#it’s kind of the Gordon Ramsay thing you know

[doomdoomofdoom]

Restaurant Owners: Wow our business is failing.

Gordon Ramsay: Your business is failing.

Restaurant Owners: what the fuck did you just say

kitchen nightmares is the funniest show on earth every fucking episode is just gordon ramsay saying ew yucky!!!!! and then the owners like Thank you gordon for saving my life

[lilnasxvevo]

Funniest Shen Qingqiu moment is when he notices Sha Hualing is barefoot and his internal monologue is just like YOUNG LADY DON’T YOUR FEET HURT? YOU’RE INVADING A MOUNTAIN SECT WITH NO SHOES? Setting aside for a moment that it’s MY mountain sect you’re invading—

[ohcaptains]

So like the video of Gordon Ramsay when the girl burns her hand, all the “that’s it- deep breath- calm down- good girl- goooood girlllll” but like…it’s Carmy and you’ve burnt your hand and he’s screaming at Richie to get some ice but he’s speaking to you so gently but so in control and you almost forget your hand is still sizzling

he moves fast. pulls you to the sink, yelling, “richie get out of the fucking way,” and you can feel your heart beat in your hand. it’s pulsating, swear you can smell your flesh burning, and carmen is frantic. that man has never known peace, but this is raw kind of rush — panic a literal, physical thing.

“fuck, cousin, what’s the rush for—“ he starts, ready to fight, but he must see carmen holding your sizzling hand, and your pained, tense face, because he puts his hands up.

“whoa, man—what happened?”

carmen ignores him, and guides your hand under the tap, holding your wrist gently in his tatted palm. you hiss as soon as it touches the luckwarm water, and carmen nods his head, and gently says, “shh, i know.”

you hide your face with your elbow, but peak over and watch as water runs over your charred hand. duck fat will do that. you must make a sound, as carmen nods, and calmly orders, “relax your hand for me. come on, unclench. thereee we go, sweetheart. that’s it.”

richie pipes up, “i’m literally first aid trained, let me see,” and carmen’s face scrunches up, “can you shut the fuck up for a second?” he spits over his shoulder. you whine into your elbow, and carmen’s demeanor switches. he rubs your wrist, his voice soft and sweet as he coos, “just breathe, take a deep breath. you’re good, that’s it. unclench your hand for me again, i know it hurts but relax—thaaat’s it, goood. good girl, good.”

[forzalando]

anyone can cook

max + cooking date - 3k celebration driver scenario for @foreveralbon !! liyah, i do not know what happened but somehow this turned into just jokes and banter. i am so sorry, i hope you still like it!!!! special bonus scene at the end that is the most unserious thing i have ever written and i apologize profusely for it but i was writing this past bedtime and couldn't get it out of my head this is the end of the 3k celebration blurbs, i am kind of sad but also feel accomplished🥹 i only had to write 6 but i am notorious for not finishing things. patting myself on the back today! pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader word count: 660 words tw: none, unless boxed pasta offends you

“MAX! I said salt the water, not create the sixth named ocean,” you said through giggles. “Here, let me help.”

You cupped your hands under his, leading him to the sink to dump a considerable amount of salt under the rushing water.

“Use about…this much,” you mumbled, tongue poking out and concentrating on dumping the granules into his hands without spilling any onto the floor. Jimmy and Sassy were weaving in between your legs and you didn’t want them tracking salt into every room or, heaven forbid, rolling around in your bed.

After guiding Max to the boiling water, you turned your attention back to your blistering tomatoes and garlic, but not before passing a cheese grater and block of parmesan over to him.

“Cooking is so much work,” he whined. “How do you enjoy this?”

“Max, you’ve literally done two things. You filled a pot with water and salted it, how many things do you have to do simultaneously while in the car?”

“That’s different, it’s fun!”

“Cooking can be fun! Cuisine is an art – it’s therapeutic, calming, and you get to eat something delicious after all your hard work!”

“Yeah, and do a million dishes,” he grumbled under his breath. You immediately shot him a steely glare and he smiled big enough that his eyes crinkled. “But I love doing dishes with you! Quality time, right?”

“Nice save, Verstappen.”

For the next few minutes you worked in tandem and in silence – Max furiously grating cheese and hissing every few seconds when he accidentally caught a finger against the sharp holes, you stirring and perfecting your sauce with ease.

The stove timer interrupted the peace and you called Max over from his place at the countertop.

“Ok, lesson number three of the evening – ”

“What were one and two?” He interrupted you, hints of hesitation and guilt in his voice. When you turned to look at him, your mouth open in exasperation, you saw the teasing look in his eye and rolled yours in return.

“If Gordon Ramsay were teaching you, you’d have been called an idiot sandwich twice and kicked out of the kitchen by now.”

“Lucky me, you’re way nicer, way more patient, and way prettier than Gordon.”

He tickled your ribcage lightly, causing you to flip a spoonful of pasta water across the room.

“New lesson number three – no tickling the chef when boiling water is nearby. Lesson number four, previously lesson number three – never trust the cook time on the pasta box. A true pasta chef also finishes cooking their pasta in the sauce, so we’re taking it out a few minutes early.”

“Wouldn’t a true pasta chef use fresh-made pasta?”

“You’re on thin ice, Max.”

He leaned in swiftly to kiss your cheek and stole the pasta spoon from your hand. “I’ll be dumping the water, I don’t want it to splash on you.”

“Don’t forget to – ”

“Reserve a cup of pasta water, where is your faith in me? I pay attention to everything you say, mijn liefje.”

It wasn’t long before you had served up plates of pasta as fresh as you could make considering you’d just gotten back to Monaco that morning, slightly burnt garlic bread because Max forgot to set a separate timer, and a mixed greens salad so Max’s trainer wouldn’t sue you for mistreatment and neglect.

“I’d say this was a very solid date night,” Max said between chews. “Thank you for teaching me and being patient with me – I take for granted how much you do for me when we’re home.” He pressed another kiss to your cheek, this one longer and messier than the one before.

You couldn’t help but grin at him, a devastatingly lovesick grin, and your stomach fluttered when he returned the exact look. He had a tomato sauce stain in the corner of his mouth and a droplet of spilled wine on his shirt but to you he’d never looked more beautiful.

bonus snippet (i couldn’t help myself, please accept my apology)

“Y/N, I cannot cook. I can count on one hand the number of times I have cooked for myself in the past ten years. I will blow up the kitchen.”

“Relax, I’ll guide you the whole way! You’ll never be near an open flame unsupervised, no sharp knives, we can even start with something simple! Pasta al pomodoro – you’ll love it!”

“When the rat said anyone can cook, he did not mean me, I promise.”

You looked at him quizzically – “Max, what rat?”

“The little French rat, not Esteban, the one who lives in the chef’s hat and makes soup for him.”

“…Are you talking about Remy? From Ratatouille?”

“I don’t remember his name, I just know you made me watch a movie one time about a French rat that could cook.”

“Ok, well, that’s an animated kid’s movie, and actually Chef Gusteau said anyone can cook, but he's right! Anyone can cook, Remy is proof, so get ready to cook on date night.”

“Thanks a lot, Remy,” Max huffed, crossing his arms in defeat.

--------------------

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[mochinomnoms]

Thinking about the Tweels parents reacted to them bringing home a partner, think of how excited mama Ashengrotto will be when Azul brings home his mate. After seeing Azul alone, depressed, and self-loathing for so many years, seeing him have the confidence to bring home his mate. If he is in his Merform she is even more thrilled. When she sees them comfort and hug him and allows Azul to cling to them she may faint. If/when they get married, you know she is throwing the biggest wedding reception in her restaurant. Yuu’s dress or tux, completely covered no matter the cost, all food, covered. She is just happy that her son found someone and Mr. Ashengrotto has to hold her back and keep her from squeezing Yuu to tight out of joy. She would also drop hints that she would be a great grandma and show you how cute Azul was in all his baby pictures.

Azul would probably die of embarrassment when his mom shows baby pictures and when they are finally alone (thanks to Azul’s Stepdad reminding her she has a Business to take care of) he finally relents:

“I’m sorry, she is just excited to meet you,” Azul has yuu curled in his many arms inside his octopot.

“Is she the reason you waited so long to introduce me to your parents?”

