#Best Grilled Corn

[grillpartshub-blog]

The Best Basic Grilled Corn Recipe? Whether you're hosting a backyard barbecue or simply craving a taste of summer, mastering the art of grilling corn is a must. For More Details

[twiceastasty]

Husk-Grilled Corn with Smoky Lime Butter

Freshly harvested corn comes as this perfect package ready to grill and eat: Just let the corn steam inside its husks. Learn to make Husk-Grilled Corn with Smoky Lime Butter.

Freshly harvested corn comes as this perfect package ready to cook and eat: Peel back the husks until they fan out around the ear’s base, remove the silk, and then fold the husks back up the ear and lay it on a grill, let the corn steam inside its own husks. Any silk you miss burns off with the heat or comes off when you pull away the warm husks, revealing the sweet, lightly charred kernels along…

[rubiesintherough]

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[lionheartlr]

Discover Bolivia: Your Ultimate Travel Guide

A Glimpse into Bolivia’s Rich History Bolivia, a landlocked country in South America, boasts a diverse and rich history. It was originally inhabited by ancient civilizations, including the Tiwanaku and the Inca Empire. Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, leading to centuries of colonial rule. Bolivia gained independence in 1825 but has since experienced a turbulent political…

[joelmillerisapunk]

Watermelon Sugar

Dbf/neighbor/daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,522

Summary: At the annual neighborhood barbecue, you can't ignore the sparks flying between you and Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. What starts as playful flirting leads to a secret, steamy encounter that leaves you both wanting more.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, unprotected p in v, m! oral recieving, soft but dom daddy!Joel, Joel calls reader baby and sunflower, use of daddy, light choking, hair pulling, and spanking. And a lil aftercare. Reader has hair and wears a bikini.

Notes: I've been slow over here and a little inactive due to adulting ughhh, but thank you all for your love and support 🥰 I truly appreciate all of you! tysm @joelslegalwhre & @evolnoomym beta reading for me. Smooching you both forever. Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The annual neighborhood barbecue is a tradition you've always looked forward to, but this year, it feels different. Ever since you can remember, Joel Miller has been a fixture in your life—a man who could make you laugh with a single look and who always seemed to know when you needed a friend. But lately, the glances you exchange feel charged with something new, something you're not quite ready to name.

As you dab on a bit of perfume, you catch your dad's voice in the hallway, calling out that he's heading over to Joel's early to help set up.

“Be there soon!” You yell back.

—

As you step out of your front door, the warm summer breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat and freshly cooked burgers from the neighborhood barbecue, hosted by none other than Joel Miller - your dad's best friend and neighbor, the one youve had a crush on forever. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you walk towards his house, knowing that he will be there waiting for you.

Your heart races as you approach the familiar scene; tables filled with food and drinks, kids running around playing games, and adults chatting animatedly under the shade of trees. You spot Joel standing near the grill, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he expertly flips burgers on the sizzling hot coals. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from all his hard work preparing for today's event.

"Hey there!" Your dad calls out when he sees you approaching. "Just in time! We were just about to start eating."

You take a moment to admire Joel's form; how strong yet gentle he looks handling those flaming hot coals like they were nothing more than pebbles in a stream; how those little black shorts sit on his body just right, how that white baggy shirt hangs over his big broad shoulders hugging his thick neck just right. Damn it. Why does he have to look so good?

As you draw closer, the heat from the grill is almost as intense as the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of Joel. His head looks up for a moment as he sees you approach, a wide grin spreading across his face.

You take a plate from the stack and start to serve yourself, trying to keep your hands from shaking. The array of food is impressive: potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh fruit, and an assortment of desserts that would make any food lover weak in the knees. But your focus is on the grill, where Joel is now plating a burger that looks like a work of art.

"Here ya go, sunflower," he says. The nickname, worn in like a favorite pair of jeans from years of use, still makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. "I added a secret sauce.” He whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Tell me if it's as good as I think it is.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

As you take the burger from Joel, your fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You try to brush it off as static, but deep down, you know it's more than that. You take a bite of the burger, and the flavors explode on your tongue. The sauce is tangy and sweet, perfectly complementing the grilled meat's smoky flavor.

"Mmm," you moan, closing your eyes in appreciation. "This is incredible."

Joel's eyes light up with pride. "M’glad you like it." His eyes follow every movement of your lips, every chew, every swallow. It's as if he's savoring every moment of this interaction.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, telling yourself it's just appreciation for a good meal. But deep down, you know it's more than that. Joel has always been kind to you, always looked out for you, but now, as your eyes lock in a silent understanding, you sense something different. Something forbidden.

"So, you really like the sauce?" he inquires, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You nod eagerly, your taste buds still dancing from the burst of flavors. "Mhmmm! What’s in it?”

Joel chuckles. "That's top-secret information, darlin', Ain't gettin’ it outta me that easy."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you walk behind the grill and up to Joel. “How about we make a deal? You give me the secret sauce recipe, and I'll show you something I know you wanna see.”

"Alright, you've got my attention."

Slowly, with deliberate grace, you begin to lift your shirt just enough for him to catch sight of the vibrant pattern of your bikini top beneath—your fingers deftly move towards one side strap of this bikini top; teasingly pulling at it as if contemplating revealing even more than intended

"Fuck - " he breathes out, quickly shaking his head to compose himself before grabbing your arm to stop you. "Your dad's right there, the hell you doin'?”

With a mischievous wink, you let the strap snap back into place, leaving just enough to his imagination. "Maybe later then," you tease “If you wanna see the rest come find me Mr. Miller.”

Joel watches you step back and saunter away towards the pool, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. The playful sway of your hips is hypnotic, and he can't help but stare as you make your way over to the pool. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of desire that's clouding his judgment. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning his attention back to the grill, but the sizzle of the meat does little to drown out the sound of your laughter carried in the breeze.

He glances over at you, watching as you settle by the pool, your legs dangling in the water. You're a vision, your hair catching the sunlight, your smile bright and inviting. He tries to focus on the task at hand, serving people, and making small talk, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He can't help it; you're like a magnet, drawing him in against his better judgment.

He watches as you reach for a slice of watermelon on your plate, its vibrant red color promising a burst of sweetness. The juicy fruit is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. As you take a bite, the watermelon's juice is so abundant that it escapes your lips, trickling down your chin.

In an attempt to catch the runaway droplets, you quickly bring your hand up to your face. But in your haste, another stream of juice breaks free, trailing a path down your neck and disappearing into the valley between your breasts. The sensation of the cool liquid against your heated skin makes you gasp softly, making Joel groan under his breath. He watches you with an intensity that borders on feral. His grip tightens around the spatula he's holding as he takes in the sight of you, flustered and trying to contain the watermelon's sweet rebellion. His mind races with images he knows he shouldn't entertain—images of him licking away those sticky trails left by nature's candy on your skin; his hands following suit to ensure not a single drop is wasted; his lips tasting every inch they cover until there's no trace of watermelon left.

His body reacts before he can stop it—a sudden twitch in his pants that thankfully goes unnoticed by everyone else due to his strategically placed apron tied securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath to regain control over his runaway thoughts while simultaneously adjusting himself discreetly under the cover of fabric.

Taking the opportunity to step away from the grill, Joel grabs a cold Corona from the cooler, the bottle sweating as much as he is. He approaches you but stops for a split second to watch you. The sight of you lying there, your body still glistening with juices, makes his heart race.

"Thought ya might be thirsty," he says, handing you the beer, his voice deeper than usual.

You look up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Took you long enough," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you take the beer and sip it.

He sits down beside you, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're playin’ with fire, y’know that sweetheart?" he warns.

You just smirk, leaning back in your chair, your gaze locked onto his like a little puppy.

"You keep lookin' at me like that, and we're gonna have a problem," Joel says, his voice a low rumble.

"What if I want a problem?"

His intake of breath is sharp, and you can see the effect your words have on him. His jaw clenches, and there's a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that tells you he's teetering on the edge of control. You watch as Joel quickly gets up from his chair and walks away. He rounds the corner of the house before disappearing.

You wait for a moment before you put your beer down beside the one he left and casually stand up to follow him.

Around the side of the house, away from prying eyes, Joel is leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The moment he sees you, his eyes darken.

"What are we doin' here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close the distance between you, your body brushing against his. "Something we both want," you reply confidently, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

He captures your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "This is wrong," he murmurs, though the conviction in his voice is wavering.

"Does it feel wrong?" You challenge, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, his gaze dropping to your lips. Then, with a groan of surrender, he closes the gap between you, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve as if he's memorizing you by touch. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him, a mix of beer and the sweet tang of barbeque sauce, drives you wild.

Suddenly, Joel breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "We can't do this here," he says, glancing around to make sure no one has followed you.

You nod, your breath hitching as you realize the gravity of what you're about to do. "Then take me somewhere we can," you whisper back, your hand slipping into his.

With a groan that sounds almost pained, Joel takes a step back, pulling you with him as he leads you away from the party and towards the detached garage at the end of the driveway. His grip on your hand is firm, almost possessive, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The inside of the garage is cool and dimly lit compared to the bright sunlight outside. It's filled with tools and gardening equipment—a testimony to Joel's many hobbies. The door lightly closes shut behind you, sealing out the world and the sounds of the party. The air is thick with the scent of oil and wood, a heady mixture that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Joel wastes no time, pressing you against the cool metal of a parked truck, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

"You've been drivin’ me crazy all day," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Teasin’ me like that in front of everyone."

You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

His lips crash onto yours once again, demanding and dominant. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You can feel his stubble rough against your skin.

"You're playin’ a dangerous game, baby," he murmurs against your mouth.

