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recapitulation · 2 years

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meal ideas!

low energy ("do not ask me to do any prep work at all, so help me god")

mozzerella cheese wrapped in pepperoni ("pizza tacos"!)

hummus and pretzels or naan (putting the naan in the microwave for like 10 seconds...heavenly)

canned chili (with shredded cheese and sour cream if you have it! boom done!)

instant miso soup (warm and lovely! put tofu in it for protein!)

cheese and cured meat, olives, canned fish, crackers, dried fruit, or whatever easy "charcuterie" type items you like

alternate bites of apple and spoonfulls of peanut butter (mixing honey or chocolate chips to the peanut butter is my favorite)

a "deconstructed sandwich": bites of lunch meat, pickles, cheese, cherry tomato, etc (I love roast beef and white cheddar for this)

yogurt and granola or fruit

put frozen potstickers + frozen edamame in the steamer/rice cooker, chill elsewhere with a timer set, then boom

tortilla chips + canned refried beans + cherry tomatoes + cilantro + jarred salsa con queso (or warm shredded cheese on top of the chips in the microwave for 30 seconds)

bagel + cream cheese + lox

microwave scrambled eggs (add things like green onion, soy sauce, or anything else you like!)

cottage cheese and fruit (mixed together or just on the side)

bowl of shredded rotisserie chicken + buffalo sauce + a bit of mayo + green onion (use a kitchen scissors to cut them right in!)

medium energy ("I'll boil water but don't ask me to chop shit")

boiled eggs and fresh veggies (put a little salt on top of the eggs!)

buttered noodles (my go-to nausea meal, it has never failed me. ideas of things to add: frozen peas, imitation crab, roasted garlic)

baked potato with toppings (I like cheese, bacon, broccoli, green onion, and sour cream)

quesadilla (add some canned beans, cilantro, or avocado!)

pot roast (requires a lot of time but not a lot of actual work. I love it with peas!)

cuban sandwich (bread, swiss, pickle, mustard, ham... my favorite thing to panini-ify by far)

pan-fried tofu with scallion sauce (this sauce goes well with everything and tofu is no exception)

pancakes or waffles! (I love mine with jam)

ham, pickle, and cream cheese roll-ups

fried eggs (with toast and lots of butter...so comforting)

fruit smoothie (bananas, frozen strawberries, yogurt...or whatever!)

I hate salad but could write essays on this copycat olive garden salad (throw it in a bowl! chopping required if you use onion)

spaghetti (controversial maybe but angel hair > spaghetti noodles)

pasta salad (olives broccoli fresh mozerella... those little mini pepperonis... yeah)

stir-fried thai garlic shrimp (I like using the mini frozen salad shrimps, it's easy! use jarred minced garlic to avoid chopping!)

tuna mayo onigiri

slow cooker ribs

buffalo chicken wrap (or any number of other wrap options! shred pre-cooked rotisserie chicken to make it easier)

if your local grocery store sells pre-cooked gyro strips, that can turn into an easy wrap with store-bought pita & tzatziki with tomatoes and onions!

couscous and chickpeas

tortellini + pasta sauce + spinach

high energy ("I don't mind chopping some things up!")

stuffed shells with spinach

chicken and roasted garlic (oh my god.....one of my all time favorites)

beef tacos (I like mine with cilantro and onion, and when I'm feeling especially high energy I love a tomatillo salsa)

chicken alfredo

tom kha gai (a thai soup and my absolute favorite! you just need access to galangal)

lasagna! (freezes well and then boom! low energy meal for later)

pad thai! (not as hard as you'd think, as long as you have access to tamarind paste!)

potstickers! (this is a lovely group activity if you want to cook with housemates!)

rice and beans

bang bang shrimp (ogughfhgfuh I love it. you can also do bang bang tofu!)

minestrone soup (so many nice veggies!)

fried rice (put whatever you have on hand in there! broccoli, peas, carrot, and beef is my favorite combo)

broccoli cheddar soup

spring rolls and peanut sauce

skewers (such as beef, onion, zucchini, bell pepper... you don't need a grill, oven works!)

roasted turkey with garlic parmesean asparagus

pork chop with mashed potatoes

panang curry

chicken gnocchi soup (use store bought gnocchi or make your own if you have a high energy day!)