“Yes… also she has three books full of photos hidden in the house I can’t find and my step-father won’t tell me where they are. They just appear when guest come over and disappear when I try to burn them later.”

“Well, we are meeting your Grandma tomorrow so things should be better there!”

Azul groaned.

“More picture books?”

“Six books. I have no clue how she got half of those photos, I think she hired the tweels behind my back!”

She's so happy upon learning about Azul's partner. Ms Iris Ashengrotto is a sweet woman whose restaurant started from the bottom to become a renounced, exclusive dining experience that only the most wealthy, prim and proper folks under the sea could have the privilege of eating. It's why the Ashengrottos and the Leech family have worked together for so long, it makes a fine establishment for their… “business” deals. She's what we would equate to Gordon Ramsay, really: no-nonsense, with strict and high expectations in her kitchen. Similarly, she is oh so sweet with children, her own especially.

So it was a pain to watch Azul grow up so lonely, though she could never get him to tell her why. Iris assumed that it was due to bullying, most merfolk are not kind to cecaelias, but she couldn't go off and scare random children into not interacting with her son. Nor could she talk to their parents without knowing for sure if that was the case, or if her son was just naturally shy. It didn't help her worries when her son got skinner and skinner, thinking she didn't notice him look at his body in the mirror as he poked and prodded at what little fat remained on him.

She took comfort when the Leech parents sent their twins off to keep Azul company, though he didn't seem to warm up to them for quite some time. Even when he went to NRC with the twins, opening his own establishment, Iris was still concerned about him making friends. It's why she was so pleasantly surprised to hear from her son during his second year about his partner. He's shyly gushing about you to him, a magicless human that slithered their way into his locked up heart. With the way he describes you, like you hung the moon and starts, she's already planning a wedding in her head.

It takes some nudging after that to get him to bring you for a visit, but he eventually did over the summer break. Oh, she was delighted to see his limbs unconsciously curl around you, holding you close as you curled into him yourself. You were so cute! A sweetheart! A delight! A perfect child-in-law! Azul, please forgive her if she starts sobbing, but how else is a mother supposed to react when she sees her child gaze at someone with so much love in their heart?

The first day she's monopolized your time, feeding you and Azul all sorts of food and snacks, offhandedly mentioning that the two of you would have to fatten up a bit to give her health grandchildren. She had to withhold a laugh at Azul's mortified expression. Iris has several albums of baby and childhood pictures, eager to coo over how cute and chubby Azul was as a baby. Her son is sulking at the other end of the couch, but he still has a tentacle curled around your ankle, never leaving you for long.

It's when she's hiding away her album (one of three, Azul's destroyed many be she always has spares), that she overhears your conversation. Iris had stopped by his bedroom to let you two know that she needed to return to the restaurant, but instead quietly delighted at the sight of you two in his octopot. A cecaelia's octopot, hiding place, is a very private and intimate place. So seeing you, cradled in Azul's lap, as his many arms hold you close to him, makes her heart swell.

She decides to leave you two alone, taking one last peek as you giggle at a pouting Azul, before sharing a soft kiss. Iris is smiling at the sight, sighing as she can finally relax, knowing her son is going to be taken care of.

[misterfic]

Hey there! Hope you’re doing great. I have a fun one-shot idea for Hell’s Kitchen Season 6. In this story, Gordon’s wife is the third sous chef. She’s 26, and she and Gordon got together when she was 20, marrying at 22. Because of her kind and caring nature, she’s really close to Heather and Scott, who are just as protective of her as Gordon is.

In this scene, Joseph takes things too far by insulting and even threatening her, which sets off a big confrontation. Gordon’s ready to jump in to defend her, and Heather and Scott’s protectiveness escalates the situation. I’d love to see how this plays out with all the usual Hell’s Kitchen intensity! Thanks so much for considering this—I’d really appreciate it!

But if you don’t feel comfortable with it, please let me know!

A/N: As I’ve said before, I don’t watch Hell’s Kitchen🥲, so I hope this pleases you.

Title: Hell Hath No Fury Like Gordon Ramsay's

Summary: A contestant's attitude toward Gordon's wife pushes the fiery chef to his limit, proving that some battles are more personal than professional.

Pairing: Gordon Ramsay × Reader

Tags: Conflict

It was the sixth season of Hell’s Kitchen, and you were living right in the thick of the action. As Gordon Ramsay’s wife and third sous chef, you had your hands full, moving between the red and blue kitchens, helping wherever you were needed. Your soft, nurturing approach balanced the kitchen’s intensity, especially in contrast to Gordon’s fiery persona. Your role was often the one to soothe tempers and diffuse the storm Gordon would sometimes whip up. Despite his bark, you knew your husband well enough to see through it; when it was just the two of you, he was nothing but a gentleman, and his touch was tender, leaving you breathless in ways only Gordon Ramsay knew how.

The heat was on as the dinner service began, and the teams were floundering. Gordon, already wound up, was pacing back and forth, shouting instructions with his usual unfiltered intensity. “Come on! Move it! You call that cooking?” he roared, his blue eyes flashing as he berated a contestant. You saw the tension ripple through the kitchen, and you sensed it was time to step in.

Gordon shot you a look as you approached him, a glint of irritation in his eyes, but you caught his arm, your touch firm but gentle. “Gordon,” you murmured, your voice steady, “they’re trying. Let’s give them a second to catch their breath.” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his blond hair, but softened just slightly under your touch, your quiet presence calming his storm.

“Alright, love,” he muttered, pulling back as he gave you a begrudging nod. “But only because you’re bloody distracting me.” His tone was low, carrying a playful hint, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks as he let his hand linger on your waist for a moment longer than necessary.

Moving over to Scott in the blue kitchen, you caught him shooting Gordon an amused glance as he leaned in. “Always the one keeping him in line, huh?” Scott teased, smirking as he looked at you with a mixture of respect and admiration. You chuckled, giving Scott a playful nudge. “Someone has to, right?” you replied with a wink.

Heather was equally protective in the red kitchen, always hovering close to you, watching the contestants carefully, especially when they’d make snide remarks about your role in the kitchen. “Don’t let them bother you,” she’d whisper, shooting you a reassuring smile. “You’re the only one who can handle him,” she said with a chuckle. And as she said it, she wasn’t wrong.

That night, the pressure seemed relentless. With tempers flaring and mistakes piling up, Gordon’s patience finally snapped. “Are you lot trying to kill me?” he barked, his face flushed as he slammed his hand on the counter, startling everyone in earshot. You saw him glance toward you briefly, a flicker of something softer passing over his face as he took in your calm expression. It was as if your very presence grounded him, tempering his frustration.

As the dinner service heated up, Gordon’s attention shifted to the red kitchen, leaving you in charge of rallying the blue team. It was a challenge, given the tension hanging in the air, but you had managed to build a quiet respect with the contestants over the season. Most, at least. Joseph, however, had always been prickly, and tonight he seemed particularly agitated.

As you moved past him, helping another contestant with his station, Joseph huffed loudly, his voice dripping with irritation. “Could you quit hovering? You’re getting in the way,” he snapped, his words biting. You kept your composure, brushing off his tone with a calm expression. After all, this wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with outbursts on Hell’s Kitchen.

You turned to face him, maintaining your professionalism. “I’m here to help you succeed, Joseph,” you replied steadily, “so let’s focus on getting these dishes out.”

But he wasn’t having it. “Helping? You’re messing things up. If we lose tonight, it’ll be on your head,” he sneered, crossing his arms and glaring down at you. The insult stung, but you took a breath, refusing to let him see your frustration. The other chefs shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension escalating.

Before you could respond, Scott stepped in, his expression cold as he positioned himself between you and Joseph. “Back off, Joseph,” Scott growled, his protective nature flaring up. “If you think this is her fault, then maybe you need to take a good look at yourself. She’s here to help, and she’s doing more for this team than you have all night.”

Joseph’s face reddened with anger. “Oh, I get it now,” he spat, his voice laced with contempt. “You’re all just here to back her up, aren’t you? Doesn’t matter if she screws us over; you’re ready to throw yourselves at her defense. Pathetic.” His words were sharp, meant to rile you up, but you felt your confidence waver as his insults grew nastier.

