shook his head, saying, “Nah, you’re fucking with me. There’s no way.” His grin went wide as he laughed harder.

“No, I’m 100% serious. I nearly ran into someone cause I couldn’t take my eyes off of them — like a goddamn trainwreck or something.”

You relished in the sound of his laughter, letting it replace the image of that guy’s horrible footwear.

“Christ, that’s horrible.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, finishing up your food. Standing, you held out a hand for his plate. You threw away the trash, stacking the plates in a dish bin with the remnants of laughter stuck to you. By the time you came back to the table, Carmy was standing and putting his jacket back on.

He stared at you for a second, and you couldn’t read the look in his eyes. You smiled nonetheless. He just said, “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. It didn’t feel as cold walking to the van this time with a full stomach and being next to Carmy. The tender fuzziness wrapped throughout your body didn’t wane until after a few miles of driving. On a side road meant to take you to the freeway back into the city, the car began to lurch. Your gaze slid over to Carmy as the van gradually slowed.

You found his expression sinking into a frown as he pulled off onto the shoulder. The skin of his knuckle stretched taut, his hands gripping the wheel tight. Parked, he shut the car off and tried turning it back on. Your stomach sank when a click-click-click sound hit your ears.

His fingers firmly wrapped around the car keys stuck into the ignition. He tried turning them again, which only produced that clicking sound once more. One final try, a hail mary as you held your breath, as he tried again. But you let out a half sigh when the engine kept turning over.

He slumped back into his seat, his hand dropping from the keys to lie beside his leg. “Fuck…” he breathed out, wiping the other hand across his forehead and along his hairline.

You opened your mouth, hoping to say something helpful, but nothing worked its way past the worry lining your throat. So you pressed your lips back together. You just nodded when he told you, “Let me see if I can look under the hood,” and made his way to the front of the van. Your eyes flitted between looking at the way his face wrinkled as he felt for the hood release and your fingers picking at your nails.

Flickers of the flashlight from Carmy’s phone passed from either side of the popped hood. A few minutes later, your eyebrows rose expectantly at him as soon as he came back. “What’s the prognosis?” you asked.

He sighed while closing the door, glancing to you. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked on cars, but there’s definitely a leak. With how hot it felt under there, I’d guess it’s the coolant.”

You breathed out, your eyebrows sinking into a disappointed frown. “So a tow truck it is.”

“Yeah…” he said, “I’m sorry, let me- I’ll order you a ride.” His words sounded defeated as he fished out his phone from his jean pocket.

“Oh, you don’t…” The words slipped past your lips before you could register what you were saying — before you could recognize the sharp feelings in your chest that sparked the words. Carmy turned to look at you, his attention fixed on the end of your sentence. Beneath his stare, you found it hard to think much beyond how much you weren’t ready for the night to end.

Clearing your throat, you slowly said, “You don’t have to do that. I could, um, wait with you.” With your heart beating against your ribs, you added, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind me sticking around.”

His finger paused, hovering over his phone screen. After a beat, the corner of his mouth lifted into a hesitant smile. “Uh, no. ‘f course not,” he said. “But it could be awhile before a truck gets here.”

Smiling, you shrugged. “Okay.”

And you watched him nod as a bigger smile spread across his face, like sunshine sneaking through the crack of a door. Your gaze flitted around the van’s interior and the dark side of the road while he called the towing company. But your attention was back on him when he hung up.

A small sigh accompanied his words. “They said it could be an hour. Maybe more.”

“Okay, well,” you started but paused, feeling warm all over. You hadn’t quite thought this far ahead. And now, in the soft silence of the van, his attention sat entirely on you. Quickly, you glanced into the back of the van, eyeing all of the boxes that sat there. With a slight grin, you continued, “Well now that we have some time to kill, I have to ask what’s all back here.”

Carmy shifted, looking to the back as well. “God, sorry about the mess. Most of it’s just supplies for The Beef… And Richie’s stupid fucking shirts for the restaurant.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Well shirts aren’t so bad. They can be good advertising for–”

“They say ‘The Original Berf.’”

“Oh.” You let out a small laugh, which grew with each breath because of course they said that. The way Carmy shook his head only furthered your giggling. Eventually, once your laughter died down, you eyed the back again. “How many shirts are in there?”

He looked back again, reaching a hand back to flip up the top of a box behind your seat. “Uh, maybe 20? Why?”

Pursing your lips, you asked, “Do you think there’s a shirt my size in there?” And at Carmy’s laugh, your mouth pulled into a smile.

“Let me see…”

He stretched toward the back, his hand gripping the side of your seat. With his body just a few inches away, waves of warmth rolled off of him. Your eyes couldn’t help trailing the curls of his hair or the dips and wrinkles of his sweater around his body.

When the rustling stopped, and your gaze elsewhere, he finally pulled back with a dark navy shirt in his hands. “Here you go.”

Giving a quiet, “Thank you,” you unfolded the shirt and held it up. It looked to be about your size, so you began unbuckling your seatbelt. “Um, could you– I mean, do you mind?” you asked, holding the shirt close to you, unsure of how to ask him to give you privacy in the car.

Thankfully, he got the message and turned the other way. “Yeah, yeah. Just, uh, let me know if it doesn’t fit.”

Hesitantly, your fingers wrapped around the hem of your shirt. You briefly relished in the feeling of finally taking off your beer-stained shirt, enjoying the air from the car’s vents against your skin. You pulled down the new shirt and said, “Okay, you’re good to look.”

You shifted it this way and that until it felt right. As you looked down and read that it did indeed read “The Original Berf,” another laugh slipped from your mouth.

You looked at Carmy as he said, “Richie calls it a collector’s item.”

“Of course he does,” you muttered with a grin. The feeling of a dry, smell-free shirt had you thanking him again. “This might bring you up to saving me three times tonight.” You turned to look at him, the left side of your body resting against the back of your seat. Your head tilted, leaning into the headrest.

“Well, you’re spending tonight waiting for a tow truck with me, so I’d say we’re about even.”

You let out a quiet hum, pursing your lips. “If we’re even… then could I ask you a favor?”

He was now turned toward you, his head tilted the same way. His hands sat in his lap, his fingers fidgeting every couple of seconds. Yet his expression looked almost calm as he said, “Yeah, anything.”

–

So there you both were, lying on the hood of his van looking up at the stars. With a sturdy enough box to use as a step and a thermal blanket beneath your bodies, you and Carmy set up a place to stargaze side by side. The night air and moonlight kissed your skin as you raised a hand, pointing out another constellation.

The occasional car passed by. A soft siren echoed in the distance. But sitting far enough away from the city, you could hear as the frogs and crickets sang their songs in the grasses nearby. You couldn’t help but think they sounded nice beneath the rumble of Carmy’s voice as he spoke.

