#international spicy food day

[dreamzandexperiences]

Its The Most Amazing : International Hot and Spicy Foods Day.

Get ready to embark on a taste bud adventure as we celebrate International Hot and Spicy Foods Day on January 16th!

International Hot and Spicy Foods Day Introduction: Get ready to embark on a taste bud adventure as we celebrate International Hot and Spicy Foods Day on January 16th! This fiery celebration brings together chilli enthusiasts, heat-seekers, and culinary daredevils for a day filled with mouthwatering experiences. From spicy cook-offs to chilli-eating challenges, this day is dedicated to…

[chocor0se]

i like to think tim can eat really spicy food due to his training with lady shiva. girl was like no student of mine is going to break a sweat from some hot sauce of all things

[starrywangxian]

happy international hot and spicy food day to wei wuxian

(Image Description: The cover art for the extra episode Glutinous Rice Congee from the Chinese MDZS audio drama drawn in a cute simplistic comic style. There are two rows of tables with characters sat at it with Wei Wuxian in the bottom left hand corner. The character in the back row to the left is Lan Qiren. He is red in the face covering his mouth with red liquid around his fingers and his hand is slamming against the table holding a sign that reads zero in Hanzi (零). Lan Wangji is next to him in the back row in the middle. He is sipping on a bowl with a small amount of red liquid dripping over the top of the bowl, his eats are red and a bead of sweat is on his right cheek. He is gripping a sign that has the Hanzi for ten (拾). In the table in front of him has a plack with his name written on it like he's a judge in a contest. Next to him in the back row on the right end of the table is Jiang Cheng. He is looking at Lan Wangji to his left with a look of disbelief and much judgement (typical jc behaviour). He's holding a sign that says the Hanzi for the number three (叁). In the front row to the left is Lan Jingyi. His tongue is out and he is red in the face and on his ears. He is looking very worriedly at Lan Qiren. On the table in front of him is a bowl of red glutinous rice congee with a soup in the bowl and a little of the liquid has spilled onto the table. He has a name plack in front of him too and he's holding a sign that has the number one in Hanzi (壹) on it. Lan Sizhui is sat next to him in the front row to the right. He has a slight blush on his cheeks and ears. His mouth is open in an O shape and he's looking at Lan Qiren. On the table in front of him is a bowl of the glutinous rice congee and he has a name plack. He's holding a sign in his left hand with the number eight in Hanzi (捌) on it. Wei Wuxian is in the bottom left hand corner smiling with his eyes closed holding a big steaming pot of glutinous rice congee with cloth to act as oven gloves. Rising from the pot is a mist of red and little stars. He has a slight blush to his cheeks and he's wearing a pink-ish white bandana on his head. There is a little heart to the right of him <3)

[rabbitcruiser]

International I Hate Coriander Day

We don’t like to be filled with hate here at Days Of The Year, but sometimes you need a day when you can have a good old moan about something, right? Well, International I Hate Coriander Day gives you the perfect opportunity to do so! Yes, there are a lot of people out there who love coriander. However, some people hate the little green stuff, and it can be incredibly annoying when they see a meal come out at a restaurant and it has green leaves dotted all over the top. We know that some of you out there are nodding your head right now!

Learn about International I Hate Coriander Day

We all love food, right? However, we all have foods that just don’t do it for us. For example, there are a lot of people that think that putting pineapple on a pizza is criminal! There are then people that don’t like eating seafood of any nature. And now, we have another group of food haters, and of course, we’re talking to those that can’t stand the herb coriander. Trust us, there are more of you than you may realize!

So, what is it about coriander that people hate so much? Well, there has even been some research on the subject. It is believed that genetics could play a key role when it comes to the hate for coriander, as per a study that was carried out at Deakin University.

History of International I Hate Coriander Day

So, where did this hate for coriander begin? Well, it all started a few years ago when a group on Facebook popped up called I Hate Coriander. The group involved a bunch of like-minded individuals who simply hated the herb! They would send messages and create posts about their dislike for coriander and their sheer bafflement at anyone who enjoyed eating it. You may think that this was a tiny little group, but no; it has hundreds of thousands of members! In fact, the group even sell their own merchandise, so it is clear to see that there is a big worldwide group of people who simply hate coriander.

How to observe International I Hate Coriander Day

So, how can you celebrate International I Hate Coriander Day? Well, an obvious place to begin is by making sure you do not have coriander with any of your meals. If you are someone who doesn’t mind the herb or even enjoys eating it, you should try and refrain from eating it on this date.

If you are someone who considers themselves part of the I Hate Coriander crew, you may want to celebrate this day by voicing your hate for the green herb. You can post social media memes and graphics that show your dislike for coriander. You may even want to consider getting yourself some of the I Hate Coriander merchandise and sporting it for the day so that everyone you come into contact with can understand your sheer hate for the widely used herb.

Source

[petitexmagician]

"........" Yes the magi is pale, but she's not actually sick.

[subby-sab]

Today is 16th of January.

Today is International Hot and Spicy Food Day, Book Publisher's Day, National Quinoa Day.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋexcuses, excuses ✩

pairing: thirdyear->prohero!katsuki x reader

synopsisꨄ: katsuki had left you, overwhelmed by the situation you two were now tied to. now, when he finally reaches his dreams, he realizes victory doesn't taste as sweet without you.

katsuki and you were dating for as long as you could remember.

he had asked you out by stuffing a handmade card into an all might trading card pack, you pulled it out and gasped at how cute it was. the card showing you two going on a date at a picnic, the stats under showing how strong you'd be together, as a couple.

it had really set the tone for the sunshine and rainbows relationship you two had so far.

you two always had a habit of going too far though. sleeping in too late and getting caught by mr. aizawa in rooms you weren't supposed to be in, him feeding you his spicy food that honestly should not be allowed on shelves, staying out way past curfew training and getting detention together,

oh. and getting you pregnant on your anniversary as third years.

you were throwing up an obscene amount the whole week, you were randomly craving pickles, and everyone was pissing you off. you knew something was up, so you took a test not really expecting anything more than having weird mood swings.

but your eyes dropped as the two lines formed, clear as day. you rubbed your eyes and splashed water on your face, trying to tell if you were dreaming or not. but no, the two tests that you'd taken were reading the same. but it was only because they were the cheap ones right?

so you threw them in the garbage and ran to get a 40 dollar one, internally crying at how expensive it was. the result was the same though, pregnant now being spelled out for you. making you externally cry.

you had to tell him, you had to tell him now. you called him after a while of pacing around your room and sobbing. dialing his number, he picked it up on the first ring. “yo?”

“katsuki, come to my room right now.” he could hear your sniffles on the other side of the line, could practically hear the frown on your face. “goin’.” was all he said before declining.

you paced around your room, holding the stick in your hand. he bursted in, little regard to your dorm neighbors as he shut the door behind him and walked in. “babe? what's wrong?” he grabbed your face with his hands, making you look at him.

the look in his face made the tears come back full force, barely able to get a sentence out as you showed him the test.

he took it out of your hands, examining it thoroughly. your sobs started to subside, but he had a look on his face that made you feel sick.

“is it mine?”

your face scrunched up in a mix of emotions. embarrassment, horror, anger. you think you would've killed him in that moment if you weren't so out of it.

“what?”

“fuck– i didn't mean it like that.”

“how else could you mean it?” you glared at him, your heart aching as you felt the tears burn the tips of your eyes again.

“i'll.. i'll be right back. okay?”

he left you, scared and alone. betrayed and upset. and he left you a liar.

your prom was far from a dream, you deciding to not even go because the dress you had chosen matched his.

your graduation was horrific, you couldn't walk up the stage because you were two months pregnant, slow and irritable. always exhausted.

you ignored him like the plague. the girls in the class knew what had happened, you guessed mina would let it slip one day. not like you cared, you were gone and working at an agency. they wanted you for your quirk, but liked you so much they'd wait a year until you were healed and ready.

—

two years. your son was a year old already, you were a hero who climbed the charts quickly because of your charms, and you'd assimilated to your job easily.

that didn't mean you didn't take joy in going out day to day though, deciding to go out grocery shopping after picking your baby up from daycare.

he was, annoyingly enough, the spitting image of his dad. anyone with eyes would notice. he had your skin color, your hair texture, your nose and lips, but his eyes and hair color were reminiscent of the bakugo's.

as you were grabbing the baby popcorn, a familiar voice caught your attention, and made your baby boy babble in confusion.

“[name]? is that you?” it was.. mitski, katsuki’s mom who had adored you back when you started dating. “ah, ms. mitski, it's nice to see you.” your shocked expression did not go unnoticed by your son, who immediately mocked you.

“you're really grown up dear. i'm so proud of you for getting so high, and so fast too!” you kept her eyes locked on you, until moving and landing her eyes on him. “ and who is thi–” her voice was caught in her throat as she looked over your son.

her eyes went wide. “he's not–”

“thank you so much mitski, wish you the best and i still love you, but i'll be going now!” you muttered quickly before you rushed out the store, grabbing your son as your groceries were now forgotten. he giggled unknowingly, babbling a couple words from the conversation as you ran to your car. you buckled him in to the car seat and dipped.

meanwhile, katsuki, had been yelled at called by his mother to go visit her asap. he relented, having the afternoon off. he drove over to the residence, knocking on the door and being greeted by his dad, who was surprised at his presence.

“ah, katsuki? what a surprise!” he let him in, where his mother was sitting with a pissed off aura at the dining table.

“brat. sit down.” she was oddly calm, this was worse than her yelling at him.

he sat down in front of her, eyes squinted as he tried to read her to no avail. “what is it hag? todays my day off and i don't want to spend it arguing with you.”

“why didn't you tell me i have a grandchild?”

the room went so silent you could hear his father's gasp. katsuki swore she could hear his quickening heartbeat, as she pushed on him even further. “you told me that she cheated on you, that she had left you. was all that just a lie then? don't lie to me again katsuki bakugo or so help me–”

“fine! yes. it was a lie. i lied to you and i left her, are you happy now?” he stood up to match the offensive nature of her position, both of them glaring at one another.

“you are going to go over to her, and you will apologize katsuki bakugo. and you will mean it!”

“don't tell me what to do!”

“i think i will, especially since i didn't know i raised a fuck up!”

he slumped back into the seat, knowing she was right. he did fuck up, he was an absent father and a horrible boyfriend. it still didn't even feel right to call you an ex. he dragged his hand down his face in frustration, all the feelings he'd wrangled to the back of his mind for two years resurfacing now.

“does.. how does the baby look like?” he whispered, being vulnerable for the first time in a while.

“look in a mirror, kid.”

that was all he needed, the final push he got to get off his ass and beg for you. as he wandered down the streets, getting your address from mina who babysits for you often.

it was selfish, he knew that, to waltz into your life when he pleased. after not messaging or calling for the entirety of your pregnancy, for the year of life your son had gone through already.

at the doorbell, you'd assumed it was the guy you paid to get take out and groceries. you, with your son crawling slowly behind you like a baby duck to its mother, walked up lazily.

“hel–lo.” your eyes dropped as you saw who was at the door, the new number one hero dynamite, roses in his hand. “hey.. [name].” he said softly, a stark difference than the last time he'd spoke to you.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, your eyes wide and panicked. “how do you know– why'd you even come?”

he felt awkward under your gaze, a hand behind his head. “i um.. got it from mina. and my mom saw you earlier so–”

“so you just– just come to me like nothing happened? like you didn't leave me willingly?”

