#omelette sth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karpachev · 8 months ago

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Thanks for tagging @alma-amentet !!

Instantly hopped on this thread cause food?? I'm always down for talking aboud food xD

Eggs: fried eggs for sure! With bacon or sausages preferably. I also love fried vegetables, but rarely have time to cook those in the morning on weekdays. On weekends - it's tomatoes and onions time xD

Couple of times I've tried omelette, poured little amount of milk, a lot of milk, added cheese and/or vegetables. But i just don't like the taste. Perhaps not my thing

Steak: rare or medium rare. With the right recipe steaks are my favorite food ever! Love both meat steaks and fish steaks. Usually I eat them with sth like potatos (fried, mashed, french fried), but by themselves steaks are really good too!

Milk: while I don't enjoy milk as a drink by itself, I can't imagine a good cup of coffee without milk. And I drink a lot of coffee (send help). So 3,2 or 3,6 % milk works just fine. Same goes for dairy products too - I don't enjoy them but I try and eat needed amount. My most favorite is plain greek yogurt :)

Alcohol: not much of a drinker, but i drink anything thats not too strong. Any wine is fine, cider and beer too, athough my preferred drink is whiskey. With or without cola (yes it's not too strong for me for some reason xD). Though I like only certain brands. Oh and also cocktails!

Warm drink: COFFEE. Yeah and also black tea. There were times when I enjoyed herbal tea or green tea (milk oolong to be exact), but now dunno not so much.

Tagging @scrawnytreedemon @xfallen-flowersx @ozblok @livnoy @my0vershareworld and everyone else who want to participate! :)

Was tagged by @lhenn Starting a new thread 'cause that one might get too long.

Thanks for tagging! Yeah, it took me 9 days to answer, could be worse... (I really like things like this, it's only lack of time, if I don't reply 😊)

Eggs: omelette... sort of. With little milk (so it isn't too runny) and lots of cheese! Also herbs, spices (just what I have at hand) and sometimes bacon\ham\sausage pieces.

Steak: medium would do for me, I guess. Not sure I had enough good steaks in my life... I'd have one, for sure!

Milk: 2% or 3,2 % cow milk. I like milk, yes! I also like flavored milk, ice cream and most dairy products.

Alcohol: vinho verde is love! That's Portuguese wine from a really rainy region of the same name. The grapes are usually picked when they are not quite ripe yet (or else they might get mouldy), so the wine is usually really fresh and sour, a bit sparkling. Im a huge fan of it.

Or anything close to it (like Mateus or some wines from Lisboa)

Also any other kind of more or less good sparkling wine, preferably pink, brut or demi-sec, but not (semi)sweet.

Or some good beer, I love IPA and dark strong ale.

Warm drink: Herbal or black tea.

tagging @catcas22 @katyspersonal @sheirukitriesfandom @bimbomcgee @katastronoot @karpachev @heraldofcrow @fantomette22

And anyone who'd like to join!

No pressure, as always, but I'd love to read your replies.

#ask game #mutuals #tag game

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delfiore · 2 years ago

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only make you cry

pairing: florence pugh x fem!reader

synopsis: flo isn’t ready to be in a new relationship after her last one ended by means of public scrutiny.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hello. um, ik it’s been a while, but school and work has just been so hectic that i barely even have time to rest. i was also dealing with some things too, but alas am back. i hope y’all haven’t forgotten abt me and i’m hoping to get back into writing again soon because it’s fun and not because it’s sth i have to do. so ya, enjoy this angsty, kinda smutty but not rly fic i whipped out :3

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She remained untouched.

By the responsibilities she had to bare as a price of only doing what she loved to do.

By the lousiness of the world waiting to gouge out any imperfections so that it may discredit her just for the sake of it.

By the mask-like cynicism she had come to develop just to survive and not get swallowed whole.

She remained untouched by you.

Yet, the desire to reach out and touch her, despite her serene appearance—face pressed into the pillow, eyes comfortably shut, lips slightly parted—was beyond any reasoning that you could muster. You simply desired her, to touch her, to feel her, the way you did merely hours before.

The sky was beginning to brighten, signaling another day. You didn’t want to leave, you only wanted to reach out and touch her, to kiss her, and tell her that you were here to stay. But you knew you couldn’t.

She stirred, finally. Florence was a quiet waker, with a sharp inhale and a purse of her lips, eyelids slowly peeling open to reveal two emerald gems, that usually start out more hazel and golden in the morning. You gave her a small smile. “Good morning”.

“What time is it?” She asked.

You hummed, reaching back toward the stand for your phone. “8:37”, you had checked ten minutes prior too.

You watched her as she willed herself to rouse, hunching over the side of the bed, like she was putting the weight of the world she left by the bed back on her shoulders. You reached over, and brushed her spine with the back of your hand. You thought you felt a split second in which she found comfort in it, but it was gone too soon when she stood up and headed for the bathroom.