bibimbap (super customizable depending on what veggies you like best)

butter chicken

plus! things that have helped me meal plan:

whenever you think of a meal you'd like to make, take 3 seconds to google search it, take a screenshot of the image results, and put it in a "food ideas" folder. instant visual menu!

the concept of "meal prepping" makes me recoil but I've learned that it can simply mean preparing shredded chicken, boiled eggs, or some other simple protein that you can customize throughout the week. shredded chicken can turn into wraps, salads, pasta dishes, etc... you don't have to meal prep yourself into the same meal all week!

when I have difficulty working up an appetite, I'll scroll through my favorite restaurant menus! there might be some foods I can't make at home, but many times they're very simple to recreate because the ingredients are literally listed!

#brought to you by: i see people complaining about coming up with meals for the week #and im like..this is my favorite thing to do........let me be your meal brainstormer #additionally brought to you by: eating something is better than nothing so some of these may not be complete textbook 'meals'#but sometimes you feel like shit and just need something! so!#also this energy scale is tailored to me personally so if some categorizations dont make sense to you thats bc its about me <3 #food #i might update this with dessert ideas too later. or just add to it in general

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vriendenboekjes · 1 year

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took my little fold up chair outside to sit and read in the sun and ive already fallen asleep. such a beautiful day 🌞

#also i already baked some veggies in the oven and boiled broccoli im going to have it with some pasta tonight i think #or maybe bruschetta hmmmm #🌬️

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slaybestieslay946 · 4 months

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omg I LOVED the dad!luke one you did!! I was wondering if you could do another future au with Poseidon daughter!reader? Maybe like Percy visiting is (half) nieces and nephews?

thanks sm for your request!! this is such a cute idea i hope i did it justice!

MASTERLIST

Blue Pasta

word count: 900

pairing: luke castellan x poseidon!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: down horrendous for luke cooking like OMFGG

“Luke, Y/N, we’re here!” A chirpy voice called out from the hall, and almost immediately you could hear the sounds of scurrying feet and paws rushing to meet the two demigods.

You abandoned your spot on the sofa to walk down the hall, smiling as you watched your brother interact with his nephew. You knew you should probably go and save Percy from the attack of your young son and a labrador, but the sight was just too adorable.

Annabeth quickly noticed your presence, grinning brightly as she stepped towards you, wrapping her arms around your middle for a hug, just like she had when she was a kid. Now she was just as tall as you, but still hugging you like she was ten.

“How’ve you been?” She asked, stepping away.

“Busy.” You laughed, “Apparently the second one’s supposed to be easier. Complete lie.”

She laughed in return, and it appeared Percy only just noticed you were standing right there, letting go of James for a moment to greet you.

“Is this really how you treat your only sister?” You remarked, looking sternly up at him.

“Sorry, but we all know I prefer hanging out with James.” He shrugged, and the young boy giggled mischievously from beside him.

“Yes, yes I know.” You then began to move back down the hallway, unable to tame your smile at the sound of your brother entertaining his nephew. He’d make a great dad someday, you were sure of it.

As you entered the kitchen, you couldn’t help but break into an even wider smile at the sight of your husband, wearing a stupid apron you’d gotten him that said, “I love my wife.”

When he caught sight of you all, he put down the bowl of cake mix he was holding and stepped around the kitchen counter, holding out his arms to embrace Annabeth, the girl he called his younger sister.

You watched as he gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder before moving onto Percy.

“Hey Perce.” He said, tugging your brother in for a hug by his outstretched hand and clapping him on the back.

“Good to see you man.” Percy responded, before looking down at his apron, “Damn, she’s got you whipped hasn’t she?”

“Damn right.” Luke declared, moving over to pull you into his side and plant a kiss into your hair.

He then returned to his baking, and all the adults stood for a while in the kitchen, conversing about one thing or the next. Annabeth’s new job, James’ school, typical ‘adult stuff’ that your son didn’t find particularly enthusing.

You spotted him whispering to Percy about how they should go out and play in the garden. The pair then turned to you for permission, to which you rolled your eyes before nodding.

