#vegetable washing and drying line|

[cnyazhongmachinery]

cucumber washing and drying line|vegetable washing and drying line|vegetable fruit processing machine

Cucumber washing line is used for washing vegetable and fruit quickly. Capacity:150kg/h-2t/h Wechat/whatsapp:+8613213203466

[ultronmachine]

cucumber washing line|vegetable washing and drying line|vegetable and fruit processing machine

Cucumber washing line is used for washing vegetable and fruit quickly. Capacity:150kg/h-2t/h Wechat/whatsapp:+8613213203466

[joyshinemachinerycompany]

cucumber washing line|vegetable washing and drying line|vegetable and fruit processing line

Cucumber washing line is used for washing vegetable and fruit quickly. Capacity:150kg/h-2t/h Wechat/whatsapp:+8613213203466

[fastandcarlos]

The Perfect Husband : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: 1.2k words of domestic lewis preparing himself for his future at home with you

A groan escaped as you walked out from your workplace watching as droplets of rain hammered down on the ground. The umbrella you held was taking a battering as you looked down the street, building yourself up for walking through it. 

That was until a car horn disturbed you, glancing across the street you recognised the fancy, blue car that was sat with its lights on, a familiar figure staring out of the window. 

“Come on, it’s horrible out here!” Lewis yelled, waving you across to the car. As you ran across the street, he opened up the passenger door for you so that you could slide straight in. 

Your head shook as you met Lewis’ eyes. “What are you doing here?” You chuckled, placing your bag between your feet. 

“You didn’t really think I was going to stay at home and let you walk in the rain, did you?” Lewis smiled, leaning across and drying off your face using the sleeves of the jumper that he wore. 

“You’re amazing,” you smiled, leaning back in your seat. 

“I was thinking about driving down to the store, grabbing some bits so we can cook dinner,” Lewis suggested as he turned the ignition on. 

“That would be lovely, it’s been ages since we got to cook together,” you agreed, glancing out of the window, relieved to be under the shelter of Lewis’ car. 

“You know the best thing about cooking, it’s off season, so I can eat whatever I want,” Lewis chuckled, placing one hand on the wheel, the other against your thigh. 

After buying everything that you needed, the two of you headed straight for the kitchen once you were home. Lewis let you take control as you laid everything out, instructing him on what equipment you needed him to collect in order to make your famous pasta dish that Lewis had craved so much whilst he’d been following his strict regime. 

You were ready to get started, only to feel a piece of fabric brush over your face. Glancing back you watched as Lewis placed an apron around your head, tying up for you at the back, untangling your hair from around it. 

“That dress you’re wearing is lovely, I don’t want to risk you spilling anything down it,” Lewis grinned, pressing a kiss against your cheek before getting an apron of his own. 

You smiled appreciatively back across at Lewis, “what would I do without you looking after me?” You quizzed, your eyes following him as Lewis placed his apron over his head. Once he was done, he walked over to the sink and washed his hands before standing to attention, ready for his first job. 

“Where do you want me?” He proudly asked, “I can do whatever you need me to.” 

“I’ll get started on the vegetables, can you-” 

“I’ll do that,” Lewis quickly interrupted, “that knife is sharp so I’d rather that I used it.” 

You looked questionably at Lewis but he hurried you out of the way, taking the knife out from the drawer, lining the vegetables up across the chopping block. 

As much as you trusted Lewis, you couldn’t help but linger beside him, keeping a watchful eye as he began to chop some of the tomatoes that you’d bought. “How am I doing?” Lewis quizzed, unable to ignore the feeling of your eyes watching him. 

“You’re doing good,” you encouraged, offering him a sincere smile. “In all our years together, I think this might be the most domestic thing that I’ve ever seen you do,” you added, straightening out his apron to make sure that he didn’t spill on his clothes either. 

“If I plan on spending more time at home, I need to learn how to be a better husband,” Lewis admitted, pushing the tomatoes to one side. 

Your brows furrowed as he spoke, confused by what he meant. Lewis had made no secret of the fact that he wanted to keep going in the car, not slow down. 

“I’m not going to be a driver forever and one day when I retire I want to make sure that I truly make the most of life with you,” Lewis added, knowing the question that you had for him without even having to ask it. “These are all the moments I feel like I’ve missed out on so far.” 

You weren’t quite sure how your face looked, but you were sure that it was one of surprise. Lewis had never really opened up to you about his plans for after racing before, the only thing he knew that it definitely involved was you. 

You’d almost forgotten what you were doing for a moment as Lewis called out your name, keen to know what he needed to do next in order to be helpful to you. 

“Do you need a moment?” Lewis asked you once your eyes found his again, unable to hide his smile as he could tell that you had been daydreaming. 

“No, I’m all good,” you assured him. “There’s an onion to chop, but I’ll do that because I know what you’re like. Do you want to chop up the mushrooms instead?” 

“Sounds good,” Lewis chimed, impressed that you had remembered his fear of onions. “How do you want me to do it?” 

“Just thin slices,” you noted, standing back once again to watch Lewis concentrate and make sure that he did the best possible job. Beside you, Lewis could feel you staring once again, stopping after chopping a couple of mushrooms. 

“Do you plan on doing any cooking tonight or are you just planning on watching me?” Lewis teased, placing the knife down before moving his hands to your hips, pulling you across so you were stood in front of him. 

“I’ll get started on the cooking in a moment, promise,” you chuckled, feeling a kiss be pressed to the tip of your nose. “For the moment though I’d just like to stay here and admire my perfect husband hard at work,” you smiled, watching as Lewis’ eyebrows raised, surprised by what he heard. 

“Perfect husband, yeah?” 

Your head nodded as Lewis pulled you even closer to him, almost forgetting about what he was doing for a moment. He knew just how strongly you felt about him, but he never tired of hearing it anyway. 

And although he doubted himself at times, being away from home a lot and unable to talk to you, you couldn’t be surer that he really was the definition of perfect. 

After a few moments, your finger poked against Lewis’ chest. “Now look who the one daydreaming is, come on, there’s things to do.” 

Lewis’ eyes rolled as he reluctantly let you go. “Sometimes I wonder whether it's worth just retiring now and staying in this place forever with you.” 

Your head shook as Lewis picked the knife back up, “you’ve still got far too many things to achieve before you retire. Plus, I don’t think Ferrari would be particularly impressed if you said goodbye before you even say hello.” 

Lewis shrugged as you spoke, “perhaps it would be worth it. Why go and be with Ferrari rather than spend all of my days with you instead?” 

You knew that he was only joking, but still, you couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of soon being able to spend all your days with Lewis, living in your own domestic bubble. 

“Shall we get this done?” Lewis laughed, capturing your attention. 

“Yeah, let’s get going.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[konigsblog]

farmhand!könig x farmer's daughter!reader.🌾

tw/cw; semi-public sex, panty stealing and sniffing, perv!könig, loser!könig. MDNI 18+

you're a tease, always trying to seduce him, to rile him up and leave him irritated.

your father doesn't like könig. of course, he appreciates the help, but being overprotective of his daughter, he doesn't want you to date any men he doesn't approve of, and könig is no exception.

it doesn't matter how many times könig pleads with your father; he's adamant that you will not date him. although that doesn't stop the two of you. usually you clean the animals, but when könig is around, you're more focused on bending over to pick and harvest the berries and vegetables, wearing no panties beneath your skimpy dress.

that's one of many reasons könig feels that you are riling him up and taunting him. another reason is that you hang your panties on the washing line. despite könig's large size, he's pretty tactical and sneaky. he grabs a pair of your freshly washed panties, warm from the rays of the sun drying them, smelling of fresh flowers. you giggle when you find him getting off using a clean pair of your panties, using the pair he came all over to wear and handing him your worn panties, his creamy arousal rubbing against your slick folds.

you offer him a blowjob to clean up the mess he created. beads of his white stickiness drip from the head of his shaft, oozing out slowly.

and the last reason könig feels that you're teasing him is that you don't close the curtains while you get changed. he can see the silhouette of your naked figure in the window; his dick beginning to harden and stiffen. the only time könig has ever been inside your room was when he caught you getting changed while your parents down the road in the village. könig pounded into your soft cunt; his eyes rolled back, lost in the sensation of your tight walls around his lengthy dick.

[alena-draws]

Beware of major Trigun spoilers!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Read from right to left 

Wolfwood, the comic relief character...

I don’t know if it’s totally clear, but on page 5 you can see Vash’s plant lines in his face! With the plant blood now circling in his veins he has become half plant, thus becoming more like the old Vash..and also I can still give him that beautiful plant pattern. At this point in the story, Vash has obviously already remembered Wolfwood’s death scene. Wolfwood on the other hand, hasn’t still remembered anything...BUT I intended for him to do that, just a bit later. Maybe also in a different way, while Vash remembers during sleep, Wolfwood would suddenly get dizzy or faint, more being washed over with too many stimuli and emotions, hitting him more like a train. Sorry, guy.