You always observed Florence. You liked to admire the person that she was, watching this phenomenon of a human being do the most mundane tasks, like cooking an omelette or watering a plant. It made you feel special, being able to be in her presence made you feel phenomenal. She tended to have that effect on people, not just you. You were just lucky you got to witness it behind closed doors.

“Could you feed Billie, please?” You loved when she included you in her routines. You would give her a kiss on her jaw and a gentle caress of her hips in gratitude in passing her.

Sometimes when you’re lucky, like now, she would grab you, and kiss you deep with a sigh, her eyes lustful and sultry when they gaze into yours after.

It started a few weeks prior, the sex, and the mingling, months earlier than that. It was at an after-party you were expected to attend, that Flo also happen to be there. There was a certain glow to her, something that made her seem more mature than the last time you saw her whilst shooting Black Widow. The short brunette hair, the nose ring, it was different, but it all suited her.

“Y/N?! Christ, is that you?!”

You started hanging out again, just like you did whilst shooting the movie and a little while after that before your respective schedules pulled you apart. It was as if no time had passed.

She cooked for you the way she did, a drink on the side and occasionally dancing to music that hyped her up. Then one day, she confided in you. She told you that she and her boyfriend had broken up.

“It was a few months ago,” she said with a sad smile, “the pressure just got too much. We’re friends, though.”

“I’m sorry.” Were you an asshole for leaping on the inside? You couldn’t tell her how you felt three years ago because she was already in a relationship, especially when Zach was a good man, and she was happy too.

Then one night, she kissed you.

It was after a bottle of wine (or two), and you both were on her couch. You felt bold, and your hand ended up over her thigh, feeling the softness of her skin. Her laughter had died down, only breathy giggles now from her plump lips, her intense gaze lighting fires in the pit of your stomach. And before long, she was straddling you and desperately attempting to pull your shirt off.

“I’m going on a trip next week with some mates,” she told you, tickling the back of your neck with her arms resting around it, “come with me?”

You could never say no to her, never when she holds you like this. But alas, you were just messing around.

Ibiza was a nice change of pace from the bustling city; it was sunshine and blue sky as far as you could see during the day, then parties and drinks until the early hours in the morning.

You liked that she knew when to have fun, but not too much to let herself go. She always seemed in control. Her friends were welcoming of you, but you weren’t free of the teasing comments.

“She seems lovely,” one of her friends said, once you had left to the bar. You’d just make out what she said. “Where’d you find her?”

“We met on-set,” Flo answered.

“Good for you, mate. She’s always following you around like a lost puppy, it’s cute.”

A small laugh erupted from Florence’s chest, and you felt something churn in your stomach. You took the drinks from the bartender with a small ‘thank you’, and returned to the group.

You handed Olive her drink, then Flo hers before kissing her cheek. “Your dry martini.”

It was only after you had come back from another party that night, that you thought about it again.

“You okay?” She mumbled, peppering kisses on your bare shoulder, her hand roaming your body.

The thing was, you didn’t mind being her lost puppy. You were too devoted to care.

The media was started to catch up. Pictures of her and you during your sun-soaked holiday started to make headlines, at first because two Marvel stars were seen vacationing together. But then fans began to speculate when more handsy pictures began to surface (a failed attempt by your publicist to keep things quiet), and you suddenly felt the pressure. It was in particular the pictures of you and her splashing each other in the water that did it.

“People need to get a job, christ,” you sat by the island scrolling through Twitter on the private account you made for the sole purpose of lurking.

Florence let out a small laugh as she chopped a bell pepper in half. “Let them talk, hm? We don’t need to concern ourselves with it.”

“It’s a bit difficult to mind your business when it’s shoved in your face every time you open your phone,” you huffed through your nose, extending your foot toward where Billie had chosen to sit by your side to taunt the pup.

“It’s not like you to care about what people think. What changed?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t like people butting into my relationships, that’s all.”

“Well,” she said so casually, “we’re not exclusive or anything, so . . .”

You didn’t know what to say. Billie seemed to have picked up on the awkwardness too, and trotted away to find her bed for a nap.

“Y/N,” she said, but you didn’t look up, “you know we’re just messing about, right?”

“Of course,” you said, shrugging, “it’s what we agreed upon the first time. What? You think I’m in love with you or something?”

“You better not be,” she laughed as you made your laugh over to her side.

“Why not?” You mirrored her laugh, and snaked your arms around her waist.

“‘Cause it’ll complicate everything,” Flo said lowly, “and I don’t like things to be complicated.”

“Alright,” you nodded, taking her chin in your fingers. “Well, I’m not, so.” You pecked her lips.

You didn’t know you could feel the kind of isolation like what you felt when Flo went away. She had gone back to England to be with her family, leaving you all alone in this god-awful town, in Los Angeles, the city of liars and pretenders. You thought you might have become one too.

It was easier said than done, and you thought you could do it. You thought you could be content with just being a fuck, but it was never that easy. You stopped seeing anyone properly ever since you started knowing Flo, and that was three years ago. You knew it was a futile effort to wait, but you waited anyway.