“[name]. it was complicated.”

you sucked in a deep breath. “you don't think i know that??” you stuck an accusing finger in his chest, “you don't think i had to give up everything for this? whatever issues you thought you had, I had ten times worse katsuki.”

your eyes were welling up with tears. he felt the urge to comfort you, but he had no right. he knew that. “can.. can i come in?”

you looked at your son, who was now holding your leg and back up at the man in front of you. sure, it'd be fair to not let him see his kid, but it wouldn't be fair to your son. “...fine.” you leaned over and picked him up,

he followed you inside, looking over your house. it was cute, small, cozy. decorated exactly how you liked, how you told him your shared house would be one day. if only he hadn't ruined everything.

“it's pretty here.”

“hm..? oh. thanks.” he saw you sigh, then hand over your– his son. one that he shoudve never doubted, because he was almost his spitting image. “he's a year old, his birthday was back in november.” he held him close to his chest, seeing the way his eyes brightened at the sight of him. “he's.. adorable.” he whispered, regretting the time he'd missed away from this bundle of joy you'd made together.

he sat down on the couch, taking care of him as you took a nap. it was eleven at night when you awoke, groggily walking to the living room to see the two cuddled together, peacefully asleep.

you sighed. he was going to flip your life around again.

the next morning, you woke him up with a poke to the cheek. “katsuki? hellooo?” he grumped as he awoke, the sight of your still feeling like a dream. “wake up sleeping beauty. we have to talk.”

oh. so it wasn't a dream.

he continued holding your son as you sighed, “listen. i'm not going to keep you from seeing him, but know that if you leave again i'll actually kill you this time. got it?”

he agreed, his apologies stuck in his throats next to the confessions of love. he said nothing, instead only looking down at the life you two had brought into the world.

he wouldn't mess this up.

it was like he wouldn't leave your house. practically everyday he hung out with your son, at least you didn't have to pay for day care anymore.

your son started to reflect him more and more, it was cutely infuriating. you and katsuki were cordial, but you still didn't realize how much he loved you. how he yearned to be a family again.

and some moments it felt like it, when you'd hang out as three. laughing along, hands grazing against each other, playfully slapping his arms like you used to do all the time.

yeah, he was down horrendous again.

it was his second birthday when he asked you to move in with him. he'd get down on his knees and beg if he had to, he just wanted to be a family. “please [name].” he started.

“i just want what's best for us all, and i.. i'm in love you. i want us to be a family, to live together, to spend everyday with you.”

he took your hands and held it close to his heart, “please?”

you agreed. it was for your baby.. purely for him. that's what you said and tried to convince yourself, though you chose to sleep in katsuki’s room most nights.

you didn't need that excuse anymore though, it wouldn't work even if you were the most delusional person on the planet. because you were laying in his arms, a ring on your hand as you slept through the morning together.

maybe one excuse wouldn't hurt.

[queenpiranhadon]

𝙰/𝙽: This was actually really cute and really fun to write <33 This is apart of @pretty-sparkle-bomb 's Dynamight GZG event so go check out the other works once they're released!! Here's my masterlist!

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): Nothing really, Bakugou experiences a breakup (not with you) pining, coffee shop AU, I don't think reader's gender is specified but it's written with f!reader in mind <3

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): CEO!Bakugou x Barista!Reader

Katsuki Bakugou wasn't a man for sweet things.

That was the first thing you noticed about him when he first came into the coffee shop.

The CEO of the well known company known as Dynamight, he came in to the cafe where you worked regularly with a pretty woman you eventually came to realize was his girlfriend.

They were a nice pair, and though you felt a little guilty for it, you couldn't help but check out the CEO himself. He had gone viral on the internet only a year ago for becoming one of the youngest successful entrepreneurs of all time, launching his spicy food globally. With striking red eyes, spiky hair that looked like it would be soft to the touch (not that you would, even though you really wanted to), and his voice, god his voice, you could go on and on about how husky and gravelly his voice was, deep and commanding, one could immediately tell he was a businessman just from his authoritative tone.

However, he was kind. You could see it in the way he always opened the door for his girlfriend, treating her with the utmost care.

They were the perfect couple.

From what you could tell, he was a man of routine. Because every single day, without fail, he'd order the same exact thing. Two medium iced americanos, one with milk, and one without. It came to the point where you'd always start off your morning by making said two cups before anything else, knowing they'd come by to pick it up anyways.

Until one day, he came alone.

He didn't order anything this time, instead just quietly shuffling into the booth he normally took with such a hollow expression on his face it pained you as well.

You weren't close, you and Bakugou, but seeing his gentle demeanor gone in an instant, replaced with such a cold and hard shell made your heart clench.

It was strange, though you felt fleeting moments of attraction for the man (you'd never overstep boundaries though, respecting his relationship (?) ) and yet, you...cared.

It was strange, you thought, how you frowned and told your coworker to cover for you for a few minutes, and this time, stepping out of the routine you were used to.

It was strange, not making the americano you were used to, now trying something new.

Thinking about Bakugou, and what you noticed of him from the past few months of daily coffee visits, you decided that maybe, just maybe, he needed something new too.

Adding a few ice cubes to make the coffee relent its hot temperature, you put a lid on the cup and walk over to his booth, placing it on his table.

"Here." you say softly. "On the house."

Bakugou looks up at you and blinks, surprised, staring at you as if he was drinking you in for the first time ever.

You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to do, internally panicking that you overstepping your boundaries.

"You looked a little, uh...downcast? I figured getting something in your system might make you feel better." You smile gently. "I know it's not what you usually order, but I figured a change of pace might be nice."

Bakugou clears his throat and coughs out a thanks, under his breath. It's not much, but you feel your heart warm all the same.

You watch as he sips it gingerly, eyes widening as he tastes the sweet flavor.

"Is this...caramel?" He murmurs, surprised.

You swallow thickly, nervous. "Yeah, I made a caramel macchiato for you..! ...Do you like it?"

Bakugou smiles, a rare, genuine soft smile, as he clears his throat and takes another sip. "Yeah, s'good...m'not usually one for sweet things, but...I think yer right. Maybe I needed a change of pace."

You smile warmly and look back at your coworker, who's calling you over to help out in the kitchens.

You look back over at the blonde apologetically, his eyes still trained on you, nodding in understanding as you tell him that you're needed elsewhere, but to not hesitate to call you if he needed anything.

As you walk away, you don't notice the red eyes still trained on your retreating form.

Bakugou scolds himself. His girlfriend has dumped him only last night and now he can't get your damn smile out of his head.

When you return from the kitchen, you see Bakugou's booth empty, sans a $50 tip and a card that reads "Call me." with a number on it.

You can't help but feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, trying to tame your flustered face as you quickly pocket the money and card and rush back to your counter, now replaying your interaction with the man over and over in your head.

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't a man for sweet things.

But you? You might be the exception.

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[dernier-mystere]

! SPOILER WARNING FOR 2.5 UPDATE! READ WITH CAUTION ! summary: the yaoqing trio returns back to the yaoqing, though things are a little different, being an alchemist in the alchemy commission, you receive the instructions and diagnosis from the cauldron master of the luofu, lingsha, about jiaoqiu's condition and what needs to be prepared for him and his treatment plan. despite being someone who worked a few times with the healer, you find yourself assigning treatments to him for once, despite his stubbornness and negligence when it came to his own health. pairing: jiaoqiu x alchemist!foxian!reader (afab) warnings: slight gore, injury descriptions word count: 3.4k a/n: how are we feeling jiaoqiu fans? a mess? :,) me too <3 so we need some comfort yes <3 the idea is based on an idea oc that was an alchemist and as the xianzhou yaoqing is mostly foxians, it makes sense right? hope you enjoy it <3 sorry for the medicinal rambling too! sorry if this may seem ooc, I feel so rusty with writing these days... ^^; I plan to write some proper fluff, I apologise this isn't lovey dovey, if anyone has suggestions please send them please support me by following or sharing! it's much appreciated! <3 twitter/x: @derniermystere ao3: Dernier_Mystere

The diagnosis was almost painful to read, you knew the trio was reckless, and a part of you thought it would be the Merlin’s Claw that would come back with the injuries, not Jiaoqiu. Even Moze who lingered in the shadow of the General had his incident report of injuries, most of the events that had occurred on the Luofu remained on the hush, so unfortunately, it left you and numerous other healers in great distress when the commission received the outpatient details and care instructions for the pink-haired foxian. Toxins in the wounds have caused surrounding flesh to decay and atrophy… acute shock from severe blood loss…? Disturbed blood circulation from Tumbledust results in disturbed blood circulation, massive internal bleeding, neurological atrophy and optic neuropathy, leading to… blindness. These were just a few lines written in his injury reports, you felt your eyelids flicker in concern at the words, each description made your lips crease further into a frown, your heart wavering as you could only imagine the pain he would’ve struggled with in that short period, not only ingesting a lethal amount of Tumbleweed but also baring the injuries sustained by the Borisin Warhead, Hoolay. Not to mention there were found traces of Lupotoxin still present in his bloodstream, in short, he danced on the thin line between life and death, a second too late, and he would have died an agonising death.

As you sat in the cool room of your examination office, the rhythmic ticker a counterpoint to the steady hum of the medical equipment in the room still trying to convince yourself how Jiaoqiu remained in such good spirits, and oddly with a good appetite despite his situation… his calmness and sly exterior made you fear the worse, after all, he hid a lot of his emotions, using his fox-like smile as a mask to pretend all was fine, even if inside he could have been begging for a semblance of hope. Your e/c gaze flickered up to the Foxian who hummed softly, sitting on the examination table with a Gaiwan* in his hands, as he curiously took in a whiff of the scent of the tea, swirling it occasionally in his hand as he tried to depict what herbs were in it. “Not much to say honestly, I feel quite fine besides the fact, I have been told not to eat spicy food… it’s truly a torturous treatment,” his voice was calm, yet the mention of not being allowed to eat his favourite food made him click his tongue, one of his long ears flicking in annoyance, “But, other than that, I am quite alright,” 

Your eyes squinted as you observed him talking to the pot plant in the corner of your examination room while you were seated on the other side of him, yet… you felt your insides soften that, he was still adjusting to his new condition after all. “Master Jiaoqiu, you know ingesting amounts of spicy food will only increase inflammation of your wounds.” You spoke softly, choosing not to comment further that he was talking to the plant rather than yourself. Jiaoqiu’s ears flicked in your direction rapidly, as he quickly adjusted himself to face the direction your voice came from, acting as if he knew the whole time you were seated there, it made you softly giggle in amusement as you slowly lit a stick of Dreambranch Incense in the office, in hopes of providing calmness to the mind during his routine follow up examination.  

