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sollucets · 11 months

Note

I warned you, should you open fic requests I’d be coming straight for your inbox with AkkAyan. I’m obsessed with on our way up/the sky full of stars and I wondered if you’d be willing to write something of it we didn’t get to see like their cooking date from chapter 4 or dinner at Akk’s house from chapter 3

tiis do you know i love you dearly

context from my fic on our way up:

The thing is, he and Akk had spent last night doing crimes against the culinary arts (jointly trying to make stir-fried basil pork in the tiny dorm room kitchen in a small disaster that ended in takeout) + The disaster at his dorm had been almost entirely Akk’s fault, and he’ll die on that hill.

so! as requested i took this briefly referenced incident and proceeded to project my personal (lack of) cooking skills on akk for about 1k(?? these things happen) of fluff. this ficlet brought to you by my best friend thaicookbooktv (and my milestone event. i guess)

💜

"Can I trust you with that?"

Akk glances up from the two eggs he's just started frying to glare at his boyfriend. There's a smug look on Aye's face as he leans against a counter on the other side of the cramped dorm kitchen (and thus within potential grabbing reach) and uses a little bowl to crush up some garlic and peppers (making grabbing probably a bad idea). "I know how to make eggs, Ayan."

"If you say so," Aye tells him, singsong. "I've never once seen you cook."

"That doesn't mean anything." Returning his gaze to the pan, Akk startles to see them more cooked than they should be and hurriedly, awkwardly gets them flipped before Aye gets to pretend it's evidence.

If it'd been anyone else, Akk might have admitted to the truth, which is that he does (sort of) know how to make eggs, and he can grill meat if he's invited to barbecue, but much more is beyond him. He thinks he could be good at it, with time, but he’d never learned to cook much at home, and at school he’d had so much to do that it had always been faster and easier and cheaper to have cafeteria leftovers or something instant.

But it isn’t anyone else, it’s Aye, and when he’d asked all earnest if they could cook together when he visited, Akk had gritted his teeth and then spent most of last night and the part of the bus ride over that he had decent data on looking up recipes.

So it’s particularly infuriating that Aye seems to have figured him out right away anyway. Akk scowls down at his eggs.

“All set over here,” Aye says, then snorts audibly. “What’s that look for? Did the egg insult your parents or something?”

“Shut up.”

Aye brings his bowl over to Akk’s side of the kitchen and sets it next to the other ingredients on the counter to the right of the stove. He’d only been banished over there in the first place for being distracting; Akk probably should’ve known he’d manage it anyway.

A moment later, there’s a light breeze against the back of his neck, and Akk jerks against the tickle, barely suppressing a yelp. He’s not actually holding the pan, just his spatula, so the worst that happens to the eggs is them getting slightly jostled, but he aims a blind elbow in the direction of Aye anyway, making contact with his ribs. “Jackass.”

“Violent authoritarian,” Aye responds, cheerful if slightly strained. “Those look good."

Once the eggs are safely off the heat, Aye hands him a larger pan, shuffling some things around on the little counter once there’s enough space. “Turn the heat up a little higher and put a little oil in there, okay?”

Akk glances over for the bottle of vegetable oil and grabs it. His recipe-searching had turned up the idea, but Aye isn’t using one, and Akk does not know how much ‘a little’ is. He sighs, sends a sideways look at Aye where he’s putting the egg pan in the sink, and tentatively pours some oil in.

“More than that.”

Frowning, Akk does as told. When he checks Aye’s reaction, he finds his boyfriend leaning on his hip against the counter and holding the bowl of vegetables again.

“Were you nervous about this?” Aye asks, tone a too-familiar combination of fond and condescending.

“Why would I be,” says Akk, too quickly. Always too quickly. That’s something Aye’s pointed out before, he should know better.

“‘Cause you wanted to impress me? I understand.”

Akk rolls his eyes, keeping his attention on the oil where it’s heating up. “You’re extra annoying today. Is it a special occasion?”

“Of course it is,” says Aye, tone gone painfully sincere. “My boyfriend came to see me.”

When Akk reacts far too late to keep a smile off his face, Aye pokes his cheek. “I’m happy, too,” he coos. “Now scoot, please. This next part has to happen kind of fast.”

Akk shuffles out of the way, letting Aye move in front and pour his little bowl into the pan, and sends a baleful look at Aye’s back. He’s looking far too cool in this situation; it has to be fixed.

Decided, Akk moves until he’s right behind his boyfriend, then hooks his chin over his shoulder, looping both arms around his waist, and glances down at the pan. With the bowl poured out, something looks a little suspicious in the garlic-to-chili pepper ratio. “Aye,” Akk says, trying to make sure his breath hits the skin of Aye’s neck over his t-shirt, “Did you put enough spice in?”

Annoyingly, Aye takes this without much in the way of reaction, only leaning back into Akk’s hold, and doesn’t even flinch. He reaches out for the bowl of meat and says, amused, “The neck is your weakness, not mine, Bigfoot.”

“That’s not an answer."

“Hey, who's the one of us that actually knows how to make it?”

“I could figure it out,” Akk says mutinously, dropping his face all the way to Aye’s shoulder in defeat and speaking into his skin. It’s not his fault Aye is apparently some kind of cooking expert who’s never needed a recipe in his life.

Aye laughs, just audible over the suddenly-loud sizzling sound of what Akk assumes is him adding something else to the meat. “I’m sure you could, baby, you’re smart. You just haven’t had much practice.”

“I help at home,” Akk retorts, offended.

“I know, I know.” Aye’s shoulder moves, presumably stirring, as he continues, “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll cook for you, so long as you always do the dishes.”

Squeezing Aye’s waist just that bit too hard in retribution, Akk scoffs. “As if. I’ll practice more. I’m not doing your dishes for the rest of our lives.”

The sizzling gets a little louder, and Aye doesn’t respond. Akk blinks, lifts his head, and sees Aye frozen over the stove, one hand out on a bottle of soy sauce and the other not moving a spatula at all. “What?”

“You said—” Aye starts, sounding awed. “You said ‘the rest of our lives’.”

“Oh.” Akk swallows on the impulse to deny it and just— lets it sit. Hides his face in Aye’s shoulder again and leaves it there, feels his ears heating up. What can he say? They’ve made the joke before, about their pins and wedding rings. It’s stupid, they’re teenagers, they’ve gone too fast, and he meant it, or it wouldn’t’ve slipped out.

Gratifyingly, Aye seems just as unable to speak for a moment. Eventually, he stutters, “I— that— sounds good to me,” and then, “I love you,” and then, “Oh, shit, the pork.”