Heather, who had been watching from across the kitchen, noticed the confrontation building and immediately darted over to Gordon, who was busy berating the red team. Tugging his sleeve, she leaned close and muttered something in his ear. His face darkened instantly.

Gordon’s blue eyes flashed as he dropped what he was doing and marched straight toward the blue kitchen, his presence like a thunderstorm. “Joseph!” he barked, his voice echoing through the kitchen. “What the bloody hell is going on over here?”

Joseph opened his mouth to speak, but Gordon cut him off, his face a mask of fury. “You think it’s alright to talk to her like that? You’re gonna run your mouth at my wife?” His voice was like steel, every word laced with barely contained anger. “You’ve got some balls, haven’t you?”

Joseph tried to stammer a response, but Gordon stepped in closer, towering over him. “You’re gonna insult the one bloody person in this kitchen who’s keeping you from falling apart?” he growled, his tone dangerously low. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but she’s here because she’s good at what she does—better than you’ll ever be if you keep running that big mouth of yours.”

As Joseph shrank back under Gordon’s withering stare, Gordon’s expression softened only slightly as he turned to you. “Are you alright, love?” he murmured, his voice dropping, almost gentle. His hand found your shoulder, his touch grounding you, reminding you of the care he kept so carefully concealed when others were around.

You managed a nod, your heart racing from the intensity of the moment. “Yes, I’m fine,” you whispered, but your voice shook slightly, betraying your nerves. Gordon’s face hardened again as he turned back to Joseph.

“Listen here,” Gordon hissed, his voice a low growl that only Joseph could hear. “You don’t speak to her like that. Ever. You’re lucky she has the patience to put up with a hot-headed twit like you. If it were up to me, you’d be out of here already.”

As Gordon straightened, his gaze still icy, he looked back at the rest of the blue team. “Now, all of you,” he commanded, his voice booming, “get your arses in gear and start working together. You don’t like it? There’s the bloody door.”

As Gordon stormed back to the red kitchen, the tension in the air was thick, but you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Scott and Heather both gave you reassuring nods, their silent support meaning more than words in that moment.

As the night wore on and the kitchen’s frantic energy settled, Gordon pulled you aside for a moment of privacy. “You don’t let anyone talk down to you, yeah?” he murmured, his blue eyes warm as they met yours. “You’re far too damn good for that.”

You managed a smile, your pulse quickening at his protective words. “Thank you, Gordon,” you whispered, your voice soft. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close, his touch sending a familiar thrill through you.

“Any time, love,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that familiar, intimate tone that only you knew. “And next time anyone tries it, you just send them to me. I’ll remind them who they’re dealing with.” He brushed a kiss against your forehead, his affection clear even amid the chaos around you.

As the dinner service finally drew to a close, you knew that no matter how intense things became, you’d always have Gordon by your side, ready to defend you with that fierce loyalty and passion that left you breathless every single time.

[thequeenofcupps]

I’m just gonna make a shit ton of katsuki bakugo x reader incorrect quotes

Y/n: Katsuki , you love me, right?

Katsuki : Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Y/n: How do I tell Katsuki that I want him to yell at me like he’s Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

Katsuki : If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

Y/n: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Katsuki : I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Y/n: I said within reason, Katsuki . How about I murder that guy?

Katsuki : So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Y/n: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

Katsuki : Did you know you remind me of all 26 letters of the alphabet?

Y/n: What? Like J F K W S Q X-

Katsuki : No, like, U R A Q T.

Y/n: Awwww!

Y/n: Hey, Katsuki , what do you think it would be like if we had kids?

Katsuki : What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly.

Y/n: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it?

Katsuki : Can't really say I have.

Y/n: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes.

Katsuki : Sorry, Y/n. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody

Katsuki: Goodnight to the love of my life, y/n , and fuck the rest of y'all.

Y/n: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

Katsuki : That's great, Y/n. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

Y/n : I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives.

Katsuki: I wake up at 4:30 AM every day to train.

Y/n : I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives.

Katsuki: Stop doing that.

Y/n : Stop doing what?

Katsuki: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

[loveandleases]

I'm laying awake at almost midnight and was hit by a thoughtTM

If I play a chef MC then thinking since those bitches had the audacity to fuck in my KITCHEN OF ALL PLACES, I'd lose my shit. YOU FUCKED IN THE MOST SACRED PLACE OF THE WHOLE HOUSE, THOSE COUNTERS MUST REMAIN PRISTINE YOU DUMB COW.

You bet your ass I'd take every single kitchen gadget, doesn't matter how many boxes it takes me. Juicer mixer slow cooker you name it, you'd be lucky if I leave you the coffee pot and toaster as a courtesy. I bought those things with my hard earned (read: not Daddy's) money, slaved myself on the oven for hours to make you food filled with love and care. YOU DONT DESERVE MY FOOD. STARVE LIKE THE STREET DOG YOU ARE CHRIS.

Sorry I think Gordon Ramsay possessed me for a bit there. Anyways-

Imagine poor Cam and cabinets full of machines he doesn't understand lmao

🤣 The counters will never be clean again. Forever sullied by that transgression. You won't have to worry about having someone to carry it at least. The cabinets in the shared apartment will be so full (worth it). ---

Cam reaches into the cabinet, pulling out what he can only assume is some sort of weapon.

“What the hell is this thing? Why does it have all these... holes?” he asks, holding up a cheese grater like it’s a cursed relic.

Before you can warn him, he presses a finger to one of the sharp edges. He yelps, pulling his hand back to examine the reddening cut.

“It cut me!”

“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the point,” you reply, struggling to keep a straight face.

He glares at you, the look on his face almost enough to make you feel guilty. Almost.

But then, something shiny catches his eye. He dives back into the cabinet, pulling out a stick blender, a serrated knife he dramatically dubs “for thine enemies,” and a whisk that he immediately uses as a makeshift sword.

“You know,” he says, striking a pose with the whisk, “I could use some of these to make us dinner—”

“No!”

His mismatched eyes widen as he meets your gaze, his bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

“But—”

“You’re banned, Cam.”

“I can do better!” He clasps his hands in front of you, as though pleading for his life.

His gaze flickers to a new blender still in its box, and his face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Where are you looking?” you ask, suspicious.

“Wha—ah... nowhere.” His eyes dart back to the blender, betraying him instantly.

You sigh, already picturing the chaos that would ensue. Maybe you should invest in some cabinet locks—for both of your sakes.

[trashytracktales]

Hello love, kindly feed my delulus😌. how do you think Lando will finally approch me and ask for my number? I know that he want to do that and I wont be the one who makes the first move. lets say that we've been teasing each other and flirting for a while or whenever we cross paths. what if we were in a social gathering or any kind of event, will he ask me to give him my phone to type his number or is he going to ask someone to pave the way for him first?

He seems very direct and blunt most of the times so i think that he would politly ask me for my number and make it clear that he wants to take what we have a step further.☺️

It’s been established here that if you’re looking for a full-course meal of delulus, I’m basically the Gordon Ramsay of your imagination. Let’s get cooking >:)

So, imo there are two ways this scenario could go, and it all boils (someone please stop me) down to one thing: his confidence levels.

If Lando already knows you’re into him, he IS going to be direct and to the point. He’s a Scorpio, and they tend to be brutally honest most of the times (speaking from my own experience with not one, but two Scorpios, lmao). We’ve seen pretty often that Lando is someone who knows how to toe the line between bold and polite, and when he’s sure of his footing, he doesn’t hesitate.

On the flip side, if he isn’t 100% sure where you stand, things can get interesting 😛 He’s not a fan of rejection (who is, really?), so he might approach this cautiously, just to make sure. Maybe by asking a mutual friend about you, or by choosing to test the waters with playful teasing & dropping hints to gauge your reaction (this cheeky mf).

Bottom line, in both cases, he’s making a move eventually, so ❌ WORRY NOT ❌. It’s just a matter of whether it’s bold and straightforward or a bit more strategic, you know?

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I don’t know if you’ve already covered this, but I had a question to ask about the VDC in Book 5. To clarify, I understand that RSA needed to win for thematic and character arc purposes, and that in-lore it was an audience vote not a professional one. The story beats line up. But the choice of cutesy and childlike RSA performance over the more refined and professional NRC performance still doesn’t quite click with me. Is there some kind of cultural difference that didn’t translate to explain why one performance was supposed to be understood as preferred over the other? Even if it was an audience vote, the standards should be higher just by virtue of this being a big name competition for teenagers held at a prestigious school.

