#Jacket Potato recipes

[askwhatsforlunch]

Autumn Warmers

As the days are getting chillier, rainier and darker, here are a few recipes of hearty gratins, cheesy casseroles and generous bakes to warm you up on wet days and cold nights!

Chili Jacket Sweet Potato

Tomato and Tuna Pasta Bake 

Blue Cheese and Ham Baked Endives 

Cheesy Barbecue Sweet Potatoes (Vegetarian)

Welsh Rarebit Potato Gratin

Bacon, Parsnip and Potato Gratin 

Mussel, Potato and Leek Gratin

Brandade de Morue (Codfish Potato Bake)

Sweet Potato Casserole with Hazeknut Streusel 

Moussaka 

Chili Jacket Potatoes 

Gratin Dauphinois

Haddock Welsh Rarebit

Classic Shepherd’s Pie 

Tuna Pasta Bake 

Romanesco Broccoli Gratin (Vegetarian)

Bacon and Cheddar Potato Gratin

Cauliflower Cheese with Brioche Crumbs and Maple Bacon

Parsnip and Sage Gratin (Vegetarian)

Spicy Sausage Bake

[daily-deliciousness]

Twice baked potato (Stuffed jacket potatoes)

[cupid-styles]

yours (ymls check-in)

in which y/n just wants to be harry's — officially.

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: parenting/family stuff (y/n and harry are parents), smut (breeding kink, slight size kink, literal one "mommy" mention, dirty talk)

ymls masterlist | main masterlist

talk to me

. . .

Parenthood is difficult.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, so it takes Harry and Y/N approximately two minutes of bringing Clementine into the world to come to the same realization. Her loud wails break their hearts every time, sleep becomes a luxury, and breastfeeding takes an incredible toll on Y/N’s physical and mental health.

But in the same way that parenting is hard and filled with tears and confusion, it’s just as — if not more — rewarding.

Clementine is the best thing that’s ever happened to each of them. Harry can’t remember a version of his life where he wasn’t head-over-heels in love with his sweet baby girl, and Y/N has softened up a considerable amount now that she spends most of her day cooing to her daughter. 

It’s not perfect by any means — Clem is a tried-and-true daddy’s girl and sometimes it hurts Y/N’s feelings. Clementine also inherited her mom’s grumpy exterior and, in the middle of a visit from Harry’s parents or Y/N’s sister, will starfish her body, going completely rigid until one of her parents takes her. (Harry always thinks it’s funny while Y/N is embarrassed by it. It’s something they’re working on as a family.)

Beyond their little trio, though, lies a larger situation that’s been conveniently tucked away since Clementine was born: Harry and Y/N’s relationship. 

They never decided what they were after confessing feelings for one another. One day, they lived separately and were going the route of platonic co-parenting. The next, Harry moved all his things into Y/N’s, ended the lease on his own apartment, and painted the guest room a pretty pastel pink. 

At first, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Y/N has never cared for labels on relationships, and their devotion to each other was blatant — they were parenting a child together, after all. He kissed her good morning, they held hands on family walks, and at the end of the day, they were crawling into bed together. She didn’t need a ring or a title to reiterate where she stood in Harry’s life.

Until… well, until the supermarket incident.

It was a rainy day, but Y/N wanted to pop into the store before they rounded the corner to head back home. Now that Clementine’s pediatrician gave them the okay to start trying out solid foods — or, as solid as baby food can be — Harry had gotten really into making it from scratch. Currently, their kitchen was a mess of sweet potato, apple, and green bean purees, but Y/N was trying to be supportive, even if the noise of the blender sometimes woke Clem up from her afternoon nap. She remembered him mentioning a new recipe he found for carrots, mangos, and bananas, so she figured they could grab the ingredients on their way home. 

Clementine looked adorable in her cute little rain jacket and matching hat. Harry couldn’t stop taking pictures of her, and as they dipped into the produce aisle, stroller in tow, she remembered they needed another gallon of milk since they were trying to wean Clem off of Y/N’s breast milk. 

“You guys can stay right here, it’s just in the next aisle,” Y/N said, arms stuffed with produce bags. Harry nodded, though his attention primarily laid on Clementine’s gummy smile. Y/N snorted to herself as she quickly shuffled off to the dairy section — the duo were two peas in a pod, but she didn't think she would want it any other way. 

Glancing down at her watch, she put a pep in her step as she walked back to the produce aisle. They had about 15 minutes before Clem started getting antsy and whiney about her pre-dinner nap, and she didn’t want her to get upset on their walk home. 

Only, when she turned the aisle, Harry and Clementine weren’t alone anymore — no, there were two women standing with them, cooing over their daughter. 

“She’s so precious! How old is she?” one of them asked.

“Ah, almost eight months,” Harry replied bashfully, petting down the tuft of brown curls at the top of Clementine’s head. Y/N clenched her jaw. Why had he taken her hat off? It was supposed to protect her from the rain! 

“So sweet,” the other woman grinned, reaching out to thumb over Clementine’s puffy cheek. The vision sent a pang of jealousy through Y/N’s chest — her baby wasn’t some kind of doll that anyone could just touch! Clutching the produce and container of milk in her hands, Y/N all but marched over to the stroller and threw them in the bottom compartment. 

“Ready to go, honey?” 

Harry blinked at Y/N, a world of confusion swirling in the green eyes he shared with his daughter. She stayed silent and still, knuckles white from gripping the stroller handle so tightly. 

“Yeah,” he finally replied, leaning down to gently place Clementine back in her seat, “This is Y/N, Clementine’s mum.”

“Oh, your baby is so sweet! Harry was just raving about you!” one of the women nearly squealed. Y/N smiled tightly as she watched him buckle Clementine in.

“Okay, say bye bye, Clem,” Harry murmured. They’d been trying to teach her how to wave hello and goodbye, but Y/N would rather scoop her own eyeballs out than watch her do it for the first time with these women. 

In fact, she was already pushing the stroller down the end of the aisle before they could even get the word “bye” out.

Since that day about two weeks ago, it’s been constantly replaying in the back of Y/N’s brain. Even though Harry didn’t think much of it (she knows this because he immediately started talking about nonsense on the walk home), for the first time, it plucked at a chord of insecurity that she didn’t even know she had. She’d always felt fairly secure in her relationship with Harry — he’d all but begged her for this life together, and he’d been incredibly involved from the moment she got pregnant — so how is that two random strangers at the supermarket tore this out of her? 

It bothered her so deeply to the point where she did something she’d never done before: Ask Lea for relationship advice. 

“In the years I’ve known you, you have never asked me for help with a man,” Lea had said, her eyebrows raised so high they nearly met her hairline. Y/N grumbled as she wrapped her hand around her matcha, avoiding eye contact with her friend. She’d been able to sneak out for an afternoon coffee date with her while Harry took Clementine to the park. “You’re always so… sure of yourself. And you have a literal child with Harry. What gives?”

Y/N shrugged as she rubbed her lips together nervously. “You should’ve seen the way those girls were all over him. It was… gross.”

“It’s normal to feel jealous, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“I am not jealous,” she muttered, “I just… he introduced me as Clementine’s mom. Don’t you think I’m a bit… more than that to him?”

“Of course you are. But you’ve never had that conversation, have you?”

“Like you said, we have a baby together. What else could you need?”

Lea smirked, “That’s all that you need. But he probably needs a bit more confirmation than that.”

Y/N bristled as she stuck her straw between her lips, taking a long sip. 

“He knows we’re in a relationship, doesn’t he?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, “Dom and I used to hear all the gossip about you two before Clem was born, but since then, I think he’s just been focused on making sure you and her are both taken care of.”

“So what do I do?” Y/N asked through a sigh, leaning back against the worn leather of the booth. 

“Talk to him,” Lea said easily, “But… maybe don’t do it in your rough-and-tough-Y/N way. Maybe… make it a little special. He likes that, y’know? Little romantic gestures?”

Y/N scrunched her face. Lea was right — Harry was all about the little things, like surprising her with flowers or waking her up with breakfast in bed on the weekends. And while Y/N was positive she didn’t have a romantic bone in her body, she’d certainly attempt to find one if it meant making Harry happy. 

. . .

A few days later, Harry walks into his shared apartment with Y/N to the scent of something delicious. 

“Y/N?” he calls as he toes his shoes off in the entryway. They weren’t due for company, were they? He doesn’t think so, but with eight months straight of four to five hours of sleep each night, he had trouble remembering anything that wasn’t Clementine-related. 

He follows the fragrance into the kitchen, where Y/N is standing over the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of some sort of sauce. She jumps, hand over her heart, when he goes to greet her. 

“Jesus fuck, you scared me!” she exclaims, the wooden spoon nearly clattering to the floor. He smirks and lets out an amused laugh as he walks towards her, observing the array of pans on the stovetop. 

“What’s all this for?” he asks. Y/N presses a hand to his muscular chest and attempts to block him from seeing anything. 

“I’m making you dinner,” she mumbles, nibbling on her bottom lip, “Clem’s with my sister for the night.”

“Oh?”

She nods. 

“Did I forget a special occasion?”

She shakes her head.

“Then how come I’m getting spoiled tonight?”

Her cheeks warm at that, but they both pretend her blush is invisible. “I just wanted to do something… romantic for you.” 

“Romantic?” he repeats the word like it’s a bizarre concept and it makes a pit form in Y/N’s stomach, “That’s… sweet of you. Thank you.”

She nods, albeit a bit robotically. “Um. Yeah. It’ll be ready in like 5 minutes.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, “Do you want me to set the table?”

She shakes her head bashfully and Harry raises an eyebrow. “I already did that.”

Her demure nature makes a smile form at the edges of his lips and he reaches out to press a hand to her hip, squeezing gently. 

“Y’okay?” he asks softly, tilting his head to look at her. “You seem nervous.”

Y/N shrugs and it supplies him with a tepid answer. “I just wanna make this nice for you.”

His heart breaks a bit at that and he ducks lower to catch her lips in a short, sweet kiss. PDA isn’t irregular for them — not with touch being Harry’s primary love language — so it’s unsurprising to be on the receiving end of one of his dizzying kisses, even if it ends quicker than she’d like. 

“This is already so special to me. I do miss Clem, though.”

She snorts at that as he brushes his nose against hers. “Of course you do. She’s your mini me.”

“Except when she’s making that grumpy little face. That’s all you.”

Y/N lightly bats at his chest before mumbling out to go sit down in the dining room. 

Harry’s eyes widen when he sees the candlelit table — he can’t remember the last time they ate on actual plates, always opting for take-out containers or paper plates for the sake of convenience. He swallows as he sits down and listens to Y/N shuffle around the kitchen. He hears her curse, followed by what sounds like her emptying pasta into a colander — she always burns herself whenever she does that, and he can envision the slight grimace that appears on her face. 

Just as he’s getting antsy and preparing himself to ask if she needs any help, Y/N appears from the kitchen with a big bowl of pasta. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she places it on the table, then stands up straight. She looks like a soldier waiting to be told to return to their duties.

“Um… I made us that roasted red pepper pasta you like.” she says, wringing her hands out in front of her. “I hope that’s fine.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, gesturing to the seat across from him, “Sit down. You look like you’re gonna have an aneurysm. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Y/N grumbles as she sits down, and the sound of her grouchy voice makes him chuckle as he grabs her bowl to serve her, “I know I’m not, like… the most romantic person, or even the easiest person to be around, so it’s important to me that I make this really good for you.”

“I hate when you say that,” he murmurs before placing her full bowl in front of her. He moves to serve himself, “You’re the easiest person I’ve ever been around. You’re a great mum and I love being a parent with you.”

Y/N swallows as she listens to him, leaving her food untouched. He watches her and takes a bite of his pasta, chewing slowly. 

“Is that… all I am to you?” she asks softly with low eyes. Harry furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“Like… am I still just a co-parent to you?” 

He sets his fork down and uses his napkin to wipe his mouth. “Well, we never really talked about it, I guess. But you know you’re more than that to me.”

“You’re more than just Clem’s dad to me,” she continues. “And it kinda hurt my feelings when you introduced me to those girls as ‘Clementine’s mom’ a few weeks back.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Oh. I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I know.”

His heart strains at the thought of hurting her feelings, but he also knows that what happened in the supermarket was weeks ago. Had she been sitting on it and thinking about it all this time?

“I never want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N. To be honest, I don’t know how to refer to you but… I’d say you’re my partner, yeah? You’re my teammate in raising our beautiful girl and I love getting to live life with you.”

Her heart thumps rapidly in her chest. “But what if… what if you called me your girlfriend, too?”

Harry’s silent for a moment. He reaches out to place his hand on her knee, squeezing softly.

