17 - “It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”
You quickly pull yourself out of bed once you hear the toilet flush, the space beside you vacant. It was the day after Opie’s wake, and you knew Jax would be very much on the edge of a thousand and one different emotions.
“Morning.” you mumur as Jax washes his hands, him throwing you the smallest of smiles in response. You lean against the door frame, one of his many white tees adorning your figure, his eyes trailing up and down you as he dries his palms.
He places his hand on the back of your neck as he passes you, placing a loving kiss to your forehead, a content sigh leaving you at the feeling. “You want some breakfast?”
“Nah, I’m good thanks babe.” His voice is so small, pain laced clearly through his words. The weight on your chest is heavy, you not being able to feel even remotely okay when the love of your life is hurting so immensely, especially when there is nothing you can do to help.
You watch as he walks to the kitchen, disappearing round the corner before you relieve yourself, splashing some water on your face and cleaning your hands.
“Really?” you ask once you join your boyfriend, a bottle of clear liquid in front of him as he sits at the table. His eyes flicker up to yours, cigarette in hand as he knocks off the excess ash. “Babe, it’s six o'clock in the morning. You are not having vodka.”
You attempt to grasp the bottle, Jax moving it from your grip and looking at you warningly. “Don’t.”
You huff, but ultimately decide to just leave him, knowing that he’s a stubborn bastard when he wants to be. You make some toast silently, buttering the crispy bread and placing a few slices on a plate.
“To help wash down the voddy.” you tease, offering Jax a glass of orange juice. A small smile tickles at his lips, and you take that as a win, a warm smile appearing on your own face.
The two of you eat, Jax more nibbling than actually eating. You wrap your bare legs against his sweatpant clad ones, entwining your limbs underneath the table. Even if you get no response, you know Jax appreciates it, affection being one of the things he needs, now more than ever.
“I’m not going to try and interfere in whatever you’re going to do, Jax. Just please, be careful.” He nods in response, reaching for your hand across the table and playing with your fingers, twisting the ring on your middle finger that he brought you not so long ago.
“It all feels so fucked, you know?” Jax confesses, a deep sigh leaving his lips. You slide your fingers to fit with his, the two of you coming together like a perfect puzzle. “He was my best friend.”
“He’ll always be your best friend, Jackson, whether he’s with us or not.” you state, completely standing by your words. Jax locks his eyes with yours, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing each digit softly.
“How did I get so lucky?” he utters, you bringing your hand to cradle his face, his eyes fluttering shut as he basks in your touch. You stroke his skin comfortingly, his coarse facial hair being a strong contrast from the soft flesh.
“I ask myself that every day.” You lean across the table, him meeting you halfway, his lips capturing yours in a simple, yet passionate kiss.
A/N - hope you all liked this! Thank you for all the support!! Xxx
Deviled egg and avocado sounds very slimy, Sam. Maybe some kind of cured meat or crispy bread product or something crunchy would be more texturally appealing.
I dunno, deviled eggs are usually not slimy and avocado’s quite firm…it’s just so many cured meats are kinda gross when they’re cold and I’m not sure I want my deviled eggs to crunch. Maybe some bacon, though….
62 (the bed to share) WITH BELLARKE OMFG PLZ PLZ PLZ (tysm)
I had so much trouble with this one, anon!! Like way more trouble than you’d think a cute little trope-y ficlet could possible cause. That’s most of why it took so long to answer this, I’m sorry. But here it is at last!
Bellarke, Modern AU, ~2,700 words
For the prompt “It’s only one night, we’ll just share the bed” from this list.
Bellamy already knew
this, though. He knows because they’ve hugged before: once after graduation,
and once after he helped her move into her new apartment, and once after she
got back from a month abroad and he picked her up from the airport and she
rushed into his arms and almost knocked him off his feet, which he hadn’t been
expecting, at all. And he knows because a few weeks ago, they went out to
dinner with some friends, and he walked her home and she invited him in, and he
ended up kissing her against the wall outside her bedroom, in the dim light
with her hands grabbing on to the front of his shirt and the sound of
intermittent evening traffic coming in through the window. Afterward, after
they’d pulled apart and before she let go of his shirt and before either of
them managed to look the other in the eye, he buried his nose in her hair and
breathed in its light citrus scent. A few strands tickled under his nose. He
remembers that moment now better than the kiss itself: how he delayed stepping
back for as long as he could, how he knew even then that each extra second of
hesitation would burn into his memory.
That was three weeks
ago, and they still haven’t talked about it.
It’s dark now and
Clarke’s hair is fanned out behind her and around her on the pillow, like fairy
tale princess hair—if princesses slept in old worn out NASA shirts that they
obviously stole from their roommate and green plaid pants the pattern of
Christmas wrapping paper. Still, Bellamy’s surprised to see just how
picture-perfect Clarke looks in sleep. It’s like someone carefully arranged her
into the most precise pose, cute and half-curled up and utterly serene.
