#the living room kitchen area is open concept so i can’t even cook breakfast yet

[arithmeticanimaniac]

mountain opens at 10am. 5 people still in deep sleep at 8:10am. will we make first chair?

[allfandomxreader]

After Dust Settles

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: As a teenager, you never could’ve imagined the life you and Steve would share together. 

Warnings: Language, minor blood and anxiety mention, but I think that’s it

Words: 2.1k

A/N: So this could either be a one shot or if you guys like it I could make it into a mini series, let me know if you'd like me to continue it!! Not my gif!

Masterlist

Cold tile was pressed against your cheek. Steve murmured somewhere next to you in and out of conscious from his drugged state. You desperately wanted to reach for him, to hold his hand, to escape. God, you really wanted to escape.

When the Russians returned, they yanked your fallen bodies from the floor, asking once again “Who do you work for?” for the thousandth time. You couldn’t answer, your eyes fixated on the blood smears where Steve laid just moments ago. You’ve survived the Demogorgon and even his army of dogs, but you were going to die in a secret fortress beneath your part time job. It was almost comical.

The doctor, which by now you’ve decided wasn’t an actual doctor, reached for tools on a metal try. The scraping of metal sent chills down your spine, his footsteps that grew louder as he reached for Steve’s hand didn’t help either. The boy pressed against your back squirmed to get away from his grip, it was only then did you scream about the code.

The Mind Flayer roars, his hands swarmed around the open area trying to capture anything that dared to move. Your eyes were trained to the floor, trying your hardest not to stare at the creature that stood only a few yards away. You can’t hear anything, not Steve who tried to snap you out of your daze, not Robin who demanded answers to questions you couldn’t quite answer, even the fireworks sounded like they were miles away.

You needed to breathe. Air. You needed air.

It’s been years since the supernatural had left Hawkins, the small town is now deemed safe. There aren’t any more Russians, no sign of monsters, all the fighting ceased after Starcourt. Dust that the lab and the Upside Down kicked up has since settled.

It had been ages since you’ve woken up gasping, hands trembling, and coated with sweat. Nightmares haven’t been so common lately, you almost forgot they existed. Almost.

On any given morning, you’d reach for Steve. Usually, he’d still be sleeping, his lips always parted, his hair messy and fanning the pillow beneath him. Today however, the spot beside you is abandoned by Steve and stolen by four paws and a wagging tail. You smile at Grover, gently running your hand along his spine as his tail thumps softly against the mattress, eyes pleading to stay in bed just a second longer.

Steve would flip if he saw the sight, complaining for days about shedding and muddy paws. The beagle knows he’s not allowed in bed. Steve drilled that memo in his head the second he sprinted through the door, sniffing all his new surroundings. It only took him a few nights to understand the concept. But you let it slide, just this once.

It took only a moment to regain your bearings and be brought back to reality. The room around you is dark despite sunlight trying to invade the room behind closed curtains. Pictures hang neatly on the walls, a pile of Steve’s clothes in the corner, two stray cups litter the bedside table. You are home. You are safe.

Sighing, you pull yourself out of bed and into the kitchen, Grover’s muffled footsteps trailing behind you. The house is oddly silent, Steve clearly isn’t home, the note on the fridge only confirms it. “Store run, be home soon -S”

There couldn’t possibly be anything either of you needed for the day, grocery shopping has always been a Sunday errand. You haven’t even made the list yet, there’s no telling what that clueless man will bring back.

It’s Saturday, the day reserved for sleeping in and movie marathons with your husband. Saturday isn’t a day for waking up alone, weekdays are. Well, not for you, your job demands early mornings whereas Steve’s alarm goes off an hour after you leave. For years, Steve’s always been there the moment your eyes open. Of course, on the day you needed it most, he’s gone. You’ve always had shit luck though.

Grover eats happily while you brew a pot of coffee and scrub away the grime from last night’s dinner off dishes as it brews, quietly humming to yourself. You can’t help but bask in the comfort of your home.

There’s only two bedrooms, a quaint kitchen, a decently sized living room, and a small dining area. It’s nothing like the grand house Steve lived in before, there’s no way you could afford a three story abode and both of you refused to take money from his parents. But it’s away from Hawkins, just a few states away from bad memories.

The life you know now is nothing you could’ve dreamed of as a teenager. Married to your best friend, each of you pursuing dream jobs, being a home and dog owner, with a white picket fence to top it off. It’s all you could’ve asked for back then, and at the time it seemed so untangable, so unrealistic. It was hard picturing such a happy and bright future when you were surrounded with death and gore.

For the most part, both of you have healed. Your wounds are now faint scars, nightmares are a rare occurrence instead of every night. You don’t jump when the phone rings or panic when there’s a knock at the door. You don’t have to worry about saving the world anymore, only bills and what to cook for dinner, or whose turn it is to lock the door. For some, such a simple life would be excruciatingly boring, but for you and Steve it’s paradise.

“Hey sleepy head,” Steve calls from the front door, keys and plastic bags dangling from his hands. “You weren’t supposed to be up yet, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.” He explains, kicking the door shut with his foot.

“I was wondering why you went to the store so early.” You smile, shutting the tap off and drying your hands. He sets the bags down on the counter, leaning in to peck your cheek.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful even if you were snoring louder than Grover.” You bat his shoulder as he scratches the beloved dog behind his ears. “How’d you sleep?” You shrug, looking away only for a moment but Steve knows your mannerisms too well. His face softens as he pulls you into his arms. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah.” His hand combs through your hair as he holds you close, just his touch and the scent of his cologne put your mind at ease.

“I’m sorry, if I had known, I wouldn’t have left.”

“It’s okay, I’m a big girl. I can fight monsters all by myself.” You giggle pulling away and emptying the contents of the groceries.

“When have I ever let you fight on your own?” Steve helps place the food items on the counter, pancake mix, chocolate chips, and syrup are now placed neatly on the laminate. “I rented a few movies for tonight, I got The Princess Bride, The Labyrinth, and Alien 2.”

“We’ve already seen those.” You laugh, grabbing a mixing bowl from the cabinet above.

“And we loved them so we’re watching them again --hey stop that, it’s my turn to cook.” He says gently tugging the bowl out of your hands. You raise your hands in surrender as he begins to follow the instructions printed on the box.

Steve and you have always gone back and forth with household chores. You made it abundantly clear that you’d never be the kind of wife to do all the cooking and cleaning the second you said “I do”. It wasn’t a shock that Steve was okay with this, he was already used to caring for himself since his mother was barely around to do it for him. Hence the chores list hanging on the fridge, each of you having an even number beneath your names.

While Steve cooks, you set plates and silverware on the dining room table before flicking through the mail. You don’t open the ones labeled for Steve or even the bills, that can always be a problem for Monday.

One stands out amongst the rest. To Mr. and Mrs. Harringtonyou smile at the scribbled handwriting, you don’t know if you’ll get used to being Mrs. Harrington. “I think the kids wrote us.” You pad back into the kitchen, waving the crisp envelope in the air. You tear into the paper as Steve cranes his neck, hand still mixing pancake batter.

A single polaroid falls into your hands, each kid dressed in their cap in gown. Their arms are thrown over each other’s shoulders, grinning at the lens, their happiness frozen in time. “Miss you both, can’t wait to see you.” You read aloud, smiling at the faces you miss more than anything. “They’ve gotten so big, I can’t believe they’re graduating.”

“They’re about to be adults like us.” Steve chuckles, scooping batter into the skillet. You don’t look away from the tiny photo, tracing their faces with your fingertips. You can only imagine Mrs. Wheeler ordering them to pose, to stand up straighter, to smile for “just one more!”the same way she did when it was you, Steve, Nancy, and Johnathon graduating.

“They look so happy.” You whisper. Steve looks up then, noticing the falter in your smile. He sets down his spatula, ignoring the pancake that will most likely be burnt by the time he returns.

“Are you?” He asks, weaving his arms around your torso.

“The happiest.” You kiss his cheek, passing the photo into his hands for him to get a good look.

“Do you think that’s why you haven’t been sleeping well?” He nods towards the invitations plastered onto the fridge, “Your nightmares usually come back before we visit. Do you think it’s anxiety?” He asks, walking towards the fridge and placing the picture right in the middle of graduation party invites.

“Maybe,” You shrug, flipping the forgotten pancake, only earning a glare from your husband. “It was burning!”

“I told you it was my turn to cook!” You laugh and hop onto the counter as he takes over once more.

“I get scared sometimes,” You admit, Steve doesn’t turn away from the food but you know he’s listening. “Like, I get it, it’s over and it’s been over. And life has been so,so good, you know? But I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For us to have to fight again and I’m so tired of fighting.”

“Hey,” Steve whispers making his way towards you, his fingertips absentmindedly stroking your arms, “It’s been over for a long time. And I understand, returning to Hawkins has always been hard, but we’ve done it many times and everything has been okay. We see the kids, we spend too much money at the arcade, we eat dinner with our parents, and then we come home. We come home without bruises, we come home without something new to give us nightmares.”