“My family didn’t take road trips or anything like that, but uh, my brother took me west one night — when we were young. Honestly, I think he was just pissed at our family and wanted to get out,” he explained with his hands clasped together over his stomach. His chest rose and fell while his gaze stayed fixed on the Hercules constellation above. “But he drove the two of us out of the city and woke me up after. And it was just some field. I was so mad that he dragged me all the way out to a cornfield in the middle of the night.” He shook his head and let out a soft laugh, one filled with a sort of fondness, as if the memory played before his eyes.

“He told me to shut the fuck up and look at the stars. So we sat there on the hood of our mom’s piece of shit car, and he told me about the constellations.” He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But he didn’t know shit about constellations. He made it all up. I started to catch on when he pointed out the little dipper for the third time.”

A smile of your own spread across your face. You turned your head to look at him better, to watch the creases wrinkle around his eyes. “That sounds really nice,” you whispered. “To get out and escape once and awhile.”

“Yeah. It is…” Like now. The words seemed to dance between the two of you.

“Can you point out the little dipper to me?” you asked. “We wouldn’t want all his hard work teaching to go to waste.”

With a laugh, Carmy nodded and looked back to the sky. His hand raised, pointing to stars off to the right. “You see those four stars there that make a rectangle? That’s the cup. And those three,” he said, tracing his finger up in a curve, “make the handle.”

You nodded along. “I’m surprised you didn’t do much stargazing in your fabulous Copenhagen days,” you teased.

A groan left his mouth. “Cooking in Copenhagen leaves you no time for stargazing.”

“Sounds like cooking in Chicago leaves you without any time, either,” you whispered, watching as his hand dropped back down, his eyes locking onto yours.

He didn’t say anything at first, and an icy uncertainty began to creep up your spine. He turned his body onto his side to face it. “It leaves time for some things,” he said, melting away the worry and replacing it with burning hope. You turned toward him, too.

“Like what?” you breathed out, letting your fingers inch closer to his in the space between you. With him so close, you became acutely aware of everything around you. The bumps of the hood beneath you, the crinkle of the blanket with each movement, the intensity in the way he listened to your every word.

His gaze skipped around your face as he said, “Like a first date.”

You raised your eyebrows, turning your nose at him. “We just had our first date. Doesn’t a private dinner and stargazing sound romantic to you?” you asked. But you could only tease for so long, could only keep the sincerity at arm’s length until you were weak to it.

“Let me take you out for real,” he answered, grinning at you. His eyes continued to glance down to your lips. You felt your heartbeat in your ears. You barely ignore the uneasy excitement building in your chest. “Let me kiss you.”

Brief moments passed like hours before you nodded, before his hand brushed along your jaw and cupped your face. In an instant, your eyes shut as his mouth pressed to yours — like they were made to fit together. Your body molded to his, your muscles melting at his touch. Your fingers gripped his shirt, then his hair when it wasn’t enough. An almost desperate groan came from the back of his throat when you broke away to breathe.

He kept kissing you, only letting you get small gasps of air here and there. And the comforting feel of him nearly felt more important than breathing anyway. It left you in a dizzying addiction to his touch.

His nose nudged against yours with each kiss, his hold on you solid and unmoving. You didn’t know how much time had passed there in his embrace before lights hit your eyelids. Slowly, the sound of a car approaching reached your ears, making you pull away from Carmy.

A truck came closer as you sat up, your body already missing the warmth of Carmy. The lights on top of the truck told you it was here to tow the van. Looking back at Carmy, you watched as he adjusted his shirt and hair before hopping off the hood. You took his hand to get down yourself, smiling as he squeezed your hand.

He left your side to speak with the tow truck driver, but his eyes never left you for long. The butterflies in your stomach never left either, not with the soft way he looked at you.

The journey home passed in a blur, the tired goodbye and quick kiss as you parted ways. Not even Richie, who arrived home next door at the same time as you and immediately noticed your changed shirt, could dull the smile on your face. Though when he asked how your night with Carmy was and obnoxiously wiggled his eyebrows, he came close.

You merely muttered, “Shut up,” before closing your door on him. And finally back in your apartment, you could shower and change — relishing in the clean and dry feeling. Even the sharpness of the vinegar you poured into a bowl was a relief. Diluting it with water per Carmy’s instructions, you mixed it together before dipping your shirt in.

And you thought of him the entire time, unable to keep a smile off your face as you washed off your shirt to find it stain-free

[hellodaydream1111111111111111]

What I think each HxH character smells like (Strangely specific and somewhat inspired by novelty candles)

Gon: Grass and pine with a hint of salt.

Kurapika: Baby powder and clothing stores.

Leorio: Cheap cologne and freshly ironed clothes with a hint of hospital hand sanitizer.

Killua: Fog.

Tonpa: Orange flavor that they give you before you get a colonoscopy.

Hisoka: apple and raspberry cologne, bubble gum plus a little copper and nicotine.

Illumi: Eucalyptus and chloroform gas (If you’ve ever left in uncoated pill in your mouth for to long, imagine that but in scent form)

Ging: Trash can and sweat.

Chrollo: Bleach and paper.

Fetain: dirt and vinegar.

Phinks: Beer n’ laundry mat.

Nobunaga: Your local hippie ( Weed, unwashed hair and, incense)

Machi: Rubber gloves, sandal wood deodorant and honey.

Shizuku: Polyester filling and windshield wiper fluid with a hint of subtle floral perfume.

Bonolenove: Thai restaurants that look sketchy af but are actually really good.

Franklin: Gun powder.

Kalluto: Paper, wisteria and hairspray.

Paku: Neutral perfume, not to fem not to masc but very pleasant.

Shalnark: Sprite and shopping malls.

Milluki: grease.

Alluka: Cherry lipgloss.

Kikyo: sickening floral perfume and copper.

