#Honey Popping Jelly

[buffetlicious]

Was tasked to buy back dinner one my way home from a company’s outing. While waiting for the food to be cooked, I went to Nine Fresh (九鲜) to buy desserts. For the months of January and February 2024, they are promoting the seasonal Chrysanthemum Ai-Yu Specials.

I took the Chrysanthemum Ai-Yu A (菊花爱玉蜂蜜葡萄) which is served with fragrant chrysanthemum ai-yu base and topped with honey popping jelly, grape pearl jelly and taro balls. Gave the Chrysanthemum Ai-Yu B (菊花爱玉蜂蜜小芋头) to my sis but she said the honey syrup was a little sweet for her. Her cup of chrysanthemum ai-yu came with honey popping jelly, mini yam and taro balls.

Topmost image courtesy of Nine Fresh.

[timmurleyart]

Honey honey. 🐻🌼🍯(unique silkscreen)🍯🐝

[mykoreanlove]

say please? 🥺

“Open your legs baby, come on.” You shook your head in disagreement. Your boyfriend’s piercing eyes didn’t leave yours, not even for a second, as he was cowered in front of you, begging on his knees like the good boy that he was. His long fingers softly glided over your shins up to your thighs, but you still denied him access. “Baby, just do it.”

A soft energy surrounded him as he was trying to seduce you. Eun Woo had multiple sides to him, but he knew that you liked his whiny, pleading characteristics the most. Seeing him in such a state of contrast ignited a fire within you, one that would burn you with deep desire.

His appearance exuded an aura of danger, his well-defined physique and tousled hair presenting a captivating, heartthrob allure. Yet underneath this exterior, he radiated warmth and kindness, embodying qualities of compassion and love. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” His deep voice was hushed, yet sweet as honey. His eyes were glistening, painfully needy of his one true love. “Open your legs for me. Come on, princess.” You shook your head once more. Eagerly. Eun Woo chuckled in frustration, deciding on taking another route. “So, you don’t want my lips on the insides of your thighs? Pampering you with kisses? Soft, sweet kisses? The ones that are moist? Is that it?” You felt your thighs tingling, immediately responding to his words, screaming at you. “Now open your legs for me, honey.” He noticed you squeezing your thighs together in response and smirked internally, knowing that his tactics were paying off. Eun Woo got up on his knees and propped his arms on both of your sides, leaning in for a kiss but stopping right before touching your lips. His scent was intoxicating. His breath was too sweet. Everything in you fought hard to not give in. “You know that I can make you feel really good, don’t you, baby? The kind that has you high for days? Hooked even?” He watched you cautiously, all his focus was on you. You heard him whisper sultrily once more. “Open your legs for me, darling.” Eun Woo’s eyes darted down to your throat, only for a millisecond, catching you gulping hardly. He knew what he was doing to you, just as you knew what your resistance to him did. But now he was getting impatient. He turned his head to the side and graced your ear with his soft lips. “Let me taste you, baby girl. I really want to fucking taste you. Slide my tongue into your wet pussy. You are wet for me, aren’t you, baby?” He noticed your chest heaving heavily, going all in now. “Let me tell you what I want to do to you, y/n. You are going to open your legs for me, and I will dive head-first into your precious cunt. And I will drink you up like juice. I’m going to circle on your clit, poking and sucking until you’re jelly for me. Let me make that cherry pop, baby girl.” A soft moan escaped your lips, his words definitely painted a picture for you. “Open your legs for me, now.” You felt the heat in your body, but you decided to make him wait a little longer, you needed him agitated for a bit longer. Eun Woo clicked his tongue impatiently; the annoyance was written all over his face. “After I made your cherry pop, I’ll be sliding my tongue into your hole, baby girl. Sliding in and out, in and out while your delicious juices will be drooping all over me. Let me lick your folds. Let me lick you clean. Please just let me tongue-fuck you. Please.” His voice was almost breaking, his need for you too unbearable. Eun Woo turned around to face you again while breathing deeply. He noticed your dilated pupils and flared nostrils; he could even sense your pussy’s heat from up here. Fuck, you both needed each other badly, so he tried one last time. “Open your legs for me, baby. Please?”

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

your transfem friend recommended a clinic to get your bottom surgery done at. she says its cheap, not gatekeepery, and the results are good, even if the doctors a little skeevy. youre at the address she gave you and are wondering how exactly your murder will go down. the door is on a third floor landing accessible only from a fire escape out of a back alley in the worst part of town youve ever seen. you knock three times and the door is answered by a ratty-looking woman with a severe slouch smoking something that doesnt smell like nicotine and doesnt smell like marijuana. her wavy blonde hair is unkempt. shes wearing an oversized grey hoodie that hasnt been washed in some time. you can identify blood on the left sleeve and vomit across much of her side, as well as other, more mysterious stains. you cant tell if shes wearing anything underneath the hoodie. the inside of the apartment - because it is, very clearly, her apartment - has a smell that you cant place but, if pressed, would probably call sweat, though you know that description is lacking something.

dr davis, you ask. she smiles wide, and her teeth are shockingly good for the state the rest of her is in. just call me riley, she says. never did get a degree.

she ushers you inside and sits you down on a sofa almost as stained as her hoodie. can i get you a drink she asks. a drink, you repeat, dazed. she says yeah. she says she has diet coke, beer, vodka, and coffee. says she used to keep tea around for a friend of a friend but she hasnt come by in a few years and the leaves are probably losing flavor by now. you say just waters fine. she shrugs and says your funeral. she comes back from the kitchen and sweeps some stuff off the coffee table. you see a stray scalpel, a roll of gauze bandages, a soda cup from taco bell, and various crumpled papers amongst the rubbish that she knocks aside before setting down your glass of water. she has a beer in her own hand and pops the cap off with her teeth, though the motion isnt quite how youre used to seeing people do it. she takes a big gulp before she keeps talking.

so what do you want your pussy to look like, she asks. you splutter a bit. she says you are the one who needed their bits redone right. you flush and say yeah thats me. she nods and says right so what do you want. you struggle to give a good answer and she starts asking questions. depth? width? color? clit size? you give your answers falteringly. she starts asking about labia. oh, you dont want dentata, do you, she says. that costs extra. you say you dont know what that means. she says dont worry about it. hey do you wanna get pregnant? you splutter again. not now she clarifies. well i can get you pregnant now too if you want that. doesnt even have to be human i think i have some horse sperm around here if you want. i just meant like ever in the future. you say you dont know. she says okay shell leave it out for now but come back if you ever want her to put the womb in. youre too stunned to reply.

she says oh do you want to keep your dick, i can do that. you say you thought they needed the tissue from the penis in order to make the vaginal lining. she laughs and takes another gulp from her beer. she says so is that a no. you say you guess you hadnt thought about it. she says she can reschedule if you need to think, no rush. you say no i guess i dont want it anymore. she nods and says come back if you change your mind.

she says ok, i think i can start operating now if youre ready. you say okay and she tells you to lie on your back and strip naked. you follow her instructions. youre still not sure if youre going to die today or not. she pulls on a big pair of rubber gloves. not latex medical gloves, they're yellow dishwashing gloves. she grabs a small jar of what looks like petroleum jelly off a shelf nearby. you cant help but notice that theres also lube, condoms, saran wrap, and a bottle of honey on the same shelf. you dont ask. she starts vigorously rubbing the jelly into your skin from the belly button down. everywhere it touches you instantly go numb. she keeps talking while she works. a lot of it is her telling stories about "her amy." you cant tell if amy is a sister, wife, or pet. she might be all three.

she reaches up to grab an empty syringe off the top shelf. when she stretches you notice shes naked under the hoodie. you look away bashfully. she doesnt seem to notice.

she fills the syringe with liquid from a bucket in the closet. the liquid is neon green. she injects it into your inner upper thigh. you are now certain you're going to die today, but you cannot make a break for it with your legs numbed, so you wait.

she says okay this is the part where a lot of people get squeamish so look away if you think you might get sick. she pulls out a set of knives. some of them look like dentistry tools, some of them are medical scalpels, and some of them are kitchen knives. you look away. she starts humming to herself while she works. the tune is pop goes the weasel.

hey, she calls out to you from between your legs, how many nerves do you want in your clit? you say uh i dont know, whats a normal amount. she says about ten thousand give or take two thousand in either direction. you say ten thousand sounds fine. she doesnt respond, just goes back to humming. its a different tune. shes humming old macdonald now.

she gets up a couple times to grab new drinks. you say should you be drinking during an operation? she says dont worry i know what im doing. besides i never took the hippocratic oath. she laughs at that, the sound somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. you don't think its that funny. she resumes her work.

this time shes humming the alphabet song. you ask how old are you anyway? she says somewhere between 12 and 47. then she laughs again. you decide to stop asking questions.

four beers, two diet cokes, three unidentifiable cigarettes, and five hours later, she stands up and announces shes done. she wipes her brow without taking the glove off, smearing unidentifiable bodily fluids across her forehead. she jabs another syringe into your other thigh and the feeling returns to your lower body. you're a little sore but other than that you feel great. she wheels over a full length mirror and tells you to take a look. its perfect. youre everything youve ever dreamed you would be. you cant describe how euphoric it feels to see a vagina, your vagina, between your legs. you thank her tearfully. she smiles awkwardly. of course, shes saying.

how much do i owe you you ask. she shrugs. iunno, a hundred bucks? im not in it for the money. you pay her the hundred bucks and leave quickly. you barely remember to get dressed again before heading out. you have never seen Riley again.

[teaboot]

Do you like tea? If so, what ones?

Boba tea, ideally with popping pearls but tapioca and jelly are also excellent

Iced tea, either American classic tweet tea, bottled lemon iced tea with sugar , or unsweetened tea (faves are black tea with lemon, gunpowder green, or passionfruit black)

Hot black tea with lemon and honey

Ooh, anything with apple and cinnamon

Spearmint tisane

[asidian]

Set breakdown time! Next up: Niko's room.

