#Insalata Caprese

[nicksmcivor]

Insalata Caprese Salad

[yeslioness]

Insalata Caprese II Because this salad is so simple, fresh, top-quality tomatoes and mozzarella are important.

[kylaroberts]

Insalata Caprese I Thick wedges of ripe tomatoes, fresh Mozzarella and slices of red onion are tossed in olive oil and vinegar and sprinkled with chopped, fresh basil. Chill and eat.

[seaofcloudscomic]

Insalata Caprese I Recipe Thick wedges of ripe tomatoes, fresh Mozzarella and slices of red onion are tossed in olive oil and vinegar and sprinkled with chopped, fresh basil. Chill and eat.

[ssansastark]

Insalata Caprese I Slices of red onion, fresh mozzarella, and thick wedges of ripe tomatoes are combined with vinegar, olive oil, and fresh basil before being tossed together. Eat and relax.

[annefretz]

Highlight summer’s luscious flavors with this delectable salad.

[daily-deliciousness]

Caprese salad (insalata caprese)

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Insalata

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

AO3 | Contorno | Masterpost

A caprese salad consists of so few ingredients but as long as they are fresh and ripe they bring the perfect balance. For variety you pick an assortment of tomatoes, blood red heirlooms, green beefsteak and orange roma. The visual appeal of the assorted colours, shapes and texture more than make up for the non traditional choices. Freshly made mozzarella as well, all evenly sliced and then already the preparation is almost complete.

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You are reading. Well, you are trying to read but unfortunately the man sitting across from you is proving far too much of a distraction. It was mid morning, breakfast long since eaten and cleared away. You had joined him as you did so often now and it was barely creeping towards time to begin thinking about lunch. Copia had returned your notes and you were still in the process of working through them, adding sticky notes with your amendments into the recipes to help you when time came to make them. That’s what you should be doing at least.

Instead every few seconds you find your gaze pulled back to him. He is also reading, the glasses he only just admitted to needing perched on the end of his nose. They slip further down every time he scrunches his face at whatever it is he is reading and you have lost count of how many times he has paused to push them up carelessly. Every now and then he notices the smudges left by his fingers and removes them completely to wipe them on his handkerchief as he shoots you a smile. He had let his hair air dry this morning so it falls in soft waves over his forehead. The muted sunlight catches in his silver roots every time he pushes his hair out of his eyes. You think to tell him how good he looks at this moment but you don’t want to break the comfortable silence. 

It’s sickeningly domestic but you can honestly say you have never been happier. The shift was subtle at first as you had spent a great deal of time in his rooms anyway but in a matter of days that time grew longer and longer until you rarely left on more than an errand from morning to evening. He would ask you to sit with him as he worked, join him for meals, linger in the kitchen as you prepared and even once attempting to help you clean the dishes. That is until he ended up dropping a plate in his inattention, the resounding crash making your heart skip a beat in a much less pleasant way then it usually did around him. You couldn’t even begin to be annoyed with him though, his apologetic puppy eyes forcing you to let him off with only a banishment to the kitchen table and a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Affection was easier now, not always so underlined with that awkward tension you had almost become used to. He liked to touch you. To lace your fingers together across the table when you ate, rest his hand on your waist when you stood together, play with a lock of your hair as you spoke, press a chaste kiss to hand or your cheek in passing. You had been hesitant at first to return his affection so boldly but the way he would glow when you reached for him first, his wide smile emphasising your favourite creases at the corners of his eyes, was enough to override your self consciousness.

There was still tension there, hot little frissons if you look into his eyes a bit too long or his body rests a little too close. Part of you wants to chase it but you no longer felt the need to rush. Although unspoken it seems you both chose to relish in this period of getting to know each other better, talking about your likes, dislikes, views and opinions or just existing in each other's company. It is comfortable in a way you never imagined you could be with him but you are more sure now than ever that ‘Papa Emeritus III’ who had led the Ghost project and the church was only a very superficial part of who he was.

There’s a childlike glee in him every time he tells you stories of his life peppered with ridiculous puns and dorky jokes that feels so far removed from the persona you had thought you had known previously. And yet you can see how he thrived as a performer and took to that role so naturally. He puts his whole self into recreating the tale he is telling with animated hands, exaggerated expressions and often silly voices whether he is talking about his misspent youth, rising through the clergy ranks or his touring adventures. You would start to feel very uninteresting in comparison until he would start to tease stories from you. Your worst cooking disasters that have him crying with laughter and disbelief that you could ever make a potato explode. But when he asks you of your family and your childhood you see a sad wistfulness in his expression that makes your heart hurt and you hope that one day he might open up about some of the harder parts of his life as well.

The tolling of the 11 o’clock bell brings an end to your romantic reverie. It is time to return to reality and begin thinking about lunch. You uncurl yourself from the armchair, your movements capturing his attention. He beckons you towards him with a curled finger as he places his book down on the settee beside him. You should go straight to the kitchen but as he has distracted you all morning anyway what is the harm in a few more minutes. You are sure your eagerness is obvious as before you know it you are sitting in his lap with his arms around you. 

‘Where are you off to cara mia,’ he says once you are settled. You slide his glasses up and into his hair, pulling the long fringe out of his face and you can’t resist letting your fingers run through the length until you can play with the strands at the nape of his neck. ‘I have been enjoying you watching me so attentively.’

‘And I was enjoying the view,’ you tease. His deep chuckle rumbles through his chest pleasantly where you are pressed against him. He leans up for a kiss, unable to keep the pleased smile from his face. Your lips ghost over his, barely indulging him but leaning down to continue talking in his ear. ‘I am about to start working on your lunch.’

‘How about an amuse bouche first mia cuocoina?’ He is irresistible when he is like this so you indulge him. You press kisses along a teasing path, his temple, his sharp cheekbone and the tip of his nose before finally reaching his lips. He closes the remaining distance between you impatiently and just as you are about to deepen the kiss a loud knocking rings out through the room. He drops his head against the back of the settee with a huff of annoyance and you have to forcibly remove his hands from your hips for you to be able to get up. You open the door to find a ghoul waiting for you on the other side holding a basket and a note.

‘From Papa Primo, for you Sister.’ They hand it to you before abruptly turning to leave and you see Terzo’s head shoot up in interest as you close the door and turn around.

‘What is he writing to you about?’ He glares over the back of the chair, watching you put the basket down on his desk. 