[acheronist]

list of things i would show henry peglar if he hadn't died under mysterious circumstances in the canadian arctic archipelago circa ~1850

g2 pilot gel pens

rock climbing gyms

six pack of craft beer from a local brewery

uniqlo's line of heat-tech thermal wear

multivitamins

youtube clip of a tree getting struck by lightning

robert smithson's great salt lake jetty spiral (1970)

william lamson's mineralogy installation at 40°43'42.6"N 114°02'10.3”W

lottery tickets

brunch with endless mimosas (#noscurvy)

vegan restaurants (#nocannibalism)

carhartt jackets with the blanket linings

LED flashlights

pride parades in june where everyone is warm + happy + have their tits out

follow up on the pride parade -> taking him to the club on like... goth fetish night or something silly

the notes app

electric can openers

spirograph toy set

public library

labor laws created by the success of unions

weed edibles that are strawberry lemonade flavored

the parks canada submarine go-pro footage of hms terror

this jellycat toy in particular

[joelsmochi]

closer

rating: E 18+ pairing: tortured artist!Joel x black!girly!f!reader summary: Joel hits a creative block with a mural, leading him down a road of discovery and intimacy in ways he's never felt before. warnings: au/no outbreak, unspecified drug use + marijuana use, unprotected piv, sex while under the influence, consenting adults!!! age is not specified but we can assume joel is mid 40s, brief mentions of death + abusive relationships, ooc!Joel (he is not the same person he was 1/2 pill ago…), third person pov but most of it is from joel’s perspective, very fluffy sex they may have said i love you wc: 5.3k a/n: Happy New Year everybody! This was inspired by Closer by Goapele and Prisoner by The Weeknd & Lana Del Rey plus I was thinking too hard about the time I ate an edible that had too much THC for me to handle and I produced whatever this is. Hopefully tortured artist!Joel hasn’t happened yet because I felt creative with this one…

masterlist

ᝰ

The frayed paintbrush relentlessly slapped against the concrete wall, coating the discolored brick in thick layers of different browns, reds, and whites. Opaque smoke blurred his vision, yet he only let it inspire the strokes of his hand, creating a beautiful image that wasn’t clear to him yet.

Before he knew it, the sun had set; he sat on his hard leather sofa, massaging the twinge that had settled into his wrist while his face wore a disappointed scowl. He was displeased with his progress, the blob that was already half dry on the wall of his loft.

A rumble snuck into his stomach, forcing him to stand up and absentmindedly walk into the kitchen area. However, his disappointment grew when he opened the fridge to find nothing suitable for a proper meal. As he glared at the half-eaten yogurt and scarce 24-pack of beer, he decided to go and get Chinese food.

He lit up a cigarillo to accompany his walk around the block and across the street, tossing whatever was left into a sewer drain just in time for him to open the door to the restaurant.

“Miller,” a worker greeted with a smile, “your usual?”

Unknown to him, the smell of his cigar caught the attention of a waiting customer. She waited until he was done chatting with the employee to ask, “Cream?”

He did a double take, unsure if she was talking to him at first. She was tall, maybe five foot nine or five foot ten, with big hair and brown skin, and dressed in something far too lovely for her to be eating Chinese for dinner.

“I’m sorry?”

“You smell like cream-flavored cigars,” she said, sounding amused.

He felt unsure of how to respond, not wanting to seem rude, watching her diamond earrings gleam from the low yellow lighting. He paid for his food and answered. “Yeah, just had one.”

“Black and mild or swisher?”

“Blacks,” he answered, growing a little uneasy from the stranger questioning him despite the mundane topic. 

“My favorite,” she boasted, earning another look from him after he put his change in the tip jar. “They’re much smoother.”

The man didn’t respond, only offering a tight smile in return. The pair stood a few feet apart silently, listening to people chattering and utensils clanking behind the counter as they waited.

She smelled like expensive brown sugar perfume and cocoa butter, a sickly sweet combination that tickled his sense of smell. Her scent was reminiscent of a freshly baked cookie a kid couldn’t wait to dive into. She was dressed in a lovely skirt and a prissy top paired with a mix of gold and silver rings and necklaces and bracelets — two colors he usually hated paired together, but somehow, she made it blend beautifully.

Her makeup was soft, or so it seemed. It wasn’t too heavy, but her eyebrows were bold, as was the line drawn around her vermilion border. He noticed she blinked slowly but held her eyes wide as if she anticipated something to happen.

The employee’s voice brought the two adults out of their daydreams.

“Beef and broccoli and chow mein?” They asked.

The artist waited kindly for the woman to grab her bagged styrofoam container before reaching for his own; he walked a few feet behind her, suddenly feeling bad for his cold demeanor earlier once they were outside.

“You want one?” He called after her before she got too far away; she turned around with a frown, confused at his offering.

He reached into his pocket and held up a couple of fresh cigars. She grinned, secretly desperate for a smoke. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she strutted back towards him. She strutted like a cat, one leg crossing the other.

She allowed the man with the messy hair the privilege of placing the stick between her plump lips, keeping her eyes on his as he watched where he was lighting.

She took a long drag, waiting for him to get his cigarette lit before asking, “What’s your name?”

His eyebrow cocked up, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was amused. But he answered anyway.

“Joel.” He sharply inhaled; she responded with her name and a smile, thick smoke spilling out from the spaces between her teeth as she gently exhaled. “You from around here?”

“No,” she said, “I like to travel. See new places. Find new things… Right now, I’m fixated on museums—art museums precisely.”

That piqued his interest. “Art? What kind of art d'you like?”

“Any art that speaks to me.”

Joel smirked at her answer as if it were funny. “Oh yeah? What speaks to you?”

Instead of her usual quick response, she pondered momentarily, trying to locate proper words to avoid rambling. “Suffering or excitement.”

He could only narrow his eyes at the vague response, but she spoke again before he could ask for an elaboration.

“You must like art,” she guessed correctly.

“I’m uh…” And there’s a long pause; the rhetorical shame of confessing what his job was had risen, but for what purpose? After a short internal debate, he finally admitted, “I’m an artist myself.”

Her eyes widened with excitement, which Joel found adorable. She asked him various questions: what kind of art he created, how long he’d been painting, his favorite creations…

He admired her interest in the subject and how she listened carefully and intently, clearly trying to understand as much as possible about him.

“How do you stay inspired all the time?”

Shit.

Joel’s mind ran blank for a few seconds, and he watched the woman’s face contort into confusion. She worried she’d brought up an unhealed wound and persisted that he didn’t need to answer.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Joel assured, “I’ve honestly been at a block lately…”

“Oh.” She sounded relieved. “Do you do anything to help get over that?”

He sucked on his teeth as he thought of an appropriate answer, yet nothing came to mind. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. “Just wait for it to pass.”

“…Could... Could I see your art?”

For the first time, she seemed to be shy. Her teeth grimaced, and eyebrows crooked out of fear of rejection, but Joel was sure he was far more nervous than she was.

"Uh, sure..." He said hesitantly. "What I have at home is nothing special, but-"

"I'm sure it's beautiful," she interrupted. "I'm free right now if that works."

ᝰ

This was unlike him: inviting a girl he'd just met into his home. She had something that enamored him. What was it, he wondered with each passing minute, was it her beauty or curiosity? Was it the way she smiled or how sweet her voice sounded? He couldn't ponder for much longer as she had already begun complimenting his home.

"A loft," she said while taking in the brick walls of his home that were littered with several paintings that all seemed to be works in progress. "It's cozy." Joel watched as her painted nails gently trailed over the armrest of his stiff couch just before she reached up to feel a painting of what seemed to be a little girl.