He spins you around roughly, pressing your chest against the truck's hood. You can feel the cool metal against your overheated skin. His hands tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

"Tell me whatcha want," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"You," you gasp, arching your back to press closer to him. "I want you, Joel."

He rewards you with a slow grind of his hips against yours, the friction making you moan. "You want me to fuck ya, sunflower?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you whimper, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for support. "Please, Joel."

He chuckles darkly, his lips tracing a path down the side of your neck. "Beggin’ already? I thought you liked playin’ hard to get." You feel his teeth nip at your skin as he speaks. Your body trembles with need, your breathing coming out in short bursts. You don't understand why this feels so right, but you don't question it anymore. "Stay still," he orders, his voice firm.

You force yourself to comply, your body trembling with anticipation. He takes his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. When he finally reaches beneath the fabric of your bikini top to palm your breast, you can't help but let out a moan of relief.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb circling your nipple. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His other hand slides down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You're already so wet for him, and when his fingers brush against your clit, you can't help but buck your hips.

"Fuck, you're so responsive," he groans, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You're panting now, desperate for release. But he denies you, pulling his hand away just as you're about to tip over the edge. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "You don't come till I tell ya to."

He spins you around once again, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "I wanna see you baby," he says, his hands tugging at your shorts. "All of you."

You help him undress you, your hands shaking with need. Once you're standing before him in nothing but your bikini, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says, the concrete floor cool against your skin. You hear the zip of his pants and then them falling to the ground along with his boxers as he steps forward, his hands fisting in your hair guiding you to his cock. "Open up," he commands, his voice gruff. "Show me how much you want this."

You part your lips obediently, taking him into your mouth. He's big and hard, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eliciting a groan from above and then take him entirely until he's hitting the back of your throat.

"That's it, sunflower," he praises, his hips thrusting gently. "Just like that."

You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you take him deeper. His grip on your hair tightens, and you can tell he's struggling to last. "Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says, his voice strained.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The salty taste of his arousal mixes with the lingering sweetness of the watermelon, creating a heady combination that has you moaning around his length.

"Feels so damn good baby," Joel groans, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. His eyes are locked on yours, filled with a raw, unfiltered desire that sends a thrill through you. You feel his thighs quiver under your hands, and you know he's close. But before he can reach his peak, he gently pulls you away, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop.

"Up," he commands as he pulls you to your feet, his hands roaming your body once again. He unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground, and then he's cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. "Tell me you want this," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you baby."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

With a growl, he lifts you onto the hood of the truck and with a hunger in his eyes that matches your own, Joel hooks his fingers into the sides of your bikini bottoms, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly begins to peel them away. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. He tosses the bikini bottoms aside, his hands returning to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he steps closer.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs approvingly, his fingers tracing the seam of your cunt. You can feel yourself growing warm at his words, but you don't have time to feel self-conscious because he's leaning in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers continue their exploration.

One finger circles your entrance before pushing inside, making you gasp into the kiss. He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously as he establishes a rhythm that has you writhing on the hood of the truck. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusting fingers.

"Joel," you moan, your hands fisting in his shirt as pleasure builds within you. "Please..."

He chuckles against your mouth, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. "Please, what?" he teases, even as he adds another finger, filling you even more. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you inside me," you pant out, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he's playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Joel's eyes darken at your words, and he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

You ready for me, sunflower?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance.

You nod eagerly, your body aching for him. "Yes, please."

With a groan, he pushes forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out at the intensity of it. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel even better than I imagined."

As the initial shock of your union subsides, Joel begins to move, his hips setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is a sweet invasion, a claim that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

"Look at me," Joel commands, his voice gruff with need. You lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze searing into your soul. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his pace increasing with each word.

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You know the answer he wants, the answer that feels right in this moment. "You," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you, Daddy."

A shudder runs through Joel at the sound of the word Daddy falling from your lips. "That's right," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed vigor. "You're mine, sunflower. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy," you moan louder this time, surrendering yourself to him completely.

The words, once taboo, now feel like a secret language between the two of you. With each thrust, Joel reaffirms his claim on you, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his release.

"Harder," you beg, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. "I need more."

He responds with a growl, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the garage, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. "Is this what ya need?" he pants, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Yes," you cry out, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. "More... I need all of you."

In response to your plea, Joel reaches up and wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race and your head spin. The sensation of being restrained by him sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's a thrilling mix of fear and excitement that heightens the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that baby?" he rasps out, his eyes searching yours for confirmation even as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You like it when Daddy chokes you while he fucks your pretty little cunt?"

You nod as much as his grip will allow, your breath coming in short gasps as stars dance behind your closed eyelids. "Yes," you manage to choke out.

The world around you seems to blur into a haze of pleasure and desire as Joel continues to claim your body with an almost feral intensity. His grip on your throat remains firm, yet gentle enough not to cause harm, serving as a potent reminder of his control over you. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your neck only adds to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy that's building within you.

"Come on, sunflower, come for me." Joel grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeezin’ Daddy's cock.”

His words are the final push you need. With a cry that echoes off the walls of the garage, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, causing your entire body to convulse with the force of it. Your inner muscles clamp down around Joel's shaft, milking him as he continues to drive into you with powerful thrusts.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Joel isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax as he roughly pulls you up, positioning himself behind you.

"You think we're done?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I ain't even close to being finished with this sexy body of yours."

His hands grip your hips tightly as he lines himself up with your entrance once again. With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely and causing you to cry out in a mix of pleasure and surprise. The new angle allows him to go even deeper than before, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he sets a brutal pace that has the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the garage. "You feel so fuckin' good like this."

One hand releases its grip on your hip and tangles in your hair instead, pulling it just hard enough to tilt your head back and expose the long line of your neck. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he continues to pound into you from behind.

"Such a good girl," he praises between thrusts, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Takin’ Daddy's cock so well.”

His other hand comes down on the curve of your ass with a sharp smack that makes you gasp and push back against him for more. The sting of the slap only adds to the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he drives into you again and again. Each smack is followed by a soothing caress that sends shivers down your spine and makes a heat pool low in your belly once more.

"You like it when I spank this naughty little ass?" Joel asks wickedly as his hand comes down on the other cheek, this time eliciting another moan from deep within you. "Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes," you manage to gasp out between thrusts, your body shaking under his relentless assault . "I love it when you spank me, Daddy.”

The sound of your admission seems to spur Joel on even more. His thrusts become wilder, more uncontrolled, as he chases his own release. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back further, forcing you to arch your back and take him even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

"That's it, baby girl," Joel growls, his voice ragged with desire. "Come for me one more time."

His words are all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge once more. Your body convulses beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around his shaft as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Joel lets out a guttural groan as he feels your orgasm milk his own from him. His hips stutter against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, marking you his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the only sounds in the garage are the ragged gasps of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Slowly, Joel releases his grip on your hair and hip, his hands gently caressing the skin he'd so roughly manhandled just moments before.

"You okay, sunflower?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern as he carefully withdraws from your body.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you manage to say, your voice shaky but filled with a satisfaction that you've never felt before. "I'm good. More than good."

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck. "You're more than good, baby girl. You're incredible."

He helps you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you to steady you when your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His eyes scan your body, taking in the marks he's left on your skin—the redness where his fingers had gripped you, the faint handprint on your ass, the love bites that dot your neck and shoulders.

"Let's get ya cleaned up," he says, his tone gentle as he leads you over to an old sink in the corner of the garage. He turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before wetting a clean rag and using it to gently wipe away the evidence of what just happend.

You watch him, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the tenderness of his actions. This is a side of Joel you've never seen before—a side that's caring and attentive, a side that makes you feel cherished and loved.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean, he helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin with each article of clothing he helps you into. When you're fully clothed again, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're so beautiful, sunflower," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Inside and out."

The warmth of Joel's embrace and the tenderness in his voice make your heart flutter with a mixture of joy and trepidation. You're standing in a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've ever experienced.

"Joel," you say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter, "what does this mean for us now?"

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that takes your breath away. "It means," he begins, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently, "that I can't ignore these feelings any longer. It means that I want to be with you, truly be with you, in every sense of the word."

Your heart leaps at his words, but reality quickly sets in. "But what about my dad? What about everything else?"

Joel nods, understanding the weight of your concerns. "I know it's complicated," he admits. "And I don't have all the answers right now. But I do know that I can't go back to pretending there's nothing between us, that you're just my best friend's daughter.”

You smile at that, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "So... where do we go from here?"

"First," he says with a grin, "we get back to that barbecue before your dad sends out a search party." He gives you one last lingering kiss before stepping back to survey the scene. "Then we figure this out together—away from pryin’ eyes and family gatherings."

With a nod of agreement, you follow Joel out of the garage, your hand securely tucked in his. The world outside seems different now—brighter, more vibrant, as if your encounter has somehow altered your perception of reality. The sounds of laughter and music from the barbecue drift towards you, a stark contrast to the intimate silence you've just left behind.

As you approach the party, Joel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take this one step at a time," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the gathering. "Okay?"

You nod, grateful for his presence and his promise. Together, you reenter the party, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the secret you now share with Joel.

Throughout the afternoon, you catch each other's eyes from across the yard, exchanging knowing smiles, and subtle touches whenever possible. Your dad, none the wiser, chats happily with neighbors and friends, his laughter mingling with the sounds of summer.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood, you find yourself standing next to Joel by the grill once more. He hands you another beer, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent gesture of affection.

"So," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow, "how's that secret sauce treatin ya?"

You can't help but chuckle, the memory of your earlier exchange bringing a flush to your cheeks. "I think it's safe to say it's the best sauce I've ever had," you reply with a wink, taking a sip of your beer to hide your smile.

Joel laughs, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I don't know about that," he teases. "I might have to give you a few more samples before you can make such a bold claim.”