“Would you want that?” he asks. “I’ll only do it if that’s what you want.”

She looks up at him and nods. Her eyes are glassy and it makes Harry’s chest tighten. Suddenly, he needs to be closer to her, so he stands up and scoops her into his arms. At first she rejects his touch, mumbling out sentiments about still having postpartum weight, but Harry shushes her and pulls her into his lap. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Y/N.” he murmurs. He leans up and presses a chaste kiss to the side of her neck. She shivers and he keeps his hands as solid anchors on her hips. 

“I want you to call me your girlfriend,” she says, lifting her gaze to look at him. “I don’t want you to entertain any other person or let them flirt with you or touch our baby. I just want it to be the three of us, always.”

If Harry’s being honest, he would have been content with living in this gray, in-between area with Y/N for the rest of their lives. He was happy — so incredibly happy to be in her life, to sleep next to her every night, to raise a gorgeous baby girl with her. He felt fortunate to be there for every moment, good and bad — but he would be a liar if he said he hadn’t been waiting for the day where she told him what was really going on in that pretty head of hers.

He presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings,” he says quietly, soft fingertips smoothing over the expanse of her hip, “You’re my girlfriend, okay? Not just Clemmie’s mum. You’re so much more than that.”

She nods her head and Harry smiles gently at how flustered she continues to be — it’s a side of her that he rarely sees, and the sight makes a low chuckle sound from deep in his chest. 

“You’re silly,” he mumbles against the shell of her ear. “Isn’t that what you are? A silly baby desperate to be mine?”

Y/N bristles and swallows harshly, keeping her gaze low in his lap. His smirk only grows as he begins to press slow kisses along her jaw and down to her neck. Her eyes flutter closed. 

“Everyone thinks you’re this pretty, grumpy girl, but I know better than that,” he continues, sliding his hands beneath her tee-shirt to feel her warm skin, “You’re loving and kind. The best mum I’ve ever seen. The best partner and the best girlfriend, too. Isn’t that right, mama?”

She gasps wetly and he feels her thighs threaten to clench, but his hips prevent her from getting any relief. He hums, satisfied with her response and, in a quick movement, pulls her shirt from her body and tosses it to the floor. Her swollen breasts sit prettily on her chest and he tries his best not to groan at the sight. 

“Don’t tease,” she mewls. He chuckles as she grasps at the fabric of his own tee-shirt, the soft material in the tight clutch of her knuckles. 

“Need me to fill you up?” he asks, though he knows the answer is an obvious and resounding yes. They haven’t had actual sex in at least a month, not with Clementine occupying 99% of their time. Even if he’s attempting to play it cool, his cock is hard and throbbing beneath layers of his clothing. He swears he can even feel the warmth of her pussy through her own clothes and it’s taking everything in him not to thrust up and grind against her. 

“Yes,” Y/N pants, shaky fingers digging beneath the waistband of his trousers to pull his length out, “S-stop playing around. You know it’s been too long.”

Harry laughs lowly and lifts his hips up to grant her enough space so she can retrieve his cock. She doesn’t even bother pushing his pants or briefs down, swallowing tightly at the sight of the ruddy tip already leaking with pre-cum. 

“Relax, baby,” he mumbles, grabbing one of her trembling hands and intertwining their fingers together, “Breathe, yeah? I’ll take care of my girl.”

Her pussy clenches at that — my girl — and she nibbles on her bottom lip eagerly when he pushes her soft shorts to the side to reveal her pussy. He wishes he had more willpower to look at what he’s been missing out on and his throat bobs when his eyes flicker down to the puffy clit tucked between her lips. He thinks they’ll both explode if he doesn’t get inside of her in the next two seconds, so he gives his cock a pump before he positions himself beneath her and slowly pushes in. 

Immediately, she whimpers out and he stalls, his free hand pressing rigidly into the skin of her thigh. 

“Y’alright?” 

“Yeah,” she whispers, “Tight fit.”

“I know.” he mutters, glancing up at her to read her expression. “Do you need me to pull out?”

She instantly shakes her head, “No, no. Keep going.”

Harry leans up to seal their lips in a messy, wet kiss as he continues pushing in as slowly as he can. He supposes he should’ve spent more time stretching her out, but if there’s one thing he’s learned about Y/N over the past year, it’s that she’s always eager and ever determined to take him, even if it’s been weeks since their last time together.

When he’s finally all the way in, his balls snug against her bum, their kiss slows, though it doesn’t seem like Y/N has any plans to separate their mouths. He doesn’t move a muscle, even if he knows his cock is throbbing from the tightness of her pussy. And then, after what seems like an eternity, she nods.

Slowly, he begins to fuck up inside of her and breathy moans depart from her swollen lips. Harry’s mouth catches each one, punctuating every whimper with a gentle peck. 

“There you go, mama, take my cock. You’re doing so good, aren’t you?”

She only responds with a lilting whimper and he moans, feeling the way her pussy clenches around his length. It’s not the dirtiest sex they’ve had — not by a long shot — but god, if it doesn’t feel incredible knowing that they’re completely devoted to one another.

“You make me feel so good,” she mewls, making his eyes nearly roll back, “I love your cock— ‘s so good, Harry, want— want you to give me another baby.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, squeezing her hips hard, “Can’t just fucking say that stuff, baby. I’ll bust before you even cum.”

“D-don’t care,” she shudders, but he can tell she’s reaching her peak by the way her thighs begin to tremble, each of her muscles tightening. “Cum inside me, m-make me a mommy again.”

His chest vibrates with a deep groan and he reaches between them to pinch at her pearly clit, rubbing it in quick, tight circles. He’s seconds away from bursting himself, but he refuses to finish before she has a chance to. 

It barely takes a few loops around the bundle of nerves before she’s shaking in his lap, her pussy tensing around his length as she moans out his name over and over again. It’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard and he presses his forehead against her sweaty shoulder, shuddering as her orgasm triggers his own. As requested, he pumps his cock deep inside of her as he comes, pushing his seed as far as it’ll go. She whimpers from the sensation as pants fall from her lips, shivering every time he thrusts another rope of cum into her.

They’re both shaking by the time both of their orgasms taper off. Harry wraps his arms around her sweaty form, pulling her chest against his. 

“You’re mine, yeah?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You and Clem. We’re a family.”

Y/N nods, echoing his words. “Yours.”

They settle into a comfortable silence; Harry’s softening cock still inside. He’s unsure of how how long they stay there, but he does know that they’ll have to move eventually so he can clean her up. It’s only then that she sits up to look at him, her eyes soft and tired. 

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

“Will you get me Plan B tomorrow?” she asks, biting her lip. “I think Clem is… more than enough for me right now.”

He laughs and nods his head. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow.”

[c-nstantine]

HERE ME OUT ON THIS ONE

So imagine you get Jason to step away from Red Hooding for a bit for his own health and your happiness. He needs an outlet, now what is it, you may ask.

TikTok

He’s basically the dude version of Nara Smith, but snarkier. Making shit from scratch because he loves his wife.

Ofc, people would make edits and stuff because they find him hot, but he doesn’t care (bc HE LOVES HIS WIFE)

He’d be like “so today I’m making pasta at 5am in the fucking morning because my wife’s hungry and I love her. She asks me to bark and I ask in what breed.”

Had to get that off my chest 😍

🥔-anon

potato anon, you never cease to amaze me with you mind.

It started out as just cooking videos. He was just trying new recipes from scratch and posted them. Slowly it became just him recording the things that he does for Y/N.

"It's hot as fuck but my wife has been wanting mulch redone so here we are,"

"My wife got sick because she didn't listen when I told her to wear jacket so we're making chicken noodle soup while she's sleeping,"

"This wasn't on the grocery list but Y/N demolishes these cookies so we're fucking getting them duh"

"The missus is have a hard time at work so we're making her favorite cake before she gets back."

Let the comments say some bullshit about how she doesn't appreciate him. He's going off on that one commenter and no one ever questions it again.

[thefandomdirtymind]

Casual

18 +

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Part 2

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering NSFW The Small Favor - SFW The Mermaid Dream - SFW The Magic of a Kiss

A/N IMPORTANT: I didn't know exactly why but I wanted to write that fun and casual conversation between Sanji and reader remembering their sexy time. But I had to put a little bit of difficulties in it and I hope you will like it. I think to do a second part but I'm not sure yet...

Warning : Mention of a lot of sexual stuff : Oral Man ! and Female ! giving receiving, small bondage, penetration, bruises.

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

---

The golden light of the sunrise was reflecting in the calm water when Sanji put his feet in the restaurant. Redressing his freshly knotted tie, entering the kitchen like if he wasn’t fifteen minutes late, he suddenly stops on his track. At the instant he saw you, he knew he was screwed. 

Not that you looked at him directly, way too busy with the prep for the approaching brunch, neither that you seem mad ,even if your chopped carrots should've been smaller. In fact, he clearly recalled that when he had left your bed this morning, kissing your lips one last time, your naked form reaching for his warmth. You looked quite satisfied and relaxed. 

It was not either a sudden burst of love who struck him, even if he always had affection for you, that night was from the start nothing but casual sex. 

No, the reason he knew he was himself in deep shit wasn’t either because as he watched you, he could remember every inch of your skin he had feverishly kissed and bite. The problem is if Zeff discovers it. After all, even being his sous chef and prodigy couldn’t help him with the fact that he had fucked all night long his mentor daughter. 

" Don’t stay there like if the kitchen was on fire, little eggplant, put on your uniform and start helping " The man himself ordered, busy in his own corner.

Turning your gaze of your carrot to observe Sanji, you smiled. 

" Good morning Sanji " You said, your tone letting know nothing of your previous meeting in the dark. 

" Good Morning Y/N " He replied, as he put on his white jacket, a thin smile you didn’t quite know, of his lips.

" Did you sleep well, you seem a little bit…tired" You sweetly replied, returning to your carrots. 

" Yeah I had a short night…" He confessed, watching you, a warning in his eyes. 

" If you would stick to the menu, you wouldn’t be up all night thinking about some recipe I won’t allow in the restaurant and sleep like everybody else. " Zeff declared, lifting the heavy potato sack. 

" If we didn’t serve the same stuff everyday that restaurant would be less shitty " The blond retorted, starting to peel the vegetables, his anxiety slowly melting as he returned to his usual fight with the old man.  

— 

It seemed an eternity before you could remove your cooking clothes. Due to the celebration yesterday, many cooks were sick, making your father and the other employers double their shift. Like if you needed it, with the little sleep Sanji and you had. But, as you return to the empty kitchen, already dreaming of the softness of your bed, you notice the blond chef still busy chopping mushrooms.

" What are you doing ? " You couldn’t help yourself to ask, curious as to why he hadn’t headed to his bed for a well deserved night of sleep. " You should go to bed I’m pretty sure those mushroom will still be there tomorrow "

" Well, I kind of have a hard time trying to get out of my head the idea of your dad discovering what I have done to you" He replied unamused, stress and guilt clearly eating him from the inside. " You see I have a sentimental attache to most of my limbs and other parts" 

" Sanji, I would never tell him, we have been super discret and if I recall it clearly you aren’t alone in this. I had pretty vivid memories of sucking your dick until you begged me in french to stop " You teased, sitting on the counter. 

" Like if you hadn't melted at the minute I put my mouth on you" He mocked, this time his tone almost like his usual confident self. As he abandoned his task to face you. " And I really had to remind you that cute gasp you did when I push my finger on that sweet spot you never reach yourself " 

" It’s true it was a great discover, that you proudly celebrate " You conceded showing the hickeys on your clavicle "Maybe you didn’t gasped, but, I heard you a lot moaning and groaning, particularly when I was on top" 

" I have no excuse, your vision was magnificent and the feeling was incredible ." He replied " But I still regret the death of my tie " 

" It was for a great cause, that orgasm was one of the best I had. It’s a good thing your hand had muffled my scream because I was pretty sure I would have awake all the ship" You laugh, gladly remembering being hang by the hand to the wooden bedpost as Sanji was supported your leg around his hips thrusting in you as his life depended of it. Lucky for both of you, your bedroom was at the far end of the bedrooms corridor with no express neighbor.“ I will buy you a new one since I broke it. Even if it’s, you, who had bring it in bed "

" No need, I have many that look similar. Nobody will notice. But I will have to be careful to not be seen topless for a while. I'm glad your nails are short for cooking, my back looks like I had a fight with a cat over a fish. "

" It’s your fault, my leg was already shaking and you didn’t stop, I was on the edge of passing out ! "You protest laughing. " You deserve the scratch for making me lose my mind." 

" It’s an honor I accept gladly “ He proudly said, joining you in your laugh. " I admit that my own orgasm was way better than usual, I remember you moaning quietly in my ear even if I’m not quite sure what you said." 

