#where is cheddar cheese from

[caloriesnfood]

Calories in Cheddar Cheese

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[julie-su]

BLAST MAN HAS BEEN CLAIMED BY ALL OF SOMERSET 🐲🎆🍎

[roseverdict]

don't cry. pour a small-seeming serving of any pasta noodle you'd like in a deep microwave-safe bowl, just barely cover the noodles with water, microwave for roughly 2 minutes 30 seconds, stir, microwave for 2 more minutes, carefully drain the pasta water from the pasta, liberally mix shredded non-mozzarella cheese into the hot noodles, and pour small amounts of milk in (maaaybe a school milk carton's worth or two at most) to taste and to make it creamier, okay?

[blujayonthewing]

I love that so many, like, entire categories of food are named after a place; as an american who is invariably not from any of those places it always sounds fake in the most delightful and whimsical way possible, like what do you mean there's a whole town called cheddar?? what do you MEAN it came BEFORE THE CHEESE???

[icewindandboringhorror]

We should bring back that thing some websites used to do where whenever you made a post you could also list a bunch of random details alongside it, like the mood you’re currently feeling while writing the post, what you’re eating, music you’re currently listening to, what device you’re writing the post on, some random emoji, your personal motto at the moment, etc. It’s like additional character lore 

[lavendette]

Making homemade applesauce with some apples that we’re going to go bad soon, and I’m so excited, it smells so good

[useless-englandfacts]

Sorry but Red Leicester is NOT cheddar

oh okay controversy brewing here

in my experience red leicester is sweeter and creamier than cheddar which can be quite sharp? there’s almost a nutty quality to red leicester that i don’t get from cheddar so. maybe they are different in other ways than colour

[graveyardmouth]

i cracked the fucking code dude. chicken + cheese + lettuce + tomato + mustard + mayonnaise. beautifulest sandwich ever. i ate it in like 5 minutes

[lucysarah-c]

"Those are my fries, and those are yours,"

"Come on! Does it really make a difference if I take just one?" You retorted.

"Settled accounts keep old friends," he mumbled, mouth half full of food.

You giggled as he took off the top bun from his burger, piled on a bunch of fries, and took a huge bite. The scene was downright chaotic, and you burst out laughing. Levi, who normally cared about appearances, was wolfing down the McDonald's meal with an intensity that didn’t quite match the polished image he’d shown earlier, even though that suit probably cost a fortune.

Ketchup stuck to the corner of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, silently questioning what was so funny. Once he'd swallowed, he muttered, "Eat before the fries get cold. They taste horrible like that."

You couldn't help but reflect on how the night had gone. The House of CB dress you'd bought and saved for a special occasion, the hair you had done at the salon, the makeup you practiced to mimic the subtle but lovely glam of the latest Bridgerton season—none of that had been planned for you to end up in your boyfriend's car, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of fast food from a drive-thru at 11 p.m.

The empty parking lot outside, with snow accumulating, could have been eerie if you weren’t sitting next to Levi. Fries slathered in extra cheddar sauce were scattered everywhere, and Levi shoveled them into his mouth without a care. No lights, no music, but it didn't matter—you felt safe with him, though neither of you was keen on tempting fate by keeping the car lights on in the middle of nowhere.

Taking a bite of your own burger, you chuckled again. "I don't think I've ever seen you this hungry."

Levi paused mid-chew to take a swig of his Coke. "Tch, those posh assholes. They dragged me around for hours—hours! Examples of this, representation of that, and handshakes with whoever. From 3 p.m.! They didn’t even let me grab a sandwich at the reception. Finally, they serve dinner at 10—TEN!" he grumbled, the delay clearly having been the final straw. "And what did they serve? One shrimp, a tiny cube of cheese, and some grass they picked from outside and called a gourmet dinner."

"Rich people don’t eat much; that’s why," you teased. "It’s fancy to have tiny portions on huge plates."

"That’s because they’re all on Ozempic, buying up medicine that people actually need. Fuck them," he muttered.

On any other occasion, Levi would’ve cursed you for eating in his car, but tonight he made an exception. "How are my ice creams?"

Levi glanced outside where the ice creams were stored in the cold air to keep from melting. Processing your words, he turned back to you. "My ice creams? You mean ours."

"Oh, Levi, aren’t you going to gift me one? What kind of gentleman are you?" you teased.

"Right now, I’d bite your arm off if it weren’t for the fact that McDonald’s is still open," he replied with a smirk.

You laughed again. It had been the government holiday party, and you’d been so excited to attend, ready to rub elbows with high society. One of the older women had even told you, "You should've asked for a brand to sponsor your dress, coming as Levi’s plus-one!" Erwin had insisted that Levi attend as a representative of the Ackerman family, much to your boyfriend's dismay. Uri had agreed, probably because any option was better than Kenny for a formal event.

"Erwin will kill you when he finds out," you said, remembering how Levi had messaged you to sneak out. You’d never imagined he’d drag you through a bathroom window, across the estate grounds, and into his car for a McDonald’s run. "What about Uri? I ran into him during dinner. He was so nice!"

Levi hummed in approval, acknowledging that the old man had always been a saint in his eyes. The only one capable of dealing with Kenny for so many years.

Suddenly, Levi's phone lit up, its ringtone breaking the quiet. "Fuck!" you panicked.

"Don’t answer. If we do, they’ll know I’m reachable," Levi said, ignoring the calls.

Message after message flooded his phone—texts from Uri, Traute, and Erwin: Where are you? Levi, answer the phone ASAP. Come back here this instant.

The calls came in one after another.