2nd part of my vashwood reincarnation AU “Cutting the Strings of Fate”. Look under the cut for the whole story idea:

Many decades after the events of Trigun Maximum, Vash is reborn on the same planet. Even though still needed to sustain themselves, humans are less dependant of plants now, and the great project to cultivate the planet has been very successfull, with the first forests and occassional green that will grow out of the dry soil. Vash is a young but skillful plant engineer, who will also from time to time help out in different towns to have a look at their local plants. One day he starts having dreams about his past life, with them getting clearer and clearer and revealing more of his past. He meets Zazie, who is still the old Beast who knew Vash the Stampede. Because of that, Zazie notices that the very individual electric impulse of Vash, that every being gives off and can be detected by the worms, is indeed very close to the same signal of Vash the Stampede. Thus confirming that  Vash is indeed some kind of reincarnation.

Vash's brother Nai works as a bioengineer, looking after the preservation of important vegetation in another city, where their mother Rem lives, too. Vash meets Wolfwood, who starts to help out in the plant facility as a odd-job man, and they grow closer together. One day though, an accident happens, convincing Vash and Zazie that Vash's history is trying to repeat itself. They fear that just like in the past, Nai who is obviously another reincarnation could run berserk, and that Rem and Wolfwood are, just as well, in danger to become fate's victim once again.

With the help of Zazie that can feel how, after each past event repeating itself in some way, Vash's and the others' electric signals grow closer to their past selves', they try to defy fate and bring about a happy end for everyone. (Yay!)

[strangerstilinski]

eddie the hero

summary; the holidays bring about daddy issues of the decidedly un-sexy variety, but eddie is a total sweetheart and a goofball to boot. (this is very self indulgent.) 2.6k warnings; some angst but a very very fluffy end, trauma from overly-critical parents, eddie being sweet, some blood, a brief anxiety attack maybe?, i think reader is written gn (eddie refers to reader as a fair maiden but like jokingly? so do with that what you will) a/n; turns out, a combination of being home for the holidays and listening to mean by miss swift on the drive out brought up, uh... this. shout out to my dad for being himself over this holiday season, and shoutout ruby for very delicately insisting (repeatedly) that i get my shit together and simply.. make something of this trauma dump. so here it is; a wee bit of angst with lots of fluff to round it all out.

The kitchen is in chaos.

You've got about a hundred different things going at once in an effort to get everything ready for the holiday dinner that you and Eddie agreed to host. The smell of cinnamon from your morning baking endeavors still lingers in the air, though it's slowly being overtaken by rosemary and and the earthy scent of fresh vegetables. The hair at the nape of your neck is beginning to feel a bit stifling with heat from the oven already warming house, and you make a mental note to crack a window once your friends and family begin trickling in.

It's a little overwhelming, but you're doing your best to get what you've deemed the more detailed-oriented aspects of preparation done while Eddie is busy in the shower.

You intend to be finished by the time he's done getting ready. A mental plan has been laid out. You'll have the knife in your hand washed and dried and put away before he even emerges from the bathroom— no problem.

There was a problem though: you hadn't been quick enough.

You're in a zone of sorts. So much so, that you don't notice the footfalls of your boyfriend making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. When he speaks from the doorway, his voice takes you completely by surprise.

"What are you doing?" Eddie's voice is soft as ever, though you're unable to process the gentle innocence in the tone of his question.

The realization that you've been caught has the heat in the kitchen very suddenly feeling entirely too warm. Your collar is entirely too tight around your neck while your mind whirls with sudden anxiety.

It's as if Eddie is no longer there. Instead, your ears are filled with the echo of your father's voice, the condescension in his tone ringing sharply in your skull.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you doing it like that?"

"It's not that hard, bud. Just do it like this and it'll be better. How many times do I have to tell you-"

His voice would toe the line between irritated and amused, narrowed eyes making you feel a fool. It would prompt a frustrated prickle behind your own eyes and a tightness in your jaw when he'd show you the way you should've been doing it in the first place.

You heart races now with that unhealed scab of your father's never ending dissatisfaction. His impossible standards. His mean little digs and criticisms that masqueraded as him merely wanting you to be better.

Because you could always be better.

Growing up it was sports, your effort in school, it was the way you putted in mini golf, it was 'why on earth would you not dry the glasses when you washed dishes? That's just stupid because now they'll air dry with spots and-' From there began the slow evolution into the way that you drove your car, the way you spent money, how often you called and what time of day you called when you did..

Nothing you did was enough. In his eyes, there here was always something wrong, something that could be improved.

It's entirely possible that the stress of the holiday is getting to you already, if the way you've very quickly begun to spiral is any indication. And though there's nothing more than curiosity in your boyfriend's question, the familiarity of it makes you flinch nonetheless.

It happens in a flash. The paring knife in your grip slips and the blade slices the edge of your thumb instead of the potato you'd been getting prepped for boiling. A sharp sting that you barely notice. The sight of the blood that pools quick from the shallow cut has your ears ringing, Eddie's soft curses sounding muffled when they curl at your ears. It's a bit like you're underwater, sounds eerily distorted and brain fuzzy with the heavy beat of your heart.

"Sorry—"

It comes out as nothing more than a murmur under your breath. With a slight delay, you have the foresight to move your hand from above the bowl of already sliced and cleaned potatoes. Wrist now clutched to your chest, you zero in on the drops of blood that have already stained a few of them, red bleeding into the starchy whiteness.

"S-sorry, I just-"

Your voice is shaking as Eddie grabs a kitchen towel, his hands gently cradling your own and dabbing the towel at the cut so he can examine the severity of your injury. His brows are furrowed beneath the wispy curtain of his wet bangs, brown eyes wide with worry. His fingers are free of their normal assortment of rings, likely because he'd come out with the intent of helping you cook. Your eyes flick between his bare fingers and his shower-damp hair, between the roundness of his chin and the frown pulling at his lips — guilt pools heavily in your gut at the sight.

"I shouldn't 've been using a knife anyway, but I couldn't find the peeler s-so I just used the knife. I-I know it wastes more of the potato, I know that's not-" Your breath comes out trembling, your whole body wracking with it as your eyes prickle and burn with embarrassment. Your words come quicker, panicked, "I just wanted to get them done so I could get them in the water and start on the beans, but now I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie soothes, wide palm coming up to your flushed face where his thumb drags slow over the apple of your cheek while his other hand works to secure the dish towel in your fist to stop the bleeding, "Breathe, sweetheart. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," You whisper, voice thick with tears, "Was s' stupid, I'm sorry-"

"Baby.. Baby, hey-" His voice is soft. He squares his shoulders and follows your movement as he tries to meet your eye, brown finally connecting with shining pools that threaten to spill over. The pad of his thumb catches the first drop the moment that it breaks free, smoothing the moisture along your skin as he repeats the slow back and forth motion over your cheek. "The cut's not bad, it's not very deep.. What's going on, sweet thing? What's got you so worked up?"

Your next breath catches and it has your whole body quaking when it eventually whooshes out of your chest, a pitiful little sniffle escaping you in response to the sudden influx of tears.

"I- I was doing it wrong. I know- And then I- I got blood all over the potatoes-"

"We can wash the potatoes." Eddie says all too easily, though his voice still has that anxious edge to it that does nothing to make you feel better.

"We can.. We can wash the potatoes.." You repeat cautiously, as if the thought hadn't yet occurred to you.

"Yeah, baby. We can wash the potatoes." He echoes gently.

A shaky breath falls past your lips as you nod, "Sorry." You say again.

"I'm sorry," He insists with a shake of his head, "I came in here like a bat outta hell while you were holding a knife, and I scared you into hurting yourself. I was just- Potatoes we're supposed to be one'a my jobs. And, uh-" A grimacing excuse of a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes drifting to the discarded knife that lay at the bottom of the sink, "Well.. You couldn't find the peeler because it's in the dishwasher-"

You have to fight back a sigh at his admission, "Eddie-" You admonish weakly.

"I know, I know. It's not dishwasher safe. I know that, I do," Eddie says in a rush, "You've told me a million times, I just forget in the moment. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

His earnest apology has you reeling a bit. The fact that Eddie's instinct is not just to apologize, but also to explain away his mistake with guilt dripping heavy from his words-

You suddenly feel a bit like a monster. A cruel, perfection-driven bully of your father's creation. It has a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to well over.

"God," The word comes out a choked sounding thing, buried beneath the tightness in your throat, "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not a big deal, really, 's just a peeler. If the dishwasher ruins it we'll just buy another one for, like, a dollar."

"Yeah?" Eddie treads, a cautious smile pulling at the corner of his mouth while his thumb continues to drag soft over the wetness spread across your cheekbone.

"Yeah," You sniffle around the word, panic and realization settling in and promoting your chest to heave with quick breaths, "Jesus. Y-You shouldn't be worried about my reaction to something so.. So stupid. Fuck. I- I'm just like him-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Baby, hey.. Just like who?" Eddie interrupts with a renewed sense of urgency, "What're you talkin' about?"