#the eclipse #my fic tag #s: tsfos #arbitrary milestone prompts #tiis <3 #whenever i write about cooking something i feel like i am pretending to be a scientist. i barely know anything #in any case if you're wondering the recipe gets fucked up at the part where you're supposed to let the meat brown in the soy sauce #the meat is supposed to stick to the pan a little. it sticks a lot. aye is too distracted by the Proposal that just happened behind him lma #other implied / bts things here: i brought back my oowu decision to make aye bad at spicy food (crimes against thai people i'm sorry)#aye is not using a recipe on purpose to seem impressive. he used one to buy the ingredients #akk does in fact work on getting better at cooking (at christmas he handmakes their lil picnic date snacks)#i actually have a Lot of thoughts about aye/akk's relative cooking proficiency #and aye cooking with his mom (and before with uncle di) as a bonding activity is in oowu already #ok i'm gonna shut up or i'll talk forever

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tripixilater · 8 months

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Kindess...? Something like that

A is a bully, B is the victim of the bully A: "Hah! Lookie what we have here~ The freak eating his lunch all by himself!" B: Doesn't say anything as he looks down and fidgets A: "Aww, why so quiet~? Embarrassed that you got no one to eat with~" B: He doesn't say anything, but takes out the sandwich he had in his bag

A: "Ha! Just gonna eat, and ignore me-" B: Hands the sandwich over to A

A: Has a really confused look on his face as he snatches the sandwich "Hah! You think you could bribe me with a flimsy sandwich like this?" Then he takes a bite "Hah! I knew it! This sandwich is..." He stayed quiet after that as he looks at the sandwich, then back at B, before going over and sitting across from them

B: Gives them a shy smile as he watches A eat the sandwich

The two later bonded over their interest of food, with A rambling at how well put it is, with B taking notes on how it could be improved with A. Later on, they would trade snacks with a smile on each others face

#enemies to lovers #or something like that #writing ideas #writing prompts #the food was amazing too #they even exchanged recipes :D

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firesmokeandashes · 9 months

Note

Hello, and happy Blorbo blusday!! I'm well *checks clock* 1h late gasp! As an excuse I can only say that today I have been packing and I forgot it was Thursday. (As usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own) ANYWAYS. For today's question, I'd like to know about food preference and cooking skills of your blorbo(es)! What can they cook, what they like to eat, whether they are good in the kitchen, or better away from it and close to a fire extinguisher!

Hello! Happy belated Blorbo Blursday!

Today, it seems the gang will either be cooking in a kitchen or burning it down TwT

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Jordan isn't really a cook, though he can make a few basic meals without setting the house on fire. But his real skill is baking! His Chocolate Haupia pie is to die for. Even his Tina and Tinamatua nod their head in approval when Jordan served it to them.

Unlike Jordan, Amelia isn't very good at baking. But she is a wizard when it comes to cooking! Anyone who has tried her food will tell you so! From traditional Irish dishes to spaghetti and meatballs, she either knows how to cook it or will learn how to. But her favorite dishes to cook for her friends, family, and herself are colcannon and potato soup.

Nala, on the other hand, should not be trusted to make anything other than toast, cereal, scrambled eggs, and a basic sandwich. Otherwise, she will burn down her entire house, and the neighbors!

Aiden is the opposite of his girlfriend when it comes to things in the kitchen. Not only can he cook, but he's also pretty darn good at baking. He can cook all sorts of traditional Brazilian/Portuguese dishes. From, feijoada, picanha and

Kaine is an okay chef and a semi-decent baker. He knows how to make a few basic meals like soup, spaghetti, and meatloaf, and can bake things like cake, cookies, and cupcakes without burning the house down. Though he did set a batch of cookies on fire once. Butt hey! Doesn't every baker at one point set something on fire?

Martha will just straight up burn the house down. And she knows this, but somehow, her mom and Grandmother just can't seem to get it through their heads that she should not be allowed in the kitchen. Because no matter how many times Martha says she can't cook or sets a dish on fire. Her mom and grandma will drag her back into the kitchen and try to get her to cook.

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If you would like to read more content about the gang click one of the links below!

The gang going to a fantasy world

The gang going on a car trip

And a special thank you to @writeblr-of-my-own for the tag and my bestie for helping me research dishes for Aiden to cook :)

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So, I asked my best friend to help me research the traditional dishes for Aiden, and she copied down the recipes for them, so I told her to send them and that I would use them here. So, here's some traditional Brazilian and Latin recipes that my best friend found for me TwT

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Corned Beef Empanadas With Pickled Cabbage Slaw (Curtido)

The traditional way to enjoy corned beef is usually boiled until tender with green cabbage served with potatoes and carrots.

FOR THE EMPANADA DOUGH:

1 CUP SHORTENING MELTED

6 OUNCES COLD LIGHT BEER

1 ½ TSP BAKING POWDER

1 TSP SALT

3 TO 3 ½ CUPS FLOUR (PLUS MORE FOR DUSTING )

1 LARGE EGG, PLUS 1 TABLESPOON WATER (WHISK TOGETHER FOR EGG WASH)

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FOR THE EMPANADA FILLING:

OLIVE OIL

½ RED ONION, DICED

1 CUP WHITE POTATOES, PEELED AND DICED

1 CUP CARROTS, PEELED AND DICED

1 JALAPEÑO, MINCED

1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED

4 CUPS COOKED CORNED BEEF, CHOPPED (ABOUT 1½ POUNDS)

2 TBSP APPLE CIDER VINEGAR

½ TSP PEPPER

SALT TO YOUR TASTE

4 TO 6 OUNCES SWISS CHEESE, SHREDDED

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FOR THE EMPANADA FILLING:

OLIVE OIL

½  RED ONION, SLICED THIN

1 POBLANO PEPPER, DICED

1 ORANGE BELL PEPPER, DICED

1 JALAPEÑO PEPPER, MINCED

1 CLOVE GARLIC, MINCED

1 CUP SHREDDED CARROTS

5 CUPS SHREDDED RED CABBAGE

5 TBSP APPLE CIDER VINEGAR

SALT AND PEPPER TO YOUR TASTE

¼ CUP CILANTRO CHOPPED

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Steps:

Add the cold beer to the melted shortening, and stir gently. Add the baking powder, salt and gradually add in the flour until the dough forms. Transfer dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead until smooth, adding a little flour. The dough should be a little tacky but not sticky. Transfer to bowl, cover and set aside.

For the filling, preheat 2 tablespoons of olive oil to medium heat. Add the onion, potatoes, carrots, jalapeño, and garlic. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until potatoes are soft. Add the corned beef, vinegar, and pepper. Stir well to combine, season with salt to taste. Remove from heat and let cool. Once cool, fold in the shredded cheese, cover, and chill until ready to use.

When the filling is cooled and ready, preheat the oven to 395ºF. Roll 24 dough balls, transfer them to a plate, and cover them loosely with plastic wrap. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside. On a lightly floured surface, roll out each dough ball to about 5 inches in diameter. Fill with 3 full tablespoons of filling, fold over, pinch, and seal. Transfer to a baking sheet. Slice a 1/2 slit on top of the empanadas, and brush with egg wash. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes on the lower rack of the oven until golden brown. Move the pan of empanadas up to the middle of the oven and broil for a minute or until the desired browning is reached.

While the empanadas are baking, prepare the curtido (slaw). Preheat 2 tablespoons of olive oil to medium heat for a few minutes. Add the onions, poblano pepper, bell pepper, jalapeño, and garlic. Cook for 6 to 8 minutes. Add in the carrots, cabbage, and vinegar. Toss to combine, season with salt and pepper to taste. Cook for just another minute, fold in the cilantro, cover, and remove from heat until ready to serve. Serve empanadas with the curtido.

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Sopa de Res con Fideos

This soup normally takes more than two hours to get the stock nice and rich with the broth from the bones. That said, this is not the “full” version of the way the soup is actually made; this is the “condensed” version. Still, it's a recipe that uses many ingredients that are typical to Puerto Rico.