‘Let me open it and I will tell you,’ you retorted. The basket is heavy and you have no doubt that this is yet another offering from Primo’s greenhouses. He hauls himself up from the settee with an exaggerated groan as you unfold the thick paper and read. 

Sorella it is about time my brother gets out of his rooms and I suspect you will have more success convincing him then I. If I could prevail on you to make us a light lunch and bring it along with him to the rose garden I would be very appreciative. Secondo and Copia will also be joining us as well as yourself if you would do us the honour. 

I will expect you both at noon. 

Primo

Terzo. It will be good to see you. Please do not give the sorella any trouble and do as you are bid. 

Handing the note to him you dig into the basket. Underneath the fragrant bunches of fresh herbs you find it’s filled to the brim with ripe tomatoes in a variety of sizes and colours, probably hand picked from the vine that very morning. 

‘Why do you get a longer note than me?’ He grumbles, squinting at his brother's cursive scrawl, clearly forgetting to drop his glasses back down onto his nose. Circling around him you knock them gently out of his hair so he can at least see even if they land a little crookedly. 

‘Lunch is going to be alfresco today,’ you call over your shoulder as you head into the kitchen to get started, not giving him any chance to argue. With less than an hour to prepare this is not going to be your most elaborate creation but you have some freshly made mozzarella and along with Primo’s offering you have an idea that should be perfect. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The dressing for this salad could be as simple as a drizzle of balsamic vinegar but you do prefer to add a little more flavour. To an old jam jar you add olive oil, honey, freshly pressed garlic and of course the main ingredient, balsamic vinegar. Why a jam jar you may ask? Well the trick with a vinaigrette is understanding that the separate ingredients don’t really want to mix together. You can stir it, whisk it, even blend it but unless you are serving it straight away the mixture will begin to separate. You prefer to give it a good shake to mix everything and your trusty jam jar allows you to do that right before the dish is served.  

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Prepping a quick salad with what Primo had sent you takes around half an hour but you are done with time still to spare. Terzo had disappeared to his bedroom after grumbling to himself about his ‘fratello esigente’ and was yet to return so you took the time to grab some leftovers to make this lunch a little more substantial. There was half a loaf of bread that you sliced up, some stuffed peppers and olives, cuts of ham and cheese and even some pepper taralli that had become a constant request since you had first made them all those weeks ago. 

With everything that would fit packed away in the little basket you go to find Terzo who had yet to reappear. Even with the amount of time you were in each other's company you still hadn’t spent more than a few minutes in his bedroom. You understood, you supposed. It was his one sanctuary away from everything but you hoped one day soon he might invite you even there. The door is open when you round the corner and you see him standing before his mirror, a pile of shirts sitting on the bed next to him. 

‘I’m ready to go Terzo,’ you say after knocking on the door frame. He turns to you with a frown on his face but your attention is drawn to his open shirt. His dark chest hair and olive skin contrast beautifully with the stark white of the shirt he is trying on. He starts to button it from his mid chest leaving an enticing glimpse but you can see his frustration build as he gets further and further down. His once flat stomach now protrudes slightly from his waistband, not enough to have the buttons pull but the shape of his body is visible. He looks incredible.

‘I can not go out like this cara mia,’ he says, turning back to his reflection to scrutinise his outfit. 

‘Why not?’ you ask. You cross the room coming to a stop behind him so you are looking at the same thing he is in the mirror. 

‘Look at me,’ he gestures up and down the length of his body before settling his hands where he seems to be most self conscious. You can’t have him thinking he looks anything less than irresistible for even a moment.You wrap your hands around his waist sliding them under his own,where he is holding his belly. You caress the soft swell back and forth while you try and catch his gaze in the reflection. 

‘I am and I see a happy healthy man who has enjoyed delicious food made for him by someone who lo .. cares about him very much.’ His eyes flash in surprise before he looks over himself again from your perspective, a smug smile growing on his lips. You hope he is just about to accept your compliment and didn’t catch your little slip but you end that train of thought there. 

‘Oh is that so?’ His spark has returned, your compliments feeding his usual confidence in his attractiveness. But there is something else in his expression like he has just figured something out. ‘You like me like this, eh?’

‘I like you. Full stop.’ He preens but you sense that he wants to push you further. Hopefully the time limit you are on will stall him for now. You aren’t sure that you are quite ready to admit how much you have enjoyed feeding him up.  

‘Mmm ok,’ he responds thoughtfully, turning in your arms and pulling you flush against his soft body. He kisses you soundly, chasing your lips every time you try to pull back. Before long though his playful mood shifts as he steps back. He takes your hands in his but otherwise maintains some space between you. ‘There is something we need to talk about though before we go.’

‘What is it?’ There is a hint of worry in his voice but you try not to let yourself speculate. You needed to just listen to what he had to say. 

‘Please don’t misunderstand me when I say this.’ He pauses for but a moment to press a kiss to your knuckles trying to reassure you of his sincerity. ‘Until very recently I have never truly felt my life was my own. I had a set path that I was to walk down and very big shoes to fill as leader and well, you have seen my brothers.’ He is torn between a fondness and frustration that you can understand. ‘No matter what I do I am their fratellino.’ He locks his eyes on yours willing you to understand. ‘This, I mean what we have, I don’t want their input not yet.’ 

‘I understand Terzo.’ It is a relief to know this was all he was concerned about. You had seen for yourself how they had treated him during the intervention you had been witness to. Even though you wholeheartedly agreed with them at that time. You can understand why he would want to keep what you have private, especially so early in whatever it was that was happening. Not to mention you had your own reasons for not wanting them to know.

‘You do?’ You can’t help but smile at the relief on his face. 

‘Of course. I think you are right.’ You had long since stopped worrying about the distinction between your work for him and your relationship but you are well aware of how it might look to others. How unprofessional you were being. ‘Your brothers asked me to do a job and they might not be happy to know that I have taken on additional duties.’ You say with a wink, trying to lighten his mood further. You’re rewarded with his deep rumbling laugh as he pulls you close again. 

‘Si, si. We should review these additional duties. I think I have some additions.’ He leers at you and you can feel your cheeks heat up in response.

‘Stop that we will be late.’ You swat at his chest and get to hear him laugh yet again but it really is time to get going. ‘And I am going to need your help carrying all this food.’