Very quickly, I want to add a couple other points that help to explain why RSA won over NRC! Book 6 opens early on with Vil noting that NRC was not able to perform as well as they wanted to since they had just come out of a difficult battle against his OB form. (Because of this, he accepts responsibility for their loss.) Thus, the NRC performance may not have actually been as "refined", "professional", or as polished as we imagine it to be.

Additionally, it’s stated in book 5 that RSA’s song choice had universal appeal whereas NRC’s did not. We see this effect on the production crew when Neige and the Seven Dwarves do their practice run; their performance has a refreshing and soothing effect on what appears to be an older audience (as it plays to their nostalgia); we must consider this when evaluating RSA and NRC. For example, I know that I really disliked NRC's performance (sue me/j) because it sounded very oppressive and therefore unrelatable to me. The lyrics are literally about how NRC will dominate their opponents and win 😭 Sure, the music and lyrics for Neige's song aren't complex, but they're at the very least accessible and easy to follow along with. (That's not to say that I prefer RSA's performance though; I'm just explaining why someone might not find NRC's performance appealing.)

Lastly! We as players are looking at the two song + dance numbers from an omniscient perspective. We need to consider our own biases when judging, and accept that it may differ from the characters in-universe view things. Maybe you prefer NRC’s performance. That’s fair! But how much of that is informed by your personal music preferences? And how much of that comes from your attachment to the NRC characters, since you’ve followed their stories up until this point? As Rook points out in book 5, he’s aware of how hard NRC has worked to get here… but he’s also aware of Neige’s hardships too (er, in terms of his lifestyle; ie living with the dwarves and doing chores, etc.). Consider then, would you honestly not have a bias for RSA had Twisted Wonderland’s story centered on them instead of NRC?

It’s also worth noting that how things are seen in Twisted Wonderland may reflect its own unique culture rather than how we in the real world may perceive it. Maybe the people of Twisted Wonderland just prefer a cute, nostalgic performance. This may not necessarily correlate with west or east at all and that has always been a possibility! (While TWST does take inspirations from the real world, it’s not a 1:1 with the real world.)

dkhlbaiyfadvfoad Okay, NOW onto the actual question being pitched!

When you look at media from different countries, there are some stark differences in how the same information is presented. One example is like... any Gordon Ramsay show yes, I am using him as an example. Compare the American cut and the British cuts; there are much more loud sound effects, dramatic music, yelling, and cussing in the American cuts. The British cuts, by comparison, are notably quieter and contemplative, with hardly any cursing. Another example! Looking at variety shows from the east vs the west, they're quite different as well. Eastern variety shows tend to be "cute", usually using various cute sound effects or edits which make the guests appear more bashful (like drawing blush over their cheeks or something). We don't see this in western TV shows, which are louder and more boisterous. I've noticed a similar trend in the music industries of the east vs the west as well, where eastern stars tend to emphasize their youthfulness and playfulness and western stars try to be more "mature" and grown-up. These are just my personal observations and may not reflect reality, especially seeing as I am not involved in music-oriented spaces.

I asked friends and personal contacts in both eastern and western pop music fandom spaces for their own insights (which is also in no way representative of both fandoms, but at least this gives us other perspectives for consideration). To summarize, most of them replied that they did not think cultural differences account for this situation, since equating a preference for a "cute" aesthetic is not the same as RSA performing what is basically a nursery rhyme. There's no real-world equivalent for that (at least none that they can think of), and I agree with all of this. There’s really no point in trying to compare the two.

I remember lots of Japanese fans being upset at NRC’s loss too (when book 5’s ending was first put out), so the impression I got was they didn’t prefer the performance of RSA over NRC either. It was not just the international fandom that was disappointed. I don’t believe TWST ever intentionally set out to present “Everyone Yahoo!” as the “superior” song and dance number, or as the performance we’re supposed to like more than the other. It was very much framed as something pathetic and unlikely to win in most of the eyes of the NRC characters. They make fun of RSA’s clumsiness and claim it’ll be easy to win over them. The player most likely is supposed to think this way too—until Vil, the one with an eye for showbiz, realizes his loss. Why? Because it doesn’t matter what we think. What matters is how this clumsy performance will resonate with the common person.

What I think it ultimately comes down to is emotional appeal to the audience, which is more of a personal/individual level thing than a cultural thing. The competition is decided by audience vote. The average person honestly does not care about quality or standards. No one is giving them rules to evaluate by, no one is going to tell them off for not having strict standards. They will pick based on what they like best or whatever makes them feel good. And what will make anyone feel food, regardless of age, sex, race, education, socioeconomic status, etc.? Something cozy and familiar, thoughts of simpler times… Nostalgia.

Something else to think about is what a powerful motivator emotions can be. There are irl idol competition shows that are high stakes and decided by audience vote just like VDC/SDC… and people will still vote for their favorites even if they gave a technically bad performance. This is because fans are so emotionally invested in and attached to the performer. It doesn’t matter how “bad” they are, the performer/performance makes the audience member feel impassioned, and they will then act according to those intense feelings. Think about what you’re like when you’re in a terrible mood vs a good one. You act completely differently, right?

I hope that perspective helps! 🙏 I tried to be as thorough as I could be in this response, but please let me know if I misspoke or maybe missed a point.

P.S. I happen to be responding to this ask after TWST showed us the NRC Tribe’s dance performance in a MMD video. I wonder if this only made the “NRC should have own” crowd double down on that opinion since now we’re seeing just what their performance looks like 🤔 (though we don’t have a complete MMD video of Neige’s group to directly compare, just this which shows part of the dance and not in the same clumsy way that Neige and co. perform it).

[cosmerelists]

The Favorite Food Show of Each Order of the Knights Radiant

I do love a good food-based show, like the ones on Food Network or the Bon Appetit youtube channel before it imploded. So naturally I wondered which show the various orders of the Knights Radiant would like best. The result...is this.

[Previously we've seen the Knights Radiant play boardgames, go to musicals, have sleepovers, have fandom jobs, and be birds]

1. Stonewards: Cutthroat Kitchen

Cutthroat Kitchen is a show where contestants can bid money to give each other silly disadvantages (involving a LOT of spreaders, for some reason). You get to keep the money you don't spend at the end, if you win.

Honestly, I think the Stonewards would be good at being on this show, not just watching it: they'd naturally just accept every disadvantage thrown at them without ever harming another player, prove to be really good at putting up with any and all "torture," and then win in the end.

It's the Stoneward way.

2. Edgedancers: Diners, Drive-ins and Dives

This is a show about discovering greasy spoon restaurants and giving them attention for their great food. I am not only saying this because of Lift either! I think there's a sense of bringing attention to restaurants that might, uh, otherwise be forgotten or something. Look, it makes sense in my head.

3. Truthwatchers: Reverse Engineering with Chris Morocco

This was (is?) a Youtube channel with Chris Morocco on Bon Appetit. He's blindfolded and present with a dish, which he can smell, taste, touch, but not see. He then has to try to reverse engineer the dish based on his initial investigation. I think the Truthwatchers would dig a show like that, about investigation, trying to figure out the truth...

4. Bondsmiths: Chopped

On Chopped, contestants are given a basket of four ingredients that are...unusual or hard to put together, and then they have to make a coherent meal out of it. Doesn't that sound like something a Bondmight would like? You gotta unite the four ingredients into one coherent whole.

5. Elsecallers: Good Eats

This is a show hosted by Alton Brown, and it's basically a quiet informational show about food, its history, ingredients, which kitchen gadgets you really need, etc. It tries to take a scientific angle toward everything as well. I just think it would suit the intellectual Elsecallers more so than some of the wilder Food Network shows.

6. Skybreakers: Iron Chef

I haven't watched much Iron Chef, but it is a one-on-one battle between a contestant and one of the current Iron Chefs, who are a board of, like, really good chefs. And they have a signature ingredient and each have to make a dish which then gets judged by a panel of judges. Somehow this formal cooking battle feels like something that would appeal to the Skybreakers.