His staring made the woman laugh, and while he could admit he was being a bit precarious, he just wanted to ensure she wouldn't mishandle that particular piece. She didn't. She just reached to stroke the texture meant to resemble the girl's curly hair; she touched it for only a moment before pulling away and turning around.

After realizing the painting was sacred to him, she asked, "Is that someone you know?"

His shoulders and chest rose as he sucked in a melancholic breath, and she couldn't ignore the sadness that swarmed his eyes.

The woman was satisfied with no answer and moved on quickly. "May I eat with you?"

Joel gave her a stiff nod, his thoughts still filled with the traumatic memories of the girl in the photo.

They sat quietly and slowly ate their food, the lack of heat from their containers making the meal invaluable. The silence comforted him as it felt much different than the cold silence he was used to. No. Her silence was warm and comforting... Like a mother caring for a sick or sad or sleeping child. She didn't offer any awkward glances or stiff smiles. She didn't hide her joy or her optimism despite his distant demeanor.

Her eyes weren't as big as they were just an hour ago. Perhaps the food made her sleepy, he thought.

"Where ya from?" He figured he should at least be a good host.

"Rockport. It's a small town in Massachusetts. You?"

"Born and raised here," he answered.

"Really?" She squinted at him while poking at broccoli with a fork. "Never wanted to leave?"

Shrugging, he said, "Thought about leaving, never needed to."

"Is that painting supposed to be the same girl?"

She pointed to the spontaneous mural partly done on the big red wall opposite to them. He looked at it, forming different opinions and thoughts on his work.

"No. Not entirely sure what that one is yet," he grunted. "Needed to paint something, but I can't quite figure it out yet."

"You should do a self-portrait," she suggested with a wide grin. "I'd love to see how you see yourself."

"Nah, if I did that, it'd just be a college-ruled notebook with a bunch'a scribbles in it."

She chuckled at his pessimism, gaining a confused look from him. "So? Maybe someone would see something between the scribbles."

"I don't like painting myself," he said firmly.

She couldn't care less about his seriousness; she saw his need for perfection and keeping busy with work. Seeing the distress on the average person's face wasn't unfamiliar to her; all she wanted to do was take it away.

"Your art is lovely, Joel," she spoke truthfully, "For what it's worth, I think you'd paint yourself beautifully."

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds, taking in her warm smile and gentle words.

"You're very kind," he admitted, "thank you."

The temptress walked and stood in front of the mural to admire the thick blobs of paint that were still tacky. She saw the vision but just as quickly saw the block.

"You seriously do nothing to help the creative blocks?"

With a slight frown, he shook his head to confirm. "Just try working on something else until I find my rhythm again."

"Why not? Why not music or movies or going outside for more than Chinese on a Thursday evening?"

Feeling a bit antagonized, Joel scowled at her. "I paint what's in my head, not around me."

"Maybe that's the problem." She sat close to him on the floor and nudged his shoulder with hers. "Maybe you've painted all you know, and you're stuck right now because there's nothing new inside that pretty little head a'yours."

"Flattery only gets you so far, sweetheart."

"It got me in your apartment, did it not?"

His scowl grew, and he felt no need to hide his annoyance from her.

"Just tryna help," she smirked.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly not," she simpered; she pulled a bag of ground weed from her purse and held it up for him to see. "Maybe you need Mary's help."

"You're fucking joking."

"It helps me," she said softly. "When I don't smoke, I'm a very anxious and shy person."

Joel's eyes fell to her hands, which were beginning to work the weed into a paper very carefully, watching her roll it precisely. "Really?" He asked incredulously.

"Mock me all you want, Joel, but I must say that even a couple of hits can make you feel ten times better."

"Not interested," he quipped.

"Well... If weed isn't your speed, then maybe..." She licked the paper shut and placed it on the table, then reached in her purse again for a bag containing different colored pills. "...ecstasy would be more fitting."

"You expect me to take drugs from a stranger?" He asked.

She leaned her chin on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm no stranger, Joel. I'm your inspiration."

He found himself laughing at her choice of words, not paying her any mind as she climbed into his lap. She placed a pill between the rows of her teeth and bit down to break it in half, offering him whichever half was smaller.

"You don't have to if you really don't want to... But it will help."

Her voice was so enticing that Joel was sure he was already high from the affection she persisted in giving him.

"Help me paint?" He asked, still not entirely convinced.

"Help you create."

Joel thought about it: he had nothing left in his life to live for other than his talent for painting, and he even felt that it was being wasted on unproductive days and constant disappointments.

For months, all he wanted was to create one last masterpiece and to feel proud of it. If all it took was to give in to some strange form of peer pressure, then that's just what needed to be done.

Almost an hour later, however, his worries about art were set aside.

With his head lying in the pretty woman's lap, he tried remembering why he had been so angry before. He let her stroke the curly hairs on his head and trace his lips over and over again.

"You're doing good," she cooed gently.

"You're very, um," he swallowed between his heavy breaths, "nurturing."

He noticed the woman's eyebrow shift upwards, and an amused hum left her mouth. "Hm. No one's ever said that before."

"Really?" Joel began to realize how dry his throat became. "Well, it's a compliment."

"Thank you," she giggled. "Thirsty?"

"Mmhm," he moaned.

Reaching over to grab the water bottle on the floor, she took a long sip as she felt parched before holding his head up to help him drink some. He felt her sticky lip gloss around the rim and found himself latching even harder onto the plastic container.

She let him drink as much as he needed before closing the bottle and helping him stand up, urging him to paint something.

He felt a wave of heat envelope his body, the hairs along his arms and neck dancing along his skin. He wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny, so he tried to hold it in. He followed her around the room and watched the ends of her hair bend and curl around her arms. She opened a few paint bottles, squeezing some onto his stained palette and holding the brush out for him. She couldn't help but laugh at the elation in his wide eyes; he was definitely in a much better mood than before.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, not bothering with the meaningless utterance of words and just giving into his need to kiss her. She wasn't surprised by the gesture, inviting his tongue into her mouth for more. She tasted the cigar on his breath and lips, ignoring how bitter it seemed.

The paintbrush smeared itself against Joel's elbow, causing him to jolt back in shock, only to laugh when he realized the purple-coated paintbrush was bending on its own. He took it from her hand and approached the wall, immediately getting to work.

While he worked and ranted about how the piece was "basically painting itself," she undressed slowly while prancing around the room and humming to some tune that found its way into her head. Joel saw the colors blend and separate, waiting for the wall to respond with where his next brush stroke should be.

The woman found herself looking at that painting of the little girl again. She was unable to quiet her curiosity.

"Is she your daughter?"