You decided to follow after them, leaving Annabeth and Luke to catch up in the kitchen. You then picked up Violet from her cot and slipped on your garden shoes and entered the warm spring air.

Your brother and his nephew were in the centre of the small garden, kicking around a football and playfully attempting to score against one another. Percy kept up a running commentary the whole time, his little jokes here and there never failing to make James laugh. He also peppered in bits of praise about the boy's skill, leading your son onto a long rant about what he had learned in soccer practice that week.

Percy nodded along, asking questions animatedly, and you could tell he really did care. It warmed your heart to watch, and sometimes you wondered how you had all ended up here, able to carve out a space for yourselves after such troubled beginnings.

You and Luke had started a family, Percy was training to become a teacher, and Annabeth was on her way to becoming a world-renowned architect. Somehow, everything had worked out the way it was supposed to.

Eventually the two boys tired of their games, James slumping down on the grass to catch his breath, and Percy coming to sit beside you.

“Hey.” He said quietly, looking down at Violet almost in awe.

“You wanna hold her?” You offered, holding out the bundle in your arms.

He nodded quickly, taking her off you and cradling her in his arms.

“She looks so much like you.” He whispered, rocking the girl quietly, not taking his eyes off her tiny face.

You’d never really thought about it before, but he was right. You could tell James was Luke’s, that curly brown hair was almost unmistakeable, but looking at her now it was so clear that Violet was yours. She had the same eyes that you saw in the mirror everyday.

You turned back to Percy, who had tears in his eyes, and from the look on his face you could tell it was from pride, pride that him and his sister had managed to carve out these lives for themselves.

“Are you about to cry on me, Perce?” You asked, not unkindly.

“Nope!” He laughed, shaking his head.

You looked back at your little brother, the one you had welcomed into cabin 3 all those years ago, the one you would die for in a heartbeat, and the one that would do the same for his family, and you knew you also felt so much pride.

“C’mon.” You nudged, brushing away the tears in your own eyes, “It’s time for dinner. I got Luke to make blue pasta for you specially.”

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #writing #luke castellan #pjo #x reader #fanfic #fluff

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put-me-through-the-wall · 3 days

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Girl Next Door- Pt. 2

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: Simon finally accept your offer for dinner. Did you mention you can cook?

A/N: I was a little slow on this but the idea of them getting close was stressing me out, okay? Also my MIL was in town and I couldn't get in the groove. All the support so far is amazing, thank you guys so much! If y'all like it there will be more to come. Warning: still slow burning

Join my Taglist

Part I

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Simon sits across from you at your tiny dining table pressed against the wall of your cramped kitchen. You managed to lure him in with a fairly nice bottle of unopened scotch you found in the back of your cabinet that had potentially fallen into one of your own boxes when moving from your ex's house.

He looks around your quaint little one bedroom apartment. It was a lot different than his own. The literal layout was the same. No extra rooms or walls but you’d done something different in here. The whole space had a cozy feeling to it. Every surface was decorated with useless gadgets and trinkets that he didn't understand the purpose of. Lots of blankets, pillows, soft things. You had music quietly playing through your TV speakers in the living room. A few lamps fill the dim room creating a subtle yellow glow that hits the high points of your face, softening your tired features.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" you suddenly blurt out.

"S'cuse me?" Simon asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Lately I've been feeling like there's something inside of me that attracts horrible guys. Like, is there a beacon coming out my head that says 'hey, come over here. I'm vulnerable and easy'."

Simon pauses, unsure how to respond. He watches your face closely. You're sad eyes looking to him for an answer he doesn't have. "I think you're...nice," but he has a feeling that's not what you wanted to hear.

"nice?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Nice must translate to doormat," You sigh and drop your head into your hands.

Simon takes a sip of his drink. He's growing concerned this is entering too friendly territory. Then you pop your head back up.

"So, how much did you hear?"

"Not much"

"Yeah right," You toss him a coy smile. “Can I tell you what happened?”