"My dad-" You sob, shoulders trembling with it.

"Oh, baby, hey. Hey-"

In a flash, Eddie is guiding your head into the crook of his neck, wetness transferring onto his skin as a dam breaks and your body trembles with a series of heavy sobs. You slot into the space below his jaw just as perfectly as you always do, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces.

He smells like shaving cream and the conditioner you'd bought him especially for curly hair. The combination of the rich masculine scent on his skin with the sweet citrusy perfume clinging to his damp hair makes your head spin as you try valiantly to follow his soft demands for you to calm down.

His voice rumbles soft over your ear as he shushes you, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple all the while. The towel wrapped around your fist tightens when Eddie's bigger hand encases your own, a slow sway overtaking your body as he urges your weight to shift from foot to foot in a soothing motion. He rocks you back and forth, your socked feet shuffling against the kitchen tile, your boyfriend's chest pressed tight to your own.

A wide palm smooths up and down your spine, a tune that sounds distantly familiar rumbling over your ear when Eddie begin to hum softly into your hair.

A minute passes, shuddering breaths come and less, the heaving of your chest and the tears in your eyes settling until each sniffle feels more embarrassing than anything else. A weak laugh bubbles up from your throat as you hone in on your boyfriend's socked feet nudging at yours with every shift side to side, your fist tightening around the blood-stained towel for a moment before you're hooking your own fingers around the back of his hand, palms clasped together.

"'re we slow dancing right now?" You ask a bit breathlessly, finally lifting your head from the curve of his neck to peer up at his with swollen, reddened eyes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and drops his forehead against your own. That hand on your spine hikes you up against him, air forced from your lungs and another bubbling laugh pushed up your throat.

"You trying to woo me, Munson?" Your tease comes out a bit raspy from all of the crying, but you watch a grin pull at his lips regardless.

"Why?" Big brown eyes flick between your own, a little cross-eyed with how close your faces sit, "S'it working?"

You bring your free hand up to curl around the back of his neck, fingers slipping beneath his wet curls to ensure his forehead doesn't leave yours.

"It might be.." The words come out in a murmur.

You're feeling a bit mesmerized by his proximity, even after all this time. A sudden spin from your boyfriend has you stumbling over your feet, the only thing keeping you from losing your balance completely being the steadying hand that quickly finds a place on your hip and slides back to the base of your spine.

"It might be?" Eddie repeats with a scoff, "Oh, it might be, you say." A small huff of laughter escapes you and puffs out against his chin as he continues on, "Well I guess I'll just have to up the ante then, won't I? What shall I do, my fair maiden? What is it you desire? I could finish this lovely holiday dinner by myself, provide thee with sustenance-"

It's you who scoffs this time, "Right, hilarious. Our friends and Wayne will be here in less than two hours-"

"Or perhaps I'll wait until nightfall, pluck a star straight from the sky for you. Because what other courting gift could be better suited for a maiden who shines so bright-"

"Eddie," You can't help but laugh at his dramatics. The drying tear streaks on your cheeks are long forgotten now, the ridiculous man in front of you is nothing if not an expert in getting your whole attention focused on him.

"No. No, you're right. That couldn't possibly be enough to prove my endless love and devotion," He makes a show of shaking his head as he releases you from his hold and takes a step back. A sidestep has him bumping into the sink basin, a wide grin already pulling at his lips. "But this!" He announces as he snatches the bloody paring knife from the sink with a flourish, "This cursed object! Laced with evil, I'm sure! This blade that has brought harm upon you!"

You watch Eddie dispose of the knife with a smile pulling at your lips, and you only spare a small wince at the fleeting worry that it might tear through the plastic bag lining the inside of the garbage can. Eddie drops to his knees in a flash, dark denim coming into contact with the kitchen tile at your feet. His hands grip at the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes, the brown pools swimming with mischief and humor and love.

"-It is dealt with, my dear. It will never hurt you again. This I swear-"

The blood-stained towel falls to the floor as you take his head in your hands, carefully avoiding the drying cut on your thumb. You're swallowing down laughter as you guide him to his feet again. Your heart feels full enough to burst, and Eddie's expression of faux-seriousness is almost enough to push a giggle from your lips.

"Oh, my hero," You whisper with all of the dramatisation you can manage, "My big, handsome savior. Whatever would I have done without you here to protect me? How can I ever thank you?"

Eddie brings his palms up to your cheeks in a flash, and you know it must be a ridiculous sight. The current disaster zone that is the kitchen; ingredients lining every available inch of countertop space, a pot of salted water very nearly boiling on the stovetop, and the two of you standing at the center of it all — cradling one another's faces with all the care in the world.

Brown eyes flick slow over your face, the freckles on the bridge of Eddie's nose catching your attention all the while.

"One million kisses." He proposes.

A laugh does escape you now, though it's a giddy one, slightly flustered by just how sweet the man before you is. Your cheeks feel warm with it as your uninjured thumb drags soft over his cheek.

"One million?"

"One hundred million!" He counters immediately.

"One hundred million?" You repeat in disbelief, "Now, what's a guy like you going to do with one hundred million kisses should I give them to you?"

"Maybe you're right. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eddie nods valiantly, "We could start with just one, and work our way up."

"That sounds more than reasonable," Your cheeks are beginning to ache with your smile.

You push up onto your toes to brush your lips over his, scarcely touching. But when Eddie pushes forward, you rock back in an easy move, your mouth remaining just out of his reach.

"I am going to need that knife to finish dinner though," You whisper, the hushed words rushing over his lips in one breath, "The others are too dull-"

"Consider it retrieved and washed," Eddie says easily, "As soon as I get my kiss-"

It ends up being more smile than kiss, in the end, but there will be millions more to make up for it.

[jennaispunk]

Like the Rain

Summary: Frankie has something to say....will you listen?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count:2.9k

Rating: M

Warnings/Tags: fluff, spice (I won't call it smut. I will leave the smut to all you wonderful people who write it so much better than I ever could), oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up), unresolved feelings, idiots in love, maybe a hint of angst. This is slightly AU: Frankie has a baby but the lady is long gone. Reader has hair long enough to stick to her face and is shorter than Frankie but no other physical description is given. Yes, I gave my darling Francisco a middle name (sorry not sorry). If I forgot anything please let me know.

A/N: This fic was supposed to be for @guiltyasdave 1.5k follower celebration but life (among other things) got in the way and it took me forever to finish this (I'm so sorry Jana!). My prompt was Frankie and kisses in the rain. This fic put me through the ringer and I hope y'all enjoy it.

Thank you: @fallingforthearch for listening to me scream and cry about this fic. @sawymredfox for being my sounding board and calming my fears about certain parts of this fic ILY bestie!!!. @pascalispretty for looking over the final product for me.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Frankie drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his truck, beating out an uneven rhythm matching his impatience. He’d been parked outside your house for the last thirty minutes, waiting for you to get home from work. He knew he shouldn’t be here; you’d all but asked him for space, but he couldn’t do that. The last three days had been torture, not being able to talk to you or touch you. He should have just gone straight home after work, showered, and thought this through. His heart had won out over his mind in the end, and now he waited.

The radio weather report droned on in the background, warning of the thunderstorms entering the area. The dark grey clouds looming in the distance matched his mood. He’d been so stupid. He should have just been honest about how he felt, and this wouldn’t be happening right now. Instead, he’d let his fear of not being good enough for you win out over how much he loved you.  

Thunder rolled softly in the distance, almost like a deep laughter mocking him.  Would you even talk to him? Would you even let him tell you how incredibly sorry he was for hurting you? His stomach flipped as your car finally pulled into your driveway. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering the courage to face you and speak his truth. 

Today had been a long day for you and you didn’t even notice Frankie’s truck parked in the road in front of your house. Your eyes flicked skyward as the shadow of the clouds crossed over you. It had been hot and dry for weeks, with barely a cloud to mar the brilliant blue of the Florida skies. The precipitation was long overdue. Even with your diligent watering, the lawn was taking on the hue of a sickly Victorian child, and the sparse vegetation lining the front of your little home was left looking a little pitiful. You took a deep breath, taking the sweet, pungent aroma into your lungs. All you wanted was to shower, curl up on the couch, and lose yourself in wine and a good book while the storms washed away your pain.

You hadn’t meant to confess your love like you did. It wasn’t supposed to be blurted out in the heat of the moment. You’d wanted to wait for the perfect time, for the moment when everything was just right. But your mouth got ahead of your brain, and before you knew it, the words ‘I love you’ slipped from your lips, and everything changed. 

You couldn’t forget the look on his face when you uttered those three little words. It was like the entire world had stopped spinning on its axis. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you, dumbfounded, mouth slightly agape like you were speaking Wookie. Your heart sank like a stone to the bottom of a lake.  Tears pricked at your eyes like a thousand tiny needles, and you ran from his apartment before he could see them fall. 