As before, I've circled the points of interest and numbered them to make them easier to talk about. Cool? Cool. Let's do this!

1: Niko's mom's name! This part is her and Niko's surname. The kanji are 佐々木.

佐 – sa, meaning help or aid

々 – an iteration mark. When you see this, basically it means "exactly what the last one said, one more time." So another sa meaning help or aid

木 – ki, meaning tree

It's really neat that they picked a last name for her that doubles down on her role in the narrative. Just like Niko is there to support and help other characters in whatever way they seem to need, her surname hammers it home by including 佐 not once but twice.

2: Riza (リザ) Niko's mother's given name. Somewhat odd here is that it's written in katakana and not kanji. Without getting sidetracked too much (you can pop over here to read more if you're interested) most Japanese people write their names in kanji.

Katakana seems like a bit of a strange choice here, unless a) Niko for some reason doesn't know the kanji for her own mother's name (weird, given that she's in high school) b) her mother is a foreigner (a possibility; foreigners usually write their names in katakana) c) the set designer/whoever prepped the letters didn't know the appropriate kanji for "Riza" (seems unlikely, given how accurate all the rest of this is) or d) some sort of personal habit. An interesting side note is that her letter to Niko also puts Niko's name in katakana.

3: Cutesy stationery, used for marking your place in a document or book

4: A cute blue purse!

5: Watermelon! Judging by the shiny material and placement near the other bag, I'm going to guess this is another purse

6: Niko's clothes :>

7: Pink luggage

8: Lots of instant noodles

9: A rice cooker

10: Rice vinegar

11: This girl LOVES her some plants

12: Probably food items…? The one on the right looks like it might be a five-pound bag of rice, but I don't recognize the brand

13: Lots of unwashed dishes

14: A toaster oven

15: Chopsticks

16: A cute octopus pillow. I think I saw someone mention that it's from Ikea :>

17: She often leaves dirty dishes sitting on the bedside table

18: A painting of what seems to be a skyscape

19: Brightly colored pillows

20: Metal art in the shape of a moon

21: A decorative window hanging

22: More plants :)

23: Candles

24: Her tv

25: Cute pens with pompoms on the end

26: Regular tape

27: A cute cat statue

28: Marble Pop Ramune, strawberry flavor. Ramune is a type of soda that's a popular festival drink in Japan. It's sealed with a  glass marble and you have to pop the marble down into the little catch basin before you can drink it.

29: Anime wall décor

30: Fruit jelly cups. In Japan, small gelatin based snacks like this are popular. They're tiny, about an inch tall, and you eat them in just one or two bites.

31: Niko's laptop. She has stickers on it

32: Washi tape! It's decorative Japanese tape, often with bright colors and patterns, used for crafting.

33: A lot of cute magnets, including the bunny one, which serves double-duty as a kitchen timer

34: Niko's grocery list. The only thing on here that's here because she wants it is strawberry ice cream. The rest of the items, licorice tea, manuka honey, and Epsom salts, are all natural remedies. She's been trouble-shooting how to get rid of the effects of the sprites. She knows she's sick, but not why

35: Cutesy craft supplies! Sequins, glitter, and pompoms

36: More washi tape!

37: Niko's manga collection. She is that particular brand of organizational mess that does not put her numbered volumes in order. She has made an exception for the series that makes a complete picture when you line them up, though

38: More plants :)

39: Manga posters! Issho is one of the series that she has on her shelf

40: A decorative jar

41: Little metal bird sculptures

42: What seems to be the only framed picture in her room. The angle is wrong to see what the photo is, but it's interesting that they added just one in here. Maybe it's her family…?

[cutiecusp]

Viral.

What happens when a simple scroll on TikTok leads you to something unexpected?

a/n i wrote this at 3 a.m. today, and after a little adjusting, I'm happy with it. I love the idea of a confident Simon Riley, using his Ghost persona to satisfy a little fantasy or two. Especially if he got to know you, the newest recruit a little better.

TW/ Kissing, smut so MDNI!

Lying on your bunk after a long day, you find yourself doom scrolling on TikTok, navigating your way through recipes, cat videos and pranks, when a biker in a black leather jacket and dark helmet catches your eye.

As usual, the comments are full of thirst posts, proclamations of marriage, one night stands and more. You raise an eyebrow at some of them, incredulous at some others.

He was simply putting his gloves on, while straddling his bike, his visor flipped down, adding to the mystery. The Sleep Token song that played over it fully caught your attention.

The filter over the video made the skeleton print of his gloves stand out against the dark of the leather... very similar to the gloves your lieutenant wears.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you zoom in on his body, looking for something that could identify him more, and you spot it, a small Soap charm on his laces, one you all collected after London.

Your eyes widen.

This man doing thirst traps on BikeTok was your boss.

You refresh the page, and hide your face in your sleeve. How could you act normal around him now?

A live notification pops up at the top of your screen, and shakily you click on it.

There he is, Simon Riley.

All black leather and mystery as he leans into the shot. He has a mic tagged in his collar, and you would know that voice anywhere.

He's outside on the airstrip of the base, you knew he liked to ride out there between deployments, normally kept himself to himself, but now you knew better.

His voice rang out clear, and you almost dropped your phone.

"Welcome in Nya, hello again gorgeous Dolly, Hey Cosplay Queen.."

He pauses, his head tilted.

"We have a new member, hello you." His voice rich, like honey, travelled down your spine.

"Glad to have you here, first times are awkward, I'll be gentle." he teases, watching the hearts collect in the corner of the screen.

By this point you have a death grip on your phone, too stunned to speak. Did he know it was you, you?

You throw out a heart emoji, hoping to blend in a little. You eyes glued to the screen. He was so different to his work version. He was relaxed, cocky, funny... Not the cold and distant lieutenant.

The live goes on for a few minutes, before he logs off for the night. Blowing a kiss, the screen goes black, and you blink again. What on earth was happening?

You put your phone down and begin to get ready for the night, shaking off the imaginary lust dust that flittered over you. Urging yourself to breathe, and not think about the fact your boss was turning you on.

You heart bobbed in the back of your throat when you heard Simons bike return to the barracks, the headlight shining bright in the darkness.

You hold your breath as you hear his footsteps along the corridor, the squeak of the leather and metallic zip undoing are the loudest noises on base. You squeeze your eyes shut as the heavy footsteps stall outside of your door.

Three knocks ring out, forcing your eyes open. He knows. You think to yourself.

You force yourself on jelly legs to answer the door, a smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes.

"Ghost, you okay?" You stammer out, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so obvious.

"You tell me, love." He says gruffly, forcing his way into the room, placing his helmet on your desk.

You squeak at the same time he spots your phone, your screen still open on his page.

"Naughty little thing, aren't you. Thirsting over your boss on TikTok what does it for you, love? The bike, the helmet, the appeal?"

your cheeks redden, and he steps closer to you, closing the gap between you both. Gripping your chin with his fingers, he forces you to look at him.

"Not a word to anyone else, love."

Eyes wide, you nod.

And he presses his lips to yours softly, sealing your secret.

........................................................................................

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @azxulaa @yesornowaitidontknow @enjisbf @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @evie-119 @cmbghost @midwesternwitchery

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Rutabaga (The Surprise, Part 15)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, sex, fingering, oral, explicit language, pregnancy times, pregnancy bodies (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.6k

Summary: As your body changes, you're feeling self-conscious and worried that it might never return to "normal." Emily is, thankfully, very good at reminding you that you're beautiful.

Week 25: The Rutabaga

You stared in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, eyes roving over your body. The pimples that had sprung up and never seemed to go away–it was like being a teenager again. You lifted up your shirt to look at your baby bump, but choked on a mouthful of toothpaste at what you saw there. Your belly button poked out over the rise of your belly, a direction which it had never, to your knowledge, gone before. And what was that? A line?! A line from your belly button all the way down to where you couldn’t even see it anymore. You vaguely remembered Dr. Delgado mentioning it but, you hadn’t actually thought it would happen.

You spat into the sink, looking yourself over more critically, still trying to cough up all the toothpaste you’d inhaled.

“Honey!?” Emily called from the bedroom.

You kept coughing, but croaked out a response. “I’m good! Just breathed some toothpaste.”

“Em, look at this,” you said, standing in the bathroom doorway, shirt lifted up over your belly.

Emily lowered her book to look at you. “Yeah, babe. You’re pregnant, all right.”

“No!” You huffed, waddling closer. “Look at my belly button. What the fuck is going on here!? It’s popping out like a little jelly bean or something.”

Emily chuckled and sat up, setting her book aside. “A little jelly bean… Honey, I think that’s normal. Don’t you remember Dr. Delgado talking about it?”

“Yeah, but…” You sighed and ran your fingers over the dark line that ran beneath it, the stretch marks that lashed themselves tight over your belly. “I guess I didn’t think I would look like this.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked, taking one of your hands and running her thumb over your knuckles.

You shrugged and exhaled. “Everyone’s pregnancy photos always look so cute and I look… I don’t know, there are lines everywhere and I’m all pimply and my baby bump looks weird.”

“Hey,” she cooed, pulling you down to the bed. “It doesn’t look weird. It looks beautiful. You look beautiful.”

You shook your head slightly, looking down. “You’re just saying that because you’re my wife.”

“I most certainly am not,” she protested, tilting your head up.

When you didn’t respond, she pulled you down next to her on the bed. “Come here,” she said softly. “Come lay with me.”

You lay down and stared at the ceiling, feeling inexplicably sad about the ways your body was changing. Such mixed feelings. Just like you would never be the same after the baby was born, it was likely that your body would never be the same either. It made you a little sad, even though you knew, when all was said and done, it’d be worth it.

“Let me tell you,” Emily said, caressing your face, “what I love about your body.”

“Em,” you protested, blushing a bit.

“Shh,” she ordered, silencing you with a kiss.

She started at the top of your head, running her hands through your hair.

“I love your hair,” she said. “I love the way it sticks up in the morning.”

She kissed your forehead. “I love your head because it houses your beautiful mind.”