“Sure,”

“Alright, so” you take a sip of your own drink and a deep breath before recounting your story. "I met him at work. He was really nice and offered to pick me up a coffee on his way in one day. I haven’t made any friends at work yet so it was nice just to chat over a coffee. Then we started having lunch together. Nothing serious just in the break room but it felt good to hear about something other than notes from my editor. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, I mean I moved here to focus on myself not continue dating more crappy guys. So of course he started texting me and he was really sweet. He complimented my outfits and thought all my jokes were hilarious apparently. I really wasn’t trying to get involved with this guy though. He said something about hearing I can cook and of course I said I do. It’s part of my job, duh. He’s giving my shit about it so I invited him over for dinner. I made this creamy potato gnocchi with Italian sausage that I got from that great butcher on the corner. I even hand rolled the gnocchi. I mean, who wouldn't kill for an authentic Italian meal?"

"He's sounds like some guy"

"Not really, I was testing out a new recipe for the column so, two birds one stone. Anyways, he comes up and we have some wine and listen to some music. It was going really well so far. Then I go to bring out a nice charcuterie board for an appetizer while the pasta finishes baking. While I'm bringing it to him I can see he's on his phone, texting someone and literally giggling. I walk up behind him and he is sexting. On my couch!" you throw you hands up incredulously. "Well, I thought he was. He’s looking at a picture of some girl bent over then I realize it’s me. He took a picture of my ass, while I was making him dinner. I couldn't fucking believe it. What kind of a scumbag does that to a woman preparing a fucking meal for him? Now, this is not something I'm proud of so let the record show this is very out of character for me but these were extraordinary circumstances. So, I dropped the fig chutney on his head. Right in his stupid quaffed hair. He jumps up and he's all mad and starts yelling and I'm yelling back. He calls me a crazy bitch then I call him a perv. After that he left." you conclude with a shrug.

"Wow" Simon responds, truly taken aback by the series of events.

"Yeah, then you know the rest from there. I don't know what came over me. I guess after my last breakup I haven't felt very good about myself and this guy made me feel, I don't know- fun? That feels silly to say. I should’ve known better from a guy that works the celebrity gossip section. I probably looked like a big baby out there, how dramatic. I'm sorry about that, again."

"You don't need to apologize."

"After I moved here I thought things would be different. I thought guys in the city were classier I guess. Turns out all guys are the same. Just take what they want and go. Do you want another drink?" You point to his now empty glass.

"Sure." You snag his cup and stand. He watches you walk over to the counter in your silky slip dress. The sleek fabric clings to your waist. Flaring around your hips and down your thighs. The warm light reflects on the shiny material, shifting with each step you take. It tightens perfectly about your waist and cinched with a neat little bow in the back. He wonders why you would wear a dress like that for this guy.

"So, do you date?" you question in a seemingly casual tone.

"No"

"Yeah right," you laugh and look over your shoulder to see his stoney expression and your smile fades. "Oh, sorry, I just- I find that hard to believe."

"Why is that?" He tilts his head and you focus back on filling his glass.

"It's just, you're a good looking guy. I would think you'd get plenty of female attention," You pivot back around and place the glass before him. You lean on the table with one hand and prop the other on your waist.

"'M not interested," his gaze stays fixed on the brown liquid, grabbing it and taking another sip. He doesn't miss the way you deflated the slightest bit.

"Maybe I should take a page out of your book, as in maybe swearing off men completely" The oven timer dings. "Oh! pasta!" You jump over and grab your oven mitts. You drop the oven door and slide out the sizzling dish. An aroma of cheese and basil fills the air. Your stomach audibly growls.

You pull down two plates from your cabinet. You serve up the steaming pasta, sprinkling parmesan and fresh chopped herbs for garnish. You proudly carry over the two dishes and place them carefully on the table. You place your hands on your hips while gazing down at the platter.

"This looks...great." Simon is truly taken aback by the incredible looking dish.

"Wait, don't eat yet. Let me get a picture." You scamper into your living room, grabbing your phone off the coffee table and scurrying back. You hold your phone high above for a birds eye view. Simon scoots his chair back to avoid the gaze of the lens. The camera clicks with a flash. You examine the photo, seeming satisfied with the quality and finally taking a seat in your own chair. "It was okay if you were in the picture. I don't mind."

"I do," he says simply.

To anyone else, Simon comes off as rude or callous but you, you never seem to let his shortness affect you. You take his words and just keep going. You don't mind his lack of conversation. It seems you are totally satisfied with having someone there to listen. He was starting to think he didn't mind listening so much.

