#i toast the bread first in the pan

[amethystsoda]

nothing beats grilled cheese “croutons” with tomato soup on a fall day 🥵🍅🧀

[sherrymagic]

Hi Lana 💜💜 I read your tags on that pizza poll reblog and ... Italy really seems like gluten-free/coeliac heaven. One day soon I'll go there again (last time I went I wasn't yet diagnosed so I wouldn't know). Until then, Schär is the best I have access to atm. I've had two other brands and they were even worse. I miss (good) pizza so much. 😭

Jane 💜💜💜

heaven... not really, you still have selected options and basically can't eat outside your house, but thankfully we are past the times when Schär was the only gluten free option in supermarkets 😭 taste aside it also has so many weird ingredients i literally had an unspecified allergic reaction to something in their bread once lmao. i guess since we are literally the hometown of pizza we have some better options in this sense in general, and still i was shocked to find out last december big cities have restaurants that have gluten free stuff that literally has no difference in look and taste to the gluten one? nothing similar to where i live *sigh*

i feel you, that restaurant where my friend took me was the first time in about... 8? years i have eaten actually good, real-looking/tasting pizza. why do we have to be denied one of the greatest joys in life, who did we slaughter in our past lives to deserve this 😭

[frascospecimen]

My egg in the hole is delicious and you’re all jealous of me for it

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 1

summary: When Lando’s “playboy” image is setting a bad reputation for him. He’s turns to the person he trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none (i don’t think)

This is my first time writing, I hope you all enjoy and if there’s any advice you guys can give me to improve please do!!

“Please, please! You’re my best friend. I just need this one favour!” Lando begs following you around at a quick pace.

“Exactly Lando” you sigh before continuing “I’m your best friend and as much as I love you I just don’t think it would work or be realistic” you shrug, taking a bottle of cold water from his fridge

“Why? Why don’t you think it can be realistic! Fans accuse us of being together all the time because of how close we are! The only thing that would have to change would be not denying it…and maybe kissing” he whispers the last part

“Kissing!” you shout choking on the water “We’ve done it before!” he defends “Yeah when we were like 11!”

“And 14, and 17!”

“You’re not helping yourself Lando”

“Please, it would just have to be for a few months then we could say we were better off as friends. Please. I don’t want to be in a PR relationship with some random model who’s looking to gain attention for a brand” Lando sighs, visibly upset

“Can you give me time to sleep on it? You know I love you but I don’t want this to come between our friendship”

“We’re strong, think of everything and everyone that tried to separate us before we never let them come between us”

“Which is why I can’t risk loosing you, there a difference between a girlfriend not liking me that tries to separate us and faking a relationship Lando”

“I understand” he nods “I promise you, you will have an answer before the start of the race weekend. I’m gonna head to bed now okay. I love you” you hug him tightly before heading to the spare room in his apartment.

It wasn’t the first time you had turned down Lando, in fact he had asked you out every year from the age of 14 until you guys were 18 before he finally realised that you wouldn’t work.

It’s not thst you didn’t like Lando, you loved him and maybe you did have feelings for him. But the thought of loosing your friendship because of relationship scared you.

For most hours of the night you lay in the bed of Lando’s spare room at his apartment in Monaco, that was quickly known as your room, thinking about what Lando said.

You supported him before his career even started and Lando’s reputation with girls certainly wasn’t the best. The media painted him to be a “playboy” and “unloyal”, which in some senses he was. He had never cheated on his previous girlfriends but he did date his ex’s friends and colleagues.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a harm to pretend for a few months? But what if your feelings began to grow stronger and you may not be able to go back to the way you were with Lando?

Lando was the same just through the wall, his feelings for you never left him. All the girlfriends he had he never felt for them what he felt for you, which was terrible but also why he was now single. He wanted you to say yes, he wanted you to agree but he didn’t want his feelings to get in the way, especially when he didn’t know that you felt the same way.

The next morning, you woke up to the usual clatter of plates from the kitchen. Which never meant anything good.

“What are you attempting to make this morning Mr Norris?” you laugh watching him by the pan “French toast but it’s not going well” he answers not taking his eyes of the food

“Well for starters, you’ve completely burned the bread. Would you like some help?” you ask holding back a loud laugh “Please”

The two of you started over, putting the uneatable food in the correct bin. You focused on the food while Lando focused on the coffee.

“There you go Lan”

“Thank you, how’d you sleep last night?” he asks putting the food in his mouth “To be honest, not great i’ve been thinking about what you said”

“You have?” Lando asks dropping his food “I will help you, if you promise me that we will still be best friends at the end of everything”

“Pinky promise”

part 2

[vaspider]

If you have celiac or otherwise can't eat wheat, btw, and you like bread, I highly recommend investing in a breadmaker. Even the best store-bought gluten-free bread does not hold a candle to the stuff that comes out of our breadmaker, and it's cheaper per slice even when we buy bread mix in single-loaf bags.

This is our breadmaker. Evie got it on sale, but it is an investment. I'm not going to pretend it isn't a chunk of change up front. There are cheaper ones, but the reason I like this one and think it's worth the money:

It has two smaller paddles, where our older bread maker that my mom got us and got destroyed by getting construction dust in it had one big paddle in the middle. This leaves a big hole in the middle of the finished loaf, which makes the bread much less useful for, like, sandwiches.

Zojirushi is not as well-known a brand in the US, but it's a Brand Name in Japan for good reason. Evie's had our Zojirushi rice cooker for over a decade & we had to replace the inner bowl once bc someone used metal utensils in it and scratched the non-stick coating. We expect to use this machine for at least a decade.

You can program your own cycles, which we found really useful. Evie built a custom cycle that removed the punch-down sections (gluten-free bread tends not to rise as much) and that made our perfect loaf.

A lot of bread machines produce very tall, square loaves, which are awkward to slice, store, and make sandwiches with. This produces loaves that make good sandwiches and toast, and the French toast slices don't crowd the pan.

The top heating element on this gives a really amazingly browned top crust that we definitely didn't get on our old machine.

It's so pretty.

So how is it cheaper in the long run if the machine costs $300+? A little like this:

We use Pamela's Bread Mix bc it's really consistent and easy - you need the bread mix, water, yeast, 3 egg whites, and oil. (We use avocado oil and find it best and most consistent, but regular vegetable oil works!) We buy Pamela's in bulk, and without any subscription discounts or whatever, the $48 pack of 3 bags makes about 11.5 loaves. With the cost of yeast and eggs and stuff, it ends up costing about $4.50 a loaf. (If you buy your yeast in larger bags & store it in an airtight container, you can create less waste and it's also cheaper.)

By comparison, a loaf of Franz GF Bread costs $7-8, and Canyon Bakehouse usually runs about the same.

However, that's not an apples to apples comparison because the Franz loaf is an 18 oz. loaf, whereas our breadmaker makes a 2 lb. loaf. Assuming even the lower-end cost for getting a Franz loaf at the store, an equivalent amount of bread would cost $12.42, and it's not nearly as good.

(Yes, gluten-free bread is fucking expensive. That's part of why I'm writing this post in the first place.)

Anyway, assuming you eat 2 lbs. of bread a week in your house - a breadmaker loaf, basically, to make the math simple - you'll end up spending $7.92 less on bread every week. That means that even at the most expensive cost for the Zojirushi, if you buy it at its highest price (don't do that! wait for a sale!) it'll take 50 weeks - about a year - before the breadmaker pays for itself. If you manage to get it on a 25% off sale (which we did), it pays for itself in about 9 months.

Nine months, I must stress, in which you are eating much more delicious bread.

We tend to go through a couple of loaves a week because toast, sandwiches, and melts are great food for people with low spoons.

Evie and I perfected the Pamela's mix recipe for this particular machine - I'll get it typed up when I'm downstairs next, along with the quasi-babka recipe. (Really, it's like a marble cake and babka and bread had a baby, and it's a family favorite.)

Bread good. The end.

[theoxenfree]

DARK POOL

aquatic monster x reader | 2.8k

you're mystified by the strange noises coming from the basement. despite your uncle attempting to thwart your concerns, you make your way downstairs into the basement one night and come across an appalling sight, and soon enough, a blooming infatuation.

warnings; 18+, double penetration, explicit sexual details, imprisonment (not mc), some unsettling details, roughly proofread, repost from my old blog 2kmps.

this is a concept piece for a potentially long one-shot! pls answer the feedback questions at the end + reblog!! it really helps to develop a well-rounded story for y'all!

Uncle told you that the rats in Cape Tellis liked to swim and when they were in search of food, they didn't care how long they'd have to paddle through the water to find it. Some would simply drift with the current for days; black-gray fur rotted off, skin peeled off bone, little faces disfigured by sea and salt, but they would keep going until their bodies nudged the rust-red walls of the lighthouse and found the energy to scale upward to a window and squeeze inside.

He mentioned this anytime you had something to say about the ruckus down in the basement—sometimes scratching, sometimes powerful, erratic thuds that you felt pulse through the floorboards, through the rubber soles covering your feet, and into your skin. That place was sealed behind a rusted metal frame and door, deadbolted and locked with a key he always carried on a chain through a belt loop.

It always jangled when he walked because he had a limp so bad that his entire leg always dragged a pace behind him and took a great amount of effort to haul forward. When you had asked of it, as memory dictated a handful of years prior he didn't have such trouble, he first claimed it had been a bad sinus infection that got into his brain and disrupted something neurologically. In another instance where he had stopped for a third time on an evening stroll together, he had said he scuffed with one of Cape Tellis’ formidable rats and the mangy bastard had won and taken a chunk of meat out of him before scuttling back into the walls.

“Just ignore it, it's normal that they're active this time of year,” he was saying while scraping fried eggs out of a pan onto your plate. Meanwhile, you winced to the usual commotion downstairs. “They get real flighty this time of year. The rats do. They get frisky and chase each other all around. I don't know nothin' about them besides being persistent, ugly things, but it may well be their special season.”

You ripped a sharp edge in your toast and prodded the egg yolk until the sunny orb burst, oozing out across your plate before you could scoop it all up in the bread.