She planted kisses on either of your eyelids. “I love your pretty eyes.” Another kiss. “Your nose.” Then a real kiss, your favorite kind, where she held your head in her hands and gently pressed her tongue into your mouth. Your stomach fluttered. “I love this mouth,” she said, kissing you once more. “So kissable. Good for so many things.”

You giggled as she continued kissing her way down your body. “I love your neck. It’s also very kissable.”

You whined and arched your back as she swirled her tongue around your nipple, her touch alone hardening them to peaks. She let it go with a pop, using her fingers instead to squeeze them gently. “I think you know exactly how I feel about your tits.”

You’d have blushed if you weren’t so damn turned on. She’d barely done anything and you were pretty sure your underwear was soaked through.

She moved to your stomach, pressing her hands lovingly on your baby bump. “And, god, do I love your stomach. Look at you, honey. You see these marks?” She kissed them gently, only her hands, grasping at your waist, betraying just how aroused she was. “I love these marks. I love your little jelly bean belly button. I love that you’re letting your body change so we can start a family.”

She moved to your thighs and you let out a moan, your hips pushing toward her. “I love these strong legs,” she said, and then paused.

You shuddered when you felt her breath close to your center.

She chuckled, smug. “I love that you get so wet for me, just from my words.” She licked a stripe from your center to your clit and you grasped at her head, breathing heavily.

“I love that you come undone for me,” she continued, planting kisses all over, except the one place you really wanted her.

“Emily,” you moaned.

“I love that I can make you feel the way you make me feel,” she said, finally pushing her fingers inside of you and scissoring them so a bolt of pleasure shot up through your spine, making you writhe and gasp.

“I love you,” she finished, before diving in like a woman starved. Suffice it to say, Emily knew what she was doing with her mouth, but the mouth/hands combo? She could have you coming on her fingers in thirty seconds flat, and she knew it. But she wanted to take her time tonight, building you up to your peak, and then backing slowly away. After a while, you were quite literally dripping, begging for release.

“Come on, Em,” you groaned, bucking for more friction. You just couldn’t quite get yourself there.

She lifted her head, wiping her face and smiling at you. You whined at the loss of her mouth against your clit. “You feeling beautiful yet?”

“Jesus Christ, yes,” you confirmed, annoyed. Your body was shaky from riding her fingers for so long. “I’m a fucking goddess. Now finish me already.”

Emily pressed the flat of her tongue against your clit, hard, and curled her fingers just at the spot she knew would have you falling apart. And sure enough, your orgasm flared through you like a flame set to a line of gasoline laid the length of your body. You trembled as Emily finished you off, pumping her fingers slower and slower to bring you back down, then finally easing out of you and licking your arousal off her fingers.

She moaned and her eyes rolled back as she flopped onto the bed next to you. “The taste of you, that’s another thing I love.”

“Point taken, love,” you said, kissing her quickly and snuggling into her. “I’m stunning.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She kissed your forehead, resting her hand on the side of your head and her chin on top of your head. “Or I’ll be forced to remind you again.”

“Oh, no,” you replied drily, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Emily’s other hand rested in its usual spot on your baby bump, and you pressed yours over hers, appreciating your wife, appreciating that soon there would be three of you.

You felt a fluttering inside your stomach and then, so quick it took you by surprise, a tiny little kick, so hard it poked the edge of your stomach out, right under Emily’s hand. She gasped, barely moving.

The baby kicked again and Emily shot up like a cannon, pressing her face against your stomach.

“Honey, I can feel him!” she said, her voice high and giddy.

You put your hand on the side of her face, brushing your thumb along her cheekbone. She was so happy. God, you loved to see her happy. You loved her so much.

“Hello!” she said softly, lips centimeters away from your skin. “Hey, little guy!” The baby kicked again, right in Emily’s face, and she laughed. “I hear you, baby. I hear you loud and clear.”

She looked at you, absolute joy written all over her face. “Does he always move this much at night?”

You shook your head.

Emily thought for a minute, then her eyes opened wide in realization. “Do you think…” she started, grinning conspiratorially at you. “You think it’s because we had sex?”

You looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Oh my god, we woke her up!” you wheezed.

Your stomach fluttered, a series of baby kicks popping up on your stomach.

“Aw,” Emily cooed, resting her chin on your belly. “It’s okay, little guy. We hear you. Go back to sleep. Mommies are sorry.”

“Let her sleep, Em,” you scolded, pulling her back up to you and kissing her. She kept a hand on your baby bump, just in case, just to feel the baby move. She couldn’t get enough of it. Like magic. Every single time she felt it, she was shot through with joy.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” she whispered, yawning, and tucking herself under your chin. You could nearly feel her buzzing with excitement, with love. The same love she buzzed with for you.

“I love you, Emily,” you said, running a hand lazily under her shirt and over the bare skin of her back.

When she didn’t say it back, you craned your neck and found her fast asleep. You brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, reaching to turn off the lamp. When you realized you couldn’t reach it, you decided to leave it be. You’d happily sleep with the lights on to stay here with Emily like this just a little bit longer.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Making breakfast for them before they leave w/harvey specter pleaaaaaaaaaase

Send me a comfort prompt

Warnings: Mentioned sexytimes, but not shown; fluff

"What do you wanna eat?"

"Eat?" Harvey scoffs, picking his shirt up off of where it's hanging on your bed frame. "I thought you didn't do one night stands."

"And I thought you didn't do sleeping over, but you're here, so. Your point?"

"My point is this is all seeming a little too cozy."

"I'm not sending you out of here running on empty. And after last night, I know that you're running on empty." You smirk smugly, resting your hand on your hip as a slow smile curls Harvey's lips. "It can be toast, or coffee, something. But it has to be something. So?"

"...Toast."

"Butter?"

"Yes."

"Jelly? Jam?"

"Honey."

"Yes, dear?"

"For the toast," He chuckles. Your brows raise and fall as you take up your robe and draw it on, tying it as you head into the kitchen. Honey on toast, that's a new one.

You're trying not to overthink the last twelve hours—going home with a stranger that you met at a mixer, having what was quite possibly, the best sex of your life, and waking up to find him still there. He'd looked so deliciously disheveled and sleepy, and had smiled gently at you as you'd opened your eyes.

You shake your head a touch to try and rid yourself of the thought as you get the bread and butter from the fridge. The honey's already on the counter, so that's that squared away. You pop a couple of slices into the toaster and grab a plate for it before you turn to the coffee maker.

You don't have to overthink anything. You know that, logically. That doesn't stop your mind from racing. Are you ever going to see him again? Did he have a good time? He must've, right? He wasn't drunk when he came home with you, and he spent the night. He had at least a bit of a good time, right?

C'mon, don't be so hard on yourself. You know what, he had a fucking great time. More importantly, you both did.

"Coffee smells good."

You jolt a little as he comes into the kitchen. You glance back, nodding and waving toward the toaster.

"Toast is toasting."

"Thank you."

"Sure."

You pour the freshly brewed coffee into a mug, sliding it over.

"Milk's in the fridge if you want it."

"No thanks."

"Sugar?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

You snort a laugh, shaking your head as your face goes hot.

"You know what I fricking mean."

"No thank you." He settles against the counter beside you, taking the mug up and drawing in a sip.

"You always insist on feeding your one night stands?" He asks once he's swallowed.

"No."

"So I'm special?"

"I wouldn't say that. I just don't usually...Have one night stands."

"Well that makes me even more special."

"If you say so."

Harvey reaches out, gripping the tie of your robe and using it to tug you closer. You let him, watching him as his eyes skim your face.

"Remind me where you work?" He asks.

"McHenry, Sigmund, and Lowell."

"Good firm."

"Yes, it is."

"Not the best, though."

"Is that so?"

"Nope. If you were working for the best, you'd be working with me."

You reach out, prodding the toaster as the bread pops up.

"Honey," You nod toward the jar on the counter, beside the butter. Harvey lets go of your robe, turning to the toaster and plucking the slices out of the toaster. You take another mug down, taking your damn time about pouring your own cup of coffee. You take a few sips, giving him a guarded glance as you hear him take a bite of his toast. Harvey hums softly at the taste.

"Alright—" He speaks up through his bite, "I was knocking you about making me toast, but this was a better idea than I thought."

You smile smugly, giving a little shrug as you take a sip of your coffee.

"I'm very smart, Mr. Specter."

"Clearly."

You look over, smiling curiously as he dusts his fingers off and reaches into his jacket pocket. You raise a brow as he draws a card out of his pocket, holding it out.

"What's this for?"

"We ought to have a conversation."

"Because we slept together?" You ask, taking the card.

"No, god no," Harvey chuckles. "I mean, it was great, but that's not why we should hire you."

"Nice save."

"I mean it. You made some damn good points last night—though you made an even better one when you brought me home with you. " He pops the last of the toast into his mouth before he turns away from the counter, chewing still as he says, "Alright. Now I have to go."

You nod, pushing off of the counter and drifting after him as he heads for your front door.

"You've overlooked one critical thing, Mr. Specter."

"What's that?"

"I'm not in the market for a new job."

"That's a mistake." He turns to face you, smiling. "But that number's also good for...Other things."

"Such as?"

"Drinks, dinner...Anything else that may follow."

"And if I choose not to use it?"

"Well," He glances away, shrugging a shoulder. "That's up to you. But it's another mistake." He takes a step closer, cupping your cheek and drawing you in for a kiss. You expect it to be a quick peck, but you sway into him as his lips slip tenderly across yours, his tongue gently prodding between your lips. Before you can really give into it, he leans away, giving you a bright smile as he gently pats your cheek.

"Have a good day—and thanks for the toast."

"Yeah...Yeah, you, too," You smile.

--

You can't stop thinking about him. It's not overthinking, not this time, but he's just...On your mind, all week. His card is burning a hole in your pocket. You've been carrying it around with you,m switching it between bags and purses and jackets, and just...considering.

Now, you've decided to do a little more than consider. It's Friday night, you've got no plans, and you're sure he does, but...You make a call. He picks up on the first ring, and chuckles when he hears your voice.