"Oh," You shift uncomfortably in your chair. "Sorry then. Well, let me know what you think. Try to be detailed with your feelings about it if you can. You're my guinea pig and be honest. I don't want to put this out when it's garbage."

He proceeds to take a forkful in his mouth. He cannot control the groan that escapes his throat as the bold flavor hits his tongue. This is far cry from his usual take away food. He can't remember the last time he had a home cooked meal now that he thinks about it.

"This is quite good." He grumbled between bites. Not caring to finish chewing before he's stabbing at the pasta on the plate once again.

"Really? You don't need to be nice to spare my feelings. I don't mind criticism."

He shoves more in his mouth. "I’m serious"

"Thank you" You giggle watching him scarf down the still steaming hot meal.

The two of you finish your respective plates without much more conversation to be had. On your last few bites you meet Simon's eyes as he reclines back in the creaky wooden chair, hands laying across his stomach. His head tips back with a satisfied grumble making a proud smile play across your lips. This may be the first time you've seen him express a true human emotion in your presence.

"There's more if you want?"

"No, I'm stuffed."

If you know one thing as a part time chef, food is the way to a man's heart. You knew if Simon tasted what you could make his ice exterior would melt away. You stand up and walk to the fridge.

"Too stuffed for dessert?" you pull out a glass bowl filled with layers of custard, strawberries, cake, and whipped cream. "I made a traditional English trifle. Y'know for the holidays coming up and who doesn't love custard?" you shrug while carrying the bowl over to the table. You hurry back to the kitchen to grab two saucers and plate up the dessert.

"If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to butter me up." he comments, intently watching as you carefully slice through the layers. "What do you know about English food?"

"Not much, which is why this is a special occasion. I can get some insight from a genuine Englishman," you slide the saucer to him. "Everything happens for a reason, I guess you were meant to be here tonight" you don’t realize how weird that comment is until it's already left your mouth. You suppress the feeling and internally cringe. You take a seat with your own plate and try a bite. "Hey, that's not too bad. I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud"

Simon actually chuckles when you compliment yourself making you giggle in return. This whole night is very different than you expected. Not that you were complaining.

Your leg bumps his underneath the narrow table. Your bare foot brushing up the edge of his pant leg for the briefest moment. A deep blush rises to your cheeks the second you realize it's his leg instead of the table's.

"Oh, sorry!" you quickly draw your legs underneath your chair. Simon pauses his eating and meets your gaze.

"S'alright," he slowly slides his long leg across the distance and nudges the shin of your tucked legs with the toe of his boot. "You scared?"

"What?" you allow your legs to relax, your calves sitting on either side of his outstretched leg. It felt natural, almost domestic. "You don't scare me." you're lying paired with an anxious laugh.

"No?" As he says this his foot shifts underneath the supports of your chair and yanks it forward causing your chair to skid a few inches across the tile, pressing you further into the table as you let you a surprised yelp. Hands brace against the edge of the table. Simon maintains his calm composure. "Are you sure?" he takes another bite of the fluffy dessert.

You weren't sure if it was the liquor going to your head or the rush of adrenaline but you felt bold. You rest your cheek on your propped up hand, offering the most innocent eyes you can muster, as you delicately slide your foot along the smooth leather of his boot. Simon swallows and gently places his fork back on the table.

"What do you think of it?" you question in a hushed tone. your foot travels further up his ankle, dipping under his pant leg to feel his hot skin underneath.

"It's sweet," He states simply but his words roll off his tongue smooth as butter.

"Not too sweet?" You tilt your head the slightest bit.

"Hm," he hums in contemplation. Your eyes drift down to watch his hands grasp his drink. He grips the glass in his large palm. The rolled sleeves of his long sleeve reveal the muscles in his arm shifting when he raises the glass to his mouth. For the first time you notice a faint raised scar cutting through the outer corner of his lip and stopping just shy of the edge of his nose. He takes a long swig of the brown liquid, not quite finishing the drink. As he pulls back his lips glisten in the warm light. "Not bad when it's paired with a stiff drink," his tongue is quick to swipe across, collecting the residue.