Sleeping next to someone is supposed to break your illusions about them. Seeing
their silly pajamas and hearing them brush their teeth, waking up the next day
to their morning breath and mussed up hair: the whole routine is designed to
burn up old fantasies, to bring soaring, irrational daydreams back to Earth. So
far sleeping next to Clarke is doing the opposite. Her hair shines even in the
darkness, fluffy and golden with the gentlest of waves.
The long-awaited sequel to the first I’m in Love With a Stripper. Someone from Seungcheol’s past appears suddenly. What are their motives? What does this mean for your budding relationship with the devilishly charming sweetheart that just so happens to be an exotic dancer?
urgh, I depleted all my energy yesterday doing a grilled cheese demo for five hours. But we had three wheels of Pecorino Calabrese cheese that were close dated and needed to be sold before they got marked down
random grilled cheese tips:
melt butter in a non-stick pan and lightly sprinkle grated Parmesan (or Pecorino Romano or Pecorino Calabrese. Any salty Italian grating cheese) over the melted butter then put your bread down on top. This will give the outside of your grilled cheese a crispy cheese crunch
Sourdough bread instantly improves any savory grilled cheese sandwich
Use shredded cheese, not slices. It melts faster and more evenly
if you’re using a salty cheese then try to add an ingredient that will balance that, like tomatoes or strips of red peppers or dill pickles
tomato pesto brings your grilled cheese game up to superhuman levels especially if you use it with smoked mozzarella.
sweet grilled cheese sandwiches are very real and very delicious. Mild, creamy Fontina Fontal is heavenly with fig jam and raisin bread.
Brie is delicious and buttery when melted and goes with just about any fruit, fresh or preserves. Try it on slices of baguette or croissant
Anon Request: plsplspls i wanna read a getting high with joji imagine, however pls don’t make Y/N a complete idiot about weed, this is 2017
Hope you enjoy it!
Y/N’s POV I sat against Joji’s door with my knees to my chest, picking the gunk out from under my nails as I waited for him to arrive. I already picked off all of the chipped paint from the frame of the door and was left to my own tactics, trying to make my butt comfortable against the hard tiled floors and try not to bore myself to sleep. I had texted Joji about five times already asking if he had forgotten about our ‘hangout’ sesh, to which he answered that he was running late. Something about a small hiccup with traffic. Before I knew it, he was strutting towards me from down the hall with a plastic black bag in his hand, smiling at the sight of me. I stood up and he shoved the key into the keyhole and unlocked the door, swinging it open.
“What took you so long, bud?” I asked jokingly as I made myself at home raiding his fridge for some beer.
“Traffic was awful and my dealer wanted to chat about some stuff on the news over some Starbucks.” he mumbled as he sat on the couch and removed the contents out of his bag.
“Are they a sixty-five? Who the hell even watches the new anymore? And who’s that passionate to sit and talk about it over Starbucks?” I giggled as I poured us both some orange juice with vodka instead.
“Losers.” he commented as he laughed, “I just wanted some weed, not a conversation.”
I accompanied him on the couch and observed him as he began to grind the weed up skillfully. After a stressful week, I tried everything to unwind: long baths, scented candles and incense sticks, even hours of sleep but nothing seemed to work. Normally, Joji and I would talk about smoking together but we never came to the point where we would actually do it since he was always busy and I was always busy due to coursework, but since the semester finally ended, I was all his for occasional smoke sessions. I wasn’t uneducated about smoking, I knew the ins and outs, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a ‘pro’, but I had my fair share of experiences with getting high. Normally, I would smoke with a close friend of mine who would use bowls so I was clueless when it came to rolling a joint. Joji rolled out the rolling paper flat on the table and emptied out the contents in the grinder onto the paper. The scent wasn’t like your typical pungent weed/skunk scent, it had a bit of a hint of cheese, sort of. Which was odd but trying new things when it came to smoking was a must.
“Did I have you waiting for too long?” he asked me as he sipped his concoction, making a face as the taste hit his tongue, his actions telling me that the drink was strong.
“No, I was there for about twenty minutes. I was picking the chipped paint off the walls.” I told him as he smiled at me and started to roll the blunt slowly, wanting make sure the weed was all evenly distributed throughout.
After finishing the rolling process, he handed it to me. I placed the blunt in between my lips, letting him lift the lighter to then end of it. The fire flickered orange and red tones appeared before my eyes as he maneuvered it slightly, letting the end catch on fire. Removing his thumb from the spark wheel, I huffed in to make sure it was lighted correctly and not in need of a second spark. I inhaled slowly, letting my lungs fill with smoke as I took a long huff, I tilted my head back and lightly exhaled. I shut my eyes, beginning to feel a buzz. Joji talked about his dealer having ‘great shit’, but never did I think it would have been this good nor this strong. Opening my eyes after a while, I looked at him as I handed the blunt to him, his eyebrows were raised in shock.
“Shit. That was longest hit I’ve ever seen anyone take.” he chuckled, “I didn’t know you had lungs of steel. You ever had strong shit like this before?”