“You always say you’re quite alright to avoid unnecessary long appointments, who dropped you off today? Was it the Merlin’s Claw or Moze?” You teased, prepping the small station beside him with all the necessary tools and treatment needs. Jiaoqiu’s tail flicked in annoyance as he crossed his arms, followed by a tiny pout on his lips, “I will have you know, no one dropped me off, Thank you.” His tone was almost childish and petty, “I came as instructed by the Cauldron Master of the Luofu, nothing more than a routine check-up.” He clarified, yet the creases in his brows seemed to convince you further that someone made him actually arrive at his scheduled appointment. “For a healer, Master Jiaoqiu… you should always look after yourself before treating others.” You commented, your fluffy tail swaying behind you in amusement as you spoke, enjoying the small amount of petty banter with the Foxian healer who had left the field a while ago now. Being a long-life species, a mere few years seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, but when one formed friendships or any kind of relationship when they left or moved on, it felt as if they had left for centuries, this was no different to Jiaoqiu. His sassy nature and his usual greeting with a cunning smile were oddly something you missed, but deep down, you knew the losses on the battlefield tore and ate away at his heart, leaving nothing but emptiness, a path of Nihility to creep in. Some days, you found yourself sitting on the stairs of the commission, looking at the fake night sky of the Yaoqing, wondering if your research and treatments meant really nothing in the end. Countless patients slipped between your fingers like sand, no matter how hard you tried to grab the delicate granules, it would still slip through. The many nights where you prayed to Lan or any aeon to hear your pleas and silent begs to help a young patient that was slowly succumbing to the effects of Mara, the way their limbs twisted un-naturally, root-like appendages growing from his body like a deformity as they slowly lost their mind day-by-day, yet none of them cast their gaze on you or your pleads… they always replied in a numbing silence. You felt his pain… you sympathised with his feelings for those who were lost in battle… You could treat a thousand patients, but what was the point if they returned to the battlefield and lost their lives in the end… was their sacrifice in vain? These were the many questions that went through your mind on a daily, and something you assumed most alchemists thought. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as you shook your head to dismiss the darkening thoughts, you forced yourself to read over the letter submitted by Lingsha. As written in his treatment plan, you were to clean his wounds with Pathovore bugs, before applying liberal amounts of medication and dress them up firmly. As well as take a deeper examination of his blindness and relay any suggestions to her for possible treatments of his blindness. “Well, I know you want this to be done quickly, so I will start with the treatment of the wounds, Master Jiaoqiu, then if possible, I would like to examine your eyes…?” You asked hesitantly, your h/c ears pinning back against your head as you cautiously asked him, you honestly didn’t know why you were nervous, it was your job… but he had only recently just lost his vision, was it a touchy subject? Or maybe would flat-out refuse and say it was nothing.  

Jiaoqiu simply remained silent as he continued to hold on to the delicate clay cup, he gave the tea one last sip before he gently pressed the edge of his hand along the surface of the table to confirm he could safely place his cup upon it, “Why are you concerned, Y/N? it’s your job after all. Do what you need. For once, I am simply the patient, and you’re my healer now, are you not?” He spoke up, turning to face in your direction, though you could hear the slight hesitation laced in the last few syllables of his words but you slowly nodded in reply, not that he could see it. 

The initial examination was rather simple, you had to look over his wounds, the deep lacerations on his chest, the state of his collarbone, checking him for any signs of Lycanthropic symptoms which came in the forms of excessive hair growth, elongation of the canine teeth, hostility (namely to Foxians) and a heightened increase of Lupitoxin which are evident in a blood rage. Further examination of his red blood cell, Platelets and the protein count in his plasma, to gauge how well his blood would coagulate over time, while the effects of consuming Tumbledust has significantly lowered the count, he was slowly making progress as there were some improvements. While it wasn’t much, it was better than none… 

“So far, you seem to be on the road of recovering… slow, but I am sure we can get there eventually, there has been a minimal increase in your plasma counts, and platelets, but not much to say you can return to handling sharp objects… I am hoping you’re not, Master Jiaoqiu, and you have no signs of Lycanthropy so that rules out any further conclusion of you becoming a borisin.” You explained, all while scribbling on his patient forms that would be sent back to Cauldron master Lingsha, and further approval by Head Alchemist on the Yaoqing, Yingyue. “With this, I would like you to be placed on a higher dose of anti-inflammatories, to help reduce the swelling in your wounds. That, or need I remind you that you are not to ingest spicy foods, Master Jiaoqiu.” You slowly raised a brow at him as he turned to you, pulling out his fan that was underneath his alchemy commission uniform that he had removed so you could treat his injuries. He delicately fanned himself a few times, before hiding his lips behind the coloured feathers. 

“I would never betray the doctors’ words, no knives or spicy food here. Are you insinuating that your patient ingested spicy foods? Y/N you wound me… I would never,” He stated with a cunning smile pulling at his lips behind that fan, his tail swaying behind him as he took in the results of his examination. “But is it really my fault that Moze had hotpot, I couldn’t turn down such a request, even Feixiao was there.” He soon added, nodding his head innocently as his ears twitched in your direction. 

“So you did have Spicy food, is that what you're telling me?” You pressed, raising a brow as he kept fanning himself, concealing his smile. 

“I never said that, I just said that Moze might have offered it to me. But as such a good patient, I never touched a drop. I instead had to sit and watch my so-called friends enjoy a hotpot in front of me, it was quite cruel, really…” His fluffy ears drooped down, as he dramatically acted as if it had taken a toll on him that he couldn’t have some. Your expression fell into a deadpanned glare as he kept innocently fanning himself, humming all innocently, you knew that this sly foxian had made the hotpot himself and threw the blame at Moze to get off any kind of lecture. You feigned a sigh in defeat as you allowed him to win at his little game, “Alright, whatever the patient says… but know your slight increase of white blood cells, and redness on your laceration tells me otherwise,” You simply pointed out as you began working on removing the now loosened bandages around his shoulders and chest, you had seen your fair share of injuries and wounds, but the deep claw marks along his chest with lingering parts of decaying flesh seemed to leave a deep pang in your heart… reading about his injuries were bad enough, but seeing them in person was just as bad. 

The audacity he had as he simply hummed in reply and with a nonchalant shrug, “I have no idea what you’re insinuating here, doctor,” He added, placing his fan down to reveal that sly fox-like grin, as he lifted his head proudly, more so that you could work on his wounds better. But upon sensing your concern with his wounds, Jiaoqiu slowly fell into silence as he turned away, “This is nothing. I can handle this, there is no need to look at me with… pity.” 

You felt an all-familiar annoyance stir inside you as if small flicking flames lapped at the insides of your chest as your movements slowed down, “It isn’t pity… it was concern Jiaoqiu when the incident reports were handed to us, it was worrying… especially when there was no news or context from the Luofu. I knew something was covered up, and it involved Hoolay, something for sure went wrong… it may not be my place to ask what happened, but… You shouldn’t bare yourself to a wolf's fangs… and ingest Tumbleweed… even if you had a plan.” you whispered, gripping the bundle of bandages in your hands that you had removed, “You could have died, then what-” 

“I would have died fulfilled and content, Y/N.” He cut her off, a heavy sigh ruminating from his chest as he still refused to face you entirely, his brow furrowing in annoyance as he refused to accept your concern for him. 

“Would you really say that?” You pressed, your shoulders slouching as you continued to remove the last of the bandages to fully observe the wound in its entirety. Yet unlike before, you weren’t phased, instead, your heart simply felt like it was crumbling at his words. However, Jiaoqiu remained silent when you pressed him, his ears folding back a tad, it was a sign that you were right in some way. Despite the deafening silence, you continued to work on him, applying the Pathovore Bugs onto the rotting parts of his wounds, all while she delicately ran her scalpel over the unhealthy flesh to promote excess skin growth. Jiaoqiu grunted softly, leaning back onto his arms as he tried to push himself through the uncomfortable sensation, he didn’t want to be seen as weak or vulnerable, even though he was the one knocking on death's door. Yet his stubbornness to admit anything or the fact that for once he required treatment was unyielding, even when he was in pain. 

The silence continued to hover between them, once playful banter turned to a darkened cloud of tension, but, Jiaoqiu managed to face Y/N once more, parting his lips as he tried to find the words to say something, “Why do you care so much. Don’t they say laying your life out on the path of the hunt is a blessing…?” He managed to whisper out, his voice almost weak and one could even say vulnerable. Y/N glanced up, but unlike the look of annoyance or a frown, she offered him a compassionate gaze, “We are both healers, different kinds sure, but in the end, we are here to help those in need. I know you have lost many patients, as have I… I may not have been through or seen what you have on the Front Lines… but we share the same burdens of what we do is the right thing…” Your voice was soft, yet anyone could hear the way your words seemed to break through the ragged breaths you took in as you tried to formulate each word with sincerity, “But… we… no, you shouldn’t allow yourself to go through such measures… General Feixiao is already strong on her own, and your patient can only go as far as they can if their healer is also healthy, I have seen too many people die over nothing to claim they did so in the name of The Hunt… but it felt like they were throwing themselves away.” 

You gently removed the bugs, placing them in a glass beaker as you kept talking, “As I said… I don’t know what happened on the Luofu… but I know, you shouldn’t have risked yourself at such a high stake. There is always an alternative, another way to do things, picking the dangerous path isn’t always the right way.” You whispered, head now falling downwards as your ears drooped once more. You had seen so many soldiers come back from the battlefields injured and proclaiming proudly that if they died, they did so for The Aeon Lan, but, it more so felt like they were throwing themselves at the denizens of Abundance without another thought of a better strategy. Y/N slowly bit on her bottom lip as she continued with the treatment by applying liberal amounts of the ointment onto his wounds, before securely wrapping them up in bandages. 

During the quiet moment as Y/N worked, Jiaoqiu found himself sighing once more, shaking his head as his expression softened slightly to that of contentment. “You might have been right, I could have found another way… but I made it, did I not?” He replied in a lighter tone, even if you swatted his side with the flick of your fluffy tail, “You’re just as reckless as the Merlin’s Claw, she is rubbing off on you. You know… there would be a lot of people upset if you had died… I am sure even Moze would be upset in his way… you may have been fulfilled as you say, but what about the others that care for you?” you added, making sure that each one of his wounds was fully covered, before you soon sat back in your chair, your mind also wanted to add ‘what about me?’ yet, you didn’t. The Foxian offered you a sad smile, as he turned to the direction of the pot plant, “You’re not wrong, Y/N.” He reluctantly whispered, his voice holding a sense of vulnerability yet again, each word spoken like a prayer, with an ear twitch he turned back to you, this time with a more genuine smile.

“I am sure you would have been deeply hurt. To think during your training you said you hated me and my spicy food you could smell from a mile away…” His demeanour shifted to his usual self, sly and jabbing, which seemed to stir you up, evident as your tail swished around in annoyance as you finished up with his wounds, giving him the space he needed to change back into his clothes. “Stop being snarky… you seriously need to take better care of yourself.” You huffed as you turned to clean your instruments, all while he resumed fanning his delicate face once more, his soft pink hair flowing with each motion of his fan as he continued that same mocking smile. “I know. I can’t promise anything.” He hummed, for once he spoke truthfully, “But, I will do my best, I have no guarantees.” 

“That's all I wanted to hear, Jiaoqiu.” Your shoulders eased up and relaxed at his words, her heart feeling ever so lighter. 

“You know, you dropped the formalities halfway, this is quite intimate, Y/N, I am almost flattered, after many years and now you call me by my name and not Master Jiaoqiu,” As usual he tried his best to get under your skin, still calmly fanning himself. He expected you to retaliate or shoot back another snarky comment, yet you did something that surprised him… You gently hugged him, wrapping your arms around his lower torso to avoid touching his wound, as much as he wanted to open his eyes in surprise, the Foxian instead felt his expression melt into a soft fondness, one that wasn’t all that often seen. “You were that worried?” He finally admitted, moving one of his hands to delicately brush against your back soothingly. 

“Just promise me you will be more careful next time,” you whispered faintly, near one of his long ears that twitched at your words, his tail swaying side-to-side. 