Recipe:

1POUND BEEF SHANK

1POUND BEEF CUBES

4 CUPS BEEF STOCK

2CUPS WATER

1GREEN BELL PEPPER CUT IN HALF AND SEEDED

1 SMALL ONION CUT IN HALF AND PEELED

2 CLOVES GARLIC

1 RIPE HASS AVOCADO CUT IN HALF AND SEEDED

2 MEDIUM-SIZED CARROTS DICED

1 MEDIUM-SIZED YAUTIA DICED (THIS IS ALSO KNOWN AS MALANGA OR TARO), OPTIONAL

2 SMALL POTATOES DICED

2 TABLESPOON TOMATO SAUCE 1 BAY LEAF

1 TEASPOON DRIED OREGANO

8 OUNCES FIDEOS OR FINE EGG NOODLES

SALT AND PEPPER TO TASTE

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Steps:

1. Season your meat, both beef shank and beef cubes. I use my adobo seasoning mix which I make homemade, but you may use your own seasoning. Just make sure that you remember this will be covered with beef stock plus water, so you will have to season it well so the salt doesn’t wash away.

2. In a large kettle or Dutch oven, pour your broth and water in with the seasoned meat, then add bell pepper, onion, garlic cloves and celery. Bring to a boil. Cover and simmer on moderate to low heat for about an hour.

3. Transfer the vegetables to a blender and blend (use caution and place a damp towel over the opening so as not to have a catastrophe) until it turns into a puree (excluding the celery, you’ve just made a partial version of recao!) BE PROUD, BE VERY PROUD!

4. With a sieve, pour this puree back into the soup. You just want to extract the liquid, not the solids.

5. Now add in your carrots, yautia and potatoes. Gradually bring to a boil. Taste for salt and add pepper to taste. Add the oregano, bay leaf and tomato sauce.

6. Stir to mix in added ingredients. Cook over moderate high heat, stirring occasionally, uncovered for about a ½ hour more or until the potatoes, carrots and yautia are tender.

7. Add the noodles (fideos) and cook until they fideos are al dente.

𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷𖧷

Grilled Beef Ribs with Brazilian-Style Salsa.

FOR THE RIBS:

1/4 CUP COARSE STEAK SEASONING (CHECK LOCAL STORES FOR A BRAZILIAN STEAKHOUSE BLEND)

1/3 CUP GRAPESEED OIL OR OLIVE OIL

3 TABLESPOONS RED WINE VINEGAR

1 LARGE LIME JUICED

SALT TO TASTE

2 POUNDS BEEF RIBS BONELESS, IF AVAILABLE

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FOR THE SALSA:

1MEDIUM GREEN BELL PEPPER DICED

1BELL PEPPER ORANGE OR YELLOW, DICED

1/2 RED ONION DICED

3 LARGE ROMA TOMATOES DICED

1/2 CUP PARSLEY OR CILANTRO, CHOPPED

2 TABLESPOONS AGAVE NECTAR OR HONEY

1 JALAPEÑO MINCED

1/3 CUP RED WINE VINEGAR

2/3 CUP OLIVE OIL

SALT AND FRESHED CRACKED PEPPER

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Steps:

1. In a bowl, mix all of the ingredients for for the marinade. Let sit for 10 minutes.

2. Transfer ribs to a baking dish and cover evenly with marinade. Cover and marinate for 4 hours.

3. When ready, remove ribs from refrigerator and let come to room temperature for 30 to 40 minutes.

4. Prepare your outdoor grill for indirect cooking. This means you will only light one side of your grill, so there will be a cool side and a hot side. Preheat to medium-high heat with the lid closed. The grill temperature should be between 350-400º F.

5. Brush the grates to clean and then brush with some oil on the hot side. Place the ribs on the hot side just long enough to get a nice sear on all sides, 3 minutes per side. Transfer the ribs to the cool side of the grill and close lid. Cook with lid closed for 1 hour and 20 minutes.

6. Transfer ribs to a small metal baking pan or disposable baking dish. Cover tightly with foil paper and place back onto cool side of grill.

7. Cook for another 50 to 60 minutes or until ribs are tender. The internal temperature should be at least 170º F. Remove from heat and let stand for 10 minutes. To plate, add a nice even layer of salsa to the plate. Top with the ribs. Garnish with fried potatoes.

The salsa:

1. In a large bowl, combine all of the ingredients for salsa one hour before the ribs are done cooking. Cover and set aside at room temperature.

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Sirloin Steak With Chimichurri

• FOR THE SIRLOIN STEAK

2 POUNDS SIRLOIN STEAK

PASILLA CHILE POWDER OR ANY OTHER MILD CHILE POWDER

GRANULATED GARLIC

SALT AND FRESH CRACKED PEPPER

OLIVE OIL

𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔𖣔

FOR THE CHIMICHURRI SAUCE

1/3 CUP FINELY CHOPPED FRESH LEMON BASIL OR REGULAR BASIL

1/3 CUP FINELY CHOPPED CILANTRO

2 TABLESPOON FINELY CHOPPED FRESH OREGANO

1/2 TABLESPOON DRIED OREGANO

1 SERRANO PEPPER MINCED

4 LARGE CLOVES MINCED

JUICE OF 1 LEMON

5 TABLESPOONS RED WINE VINEGAR

1/3 CUP OLIVE OIL

SALT AND FRESH CRACKED PEPPER

ꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬꙬ

Steps:

1. Finely chop the herbs, chile and garlic by hand — it really makes a difference! Set aside.

2. Combine the lemon juice, red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper in a separate small bowl, whisk together, and taste for salt.

3. Combine all of the ingredients, cover and let sit for a good hour or more, stir well before serving and taste for salt. At this time, season the steak on both sides with salt, pepper, granulated garlic, and chile powder, and drizzle with olive oil. Set aside.

4. When an hour has past, position the top rack in the oven about 10 inches from the broiler. Preheat broiler for 15 minutes. Transfer the steak to a foil-lined baking sheet. Cook under the broiler for about 5 to 6 minutes per side for a medium/rare done steak. If you like it more well done, add 1 to 2 more minutes per side. Remove from oven and let the steak rest for 10 minutes before slicing.

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That's it! That's all the recipes! Word for word from what my best friend sent me in a very long text message TwT

Anyways,Im hungry and my hand is beginning to hurt byee!