But before you can retort, your dad saunters over to join you by the grill. He claps Joel on the back affectionately and turns to address both of you.

"You two look like you're up to no good," he says with a smile. "What are you plotting over here?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words—does he suspect something?—but Joel seems unfazed as he throws an arm around your dad's shoulders with brotherly affection.

"Just discussing some top-secret barbecue business," Joel replies smoothly, giving your dad a reassuring squeeze before releasing him and turning back to tend to the grill once more.

—

Eventually, as the crowd begins to thin and the night grows deeper, your dad announces that it's time to start cleaning up. You join in, helping to gather plates and cups and fold tables, all the while feeling Joel's gaze on you.

Once the last of the guests have said their goodbyes and the yard is returned to its peaceful state, your dad claps Joel on the back, thanking him for another successful barbecue. "You outdid yourself this year, Joel," he says with a smile.

Joel returns the smile, though his eyes flicker to you for a brief moment. "Always happy to host," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of emotion that passes between you two.

Your dad turns to you, his eyes tired but content. "I'm gonna head home, kiddo. You coming, or are you gonna help Joel clean up?"

You glance at Joel, who gives you a small nod, understanding the silent question in your eyes. "I'll stay and help out, Dad," you say, your voice calm and composed. "You go get some rest."

Your dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Always the responsible one, just like your mother. Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

With a final wave, your dad heads off down the street, leaving you and Joel alone under the starlit sky. The moment his figure disappears into the distance, the air between you seems to crackle with anticipation.

Joel steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and intimate.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing everything, I guess."

He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight," he says softly. "But I want you to know what happened between us... it wasn't a one-time thing for me."

Your heart swells at his words, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "It wasn't for me, either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. Then, with a shared look of understanding, you both begin to tidy up the remaining mess, working side by side in comfortable silence.

When the last dish is washed and put away, and the yard is once again pristine, Joel takes your hand, leading you to the porch swing. The night is quiet now, save for the distant sound of a dog barking and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

You sit down next to him, the swing creaking slightly under your combined weight. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both look up at the stars.

As you sit there, nestled under Joel's arm, the stars twinkle above, casting a serene glow over the quiet neighborhood. You feel a sense of peace and contentment that you've never experienced before, a feeling of being exactly where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful tonight," you murmur, your head resting against Joel's shoulder.

“It sure is," he agrees, his voice a soft rumble. But when you tilt your head back to look at him, you realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at you. His eyes trace the contours of your face, drinking in every detail as if to memorize you, to etch this moment into his memory forever. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, a silent indication of the smile he wears in his heart, a smile that reaches out to you, enveloping you in its embrace.

"Joel..." you begin, unsure of what to say next. There are a million thoughts swirling in your head, a million questions about what the future holds for the two of you.

He seems to sense your unease and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out, sunflower," he assures you again.

You take a deep breath, letting the comforting weight of Joel's arm around you anchor you to the present moment. The uncertainty of the future looms ahead, but for now, you choose to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"I know we will," you reply.

Joel's smile is soft. "That's my girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Brave and beautiful.”

The gentle sway of the porch swing and the rhythmic chorus of crickets lull you into a state of peaceful tranquility. Your eyelids grow heavy, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Joel notices your drowsy state and smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Come on, sunflower," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your weary senses. "Let's get you inside." With surprising gentleness, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stands from the swing. You let out a sleepy protest but quickly settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he carries you into the house.

He navigates through the darkened rooms with ease, making his way to his bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, pulling back the covers so he can tuck you in.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around the room, turning off lights and setting an alarm for the morning. When he's satisfied that everything is in order, he begins to undress, shedding his clothes until he's standing in nothing but his boxers. The sight of him—all hard planes and toned muscles—makes your breath hitch in your throat despite your sleepy state.

Joel catches your gaze and chuckles softly. "Like what ya see?" he teases gently as he slips into bed beside you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Always," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes darken at your confession, but he makes no move to act on the attraction that still crackles between you. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Get some sleep, sunflower," he says softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of your face.

You nod again, snuggling deeper into the covers as Joel turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The bed shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, the heat of his body a comforting presence in the cool room.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Joel's arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, and he lulls you into a deep, peaceful slumber. In the quiet darkness of the night, with Joel's protective embrace surrounding you, you feel safe and cherished. The worries and uncertainties of the future fade into the background, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging and you know this is exactly where you were meant to be.

[astranva]

Instagram Live

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff

Summary: Harry joins his girlfriend’s Instagram live.

..

There were a lot of labels that people never seemed to like.

There were relationship labels that people fought over, sexuality labels that every media outlet liked to plaster, and scandalous labels that could break a royal’s reputation.

However, your label as Harry’s girlfriend was one that you actually seemed to enjoy.

Harry’s normal girlfriend.

Sure, you were called “Harry Styles’ girlfriend” more times than you were called by your own name ever since you became public three years ago, but if there was anything you felt like you had bragging rights about, it would be that you managed to form a connection with his fans for being yourself, and especially on TikTok.

It came as a surprise to many and most when people caught up to the woman Harry seemed so infatuated with that he was grinning some more, directing sappy lyrics to on stage, and going shopping with at places that weren’t Gucci. You were relatable.

Your TikToks were international treasure, especially ones where you pranked Harry or participated in couple challenges with, so it was no surprise that even your Instagram harbored some following who were instantly excited and urgent to join once they had got the notification.

yourinstagram started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

Clad in a black Pleasing crewneck, hair up in a microfiber towel, your legs were pushed up slightly against your chest as you painted your nails, peaking to see you already had 14,374 viewers.

“Helloooo,” you dragged, smiling once you saw the excited comments coming through.

user1: OMG HEY BESTIE

user2: PLEASING

user3: NO WAY YOU’RE LIVE

user4: hey, y/n! how are you doing?

“I’m doing okay,” you answered, sighing a little, “Just taking a quick break from studying and thought we could have a chat.”

user5: you’re still studying?

user6: OMG SAY HI ANGELA PLS

user7: @/user she’s getting a master’s degree where have u been

user8: do you miss harry?

“Hi Angela,” you smiled, “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s degree. Guys, I literally forgot how awful exams and assignments were because I graduated like, four years ago, so I don’t miss it,” you said, “Do I miss Harry? No, of course not. I don’t know who that is.”

user9: STOP DID THEY BREAK UP?

user10: I hope you’re joking

user11: NOT YALL BELIEVING HER ALKJWKJFH

You chuckled, “Some of you are new here, huh?”

user9: Y/N HARRY IS WATCHING

user12: HARRY

user8: HARRY IS WATCHING WEIFWEFH

harrystyles: Boo. You miss me.

user13: NO FUCKING WAYYYYY

You laughed, “You’re going to break them.”

user2: I CAN’T BREATHE

harrystyles: Oops.

harrystyles: Have you eaten?

user14: PLSSSS I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M SEEING THIS

“Yeah, I-Oh my God, H, I made one the best salads ever. It had chicken, like grilled chicken, and I had bell peppers, corn, lettuce, cherry tomatoes, red beans, onions,” you counted on your fingers, “Then I made this creamy avocado dressing. It was so fucking good.”

user4: share the recipe bestie

harrystyles: Yum. Can’t wait to try it when I see you.

harrystyles: Breakfast?

“Yeah, I had breakfast, too,” you nodded, “Butter toasts and those olives we got from Italy,” you said, “What about you? Are you eating well?”

user5: I can’t believe we’re witnessing this

user15: it’s like they’re on the phone together

user16: I want to sit on a highway

harrystyles: We had tacos! 🌮

You gasped jokingly, “Did you actually eat tacos because I was telling you about how much I’ve been craving them yesterday?”

paulithepsm: Y/NNNNNNN

user7: PAULI IS HERE

harrystyles: Yes. Hehe.

“Pauli!” You grinned, “I missed you too much!” You were beaming before pointing a finger at the screen, “Same doesn’t go for you though, H. I can’t believe you ate tacos without me.”

harrystyles: PAULI

user8: KEHFKWJE CRYING

paulithepsm: HARRY

paulithepsm: I miss my best friend 😭😭

user18: PLS

harrystyles: I’m sorry. I’ll make you tacos when you get here. Promise.

harrystyles: Show me your nails.

You showed your freshly painted nails to the screen, “Some Citrico Vibrante Cremoso greens,” you showed them off, “Buy Pleasing,” you teased, “Or find more affordable dupes, babes.”

user6: PLSSSS SHE’S SO REAL FOR THAT

harrystyles: I’ll match with you.

“You can wait until I come. I’ll paint them for you,” you said.

harrystyles: OKAY ❤

user3: HE’S SO CUTE

user10: THE EMOJIS HE'S SO REAL

jeffazoff: Come get your man. He’s a pain.

You laughed, “Aw come on, Jeff. He’s not too bad. You just need to cuddle him and feed him.”

harrystyles: Agreed.

harrystyles: Jeff, don’t cuddle me.

user19: KEUDUEWFKHJ PLS

jeffazoff: I wasn’t planning on it 🙄 I’m waiting for Y/N to come and do that

“I leave you for two weeks and now you’re about to kill each other,” you sighed, “Hey, before I forget, can you tell Lamby that I’ve been trying to send him my final thoughts about the outfit but it won’t get to him for some reason?”

harry_lambert: My phone’s been acting up, babe. Send it on email! 🖤

user20: I just want to be her

harrystyles: I love your outfit.

“Okay, Lamby, will do,” you said before giggling, standing up and backing away a little to show the Pleasing crewneck and the baggy green sweatpants you were wearing, “Oh yeah? What do you think?” You put a hand to your hip before pretending to flick back your hair, “My boyfriend got me that sweatshirt,” you pointed at it, “And these are his sweatpants,” you pointed again, “Hair by me, nails by me but using my boyfriend’s nail polish,” you said, wiggling your fingers before approaching your phone again, “He’s kind of a big deal.”

user6: PLSS WHY IS THIS SO CUTE

user7: she’s so cute

harrystyles: He’s so fucking lucky.