“I can’t guarantee anything… but, if I get hugged like this, I might consider it.” He purred, still fanning the two of you with his fan, blissfully unaware of the edge of the fan catching a lit with the sizzling of fire lapping at the tips. Jiaoqiu quickly moved the fan to stop the fire from continuing with a silent huff of annoyance, “Maybe we could even go for some hotpot sometime?” 

You wanted to say he wasn’t allowed spicy food, but you were content from his words, you simply hoped that one day, he would take your words to heart, if not for your own sake, but maybe for those that were close to him…

[0dde11eth]

Poor vesemir, he tries to give his pups life lessons beyond being a witcher, but this is the kaer MORONS we are talking about. The following occurs when they are all trying to make dinner one evening.

Papa vesemir: ok boys familiarize yourself with the spices, these can make walking the path a little nicer, as you can look forward to a delicious meal at the end of a rough day

So they go over to the spice rack to read the labels.

Eskel: basil, oregano, cilantro (yuck), coriander, thyme, paprika...

Geralt: hmm, ground pepper, sounds spicy. Hmm, not sure I like the sound of garlic, seems spicier...

Lambert: cinnamon, nutmeg. Cum? DRIED CUM!?!?!

Eskel: what?? Cum?? Is this a prank??

Geralt: did jaskier put you up to this??

Lambert: I'm not fucking eating dried cum!!!

Papa vesemir: Its CUMIN YOU IDIOTS. that's it! Everyone out of my kitchen and go run the walls, everyones getting plain boiled potatoes for the rest of the week!

Geralt: yay! Finally some good food!

Papa Vesemir: OUT!!!

Jaskier (in the background): *dumping a mouthful of the dried "cum" in his mouth and then gagging* that's NOT CUM!

Papa vesemir: *internally* I bet guxart doesn't have this problem with the cat witchers

*** across the continent at the cat caravan***

Aiden: *gagging* that's NOT CUM!

Guxart: *internally* I bet vesemir doesn't have this problem with the wolf witchers

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

III ║ Edgestitch

Joel Miller x F!Reader

{ Part II: Threads | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: M

Summary: You wear those jeans for Joel when you see him again at the baby shower at Tommy and Maria's - like he asked you to.

Warnings: Spicy thoughts but not explicit, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, flirting, mention of food and drink, some language, shy!reader, reader has a nickname related to her job, soft!Joel, no use of Y/N

Word count: 7k

Notes: It's here! This one was a long and winding road as I mentioned in Behind the Seams, I'm so relieved and excited when it all finally clicked and fell into place! I'm absolutely blown away by the love you guys have shown Joel and Pin so far, thank you, there's no greater motivation for a writer ❤️ I hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

‘Damnit, Lucy,’ you mutter under your breath, this close to stamping your foot and pouting at the door that refuses to lock up. 

Lucy may be your best friend, but you’re not blind to the fact that she literally cannot be trusted to get anything done around the shop. It’s been two weeks since she promised to get the locksmith to come in, but here you are on Friday evening, wrestling with the key that refuses to turn the last quarter of an inch in the faulty lock.

‘Hey, Pin!’

Glancing over your shoulder, you force a wane smile at Tommy, who has his hands full with a cardboard box at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Need some help?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply sheepishly.

You nod at the bottles of wine that clink delicately against one another as he sets them down. ‘Getting ready for the party on Sunday?’

Tommy steps up to the door and wriggles the key left and right experimentally. ‘Yeah, you comin’, right?’

‘Yes, with Lucy.’

‘Good, the more the merrier!’ He makes a face at the door lock, which is not cooperating with him either. ‘You should get someone to look at it. Probably time for a new one.’

‘Lucy was supposed to get Andrew to fix it, but you know Luce.’

Tommy yanks the door knob backwards hard as he twists the key. There’s a grunt of metal, and a triumphant aha! when it finally turns, the internal mechanisms of the lock sliding into place with a satisfying click. 

You nearly fall onto your knees in relief. ‘Thank you so much, Tommy. You’re a lifesaver.’

He grins and deposits the key in your waiting palm. ‘You can ask Joel for help, you know. He’s handy with this kind of stuff.’

You blink, blindsided by the seemingly random mention of his brother - but his dimpled smile tells you otherwise.

His brother, who was so solid and broad under you on the studio floor, just a few days ago. His brother, who you can still feel pressed between your thighs, in your bed in the dead of night. His brother, who has taken up residence in your mind, waking or otherwise, since he sauntered out of your shop with that infuriatingly attractive confidence when he asked you to to wear those jeans for him again on Sunday.

Joel has existed solely and safely in the parameters of your workspace for the past fortnight and a half, with only Lucy bearing witness to whatever it is between the two of you. Having to suddenly deal with any mention of him outside of it, especially with that knowing arch of Tommy’s eyebrow, has you completely flustered. It doesn’t help that his eyes are uncannily like Joel’s, a gorgeous deep brown, expressive and sharp, though the mischief sits a lot closer to the surface in the former’s.

Mercifully, your brain unscrambles long enough for you to reach the conclusion that of course, Joel must have told Tommy that he invited you and Lucy. It’s their party, after all. Surely, he doesn’t know anything else -

Or does he?

You’ve been quiet for too long to say anything about it now, so you clumsily change the subject, stumbling over your words. ‘I, uh - I was just wondering what I could bring on Sunday?’

Tommy graciously lets you off the hook. ‘We’re a bit short on sweets, actually, if you bake.’

You latch on to that gratefully. ‘I do - what kind of cake were you thinking?’

‘Do you make a carrot cake?’

You perk up. ‘It’s my favourite!’

He flashes you a cheeky grin. ‘What a funny coincidence, it’s Joel’s as well - the only way to get carrots in him.’

Your pulse spikes with adrenaline at the unexpected tidbit Tommy drops in your lap, and you greedily squirrel that little fact away, slowly colouring in the Joel-shaped space in your head.

With a wink, Tommy bends down to pick up the wine. ‘See you in a couple of days, Pin!’

At least you have the decency to wait until he turns the corner - once he does, you sprint across the road to the Jackson Grocer’s and clear out their stock of carrots for the day.

There are many things about Jackson that throw Joel. 

The plentitude after years of rations. The safety, which comes off more jarring than comforting.

But most of all, it’s the sounds. The kettle on the boil and the pop of the toaster in the morning when Ellie gets ready for school. Friendly chatter on the high street. Laughter. It still makes him jump when he hears playful shrieks in the neighbourhood playground, blood rushing in his ears and sending him halfway across the house for his rifle before he remembers where he is.

Where he is not.

It was always loud in the QZ. Loudspeakers blaring, alarms wailing, the indistinct hum of conversation and radio through paper thin walls in the slums at all hours of the day. And he was always listening - for danger, for trouble, and everything in between.

And then all that noise had blown up, literally, with the State House. With Tess.

Joel finds it hard to remember those first few days after leaving Boston behind. Mostly the raw cuts on his knuckles that wouldn’t heal and the ring in his right ear from the explosion, lingering like a pesky fly. 

But he knows it was Ellie who broke that silence first. And once that door was kicked down - 

‘Fuck no, dude!’

His face snaps up and he scowls across the lawn, the stern reprimand rolling off his tongue like second nature. ‘Ellie!’

She’s sitting with her friends, crowded around her most prized possession of the moment, a boombox she found in the thrift shop a couple of months ago and begged him to buy and fix up for her. 

Not that she needed to do much begging, he caved far too easily. It plays a bit wonky - the bass too heavy - still, it does the trick.

The teenagers around her cower immediately, but she defiantly stands her ground. ‘What?’

‘Watch your language,’ he barks, no real bite behind it.

She rolls her eyes so hard her head falls back, and he has to press his lips together to not smile.

It helps him sleep better at night seeing Ellie fit right in - at least one of them has. She doesn’t hate going to school half as much as she pretends to, the routine of homework and chores anchoring her to small town life. She’s even volunteered to help out at the farm, spending most afternoons in the stables with the horses.

There are times when he wonders to which extent all this is a coping mechanism. But well, at least she’s coping.

And while Joel still hasn’t made up his mind about Jackson, its townsfolk seem to have unilaterally made theirs up about him. The wary whispers and watchful stares have given way to cautious gestures of acknowledgement, some even bold enough to throw a good morning in his general direction as he walks down the street. 

They nod at him now as they file into the garden party, still keeping their distance, but not as much as he would’ve liked.

The expectant parents have gone all out for the occasion. Several tables are lined up end to end in the middle of the garden, filling up with potluck dishes as guests arrive. Tommy lords over the barbeque, the brisket having been smoking since dawn, with chicken, bacon and homemade sausages sizzling on the grill. Maria is in her element, flitting from well wisher to well wisher with a protective hand over her rounded belly, making sure everyone has a drink and a loaded plate in hand.

Joel hovers in no man’s land, dodging the crowds and sipping on beer that has long gone flat, trying to remember the last time he celebrated anything. 

Well, he supposes dinner parties at Bill and Frank’s count, as far and few in between as they were. Not that they ever celebrated anything specific, per se - they didn’t need a reason beyond the fact that they were all still alive and kicking. Bill, bless his soul, did make a mean roast, and Frank used to host with enough flair for forty instead of four. Tess had a black dress she stowed away at the back of her closet for these parties, and a red one that she saved for the really special occasions -

A strong hand on his back jolts him forward and out of his thoughts, spilling lukewarm beer over his fingers.

‘Havin’ a good time, brother?’ asks Tommy jovially, cheeks stretched with joy.

‘I was just now,’ he grunts pointedly.

Tommy grins. ‘Lighten up, man. Get drunk, be merry! You’re gonna be an uncle.’

‘Don’t try to butter me up. I ain’t babysittin’ for you.’

Thumping his chest in mock hurt, he asks, ‘What about all those times I babysat Sarah, man?’

Joel gives him a long-suffering side stare. ‘Please. You used to hire that college chick ‘cross the street to babysit whenever you were supposed to. Then you’d hit on her all night long.’

Tommy chuckles. ‘Damn, your mind’s in better shape than I give you credit for, old man.’

He can’t help a smile. ‘But for all your devious plans to get into her babysitter’s pants, Sarah did love her Uncle Tommy.’

He goes quiet for a beat and takes a sip of his beer, his eyes softening. ‘I think about that girl every single day, y’know.’ 

Joel nods, staring into his own beer, and it suddenly strikes him that he’s missed the shape of her name on his lips. ‘I know.’

Tommy nudges him on the shoulder. ‘I can only hope my kid will love their Uncle Joel just as much.’

Eventually, he harrumphs, ‘If they do - I’ll think about the babysittin’.’

Tommy chortles just as the backdoor to the porch swings open with a loud creak.

Joel spots you easily, trailing one step behind Lucy. You’re holding onto a cake on a round wooden board like a security blanket, shoulders tense and eyes wide at the noise of the festivities. Spotting Maria, Lucy bounds down the stairs, leaving you hesitating at the landing, and -

You’re wearing the jeans he asked you to.

Something primal swells in the cavity of his chest, between his ribs - a pride that is distinctly male.

Tommy shouts, ‘Pin! Over here!’

Joel shifts on his feet, swallowing thickly as you approach. If your shy smile is anything to go by, he’s not the only one feeling the nerves.

His brother gives you a careful hug around the cake and plants a kiss on your cheek. When he steps aside, Joel hesitates, uneasy with having an audience, his palms suddenly clammy with indecision.