#writeing #writeblr #answered ask #ask answered #blorbo blursday #my ocs do not steal #writing prompt #writing things #writer things #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #food #recipes #traditional food #traditional dishes #i love writing these sm

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magdaclaire · 2 years

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none of the little gay people from supernatural being from the south is cringe to ME. north carolina-ifies ur natural

#i was thinking about the food prompt for contentnatural and i. i am a southern gentleman #i don't know what other americans eat as area foods #time for somebody to learn a barbecue recipe from a north carolina mama blog (we do not generally have mommy blogs we generally #have mama blogs which are more Down Home Down The Street (that's the slogan for piggly wiggly which is a regional grocery store))#like region foods are so important and the vicious difference between carolina barbecue and tenny barbecue could fuel the conflict of a fic #but i DIGRESS #i just love southern food culture #my dad is a chef and it shows #but it's also bc my mama (which is what we call my grandmother) contributed to the Shriner cookbook back when it came out when i was a kid #so it's like a couple of our family recipes are out there for god and everybody #and instead of having any negative emotion about it it's just contributing to food culture of the southeast region of the united states #and i think that's so cool #anyway #mer rambles #and this post was about supernatural i guess

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internutter · 4 months

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Challenge #04012-J360: Everyone Should Have a Fish

The kind hearts at the school learn to make the treat so that children, like young Kormwind, can have them.

https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-03883-j231-not-available-in-this-location -- Anon Guest

[AN: Bless you, Nonny, but this doesn't happen in the book the original story is based on. Check my Patreon for the chapters. My choices are to alter my series' continuity or go with a huge time gap between the inspiration post and this one]

The parcel had come a long way to Lessa's door. Halfway around the world, in fact. She recognised the handwriting before she recognised the return address.

Little Lord Whitekeep, all grown up and long since returned to his homeland, had sent him a gift.

My dearest Mrs Lessa Tauzweig, he had written. I hope that this letter finds you both in good health and security. I never forgot the kindnesses you gave me in my youth. You and your daughter Bar both showed me what a good family should look like. Thus, I have sent this little gift in memory of the sanctuary you helped make for me. As I said, once, everyone should have a fish.

[Check the source for the rest of the story]

#instant story #just add prompt #a devil's tale #foreign food #recipe

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xinesegalas · 9 months

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Creamy and Briny Delights: Exploring the American Paradise Seafood Chowder

Discover Creamy & Briny Delights: A Seafood Chowder Adventure! Join me in savoring the soul-soothing embrace of New England clam chowder, enriched with smoky bacon & tender clams. Let's explore the American Paradise Seafood Chowder!

Daily writing promptWhat foods would you like to make?View all responses The dampness pervades everything, and the clouds hang low, heavy with impending rain—it’s just a matter of when, not if. The fog lingers, gently caressed by a breeze. On days like these, all I crave is the comfort of a warm, hearty bowl of chowder. The soul-soothing embrace of a New England or “white” clam chowder—the…

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#American Paradise Seafood Chowder #clam chowder recipe #Culinary Adventure #dailyprompt #food review #New England Clam Chowder #recipe recommendations #Recipe Review #recipes #Seafood Chowder #word prompt challenge #word prompts

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arsenic-and-chaos · 1 year

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This is my tag directory

Please don't reblog

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scealaiscoite · 9 months

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“food as a love language” prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

⋆ “i know you said you weren’t hungry, but i made you something anyways.”

⋆ “you seemed a little off on the phone, so i wanted to make sure you had something nice to come home to.”

⋆ “i heard you reminiscing about it the other day, so i called your mom and got the recipe.”

⋆ “hey, hey- i know you always say you don’t have time to eat breakfast before you leave, so i got up early to make you something you could eat on the go.”

⋆ "you know i don't mind that you can't help me while i'm cooking. wanna help me plate it up now?"

⋆ “of course i remembered what you like, why do you think i always have it made fresh when you come over? i’m not actually a psychic.”

⋆ "well you said you were craving [insert food] and it's too late to run to the store to grab it so yeah, i made it for you."

⋆ “come on, i can see you’re starving. just let me make you something, you know i don’t mind.”

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

⋆ practising cooking a dish from their friend/partner's childhood in secret before serving it to them for the first time

⋆ gently reminding them to eat

⋆ always having the ingredients for their comfort meal on hand in case they have a bad day

⋆ navigating around their sensory issues with food while cooking for them without being asked

⋆ dropping off food for them during a stressful day

⋆ being patient as they teach the other how to cook

⋆ learning how to prepare food from their home country for them

⋆ wordlessly setting a meal down in front of them after they come home at the end of a long day

#this is a superior way to show love fight me 🔪🔪#prompts #food as a love language #food as a love language prompts #fluff prompts #otp prompts #imagine your otp #platonic prompts #love language prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #dialogue prompts #soft prompts #rp meme #fluff writing prompts #otp meme

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 6 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 22

A quiet beeping came from Red Robins wrist computer, puzzling him. A break in? At one of his more affluent safe houses? At this time of day?

He pulled up footage from his hidden cameras for see a kid around 14 riffling through his cabinets, only to take a box of pop tarts before bolting, looking super guilty the entire time.

Over pop tarts.

Of course Tim didn't call the police. It was pop tarts and the kid looked like he needed them too.

About a week later the kid came back. He slowly crept around the place, poking things, moving furniture around by an inch or so before deciding it was safe to steal more food. It was always things too small for Tim to care about and honestly wouldn't even notice were missing unless he had been craving them beforehand.

After another week he came back and had the audacity to actually take a shower. It was then that Tim realized what was happening.

The kid must have had never seen any police arrive after the break in and thought there was no security at all. An empty rich guys apartment with full working amenities was a perfect place for a homeless kid to live.

Tim was about to call in an anonymous tip to the authorities so he could be placed in the foster system when the kid jolted and briefly flicked invisible. That changed things. Checking the outside cameras revealed that a minor car accident happened outside. He could understand the kid being a homeless runaway if he had powers that could activate suddenly when startled.

So he let the kid stay, making sure to sneak in and keep the groceries and toiletries stalked up whenever the kid went out for the night. Kid always came back in the morning to eat and sleep and Tim made it a habit to keep tabs on the kid even while he was doing other things.

Tim stared at his computer screen, wondering if this counted as "Stalker Tendencies"

Tim hadn't yet realized he had adopted this child-emotionally if nothing else. He keeps feeling really proud of himself whenever he gets his child to eat properly and leaves little recipe cards and stuff in the cabinets with the food.

Danny thinks the apartment is magic

#halloween prompts #dpxdc #prompts #fanfiction prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #red robin dc #red robin #yum #danny: i have been through the horrors. a magic apartment isnt that suprising #danny: rich people have the wierdest things

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 6 months

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OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest).

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even!

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.”

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia’s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up.

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

...

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gender neutral reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #just be happy the cookies burned and that you didn't have to eat them cuz he definitely messed with them when you ran #also enjoy getting flour out of the floorboards <3 #how tf did i write this in under an hour???#cloudy!#cloudy do not trust this man's cooking PLEASE #lilia is a little shit and i love that for him

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skzdarlings · 2 months

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birthday girl ; skz ; seungmin x reader

requested by anonymous: “You keep your hands where they are or I’ll tie them up” with Seungmin + requested by anonymous: ❛ i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making. ❜ is SO seungmin I can’t 😭 + requested by @sealovesbts : ❛ is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them? ❜ x Seungmin djjdjjdjd 🫣

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: friends to lovers. boy next door!seungmin, stripper!seungmin. reader is kinda vanilla but gets a couple kinks unlocked: stripping, some power play, seungmin giving orders and her following it, having sex in privacy but a public venue overall. word count: 4100 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

You open the door and jump, startled to find Seungmin already standing there with his hand raised to knock. He also looks surprised but he doesn’t shriek like you do. You were already jittery before the jump-scare.

“Seungmin! Sorry!” You put a hand over your heart. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I can see that.” He speaks in his usual dry tone but smiles a lopsided smile.