You sigh, leaning your head against Steve’s chest knowing he’s right. It’s just anxiety, it had to be.

You and Steve eat in a comfortable silence, the only noises are from your forks scraping against plates or him asking if you could pass the syrup. You’re lost in your own thoughts, feeling excitement to return to the kids but dreading the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign once you enter city limits.

“Steve?” You ask, he only hums in response as he shovels another bite into his mouth. “Let’s say it isn’t over. When we go home and for whatever reason the Mind Flayer is back and they asked us to help… Would we do it?” Steve ponders for a moment as he chews, swallowing before he answers.

“Yeah, I’d like to think we would. It’s not really in our nature to sit back as our friends save the world.” He smiles, although there’s a hint of pain evident in the way he curls his lips. “We’d fight how we always do… Together. All of us.”

“Yeah,” You nod, pushing your now empty plate forward. “Can you do me a favor?” He quirks a brow as he stands, grabbing both dishes to clear the table. “When we leave, can you make sure to pack that bat?”

“The bat? You want me to pack the bat?” He laughs.

“Yeah, you know, just in case.” You shrug.

“Anything for you.” He kisses the top of your head before heading into the kitchen to start the dishes, leaving you alone at the table, once again lost in your thoughts.

You hope visiting Hawkins will be like the last one, a vacation spent smiling, laughing, eating Mrs. Wheeler’s home cooked dinner after the kids’ graduation ceremony. You hope the door is closed like everyone told you, you hope El won’t have to use her powers to defeat a greater evil again. You’ve already saved the world twice; you hope you won’t have to do it a third.

Forever Tags: @superfrankie111 // @rueinn // @lemonadeorange73 // @simplechicwithacrazedheart // @youshutthefuckupville // @captainpeggy40​ 

[bubblywrites]

Running From A Name Chapter 9

Alma laid in an empty, white room. She rose to her feet and paced the area, searching for something but not knowing what. She didn’t know if she walked for minutes, hours, or days. The room had no concept of time or space. It was never-ending nothingness. A sweet smell tickled her nose. She closed her eyes and inhaled deep, relieved to have found something in the room. But the smell went from pleasant to horrific. It became too much. It made her eyes water. It made her stomach churn. It burned her throat causing her to hack. Hey eyes shot open. Fairy blue dust clouded the room. Panic rippled through Alma's body as she swatted at the air. The dust cloud grew thicker and deeper in color. The dust changed into a liquefied state. It coiled around Alma’s body, squeezing her tighter as it inched closer to her face.

As if with the flip of a light switch, the room darkened into a pitch black. The liquified dust transformed into a dark green serpent. It almost camouflaged with the darkness. The serpent’s eyes were golden with slitted pupils that bore into her soul. It’s scaly body slowly made its way around her neck. Alma gasped for air but choked from the pressure the serpent applied on her throat. No amount of wriggling or thrashing could help her escape the serpent’s snare. Her face started to change color from the lack of air. Hot tears streamed down Alma’s face. Her bladder released its contents. Her body shook uncontrollably. “You’re a liar. Your ability will always be mine. You’ll never escape me, (Y/n).” The serpent’s voice was raspy, and it stretched its words. The voice was familiar. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in five years. Alma tried to scream but there was no sound. The serpent let out a malicious laugh before sinking its fangs into Alma’s cheek. The venom was like lava coursing through her veins.

Alma sprung up from her bed. Her breaths were sporadic. She clawed at her face like the imaginary, burning venom still flowed within her. After a few seconds, she calmed herself. Alma put a hand on her forehead. “I’m still having these damn nightmares.” She whispered, aggravated. She reached for parents’ wedding bands on top of her small drawer. She pulled the string over her head and clutched the rings close to her chest. She breathed deep and exhaled. “It's okay. They’ll go away with time.” She repeated the phrase over and over, forcing herself to believe it.

Alma swung her legs over the edge of her bed. She grabbed the sketchpad sandwiched between her drawer and bed. She flipped through drawings of her siblings, Bruno, and landscapes until she landed on a blank page. She removed the charcoal pencil buried in the pad’s spiral and began to sketch. She shaded the entire page except for the middle. Alma poured her fears and anxieties onto the page as she drew the serpent's eyes in the middle. The eyes stared back at her with the same fervor as if she were still in her nightmare. She quickly closed the book and slid it into its original spot.

A soft knock rattled against her door. “Come in.” Alma said. The door opened and Miguel walked inside the room. “I thought I heard you scream earlier. You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Alma replied. She patted the spot next to her. Miguel huddled beside her. Their shoulders pressed together. Alma poked his cheek and sighed. His chubby cheeks were a result of baby fat. They slimmed down over the past year to Alma’s dismay. He still kept his hair shoulder length. His lanky body made it up to Alma’s upper arm. “Yeah, no more cheek pinching for you.” Miguel said, sticking out the tip of his tongue.

Alma playfully shoved his shoulder with her own. “Don’t be a butt. The other two awake yet?”

Miguel shook his head. “They’re gonna be up soon. I tried making breakfast, but the eggs were too salty.”

Surprise decorated Alma’s features. “You tried making breakfast? You know me or Marco will cook for you guys.”

“I know, but he’s in the restaurant. And I like making less work for you.”

Alma jutted her bottom lip and brought Miguel into a tight embrace. Miguel’s maturity for his age never ceased to amaze Alma. He may have burned food sometimes or got the house messy while babysitting Isabella and Emilio, but his efforts were endearing nonetheless. He gently pushed Alma off of him. “Alma, you don’t need to hug me for every little thing.”

“But I want to reward you for trying to help me. I guess because you're a growing boy, you don’t want your big sister hugging you all the time. I’ll tell you what. When we move into the new apartment, I’ll save up to buy you a new game.”

Miguel’s face lit up. “Really!”

Alma chuckled. “Really.”

Miguel pumped a fist into the air. Alma shooed him out of her room so she could get dressed. She threw on a pair of blue denim shorts and a black, long sleeved shirt. As she exited her room, Isabella and Emilio bumbled out of their rooms. Emilio was up to her waist now. His ponytail swayed against the bottom of his neck. With all he ate on a daily basis, Emilio somehow maintained the same lanky body as Miguel. Even though they had different fathers, Miguel and Emilio were like twins excluding their different eye colors. “Buon Giorno, Alma.” Sleep still lingered in Emilio’ voice.

“Buon Giorno, Emilio, Isabella.”

Isabella yawned and pressed her head into Alma’s thighs. She squatted a bit to rub Isabella’s back. Alma assumed Isabella would grow to look like her brothers despite her albinism. But the opposite happened. She mostly took after her mystery father. She shared little physical resemblance with anyone else in the family.

“You guys go brush your teeth. I’ll make us a quick breakfast. We have to go sign the last of the paperwork today before we move into the apartment next week.” Alma said.

“Okay.” Isabella and Emilio responded in unison. They headed to the bathroom while Alma and Miguel went to the kitchen. Alma ate a spoonful of Miguel’s eggs. Her lips puckered. Miguel gazed at her like he was waiting for a judge to give him his verdict. Alma had to brace herself to swallow. She grabbed the counter and strained a smile. “The eggs weren’t that bad.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to like it.”

Alma opened the trashcan and emptied the pan. She cooked a new batch of less salty eggs. Her siblings sat at the table as she served them. Emilio wolfed down his share and pushed his plate towards Alma. She placed her hand on her hip. “You just want seconds. You don’t need seconds Emilio.”

Emilio scowled at her grumbling, “Fine.”

After eating breakfast, they went downstairs into the restaurant. Marco squished Alma’s cheeks in his hands. “Do you guys really have to move out?”

Alma gently grasped his wrists and lowered his hands. “I told you didn’t I. I would be out of your place in five years.”

Marco interweaved his hands with hers. “Well, If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.“

“Even if I didn’t ask, you would give me what I needed anyway. I can’t thank you enough for helping me get this apartment and taking caring of us for these past five years.” He let go of her hands and bear hugged her. Alma’s feet dangled off the ground. He dropped her and did the same with each of her siblings. He waved goodbye to them as they departed for the apartment complex.

The building was only a twenty minute minute walk from the restaurant. By the time she arrived, the building owner was waiting for her inside the apartment.

“Hello Mrs. Calamaro. Are you ready to do the last bit of paperwork for this place?” The owner asked.

“Yes, I am.” Alma motioned for her siblings to go inside. “You guys go hang out in the living room for me. After this, we can go get ice cream.”

Her siblings’s eyes sparkled as they ran into the living room. Alma set her bag at the door and followed the realtor into the kitchen. The apartment was on the ninth floor of a ten story complex. It had three bedrooms and one bathroom. The living room and kitchen were tight fits but not unmanageable. The highlight of the apartment was the balcony. Alma daydreamed about all the late nights she could spend drawing on it with the city lights shining in front of her.