Does he… hug you? He can count on three fingers who he��s hugged for the past twenty years, and he’s sorely out of practice. A kiss is an option, but the way his eyes dart to your mouth, it’s dangerous even entertaining that thought - 

Tommy elbows him in the ribs and puts him out of his misery. ‘Why don’t you kids catch up, I think the brisket’s burnin’. Have fun tonight!’

Joel can feel the tip of his ears turning red as he stands there with his drink, one hand shoved in his back pocket, not knowing how to do this. How to entertain. Clearing his throat, he stammers, ‘Uh - can I get you a drink or somethin’?’

You give him a small smile, lips moving in an answer too quiet to reach him over the music. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he admits, ‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m uh - a bit deaf in my right ear.’

You look apologetic, speaking up, ‘I’m sorry - I didn’t know.’

With a shrug, he jokes, ‘It’s ok, I’m a bit broken all over.’

You pinch your lips, and he recoginses that face - he knows that you want to disagree with him. But you hold your tongue, skirting around him to his good ear, and he stoops to close the distance, even though he doesn’t need to.

Your breath brushes his ear. ‘I’d love a drink, but I want to put this cake away first.’

‘Yes, of course - sorry, don’t know where my manners went.’ He puts his unfinished beer away and takes the cake from you despite your protests. The potluck table is packed to the brim, so he gestures towards the house. ‘It might have to go into the kitchen for now.’

You follow him, side by side with one polite body width between you, past bands of neighbours and friends catching up, the fairy lights catching your eyes and the well-kept lawn crunching beneath your soles. Unsurprisingly, you feel the weight of curious stares on your back as you go - Joel is still very much a novelty around town. Neither of you speak until he holds open the backdoor for you to slip inside.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, the muted conversation outside a low hum through the double-glazed windows. The free-standing island is already chock full of all kinds of baked goods and pudding, and Joel has to move an actual jelly castle (which wriggles precariously) to free up space for your contribution.

Dusting his hands, Joel turns to you. ‘That carrot cake?’

You nod, keeping mum.

‘It’s my favourite.’

‘I know - Tommy told me,’ you confess with a bashful half-shrug.

His warm eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘Talkin’ about me behind my back, sweetheart?’

Your breath quickens at the sweetheart, and you wonder if the thrill of the nickname will ever wear thin. Emboldened, you tilt your head to one side and tease, ‘Why? You like the attention?’

A smirk on his lips, he steps into your space, the very proximity of him stealing the air from your lungs. ‘I might if you’re not careful.’

And there you are again - with nothing more than a dozen words exchanged and even more unsaid - on the brink of something, right where you left off on the workshop floor.

‘Wanna grab a bite to eat?’

Tucked away in an intimate corner of the back porch in a wicker chair, Joel surveys the party with a seriousness that is borderline comical. 

The strategist in him clearly favours the higher ground the porch affords him so he can keep an eye on everyone and spot whoever approaches from a distance. His seat is an easy three steps to the door, an escape plan in his back pocket. For all his stillness, the intensity is unmistakable, if slightly out of place in a baby shower.

Two dirty plates licked clean are stacked on the coffee table between you, piled high with bones and leftover gravy, the delicious food sitting warm in your stomach.

‘They’re comin’ closer,’ Joel complains, taking a long gulp of his beer.

‘I guess they figure if I’m talking to you, it means that you don’t actually bite,’ you quip.

‘Will they back off if I make you cry?’

Your shoulders quake with a chuckle. ‘I think you’re too much of a gentleman to do that, Joel Miller.’

You’re taken aback by the flash of heat in his answering glance, as if there’s something he wants to say. But then, he changes his mind and leans back in his chair, one palm resting on his spread thighs, and he nods towards a couple standing close to the barbeque.

‘Who’s that over there? He lives on my street.’

‘That’s Andrew. He owns the only hot tub in Jackson.’

Joel splutters, ‘A hot tub?’

‘To be fair, it came with his house, but he managed to connect it to the water a few months ago.’

He snorts. ‘Not very communist of him to divert public resources for a private hot tub.’

‘Let’s just say Jackson is a commune with American characteristics,’ you say diplomatically.

He arches an eyebrow at you. ‘A cynic, sweetheart?’

You reply matter-of-factly, ‘We all know how communism ended.’

Fuck. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. A woman after his own heart.

‘You want to keep him on your good side though. He’s really handy with electrics and the like.’

He shrugs. ‘So am I.’

You turn to him, surprised. ‘Oh?’

‘I was a contractor in another life.’

He notices your attention flicker to his hands, before you catch yourself and look away bashfully. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘You need things fixed?’ he asks, and promptly wants to kick himself for sounding so hopeful to be of service.

‘Here and there,’ you say with a dismissive wave. ‘It’s not important. It’ll hold up.’

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully. You have to work on asking for things, but it’s ok - he doesn’t push you. He files that away for later.

Glancing across the yard, he catches Ellie’s eye, who’s arching an inquisitive eyebrow and pointing straight at you with all the subtlety of a flying brick. He knows he should probably introduce you at some point, but he’s not ready to share your attention with someone else just yet, let alone the nosy teenage loudmouth.

Joel gives her a firm shake of the head, to which she responds with a disgruntled I’m watching you gesture.

Ignoring her for now - and knowing that he’ll pay for it later - he asks you, ‘And who’s that in the red dress?’

You crane your neck until you spot her. ‘Ah, that’s Patricia. She’s the dance teacher down at the school.’

‘Why’s she starin’ at me?’ he mutters.

You shoot him an amused grin. ‘Why, it looks like you’ve caught the fancy of our local femme fatale.’

He scoffs. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘Well, she’s been married and divorced three times since she arrived,’ you answer with a straight face. ‘The last one just disappeared. Never found his body.’

Joel stares at you in stunned silence, until you let out a poorly contained giggle. He grumbles, ‘Havin’ fun pullin’ my leg, sweetheart?’

‘Just a bit,’ you tease.

‘I liked you better when you were shy,’ he ribs.

You shrug. ‘Too late. You don’t scare me anymore.’

Glancing the other way, Joel sits up in alarm at the flutter of crimson fabric. ‘Shit, I think she’s comin’ this way.’

‘Time for carrot cake?’ you prompt.

He’s out of his chair quicker than you’d expect his knees would allow him to. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

The state of the kitchen island stops you in your tracks, while Joel lets out a low whistle behind you. ‘Jackson really turned out for this party, huh?’

‘Well, your brother and sister-in-law are pretty popular around town,’ you quip.

You didn’t think it was possible, but every square inch of the kitchen island is now jam-packed with sugary confections, stacked on top of one another.

‘I can’t even find the bloody cake,’ you laugh, literally searching high and low as you skirt the parameter.

On the other side of the island, Joel tosses a dry good luck in your direction and puts the dirty plates and cutlery that he brought in into the sink with a clatter, turning on the hot water. You stutter to a stop opposite him, gawking at how his broad shoulders fill the frame of the window that sits in front of the sink, before your gaze inadvertently trails south - over the nip of his waist and the hem of his shirt skirting the back pockets of his jeans. You find yourself wishing he’d tucked the tails in.

Rooted to the spot, you watch him unbutton the cuffs on his flannel shirt and push up the sleeves to the crease of his elbows, baring his strong forearms. Your mouth goes dry despite the wine you’ve been sipping on all evening, peering at the sinewy muscles flexing and straining as he lathers the plates with an offhand familiarity, his thick fingers dwarfing the sponge in as he works the grease stains. 

Making quick but thorough work of the washing up, Joel dries the plates and then runs the tea towel over his big hands and wrists, catching you staring as he turns around. If he knows you’ve been watching all along, he lets it slide. Tossing the towel to one side, heat prickles under your cheeks when he sidles up to you with the clean plates.

The sight of this man doing something as mundane as dishes really shouldn’t get you this hot and bothered.

‘Is that cream cheese?’ he asks conversationally with a nod at your cake, which you have found sitting on top of a tall plastic caddy, a chocolate cake inside.

Having to consciously unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you’re surprised your voice doesn’t shake. ‘It’s not carrot cake without it.’

‘Where did you get the cream cheese? Never seen any ‘round town.’

Almost bashful, you admit, ‘I made it.’

His eyebrows shoot up. ‘You made cream cheese? How?’

‘It’s not that big a deal. It’s just milk, lemon and salt,’ you say, trying to downplay it. Your arms are definitely not aching from the hours of straining and beating and whipping.

‘And the walnuts?’ he asks.

‘Someone I know grows it,’ you say vaguely.

Joel hums doubtfully. ‘Ain’t seen any walnut trees in town.’

Biting your bottom lip, you can pinpoint the exact moment he figures it out, brows drawing together in a frown. ‘The only ones I’ve seen are outside the walls, ‘round the north side of the gates.’

Knowing for a fact that you’re a terrible liar, you don’t even try. You choose to ignore him, idly smoothing the frosting on top with a clean knife, trying not to flinch at the weight of his gaze on you.

‘Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t go outside just to get walnuts for me.’

‘Not for you,’ you shoot back unconvincingly, flustered. ‘I made the cake for Tommy and Maria.’

Lies. You know it. He knows it.

His shoulders stiffen, the fabric of his shirt bunching with the movement. ‘You can’t just go outside like that, y’know, there could be infected ‘round -’

‘Joel, I’ve been living here for years, I know what I’m doing,’ you argue huffily, not expecting a lecture, of all things. ‘I’m not stupid.’

He shakes his head. ‘Ain’t what I’m sayin’, Pin -’

‘Just leave it, ok?’ you reply sharply and, signalling an end to the conversation, you slice into the cake with an aggressive stab - not noticing that it is hanging over the edge of the caddy below. 

You squeak when it flips unceremoniously, and on pure impulse, you pitch forward to stop its upward trajectory, meeting it mid-air with an ominous splat.

‘Fuck!’

To his credit, Joel barely skips a beat, quickly but calmly grabbing hold of the cake board and pulling it off you, setting it down on the counter, while you gape in dismay at the damage done. 

The side of the cake that made contact with you is smushed in, most of the thick frosting now painted all over your front, from your neck down to the lovely, thin cashmere top that Lucy picked out for you for the party.

You really hope there’s a big guy up there watching, because someone might as well enjoy this mortifying brand of comedy you keep dishing out around this man.

Two seconds more, and you’re pretty sure you would’ve burst into tears for lack of knowing what else to do - but without another word, Joel takes the lead, wrapping a firm hand around your wrist and pulling you out of the kitchen. 

You gratefully let him.

It’s none of your business really, but it comforts you that Joel’s obviously here often enough to know his way around the house.

You glance around the dimly lit room where he deposited you on the edge of a neatly made bed, water trickling in the adjoining ensuite. When he returns, he has a small, wet towel in his hands. Towering over you, the low lights don’t quite reach his face, but you can see the way his gaze slips downwards, carefully, as if he’s afraid to startle you.

But he doesn’t - not even when he slides the crook of his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up and opening up your throat.

His lips twitch wryly. ‘What a waste of perfectly good cream cheese.’

Despite yourself, a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of the situation. ‘Must something always go wrong whenever we’re in the same room?’

The corner of his mouth teases a smile. ‘Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart.’

You smile back, but it falters when his eyes burn in a quiet but unmistakable smoulder. 

‘May I?’

You’re not even sure what he’s asking. But he can ask you anything in that raspy, low baritone, and there will always only be one answer.