Kim Seungmin lives in your neighbourhood. You have been amicable a long time so you like to consider him a friend as well. He is an admittedly private person and his personality can be brash, but you find charm in his quirky cheekiness. He is reliable whenever you need a hand.

He is dressed in a hoodie and jeans which is not unusual; he is not very flashy. His bangs sweep his forehead and he smiles a wide, boxy smile as he hands you a gift bag.

“Happy birthday, neighbour,” he says.

“Oh my goodness,” you say, flustered. “Seungmin! You didn’t have to!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the greatest,” he quips. While you open the present, he asks, “I guess you’re going out? You’re all dressed up.”

“Oh, um, yes.” You feel shy as he looks at you.

“You look good,” he says.

It makes you even more flustered. You are dressed a little sleeker and sexier than usual. Your sister has arranged your birthday party but you do not know where, only that she said to dress for fun. You are not great with surprises and your sister is a little wild, hence your nerves, but you have decided to leave your comfort zone for one night.

You were not expecting to run into your neighbour, friend, and crush.

Because, yes, you like Seungmin. A lot. Seungmin is very modest, low-key, and hard-working. You know he is at law school and works a few jobs to pay for it. You are not sure where, but he is intelligent and you can imagine him doing anything. His snark is amusing but his dependability and steadfastness is a sexy combination. Your sister has never met him but has often teased you for your so-called boring infatuation, but you disregard the thought. You like Seungmin, shaggy bangs and law school textbooks and all.

A flirtation has been subtly brewing over the last few months. You think the unexpected birthday gift is a step in that direction. Especially when you unwrap a recipe book you off-handedly mentioned a few weeks ago, touched he remembered it at all.

“Oh, thank you, Seungmin,” you say, gushing and sweet. You go to hug him but falter nervously and end up giggling.

He brushes some hair out of his eyes. They seem to sparkle with mirth, or maybe you are just ridiculously head-over-heels.

“You’re kinda goofy, you know that?” he says, but smiles. “I like it.”

“Oh gosh,” you say.

It makes him laugh. Then he says, “I’ll let you get to your party.”

“Oh, it’s just my sister and some girl friends,” you say. “I don’t even know where we’re going. Probably just some food and stuff. You know me. I’m very simple.”

“I do,” he says. “I’d like to know you better, though. Maybe you can make me one of those recipes some time. I like the one on page fifteen.”

You burst out laughing at his audacity, making him laugh too. His teasing successively obliterates your nerves.

“I will,” you say, smiling so big. “Page fifteen. Noted.”

“It’s a date,” he says. “I’ll let you go now. Enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“You too,” you say, then realize that response made no sense so you stutter through a retraction. You stop when he leans in and kisses your cheek, a quick peck that makes your eyes go wide.

“Goofball,” he says and bops your nose while smiling. “See you around, neighbour.”

“Bye, neighbour,” you say, giggling helplessly.

He smiles as he walks away, hands in his pockets, and you are still hugging your book and smiling.

The conversation with Seungmin is your last wholesome birthday moment. You meet your sister and friends only to get whisked off to a placeof complete and utter depravity.

Otherwise known as a club full of male strippers.

You are sitting at a little table, astounded at the room around you. You hold no judgements whatsoever, but between the flashing lights and loud music and, um, prominent bare chests and even more prominent bulges, you are sufficiently overawed.

You cannot help but gawk, mouth open as you look around at everything. It makes your sister and friends laugh. It is not mean but they are undoubtedly amused. Your shy character is the opposite of… this.

“You guys are crazy,” you say, only making them erupt into more giggles.

“You like logic and traditions so consider it a rite of passage, baby sister,” your sister says, slinging her arm around your shoulder and squeezing. “Or, hm, an act of feminism! It’s about equality. We need to objectify and ogle the sexy men on behalf of womankind.”

“How noble of us,” you say dryly, setting off another round of giggles. You shake your head, smiling with amusement too. You are a little embarrassed but it is quite funny, and there is a part of you enjoying something so opposite of your usual quiet scenes.

Amusing is the best word for it, though. None of the men are remotely your type and the relentless hip-thrusting is a bit much. You find yourself laughing into your drink and swaying to music as a few choreographed routines are performed. Some of the more elaborate dances are entertaining.

“The birthday girl likes a pretty boy,” your sister says, conspiring with your friends to find the perfect man to entertain you.

“No, I don’t,” you say. You roll your eyes and playfully shove her shoulder.

“Well,” she says, “there are no boring lawyers on that stage, so a pretty face will have to suffice.”

They proceed to point out a few of the prettier dancers while you shake your head. You turn to watch the stage where a different set of men are in the middle of a routine. There is a very rowdy bachelorette party in front of your table, occasionally blocking the view of one side of the stage. You are sipping you drink when a few girls move, opening the view.

You promptly spit your drink everywhere. Your friends squeal while you choke and there is enough chaos at your table for one of the dancers to look directly at you.

Not just any dancer.

Kim Seungmin.

You have seen that face twice a day every day for months and you still barely recognize him. It is no wonder that even a slightly obstructed view warped him entirely.

Your modest, low-key friend is dazzling under the stage lights, face lightly made-up and his usual shaggy hair pushed back off his face. Is it possible for a glimpse of forehead to so drastically change the composition of a familiar face? He looks like a new man, his features striking on his bright, open face, all framed by neatly styled dark hair. The familiar sparkle in his dark eyes is accentuated by the gleam of something shining around his neck. Necklace? Choker? Collar?

He is in a white dress shirt and blue jeans, ripped at the knee, but everything about him seems illuminated. He is the bold, blazoned fantasy version of the boy next door. Very literally in your case, which is maybe why you think it, watching him cross the stage with more verve and confidence than you knew he possessed. Your Seungmin walks in a casual shuffle, hands in his pockets. He does not stride.

He certainly does not… gyrate. Which is what he is doing when he catches your eye. There is a moment of shared recognition and subsequent surprise, wide-eyed as you hold gazes across a noisy room.

Seungmin, a seemingly consummate professional, blinks the surprise off his face and goes back to his routine.

You are not so practiced. Your surprise stays plastered there, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him. The dance that seemed so exaggerated and ridiculous on the other performers is something else on Seungmin. Maybe it is his character, the boy next door with his ripped jeans and smirking grin. Or maybe it is because he is your boy next door.

He is not ridiculous. Quite the opposite. He makes it look natural, fluid and unhurried with the swivel of his hips and teasing grin. He seems to somehow make eye contact with everyone in the room.

You remind yourself that is his job when his eyes wander back to you. It does not slow the race of your heart.

He sits on a chair and opens his shirt. Some of the other dancers are more than half-naked, but he has a captive audience with the simplest action. Keeping each step to the beat of the music, he reclines and undoes his belt, which makes your lips part. Then he lets his shirt drop down his arms and reveals his shoulders, which makes you gasp. Then he cups a hand between his legs, curving his palm over the not-insubstantial bulge in his jeans. Heat fills the core of you.

He looks right at you with a tilt of his head and a lazy smile, the subtle sort of smirk that does not need to exaggerate. He knows he has you.

“Oh my god,” your friend says. “Not birthday girl eye-fucking a stripper.”

“What!” You rip your attention away all at once, flushed hot from head to toe. “I am not!”