You thought he felt the same way about you, but he didn't say it back. It hurt worse than anything you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t get away fast enough. You’d spend the last few days wondering what you’d done wrong, how you’d misread everything.

“Hey!” Frankie called out as he jogged up the path.

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his voice. It was the last one you expected to hear. You take a deep breath before turning around to face him. 

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” You ask flatly but the break in your voice gives you away.

He swallowed hard, his brown puppy dog eyes staring back at you. His lips twitch in that familiar way; the way they always do when he was working up the nerve to say something or when he was really concentrating, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

“I….I was hoping we could talk…. about the other night.”

 You scoffed lightly. That’s all you’ve thought about since it happened. That scene replayed in your head on an endless loop like a song stuck on repeat.

Your teeth ground together; the muscles of your jaw strained with the effort. “I’m not sure what else there is to say about it…. I told you that I loved you, and you couldn’t say it back. I think that says it all.”

Tears start to sting at your eyes, and you quickly turned away. The last thing you need right now is for him to see you cry. 

“Junebug, please.” 

He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Watching you hide your tears from him broke his heart. He’d sworn he would never make you cry, and here he was doing it once again.

“Say what you need to say, Frankie.”

 You kept your back to him. You couldn’t bear to look at him. Your teeth clamp down on the inside of your cheek.

“Can you at least look at me?” He pleaded. He needed you to listen, to let him tell you why he did what he did.

That moment was permanently seared into his brain. He would never forget the way your face fell when he didn’t respond to you. He wanted to say it back. God, he wanted to say it more than anything. He even practiced how he would say those words to you at the perfect moment in his bathroom mirror.

 You were the best thing that ever happened to him. He was at his lowest when you met. You were like a ray of sunshine when all he saw were dark clouds. You’d made him feel good again, like he wasn’t a failure. But he couldn’t make himself say it. He was shocked into silence because he didn’t think that you were there yet, and your sudden confession had caught him off guard. All those fears of being a failure had stolen his voice and he watched you run out of his life. He’d been a mess ever since. 

You hugged yourself tightly and reluctantly turned around. Your eyes glanced up at the sky, watching the mass of grey clouds inching ever closer.

Frankie lifted his hat and dragged his hand through his hair. His chest rose and fell in an uneven pattern, and he licked his lips. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He had to get the words out.

“I’m sorry about what happened.” He told you. “I never meant to hurt you; I swear. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

“Well, you did!”

The tears you were trying so hard to hold inside were threatening to fall and you swallowed hard, clamping your eyes closed.

Frankie’s hand jutted out to grab yours, but he stopped just short of touching you. Maybe now wasn’t the best time. He sighed heavily and pushed his cap up, smoothing his hair before replacing it. The pained look in his eyes said it all. He knew he was an idiot. He just couldn’t say what you needed to hear.

“Babe…. I’m sorry I couldn’t say the words. I was scared.”

Your eyes snapped open. The crease between your brows deepening.

“Scared….” You asked softly. “Scared of what?”

The toe of his work boot scuffed the cement sidewalk as the thunder rumbled in the distance. His eyes darkened as his past mistakes ran through his mind….. South America….the drugs…Marisa and his little girl. He’d messed up so many things in his life.

“I’m not good enough for you.” He murmured. “You deserve so much better than me.”

Your eyes went wide. That’s what this was all about? You knew about his past but hadn’t realized how deeply it affected him.  Now you could see how much he’d kept it inside.

“Francisco José Morales! How can you even to think that?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you studied him.

“You are the best man I know. You’re sweet and kind. You treat me like a princess. How could I possibly do better than that?”

A crooked grin broke out on his face. Why was it that you always knew what to say? You always had a knack for bringing him out of his darkness.

Rain drops began falling, peppering the cement with little dark splotches. Goosebumps prickled your skin as the cool drops ran down your face.

“I love you….so damn much. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

 The ache in voice was palpable as the rain picked up steam, cold and wet as it soaked you both.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you. Your body pressed against him, and you crushed your lips to his. You kissed him hard, with all the love you had. You needed him to understand that he was all you ever wanted…you couldn’t live your life without him.

He stood frozen for a moment.  That was the last thing he expected you to do. His shock was quickly forgotten as his body responded, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer and kissing you back with equal intensity.

Your mouths mashed together, teeth clacking, both desperately trying to devour each other. His fingers tangled in your soaked hair, gripping it tightly and keeping your mouth pressed against his. 

You moaned into his mouth as his other hand grabbed a handful of your ass, pulling you tightly against the growing bulge in his khakis.

You were both oblivious to the rain pouring down on you, desperately groping and kissing each other like two horny teenagers in plain view of your neighbors.

The deafening crack of thunder combined with the bright flash of lightning was the only thing strong enough to separate you.

You both stared at each other, panting, the rain dripping off your lashes and the bill of Frankie’s ever present Standard Oil trucker hat.

“We…should go inside…” you murmured.

Frankie was on you once again when the door closed behind you. His soft tongue slid between your lips; his large hands worked at the buttons of your soaked blouse.

You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward your bedroom. Your limbs tangled as you both fight to get the other’s wet clothing off, bumping into walls and bumping heads. 

Frankie tripped as he struggled to get his pants off. You giggled as he hopped on one leg and his shoulder banged into the hallway wall with a loud thud.

“You think that’s funny, Junebug? Just wait 'til I get you on that bed.”

You both fell into bed together, your wet hair soaking your sheets. Frankie descended on you, the weight of him pressing you firmly into the mattress.

He just stared down at you for a moment like he was trying to memorize your features. He smoothed the damp hair that had been stuck to your face as he lowered his face to yours, taking your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

His mouth worked against yours slowly, his tongue parting your lips to let him in. His tongue filled your mouth with slow, languid thrusts.

His hands snaked down your naked body toward your panties and his mouth followed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your chin, down your neck and over the slope of your breasts. He stopped for a moment, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue around the sensitive nub until it became a stiffened peak. You arched your back into him as he lavished the same attention to your other nipple. The ache between your legs grew stronger and you felt the desire pooling there, soaking your panties.

A low chuckle escaped Frankie’s lips as his mouth continued to move lower, hooking his fingers into your panties and tugging them down to bare you to him completely.

“Hermosa.” His voice was hushed, floating to your ears like the sweetest song.

God, you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. To him, there wasn’t a more perfect creature in this world. His heart hammered in his chest as he wondered what he ever did to deserve you. You’d been by his side through everything. You’d seen him at his best and at his worst.

 His eyes trailed down the curve of your breasts, down to the apex of your thighs, to the treasure that awaited him there that was reserved for only him. He dipped his head between your thighs, and he ate you like a man savoring his last meal. There was no time for teasing today, he had to show you just how much he loved you.

A breathy moan escaped your mouth. His lips and tongue moved in tandem, a rhythm he’d perfected that would always drive you insane. Your fingers tangled in his damp, brown curls as Frankie’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs. A hungry growl from his lips made you buck your hips into him. His tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves until you cried out his name like a prayer and came on his tongue.

Those gorgeous mocha eyes peered up at you, a satisfied smirk on his lush lips covered in your slick. A trail of sloppy kisses led him back to your mouth, his arm hooking your leg over his elbow; damn near pressing your knee to your chest. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned softly into his mouth, hooking your other leg around his waist.

You would never get tired of hearing the way he groaned softly as he slid his cock inside you. Your walls stretched for him, enveloping him with your warmth. No one could split you open like him.

Frankie pressed his forehead against yours as he found his rhythm. He could live here, inside you. It felt like your body was made just for him, like a key finding its lock.

His hips began to move faster, his thrusts more urgent as you both panted against each others' mouths. He would never get enough of you. The way you felt was like heaven to him, a heaven he didn’t feel like he deserved but he would never let you go again.

No one could ever make you feel as good as Frankie. He knew your body almost better than you did. The tension began to build in your stomach and your legs began to tremble. Frankie’s large hands gripped your shoulders, pulling you down onto him even further, making you mewl loudly and arch your back into him.

He knew exactly what this meant. You were close, and he was going to get you there. His thrusts became sloppier, but I less powerful, still hitting the spot that only he could reach.

“Come on, querida.” He pants, almost desperately. The bed creaked as he pounded into you.

  “Dámelo….dámelo…..please…one more…I want to watch you come.” His eyes are fixed on you, his pupils blown, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Whatever invisible force holding you together suddenly vanished, and you saw white. Your mind is only filled with one thing…him.  You clung to him as your walls fluttered around him, whimpering his name.  He followed you a few thrusts later and spilled into you with a strangled grunt.

Your eyes finally regained focus as you both came down from your high. He looked just as wrecked as you felt…his brown curls were a mess, and his lips parted as he panted.

He pulled you close as he rolled onto his back, resting your head on his chest.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

His voice was rough and breathless. A satisfied hum left your lips as his fingers gently caressed your arm. You knew you would be a little sore in the morning, but it was worth it to have him in your bed again.

“Yeah. I’m okay, baby.”