"I'll be sure to make a note of that." you smile sweetly. "Can I get you another drink?" You look down at the last sip coating the bottom of the glass. You make sure to flutter your lashes when you look back up at him.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" A smirk raises the corner of his mouth.

"No," you laugh. "Why, do you want me to?"

He releases a deep gravelly laugh that makes your stomach stir. Then he glances at his watch and your stomach drops.

"I need to get going." He mumbles. He pulls his leg away from yours and rises out of his chair.

"Wait," you rush to stand, almost knocking your seat over in the process. "Can I- uh- get you a bit of pasta to go? There’s plenty left" Trying to think of any excuse to keep him here a moment longer.

"S'okay, save it. Maybe I'll come by another time." He turns and steps out of your kitchen and into the hallway leading to your front door in only a few wide strides.

"Are you sure?" You don't intend for your voice to come out as needy as it does. You follow on his heels like a lost puppy.

"I've got an early morning." Before he reaches the door he turns, seemingly surprised by how close you are to him. He looks down at your big round eyes.

"Okay," you smile trying not to look defeated. "Well, you're welcome over anytime. I mean it, just knock and I'll probably be home. I'm gonna try writing at home more. Try to avoid that guy." You let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Maybe, you should get my number. Y'know, in case you want to check if I'm home."

"I'm alright, I'll just knock" His hand finds the doorknob. "Thanks for dinner, it was nice" Then he turns to go. Closing the door politely behind him.

You rush to the peephole, watching his distorted figure step out of sight followed by the sound of his own door shutting. You rest your hot forehead against the cool wood grain of your door.

You step back in the kitchen and begin putting away the leftovers. Piling the pasta into tupperware, rinsing the plates, collecting silverware. His glass remains in place with a sliver of scotch leftover. You hold the glass up in the light and see a faint smudge on its rim. You twist the cup around so your own mouth lines up with the imprint he left. You swallow the last bit slowly, savoring the way the sharp burn eases into a smooth, smoky aftertaste. You never liked scotch, but now you are starting to understand the meaning of an acquired taste.

The low atmospheric music is abruptly interrupted by an ad loudly cutting through the calm space. You rush into the living room to find the remote, hiding among the cushions and various throw pillows. Growing frustrated you end up walking over and manually hitting the power button. The silence that replaces it isn’t much better though. You step back and let your weak legs carry you until you collapse onto the comfort of your couch. The wine followed by the glass of scotch you polished off makes your head feel light but your limbs so heavy. You turn from your back to your side, realizing the used glass is still clutched in your hand.

You reach across the gap and set it down on the coffee table with a thud. Your hand retreats back to rest under your head. You stare at it, taking in all the imperfections left on its reflective surface. Your eyes trace the rim once again looking for the smudge. On the corner you see the shadow of an impression peeking out underneath the red lipstick mark you have smeared over it.

𝜗𝜚

Across the wall Simon falls back on his own couch. He looks around his dull apartment wondering what you have done differently to make your place look so welcoming. He never minded the minimal decorations he had. A photo frame with his team that his buddy gifted him and a couple of books always seemed like enough. After comparison though it just feels empty.

He can hear you stomp across your floor. Footstep rushing from the kitchen until you're straight ahead. The sound of your TV turning off bathes the room in sudden silence. Only thing he can hear now is the rushing of his air conditioning unit. He considered your music annoying but now he couldn’t deny the way it added an unconscious energy to the small unit. Now sitting here, the cool tone of the overhead kitchen light illuminating into the living room he feels as though something is missing. Maybe a nice lamp would help.

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@azkza @neurolept @contractedcriteria @hidden-treasures21 @sprokat @stark-red19

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fic #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2

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kcrossvine-art · 10 months

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Heya folks! Its been a bit, food insecurity is a bitch, but today on the quest of cooking our way through Lord of the Rings we're gonna be making a dish exclusively mentioned in the 2007 MMO-

We will be making a Rohan Pasty!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Rohans Pasty?” YOU MIGHT ASKBasics. Meat n potatoes of your meat-in-dough food. .