The owner laid a piece of paper in front of her. “Okay Mrs. Calamaro, by signing here you are agreeing to a two year lease. The rent on this place is 400 dollars a month along with utilities. Now mind you, the only reason your rent is so cheap is because I owe Marco one. You will pay your rent directly to me and not the front desk. This is to avoid complications with the other tenants. I don’t need anyone breathing down my neck about favoritism. Understand?”

Alma nodded. “Yes. Thank you so much for dropping the rent for me.”

The owner of the building, Mr. Moreci, was an old acquaintance of Marco’s from his college days. He owed Marco for helping him when he was low on money. Because of that, Mr. Moreci vowed to assist Marco if he were ever in need. Alma appreciated that Marco used one of those favors to get her a great rate on the apartment.

“No problem.” Mr. Moreci handed Alma pen. She read the information in the contract one last time and signed. Mr. Moreci stuck out his hand to Alma. “It will be a pleasure to have you move in next Saturday, Mrs. Calamaro.”

She gave his hand a  firm shake. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Next Saturday came in a flash. Marco held Alma in his arms and nuzzled his cheek on top of her head. “I’m gonna miss you guys.” He sniffled.

Alma returned his hug. “Marco, it’s not like we’re leaving forever. I’m just moving down the street.”

“I know, I know. I just wish you would have waited until the summer to move out. That way, you would’ve still been living here when you graduated high school.”

“I graduate in the next few weeks so it’s not that bad. Anyway, Bruno and Angelo are waiting for us at the apartment.”

Marco reluctantly released Alma. He passed her a gift basket filled with sweets. “Your sweet tooth is insatiable. So I packed this for you.”

Alma dug through the basket. She stopped at a small white box. Her eyes gleamed like a child in a candy store. “Is this what I think it is?” She asked, her voice raising in pitch.

Marco hummed. “Caramel cannoli. I remember you saying it was your favorite dessert when you lived in Sicily. I’m better at cooking than baking, but I wanted to make something special for you. Tonio probably would have made it better though.”

Alma put the basket on the table and wrapped her arms around Marco, tightening her grip. “It doesn’t matter. It’s gonna taste great. But it is a shame that Tonio moved to Japan last year. I miss him.”

“I do too.” Marco said.

Alma kissed Marco’s cheek before leaving the restaurant.

Since Alma did not have many possessions, the move took little time.

“Where do you want the couch Alms?” Angelo asked.

Alma pointed in the middle of the living room. “Over there.”

Bruno and Angelo lowered the couch onto the ground. Angelo dusted off his hands. “That’s everything, right?”

“Yup.” Alma said, pouring lemonade into two glasses. Her siblings zipped past everyone to place dibs on their new rooms. Alma called out to them, “The biggest room is my room. The next biggest room belongs to Emilio and Miguel.”

“Why does Isabella get her own room?” Emilio shouted.

“Because she’s a girl and needs her space.” Alma retorted.

Alma carried the glasses to Angelo and Bruno. They thanked her and drank the lemonade. Alma’s eyes flickered from Angelo to Bruno. Angelo used to have several inches on Bruno, but now they were the same height. Both of their bodies were lean. Angelo allowed stubble to grow on his face while Bruno didn’t. But Alma liked Bruno’s face bare. His skin was soft and smooth to the touch. Over the years, all of Bruno’s features had sharpened. His jaw chiseled, his lips plumped, and his brows became fuller. Puberty did wonders for his voice. It’s rich and deep tonation sent pleasurable tingles through Alma every time he spoke. Alma enjoyed the view of his tattooed chest from the opening in his black, polka dotted suit. It also annoyed her because she caught herself gawking at the toned muscles often.

Soft buzzing came from Bruno’s pocket. He pulled out his phone and answered it. “Buccellati speaking. Ah Fugo. I understand. I’ll be there in a few.” He hung up.

“Everything alright?” Alma asked.

He gave her a comforting smile. “Yeah. I just have to handle some business.”

She glanced at him, worried. “Be safe.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I will. Don’t worry.” He stepped around her and left the apartment.

Angelo scoffed. “Watching you guys is sickening.”

Alma playfully shoved him. Angelo fell on the couch, feigning to be hurt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fugo slammed the politician on his desk. His back connected with the wood with a loud bang. Blood trickled from his nose, and his busted lip. Fugo rammed his fist into the politician’s face. He cried in pain. Fugo yanked the politician by the collar, forcing him to sit upright.

Bruno walked towards the desk with his hands in his pockets. “It was smart of you to hide once Polpo caught on to you. But how long did you think you could fuck with the organization and live.” Bruno backhanded the politician. His neck snapped to the side. A red handprint started to form on his face.

The politician turned back to Bruno. He flailed his hands as he begged. “Please, Mr. Buccellati. I can explain everything. I swear.”

Bruno sat in the wooden chair across from the desk. He rested his cheek on his fist. “Start explaining.”

The politician’s gaze went back and forth between Bruno and Fugo. Fugo struck him again. “He said explain.” He yelled.

The politician yelped. “I was paid by a man to throw some of Passione’s men in jail.”

“Who paid you?” Bruno asked. He tapped his foot as he waited for the man to answer.

“It was a man named-” The politician did not finish his sentence. A bullet smashed through the window and hit the back of his head. His blood splattered onto his suit, the desk, and Fugo’s face. Bruno slung an arm around Fugo's waist and ducked behind the desk.

“Who the hell was that?” Fugo asked, shocked.

“I don’t know. I doubt they were from Passione. That had to be a new enemy.”

[the-everqueen]

a long long time ago, i promised @stellerssong camping fic. here it finally is, with much love: 4k of wolf shenanigans and me dragging the founders. this is titled “werewolf gimmick” in my docs, but has very little to do with the tmg song - mostly i just found the dichotomy hilarious.

Thanks to general panic over midterms in the class he TAs, John gets home late that evening. Alex doesn’t jump to greet him like usual: he’s on the couch, eyes glued to his laptop screen, claws tapping at the keys. John toes off his shoes and sets down his backpack. “Have you moved at all since I left?”

“Mm?” Alex flicks an ear. “Oh. Yeah, we’re out of bologna.”

“And cheese.” John rummages around in the fridge for the salmon he’d set to marinate that morning. He has brussel sprouts he could roast, but that takes so long. Maybe he’ll make a salad instead. “Hey, Alex, would you eat kale?”

“Depends. Is there bacon in it?”

So, no. John takes out the greens anyway; he can have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. The salmon just needs a quick sear, and he boils some minute rice. Fast, simple, nutritious: the kind of dinner he learned to make in his undergrad and thought he’d never have to cook again. Back before the — before Alex was a werewolf, John might have asked him to make quesadillas or breakfast for dinner, the two meals he could be guaranteed to not burn. But last week Alex tried to cook pancakes as a surprise and ended up eating a dozen raw eggs in the process. John found him licking the remains of the last one off the counter.

Alex is now exempt from kitchen-related chores.

John hands him a plate, sans kale. There are some battles even he won’t fight. “How’s the article coming?”

“Got another round of edits.” Alex snaps up a bite of salmon, not bothering with utensils. “I might be able to finish it tonight. Already started on the next project — the editor said she’s looking for a piece for December.”

“You’ve been working really hard.”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, well. Gotta make up for those full moons.”

“That’s one day a month.”

He nibbles at the rice, swallows down another piece of salmon. John waits for further argument, but Alex stares into space, thinking about his edits or maybe the neighbor’s cat. Ever since he got that piece published in Fast Company, he’s been writing non-stop, aiming for something bigger or more permanent. John is glad he’s recovered his sense of purpose — Alex, listless on the couch, eyes dull as he watches Cesar Millan videos, should be an aberration, not the norm. But then John is starting to think Alex is going too far in the other direction: working every second he’s awake, like he has to be productive or else he isn’t worth anything. He has bags under his eyes that aren’t just patches of dark fur growing on his face.

Last semester was — well, there isn’t a word to summarize it. Alex getting bitten, Alex dropping out of school, Alex changing in so many ways, obvious and subtle, all of them uncanny valley familiar. He deserves a break, a real one, a chance to not worry about looking human and just be able to relax.

A vacation.

John takes their plates to the sink. Alex has licked his dish clean and returned to his article, ears perked at attention. His laptop is perched on the arm of the couch, his hips twisted to the side to accommodate his tail, which thumps in time to whatever’s going on inside his brain. John grabs his own computer and shoots a quick message to Harrison: you have a tent, yeah? could i borrow it?

***

“We’re going camping,” John announces over breakfast.

Alex wrinkles his nose. “Like, today? Don’t you have class?”

“No, not today. This weekend.”

“This weekend.”

“Yeah.”

“Full moon.”

“Yes?” Alex is giving him a blank look, and John presses on. “You finished your edits, and you won’t have thumbs. I booked the campsite, Harrison is loaning me his tent. I just thought —  you’ve been working so hard, and you deserve a break, and we haven’t done anything special since, well. You know.”

“Since the bite.”

“Yeah.”