7. Dustbringers: Kitchen Nightmares

Now, this one I've never watched, but I know it's a show where Gordon Ramsay goes and yells at restaurant owners who are really bad at maintaining their restaurants. I get the sense that it's the fun kind of chaotic disaster, especially if you like to see people who are bad at things get called out on it. For all of these reasons, this feels like a show a Dustbringer might enjoy.

8. Willshapers: The Great Food Truck Race

Per the webpage I found about this show, it's all about "adventure" and "new challenges." It's a show about new food truck owners who travel to new towns every week and then try to sell their food and complete various challenges. That sense of freedom and adventure seems like something the Willshapers would be really into.

9. Lightweavers: Cake Wars

I think the Lightweavers would enjoy any of the many shows about elaborate decoration and presentation, so I picked Cake Wars since I think that's what it's about. They'd probably also like those "Is It Cake?" shows as well, to be honest...

10. Windrunners: The Great British Bake-Off

I have no real justification for this. I just want to imagine Kaladin and the rest of Bridge 4 bundled up in blankets, snacking on sweet treats (for the women) or whatever they can scrounge up that is vaguely similar to a sweet treat for the men (fruit?), watching a purely wholesome show where the worst thing that ever happens is somebody messes up their bake (we don't talk about the Baked Alaska incident).

I just think it'd be good for them.

[poppitron360]

More quotes from this RANDOM INCORRECT QUOTES GENERATOR that I found- THIS TIME VALGRACE:

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Leo: What do you want to be for Halloween?

Jason: Yours.

Leo:

Leo: …yeah, that would be pretty scary.

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Jason: Stop doing that.

Leo: Stop doing what?

Jason: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

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Leo: I can't take this anymore, someone needs to take me out!

Jason: In a dating type of way, or an assassination type of way?

Leo: I don't know, surprise me!

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Leo: Pros and cons of dating me.

Leo: Pros. You'll be the cute one.

Leo: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

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Jason, trying to flirt: So, you come around here often?

Leo, confused: I mean, this is my house, so yeah.

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Leo: How do I tell Jason that I want him to yell at me like he’s Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée?

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Leo: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Jason: Okay.

Leo: And make out during the scary parts.

Jason: Th-

Jason: The scary parts.

Jason: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

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Jason (about Leo): I would never say that my husband is a bitch and I don’t like him. That’s not true… My husband is a bitch and I like him so much!

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Leo: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?

Jason: AS ENEMIES?!

Leo:

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Leo: Are you an F5 key? Because that ass is refreshing.

Jason: Are you a software update? because not right now.

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Jason *Holding up a pack of pens*: Look at how cute these pens are!

Leo: Jason that’s gay.

Jason:

Jason: Leo, we’ve been dating for-

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Jason: This date is boring!

Leo: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store.

Jason: Then why did you invite me?

Leo: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Leo I'll do whatever I want!

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Jason: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you.

Leo: That's great, Jason. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

(Basically the plot of my Married Valgrace AU that I’ve been writing)

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Jason: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

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Leo: Can I have 2 straws with that milkshake?

Jason: Aww-

Leo: With 2 straws, I can drink it double as fast!

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Leo: Fight me!

Jason: *gets on one knee and pulls out a ring*

Jason: Fight me for the rest of our lives.

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Jason: Two bros!

Leo: Chillin' in a hot tub!

Jason and Leo, in unison: Zero feet apart 'cause we're GAY AS FUCK!

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Jason: When I was young, I left a trail of broken hearts like a rockstar. I'm not proud of it.

Leo: You're kind of proud of it. You work it into a lot of conversations.

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Jason: Did you know you remind me of all 26 letters of the alphabet?

Leo: What? Like J F K W S Q X-

Jason: No, like, U R A Q T.

Leo: Awwww!

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Jason: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Leo: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Jason: But you’re always acting stupid?

Leo: ...

Leo: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

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Jason: Okay, but if your not gay then why are you always holding my hand and kissing me and telling me I’m your boyfriend?

Leo: Dude- Its satire!

Jason: THAT'S NOT WHAT SATIRE MEANS!

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Jason: I want to kiss you.

Leo, not paying attention: What?

Jason: I said if you die, I wont miss you.

@euryvices I was literally in the middle of writing this when you posted your hcs and I had to tag you.

[spoonsock]

3 AM shenanigans

Gwen Stacy x reader

Synopsis: It’s late, you’re hungry and your girlfriend can’t cook to save her life.

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff and typical teenage fucking around late at night.

Not proofread. I’ve come to realization I never proofread anything I write. Oh well.

Take this short little thing instead of a part 2 for show me love, I’ll write it soon I swear 🙏 also I’m glad that the whole community agrees that Gwen can’t cook lmaoo.

“I’m hungry”

“And how’s that my problem?”

You push the absolute bully of your girlfriend. “Ouch”, she says monotonously, eyes still closed, and you glare at her, knowing darn well she can feel you doing so.

You’re sleeping over at her place, her dad’s not home and you’re both laying on her bed, trying to fall asleep but the grumbling of your stomach is interrupting you. You ate dinner but it has been a couple of hours since then and. You. Are. Hungry.

You turn on your back to glance at the clock on Gwen’s nightstand. 03:05 it says. Whatever, you think, it’s never to late to eat.

“Gwendyy, I’m staaaarvingggg”, you pout at her.

“No” is the only answer you get. “…Fine, I didn’t want to resort to this, but I guess you leave me no choice”, you say before getting up from the bed and grabbing both of Gwen’s arms and dragging her upwards. The attempt of getting her to get up doesn’t work and she falls from the bed, making a loud noise as she lands. Before you can process it, she grabs your knees and pulls, letting you to fall flat on your butt with a thump.

You pretend to be hurt and she actually gets worried for a second and you use that moment to grab her hands and pin them above her head, getting on top of her as she’s laying on the floor, not letting her move, and looking her dead in the eye before saying how you need to eat or you’ll die and it’ll be her fault *she know’s you’re exaggerating ofc*.

Unfortunately for you, your girlfriend is Spider-woman. Idk why would you even think you could overpower her, she literally has super strength. So she easily turns you over and pins your arms above your head before whisper yelling at you how there will be no food making at 3 in the morning. The two of you toss and turn on the floor for some time, like a pair of fucking toddlers, giggling and wiping the dust off of the floor with your pajamas.

Eventually Gwen gives in and you happily lead her to her own kitchen. You’ve never cooked in her kitchen though, meaning you don’t know where anything is, so your girlfriend tells you to sit still while she makes you something to eat.

“You know what, if I really have to cook for you in the middle of the night, Imma cook you the meal of your life”, she says and excitement builds up inside of you, wondering what kind of a Gordon Ramsay bullshit is she about to pull. You watch her patiently as she brings ingredients out of her fridge and pulls out a bowl and cutlery from different drawers. She heats up some oil in a big ass pot and then adds a thing after a thing in it.

After a while, you smell something burning and you ask her if everything’s okay, but she assures you it’s all doing great and you decide to ask no more, even though you definitely heard the panic in her voice.

Aside from that, she looks super confident in whatever she’s doing so you don’t even ask her what is she making for you, and honestly, you don’t even wanna know. You trust her and you’re hungry and you’ll eat whatever she makes for you.

Or at least that’s what you thought, until she put the big ass bowl™️ in front of you. And in it was a suspicious liquid mixture of pasta, different types of something green, carrots (hopefully?), corn, jelly????, mushrooms, bacon, and other suspicious stuff. Gwen hands you a spoon and smiles brightly, all the signs of tiredness disappeared, as if she wasn’t desperately trying to fall asleep cuddled up next to you, like, half of an hour ago.

“Bon appétit, babe”, she says, putting on a bad french accent.

Your girlfriend sits next to you, waiting for you to try the meal (?) she has prepared for you, and you give her a hesitant smile before dipping the spoon in the bowl and then putting it in your mouth.

You couldn’t even get yourself to swallow whatever you just put in your mouth because the feeling of it on your tongue made you immediately start to choke. It was sweet, salty, bitter, spicy and cold all at the same time. You run to get yourself some water, trying to lose the taste of it from your mouth while Gwen watches you confused. As you are drinking your water, she decides to try the meal herself and has the same reaction as you do.