"They won’t stop," you muttered. "Maybe we should just tell them—"

"No. They’d send the national guard to drag me back to that snob-filled hell," Levi spat. Despite not picking up, both of you whispered as if the unanswered calls could somehow hear.

At some point, the whole situation became hilarious. You found yourself resting your head on his shoulder, chuckling as the phone buzzed incessantly. Levi kept refusing to answer, and in the midst of it all, you shared sloppy kisses in the darkened car.

"I’ve got an idea…" you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. Levi looked at you, confused, the noise from the phone distracting from the moment you were building.

Casually, you swiped up on the screen and answered. "Levi? Where are—"

With a fake gasp and an exaggerated tone, you moaned, "Ah, Lev—Yes!"

Levi had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he realized what you were doing. "Play along," you whispered. And before you knew it, he began thumping the side door, mimicking the sound of… well, thrusts.

"Harder!" you managed between giggles before the call abruptly ended, leaving both of you in hysterics.

"Well, they’re definitely not calling anymore," Levi shook his head, still grinning, knowing full well this prank wouldn’t go unpunished.

"You can always say we were busy working on the Ackerman heir they keep asking for," you teased.

Levi grimaced, entertained by the thought. "I mean…" His hand slid up your thigh, the mood shifting as his touch grew more insistent. "We could actually be doing that."

Your hips began to move slightly over his lap. A quick glance at the clock—the only light inside the car—showed 12:05 a.m. Finally past midnight. "Whatever the birthday boy wants," you purred.

—

"He picked up? What did he say, sir?" Traute asked irritably in the event staff area, where they were waiting to bring out the enormous, decorated cake for the final part of the evening.

Uri chuckled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I think he’s already celebrating. Let’s just carry on."

(No idea what this is, the idea just pop up in my mind)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-12345 @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[luveline]

jade! i’d love to see anything with eddie and roan <3 i miss my man and my child

eddie and roan | ty for requesting <3

“Get lost.” 

“You get lost, you weirdo.” 

“I’m serious, go play somewhere else.” 

Steve frowns, shaking the fist of his Barbie at Eddie in outrage. “This is supposed to be a playdate. You can’t just boss me around.” 

“No, this is dinner. You were invited over for dinner.” 

“And Roan employed me to build some deep backstory for her characters!” 

Roan sits in your lap at the dinner table, nowhere near their playing. She has cracker crumbs falling from her mouth as she asks, “Wait, are they talking about me?” 

“Don’t think so,” Robin says, a butter knife in hand. She spreads thick, salty butter from one corner of a cracker to the other, cheddar dust falling from it like orange snow. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when she hands it to you. 

“I’m trying to get these sweet ladies dressed and you’re messing up their outfits,” Eddie says. 

“I’m not messing them up, they just look stupid when you dress them.” 

“I know how they looked in the box, okay? I should. I paid for them.” 

“That’s not true. I bought this one.” Steve holds up a Barbie with a flight attendant’s outfit on. 

“And I bought the bug scientist one!” you add from your seat. Like with Roan, cracker crumbs try their hardest to fall down your shirt. A Metallica one, Eddie’s influence. 

“I know how they look,” Eddie affirms. 

“So what? They’re toys, you don’t have to dress them up like they came in the box. Roan, can you please do me a big huge favour and tell your daddy he’s being too strict with me?” 

Steve’s pouts at her, but Eddie’s daughter is loyal to her father. “Daddy always dresses them the best, sorry,” Roan says. 

“My angel,” Eddie says, a mutter, distracted by a Barbie where he wrestles a coat over plastic arms. “Thanks, baby.” 

She licks her fingertip. “Y’welcome.” 

You squeeze your arms around her waist and steal a slice of cheese from the paper plate in front of her. 

“Don’t let him draw you into their fighting. Anyone would think they’re the kids,” Robin says. 

“I resent that!” Eddie says, as Steve calls, “Shut it, Buckley, nobody asked you!” 

“I asked, Aunt Robin,” Roan says. 

The boys tussle over a pair of plastic shoes. Robin just sighs, like she’s seen it a hundred times before. “Thank you, Ro. I hate when they do this.” 

You’re enjoying it, but maybe the novelty wears off. 

“Babe?” Eddie calls. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

“Fuck off a second. Sweetheart?” 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Can you get that plate of cheese out for Roan, please?” 

You snort and grab another cracker from the tub. “What does he think I’m doing?” you ask Roan in a whisper. “What, I’m just sitting here watching him play with your dollies?” 

“He’s silly,” Roan whispers back, giggling. 

A pink high heel the size of your fingernail pings off the side of Eddie’s head. “Can you pay attention to me? I’m trying to get her ready for the catwalk and you’re not helping.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging with a smile. They seem like they’re actually having fun, under their exaggerated spats. “It looks like a good time.” 

[babygirlhouse]

house md 2024 headcanons 🫡

hi loves!! jumping on this trend :^) i don't think any of these make sense but they made me laugh soooo here u go

House has a very bad pain day and (when pushed) says that he strained the muscle while riding his bike. Obviously nobody believes him, so the ducklings + Wilson spend the day trying to figure out what he did and end up finding security footage of him attempting to hit the griddy in the morgue 

Kutner has a very generic inspirational quotes tumblr blog (he’s so proud of it) and House finds it and just starts dropping quotes from it in DDXs to mess with him & then acting all innocent 

Thirteen has a secret thirst trap tiktok acc that doesn’t explicitly show her face but has her lab coat & maybe stethoscope. When Chase suggests that it’s her she doesn’t confirm or deny it and just keeps winking. Cameron definitely follows the account after this. Thirteen pretends not to realise.