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Now for your favourite part, making it all look pretty. You lay out your slices of mozzarella first, randomly placing them across the large tray you are using for this dish. The slices of beefsteak and heirloom tomatoes next trying to keep the colours balanced. You use the bright orange roma tomatoes to fill in the remaining gaps and then all that is left is fresh basil leaves tucked between the slices. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Sorella you spoil us!’ Primo says helping you unpack the basket onto the table that had been set up. You had never paid much mind to this shady corner of the rose garden but it does seem like the perfect place for an alfresco lunch. The wrought iron dining set is well kept with only specs of rust appearing on some of the joints between the ornate decorations. Five chairs are positioned around half of the oval table giving everyone a view of the garden. The table had already been set with a plain table cloth thrown over, shining silver cutlery, pretty floral plates and a bottle of red wine, already been decanted, a lace cap sitting over the opening to discourage any tempted bugs. 

‘Oh it was nothing at all Papa. Most of this I had already prepared and the salad was simple enough.’ He smiles at you warmly, his light paints emphasising the creases of his expression. He had taken the centre seat and he gestures you into the seat to his right, patting your shoulder gently. You aren’t entirely sure why you have been invited to this family gathering but it would be rude to question his invitation. 

Secondo is sitting to his left already sipping on a glass of wine but he offers you a smile, a subtle lift of the corner of his mouth before his attention is drawn to Terzo. You glance to your right where he is sitting looking uncomfortable, even hidden behind his dark glasses. He seems to be staring into the nearest bush trying to ignore the presence of his brothers. As you take a seat you try to subtly rest your hand on his knee and give him a gentle squeeze, about the only reassurance you can, given your agreement not to give away the nature of your relationship to his family quite yet. He glances at you offering you a weak smile but he rests his hand over yours before clearing his throat.  

‘Is Copia too busy to join us now?’ He asks, sounding oddly formal but finally looking in Primo’s direction. 

‘He said he would be here,’ he replies calmly as he pours everyone a glass of wine, topping up Secondo’s last. After accepting his Terzo slumps back into his seat nursing his glass. Primo tuts at him. ‘Vieni adesso, Renzo, non vorrai essere scontroso con il nostro ospite, vero?’ He sits up abruptly lifting his glasses so he can glare at Primo. 

‘Quindi è per questo che l'hai invitata? Quindi mi comporterei bene?’ Secondo tries to conceal a laugh at his Italian outburst which only earns him a share of Terzo’s glare. 

‘I have my reasons fratelino, but let’s not argue today.’ He looks at him sternly. ‘Por favore.’

‘Nessun tipo di compagnia potrebbe farlo comportare da adulto,’ Secondo mutters but whatever he says seems to upset both Primo and Terzo. ‘Ey!’ He shouts, rubbing the back of his head where Primo had just administered a quick slap. 

‘None more of that! From either of you, capisce?’ He points at the two brothers waiting for them both to nod in agreement before sitting back down. The four of you sit in silence just waiting for Copia’s arrival but just when it begins to get unbearable you hear a commotion heading towards you.  

‘Sorry I am late,’ Copia calls out breathlessly as he rushes around the corner in a blur of red. ‘Meeting with Sister Imperator ran over,’ he pants collapsing into the chair next to Secondo. He had forgone his cassock today but was still buttoned up in one of his formal suits in spite of the seasonal weather. Clearly one of the perks of being a retired Papa was being able to dress more casually. You are not sure if you had ever seen them dressed this casually during any of their reigns. 

‘Everything has gotten so behind with the Ghost project since, well…’ He trails off glancing at Terzo. He clears his throat, deciding not to continue with that line of conversation. ‘Terzo, Papa, you are looking well.’ 

‘Thank you Cardinal, you look like you could do with a good night's sleep.’ He smiles but it is sharp, Copia’s misstep digging at his still sore pride. 

‘Well, shall I tell you all what is on the menu?’ You interrupt not wanting the awkwardness to linger any longer. 

‘Yes please do, Sorella,’ Primo says, relieved at your quick thinking.

‘What you sent over was absolutely perfect for a caprese salad because just yesterday I had made some fresh mozzarella so that is the main attraction of today’s lunch but I also brought some leftovers we had to make sure no one left hungry.’ You may be waffling slightly but they all listen politely as you point out all the separate dishes. 

‘Yes I see my fratello has not been going hungry of late.’ At least Secondo waited until after you finished but you watch nervously for Terzo’s response but he just relaxes back in his chair smirking at his brother. 

‘You are not wrong I have been kept most satisfied by Sorella.’ His double entendre makes you wince slightly but you just hope they mark it down to Terzo being Terzo. 

‘No need to tell us that we can see quite well, ' he says, patting his own distinctly flatter stomach. ‘Primo you were right to call us here today. We need to help Terzo by eating all of this food so he doesn’t have to.’ 

‘Ah ha,’ Terzo laughs. ‘So this is another intervention then no?’ Primo shakes his head but doesn’t intervene this time, deciding that this back and forth was mostly good natured.

‘Si, an intervention for your growing waistline fratello,’ On the surface it is harsh but you can tell this is familiar ground for them, teasing and competing to one up each other. You imagine there were many similar conversations had when Secondo lost his hair. 

‘I do not mind so much,’ he shrugs, resting his arm on the back of your chair and letting his fingertips graze your shoulder. ‘I think there are plenty of people who enjoy a well fed man.’ You feel your cheeks heat as he says it remembering back to your conversation and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face, gaging your reaction. If you look at him now you are sure your cover will be blown.  Instead you hide your embarrassment by serving out salad between your plates but you miss the pointed looks shared between Secondo and Copia.  

There is a period of peace across the table as they all enjoy their food, the only conversation a series of compliments as they work their way through everything you brought. You are glad you decided to bring all the leftovers as you watched Primo using the last slices of bread to dip into the dressing, the only remains of the caprese salad and Copia groaning and rubbing at his stomach as he polishes off the last of the stuffed olives. 

‘I can see how you got so well fed Papa,’ he smiles in your direction. ‘I feel as if I could burst but I still don’t want to stop eating.’ You smile at his praise but you are pleased to see them all nodding in agreement.

‘Luckily for you Cardinal, all that is left is some taralli.’ You offer them each one, finishing off the last of your supply. 

‘You are lucky I didn’t know she had packed up this,’ Terzo grumbles. ‘Giving my favourite to these idioti.’ 

‘I will make you some more Papa, don’t worry,’ you reassure him. ‘I think I have the recipe down perfectly now if I do say so myself.’