“Well, he was eye-fucking you.”

You take a gigantic gulp of water, though it does not to quell the heat inside. Until today, the most you dared to fantasize about Seungmin was a prolonged kiss on the porch. Seungmin is polite. He does not eye-fuck.

Except you glance over the rim of your cup. He is still looking at you. It is not the way he looks at everyone else, who he skims with a cursory glance and flirtatious wink. It is a lingering, penetrating stare, like he is calling you to him with his eyes alone.

Oh. Gosh. He is eye-fucking you.

“I think,” your sister says, “we found a pretty boy for the birthday girl.”

And that is how you find yourself sitting in a small private room, barely bigger than a coat closet and washed in a dark purple light. You are perched on a plush little seat, holding your handbag so tightly your knuckles start to hurt. You let go and clear your throat, embarrassed even though you are alone. You place the bag on the floor and smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress.

You squeak like a frightened little mouse, jumping when Kim Seungmin startles you for the third time tonight. Once on your doorstep. Once on stage. And now in this little room, silhouetted by the hall lights until he closes the divider. He is still in his ripped jeans and dress shirt, neatly buttoned and composed again.

He runs a hand through his hair which makes your heart skip beats. You feel a little preposterous, scandalized by a forehead, but it makes his gaze so direct. You melt under the intensity of his stare.

“I hear it’s your birthday,” he says.

You imagine yourself as a stranger to him, the same line recited with the same confidence. For some reason, it is just as tantalizing. You like abrasive, quirky law student Kim Seungmin in his hoodie and jeans. But you find yourself irrevocably spellbound by this other version of him, who is so seductive it has women drawing money out of their purses.

“Yes,” is what you say, instead of all that.

He tilts his head, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. He is always clever but his open face makes his scrutiny more apparent. You swallow when he approaches, when he sinks down on one knee while holding your gaze in thrall.

“Breathe,” he says. “That’s not a request.” He rests his hands on the seat, framing your body between them. He does not touch you. He does not need to. Your breath spills free in a rush and he smirks. “Good. All right. So… neighbour… Should we talk?”

You think a thousand thoughts. Yes, a conversation. No, your friends paid for this room. They think you will get a lap dance or something, then return quickly. You want to ask when he is free for dinner. You want to ask how long he has worked here. You want to know him. You really, really want to kiss him.

You say instead, “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”

He looks at you for another moment, still studious. You swallow again. Then he smiles that dastardly grin, wide and a little mean.

“And you want to?” he asks. “Do this sort of thing?”

“Only if it’s you,” you say, then avert your gaze out of embarrassment. Maybe that was too much cringe-worthy honesty.

He touches your chin, drawing your gaze back to him. You blink at him, helpless but to study his face in turn. He was always decently good-looking but he is driving you to complete distraction. You find yourself staring at his lips well before he starts speaking.

“I think you have more depth than either of us know, don’t you?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you say, laughing a little. You look at him with wide, earnest eyes. “Don’t we all?”

He touches his tongue to his upper lip, looking thoughtful but undoubtedly smiling. Then he smacks his lips and nods, his hair bouncing.

“Right,” he says. “In that case, birthday girl…”

He stands and your eyes follow. He holds your gaze until he starts unbuttoning his shirt, then your eyes drop to his hands, the deft flick of his fingers as they crawl down his chest.

A professional, you think. It gets you undeniably hot. You meet his eyes again when he tugs his shirt off and drops it behind him. He is more slender than chiseled, especially compared to some of the other dancers, but there is a firmness to his body, a control he has mastered.

He grabs a bar above your head that you did not even notice, using it to lift and lower himself over you. He lands in a smooth straddle with his knees cradling you under him.

You sit back, breathing harder already. Then he takes your hands and lifts them over your head, making your fingers twitch with anticipation. You are still fully clothed but your dress is sleeveless and low-cut and this feels like a vulnerable position, arms raised with a half-naked Kim Seungmin straddling your body.

He curls your fingers around the bar then drags his knuckle down the bare skin of your arms, making you shiver despite the packed heat of this little room.

“You keep your hands where they are,” he says, “or I’ll tie them up.”

You nod a little frantically and it makes him laugh. Then he is leaning back just enough to rock his body over yours, bringing your attention to every flawless plane of his body as he moves on you. He touches you sparingly, making you watch, making you wonder. Looking and fantasizing about what his hips can really do, what strength is hidden in the body he has mastered. He follows the low music, ever deep thrum of a bass, every heart-pounding beat.

He brings his face close to yours, so close your lips almost touch. It steals your breath like a real kiss would.

“I’m going to touch you,” he says. “Be good for me, birthday girl. Maybe there’s a present in it for you. Only if I like you.”

You cannot find any witty quips to return. He is definitely the experienced one, as effortless with his words as with everything else. You can only gawk at him as he slides smoothly off. Then his hands are on your legs, making them quiver, your body startled with the direct touch despite the warning.

Your skirt gathers just a bit, his hands curling under your knees. Then he is spreading your legs, not enough to see anything but enough you feel the empty space between them. Oh yes, emptier than you have ever felt. You are surprised by the way you clench, your body aching for more. He only teases, makes you feel that emptiness and picture every what if. He helps you with your fantasy, pushing your legs back like he would if he was fucking you deep, rolling his hips so close to yours in mimicry.

“Oh,” is the only sound you make. Your breathing is very loud. It says a lot on its own.

He is breathing a little harder too. He is still between your legs when he starts unbuttoning his jeans. He shuffles them down his hips but not all the way off. You can see he is wearing nothing underneath, the denim itself a suddenly tantalizing piece, slung low on his hips with the subtle sloping v of his body drawing your gaze to his middle.

“I don’t usually go further than this, you know,” he says. He slowly pushes the next button loose and you can feel the rush of heat from your belly swoop lower. His bulge looks obscene at this vantage, pushing at what little remains of the denim around it. “But I think I like you, birthday girl.” He opens another button. “I think I can make an exception.” He pushes the last button then grasps his jeans at the hips, grinning as he says, “Our secret.”

Secret, illicit, that’s what this feels like, looking at the gorgeous man you have been pining after, watching as he pushes his jeans down his hips and thighs. You are tucked in a small room not far away from a rowdy crowd, Kim Seungmin dropping the last of his clothes then continuing his slow and sensual movements.

You feel dizzy, your arms shaking. You close your mouth when you literally salivate, because his dick is right there, hard and curving up in front of you as he moves with skilled ease. You giggle a little nervously when he notices and swipes a thumb across your lips. Then he reaches up, curling his hands over yours on the bar as he leans in close to your face.

“You wanna touch me?” he asks, palms over your knuckles. You nod frantically and he grins that mean smile, tilting his head as he looks down at you. “What will you give me for it?”

“Anything,” you say. “You can do anything to me. You can have all of me.”

It occurs only seconds later he might mean money, but he just laughs, that familiar ha-ha-ha you have heard a dozen times before.

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he teases. “By fucking your way out of them?”

“You’re so mean,” you say with a helpless pout.

“Yeah,” he says, brushing his nose with yours. “I am. I could be worse, but it’s your birthday.” He takes your hands and lowers them, guiding them to his shoulders.