"I was hoping to hear from you."

"Oh?" You grin, flattered as you sink back in your desk chair. "Why's that?"

"I owe you some toast."

[noxturnalpascal]

Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 12)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

III. Path to the Future

CH 12 (7.6k) The day after your demand that he not eat Kerri’s food anymore you come back from your afternoon walk around town, something you started out of boredom one of the first few days you were back, to a surprise in the kitchen. Today - just like every day as you walk around - the residents that see you run into their houses and grab gifts to give you. Initially you tried to refuse them but they just forced them into your arms and ran away, so now you take them back to the house. 

They’re obviously meant for Joel - offerings to the deity from his devotees - but you have been hoarding them in your room and snacking on them in the mornings. Today you have a pot of fresh honey, a bundle of oat cookies, a jar of pickled peppers, a lovely bouquet of multicolored tulips, and three dried casings of cured meat you were told is called Soppressata.

You walk in the house and move to head right up the stairs to deposit your collected snacks in your hoard, but notice a delicious smell wafting out from the kitchen. Without even thinking, you walk in and see Joel - wearing an apron - and chopping up potatoes at the sink. He turns around and sees your arms full and moves to offer to help you unload before a realization strikes you. You don’t think he’s aware you’ve been leaving the house every day and now this is obvious evidence you have. Is he going to be mad?

“What’s all this?” he says, grabbing the pepper jar and honey pot before they slip out of your fingers.

“Just some stuff,” you shrug, setting the rest down on the counter.

He doesn’t seem mad that you’ve obviously been out all day and you hope he just goes back to doing whatever he was doing. What is he doing? It smells amazing in here. Before you can ask you watch him pop open the honey and stick his fat finger in, scooping it into his mouth. He closes his lips around his finger and you watch his face fall slack, a contented hum emanating from his mouth as his eyes close. 

You wish you weren't watching his face morph into pleasure right in front of you. You wish this vision of him didn’t make your insides flutter and your body tense with forbidden memories. He pulls his finger from his mouth with a pop before going back for another fingerful. You wish he wasn’t eating all the fucking honey.

“Hey, save some of that, I want to put it on my biscuits.”

“You’ve got biscuits?” he asks as he reaches for the bundle, unwrapping it with his honey-covered hand. “These aren’t biscuits, these are… are these cookies?”

“Yeah, those are oat cookies, the biscuits are upstairs,” you explain before you can stop yourself.

“What do you mean upstairs?”

Shit. Now you’ve let the cat out of the bag. You turn your face to try and avoid his stare but you see him waiting for an answer out of your peripheral vision. You grab the pot of honey out of his hand and pop the lid back on, grab the bouquet and walk out of the kitchen, motioning for him to follow you. You hear his footsteps slowly padding behind you on the stairs and when you open up the door to your room, you step back so he can see your collection. 

Preserved jellies, chutneys, and pickled veggies make a rainbow along the shelves on the wall. A basket full of early-harvest spinach and spring onions sits next to bottles of homemade salad dressing on the bookshelf. Several loaves of partially-eaten crusty bread are spread on top of the dresser as are an open jar of fresh butter, a knife sticking out of an open jar of deep red berry jam. 

Several empty jars sit half-full of water all over the room, holding bouquets of spring flowers in different states of bloom. The nightstand is covered in crumbs spilling off a plate with two biscuits left - ostensibly the ones you wanted to try with your newly acquired honey - and the unused side of the bed is littered with dirty dishes, soiled napkins, and a half-eaten rhubarb crumble pie.

“What… the… fuck?” Joel draws out his words, turning to look wide-eyed at you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you mumble.

You look down, unable to make eye contact with him, unsure how he’s going to react. You’ve been hoarding - and eating - all these gifts that were meant for him. Is he gonna be angry at you or is he gonna be the pathetic, nice version of Joel he’s been since he brought you back here? Which would you prefer? It’s not like he left you food here at the house so what did he think you were eating all day the last two and a half weeks?

“What do you mean you’re sorry? Who did you steal all this shit from?”

Your head snaps up to meet his eyes.

“I didn’t steal anything! I meant I was sorry I kept your gifts, not that I stole something. How dare you! I wouldn’t steal-”

“What the hell you mean, my gifts?” 

“You know, all this stuff people gave me while I was out walking around, all your gifts,” you explain. “I know I should’ve given them to you but I was hungry.”

“People gave you all ‘a this?”

“Yeah and you can go ahead and ask them cuz I didn’t steal any-”

“These aren’t gifts for me,” Joel interrupts.

“What? What do you mean? Of course they are,” you say as you motion around the room, as if that’s somehow making it more obvious.

“You think people are makin’ me cookies and givin’ me bouquets of flowers?”

You open your mouth to speak and then shut it quickly. You realize he has a point. There weren’t any flowers in this house before, never have been. In fact, you couldn’t find a single vase when you went looking for one and had to use the empty jars of things you’d already eaten to hold the flowers. And come to think of it, you’d never seen people handing Joel goodies as he walked by them on the street and never noticed him coming home with his arms full of food.

“Why would they be givin’ them to me?” you ask.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” he smirks.

You shrug. “How the hell would I know?”

He looks around the room again in disbelief, then back to you. “Bring some of those dirty dishes down, would ya? I don’t want ants in here.”

You think about arguing with him but he turns and heads back down to the kitchen before you can think of a smart-ass reply. Besides, he has a point. You’ve been living in a little pig-sty to keep your snacks a secret and now the jig is up. You might as well clean the room. You gather as much as your arms can carry, dirty plates along with a bunch of the food, and bring them downstairs. Joel opens a cupboard next to the sink that used to be full of Tess’ coffee but now sits empty.

“You can put your secret stash in there, if ya want,” he says, smirking.

“Well, you can help yourself too,” you mumble.

“Yeah, sure,” he chuckles, squeezing some sauce into a pot of corn on the stove top. “Wanna help me mash the potatoes?”

“What are you makin’?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, once again noticing the delicious smell surrounding you.

“I went to the poultry farm and grabbed a bird after my last meeting today, so we’ll be having roast chicken with barbeque corn and potatoes,” he explains. Then he teases, voice lowered, “Mashed, if you can manage it.”

“You know how to roast a chicken?” you ask, ignoring his taunt about your own cooking abilities.

“Well, the oven does most of the work,” he answers.

He stirs the corn on the stove while you work at the counter next to him, mashing the potatoes with a large fork you found at the back of the silverware drawer. You seem to work forever and can’t seem to get all the lumps out, finding new chunks of potato everytime you stir the bowl.

“How the hell did she get them so fuckin’ smooth?” you curse, more to yourself than to anyone else.

“She probably used the mill,” Joel says as he points to the contraption on the counter next to your bowl of mashed potatoes.

You hadn’t even seen the goddamn thing, you were so focused on forking the potatoes into a smoothie and proving to him you could do it. Fuck, the food mill. Of course that’s how Kerri got her perfectly smooth potatoes. In the French style, she used to brag. Stupid Kerri and her stupid french potatoes.

“I prefer them lumpy anyways,” you lie.

“Yeah, me too.”

You’re not sure if he’s lying too but you’re glad he didn’t say something stupid like he preferred Kerri’s potatoes, not when you have this giant fork in your hand and he’s within stabbing range. He takes out the chicken and lifts the lid, a decadent aromatic steam fills the room. You see the chicken dressed with lemon peels and dried herbs and think, holy shit Joel really can cook, this fucker. He shows you how to cut into the meat and see if the juices run clear - which they do - and then it’s done. He plates up dinner for you both and you sit at the table in your usual seats.

Tonight - unlike every other night - you don’t make spiteful commentary about the quality of the food. In fact, Joel even notices you chewing with your eyes closed, seeming to truly enjoy the meal he’s made, and his assumption is confirmed when you get up to put a second helping on your plate. When you come back from the kitchen you place the parcel of oat cookies in the center of the table, an offering of dessert which you both share once your meals are done.

Joel is shocked further when you offer to help him wash up the dishes, and his surprise must show on his face because you level him with a don’t say a word stare that has him silently accepting your offer. As you wash the dishes, so close he can feel the heat from your body, he can’t help but think about the last time you washed dishes together and your confession about what that moment had meant to you. He wonders if you’re thinking about it too.

What had that moment meant to him? He remembers it vividly, speaking Sarah’s name out loud for the first time in years. You’d tried to stop him, to let him know he didn’t have to say the obvious but he wanted to say it. He wanted to speak it out loud. He wanted you to be the one to hear it. He wanted you to know him, way back then. Part of him wanted to roll over and expose his soft underbelly to you and yet, the bigger part of him - the protective part of him - kept you at a distance.

Joel’s been cleaning the same fork for about four minutes now, so you’re not sure if he’s noticed all the dishes are washed. You’re afraid to turn your head and look at him, not wanting to disrupt this peaceful moment, to have this evening end. This has been… it’s been the best night you’ve had in a long time. You’re not sure what you want now but in the beginning, this is the kind of night you longed for. Time with Joel, alone and at the center of his attention, playing house with him.

You wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about, about your confessions to him sparked by a night many months ago very similar to this one. The way you used to want him, the way you used to love him. You hear him drop the fork and realize he’s looking at you. The warmth of his attention sends a heatwave across your chest and up to your ears. You curse the swooping of your stomach and the way you have to physically restrain yourself from throwing your body at him.

You take a step backwards, keeping your eyes forward. “I’m gonna head-”

But you never get to finish your sentence. 

Joel’s mouth is on yours and you hate the way your body immediately responds to him, opening your mouth to let him plunder it with his tongue and wrapping your arms around his neck as he paws at your ass. He picks you up long enough to move you both back to the dining room before he’s setting you down on the cleared table. Well, your head is clear enough to recall, this is a familiar position - except this time Tess isn’t here to interrupt you.