“How long does it take for the rats to go away?” you asked with some interest in his answer, if for no other reason to know what sort of yarn he'd spin next. The bread was buttered, the eggs unseasoned, but you ate it all anyway while watching him. “Are they permanent residents or do they come and go? You must be feeding them if they stay here.”

Uncle took a long time to situate his bad leg under the table, longer to arrange his silverware and the direction of his food. “Oh, they have no interest in leaving, I don't think. If they really wanted to, I imagine they would've jumped back into the water and swam somewhere else.”

Each time the noises rose up between the wood slats under your feet during breakfast, Uncle told you not to worry about it, but you quieted every sound in your head to better hear rattling metal, reverberations of some sort—like having a man’s deep, anguished moan pressed right against your ribs. You weren't sure what you were looking for when you listened, only that you knew they were rats.

Uncle looked at you, his appetite pushed away towards the center of the table with his plate. “Let's go for a walk, yes? The rain won't come back for a few hours.”

When you did walk after a meal, granduncle would often have to lie down with his dead leg propped up on a short stack of pillows for a long while. It became something of a habit of yours to exert him too much after dinner, forcing him to keep up with your youthfulness—your merry prances and unburdened soul.

For what it was worth, he did the best he could to never be a hindrance. He didn't seem to fully understand his own limitations either, making it quite a simple thing to steal the key from his belt loop while he slept—deep and silent, so much so that you needed to drop a tissue over his face from make sure he was still breathing—and unfasten the lock to descend a set of slick, stone stairs.

There wasn’t much to at the bottom; a space half-flooded from seasonal rains raising the sea-level, old pieces of ship equipment hanging like ornamentation, an old folding chair that had yet to rust despite damp air, and a large hole in the ground that was dark like the throat of a nightmare envisioned in the most precious hours of night.

You held a plate of raw meat, freshly thawed from the freezer, outstretched with a flickering lantern in your other hand. Anywhere else, you'd have just brung a flashlight—but, he didn't like the bright lights, had ripped the last one out of your hands and smashed it against the wall. Oil lanterns were better tolerated, but he still seemed to cower from the gentle flickers.

So, you placed the meat on the seat of the folding chair and walked closer to the hole, wading a hand through seawater until touching braids of cold metal, chains pulled taut as though weighted down by an anchor. You gave the closest one a tug, always with the same caution as a child gripping his mother's clothes in uncertain times, and backed away.

He never made noise when he surfaced, always frightfully quiet, only indicated by a trail of bubbles that followed after where he roamed underwater. The first thing to emerge was a dorsal fin flared proudly from the middle of his head until midway in the deepest curve of his back. His eyes were on you, abysmal black things with a luster you likened to a landbound fish, and skin and scales that moved stiffly with his facial movements.

“You,” said the creature, toneless and in a voice far too raspy and deep to have an equal match amongst human men. “You have come. You are here.”

Months ago, he hadn't been capable of simple speech such as this. The noises he made were incompatible to anything you had ever heard—perhaps mere vocalizations he utilized underwater, possibly something long gone and archaic—but he had started mimicking you when you'd speak, and eventually you started slowing down, giving him the time to feel how the sounds vibrated in his own throat.

“I brought you food, again.” You gestured towards the seat with raw meat with your lantern, prompting his passing glance of interest before he was back on you. “Not hungry? He usually doesn’t feed you that well. I haven't been down here in a week or so, so I figured you'd be ready to scarf it down.”

“No.”

He came closer and the size of him grew, a towering figure with strong, broad-shoulders and a chest built to withstand the friction of the sea he used to own. His face, although hidden in darkness and flickering shadow cast from your lantern, gleamed as the light struck his iridescent scales. The shape of his lips were human-like yet taut, helping to comfortably fit his sharp teeth inside his mouth.

You'd wondered at times what exactly he was, what your granduncle believed him to be and feared so much to hide him away, chained to a wall. You fantasized that he could be the lost prince of some underwater civilization, or the offspring of several thousands of years of evolution between humans and something else.

He never seemed to understand you when you asked him what he was.

“Come,” his reach was limited by the chains that bound his limbs, keeping him shy of touching your body. “Come to me.”

With the lantern set aside, a distance you hoped wouldn't turn him petulant, you walked in his arms and the shackles and made home there as he surrounded you. His embrace was not the sort you could escape, nor was the kiss he pressed against your mouth.

There were parts of him you were too scared to touch, where his scales were like serrated teeth and he had much less control to retract at will like the dorsal find along his back. His lips were smooth and cold, however, a safe place for you to be on his body along with the hard flesh on his chest.

He pushed himself into your touch as your fingertips traced the shape of his torso, rose with the sprawl of his breasts and shoulders, molded into the ridges of his lower abdomen that you felt pulse and tense the further downward you roamed.

The sheath around his groin had swelled significantly and seemed to twitch when you smoothed your hand across it, kneading it gently to see what would come of doing so. You'd seen this only once before several months ago, a time where you'd been more frightened of him and fled from the basement for weeks when he'd acted more aggressive than usual.

It was one of the many things he had taken notice of that were perceived negatively—with fear and distance and shutting him away in this deep dark until you found the courage to feed him again, because your uncle was petrified along with being restricted in his ability to navigate the stairs with his lame leg.

So, he had learned to behave at the worst of times to keep food supplied, for you to stay wrapped up in him like this and so curious to challenge the extent of his self-restraint.

His kiss had grown full-bodied and restless and gone elsewhere on your body to a great expanse of skin. His face nuzzled into the fabric hiding your warmth from him, teeth tearing and fraying the threads that kept your clothes together until you stopped him.

“Stop—wait, wait, wait.” You walked back out of his arms once he was able to recognize the words. He reached for you despite the clattering bonds around his wrist, but you took your time to shuck the clothes from your body and fold them.

Once he had you back, he led you to the edge of the pool of endless depths and sank down inside of it. Your toes touched the very edge of darkness, stirring a rabble of butterflies in your gut that did not dissipate even once he resurfaced.

"Sit.” He gestured right at where you stood. “Sit down.”

The idea of having any part of your body submerged in the black water left you with little desire in continuing this, but you obeyed and slowly lowered your rear to the rim of the pool, legs speckled by goose pimples as the cold water gripped up to the inside of your thighs.

“Yes, good.” He was close enough to push your thighs wide apart and stick his tongue inside of you. You took in a great sucking breath, startled from the suddenness of it and the long, articulate appendage massaging a part of you in a way no one ever had before.

You leaned back on your arms when they weakened and shook from the sensations, eyes flicking towards the drab ceiling, wondering just how far under the living quarters of the lighthouse you actually were and whether granduncle would hear any lewd sounds that were beginning to hum in your throat.

“Keep going.” He said when you moaned, tongue retracted from your body to mimic the ministrations you made with your hand and fingers while you stroked yourself. “Keep doing it.”

He nudged your hand away to put his mouth over that stimulated spot instead, sucking and licking along you with such fervor that you dissolved into hard pants and whimpers, tempted to close your thighs around his head and push him away as the tight warmth inside of you flushed out with a kaleidoscopic burst of color and cool air following the trail of something slowly oozing out of you.

It took a second orgasm and chanting turned to cries to get him off of you. That brief respite ended when he took you by the waist and dragged you into the pool with him. By that point, you were too far spent to have anything but unshakeable indifference to the depths and the cold.

His kiss was as it had been before, rough and restless, forceful in a way that left you malleable and melting against him. Even when he had your front wedged between the rim of the pool and his chest, you couldn't bring yourself to react much.

You felt his thighs mold to the back of yours before the slim tip of his cock pushed into you, the girth of it thickening considerably at the base. The friction of the water wasn't an obstacle for him to fuck into you with greedy thrusts that threw your hips forward, knocking skin and bone against the wall of the pool.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh—” the ridges of his cock were an unusual feeling, catching your walls in spots, spreading you wider when he'd withdraw part way and plunge back inside. “Oh, shit—feels good. Harder. Harder. Harder!”

There was truly never any way to know how much he understood when you said it, something called into question when his thrusts slowed to a stop, but he stayed hard inside of you. For a moment, the water settled along with your heavy breaths and blood gushing through your ears.

Things slowly came back into focus—the dancing lantern light, the room temperature meat, the wicked water in which you were immersed to the waist while the rest of you was braced by him.

He shifted behind you, adjusting his thighs so yours went even wider. Before you could ask the things you wanted to, a new sensation stole your breath—the swollen head of a second cock, different in shape and size from the first, pushed into you and lay flush atop the other.

“Don't—don’t move.” You were struggling to do the same thing with such an enormous stretch you'd never had to accommodate before. Tension built in your throat, whether a sob or a scream or your own anxiety, and stayed there to cinch your voice into silence.

He soothed you with lips and teeth all over your flesh; the back of your neck, the cartilage of your ears and the underside of your jawbone. His large hands left the shelf of your hips and felt along your front side, nipples, chest, stomach, and groin where he tried to recreate the same pleasure on you now as you had done for yourself earlier.

“Good?” He nested his cocks deeper when he heard you moan. The pain of it was beginning to subside, but the strangeness of it remained. “Is it good?”

“Just—just don't hurt me.”

His hands were back on your hips to keep you seated on his thighs while he thrust into you. It wasn't as easy for him to move as it was before, perhaps realizing the limitations of a human companion, but continued in snappy pulses that made the water lap at the skin on your back and turned your thoughts into senseless, garbled things.

Soon enough, you were riding a sloppy, savage rhythm to which you had no control of whatsoever as he chased his end. In moments where he seemed to regress into a natural state, almost animalistic in the way he rutted into you and buried his cocks, one would slip out and go forgotten for a time. The length of it glided against your groin, a smooth motion underwater that prodded your sore spots before he was able to fit it back into place with the other.

Amid your luscious sounds were those of his own; labored, air-sucking rasps that rumbled from places more than just his throat. They were probably never meant to be heard above the surface of water, just as he didn't belong fucking a human while being chained to a wall.