Wilson takes a uquiz to find out what sort of cheese he is and is devastated when it says he’s cheddar. He then has an identity crisis because he thinks he’s too bland and tries to reinvent his aesthetic, leading to one infected eyebrow piercing and a tramp stamp that’s never mentioned again. Potential there for a sappy scene where House tells him he's anything but bland.

Cuddy starts a momblog style podcast. House sends anonymous hate. Taub guest stars. 

I think Taub would get deeply into ASMR. Like it’d start with him finding and playing a video of ASMR triggers for his daughters, then he tries it himself to see if that calms them down even more, etc etc. He starts a youtube channel and it blows up. He gets recognised by patients at the hospital. It goes to his head just a little. He unironically uses the term 'ASMRtist'

A cosplayer has a mysterious illness and the team has to go to a convention to test for environmental factors. Chase is apprehensive but House forces him to go. He’s quickly recognised at the convention and it turns out that he has a cosplay instagram account and they get stopped every 10 mins to take pictures. No one lets him live it down 

Thirteen and Cameron kiss & fall in love & babysit Taub's kids. House makes relentless jokes but is quietly very fond of them and their relationship. Pls i need this

Foreman has a twitter/X account where he posts a combination of work out tips/inspirational quotes (not as sweet as Kutner's blog, more grindset vibes yknow) but he gets mixed up in a pyramid scheme for protein powders and gets cancelled. Also potential for a sappy scene here where Foreman says he admires Kutner for not letting House's teasing about his blog get to him. They're besties now and make each other better.

Cuddy forces all of them to go on a wellness retreat. House and Wilson make a bet to see who can go the longest without speaking. It's not even a silent retreat, they're just like that. Also someone convinces Chase that the utility shed on the retreat is haunted.

The wellness retreat no speaking bet also def has potential for gay chicken. Like Wilson kisses House to see if that will get him to lose the bet. By the next morning neither of them know or care who lost the bet, they leave their room looking Extremely disheveled and return to the hospital very much together. Cuddy is not at all surprised. She planned this. Each of the ducklings hand her $100.

PPTH minecraft server. yeah

[beastboost]

Basically if someone random asked you to go to the store and get some cheese with no additional context, what are you getting?

I’ve found that the answer tends to vary between countries, so tag where you’re from if you want (if you don’t live where you’re from or your parents/family are from somewhere else, feel free to talk about that as well!)

[avocado-writing]

Omg a drained reader who can’t take care of themselves and Logan with a gentle “did you eat today?” 😭

he can see how stressed you are. the bags under bloodshot eyes, bleary and delirious where you keep taking a break to rub them clear only to look back at your laptop. he doesn’t think you’ve moved in the past eight hours, at least further than the coffee pot on the counter - there are half a dozen abandoned mugs around you as you let each one get cold after drinking half before fetching a replacement.

how he wishes he could murder your boss. they ask too much of you in that damn job, and it drives him crazy on your behalf. but your patience is saint-like and your soul kinder than his so you just grin and bear it.

still doesn’t make it any easier though, seeing you like this. you drop your face into your hands to massage it, groaning long and loud.

“you need to stop for the night,” Logan says gently, but in a way he hope won’t be argued with. you give him an exhausted smile.

“I’ve got one more report to file, baby. then I promise I will.”

“you’re stretching yourself thin. did you eat today?”

stomach gives a loud grumble in response to that and you huff in embarrassment. Logan stands from the couch and heads to the kitchen.

“oh, Logan, you don’t have to—”

“lemme make you something to eat,” more of a statement, not a request. you sigh, knowing there’s no use putting up a fight, and go back to tapping on your keyboard.

he grabs the bread from the bread bin, smothers it with butter - the real stuff he makes you buy, none of that fake shit - then slices some generous wedges of cheddar. grilled cheese fills the apartment within moments and he can see the way you stop focussing on your work to watch him fry it, letting out a little “oh” of joy when you see how crispy it looks.

he slices into triangle halves, how you like it, and puts it on the table; he takes a moment to press his hand to your cheek too. you drop a kiss onto his palm.

“my hero,” you sigh, blowing on your snack for far too little time to actually cool it down and then absolutely demolishing it. “fuck. I love you.”

“you talkin’ to me or the sandwich?”

“both.”

[irisintheafterglow]

in his limited spare time, bakugo katsuki volunteers at the local animal shelter.

cw: brief blood/injury, swearing, much longer than i anticipated (i got carried away) this one's for you @lees-chaotic-brain <3

you were bewildered, at first, when the top-ranking pro stomped his way through the lobby not in need of a pet, but a job. everyone's starting foundations and scholarships and shit, he grumbled when you carefully asked why he wanted to be a shelter volunteer. i don't need any of that flashy shit. just wanna do something that makes a difference. you declined to point out that his job was making a difference in people's lives and wordlessly handed him the clipboard with the signup paperwork.

a few days later, he listens diligently during volunteer training and doesn't so much as wrinkle his nose when he enters the urine-stenched kennels on the walking tour. he stalks around the perimeter of the concrete building, barely flinching when the more aggressive dogs flash their sharp teeth. as the tour moves on to the cat cottages, you linger behind and watch him determinedly take a seat in front of the loudest and largest dog, a 90-pound shepherd mix who was also the longest resident of the shelter.

"she was mistreated, i think," you say as the room quiets until the only dog barking was the one snarling at bakugo. he doesn't look at you but acknowledges your words with a simple nod, looking carefully at the defensive animal in front of him. "i call her daisy."

"how long's she been here?"