‘Where did you get the recipe, Sorella?’ Secondo asks. He looks down at the taralli in his hand. ‘I can’t say I am an expert like Terzo here, but these taste exactly like the ones I remember. The ones your Madre used to send us, before.’ Before what you wonder? You glance between Terzo and Secondo but this time it seems they are sharing a fond memory instead of making digs at each other. 

‘I just found it online after Papa mentioned he would like them.’ You glance at Terzo but he doesn’t try to stop your white lie. 

‘It’s a shame you don’t have any of her recipes Terzo,’ He thinks aloud while eating his last bite. ‘I’m sure she had made the best food I had ever eaten.’ 

‘It is a shame, yes,’ Terzo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. ‘You know we weren’t allowed to keep anything from before.’ You look at Primo but he is staring down at his plate in defeat.

‘For what it is worth I am sorry ragazzi,’ He squeezes Secondos forearm and offers Terzo a sad smile. You feel like an intruder in this moment and as your eyes meet Copia’s you think he might feel the same. That is until you notice him tilting his head and looking at you deep in thought. You suspect piecing together the translations you asked him to look at with the conversation he had just heard. He takes in a breath looking like he is about to speak but you shake your head as subtly as you can until he clicks his mouth closed. That is a conversation for later.

‘Sorella, thank you for allowing us to share in your exquisite food,’ Primo says, drawing a line under the conversation that had just ended.

‘It is no problem at all Papa.’ You start to gather up the dishes, wishing you had brought another tray so you could give Primo back his basket. 

‘No no, leave the tidying to us please,’ he fusses, taking the pile of plates from your hands and handing them to a disgruntled Secondo. ‘Seeing how you convinced Terzo to actually come outside, why don’t you two go for a walk.’ There is a twinkle in his eye you are sure you have seen before. If the two of you hadn’t been so careful you might think he knew there was something between you. 

‘What do you say Papa?’ You feel like you finally have permission to properly look at him, and he looks breathtakingly handsome in the warm sun. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’

‘If it gets us out of doing dishes then I am in,’ he says, almost jumping up from his chair. 

‘It was good to see you Terzo,’ Primo says to him so softly it could have been missed.

‘It was good to see you all too,’ he matches Primo’s tone looking at all three of the men still sitting at the table for a moment more before turning to you with a dazzling smile. ‘Come now Sorella lets escape while we still can.’

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The dressing you add last right at the point of serving. The jar has one last good shake before you remove the lid and pour it evenly over the whole salad. For some extra flair you start pouring at the centre and swirl until all the dressing is used. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘So that went well right?’ You are some way away from the patio so you risk moving closer, brushing your shoulders together but he doesn’t hesitate taking your hand in his.

‘Ah I suppose those nosey stronzos,’ he grumbles but there is no real bite to it, a reluctant smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

‘You know what I think?’ He only hums absentmindedly in reply, eyes following a butterfly as it dances amongst the flowers. ‘I think they missed you.’ He tips his head towards you giving you what you suspect is supposed to be an intimidating side eye but it misses its mark entirely when all you can see is the soft affection in his eyes and the sun shining off the silver grey strands running through his hair.  ‘And I think you missed them too.’

‘Bah,’ he gestures with his free hand picking up his pace as if to storm off but keeping his grip firm on you so you are forced to come with him. ‘Think you know me so well eh cara?’ It is a challenge but a playful one. There was a moment that you worried that the teasing and prodding of his brothers might have made him withdraw again but it seems that was not the case. ‘Let us see, where in this garden do you think is my favourite place?’ He stops in the middle of the path reeling you back towards him but he drops your hand to fold his arms over his chest. He thinks he has stumped you, you can tell by the smug look he is failing to conceal but you are certain you know the answer.

‘Do I get any clues?’ You ask. He thinks for a moment, tapping at the dimple of his chin.

‘It is the reason I insisted on the rooms I have.’ Maybe he thinks he is being cryptic but now you know for sure, but you don’t want to let on quite yet.

‘Ok so it is near your quarters.’ You affect a look of exaggerated deep thought and he grins at you, glad that you are playing along. Wandering slightly away from him you look about you as if looking for more clues all the while ignoring his suppressed chuckles. When the two of you spend time in his little kitchen, especially now, you spend most of your time stealing looks at one another. So often he has caught him watching you over the rim of his coffee mug except from when his attention is caught just outside his window.  Which not only gave you the chance to admire him as you so enjoy doing, but it also gave you a very good idea about his favourite part of the garden. Just in view of his window was a sculptural fountain depicting the Temptation of Eve.

‘Mmmm you are getting warm,’ he teases as you start to lead him back towards that part of the Abbey.

‘Anything else?’ You are just about to enter the walled garden when he catches up to you. He slides his arm around your waist and pulls you back against him and then lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back. 

‘It’s almost as lovely to look at as you,’ he whispers in your ear. You have to try to suppress the shivers that work your way down your spine but he is pressed so close you are sure he can feel it.  

‘Charmer,’ you chide, stepping away towards the centre of the square. ‘Stop trying to distract me.’ He reels you back in until he can rest his chin on your shoulder.  The fountain dominates the space, the nude figure intertwined with the vicious looking serpent while holding a perfect apple, poised to take a bite. 

‘You can see the fountain from the kitchen,’ you state matter of fact. You can see the very window from where you are standing visible amongst the trailing plants that climb the Abbey walls.  

‘Si and from my bedroom.’ He points towards the larger window at the end of the building as you try to orient the layout in your mind.  

‘Oh it’s like that is it,’ you tease.  

‘Hush I am trying to be sincere,’ he chides but there is no bite to it, not when he skims a kiss against your cheek. 

‘My apologies Papa.’ He clears his throat, the sound jarring in your otherwise soft conversation. ‘Terzo,’ you correct yourself. Happy now he nudges you forward until you are both standing at the edge of the splash pool and you watch for a moment, the ripples overlapping the reflection of the two of you in the water. 

‘Tell me cara mia, what brought you to this life?’ He leads you towards a bench carved into the wall surrounding this part of the garden, helping you to sit comfortably before taking a seat himself. 

‘To the Church of Satan you mean?’ It has been a long time since you thought of your life before the Ministry. 

‘Mmm,’ he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

‘I was raised in the Christian Church,’ you begin. ‘For the first say fifteen years of my life that is all I knew. As I got older though I found myself questioning. Everything I wanted went against what I was taught and I just couldn’t understand why all these arbitrary rules were put in place to stop people being themselves.’ He nods along giving you his full attention. 