You thought about that fact while the last thrusts he took seated his cocks so deep that you ached, hard surges of warmth flooding your insides in a way unexpectedly delightful. He clung to you with his arms and shackles even well after he had emptied himself in your body and retracted both cocks into their sheath.

After a while, he hoisted you out of the water and followed you to retrieve your clothes. He stopped short of the chains pulling in the wall, watching while you wiped away the remnants of him oozing down the backs of your thighs and redressed.

“Don't go.” He kissed you and let his cold lips linger over yours. “Stay here.”

You returned the affection as endlessly as he gave it, only thinking that sunrise would soon come to pull you apart.

a/n: so, this idea has unfortunately never been able to fully develop from a lack of ideas. with starting this new blog, I'm hoping to get enough interest and feedback to actually commit to this and bring a completed project eventually!!

are you satisfied with how the aquatic monster was written in this piece? what would you be interested in having added/taken away? what do you think could be improved upon/expanded? is there anything you're particularly curious about?

what sort of setting would you like to see this story take place? 19th century, the 90s, or modern e.g. 2010+? are you satisfied with the setting being in cape tellis? a location inspired by lighthouse coastlines with predominately dreary/cool/wet weather? if not, what type of setting would you prefer to see?

in terms of the storyline, are you more interested in seeing: 1) a relative goes missing, so you arrive at the lighthouse he owned to solve the mystery 2) mc being an underwater mechanic to fix a damaged dam 3) mc being part of a small group trying to capture proof of a "creature" lurking around cape tellis. 4) something else???

[darklydeliciousdesires]

John Shelby Vs. Breakfast - A John Shelby/Reader Short.

I haven't written for any of my Peaky lads in a hot minute, so I thought I'd do a little fun, fluffy piece for my fave ginge <3 Enjoy!

Words - 792

Warnings - None, just John being John!

Clattering. Swearing. Burnt toast. Those are what greet you after descending the stairs, coming into the kitchen to see perhaps the most unnatural sight in the world; John cooking. Or rather attempting to.  

“Bastard, bloody thing!” Yes, the cast iron pan handle heats up while cooking eggs and bacon in it, not that he’d realise, being a man. Naturally, he’s had a woman perform these tasks for him all his life, so why would he know that? “Oh, shit, shit, shit, not again!”  

At least this time when he reaches for hot metal, he has the sense to cover the end of the toasting fork with a kitchen towel, pulling the slices of bread from in front of the fire. “Fuckin’ hell!” 

You stand and watch it, the sexy, ginger ball of stress whirling like an agitated tornado around the space, John much too predisposed by messing up the preparation of breakfast to notice you there, his entertained audience of one.  

“Alright, I can save that. Scrape the burnt bit off. Right, kettle’s almost done. Sodding hell! How the fuck do women do this and make it look so bloody easy?” 

“Because we’re magicians,” you finally speak, watching him jump before he spins around, pointing at you through the chaos of his own making. 

“You should be in bed, still!”  

Shrugging, you approach, stroking his bare forearms, his sleeves all rolled up. “I was wide awake, so I thought I’d get up.”  

He bustles, waving his arms. “No, no. Ain’t supposed to be like this. I had a plan! Bring you breakfast in bed and now it’s all bloody going wrong!” 

Casting your gaze over his shoulder, your eyebrow flutters upwards. “I don’t think that has anything to do with me coming down the stairs, John. The pan is smoking, by the way.”  

His face falls. “Fuckin’ hell!”  

“Do you want a hand?” you offer, watching him move it from atop the range, scraping the slightly overdone eggs and bacon out onto two plates. 

He waves his hand towards the table. “No, you sit down.” 

“I can do the teapot, at least?” 

More hand gestures are directed. “Sit down, bab!”  

He’s adamant to do this, so tucking your dress, you take a seat, picking up the morning paper as he butters the toast. Finishing plating up the breakfast and pouring the tea, he brings it to you, everything a little crispy and haphazardly presented, your new husband looking at you from under a few furrowed brow.  

“Don’t look nothing like when you make it, but I hope it tastes alright, at least.” 

Digging your fork in, you take a first mouthful. “It’s lovely, darling. Thank you. What made you want to cook for me in the first place, though? You always denounce it as woman’s work. Not that you should. We’re in the twenties now, us women are to have our equality.” 

“Oh, not you an’ all!” he groans, rolling his eyes. “You and bloody Pol and your women’s lib!” His little wink indicates he isn’t a hundred percent serious, picking up a slice of toast and taking a huge bite, crumbs collecting at the corners of his lips. “And I did it because I wanna make amends. Ain’t proper that we’re married and I can’t take you on honeymoon. Nah. Even a weekend up the seaside would have been nice. Got all this fuckin’ shit round me neck, though.” 

Indeed, he has. You know well who you married, and the life of a prolific gangster is seldom easy. Or, in this case, flexible enough to allow for time away from Birmingham with his new bride.  

Reaching for his hand, you stroke the freckled flesh, cocking your head. “You’ve no amends here to make, love. I know, I understand. It is what it is.” 

“Yeah, but it bloody shouldn’t be, cos’ you deserve more!” he fumes, forehead creasing. “And I can’t give it to ya right now. Feel like a right bloody joke of a husband, I do.” 

“You know what you can give me, though?” you tease, John not immediately picking up on the connotations. “A bloody good seeing to.” 

He pauses his chewing, an eyebrow arching. “Get that scran down your neck sharpish, bab. I might not be able to take you away even for a weekend, but I can take you to bed instead.”  

To be honest, is seeing a lot of time pressed against a mattress beneath your new husband not the point of a honeymoon? You’ve always thought so, at least, therefore it matters not where that mattress happens to be. Whether further afield or Birmingham, as long as John is there, it’s all the honeymoon you need.  

A slightly cremated breakfast is an added bonus, too.  

[shadowdaddies]

Wings of Desire

Azriel x Reader

based on this request

Summary: meeting your mate’s family for the first time doesn’t go as you hoped

This can be read on its own, or as a part three | Part 1 | Part 2

Your body hummed with content, a soft smile gracing your lips as you savored the moment. The cup of tea in your hands spread warmth through your body with each sip, its spices filling your nose with a pleasant aroma as the sound of Azriel frying eggs on the stove echoed through the quiet cabin. 

Biting your lip, you admired how your mate’s exposed muscles moved, his large dark wings relaxed half-open at his back as he swayed slightly over the pan. Nearly a week had passed since you had recognized the mating bond, and while you hadn’t known Azriel long, you were already certain there was no one else you would rather spend your life with. 

Memories of the past week flooded your thoughts. From finding ways to show his tender affection towards you in the cabin - cooking for you, picking out books he thought you would enjoy, affirming you with his words - to being your fierce protector whenever you were training at the Illyrian camps, Azriel was a constant source of both excitement and security that you were shocked you had ever managed to live without.

A shadow curled around the spymaster’s ear, Azriel turning over his shoulder with a knowing smirk, hazel eyes darkening as they raked over you. 

“See something you like?” Azriel teased, his gravelly morning voice causing you to clench your legs instinctively. Flushing under his gaze, you licked a drop of tea from your lip, moving to rest your chin on your hand as you gazed up at your mate.

“I like everything I see,” you replied, your own tone breathless as Azriel turned, his tattooed chest bared to you as he scraped the eggs onto each of your plates. As he held a plate out towards you, you popped up in your seat, leaning across the table as you grabbed it. With a kiss to his lips, you whispered a “thank you,” the both of you taking your seats across from each other to eat.

Humming quietly, you spread strawberry jam across a piece of golden toast, grinning at the tart smell of the fruit as you raised it to your lips. Just as you crunched down on the bread, Azriel cleared his throat, drawing your gaze back to his.

Hazel eyes honed in on you, a thick swallow working down the Illyrian’s throat before he reached a scarred thumb to the corner of your mouth. It was a challenge to focus your breathing as you watched Azriel draw his thumb away, his tongue flicking out against the jam he’d collected from your lips before wrapping his own around the digit and sucking.

Seemingly oblivious to what he was doing to you, Azriel cleared his throat once more before speaking. 

“I would like to take you to Velaris.” He spoke so casually, leaning against the counter as he used the side of his fork to cut through an egg, scooping it onto a piece of his toast.

He had told you of Velaris last night - his safe haven, treasured home where he lived with his family. It struck you then, what a monumental moment this was for him - for the both of you - as the spymaster of the Night Court offered to bring someone from another court to his home. 

But you both knew that you weren’t just ‘someone.’ And you both knew that what was happening between you two was not a fling. This was Life Altering, World Tipped on its Axis, Head over Heels, Love.

You must have been quiet for a moment too long, because Azriel’s relaxed demeanor vanished in favor of widened, anxious eyes and a stiff back. 

“I just mean that I would like for you to meet my family... And, if you are comfortable...” he trailed off, searching for words. “I would just like to show you my home.”

You couldn’t hold back the bright smile that took over your face, the joy that could not be held back as you imagined it. So far, your relationship with Azriel had been limited to your stay at the cabin and spy work. But this, this was real. This was confirmation that this incredible, beautiful male was not a dream, but your mate, and you could have a future with him. 

Leaping up from your seat, you ran to embrace Azriel, his warm chest relaxing in your hold as he returned it. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your hair, murmuring against you. “So, is that a yes?”

You giggled against him, noting the rapid thumping of his heart at the sound as you said, “Yes. Of course I would love to, Azriel.” 

An overwhelming sense of bliss flowed through the bond as you felt Azriel’s lips curve into a smile against your hair before tilting your head to look up at him. “We will go there for dinner tonight, then, if that is alright. Rhysand and Feyre are having dinner with the family at their home.”