You giggled, cupping your hand around your mouth, “Harry Styles just cursed on live,” you whispered.

user18: LMFAOOOOO

user21: “he’s so fucking lucky” I DIED BYE

jeffazoff: Scandalous

harrystyles: OH FUCK

harrystyles: 😎

You laughed, “This is some content your fans will absolutely go feral over,” you said, “I need to go now.”

harrystyles: Call me?

user20: I’m not okay

You nodded, “I’ll call you right after I end that thing. Bye, guys! Talk to you later!”

[sillyandquest]

Y'all know the cardboard cutouts in Poppy Playtime?

I like to think that they're a small glimpse in those characters personalities, and what they would've been like if we'd been able to interact with them in-game. The cutouts also seem to indicate the sanity level of each Smiling Critter.

This'll be a long one, I'll see you at the end of you wanna read!

Spoilers:

Anyway, that means Bubba Bubbafant would've been outwardly friendly, yet still resentful of the player. He also might've been losing his sanity quickly, probably due to CatNap's gas.

"Hey! I remember you!.....An elephant always remembers!.......Want to know what I remember about you?........*Devolves into hysterical laughter/screams/glitches.*"

Had he been in the game as a Bigger Body experiment, I doubt he would go out of his way to help. He might've just hidden himself away like Kissy and Poppy, or fully lost it before he could try to help the player and got killed off.

Next is Kickin' Chicken. He's different in that he seems like he would've provided encouragement to the player, maybe even try and protect them.

"Wanna go outside and hang out?.... I've never been outside before.........Will you come with me? I'm scared.......Here, I'll step out first......*screams/glitches.*"

He also seems to have been killed off early, maybe he was even the first Critter to be killed. (He's embracing his inner Chica now-). I say this because, aside from DogDay, Kickin' Chicken seems the most sane in comparison to all the Critters.

CatNap's cut out doesn't have much other than breathing noises and snores that devolve into glitches.

Picky Piggy sounds sane, but I think she probably ate some of the other Critters. Probably Bubba Bubbafant, Kickin' Chicken, and Crafty Corn. If she could interact with the player, I think she'd be friendly at first before showing her true colors.

"Roast beef? Delicious!......Grilled chicken? Down the hatch!......Seared Elephant! Yum!......Flayed Unicorn? Mmmmm!.......Still hungry.....Hey, what do ya say you and I be friends?"

She definitely wouldn't have been helpful, and would've absolutely tried to eat the player.

I think Hoppy Hopscotch could've tried to help as a Bigger Body experiment, maybe a little pushy and impatient towards the player. Probably because she's desperate to escape.

"Wanna try hopping to the moon with me?.....On three with me!....1, 2, 3!...Heh, didn't get very far, did we?.....Listen, this won't stop until we make it to the moon!.....1, 2- No,no, don't look at your feet! None of that matters! Again! Again!.....Jump! JUUUU- *glitches out*"

She seemed to have a good heart and wanted to help but was likely taken out while escaping. I'd call her sane enough to be trusted, just desperate.

DogDay is certified best boy and definitely would've wanted to help you, even at the cost of his life/freedom. He knows this is a terrible place to be in and wants the player to leave as soon as possible.

"Go, go! As far as you can!......Why are you just standing there?.....You can't be here, you can't stay......*screams/glitches.*"

He knows he can't leave and encouraged the player go. He sounds sad when he speaks. Would likely be the last Critter to stick by the players side no matter what.

Crafty Corn up next! She seems very focused on painting and almost definitely killed someone because she was out of red.

"Pass me the blue please!.....Thanks! Now can you give me some red?.....Out? But we can't be out..... You're hiding more red from me......I know you are.....GIVE IT HERE *glitchy screams*

Yeah, I wouldn't really trust her. She'd be fine by herself or if the player gives her all the materials she asks for, but Crafty would've probably gotten agitated and attacked quickly.

Finally, Bobby Bearhug! She comes across as super loving, but also clingy and desperate for an escape. Sounding a little unhinged at times. If the player could've interacted with her, she might've clung to them, possibly even protected them if they convinced her that she could go with them.

"I love you to the moon and back!..... I'm crazy about you!.....I'm lost without you.....I've been lost a long time......Please, take me with you this time?.....You won't leave me, will you?!."

She sounds like she's lonely and craves companionship. Her cutout is actually the only one that doesn't end in glitches or screams so I think the player could've trusted her. She might've had a fragile mental state, but I don't think she would've tried to kill you.

Thanks for reading til the end! Stay safe!

[izvmimi]

cw: minors dni. smut implied but not detailed. you and yuuta are on a working vacation overseas. fem!reader. yuuta and reader are married. a/n: yeah idk. anyway stream risk by victony pls.

You know exactly what you’re doing, and perhaps Yuuta knows too, but he falls in this trap every time anyway - the smooth skin of your bare back exposed as you lay on the beach loungers flat on your belly is like a siren call for him, and he approaches quietly, footsteps naturally soft, and kneels close, pressing his lips softly between your shoulder blades.

“Hey.”

The harsh Equatorial sun has finally abated, and there’s a dry heat around and a hotter, wetter one naturally between the two of you. Yuuta’s returned with grilled suya, butter pear and corn instead of ordering room service and it’s still steaming, posed on the hotel suite’s kitchen table, but he’s more preoccupied by a different meal. You smile to yourself pleased, turning your face towards him as he nips gradually lower, until he's at the skin just above your bathing suit bottoms, and reach out to him before his tongue can loop beneath the flimsy fabric and get too ahead of himself. 

“You’re back so soon!”

Your eyes are bright as you meet his gaze. He smiles and takes your outstretched hand, and as you scoot over, rolling onto your back, he finds a seat in the available space, eyes flitting between yours and your exposed breasts.

“I’m pretty resourceful, turns out,” he muses. You nod, pretending to sniff the air dramatically.

“I felt bad sending you out on the streets again, but I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do easily,” you bat your eyelashes, wrapping your arms around his free arm and pulling him towards you. You’re being excessively coquettish but sometimes you feel like he needs it, to know that he’s appreciated for everything he does endlessly for you. Plus today was a rough day - the two of you had just come back from the countryside early in the AM after a particularly bloody exorcism back in a village near your hometown, just as you promised your parents you would, and still haven’t completely adjusted from the jet lag of moving across the globe for this particular excursion. Yuuta, despite his natural dark circles, seemed to be somehow more resistant to the lack of sleep than you were and far too willing to venture out even alone for a meal. 

The hotel you’re in is geared towards people who come with currency with far too high exchange rates and you’re taking full advantage of that this week, with plans to lounge on the balcony with the windows open as long as possible, dip in the pool, eat as much street food as you can physically manage until you miss Japanese food again. Most importantly you plan to spend as much time sucking face with your husband as possible. 

God knows the two of you have needed a vacation. 

Yuuta’s hungry for something and it has nothing to do with dinner. The two of your faces are just inches apart and it doesn’t take long for there to be no space between your breast and his palm, and his leg to find its way between the two of your practically bare ones.

You pretend to barely notice as he plays with your nipple, the obvious want in his eyes louder than whatever he’d say out loud in the next few moments, and continue talking. 

“I’m surprised no one’s stopped you carrying that sword all around town.”

Yuuta blows air gently from his nose, amused.

“It’s probably no different from carrying around a cutlass. At best I look like a farmer, at worst a gang member, either way no one’s going to bother me.”

He shifts downwards and soon his mouth is level with the pert nipple he eventually takes in his mouth. You try to stifle a moan, given that you’re still technically outside, even if it’s late, you’re high up enough that likely no one can hear you. 

“Not with that sketchy aura of yours,” you tease, but the last part comes out slightly breathless as he bites with gentle pressure. His eyes dart up towards you.

“Sketchy?” he raises an eyebrow, and your stomach flips like an omelet. Before you can say anything to redirect your tone, he’s slipped a finger down that cursed bikini hem and taps at your clit. You shudder, and he takes that as a queue to take his shirt off with his free hand, a move that’s oddly graceful for a generally subdued man. 

Yuuta is oddly bold when he wants to be, with the unintentional gravitas of a man who has enough ability that he doesn’t need to prove his worth to anyone. 

Letting a leg pass over you so that he’s straddled you on the lounger, he watches you for consent, and the soft anticipatory look in your eyes and the part of your lips say yes for you. 

Fingers curl in and out of you until your legs pull into your body and the sounds of your own pleasure are too much to suppress. Shooting straight up before you can let out too embarrassing of a mewl, you gasp out,

“Inside, let’s go inside!”

Your voice is flustered enough that it brings a smile to his cheeks, and he’s quick to carry you into his arms and bring you inside as you please.

A gentle toss on the bed, and the two of you are back at it, your legs wrapping around his, and your bottoms nowhere to be found. You kiss hungrily, among the aroma of spices and the salty breeze of the coast wafting towards the slow swaying curtains, the taste of each other’s lips more intriguing than any overly generous auntie’s meal.

Less exposed to the elements, you cry out freely, your doting man happy to squeeze out as much pleasure from you, hands on your face, chest, hips, thighs… you hold him impossibly close to you, taking each thrust as ministrations, each kiss and exhale as worship.

Your fingers intertwine, your toes curl as he wears you out.

And when it’s all said and done, you’re curled up in bed, legs weary as you feed each other with your hands. 

A little bit of bliss. You kiss the salt and oil off his lips and press your nose to his.

“I need to stop making you do all the work,” you joke.