So you just stand there silently, in her kitchen, staring at the big ass bowl™️ on the table. It seems as if something will jump out of it and attack you. The liquid reminds you of a swamp and you don’t feel hungry at all anymore.

Gwen sighs deeply. The two of you decide to go back to bed and try not to have nightmares of the meal your dear spider girlfriend has prepared for you. At least you know she put effort in trying to make you happy, which warms your heart and you pull her closer to you to press a kiss on her forehead.

When you wake up, you see her dad in the kitchen, sitting down and staring at the bowl intently and quietly, as if contemplating his whole existence because of the bowl. “You tried it, didn’t you?”, you ask and he slowly nods his head, obviously still in shock from the taste of the meal.

That was the day you decided you’ll be the one to prepare food from now on.

Guys she was trying to make minestrone (soup) bc she saw a recipe for it somewhere and she really wanted to try making it. She’s so precious 🥹💞

Yes I put trademark ™️ on the big ass bowl.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part thirty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of sex (mdni ; 18+)

word count: 2.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

The first time you met Jisung was at a party on campus. It was a month into your first semester of college and one of the frats had passed out fliers in the residence halls in the hopes of getting lots of the freshman girls to attend. 

You had dragged your roommate with you, insisting that you needed to get out there and start meeting people since you were each other’s only friends thus far. 

But the joke was on you because she ditched you not even five minutes after arriving, having recognized an ex-boyfriend from her hometown. You didn’t hold it against her, you had been the one to convince her to come in the first place and you understood the whole ex thing. 

But you were a lot shyer back then, less confident. So you stumbled your way through the house until you reached the kitchen. No one had offered to make you a drink yet so you figured you might as well make one yourself. You’d need a little liquid courage if you were going to get the balls to talk to any of these people anyway. 

That’s where you ran into Jisung. He was bent over the stove cooking what looked to be a grilled cheese sandwich. He turned his head when he heard you come in and nodded at you in acknowledgement.

“Want one?” he asked.

“What is it?”

“Grilled ham and cheese.”

You nodded. “Hit me.” 

He finished simmering the one in the pan and slid it onto a paper plate before grabbing the ingredients for yours. 

“How long have you lived here?” you asked conversationally. 

“Oh, I don’t live here.”

“Are you a pledge then?”

“No.”

“You’re not… affiliated with this frat?”

“Nope.”

“Are your friends?”

“Nah.”

“So you’re just…”

“Stealing their food? Kind of.”

You shrugged. “I won’t tell.”

He cracked a smile. “Good, because I’d really regret making you a sandwich if you did.” 

You hadn’t noticed until that point but he had an accent. 

“English?” you asked.

“Yes, that’s what we’re speaking. Why, do you know another language?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I meant.”

“No, I’m from Korea, actually,” he explained after chuckling. “But my English tutor was British so I picked up a little bit of an accent.”

“What made you decide to come all the way over here?”

“A mix of things, really,” he sighed.

“You’re probably tired of that question, I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. I just don’t have an interesting answer or anything so conversations usually fizzle out after that.”

“I get it. It’s like when everyone in your hometown asks you what you’re going to study and what job you’re getting your degree for.”

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “Your grilled cheese is ready.”

He plated the sandwich and handed it to you, turning the stove off and depositing the pan and spatula in the sink. 

“Thank you!”

“You might want to let it cool down a bit, though.” 

“Yes, chef.” 

He gave you a look, making you freeze in place. 

“What? Should I not call you that?”

“No, it’s just- I’m a culinary major. I’m always saying that to my professors but no one’s ever said that to me before. I know you didn’t mean it mean it but it sounded weird.” 

“I was just referencing Hell’s Kitchen,” you admitted. 

“Just so you know, not all chefs are like Gordon Ramsay.” 

“Only the majority?” 

He winked at you. “Bingo.”

“So if you don’t want me to call you ‘chef’, what should I call you?” 

“I never said I didn’t want you to call me that,” he clarified. “But you can call me Jisung.”

“Jisung. Nice name.”

“Thanks. Do you have one?”

You grinned. “I do.”

He gave an exasperated little sigh. “And what is it?”

You told him, leaning forward and whispering it like it was a secret. 

“You have a nice name too.”

“Thank you.”

“By the way, your sandwich should be cool enough to eat by now.”

You leaned back against the island and took a bite of your grilled cheese. Jisung gauged your reaction, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“Good?”

“Great. Best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned. 

“I’m not! Listen, I can’t cook for shit so I’m very easy to impress.” 

“I’ll take your word for it. It’s better for my ego if I ignore the last part.” 

“I can make a mean Moscow Mule, though. My talents lie in mixology, not gastronomy.”

“Make me a drink, then?” he asked. 

“Gladly.” 

You set your paper plate on the counter and made your way over to the fridge. 

“Let’s see what they have in here.”

“Oh, now you’re the one stealing food?” 

“Guess that makes us partners in crime.” 

You fell silent as you looked over the contents of the refrigerator, gathering a bottle of orange juice and half-empty jar of raspberry jam. You checked the expiration dates before continuing because you didn’t trust frat guys and then set them on the island with a handle of tequila that had been left out. 

Jisung watched as you spooned the jam into an empty solo cup, visibly skeptical. You couldn’t blame him for not trusting you, you had just met him, after all. You poured the orange juice in next and mixed the two together, finally adding a shot and a half of tequila. 

“Don’t want to get you too drunk,” you explained. 

He scoffed. “You think that’ll do me in? I’m Korean, remember?”

“Fine, suit yourself.” 

You poured what you approximated to be another shot of tequila into the cup. You filled another cup with ice from a nearby cooler and poured the contents of the first cup into it. Instead of shaking them and risking making a huge mess, you rolled them between the cups until you were satisfied that everything was properly mixed. 

You presented Jisung with your creation, eyes shining. “Here you go! It’s a makeshift tequila sunrise.”

Jisung reached for it but you stopped him abruptly. “Wait! Hold on.”

You took a sip of the drink yourself, just to make sure it was actually palatable, before passing it off to him. 

“Sorry, wanted to check.”

“Not confident in your abilities all of the sudden?“ he mused. 

“I’m trying something new,” you grumbled defensively, “artists make mistakes. I’m not above admitting that and therefore want to quality check my products to make sure it’s good enough for my consumers.”

“Didn’t realize you were taking this so seriously.”

“I take everything seriously.” 

He eyed you suspiciously. “Something tells me that’s not true.” 

-

That night, and all the others you spent with Jisung flashed before your eyes like some sort of sick slideshow as you stood there with him in the hallway. The fractures in the glass were beyond repair now, spindling inward threatening to shatter.

You supposed it was what you deserved, watching your relationship with your best friend crumble right in front of you. 

“Why do you ask?” you said quietly, still testing the waters.

“You think I haven’t noticed you sneaking off every night?” Jisung demanded.

“Uh-”

“At first, I thought you just needed some space. And I understood because you’ve been stuck with us for over a month now, but then it happened every night and you’d be gone for so long,” he sighed. “So finally, I followed you-”

“You what?”

“I know, I’m such a bad friend for invading your privacy.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and you could already feel the tears welling up. 

You tried to hold them back because you didn’t deserve to cry. You’d put yourself in this situation, and you knew it was wrong, but you still did it anyway. You clutched your towel closer to your body, trying to shrink into yourself. 

“I heard what I needed to,” he continued. “So how long have you been fucking my brother?”

“Jisung, I-”

“I asked you a question.”

“Long enough,” you muttered. “He found out we weren’t actually dating. I didn’t tell him-”

“That makes it better?” 

“No, I just thought you should know.”

“What does it matter anyway,” he spat. “We had an agreement. You had one task and you couldn’t even do it. I should have never invited you on this goddamn trip.”

You couldn’t help but agree. “I’m sorry.” 

Jisung laughed humorlessly and shook his head. “I don’t believe you. If you actually felt any guilt over this you never would have done it. Or you would’ve at least stopped before it got to this point.”

“No, I am sorry,” you tried. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” he asked, eyes widening suddenly. “You’re not pregnant, are you?” 

For a fraction of a second, you were thrown back in time. The best friend that didn’t hate you was suddenly standing in front of you, eyes full of concern. It passed just as quickly as it had come when you denied it. 

“No, it’s just… I f- I’m in love with him.” You couldn’t even look Jisung in the eye when you said it, too afraid of his reaction. 