"over a year and a half," you reply, approaching daisy's kennel and having a seat next to bakugo. his eyes flicker to you for only a moment before returning to the dog. "i was the one who received her when animal control brought her in."

"she trusts you," he observes. daisy has resorted to quiet growling from the corner closest to you, her fur sticking through the metal frame of the door. she allows you to brush your fingers against it, trembling against your touch while never taking her eyes off of the man beside you.

"we've been here the same amount of time," you confirm. "though only one of us is allowed to come and go," you add with a sad smile, fishing out a piece of bacon from your treat pouch and handing it to her through the bars.

"you ever think about takin' her home?"

"i want to, but i don't have enough space for her." you sigh, slipping her a chunk of cheddar cheese. daisy focuses more on the food than on bakugo, placated for the time being. "and, i need her to at least tolerate men if i want to get her out of this place. i just don't know how." he hums in assent and you don't exchange another word as he follows you out of the building, leaving daisy curled up in her corner.

---

"he's out of his mind."

"is he trying to get himself killed?"

"we're gonna have to put her down if he keeps this up," is the whisper of gossip that snaps you out of your workspace, prompting you to join the crowd at the window.

"what's going on?"

"that pro, dynamight? he's trying to tame that girl of yours," one of your fellow volunteers replies. "took a bag of treats and disappeared into the kennel ten minutes ago." you don't wait to hear another disapproving comment, grabbing a first aid kit and sprinting out to the building where daisy was.

you rush in, expecting to find a mess of blood and volunteer clothes, but the kennel is silent. uncharacteristically silent. he senses you when you enter, turning over his shoulder from his position seated on the floor in front of daisy.

"good, you're here. couldn't find you and all your coworkers were calling me crazy," he informs you as you sit next to him, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. "i wanna help you with her."

"respectfully, i'm not sure how that would-"

"you said she hates men, yeah? but the other day, when you were here with me, she didn't seem to mind if she was getting food in the process. we can use that." you blink at him, stunned at his willingness to train the dog deemed 'untrainable.' because of her size and her teeth, every other volunteer was terrified of even trying to feed daisy. yet, here was a newbie (albeit a very muscular one) wanting to wrestle the goliath in his first week.

"are you sure? it's gonna be a long process and i don't want to interfere with your schedule."

"what do you think sidekicks and interns are for? patrolling and catching random extras isn't good enough anymore," he states, watching daisy watch him through the dog door from the outside portion of her kennel. "i wanna do something that makes a difference."

so, with bakugo's help, you began the process of acclimatizing daisy to men. for the first few days, you would just sit in front of her kennel together for a few minutes and she would be rewarded every time she looked at bakugo without growling. then, you took her out into the yard, and he would gradually get closer as the days went on. soon enough, he could stand a few feet away without daisy so much as glancing at him, too intrigued by the sights and smells around her.

it was time for him to handfeed her.

"you're sure about this? her bite strength could easily tear off a finger," you warn him during the walk to daisy's kennel. you'd become quite the formidable team, working with daisy and efficiently completing tasks together without wasting any time. the kennels were the best they'd ever looked and smelled, and you finally felt like you were helping daisy progress. "i know you literally died and came back to life when you were in high school, but-"

"i can handle anything she throws at me, i promise."

"and you won't get pissed at her?" it was a question that you needed to muster up the courage to ask, one that poked at the back of your mind every time daisy started to frustrate bakugo. he wasn't known for being the most level-headed hero, and you were afraid of an eventual snap where he might lash out on the dog.

"hey," he begins, coming to a stop and facing you. his voice is genuine, his usual scowl replaced with stone-cold determination. "i swear that i'd rather get my heart blown up again or some shit than lay a hand on her."

"everyone says you have anger issues, bakugo. i think i'm well within my rights to be concerned," you point out and he barks out a laugh.

"i have anger issues when it comes to assholes that are purposefully assholes. i know that underneath all that anger, she's just scared," he shrugs. "that doesn't mean someone should give up on her. so, c'mon," he tilts his head in the direction of her building. "our girl's waiting."

one hour and a lifetime of coaxing later, you were sitting in the shade with daisy's head in your lap as bakugo hands her small pieces of hot dog and more cheese. the branches of the tree behind you stretch far above your head, providing shelter from the midday sun and dropping occasional leaves that daisy tried to bite from time to time. you let yourself relax, supervising while daisy continues to let bakugo feed her. every so often, you'll hear him murmur words of praise and encouragement, so soft and out of character that you'd think someone else was speaking them.

you open your eyes after a moment, not realizing that you'd closed them in the peacefulness of it all, and realize daisy is no longer in your lap. instead, she's seated next to bakugo, who lightly brushes the back of his hand against the fur under her chin. to your delight, she nudges his hand with the top of her head, letting him pet her from her eyes to where her collar sat on her neck.

"i think we reached a big accomplishment today," you whisper with a smile.

"all thanks to you," he replies. "if you hadn't believed in her, she wouldn't have been here."

"and if you hadn't have been here, she wouldn't have anyone else who believed she could change." your attention returns to daisy, who has begun sniffing around bakugo's belt in search of the treat pouch.

"oi," he says sternly but playfully. "what do you think you're doing?" for the first time in your history together, you see daisy wag her tail with someone else other than you, and she drops into a play bow in front of bakugo challengingly. "you wanna play, girl? you feel good enough with me that you wanna play?" she barks once, leaping around like a cricket in the grass.

"you heard her," you chuckle and he stands, keeping a respectful distance away from her in case she changed her mind. she doesn't, and begins bounding from one end of the yard to the other as bakugo chases after her. i'm gonna get you, clever girl, he calls after her. but you gotta catch me first, he taunts, running away from her and making her chase after him instead.