A comfortable silence filled the room as you listened to the sounds of your breathing mixed with the patter of rain against your bedroom window. Your eyes closed as the gentle thrum of Frankie’s heart pulsed against your cheek. This is what you always wanted. This is where you were meant to be. You were content to lay here forever…until you saw his soaked khakis in a heap in your bedroom doorway.

“I’ll be right back.” You disentangled yourself from his arms, but his hand flew out to stop you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” his brow arched, and a hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

Your head swiveled around to look at him with a crooked grin.

“Our clothes are soaked. I was going to throw them in the dryer.”

His eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe you were worried about the clothes. You weren’t going to need them any time soon, not if he could help it.

“Don’t worry about the clothes, Junebug. They can wait.”

Of course, the clothes could wait. They weren’t important, but it wasn’t in your nature to not worry about the little things.

His chest tightened as you crawled back into his arms. The feeling of completeness washed over him like the rain pouring outside.

Maybe it was an omen that it finally started to rain after all these weeks of drought. Maybe the rain was the universe’s way of washing away the hurt and past mistakes, making way for growth and a new beginning for you both. This was a chance to begin again, and he was going to spend every day making sure he didn’t blow it. He was going to give you the life you deserved.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A close-up of a baguette lined with sliced cucumber and topped with cauliflower coated in a deep red sauce, diced tomato, and a white sauce. End ID]

Sandwich with sesame-gochujang cauliflower and garlic-yoghurt sauce

Inspired by Vietnamese bánh mì thịt, this submarine sandwich pairs fresh vegetables with fried cauliflower coated in a spicy, tangy, savory, and sweet sauce. Toasted sesame oil and the fermented notes of gochujang add depth and complexity to the mildly nutty backdrop of the cauliflower, while the raw garlic in the yoghurt sauce brings the taste profile to a sharp head.

Also consider pairing the gochujang cauliflower with vegetables of your choice in a rice bowl or salad.

Recipe under the cut!

Patreon | Paypal | Venmo

Ingredients:

Serves 4.

For the dish:

4 bánh mì, or 2 freshly baked baguettes halved and cut open

300g cauliflower florets (1/2 a small head)

1/2 cucumber, sliced

2 inches carrot, julienned

1 small roma tomato, diced

Other toppings of choice

Drizzle toasted sesame oil

1 Tbsp toasted sesame seeds

For the batter:

2 Tbsp (15g) all-purpose flour

2 Tbsp (20g) potato starch

1 Tbsp (10g) egg replacer for baking (optional)

Water

For the gochujang sauce:

2 Tbsp gochujang

1 Tbsp gochugaru (Korean red chili flakes)

1 Tbsp granulated sugar

1 Tbsp Korean soy sauce

2 tsp rice vinegar

2 cloves garlic, grated

1 green onion, sliced

Pinch salt

Pinch MSG (optional)

Several cracks ground black pepper

Water

For the yoghurt sauce:

1/4 cup non-dairy yoghurt

1 clove garlic, grated

1 tsp high-fructose corn syrup, or sugar

1/2 tsp rice vinegar

Pinch salt

Instructions:

1. Break cauliflower into smallish florets and wash. Prep vegetables.

2. Mix all gochujang sauce ingredients and use a blender or immersion blender to pulverise the green onion. Add a bit of water as necessary to achieve a slightly runny consistency. Set aside.

3. Mix all yoghurt sauce ingredients and whisk to combine. Set aside.

4. Heat a small pot with several inches of oil to 350 °F (175 °C). Mix all dry batter ingredients in a mixing bowl. Add just enough water to obtain a mixture the consistency of pancake batter. Do not overmix.

5. Coat cauliflower with batter and carefully drop one floret at a time into the oil. You may have to fry them in multiple batches. Fry until lightly golden brown and floating. Set aside onto a paper-towel-lined plate.

6. Increase the heat to bring the oil to 400 °F (200 °C). Fry cauliflower again for 30 seconds until deeply golden brown. Set aside.

If you aren't comfortable deep-frying, you may bake battered cauliflower at 400 °F (200 °C) for 30 minutes, turning over halfway through.

7. Heat a large skillet on medium and cook gochujang sauce, stirring often, until thickened. Add cauliflower and stir to coat. Drizzle in sesame oil and sesame seeds and stir again.

8. Serve immediately with bread, vegetables, and yoghurt sauce.

[thefandomdirtymind]

Stand by Me

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Soundtrack : Stand by me - Ben E. King

Hymne a l'amour - French Version by Josh Groban

Hymn to love - Edith Piaf

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon 

A/N : I had this idea stuck in my head for a while. Big shoutout to @alienstardustwrites for heard me complain about my cringe ideas and vocabulary struggle when helping me with my romantic vision.

* 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.

---

It was a really calm night on the Merry Going. 

Most of the crew was already asleep, even Usopp who’s, in the nest, was on vigilance duty. In the kitchen, you were lazily washing the dishes as Sanji was doing his prep for the next day. He had ,of course, insisted that doing both wasn’t bothered him and that you should go rest like the others, but you had assured him that you weren’t tired and preferred helping him than counting sheeps or worse fixing the ceiling. 

It was then in a comfortable silence that you both focused on your work, enjoying each other's presence. 

The calm atmosphere, only broken by the repetitive chopping sound and often clicking of plates against each other was in fact so peaceful that you at first thought you were mistaken. But, as you passed behind Sanji, you heard it again, faint but still melodious. 

The blond cook was singing under his breath. You recognized, by the few words you could hear, the ballad the musician was playing at your last, well deserved, night of fun.

The place was crowded, either by drunk sailors or couples, as much intoxicated as the previous, slowly dancing to the music. You remembered Sanji being particularly flirty that night, except for when that song had come. Multiple times, you had seen him reach for you before retreating himself or just brushing your question away. 

“ It’s nothing, love “ 

Had been the only answer you had for his momentary strange behavior. 

But here, in the tranquility of his own kitchen, you couldn’t help yourself to be amused by the tall man.         

Slowly, drying the plate in your hand, you softly join your voice with him, trying to not lose the tempo as you see the tips of his ears turn an interesting shade of red.

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t know you could hear me “ Sanji apologies. 

“Why are you sorry ? That’s okay Sanj, you can enjoy a song you know. And you were singing it pretty well. It’s the song the musician played last time right ? ”  

“ Thank you darling, yes it is. I have it stuck in my head for a while now…” He said, putting aside his vegetable prep and salted meat. “ In fact, that night, I was...I was trying to invite you to dance but I didn’t...I didn’t want to share that moment with the others.” He softly confessed. 

You could perfectly understand. As much as you love Luffy and the others, being with them all the time has only left you really few moments of privacy. And you knew that , even if Sanji and you didn’t really hide your attraction for each other, flirting as much as you can without crossing a certain line, you knew that you would have heard jokes and other childish reactions for weeks.  

Putting down your dishcloth, resolute, you slowly crossed the distance between you and the best cook of the east blue. 

“  Sanji,the night is calm, everyone is asleep, can I invite you to dance ? “ You gently asked. 

“ We don’t have any music “ He softly smiled. 

“ Then sing for me “ You replied,as your hands slowly slid up on his chest before locking themselves behind his neck. 

His smile could have illuminated the sky if the moon wasn’t so jealousy guarding his spot. Placing one of his strong hands on your waist before enveloping one of your hands in his, he slowly closed the gap between your two bodies.  

“ As you wish, Coeur en sucre“ Sanji answered. * Heart of sugar/Sweetheart

Softly starting to hum the instrumental part, adjusting his head above yours. He gradually drives you in a slow movement, keeping you firmly against him, his warm chest solid under your cheek.  

As you were both swaying in the night and he was singing in your ears how he wanted you to stay by his side, making you often gently twirl, before welcoming you back in your warm bubble. Sanji reaches the end of the song, but never stops the move, letting your two heartbeats become the tempo, wishing to keep you for him a little longer, even if it is just for a moment. 

Your flirtation with Sanji has always been fun, light and cautious. But, as you lifted your head off his shoulder, your lips brushing against each other, starting their own long dance of waiting and hesitation, you knew it was inevitable as your gaze got lost on each other.

Lightly his soft lips took possession of yours,making it seem  like time itself stopped, letting you enjoy in peace the sweetness of his kiss. Returning for more,his hand cupping the side of your face, passion diffusing itself little by little like a good liquor, kiss by kiss, you softly smile against his mouth. 

“ I think we have definitely crossed the line “ You joked, before stealing another kiss.

“ I think I had crossed that line the first day I saw you, “ Sanji confessed, his thumb caressing your cheek. “ You’re so perfect, I knew in a minute I had to make you mine “ 

“ Then, thank you for waiting for me.” You replied, leaving a long kiss on his lips before putting your head back at his place on his shoulder. “ Sanji, can you sing for me again please ? I don’t want the moment to end” 

“ Me neither mon ange” He answered, his arms tighten around your waist. 