" Sanji, at this point I’m pretty sure I could’ve whispered to you the recipe of an Apple Pie and you would have come. You were so close, trying to keep your control, I still have a faint bruise of your hand on my hip." 

" Isn't it when I eat you out during round two that I left that mark ? I had to keep you in place pretty hard, you were rolling your hips and didn’t want to stop moving "He recalls, a huge grin now on his face. " I still can heard you - Please Sanji don’t stop, don’t stop " 

"Ha ha ha " You rolled your eyes, still smiling at the memories." Sanji, I think we both really need to sleep, but I had to know...are we okay ? I will not talk to my dad about it, you will not too and we will live with that happy memories without a problem. We are just two friend and coworker who’s during the anniversary of their restaurant decide to casually fucked. Right ? " 

" Yes, exactly," He confirmed, cleaning his area. 

" Perfect, good night Sanji " You said, kissing his cheeks before jumping off the counter and exiting the kitchen. 

" Good night Y/N " The blond replied, watching you go.

Now he knew  he was totally screwed. Even though he hadn't truly lied, he was now reassured that your father will never know. He knew that he wasn’t clearly okay with this casual arrangement anymore. He knew at first that it wasn’t the idea of the century but after that night and the sweet way you look at him, always caring for him when nobody seem to, he couldn’t hide the issue anymore, he was slowly falling for you and he already know it, it's will hurt like hell.  

---

Part two ?

[saylorsaysstop]

Third Date Etiquette | Bucky Barnes

a/n: Bucky is def my comfort character and writing for him when I haven't in so long is AHHHH. please enjoy 💗

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

The ingredients lay before you on the table. Potatoes, onions, garlic, carrots, and most importantly–chicken. Your nerves were wracked as you studied the contents of the recipe over and over, practically committing it to memory. It was your third date with the extremely captivating and handsome man, Bucky Barnes. You two quite literally ran into one another at the local Starbucks–you with a very sweet and frothy latte, Bucky with a bitter iced black coffee. 

“Hi,” Bucky had said to you, piercing blue eyes like windows to the soul. You immediately took comfort. Weird, but you felt safe and you hadn’t been in his presence all but for 30 seconds. 

“Hi,” you answer with a sheepish smile, admiring your hands. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” 

He smiled in the friendliest of ways. It wasn’t every day you slammed into the hard chest of a man who looked as though he just stepped off of the latest Men’s GQ issue. His scent was homey, earthy. Woodsy and aromatic, he smelled like citrus and sex. The good kind of sex, too. Mouth-watering sex, the kind that will have your toes curling and aching at a memory recalled throughout your normal day. 

Introductions were quickly exchanged and you were shocked when the stranger who you found to be Bucky asked for your number. By the end of the day, he asked you to dinner, and now just a few weeks later this was lucky date number three. And you offered to cook for him. Your grandmother said that a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. So with that information tucked away nicely in your brain, you asked if he had any food allergies, and mentioned chicken, and Bucky was immediately on board. He offered to bring the wine. 

As you began to prepare your chicken and cut up your veggies, you heard the knock on your apartment door. A soft smile spans across your face as you wash up your hands and race for the door, eager like a teenager falling in love for the first time. Inhaling slowly to try and dampen the quick thud of your heart, you check your reflection in the mirror and ensure you look presentable. Opening the door, Bucky stands there in a pair of dark jeans that hug thick thighs wonderfully, a navy blue v-neck tee, and his jacket. In his hand is a bouquet of roses and the bottle of wine he promised to bring.

“Hey, Doll,” he smiles. It didn’t take him long to give you a sweet little pet name, and ‘doll’ was so fitting, as if he came straight out of the 1950s. 

“Hello, handsome.” you say breathlessly, ushering him to come inside. He steps over the threshold and pops a gentle kiss onto your cheeks, his warm lips and slight scruff a perfect mixture that sends your heart into overdrive and an ocean down below. 

You take the flowers and wine from him, laughing over your shoulder as he comments on your sweet little apartment. “It’s very cozy in here.” he laughs, admiring the bookshelf in the corner filled to the brim with all of your favorite reads. From historical romance to paranormal, all the way to romantasy and the occasional dark romance, you had something for every mood. 

“Thank you!” you beam. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Bucky felt his heart soften at that. It’s not much but it’s home. There was nothing more he wanted in this world than to feel at home. To be quite honest, he hadn’t felt the essence of home since Steve, and he wasn’t so certain that he’d ever get to experience it again. But then there you were… bumping into him in that coffee shop. With your bright smile, ease of conversation, and breathtaking beauty. He was smitten and starstruck by you. 

“The flowers are gorgeous, Bucky. Thank you so much.” You exhale as you place the vase of water and flowers as a centerpiece on your kitchen table. Bucky looked around, noticing the prepped chicken sitting in a stainless steel roasting pan. Veggies were lined around it like a little bed for the chicken to rest on. He smiled to himself, eager to have a woman offer to cook for him on a date. It wasn’t something he was used to and he wouldn’t take for granted the sweet gesture. 

“I’m glad you like them.” He answers. You look at his jacket and laugh.

“Go on, make yourself comfy. Take your coat off. You can lay it over one of the chairs.” 

Bucky wets his lips as he shimmies out of his leather and lays it over the back of the wooden chair as you instructed. He admired the full view of you for the first time tonight. You wore a dress that dropped just to your knees and a pair of blush pink flats. You wanted something semi-formal but comfortable. The dress hugged your curves and Bucky’s mouth watered at the image of his hands tracing every single one, committing them to memory. He opened and closed the fist of his metal limb, his eyes fluttering shut. He wanted desperately to know how you tasted and not just what lay beneath that dress and panties he coould only imagine looked like–but your mouth. Your mouth looked so sweet and delectable, lips that were made to fit perfectly against his.

“Do you need help with anything?” Bucky asked, gazing around at the nicely-kept kitchen. You had cleaned up as you went along cooking this evening. 

“Yeah… You can make yourself useful.” You smirk with a playful tone to your voice. “You can open that bottle of wine while I grab us two glasses… You grabbed my favorite.” 

Bucky laughed. “I remembered you ordering it on our first date.” 

You stalled in front of the cabinets, the memory of that first day clouding your mind. How much of a gentleman he was despite everyone saying that chivaraly was dead. He pulled out your chair, let you wear his jacket on the way out because it was practically freezing, and he walked you to your doorstep where he kissed you goodnight. Not on the lips, but on the cheek, because he wanted to set the standard with you–that you were worth more than jumping headfirst. He wanted to feel you out, take his time. After all, you would be the first woman he’d grown to fancy in a very long time… and after Sam’s whistling over the picture Bucky showed him of you once he confiscated your socials, Sam was hollering for Bucky to quickly lock it down. 

“You paid attention.” you giggle, realizing that the wine glasses were sitting on the very top shelf. Grumbling, you were about to grab the stepstool before a warm hand ghosted across yours and a hard chest was felt against your back. Bucky effortlessly grabbed two glasses and locked eyes with you, his eyes not helping but to drop to your lips. 

If you weren’t trying to impress him with your cooking skills, you would’ve forgotten dinner all together and jumped straight to dessert. 

Bucky smiled at you as he unloaded the two glasses into your grasp before he went to work on popping the cork. You were enveloped with that homey scent once more, that citrus sending a shock appeal through your loins, your eyes fluttering closed. If you weren’t paying attention to maintaining your balance, you might just pooled to the floor then and there. 

As he popped the cork and you put the chicken in the oven and set a timer on your phone, he offered you a glass. 

“Cheers,” You smiles, clinking your glass to his and taking a sip. The feel of the wine on your tongue was smooth and silky, causing you to ponder if Bucky’s tongue felt the same. You lick your lips as you sat the glass down and admire him. 

“What?” Bucky asks.

Smirking, you shake your head. “I’m just surprised is all.” 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the statement. “Surprised?”

You nod your head. “How I happened to score running directly into the arms of someone this good looking.” 

Your comment on his appearance sent a flush down the back of his neck. Bucky Barnes was not the kind of man that blushed, but he suddenly felt an odd sense of heat rise on the apples of his cheeks. He tucked his tongue into the pocket of his cheek and chuckled, cursing under his breath at how a woman, for the first time in his life, had the upper hand on him. 

“You’re all for flattery tonight.” Bucky chuckles. 

“It’s the truth.” You don’t back away. That was another thing that pulled Bucky into your orbit. He loved that you said anything that came to mind. It didn’t matter how outlandish or awkward it could sound, he loved it. You spoke your mind. You were the epitome of fearless and he knew he could use some more of that in his life. 

The longer you two stood there and the silence grew, it was one of comfort. You both drank from your glasses and Bucky knew that if he didn’t take his chance now, he wouldn’t ever do it. He stepped closer and circled a hand around your waist, dropping low on your hip. The feel of his large hand through the fabric of your dress sent a jolt of electricity down your spine as you peered up at him. 

“Jumping to dessert first?” You dare to ask.

“Doll, dessert has been on my mind since I woke up this morning.” Bucky drawled, his voice rich and deep. His warm breath fanned over your bottom lip as he searched your eyes, waiting for the invitation, eager for your confirmation that you too wanted some dessert before dinner. 

Grinning wildly, the tip of your head and the subtle pushing into his hard frame was all he needed. Bucky caught your thin between his fingertips and dipped low, his lips slotting against yours. 

Perfect fit. 

His lips molded to yours. They were soft and pleasant and warm and everything you could’ve dreamed of. He kissed you with such softness that it stole the breath from your lungs. You unhooked your fingers from around the stem of your wineglass and raised them, laying them over his shoulders. You took the leap of courage and deepened the kiss, being the first to run your tongue across his bottom lip, asking for permission to infiltrate.

Bucky opened his mouth a little wider and your tongues touched which sent both of you into a frenzy. A low grunt of approval climbed up Bucky’s throat followed by a breathy moan leaving yours. He turned you both so that the curve of your back was pressed into the island. He pushed forward, your body folding slightly across the granite as he kissed you deeper, kissed you as if you were the oxygen that was snatched from his lungs, kissed you like there would be no tomorrow. 

“Bucky,” You gasp his name as you pull away for a breath of fresh air. But you were so desperate to kiss him again. You never wanted to stop. 

Bucky’s eyes flickered with a deep sense of want and you had a strong feeling this date might just go to third base. 

He smirked down at you, the playfulness of his eyes putting you on high alert. His thumb grinded into your hip and in a flash, he had you lifted and your bottom on the counter. Wedging his body between your knees, a shrill of laughter escaped you as you drape your arms over his shoulders. Bucky comes back in, diving head first for more, this time with a lot more passion.

He didn’t hold back. Bucky’s hands gripped your sides and danced up until he was grabbing your face, the gasp flooding your lips at the mix of cold of his metal hand and warmth of his flesh one. You groan louder against his mouth as you tangle your legs around his waist and locking your ankles. 

“How much longer on that timer?” Bucky asked between deepening kisses. 

You glance down at your phone. “30 minutes.” You giggle. 

Talk about some third date etiquette. You wanted this more than anything.

“30 is all I need, Doll.” Bucky laughs, lifting you off the counter and leading you to the couch where he climbs on top of you, his hard body pressing against yours.

[sovietpostcards]

Hi, would you mind sharing a recipe for authentic Olivier Salad?

If by authentic you mean the 19th century French chef salad with langoustine - I have no idea. :) However, here's the cheapest and most basic recipe of the olivye salad also known as Russian salad.

Ingredients:

boiled potatoes

bologna

canned peas

cucumbers (fresh or salted/preserved)

hardboiled eggs

(optional) boiled carrots

mayo

Use about the same amount of each ingredient, customized to your liking.

Tips:

Potatoes are boiled in jacket and later pealed.

Bologna can be swapped for boiled chicken meat, boiled beef or another sort of meat. The most typical kind of bologna to use is Doktorskaya sausage.

Cucumbers can be fresh or preserved (salted in brine). Pickles (with vinegar) are not generally used.

Carrot is very optional and there are wars about it in each family. I personally hate boiled carrots in olivye.

Add some chopped spring onions or dill if you like.

Cut everything in cubes, mix and generously add mayo.

Ingredients can be prepared (boiled) on the day before you make the salad.

This meme makes a good recipe card. :)

PS: the name Russian salad is not used in Russia

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 7th: Wayne | The Seeker - The Who | Warm a/n: vampire!eddie, eddie & wayne, implied steddie. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

Wayne takes Eddie in officially when he’s 13 years old. It’s winter in Indiana and the kid shows up without so much as a jacket. 

Who doesn’t buy their kid a jacket in Indiana winter? 

Well, Clyde Munson, apparently. 