Her voice broke the string tying him to his work, and he stumbled around a bit before turning around and facing her with an asking face. He let his tools go and followed the sound of the siren, looking deeply into her wide eyes.

"She was my daughter," he admitted freely, something he refused to do as often as possible.

"Where is she?"

He noted how concerned she seemed and took it as an invitation to confide in her.

“She uh… She died ‘bout ten years ago.”

Joel felt her fuzzy arms weave around him, encompassing him with a sense of comfort. It was the first time he could talk about the tragedy without bursting into tears. Her lips pressed warm kisses into his forehead and temples as she attempted to bathe him in consolation.

He removed his head from the crook of her neck to look at her face. Her eyes, although appearing a bit lopsided, were still wide and curious, like she was still waiting for something. He tried to focus on just her, but all he wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to paint wanted was to pai-

A shriek broke him out of his trance: the woman seemed surprised about the splatter of paint that got on her bare chest and arms. Joel blinked rapidly and tried to decipher what had happened between talking about his daughter and... Now.

Had time managed to escape him? Was he too out of it to realize that? And who put on the jazz music?

The brown liquid dripped down her body and hid her nipples; he found the motion fascinating. How happy she seemed to be coated in the cold dispense helped him feel more at ease and join in laughing with her. Her hair, frizzier than before, somehow gave the illusion that she was underwater. It just flowed so freely.

"You are a mermaid in the most beautiful depths of the sea," Joel shouted dramatically.

"Wh-what?" She giggled before smearing a finger-lengths of paint onto his forehead.

His hand absentmindedly poked the paintbrush into her collarbone, tickling her in the process. "You are free... And kind... Did you turn the music on?"

And she's giggling again. God, he couldn't get enough of that sound. She was a siren, manipulating him with her songs of joy and laughter.

"You told me to," she answered; only Joel took a few minutes to process it. She covered her hand in yellow paint, cradled his cheek, and let the print of her hand stick to his face as if she were marking her territory. "I'm glad I met you tonight, Joel," she said quietly.

Instinctively, he beckoned for her to close the space between them. "Oh, yeah? Why's that?"

Her arms snaked around his neck as she looked at his aura and vented. "I was supposed to go on a date tonight with my ex-boyfriend. He wasn't the greatest guy. Abusive. Angry. But my parents love him, and they say he's changed, so... I wanted to try again."

Joel's drug-induced nosiness got the better of him. "Why didn't you?"

She sighed, a smirk daring to grow on her face. "I wanted to make him feel stupid."

He wrapped his arms around her waist at her wise words, holding her close as if she would blow away had he exhaled too hard.

"M'glad I met you too," he admitted. "Did I spill paint on you?"

"Just a bit, but it was my fault. You were in a daze," she admitted bashfully.

The pair took a few minutes to look at each other, feel their spirits, and soak up the serenity between the small gap in their lips.

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Those words would have left Joel speechless in any other scenario at any other time on any other day. But he was high out of his fucking mind, and once his brain had fully processed her question, he answered with a short and sweet "Yes."

He waited patiently as the vixen undressed him, and she took her precious time; her knuckles grazing the wiry hair along his pelvis sent hot shivers across his abdomen before his jeans pooled around his ankles. Lifting his arms to aid in the removal of his shirt, he flinched and giggled childishly when she placed a kiss or two along his collarbone.

She gasped at the nails digging into her sides, his hands begging for more because his voice was too weak to. The desperation grew in his eyes, and he wanted to feel close to her. To feel all of her depths and shallows and curves and grooves. Her essence rendered him helpless. The smell of her perfume was even more sickly than he recalled, but all the much more sweet.

Their bodies danced onto the floor, bending and curling around each other like snakes.

"I was always afraid of this," he spoke as she worked her hand around him, not that he needed it. "Feeling close with someone. After my last... You know."

She smiled at his words, telling him with her eyes: I know.

"I was so scared to feel close to someone..." She admitted. "After him, I wanted to be left alone. Untouched."

"What changed that- oh, fuck," Joel moaned, feeling her wetness encapsulate him.

"Someone found me, ha-ah, hmm... And took care a'me, just like I'm doing for you."

Joel clawed at her back, reaching for her hair, but his arms were too heavy, with the quick rushes of euphoria soaring through his veins. Her moans and pretty little sounds coaxing him into blindness. He couldn't see her face, covered in the universe of her bangs littered with stars and planets, until she leveled her happy face with his. The shimmer in her glossy eyes let him know she enjoyed this just as much as him.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, ever s-seen," he moaned.

Finally able to lift his arms, he used them to hold her face gently. He admired her refreshing beauty. She moaned something about how sweet he was, though it went unregistered to him.

All he could feel was her thighs flexing against his hips every time she rode down, and he felt his cock brush that sensitive sponge deep inside of her. Her hands pressed painfully into his ribcage, but he didn't mind. He loved that she needed him so much that it hurt.

She laid her body down on his chest, bringing her lips to his chin; he whimpered at the softness of her lips, his warm breath hitting her nose and making her body shudder. His mouth parted to stick his tongue out for her to lick and suck, which she did graciously.

He never knew his tongue could feel so ticklish or that having it licked would feel so damn good. It made his cock throb against her walls, forcing a moan out of the both of them. Her nails scratched his scalp tenderly, hips rocking back and forth, creating the perfect rhythm.

Her breasts dragged against the hairs on his chest, making some of the dried brown paint flake onto him; her nippled peaked, vulnerable from the friction.

Joel wrapped his forearms around the base of her spine and rolled over as carefully as his intoxicated body would allow. With hair splayed out, she looked so ethereal, like a walking painting herself.

Then, he noticed a bucket of paint sitting nearby and dipped two of his long fingers inside, dragging the white liquid down the valley of her breasts until he reached the peak of her belly. He noticed how her body reacted: all of the little shakes and shudders signs of appreciation made his heart swell.

His hand reached around her hip to grip her ass as he rested his body weight on her and enveloped her in more kisses. His hips rocked gently and slowly, careful not to hurt her. He wanted to feel her cum and hear her beg him to keep going.

To her, it felt like he pushed deeper with each thrust, begging her body to swallow him whole and allow him the grace of becoming one with her. Her eyes were so low, yet she was seeing more clearly than ever. Seeing his aura radiate off of his broad shoulders and tousled hair - it was a haze of blue and purple. But hers were shades of reds and oranges in his eyes, a fiery tyrant that bullied him with praise and adoration.

His nose tickled her chin while his lips made their way up to plant another kiss on her sweet, sweet mouth. The alcohol in her perfume singed the hairs along his face and nostrils, pilling the hairs on his arms.

"Harder, ngh- please," she murmured.

He saw her blown pupils roll gently beneath her eyelids as beads of sweat formed along her hairline. Her breathing was shallow and short. She was close.