Alex picks at the cleft in his lip. At this point in the cycle he doesn’t have much that could be called eyebrows, since his face is mostly dark fur, but the tawny spots on his brow ridges draw together in something like confusion. “So you thought camping?”

“I can’t exactly take a wolf to the spa. Besides, you could use a change of scenery.”

Alex shrugs. “You’ve seen one tree, you’ve seen them all.”

“That’s not even remotely true.”

“Which one of us is the naturalist here?”

“I’m going to vet school, Alex.”

“Yeah you are.” His mouth falls into what’s probably intended to be a salacious grin but instead looks very canine, his long tongue hanging over his teeth.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m dating a future doctor!”

John rolls his eyes. Swallowing down the last of his tea, he wraps his arms around Alex and buries his face in the fur poking above the collar of his hoodie. “I heard he even makes house calls,” he murmurs.

“Now who has the bad lines?” Alex asks. But he shivers as John presses a kiss to the side of his face, and his tail thwacks against John’s leg. “I’ve never been camping.”

“You never — oh.” He knows bits and pieces about Alex’s childhood, collected from hints dropped like breadcrumbs, but he feels stupid that this is the first time he’s realizing Alex probably didn’t have annual family vacations as a kid. “Well, I can do the setup and teardown myself, so that’s not a problem. Maybe you can catch dinner?”

“Oh yeah, cause I do that all the time.”

“You caught that squirrel.”

Alex shoots a doleful glance at the faded stain on the living room carpet. Two months later, and John still hasn’t managed to scrub out the evidence of Alex’s anniversary present. Who would have thought squirrel guts would be the Achilles’ heel to every cleaning product on the market?

One ear perks and the other tilts down in an expression John has come to understand as extreme skepticism. Alex says, “Let’s hope your surprise turns out better than mine did.”

***

Alex might be dubious about the concept of vacation, but that doesn’t keep him from howling along to Lorde as they drive down the interstate. Not quite in tune, though he makes up for it with enthusiasm. According to his phone, it’s a five-hour drive to the camp, and since Alex can’t pass the time with an extended rant, John has Pandora and a half dozen chew toys to keep him occupied. Alex “sings” along to the techno-pop, prods John into telling him about the latest gossip in the animal husbandry department, and manages to wrestle the squeaker out of his stuffed turtle — all in the span of an hour. Hour two, a Prius rides next to them for a couple miles, a grinning pit bull in the backseat, and Alex goes wild, barking and clawing at the door. When the car pulls ahead, he grumbles.

John takes pity on him and rolls down the window.

Alex sticks his head outside, face breaking into a canine grin. His tongue lolls and flaps in the breeze, and he laughs, an incongruous human sound.

“Having fun there?” John asks.

His tail thumps on the center console.

***

It’s afternoon when they get to the campground, their arrival delayed by a quick lunch stop. Alex has thumbs enough to open the door, but his hips have given up on being bipedal and he clambers out of the car on all fours, still wearing his Columbia hoodie. John hauls out his backpack, the tent, and the cooler. “Ready?”

Alex paws at the cooler and whines.

“It’s fine, I got it.” John hefts the gear for emphasis. “See? Marta used to make me carry her shit on vacations. Dad always sided with her, too, said I had to be a gentleman. Like she didn’t scare half the boys at school with her left hook.”

Alex snickers.

Workout benefits of being the packhorse aside, John is glad their campsite isn’t far from the parking area. He dumps their gear in the center of the cleared ground and rolls his shoulders, looking around. The weather forecast predicted a warm weekend, but cold nights in the mountains, meaning the fire pit should be useful for more than just roasting marshmallows. Through the trees, their neighbor’s tent is visible — must be a family, he can hear kids shrieking and laughing. Alex’s ears swivel in the direction of the sound.

“You can explore, if you want. I gotta set up the tent.”

He cocks his head.

“You won’t get lost, you can — I dunno — smell your way back? Just don’t go too far. Also maybe take off the hoodie.”

Alex wriggles out of his sweatshirt, with some help from John. Shakes out his fur. It’s not quite full moon, but close enough that Alex passes for some sort of wolf-dog hybrid. Only John would recognize that his thumbs haven’t yet receded into dewclaws, or what the awkward slope of his shoulders means.

Alex scratches at his belly with his hind foot.

“Oh, wait —” John digs around in his backpack until he finds the leather collar. The tags jangle as he fastens it around Alex’s neck, and his boyfriend makes a disgruntled sound. “There. Looks like you belong to someone.”

A warning growl.

“Well, you’re mine, aren’t you? Don’t want you getting picked up by some cute park ranger.”

Alex swipes a lick across John’s cheek and goes bounding into the trees.

Turns out pitching a tent is not like riding a bike — it’s been years since John went camping, and he had at least one other person to help him. He wrestles with one stubborn corner, grateful that Alex isn’t here to watch and laugh at him. By the time he rolls out the sleeping bags and stashes their gear, he’s sweating and the sun has crawled closer to the horizon.

Childish screams alternate with a familiar bark. John wanders over to their neighbor’s campsite and finds Alex playing with two little kids, sisters if their matching shirts and corkscrew curls are any indication. The younger one toddles after Alex, her arms outstretched, and he lopes just out of reach, reverses to dodge the older girl. His tail wags.

“Nice dog, is he yours?”

John turns to the couple sitting in fold-out chairs, watching the kids. “Yeah. I’m John, we’re —” he gestures back at the trees “— right next door.”

“Mattie,” the woman says, holding out her hand. “This is my husband, Thom.”

The man gives John a considering look. “What brings you out here?”

“Well, uh, it’s spring break.”

“You’re a student?”

“Grad student. Vet school.”

Thom nods. “So you like the outdoors.”

“Yeah. And Alex needs a lot of exercise.” John glances at his boyfriend, who’s getting belly rubs from the girls.

“I didn’t think wolf-hybrids were a thing in California,” Mattie says, not accusing, just curious.

“He’s not — we don’t know what breed he is? Got him at the local shelter.”

“Well-trained,” Thom observes.

“Ha. Well. You should see what he did to the couch. But he likes kids.”

“I’ve heard larger breeds tend to be really social.” Mattie adjusts her sunglasses. “We were thinking of getting a pet, since the girls have been asking. But I’m not sure how much time I can afford to train a dog when I can’t even get this one here to make the bed.” She swats playfully at her husband. “I swear, he gets up at six in the morning just to get out of fixing the sheets.”

“I’m checking the temperature!”

“You’re a philosophy professor.”

“Global warming is a real issue that affects us all.”

She rolls her eyes. “See? No help.”

“Pet ownership is a serious commitment,” John says, relieved to have the conversation move away from the subject of his boyfriend. “You wouldn’t believe how many animals we get at the shelter because someone didn’t realize their cute little puppy would grow into a bigger dog.”

From there the talk revolves around hypoallergenic dogs and finding a reputable breeder. At some point Alex wanders over, panting. He rubs his face on John’s leg, and John pets the tawny spot between his eyes. “Hey, ba — boy.”

Alex snorts.

Thom gives them a funny look.

John blushes and opens his mouth to — explain? deny that he’s dating his dog? — but the girls choose that moment to interrupt, the younger climbing into Mattie’s lap and burying her face in her stomach.

“Oh dear, someone needs a nap.” Mattie pats her back soothingly. “Thom, you want to get her blankie out?”

That’s their cue to leave. John pats Alex’s side. ���We should go. Those hot dogs I brought won’t cook themselves.”

“Sure,” Thom says. “We’ll see you around.”

At least Alex holds in his (suspiciously human sounding) laughter until after they get to their tent.

***

“Alex, no — drop it!”

John grabs for him and Alex dodges, running to the other end of the campsite, the bag of marshmallows dangling from his teeth. He drops it, not for John, but to paw at the hole cut into one corner, trying to make it wider. Sugar smell, want want want. He bites at the opening and manages to snag one marshmallow before John snatches the bag from him.

“These are for s’mores,” he says, exasperated.

Alex grumbles. What’s the difference? They’re going to be eaten regardless, and Alex can’t have chocolate. Graham crackers are bland and not made for people whose canines evolved to better tear apart flesh and bones.

“We’re gonna toast them.” Oh, of course, that human fascination with cooking food. John continues, “Besides, you can’t be hungry, you ate an entire package of hot dogs.”

Like that’s ever stopped Alex from going through the trash. He whines, giving his best pout.

“Nope. That’s not working.”

He gets down on his belly and rolls over.

“You can wait the literal two minutes it’ll take to brown these.”

Fine. He slinks over to where he abandoned his book and lays down with a huff.

Three minutes later, he’s licking gooey marshmallow off John’s lips.

***

John has a hike planned the next morning. Nothing too long — Alex might have better stamina than him, but he hates exercise as much as he did when he was human, fetch and the occasional game of “chase me around the living room” being the exceptions. But it’s cool and green out, and Alex preens at the attention from other hikers, and when they reach the end of the trail there’s a waterfall.

Alex jumps onto a flat rock and tilts his face toward the spray. His whiskers twitch, eyelashes fluttering and collecting little droplets. John sits down next to him, shrugging off the backpack. “Having fun there?”