‘The arguments I had with my parents when I told them I wanted to go to culinary school, well it’s laughable now but I felt like my life was ending before it had even started. They were talking about me getting married and starting a family when all I wanted to do was learn and travel and live.’ Remembering that time fills you with that same frustration. They never were able to give you an answer other than it was God’s will and that was not enough for your questioning mind.  

‘So I left. I did everything I wanted to do and then one day I was working at a festival.’ He snorts, interrupting you for the first time. 

‘I can’t imagine you in a burger van,’ he sniggers to himself. You knock his shoulder with yours but that only makes him laugh harder.  

‘I was cooking for the VIP guests, thank you very much!’ You reply haughtily. In all honesty there was nothing wrong with working in a burger van, good food is good food, but you dread to think what mental image he has conjured up of you. ‘And that's where I saw Ghost for the first time and spoke to Papa Primo.’

‘Primo recruited you?’ He looks shocked and you are surprised he didn’t already know. 

‘Well I think it was more like I volunteered and he accepted,’ you explain. ‘He had requested some wacky off menu dish and I somehow managed to make something passable and he came to thank me. I joked about his costume and how I might consider joining if I ever found a real Church of Satan.’ 

‘And he told you about this place.’ he says thoughtfully. 

‘He did! I didn’t believe him at first but I came to visit first for a week or two, but it was like as soon as I walked in the doors it felt like I had found my place.’ You had felt at home for the first time in a long long time.  

‘What about your parents?’ He asks. ‘What do they think about you coming here?’

‘It took them a long long time to accept me straying from the life they wanted for me, even though they still don’t like it.’ They had only really accepted it when you had found success which always seemed ironic to you. ‘My being here? We just don’t speak of it. I’m sure they told all their church friends that I decided to join an obscure convent.’ It was a game you liked to play every now and then, wondering what they said when people at their church asked after you.

‘Ha! But here you are getting seduced by Satanic Popes,’ he lifts his eyebrows, clearly proud of his success in corrupting you from your fictional convent. 

‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’ You roll your eyes at him but you are relieved that he joined you in finding humour in your strained relationship with your family. But it was his turn to share. ‘Now tell me why this is your favourite place.’

‘I used to come here when I felt lost.’ He looks down at his feet kicking at some lose stones. ‘When you have lost your way there is no one better than the Mother of Sin to help you remember what is important.’ It is a lot for him to admit given his leading role in the church. Many wouldn’t ever believe a man in his position could have ever had doubts. 

‘The bible says she was tricked into eating the apple, that her weak feminine mind was so easily warped by the serpent. But I think she made a choice. Perhaps she realised that if you are threatened and scared into ignorance you will never be free and that people deserve to choose for themselves what to do and what to believe.’ You sense his beliefs are as personal as they are philosophical. ‘Especially when so many things that bring people joy are supposed sins.’ 

You are reminded of sitting in the chapel and listening to him preach every word reaffirming your faith. He was an incredible leader and it makes your heart ache for him that he was removed from that position in such a humiliating way. You don’t voice this though. You have no doubt that these very same thoughts plague him but he is doing so much better now then when you had first properly met.  

‘Enough preaching for one day though I think,’ he laughs trailing off when he realises how long he has been talking and as much as you would happily listen to him talk for hours you let him leave the topic aside. ‘Where is your favourite place in the garden cara mia?’

‘Well that is easy.’ You don’t need to think for even a moment. ‘It’s the moon garden.’ He tilts his head in surprise. ‘I didn’t appreciate it at first, having all white flowers made no sense to me. One of the most beautiful things about flowers is the vivid rainbow of colours. But then one night I was leaving your quarters and I was on the verge of going to Primo and telling him I couldn’t do it.’ You remember that time well even though so much has changed since. Having to fight the urge to quit every time he rejected another meal. ‘You hadn’t eaten a thing and I was so upset with myself.

‘I owe you an apology, I think for being so difficult.’ He mumbles but the last thing you want to do is make him feel bad. 

‘No I mean you had your reasons,’ you say trying to reassure him.  

‘Maybe I did, I felt that I had nothing to live for I suppose.’ It hurts to hear but it isn’t a surprise that that is how he had felt. ‘But I could only stomach so much self pity before I got hungry.’ He winks at you and even this serious conversation doesn’t stop your instinctive blush spreading across your cheeks. 'Thank you for being patient with me.’ He follows the bloom of colour across your face with the tip of his fingers, his sincerity only making it worse.  

‘It was worth it,’ you admit, lowering your voice to match his soft tone. ‘Something told me I should walk through the gardens that night so I did and then it was like I had walked into another world. Every single white flower was glowing in the moonlight and I had to just sit and eventually I knew that everything was going to be alright.’  

‘And was it?’ His hand cups your face and even such an innocent touch has your heart racing as you work up the courage to say what you wish to.

‘The next day was the day you left me the recipe book.’ The moment feels fragile as he looks into your eyes searchingly. It feels good to have cleared the air of so many of your unspoken things. It’s probably inadvisable to allow him this close outside of his quarters but he looks as vulnerable as you feel right now and there is only one thing you can think to do. This kiss reminds you of the first time in the kitchen. The simple action of pressing your lips to his feels so intimate and for you at least, saying things you are far from ready to speak out loud. 

• • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Hi hello yes it is me actually updating. Please no one die of shock. I had about 1000 words of this sitting here for the last six months and then suddenly I managed to write it all in the last three days. I want to promise there won't be another six months until the next chapter but who knows what will happen to my brain. Thank you to @ghostchems and @da-rulah for letting me talk about this endlessly and @writingjourney for cheering me on even when I wouldn't tell her any spoilers haha

I hope you all enjoyed and I will be starting a tag list over again because I have no idea who might even want to read this fic anymore so please just let me know if you want to be tagged in the future chapters 💜💜💜

[cajunandfire]

Drabble requests: number 10 for Diana/47 perhaps?

"Let's take a bath together" from this fic drabble ask challenge.

Happy birthday @peridotglimmer! I'm such a fan of your wonderful Hitman fanfiction. I hope you've had a lovely day of celebrating! 🥳

-

His gloved hands work the dirt, ensuring the soil is equally spread around the new raised garden bed. The late spring sun warms his skin while he works diligently, expanding the garden of his safehouse. He kneels back, sitting on his heels, proud of the work he's done. Three of the four new garden beds were complete. All he had left to do was to fill the last with organic matter, yard waste and fresh soil.