At your nod, Joel drags the tip of his index finger down the column of your neck, and your lips part when it glides over your windpipe - pressing just hard enough for you to feel the pressure - collecting the velvety frosting as it goes. 

Then, holding your eyes, he sucks the cream cheese off his fingertip, a hum deep in his throat. ‘Delicious, sweetheart.’

You’re sitting down, but somehow, you still feel your knees give way at how he smacks his lips at the sugary aftertaste.

He looms closer, bending at the waist and for one moment of madness, you think he might lean down and lick your neck clean. 

At the prospect of those plush lips and the burn of his silvered, patchy beard on your skin, your head tilts further back invitingly. His pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, like he’s picking up on what you’re thinking, and his eyes dip to your mouth.

But he doesn’t.

You don’t even have time to be disappointed before Joel carefully gets down on one knee in front of you, one palm landing on the mattress next to your hip for balance. Knowing the state of his joints, you want to ask if he needs a pillow, but instead of your mouth, it’s your thighs that part to make room for him. His chest keeps them splayed open, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his ribcage with each breath through the denim. 

You try to focus on your own breathing as Joel presses the wet towel to your skin and mops up the sticky mess, his face set seriously as he cleans you up inch by inch. But all you can think about is how you can feel the imprint of his fingers through the thin fabric, and how the span of his hand can easily fit over the column of your throat -

You don’t realise you’re leaning into him until he draws back when he’s done, and you tip forward, chasing his touch. His knee groans as he stands up to his full height, and he nods towards the bathroom with a wait here in his eyes.

The water is scalding as Joel washes out the frosting from the towel, but he keeps his hands under the tap, longer than he needs to. Wringing it dry, he takes a moment, wet palms gripping the cold porcelain edge of the bathroom sink, shoulders hunched over as he tells himself to calm the fuck down.

Except, he is calm. He’s held back, even when you looked at him with such straightforward, honest want that has him grinding his teeth.

Thing is, he knows you would’ve let him nudge you backwards into the mattress and crowd you between his arms, switching places the two of you were in under your sewing desk in the workshop.

He knows you would’ve let him wrap your legs around his hips, sliding his palms up the back of your thighs in those skin tight jeans - the sight of which is enough to make his head spin - and he knows you would’ve let him nip, suck, lick the tangy buttercream off your very neck. 

Not only would you have let him - you would’ve trusted him to do all those things to you.

That last realisation awakens something he’s not so sure he has a handle on. But he knows for a fact that with the whole of Jackson milling about downstairs, in the middle of his brother’s baby shower, is neither the place nor the time.

You’re where he left you when he steps back into the bedroom, your palms planted on the bed, your shoulders relaxed. The neckline of your blouse gapes loosely, teasing the soft skin of your cleavage.

Joel breaks the loaded silence with a bit of common sense. ‘You best get that top off and soak it in the bath before the stains really set in, sweetheart.’

You bite your lip hesitantly. ‘I - I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘You can have my shirt,’ he offers.

You sit up, attention piqued, when his hands move to the top of his flannel, thick fingers sliding each button out of the holes one by one. You know he’s just taking off his shirt, but you can’t help the way your jaw goes slack, watching shamelessly, the comforter twisting in your grip as you scrabble for something to hold onto. 

Joel doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like that, but it’s so flattering to watch you watch him, eyes hooded and your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, like he’s giving you a fucking strip tease or something. 

Goddamn if it doesn’t go straight to his head.

A white undervest comes into view, inch by inch, as the shirt falls open, the thin fabric pulled taut at the seams over the broad stretch of his chest. When the last button is undone, he shrugs the shirt off with a smooth roll of his arms, and your jaw drops.

The undervest barely contains the bulk of him, and you’ll be damned if you know where to look first - the lean, solid line of his arms, or the effortless ripple of muscle in his shoulders - but it’s lower where your attention makes landing, and it takes you a second to realise why.

He’s not sucking in his tummy.

The swell of his abdomen sits above the top of his jeans, where the vest is neatly tucked in. You remember too well the brush of that soft strip of skin against the back of your hands when you were on your knees, cutting him out of his jeans; and then beneath you, straddling him under the sewing table. 

While there’s an undercurrent of self-consciousness in the way he holds himself, conspicuously missing is the self-deprecation that drew your ire the day he walked into your shop with a broken zipper. A tentative confidence has taken its place, which is at the same time so endearingly vulnerable, as if your reaction to the little show he gave you just now isn’t enough to assure him of what you’re thinking.

Your fingers twitch, yearning to reach out and tug him in by the front of his jeans, to untuck that vest and push it up and off. You want to snake your hands around his waist, hold him to you by the small of his back, and starting with his tummy, kiss your way across the soft belly - maybe with a cheeky scrape of teeth - up to his firm chest, his strong neck and to his lips. 

Or maybe, the calling southwards will win out. You’ll push him back to make room for yourself at his feet, nudging your way down his front with your nose, breathe him in, your hands finding his belt buckle and tugging it out of the loops instead. Never mind you've lost count of how many years it's been since you've wanted to do that, or if you remember how at all -

‘Pin.’

Your whole body jolts backwards when his voice pierces through your addled haze, low and raspy, snapping out of your sordid stupor almost grumpily - how rude of him to interrupt? - only to find him peering down at you with a lopsided smile. 

‘Get changed, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.’

Leaving your top to soak in the sink, you pad back into the bedroom in just your bra, and you stare down at his shirt laid out neatly on top of the bed.

You press your palm over where his heart would be, the flannel still warm. For one indulgent moment, you pick up the shirt and hug it to you. It smells like him - the outdoors, a crisp spring day, with a whiff of the barbeque smoke from downstairs. You bury your nose into the soft fabric, eyes closed, imagining the weight and shape of him in it. 

Even as you put your arms through the sleeves to button it up, you already know it will be hard giving it back. You leave the last three buttons undone and you’ve just tied up the too-long ends in a double knot when there’s a polite but firm knock on the door. 

‘You decent?’

‘Yes.’

You hope your face doesn’t fall too obviously at the sight of Joel wearing a shirt again, probably one borrowed from Tommy. He leaves it unbuttoned though, which is small consolation. The air hums between you with stolen glances and words unsaid.

‘You wore those jeans for me,’ he says suddenly.

The for me rolls off his tongue coated in his delectable Southern drawl and a heady satisfaction.

You decide to be brave and shrug one shoulder in a show of attitude. ‘It was the only thing I didn’t have in the wash.’

His grin makes your heart swell. Stepping out of the open doorway, his eyes trailing heat where they linger over you, he says, ‘You look good in my shirt, sweetheart. Real good.’

You bite your lower lip at the compliment, replying shyly, ‘I like this look on you too.’

‘Used to be Tommy’s uniform during our contractor days,’ he reminiscences. ‘I’m just missing the utility belt.’

Oh. You actually find it offensive that the fleeting mention of something as banal as a utility belt should get you going like this. You try to palm off a non-committal hum, but your body betrays you with a strangled choking sound that gives you away.

Joel arches an eyebrow and closes the gap between you with three long, deliberate steps, one finger skimming where his shirt meets the waistband of your jeans. He teases with a smirk, ‘What’s that, sweetheart? This contractor look doin’ somethin’ for you?’

Your cheeks grow hot as both his palms latch boldly onto your hips, and you swear you can feel the burn of his fingertips through the denim, a moan gargling in your throat as your ability to form words abandons you.

‘That a yes?’ he prompts, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops in your jeans and tugging your body flush against his, his stubbled chin brushing the sensitive crook of your neck as he speaks into your ear.

‘Joel,’ you whine, which is the best you can do right now, grabbing onto the open flaps of his shirt just to stay upright.

You feel the rumble that goes through his chest under your palms when he purrs, smiling down at you, head cocked to one side with a playful condescension that’s going to be the end of you. ‘Yes, Pin?’

Your mouth opens, but you’ll never get to find out what you intended to say, because you hear it first - his right ear is to the door - the thunder of rubber soles on the stairs, and you're lucky you manage to stumble two steps back before a deafening (no pun intended), drawn-out call of his name follows.

‘JOOOOOOELLLL!’

Ellie crashes into the doorway with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, slightly out of breath like she’s been running all over the place searching for him, already in the middle of a sentence, as usual. 

‘- also Maria says they’re doing a speech now and you’re not getting out of -’ she breaks off abruptly when she spots you, eyes wide and brows - all one and a half of them - reaching for her hairline. ‘Oh shiiiiiit.’

Running a tired hand down his face, Joel’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender. ‘Ellie, this is Pin. Pin, I’m sorry.’

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh at the resignation in his tone as the teenager wrinkles her nose. ‘Pin? That’s a weird name.’

‘Ellie!’

You smile. ‘It’s ok. Pin's just my nickname. I’m a seamstress at the Main Street Outfitters.’

Her face lights up excitedly, an open book if you’ve ever seen one. ‘No shit! I’ve been bugging Joel for a leather jacket for ages. Can I get one?’

‘Please,’ he interjects.

Ellie tucks in her chin and juts out her bottom lip at you. ‘Please?’

You demur. ‘Well, it depends on what you can trade in for it.’

‘My boombox!’ she volunteers without skipping a beat. 

Joel scoffs. ‘Good to know those three weeks fixing that piece of junk for you was time well spent.'

‘Sorry, man, but I can’t wear a boombox can I?’ she argues.

Giving Joel an amused look, you come to his rescue. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, but we only take clothes in exchange.’ At the way she deflates, you counteroffer, ‘Or, you can come work at the shop on Saturdays for the next couple of months. Lucy always needs help out front, and you get a staff discount.’

He turns to you, protesting, ‘That’s very kind, but it ain’t necessary -’

Ellie cuts in, rushing up to you to shake your hand before you can take it back. ‘Deal! When can I start?’

‘There’s no rush,’ you reply with a chuckle. ‘I’ll get back to you next week.’

Stepping back, Ellie winks, ‘So - let’s put a pin in it for now?’

Joel groans at the terrible pun. ‘Get outta here!’

She cackles, firing triumphant finger guns at you as she retreats. ‘What? Pin liked it, she laughed! You’re no fun old man!’ 

She then pauses by the door, her eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on something smeared on your jeans. ‘Wait - what’s that white stuff on your leg?’

‘It’s cream cheese, you little shit!’ Joel snaps as your ears burn in embarrassment. ‘Out!’

She scampers out of sight, but then reverses into view, sneakers squeaking. ‘ - Are you wearing Joel’s shirt?’

‘ELLIE!’

She throws her hands up. ‘Alright, I’m gone, I’m gone! See ya Pin!’

Joel is the very picture of an embarrassed dad, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. ‘Sorry, she’s a handful.’

You grin, ‘She’s just a teenager.’

‘You can say that again.’

The quiet seems louder after Ellie, and you restlessly pick at the sleeves. Lifting your eyes shyly, it seems the moment has passed - but Joel has other ideas.

‘C’mere,’ he hums, drawing you close again with one hand on your waist, peering down at you through his lashes. ‘This ok?’

At your nod, he brushes his thumb on your bottom lip, catching the soft plump skin, and your tongue darts out to taste him, his eyes darkening.

‘Can I kiss you, sweetheart?’ he asks, voice hoarse.

It’s been years. Years since anyone has cared enough to kiss you, let alone cared enough to ask if they could. And it’s as if he knows - you don’t know if you’ve somehow given it away, or maybe it’s just him. 