“I think you do enough,” he replies back, sweat glistening on his skin, the flush of his cheeks evident. You run your fingers through his hair, sticky dark locks pushed back and caress his cheek.

“Not just sex, the exorcisms too.” 

He tilts his head and you continue.

“You and Rika do all the work, and I just do some prayers and sprinkle some sand,” you joke, your foot sliding down the side of his leg. He lets his hand rest on your thigh.

“Nothing wrong with doing what you can,” he offers, and the sincerity in his voice, like usual, is almost disarming. “Let me take care of you.”

With that he’s taken your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

Your heart flutters, and you wonder if he’s willing to do one more thing for you -

And that’s enthuse you with a round 2.

[sweetbunpura]

Fellow knows the scent of food, the smell that mesmerizes him and Gidel but they could never grasp it. The man follows the drifting meat scent to where it leads outside. He opens the back door to see Yuu at the grill with Gidel and Grim running around. Rollo's cutting something and sticking them to skewers, which he then handed to Yuu. Music blasts from the stereo by the steps. Yuu's humming to the beat in a light brown lace sleeveless top with a pair of jeans. Rollo's dressed down, only in a pair of black slacks and a gray pollo. Fellow, being taller than the students, peaks over Yuu and Rollo's shoulder.

"Beastmaster Homura, what exactly are you makin'?"

"Yakitori~" Yuu rolled the wooden skewer in her mouth. "Got a good deal on meat today and Rolls had extra veggies~"

Rollo hands her the last skewer and sets a plate of grilled corn on their wooden picnic table.

"Lady Homura is an excellent cook, so you and Gidel are in for a treat."

Once the last skewer is finished, Yuu collects all of them and sets them next to the corn. Everyone sits at the table and, after thanking Yuu, dig into the food. Fellow pauses as he bites into the meal, eyes widen as swallows the food.

"I told you." Rollo looks at him as his eats his own food.

Yuu waves her hand as she bites into her corn, as if allowing him to eat how he pleases. Fellow and Gidel eat like it's the best time thing ever, both of their plates collecting the wooden skewers. Combined, they polished off a good percentage of the food.

Yuu pops her back and smiles. "And we still got left overs!"

Rollo dabs at his mouth with his napkin, Fellow can count a good amount of skewers on his plate.

"Grim, Rollo, help out with the plates." Yuu says as she looked at Fellow and Gidel.

"Of course."

"Fine..."

Fellow watches them do as instructed before disappearing into Ramshackle.

"Honest."

"Hmm?"

"Everything in Ramshackle is free to use, including food, so you and Gidel here don't have to worry about where your next meal's gonna come from." She got up. "And you guys get to sleep in a nice, clean, warm bed. If you're still hungry, help yourself to the leftovers." With that, she went inside.

Gidel hugs him before Fellow can fully process what happened.

"A place to sleep and eat? No more digging in garbage cans or sleeping in cardboard boxes?" Fellow hugs Gidel tightly. "We gotta home, Gidel."

[copperbadge]

My answer was too long for the fried food post. I used to make grilled PB&J, just like you'd make a grilled cheese and my family always thought that was weird. I know, it's not deep fried, but I don't deep fry at home. Weirdest (and BEST) thing I've had was fried tacos, It was a very strange but awesome camping trip, where there was much weird food to be enjoyed. Anyhoo, they took a less sweet kind of donut dough, hollowed out a ball, filled it with meat, cheese and peppers if you wanted them, sealed the hole shut, rolled them in corn flour and dropped them into the kettle. They were served 3 to a bowl, with a scoop of salsa, guac, and/or sour cream. They'd sprinkle with cotija cheese at the end. We also had elote on the side, and hard cider. They took the last of the dough at the end of the meal and stuffed them with marshmallows and chocolate chips, and skipped the corn flour but I was too full of excellent tacos and elote to indulge. Man, the pandemic sucked in so many ways, but my camping group really came together in the spring of 21, and we've had so many awesome trips since then. And lots of deep fried tacos. The person who invented it is trying to do something with tamale batter to make them even more taco-y, but it's still a work in progress. The tamale batter is loose enough that it wants to fall apart in the fryer.

This was sent in response to my "What's the weirdest thing you've fried or weirdest fried thing you've eaten" post and I failed to respond in a timely fashion and was considering deleting it out of shame but then I read the recipe for FRIED TACOS and was like no. The world needs to know. My feelings are as nothing next to the glory of the fried taco.

I realize this is a lot of work for camping but if your friend is still looking for solutions to the tamale issue, I would suggest steaming the "taco balls" in tamale dough first, then cooling and frying -- the masa firms up a lot during the steaming process, and the amount of time it would take to get the exterior crispy and golden should be enough time to reheat the interior. (Or it might explode. Testing is needed.)

I might have to give this a shot -- I can think of a few dough recipes that would work, and I have some fajita seasoning that's going to go stale if I don't use it relatively soon. Hmmm.

[grillpartshub-blog]

Best Grilled Corn on the Cob Recipe - How to Cook? you can elevate this classic dish to new heights. Let’s dive into the best-grilled corn on the cob recipe and learn how to cook it to perfection. For More Details

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 3: Best Friends

Word Count: 893

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Language

Summary: Part of the As You Wish universe! A conversation between kids leads to an interesting conversation between Eddie and his former bandmates.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

There isn’t a cloud in the sky, giving the sun plenty of opportunity to smile down on the Fourth of July Barbeque you and Eddie are throwing. This is the first time you’re hosting a party in your new house and it’s going pretty well, if you do say so yourself. 

The worst of the day’s heat had burned off and Eddie just lit the grill to get it all warmed up and ready to go. He closes the lid and makes his way back over to the outdoor table that his old bandmates are all sitting around. 

It wasn’t often that they all got to get together since everyone had their own lives and families these days, but it made those rare times all the more fun.

“Should be ready soon,” Eddie says as he plops back down in his chair. The hot concrete of the patio is too much for his bare feet, so he picks them up and rests them on one of the supportive bars under the table. From where he’s seated, Eddie can see through the cutout window on the back door, into the kitchen where Max and Gareth’s wife, Tammy, are getting all the food ready to be brought outside. 

Eddie would be the one doing most of the grilling, but Max insisted on grilling the corn on the cob because Eddie was notorious for burning it. 

“How was the drive up here?” Frank asks Jeff before taking a sip from his beer can.

“Not bad,” Jeff says with the shake of his head. “Most of the traffic was going the other way. Guess not many people were coming into Hawkins for Fourth of July.”

Just as Eddie is about to remark on the fun Fourth of Julys they’d had as teens in Hawkins, a small voice whines from the ground next to him.

“Theo!” Danny Harrington huffs, dropping the piece of green chalk he was coloring on the concrete with. “Luke said I could draw the tree!”

“You can draw one here,” Luke says, leaning closer to the younger boy and pointing to a blank space on the patio. 

“Don’t be such a baby,” Theo says to his brother.

“Theo, be nice,” Eddie scolds his nephew. 

Steve is over at the kiddie pool, kneeling by its side while his daughter Mia, three-year-old Tiffany Sinclair, and Jeff’s five-year-old son Brian splash around. Nancy is on the other side of the yard, playing cornhole with you, Ryan, Natalie, Jeff’s oldest daughter Candace, Gareth’s daughter Lynna, and Frank’s girlfriend Sara. Eddie knew they’d thank him for squashing a potential squabble between their boys had they heard it.

The eldest Harrington boy sighs. “Danny’s just mad ‘cause Luke is my best friend and not his.”

“I said you’re both my best friends,” Luke says, not looking up from the drawing of a fish he was etching. 

“I think you can only have one,” Jeff’s middle child, seven-year-old Jasmine, says, scanning through the pieces of chalk to determine what color she should use next. 

“That’s not true,” Luke says, finally pausing his drawing. He lets the orange slab of chalk roll out of his hand and turns his body to look at his father. “Daddy, your best friend is Uncle Steve. But he wasn’t your best friend in school, right?” Luke didn’t wait for his father to confirm. “Who was your best friend in high school?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Gareth says, a playful smirk growing on his face as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Who was your best friend in high school?”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding.

“Didn’t you hear what my boy said? Can have more than one.”

“I bet it was my daddy,” Jasmine says absentmindedly as she continues her drawing. 

Her comment makes Frank and Gareth chuckle.

“Aww, Jazzy! You don’t think I was Uncle Eddie’s best friend?” Gareth asks the little girl. 

“No.”

Her bluntness makes all four men at the table laugh, and Frank has to cover his mouth to avoid spitting out his beer. 

“Who was it, Uncle Eddie?” Theo asks. 

The three other former Corroded Coffin members look at Eddie with expectant faces, amusement gleaming in each of their eyes. 

Eddie wasn’t used to being the one to answer questions as their former DM—he was the one who told them what was what back then. 

“Nancy,” Eddie finally says. His asshole friends were having fun messing with him, then he was going to take the wind out of their sails. “Nancy was my best friend in high school.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Danny says knowingly.

Jeff, Gareth, and Frank bust out in laughter when the six-year-old calls their friend’s bluff.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, and he drops his head forward in defeat. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Eddie,” Gareth says, leaning back in his chair once more. His fingers wrap around the neck of his beer bottle and as he brings it up towards his mouth he adds, “We all know your best friend was O’Donnell.”

Jeff throws back his head and cackles in laughter while Frank’s rumbling laugh goes on so long that it turns into a coughing spell. 

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes skyward. 

“You know,” Eddie says, voice dripping in sarcasm, “it’s such a shame we all don’t get together more.”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I bet Miguel can cook REALLY well.

Like CRAZY WELL.