He wags his tail. Then his expression turns considering. John has just enough time to register his boyfriend tensing before Alex leaps into the water with a terrific splash.

Since the bite, Alex hasn’t been a big fan of baths, but he likes water — at least, more than he seemed to as a human. He paddles around for ten or so minutes before he climbs back onto the rock and shakes out his fur. John grimaces at the drops that spatter his face and shirt. Their tent is going to smell like wet dog tonight.

As if reading his mind, Alex flops into his lap, rubbing his muzzle on John’s cargo shorts. He looks up, fur sticking out in wet spikes. John bursts out laughing.

“I brought peanut butter bars,” he says. “Eliza gave me her recipe. I might’ve left them in the oven too long, though.”

Alex snuffles at the backpack, tail frisking.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

***

The thing about the outdoors is, it gets dark sooner than in the cities. Not that Alex really cares about the dark: his night vision is good enough he could read by the full moon light (theoretically, if his eyesight wasn’t fucked for small type and the Roman alphabet), and he usually goes to bed around midnight even when he’s not working on a project. But John is human, and worn out from their day of hiking and swimming and playing tug-of-war with his shirt; once the fire dies down and the stars come out, he crawls into his sleeping bag and promptly falls asleep.

Alex turns in a circle, settles down on his blanket. Waits. John’s breathing is deep and even. Soothing, in the general mate is content, mate is safe sense, but it’s not getting Alex any closer to rest. He crosses his paws, flicks an ear. Outside the tent crickets chirp, an owl hoots. Something rustles through the underbrush.

That gets his attention. He lifts his nose, scents the air. Musk smell, animal smell. His mouth waters. A twig snaps in the distance. His ears perk and swivel. Big animal, close, sniff it out, run it down.

He glances at John. Mate is sleeping, mate won’t notice if Alex goes out for a quick hunt. He’ll be back soon, maybe bring a share of the kill with him.

Alex creeps out of the tent on silent paw pads.

***

The first thing John registers is that there’s something warm and wet on his face.

He forces his eyes open. There’s a dark blur in his vision; it takes a second for him to focus and realize it’s Alex’s muzzle. Alex noses at him again and whines. John sits up, blinking hard. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

Alex prances in place. The fur on his face is matted and slick, the rest of his coat disheveled. Where has he been? “Are you hurt? What happened?”

He grunts and bounds out of the tent. John follows in his t-shirt and boxers.

Outside, Alex has picked up a large, misshapen stick. No, not a stick — he lopes toward John with the thing in his mouth, and it’s not a stick, it’s a leg, it’s a fucking deer leg, the hoof still intact, and Alex shoves it at him.

John stumbles back with a yell. “What the FUCK?”

Alex pauses, his tail curling between his legs in confusion. He whines around the mouthful of animal carcass; he hasn’t dropped the leg, and his teeth glint in the moonlight.

“What the — where did you even find that?” Alex huffs, and John feels his stomach swoop. “You killed a deer? What the fuck, Alex? How —”

“HEY, what’s going on?”

A bright beam of light cuts across the campsite. John raises a hand to his eyes.

“Excuse me,” the woman says. She’s wearing a khaki uniform and a green jacket with RANGER in bold letters on the side. She aims her flashlight at them, and Alex cringes, moving closer to John. “Would you like to explain what happened?”

“Uh…” John brushes a stray curl out of his eyes. His hand comes away dark, and he realizes the wetness on his face is blood. Shit, he must look like a mess. What is a park ranger doing out here this late? Did the neighbors hear them and call someone? Or maybe she’s on patrol? John didn’t think park rangers did night patrols.

“Sir.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” John gives her the most charming smile he can muster. “My, um. My dog — I guess he found some dead animal. Just, startled me, is all.”

“This is your dog?” The ranger frowns.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shoots him a Look. “You know wolfdogs are illegal in the state of California.”

“He’s licensed. And — uh, I got him at a shelter? I think he’s a shepherd mix.”

“Uh-huh.” She turns her light on Alex. He drops the deer leg and licks his lips, folding his ears down submissively. He looks at her with wide, sincere eyes. Her face softens.

John interrupts, “Yeah, so. Are we good here?”

“You said he found it?” The ranger glances dubiously at the leg on the ground, mostly intact and smeared with fresh blood. Alex inches closer and butts his head against her thigh with a whine. “Hey, boy,” she says, holding out her fingers for him to sniff. “Well, out-of-season hunting results in a fine. But, since you weren’t hunting… I suppose I can let you off with a warning. Just this once.”

John sighs, relieved.

“But make sure you keep…”

“Alex. His name’s Alex.”

“... Right. Keep Alex from wandering beyond the campsite without supervision. There’s bears and wolves around here, you know.”

Alex coughs. John glares at him.

“Oh, and make sure to get rid of that.” She points at the deer leg with her boot. Grimaces. “You don’t want to attract scavengers.”

“Sure thing.”

“If you want, I could…”

Alex grabs his prize by the ankle, tenses like a puppy ready to dash off with its newest toy.

“I think we can handle it,” John says.

“Then you boys have a good night.” She waggles her fingers at Alex. He frisks his tail.

John waits until he hears her driving off to address Alex. “Did you really have to do the whole puppy eyes thing?”

He snorts.

“Yeah, thanks for getting us out of a fine. You wanna get rid of that thing?”

Alex slaps his paws on the ground.

“No, no, I don’t want to play with it.”

He runs a few feet, dragging the leg with him. John sighs. Moves to rub his face, remembers the blood, thinks better of it. “Fine. Just… bury it, at least? Don’t bring it in the tent.”

Alex trots off to the other side of the campsite and settles down, gripping the leg between his paws so he can better gnaw on the protruding bone. John climbs back into the tent, puts the pillow over his head to muffle the sounds of his boyfriend eating a deer’s leg. At least he’s enjoying himself.

***

One perk of dating a werewolf is that John never wakes up cold.

Sometime during the night, Alex wormed into his unzipped sleeping bag and laid down next to him. His face is buried in John’s chest, and he makes little grunts and whuffs as he sleeps, ears flicking. John rubs the velvet fur of one ear between his fingers — it’s damp but not tacky with dried blood. Alex must’ve washed off after he finished his snack. John feels a warm flush of affection, despite the unsexy smell of wet dog. He presses a kiss to his head.

Alex stirs and squints at him.

“I was thinking we could go for another long hike,” John whispers, “but maybe we’ll just sleep in? I can cook sausage for breakfast.”

Alex closes his eyes and snuggles closer.

***

“Y’all leaving?”

John shoves his sleeping bag into the backpack. “Yeah, I have to TA a class tomorrow and I still need to finish grading their midterms.” Also Alex is starting to get his thumbs back and twisted the lid off the tea thermos this morning, but it’s not like John can mention that.

Thom laughs. “Just give ‘em all a B-minus.”

“Well, it’s a lab-based class, so it’s kind of important they can do the math.”

He waves a hand. “Grades are just an artificial metric for determining whether students grasp the basic concepts.”

Yeah, and John doesn’t think Ethan realizes he solved question thirteen with the formula for quadratic equations, which has nothing to do with the test. At least Ethan is a double-major; maybe he’s better at bassoon performance.

“Are you teaching this semester?” he asks.

“Nah, on sabbatical. Supposed to be finishing a book on Voltaire, but…” He makes a vague gesture. “My best work is more last-minute. Besides, I want the girls growing up in the outdoors, you know? Our lives are so industrialized these days. Is your dog reading a book?”

John glances over his shoulder. Alex snaps his copy of Gibbons shut with a guilty look.

“Oh. Um. He must’ve… gotten it out of my stuff.”

“Huh.” Thom stares at him for a moment, then shrugs. “Well, the girls will miss him. He’s a good dog. Seems real clever.”

“He is,” John says, a bit too enthusiastically. “Erm. I have some stuff for s’mores left over, if you and Mattie want a treat for the girls? I can’t eat it all myself.”

“Sure.” Thom accepts the half-full bag of marshmallows as well as the uneaten graham crackers and chocolate bars. “I’ll tell them you said bye. Gotta extend the nap for as long as possible — I can’t believe Mattie got them to lie down in the first place, their schedules have been out the window this vacation. You should swing by the philosophy department sometime. Bring the dog, I’m sure he’d have more to say on Foucault than my upperclassmen.”

“I’m… certain he would.”

Alex barks in agreement. John tries to imagine a class discussion on French philosophers being led by an opinionated werewolf.

“There you go, open-invite. Where’s the place you work? The girls are gonna want a dog after this weekend, might as well go local.”

John gives him the name of the shelter.

“You boys have a safe drive.”

***

Hour three of the ride back, John makes Alex drive, claiming he’s too tired to focus on the road. Alex thinks that’s a weak excuse for poor night vision, but since John organized the trip and loaded their gear into the car, he supposes he can do this thing. Even if he doesn’t particularly like driving anymore: his new chase impulse means he’s tense behind the wheel, ears swiveling every time a car zooms past. His paw pads don’t get much traction on the gas pedal, either, so he cruises just above the speed limit.