Licking his reddened lips, he pushed her knees back until they were flush with her jawline and shifted his body weight from his knees to his toes, then changed the force of his hips without changing the rhythm.

She loved that he listened to her: harder did not mean faster, and he fucking perfected it. Almost like he knew just how hard to go.

Joel drove into her deep enough to make her cunt squelch and clench around his thick cock. He felt clumsy inside of her like he was tripping up over his own orgasm. He felt all of her ridges and curves, the smooth and the rough; everything intensified in a way that could only be described by the God he didn't believe in.

But she had him questioning that in the back of his mind. He would have believed that she was God herself if he wasn't aware of how high he was. She looked celestial, her mouth forming an 'o', and her hair sprawled around her shimmering face. Even with her mascara flaking and running slightly, she seemed so content, so pleased.

Joel's desperation to come inside of her was almost primal, instinctive... If her nails weren't digging so sharply into his forearms, he wasn't sure whether or not he would have been able to hold back.

He didn't ease up on her throughout her orgasm. Honestly, he didn't think too much about it. He never wanted right now to end. With a sense of ecstasy coursing through his veins, he managed to turn into something he tried so hard not to be. He craved her body, her kisses.

He pulled her into his lap before resting his cheek on her breast. He inhaled the musk of her sweat deeply, cherishing the divine woman she was. She felt as beautiful as she looked. She fucked just as sweet as she smelled.

His clammy hand ran over her flexed calve as she bounced on him. Her movements were sloppy from his tight grip, not that either of them cared. She was sure not to go too high or come down too hard, allowing her pussy to drip white remnants of her orgasm onto his balls. He licked and kissed and bit her tits as a submissive thank you.

She kissed the top of his hair, strumming her fingers along his scalp. "Joel," she moaned, "I love you."

"I love you, too, baby," he grunted almost instantly.

Raising his head to look back at her blissed out face, he pulled her even closer. His chin dug into her clavicle, but his neediness only made her laugh softly.

Joel's face twitched as his body proposed its orgasm, his dick throbbed roughly against her sensitive walls. She gasped, taking it as a sign to fuck him faster despite the burning in her legs. He winced at her arms weighing heavier into his collarbones but just clawed at her ass to power through the pain.

She placed a hand over his heart and pushed gently, forcing him to feel the thumping against his chest. He felt so much of his anger and pain dissipate beneath her touch, instilling love and peace in place of it.

"You're so precious," he whispered. A lovely smile rose onto her face, one that drove him crazy. He looked at her with big puppy eyes that threatened to fill with tears. She licked along her teeth and bit her bottom lip. "I love y-you..." He knew he didn't mean it and that she didn't either, but he missed being able to say those words. "Tell m- oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Tell me you love me," he pleaded. "Tell me you love me 'til I cum, baby."

"I love you, Joel.”

His eyes screwed shut, face falling into the curve of her neck.

“I love you, baby. I want you to cum for me,” she moaned, breathless from exhaustion.

His nails dug deeper into her flesh, he was clinging onto his climax as much as possible, wanting to wait long enough for it to destroy him.

“Oh, Joel, fuck!” She yelped. “I love you, I love you!”

And he broke.

His nails scratched lines up her back whilst he screamed into her chest. Her pussy throbbed against his sensitive cock from the arrival of her second orgasm, heightening his sensitivity.

A few tears shed his eyes at the closeness; Joel felt like he was falling into the Earth. He was so dizzy and confused, cornered by the affection clouding his judgment.

“I love you,” she whispered into his scalp, placing one last kiss before climbing off of his lap.

He hissed at the last stroke of her cunt but helped her lay down, using his t-shirt to prop her head up.

“I love you,” he said before kissing her head.

“You should drink some water.”

As soon as she said that, he felt the itchiness in his dry throat. He grabbed water from the table a few feet away and chugged as much as his stomach could handle.

“Will you bring me the joint and a lighter?”

Joel fulfilled her request and sat the water next to her, immediately looking back at his work in progress while she got herself situated.

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “Are you coming down?”

Confused, he looked down at her but saw that the colors weren’t so loud anymore. “Think so…”

“Take a few hits. It’ll help.”

He hesitated but sat down and did as she told him. 

“Thank you,” he said after briefly coughing and handing the joint back to her. “I think whatever that… Pill was actually helped.”

“If it wasn't the pill, it must’ve been the sex,” she teased, earning a laugh from him. She tapped his shoulder and pointed her head towards his mural.

ᝰ

A rough pounding woke Joel up from his slumber. He groaned, pressing the meat of his palm to his forehead and slowly sitting up before remembering the girl was still next to him.

He watched her sleep soundly, mouth slightly parted and a gentle snore creaking from her throat. The memories of last night flooded his mind, and while they were somewhat fuzzy, he remembered clear as day how it felt.

He felt most of his questions had been answered by something more complex than communication. It was frightening yet calming at the same time.

Her body stirring regained his focus, and he knew she must have been feeling the same tension headache as he was when she groaned before her eyes fluttered open. She squirmed from the cold air and looked up at the hungover man, smiling as she remembered the night before.

“Morning, Joel,” she said with a playful tilt.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said. “Your head hurtin’?”

“Yep,” she grunted while sitting up. “Ever been to that café on thirty-fourth street?”

He shook his head.

“I’ll take you there for some coffee and breakfast. My treat,” she told him.

Her eyes landed on the big, dull wall that had been taunting Joel for weeks, only to find it was a brightened, complete piece of art.

She admired the woman's beauty and asked him without looking away, “S’that me?”

Joel smirked and reached for his boxers, standing to put them on.

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” Joel kissed her head and walked away, leaving the woman alone to admire his masterpiece…

Her.

[acewritesfics]

Pal-entine's Day | Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Platonic!Female Reader

Request: From anon for last years Valentines celebration. THIS IS A REPOST FROM @/DLMLUFICS.

Prompts: friend valentines, being stood up and surprise. 

Warnings: fluff. “Friendly” kiss between friends. Platonic relationship.

Word Count: 1,089

Jay Halstead Masterlist

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

It's almost 10 o’clock at night and Y/N is laying on her couch, watching some sappy romance movie with a tub of her favorite flavored ice cream cradled against her chest. Just as she stabs the spoon into the ice cream to scoop out some more a loud knocking comes from her front door.   

“Go away,” she mumbles putting no effort into making the person go away. But as the knocking gets more incessant, she sighs sitting up and slams her ice cream on the coffee table. She drags her feet to the front door, opening it and is pleasantly surprised to see her best friend and work partner, Detective Jay Halstead, standing there. She hides her surprise and sadness behind a teasing smirk. “Your date didn’t want to take it back to her place?”  