You had met the High Lord and High Lady twice now, both in meeting with Tarquin and at the camps. Their kindness had surprised you, the Night Court’s leader nothing like his reputation. With an eager nod, you suddenly found yourself anxiously awaiting this evening, overcome with the excitement of meeting Azriel’s loved ones. 

~~~

Adjusting the straps of your gauzy periwinkle dress, you thanked the Cauldron for Emerie. Dressing for a nice dinner was not something you had planned when you left for Illyria, but neither was Azriel. Your wings twitched in excitement as you took in your appearance in the mirror. Gowns weren’t something you wore often, and you were astonished at how beautiful you felt.

Boots scuffed, rubber soles hitting the wood harshly as the sound of liquid sloshing and splattering perked your ears. Turning over your shoulder, a gasp escaped you at the sight of Azriel, one hand on the floor in front of him as the other held a nearly-empty glass. 

While you had not known Azriel long, you were certain that tripping was an uncommon occurrence for the spymaster. “Azriel, are you okay?” you breathed out, rushing forward to kneel next to him on the floor. 

His cheeks flushed a now familiar pinkish hue that made you melt. Az simply gaped at you, awestruck as his eyes shone with emotion. “You are the most beautiful sight. I am not worthy of your presence,” he admitted, almost more to himself as he stayed dazed in front of you.

The sound of your laughter, like morning bells that awoke his soul, brought Azriel back to reality. You shook your head, standing as you offered your hand to help him stand with you. 

“I will have Feyre paint that image one day. You, standing in the mirror - a female so ethereal that everything around her is abhorrently ordinary. You are incredible,” Azriel breathed the last words, a scarred thumb rubbing your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss. Lightning shot through your bones, as though his kiss was an effervescent light that gave you life. 

Reluctantly, the both of you pulled away, catching your breath as Azriel wrapped his arms around you. With a nod from you, he wrapped you both in darkness, carrying you away to the City of Starlight. 

Darkness faded away, Azriel pulling back slightly as he took your hand in his and turned towards a large mansion. It was understatedly beautiful, clearly a modest home where the High Lord and High Lady often hosted family. Behind the home, you could see the mountains upon which you stood moments ago, now playing the part of a backdrop in a stunning painting. 

Azriel led you forward, hand sliding to the small of your back as he held you close in a protective, claiming manner that made you smile with pride. As though she sensed your presence, the High Lady swung open the front door, a smile on her full lips as she greeted you. 

“Hello! You look beautiful, please come in,” Feyre greeted, catching you off-guard with a warm hug before moving to greet Azriel the same. Rhys came up behind her, the lack of power emanating from him making the male seem almost normal. It was jarring to see them like this - so domestic and comfortable, a true family. 

The couple guided you and Azriel down a grand hallway, the home simple in decoration with the exception of grand, beautiful paintings that lined the walls. “Those are all painted by Feyre,” Azriel whispered in your ear.

“They’re beautiful,” you whispered back. Raising your voice slightly, you gushed to Feyre as you passed a picture of Rhysand on the balcony of the Summer Court palace. “Your art is so beautiful. I didn’t realize how talented you are.”

With a small laugh, Feyre waved off your compliments. “It’s a nice outlet. I like to commemorate moments with my family that way,” she explained, ushering you into a dining room where several people stood around a table. 

You weren’t usually nervous when meeting new people, but finding yourself face-to-face with your mate’s family, you suddenly became very conscious of everyone, intent on making a good impression. Cassian greeted you first, the war general much more jovial than he had been when you’d met prior in training. He introduced you to his wife, Nesta, who greeted you with a polite, knowing smile. “I’ve heard much about you from Azriel... and Emerie,” she added with a wink, her eyes moving to Azriel as the stunning Valkyrie pulled him in for a hug.

You laughed at her comment, gesturing to your dress. “Emerie lent me this dress for tonight, actually.” Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“It is a beautiful dress,” a small voice sounded from Azriel’s other side. You stepped around your mate to see a petite female, similar to Nesta and Feyre but breathtakingly striking as her brown doe eyes assessed you. Her stiff form betrayed her kind words, tension building in the room as everyone turned towards her.

Fae instincts took over, your need to claim your mate guiding your hand to grip Azriel’s arm more firmly than necessary. “Thank you, very much...?” you replied, a polite but questioning look prompting the gorgeous fae for her name. 

“I’m Elain - Feyre and Nesta’s sister,” she explained with that same strained politeness that had your hackles rising. You didn’t miss the scathing look Rhys shot towards Azriel, everyone else seemingly oblivious as the High Lord bode everyone to take their seats.

Azriel pulled out your chair, placing a kiss to your hand before taking the seat next to you. The muscles in his hand stiffened slightly, alerting you to look around him where you saw Elain taking the seat on his other side.

While everyone else continued to eat their meals, enjoying the casual conversation, you could hardly breathe as Elain continued whispering to Azriel, giggling at everything he said. Rhys watched you with caution, sending an encouraging smile as Nesta attempted to make conversation with you about the books you had been reading. 

The world stopped turning when Elain put her hand on Azriel’s thigh, your vision red as an animalistic growl left your lips. Everyone in the table turned towards you in alarm, surprise on their faces as they took in the situation. 

The usual dark power that Rhysand emanated returned, bringing a chilly air to the room as he spoke in a deathly calm voice. “The three of you,” he nodded at you, Azriel, and Elain, “come with me.” Like ashamed children, you left your seat, yanking your hand from Azriel’s when he attempted to reach for it.

Fists clenched, you stormed from the room and followed the High Lord into his office, his eyes matching yours in their glowing fury. Azriel timidly clicked the wooden door shut behind him, just in time for you and Rhys to shout at him in unison.

“What the fuck, Azriel?” You screamed, both regret and pleasure snaking through you at how he and Elain flinched at your anger. 

Rhys put a placating hand on your arm, stepping forward as his power granted him a raw authority over the room. “Azriel, it appears as though you did not inform Elain,” violet eyes flicked towards you, “or your mate, of the situation.” 

Elain’s jaw fell slack, brown eyes lining with silver as her long curls whipped around her face. She glared at Azriel. “I thought that mates didn’t to you, Azriel. At least, that’s what you let me believe when you pursued me despite my having a mate.”

It was as though you had been shoved in ice water, floundering for breath in the shock as you began to comprehend the situation. Your voice cut through the air like a knife, Azriel flinching visibly as you spoke. “You are in a relationship?” 

It was Elain and Azriel’s turn to speak in unison. 

“Yes,” she spoke.

Just as firmly as he said, “no.”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, hatred shining in their eyes before Elain broke into tears. “Of course not,” she whispered. “I should have known. I’m a pretty face, but not worth fighting for. Isn’t that right?” Her voice broke on the last words before the beautiful female ran from the room, leaving heavy hearts behind.

Rhysand only paused for a moment before following Elain from the room, closing the door behind him in a silent request for you and Azriel to speak alone. A long moment passed as you stared at the door, half-ready to walk through it yourself when Azriel sounded next to you.

Daring to turn your head, your heart cleaved in two at the sight of tears running down your mate’s cheeks. His eyes never left yours, body angled fully towards you as he stayed determined to remain with you. He spoke slowly, carefully, in a measured tone. “I did not have a relationship with Elain. There was mutual interest, and she clearly thought it was more than I did. We never even kissed.”

Hating how your heart softened hearing that, you began to pace back and forth. Thoughts formed, and you stopped in front of Azriel with anger and sorrow in your voice. “She has a mate. So clearly you don’t care about what that - what this - means in the same way that I do if you were with her.”

“NO.” Azriel spoke louder than you had ever heard the quiet male. He sighed, walking towards you cautiously, reaching out a hand before dropping it cautiously. “I didn’t care about mates, because I didn’t think I would ever have one. I have been labeled as ‘different’ my entire existence - mocked, ridiculed, tortured for it. I settled for what was in front of me because I thought I would never find someone so perfect. Not just perfect for me, but the most incredible, kind, clever, ethereal female I have ever met. I still do not know how the Cauldron could bless me with you, but I will fight until my dying breath to keep you happy. I am sorry that I hurt you. I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

A tear fell down your cheek at his words, sniffling through a small laugh as you replied. “And I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you how worthy you are of extraordinary love, Azriel.”

A burning sensation at the tips of your wings drew a gasp from you - your eyes searching Azriel as you saw dark swirls of ink appear on the tips of his wings. “That makes a bargain,” he whispered. You looked up, seeing swirls of black decorating the tips of your white wings, a beautiful contrast to their color. “I’ve never seen a bargain mark left on wings before,” he murmured, his finger lightly tracing the marks on your feathers.

You bit your lip, head growing dizzy with pleasure at the feeling when Azriel pulled away, smirking. Stepping closer to him where you were now chest to chest, you brought your fingers to trace the marks on his wings, reveling in his reaction to your touch. “Well, there’s never been anyone like us,” you whispered, pulling him in for a passionate kiss, breaking apart as you both smiled too broadly to continue.

“You need to speak with Elain, and apologize,” you stated. Azriel nodded in agreement, taking your hand in his as he opened the door to leave the study. You were shocked to find Azriel’s family all standing around, turning towards the two of you and your matching tattoos with intrigued looks. 

With a glance back at you, Azriel broke the silence. “I need to go speak with Elain.”

Amused smiles filled the room, knowing glances being exchanged. Feyre let out a small, almost choking laugh. “Maybe another time, Azriel. Lucien stopped by. He and Elain went for a walk.”

You didn’t miss Cassian’s especially broad grin at the mention, but dismissed everyone else when Azriel turned towards you. “I will talk to her another time, love. For now, let me show you Velaris,” he promised, and you gave his hand a loving squeeze as you nodded, following him outside towards the city and your future.

[copperbadge]

Your latest bread success made me wonder if you've tried or had much luck making gluten free bread? I'm so tired of most commercially available options, they all seem to dissolve instantly. Awful for burgers or anything with sauce. I miss sourdough.