He pushes you backwards, his body curving over yours, kissing your lips, your cheek, your neck. His whiskers drag along your skin, tickling a path as he moves his face along your body. You feel a thick bulge in his jeans grinding into your center, setting off a fresh wave of desire. And then the thought hits you. This is how easy you are. This is how easily you give in. He cooks you one chicken dinner - and he said the oven did most of the work - and you spread your legs for him.

This is exactly what you told him you didn’t want, to let him use you and fill you and play husband and wife with you. And you folded almost immediately. You’re ashamed, disappointed in yourself. You’re supposed to be stronger than this and no matter how badly you want it - and you want it bad - you can’t let him win this easily. You’ve come too far to give it all up for some physical affection. You push your hands on his chest and after a couple shoves he stands up, panting, looking down at you confused.

“What- what’s wrong?” he asks.

You push him back further and stand up off the table, taking a deep breath and gathering your wits.

“Why did you bring me back here?” 

“W- why? Because I want you here with me, baby.”

There’s that baby shit again. You roll your eyes, making sure he sees your annoyance. “For what purpose?”

“I want you to know me,” he grabs your hand and whispers your name. It’s the first time you’ve heard it from his lips. It makes your heart slam against your chest. “I want to share my life with you.”

“But you’re not sharing anything,” you pull your hand back. “I’m in this house all day, alone, with nothing to do. What are you sharing? Your dinner? Your dick?”

“What’s wrong with sharin’ those things? I’ll share everything with you, you can have anything you want. You said we were made for each other… and we are,” he pleads.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you sigh. “I didn’t tell you about those stupid feelings I had so you would take them as gospel. I was trying to illustrate how under your fucking delusional spell I was, you maniac.”

“I know that. But that’s why we’re made for each other, don’t you see?” He has a crazy look in his eyes, you see that much. “You thought we could fix each other's weak spots, that we could make each other stronger. And we can. We complete each other, we’re two of a kind.”

You’re suddenly worried he might have slipped something in the dinner because his words are starting to make some kind of sense to you. “So,” you swallow past a lump in your throat. “What do you want from me, Joel?” you ask, wanting him to spell it out. “Why did you bring me back here?” The time for innocence is over. No more manipulation, no more fairy tales. Your eyes are open. You know exactly who he is now, so he needs to tell you exactly what he wants.

“I can’t give you traditional love, we both know that. But you don’t want that anyways.” He reaches for your hand again and you don’t immediately pull back. “What I can give you is everything I have. I want to share it all with you.”

You measure his words and his actions, remembering all the ways he hurt you to try and tamp down the absolutely blinding feeling taking over your body. The feeling you have when all his attention is focused on you and he’s talking like this. Loving you, claiming you. You’re not even sure it’s real. You wish it didn’t affect you this way, you wish you weren’t so weak. But goddamnit, the power in this man, the absolute energy rolling off of him and surging directly into you is completely electrifying.

You close your eyes and let reason take hold before you speak. “Do you still think I’m some helpless, broken little thing, Joel?”

“No, of course not,” he answers immediately.

You pull your hand slowly out of his.

“Then why are you still tryin’ to take care of me? I don’t need you to give me things, Joel. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it. If you brought me here to share your life with me then you better start sharing.”

“I don’t understand,” he whispers.

“If I’m gonna be with you then I’m going to be with you. Not under you. Not subservient to you. Not stuck here in this house waiting for you to get home all day. If you want to share with me then you share everything.”

Even if he hadn’t already told himself he’d give you anything, he wouldn’t have hesitated one bit. Hearing you ask for what you wanted - what you really wanted - for the first time ever, was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

“Is this why you’ve been acting like a little brat this whole time?” he asks, the side of his mouth upturning to a sly smirk. “Coulda just told me what you wanted on day one.” 

“We’re two of a kind,” you say his words back to him in a bad imitation of his gruff drawl. “Shouldn’t you have already known what I wanted?”

Joel smiles. “You’re right,” he yields, ignoring your sarcasm. “And like I already said, you can have anything you want.”             

---

April’s rain fades away as May approaches and while those late spring days tick by, a foreboding heat begins to soak into everyone’s bones. The beginning of June sees the afternoons become sun-filled and muggy, the air thick with pollen and cicada songs. The valley is verdant green and rich with blooms, finally back to life after a long winter, and the residents seem to be in excellent spirits. Joel is surprised - but relieved - that he hasn’t gotten any bad news in weeks. He wonders if the fact that you’ve been accompanying him to work every day might be playing a part in his good fortune.

You sit-in on every meeting with him, travel around the valley to visit families, and take notes as Tess discusses the incoming reports. He hasn’t made an official announcement and no one has said anything to him about your growing role but from what he can see, it’s being received well. You have a way about you, a habit of listening when the men speak and nodding your head, taking it all in. Then when you give a response you make it sound like they were the ones who had the idea all along, like you were just plucking the idea out of their own heads.

Fuck, you’re good. And the response from the women? Joel always thought he could wrap them around his finger with a well-placed compliment in his gravelly baritone and a flash of his espresso-brown eyes, but they are responding to you better than they ever did him. They’re showering you with gifts, not just cookies and flowers but clothes and blankets they’ve made, books and scavenged items, drawings from the children. He’s half-convinced they’re going to throw a parade for you.

You and Joel are sitting at your desks in the office you all keep in the town square when there’s a knock at the door. Joel goes to answer it and it’s Georgia, Peter’s wife, with two heaping plates in her hands.

“Brought you guys a little something before the meeting starts,” she says with a massive smile on her face.

“Oh you didn’t-” Joel starts.

“Thank you so much, Georgia,” you interrupt, suddenly at his side, taking the plates out of her hands. “Tell little Aidan I said thank you for the butterfly drawing.”

Joel turns to thank Georgia and she continues smiling, waving as she heads down the sidewalk. You’re already digging into your potato salad when Joel approaches your desk. 

“You weren’t this grateful when I was bringin’ you cafeteria food,” he mutters.

“This isn’t Kerri’s cooking,” you scoff.

“What do you mean?”

“Georgia isn’t bringing us food from the cafeteria,” you say, shock in your voice at his insinuation. “She's making this food at home for her family and bringing some here.”

“You’re tellin’ me that she’s been bringing you lunch from her own house everyday?”

“Well yeah, since I can’t go there anymore she brings it here.”

Joel recalls a conversation with Peter several weeks after he’d brought you back to the valley where he expressed concern about having enough food stores to feed his family. His kids weren’t eating him out of house and home, you were. He looks around your desk - where you’re eating your lunch - noticing you barely have room to eat since your desk is covered in gifts from Valley members. The file cabinet behind you is also covered in jars and trinkets, the wall behind your desk plastered with scribbled sheets of paper from the children.

Joel remembers Peter said that many residents were feeling the pressure of low supplies and wonders how many of them are giving to you what they should be keeping for themselves. He hears Tess come in the door behind him and bid you hello, which you answer with a nod as your mouth is stuffed full. Tess’ been living in the apartment above the office and is joining you both to walk to this morning’s meeting together. The meeting whose purpose is to address concerns over food-supply issues around the Valley.

“Well, I think we can cancel our meeting,” Joel mutters.

“What?” Tess says, sidling up beside him and grabbing a kettle chip off your plate before you can smack her hand away. “Why?”

“Cause I think I found the drain on the food supply,” he half-jokes.

“Are you calling me fat?” you ask, mouth full. “Or are you just blaming me for Mother Nature’s choice to bless us with a cold New England spring?”

“Well-” Joel begins to gesture around to everything surrounding you.

“It sounds like you’re jealous, Joel. People want to give me things because they respect me. When you were the big cheese around here, what did people give you?” You wait a beat to let his silence emphasize your point. “Oh yeah, I remember,” you snap your fingers as if it just occurred to you. “Pussy. That’s what you used to get. Seems like you just didn’t play your cards right,” you emphasize your point by crunching down on a pickle spear with a smug smile.

“Yeah well, ain’t gettin’ that anymore,” Joel mutters, grabbing the second plate Georgia delivered and claiming it for himself before you eat that too.

“Maybe we can shelve this conversation for later,” Tess begs. “We gotta get to the meeting.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it Tess, we can just burn me at the stake as the witch who caused the short spring and that blood sacrifice should make everyone happy, right Joel?” you mock.

“Anything you want, baby,” Joel shoves a handful of Georgia’s delicious kettle chips in his face before he adds, mouth full, “I’ll get the matches.” 

---

You’re both sitting at a small table in the front of the room, everyone gathered as an audience and taking turns giving supply reports, the news getting more grim with each passing account. As the meeting drags on into the second hour, Joel notices you’ve stopped taking notes and now have your eyes closed. You haven’t said much this whole time and he’s wondering if you’re upset with him for his earlier insinuation. He was joking - mostly - and he hopes you know that. You open your eyes and find him staring at you.

“You okay?” He mouths.

“This is going on forever,” you mutter, clearly annoyed. “It’s a lot of different people saying the same thing. We need more food.”

“Well, we can’t leave till we find a solution,” Joel whispers back.

You take a deep breath and stand up, letting your chair noisily slide on the floor as your legs push it back, interrupting the person in the crowd who was speaking.

“So sorry, Javi, I’m sorry to interrupt but can I ask a question?” The man nods his head, yes. “The community garden fields that grow past the cemetery, you’re saying that they don’t grow enough to feed our expanding community?”

“No, unfortunately not,” he says. “The seeds have to be started indoors to contend with the short growing season this far north and there’s only so many seeds that can be started.”

“Where do you start the seeds?”

“We converted part of our basement into a greenhouse.”

“Right,” you say, as if you already knew the answer. “So would you be able to help build a second greenhouse?”

“I don’t think I have the room-” he starts.

“I think we should convert the old mill into a greenhouse,” you interrupt. The building is concrete, it’d hold heat and moisture well. It doesn’t have power but it has the old wheel in the creek, it has potential.”

Sasha stands at the back of the crowd. “The creek is dammed upstream, if we remove the dam it would probably give the creek enough current to turn the wheel.”

Peter stands up in the front row. “I could take a look at the electric grid over there, if that wheel can turn I can get the hydropower running.”