He loved to garden, and had been pleased with the original garden beds Diana had included in his home. Yet it wasn't until their last trip together, that he made plans to expand the garden. Over a light lunch of insalata caprese and taralli in Naples, Diana had been smitten with the fresh mozzarella but said the tomatoes weren't as flavourful as the ones 47 had grown that summer.

That was the moment that inspired it all. He knew that next spring he would expand the garden, so he could grow more food to cook for her. It was one of the simpler ways in which he could show his love and affection for her.

He stands now, brushing the dirt from his soft vintage jeans and plaid shirt. Before he can even get to work on the last raised bed, a chime emits over the speakers in his home, and his phone in his breast pocket vibrates. It's his warning system, notifying him that someone was on this property.

He immediately drops everything and heads towards the other side of the house, staying close to the wall to remain out of view. He pulls his phone to tap into his state-of-the-art surveillance system, which had cameras and pressure plates all around his 40 acres of land. He pinches at his phone screen, zooming into the images captured. It's Diana's car, he recognizes her dark blue Lexus. He zooms in to the windows to confirm that she alone is driving the car. Satisfied with his findings, he slides his phone back into his breast pocket. She would be here in a few minutes, there was no use in hiding the surprise now.

He patiently waits for her at the garage, when she pulls up into his driveway.

"Good afternoon, 47." She playfully greets, sliding out of the car.

"Diana," he greets in return. "You're back early."

"I wrapped up business in London ahead of schedule. I figured there was no need in staying the extra night." She smiles, as she motions to hand him her carry-on bag, before pulling back at the sight of his dirty gloves and clothes. "What have you been up to, 47?"

"It's not finished," he says, but he motions with his head for her to follow. He leads her around the corner of the house. They stop just short of the new raised garden beds.

"More garden space? That's a lovely idea. I'm happy to see you turning the safehouse into a home."

It's not just that, as he reminds her of their time in Naples and the comment she made. He'll have more of the freshest produce, from tomatoes to zucchini, and cucumbers to fresh herbs. All for them to enjoy together.

"This is so lovely, thank you 47."

He responds with a soft smile.

"With this talk of food, why don't we pop in for lunch? I'm sure you've worked up an appetite."

"I should finish this last garden bed, but you can help yourself to anything in the kitchen," he was always one to finish a job, no matter what it was. He reaches down, grabbing his shovel to get back to work.

"Of course," she says, as a playful little smirk starts to tease at the corners of her mouth. She takes a step closer to him as she starts, "it's a shame you're covered in all this dirt, otherwise I would have given you a proper thank you."

The comment causes him to turn his head towards her.

"I think a bath might be in order, for the two of us."

"Bath?" He repeats, his ears perking up at the word.

She nods with a little hum, before turning towards the house. She doesn't have to tell him twice, because he immediately drops his shovel and gloves, following hot on her footsteps.

The garden would have to wait.

[semprelibera]

the idiot on that post who doesn't know about cacio e pepe, white pizza, and countless other dishes...

but you know what's funny. they just sound mad europeans managed to also make iconic use of 'their' ingredients. well do better yourself then !

I KNOW like, my point was that what the world considers iconic “Italian” dishes are actually Italian-American or Italian-inspired American (heavy in tomato sauce), while to us Italians, as well as people who are familiar with real Italian cuisine, the dishes which we’d consider iconic are actually older than the Columbian exchange or only use “Old World” ingredients...

I mean, if I had to say what the most iconic (as in the ones that everyone knows and can find outside of their region) dishes which do not contain American ingredients are, I’d say:

Ferratelle, castagnole, focaccia, piadina, arancini/e, Sicilian cassata, Sicilian cannoli, crostoli/frappe/chiacchere/cenci/galani/lattughe*, Neapolitan pastiera, carbonara, gricia, cacio e e pepe, fegato alla veneziana, castagnaccio, panforte, seadas, cornetto, basil pesto, maritozzo, torrone, zeppole, Maraschino cherries, bruschetta, struffoli, granita, gelato, erbazzone, porchetta, cotognata, frutta di Martorana, nacatole, torta della nonna, taralli/tarallini/tarallucci, grissini, savoiardi/pistokkeddos, ciambelline al vino, farinata, fregula, risotto alla milanese, pizza bianca, tortellini in brodo, crostata, babà, baicoli, budino di riso, ciambellone, biscotti del Lagaccio, cantucci, cotoletta alla milanese, biancomangiare, panettone, gubana, canestrelli, brasato al Barolo, brigidini, pasta con le sarde, canederli, ravioli ricotta e spinaci, pere al vino, cannoncino, pane carasau and guttiau, casatiello, gnocchi alla bava, chnéffléné, coda d’aragosta, bomba/bombolone, crema fritta, tigella/crescentina, delizia al limone, frìtołe, gelo di melone, krumiri, mandorlato, malfatti, meringa, necci, saltimbocca alla romana, mostaccioli, pasta di mandorle, ribollita, panelle, pasta e ceci/fagioli/lenticchie/fave, pasticciotto, polenta, risotto alla marinara, torta pasqualina, frisella, focaccia di Recco, agnolotti, gnocco fritto, sbrisolona, zabajone, vitello tonnato, passatelli in brodo, mozzarella in carrozza, amaretti, ciambella, brioscia, plenty of pizze including the original Marinara which is way better than the one people call Marinara today...

*No campanilismi here 🇮🇹

While I’d say that the most iconic Italian dishes which do contain American ingredients are:

Gnocchi di patate, graffa, crocchè (potato); pizza Margherita, pizza alla marinara, pappa al pomodoro, lasagne alla bolognese, lasagne alla napoletana, parmigiana di melanzane, insalata caprese, sfincione, timballo, sun-dried tomatoes, caponata (tomato); tortelli di zucca, gnocchi di zucca (pumpkin); ‘nduja, pasta all’arrabbiata (hot chilies); tiramisù, gianduja, baci di dama, salame di cioccolato, cuneesi al rhum, zuppa inglese, setteveli, zuccotto, Modica chocolate (cocoa); corn polenta, pan meino (maize); pandoro, panna cotta (vanilla); peperonata (bell peppers); zucchine alla scapece, pasta alla nerano (courgettes).