---

as with most things, good times could only last for so long.

it'd been six months since you started working with bakugo to help daisy, and a new round of volunteers were coming in for the season. with the new season came new business, and your partner abruptly cut his hours to the point where most of your work with daisy was solo. he'd given you his number on the third day of working together, but you never felt comfortable reaching out to him because you weren't sure if your relationship was at that point. it became a necessity, however, when a nepotism hire decided to undo all the work you'd done with daisy.

you heard the screaming before you registered the stamping of feet filing out of the doors and toward the dog kennels. it wasn't uncommon for a dog to spook a prospective adopter, but your heart sinks when you realize which specific kennel everyone was beginning to surround. by the time you reach daisy, she's already restrained by two large men, eyes wide and saliva dripping from her jowls. she's thrashing against her holders, and begins whining in a panic once she sees you break through the crowd.

"give her to me," you order the two large security guards that you didn't recognize. you vaguely register the idiot new-guy whose hubris told him he could handle the largest dog for an impromptu photoshoot; his arm is dripping red and his thin hair sticks to his pasty face. the guards were probably his, and any longer in their restraint would likely cause trachea damage to the poor girl. "i said, give. her. to. me."

"that dog is dangerous and needs to be put down!" you shoot the man a withering glare and forcibly yank daisy away from the men, holding her shaking body close and backing as far away from the commotion as possible. i know, i know. i've gotcha. it's okay, baby, i've gotcha, you whisper in her ear, tenderly stroking her ears pinned against her head. more men approach, seemingly to take her away, and she snaps in warning at their outstretched hands. you take the opportunity to dash out of the kennels and retreat into the lawn.

swallowing bile and your nerves, you press the call button next to his contact.

"hello?"

"hey, it-it's me from the shelter," you say, trying your best to keep your voice steady. "i-i know it's sudden and you're probably busy..."

"are you two okay? i'm on my way now." you barely hear the sound of him barking out orders and slamming a door, followed by the sound of explosives blasting.

"i-yes, we're okay...i think," you sputter out, the adrenaline in your veins turning to anxiety and leaving you just as shaken as the dog hiding beside you. "she-she bit a new guy. he's a fucking idiot but his parents are big investors in the shelter, so he's trying to get her put down." your voice breaks and you push down a sob, your hand barely able to hold the phone still. "i don't know what to do and they won't listen to me and i don't know how to tell them and-"

"it's okay, sweetheart, just breathe." his voice is calm and collected in stark contrast to the furious sounds of blasting propelling him toward the shelter.

"katsuki, i don't want them to take her away," you whisper helplessly, your eyes following the line of people approaching you in the yard. it's the first time you're addressing bakugo by his first name, and you wish it was under better circumstances. "they're coming to take her away. i don't-i don't want them to take her-"

"i'm here. stay where you are, i'll take care of them," he grunts before you hear the beep beep beep of the phone being hung up. true to his word, he reaches you before your coworkers and the security guards do, hopping a few fences as a shortcut. he slips in front of you like a shield, formidable and intimidating in his hero costume that he didn't have time to change out of.

"mr. bakugo, please stand aside," your boss says, giving you a sympathetic look. "we need to take the dog in for an evaluation."

"and then what?" bakugo's voice is harsh and unforgiving, his scowl unrelenting. "i said," he clarifies when the group in front of him is too shocked to answer, "and then what?"

"psychological evaluation will most likely show that she is unable to be adopted," your boss explains and you catch the muscle in bakugo's jaw clench. "in that case-"

"you're gonna put down a dog that lashed out in self-defense? against an idiot who didn't bother checking that she was male-averse?"

"t-the family is incredibly important to the maintenance of the shelter, and continuing to have the dog would jeopardize our working relationship."

"that's not a fuckin' problem, then, because i'm taking her home," he states. "daisy's comin' with me. end of story." you hear the words of protest climbing out of the group's throats and are quick to back up your partner.

"she's been working with him for half a year now," you interject. "there's no man she trusts more than him. and as the one who's been taking care of her for the time she's been here," you take a needed breath, nodding at bakugo, "there's no one else i trust more, either."

"you can tell the family the dog ran away or something. i'll get her out of your hands and have my legal people clean up your shit." sensing that it's time to go, you give him the leash and daisy nudges her head into his gloved hand. "and if that asshole who disrespected her wants to take away our fucking dog, i'd love to see him try."

"our dog?" you ask quietly, catching his eye as you walk with him out of the shelter complex.

"yeah," he shrugs, his ears turning slightly pinker. "we're a team, aren't we?"

---

"oh, nice. you know that asshole that daisy bit?" you're sprawled out on the living room couch in his apartment, daisy sleeping soundly at your feet. katsuki grunts his assent from the kitchen, muttering a curse as a splash of hot oil prickles his skin. "he and his family are getting investigated for money laundering and exotic animal trafficking."

"serves them fucking right," he replies vindictively. "what about the shelter?"

"coworkers report that they're doing just fine, what with the generous donation from the dynamight agency and all."

"any bigs they're tryna wrangle?"

"not at the moment, no," you say, peeking over the edge of the couch and smiling at daisy's tongue sticking out of her sleepy mouth. "but they promise they'll call us if one arrives."

"that's good. i'm happy with that," he concludes, throwing a potholder onto the coffee table and setting a sizzling pan of something yummy-smelling on top. "how's that look, partner?"

"as good as the one who made it," you flirt, and a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. "is the chef single?"