Being a dad he did have to come up with something to eat for dinner every night

And with Gabriella being a bit picky, sometimes he had to get creative

And some of his favorite memories are the conversations he and Gabbie had while dinner was on the stove

But even now, he loves it. Miguel finds he act of cooking so relaxing. He likes the peace and the order of it

And even if he comes in really really late from HQ - he'll still try and cook something

Fighting sleep while cooking a quesadilla on the stove

He's a Sazon loyalist SORRY ADOBO STANS

There's always tortillas, sour cream and salsa verde in his fridge - freshly made

(if you got those you can figure something out)

And he grows his own cilantro and basil on the window sill

And he'll never use powdered garlic, only fresh

Yes he can eat garlic - yes people on campus ask him that a lot

(he's hot ACTUALLY a vampire)

His seafood is TO DIE FOR

Miguel can make amazing lobster tail, or crab legs (with Old Bay and butter of course)

And his Ceviche is SO GOOD and SO FRESH

Most likely makes everything spicy. It's not even that he 'loves' spicy food - He just makes it spicy AF and acts like he doesn't notice

MEANWHILE you're next to him and it hurts to breathe

He and Hobie are bean stans.

Miguel loves them in Chilli con Carne, with rice, refried, you name it

and Hobie goes through those British blue cans of Heinz baked beans like it's nobodies business

They both think beans are underrated

Makes AMAZING MOLE and even better Tamales

But you have to BEG him for weeks on end to get him to make Tamales cause he can't be bothered - and he will make you help

He likes Avocado, like in general. On toast, with eggs, guacamole use always a staple

He'll often just eat chips and guacamole the whole day in his office and he'll get pissed if the food court is out of it.

Well look at a corn shell ground beef taco and be like 'You think that's a taco? Is that what you honestly believe?'

Loves cooking with other people - in fact Miguel actually just likes working with people in general. That's why Lyla has a personality.

He's good at guiding others during cooking and teaching them things and not bossing them around

OBSESSED LIKE CONCERNINGLY SO

With mango and Tajin

He'll put Tajin seasoning on ANYTHING - the first time Jess saw him put it on watermelon she was like 'what for????'

But he loves fruit in general, watermelon, lychee, guava. A lot of them are grown fresh in the Society gardens

Strawberries are a favorite of his. Gabriella loved strawberries on pancakes

He pronounces lychee - Leechee (not Lie-chee)

He's the fucking PRO at protein shakes and milkshakes

The man needs workout fuel and whey powder and kale and potassium and-

He's in the kitchen 5am getting ready for the gym

Making a shit ton of peanut butter strawberry banana and oats protein smoothie with coconut milk and honey to sweeten

Because he does have a sweet tooth.

Jolly Ranchers are an oral fixation

You can hear him sucking on one, the quiet clacking of it.

Or see him press it into his cheek, lost in thought

But baking and sweets are his secret love

He just doesn't have anyone to test it on anymore - so he doesn't

His flan is the best, and it was one of Gabbie's show faves

He eats parfaits pretty often, and makes them a lot for Jess (and she teases it for it)

Miguel LOVES tres leches cake, as sweet as possible. And fancy stuff like creme brulee

Don't tell anyone but he actually really likes cheesecake he acts like it's a secret

With him cooking get ready for the most sugariest breakfast ever. It's a dad thing.

Whipped cream, fruits, syrup, chocolate chips, you name it.

Sure Miguel shouldn't have been giving Gabriella THAT much sugar THAT early - but with you it's fine so enjoy the stomach ache in two hours

Another dad thing:

COOK OUT FOOD.

Him and Peter get INTENSE.

Miguel swears by charcoal grills, Peter likes propane and gas

Miguel is the tio with the best Hot dogs and relish that HITS

Peter is the burger dad who spends an insane amount of money on Angus beef

Miguel judges your hot dog toppings but says nothing

His ELOTE???? EUPHORIC

Like,,, it'll bring you to tears it's so good - I don't know how he does it

And when it comes to cooking he's ALWAYS willing to learn

He'd rather invite you over and cook you something than going out to eat

He'll learn something you like or where you're from and make something from there

Even better if you can teach him how to make something - the two of you can make it together

But his favorite part by far is setting it down at the table, trying not to seem like he's watching your reaction

And seeing your face light up at the first bite

Or even better -

Seeing you collapse into bed with a food coma

Miguel with cooking and food as a love language

[planetcleer]

eddie kaspbrak loves cooking shows. like, he loves them. the food network is his favorite channel, and he watches everything from diners drives ins & dives to good eats to the pioneer woman, not to mention all the different cooking & baking competitions (gbbo is, ofc, his favorite) that crop up every year. eddie kaspbrak loves cooking shows, but eddie kaspbrak doesn’t know how to cook. it’s hilarious! it’s hysterical, even! because sure, for that brief period in college between sonia & myra, he learned some basics, like toast and grilled cheese and scrambled eggs, but for all he watches he’s pretty clueless in the kitchen. ask him to roast potatoes or make a soup from scratch and watch him flounder. he’s never had to do anything like that himself before, you know. he’s never been allowed to.

and it sucks, it does, because food is a form of love. and he knows that because, while he doesn’t have many memories of his dad, almost all of the ones he does have revolve around food. frank kaspbrak loved cooking. he loved best cooking polish recipes from his youth, stuffed cabbage and haluski (eddie’s favorite) and pierogis and chalka bread (eddie’s second favorite) and borscht, and eddie loved to watch. frank would hold eddie on his hip and let him see it all, even let him help sometimes, and when eddie got a little too big to be held, frank would drag a chair in from the dining room to the stove and hoist him onto it so he could stand and watch every step. while he chopped vegetables or showed eddie how to bread pork or worked on dough, frank would tell stories about his childhood, and how he learned to cook from his mother and his grandmother, and how he would cook with eddie until the recipes were all stuck in his head like they were stuck in how own, because they had never been written down before, and it made eddie feel close to him, made him giggle to think about his big strong dad being small and standing on a chair and watching just like him.

frank kaspbrak loved cooking, and then he got sick. very sick. the last memory eddie has of his dad is curling up with him in his hospital bed and listening to him whisper-rasp promises, with what was left of his ravaged lungs, of fresh chalka and pączki and haluski and potato pancakes once he got better. the trouble was that he never did.

lots of things changed after he was gone. eddie learned quickly that his dad hadn’t lied—none of his family’s recipes had ever been written down. he also learned that hospital food was not love, and neither was takeout, but that even though it was different, his mother’s cooking was, and even more so, over time she taught him that not letting him too close to the hot stove or sharp knives was love, too. cooking for him and not with him was love, keeping track of his allergies was love, teaching him to fear food that wasn’t good for him was love, because taking care of him was love.

myra seemed to know those things inherently, and when he married her, she showed him that she loved him in the same ways. she looked after him, she cooked for him, she made sure he stayed away from too much sodium and sugar and butter, she protected him from everything including himself.

and all the while, eddie kaspbrak loved cooking shows. well, he loves cooking shows. in the hospital, after pennywise, he watches a lot, and he learns, but not how to baste a turkey or throw together a corn salad. no, he learns that actually, takeout can be love when your friends sneak it into your hospital room to cheer you up, and yeah, okay, maybe hospital food can be love, too, when you have someone who will make you laugh about it or split your jell-o with.

he divorces myra once he’s out. his friends support him, and richie is quick to offer his home for eddie to stay while he gets back on his feet. eddie is just as quick to accept. they’ve always been best friends, haven’t they? he moves in more than he crashes. it sort of feels like they’re kids again. and, you know, richie tozier loves cooking. for the first time in thirty five years, eddie feels compelled to watch, and so most nights he perches on the other side of the island while richie pretends to be on a cooking show, just for him. it’s a fucking riot! but it’s something else, too. it’s special, because they laugh, and they talk about anything and everything and nothing, and they share their meals together every night, and it makes eddie feel close to him.

eventually, richie starts to involve eddie, calling him his lovely assistant, or his little sous chef. he walks eddie through the best way to cut up potatoes, or how to do a dry rub, or how to make an egg wash. eventually, he has eddie start sautéing the onions, or dredge and bread the pork chops, or throw together a fucking roux all on his own, without having to be shown. eventually, he starts to ask what eddie wants him to do, just as much as the reverse, and renames their imaginary cooking show after them both.

one year to the day after eddie moves in, richie shows him recipes he found online for chalka bread and some cabbage and noodle dish, i think it’s called haluski or something? whatcha think, chef k? eddie knows that richie knows exactly what haluski is. richie’s already gone and bought all the ingredients for both, and so they make them for dinner that night. richie lets eddie take the lead, and later he reaches across the table to hold his hand when eddie starts crying after the first bite. it tastes just like his father’s recipe, you know. it tastes like love and comfort and home. they wash up together after dinner, eddie scrubbing and richie drying as he yaps on in one of his voices, and eddie has to stop right in the middle of it to grab richie’s face with his soapy hands and kiss him. the rest of the dishes are left forgotten until the morning.

so yeah, eddie kaspbrak loves cooking shows, and he loves cooking, and holy shit, he loves richie tozier, too.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟏𝟒   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   VARIOUS LOCATIONS, OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

Morningstar Cafe was, by day, a drab second-floor shop that offended passersby with its single item menu. You could have a sour corn beverage, potentially with sugar if the woman behind the counter felt like offering it. Most days, she didn’t. ‘Drink what we give you,’ a sign by the register threatened. That warning became a galvanizing motto after dark—once the place transformed into a lively, hip spot flooded with whichever socialites happened to be town that night. A gruff woman with a magazine under her nose manned the door. Her job was ensuring only those with reservations or a spot on the list made it inside. The first time he’d gone, Renzo earned a hard shove in the chest from this woman, who demanded he take off his cap and sunglasses before she consented to allowing him inside. He wasn’t going to get belligerent with her. He’d promised Karolina that he would be on his best behavior—no liquor or uppers before, smile for the cameras, no fighting. ‘What, you think I’m impersonating myself? Really?’ It was hard to imagine, but the door lady had shrugged, ‘You’d be surprised. Lot of desperate pretty boys in town.’