He’s dropped off at Wayne’s trailer with no coat and refuses to shake Wayne’s hand when he offers it out in a gesture of good will. Eddie’s a skinny kid, a little scraggly and a lot ornery, but nothing Wayne knows he can’t fix with some hot dogs and a few hugs.

He’s almost always cold though, no matter how much weight he puts on, or however many layers he wears. Wayne makes sure he has a good coat and tries his best to keep the trailer warm but it’s tough in these midwest winters. 

Trailers hold the heat in the summer, and unfortunately, the chill in the winter. 

He takes the opportunity to Eddie how to make the best hot chocolate, even the occasional tea, and passes along his favorite soup and stew recipes. Grandma Munson taught Wayne and Clyde when they were kids, and it’s a goddamn shame that Eddie was robbed of making those memories, too. The intention was to share family recipes but Wayne’s pretty sure that Clyde’s forgotten the old peach kitchen in its entirety. Eddie loves them though, all of them– potato soup, chicken noodle, beef stew. 

They keep him and his heart warm at the same time. 

Wayne watches Eddie grow up, watches him struggle in school and with himself, but he knows his boy is trying. He hadn’t had the easiest start to life so Wayne gives him yards and yards of slack when he fails his senior year twice, when he grows his hair out, when he plays that racket at all hours of the night, when he’s brought back to the trailer park by Chief Hopper instead of to the station. He has an agreement with his old fishing buddy, and Chief Hopper knows Eddie’s misguided but harmless. 

But then Chief Hopper dies, or so he thinks, and Eddie doesn’t have this protection from the closed-minded townspeople who see him as a leper, a stain on their town. 

Eddie’s accused of murder and Wayne knows that his boy who only drinks hot chocolate out of his Garfield mug and shivers until there’s two thick blankets thrown over his shoulders didn’t do it. Not when he’s constantly talking about protecting the younger kids of Hellfire Club from the “dystopian nightmare of normalcy” and taking a cut of his weekly dealing profits to buy cat food for the park strays. 

Wayne understands why Eddie runs, but it leaves him sitting alone, wondering, afraid. Eddie’s his to keep safe, no matter how old he gets, and now he can’t. He can’t protect him from the town, he can’t protect him from the media, he can’t protect him from the basketball team or the earthquake that follows. There’s no way to link them logically, but he knows in his heart of hearts that Eddie’s disappearance and the odd series of catastrophic earthquakes are related. 

It only gets worse when Dustin gives him the bloody guitar pick, that red one Eddie wears daily cold and sticky in his calloused hands. No one will tell him the truth, but Eddie is a survivor. If there was a way to climb out of a ditch or from under a tree, he would’ve. Hell, these friends of Eddie’s that Wayne meets in the aftermath look like his company coming back from the War. 

The Harrington boy in particular tells him the same story: Eddie was lost when the Earth splintered open and he pushed Dustin out of the way in a show of self-sacrifice, but his eyes seem desperate, unfocused, lost. 

Wayne knows this was no earthquake and goes searching. 

Every night for months, Wayne goes out into the woods and looks. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, exactly, but he ignores everyone who tells him to let it go and work through his grief. He doesn’t need to mourn until he knows for sure that Eddie’s dead and he doesn’t. Not when the Harrington boy looks like there’s a truth beating at his chest as he watches him with a kind of pity that doesn’t match the story. 

It’s a sweltering summer night when he heads into the woods looking for answers for the last time. He and his flashlight search the brush, look beneath bushes and behind gnarled trees. An owl hoots in the distance and Wayne hears the snapping of twigs behind him. 

Wayne turns to face whatever approaches him, frighteningly calm. After the past few months, he’d welcome a bear. 

What he finds instead is Eddie. Or, well, a version of Eddie. His eyes are less chocolate brown and more red velvet, and he was always a pale kid but Wayne doesn’t remember the bluish bags beneath his eyes. He’s still Eddie– there’s something different about him, but it doesn’t matter. Not to Wayne. 

“Eddie?” Wayne steps forward. 

“Hey, old man.” His voice echoes, almost musical, but it breaks all the same. “I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t keep you in the dark anymore. A lot of things happened, but I’m… well, not quite alive but I’m okay. Or, at least I’m gonna be.” 

“Son, what the hell is going on? Let me help.” Wayne’s heart pounds in his rib cage, hard enough to be felt in his stomach and heard in his ears. 

Eddie’s eyes dart down to Wayne’s chest and back up, shaking his head rapidly. “It’s a long story, and it’s not over yet. But when it is, I promise I’ll tell you. You just– you can’t tell anyone about this or that you saw me. You’ll be in danger.” 

“Does anyone else know?” He asks, but he knows the answer. Suddenly, Steve's reactions all make sense. 

Eddie nods. “He wants to tell you too, but it’s not time yet. Just, please, listen to them. If they tell you to leave town, do it. If they tell you not to trust someone, don’t.” 

“I’m just supposed to accept that you’re alive but not really, and trust the people who kept this a secret from me blindly?” 

“Yes. I know how it sounds, but they’re your only allies right now. There’s a lot going on beneath Hawkins, Wayne. It might not be safe for much longer.” 

Wayne swallows and takes another step towards Eddie, watching as he flinches and crinkles his nose. “The earthquakes, right? They weren’t just earthquakes, were they?” 

Eddie sighs and lifts a hand to his nose, an old tell that he’s clearly brought into whatever new version of himself he’s become. “Just listen to them. Trust them. Please, Wayne.” 

There’s a desperation to Eddie’s voice that makes Wayne ache. He steps closer and outstretches a hand, the same one he’d offered all of those years ago when Eddie arrived, scraggly and scared at the trailer. This time though, Eddie takes it. 

His hands are still cold, and Wayne brings up his other hand to hold Eddie’s tightly between his shaking, calloused fingers. 

His boy’s always just needed a little extra warmth.

[lisenberry]

WIP Wednesday

I had a thought about Fisherman!Price a few weeks ago, and here we are.

For your first date, John invited you for a ride on his boat for some fishing and a sunset cruise along the Mersey Estuary. Although he'd say it was actually your second date.

You didn't think making out for what seemed like hours, like a couple of teenagers, in the alley behind the pub you worked at all summer was a proper date.

You were a teacher who supplemented your income cooking in your family's seaside inn during school holidays.

John really liked your great-granddad's fish batter recipe, enough to eat lunch there every day. He must've known the havoc a steady diet of fryer oil and potatoes could inflict on one's health, but you were too happy for his company to remind him. And he probably wouldn’t care anyway.

He was massive. Wide shoulders and a thick chest. He must've worked in construction or something active. He was cut not by fancy weight machines, but by hard labour.

And he must've liked you, too, because the food really wasn't anything special. Especially when your cousin forgot to set the timer and disappeared to text his girlfriend, over-cooking the whole batch of fried cod and serving it anyway.

You wondered how the place stayed open or had any customers at all when you weren't there.

He'd told you to dress comfortably and to meet him at the docks at 6pm. You weren't prepared for what awaited you when you walked up at 5:45, in a pair of cutoff shorts and a light jacket in case it got cold. A bottle of good wine poking out of your bag.

"This is your boat?"

[robsdiary]

GOOD LOOKIN’ GIRL

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

INCLUDES: loser!ellie, black!reader, masc!reader, fluff, ellie has NO game

You’d been working under your uncle, Seth. Ever since the pair of you arrived in Jackson. The late hour shifts of you two fooling around making new recipes. He had a knack for sandwiches. It was mind blowing how he’d be able to make a turkey sandwich different from the next ten times.

He wasn’t truly your uncle. He’d found you on your lonesome years ago. You were malnourished, one hand broken and damaged, the other clutching on an empty pistol like your life depended on it. Your nose bloodied, all you had to your name was bright yellow rain boots and a jacket large enough to be considered a dress on you, and your thick curls in a frizzy uncared for bun. It was astonishing you managed to last that long.

Deciding to take you along with him in pursuit of finding a place of his own. You were a tough case.

You never talked, face always holding a blank stare. You’d seen things, Seth knew, and he didn’t pry. Your eyes carried a haunted shine, something you could never shake. Being alone most of your life is just what you’d gotten used to. Your parents had decided to flee from the Louisiana Quarantine Zone. They’d been shot in the process. Your father killed on impact and your mother lasted long enough to get to the next town over. You were only ten.

You wondered in solitude with your fathers pistol. Slowly making your way into Arkansas. Being forced to use your fathers pistol for your own safety. Gunning down two runners and a man that’d been charging at you. Five bullets.

It’d been about a week. You ducking behind buildings, scavenging for anything edible. Having to narrowly escape hungers or hordes, surviving off pure perseverance and fumes clearly didn’t prove helpful for a 10 year old. You collapsed, face up at the scorching sun, you didn’t cry, just stared. Staring at nothing in particular you stomach felt as if it were twisting itself inside out. A soft groan leaving you lips as you slowly faded into unconsciousness.

Eyes opening one last time to see a figure with a beer gut standing over top of you.

So here you were. Wrapping your hundredth sandwich of the day. Handing them off to people preparing for patrol. That’s how you met Jesse.

Over a while, you began to break from your shell. You kept a small circle, a few people who volunteered to work in Jackson’s theater, putting on plays and performances when the movies available got stale. And Jesse. He mocked you for your accent, you mocked him for his, you’d sneak him extra food, have arm wrestled over the freshly polished wooden counters, and banter. You couldn’t ask for a better friend that understood you.

Your uncle seemed to think the opposite.

“You and that Jesse seems to be getting along swell.” He muttered quietly. Peeling potatoes hurriedly.

The Tipsy Bison was quiet. The wooden floorboards creaking intermittently whenever someone took a step. It was just the two of you. Prepping for open, you’d rather be doing anything else.

“He fine.” You shrugged dismissively. Washing the used cutlery and beer glasses.

“Look out for that boy. You know their type only want one thing.” He huffed. Wiping his nose against the sleeve of his shirt, continuing to peel the dirty skin.

You bit your cheek. Keeping quiet as a soft exhale left your lips. Blinking slowly, divulging into thought. Jesse was an alright guy, they got along, had fun hanging out. But you never considered him in such a way. It made you snarl and cringe at the thought, gross.

The door to the establishment opened slowly. Your head quickly wiping to the entrance. Ready to cuss out the same alcoholics that kept entering every ten minutes to question if you were open. But it was someone completely different.

Taking notice of the shorter girl who’d found her way inside. Short auburn hair being put into a lazy low bun, clothes randomly mismatched, and impressively dirty converse, soft freckles peppered her face. Her eyes quickly flickering from your face to look down at the polished table.

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you. Your brow furrowed in confusion. Waiting for her to state her business.

“Can I help you?” You questioned snappily. Cocking your head to the side, coming off more unpleasant than intended.

Her head swiftly came up. Seeming to come up from whatever daze she’d been in. Gulping and nervously clearing her throat.

“Two sandwiches, please?” She asked quietly, sounding more of a question than a order. Her voice cracked and brittle, a clear anxiousness on her face. A shake in her tone. Looking down at her hands as she played with them.

“We’re clo—”

“Nah it's good. Maria gave special orders for them.” Seth interrupted from the kitchen.

“Ellie.” A pale hand met your field of vision. Apparently so, you were left with her.

You returned the shake. Exchanging names with her. Returning back to your duties, a look of disinterest on your face. Scrubbing away at the cutlery.

Clearly, the situation was somewhat awkward. Ellie nervously shifted on her heels as your eyes bored through her soul. You weren’t one to catch onto social cues.

“So you’re friends with Jesse?” She piped up. Returning your gaze, anxious to look a way.

“We hang out time to time.” You responded dismissively. Unsure as to why she cared, specks of water from your scrubbing splashing onto your cheeks and the table

“Yeah. I see the two if you together all the time.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

You questioned. A stern look on your face as your jaw clenched. Head tilted as you watched her body language. Watching how her eyes nervously darted around the room to avoid yours. Taking a long exhale.

“I’ve just seen you around, I dunno, you seem cool.” She shrugged, a light tinge of pink on her cheeks

“I am?”

Time felt impossibly slow. Seth was able to make a sandwich in less than three minutes. It felt torturous as to how long it was taking him.

“Some friends and I were planning on sneaking out..” Ellie whispered, wide eyes peering up at you with hope.

“Jesse’ll be there…”

You choose to stay quiet. Not used to being around much people. You weren’t the social setting type. But that and spending your off week peeling potatoes and washing dishes. The choice was clear.

Uneven footsteps could be heard from behind you. Seth lugging two sandwiches in his hands. A thin lipped smile as he handed them off the the auburn haired girl.

“Two steak sandwiches.”

“Thanks, Joel will love ‘em.”