A compact car pulls alongside him. The driver taps on their horn — probably wants to flip him off, the asshole, he’s trying his best here, it’s not his fault he can’t wear shoes —

He sneaks a glance. The woman behind the wheel gapes, slack-jawed.

John mumbles, sinks down so his face is buried in his sweater. Alex returns his focus to the road. Warm, pleasant feeling inside him: he and his boyfriend had a romantic weekend, and it wasn’t even new moon.

He drives them home.

[waynebomberger]

Eat Up: The Best Restaurants in Nashville, According to Me

Many of you are probably coming to Nashville soon for the NFL draft, or maybe CMA Fest or a bachelorette weekend or another excuse for a long-weekend getaway. No matter how you’re experiencing Music City, you must make time to eat your way through it—the food scene is absolutely on fire, and some of the best restaurants in Nashville are also the best in the country.

The restaurant scene is so dynamic, in fact, that many have closed already before I even had a chance to write them up (R.I.P. Kuchnia & Keller, I hardly knew thee, though I loved what little I saw—and tasted). It’s harder than ever to be a restaurant in Nashville and make it long-term, so kudos to those chefs who are killing it.

Looking for where to eat? Nashville has so many good restaurants, it can be hard to decide which one is your best bet. So I broke it down by occasion in hopes of solving all your Music City dining woes.



For a one-of-a-kind experience: Tailor Nashville

For years, Vivek Surti was Nashville’s most famous chef without a restaurant. He worked for the wine auction, he ran VEA Supper Club on the side, and he cooked for just about everyone around town who would ask him. He’s a phenomenal chef who fuses his Indian heritage with other South Asian cuisine for a mashup of tasty dishes unlike any other. All of Nashville rejoiced when he finally bit the bullet and opened up Tailor Nashville, a dining club-type experience in Germantown, with partner Heather Southerland at the end of last year. The eight- to 10-course menu rotates seasonally and features a snack, vegetable, fish or meat, rice dish and a dessert for $60, which does not include sales tax and gratuity. Drink pairings are an additional charge, which I highly recommend. There are only 35 seats available at 6pm and 8:30pm on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday, so if you’re coming from out of town, make sure you make a reservation well in advance.

For any occasion: The Farm House

I’ve professed my love for Chef Trey Cioccia’s winning combination of atmosphere and contemporary Southern fare on the blog before, but every time I go back, his ever-changing menu impresses me even more. Pork belly pop-tarts? Pimento cheese beignets? Gnudi of the day? Forget about it! Just give me one of everything, please. On top of dinner six nights a week, TFH serves lunch from Tuesday through Friday and brunch on Sunday.

For your new neighborhood hang: Hathorne

I was a huge fan of John Stephenson’s all the years he was at the helm at Fido, then I followed his food to the Family Wash (R.I.P.), so I was really excited when he debuted Hathorne on Charlotte Avenue last winter. There’s so much to love about Hathorne, from the design that incorporates pews recovered from the church next door to the plates of shaved Brussels, pork pierogis, roasted heirloom carrots and grilled acorn squash that are meant to be shared. Hathorne has a daily happy hour from 5 to 6:30pm, then a “joyful hour” from 10 to 11:30pm, staying true to its mission to bring in the neighborhood locals.

To impress an out-of-towner: Pinewood Social

If you haven’t heard of this restaurant-meets-bar-meets-swimming pool-meets karaoke joint-meets bowling alley-meets cafe, you’ve been living under a rock (or else not reading C&C … or Vogue … or Esquire … or any of the hundreds of publications that have featured it in the handful of years since Pinewood’s inception). The drinks are stellar, the food is great, and the atmosphere is on point—what more could you ask for out of a dining experience?

When you’re feeling indulgent: Biscuit Love Brunch

There’s no nicer couple in town than Karl and Sarah Worley, and it doesn’t hurt that they also have the game-changing recipe for the best biscuits in Nashville. After two years of dominating the food truck market, this dynamic duo launched their own brick-and-mortar in 2015, open seven days a week from 7am to 3pm. There’s never not a line, so you’re better off going on a weekday if you can. Just know: It’s worth every second you wait. Also know: You should order the Lily while your friend has the East Nasty, which was named as one of Bon Appetit’s favorite sandwiches in the country a couple years back. Or have your savory but order a plate of bonuts for the table. If you’re not feeling biscuits, there are plenty of other options on the menu, like the Lindstrom, a seriously decadent shaved Brussels sprouts salad. Want to feel cool? Order the “Nasty Princess” (a mash-up of the Princess and East Nasty) off-menu. Pro tip: Biscuit Love has another location in Hillsboro Village that is often less packed during peak meal times. There’s also a third outpost down in Franklin.

For Sunday Supper: City House

City House is a must-eat any night of the week but it’s especially good each Sunday night when the menu rotates to include even more creative pizza and pasta dishes (I still remember an apple, onion and chili pie I had years ago). You’ll need a reservation to get into Sunday Supper, though you can always nab a seat at the bar if you forgot to call a couple weeks in advance. Note: City House is great for small groups, but can be really loud and not ideal for a first (or second or third…) date. The belly ham pie with a cracked egg on top never goes out of style.

When you’re downtown for lunch: Liberty Common

The fist thing that will catch your eye is just how downright dreamy the interior of Liberty Common is. On my inaugural visit here, I was dining alone and working from the bar, but I couldn’t stop creeping around taking photos of the design. It’s just so damn pleasant. And it boasts murals from one of our favorite artists Tara Aversa, the visionary behind the Manchester Magnolia, too. The food itself is very Parisian bistro style, and the drinks follow form. Traditionally, Nashville didn’t have a lot of great downtown restaurants, particularly ones that cater to the business crowd, so I’m pleased as punch that Liberty Common has joined the fray.

For a stylish diner vibe: The Mockingbird

The tagline says it all: “modern dinner, global fare.” The menu at the Mockingbird is all over the place, which is precisely why I like going there. It’s the kind of restaurant you can dine at with friends who all have very different culinary preferences, whether you want a corned seitan veggie reuben and your bestie is dying for a chicken pot pie. It’s comfort food at its finest, in a very stylish space (and I love that all the food is served on mismatched plates procured from antiques stores). If you have a chance to chat with owners Brian Riggenbach and Mikey Corona, take it—they’re both a riot. And don’t leave without ordering a platter of cookies served in a birdcage.

When you’re in the mood for Italian: Nicky’s Coal Fired

I first met Tony and Caroline Galzin when they were at Fifty-First Kitchen and were instant fans. Not only are the Chicago transplants great people, but they bring a different kind of culinary pizzazz to the Nashville restaurant scene. When they opened up Nicky’s Coal Fired in the Nations a couple years back, they were one of the only restaurants in the area; now, the neighborhood is positively booming, and their seats are packed with those flocking to taste the artisan pizzas fired up in their four-ton, coal-fired oven named “Enrico.” Nicky’s also has a selection of antipasti and seafood dishes, though I usually order one of the seasonal pasta dishes to start and share a thin-crust pie or two with friends as my main. The cocktail menu is on point, and there are always a selection of spritzes from which to choose.

For a classy business affair: Etch

This downtown spot is the brainchild of culinary master Deb Paquette, who whips up inventive fare, such as an octopus and shrimp bruschetta or a cauliflower steak. Deb has led the charge on Nashville’s food evolution and now has Char and Etc. in Green Hills, as well. It’s also one of my very favorites in town—and I’m not just saying it because my college roommate is the ace pastry chef (proud friend alert)! Just ask Zagat or a number of any other ratings guides: Etch is la creme de la creme, whether for lunch or dinner. The cauliflower appetizer is a must-do anytime of day, and my regular lunch order is the creamy, oh-so-tasty Thai Chicken & Quinoa. And tasting your way through the dessert menu, created by my former roommate Megan Williams, is a must-do, so be sure and save room in your stomach!

For the best Indian street food: Chaatable

Maneet Chauhan is a ball of sassy energy, and that energy could not be more apparent than in her latest concept Chaatable, which channels an Indian street market in all its colorful glory and dreamy Indian bites with punny names like the O.M.Ghee, This Spuds For You, Puff Puff Pass and the Go Shorty. She also collected thousands of Indian bangles to build a bangle wall, which serves as the perfect greeting (and so very Maneet, too) when diners walk in. Pro tip: Don’t leave without ordering one (or three) Pani ‘Rita, the tamarind margarita that is currently one of my favorite drinks in Nashville.

To satiate your sweet tooth: Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams

Have I gotten the point across yet? I LOVE JENI’S ICE CREAM. And now that there are multiple locations in Nashville, my waistline is in immediate danger. I finally met Jeni Britton Bauer at the opening of her Hillsboro Village store—dangerously close to where I live—and had a major fangirl moment. I’ve tried about every flavor she makes, and while you can’t go wrong, the combo of salty caramel and brown butter almond brittle is always my favorite.