❧ back back back at it again (posting ass, leonor’s) this is one of my sleeper favorites !!!! it looks cool to me, and i have the best time writing renzo pov, i have discovered.

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

Morningstar Cafe was, by day, a drab second-floor shop that offended passersby with its single item menu. You could have a sour corn beverage, potentially with sugar if the woman behind the counter felt like offering it. Most days, she didn’t. ‘Drink what we give you,’  a sign by the register threatened. That warning became a galvanizing motto after dark—once the place transformed into a lively, hip spot flooded with whichever socialites happened to be Canaris that night. A gruff woman with a magazine under her nose manned the door. Her job was ensuring only those with reservations or a spot on the list made it inside. The first time he’d gone, Renzo earned a hard shove in the chest from this woman, who demanded he take off his cap and sunglasses before she consented to allowing him inside. He wasn’t going to get belligerent with her. He’d promised Karolina that he would be on his best behavior—no liquor or uppers before, smile for the cameras, no fighting. ‘What, you think I’m impersonating myself? Really?’ It was hard to imagine, but the door lady had shrugged, ‘You’d be surprised. Lot of desperate pretty boys in town.’ 

They were on friendlier terms now, and he didn’t need a familiar-faced escort to waltz inside. It was just an enjoyable dining spot beneath the veneer of fame that made it a known place. The grilled fish and delicate desserts weren’t worth a trip down south all by themselves, but they were a welcome consolation prize when work necessitated going to the seaside. Friends from Nakawe were there this week, vacationing or working themselves; meeting at the Morningstar was a no-brainer. They could have sat in the back until morning while the glasses piled up on the table, and they would have if not for an unexpected interruption. Renzo anticipated the waitress who wandered over unprompted would stop by someone else’s shoulder and was caught off-guard when she bent over at his instead. She murmured her message, direct and discreet, and then gestured toward the constantly swinging door the led into the bustling kitchen. 

Without an explanation to anyone staring with expectant eyes, he went to take the call that had come through the manager’s telephone and requested him by name. It was a surprise to hear Leonor’s voice on the other end of the line but perhaps less surprising that she sounded close to tears as she hurried to explain herself. The words jumbled together. He listened hard to make out what she was saying. In the end, the details didn’t matter. She paused at length to take a deep, unsteady, therapeutic inhale, then blurted out: ‘Can I see you tonight? I need you. Please.’ 

She was also supposed to be away, which she’d informed him in a telephone call before she ran off to the airport. Instead of her trip, they talked for a few minutes about the gift he sent her. She promised to watch it when she got home. He suggested they watch it together. She made a joke about needing to stay home for a while anyway. He agreed with her. Had she seen the note? She had. And she forgave him for it? She did. Quiet, the kind that meant they were both smiling and making heart eyes at thin air. That was it. Yet, an obvious question had ballooned in front of him as soon as she mentioned she was invited to spend a couple days with her family—that her father had arranged it and insisted she join, no strings attached. It was distracting, that balloon, but he’d refused to pop it. They both knew “family time” would end poorly somehow, although he could admit after this phone call that he hadn’t anticipated such a spectacular disaster. 

She was crying outright by the time she ended the call. It concluded hastily, mid-sob. Maybe she rushed off to gather her things, too relieved to say goodbye. She was taking the jet. The royals, almost to a person, flew private whenever they had to—and when they didn’t. Easy, she could summon a flight and be back in Nakawe in a couple hours’ time. He was going home by train, meanwhile, and it would take more time than that. She explained it to him once with the smuggest look on her face. ‘Our pilots are on call,’ she’d said. He remembered that she was eating some kind of fruit while she talked; she tossed them into her mouth like candy, which was fine because she figured they were mostly water and therefore mostly calorie-free. ‘They’re ready anytime I want. They come when I tell them to.’ To this, he had replied, ‘Oh, yeah? Me too.’ 

Most likely, she ended the call in a hurry because she was embarrassed to be resuming what she’d been doing before she got desperate enough to pick up the phone. 

Leonor didn’t cry a lot, not really. That was a small blessing because Renzo never fully knew what to do when it happened. What he had gathered over the years was that women wanted to be consoled if they bothered to cry in front of you. It was gravely important to say nothing that mattered and wear a shirt that could handle wet mascara, running eyeliner, possibly snot that you absolutely could not comment on.  If you weren’t wearing a shirt, they went for the neck. If you joked about the snot, the situation went nuclear. When men cried, it was the same deal, minus the requirement that you play daddy and give them hugs and kisses. The nuclear option was mutual destruction. ‘Crying’s for pussies.’ ‘Are you calling me—’ ‘Well, ain’t you?’ Blows ensue. Everyone feels better—superficially, at least, which was what mattered. For her part, Leonor cried when there were no words to say, for better or worse, or, crucially, when she wasn’t ready to have them coaxed out of her. 

He hadn’t intended to be drafted into service as a makeshift counselor, but it just worked out that way, and he had never been one to reject what simply fell into place. By the time the waitress appeared in the office doorway to check on him—or whatever her purpose was, maybe just to eavesdrop—he had run the usual course of reactions. Slinging a grieving princess over his shoulder and carrying her out of her darkest hours wasn’t easy work. It required clarity and consideration that he didn’t often like to possess. It would have been much easier to respond with, ‘Hey, can you shut the fuck up, I’m try to live a bullshit-free life over here.’ That was the problem with caring. 

Yet, his theory was that he had taken to acting so well because he had never actually stopped being a introspective, sensitive little boy who moved like grass in the wind with whatever weather he was caught in. He got used to storms early on. Clear skies were welcome, but they left him feeling restless and parched. The storm went inward. The wind was always blowing, harsh, howling, in there. Other people saw that and called it different things, somewhere between “troubled” and “passionate,” adjacent to “intense,” in the neighborhood of “desirable” and “steer clear.” Whatever it was, Leonor had met him and looked, without knowing, directly at it. 

‘Bring her around,’ he had told Kore. It wasn’t his business, that she was friends with someone whose mother had just died and who was so unbearably sad about it that she might just fade away all together and who really just needed a pick-me-up, something to make her smile, but without all of the pressure, you know, that comes with being out and about when you’re someone like that, since you can’t just get drunk and go crazy for a night without scrutiny, or rumors, or—! No, that was not his business. However, the conversation had been unending, and everyone squeezed into the Den’s best corner seating wanted to gossip about her. Interjecting with an obvious solution ended it. Or, it prompted them to start reminiscing about their fun times, and it gave him an opening to get up and wander away. Having made it his business, he had to put more thought into it later. He didn’t read the news, certainly not the kind that would be most informative, but he didn’t have to look far to find smiling pictures of then-twenty year old Leonor with her long, straight hair and round cheeks. She always wore red. She looked like her mother, who was indeed very dead. 

The concept of royalty was still perplexing and off-putting, like being somewhere people insisted ghosts and fairies were real, which was also true of Uspana. Still, whatever it meant, she looked like a princess. She looked even more that way up close, and she acted like it, too. He couldn’t resist indulging in a bit of mockery. Surprisingly, she was game enough to allow it—that and the observations he made, that she screamed misplaced and full of despair. It couldn’t have been flattering. ‘You know all about that, huh,’ he joked when she suggested the place sounded pretentious. It wasn’t a joke, but it sunk in that she wasn’t quite what he expected. Although unnameable in the moment, she had been honest in an earnest way. There was a conversation she wanted to have, one they hardly began that night; he recognized belatedly that she chose to have it with him. Only, it couldn’t have had much to do with him specifically. He asked her in time why she’d been so open. Her response struck him the same way: ‘I don’t know. I was drinking for the first time in a while? You wouldn’t let me break eye contact? Approval-seeking?’ She had looked at her hands, then added, ‘You know I’m a believer. So, because I was meant to be that way with you, then and there. That’s why.’  

Renzo wasn’t a believer, not the way she was. Still, he couldn’t deny that there was truth in her observation. That’s what she’d been, attractive and intriguing and truthful, in that order. When Pat had fished an admission out of him on a rooftop in California just a couple months ago, that was more truth. Leonor was precious. He did like to be around her, to listen to her, to receive her affection. She was affectionate, which was a relief because that’s what his introspective, sensitive, small self needed. And, anyway, listening to her problems and dispensing advice wasn’t how they spent all of their time. 

Leonor was curious in a ravenous way. She wanted to learn everything under the sun, and she was usually too arrogant to go about it without pure, uncut enthusiasm and confidence. Allowing herself to be taught was a favor, a sign of affection unto itself. That became apparent to him quickly. She looked down her nose at store clerks with tentative suggestions, but she peppered him with questions and savored the answers like fine, melt-in-your-mouth morsels. It was hard to not be flattered. When it was time to listen and dispense advice, he found opportunities to pluck bitter fruit of experience from his own life and make it into something sweet, even nourishing, for her. That was rare. Now it was plentiful. He spent a lot of time trying to live outside of himself, yet clarity and consideration weren’t such hard asks when she was doing the asking. Typical of people accustomed to taking, she seemed never afraid to ask for anything.

All of this was a problem that became worse by the day. The consequences were piling up. It wouldn’t be possible to outrun them eventually, and that moment would come without warning. Everything stacked comes crashing down. Life had very few certainties, but the hard hammer of reality falling was one of them. Renzo knew that. He also knew that he had other problems—namely, that he was, like any consummate addict, hard-pressed to stop good feelings no matter how obvious and unavoidable the terrible consequences would be. Setting aside questions of willingness, it was irresponsible and selfish to pull Leonor into this kind of morass. Of course, he counted those tendencies among his problems, too. 