Silence fell between the two of you. Ellie biting her bottom lip, Seth standing wide with both hands on his hips, and you, straight faced and stiff.

Seth looked between the pair of you. Analyzing the both of you, Ellie’s poker face subpar at best.

“Right. Well, best get back to work.” He smiled at Ellie, softly patting your shoulder and turning away.

Ellie watched intently as Seth hobbled away. Turning her attention back to you as he turned the corner. A shy smile on her face as she looked up at you expectantly.

“Think about it. Alright? You could bring your boyfriend or whatever, and it’ll be fun.”She nervously stammered, voice slowly trailing off. Waiting for you to acknowledge her not so subtle inquiry.

“Boyfriend?” You questioned, tilting your head cluelessly. Your tone dull.

It was hard for anyone to truly have a conversation with you. A difficult girl to crack. The tension between you was palpable. You on the other hand, none the wiser.

“I’ll come.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up. A dorky grin etching across her face. A soft uncontrollable giggle leaving her lips

“Alone.” You clarified. Arms crossed against your chest defensively, for what? You weren’t sure.

She smiled like a child. Feeling giddy enough to race around the bar. Settling on controlling herself.

“Okay, i’ll see you around— tonight! I’ll see you tonight and around.” She placed an emphasis on the ‘and’. A blush creeping across her face as she slowly crept towards the door.

“Bye..”

“Bye, Ellie.”

She pushed open the door. Scurrying out of sight. You watched from the windows as she walked to the stables. A small pep in her step.

You felt.. odd. Blinking irregularly, you’d never interacted with a person like this. It felt nice, enjoyable even.

Hearing familiars rough footsteps heard from behind you. A calloused hand landed on your shoulder. Seth’s eyes following yours.

“I know a cat fight when I see it.” His voice rasped. Eyes narrowed as he watched Ellie practically skip away.

“Don’t fight over that, Jesse. There’s better guys here, you’ll find the one.” He gently patted your shoulder, walking off.

You shook your head in amusement, Gripped the dish rag tightly. Brows knit together. Something that could be considered a smile etching across your lips.

You looked forward to tonight.

[punkyarabella]

Simple Enough

Summary: You've been single for too long so your best friend forces you to attend a cooking class. But you're not the only one here against your will.

Warnings: none, only fluff

1400+ words

Masterlist

You sighed as you looked up at the bright sign on the front of the building, advertising the cooking classes your best friend made you sign up for. Leah was concerned, you had been single for more than a year now, and showed no interest in joining the dating scene. She figured a cooking class would be a good start to meet some people.

Leah swore up and down that she would come with you, but of course, you had been waiting for ten minutes, and still no sign of the traitor.

You

You're not coming are you?

Leah

Sorry, have fun 💋

You

🖕

Huffing, you put your phone back in your purse, and glanced at the doors again, the nerves twisting in your stomach.

On your right, a car slowed down to let out a passenger.

"I hate you, you know that, right?" The man on the sidewalk grunted through the open window.

"I promise you'll love me!" The driver laughed, before leaving.

The man turned to look at the building, and at you. Because you were still staring. He seemed huge compared to the small car he just stepped out of, his large shoulders clad in leather, just like his hands, dark eyebrows furrowed over slightly confused blue eyes.

"Hi," you smiled awkwardly. "Here against your will too?"

"Uh, yeah," he nodded, glancing at the doors, "something like that."

Although uncomfortable, he seemed nice.

"My friend ditched me, wanna team up?" you offered.

He eyed you up and down, and shrugged, "sure."

You smiled again and he liked that. You seemed inviting, warm and safe compared to everything he had known until now.

"I'm Bucky," he stepped closer, offering you a gloved hand.

You shook it enthusiastically and gave him your name. Bucky repeated it once, testing the words on his tongue.

"Alright, ready?" you raised an eyebrow, a hand hovering above the door handle. He only nodded.

Inside, a few other people were gathering in pairs around tables covered with ingredients and tools, and you quickly realized they were mostly couples. Did you just invite a stranger to a first date? You cringed inside, but you had to admit that this stranger was quite easy on the eyes. You followed Bucky to a table and dropped your purse and jacket next to it. Bucky shed his too, revealing a long-sleeved shirt, but he kept his gloves.

"Are you cold?" you nodded at the leather.

He looked away, "no."

Alright then. The teacher showed up and started the class. The recipe of the day was fried chicken with a side of vegetables. Simple enough, you thought. The first step, chopping the vegetables. You turned toward Bucky.

"Are you good with knives, Bucky?" you raised an eyebrow, it seemed to be a quirk of yours.

He liked how his name sounded on your lips, soft and harmless.

"Yeah, I guess," he seemed even more uncomfortable somehow.

"Great, I don't like 'em, almost chopped off a finger trying to slice a potato the other day," you scoffed, and the corners of Bucky's lips curved up quickly but you didn't miss it.

"I'll handle the knife, then," he answered and you smiled.

You washed the vegetables before handing them to him. He took the knife in his right hand and started to cut. You were mesmerized. The speed, the precision, the agility.

"Wow, you're good good," you chuckled and he felt a nice warmth in his chest. It'd been a long time since he had impressed a pretty lady. "Where the hell did you learn that?"

"Um," the blade slowed down, "I was in the army."

That was the answer the therapist suggested when he told her how uncomfortable he'd get at this kind of question. You seemed satisfied with it and turned to get the spices.

"Alright, now we need to start the fryer," you plugged in the machine.

"That thing?" he looked suspicious of it.

"Yeah, for the chicken." You pushed a few buttons and Bucky kept staring at the machine. "You don't like robots?"

He looked at you, and shook his head, "never used 'em."

You frowned at that, most people had at least used an electric whisk or a mixer, and the army definitely used robots now. He wished the ground swallowed him. Now you would think about how weird he was.

"Okay," you shrugged, with a warm smile, "you handle the knives and I handle the robot."

Bucky let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. You turned on the fryer, announcing what each button pressed was for, and Bucky smiled softly as he watched above your shoulder. The sweet smell of your perfume eased his nerves.

Following the teacher's instructions, you fried the chicken while Bucky took care of the vegetables. You two worked well together, chatting about random stuff while maneuvering around the table, blissfully ignoring the dozen people surrounding you. You even got three small chuckles out of Bucky, and it was the most delightful thing you heard in a while.

"Ouch," you hissed, stepping away from the fryer.

In a second, Bucky was next to you. "What did you do?"

"Some oil got on my hand, it's alright," you showed him your slightly red skin and he had to stop himself from reaching out and touching it.

"Let me do it, peaches. I just take the handle and pull it out right?"

You could only stare at him, an eyebrow raised, always the left one.

"Peaches?" you grinned, and your stomach tied in a knot when he immediately blushed.

"Sorry, um, your perfume smell like peaches," Bucky looked anywhere else but your face. "I like peaches."

"Oh," and now you were blushing too.

Alright, you had to admit Leah was right about this cooking class. But you'd never say that to her face.

"So, the handle?" Bucky glanced at you.

"Oh, yeah, just take it out and put it there," you shook your head and he nodded.

And that's when shit hit the fan. Bucky stepped closer to the fryer, but you forgot to warn him about the short cable hanging in the air, and he stepped on it, unplugging it in the process. You barely registered what happened that Bucky had already stopped the machine from tumbling over, spilling boiling oil on his left hand.

"Oh my God, your hand!" you yelped, catching everyone's attention.

"What's going on?" The teacher approached your table.

"Nothing, the robot almost fell over and I just got a few drops on my hand," Bucky wished for this moment to be over, his left hand clutched behind his back.

"What? No! You've got at least third-degree burns!" You frowned.

"I'll put some water on it," he offered, just so you'd stop worrying and talking about his hand.

But you followed him to the bathroom. You felt guilty, if you hadn't burned yourself, he wouldn't have needed to step in, literally.

"Are you sure, Bucky? You got a lot of oil on there!"

"Yes, don't worry, peaches." He tried to turn his back to you while standing over the sink, but you needed to make sure he was okay so you stood right next to the small sink.

"The leather will melt into your skin!"

"I, uh-" Bucky glanced at you and realized you were not backing down anytime soon. "I don't have skin." His eyes screwed shut at that.

You blinked. It took you a second but you remembered. He told you he had been in the army.

"It's a prosthetic," your voice was soft, your eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," he bit his lip, finally looking into your eyes again.

"Did the oil damage it?"

Bucky laughed at that and you frowned.

"No, the oil did not damage it," he looked slightly more comfortable now.

"Is it just the hand?"

"The whole arm and shoulder," he shrugged it.

"Wow," you glanced at it but went right back to the blue of his eyes. "In the army?"

"Uh, yeah," he picked at the little melted pieces of leather now poking out of his glove.

You took a second to look at his face, and you noticed the small scars, the lines dug by years of battle, and the tired eyes.

"Alright. You wanna get back in there?"

"I'd rather not," Bucky breathed out, and you nodded.

"Coffee?"

He looked at you, the hint of a smile in his eyes. You were not freaked out, you were not running for the hills. And for God's sake, you were gorgeous.

[acti-veg]

16 Plant-Based Protein Sources

Protein is often raised as a concern for people considering adopting a plant-based diet, and considering the fact that we've all been taught to associate protein primarily with red meat, this is not surprising.

It is estimated that most adults require 56 grams of protein per day, and you're probably hitting that number if you're not in a calorie deficit. If you're trying to lose weight and so are cutting calories then you may need to track your protein a little more closely, but 56 grams is pretty easy to hit without having to really think about it.

It gets a bit more difficult if you're very physically active, particularly if you're engaged in regular endurance training or are trying to build muscle. There is a great deal of disagreement about precisely how much protein is ideal if you're training intensely, but it is very achievable to hit even the upper end of protein requirement estimates using only plant-based foods. Listed below are particularly good options.

1) Lentils - Lentils are a cheap nutritional powerhouse, and provides about 17 grams of protein per cup. They're also very flexible, you can have them as your main protein source of a meal, use them to substitute mince in a pasta dish, make burgers out of them, or put them in a stir fry or with rice and veg with some seasonings. They are cheap and convenient if you buy them canned, since they're ready to eat, though I would recommend at least warming them up.

2) Chickpeas - Chickpeas are a popular vegan staple, and it's not hard to see why. At approximately 14.5 grams of protein per cup, they're nutrient dense and very flexible. Use them to make hummus or falafel, as the main protein source of a curry, on their own with rice or worked into a salad. You can also just air fry/grill them with some oil and spices for a convenient, crunchy snack.

3) Oats - A cup of dry oats is around 11 grams of protein by itself. Making it with a cup of oat milk brings that up to 14 grams, throw in a tablespoon of peanut butter and you're up to about 17.5 grams at breakfast, and all those ingredients are pretty cheap and very filling. You could add something like nuts or chia seeds as a topping to stretch that to well over 20 grams.

4) Nuts - Peanuts are 9.5 grams per 1/4 cup, almonds are 7g, pistachios 6g, cashews 5g, hazelnuts 5g, brazil nuts 4.75g, walnuts 4.5g and pine nuts are 4.5g. You can buy 1kg bags of mixed nuts for a little bit cheaper and keep them in a jar for a healthy snack. I find it better to buy a bag that doesn't have peanuts in then add the peanuts later, as mixes that include peanuts tend to be less for your money. Peanut butter is also a cost effective way to add protein to many snacks and meals.

5) Beans - Depending on the type, beans are anything from around 10-15 grams of protein per cup. Some are better than others, like kidney beans, but even your standard baked beans are high protein and good for you. Turn them into a chilli, have them on toast, on a jacket potato, turn them into a bean burger or make them the protein base of a salad or soup. Kidney , soy and edamame beans are particularly good options.

6) Seitan - When cooked, seitan closely resembles to look and feel of red meat. It is made of wheat gluten and has 25 grams of protein per 100 gram serving. It is not very widely available in supermarkets, but try your local Asian market, where it will usually be cheaper as well. It's a bit of a hassle, but you can also make your own at home, which is extremely cheap as it's just wheat gluten, yeast, plant milk, miso and spices.

7) Tofu/Tempeh - A staple in Asian cooking, don't be afraid to try this one. Think of it as doing all the same things chicken does in terms of recipes, it soaks up the flavour around it. It needs to be pressed before use, or you can avoid that by just draining the liquid and freezing it, then thawing over night when you want to use it. 100 grams of tofu (less than half a small block) contains 8 grams of protein. Some tofu, like Naked TooFoo, is pre-pressed for you.

8) Faux Meats - Faux meats are an easy way to add a protein base to your meal, and has the advantage of serving the same function on a plate as the foods you were used to before you went vegan. A Beyond burger, for example, has 19g of protien per patty, though you can get much cheaper options that have a similar nutritional profile. Pair that with a wholemeal bun and something like brown rice/quinoa and vegetables and you can create a very high protein meal.