For breakfast/lunch/dinner any day of the week: Fido

The sweet potato waffle can’t be beat, but neither can the burger, or the coffee for that matter. Basically, all you need to know is that Fido is as good as they come, and if you find yourself hungry in Hillsboro Village no matter the time of day, you can pop in and fulfill your craving, no matter what that may be. Then head across the street to Jeni’s for dessert or next door to Hot & Cold for a Las Paletas pop, and all will be right with the world!

For the best $200 you’ve ever spent: Catbird Seat

Before I ate there, I wondered just how any meal could be worth $200 (note: that price does include pairings). Well, let’s just say, I would have paid double that for the feast we had at our inaugural Catbird experience last spring! The restaurant itself is very no-frills, which means the focus is entirely on the food and whatever the chef and his team are whipping up that night. Reservations open up exactly 30 days in advance, and as there are only two seatings of 20 people Wednesday through Sunday, you better get on that if you want to indulge in this sinful experience.

For your green juice fix: Juice Bar

Like every other city in America, Nashville has experienced a boom in juice spots. I do several juice cleanses a year and have yet to find one I like as much as the Juice Bar, which now has multiple locations in Nashville and Williamson County. My go-to location is the Germantown one, as street parking is easy during the day. I also frequent the Juice Bar in Berry Hill, but often there’s nowhere to park (#NashvilleProblems).

For a menu you’ll have to Google: Rolf & Daughters

You won’t understand half the ingredients on the menu, but that’s half the fun. People bemoan the service (or lack thereof) at Rolf—it’s a hipster hangout first and foremost—so know before you go. But that’s never deterred me from heading to RAD when the urge strikes. And if it’s a nice evening, arrive early and claim a spot on the patio, which is first-come, first-served.

For a community experience: Josephine

This 12South hotspot debuted at the tail end of 2013 to much excitement, but its new 10-course X|X: Josephine experience really helped keep it relevant. Each Friday and Saturday night at 8pm, 10 lucky diners take the table as they are served a steady stream of 10 dishes on a long 2-by-10 wooden board, each  presented by theme (e.g., snacks, asparagus, spring, pretzel, morel mushroom, scallop, pork belly). Better yet, the meal is just $90 with an optional $55 for six beverage pairings, an absolute steal for as much food and drink as that gets you. Just be sure and make reservations, as with just 10 spots at the table, they go quickly!

For bad-ass BBQ and bushwhackers: Edley’s

BBQ purists may call it too trendy, but I don’t care. I LOVE this BBQ joint that now boasts three locations locally, one in Chattanooga and one in Kentucky. The Tuck forever gets my order, and even though I nearly died from bushwhacker consumption a few years ago (don’t ask), I can’t stay away. Love nachos? Can’t go wrong with BBQ nachos, topped with a heaping pile of pulled pork.

When you’re looking to eat on Braodway: Acme Feed & Seed

The walk-up counter on Acme’s ground floor is always a safe option if you’re out on Broadway midday or into the evening and looking to grab a quick bite among a sea of trashy country music star-backed options (though I do like the food at Whiskey Row if we’re being honest).

For a drink on the go: Bajo Sexto

A cocktail I can carry around downtown with me? Don’t mind if I do! Jonathan Waxman’s first Nashville endeavor has authentic Mexican food and delicious drinks, like the bourbon horchata, and it’s conveniently located between the Omni, the Music City Center and the Country Music Hall of Fame, so perfect for those of you staying downtown.

For all. the. meat: Martin’s BBQ

Pat Martin has become legendary in Nashville with his huge of the whole hog and his ever-expanding empire. He’s now got three locations in the Nashville area, as well as has expanded to neighboring states, too. My favorite of his many spots is the downtown outpost with its 13,000 square feet of space for dining, lounging, drinking beer and playing games with your buds.

For beer with a side of tacos: Butchertown Hall

Butchertown Hall is dangerously close to my Nashville yoga studio, and it’s open all afternoon long, something I struggle with in Nashville with weird hours and so many places closed from 2 to 5pm. So it’s become my go-to spot post-yoga when I’m getting a late lunch or drinks with friends. The street tacos are bomb, and the beer selection is mighty. The clean design and so much natural light only makes you want to camp out here for hoursi. On warmer nights, Butchertown’s lovely side patio is perfect for sipping saison after saison.

For the celebrity chef experience: Chauhan House

Every time I’m feeling indulgent and wanting all the curry, I head straight for Chauhan Ale & Masala House, Maneet Chauhan’s first of four concepts to open in Nashville. I particularly love it for lunch, a time of day when I feel like Nashville dining options aren’t abundant. The lunch items may be heavy, but man is that meat-and-three worth it (though I often oscillate between the thali and the chicken tikka masala—both are oh so good). Weekend brunch is also the prime occasion to make a ressie for Chauhan. I crave that Stop Monkeying Around always, and the What Came First, the Chicken or the Egg? is divine.

For a meal in a coffee shop: Frothy Monkey

Frothy Monkey is the coffee shop empire in Nashville, and yet people often overlook them as an option for meals, which is insane as their food is oh-so-good and runs the gamut of sandwiches, salads, soups and heartier entrees. The Nations location has become one of my lunchtime go-tos when I’m meeting a friend for coffee with a side of food. Looking to start your evening somewhere? Consider going to Frothy for Wine Down Wednesday with three pours of wine (or six beer tasters) and snacks for the bargain deal of $15.

For brunch without a wait: Saint Anejo

There’s hot chocolate French toast, there’s chicken and waffles with jalapeno syrup, and there’s a horchata French toast. I say order them all. Also a winning factor? Two-for-one cocktails every single weekend day. Done.

For old Hollywood glam: Sinema

Sinema debuted in the summer of 2014 to become one of the pricier joints in town. It’s definitely a special occasion type of place, but even if you aren’t in the mood to spend $35 in a plate, it’s worth grabbing drinks in the upstairs lounge and popping into the bathroom for a #SinemaSelfie.

For the best chocolate in town: Goo Goo Cluster

I’ve often sung the praises of Nashville’s own century-old candy company but the new chef series, in which they roll out a different Premium Goo Goo every week or two, has me stopping by the downtown shop more often than not to see what these culinary masterminds have whipped up on any given week.

For a true taste of Nashville: The Farmers’ Market

The Nashville Farmers’ Market is open every day of the week and boasts dozens of purveyors of local food and products, from Music City Crepes to Batch. It’s always bustling, and it’s always good. If you need a lunch spot that’s guaranteed to fill you up and leave you satisfy, this one’s for you, and you’ll be surrounded by actual Nashvillians who break from the office to eat here daily.

For a bit of everything rolled into one: Walk Eat Nashville

In Nashville for a short time and don’t have the chance to try it all? Book a spot with Karen-Lee Ryan’s Walk Eat Nashville, and I guarantee you will get the highlights reel in your informative and tasty, three-hour walking tour of East Nashville, SoBro or Midtown.

For pizza, pizza: Five Points Pizza

Nashville used to have hardly any pizza options, and now it’s got several. Five Points Pizza, with a location in East Nashville and one off of Charlotte is by far my favorite. You can order whole pies or from a select menu of pizza by the slice. I often get carryout from the right side of the restaurant, though if it’s not packed and you feel like a brew, settle in at a booth on the left side and enjoy the craft beer selection.

For dinner with a side of champagne: Geist

Germantown is the neighborhood in which I spend the most time, and I was happy when Geist joined the fray back in 2018. One of my favorite mixologists Freddie Schwenk heads up the bar which is set in an old 1900 blacksmith shop, and I often just order “whatever Freddie is feeling today.” I don’t drink a lot of bubbles, but even I can’t deny the attraction of the Champagne Garden, with its champs served outside in a full outdoor garden and courtyard; there’s even the option to saber a bottle if you’re feeling frisky. On the food front, Geist has a small selection of sharable veggie plates, starters (may I recommend the bacon jam and baked brie?), and entrees like salmon, scallops and cavatelli. If the key lime pie is on the menu, you must order it—it poses as a real lime, but is actually pie inside when you crack it open. A true work of art!

For dinner with a dose of history: Woolworth on 5th

The most interesting thing to be about Woolworth is not the food—though, don’t get me wrong, it’s great, too—but the fact that this historic building was the site of many sit-ins during the Civil Rights Movement, and that the owners decided to keep all of those scuff marks intact as a reminder of the turmoil this city (and the South as a whole) went through not that long ago. The Art Deco-y Woolworth on 5th is a great spot for a work lunch as it’s right downtown in Nashville’s version of a financial district, but it’s also a good spot for a pre-show dinner with TPAC right around the corner. Expect Southern fare like fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, and shrimp and grits.