“I’ve spent time in that building and it looked structurally sound but maybe you could look it over, use some of the lumber on-site to shore up any weak spots?” you ask.

Joel - dumbstruck - realizes you’re looking at him, that you’re talking to him, and he nods, wordlessly. He’s actually a little giddy to be included in the conversation.

You point back at Javi. “Are you ready to build a greenhouse?”

Javi nods his head and the room erupts into applause. 

Joel looks at Tess and she is beaming, grinning from ear to ear as she enthusiastically claps her hands, joining others in a standing ovation. You’re a fucking marvel. Joel sits there, slack jawed in disbelief, as the crowd filters out, many coming to the front of the room to shake your hand and express their confidence in your idea, offering assistance and hands to put in the work needed for the conversion.

Joel walks behind you and Tess as you leave to head home and he overhears Hank Mansfield call your name across the front lawn. You stride over and give the giant man a big hug, asking him how the family is and how everything is going at the farm. Hank says several times everything is going great and they miss you very much. He passes on some knitted socks he says are from Laurel and a cherry pie he says is from Amber before introducing you to the people around him as if he were your proud father.

“Well, not everything is great, right Hank?” Joel asks, eager for you to hear the bad news as well as the good. It’s important you get the whole picture of what it’s like to lead this place.

“Oh Joel, they’d be going a lot better if you hadn’t taken my best worker away from me,” Hank laughs, affectionately grabbing your shoulder. Joel watches as you shy from the attention, taking the misplaced compliment all the same. “I’m just kidding of course,” Hank continues, “this has been a banner year at the farm, and just in case I don’t say it enough,” Hank surprises Joel by grabbing one of his hands with both of his own massive paws. “We’re so grateful to you for lending this little lady to us.”

“Banner year? Hank, you said milk yields were gonna be down this spring,” Joel reminds him.

“Sorry Joel, I know you were never a farmer, but what else are the calves supposed to eat?” Hank says, laughing good-naturedly, a smile stretched across his face.

Joel’s face must show his confusion because you jokingly punch his arm.

“Hank said there’s been more calves born at the farm than any year since before all-” you point around vaguely, indicating the veritable apocalypse you all find yourself in. “He says I blessed the farm with my presence,” you smile at Joel, giving him a sly wink that no one else sees.

It’s true, Joel was never a farmer, but he knows damn well that any cows who gave birth this spring were impregnated by bulls long before you ever even stepped foot in this valley. But if Hank wants to give the credit to you and act like you’re some kind of patron saint of cows, who is Joel to argue?

“I know that must be true,” Joel says, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. “You bless me with your presence every day.”

You punch his arm harder in response.

---

You’re both standing in the kitchen later that night doing your nightly routine of washing the dinner dishes together. Joel scrubs the plates and you rinse and dry them.

“That was pretty impressive what you did today,” Joel quietly says.

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismiss. “Those people eat up anything I say.”

“It impressed me too,” he admits.

“Oh yeah?” you say, a flirtatious lilt to your voice. You turn your body so you’re facing him. “Did it impress you when Isaac suggested it two weeks ago?”

His hands stop their scrubbing motion. “W- what?”

“Two weeks ago we met with Isaac to talk about increasing the patrols around the school and he mentioned they had a converted grocery store as a greenhouse back when he was in the Montreal Safe Zone. He said we should do somethin’ like that here.”

“He did?”

“See? Joel, you don’t listen to people,” you sigh, going back to facing the sink.

“Alright,” Joel draws out the word. “You had a win today, don’t get cocky.”

“You don’t even listen to me when I tell you to listen to people,” you huff.

“You think listenin’ can solve all my problems, smart-ass?”

“What problems do you have, Joel?” you mock, facing him again.

“Oh, you probably can help with this one, since you’re the Cow Queen,” he sneers, “but all the calves you personally helped create are gonna be drinkin’ up a good chunk of our milk.”

“Well you should supplement some of the missing supply with goat and sheep milk,” you immediately answer. “I know the farmers drink it and I bet they’d share what they could if the community as a whole was short on supply.”

Joel blinks. Why didn’t he think of that? “How-”

“I talked to Bianca, she’s still stayin’ out on that sheep farm. She doesn’t give it to the baby or anything, but the family drinks it and trades it with the neighboring farms.”

“Th- that was an easy one,” he lies. The very next thing that pops into Joel’s head is your collection of gifts from the families around the valley. Supplies are still short this year, but he doesn’t want to ruin your good day. “What if we still have food-supply issues this year?” He frames the question with delicacy. “Your greenhouse idea is great and all, but I don’t think it’s gonna help us ‘til next year. Got any ideas for right now?”

“I might have a suggestion,” you look down at your hands to avoid eye contact. “But you’re gonna think I’m being a bitch.”

“I would never think that,” he says sarcastically. You roll your eyes and when you don’t continue speaking he grabs your hands gently and teases, “C’mon baby, I thought you had all the answers.”

You shrug his hands off and you both chuckle at his words, knowing there’s no real malice behind them. It occurs to you that you’ve come a long way in the two months you’ve been back in town, both personally and in your relationship with Joel. You feel powerful and in-control. You feel like you belong here. It would probably surprise the old you to hear the sarcastic bickering you guys engage in all day and know that you’re not even remotely trying to murder each other. Well, mostly. 

It would definitely surprise the old you to see what Joel does next. His hand chucks your chin up to meet his eyes and he leans in to kiss you on the lips, just once, gently.

This move doesn’t surprise the new you, because this is a common occurrence. Somewhere along the way you just decided to stop denying yourself what you wanted and stop berating yourself for wanting it. You told yourself to either forgive him or move on from him, and since you couldn’t make yourself budge, you forgave. You decided you’d stop holding on to all the ways Joel hurt you and stop trying to hurt him back. Well, mostly. Of course, you still make him work for it and give him shit at every opportunity, but the two of you matching wits and butting heads is the best version of you there’s ever been.

Some days it feels good to let him wrap his arms around you on the couch and daydream away in his warm embrace while he reads to you. Some days it feels good to let him into your bed, kissing him until your lips are swollen and your chin is rubbed raw from his scruff. Some days it feels good to let him bend you over your desk and clamp his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet while he fucks you senseless. Those days feel really good, actually.

“Penny for your thoughts,” he says, bringing you back to the moment.

“Kerri’s running those restaurants buffet-style and cooking everything in big batches. I heard it creates waste that I think could be eliminated if they cooked everything to-order. It’d take longer to make the meals and it’d be more work in general, so staffing would need to increase, but I think it’d conserve supplies.”

“Why would I think that you were bein’ a bitch?”

“Because I’m criticizing Kerri,” you look away from him again. “And we all know-”

“What a bitch,” he jokes. You try to shove him back but he doesn’t even budge, grabbing your hips with both hands and pulling you into him. He kisses your face and nuzzles your cheek. “You clever little bitch,” he coos in your ear. He drags his lips along your neck, humming as his whiskers leave goosebumps in their wake. “How about this one, Sherlock,” he taunts, still whispering into your skin. “We’ve had guns and ammo going missin’ for months and we can’t figure out how people are getting in and out of the armory.”

“Dustin helps patrol the armory, right?” you ask, referencing Peter and Georgia’s eldest teen, the seventeen year-old boy with a floppy haircut and mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah…” Joel pulls back, studying your face, skeptical that you would have solved it that quickly.

“Right, Dustin lets a bunch of his friends steal guns and ammo and they do target practice up the mountain on the weekends.”

“H- How the fuck do you know that?” Joel drops his arms from you, stepping backwards against the counter.

“Cuz I caught them sneaking out one day,” you shrug.

Joel’s eyes go wide. “And you just let them go?”

“Why not? I wish I’d had target practice when I was their age, maybe I wouldn’t be such a terrible shot now.”

“It’s not safe up that mountain, what if they run into infected? What if they run into somethin’ worse?” He levels you with a look, not having to speak the thing you both know he’s talking about.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I let them take the guns, isn’t it?”

A beat goes by in silence.

“You’re-”

“Are you gonna call me a bitch again?” you interrupt, hand held up in defense.

The quiet tension between you dissolves as a smile creeps onto his face.

“You’re so much better at this than I am,” he whispers. “Always thinkin’ ten steps ahead.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you push playfully on his chest, his hands back at your waist. 

“No baby, flattery gets me everywhere,” he whispers against your neck.

---

Later that night your soft moans echo off the walls of the big bedroom, sheets and blankets chucked off the bed, it being a sweltering June evening. You’re stark naked on your back with Joel’s face between your thighs, too caught up in the pleasure of his tongue to be embarrassed by the sweat rolling off your body and soaking into the bed beneath you. His mouth is moving in a perfect rhythm, exactly the way he knows you like, bringing you closer with each stroke he makes across your clit.

He’s been at this for a while and coaxed several orgasms out of you already, knowing that with each subsequent one you get more sensitive and it becomes that much easier to push you towards the next. Which must be why he lets out a muffled laugh, unsurprised when it doesn’t take much more than the slow, steady swipes of his tongue and the vibrations of his groans moving against you to bring you toppling over your peak yet again.

He sits up, allowing the relief of an evening breeze to blow across your damp skin from the window. After a moment of recovery you slide off the bed in a liquid motion, sinking down onto the floor between Joel’s legs. He makes a passing comment about your knees on the hard floor but it’s slightly cooler down here, so you’re not going to complain. Any additional protest from Joel is silenced when you take his balls in one hand and his shaft in the other and envelop him in the hot, wet cavern of your mouth.

You tease him with slow, lazy swirls around the head with your tongue and then move up and down, taking him deeper with each pass but never as deep as you think he’d like. In response Joel bucks his hips slightly - and maybe this was the reaction you were expecting, perhaps even attempting to elicit - but you pull off him with a pop and shake your head, chastising his greedy, needy behavior. Ever since the incident in the cleaning closet you don’t let him take charge of his blow jobs. If you’re going to be on your knees for him, he needs to know you’re the one calling all the shots.

“Is that how we behave, Joel?”