9) Grains - All grains are good for protein, these include quinoa, spelt, brown/wild rice, teff, amaranth and sorghum. They can range anywhere between 5 and 8 grams per 100 grams, and you'll usually be serving them with some sort of protein source. They're also an excellent source of fibre and carbohydrates, which are also important for training and general health. Quinoa in particular provides all 22 essential amino acids.

10) Peas - Green peas are not mentioned much when it comes to high protein options, but a cup of cooked peas is a respectable 9 grams of protein, and it's worth mentioning here because they tend to be used more as a side than main, so can be paired with other high protein options. They're also very cheap, freeze well and are easy to prepare.

11) Seeds - Just a tablespoon of chia seeds is nearly 3 grams of protein, and the seeds are so small and tasteless that you don't actually notice them in anything you put them in, making them an easy way to add protein to just about any meal. They're pretty cheap to buy in large quantities, particularly good to replace eggs in baking, to add to bread flour, salads and oatmeal. Other high protein seeds include pumpkin, sunflower, linseed, hempseeds and buckwheat.

12) Bread - Bread may not immediately come to mind when you're thinking about protein, but wholegrain/rye/spelt breads can be very high in protein, anywhere from 3 all the way up to around 10 grams per slice, particularly for seeded loaves. If you really want to turn bread into a high protein food, invest in a bread maker or bake it yourself, that way you can add nuts, seeds and oats yourself to up the nutritional value. That's just the bread too, a hummus and falafel sandwich with a high protein bread can be very nutrionally dense.

13) Fruit and veg - Worth mentioning here, as they're something you'll need to consume to maintain a healthy diet anyway, and some options have moderate protein. The higher protein options include broccoli, spinach, asparagus, artichokes, potatoes, sweet potatoes and Brussels sprouts, which all contain 4–5 grams of protein per cooked cup. Likewise, blueberries, guava, bananas and nectarines contain about 2-4 grams of protein per cup, as well as many other vitamins important for training.

14) Nutritional Yeast - No vegan list is complete without mentioning it, it's a vegan staple for its nutty, cheesy flavour, as well as being an easy source of vitamin B12. It's a complete protein that has 8 grams of protein per 16 grams serving, making it an easy way to add more protein to things like pizza, pasta dishes or a jacket potato. Use it to make cheesy sauces, or just sprinkle it on anything you'd have previousy added parmesan cheese to.

15) Protein Bars - They tend to be  on the expensive side, but there are a few plant-based options. I'd recommend Misfit bars if you can get them online, they're low sugar, 15g of protein per bar, and you can buy them in variety packs of 40 which works out cheaper. Trek also have protein flapjack bars, less protein (8-9g) but are much cheaper in packs of 3 and frequently available at a discount (as little at 85p for three in Heron here in the UK).

Most brands won’t be suitable as a daily option for many people given the price, but great for when you're need a protein boost on the go. You can also just make your own protein bars using nothing but oats, cinnamon, baking soda, a little maple/golden syrup and a scoop of plant-based protein powder.

16) Protein/Meal Powders- Even the cheaper powders are around 18g of protein per scoop, so a shake is an easy way to add more protein to your diet, or you can stir it into oatmeal to get most of your daily requirements over breakfast. Some meal replacement shakes, like Huel Black, are around 40 grams of protein per serving (2 scoops) even when made with just water, providing a cheap and easy way to have a high protein and nutritious meal without any prep or fuss. Add some peanut butter and plant milk to make them tastier and even higher in protein. (I don't accept sponsorship or commissions from any brand and I don't have any affiliate links. Any product recommendations are based solely on my own experience.)

[dilf-din]

Daisy, Give Me an Answer (Joel Miller x female reader)

WC: 2400

Warnings: none, fluff city baby!!

Summary: reader is a cook in the Jackson meal hall, she and Joel bond over their love for southern cooking. She isn’t named, but has a nickname that is used two or three times.

A/N: this is my first time writing for Joel, so please let me know what you think :-)

Living in Jackson was an apocalyptic version of a dream come true. Everyone there had suffered through their own personal hells over the past two decades. Loss and struggle common threads between all of the residents. After a few years, you finally felt your shoulders relax. The danger kept out by the fence and the brave folks who patrolled each day. You started to believe that this is where you would spend the rest of your time on earth, free from the tendrils of cordyceps and the brutality of FEDRA.

You checked the clock that ticked steadily on your mantle to see your shift at the meal hall was nearing. Some of the men on patrol had bagged a few sizable deer the night before, so you would all be eating well for the next few days. Some of the meat was already curing to be turned into jerky, but the bulk of it was going to be used for roasting into stews. You laced your boots up and slipped on your lighter jacket. It had been a mild fall so far. The cold not yet settling in. You plucked your faded apron off the hook by the door and draped it over your arm as you made your walk down the dirt paths to the meal hall. The mountains rose behind you, afternoon sunlight streaming down and dancing on the orange and gold leaves decorating the hills. The school had just let out for the day and a group of children were chasing each other up the street beside you, one of them carrying a beat up soccer ball. You smiled fondly at them. They had known no other life like you and the older residents. They found joy easily in the open air and a simple toy left behind from one of Jackson’s original residents.

You let yourself into the mess hall and joined the other cooks who had shifts tonight. First, hanging your jacket in the small, makeshift break room off of the main prep area, then, pulling your apron on. It was a faded power blue covered in small embroidered daisies. It had belonged to your grandmother, one of the only remaining pieces of your old life. Your grandmother had taught you everything you knew about cooking. The two of you stood side by side countless mornings rolling out biscuits to spread with her homemade jams, strawberry and blackberry always in plentiful supply.

You had taken her recipes and opened a small eatery in your hometown in Tennessee. That’s where you were working when the world fell apart. You survived for years on expired canned goods and tasteless FEDRA rations, so to be somewhere with fresh ingredients and a functioning kitchen again was more than you ever dreamed. Tonight’s menu was stewed venison with some potatoes and carrots out of one of the greenhouses, cornbread, and slow cooked cinnamon apples.

“Daisy’s here!” a cheerful voice rang out as you dried your hands on your apron and joined who had become your closest friends in the large room. Your nickname had come from your apron, but you didn’t mind it. It made you feel close to your grandmother who you missed with an indescribable ache. She passed the year before the world went to hell. It hurt at the time, but now you were thankful that she never had to fight like you had.

Jenna and May were sisters in their 30’s, just children when the outbreak happened. One was washing apples, one was slicing and placing them in a large metal bowl. You were thankful they had each other. A lot of people had no one left.

Ellen was older, hair white where there used to be blonde. She was humming an old hymn while she carefully peeled the vegetables, saving the scraps for the compost pile.

Michael was a heavier set man in his 50’s. He had a full beard streaked with gray, a kind smile, and round cheeks. His strong arms were busy butchering one of the deer’s hindquarters. He smiled warmly, “Hello, Daisy,” a deep southern voice crooned.

“Hi Mikey,” you smiled finding yourself in charge of the cornbread. Fresh milled cornmeal, farm fresh eggs, some honey from one of the hives in Jackson, it was a crowd favorite. The sweetness of it made those of you with southern roots particularly fond of the way it reminded you of the world before.

Aside from the kitchen staff and Maria, you didn’t have many friends there. You knew everyone by name though. You had served them all hot meals hundreds of times. Most people came through the line caught up in their own conversations, not paying much mind to the person behind the counter.

You thought of one face in particular who loved your cornbread. Joel Miller had rolled in last fall with his daughter in tow. The local women all whispered about how handsome he was, the chatter reaching his ears almost immediately upon his arrival. You could tell it made him feel awkward, so you decided you wanted to be a friendly face in the crowd for him. He was always polite in line, saying “yes ma’am, no ma’am, thank you, no thank you.” You had bonded over your southern roots. Though Texas was a bit of a stretch from Tennessee, you both held similar temperaments and upbringings. Not that you had sat and talked to him for hours. You mostly held light conversations together while you waited for the line to keep moving. A few times after everyone had been served, he waved you over to join his family while you scanned the room holding your own tray.

He had a tough exterior, but your southern touch when it came to the kitchen brought out what you only assumed to be the old Joel, the one who hadn’t fought tooth and nail to survive. You thought fondly of him while you mixed the batter together and filled several pans to bake in the industrial oven the kitchen was blessed with.

The dinner crowd filtered in slowly tonight. The September sun sank low in the sky painting everything with navy and purple shadows. You scanned the room for Joel, beginning to get nervous when you realized he wasn’t back from patrol yet. The cornbread was running low, so you took the biggest remaining piece and tucked it out of view saving it for him.

A few minutes later, the doors swung open, and in strolled the Miller brothers. They both looked exhausted, mud caking their boots and well up the front of their jeans. They found their place in line, only a few people ahead of them. “Daisy,” Tommy smiled tipping his hat. “Looks good,” Joel’s low voice rumbled. “Oh!” you exclaimed reaching for the piece of cornbread you had set aside for him, “I saved this for you,” you explained sliding it onto his tray.

The look on his face was hard to describe. “I, well thank you,” he stammered. You swore you saw a faint blush creep into his cheeks. Tommy knocking him in the ribs with his elbow. “I just, I knew it was your favorite so when you were late I wanted to make sure you got a piece,” you said suddenly feeling awkward.

“That was mighty kind of you,” he smiled, something you didn’t see often. “It was nothing,” you smiled back as he moved forward with his tray.

May elbowed you once he was out of earshot, “Well that was cute,” she whispered, “I didn’t know you had a crush on Joel.”

“May, I’m a little old for crushes,” you joked. But maybe she was right. There was a reason so many of Jackson’s resident women fawned over him. He was handsome, polite, always willing to lend a hand. You watched his figure move across the room and take his place next to Ellie. She instantly lit up, mouth running a mile a minute about something. You smiled watching them and he looked up to catch your eye. You looked away quickly and excused yourself to finally get your portion, but when you found yourself looking for a spot to eat, he waved you over, a warm smile on his face. You suddenly felt nervous, your breath was quickening. Oh god this is so silly, you thought. It’s just a piece of cornbread, it didn’t mean anything.

You collected your thoughts and walked over to their table and sat across from him. Tommy and Maria were on the other end catching up about their days paying no mind to the three of you. “What brought you in so late, Cowboy?” you questioned setting your napkin in your lap. “One of the horses got stuck in a mud pit,” he sighed rubbing his face with his broad hands, “Took us a while to get her free.” Your eyes went wide, “You were able to get a horse out of a mud pit with just the two of you?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he looked smug for a second, “I did about 80% of the heavy lifting, Tommy kept getting stuck too,” he said loud enough for his brother to hear. “Bullshit,” he called over the table with a grin on his face, “You don’t have to try to make me look bad to impress a lady,” he teased. Joel’s cheeks for sure went red this time. “I’m impressed with you both, that’s some serious strength,” you said trying to ease the tension.

“Joel’s super strong,” Ellie commented stealing an apple off of his plate. “I’ve seen him lift all kinds of heavy stuff,” she continued with her mouth full.

“We were contractors,” Joel explained, “Spent all day lifting lumber and whatnot.” He and Tommy recollected together for a few minutes about their past work before Tommy and Maria excused themselves.

“Ellie, you go on ahead home and I’ll meet you there,” Joel said gathering the empty trays on the table to walk them to the table they amassed on at the end of the night waiting for the cleaning crew to come in. She skipped out the door after giving him a knowing look. “Do ya mind if I walk ya home?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“Not at all,” you smiled, “Let me just go grab my coat,” you excused yourself to the back room where you had left it earlier. Joel stood in the doorway to the meal hall, one boot propping it open while he waited for you. That nervous feeling settled in your chest again and you tried to dismiss it. Surely he was just being polite, returning the favor. There’s no way this meant more than that, right?

Joel gave you a small smile as he opened the door fully for you to pass through, “After you,” he nodded. It felt trite considering the state of the world, but you couldn’t help but smile that he took the time to attend to such little things still.

“I bet you’re looking forward to that shower tonight,” you commented, further taking in the state of his mud caked clothes.

His brow furrowed and this time you were certain that his cheeks had flushed crimson. “I guess I don’t smell too hot, huh,” he said sheepishly, the toe of his boot connecting with a small rock and kicking is along the dusty path.

“Oh! That’s not what I meant! I mean, you’ve probably definitely smelled better,” you stammered. You could see him sinking farther into himself drawing a small laugh from your lips. You touched a hand to his arm causing him to tense up, both of your feet stopping. “I am so thankful that you and our other brave townsfolk handle patrol so that people like me can stay behind and stew apples and bake cornbread. It doesn’t feel like an equal exchange at all, but I don’t think horses like me, so my hands are tied,” you rattled on. Joel cracked another small smile, his feet falling back into line with yours.