“There was no date,” he tells her, pushing past her to go inside.   

She only just notices the stuff in his hands after she closes and locks the door behind him and follows him into the living area.  

“Did you get stood up or something?”   

“Nope,” he says, placing the 6 pack of beer, some welted flowers, and bags of food on the kitchen counter of the open plan space. After shrugging off his coat, he hangs it over one of the dining table chairs.  

“What’s all this?” she asks confused and still a little surprised.   

“I didn’t actually have a date tonight,” he admits. “I was going to spend the night at home, watching hockey with beer and pizza but then you texted me saying that jackass stood you up. So, here I am being the bestest friend ever.”  

“You didn’t have to do this,” pouting, she fights the urge to cry. She truly did have the bestest best friend in the world.   

Y/N was asked on a date by one of the patrol officers at the 21st. This guy she has been flirting with and waiting for him to ask her on a date for a few months now. So, when he came up to her a couple of weeks ago, asking her if she would like to have dinner with him on Valentine’s Day, she told him she would love to.   

Tonight, he was supposed to meet her at one of the slightly fancier restaurants along the waterfront. When he didn’t show up an hour after their reservation was made for, feeling hurt and embarrassed, she paid for the couple drinks that she drank and left the restaurant so another couple could use the table.   

As she sat in her car in front of the restaurant, needing a moment to compose herself, she texted Jay telling him what happened. She didn’t expect a reply or a call until tomorrow, while hoping he was having better luck with his own date. What she didn’t expect was for him to show up at her doorstep with some of her favorite things.  

“These are for you, because everyone deserves flowers valentine's day,” he says picking up and holding out the flowers. “I may have stolen them from some restaurants outdoor table. Please don’t arrest me.”  

“Depends on what’s in those bags,” she smiles already feeling a lot better than she had been five minutes ago.   

Jay has always had the knack for making her feel better even when she wants nothing more than to wallow in her own misery. He would never let her do that alone.   

The two friends met when they went through the academy together. They dated for a couple of months but ultimately decided they’re better off friends and have remained that way since. After graduating, they were assigned to different districts but always found time for each other. Now they’ve been working intelligence together for 4 years which has come with many difficulties in their friendship but has also made it even stronger.  

“I know you well enough to know that the ice cream on the coffee table is all you’ve eaten tonight so I brought the best burgers and fries in town with me,” he holds up one of the bags, showing her the logo of her favorite fast-food place.  

She takes the bag from him and opens it, instantly inhaling the smell of her favorite burger. It smells so good her stomach begins to rumble giving away that he was indeed right about her having not eaten a proper meal.   

“I could kiss you right now.”  

“I wouldn’t stop you. It’ll be the most action both of us have gotten today,” he says setting the second bag of food on the table and opens it.   

Y/N walks over to him, taking his face in her hands and plants a soft peck to his lips. “Better?”  

“Much better, thank you,” he smiles and goes back to removing the food from the bags. “I love you; you know that right?”  

“I do. I love you too and I should be the one thanking you,” she says moving to hug him from behind, her hands against his stomach and her head resting on his back. “This is the best surprise I’ve ever gotten and it’s why you’ll always be my number one guy.”  

“I’ve got to make sure my number one woman feels loved and cared for, especially after some loser beat cop breaks her heart,” he says and turns around in her arms. He kisses her forehead as his arms wrap around her.   

“He didn’t break my heart,” she assures him. “I just feel stupid for wasting my time on a guy that I thought actually liked me back.”  

“You’re not stupid, he is,” Jay reminds her. “Now let’s eat cause I’m starving.”   

Y/N chuckles and lets him go. She sits down at the table, pulling the food out of the other bag. Jay sits to her right as they begin to eat. “Best Valentines ever.”  

“You mean Pal-entines,” Jay says as though he’s correcting her.  

“Did you learn a new word?” She teasingly questions him.  

“I had to look it up,” he shrugs. “There was also Galentine's, but I don’t have the anatomy for that,” he adds making her laugh.  

After eating, they move to the couch to finish watching the movie she’d started before he arrived. By the time the movie finished, Y/N had fallen asleep curled into Jay’s side as they laid down to get more comfortable.  

Instead of leaving, he pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over them. He makes himself more comfortable, being careful not to wake Y/N. 

TAGGED: @mrspeacem1nusone - @halsteadbrasil - @allisonargent144 - @cs-please - @alexxavicry - @nicole-19s-world - @mimiteller712 - @qutequeersstuff

[actualalligator]

"I should really stop being a coward." for buddie if you are so inclined :)

Thank you so much for this! It ended up being much longer than I planned, but it was fun!!

"I should really stop being a coward," Buck sighed. He sat in the back of the ambulance, watching Eddie punch the bag across the room.

"Yes," Hen said from behind him. "And you should actually help me restock the ambulance or get out of my way."

"Sorry, sorry." Buck stood and did help. They were just finishing when the B-shift crew started to filter in.

"Buck!" Eddie shouted.

When Buck turned, Eddie was standing freshly showered and dressed in his jeans and a hoodie, bag over his shoulder about ten feet back from the ambulance.

"Happy hour ends in half an hour. Do you want wings or not? We gotta go!" Eddie asked, resting a hand on his hip.

Buck glanced toward Hen, who rolled her eyes. "Go," she said. "You should really stop being a coward."

Buck looked at her for a second, then nodded. "See you tomorrow, Hen." And he hopped out of the ambulance and sprinted to the locker room to change.

Eddie leaned against the jeep when he got out there. "If we miss happy hour, you're buying."

Buck laughed. He unlocked the jeep and tossed his bag in the back.

Eddie got in and immediately started to fiddle with the radio, settling on a classic rock station and humming along as they drove.

Buck parked the jeep near the back of CJ's lot and turned it off, but didn't get out. He unbuckled and turned to face Eddie. "Eddie, can we talk a sec?"

Eddie glanced at his watch. "Can we talk after we've been seated and ordered wings?"

"Yeah, yeah," Buck said, ducking his head.

Coward.

He climbed out of the jeep and followed Eddie into the restaurant. They were seated quickly.

"I'm thinking hot and the Thai curry ones we got last time," Eddie said, flipping over the happy hour menu to look at the wing flavors.

"So you want to melt my face off," Buck replied. "What about some of the Korean BBQ?"

"I'm trying to build your spice tolerance, Buck. I'm doing you a service here," Eddie said with a grin. He then flashed that grin at the waitress Sarah who was often their server on wing night.

"Getting in right under the wire, I see, gentlemen. What can I get you?" Sarah asked.

"We want two dozen. Ten buffalo hot, ten of the Thai curry, and four Korean BBQ. A basket of fries and," Eddie paused, glancing at the beer list. "Do you still have the black forest stout?"