He whimpers. “I’m sorry, baby.”

A needy, whiny Joel under your heel is certainly sexy in its own way. The authority he lends you, the strength within yourself, and the respect you’ve earned makes you feel so fucking sexy, so powerful. He’s a puddle in your hands and you’re completely overcome with desire. But that’s not your favorite Joel.

You kiss his leaking slit. “Fuck me like you’re sorry.”

He growls as he yanks you up onto his lap, immediately devouring your mouth with his. You taste yourself on his tongue and know he can taste himself on yours. The tangy flavors of your arousal, the salty sweat of your skin, losing yourselves in the aroma of sex that hangs heavy in the air. Joel stands up - brute strength carrying you with him - before turning to toss you back onto the bed.

He pulls your hips back so your legs are over the side of the bed, ass high in the air, thighs together, and feet resting on the floor. The top half of you is bent forwards onto the mattress as he slides his sweaty body along yours, letting you feel every inch of him. His heaving chest at your back, his hairy thighs against your ass, his solid cock along your dripping seam. He puts you up on your elbows so he can reach one hand around and palm your tits, moving back and forth between the two, plucking your nipples until you’re begging him for more.

In a smooth, practiced motion he enters you, his girth meeting little resistance thanks to his repeated ministrations creating plenty of lubrication. He thrusts forwards into you, grabbing onto your flesh with both hands, as you cant your hips back to meet him. He brings his face down to kiss at your shoulder, whispering filthy nothings into your ear and biting gently at a scar he left once, before your moans start to push him towards his own edge. You can feel him beginning to lose control.

This is your favorite Joel.

He pulls out and quickly turns you over, pushing your knees back towards your chest and thrusting his thick length back into you. The new angle at which he’s fucking you is euphoric, filling you in ways you never knew you needed. He always feels so good like this, fitting inside of you with perfect precision. Like you were made for each other. Your keening wails increase, not having enough sense in your head to care how your voice is carrying out the open window. 

“You want everyone to know you’re gettin’ fucked in here?” Joel chastises. 

“Maybe I do,” you babble.

Joel grabs your hair and pulls your head back a bit. “Then you better tell them whose dick you’re about to come on.”

“I didn’t catch your name.”

“You’re such a little fuckin’ brat, baby.” He sinks his teeth into your neck just enough to make you cry out and clench down on his cock but not enough to break the skin.

“Joellllll,” you cry.

“That’s fuckin’ right, you tell ‘em,” he growls. He grabs onto the meat of your hips as his pace increases, fucking into you harder and feeling your body tightening around him in response. “Maybe I’ll fuck a baby into you, help you remember my name.”

Your answering mewl is practically a scream as you throw your arm over your face, biting down in the crook of your elbow. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you ramble.

“Don’t stop what,” Joel goads you. “Don’t stop fucking this perfect cunt or don’t stop talking about getting you knocked up?” You’re panting beneath him, right there on the edge. “Everyone would know who you belong to then, wouldn’t they?” Joel reaches up to pinch your nipples again as he roars "Mine," and he feels you clamp down on his cock, going silent.

His own hips stutter and his groans carry out the open window now, as he reaches his climax. Ropes of his come repeatedly cover your insides, both of you content in the knowledge that it’s not a time in your cycle when you would even have to concern yourself with what he’s been dirty-talking about. He places gentle kisses on your shoulders and chest as you both recover.

---

“I wanna move into the apartment above our office,” you say as you trace your fingernail on his chest.

“Why?” he quietly responds, his eyes on the top of your head, which is resting on his shoulder.

“Because, we don’t need this much space.”

“Oh,” he tries to hide his relief. “I’m movin’ with you?”

You tilt your head to look at his face. Even at this late hour the moon is reflecting enough light that he can see your features clearly. 

“You gonna live here without me?” you ask, the answer obvious.

“No.”

“Then I guess you’re movin’ with me,” you go back to watching your finger tracing your circles.

“Sure, baby,” Joel hums. “Whatever you want.”

His constant mantra, not just in word but in deed. He gives you anything you ask for, even if it hurts, he gives it. And whatever you take from him you give him back tenfold, because you know exactly what you’re doing. Even when he doesn’t, even when he can’t see what you see. Because you’re so fucking good at this. You continue talking, tracing soft shapes along his skin.

“Tess can move back in, she’ll have more room to help people here. Plus, Bianca wants to come back into town and Tess can baby-proof, and then Bianca and the baby can move in too.”

“Okay, baby.”

“And I want a town council to help manage the issues instead of everyone comin’ to us all day,” you jump topics, everything in your mind firing all the time. “And not just a bunch of your buddies, either. This town is 64% women and they deserve representation. So Tess, obviously, but I think Sasha too.”

“Okay, baby.”

A long beat passes. Your fingers have stilled. He thinks you might have fallen asleep.

“Joel?” you whisper.

“Hm?”

“You weren’t serious about that baby thing, were you? That was just horny ramblings, right?”

“Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

🖤

NEXT (EPILOGUE)

Thank you Bug & Beef. You are my godesses. I love you. Thank you for putting up with me and all my whining (and thirsting) over CJ. xoxoxoxo

no taglists going forward - follow @nox-notifs & turn on notifs🫶

TAGLIST @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @pinkypromisepascal @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @macaroni676

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie bites into the turkey, cheese and jelly sandwich, rooting around in the bottom of the paper bag Steve had handed him this morning.

Eddie had shouted, “thanks honey, love you,” on his way out, and had turned enough to catch Steve smirking and rolling his eyes at Eddie’s antics.

He finds a single Dutch Apple flavored pop tart with the foil taped closed. They’re Eddie’s favorite, and he eats pop tarts cold even if there is a toaster available. Steve knows this, hence why Eddie’s finding it in his lunch even though there’s no real break room to speak of at the garage. Just a free standing cupboard with a coffee pot and some mugs on top.

He nearly cheers when he finds a baggie of Dixie drumsticks tucked under the pop tart. Best. Lunch. Ever.

It’s as he bites into the perfectly made sandwich that Eddie realizes. He’s in love with Steve. It doesn’t hit him as hard as he thinks it probably should, more like slowly drowning than being hit by a tonne of bricks, or whatever.

But still.

That’s kind of inconvenient, is all Eddie can really think. Since Steve is Eddie’s best friend, relentlessly straight, and kind of his land lord right now.

Eddie thinks he has his shit on lock by the time he gets home, unlocking the front door and shouting, “honey, I’m home!”

Steve shouts back while Eddie takes his boots off, “you better fucking shower before dinner, it’s chicken parm.”

Eddie nearly, actually nearly falls to his knees right there and then. Steve’s chicken parm, although it took a few tries to perfect, has now hit legendary status for Eddie. He practically sprints up the stairs. He can hear Steve’s laughter chasing him through the house.

It’s the most beautiful sound Eddie’s ever heard.

Eddie is completely and irrevocably fucked.

[buffetlicious]

Walked pass Nine Fresh (九鲜) in Sun Plaza and mum wanted aiyu jelly dessert. Their seasonal Sour Plum Ai-Yu Series promotion is still on even though it indicated only till 15th July 2024. You also receives a set of Vouchers with a minimum spending of S$9 during their 12th anniversary celebration.

Bought both the A and B items on the menu and topped up S$1 sweetened red beans for the two cups. Mum got the Sour Plum Ai-Yu A (蜂蜜寒天青梅爱玉冻) which comes with sour plum aiyu, honey popping jellies, kantan jellies and taro balls.

I took the Sour Plum Ai-Yu B (珍珠芦荟青梅爱玉冻) with sour plum aiyu, aloe vera cubes, black pearls and taro balls. The jelly is infused with the salty and sourish flavours of sour plums which in turn adds a refreshing profile to the otherwise sweet dessert.

Topmost image from Nine Fresh Singapore.

[m-jelly]

Hello Jelly 💗 can I request dad Levi with their baby asking for a puppy because initially they wanted a sibling but both Levi and y/n was unable to give it right away so they adopt a dog and then unexpected happen, y/n is pregnant.

My English sucks because it is not my first language

@ladycheesington <3

A puppy and a baby

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, married, dad Levi, fluff, romance, pregnancy, being parents, getting a puppy.

Your daughter wants to be a big sister. Levi and you want another baby too, but it takes time. So, you get a cute puppy and all things are going perfectly. You get curious, take a test and find out you're pregnant as well.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

You smiled at Lilly as she sat on your lap with her book. You read it to her as she read along and learned new words. You did a funny voice making her squeal with laughter and clap her little hands. Your daughter brought so much joy to your and Levi's lives.

Lilly looked up as the door opened and closed. "Daddy!"

Levi chuckled. "Wait there! I have a gift!"

You knew very well Levi was taking his shoes off and then slipping his slippers on to keep his house clean. You hugged Lilly and felt excited to see your husband. "A fun gift, huh? It's exciting."

Levi walked into the living room with his jacket looking bigger than normal. "I think you're gonna like it." He zipped down a bit causing a dog to pop its head out. "Ta da!"

Lilly gasped. "Puppy!"

Levi put the puppy down on its paws. "You can name him anything you want."

"Cupcake!"

He let out a long sigh. "Cupcake?"

She giggled. "I joke!"

He knelt and hugged his daughter. "You little rascal. So, what do you want to call him?"

She slipped off your lap and petted the dog. "Mm...Hades!"

"Great name. I'll get a nametag for him."

She ran around with Hades and giggled. "Good boy!"

Levi sat next to you and sighed. "He's a cute dog, huh? Don't worry, I will train him and Mike will help too, seeing as he is a dog trainer."

You hugged his arm and kissed his cheek a few times. "Perfect. He'll be a very good boy." You smiled at Levi. "Speaking of good boys."

Levi smiled at you. "You know I love it when you call me that."

You kissed him and hummed against his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too."

You slapped his thigh making him buck. "Now, my handsome hubby, I need you to look after the two darlings so I can go pee tinkle."

He winked at you. "Sure. Hurry back, I wanna kiss and cuddle."