"nope," he remarks with a wink, settling his entire body weight on top of you so that his head rests on your chest. "and i wouldn't want anyone else." daisy pops her head up from the floor and shakes herself, happily licking your boyfriend's face as he squirms away. "okay, okay! you're an important part of my life as well, you silly fuckin' dog."

"you sure she'll be okay at work with you?" your fingers card through katsuki's hair and his eyes flutter shut, relishing in the way your nails feel on his scalp.

"'course she will. she passed the bomb-sniffing test with flying colors. she's smart and she's loyal. she'll do just fine," he reassures you. "and we couldn't have gotten here without you."

"you're the one who practically stole her from the shelter," you remind him teasingly and his laugh reverberates against your ribcage. "daisy," you cautioned as she looks hungrily at the pan of food. "that's not for you. dad'll make you something to eat later. go back to sleep, for now." the dog gives a single woof of reluctant acknowledgement before settling into her plush bed in the corner. "thank you, katsuki."

"you haven't even tried the food yet, you doofus," he mumbles with his eyes shut against your chest.

"i mean thank you for believing in her, doofus."

"duh. it's easy to believe in the people you love."

"people and dogs," you correct.

"mhmm," he smiles, content with the little family you'd helped him form, despite the obstacles. "and dogs."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! commissions and nsfw requests can be sent through my fiverr! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[random-writer-23]

Logan with a reader who loves to cook for him?? I’m from the south and food is a love letter here!! 😤 deer steak, peach cobbler, biscuits and gravy!!!

Need to fatten him up before the Canadian winter gets to him 🥺 come home Logan your dinners gettin cold

~~~Wonderful request gorgeous!!!! Had my stomach grumbling while I was writing it. I hope you enjoy it and that this is at least somewhere along the lines of what you were looking for!! This was the only photo of Logan I could find where he’s eating~~~