I'm afraid I haven't done much work with gluten-free baking; the problem is the gluten tax. As I'm sure you know, gluten-free anything, even just ingredients, are more expensive, and the process of baking is more labor intensive and time-consuming for a product that isn't the same. Even the best gluten-free bread, lacking gluten, is lacking one of the defining characteristics of the thing it's emulating.

Since I can eat gluten and am not regularly responsible for feeding anyone who can't, there's no real motivation to do it. I try to always have gluten-free options when I'm hosting, but that's usually stuff like crudite and dip, charcuterie, or fruit -- things that can also avoid other allergens, and depending on the item be eaten by vegetarians or vegans.

Now, all that said, I can recommend King Arthur's Cup For Cup GF flour for baking; it makes the process fairly smooth and the final product seems pretty sturdy, although admittedly the flour is about twice the price of their normal bread flour per pound. I haven't encountered Bob's Red Mill GF flour in a while, but partly that's because when we stopped using them they hadn't really reformulated in a few decades and their GF flour was pretty coarse, and sometimes made from beans my family members couldn't tolerate. They may have advanced since, this was like 10-15 years ago at least.

The King Arthur website has a variety of GF baking recipes as well as mixes and I do have some experience making their GF bagels, which are pretty good, although I think they're actually better if you halve the size (easier to manage, easier to store, since they really need to be kept cold, preferably frozen, and eaten warmed). I baked those regularly for a while for a colleague's kid who was allergic to wheat, and they weren't much more work than baking regular bagels, just required more delicate handling pre-bake.

I realize this is basic and you've probably tried it, but just in case, any GF product you're going to be saucing (as you say, like burgers), you might try griddling first -- little scrape of butter, toss it in a hot pan for a few minutes. In regular bread it helps to both create a flat barrier so the sauce doesn't sink into the bread, and it also dries it out a little so that it can take more moisture to begin with. This is theoretical though, I've never done it with GF buns. I do know that generally King Arthur recommends toasting GF products baked with its recipes.

Readers, feel free to chime in with recommendations! Remember to reply in comments or reblogs, as I don't post asks sent in response to other asks.

[gallaghersgal]

Mags is back! Mags is back!! Can u write something for Carmy x Fem!Reader where she tries to get all dressed up and cook for him but fails miserably 😚😚 missed you!!

hiiii this has been rotting in my inbox for ... months. but this is adorable i love it <33 no warnings, just some tears and cursing.

carmy walks into his apartment and is greeted by the smell of burnt... bread? he cocks an eyebrow, shrugging off his winter coat and shaking the snowflakes from his hair. his fingers itch for a cig as he takes in the sight of you, apron covered with mysterious stains, pulling a smoking pan out of the oven. "baby," he croons, and steps forward.

your chest tightens and suddenly there are tears in your eyes. "fuck! carms, i'm so sorry-" you set the pan down on the stove and fan the smoke away with your oven mitt. "dunno what i did, must've got the heat wrong, or the cook time or- fuck." you sigh in defeat, the heel of one hand digging at your teary eyes in frustration.

"hey, hey," he says to you, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling to down so he can look you in the eyes. "don't- don't cry, jesus, c'mere." while he gathers your frame into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, he can't help but chuckle at the state you're in.

you frown, your face hidden against the fabric of his shirt. "don't laugh," you say with a whine, and of course carmy chuckles again. one large hand curls around your jaw, bringing your watery gaze up to meet his eyes.

"baby. how 'bout we leave the cooking t'me next time, yeah?" the pad of his thumb wipes at the tear track on your cheek for a moment before he mushes a soft kiss to your temple. "what were y'makin' anyway?"

you sniffle, hiding your face in embarrassment. "jus' some garlic toast. i was tryin' t'make pasta but..." you nod towards the counter, where a sticky and inconsistent dough lays in a sad little lump.

carmy first sucks in a gasp through his teeth, then he's outright howling with laughter. "f-fuck, baby 'm not laughing' at you, promise," he says sweetly, pulling you back into his side when you try to maneuver away. "i think we can fix this, alright? lemme help."

end.

[glamatron3000]

The Unofficial Malto Family Cookbook

I was inspired by the longing of @ihatebrainstorm for Alex's cooking to do a deep dive into just what Earthspark's best dad was making, so here it is! The Unofficial Malto Family Cookbook!

Just a note, I am in no way familiar with Filipino cooking (I mostly cook American, European, and Japanese-inspired food in my day to day) but I'd like to think I am a skilled practitioner of Google-Fu, so here's what I was able to find!

These dishes were either shown or mentioned, sometimes both, in season 1 and the first half of season 2. I believe I got them all, but I did pan through the episodes pretty quickly, so let me know if I missed any!

Embutido

First up is the main dish from episode 1, which already sent me on an adventure trying to identify because it was never named. After poking around a few Filipino recipe sites I managed to identify it as embutido, which is described as a Filipino meatloaf. Dot mentions that it is her favorite dish.

Lumpia

The side dish of Dot's celebratory new job meal is lumpia, Filipino egg rolls! This dish appears regularly in the Malto family's meals, seen twice again in the first half of season 2.

Pandesal

Okay, so technically this is probably just a store-bought dinner roll, but why not try to find if there's a Filipino recipe it could be? Our boy Alex seems like the type of guy to pull out all the stops when it comes to feeding his family. The closest I could find is pandesal to round out our episode 1 meal.

Breakfast Burrito

In episode 2, we see Robbie lure Alex out to the barn with a picnic of breakfast burritos. Now surely there's also a Filipino style recipe for this, yes? Yes!

Longganisa

In episode 3, we see Alex frying up a pan of sausage for breakfast. Could be store bought, but it's also possible that it's a traditional Filipino pork sausage called longganisa.

Tortang

Here's our first one that was only mentioned and not shown. In episode 4, Alex tries twice to coax Bee into frying tortillas with his stingers. At first I thought he meant just regular flour or corn tortillas, but the way he was talking made it sound like a main dish and not just an ingredient. So after a bit of digging I found a dish called tortang, which is sometimes referred to as tortilla from what I can gather (citation needed -- I am a dumb American). Unlike the sort of tortilla you would use in a wrap or burrito, this dish is closer to an omelet. Those with more knowledge of Filipino cooking please feel free to correct me if I got this wrong.

Bibingka

Another only mentioned in episode 4, this is the dish Robbie would have picked to have for dinner for a week if he'd won the weekly chore race. Of course a child would pick a sweet dessert for dinner if he could.

Spam Steak

Okay, this was another mystery for me, particularly because of the way everything is stylized in the show. In episode 5, we see Alex frying up another breakfast food. I thought maybe it was a kind of french toast, but the browning texture didn't look quite right for that. So I browsed through the breakfast section of the recipe website I've been using and the closest I've found is this crispy spam steak recipe. Apparently spam is pretty popular in the Philippines, so it's possible! Again, if anyone more knowledgeable has another option, please correct me.

Snickerdoodles

In episode 7, Alex makes bagged lunches for Mo and Robbie's first day at school. While we don't know what's in those lunches, Alex did mention that he included his homemade snickerdoodles. Snickerdoodles originate from Dutch/German immigrants who settled in New England, and since there's a lot of Dutch/German heritage in Pennsylvania where the Maltos live, I'm fairly confident this is something Alex picked up in America. But just for fun, I did find an interesting Filipino/Mexican-inspired variant of this classic cookie, so you get a two for one deal with this one!

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me post more in a single post, so the rest will have to be in a Part 2 reblog!

[tlou-reid]

You Are In Love ❆ Spencer Reid

☃︎ SUMMARY: spencer makes a promise before he has to leave for a case right before Christmas.

☃︎WARNINGS: 2.5k words of unedited ooey gooey Christmas fluff, reader is shorter than spencer

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. 

Spencer’s hair was the messiest you’d ever seen it. It took everything in you to not bring your hand to smooth it, but the cup of coffee was heavy enough in your hand as is. You didn’t want to risk falling from your comfortable spot on his counter. The chill of the marble under your thighs was in sharp contrast to the warmth in your heart.

“Crispy bacon?” Spencer asked he laid four pieces in the nonstick pan. They sizzled, mimicking the sparks between you and Spencer. They never left the air when you were together. “Mhm,” You nodded, taking another sip of your coffee. Spencer was convinced you liked yours the same he likes his, extra cream and extra extra sugar. You had mentioned you liked your coffee sweet, to which Spencer was excited about your matching orders, and you never had the heart to tell him you didn’t mean that sweet.

“Want me to start the toast?” You asked, hopping down from your cozy corner. He nodded, reaching up to open the cabinet where the bread was. Your hand slid across his slim waist as you passed behind him. His lips quirked up in a smile, suppressing the laugh from the tickle of your touch.

“I like when we make breakfast sandwiches,” You informed him as you slid down the knob on the toaster, dropping the bread into it. “Yeah?” Spencer asked absentmindedly, too focused on flipping the bacon without spilling grease on himself. “We can make them however we want!” You cheered as you sliced up an avocado.

Time passed quickly, as it does when you’re having fun. Both of you were caught up in both your tasks, and each other, that neither of you noticed the lack of the toaster popping until the smell of burnt bread flooded Spencer’s kitchen.

“You burnt the toast?!” Spencer squealed, making his way to the smoking toaster. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his voice raised an octave. It was too hot to pull the bread out, so he resorted to completely flipping the toaster, shaking it to get any burnt crumbs from the bottom. You were a mess of laughter behind him. “This is not funny!” His voice sounded angry, but the wide smile on his face betrayed his act.

“It definitely is,” You said through laughter, moving to help him sweep the crumbs from the counter into your hands. He shooed you away, exclaiming, “Go assemble the sandwiches while I clean up your mess.”  With one last bout of laughter, you made your way back to the plates, putting the sandwich on regular bread, not wanting to bother with toasting it again.

You keep his shirt, he keeps his word.

You’re putting the last bite of your breakfast sandwich in your mouth when Spencer’s phone goes off. You can’t help the way your stomach falls, knowing it means he’ll have to leave again. There were always tough emotions that came with him leaving, but with it being so close to the holidays, you just wanted him to be home.