You got up and squealed when Levi slapped your ass. "Naughty."

"You know I am."

You hummed a laugh and made your way to your and Levi's private bathroom connected to your bedroom. Normally, you'd go to the one downstairs but there was something in this one that you needed. Inside this bathroom, there were a few pregnancy tests. Everyone wanted another Ackerman in this family, but you didn't know if it was going to happen so soon with the talks.

You took three tests and cleaned up. You weren't expecting a positive but you just wanted to give it a go. You collected the tests and shoved them in your pocket before making your way back to your husband and daughter. He made your heart flutter by taking sweetly with his little girl and teaching her about dogs.

"Cute."

Levi sat back and smiled. "Thank you." He eyed your pocket. "What you got?"

You handed him the three tests. "I thought I'd give them a go."

He hummed and looked at them. "Holy sugar! Honey? You're pregnant."

Your eyes widened. "What?"

He jumped up with a grin and showed you the tests. "Look! Three positives! We're having another baby!"

You squealed in delight as Levi scooped you up and spun around with you. "A baby!"

Lilly ran over. "Baby? Where?"

Levi put you down. "In mummy's tummy. You're going to be a big sister!"

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

You giggled as Lilly ran around. "A puppy and two kids. What a wonderful family."

Levi kissed you. "It's perfect."

[pupsmailbox]

PASTRY︰SWEET ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　aero. ambrosia. angel. anise. anisette. bakerette. bambi. benedict. berrie. berry. betty. biscuique. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. bluebell. bonbon. brie. bubblegum. cake. cakerie. cakessa. cakette. cakie. candace. candi. candibelle. candie. candy. caramel. caramella. caramelle. carmella. carmine. cassia. cerise. chantilly. charlotte. cherie. cherry. chiffon. chip. chocco. choco. chocobina. cinna. cinnabelle. cinnabon. cinnamon. claire. clem. clementine. coco. cookie. cookilyn. creamine. creamique. creme. cremelle. crepe. cupcake. cupid. custard. custella. cwake. dahlia. darling. delight. dove. drizzle. dulce. dulcie. eclair. fleur. frostine. fuchsia. graham. gummi. heath. honey. honoré. joy. julienne. kandie. kandy. kat. kit. kitty. lacey. lollie. lollu. lolly. lulu. madeleine. maisie. margaret. marjorie. marshmelle. miel. mielle. mika. millie. mimi. moussette. muffine. nana. nilla. panettiere. pastelle. pastrie. pastrina. patisserie. patty. peach. petal. pippin. pixie. popsy. praline. precious. pudding. puff. puffy. pumpkin. pwuffle. raspberry. reese. rosa. rose. rosie. ruth. rye. sherbet. shortcake. sorbelle. sorbet. sprinkline. strawbette. strawbie. sucre. sucrose. sugar. sugarbelle. sugarlyn. sundae. sundaeya. sunny. sweetheart. sweeti. sweetie. sweets. taffy. tartine. tealyn. teddy. toffee. toffi. trixie. truffrill. tulip. vanilla. vanille. vaniya. wafer. weddicae.

PRONOUNS ⌇　ae/ae. angelsfood/angelsfood. ba/bake. bake/bake. bake/bakery. belle/belle. berry/berry. bite/bite. blush/blush. bon/bon. bow/bow. bread/bread. bun/bun. butter/butter. ca/candy. cae/cake. cake/cake. candy/candy. car/caramel. cara/cara. cara/caramel. ce/cer. che/cher. chef/chef. cherry/cherry. chew/chew. cho/choco. cho/chocolate. choco/choco. choco/chocolate. chocolate/chocolate. cinna/cinna. cinna/cinnamon. cocoa/cocoa. confection/confection. coo/cookie. cookie/cookie. cream/cream. cru/crust. cup/cake. cup/cupcake. cupcake/cupcake. cute/cute. dar/dar. delicacy/delicacy. dessert/dessert. devilsfood/devilsfood. do/donut. doe/donut. dou/dough. dough/dough. fla/flan. flo/flour. fre/fresh. fro/frost. fro/frosting. frost/frost. frosting/frosting. fu/fudge. goodie/goodie. heart/heart. hon/hon. hon/honey. honey/honey. ice/ice. jelly/jelly. lace/lace. lolli/lolli. lolly/lolly. love/love. mac/macaron. mi/mix. mou/mousse. mu/muffin. nom/nom. pas/pastry. pastry/pastry. pi/pixie. pie/pie. pink/pink. plum/plum. pop/pop. puddin/puddin. pudding/pudding. puff/puff. puff/puffle. ro/rose. roll/roll. rose/rose. soft/soft. sprinkle/sprinkle. sti/stix, strawb/strawberry. strawberry/strawberry. su/sucre. su/sugar. sug/sug. sug/sugar. suga/suga. sugar/sugar. swe/sweet. swee/sweet. sweet/sweet. tart/tart. toffee/tofee. trea/treat. treat/treat. wa/warm . 🍡 . 🍦 . 🍧 . 🍩 . 🍪 . 🍫 . 🍬 . 🍭 . 🍮 . 🍯 . 🍰 . 🎂 .

[ahedderick]

Foraging

Monday I picked dandelions and violets to experiment with flower-flavored syrups. It was time-consuming, but I just felt like trying something new. I have done violet jelly before, although the results were mediocre.

The first step after separating the petals from the greens was to pour boiling water over each kind and let them sit for a day. The violets had a greenish-blue extract by evening, and by morning it had settled into a deep blue. I tried adding a couple of drops of lemon juice, which shifted it to blue-purple. Violets have the same pigment, anthocyanin, as red cabbage, and it is pH sensitive. I am curious why my tap water (from a well) would have a pH of 9(ish), but I'll go ahead and blame limestone.

I cooked the dandelion first, adding sugar equal to the amount of liquid (1.25 cups). I cooked it for a while and then bottled it when it seemed like it had thickened up (the bubbles start to PLOP instead of 'pop', if that makes sense).

Here it is, compared with honey. The color is virtually the same!

Then I started with the violet. As I heated it, the color shifted BACK to greenish-blue. I added a little more lemon juice, and it ended up weirdly purple from some angles and blue from others, depending on how the light hit it. It's also DARK, too dark for me to photograph and show you much color. When it cooled down it a) turned a steely blue-grey and b) crystalized.

That. that is NOT what I was going for. It also doesn't really taste like anything. Just 'sweet'. Drat.

[egcdeath]

peanut

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel have a blowout argument… over peanut butter.

word count: 600

warnings: don’t read if you have a peanut allergy, borderline crack fic with how unserious joel and the reader are, crunch peanut butter slander, fluff, established relationship, domestic, slice of life, no outbreak, no use of y/n, not edited

authors note: send me a random word or phrase and i’ll write a drabble!

“Joel, what is this?” you were disgusted and appalled as you turned the blue-lidded jar over in your hands. What was meant to be a nice mid-afternoon snack had quickly devolved into a mid-afternoon nightmare as you laid your eyes on that label.

“What do you mean, ‘what is this?’ It’s peanut butter,” Joel dismissed, coming over from where he was lounging on his favorite recliner in his living room to the kitchen island where you were currently assembling yourself a snack. He wasted no time taking the jar from your hands, and evaluating the object that had caused all of this commotion in the first place.

“You’re kidding,” you said with a bit of a quirked brow and a slight squint of your eyes, attempting to gauge whether or not your partner was purposefully fucking with you.

“I’m not. What’s the big issue?” Joel unscrewed the lid and grabbed the knife you had sitting by your pre-jellied slices of bread. “Looks like peanut butter to me.”

“You don’t notice anything… off about it?” you pressed, watching carefully as Joel dipped the knife into the fresh jar and revealed an unappetizing, chunky paste.

“Mm… no? Should I?” from the way Joel made eye contact with you as he ran the now peanut-buttered butter knife against his tongue, you knew he had to be fucking with you.

“No special tastes or textures?” you emphasized, trying to get to the bottom of the situation. There was no way you’d married someone who buys chunky peanut butter on purpose. There was simply no way.

Joel shrugged dismissively once more, but the slight smirk he was sporting told you all that you needed to know. “Not a fan of crunchy peanut butter?” he finally asked, thoroughly entertained by the slack jawed look you were giving him.

“You actually like crunchy peanut butter?” you replied, somehow even more horrified as Joel happily crunched away on his monstrosity of a spread.

“Always have,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t dropping a massive bomb on you.

“No way,” you argued, in a bit of disbelief. If Joel really enjoyed crunchy peanut butter that much, your whole life was a lie. Your whole marriage was a lie! “You’re pulling a prank on me.”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, still seeming quite pleased with himself.

“My God,” you gasped, clutching your chest. “I don’t even know who you are!”

“Someone with taste,” Joel pushed back, thoroughly entertained with your dramatics.

“You don’t even know how wrong you are,” you scoffed.

“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t you ever get tired of smooth PB?” he asked with a grin, taking pleasure in your horror.

“No, clearly not!” you exclaimed, a bit offended at even the idea of getting tired of such a classic treat.

“Well, I do,” Joel defended himself. “Just try it once. I bet it’s not as bad as you’d think.”

“Oh, I know it’s as bad as I think,” you rebutted, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched Joel dip the knife back into that sinister jar of peanut butter.

“Just try it once,” Joel repeated, inching the knife towards your mouth in the same way that you’d seen him do for your daughter a multitude of times. It seemed like a small miracle that Joel didn’t give you a, ‘Here comes the airplane!’

“If you don’t get that knife out of my face, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” Joel cracked a smile at your reluctance, which only fueled your annoyance more. “Joel. I’m not kidding.”

“Come on,” he sing-songed, amused by just how stubborn you were being. He continued to inch the knife closer and closer to you until you finally accepted your fate, sticking your tongue out unenthusiastically and trying out the peanut butter.

“Alright,” you conceded. It wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be, but you would never tell your partner that—especially with the way that Joel was grinning at you from the other side of the counter. “It was okay. But you’re still sleeping on the couch tonight.”