“Nope. Normally I would have like the easy shit, but damn, this is really potent.” I said as I observed him take a long drag, “It’s really good though…I need to do this with you more often.”
He nodded in agreement and handed the blunt back to me as he stood up. He mumbled ‘munchies’ and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard him as he rummaged through the kitchen in search for something to eat and made an ‘aha!’ sound when he found something. Bolting into the living room, he flashed a pamphlet for pizza as he smiled happily.I took out my phone to dial as I held the joint in between my lips.
“Um,” I questioned as I looked at the pamphlet confused, “What language even is this? What number is this supposed to be?” I pointed at a strange looking one.
Joji sat on the edge of the couch as he took the joint and laughed, “It’s upside down, Y/N.”
I was so high it felt like the couch I was on was massaging my butt and I didn’t even know how to hold a damn pamplet. Once I called the number and put in an order, I got a little paranoid, it would happen depending on how strong the substance was. Normally, I was the one who be the most chill, but when you smoke strong stuff like this, there’s no telling who you’d turn out to be like.
“Yo, the pizza dude sounded like Oprah.” I said calmly, “What if she knows we’re smoking? And she’s like… disappointed? I love Oprah, bro…I don’t want her disappointed in me.” I mumbled, “She gives out free shit and maybe we’d get our pizza for free if we act like we’re not doing anything.”
“What?” he laughed at me, not being able to contain himself, which made me laugh along with him.
Joji and I finished the blunt we were both sharing and we were beyond hungry, so he thought it would be a good idea to let me have my own blunt while he smoked his own. I didn’t mind the idea being that I haven’t been this calm in ages. I was relaxed to the point where I was falling asleep. I woke with a jolt when I felt Joji tap my leg, I thought I had been asleep for hours but I was only out for seven minutes. The pizza box sat in front of us on the coffee table. The smell made my stomach rumble and my mouth water, and that said a lot since my mouth was dryer than the sahara desert.
“Did you give Oprah her tip?” I asked him as I rubbed my eyes.
“It wasn’t Oprah…just some teen who could use a haircut and some soap. One of those ‘hippie skater’ dudes.” he corrected me as I got up to get some water, still smoking.
Coming back to the table, the cup in one hand while the joint was in the other as I took turns hydrating myself and smoking, Joji lifted the lid of the box and we just sat there.
“Dude…” I whispered.
He was at a loss for words. Joji was angry, confused, and didn’t know if he should laugh or yell in anger. I let out a giggle which turned into loud hurts of laughter. He rolled his eyes at me and poked at the ‘pizza’.
“I’m about to call them. Like, is this some kind of joke?! Who the fuck delivers bread in a box?” he ranted as he searched for his phone while it was in his hand.
I poke around a little more, “Hey, it can’t be that bad…can it? I’m hungry and this crust is calling my name.” I mumbled.
As he was on the phone with the pizza company trying his best to put into words what was going on, I stared at the round crispy bread looking circle of crust that had been delivered to us. No sauce, no cheese, no pepperoni…just crust. I noticed some grease stains adjacent to the crust below it, as I lifted it up a bit, I saw the cheese and the sauce along with a piece of a pepperoni. I gasped loudly, getting his attention.
“You opened it upside down, you idiot.” I told him as I closed the box and flipped it.
“Never mind, the box was upside down…that’s the last time we’re smoking OG Head Cheese.” he said into the other line with a nervous laugh before hanging up
“Head Cheese? That’s why my mouth tastes like cheese? You need to keep me in touch with your dealer because this is some good stuff, Joj.” I said with wide eyes already chewing on a slice pizza.
“Wanna come over tomorrow? I have enough and I like it when you’re high. You’re eventful.” he asked me as he sat down next to me and pick up a slice.
“Hell, yeah.” I answered, smiling at him as he ate his slice crust first, “Just don’t open anything upside down.”
If it's okay with you, can you please tell my about Passover? I would just look this up but I don't want to get any information wrong. Thank you!!
Passover is one of the biggest and most important holidays in Judaism. It celebrates the story of the exodus of the Hebrew people from Egypt.
During Passover, you’re not allowed to eat normal bread, instead you eat a flat crispy bread called Matza.
On the eve of Passover, or Pesach, you have a big meal with your family and/or friends called the Seder Pesach where you eat traditional Passover foods (changes based on where you’re from, but my family generally eats potato latkes and baked salmon) and read from the Haggadah, which is a text full of songs and stories and prayers for Passover.
Chapter summary: Rose Tyler, internet food critic of local fame, writes a review on the new restaurant in town.
We’ve entered the fourth week of
October, and although my intention was to continue my search for the
perfect sticky toffee pudding, my dessert train was derailed when I
walked through the doors of a little hole in the wall known simply as
The Blue Box.
On such a rare, warm fall day, with the
leaves especially golden against the backdrop of a bright blue sky, I
was ready for something sweet and warm. But when I perused the menu,
I was caught off guard by three little words.