So yes, while the Columbian exchange did influence Italian cuisine, either by leading to the evolution of pre-existing dishes (EG.: pangiallo was invented over 2000 years ago and nowadays it’s not uncommon to see people add dark chocolate to the recipe; the original pizza alla marinara did not contain tomato sauce and was made with anchovies, capers, garlic, black Gaeta olives, oregano and olive oil - all of which are very Mediterranean ingredients) or to the creation of new ones, but claiming that New World ingredients-based dishes are all there is to Italian cuisine, or that its most iconic dishes are made with them is factually wrong and the reason why this stereotype exists in the first place is due to Italian-American culture/US stereotypes of Italy and Italians being passed off as authentic Italian and its spread outside of the US is a direct result of US cultural imperialism.

I also find it ironic how they all conveniently ignore that Asian, African and other European cuisines outside of Italy’s also use American ingredients... I have yet to see someone claim that shahi paneer is not Indian or that paprikás csirke is not Hungarian while I have seen plenty of Americans claim that pizza Margherita (which they believe is the only kind of pizza there is) is actually American just because tomatoes are not native to Italy.

[guardianreadersofthegalaxy]

If I were on the Off Menu podcast:

Still or sparkling water: Still, obviously. Sparkling water tastes rank. One time when I was a kid, a friend's mum gave me sparkling water that had gone flat so I couldn't tell it was sparkling. I couldn't swallow it so I just spat it out all over my pizza.

POPPADOMS OR BREAD?!?!?!?!: Usually I'd say bread - something a bit oily with olives in it and big flakes of sea salt - but I've got a big meal planned and I don't want to fill up. So i'll have a single poppadom and some mango chutney.

Your dream starter: This is kind of academic because I'm ordering small plates, but the first proper dish I want going in my mouth is boquerones en vinagre. It's fresh anchovies marinated in vinegar and oil and seasoned with garlic and parsley and the best boquerones are made in Cambio De Tercio, a tapas restaurant in South Kensington. And to accompany that, I'd like a cold glass of gazpacho (cold tomato soup). I had this a lot in Cádiz and it's the most refreshing thing.

Your dream main course: Ok, deep breath... I want the crunchy prawns we had at my wedding, the potatoes with aioli I ate in Valencia, an Insalata Caprese (tomatoes, mozarella & basil) made by my dad, deep fried courgette flowers, a small ramekin of my partner's courgette carbonara w. homemade linguini, grilled halloumi from Bar Mezze (a greek restaurant in Muswell Hill my family used to go to before it closed), taramasalata, tzatziki, baba ghanoush (cod roe dip, yoghurt/cucumber dip & smoked aubergine dip) and a big Turkish flatbread for dipping and sauce moppage.

Your dream side dish: Again, academic because of the small plates but I'll go for the broccoli w. garlic and chilli from Boulangerie Bon Matin in Finsbury park. The broccoli's nicely grilled and not too oily or salty and the chilli gives it a real zing. Also, in my fantasy, my partner's sat across from me eating the wood roasted chicken from Moro in Islington and she's giving me little forkfuls to try.

Your dream dessert: I'm not much of a dessert person but I'd never say no to a slice of my mum's chocolate birthday cake. It's nothing fancy (though the layer of grated dark chocolate over the top is a classy touch), but it's as delicious now as it was when I was a kid.

Your dream drink: So before the meal even starts I'd like a Lychee Martini at the bar. Then with my boquerones, I'd like a glass of Pegoes, a Portuguese wine we had at my wedding that has an interesting banana-y taste. When the small plates arrive, I'll move on to a 3/4 pint of Mythos, a Greek beer perfect for hot days and oily food. Then with dessert I want a little glass of Sauternes, my favourite dessert wine. Then, if it's lunchtime I'll just have a homemade filter coffee, with plenty of milk.

Your dream restaurant: I'll stick with the Mediterranean theme and imagine myself in a seaside town, where it's hot but you're cooled by the breeze and you can see the boats bobbing in the bay. Occasionally a moped revs past but otherwise all you can hear are the other diners and the waves lapping against the harbour. That, but with comfortable chairs!

[one-twisted-sister]

Apollo dating sim tropes? :0

"M-Me? are you sure you have the right troll?." Name: Apollo Mernam Their Profession: Shepherdess in training Where they can be found (e.g. park, café, gym etc): Twin Flares Park, Miss Jeanes Cafe, AA's studio/hive, Archery training fields Favourite food type (breakfast, junk food, veggies, etc): Insalata Caprese, partakes in junk food favorite are beef teriyaki strips Favourite alcoholic drink: Potion D' Amour Favourite trait (romance, passion, sexuality, talent, flirtation, sentiment, joy): Likes to be woo'ed, very passionate with plenty of 'stamina', cane be rather flirty after a few drinks so she tries not to partake unless home Where they would go on a date: Traditional movies, restaurant, walk in the park or beach Ideal gift: your trust and understanding, flowers How many dates until they go to bed: 5 if you make the right choice or end up just being friends if you don't

@shenktrolls

[yournonsponsoredfoodie]

The Stracciatella Test ...and why Passaparola didn't pass

Hello, I'm back

I got motivated to write about my test that I put all restaurants through because yesterday I went to Passaparola and was quite disappointed with their food.

Now, you may, ask,

What is the Stracciatella test?

First, some context: When I was younger, I used to order stracciatella flavour as a go-to whenever I'd try out a new ice cream place. I didn't really know why, as it wasn't my favourite, but I just knew I didn't like vanilla.

The thing is, I could order more interesting flavours, but I didn't always trust them for me to get a triple chocolate or a pistachio ice cream from the get-go. (There is nothing more disappointing than a watered-down chocolate ice cream, or a pistachio ice cream that doesn't taste like real pistachio.) So I'd order stracciatella instead. Because if they would manage to fuck up such a simple recipe like cream and chocolate chips, I knew I couldn't trust that business with more complex or nuanced flavours anyway.

So in short, it boils down to "get the basics right before attempting anything else". In time, I learned to apply this to any food and any business. It usually requires you to pay attention to the details.

To test a place with this method, you don't necessarily need to order the most popular item, nor the most expensive. Just order something that is familiar to you (not your favourite dish). Ideally, something that is quite known within that cuisine that is easy to cross-reference with other places that serve the same course. For example, for me personally, italian food translates to burrata or insalata caprese, spaghetti pesto, and tiramissu. For you it could be different, as there's no holy bible for this test.

But, again, the minimum is quite low. If an italian restaurant overcooks their pasta, a mexican place uses barely any seasoning, or a japanese sushi restaurant serves their fish oily, they clearly didn't pass the stracciatella test. If, however, the flavours are balanced and harmonious, they use quality ingredients that are fresh and shine for themselves, and their recipes don't need anything else, they pass.