“My nan just gave me this amazing apple pie recipe. I’m gonna make it when I get back,” you let her ramble on FaceTime as you attempted to do work on your laptop.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Your nan’s pie recipe,” you replied, turning towards the camera, “can’t wait to try it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” your voice was started to growing harsher, “‘s fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” she said, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said firmly, “please leave it alone, Flo.”

You didn’t like the way you sounded. You were so harsh to her. A quick glance towards the screen told you she was taken aback by your response, maybe a little hurt too. It was a mistake.

“I have to go, got some work to do,” you sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Flo said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. You ended the call before you or her could say anything else.

You sunk back into your chair, and finally let the tears flow and you held your face in your palms.

Hours later, you were clutching your phone, staring at the screen showing your messages with her, trying so hard to say something, anything. The silence was brutal, but it was one you caused yourself. You didn’t want to bother her, but you couldn’t stand it any longer.

Please don’t be upset with me, I was an asshole.

I can’t stop thinking about you all the fucking time.

I think I have feelings for you.

Sorry about earlier. Work is stressing me out.

Mere minutes later, you received a photo message as a response. Your breath gets caught in your throat when you opened it to see what it was. “For your troubles ,” it read, and it was a picture of her in her underwear in bed.

You leaned back and exhaled a heavy breath, as your hand slowly crept down your body underneath your pants.

But it wasn’t the same. You needed her with you, under you, above you, close to you. You wanted to hold her as you came, as you have been lately, hoping she would feel the affection in return.

You counted down the days that you would be meeting her in New York. She had to do press there for a couple of days, and you agreed to spend some time with each other before she returned to the UK for more press. Your manager wasn’t happy when you decided to book your own ticket after she had refuses to book you one because it wasn’t for ‘professional purposes’.

The hotel you booked was close to hers, just by accident, but you decided to hire a cab to bring her over anyway. You had been waiting patiently when she knocked on your door at around 10 at night.

“Hi,” you said softly, walking backwards to let her in.

“Hi,” she replied, tugging at the back of your neck and kicking off her boots, “I missed you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, couldn’t stop thinking about you, and this,” you let her explore your body because you had been waiting for her to do so for so long.

You collapsed next to her with a heavy sigh, looking over. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes closed and lips parted, her chest rose up and down. She looked so pure like an angel, but also sinful like the devil. Her eyelids peeled open, and her eyes had turned a deep green when she looked over at you.

She was perfect, and you were enraptured by her in every way.

So you captured her lips in a slow kiss. Low hums bubbled in her throat, as she snaked an arm around your waist.

“I love you,” it came out as the fainted whisper. You froze. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“What?” You breathed out.

“I said I love you,” she repeated, locking you in with kisses along your jaw.

“No,“ you pulled away, shaking your head vehemently, “no, you don’t, Flo. Don’t say shit like that.”

“What the fuck?” Why was she offended? “Y/N?”

“You can’t just say stuff like that without any consequences,” you didn’t mean to snap, but you were pacing around too, “we agreed to just fooling around.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. Why are you so pissed about this?”

“Because you’re being unfair!” You exclaimed. “You don’t love me, but I love you, Flo! I love you. And this, all of this is so unfair.”

“Then why did you agree to it?” She frowned.

“Because—“ there was a lump growing in your throat, “because having some of you is better than nothing.”

“God, Y/N,” Flo sat up, and put her hand in her hands, the sheets barely covering her bare chest. “We should have never done this.”

“So you regret it?”

“No, but I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I knew it was so agonizing for you. Like shit, what the hell do you want from me, Y/N?!”

You stood at the foot of the bed, your fists clenching and relaxing. You felt so small. The light from outside the window scarred her face.

“I want you,” you said defeatedly, “I want you to love me the way I love you.”

She looked at you incredulously, “how long have you had feelings for me?”

You looked away. “I don’t know, like ever since we met I felt something. I just never said anything.”

You heard her grumble under her breath. “I-I can’t right now, Y/N. There are things that I still need to work on. It was really hard where I left off with my last relationship.”

“I know,” you took a seat at the edge of the bed, “I’ll wait for you, until you’re ready.”

“I can’t ask you to wait for me.”

“I’ve been waiting for three years,” you smiled sadly, “I can wait a little more.”

You watched her as she wordlessly got up and gathered her clothes to put them back on. You wanted to speak up, but you could only watch like a ghost.

“Thank you, Y/N, for everything you’ve done for me,” she held your hand, and stroked your cheeks tenderly. “I have never taken you for granted, ever. And yes, I do love you.”

She leaned down to kiss your forehead before heading for the door. You felt the tears welling up, but you spoke anyways.

“When you’re ready, you know how to reach me.”

There was a hint of a smile before Florence turned to the door. When it closed, you felt the stillness of the room, void of the rustling of the sheets when she would turn to the side, her quiet hums of a melody she couldn’t get out of her head, the click of her lighter as she goes to light her cigarette. It was you, and your own sounds now, devoid of bliss, devoid of her.

#florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagines #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh x you #florence pugh angst

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