As he intoned the debut of a french song about a hymn to love, your bodies moving in harmony, you knew you would have given everything to stay like this forever.

Song : (French ) ( English )

---

TAG LIST : @alienstardust @phantasmagoricalzenith @downforsanji @faefanatic @strongindependenttrash @hi3431 @sunnanse @neko-loogi @theluckyplaces @simbaaas-stuff @ofherscarlettwitchyways

Join my TAG LIST : HERE

[cnyazhongmachinery]

Green pepper washing and drying equipment price| Chili washing drying line

Chili washing and drying line is used for washing vegetable and fruit quickly with high quality. Capacity:50kg/h-1000kg/h Wechat/whatsapp:8613213203466

[ultronmachine]

fruit washing and drying line | leafy vegetable washing drying machine | orange washing line 

It is used for washing all kinds of leafy vegetable, like cabbage, Chinese cabbage etc. we can process them into salad, etc. The capacity: 50kg/h -1t/h. It consists of vegetable picking machine -vegetable cutting machine- vegetable washing machine - drying machine- packaging machine https://hnjoyshine.com/products/Vegetable-And-Fruit-Washing-Production-Line_1.html wechat/whatsapp:8613213203466

[joyshinemachinerycompany]

Chili washing and drying line| vegetable washing machine|fruit washer sale 

Chili washing and drying line is used for washing vegetable and fruit quickly with high quality. Capacity:50kg/h-1000kg/h Wechat/whatsapp:8613213203466

[forthelostones]

i. through the darkness - a fanfiction

꧁ since the apocalypse you found yourself living a stagnant but fulfilling life. you lived in the cabin you watched your parents build many years ago. you never ended up in a qz or sought out refuge anywhere else. living just outside jackson, on a lakefront, away from the world. you watched them build a community around you, something someone so isolated could dream of. but what would it cost? on a lone day, while you're hunting for dinner you hear a dry voice cry for help. it's a familiar voice, one you've only heard of ruffled behind static. she's helpless in your trap, unconscious in the dirt, leaking with blood, her auburn hair stuck to her fighting face.

content: mention of loss, mention of two-parent household, parent/ sibling death (implied), grief, blood, aged!ellie, fluff/angst.

an: waaaaa let's see how long this'll last. first ff since i was 13? woaaaa. also thanks guys for all the follows, that’s means sm to me!!! also any requests? let me know.

wc: 2.2k

Your stomach spoke to you while finishing your glass of herbal tea. It warmed you, but it wouldn’t satisfy you until dinner, which you were putting off. You knew you'd need to go hunt since the change of seasons left you with such little protein. But you so desperately enjoyed the weather and the coolness that allowed you to sit by the fire, read your favorite books, and go thoughtless. The crinkling of the wood created a hazy picture inside your mind of when you would sit by the fire with your mom and read her childhood books. You look around and sit alone with a copy of a graphic novel with pages that have become dusty with time. 

You close up the book and swallow the last drops of tea as you slip on your house shoes to walk to the kitchen. The floorboards creak beneath you, echoing in your ears, reminding you how quiet this place has become. Your hands wrap around the ceramic sink as you lay the glass down and peer out to the lake. Your memory floods with flashes of Christmas, the house noisy with the clattering dishes from the same meal mom made every year. Meatloaf, fire-roasted chicken. mashed potatoes, green beans, biscuits, pumpkin pie, and iced lavender tea. A meal that filled your belly up so much that you could barely stand at the sink to wash dishes. But as you stood, you so desperately wanted to lay in your father's arms, on the couch, listening to the laughter of your mom and brother dancing to a record. But instead, you looked out the window, into the never-ending treeline, watching the snow fall heavily over the deck sloppily washing.

You sniffled as you fought the distance between your mind and the present. You weren’t in the business of crying, that ended a long time ago. But when you peered out that same window and watched the sun hallow into the lake slowly you felt as if you could.

Better go, you thought. 

You strapped on your boots, tossed your rifle over your shoulder, and headed towards the door. All your gear was already set up from the day previously when you decided you would just eat vegetable soup again for dinner. You groan as you step into the frosty air, colder than you thought, but you smile, knowing Spring is knocking, waiting to come in. The world around you had become so quiet, so you constantly hummed a tune your dad taught you to keep your mind from wandering. 

♪ Open the door, Richard… 

Open the door and let me in…♪ 

You hear his voice chime in on the next line…

♪ Open the door, Richard

Richard, why don't you open that door?♪

The whistling breeze came to a brief halt, amplifying your voice and your feet crunching on the recently defrosted grass. As you walk to your post, opposite the lake, you hear coughing. For a moment you think it’s in your head, a new bit your memory made up while singing the vaudeville tune. The gurgle of trapped liquid triggered your senses causing you to leap to the ground. 

“‘Elp—“ 

It wasn’t an infected, it was an actual human. Your body jerks a gasp out of your mouth causing you to muffle your excitement that faded quickly. You set up a conibear trap down that way to ward off the trespassers you thought you’d get. You stood to your feet and sprinted ferociously to the sight. The voice yelped again, softly, as they hear you crash towards them.

Lying in a shallow ditch was a girl with the thick of her calve stuck between your trap. How long has she been out here? Her face was dirtied with earth and her body twitched from the pain. She had dropped out of consciousness as you appeared. Luckily the trap was old and somewhat defective, so her blood flow wasn’t as intense as it could’ve been. You check the surrounding area cautiously to make sure no one is hidden along the shore or tree line. You went over to her, prying the trap away with any remaining strength you had, nicking yourself and freeing her leg. Her pierced veins dripped blood, so you unwrap your scarf and tie it around her flesh until you could get her into the cabin. You hoist her up over your shoulder and walk quickly from shore, up the grassy plain, and twisting the door handle open with a free hand.

Your heart raced at the human connection. 

“I gotcha,” you say hoarsely. 

You open the bathroom door and lie her in the bathtub, hand behind her frosted neck. She's practically frozen, you thought. You remove her backpack, shoes, and additional layers down to her warming garments and grab the med kit from your living room. Your hands quake as you attempt to remember what to do. Find the source, stop the source, stay clean baby, you hear your Mom say. You cut a strip up her pant leg to view the wound. She needed stitching, on both sides of her calve, bulbs of nervous sweat gathered on your forehead, and fell quickly into the tub. Your hands were damp with fresh blood, more than you’ve ever dealt with before even when you went hunting. You reached for the spout to the tub and rinsed your hands off before delving into the kit for a needle and thread, she was going to be okay. 

You stood at her bedside, sponging her face with warm water you boiled on the stove and a clean washcloth. Your heart rate hasn’t dropped since you found her. Almost ten years since a human was breathing around you and you couldn’t believe it, you wished it didn’t go this way, but part of you was glad she did. Questions rummaged through your curious mind about how she found you, why she was here, what if she came to kill you, what if there’s a cure and they were alerting others? The thoughts didn’t stop. She was still unconscious, lying in your bed, tucked warmly with your flannel pajamas, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. You had given her a nice cleaning, wiping away the days-old dirt built up on her skin, even picking it from under her nails. Slathering her dried lips with petroleum, combing her hair after washing it, and now cleaning off her cheeks. Her face pleased your eyes, and that short hair sparked fiery against the dullness of your bedroom, filled with trinkets of the past illuminated by a flickering candle. Your sponge slowly swiped over her tattoo, it looked a few years old, faded away with time, and stretched over her aching muscle. 

Cool, you thought in the midst of then constant brain chatter.  

You dragged the loveseat from the living room to where she peacefully slept. You had been monitoring her after drowning her in freshwater with crushed-up painkillers. You had been worried because her breathing began to stagger into choking snores. But you also thought it would be a good idea to stay by her side to explain why she was here. In the meantime, you warmed up leftover soup on the stove, making sure there was enough for her when she awakened. You pulled a blanket off your couch and dragged a cup of soup to your post. As you spooned in the warm broth with potatoes and carrots to your mouth you watched her chest rise and fall, even if her breathing became shallow, you watched to make sure. She began to sweat late in the night, so you placed a cool rag on her forehead and dulled the fire. Something about her made you want to know her.

The morning broke through the sheer curtains and the birds from last Spring arrived again. You looked over to your patient who cuddled a pillow to her chest, hair sticky, and sprawled all over her face. It actually makes you smile because for a moment, life feels familiar — she feels familiar. You have a stretch and head to the kitchen to get started on breakfast, oats with apple butter. You toss more fire starter into the pit to bring more warmth to the brisk morning. A loud groan, that flowers into a scream, comes from your bedroom and you are met with the fiery woman once again. Her eyes bulging out of her head as her arms flail with her head tossed back. She searches around your room for something, anything to protect herself, and for a moment you feel the threat of danger comes as she grips the glass of water you set out for her. 

“Stop!” You holler, but your voice cracks, it’s been a while since it’s been used like this. 

Her strong arms chuck the glass at your feet, which causes you to wince and jump onto the bed. You wrap your hand around her aching, freshly stitched calf. She spits out profanities, reaching for your face, but you just squeeze her throwing arm harder. 