You touch him carefully, as if he is fragile, or like he could disappear beneath your fingertips. This moment hardly seems real, ethereal and bright, all neon and purple haze. This is not like you and that is thrilling. This is all new, but he is also familiar. You are enjoying this, him, you together.

You touch him slowly, with intention, just the gentlest caress across his bare shoulders. It wipes his grin, makes his breathing get all slow like he is savouring it too. He looks at you with more intensity.

“You said I can anything?” he asks.

A nod is all it takes, then he is sinking to his knees. He pushes back a few loose strands of his hair, then his hands are under your knees and he is pulling you to the edge of your seat. You make a little noise of surprise, clutching his shoulders until he manoeuvres you. Then it is your legs on his shoulders and he is running his tongue along your inner thigh.

“Seungmin,” you say, breathlessly.

“Shh, shh,” he says. “Our secret, remember?”

Then he is tugging your now wet panties to the side, his mouth on you in a ravenous motion. You cover your mouth to try and stifle most of your moaning, but you cannot help the few sounds that escape, especially as he takes you closer and closer to a climax. He surfaces, still using his hand to get you close, his lips wet and eyes searching. He smirks, sliding two fingers into you while rolling his thumb across that distended bundle of nerves.

“That’s not quiet, birthday girl,” he says. “Don’t make me gag you.”

“I’m quiet,” is your rasping reply.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, fucking his fingers roughly through all the wet desire between your thighs, making you shake. “I can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making,” he says. “It almost sounds like you’re about to come for me. That’s pretty dirty. What would everyone out there say?”

Shocked. They would be shocked if they even believed it. You would not have believed it of yourself a few hours ago. But now you are coming all over his face and hand and it is still not enough. You have never begged for anything but the words are on your lips, your mouth open and eyes wide as you stare at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, fingers swirling at your entrance. He pushes in and out, just his fingertips, tormenting you. “That just made you needier, didn’t it? Tsk.” He sighs dramatically. “I don’t usually offer that. It’ll cost you.”

“I’ll cook the recipe on page sixteen too,” you say, making him laugh naturally again.

“What a bargain,” he says. He grabs his jeans and fishes a condom out of the back pocket. He even seems to make a show of that. He puts it on and fists his cock for you, standing above you while you catch your breath. When you reach for him, he grabs your wrists and yanks you up. He is effortless and quick, as always, spinning you around and pressing your hands to the back of the seat.

“You know the rules,” he says. “Hands there or I tie them up. That’s my girl.”

You follow his directions and bend over, feeling utterly debauched before he is even inside you. He lifts your skirt and tugs your panties aside again. You are fully dressed and he is completely naked, but you somehow feel more exposed, more vulnerable in his confident hands. He holds your hips and eases inside you, inch by solid inch until he is pressed up against your backside, buried to the hilt.

“That’s it,” he says, tone still cocky though it soon gives way to panting. He makes a few rough sounds of his own, fucking you quick and dirty in this small room. You are going to walk out of here smelling and looking like sex itself, dishevelled and shaky and well-fucked. Practically a new woman, one you are eager to know, containing as many contradictory dualities as Seungmin.

Seungmin, your goofy friend, who throws his head back as he drives into you again and again, shushing you when you get too loud. He muffles his own cry in your shoulder when he comes, still rocking against you for a moment after that.

“Fuck,” you say, dropping onto the seat after. He is tugging his jeans back on, though his eyes are on you. It is a scrutinous stare again. You undoubtedly have questions for each other. For now, you just smile, taking another shuddery breath as you come down from your high. “Well,” you say. “That might have been worth page seventeen too.”

His gaze softens, the corner of his eyes crinkling with his smile. He leans over you, brushes his nose against yours, and finally kisses you. It is the soft, tender kiss you dreamed about so long ago. It leaves you as breathless as everything else.

“All right, neighbour,” he says, “it’s a date.”

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #stray kids x you #kim seungmin x you #valentinesdaystories #kpop fanfiction

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petermorwood · 1 month

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Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

youtube

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

#food and drink #St Patrick's Day #Irish cuisine #Dublin coddle #corned beef or boiled bacon #pigs and cattle in Ireland #The Cattle Raid of Cooley #Youtube

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awfcspencer · 2 months

Note

reader feels ugly and just upset and leah comforts? pure fluff I beg xx

Don’t Listen To Them || leah williamson x reader

prompt: requested! Social media can be a cruel, cruel place.

warnings: self confidence issues

a/n: hope you enjoy it! happy v-day to those who celebrate <33

Inside your shared home, you and Leah decided to stay in and build a charcuterie board as a snack before you both cuddle up together and watch a film. For dinner, Leah had lit some candles and put on some slow music while she watched you cook her favorite chicken alfredo pasta recipe. The both of you decided to pop a bottle of red wine as a nice way to end the jampacked week. Dinner was relaxing, enjoying one another’s company and talking about miscellaneous topics. Leah cleaned up the reminiscent of dinner as you began on the board. Organizing the charcuterie board was pretty simple, you had found a Pinterest photo to recreate, and Leah had accompanied you to the grocery store to collect the items you would need.

Placing the finishing touches on the board, you grabbed your phone located on the other side of the kitchen island. The board had taken you a lot longer than you assumed it would, but you wanted it to be perfect, so you found yourself examining the picture intricately and making sure everything was placed exactly.

Leah had become bored roughly about 10 minutes into creating the board, she paced back and forth around the kitchen and occasionally sighed loudly to really get the point across that she was bored.

“Wait let me take a photo first Lee,” As you swat her hand away for what felt like the hundredth time tonight from the perfectly aligned board that she had been secretly picking at each time you would set a row of crackers or stack of pepperonis in place. Each time she would eat off the board, you would have to replace the food and scold her. It was like baking a cake with a toddler who would lick frosting off the spoon when you weren’t looking.

“Oh silly me how could I forget Instagram eats first.” Rolling her eyes and grabbing the remote in the living room to put on a movie. “Mamma Mia tonight?” It was always a go-to in the home. You loved the cute little plot and Leah liked singing the ABBA songs loudly in your ear.

“Perfect idea baby,” nodding your head towards the blonde. Carefully balancing the food in your left hand as you make your way towards the couch after you took the perfect photo. Then remembering that you have to get back up and grab the two red wine glasses the two of you had been nursing before. Placing yourself between the defender’s long legs on the L-shaped couch, leaning backwards into her as she placed her head on your shoulder, placing a few kisses in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish Williamson.” Whispering as you kissed her now reddened cheeks.

You grabbed a few of the pepperoni’s and tossed them into your mouth, reaching your hand back and allowing Leah to have a few after she made a toddler-like gesture and a huff indicating that she wanted one.

“I sometimes think you are a 26-year-old stuck in a toddler’s body.” All night Leah had managed to find some way to annoy or antagonize you, all in fun though.

Pretending to be offended, “Well toddlers don’t cuddle so maybe I should get up.” Making a move to get up and sit on the opposite side of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t get up, I am comfy, and you are warm.” You plead out in a joking manner, turning towards her placing a kiss on the tip of her nose as you forced her back down to her original position.

“So nice to me now but less than 30 seconds ago you were mean.” Folding her arms across her body and a stern look on her face. You wanted to make a comment about the state of which is looked right now, how it was so toddler-like, but you refrained, settling with a loud laugh.