For the best damn rabbit rolls in town: Black Rabbit

Rabbit rolls may seem like a weird thing to be obsessed with, but that’s likely because you haven’t been to Black Rabbit, a chic, 1920s-inspired lounge on the cusp of Printers Alley that will offer small plates, creative craft cocktails and live piano music on any night of the week. With Kathy Anderson behind the design, Black Rabbit’s ambiance is built around the old wood floors and exposed brick walls leftover from the late 1800s and utilizes velvet sofa, leather lounge chairs and plush booths for seating. The wooded chef’s island provides prime seating for those keen on studying the talents of this passionate team of chefs, who will be cooking up various canapes like butterfolds, squab rillettes, rabbit spam sliders, twice-baked patatas bravas, roasted oysters and pickled shrimp. This swanky cocktail lounge off of 2nd Avenue is a much elevated breath of fresh air for downtown with an expansive whiskey collection and a cocktail menu that reads like a tome. Don’t overlook it as a dinner spot, though; you’d be remiss to pass on Chefs Trey and Chad’s elevated fare.

For sushi and other Asian fusion: Sunda

Chef-owner Billy Dec brought his popular new Asian concept from Chicago and opened a Nashville location, as well, last summer. There aren’t a lot of places that will get me to the Gulch anymore—it’s way too hip and far too crowded for this simpleton—but Sunda will do just that. Not only is the interior large, roomy and chic, but the menu boasts dim sum, sushi, nigiri, noodle dishes, curry, ramen and so much more. It’s basically a one-stop lunch, brunch or dinner spot for all kinds of Asian fusion (and a really great sake selection to boot).

For an excuse to dine in a restaurant: Henley

From a style standpoint, Kimpton’s lobby-level restaurant Henley is one of the most polished places in town, weaving in bold art and tile patterns with an equally creative menu to follow suit. Whether you’re staying at the hotel or just looking for somewhere to eat in Midtown any meal of the day, Henley is one of your top contenders.

For the hardest weekend brunch table to land: Tavern

Call it a college bar if you will, but M Street’s Tavern has been a mainstay of mine in the seven years since we’ve been back. It’s consistently delicious, and one of the only places in Midtown open in the middle of the day, so my gal Beth and I have had many a mid-afternoon cocktail with snacks (the buffalo cauliflower has never let me down). It’s also a slam dunk for weekend brunch—if you can get a table. Avoid at all costs on a Vandy home weekend, but any other time, get there minutes before they open and grab a table (or put your name down). If you’re there promptly at 10 (or maybe just before), you should get in just fine. And the hash and the red velvet waffles with cream cheese drizzle are totally worth the wait, too.

When you’re feeling Japanese: The Green Pheasant

If you haven’t been to Two Ten Jack, start there—but I’d venture to say I like the food at the Green Pheasant even more than I do the original izakaya and ramen joint in East Nashville. Even better that it’s based downtown and the perfect dinner spot before a night at the Symphony or a show at the amphitheater. The menu is small, but plates are very sharable. On my first visit, I went with five girlfriends, and we ordered pretty much every dish on the menu and shared them. I immediately went back the following week with SVV, because no one appreciates Japanese food more than he does. A few standouts: the spicy crab noodles, chicken wing gyoza and the broccolini. Park in the adjoining parking garage, and you can get your parking validated to make it just $5 for 2.5 hours.

For seafood in a land-locked state: Henrietta Red

Ben and Max Goldberg teamed up with their childhood friend, Chef Julia Sullivan, and her business partner, Allie Poindexter, at the helm a couple years back to open this bright spot in Germantown, an Instagrammer’s dream with its striking tile and abundance of natural light. Sullivan brings her culinary panache, honed at such notable restaurants as Blue Hill at Stone Barns and Per Se, to the kitchen, and the raw bar is laid out to be communal with an additional 70 seats in banquette- and table-style seating in the adjoining dining room. In addition to a dozen or so types of oysters, other seafood dishes like smoked mussel toast, wild striped bass and wood-roasted mackerel round out the menu. My favorite excuse to go to Henrietta Red, though, is the weekend brunch, which I’ll put up against any other in town.

For the best tacos you’ll eat, ever: Mas Tacos Por Favor

Ask an East Nashvillian old or new what their favorite restaurant is, and nine out of 10 of them will tell you: MAS TACOS. You order at a window, then your name is called out, and they move very quickly, so don’t be deterred by the line. Since these are street tacos, I recommend three to make up a full meal—and you can’t pass up on the fried avocado one—as well as a side of street corn and agua fresca. Mas Tacos totally upped its game when it added a bar, and margaritas became part of the mix, though you’ll order those at the back bar. On warm evenings, the patio is the perfect place to dine.

For brats and baseball: Von Elrod’s

One of my qualms with Nashville dining has always been that the patios aren’t big enough. Enter: Von Elrod’s with its massive outdoor space. This beer hall with a focus on German cuisine debuted a couple years ago right across from First Tennessee Park where the Nashville Sounds play, and it’s a great spot to get a brat and a pint or two before you head into the stadium for the evening. Von Elrod’s boasts 36 beers on tap with even more available by the bottle. They’ve also got weekend brunch and offer specialty classes like pretzel-making.

For vegetarians: Butcher & Bee

Let’s state this upfront: Butcher & Bee is not strictly vegetarian, and yet, I feel like it has one of the best menus for veggie-loving diners in town. It’s the kind of place you go for healthy shared plates and a mean cocktail, and you must take my word for it that ordering the whipped feta is a non-negotiable; ditto to the fire-roasted carrots. Another, more under-the-radar veg spot is Sunflower Cafe in Berry Hill.

For all things Greek: Greko Street Food

Nashville restaurant vets and first cousins Bill Darsinos (Southside Grille) and Tony Darsinos (Gondola House Pizzeria in Hermitage) joined forces to bring Greek food to East Nashville. Designed to offer an authentic Athens street food vibe, Greko will serve an array of dishes like fresh-baked pitas; lamb, chicken and pork cooked on a rotisserie over a live fire; souvlaki; and Greek fries with oregano and Myzithra cheese. All of the meats will be cooked over a live vire, and the bulk of the ingredients, such as olive oil and wines from their home region of Nemea, will be imported directly from Greece.

For a happy hour kind of dinner: Lockeland Table

Anytime I’m in East Nashville between 4 and 6pm, you can bet I’m likely kicking it at Lockeland Table with my friend Matt for the daily Community Hour, which features a selection of $5 cocktails and some snacks to share like Korean beef tacos and deviled eggs with chow chow at discounted prices.

For when you need a brunch ressie: Le Sel

French brasseries are not a dime a dozen in Nashville, so Le Sel filled a void in the market when it came to town with a European-influenced menu heavy on the oysters and plenty of wine selections to match. Le Sel offers dinner, though I’m not overly wild about French cuisine, so I prefer it for weekend brunch (if you love ratatouille, though, this is your place). Savory crepes, croque Madams and Bayonne ham Benedicts? I’ll take one of each!

For breakfast any day of the week: Marché Artisan Foods

Margot McCormack is one of Nashville’s food pioneers, and her pair of restaurants—Marché and Margot—in Five Points are always packed, no matter how buzzy their newer neighboring restaurants are. I love this European-style cafe for weekday breakfast, as it’s not too crowded (weekends are another story), and it’s really hard to find places in town that serve a full brunch menu Monday through Friday.

For that international flavor: Thai Esane

I could eat Thai food every day for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it. Unfortunately, while Nashville dining is many things, diverse it is not. Which is why Thai Esane’s 2014 opening was greeted with a collective cheer from those of us who crave Asian food at every meal.

For a swanky night out in the Gulch: Tànsuǒ

Tànsuǒ, another Maneet concept, is sandwiched between Chauhan House and Mockingbird. The darkly-lit, bi-level space is meant to reflect a Chinese night market (albeit, a very cosmopolitan one), and the menu is an exploration of contemporary Cantonese cuisine like Toishan Pork Sui Mai, Peking Duck and a spin on classic Chinese fare such as General Tso’s Chicken.

*****

The above is an exhaustive, though not completely comprehensive list of some of favorite places to eat over the years, but just know, that these are definitely not the only options. And many oldies but goodies like Cafe Coco or Miel that often fly under the radar didn’t make the list simply because I haven’t been there in eons to even know what the food is like anymore (and others like Firefly Grille and Tin Angel have recently closed, R.I.P. to them, too).

Here are a few more Nashville restaurants to check out, depending on what you’re in the mood for:

Hot chicken: Hattie B’s, Pepperfire, Bolton’s Spicy Chicken & Fish, Party Fowl, Prince’s Hot Chicken

BBQ: Jack’s Bar-B-Que, Peg Leg Porker

Burgers: Hopdoddy, Burger Up, The Pharmacy, Gabby’s, Farm Burger, Hugh Baby’s, M.L. Rose, Jack Brown’s

Pizza: Folk, Emmy Squared, DeSano, Slim & Husky’s

Steaks: Kayne Prime, Oak Steakhouse, Bourbon Steak

International: Lyra, Epice, Plaza Mariachi, King Market, Azadi International Food Market

This post was last updated April 2019.

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from Camels & Chocolate: Travel & Lifestyles Blog http://bit.ly/2i41ich