~~~On a separate note, I'm sorry I've been away for a bit y'all I've been having a rough time, my nana passed away recently so I've been struggling with that. I may be posting less frequently for a while, hope y'all understand. But I did wanna get back into writing and I feel this is the perfect request to write to make my return. My nana was always making that good Southern food for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Her collard greens had to be the best I've ever had in my life, her broccoli casserole, mac and cheese, biscuits the whole shebang. She always had me in the kitchen with her insisting I learn how to make everything so I could carry on her recipes so when I saw this request I knew I had to pull out her recipe book. I know she'd also want me to go back to writing cause she loved Wolverine. She never got to see Deadpool and Wolverine but I showed her the clip where Hugh's shirt explodes and she went WOWIE! and watched it at least 10 times so I feel this is a good way to honor her memory, she'd want me to be thinking about Hugh Jackman. Nana this one is for you I love you.~~~

~~~Mostly fluff, implied oral at the end but nothing is explicitly written, also mostly unedited cause it's just a quick little thing~~~

I focus on my Nana's broccoli casserole recipe in front of me, carefully mixing the blend of cream of mushroom soup, eggs, onions and mayonnaise in a bowl until it’s thick and creamy. I pull the bag of broccoli florets out of the freezer and add them to the mixture taking care to make sure they’re thoroughly coated. I take some of the cheddar cheese shreds and sprinkle it into the bowl stirring it in thoroughly before pouring the ingredients into a dish. I take extra care in sprinkling whatever shredded cheese I have left on the top of the casserole. I read from my Nana's recipe, crumbling up a few packets of Ritz crackers, and sprinkling the crumbs along the top of the casserole alongside the shredded cheese, just as she taught me when I was little. I grab my oven mitts opening the oven door, gripping the casserole dish tightly in my hands, slipping it into the oven. I set the oven timer to 45 minutes, pulling my oven mitts off. I turn my attention back to the pots on the stove, lifting up the lids to check on my collard greens and mashed potatoes. As soon as I lift the lids up the sweet aroma of a home-cooked meal fills the kitchen. A smile making its way onto my face. I begin clearing the table setting up the placemats and getting the plates and silverware ready. I jump slightly as the front door opens and closes, Logan's voice wafting through the air. “Darlin I’m home!” He calls out and I grin as I hear his voice, I poke my head out of the kitchen and I sight watch him kicking off his shoes at the front door. He looks up catching sight of me and I watch him take a deep breath inhaling the smell of my cooking. “Something smells delicious” He chuckles taking a few steps towards me, I step out of the kitchen, meeting him halfway and his eyes roam my figure hungrily taking in the sight of me in my apron. “And something else looks delicious” He chuckles wrapping his arms around me.

“Hi baby” I grin, giggling as he nuzzles his nose against the top of my head, “have a good day?” I ask softly, and he grunts running his hands through my hair and kissing the top of my head. 

“Better now I’m with you” He chuckles gruffly holding me tighter and I smile, “So whatcha got cooking for me” he pulls away slightly, his hand cupping my face, tucking my hair behind my ear, his other hand finding its place on my lower back.

“Hmm, some broccoli casserole, mashed potatoes, collard greens…” I grin looking up at him, fingers lightly tracing shapes on his chest. He groans, his lips falling down to mine in a passionate kiss. 

“Oh darlin you treat me so well” He chuckles, his lips falling from mine, ghosting along my jaw where he presses light kisses against it. His lips kiss down my neck and I let my head fall back slowly as he nips gently at the skin of my collarbone “Always cooking delicious meals f’me” he groans lightly, burying his nose in the crook of my neck inhaling deeply.

“Well you take such good care of me, only fair I take care of you too” I giggle.

“And you do it wonderfully” he grins, tightening his hold on me, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I appreciate everything you do for me" He kisses me, murmuring against my lips "lemme show you how much” He kisses me again, his hands leaving my lower back to palm at the fat of my thighs, massaging the skin rhythmically. I giggle leaning into his touch, closing my eyes only to have them spring open at the sound of the oven alarm going off I chuckle lightly as he groans loudly at the interruption. Keeping his forehead pressed against mine.

“Baby as much as I’d love that,  I gotta go check on the food… can’t let it burn” I say softly pushing lightly against his chest and he grumbles reluctantly letting me go. 

“Fine fine, just so all your hard work doesn’t go to waste” He grumbles and I smile patting his cheek lightly, weaseling out of his arms and walking back into the kitchen. He trails after me sniffing the air, humming quietly to himself. I grab a pair of oven mitts, opening the oven taking the food out putting the dish on the kitchen counter. I turn the stovetop off stirring the collard greens and mashed potatoes one last time before grabbing two plates gently scooping a large portion of food onto Logan's plate. Repeating the process and scooping a slightly smaller portion onto mine. I hand the plates over to Logan who sets them down on the table pulling my chair out for me. 

“Thanks honey” I grin and he pushes my chair in when I sit down, he grins at me slyly pouring me a glass of wine. Pouring another for himself before settling himself in the chair on the opposite side of the table. I take a small bite of each food giving it a small taste test, while Logan across the table digs in like a man starved, practically scarfing down his food. I chuckle lightly sipping my glass of wine. 

“Oh baby you outdid yourself” He mumbles through a mouthful of food, making me laugh. “Absolutely delicious” He compliments and I smile. 

“Used Nana’s recipe” I grin, “same one she used for Thanksgiving dinner” I chuckle, scooping up another forkful of food and guiding it into my mouth. “well thank you, Nana�� He chuckles raising his glass of wine, waiting till I tap mine against his, before he takes a sip. It doesn’t take too long for us to finish up our food and I start to stand up as soon as Logan's plate is cleared, reaching across the table to grab it from him, but he tsks shaking his head at me. “Oh no you don’t” he says making me pause my movements my hand hovering over his empty plate. He smiles walking behind me putting his hands on my shoulders massaging gently kissing the back of my neck, gently pushing me back down into my chair.

“What?” I laugh, letting him guide me back into my chair.

“You cooked, which means I do dishes” He insists, and I chuckle.

“Alright, alright” I smile watching as he clears the plates from the table, he puts all the leftovers in containers and stores them in the fridge. Carrying the pots to the sink pouring soap in the pots letting the hot water run and fill them up. I watch him from my seat at the table taking another sip of wine, watching the muscles in Logan's arms flex as he scrubs the pots and pans rinsing them of soap before putting them in the dish rack to dry. He grabs a tea towel using it to dry his hands, as he turns around leaning back against the kitchen counter, his gaze landing on my figure. 

“Well I’m stuffed” he smiles setting the tea towel aside, “but…” He grins standing behind my chair massaging my shoulders again. He takes my hand tugging me out of my chair, holding me close to him, kissing me softly hands gripping my thighs, lifting me up slightly to sit on the dining table. He pulls my body to the edge of the table, making me lay back leaning on my elbows. He pulls up the chair I was previously sitting on, perching himself on the edge of my chair. He pulls my shorts off, my panties following not far behind. He tosses them aside letting them land in a forgotten corner of the room, his lips trailing along my thighs kissing them gently groaning softly at the taste of my skin. He grips my thighs guiding my legs over his shoulders, biting softly at my upper thighs, “I think I’ve saved just enough room for dessert” He purrs, his head dipping down between my legs. 

[babybluebex]

happy sad confused | joseph quinn blurb