TRANSCRIPT:

[Muffled blaring music, Leonor humming]

Tonight? Aren’t you in Intizara?

My bad. I forgot about the jet. I get you. [Renzo sighs]

Hey, hey, hey. Come on. Calm down. I get you. Just … You have my address, right, so how’s that? You can go there, and I’ll see you when I get in. Late, right. What? No, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Someone’ll let you inside. Just go around the back. Sure. Alright. I’ll see you then.

Hey, Nora, it’s okay. Okay? Take a breath. See you soon.

JIM | How do we feel about nude?

LEONOR | You mean—? JIM | You, Leonor. I think it’d look nice, especially since Renzo’s wearing all black, and the backdrops we have are neutral, too. LEONOR | I’m not sure if I’d be comfortable with that …

JIM | Really? You seem—I mean, you know, you seem like you’d be. LEONOR | This is different. I’m … I don’t … RENZO | You can say no, Nora. If you don’t want to do it.

LEONOR | [sighs] No, I actually do, but I feel like I … RENZO | What? LEONOR | You know … [Camera clicks]

RENZO | Jim, please, will you elaborate? Tell her what you see. I have, plenty. No luck yet. Brainwashing’s a fucking nightmare. LEONOR | No, please, it’s— RENZO | Just listen, Nora.

JIM | Ah. It’s endemic. I see it all the time. A gorgeous woman gets in front of a camera, she’s standing in front of a mirror. Only, it’s worse, right, because you can’t actually see yourself. It’s what you imagine —gosh, and you know how mean cameras can be, right? Almost as mean as those damn tabloids. Almost. But, what do I know? I’m just a guy, but I am making art, okay? That’s what I’m seeing with this thing.

JIM | I have been told my camera is very slimming, for what it’s worth. [Leonor scoffs]

LEONOR | [laughs] Fine, okay. It’s just for fun. For us. What do you think, artistic nudity and all, convincing—?

LEONOR | We could do this ourselves, but—oh, when’s your birthday, Jim? Anytime soon? Let’s call it a gift.

[Movie plays quietly on television]

Hi. I hit play.

That’s okay. How is it? Funny. Odd. Exactly what I needed. “I myself am strange and unusual” … I’m gonna go change. Just take your jeans off.

I’m listening. I don’t want to dwell on it.

Alright, but you will, regardless—on the inside. I don’t want that for you. And I know why you came here. Let me help.

It feels silly to be so torn up about things. I don’t know what I’d do with a bunch of dusty old jackets and her least favorite paintings, but those were hers. They smell like her. Have her fingerprints. Meant something to her. They’re all I have left.

You can track them down. Put that princess pull to work. [laughs] Right, of course, serves me so well, all of my power …

What means something to you? Of hers. Yeah, you said you didn’t take anything from the house, but you will someday. I don’t know. I want all of it. Or, none of it. I want her, and I don’t … What does that even mean now? What will make it better, curling up with her bones? I don’t know.

It’s fucked up. You can’t predict what’ll become a signifier—a symbol of your love enduring or whatever. I keep that stupid cube over there because, uh, a buddy was trying to solve it … [sniffs] He was trying to solve it that day, the day he died. I remember that. I was so fucking annoyed. “Give it a rest. Grow the fuck up.” Shit. I can’t solve it either.

Can’t even try without crying like a baby. A damn shame. It’s sweet. Bittersweet, I guess.

There was a glass of water on her desk with a lipstick stain … It felt so important that day. [chuckles] He wouldn’t sell that. Yeah, well, plenty of freaks out there who’d pay good money for it. Better make sure it’s still there when you go back.

Do you want to come with me? See my childhood bedroom? Didn’t you just move out last year? Yeah, and I didn’t take any of my stuffed animals with me. Introduce me to them? Do they have names? Of course. Personalities, titles—Goddamn, even the toys! It is cute. It is.

[wrestlingwithlife]

4th of July Fun

Given the location of the military base the Task Force resided in it was no surprise that the 4th of July wasn’t a big deal. In fact, most didn’t even know of it, but the American soldiers are hell bent on celebrating with as much fried food and fireworks as possible.

Task Force 141 x Male!Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

“Of course I’m paying for them.” Y/n rolled his eyes as if it was the most simple thing. He held the phone to his ear, listening to the man on the other side of the call whine that they didn’t want Cowboy to have to pay for everything.

“Joel it’s fine, it’s no big deal… Yes I know it’s a lot of money… Yes I can pay for it… Joel, buddy, you think someone who own hundreds of acres of land and countless heads livestock is poor… Exactly, now you and the guys pick the best fireworks and I’ll deal with the rest.”

Y/n sighed as he hung up the phone, but he couldn’t help but smile. It was endearing that they didn’t want him to have to do and pay for everything, but it was just easier.

Cowboy turned around, nearly jumping out of his skin at the looming figure of Ghost standing behind him. Y/n clutched over his heart. “Holy shit, Ghost we have got to get you a bell or something.”

Ghost rolled his eyes at the comment, but he quirked his brow at the American male. “What exactly do you need that many fireworks for?”

The h/c haired male perked up, eyes shining with excitement. “Oh! Me and the other American soldiers got clearance to celebrate the 4th of July!”

Ghost knew the 4th of July was a big deal in America, but he had never bothered to look into it. “How exactly do you celebrate the 4th of July?”

“Oh it’s great!” Y/n beamed, motioning Ghost to follow him as he walked. “There are lots of fireworks, food, and yard games.”

Ghost couldn’t help but allow his lips to curl into a smile as Cowboy rambled on, giddy with excitement. He turned his bright e/c eyes up to Ghost, smiling wide. “You and the others should come out when we do it! The more the merrier!”

Ghost hummed in thought, but he knew ultimately there was no way he could say no to Cowboy. “Alright.”

Y/n beamed at Ghost, giving him a quick hug before bounding off to finish his plans. Ghost smiled, eyes trained onto the other male as he left.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Ghost’s eyes trailed around the hustle and bustle of the celebration. There were more American soldiers on the base then he’d originally thought, all of them were dressed rather patriotically with a few even having random red, white, or blue hand prints on their bodies.

The task force wandered about the place as they looked for their American teammate. They took the opportunity to soak in everything.

There were stands selling fried foods that they would have never even dreamed of. There were some soldiers who had tents set up as they grilled beneath them, chatting ideally as they did so.

There were games like corn hole, yard darts, and even Ladder toss. A larger group of soldiers were gathered around some sort of inflatable, the occasional loud cheers erupting from the group as well as a few chants.

Curiosity got the better of the task force and they wandered over, now able to see that the inflatable was a mechanical bull. The group’s jaws dropped when they saw the man riding the bull.

Cowboy’s legs were pressed tight to the bull, his hips moving effortlessly as the man controlling it worked to fling him off. The man sported a loose red and blue tank top, a few white hand prints littered down his chest.

Y/n held his cowboy hat in one hand as he used the other to grip onto the rope of the bull. His wide grin and occasional whoop made it clear he was having a blast. Price swallowed, shifting a bit as he watched the way the southern male’s body moved and grinded as he rode.

After a while longer Y/n was finally flung off the bull, his grin never once faltering. Once he stepped off the inflatable he was given a multitude of praise and pats on the back, but once he saw his task force he was quick to scurry over to them, leaving the poor attempts at flirting in the dust.

Soap smirked, shooting the soldiers Cowboy had left behind a victorious smirk.

“I’m so glad you guys decided to come out!” Y/n beamed, e/c eyes glistening like jewels in the bright sunlight.

“Oh, come on now. You know we wouldn’t miss it for anything.” Soap reassured, throwing an arm around the male in tugging him close. Now that he was much closer he took a moment to look at the hand prints on Y/n’s chest.

Given Y/n’s clean hands and the position of the prints it was clear they were given by someone else. Soap irked a bit with jealousy when he could see the beginning of two hand prints that rested exactly on the thick males pecs, but he wasn’t given time to dwell on it as Y/n dragged him off to enjoy the festivities, the others trailing behind.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

The five spent their time eating more fried foods than they had probably eaten in their entire lives. Y/n also introduced them to more American dishes and traditions, and Cowboy and Ghost absolutely demolished Soap and Gaz in corn hole.

It wasn’t much longer before the sun began to set and the sky grew dark, Y/n practically buzzed with excitement as he led the four to a good spot to watch the fire works.

“Gotta say, this is more fun than I’d thought it would be.” Gaz hummed as Price and Y/n set up the blanket for them all to sit on.

The h/n haired male beamed up at Gaz. “I’m glad you guys liked it! Maybe next year we can get some time off and I can have you over to my hometown to celebrate! They really know how to party.”

Before anyone could get out another word there was a loud whistling and a fiery streak across the sky followed by a big red explosion that lit up the entire area. The five of them immediately looked up as the fireworks began.

The group watched in wonder in awe of each firework, faces lighting up under the glow.

Gaz’s eyes trailed down, cutting over to look at Cowboy. Each new flash of light lit up the male’s beautiful face. His eyes shone like glass and his fluffy h/c locks were still tousled from the day.

Gaz looked down to where Y/n’s hand rested on the ground, keeping him propped up. The British male looked back up to the sky, but moved his hand to rest over Y/n’s own.

The American soldier didn’t even need to look down. He smiled, turning his hand over so he could hold Gaz’s own. Gaz’s heart almost leaped out of his chest when Y/n’s fingers laced with his

Perhaps he had a new favorite holiday.

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I had this queued up and when I came in and saw it didn’t post I realized I had set it for the wrong date so that’s nice 💀 Glad I checked

I hope you all enjoyed! Happy 4th to everyone and if you don’t celebrate that hope you have a lovely day!!

- Author~Chan out ✌️