It was dead silent all throughout the house after your confession. You stared at the floor where a puddle had appeared at your feet from your dripping hair. 

He chuckled again in disbelief, breaking the silence. 

“You’re not in love with him,” he said matter-of-factly. “You don’t even know what love feels like. You’ve only known him for a fucking month, how could you possibly love him?” You were crying now, furiously wiping away the tears that fell onto your cheeks. “You’re just lonely, y/n, and desperate, and grasping at straws for anything that feels like ‘love’.”

“That’s not true,” you insisted. You weren’t sure why you were trying to defend yourself. He was probably right. 

“It is true! I’ve known you for how many years now? You’ve never had a real relationship with anybody. How could you possibly know what love feels like?”

You shook your head adamantly, convincing yourself he didn’t mean what he was saying. “You’re lashing out.” 

“Is it lashing out if it’s true?” he quipped. 

You swallowed hard, choking a bit. 

“I can’t fucking believe this. My best friend and my brother. I went away to school to be on my own and have my own life, and somehow Minho manages to take that too.” He was mostly talking to himself now. “What if someone else had caught you two? How fucked up would that have looked? I put no flirting with my brothers on the list of rules for a reason, obviously. Although I guess it didn’t matter in the end anyway, did it? You didn’t take them or this seriously.”

“Ji, that’s not true and you know that. I’m the one who wrote out those flashcards. I memorized all that stuff about your family. I flew halfway around the world for you— I did take it seriously.”

“Until Minho offered his dick to you on a silver platter?”

“Oh my god!”

“Am I wrong?” 

You sighed. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“Explain it to me then. When did this all start anyway?”

“Minho kissed me for the first time in, um, Italy.” 

“Oh my god, I’m the biggest fucking idiot in the world,” he groaned. 

“But it wasn’t like that then… he still thought we were together then.” 

Jisung threw his hands up. “That makes it worse!”

“I know but he was drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse. You of all people should know that.” 

You let the dig slide since he was in an emotional state and you were in no position to argue anyway. 

“I know.”

“So you guys have been sneaking around behind my back for like a fucking month now?” 

“We didn’t sleep together until Shanghai, when he found out we weren’t together. But I feel like I should tell you I kissed him in Japan. Just so that you know everything.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Jisung deadpanned. “Thank you for being so honest.” He spat the last word at you, which again, was deserved, but hurt nonetheless. You sniffled. “I can’t believe you’re the one crying right now.” 

You couldn’t believe that Jisung wasn’t crying but then again he wasn’t the type to cry when he was angry. He only cried when he was sad, and that probably hadn’t hit him yet. 

You were starting to get cold wearing nothing but a towel but tried not to let it show. Of course, Jisung noticed instantly. He sighed as you shivered and pursed his lips. Even when he was furious with you, even when your relationship was irreparably damaged, he cared about you. It wasn’t something he could just turn off, though maybe with time, he’d learn to. 

“Anyway, go to bed. I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“O-okay,” you mumbled. 

Jisung brushed past you abruptly, muttering to himself loud enough for you to hear.

“God, I wish I’d never fucking met you that night.” 

You bit down on your lip as hard as possible to choke down a sob. All you could do was stand there motionlessly and stare at the floor. You waited for him to walk away into the living room but the footsteps stopped suddenly. 

“Oh, and a word of advice-”

“Hm?” You turned around to face him, trying your best to pull yourself together. 

“You should try getting over your feelings for Minho as fast as possible. He doesn’t love you back. He’s just using you, babe. I know he’s pretty smooth but that’s why he’s so good at his job. Easier said than done, I know, but you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

hard one to write (and i imagine to read) but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

iou tags: @gimmeurtmi @phobia0325 @fwess @hipsofafangirl @galaxleeknow @urmomma0324 @bangmechanpls @102598s @farfromsugafanfic @ritzy-roo @dimpledsatan @bvslines @wonderfulshinee @imwithurmother @smollquokka @rosexjimin @skizzel @endzii23 @lady-lena @kwanisms @ch4nniebang @lilramennoodle @babyphotos0325 @dearalice @sojohns @mistlitmoonlight @yoontaethings @babebatter @mal-lunar-28 @shy-kisu @zerefdragn33l @downbadreading @saquso @bunnispaces @reianagarcia @hyunehans @imtooyoungforthisshitbaby @i8rsie @honeslykindahorny @214racha @hgema @chillllli @vixensss @smhlino @feiyaa @borahae-reads @bigbearenergy @hoodiesandicedcofee @darkacademic2512 @y00nzin0 @i8yul @shinypieceofgarbage @woozarts @just-a-little-delulu @djeniryuu @hbzzzbork000 @mimzibee @sofiaslayed @kangyounghyunhands @lexxxxs-things @baejinswrld @gaysontheprince @emogril @ngengngeng @tenshimara @stopeatread @seungminniesgf @lydatataylorsversion @cheolbs @bxnnyhwa @zheav @pinkskiesdream @soohyukazz @spearb-gf @lonely00sbrat @lino1ino @simple1605 @ninashellhole @yoorimin @catiuskaa @gemini-demon @kronikk

add yourself to the taglist here!

[eternalsams]

I gotta a request for you

TW: mentions of being sick (like a cold)

Ya girl is ill and in desperate need of fluff with Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Robert "Bob" Floyd (if your writing him rn), Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw and Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia like how they would be when your sick

Feel free to ignore this is you want

This is so cute! I have yet to write for Bob, it's on my 2024 plans don't worry. I'm ma just write some headcanons and not full stuffs cause I don't really have the time but I really wanted to do this now (it's getting late where I live)

TW: mentions of throwing up

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

first, he's clueless, he doesn't really know what to do. Is he supposed to cook for you? to help you blowing your nose?

if you get really sick to the point you empty your stomach at everything you eat, he tries to be as supportive as he can. holding your hair if it gets in your face? he can do that. rubbing your back when you feel like dying with your head on the toilet seat? he even kisses the back of your head and whispers sweet things to you

he desperately tries to cook you things you can keep; rice, chicken, whatever you need, he makes just so you feel better (spoiler alert, he's not really a great cook)

he even asks you if he needs to take a day or two off so he can take care of you but you promise him he doesn't need to (he respects your decision, he wouldn't have liked you missing work for him either)

he's a southern boy, he practically never gets sick so he takes that as an advantage to cuddle with you in bed and cover your face with sweet kisses

unfortunately, he does get sick and it's your turn to baby him all week

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

he knows what to do. he's been raised by the one and only Carole Bradshaw so he knows exactly what kind of food you need to get better asap

he surprises you with his cooking skills. he usually rarely cooks because he's not great either in front of a stove. but when you're not feeling good? that man turns into Gordon Ramsay for you

he even kept his mom's recipes from when he was not older than 15 when she used to cook him nice meals when he was sick

he's a cuddler, he doesn't care if he gets sick, he just wanna keep you safe and warm in his arms.

if you're feeling really bad, he even calls in sick with Mav to take care of you until you get better

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

that poor man goes full panic mode, he asks you if you're cold, if you're feeling nauseous, the whole interrogation

then he calls his mom, and you swear you hear him beg his mother for her secret recipes

I'm convinced this man is the definition of golden retriever energy, he just cannot stop running around. one moment he's wrapping you in his favorite star wars blanky, and the next one, he passing the front door, on his way to get some herbal tea

when you're all cosy on your couch, with Luke and Leia Skywalker wrapped around your shoulders, and the hot cup of tea in your hands, Mickey finally allows himself to calm down

even more when you ask him to pick a movie to watch together

Robert "Bob" Floyd

he's actually the one who notices you getting sick. when you start blowing your nose more often or clearing your throat with a grimace on your face

he looks up on the internet for some natural tips to dissipate a cold and it usually works without you noticing anything

but if you get really sick, he's a bit lost. just like Mickey, he'd call his parents for advice and his mom would help him cook you some food you can keep.

he doesn't care if you wake him up in the middle of the night when you flush the toilet or when you stumble on the bathroom floor to empty your stomach, as long as he's by your side through it, he's really doesn't care

maybe hell get sick with all the kisses he steals from you but he just can't get enough of the red flush of your cheeks and especially the tip of your nose

[misterfic]

Hiii! I was wondering if you’d do a kitchen nightmares oneshot, maybe where the reader is a waitress at a failing restaurant and she’s super sweet so gordon immediately takes a liking to her but she’s treated terribly by her boss. Maybe her boss is yelling at her and gordon comes to her defense, sort of hurt/comfort. (I really hope this makes sense 😖)

A/N: Am I crazy to write about Gordon?