this is a sequel to off menu that i wrote nearly two years ago to the day (wow time flies jfc i wrote that in my mom's hotel room as i was moving lmao), so if you haven't read that yet, pop on over to that link, it'll take like 3 minutes, it's very short :)

"Do you have strong food tastes?" Josh asked, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

As opposed to the last podcast about food that Joe was on, you were present for the recording of this one. You remembered that day two years ago, right as everything was changing for you and your beau, when he had texted you asking if you listened to the Off Menu Podcast, and you had had to break James Acaster and Ed Gambles' hearts. Later, you had bumped into James at the BRIT Awards and were able to apologize for such a betrayal, and he had forgiven you, with the caveat that you did a shot with him (which you unfortunately had to decline, seeing as you were about 35 weeks into the standard pregnancy 40, and James accepted an alternate apology in the form of a hug).

Joe cast you a look from his place on the couch, a mortified smile playing at his lips. You knew he was thinking something like "Not this again", and you scoffed out a laugh. He was so funny sometimes that it made you sick, and you watched as Josh added, "Are you like, cilantro must be burned at the stake?"

Joe laughed. "Of all the herbs to bring up," he giggled. "Just, umm, a few weeks ago, my family was in Italy, all of us, my mum and stepdad and sister, the wife and boy, the whole lot, and, y'know, coriander is big over there— or cilantro, whatever you'd like to call it— and we were trying to convince our son, who's just turned a year old, to try something with coriander on it..." Joe paused, ruminating on the meal, and he looked at you, more distinctly and blatantly than before. "Babe? What were we trying to feed him when he wasn't havin' it?"

Your eyes widened, and you gulped as the entire room's attention shifted to you. Where your husband was a natural in front of people and cameras, it didn't come quite as painlessly to you. Especially since Anthony was born, you've been hyper-aware of the way people perceive you. You hoped, for your sake, that the focus was on your words and not you, and that people's eyes instead landed on the little tot standing with you. Little Anthony Quinn was holding both your hands, standing up but balanced on top of your feet, swinging and fidgeting about, waiting for Daddy to be done with work to come for a cuddle. "Just your garden-variety spaghetti," you said. "Not even with meat sauce or anything. The tomato sauce had cilantro, and he was not into it."

"Does he say it tastes like soap?" Josh asked. "'Cause that's some people's complaint."

"Well, he isn't really saying much of anything yet," Joe chuckled. "He's just one, remember. We've got 'Mama' in our arsenal, and 'juice', sometimes 'bankie' when he wants his blanket, but bankie can also mean his pacifier, so his 'binkie'— we haven't quite worked out the difference between bankie and binkie yet, but we're getting there."

"Regardless," Josh laughed. "Not a fan of the herb."

"He is the rest of the time," Joe said. "We do a roast every Sunday, and my wife taps me to do the chicken because she doesn't like handling meat, which I understand and, because I'm a good husband, I handle that for her so she can do the rest of the meal— but I put cilantro on the roast chicken and he eats it every week."

"No complaints?" Josh asked.

"None!" Joe exclaimed. "Eats it, eats the potatos, does the whole bit, and he always wants more! My kid doesn't like cilantro in spaghetti, but will eat a whole chicken by himself— make it make sense!"

"Well, with a baby around, I'm sure there's different food around than before," Josh asked. "My niece is into those, like, Gerber cheese snacks that are essentially Cheetos but not really—"

"Oh, we're familiar with the Lil' Crunchies," Joe nodded smoothly. "The mild cheddar flavor. What my son does is, he'll eat 'em by the fistful, yeah? And he decides to be nice and to share with us, which is very good of him, but he'll hand us a wet cheese puff that's half-disintegrated from the force of his little fist, and me and his mummy have gotta pretend like 'oh, yummy, thank you, Ant'."

“You brought up your girlfriend last time food was discussed,” Josh said, and Anthony stamped his little feet as he clearly wanted to run out to Daddy. “On the Off-Menu Podcast with James and Ed, who are just loads of fun. Is she still the same way, no mushrooms or anything?”

“Well, she’s my old lady now,” Joe chuckled. “We got married a few months after that podcast, just tired of not being married to each other yet, y’know? Plus, we found out that the boy was on his way, so it felt like as good a time as any. She's still picky, but there was a small time during her third trimester where she was eating everything in sight. For a few days there, she was doing popcorn with this, I don't know, novelty salt she bought at some shop in America? Anyway, it was pickle-flavored salt, and my girl... I love her, but pickle-salt popcorn... I have to draw a line somewhere."

"And that's the line," Josh chuckled. "Does she do pickles usually?"

"Um, yeah," Joe replied, and he bit his bottom lip as he smiled. "I guess I oughta get off my high horse, I don't like pickles. I'll eat 'em if they come on a sandwich or whatever, but I don't like it. But she'll take them off my hands and eat them for me; at the deli or whatever and I get one of those spears with my sandwich, and she's eating it for me before we're even out the door."

"Joseph Quinn, you hypocrite!" Josh exclaimed and Joe chortled. "Making fun of picky eaters but not eating pickles! For shame, sir!"

"It's my one flaw!" Joe cried. "Otherwise I'm perfect!"

You couldn't help your snort, and Joe turned to you in a flash. "Oh, do you have something to say, Mrs. Quinn?" he asked. "Something to add?"

"You thinking not eating pickles is your one flaw is very funny," you told him, smoothing your hand down Anthony's hair. "I could talk about the sock situation in our laundry room at the moment, or how your windowsill herb garden has spilled out onto our balcony, or how you always rile up the dog and Ant before bedtime, or—"

"Alright!" Joe whined playfully, and Anthony squealed out a laugh, recognizing Daddy's play-voice. "I get it! Stop the attack, woman, jeez."

"She's got a list," Josh smiled. "Are there any foods that are, like, special to you? Make you think of home or anything like that?"

"Um, yeah," Joe said thoughtfully. "Obviously a roast chicken. Umm, oddly, we have these little biscuits in the U.K., like it's a layer of sponge, then orange jam, then chocolate, but they're small, we have 'em with tea— they're called Jaffa cakes, and I don't have strong opinions on them, but my wife calls me Jaffa Cake when she's being sweet to me."

"Why Jaffa Cake?" Josh wheezed. "Are you just particularly sweet like one of those cookies?"

"Well, my initials," Joe began. "They're J.A.F, and one time a while ago, when we first started dating, we went out and she got very drunk. I ended up bringing her back to my flat because I didn't want her having to get an Uber alone back to her's, and she raided the pantry while I was showering, and she was eating out a packet of Jaffa cakes that my roommate had when I got back, and... I don't know, she was hammered and started laughing and calling me that, and she's never stopped."

You were glad he cut the story off there, because the detail Joe neglected to mention was that he had given you his bed to sleep in, and when you woke up the next morning, you had gotten ill in his bathroom. He had held your hair back and wiped your mouth with a washcloth when you were done, and he had kissed you for the very first time, even after you warned him that he probably didn't want to do that. While it was a very sweet story, you still burned with embarrassment at the memory of how drunk you had gotten that night.

"But yeah," Joe said. "Whenever I'm away from home and missing her, I track down a package of Jaffa cakes, and just even the smell of 'em make me think of my girl."

"Along with a roast chicken," Josh added, and Joe sputtered through his lips.

"Chicken and biscuits, the perfect way to think of my wife," Joe said. "You should come over next time you're in London. I'll roast you a chicken."

"That was... A lot of eye contact just then," Josh laughed. "I'm almost nervous now."

"Nah, don't be," Joe smiled. "I'll roast you a chicken, my son will show you his LEGO collection, we'll have a grand time."