“I’m help, I help you, I’m helping you!” You stutter, trying to get the phrasing right. 

But she doesn’t stop until tears form in the corner of her eyes. 

Her body stops shaking the second she makes eye contact with you. In that moment you felt like Eve, full of sin, being discovered by God's wandering eye, naked, with her pupils melding into yours. She sighs as you lift your hand. 

“It’s it’s me,” you suggest, repeatedly saying your name. 

Her forest eyes settle on you as you move quickly off of her, freeing her wrist. 

“Okay. Okay.” She replies. 

Her voice is dry with rasp laced between her moans of agony. 

“You got stuck in my trap, do you remember, I-I live here. This is my house.” You explain anxiously. 

Which feels weird to say out loud, it’s just yours now.

She remains silent. 

“Your leg got caught in a trap, do you remember?” You enunciated slowly. 

“I can understand you.” 

You twitch at her unpleasant reply.

“Can you? Look, I’m sorry you got stuck. I’ll get you more meds.” 

“No, no,” she winches. “It’s fine I have to go, my people are probably worried, how many days has it been?” 

You shrug your shoulders, which wasn’t sufficient enough for her, and she spits a nasty what at you. “I don’t know and what do you mean people? Is there someone coming here, are you…” 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence at the possibility of this girl attracting people to you. 

“No, no one knows I'm here exactly. I wouldn't willingly walk into a trap.” 

You keep your post near the door, away from the broken glass as you observe her attempt to sit up. She looks around the room and you feel a wave of embarrassment. Posters from your youth are plastered on the walls, crooked and dusty. 

“You won’t be able to make it far with that leg.” You distract her. 

She pulls the sheet away from her now bloody gauze. The sight makes you jump into action and elevate it. You thought your stitches would hold, but they didn’t. The glass crunched under you as you leaped to the loveseat where you moved the kit for the night. You frantically removed the swatch of gauze and unraveled it in your hands. 

“Give it.” She demands. 

But you’re not listening to her words, you unravel the fabric to see your stitches in place, just her movement made her bleed a little more. 

“Give it,” she reached for your hands.

“Let me do this!” You scream, shutting her up. 

She sits as quiet as she can, sucking her teeth, as you change her bandages. You look up to her and she looks away, avoiding contact with your eyes. You silently walk to wash your hands and grab the broom. 

The room falls quiet other than the hay sticks scraping the wood. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Her voice breaks through the silence and you just freeze, squatting on the ground, over the glass, out of her view. Once the glass is in the metal dustpan you walk it to the kitchen to dispose of it. 

“It’s okay. I would’ve reacted the same way.” You sigh, propping yourself back in your chair. 

“You alone?” 

“I am, have been for the last ten.” 

“Oh shit.” 

Her reaction pulled at a nerve you didn't think you had. 

“Ten years,” she adds. “By yourself? What…” 

You just nod, thinking of how your mom would’ve handled this situation. Brought breakfast to bed, made a natural creme for her wounds, and played soft music to awaken her. She wouldn’t have attacked Mom. 

“I’ll get started on breakfast.” 

You watched her devour a bowl of warm oats. The spoon entered her mouth swiftly, clattering against her front teeth and scraping as she pulled it away. You added milk into her oats to be more filling, lots of cinnamon, and apple butter to hide the stale taste. Her tongue even rode the ridges of the bowl where the thick, sweet glue dried and hardened. Her breathing was sporadic, almost like she would die if she didn’t devour the food immediately. You were still on your fifth spoon, almost halfway through. You deducted from her hurriedness that she was outside for at least three days. She sat patiently against the headboard and waited for you to finish. You had forgotten how to speak to someone. The only time you spoke these days was when you read to yourself, acting out the scenes and trying character voices. As you try to speak to her your voice caught in the back of your throat. But you could ask the one question humans asked each other upon first meeting. 

“What’s your name… by the way? The by the way you added hurriedly as you remembered from the movies you watch that they say that. 

“Ellie.” She replied. 

“Ellie.” You repeat. 

You smirked as you took another spoonful, hiding your mouth, you liked the way her name sat at the tip of your tongue. Instead of worrying, you just thought Ellie.

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

oo are we talking about fries??? :D i enjoy Village Inn fries which heres the recipe if you ever try to recreate it(if theres no village in nearby)

Ingredients

1½ pounds red potatoes

Vegetable or peanut oil, for frying

⅓ cup chopped fresh rosemary

⅓ cup chopped fresh thyme

1 tablespoon coarse salt and heres the directions;

Directions

1 Wash and scrub the potatoes under cold running water, then pat dry. Cut in half lengthwise, then into long strips about ¼-inch thick. In a deep pot or Dutch oven, heat about 3 inches of oil until it reaches 250º. Line a baking sheet with paper towels and set near the stove. One handful at a time, add fries, and cook until tender but still pale. Remove with a slotted spoon or spider. Drain on paper towels and repeat with remaining fries. Once all fries are cooked, refrigerate until cool. 

2 while the fries are cooling, combine rosemary, thyme, and salt in a small bowl and set aside. Increase the temperature of the oil until it reaches 350º. Line the baking sheet with fresh paper towels. Repeat the frying process, this time cooking until the fries are golden and slightly crispy. Sprinkle herb mixture over fries while they’re still hot. Serve immediately. hope you try them, they're really yummy

BLESSED with a wonderful fry recipe thank you🙏

[madhattervanessa]

Kill You To Try (Chapter 1)

Summary: Between old and new issues, you let your own health drag. Not everyone seems to be okay with it.

Warnings: grief, prescription pills

Words: 2629

prev. Chapter - next Chapter

Series Masterlist

-

I need a hero! I’m holding out-

You’re abruptly ripped out of your dreamless sleep and reach out to blindly grab your phone from the nightstand.

“What’s wrong?”

You rub the sand out of your eyes with your other hand. As you open them, you blink up into the darkness.

“Need you to come down, I have some trouble with a horse.”

“Are you in the stables?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right there, Lee.”

You end the call and let your hand with the phone fall onto the mattress. You follow the grain of the wood in the ceiling with your eyes as you feel your pulse slowing down from its sprint.

It’s strange, not waking up in your bed.

Then again, you have not been sleeping in anything you could call your own bed for the past year.

You sigh and detangle yourself from the suffocating sea of thick duvets. As you swing your feet over the edge of the bed, the moist sheen of sweat on your skin makes you shiver. 

You drag your shirt off on the way to the bathroom.

You grab the bar of soap from the shower and bend over the sink. As you start washing yourself, you risk a cautionary look in the mirror. 

Your eyes are rimmed with red, the bags underneath a prominent purple, and the lines on the sides of your face are a testament to your tossing and turning throughout the night.

You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh pine smell of the soap.

After drying yourself with a towel, you wander back into the bedroom.

Mindlessly, you pull on your underwear, faded jeans, and a faded but thick sweater, before you roll on your socks and grab your boots as you make your way out of the room.

Downstairs, you hear the hiss of running water from the kitchen. You knock on your way in and let your eyes wander over the generous baskets of produce and the breakfast spread on the kitchen island.

Gabriel, the Dutton’s personal chef, looks over his shoulder from where he is washing produce in the sink.

“Good morning. Since when have you been back?” 

You shuffle into the kitchen, the scent of fresh herbs and wet vegetables washing over you.

“Few days ago. D’you have any coffee?”

He dries his hands on the towel hanging from his shoulder, offering a quick smile. 

“Definitely. Why don’t you grab some breakfast, too?” He gestures towards the breakfast spread, the eggs still steaming.

“God bless you, Gator,” you murmur and take a seat at the wooden kitchen island. As you lean onto the smooth wooden counter, the smell of bread and butter fills your nose. You spy a leftover plate from what must have been Lee's breakfast.

You reach for a thick slice of bread to pile some eggs on. Just as you chew on your first bite, your travel mug is set down next to your arm. You open your eyes to Gator's scrutinizing look and wipe some butter from the corner of your lips to your mouth.

“Jesus, girl, when’s the last time you ate?”

You hum and swallow before reaching for the coffee.

“Don't ask. Wasn't your food, anyways," you mutter before continuing to scarf down your breakfast with quick, eager bites.

Gator sighs and lingers at the counter.

"Well, I'm glad you're back to appreciate it. Lee just scarfs down everything and leaves. Don't get me started on the others."

You wipe your hands off on your pants and start pulling on your socks and boots. After swallowing your last bite, you meet his eye.

"Like father, like sons. They don't know how good they have it a lot of times, Gator."

You take another sip of the piping hot coffee, rolling your eyes in delight before screwing the lid shut.

"Can I leave my plate?"

"Of course. Just grab some fruit before you go."

"Thanks," you mutter. He pushes an apple into your hand and clasps your shoulder before turning back to the sink.

You bite into it and grab your mug. On your way out, you pull on your hat and jacket.