Simple, no?

Then why didn't Passaparola pass?

So, as you might expect, I ordered the insalata caprese, spaghetti pesto, and tiramissu.

Looking at the menu, I saw their recipes were quite accurate to the originals, and the prices were ok. There was a weird mix with italian and spanish in the titles, which gave me an idea of their authenticity, but I didn't want to judge just yet. Maybe the graphic designer just oversaw it.

Honestly, the caprese gave me hope, as the tomato had some flavour of it's own, the olive oil had good quality, and the burrata was creamy as it should be. Sadly, it was very inconsistent with the salt, but overall it was what I expected when ordering.

Then things declined. The spaghetti pesto left me wishing I had ordered something else. The portion was quite big, not because there was too much food, but because apart from carbohydrates and oil, there was nothing else. I'm not talking about it lacking toppings. The pesto itself was (I think) house made, but instead of a creamy all-covering blanket of nutty green, I could see it separate. So the oil stayed at the bottom, the not completely blended basil stayed on top of the pasta, and the parmesan was nowhere to be found. I had to actually ask for some salt to compensate for it.

To add insult to injury, they served the dish with a sprinkle of store bought grated cheese and a cherry tomato cut in half. Don't get me wrong, I love tomato and I love cheese, but it felt like they were trying to mask the other elements of the dish as a diversion. It felt unnecessary.

I noticed that they sprinkled the same cheap cheese as a topping on the fagotti that my boyfriend had ordered. This dish was way more flavourful and complex, and the pear was actually sweet which paired well with the cottage cheese. But then again, both the spaghetti and the fagotti were a bit overcooked.

The trend of sprinkling unnecessary stuff as a way of finishing dishes continued at dessert, as the tiramissu inexplicably had some white chocolate chips and a drizzle of chocolate glaze on top. The mascarpone itself was not bad, but the sponge was soggy.

So, like many others, it is not a bad restaurant, it just didn't pass my personal standard for a restaurant that claims to be real italian. For the price, I'd just rather go somewhere else.

[ask-the-missing-link]

These Chicken & Insalata Caprese Party Picks are perfect for entertaining guests. They combine the classic flavors of Insalata Caprese with tender chicken strips for a delightful appetizer.

Ingredients: 12 cherry tomatoes. 12 fresh basil leaves. 6 oz mozzarella cheese, cut into 12 cubes. 1 boneless, skinless chicken breast. Salt and pepper to taste. 2 tablespoons olive oil. 1 tablespoon balsamic glaze. 12 toothpicks.

Instructions: Warm the oven up to 190C 375F. Add salt and pepper to the chicken breast, then cut it into 12 thin strips. Set a pan on medium heat and add the olive oil. It should take about two to three minutes on each side to cook chicken strips all the way through. To make the party picks, put a cherry tomato, a basil leaf, a mozzarella cube, and a cooked chicken strip on a toothpick and stick them together. Place the picks on a serving platter and drizzle with the balsamic glaze. Serve right away and enjoy!

Violet P

[angellayercake]

Papa Emeritus III x Fem Reader | NSFW

Papa Emeritus III is struggling to adapt to his life after the Ghost project but perhaps some good homemade Italian food will do the trick.

Aperitivo Taralli

Under the heavy responsibility placed on you by his brothers you struggle to settle into your new roll as Terzo's personal chef. It isn't until you find a helpfully placed personal recipe book that you are able to entice the fussy yet uncommunicative Papa into eating. Luckily a fairly simple childhood favourite snack does the trick.

art by the incredible @ghuleh-draws for this chapter here

Antipasto Bruschetta

As you attempt to get your head around the oddly translated recipe book you settle on a simple recipe to build on the progress you had already made. The more time you spend with Terzo the more interested you become, realising there is a lot more to him then the persona he adopted as Papa and a cryptic conversation with Primo only confuses you further. When you accidentally intrude upon a more personal moment you learn your interest has become far from professional.

Primo Piatto Risotto ai Funghi

You battle with your guilt over what you saw and your growing attraction to Terzo starts to get in the way of you doing your job. When you realise your avoidance of him might have led to his continued isolation you try and put your feelings aside and help him as you have been asked. A quick visit with your friends in the main Abbey kitchen helps ground you and remind you of your responsibilities but when Terzo seeks some payback while you are trapped at the stove by your involved recipe, all your resolve slips away.

Secondo Piatto Stracotto di Manzo

You can't help feeling manipulated by Terzo and seek to avoid him until you can sort out the jumble the past weeks had made of your head. A hands off slow cooked meal gives you the time but after misplacing the recipe book you learn that he is as upset by his actions as you are. You talk the situation over with a friend and resolve to tell him the truth but when he asks you to join him for dinner your confession gets a much different reaction then you were expecting.

Contorno Melanzane Ripiene

Your relationship with Terzo develops as you just enjoy spending time together without the underlying tension of before and you see more of the sweet, charming man he is underneath his façade while getting more hands on enjoyment of the way your care and cooking are starting to show on his body. Meanwhile you bribe the overworked Copia with sweet treats in order to help with some recipe translations without giving away the origins of the book.

Insalata Caprese Salad

Primo requests you put together an alfresco lunch for the Emeritus brothers and raises your suspicions when he invites you along. You and Terzo decide not to disclose the nature of your relationship yet in case anyone decides to interfere although the two of you might not have been as subtle as you hoped. You learn a bit more of the brothers difficult early lives and their family dynamic before you and Terzo escape for a more private moment as you enjoy the ministry gardens.

Fromaggi e Frutta

Terzo asks you on a real date to the local farmers market and of course you accept. He offers to make you dinner as it is your day off and goes about finding the best produce he can for a simple but delicious dinner for you both. A slightly awkward run in with your kitchen friends ends your date a little early but Terzo more than makes it up to you with both delicious food and teasing before ending the night with his favourite dessert.

Dolce Cannoli

Caffe

Digestivo

also available on ao3 full warnings under the read more

feeding kink, weight gain kink, masturbation, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, nipple play, blow jobs, cunnilingus, light dom/sub, body worship, dirty talk,

[shannonvavich]

Heirloom Caprese Salad

Heirloom tomatoes make a stunning caprese salad! All you’ll need are a few tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil leaves, olive oil and salt and pepper. Caprese Salad Named after the Capri Islands in Italy and in the colors of the Italian flag; the Caprese salad is one of the most popular "insalata" in Italy and around the world. It's so easy to put together you don't really need a recipe.…