“What do you mean horses don’t like you?” he bemused.

“They never have, the pony I rode for my sixth birthday being the first of many.”

His chuckle came easily. “Well I’ll put in a good word for you if you’d ever like to swing by, maybe bring some of those apples.”

“You think they’ll listen?”

“Oh sure, Callus loves pretty ladies,” he drawled, that slightly cocky smile playing across his lips.

“Oh, do you bring pretty women to meet him often?”

His cheeks were beet red this time, “Oh, no I just, I—” he stammered.

“I’m just messing with you, Cowboy,” you chuckled.

“What about you? Do you save pieces of cornbread for everyone?” he shot back with a raised eyebrow.

“Can’t say I do,” you shrugged. “This is me,” you said stopping and gesturing over your shoulder at the small house.

“Well, thank ya for thinking of an old man like me. It means a lot to feel looked after,” he smiled warmly.

“I uh, I’d love you make you a proper country dinner one night. You can let me know your favorites, and I’ll see what I can do,” you somehow got out, unsure of where the sudden boldness had manifested from.

“I’d like that a whole lot,” he smiled. He drew your hand to his mouth and planted a kiss. His hands were calloused and hardened, but his lips were heavenly soft. “I’m gonna get that shower now.” He hesitated for a moment, “Would you like to come over for a cup of tea in say, half an hour?” he said shyly. “These mild nights won’t last, we can sit on the porch. Ellie might even play us a few songs.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you smiled and he retreated down the street. People were filing into their homes for the evening. Once on the other side of your own door, you leaned against it and let out a sigh. It had been a long time since you had done things for pleasure, your brain still defaulting to survival mode most days. You never thought you would feel butterflies uncurling their wings in the pit of your stomach again. Stretching their tired legs from years of dormancy. But there was that flutter, and you had a feeling it wasn’t going to end any time soon.

[tunastime]

the various skills of ethoslab and how he learned them and when. the list of a man who's lived a bit longer than he should have. (inspired by this post)

field meals: it's just soup. he never makes them for anyone else, not until they lose the grainy texture they start with. he learns from a man in a village that questions why he covers his face. etho laughs, but he never tells him why. the man doesn't ask again. he tells him that if he lets the vegetables soften for longer that they won't make a gritty soup when mashed. he learns spiced pumpkin, beetroot, chicken and potato.

(he stays for two weeks. he rids the nearby temple of infestation in repayment. when the temple master tries to repay him with gold, he tells him that he only wants a written recipe of how to bake bread. the baker’s son gives him one with honey in it.)

soap making: is something he learns pretty early on in his career in machinery. it's no good just to rinse your hands in water and it's still no good just to be buying soap up-charged, and lye isn't any good alone. lye doesn't smell, or worse yet, smells heavy and thick and doesn't come off your skin or out of your clothes properly. he picks up a book somewhere about it. one part lye. one part oil. one part anything else. beeswax and honey. pine tar and coconut oil. he learns what mixtures get redstone out of his clothes and what he can use to wash his hair with so it doesn't frizz. he washes his clothes in a basin of warm water and honey and rosemary soap, as he does his blankets and his sheets until his whole home smells like rosemary and honey and lye and beeswax. he washes his hair and it smells like pine.

plant identification: it takes one bad meal. one bad berry before etho starts learning. pause gets sick in the snow, really sick. he doesn't cough up blood but the sheen of sweat never leaves his face for the entire week that he lies shivering under two coats and a blanket. every time etho and beef try to say something comforting, he says, “stop fussing over me, i'm fine, just food poisoning. beef cooked the chicken wrong.” (it wasn't the chicken. it was the elderberries. etho spends time figuring out what the ripe ones look and taste like. he learns mistletoe, nettles and hogweed, rosary peas and lily of the valley. he doesn't see any of them except the lily again. but he keeps the information for later.) pause gets better after a week of his eyes far away, glazed over, sweating, of him unable to keep down fluids, of shaking awake in the night, holding etho's hand. they get sick, but nobody gets sick like that again.

sewing: pause steadies his hands. he tells him that if he messes up he'll poke himself and beef tells him to stop fussing. etho can thread a needle, can't he? (he can't.) he stabs his index finger three times poking it through the fabric to make a crude patch with their initials on it. then he sews shut a tear on beef's jacket, then he affixes a handful of new buttons to an old shirt of bdubs'. bdubs has him sewing squares within the week, and they stitch together a quilt of scrap fabric big enough for them both. there isn't a cold night that the quilt doesn't stave away. it's in a different spot each time etho sees him: draped over a chair, lovingly folded on the bedside, pulled over his shoulders. they wear it threadbare.

braiding: his hair gets too long. he ties it back himself the first time, some loose thing that falls out as soon as he does it. he says to himself (a reminder): “you break it into three. you're always crossing over the middle most strand. right over middle, then right becomes middle, so left over the middle. and repeat. pulling tight.” he gets better at it, until he can tie a strong three strand braid that he learned from tying twine together to make a stronger rope. bdubs sees him pull it back a few times and braid it like that, and one of those times, late, when they're both tired and leaning on each other, he turns and takes his loose hair and asks if he can braid it. etho shrugs and says “sure.” (and his voice says only you can do that). bdubs says “sit still.” etho sits in front of his crossed legs and bdubs combs out his hair. he tells him as he works: “it's different than the three, but not that different. you pull an extra strand in each time. it looks like fish scales, so people call it a fishtail.” bdubs braids and pulls it tight. he leans forward into etho and etho leans back into him.

(etho spends two days knotting fraying ropes in fishtail braids so his hands learn (and he fidgets, and he fidgets, and it becomes his new fidget, to tie rope together) before he attempts it on his shoulder-blade length hair. bdubs guides his hands, starting him off until he can braid the top too. he only cuts it once—right before the second death games, and even then, bdubs manages to braid a little braid into his hair.)

tea specialist: it's methodical. that's what he learns, when he travels out further than he had in a long time and wanders into the city. he, like many adventurers, takes refuge, and he, unlike many adventurers, stumbles into the tea shop and takes it all in. steady hands (beef taught him that) keep him from crushing the leaves too fine to strain. he learns what hot water feels like in a tin kettle and how to prop it properly on the coals so it heats even and doesn't char the underside of the tin. he buys two wooden cups there, sealed with wax, and brings them with the kettle. it stays on the countertop.

(he uses it every night. later, in a snow fort in the middle of nowhere, he sets one of the wooden cups into the calloused hands of his partner and friend, and bdoubleo looks at him with eyes wide and round and red. he doesn't kill him when he sleeps.)

staving off the effects of sleep deprivation: there's a body sleeping next to him that needs him awake. there's a place someone can sit between wake and dream that makes sure that the body doesn't tire and it's here where he stays. his heart slows way down, but his eyes stay alert through a bleary haze. there are things he hears that aren't real. when his partner (partner, the word feels weird on his tongue now that bdubs is a red life. if they were anywhere else, he would be safe to sleep) wakes two hours from now, then he will rest. he will lie there and listen, waiting to hear him stop breathing. he never gets to that point, but he certainly sleeps very little. beef and pause never told him off for doing it, but when there were sections of the day that he didn't remember and he sat up and there was a coat draped over his knees with a tag that had VB written in chunky letters, he smiled to himself. he's tired now, but he's good at pretending he's not.

separating the things that are dreams from the ones that are not: he's still waiting for someone to tell him how to do that

[schmooplesboop]

Toffee Apple

Pairing: Alex X Male farmer/player

Rating: Teen

For the past couple of years Alex had skipped out on Spirit’s Eve. It had gotten pretty stale. Fake plastic hedge maze, shitty plastic scares, and even shittier food that might as well have been plastic. Just bad all around.

This year, though… on top of keeping his farm afloat Colton had volunteered to grow a huge corn maze on his land for the town’s Spirit’s Eve celebrations. And the rumors had been buzzing around Pelican Town since: Colton had recruited the weird wizard dude who lived in the woods to provide spooks for the haunted corn maze, Gus had been inspired by Colton’s enthusiasm and dug up new recipes for Spirit’s Eve treats, Marnie wanted to set up a hayride for those who wanted a calmer vibe. Everyone was excited to see this year’s festival, Alex included. Even if he hadn’t cared about the event, he had a personal reason to be excited this year. Colton had straight up asked him on a date.

“I may not look it, but I’m a giant scaredy cat. I need a big, strong date to guide me through the maze. You up for it, dude?”

Haley had been staring at him so intensely that Alex could practically hear her brain screaming at him to “Just say yes, you big dope!” For once, he didn’t need her intervening, he’d said yes almost immediately. Colton’s smile and faint blush was worth the awkwardness of Haley standing there looking like she wanted to scream with delight.

Now the big night was here and he was nervous as hell. This was his first real date in a while and his first date with another dude, period.

Alex looked himself over in the full-length mirror in the hall outside his room. He’d chosen to wear a grey hoodie under his old letterman jacket and his cleanest jeans. Hair perfectly coiffed then perfectly re-coiffed, his usual hour-long hair care routine had lengthened into two. He anxiously looked over the cologne Haley had forced into his hand that morning.

“Spiced Orange. Seasonal and sexy!”

He sniffed it warily. It did smell nice… ah, what the hell. He sprayed himself then tossed the bottle through the doorway onto his bed.

Alex wished he had someone other than his grandparents to give their opinion of the end result.

His grandmother was terribly biased, “You always look handsome, dear!”

And his grandfather was not biased enough, “Hair is hair. You look like always do.”

Out of desperation, he’d asked Dusty’s opinion too. “What do you think, boy?” He gently scratched his old dog behind the ears. “How do I look? Underdressed?”

Dusty huffed a quiet doggy noise of reassurance and licked Alex’s fingers.

Alex set his jaw, chiding himself. (It’s a haunted corn maze, not the fucking opera. Just chill.)

It was definitely going to be a cold and spooky night. Alex’s breath misted in the air as he headed out of town toward Gullwing Farm, hands shoved in his jacket pockets for warmth. Fog swirled around his ankles.

Alex’s jaw dropped as Colton’s farm came into view. He’d really gone all out. Orange and purple fairy lights were strung everywhere. Ghost and witch decorations hung from the trees. Menacing scarecrows leered in the fields. Dozens of jack-o-lanterns lined the lane that led into the farm.

Right at the main gate to Gullwing there were two signs, both decorated with childish drawings of different townsfolk being scared by different monsters. Alex recognized Vincent and Jas’s handiwork straight away. One sign said that entry was free, but there was a suggested donation of five dollars. The second sign was slightly ominous, simply stating that the “Ghost Show” was at midnight… whatever that meant. Alex put fifty bucks in the slotted box nailed under the first sign and went through the gate.

Gus had a canopy set up under which he and Emily were busy doling out food and drinks. Trays of toffee apples, buckets of popcorn in three different flavors, ‘devil hot’ potato chips, pumpkin cookies, ‘mini brain’ cake pops, ‘graveyard’ cupcakes, apple punch, and hot cider. It must’ve taken them all day to get things ready.

Haley was hanging out with her sister, looking vaguely bored and eating a cake pop. When she spotted Alex, she gave him a quick once over and a round of brief silent applause. Feeling slightly better having his friend’s approval, Alex waved at her as he went by. The food looked delicious, but Alex was still mostly nerves. He didn’t think he could eat anything right now.

Pierre had set up his stand too, of course, selling Spirit’s Eve t-shirts and decorations. Alex bought a little plastic bobble ghost for his gran. She liked these weird, cheap little things for some reason. She had so many that she’d had to buy an enormous bookcase to display them.

The corn maze loomed in the distance, looking intimidating and surprisingly eerie in the fog and dim, colored light. It really was huge, it would probably take a couple of hours to get through, maybe even more. Alex was impressed by the enthusiasm and effort that not just Colton, but everyone had put into this. The whole town had really pulled together to make things better than before. Colton seemed to have that effect on people, Alex included.

Jodi was standing outside the maze with a tearful Vincent, telling him that it was too scary for him and trying to convince him to check out the more laidback hayride Marnie had going not far away. Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian stood nearby, pushing each other around and laughing.

Sebastian caught his eye and waved. Alex waved back. This is what he’d meant by Colton having an effect on him too. Old Alex dismissed Sebastian as “that weird guy” without a second thought. But when the weather had gotten colder and their morning beach runs had evolved into morning hikes in the mountains, Colton had invited Sebastian to join them sometimes and Alex had been surprised to learn that not only could Seb keep up with them even though he was 95% skinny legs, but he also knew a lot about wildlife (frogs mostly). He’d also discovered that they actually had things in common. They were both really into an old adventure-fantasy comic series that had been all the rage before either of them was born. Sebastian had even lent Alex two of the comics he was missing from his own collection. New Alex had learned not be so fucking judgy. He was liking New Alex way more than Old Alex.