It’s your first Christmas being an official couple and you wanted to spend it cuddled up around the tree, exchanging gifts and calling his mom. If he wasn’t going to be home for it, you were going to be quite disappointed.

With a sigh, Spencer went to retrieve his phone from the coffee table in the living room. You saw him reach between two stacks of books to get it and read over it quickly. He drops his arm in disappointment, throwing his head back a bit. It must be far, you thought. Spencer turns to you, remorse all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he stands in front of you, “I have to go.” All of the energy in his voice from earlier had dissipated, leaving him just a shell of who he was this morning. “Where?” You asked, pretending he didn’t notice the tears in your eyes as you looked up to him. “Washington State,” He tells you as he bends down to your level, placing his hands on your cheeks. One of his thumbs comes up to wipe away the tears that were starting to fall.

“I’m sorry,” He repeats, eyes scanning over your disappointed face. “I’ll be home in time for Christmas.” Spencer’s voice is so assured that you almost believe him. If he had control over it, you would. He can see the doubt all over your face, so he speaks again, “I promise, I’ll be home. I’ll leave the case early if I have to.”

You’re immediately shaking your hand, taking his hands with you. “You can’t do that,” You say as more tears slip down your cheeks, “You gotta catch the bad guy.”

“I will,” he rushes out, wanting to say anything to stop you from crying. He’s doing his best to catch all of the tears that are falling. “We’re the best at what we do, we’ll catch him. I’ll be home.” All you can do is nod and pretend you believe him. Spencer has no choice but to accept this.

He doesn’t move his hands until the tears stop. “I have to leave, but you can stay. You can stay here the whole time I’m gone if you want.” You glance around his apartment, taking in all of the things that were just so Spencer, and the colorful Christmas decorations you'd put up together. Your eyes land on the book he’d been reading to you last night, knowing that you’d prefer to be in the comfort of your home, but wanting to take a piece of him with you.

“I want to go home if that’s okay?” You ask, meeting his eye once again. “Of course,” he assures you. “Can I take this?” You ask, moving to grab the book and holding it up to him. Strangers on a Train, one Spencer had read multiple times. “Yes!” He beams, loving that you want to continue reading his novel.

“And this?” You point to the sweater lying over the back of the couch. One that you knew smelled like him. “You can take anything you want,” he promises, taking a few steps toward you.

He stops when he’s close enough to put his hands on your cheeks again, pulling you in for a deep kiss. Spencer’s lips taste sweet from his sugary coffee, but feel like home. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll be home,” he repeats one last time. He uses his grip to pull your face down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then makes his way to his bedroom to get dressed for work.

And for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts.

You had thought it was Spencer who had no choice but to believe you when you agreed to him making it home before Christmas, but it turns out it was you. You held on to his sentiment while he was gone, repeating ‘he’ll be home’ in your head when you looked around the sparse decorations in your home. Knowing you both wanted to spend Christmas at Spencer’s, you barely bothered to decorate your own.

It didn’t help that your job had given you off for the holiday, so you didn’t have much to busy yourself with. You caught up on shows you had been missing, finished the book you’d brought from Spencer’s, and finished up last-minute Christmas shopping.

Most of all, you kept telling yourself to believe him. No matter how scorned you’d been by lovers in the past, all you had was his word and you needed to hold onto it. 

There was nothing Spencer had ever done that would indicate he would intentionally lie to you, but he couldn’t control the unsub or the trails they left behind. Part of you felt selfish, wanting Spencer to wrap up the case to get home in time to open presents and watch Christmas movies instead of wanting Spencer to wrap up the case because of any potential victims, but the other part of you was too excited to care.

You curled up in your bed, where Spencer’s sweater was lying across your pillow. As cheesy as it sounded, it was easier to sleep when you knew there was a piece of him next to you. You flicked through channels, hoping to find some kind of Christmas-related thing. Being two days before Christmas, it was quite easy to find. You landed on some cheesy movie, titled A Christmas Prince.

One step, not much, but it said enough.

You were almost at the end of the movie and starting to dose off when your phone vibrated next to you. You checked the time before answering the call, 11:48 pm. “Hello?” You asked, still trying to wake yourself up enough to be coherent for this conversation.

On the other side of the line, Spencer called your name. “Spence?” You asked again, sitting up. “Hi, honey,” His voice was light but tired. He was clearly in a good mood. “Are you okay?” You asked, wondering why he was calling so late. “I 'm wonderful,” his smile was wide, even if you couldn't see it, “I have good news.”

“Yeah?” You were awake now, able to guess what he was about to say. “I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon, in time for Christmas, just like I promised.” Now, you could hear both the smile and smugness in his voice. Spencer didn’t get boosts of confidence often, but holding a promise to his girl was definitely one of them.

“I knew it!” You cheered, unbelievably happy that you didn’t succumb to the negative thoughts you had previously. You had held your faith in him, despite the way you’d been lied to and cheated on in the past.

You couldn’t see it, but Spencer’s smile grew tenfold. Even across the country from you, you found a way to make his heart race and his hands shake. “You believed me?” His previous confidence had dissipated, turning into a form of awe. He’d never had someone trust his word like you did, even if it was only a Christmas promise.

“Of course I did, Spence, I always will.” You assured him. His smile somehow grew bigger, lighting up the dull police department he was in. “We have a few technical things to wrap up before we get home, but I’ll treat you to lunch and we can figure out what movies we’ll watch on Christmas day.” He promised. “Sounds like a date,” He could hear your smile now. Spencer’s heart was pittering in his chest, hard and fast. He was really falling for you

You kiss on sidewalks. You fight, and you talk. 

Your hand was held tightly in Spencer’s as you excited the cafe together. “You think Elf is better than the Grinch?” You exasperated, throwing up your other hand in disbelief. He laughed, pushing you to get even angrier, “Obviously, Will Ferrell’s in it.”

You let out an even more dramatic sigh, stopping in your place on the sidewalk to turn and face him. You looked like you were about to lose it as you said, “You think Will Ferrell is better than Jim Carrey?!?!” This sent Spencer into a fit of laughter, doubling over and holding his chest as they escaped from him.

“Spencer!” You called again, stepping forward and putting your hand on his chest to make him stand up straight. “Please, tell me you’re messing with me.” He was smiling stupidly and his eyes were sparkling as he stared down at you. He didn’t answer, instead, he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

You deepened it by placing your hands on the sides of his face and holding him closer to you. You two stood for a few seconds, in the middle of the sidewalk, and so, incredibly, deeply in love. Spencer pulled away when a car passed by, reminding him that you were out in public. The previous argument was quickly forgotten, for a moment.

You let out a sigh of contentment, reaching for his hand again. “I’m so glad you made it home.” He dragged his thumb along your hand, tickling your palm, “Me too, this way we can watch Elf together.”

He let out another laugh as you dropped his hand and stomped a couple of paces away. “Oh my god,” you huffed.

One night, he wakes, strange look on his face. Pauses, then says, “You’re my best friend.”

You two made it back to Spencer’s with full bellies and cold hands. You knew Spencer was tired from wrapping up the case this morning, so you didn’t complain when he collapsed on the couch. “You wanna change?” You asked, hanging up your coat. He shook his head and replied with a “uh-uh.” You giggled at his childlike demeanor as you sat down next to him.

Spencer moved to rest his hand on your shoulder, pulling you close to him by your waist. “Thank you, Spence.” You said into the top of his head before pressing a kiss into his hair. “For what?” He asked, closing his eyes at your touch. “Making it home in time.”

“I promised you I would,” he reminds you. “I know, but I also know you can’t control it sometimes.” He nods, both agreeing with you and encouraging you to keep playing with his hair.

He falls asleep quickly in the position, loving the scratches you’re leaving on the back of his neck.

The sun sets as you make yourself comfortable next to him, trying not to wake him up. You pulled a random book from one of the stacks on his coffee table to busy yourself, and try to make yourself as tired as he was, so you could go to bed. But, the excitement of Christmas was keeping you awake.

You were finishing up the third chapter when he stirred. To your surprise, Spencer sat up. His eyebrows were furrowed, but there was a fond smile on his face as he brought his hands up to sleepily rub at his eyes. He blinked a few times, adjusting his vision to the darkness of the room. He was only being illuminated by the glow of the white lights from the Christmas tree.

Spencer turned to you, the corners of his lips quirking up in a bigger smile. He only looks at you for a few seconds, before cuddling back up next to you. “You know you’re my best friend, right?” Spencer slurs, too tired to string together a completely coherent sentence. “You’re mine too, Spence.” You assured, not knowing if he was awake enough to hear you. You pressed another kiss to his head, whispering a quiet, “Merry Christmas,” to him.

And you knew what it was, he is in love. 

[outermaybanks]

just a kiss - part ii - jj x bi!reader x kie aka 3 times you were oblivious and the one time you knew exactly what you wanted - part two to this

a/n: wrote this entire thing while high, no proof reading we die like men, definitely projecting... also i know nothing abt surfing so if it sounds crazy just pretend it doesn't. there's gonna be at least one more part to this. next part

July 5th - the third time.

When you woke up, Kie’s face was nuzzled into your shoulder, and even in your dazy state, the sight made your heart race. You felt a rush of guilt come over you, so you got out of the bed quickly, running to the bathroom to brush your teeth and splash your face with water. But nothing helped, even while splashing cold water on your face, you couldn’t get the image of your kiss with Kie, or your kiss with JJ out of your mind. 

When you met JJ, when he first started working for your dad, you knew he had a girlfriend, so you didn’t let yourself feel attraction towards him. Obviously, when you got to meet Kie for yourself, you did so already knowing she was dating JJ, so again, you didn’t let yourself feel attraction towards her. Now this felt almost like a sick joke. Were they making fun of you? Were they trying to use you for a threesome?