‘Yes, Joel.’

He coaxes you closer so that you’re pressed along the whole length of him. His big palms are warm and solid on the small of your back, holding you to him like he intends for you to have trouble standing after he’s done with you. 

The tip of his nose bumps into your cheek, nudging its way across and down, and your eyes slide shut when his shaky exhale grazes your gently parted mouth. Your breath hitches at the sweet burn of his beard on your jaw, fingers grabbing onto the scruff of his neck when he finally, finally brushes his lips against yours.

For a man as hardened as Joel Miller, he sure kisses soft. He steals a whimper straight from your throat with nothing more than the clever angling of his lips, the slow drag of tongue on tongue, and a growl deep in his windpipe that you answer with your own moan.

You don’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed when your shins knock into his, breaking the kiss with a laugh as Joel hauls you up into his chest, looking very much pleased that he’s literally made your knees buckle.

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, beaming despite yourself.

‘You really know how to flatter a guy, sweetheart,’ he answers, his voice warming you like a smokey campfire, steadying by his hands on your hips.

‘We should probably go before Ellie comes back for us,’ you say reluctantly.

Joel huffs, ‘Ain’t gonna hear the end of it if she does.’

‘Something tells me you won’t be hearing the end of it tonight anyway,’ you tease.

He chucks you gently under the chin, his eyes soft. ‘Let’s go, sweetheart.’

‘You’ve made yourself scarce,’ remarks Lucy as she ambles up to you with a glass of wine running low. ‘Where you been, hon?’

‘Had some trouble with the cake,’ you answer vaguely.

‘Sure,’ she winks at you, unconvinced. ‘If we’re calling him that.’

Right on cue, Joel strides across the lawn with three plates to join you. ‘Thought you might want some of Pin’s carrot cake.’

‘Such a gentleman, Joel Miller,’ chirps Lucy, making what can only be described as a 'thirst face' at you when his back is turned to her.

‘Thanks, Joel,’ you smile at him, letting your fingers graze his deliberately when you take the plate from him.

Saluting you with a forkful of cake, he says, ‘Thank you for bakin’, sweetheart.’

You watch as his lips close around the fork, dragging the cake clean off the slots, cream cheese smearing the corner of his mouth. He frowns, as if in deep pain as he chews, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

‘Okay?’ you ask nervously, your slice still untouched.

‘Perfect,’ he declares, already having a second, bigger bite. Knowing he doesn’t have a superfluous bone in his body, your chest warms at his words.

‘Wait a second,’ Lucy interrupts, bringing up her plate to inspect it closely. ‘Why does the cake look all wonky?’

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about, Luce,’ you answer coolly, taking a bite yourself.

Humming around a mouthful of moist crumb, the sweet carrot balanced out by the tangy frosting, you meet Joel’s eyes in the soft glow of fairy lights, and he flashes you a conspiratorial smile that makes you grin.

More notes: On Ellie - I was so so nervous about writing our resident teenage badass. I hope I've done her justice, I certainly had a lot of fun writing her introduction to Pin! If you're interested in a detailed deep dive into my process writing this chapter, I do recommend you read the Behind the Seams for this part ❤️

I also went back and forth on the tone and style of this chapter a lot. I wasn’t happy with the way it read, probably still not 100% happy. I like the way Seams and Threads were written better, but the fact is that this chapter is a very different setting and narrative compared to the first two, so I’m trying to be too hard on myself.

So, I have some ideas for where the story will go from here, but nothing concrete. As I've mentioned, I see this fic as more of a loose-fit series, so there's no overarching plot per se, but there's definitely a lot of room for future episodes of these two - I mean, they haven't even done the deed yet 😉

Comments, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so excited to hear what you guys thought of this chapter 😘

[chatonarya]

I think there's really not enough content depicting Karlan Trio as three weirdos who vibe with each other's weirdness. Especially and including Enciodes.

Beneath his perfect social facade, Enciodes is extra and kinda strange. He thinks it's funny to dress up as a pirate on his off-time to go to the beach. He regularly gambled his allowance away as a kid. He got sold to kidnappers as a child by Gnosis and ends the day promising Gnosis a future. He comments on the taste of the food he's being fed while he's captive and says he felt safer tied up when Gnosis cuts him free. He thought it would be a swell idea to empty his bank account to save Degenbrecher while barely knowing anything about her personality. He decided to try to make a Viscount owe him a favor by trying to position himself as a savior and cat's paw while also being "that guy's son from that backwater country." He decides to just enlist with RI as an operator like "Hiii, did you miss me? <3"

He tends to do non-business-related things in an over-the-top way, because he's apparently Just Like That.

Then we have Gnosis and Degenbrecher. Canonically, they're both outcasts from their respective homes even if for different reasons. They're both people who have internalized the pain of being ostracized and made it into strength, refusing to allow public opinion to affect them. This is common ground for them and I believe it forms part of their friendship and why they always have each other's backs even if they mess with each other. But on a personal basis...

Yep, they're kinda weird too. There's the fact that homeless orphan Degenbrecher says Gnosis has "lousy taste" when it comes to food. What does that even mean? Is he an omnivore crane who'll eat anything in front of him? Does he like spicy food (fun fact, birds don't have capsaicin receptors)? Does he like the most hardcore weird traditional Kjerag food? Does Enciodes always have to pick the restaurant when it's his turn? How bad must his taste be for Degenbrecher of all people to say it's "lousy"? He has a penchant for blowing things up and setting things and people on fire whenever he can, apparently just because he can because why be subtle when you can be over-the-top? He's a consummate actor yet can't be bothered with pleasantries. He has an intimate knowledge of etiquette yet chooses to be rude. He's a scientist and engineer yet forges weapons because it's the family tradition.

Degenbrecher? Almost goes without saying. She likes to fight avalanches because survival is fun. Enciodes got her to come along to Kjerag partly by telling her she might be able to 1v1 God and she says so to God's face. She's the strongest person in the country but knows animal midwifery and does farmwork. She's an honorary member of the Kjerag fishing association. She has a great time roleplaying a witch because acting as the final boss means everyone will come at her and spends a long time trying to figure out how she can fit the hat on her head because she's that into it. She grins like a maniac when she gets the chance to destroy the trap house walls; she probably gets a kick out of wanton destruction just as much as Gnosis does. She goes on a Looney Tunes Chase after Trilby Asher with a single-minded intensity without a second thought. She has a cell phone but almost never uses it because she hates being contacted.

I would just love to see more content that shows them just being a bunch of total freaks with each other while vibing harmoniously all the while. Let me see Degenbrecher helping Gnosis blast new mineshafts because explosions and debris are fun. Let me see Degenbrecher throwing the boys over her shoulders like potato sacks to escape some building that's on fire because Enciodes was a cat who knocked something over for the fun of it. Let me see them trading parts of their meals. Let me see them going on vacation together and accidentally causing a minor incident just by being themselves.

Let me see them just doing stupid fun stuff together like the besties that they are.

[rabbitcruiser]

World Bratwurst Day 

Hit up your local grocery store or meat market and bring home some delicious bratwurst, a high-quality type of German sausage made of pork, beef, or veal.

While it’s certain that we’ve all had our share of sausages in our day, particularly that low-born sheath of processed meat known as the frankfurter, not everyone has had the pleasure of enjoying a bratwurst. Bratwurst is typically made from pork, but can, in fact, be made from any meat, and World Bratwurst Day celebrates every variety you can conceive of.

Learn about World Bratwurst Day

Bratwurst is a sausage that is heavily spiced, and it tends to be enjoyed either on its own with a side of sauerkraut or in a roll with mustard. The word ‘bratwurst’ comes from two German words. The word sausage is ‘wurst’ and then ‘braten’ means to fry. Pretty self-explanatory, right? Bratwursts have been around since the 14th century, and we will tell you a bit more about this. These sausages are typically made from beef, veal, or pork. These sausages are so popular that there have even been festivals created in their honor, and most people like to wash bratwursts down with a cold beer.

You may assume that a bratwurst and a sausage are both the same things, but that is not the case. A Bratwurst is a specific kind of fresh link sausage, which is made with veal or pork. However, sausage simply refers to ground meat being prepared in a certain way. Some people also assume that bratwursts and hot dogs are the same. Hot dog casing is a lot thinner than the casings that are utilized for bratwurst and other types of fresh link sausages.

Very traditional recipes for bratwurst call on the use of both eggs and cream in their preparation. However, it is important to note that different regions in Germany have different recipes. Bratwurst even differs in some regions of the United States as well, for example, in Wisconsin, Sheboygan-style bratwursts are very popular.

History of World Bratwurst Day

Sausage is quite ancient, going back as far as 228AD according to archaeological evidence, but the noble Bratwurst has only been around since 1313. Every region has a different variety of bratwurst to call its own, with over 40 varieties coming from within the country of Germany. Throughout Germany Bratwurst are perceived as more of a snack food than a main dish, though they can often be found served in the latter capacity at pubs, usually with sauerkraut or potato salad and a dense rye bread or pretzel. New York City may have hot dog vendors, but Germany has Bratwurst carts!

The varieties that come from Franconia date back to the first bratwursts, and are usually heavily laden with marjoram as a seasoning. These bratwursts tend to be large and filled with coarsely ground meat which lends them an overall juicier texture and flavor. While those from the city of Corburg only use salt, pepper, nutmeg, and lemon zest. World Bratwurst Day celebrates all these and the hundreds of other varieties available, and encourages us to explore the culinary world of the Brat and see what our taste buds can find!

How to celebrate World Bratwurst Day

Celebrating World Bratwurst Day is easy! Just head on out to your local supermarket and buy yourself a few bags of Brats and invite your friends over for a delicious dinner party! Looking for something a bit more adventurous? You can always look for the local bratwurst festivals that are held every year or you could get out and organize one! For those who are looking for a culinary experience, you can also create your own Bratwursts with whatever it is you think would go well in them! World Bratwurst Day asks us to share our love of Bratwursts and to try our hand at making our own. What will you create today?

Or, if you are really feeling adventurous, you could try your hand at creating your own bratwurst in order to mark the occasion. If you take a look online, you will see that there are a lot of different homemade bratwurst recipes, and so you are bound to find one that appeals to you. A lot of people have created their own takes on this sausage, with curry bratwurst, in particular, being a very popular choice. Once you have created your own bratwurst, you can then have fun experimenting with different creations and coming up with your own flavor combinations. It is a lot of fun and you are going to have a tasty treat by the end of it. What more could you possibly want?

In fact, this is a great way to get family, friends, and loved ones together. You can have a cook-off whereby you make different types of bratwurst and everyone can try the creations and score them. You could have a prize for the winner. After all, there is nothing wrong with a bit of healthy competition, right? This is a fun way of doing something a bit different with the people you are close to, and we are sure it will put a smile on everyone’s faces and entail a few laughs along the way. All you need is some great ingredients, as well as some alcohol and you have everything that you need for a great get-together!

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[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST Pro hero Dabi - headcanons A warm welcome - pro hero!Dabi - headcanons NSFW Sidekick!Reader - pro hero Dabi headcanons (NSFW)

Dabi's counting on Shoto to intern for him because, come on, he's the adorable baby brother, and Dabi's thinking, "I wanna put this kid in my pocket, he's so cute."

But, oh no, it's Bakugo who fills out the internship papers for pro hero Dabi's agency.