Abigail linked arms with Sam and marched him into the maze. Seb pointed to a little picnic area where people were milling about eating treats, waiting for their turn on the hayride, or just enjoying the atmosphere. Alex could see Colton waiting there, munching enthusiastically on a toffee apple. Willing himself not to blush, Alex nodded his thanks to Sebastian and made his way over.

Colton towered over literally everyone around him and Alex was relieved to see that they had similar outfits on. He was wearing a fleece lined black-and-teal plaid jacket over a dark sweater and faded jeans. Now that it was too cold to surf every day, his tan skin had lost its golden luster and his hair had faded from bleached back to sandy blonde, but Colton was still super hot, to use Haley’s words.

Colton spotted him and quickly swallowed a bite of his apple, “Hi, Alex!” Like Haley, the farmer gave him a once over and Alex felt his chest tighten with anxiety. “Looking very spruce tonight, dude.”

Oh, thank fuck. “Thanks. You’re looking good yourself.” Alex was impressed with how chill he sounded, despite feeling very unchill. “Did you do all this yourself? It looks awesome, I barely recognize the farm.”

“Thanks! But nah, I had a lot of help. Demetrius helped me design the maze, but I did all the planting and watering and maintaining. Vincent and Jas helped with decorating and Marnie’s handling the hayride. Gus and Emily are in charge of the food and drink, of course. Rasmodius also said he’d provide scares for the maze and something called a ‘ghost show’. Not sure what that means, I’m kinda nervous about it to be honest—"

A scream came from the maze, startling Alex and sending a ripple of murmurs through the picnic area.

“I think that’s Maru, poor woman’s been in there for a long time. Even Harvey made it through the maze before she did. We should rescue her if we find her.” Colton finished off his apple and tossed the stick into the trash. “You ready to guide my wussy ass through this maze or would you like some food first?”

“Let’s get our maze on.” Ugh. New Alex still sometimes said mortifying shit.

Colton seemed charmed by it, thankfully, and they entered the maze. Alex didn’t scare easily, but he had to admit it was pretty creepy in here. The corn was so thick you couldn’t see through it, and it rose high over even Colton’s head. The only light in the maze came from the full moon and the fairy lights that occasionally criss-crossed overhead and it was like outside noises were muffled somehow. The ankle-deep fog outside the maze became knee-map inside. Somewhere ahead they could hear Sam whimpering and Abigail calling him a baby.

The first scare that Rasmodius conjured up, maybe literally, came running at them from out of the corn. A skeleton that glowed a sickly green sprinted right for them with arms outstretched. Alex jumped as Colton screamed. The skeleton blew right by them, bony fingers scratching at the farmer’s arm before disappearing into the corn again. Alex’s stomach flipping had nothing to do with the scare and everything to do with Colton grabbing hold of his hand.

“Sorry for making you jump, Alex. Did warn you I was a big ol’ scaredy cat.” Colton sounded self-conscious.

Alex hated to hear it. Didn’t feel right, that someone as awesome as Colton was feeling bad about himself. He gave the farmer’s hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled. “Nothing to be sorry about, dude. Happy to be bodyguard and date tonight.” Or any night.

And Alex played his part well. The wizard’s scares definitely weren’t of the plastic variety. Giant spiders, weird noises in the corn, invisible hands that brushed at their ankles and arms, figures in the fog, drooling red-eyed hounds, big swooping bats, footsteps that ran up behind them with nothing there when they turned. Colton didn’t scream every time, but there was always someone else screaming just out of sight.

By the time they reached the middle of the maze, Alex had one arm wrapped tight around Colton’s waist. The farmer looked around nervously. There was nothing here in the center of the maze except a creepy statue of what looked like a guy with an octopus for a head. Poor Maru screeched again, but it sounded distant. It seemed she might actually get out sometime before dawn.

Colton looked at the faintly glowing display on his watch, “The ‘ghost show’ starts soon. Wanna see what that is before we try making our way out?”

Alex nodded, even he needed a break. “Sounds good.”

The wizard’s ‘ghost show’ started at exactly midnight. Vaguely human-shaped figures, glowing pale blue, drifted up through the corn and started swirling over the maze. Fast, slow, they zipped and twirled overhead. There were a few surprised squawks from the maze dwellers, then a murmur of amazement. Considering what they’d been through already tonight, this was actually kind of… soothing.

(And romantic?) Alex’s brain supplied oh-so-innocently.

No! Don’t be stupi—Alex swallowed thickly. Apparently, Colton agreed with Alex’s brain. He’d turned to face Alex, leaning in slightly. The anxiety in his deep brown eyes had melted into something very close to desire.

(Okay. The hottest man in the valley wants to kiss you, don’t fuck it up. Shit. I can do this. Okay. Fuck. C’mon, Alex, you’re not afraid of ghouls and shit, but you’re afraid of a kiss? Just--)

He blinked. Colton was suddenly angling away, looking a little embarrassed. Belatedly, Alex realized that the other man had been politely waiting for him to lean in too and had taken his getting momentarily lost in his own panicked brain as disinterest. Great. Fucked it up instantly.

“Then unfuck it, doofus!” He heard Haley’s voice so clearly in his mind it was like she was swirling overhead with the wizard’s ghosts. Hoping this didn’t make things even more awkward, Alex slid his arms around Colton’s neck and leaned in. The embarrassment faded instantly. Colton leaned down… and holy shit, they were kissing, the farmer’s body very warm and very firm as it pressed against Alex’s. Colton tasted like toffee apple and he smelled like rain in the woods with a hint of the sea underneath. Then his fingers hooked into Alex’s belt loops to draw him closer and who knew that such a small thing could be so fucking sexy?

They parted, both slightly breathless, as the ghosts above faded out so that near darkness settled over the maze once again.

“That was nice.” Colton murmured.

Alex agreed wholeheartedly. “Yeah, it was.”

He shivered as Colton’s lips brushed against his ear and his fingers tightened in his belt loops. “You smell amazing, by the way…”

Score one for Haley, she’d be pleased to hear it. Alex was trying to form some kind of reply that wouldn’t want to make him shrivel up and die when somewhere to their left they heard the sound of Abigail screaming and Sam laughing long and loud and very donkey-like. Their little romantic moment was over, but not ruined.

Colton’s lips were at his ear once more. “Get me out of this maze alive and I’ll kiss you again.”

If it wouldn’t have ruined the experience for everyone else, Alex would’ve bulled a straight line through the corn and made his own exit.

Oddly, kissing Alex seemed to have bolstered the farmer. He was much less jumpy as they navigated their way out and only screamed twice. Alex felt his ego puff up. Just a bit.

Someplace ahead of them they heard Maru shriek again, but this one was different. It was a scream of triumph, “Heck yeah, I survived! Emily, two cupcakes, please!”

Colton laughed, “Guess she found her way out.”

A few more twists and turns and they found their way out as well, Colton breathing a sigh of relief in the cold night air.

“Thanks, Alex. My hero.”

True to his word, Colton was moving in close again. Alex moved as well, perhaps a bit too eagerly as their noses bumped lightly. Colton only chuckled, tilting his head just a touch more so their mouths slotted together perfectly. Goddamn he tasted and smelled and felt so good. Alex could get used to this…

Afterward they bought some snacks and cider and went to join Maru and a few others in the picnic area. Haley had disappeared, probably went home a while ago. Spirit’s Eve wasn’t really her thing. She’d likely just come to give her sister and Alex some support. With the kids in bed and the last few stragglers exiting the maze, Marnie was dismantling the hayride and loading her ponies into the trailer behind her truck. Alex took a bite of the toffee apple he’d bought, a sheepish grin on his face. He knew it was kinda goofy, but he wanted to relive the taste of Colton’s lips a few more times.

They were halfway through their snack feast when Sam, Abby, and Sebastian emerged from the maze, taunting each other about who was the biggest baby.

“Didn’t hear Seb once so he’s obviously the champ among you three.” Colton called out with a teasing smirk.

Abigail laughed as the trio came to a stop beside their table. “You and Maru had a chorus going.” She teased back.

“Oh dude, yeah, I definitely would’ve dropped dead five feet into the maze without Alex to protect me.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed as he felt Colton’s hand slide over his wrist. Abby and Sam’s eyebrows raised in surprised, Sebastian just looked smug that he’d known something his friends hadn’t. Old Alex would’ve cared, probably too much. New Alex didn’t give a fuck.

He just smiled and gave Colton a nudge with his elbow. “Don’t sell yourself short, you didn’t shit yourself on the way out.”

The five of them laughed together. It felt nice.

“Walk me home?” Colton asked as they threw their trash in the bin, gesturing to the farmhouse in the distance.

“Yeah, of course.”

Alex felt more sets of curious eyes on them as they walked off hand-in-hand. He still didn’t give a fuck.

As soon as they entered the farmyard Finn, Colton’s dog, came barrelling out of his doggy door and jumped all over Alex, barking excitedly trying to lick his face.

“Oh, I see who his favorite is.” The farmer smirked.

Alex laughed and scratched Finn around the neck, trying and failing to keep all four of the dog’s paws on the ground. “Hey, buddy!”

“Thank-you, Alex.” Colton said as they ascended the stairs onto the porch, Finn racing in circles around both of them. “I had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

A pleasant little knot of warmth formed in Alex’s stomach. “Me too.”

“No hike tomorrow. Gotta take all this stuff down.”

“Not by yourself, I hope?” Finn impatiently butted his head against Alex’s leg and he reached down to pat him.

“Nah. Wizard dude is taking care of the spooky stuff tonight. Marnie, Gus, and Pierre are taking care of their areas tonight too. Tomorrow morning Marnie, Shane, Seb, Sam, and Abby are coming to help with the rest.”

“I’ll help too. What time?”

“Yeah? I thought it’d be kinda tacky to ask my date to help me clean up.” Finn was harassing Colton for pets now, and he ruffled the dog about the ears.

“Nah, I want to help. Just tell me when to show up.”

A fond little smile curved Colton’s lips, “Why don’t you come by a bit earlier than the others? I’ll make pancakes.”

Alex felt his cheeks go red, “…I’d like that.”

“Seven, then?”

“I’ll be here.”

His affection quota satisfied, Finn slipped back through his doggy door into the house. Colton’s affection quota not quite satisfied, he placed a soft kiss on Alex’s jaw. “Goodnight, Alex.”

“See you tomorrow, Colton.”

[ladamedusoif]

Share your martini recipe please love 🍸

Apollo 11 asks, martini asks, and That Man looking like a goddamned snack? This evening is coming up Rose, it seems...

Okay. At the risk of being a bit too into this: I love martinis. Love them. I generally like a dirty martini, either vodka or gin, with a 4:1 proportion of base spirit to vermouth, with about a tablespoon of brine and three olives (so you get a little snack with your drink).

I generally pop a few cubes of ice in the glass (I use an old-school small martini glass) while I mix, and use a little jug for the actual mixing. A few cubes of ice there, add the liquor and brine, and stir for about 45 seconds or so. James Bond is a wuss; a shaken martini is watered down - stirred is preferable but you do need a bit of the ice to break down and dilute the spirits.

Then I strain into the chilled glass, pop in the olives, and there we go.

For vodka, I prefer Stolichnaya; for gin, Bombay Sapphire; and for vermouth, the one and only for me is Noilly-Prat. I like Dolin, too, but NP is the business.

Sometimes I do a 'perfect' martini, a 1:1 ratio of spirit and vermouth. But I prefer them dry, in general - but not bone dry. Some people go 15:1 which is insanity to me 😁

Finally, because I'm thinking about them now, some of the best martinis I've ever had:

Harry's New York Bar, Paris. Icy cold, crisp AF, served by delightful bartenders in white jackets in a tiny bar once frequented by Hemingway, Gershwin and basically every American expat ever. My favourite bar in Paris.

Bemelman's Bar, The Carlyle, NYC. This was one of my must-do things in NYC and it didn't disappoint. Yes, it's expensive but you basically get two martinis for the price (they serve one in the glass and give you a little iced jug with another) and the atmosphere is gorgeous. Plus: the snacks are amazing.

Ognisko/The Polish Club, London. The martinis are amazing value for London and they have a menu, so you can build yours based on your preference of spirit. Being a Polish club they have a focus on vodka but you can try out different styles (the potato one I had last time was really interesting!). And the staff are lovely, too. If you really want to knock your socks off the Polish Martini they serve packs a heck of a punch.

Thank you lovely! And cheers!!