No, you quickly decided. These were your friends. You couldn’t let your anxiety ruin this for you, and until they did something that showed they had ill intentions, you decided to take them at their word, it was just a kiss, right?

When you returned to the living room, Kie was groggily stretching, JJ still fast asleep beside her. “Mmmm good morning, y/n. How’d you sleep?” she asked softly, but her voice was gravelly from her slumber. “Pretty good considering JJ seems to be a bed hogger,” you tease, gesturing to the unconscious blonde beside her. A small giggle fell from her before she got out of the bed. “Oh yeah, big time. Beds, blankets, boy has no concept of personal space… Wanna make breakfast with me?” She offered, making eye contact with you as she walked past to go to the kitchen. You couldn’t help your eyes flickering to look at her ass as you followed behind you, but you quickly looked away.

“I’m thinking… french toast… maybe some eggs,” Kie said as ran a hand through her hair. “Wow, JJ’s a lucky guy,” you reply with a small chuckle, she smiles at you before going into the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs. 

“Thank god John B has chickens, he always has eggs. Can you make sure there’s bread?” Kie asked, and you were quick on your feet.

“Got the bread,” you reply, bringing it over to her as she set a pan on the stove. She gave you a smile as she took it, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was being flirtatious. 

“You ever do this before?” Kie’s voice was soft, but not quiet; gentle. “You kidding me? My dad can’t cook to save his life,” you answer, your tone is light hearted, but Kie gives you a worried look. “And…. your mom?” “Out of the picture. She’s got a new family in Chicago, and I… get to have pizza 3 nights a week,” you joke, and this time Kie smiles. “Can you crack some eggs into this bowl?” Kie asked, handing you a bowl. “That I can manage.”

After you crack a couple eggs in the bowl, you watch Kie pour some milk, then some cinnamon, and lastly she reaches for a small brown bottle. “Vanilla,” Kie explains, dropping some into the bowl. Kie hands you a fork, asking you to stir it up. “Here, watch me,” Kie says as she drops some butter in the pan, moving it around. She took a piece of bread, dipped both sides into the bowl, then dropped it into the pan. “See? Not that hard. Now you’ll know how to make french toast,” her tone isn’t judgemental, she genuinely seemed to want to help you, this took you by surprise.

You don’t respond, you just watch her flip the piece of bread in the pan until it’s golden brown, then put it on a plate. “Here, you do the next one,” Kie said as she moved out of the way. You hesitantly took her spot, and mimicked her actions dipping the bread in the bowl of egg, cinnamon, milk and vanilla. “You’re gonna want to flip it so it cooks evenly,” she said softly, before her hand covered yours with the spatula, guiding you. The whole thing felt… intimate. 

With Kie’s help, you guys made almost the whole loaf of bread into french toast. “Now, what about eggs?” Kie asked. “I like ‘em scrambled.” “Perfect, that’s my specialty,” Kie joked, rinsing the bowl clean before cracking a few more eggs into it, adding milk, salt and pepper.

While you watched her cook scrambled eggs, you heard a loud groan as JJ walked into the kitchen, still shirtless; you felt your face begin to heat up. “‘Morning,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he walked over to Kie, placing a kiss on her cheek. “French toast?” “Mmhm, taught y/n how to make ‘em,” Kie boasted, stirring the eggs. JJ turned to look at you, a sleepy smile on his face, and you felt your heart race. What was happening to you?

“You excited to catch some waves?” JJ asked, sauntering over to you. “Oh totally, so excited to faceplant,” you answer, making JJ laugh. “Man, I still can’t believe you never learned to surf.” “But who between us can replace a clutch, Maybank?” “Ouch, straight to my heart, y/n/n,” he clutches his chest over his heart, and you let out a giggle. “What’s for breakfast?” Both you and JJ turn to see Pope walking into the kitchen, wiping his eyes.

After Sarah and John B woke up, and you all ate breakfast, you loaded into the Twinkie, Sarah sitting in the passenger seat while John B drove, the four of you sitting in the back. When you got to the beach, John B and Kie wasted no time diving straight in, meanwhile you were staring hesitantly at the water. “You ready?” You turned to see JJ walked over with his old surfboard. “Already waxed her for ya.” You smile, despite the fear of what you were about to do. “Okay, so first, I want you to practice standing up on the board in the sand.” You furrow your eyebrows, “Thought you were gonna join them and I was gonna wing it?” “What? No way, I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a pro.”

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks, and his kindness made you smile. JJ showed you how to go from laying down to standing up, and once you aced the movement, he took you out in the water a little bit. “Gravity’s a bit different, so same thing, just get used to the feeling,” JJ said from beside you. The water barely reached his chest, so if you fell off your board, at least it was shallow. You pushed yourself up like he showed you, but your arms wobbled a bit, JJ quickly steadied you. “Thanks,” you pant, out of breath from trying your hardest not to fall over. He gave you a nod and a smile, backing up a bit. You slowly shifted your weight to your feet, and put your arms up as you steadily tried to stand. Despite still being a bit wobbly, JJ clapped for you. “See? What did I tell you? Now we just gotta find some baby waves.” You got back down to lay on your board. “Wait here… seriously-” JJ said sternly before heading back towards shore to get his own board. He paddled out to get beside you, then sat up a bit, so you mimicked his actions.

“You’re doing a really good job for your first time,” JJ praised. “All thanks to you… Sorry you had to miss out on all the fun,” you said softly, looking over your shoulder just as Pope came up on a wave. 

“What are ya talkin’ about? As far as I’m concerned, they’re the ones missing out, all the fun’s happening right here,” JJ insisted, moving his hands between the two of you, making you chuckle. The smile on his face brought back the heat in your cheeks, so you did the only thing you could think of and splashed him, which resulting in you two going to full on war. 

After both you and JJ were properly soaked, and the laughter finally died down, you found yourself wanting more and more. JJ took you over to a spot where smaller waves were forming, and you practiced standing and moving with the wave, but you kept falling, crashing into the water. JJ never let you feel embarrassed, immediately praising what you had done right, and encouraging you to try again until finally, you rode the tiniest of waves, JJ acted like you won the super bowl.

“Yes! That’s what I’m talking ‘bout, baby, yeah! Woo!” JJ cheered. You got back down on your knees and paddled back over to him. “I did it! Oh my god, I can’t believe I actually did that!” “Told you! Next time we come out here, you’ll be shredding with me and Kie.”

Your smile fell as a wave of guilt washed over you. You had been having feelings for Kie’s boyfriend, and worse, you also were having feelings for JJ’s girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be awesome,” you tried to save. “You were right, JJ, that actually was fun.” “You were right, too, by the way,” JJ said suddenly, making your eyebrows furrow. “Right about what, Maybank?” You asked. JJ smiled, almostly shyly, looking down at his board between his legs. “You’re a good kisser.”

July 9th - the fourth time.

You were working in your dad’s shop, JJ had called off, and you helped your dad by doing JJ’s work. “It’s just not like him…” Your dad said, checking the oil dipstick, wiping it clean with a cloth. “JJ’s never called out before.” “Which is exactly why you can't punish him. Shit happens, dad,” you defended despite knowing JJ was fine.

Your dad gave you a knowing look. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you and JJ are friends. He’s a good kid, y’know. And I appreciate you helping me all day. After this car you can head off early, I’m gonna close up early.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah, maybe you could go check on JJ.” “Daaaad,” you whined, you knew what he was hinting at. Your dad had always had a dream of you marrying a fellow car lover.

Your phone dinged from your pocket, so you quickly wiped your hands on a rag, dirty from refilling the coolant, before grabbing your phone from your pocket.

Kie ♡: miss you xx

You smile to yourself. “Oh, now what do we have here?” Your dad teased. “Stop it, it’s Kie, JJ’s girlfriend. Who I like very much for the record. As a friend,” you quickly added.

Your dad shook his head as you turned to lean against the car. You: miss u too <3

Kie texted back almost immediately. Kie ♡: when can i see you again?

You couldn’t bite back your ever growing smile, but then another ding.

Kie ♡: if i’m being honest i havent been able to stop thinking abt our kiss Kie ♡: have you?

You felt your heart race as your eyes scanned the words over and over again. You quickly glanced to your father, busy changing an air filter. That was the last thing

You: i can’t stop thinking abt that day period Kie ♡: i’m talking to jayj rn Kie ♡: we’re at the chateau Kie ♡: could you come over? Kie ♡: no pressure xx

It took you five minutes to type out your response, despite you having made your mind up the second she asked.

You: i’m omw

The walk to the chateau was a determined one. It had only been five days since you kissed both Kie and JJ, and like Kie, the memory was plaguing your mind. You got there in 10 minutes.

When you walked through the back door into the mudroom, JJ stood up from the couch where he had been seated. Kie was sitting in the armchair on the other side.

“Hey,” JJ said first. “Hi…”

JJ cleared his throat and sat back down. You suddenly felt awkward, and foolish. You had come here with no plan, no idea of what you wanted to gain from this. “Should… Should I go, or-” JJ asked. “I’ll say it…” Kie volunteered, scooting to sit on the edge of her seat. You hesitantly walked over to sit on the chair near the door, facing them.

“For a while, like before I even met you, I had been having these… feelings. Romantic urges for women. But-But I was already with JJ, so I just tried to ignore it. Then JJ met you, and we all became friends, and I thought you were… so beautiful and funny and kind. You can ask JJ, I told him like a week after we met,” Kie rambled. “It’s true,” JJ interjected, your head moving like you were watching a tennis match. “And when you told us you liked women and men… I got this…idea,” Kie continued.You quickly put the dots together and you let out a sigh of disappointment. Your worst fear was coming true.

“Seriously? You guys want me to be your unicorn?” “What? What’s a unicorn?” Kie asked. “It’s like when a straight guy and a bisexual girl are dating and have another bisexual girl around for hooking up with,” JJ explained, which honestly impressed you. “No, no, y/n, it’s not like that at all… I… I really like you. I wanted to talk about the possibility of you dating us- well- all of us, dating together,” Kie corrected, and it took you by surprise. You turned to look at JJ, but he was fidgeting with his hat, taking it off to run a hand through his hair before turning it to be backwards.

“I- I’m sorry, so just to clarify, you want me to be your guys’ what? Side piece?”  “No, I want you to be our girlfriend, mine and JJ’s, and I’d be your girlfriend and JJ would be your boyfriend.” “A throuple,” JJ spoke up, causing you to look at him again, this time he returned your gaze, wetting his bottom lip as you two held eye contact. “But-But we’d take it slow, I guess what I’m asking is if you would go on a date with us. See how it feels, and if we all like it, we keep going on dates.”