The morning air sends a shiver down your spine. On your way to the barn, you chew your bite of the apple.

Your steps are cut short when you see a shadow from the corner of your eye. The apple falls to the ground as Lee bumps into you, both of you apologizing to each other as you stop.

"Oh-sorr- Jesus Christ, kid. You look like shit."

You glare at Lee, unamused by his honest words this morning, as if you hadn't previously been aware of your greasy bedhead.

"You called me. I'm here.

"Right. Follow me." He clears his throat, awkwardly pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. A move that seems to be genetically imprinted on all of the Dutton kids. You drop your frown and follow Lee through the stable door.

The light inside is still dim, just a few pale yellow rays of sun manage their way through the windows, tinting everything in a gentle, warm hue that only seems to intensify the mellow fragrances lingering inside: Dry, sweet hay and musky manure, the smell of the leather saddles and warm, mellow horse fur.

It makes your heart squeeze. You missed it all, you realize, startlingly, as you look around until you find one of the horses already out of its box.

Lee gently envelops the horse's nose in his hands before walking over to its side, murmuring something soothing. The grayish gelding whinnies quietly before snorting and whipping his head towards his stomach.

"What made you call me?" you ask. Your boots click on the ground as you approach the horse you now recognize as Cisco, a young horse that had joined the herd just months ago. 

"He was sweating bullets and bein' restless when I came in." You study Cisco's eyes before opening his mouth to check his gums. When you finish, you muffle a yawn in the crook of your elbow and gently trace your hand over Cisco's neck. 

You pat it soothingly as you let your other hand glide over his side, feeling for anything unusual.

"I thought it might be Colic. But I wanted you to check now that you're back."

You hum in agreement and let your hands scan Cisco's shoulder, the crest, and his spine before reaching toward his stomach. You get a bump against your back for it, the morning air filled with the dull sound of hooves scratching against the concrete floor of the stables. 

"I'm thinking Colic is right on the money, Lee", you sigh and turn to look at him over the horse's back. "I'm going to have a look for any build-up but one of you guys has to make sure he moves around today, it will help against his stomach cramps."

Lee scratches the back of his head, already cringing openly.

"I need them out today."

"Well if you don't need me out on the pasture I can do it."

He nods and leaves with a muttered, "I'll leave you to it."

You watch him go, your hand ceaselessly repeating the back and forth on Cisco's back as you watch the first lights in the bunkhouse turn on, just in time for Lee to open the door.

You turn back, muttering some more encouragement to the sick horse before you go to work on him.

-

"Good morning."

You puff your cheeks before exhaling slowly. The air billows into small clouds in front of you.

"Mind your breathing. Use it to ground yourself, darling."

With the words, the memories of soft morning air, soft cushions on the ground and the smell of myrrh come flooding back, too.

You wish you could call her. Your throat feels tight at the thought.

"Morning."

You pull your hat a bit lower, mindful of the purple bags underneath your eyes that feel like your face is being weighed down. You roll up your whip over your elbow, fiddling with the flaying ends of it, twisting every strand.

"What's poor Cisco in for?"

The rhythmic pounding of Cisco's hooves in the sand echoes on the ranch.

"Colic."

"D'you need anything? Your case, or something?"

"It's fine, I'm almost done. Just needed to get him moving."

You click at the horse, encouraging him to keep moving. Rip's stare is burning holes in the back of your head. He kicks against the wooden post he's leaning against, grating against your already stretched-thin nerves.

"Don't you want to talk about it?"

You contain your laugh in a humorless, short huff.

But you smother the bitterness. Rip doesn't deserve your sour mood this morning. 

It might just be the sleepless nights, anyways.

"I ain't ever seen you like this, Bones."

"If you keep talking, you can run laps, next. I won't spare you the whip, either."

The high, grating sound of his whistling, and the warm laughter that follows, snap your nerves. 

You let your whip whirr through the air and precisely snap the fence next to him.

"Fuck-!"

You lift your chin, satisfied by the curses behind you as you follow Cisco with more encouraging clicks, turning with him until you can sneak a look at Rip.

The sight of his spilled coffee makes you smirk. Your eyes meet and you twirl the whip over your head again in a pretty circle.

He cusses, clutching his hat as he crouches down behind the fence, anticipating the next hit.

You don't let it come, just to see him squirm again. When he straightens up, he kicks against his coffee cup in the sand and throws another dagger of a look toward you before turning his back on you, leaving you behind, his hands no doubt balled into fists in the pockets of his jacket.

You gnaw at the raw inside of your cheek, biting at it until you can taste blood again.

-

When Lee finally returns, you watch the other farmhands file out towards the stables, too.

Rip is holding a new cup of coffee but doesn’t dare look at you.

The young farmhand next to him, however, does, chewing with his mouth open as he lets his eyes travel up, down, and up again.

It’s a whole thing with new farmhands, has been since you were twelve and suddenly nestling more weight on your hips.

He looks painfully young, dragged out of college young.

Probably the only reason he’s here anyways. Nothing fits him right, not even his silly little hat.

Except maybe for that fat grin of his.

“Who’s this pretty young thing!”, he hollers. Before you can say anything, a harsh slap is already delivered to the back of his head from Lloyd. 

You let the whip whirl over your head anyways, you have to. It’s the law. You would rather die than leave it to the men around the farm to enforce respect for you. You receive more welcome and friendly hollers that speak of admiration from the men you already know from the past few years in response. It warms your chest and you mock a curtsy before turning back to what you were doing. 

You hear Lee hiss something to the boy before nudging him along. The kid stumbles, kicking up dust.

“Dropped you some coffee at the stables, Bones!”

“Thanks, Lloyd!” 

“You need any help with the horse?”

“I’m fine! Calluses are still there!”

That makes Lee laugh and you spot John in the distance, smiling, too.

You tip your hat at the Dutton patriarch before making Cisco approach you, gently feeling for tension in his stomach again.

-

"Should I like that you're still here in the stables?"

"You better be likin' it, Lee", you grunt. Cisco huffs, twitching at the loud voices approaching.

You listen to the sound of the men filing in, putting their own horses away. You peek out from where you're braiding Cisco's mane.

"Any more medical emergencies I should know about?"

"Nah." Lee smiles at you as he passes. "How's this guy?"

"Getting the full treatment, washed and styled, ya know, stuff all of you guys could definitely use", you tease back.

He barks out a laugh in response, shaking his head as he takes his saddle into the back.

You hear Lloyd berating someone in the front, no doubt laying into a new farmhand or something.

Steps grow closer and you smile to yourself.

Lloyd is like a distant, older uncle, always with some warm, wise words he will gruffly mutter before he laughs at you, with his whole face, cheeks, and wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

You turn your head, ready to rib on him, too, only to find Rip shouldering his way into the box. He is crowding you, despite staying an arm's length away.

Everything in your chest shrivels up and you turn back to concentrate on what you're doing. You carefully fiddle with the hair in your fingers, taking extra care to add to your braiding, left over the middle, then right, brushing more hair into the other strands.

"Is this how it's gonna be, now? We're not talking anymore?" 

You open your mouth to answer but think better of it, biting your lip before shutting your mouth. Rip is good at this, making you argue with him until you run out of steam. He lets you take a pound of flesh until you roll over and give up.

"You look like a walking corpse."

"You're so charming, Rip."

"Stop deflecting."

"I'm not."

"You are."

God, you still fight like you are fourteen, bickering over who gets the best horse out of the stable. 

With the braid finished, there is not a lot you can do to avoid him, but you keep fiddling with the end of it for a little longer.

You hear him shifting. The heat is just rolling off of his body, permeating the air between the two of you.

"I called the Doctor. Got you some pills."

"I don't need medication, Rip. I need my fucking- goddamn peace."

"Yeah, that's just how I remember you. Wanting to be alone at all times. Real fuckin' like you."

Don't turn and yell at him, don't.

Just breathe.

Deep breaths.

You turn around to face him, uncaring of the others still milling about the stable as you get up into his face.

"Don't talk to me like that."

"It's the only way I get an answer out of you since you've returned."

You frown, still biting at your lip, tearing the skin.

"How about you just give me some space?"

"You've been so off, I'm thinking you need someone to stop giving you space", he hisses back before straightening up, his fingers scratching his jaw before he looks at you again, utterly defeated. "Just... take the pills. Talk to-" he sighs. "Talk to someone. Okay? Promise me."

His hands are warm as they gently squeeze yours before he lets them go. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat- but you can hardly feel it. It's like you're floating in the air, outside of your body, looking down on the situation happening. Rip glances over into the stables as he reaches into the inside of his jacket.

He pushes the pill bottle into your hand, making sure to fold your fingers around the plastic. The warmth of it, the sincere, searching eye contact- it snaps you right back into your body and you flinch like you have gotten whiplash.

You yank your hands out of his and flee the scene, leaving the pill bottle in the soft hay next to Rip's feet.

It's on your bedside table when you return to bed that evening.

-

Shoot me a message if you want to be tagged

Requests are open