Dabi doesn't hear a lot about the ash-blonde-haired teenager somehow, but once they meet face-to-face, Dabi is truly taken aback at first, seeing how rude and gruff Bakugo is.

Initially, Bakugo is quite displeased upon meeting the eldest Todoroki face-to-face, finding his expectations shattered. He had pictured pro hero Dabi as taller and cooler, but with time, Bakugo gradually becomes fond of him, showing a basic, proper respect.

For Bakugo, interning with pro hero Dabi is the total opposite of interning with Beast Jeanist.

Instead of trying to fix Bakugo, Dabi's all about embracing the chaos. He encourages Bakugo's wild antics because, hey, scandal sells, and Dabi's the master of that game.

The real challenge for Dabi? Teaching Bakugo how to talk to the public. And trust me, public speaking isn't Bakugo's strong suit - never has been.

Dabi, in all his wisdom, throws dating advice at Bakugo, even if he didn't ask for it (because he's not a softie who's settling down, hell no!)

While fighting villains is important, Dabi drills into Bakugo that looking good doing it is equally crucial. Smile, dance, strike a pose – give the people what they want!

Now, if Bakugo becomes pro hero Dabi's sidekick, expect him to take on some of his mentor's flair. Flirty interviews? Check. Arrogant swagger? Double-check. And you bet Bakugo would flex that sweet sidekick salary for the best gear, clothes, tech - basically, the best everything. Because why settle for less when you're the hottest thing in hero-town?

We all know Bakugo has a penchant for spicy food. Somehow, pro hero Dabi inherits this trait after his sidekick.

What Dabi appreciates about Bakugo working for him is the fact that Bakugo is very straightforward.

Dabi is thrilled with Bakugo's performance, and the younger man earns himself a spot in Dabi's Instagram highlights. This section houses some stories featuring that arsonist boy (that's Dabi's nickname for Katsuki)

Dabi asks his trusted gear designer to help improve Bakugo's hero costume, but Bakugo doesn't want to agree because he likes his costume the way it is. The young man ends up not talking to the oldest Todoroki for a day or two. Instead, he just barks at his orders, showing his unhappiness. "Tsk! Yeah, old bastard, I get it!" or "Shut up, and don't tell me what to do, dammit!"

[sturniolos-blog]

dad!matt but reader is struggling w an ed while going thru pregnancy..?

Eating disorder - Matt Sturniolo x Y/n oneshot

warnings - eating disorder (don’t read if you’re not comfortable,) throwing up, sad, fluff, self consciousness, insecurity, mentions of a handjob, slight arguing

disclaimer: first person POV

—————————

1:24pm

It was hard for me, to be pregnant and barely see her husband.

It was harder to see women he was friends with that was the definition of beauty.

All of it was hard.

As I stood at the kitchen island, staring at the to go box of food Matt had left for her before he’d gone to work.

I got this from Buffalo Wild Wings, I know you’ve been craving spicy stuff. Love you so much, baby(s) -Matt

The note read, I wanted to crack a smile, dive in to the food. But I couldn’t, my mind didn’t let me.

You’re not supposed to eat. You’re already gaining enough weight with the baby. Matt’s not gonna know, throw it out, pig.

My thoughts ran wild and mean. I didn’t particularly think i was a big person, I definitely wasn’t skinny but I also definitely wasn’t fat, maybe a couple pounds “overweight.” But the expectation nowadays want you to be perfect or else you’re not good enough.

I let out a sigh, picking the to go box up and bringing it to the trash, shoving the box in the bottom of the trash, knowing that if Matt saw the box in the trash he would freak.

—————————

8:48pm

The rest of the day consisted of me sleeping on the couch, or watching TV. Getting up to wipe counters and vacuum occasionally, but otherwise just not doing anything else. Not like being 7 months pregnant was easy.

I scrolled through the channels with a bored look on my face, my hand holding my head up as my elbow was propped on the arm of the couch.

The door opened and Matt came in, holding another bag of food, with a big smile plastered on his face.

I internally sighed, guilt already eating away at me.

“How are both my babies?” Matt laughed, taking his shoes off and placing the bag of food on the coffee table before kneeling on the couch over me and kissing me softly.

He pushed into the kiss a little more before pulling away with a big smile, “Hi, pretty girl.” He whispered.

There it was again, pretty. That word, was he saying that because I’m his baby mama? Is he saying that because he doesn’t want me to be insecure? Or is he saying that be-

“Hey..” Matt grabbed my chin, making me look at him as he sat down regularly on the couch. “You okay?”

I picked at my ear and nodded, “I’m fine.” I said, pulling my hand away from my ear.

Matt let out a laugh and shakes his head, “You pick at your ear when you’re nervous or lying, so what is it? Am i making you nervous or am i being lied to?” He taunted.

I scoffed, my hand going to pick at my ear again but i caught my self, placing my hand in my lap. “Sorry, i’m fine. This baby just keeps pushing on my bladder, speaking of I have to use the bathroom.” I let out a short laugh, struggling to get up.

Matt stood up and helped me, “Okay, well I got in n out because I know you’ve been craving burgers lately.” He said, kissing the side of my forehead.

I shook my head, picking my ear once again but this time he didn’t notice as he started taking the burgers out of the bag. “Uh- i actually made a sandwich like twenty minutes ago so i’m not really hungry.” I said nervously, picking at my fingers.

Matt nodded, “That’s fine, baby. Now go use the bathroom before we have another accident like last week.” Matt teased.

I let out a scoff, “Screw you! I told you I had to go but you insisted on me giving you a ha-”

“Okay! Okay, go.” Matt cut me off as he let out another laugh.

—————————

9:57pm

I lathered lotion on my hands as i stood in front of the mirror in Matt and I’s room, smearing some on my neck and chest.

Matt came in with his hair wet, shirt off with sweatpants, coming up behind me and kissing the back of my neck, then kissing my cheek. His hand going to my belly, squeezing softly.

I smiled before he pulled away starting to get into bed as I started to put some overnight cleanser on my face.

“You sure you’re not hungry, n/n? I know you get hungry later at night now.” Matt urged on as he got comfy under the sheets.

I shook my head, “No that salad I had really filled me up.” I laughed, starting to get into bed.

Matt gives me a weird look, “I thought you had a sandwich.” He points out.

Shit.



“I had a sandwich and a salad so i’m extra full, can we drop it?” I snapped, not meaning to but it just came out.

“Alright, alright.” Matt said as i climbed into bed.

I turned off the lamp, the room going silent.

“Can we cuddle?” Matt whispered.

I let out a sigh, putting my arms out for Matt.

He immediately crawled into my touch, his head going onto my chest as his hand rubbed my belly, a gesture i used to hate, because i was fat.

—————————

8:34am

I wake up slowly, letting out a soft groan as i open my eyes. I let out a hum as i turn my head, looking over to see Matt’s head on his pillow, his face towards me as he slept.

His pink lips were slightly parted as he continued to take slow, unconscious breaths.

He was laying on his stomach as his arm was draped right under my pregnant belly.

I smiled before slowly removing his arm. He let out a small hum before he started to wake up.

“Mm.. good morning.” Matt said with his sleepy, morning voice.

“Sorry.. i didn’t mean to wake you up.” I apologized as I stood up.

Matt shook his head, indicating it doesn’t matter. He then gives me a confused look, “Where are you going?” He said as he rubbed his eyes.

“Bathroom, I told you this baby of yours likes to push on my bladder.” I complained as i started to walk towards the bathroom.

Matt lets out a laugh.

“Shut up!” I yell as I close the bathroom door.

I do my business before standing up, standing at the sink to wash my hands.

My eyes glance down at the water as it runs through my fingers.

The water starts spinning.

I look up to look at myself in the mirror, but I was also spinning, i couldn’t keep focus.

Everything was turning around me as I stumbled and almost lost my buisness. My back hit the door harshly.

“Babe, you okay?” Matt calls out.

I swallow harshly as I try to gain my balance, I try to speak. “M-matt, i think i-”

Thump.

Everything went black.

—————————

10:32am

I slowly blink my eyes open, my body hurting as i regain my conscious.

I let out a groan as I look around, noticing that I was in a hospital room.

“Baby? Hold on, n/n. Wait.” I hear Matt’s voice tell me, putting a hand on my leg.

“What happened?” I croak out.

“Just uh- drink this, sweetheart.” He said, a harsher tone to his voice, putting a cup of water in front of my face with a bendy straw poking out of it.

I bring my lips to the straw, sucking slowly as i swallow, my dry throat getting moist from the water.

I watch as a doctor comes in the room, holding a tablet.

“Y/n! So good to see you awake. Now, let’s talk. I’m gonna ask you a couple questions and i need you to answer truthfully and with full honesty.” She says.

I rub my eyes and nod, moving to sit up, rubbing my head but immediately groaning in pain as i feel a wrap around it, assuming i hit my head when i passed out.

I grabbed Matt’s hand.

“Okay, do you know where you are?”

“Los Angeles Hospital.”

She nodded and smiled, “Good, good. Next, do you know what happened?”

I look away for a second, thinking. “I passed out. Everything got spinny and then went black.” I explained.

She nodded, “Y/n, have you ever suffered from an eating disorder?” She asks.

I look at Matt who’s face turned pale, i shook my head. “Never.”

Matt squeezed my hand.

“Okay, well, Y/n, do you know the reason you passed out?” The doctor asks me, her tucking her hair behind her ear.

I shook my head as I picked my ear. I hear Matt let out a scoff.

The doctor looks at Matt, “Is something wrong, Mr.Sturniolo?”

He shook his head and cleared his throat, standing up. “I’m just gonna go grab something from the vending machine, i’ll be back.”

I held onto Matt’s hand tighter, shaking my head. “Matt, please.” I whispered, my voice cracking slightly. I could tell something was wrong.

Matt clenched his jaw, looking at me before he nodded.

“Alright, Y/n, well the reason you passed out is because your labs show you haven’t eaten in a while, which is bad for a normal person, but even worse for a woman carrying a child. You see, your body is giving energy too two living beings, your food is shared, your sleep is shared, everything is shared. So when you don’t eat, it’s not just taking energy from you it’s taking energy from the both of you.” She explains.

“Oh, i just- i don’t- uhm-” I shake my head, not knowing what to say.

“Okay, i can give you two a minute or two to maybe talk and process, and then we can talk about things we have to make sure happens for the future and for your baby girl to be healthy.” The doctor says, walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Mat stands up and starts pacing the room as he bites his thumb nail.

“Matt-”

“Don’t!” He raises his voice. “You were struggling and you didn’t tell me? How could you do that to me? What are we even married for if you won’t tell me things like this?” He yells at me.

“Don’t yell at me! It’s not an everyday thing t-that you struggle with y-your body, a-and that you feel guilty everytime you take a bite of something! So d-do not come at me for not telling you that!” I yell back as my voice cracks.

A guilty look appears on Matt’s face, “I’m sorry. I just wish you would’ve told me. I want us to be able to tell each other things like this, we’re married, y/n. Married.”

I nod and sniffle, “I’m sorry.” I whisper out.

He shakes his head, putting his hand on my cheek as he kisses me softly. “It’s okay, just next time, please tell me.”

I nod and he kisses me again.

—————————

So this is the end hope you liked it idk why it took me so long i’m in another writers block like help anyway hope yall liked

taglist: @sturniolosmind @novasturniolo03 @hearts4chriss @vinniehackerslefttoe @christhopersturniolo @mattybswife @streamermattsgf @sturnolio-luvs