Title: Under Fire in the Kitchen

Summary: When celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay steps into a struggling restaurant, he discovers more than bad food—he finds a waitress with a heart of gold and a toxic boss in need of a wake-up call.

Pairing: Gordon Ramsay × Reader

Tags: Conflict.

The small, dimly lit restaurant had seen better days. The tables were scratched, the menus sticky, and the air carried the faint scent of desperation mixed with grease. You had been working here for a year now, trying your best to bring a little kindness to the weary customers who still trickled in. But it wasn’t easy—not with a boss like Dan, whose temper was as short as the restaurant’s dwindling finances.

When Gordon Ramsay swept through the doors for his first visit, his piercing blue eyes took in every detail with a sharpness that made everyone—including you—stand a little straighter. He barked orders, questioned decisions, and tore apart the menu with his usual fervor. But when he spoke to you, his tone softened, his voice dipping into a low warmth that caught you off guard.

“What’s your name, love?” he asked, tilting his blond head as he studied you.

You told him, your voice hesitant under his intense gaze.

“Well, you’re the first bloody smile I’ve seen in this place,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin. “At least someone here knows how to treat a customer.”

His words sent a warmth through you, a small smile tugging at your lips as you guided him to a table near the back of the restaurant, away from the louder, busier section. “I’ll take your order,” you said softly, trying not to let the slight tremor in your voice betray the nervous energy buzzing beneath your skin.

Gordon’s piercing blue eyes stayed fixed on you as he sat down, his expression softening but still sharp enough to make you feel like he was peeling back your layers. “So, love,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, almost conspiratorial tone, “what’s the story here? What’s keeping this place afloat—besides your smile?”

You laughed quietly, glancing briefly toward the cameras mounted in the corners of the room. You’d almost forgotten about them in the flurry of his arrival. “Dan’s both the owner and head chef,” you explained, keeping your tone professional but warm. “He’s… passionate about what he does. But it’s been hard. Business has been slow, and—” You hesitated, carefully choosing your words. “Let’s just say, morale could be better.”

Gordon nodded, his sharp jawline tightening slightly as he listened. “Head chef and owner, eh?” he muttered, glancing toward the kitchen doors. “That’s usually where the problems start.”

You shifted awkwardly, unwilling to badmouth Dan but unable to deny the truth in Gordon’s observation. “He tries,” you offered diplomatically. “But it’s been overwhelming. We’re all hoping you can help turn things around.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile as he picked up the sticky menu, his long fingers skimming over the laminated pages. “Let’s see what we’re working with, then. What’s the most popular dish here? Or… what do you think is the most popular?”

You leaned slightly closer, lowering your voice as you pointed to an item on the menu. “The chicken Alfredo gets ordered the most. It’s… not terrible, but it’s heavy, and the sauce tends to separate if it sits too long.”

Gordon let out a low chuckle, his blue eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Not terrible,” he repeated, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. “That’s a glowing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one.”

You blushed slightly, unable to help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I guess I’m just being honest. But you’ll see for yourself.”

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he studied you for a moment. “You’re a rare one,” he said, his tone softening. “Most people in your position would be running for the hills, but you actually care about this place.”

“It’s not just the restaurant,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “It’s the people. The customers, the staff… even Dan. I want this to work—for all of them.”

Gordon’s expression shifted, his usual intensity giving way to something warmer, almost fond. “You’ve got a good heart, love,” he said quietly. “Let’s hope the food can match it.”

The sound of plates clattering in the kitchen broke the moment, and you straightened, suddenly hyper-aware of the cameras. “I’ll get that order in,” you said, stepping back toward the kitchen.

As you turned, you heard Gordon mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch. “Beautiful and kind. Bloody hell, what a combination.”

You smiled to yourself, your heart racing slightly as you pushed through the swinging kitchen doors. He might have been the fiery, no-nonsense chef the world knew and feared, but there was a charm to him—a warmth beneath the surface—that left you feeling flustered in the best possible way. But for now, you reminded yourself, you had a job to do. And if anyone could save this place, it was Gordon Ramsay.

○○○○○○○○○○○

The dinner rush had started as a steady trickle but quickly turned into a chaotic flood, the kitchen barely able to keep up. The orders came in fast, and the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. You moved quickly and efficiently, balancing plates and drinks with practiced ease, even as Dan’s voice bellowed orders from the kitchen.

Gordon Ramsay stood in the corner, arms crossed and blue eyes sharp, silently observing the madness. His presence alone was enough to keep everyone on edge, though his focus was clearly on assessing every crack in the restaurant’s foundation.

By the time the third dish of the night was returned—a soggy, undercooked lasagna—you could feel the frustration radiating from the kitchen like a heatwave. With a deep breath, you carried the plate back to Dan, carefully placing it on the counter.

“What the hell is this?” Dan snarled, his face red as he gestured wildly at the dish. “Are you trying to ruin me?”

“It was sent back,” you said gently, trying to maintain your professionalism. “The customer said it’s undercooked—”

“Of course, they said that!” Dan snapped, slamming his fist on the counter. “Because you probably sold it wrong! God, you’re useless sometimes!”

You flinched at the venom in his voice, your hands tightening around the tray you carried. “I didn’t sell anything wrong, Dan,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Oh, doing your job, are you?” he sneered, stepping closer. “You call this doing your job? You’re standing out there smiling like an idiot while I’m back here trying to keep this place afloat!”

The kitchen fell silent. Every chef and line cook froze, their eyes darting between you and Dan. And then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gordon move.

“That’s enough,” Gordon said, his voice low and cutting as he stepped forward. His blue eyes blazed with fury, the authority in his tone making even Dan shrink back slightly. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dan opened his mouth to respond, but Gordon cut him off with a sharp gesture. “No, don’t speak. I’ve stood here all night, watching you run this place into the ground, and now you’re blaming her for your mistakes? Are you joking?”

Dan spluttered, his confidence faltering under Gordon’s intense glare. “I—I’m just trying to keep things running—”

“By screaming at the one person who’s been holding this place together?” Gordon’s voice rose, sharp and commanding. He turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “Go outside, love. Take a breath. I’ll handle this.”

You hesitated, glancing between Gordon and Dan, but the quiet encouragement in Gordon’s gaze gave you the strength to nod. As you pushed through the kitchen doors, the cameraman followed, the sound of Gordon’s booming voice trailing behind you.

Once outside, the cool night air hit your flushed cheeks, and you exhaled shakily, leaning against the brick wall. Moments later, the door swung open, and Gordon stepped out, his tall frame towering over you as he approached.

“Hey,” he said softly, his usual gruffness tempered by concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, though your trembling hands betrayed you. “I’m fine. It’s just… it’s hard sometimes. I care about this place, but Dan—he’s so angry all the time, and I just—” Your voice broke, and you quickly looked away, blinking back tears.

Gordon moved closer, his hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “You’re the only one in there who’s giving a damn about this place. Without you, it’d already be sunk.”

His words brought a lump to your throat, and you managed a weak smile. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He chuckled softly, his hand sliding down to briefly squeeze your arm. “I mean it, love. You’re the heart of that restaurant, and it’s about bloody time someone acknowledged it.”

You felt a blush creep up your neck, and you quickly glanced away, aware of the cameraman lingering nearby. “I just… I want to believe this place can be better,” you murmured.

“It can be,” Gordon said, his voice dropping into a warm, reassuring tone. “But not with someone like Dan dragging it down. You’re better than this. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re not.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. There was something in the way he looked at you—something unspoken but undeniable. His hand lingered just a moment longer on your arm before he stepped back, breaking the spell.

“Come on,” he said, his tone lightening as he gestured toward the door. “Let’s get back in there. I’ve got a few words for your boss.”

You smiled faintly, your heart a little lighter as you followed him inside. Whatever happened next, you knew Gordon Ramsay was on your side—and for the first time in a long while, that gave you hope.