"I'd have to check. They were on the last one. But Rosewood sent another stout to replace it with," Sarah said.

Eddie nodded and offered her the menu. "Whichever Rosewood stout you have is fine."

"Buck?" Sarah asked.

Buck offered her a smile. "Lots of ranch. And whatever pilsner is on tap."

Sarah tucked her pen on her apron. "I will go put that in and get those drinks."

Buck watched her go before he looked back at Eddie. "Kind of you to get four wings that are a little less spicy."

"You like spice. Even if it makes you cry a little," Eddie replied, smiling. "And last time you said the curry wings were the best you've ever had." He paused, tilting his head. "Do you want me to go grab her and change the hot to medium?"

Buck shook his head. "You're right. I do like spice." And then he took a second to just look at Eddie as he stared down at the drinks menu.

"I will never understand paying fifteen dollars for fifty cents worth of liquor and some juice," Eddie said, shaking his head. "I can get a bottle of tequila and a carton of orange juice for fifteen bucks."

"Shitty tequila," Buck said.

Eddie grinned. "That's what the orange juice is for."

Buck laughed, shaking his head, but convinced he fell even more in love every time Eddie flashed him that grin. He thought weak at the knees was a made up think until the first time Eddie smiled at him.

Sarah returned. She set Buck's pilsner down in front of him and then about three-quarters of a pint in front of Eddie. "Keg kicked in the middle of the pour. I'll bring you another when they've got the new one in."

"Thanks." Eddie picked up his glass and held it out toward Buck. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Buck replied, clinking his glass against Eddie's and taking a drink. As Eddie's glass came away from his mouth, it'd left behind a little foam on his upper lip. Fondness spread through Buck and without thinking much about it, he said, "I love you."

He wished then that he was in one of those made-up worlds where love at first sight existed and love made one weak at the knees because time also seemed to stop there when things like this happened, when those words accidentally slipped put.

But Buck wasn't in one of those worlds. He was in the real world, and time kept ticking as Eddie registered exactly what it was Buck had said.

Eddie blinked. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Buck said.

"Fuck." Eddie shook his head. He laughed. "This is where you finally do it? In CJ's?"

Buck frowned. "Finally?" he repeated, then pointed his finger at Eddie. "I asked if we could talk in the jeep. You asked if we could do it after we ordered wings. It's after we ordered wings. What do you mean finally, Eddie?"

Eddie looked down at his drink. "I just wasn't sure when you were going to tell me."

Buck's face suddenly felt hot, and something burned hot inside his gut. Embarrassment, maybe. Shame, like he was the butt of a joke. Was it a joke? Had he been so obvious that Eddie had just known? Was it sad? Pathetic?

"I love you too," Eddie said. "I need you to hear that before you start to spiral about this. I love you."

"Why did you wait for me to say it," Buck asked.

Eddie reached out and gripped his shoulder. "Because when Taylor said it first, you weren't ready, and you felt bad about your response. I wanted you to get to say it first. And I wanted you to hear it back. I love you, Buck."

Buck wrapped his fingers around Eddie's wrist, just holding it there, grounding him for a moment. He let out a breath. "Will you kiss me before my mouth goes numb from all these stupid hot wings you ordered?"

Eddie moved each of their beers off to the side and leaned across the table. Buck's hand dropped as Eddie moved his to rest on the back of Buck's neck and pull him close.

The kiss was quick, but everything Buck wanted it to be. Eddie didn't pull away.

"I love you," Eddie said.

Buck laughed and surged forward to kiss him again.

[roseygurl]

jobs i think the marauders & friends would have

james potter

- works at a sporting goods store

- he’s very knowledgeable and great at his job

- will definitely persuade you into buying something you don’t want or need

- “sir these nike airs will make you jump so incredibly high”

- always chewing gum and always getting yelled at for it by his boss

- hates working register, you’ll find him in the shoes section reading a magazine

- made the store playlist, he’s always on aux

- all his coworkers are really old but he still manages to get along really well with them

- has definitely grabbed a beer with the 50 year old cashier

sirius black

- movie theatre employee

- he hates his job so much. so much

- but he loves saying he works at a movie theatre because it sounds cool

- applied because he loves films and the smell of theatre popcorn

- works at the concession stand and steals extra large slushees (his go-to flavors are cherry and coke)

- he’s really bad at customer service but he’s naturally charming so it’s okay

- always has one airpod in

- coworkers love him because remus brings him food on his break that he shares with everyone

- never ever wears the hat that comes with his uniform because it’s ugly and makes his hair look bad

- definitely cries in the bathroom

remus lupin

- waiter at a nice restaurant downtown

- he’s actually quite rude but his dry humor and nice cheekbones charm people for some reason

- (gets horrible tips)

- has to wear a fully black outfit with a silly black bow tie, sirius thinks he looks handsome

- really good at bussing tables and rolling silverware

- steals fries from the kitchen

- sometimes they ask him to bartend and he really enjoys that

- the hostess girl adores him (sirius despises her)

- smokes near the dumpster on his break and then sits on the floor in the walk-in for a few minutes

- “can i speak to the manager?!”

- “ma’am i am the manager” (he’s lying)

peter pettigrew

- works at a gas station

- constantly forgets to check for ID

- free cigarettes for his friends

- actually likes stocking shelves because he doesn’t have to talk to anyone

- always scared the store is gonna get robbed at gunpoint

- sees people steal but never says anything about it

- he literally never sees his boss around, where is that man???

- usually closing shift, he hates it

- reads comic books up front all the time, sometimes he’ll have really long conversations with customers about x-men

regulus black

- works drive-thru at a burger joint

- customer service is on point but after 8pm he turns into the biggest bitch on the face of the earth

- he just wants to go home

- sirius and james always drive by to troll him and order shakes

- sirius is really good at doing the karen voice and has actually fooled him almost every single time

- big brother behavior

- his uniform is rancid and smells like burger grease

- always having one sided competitions with other coworkers that nobody is in on except for him

- he loves oreo milkshakes

- ends up having to train the new hires but he’s so terrible at it

- “idk i think this is how you do it but im not sure”

- bad at counting change on the spot, he’ll start tearing up if you give him coins

lily evans

- second-hand bookstore employee

- started out as a volunteer but they actually ended up hiring her

- she doesn’t get enough hours

- works next to a coffee shop so she always grabs a cappuccino for james after her morning shifts

- gets to wear cute outfits but has to wear an ugly gray apron

- decorates it with pins

- remus always comes to visit her and they bitch about rude customers together

- he ends up helping her move heavy boxes

- her boss is this sweet weird hippie woman who somehow knows everyone personally

- the dusty books give her terrible allergies

- that girl is always sneezing and sniffling

- will talk your ear off about jane austen