You had been approached many times by couples, mostly your friends’ boyfriends, for one night stands or casual hook ups, but never had someone suggested dating. You didn’t know what to think. A part of you felt like it was too good to be true, like you were falling into a trap that ended in you being humiliated and heartbroken, but you also felt like it was some sort of proof, proof that everything you had been feeling for both of them was not only real, it was mutual.

“You don’t have to give us an answer right now,” JJ added.

“Yeah, right, no pressure, and if you don’t want to, that’s totally cool too, we get i-” “Okay,” you interrupted her. “Let’s do it.”

Kie’s eyes widened before a smile broke out on her lips, “Really?”

Your mouth opened, but you bit your lips as you internally debated whether or not to be honest. Your eyes moved from Kie’s, wide and excited, to JJ’s, focused and hopeful. You let out a chuckle, “I felt like I was going crazy… feeling things for both of you…” you confess, running a hand through your hair. Kie looked over to JJ before getting up to kneel in front of you, putting her hand on your knee. “You’re not crazy… I thought I was going crazy when I started having these feelings, and JJ-” Kie’s head turned to look at the blonde, now standing. “I mean, he liked you first.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked from her to him, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looked away.

“So… you guys want to take me on a date?” you ask sheepishly. “How’s… tomorrow night sound?” Kie asked, a shy smile creeping onto her lips.

You looked over to JJ, he was leaning against the wall, his head down but his eyes up and on you. “Tomorrow night it is,” you answer.

©ᵒᵘᵗᵉʳᵐᵃʸᵇᵃⁿᵏˢ ²⁰²⁴

[crystalsoobin]

burnt toast! ➤ c. beomgyu

#. pairing bf!beomgyu x reader

#. synopsis gyu tries to cook you breakfast in bed and fails… miserably.

#. genre romance, comedy, fluff

#. warnings mild swearing, gyu almost causing a fire 😃

#. author’s note i’m back??? im taking a creative writing class in uni this fall so i thought id get some practice in lol

a small smile lays across beomgyu’s face as he admires your sleeping frame one fine morning. he had woken up quite early that day, eager to surprise you with breakfast in bed.

he gets up silently as to not wake you, and makes his way to your small apartment kitchen. not sure what to make, beomgyu opens the fridge and stares inside as if the idea would just present itself in front of him.

he finally settles on making eggs and toast, an oldie but a goodie. only problem was, beomgyu never cooks.

it can’t be that hard to fry an egg, right?

at least he knows how to toast bread, so he starts there first. grabbing some bread from the pantry, he walks to the toaster where he suddenly stops, a little confused on how to work it.

shade?? hmm, i think 8 is good.

he drops two pieces of toast in the slots and pulls down the lever, stepping back to the fridge to pull out some eggs. he grabs a pan and puts some oil on, maybe a little too much oil.

beomgyu cracks the two eggs, one by one. satisfied, he puts it on high heat so that — in his mind — it’ll cook faster and he won’t have to wait too long.

he then reaches over to the cabinet and pulls out your favourite mug, which was a gift from him. then going over to the coffee maker, listening to the loud crackle of the eggs on the pan.

when he’s done making the coffee he turns around to find the toaster smoking, and a nasty burning smell coming from it. in panic, he runs over to it and tries to take out the toast, almost burning his fingers.

“dammit!” he exclaims, disappointed by the burnt toast and realizing 8 was way too high. he finally succeeds in pulling out the burnt toast, the smell remaining throughout the kitchen.

as he returns to check on the eggs, his eyes widen, also finding them burnt and smoking, a lot. he panics, trying to blow away the smoke with his hands as to not set off the fire alarm. in his panic, he obviously forgets to turn off the heat, making it worse for himself.

and as if the morning couldn’t possibly go more horribly wrong than he imagined, the fire alarm does in fact go off.

“no no no! fuck!” is the first thing you hear as you walk into the kitchen after being woken up by a loud beeping noise and your boyfriend not in bed.

you watch as beomgyu finally remembers to turn off the stove, sighing disappointedly with his face in his hands as his back towards you.

“what. the fuck. did you do.” you finally speak. beomgyu yelps and turns around, surprised at your presence in the kitchen.

“i- i didn’t mean to baby, i swear! i was just trying to make you breakfast!”

“gyu, i really appreciate the sentiment but you know you can’t cook!”

“i know, i’m sorry,” your boyfriend leans into you for a hug, saddened that he couldn’t surprise you with a nice breakfast, “i thought i’d at least be able to make eggs and toast.” you wrap your arms around him and give him a small kiss, suddenly you bursting out into laughter as you look around at the mess your poor boyfriend made.

“why are you laughing?” he asks. “i actually wanted to surprise you, im serious.” he pouts.

“i’m sorry,” you chuckle, “it’s just so funny when i think about it.”

beomgyu hits you playfully on the head as he steps back and stares at his mess.

“hey, at least i made the coffee right?” he handed you the mug. you grimaced as you tasted it.

“i think you forgot milk, and sugar.” setting down the mug, you get an idea, “you know what, why don’t we clean this up and the i teach you how to cook eggs and toast.” you smile.

beomgyu chuckles in agreement, “sounds like a good idea.”

© crystalsoobin / do not steal

[petermorwood]

As mentioned more than once, @dduane's Middle Kingdoms don't have potatoes. A frequent alternative is parsnips, and the fried cakes in that photo are the result of an experiment done earlier this week to see if parsnips can substitute for potatoes in our always-reliable potato cake recipe.

Yes, they can!

*****

Here's @dduane's recipe.

First peel three regular-sized parsnips. then top and tail them.

Chop them into chunks and boil them in about 2 pints (1 litre) of water.

Drain them and return to the pan: let them steam dry. Then, while still hot, mash them well with a hand masher and allow to cool completely.

As mentioned further down, parsnips retain more water than potatoes even after steam-drying, so DON'T use a food processor or other power appliance for mashing or the result will be parsnip wallpaper paste. However, a processor is ideal for the rest of the recipe.

Put 2 cups (500g) all-purpose flour and ½ tsp salt into the processor bowl, blip the pulse switch to combine them then add 1½ tsp baking powder and blip again.

Now add 3 tablespoons butter and blip the pulse switch until the butter is completely worked in and the whole mixture has a cornmeal-y texture.

Now add the cooled mashed parsnips.

Process with the flour mixture, pulsing at first, then continuously, until the mixture comes together in a dough.

(If yours behaves the way our recipe did, no additional liquid should need to be added. The parsnips hold onto a surprising amount of water even after being steamed dry.)

Flour a work surface, roll the dough out about 1/3 inch (1 cm) thick, and use a sharp biscuit cutter to cut out into rounds. Then heat cooking oil in a frying pan to medium heat and put five or six of the cakes into the hot oil.

Fry until the cakes begin to rise a little (usually 4-5 minutes) and are going golden brown Turn and fry the cakes on their other sides for another 4-5 minutes. Test one for doneness: if necessary, turn the cakes once more and give them another 5 minutes or so.

Then cook the rest of the cakes in the same way. When they're done cooking, drain on paper towels until they're cool. Eat fresh or, to keep them, put them in a biscuit tin or other airtight container.

They'll keep for a few days. The parsnip flavor mellows somewhat the day after you bake them.

Like their potato-cake cousins, they're very good split, toasted, buttered and topped with a slice of cheese or (and) salami. They also shine as an accompaniment to bacon or sausages; give the parsnip cakes a brief re-fry in the fat left from frying these, then serve alongside the fried meats, dressed with a splash of Worcester or HP sauce and maybe a dotting of Tabasco or similar.

Our next experiment will be to make this recipe with the addition of some crumbled crispy bacon, grated cheese, grated onion or a combination of same.

The experiment after that will be to see if this can become parsnip bread in the same way as Irish potato farls. I think it will... :->

[forthetwins]

another smut one😂

George and y/n having sex and one of the Weasleys accidentally walks in

warning: very very small mention of it.

george weasley — breaking bread, building bridges.

the scent of freshly cooked breakfast filled the cozy kitchen of the burrow as mum weasley bustled about, tending to the pots and pans on the stove. around the worn wooden table, you along with the three of weasley siblings gathered.

as mum weasley served up plates piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast, the silence at the table was deafening. each of you focused on your food, avoiding eye contact as if pretending nothing had happened(fred as confused as ever, while mum weasley too focused on serving food.)

george shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he stole a glance in your direction. you met his gaze briefly before hastily looking away, your heart pounding in your chest.

ginny, sitting opposite you, fidgeted with her fork, her brow furrowed in thought. she knew something was amiss, but she wisely chose to remain silent, not wanting to escalate the tension any further.

"how's everyone's breakfast? dig in, dears, before it gets cold." mum weasley says before excusing herself to the kitchen.

fred, ever the mediator, broke the uneasy silence. "so," he began, his voice casual, "any plans for the day, anyone?"

his question hung in the air, a lifeline thrown into the midst of the tension. george glanced up from his plate, relief evident in his eyes at the change of subject, choosing to stay quiet nonetheless.

as ginny reached for her glass of pumpkin juice, she mumbled something about needing to shut the door properly and muttered about it being too early for some things, mentioning she already had a headache.

fred's booming laugh cut through the tension like a knife. "what's that, ginny? too early for what?" he asked, glancing between you, his twin, and his sister.

george holds back his laugh, recalling the face ginny made earlier. her eyes were wide open. remember the face she had when she saw harry first time at the burrow? yeah, she made that face.

you slapped your shameless boyfriend on his shoulder lightly, earning an awkward cough in response. george clears his throat as he changes the topic to the joke shop.

"so, speaking of early mornings," fred began, "picture this: extendable alarm clocks that fly around the room, ringing loudly until you catch them. guaranteed to wake even the deepest sleeper!"

"how about a doorknobs that warns people before they enter the room," ginny mumbles.

george fakes a cough, grabbing everyone's attention at the table, "i'll join you, fred,"

you nodded in agreement, grateful for fred's intervention. "and I might tag along, see if I can lend a hand," you added, trying to sound nonchalant despite the lingering unease.

ginny, sensing the shift in atmosphere, visibly relaxed, "sounds like a plan. maybe i'll join you later," she chimed in, her voice lighter than before.

as laughter filled the room, tension melted away. george's joke about extendable alarm clocks sparked a flurry of banter, and soon you were all immersed in playful chatter, leaving the morning's discomfort behind.