“Momentary lapse of character” Reaching out to grab a peace treaty as an apology, “Olive?”

“You know the way to my heart, apology accepted.” As she takes it from your grasp and plops it into her mouth, pulling you back closer to her from her previous fake exit as you leaned into her chest.

Opening Instagram to post the pictures you had taken throughout the night. “Do you want me to tag you?” Organizing the selected photos on the screen and applying final touches on the photos. Ending it by adding a song in the background that had been playing when Leah grabbed you away from the masterpiece you had been creating and pulled you in for a quick salsa twirl and leaned you backwards and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Yeah so I can repost it” as she watched you create the post. You and Leah had been seeing each other for a few months, baking in the privacy for a bit before you let the whole world know. Each week that had passed, you and Leah got less and less subtle, performing a ‘soft launch’ through similar locations but different angles or the way she would repost your stories. This specific collection of photos was new though as it featured a slide of a side profile of Leah looking down at the board. It also had only 2 dinner plates, 2 sets of silverware, and 2 wine glasses in one of the photos, indicating it was in fact a date.

The fans had started to catch on and for the most part, the reactions had been mostly positive. Opposite of your life, Leah’s life was in the spotlight. Everything she did, everything she said, and everywhere she went was documented on some sort of social media outlet. Your account had maybe a few thousand followers, most of them you had gained from when Leah first started reposting your posts. So this post would set in stone that you and Leah were officially an item.

Clicking upload and then facing your phone downward on the table, cuddling backwards more into Leah with your back into her chest. Baking in her warm body, strong arms, and vanilla scent. “Omg who is this beautiful blonde in the third slide?” Gushing over herself as she quickly reposts your photos and places her phone next to yours, pulling you in tighter. “Always so humble Lee” gently swatting her on the thigh as she clicked play.

Every few minutes throughout the movie, your phone would go off, a little buzz that at first you just assumed was a few Instagram likes but after what felt like your phone was vibrating every second, you untangle slightly from Leah and grab your phone.

Your post had over 100,000 likes and several comments from people who you definitely did not know. You scroll casually through the notifications on your device. A few negative comments stuck out to you and when you opened the app, you were greeted with hundreds more.

‘Can’t believe she is dating THE Leah Williamson.’

‘Leah definitely downgraded.’

Several comments simply just said, ‘ugly’. The hurtful comments went on and on.

Private accounts and faceless profiles, people would say anything they desired behind a screen when there were no direct consequences. Harsh words that initially you were able to push to the side, but each one that you read dug a little deeper. The response was overwhelming, there were new comments each minute, and almost none of them were nice. It hurt and each one you read felt more real. You could feel the tears coming, the emotions coming out, so you briefly excused herself saying you needed to use the restroom, desperately hoping that the way your voice cracked was unnoticeable.

The words felt true as you locked eyes in the mirror with yourself. Where you enough to be with someone like Leah? I mean she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and what were you? Staring at yourself in the mirror you noticed each and every blemish, freckle, or pore on your face, and the tears began to fall. The grey sweatsuit that you had initially put on for the chill date now felt ugly on your frame, you wanted to rip the clothes off. Someone who was dating Leah Williamson wouldn’t wear such an ugly outfit.

Back on the couch, Leah was beginning to get worried at the amount of time you had been gone. The part Leah knew was your favorite was coming up so she reached for the remote on the coffee table to pause it so you could enjoy it when you returned. In attempting to pause the movie, she noticed your phone open on your Instagram comment section. The vulgar comments made her sick. They were piling in with each minute that passed, and she felt angry, but then she felt sad. She quickly left the couch and rushed to the bathroom, desperately hoping that maybe the pasta didn’t sit right, or you were busy washing your hands.

A soft knock on the door took your eyes off the mirror. “Hey babe, you all good in there?” the blonde questioned. Leah’s heart was beating out of her chest because she had heard the soft sniffles from outside the door as she walked up to it. She knew you had read the comments. She wanted to run in and immediately convince you that not a single one of those comments were true, but she didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Don’t come in.” You didn’t mean to scream at her, you weren’t angry with her, but you did not want her to see you like this, your makeup now smeared and tears freely falling from your eyes. You quickly locked the door and rushed to the opposite side of the bathroom. She would break up with you, she would realize the comments were true, you were ugly. You were fidgeting with your hair, a trait you’ve had since primary school when you got overwhelmed or nervous, it was a way to calm down.

“Baby please let me in, nothing any of those comments said is true. Nothing.” She pleaded, hoping she could convince you to let her in. She wanted to pull you into a big hug and say anything and everything she could to help you see that nothing they said was true or how she felt.

“You don’t mean that.” Your head was clouded, only being able to replay each and every comment in your brain. Your eyes continued to shift uncontrollably across different sections of your face or body that you felt ashamed of in the mirror.

“I love the way your baby hairs stand out even though you try and try to brush them down in the morning. I love the little crinkle in your nose when you get annoyed or confused about something. I love the way your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth when you are trying to focus really hard on something. I love your freckles, every single one, especially when you get some sun and they especially become vibrant. I love the way you lick your lips before you speak. I love the way each time you laugh or smile I can see the indent on your cheeks of your dimples even though you try and claim you don’t have them. I love the way you twirl your hair into curls when you get stressed. I love your eyes, it is like I can see a sparkle in them when you look at something you love. I love the way you close your eyes sometimes because you say it helps you think more clearly. I love you baby, every single inch of you. Those comments do not know you like I know you. They do not see how truly beautiful you are to me,” the compliments gushing out of Leah like it was second nature, truly meaning each and every word.

There was silence on your side of the door, taking in what Leah said. A click of the door as you unlocked it and Leah rushed in and to your side immediately. You sobbed into the defender’s chest as she rubbed large circles on your back.

“Thank you, Lee, really.” Your breathing had returned to normal and your heart no longer felt like it was racing. You felt safe and loved in the blonde's embrace.

“It is only you baby, you are my love. Don’t listen to them,” pulling you in tighter and placing a soft kiss on your temple as she forced you to look her in the eyes. She took her thumb and brushed over the final tears that escaped your eye.

“I can’t believe I let social media get to me, this is so stupid. I’m sorry for crying and for ruining our date,” your voice no louder than a whisper as you look down at the bathroom tile.

She forces your head back up with a finger under your chin, “It’s not stupid baby. I get it, it can be a lot. But anytime you feel like it all gets too much, I want you to talk to me. I want to know. And you never need to apologize to me, and certainly not for crying baby.”

Another wave of silence fell over the bathroom. The two of you are still huddled in each other's arms, swaying slightly left and right as you come down from the major wave of emotions previously.

"I'm pretty sure we still have mint chocolate ice cream from last week," she quietly whispered, a small upward quirk of her lip that turned into a soft smile. She knew it was your favorite and that you rarely let yourself keep it inside the household because you would easily eat a whole pint. You matched her grin, locking her fingers with yours, and pulled her towards the kitchen.

Two spoons and one large bowl of ice cream was shared between the two of you. Leah had made the final touches by adding chocolate syrup and way too much whipped cream. You took your pointer finger to swipe the white cream and tapped Leah on the nose.

"Who is acting like a toddler now?" wiping her nose with a nearby napkin as you shrugged and placed another large bite into your mouth.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women

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