All-purpose flour

Salt

Baking powder

Vegetable oil

Olive oil

Ground beef

Garlic salt

Ground cumin

Chili powder

Dried oregano

Waxy potato

Garlic

White onion

Egg

"A delicious local pastry filled with beef and potatoes."- LOTRO Rohan is a kingdom of humans in middle-earth, and the description point towards a cornish pasty (yes, pasty not pastry). Oddly enough the image is more of an empanada but you win some you lose some. This heritage informs much of the shape and ingredients of this dish, however we're opting to cook most of the ingredients before adding them in, contrary to going in raw as a cornish pasty calls for. I chose to deviate here because cooking beforehand allows more seasoning to be crammed in. The english hate seasoning.

AND, “what does a Rohans Pasty taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Tastes like the best pot pie youve had, less soggy

Excellent for an after-rugby/martial arts/soccer dinner

The potatoes are foundational

Despite needing the least work

Pasta salad (cucumber, olives, pepperocini) would pair well as a side

And would also pair well with beer

This meal bears the gold star sticker of not having any major issues! Hooray! Maybe its increased comfortability in the kitchen, or maybe its because of how very simple this one is. Chopped roasted bell pepper might be good in the filling in the future.

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Get the dough ready ahead of time- its mentioned in the recipe below but i also wanted to say a foreword here that it needs to sit in the fridge for a few hours. Just so ya dont get everything out and realise itd take too long for dinner tonight. Speaking of dough, i feel like it could have more flavor added to it. Its bland and although its not part of the tradition of the meal its based off of, cornish meat pasty, it might be nice to add some spices like cumin or black pepper to the flour.

The meal reheats perfect- wrap in papertowl and put it in the microwave for 30 seconds per pasty.

When picking your potatoes make sure theyre "new" potatoes (baby ones) or whichever potato with the least amount of starch you can get. Its important for it to cook inside the pasty that it not have too much lest it get Mushy Bad.

Another thing about its real-life inspo; Cornish pastys were workers food, stuff you could carry into the mines, stuff thatd reheat well. You could hold the crust with your dirty hands and throw it away once you ate the rest. I always feel partial to these foods. Although I'd still eat the dirty crust.

This recipe earns a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.)

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Dough Ingredients:

370g all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

74g vegetable oil

240g warm water

Filling Ingredients:

2 tablespoons(ish) olive oil

1 pound ground beef

2 tablespoons tomato paste

Garlic salt to taste

Ground cumin to taste

Chili powder to taste

Dried oregano to taste

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 white onion, diced

Method:

Combine flour, salt and baking powder.

Add oil and water into mixer with dough hook running at medium speed. Mix for 1 minute, stopping several times to scrape the sides of the bowl.

When mixture comes together and begins to form a ball, decrease mixing speed to low. Continue to mix just until dough is smooth.

Take the dough ball, safely wrap it, and transfer to fridge. Let sit for at minimum 2 hours.

For the meat, get a large skillet, and add some olive oil over medium heat. Add the ground beef and garlic salt, cook until the beef is cooked completely.

Drain the beef and set aside.

In the same pan, add the garlic, onions, cumin, chili powder, oregano, and salt.

Cook until the onions are softened but not brown, 10 to 15 minutes. Re-add the beef and cook over low heat for about 5 more minutes.

Back to the dough, transfer dough from fridge to well-floured work surface. Roll into log and divide into 10 equal portions.

Preheat oven to 350f.

Form each piece into a ball and flatten each with a rolling pin.

Add a layer of diced potatos down the middle of the pastys. Add the meat filling to each. Fold the sides of the dough up to seal on top in the middle.

Gently turn the pasty on its side and crimp the edge, alternating a braid pattern. Use knife to cut an "X" shaped slit in the top. Repeat for each pasty.

Place the pastys on a greased baking sheet. Lightly coat each pasty with an eggwash using a basting brush.

Cook for about 50 minutes, or until golden brown, and let cool!

#cross cooks lotr #lotro #the hobbit #lord of the rings #food recipe

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radioisntdead · 24 days

Text

Adore

Alastor x reader

Warnings:

This is short, not my best work I WILL REDEEM MYSELF. Alastor is implied to break in at the end.

Good evening folks!

APOLOGIES FOR THIS BEING DELAYED, I accidentally deleted the whole thing and then I just laid on Barnaby out of defeat and slept.

ANYWAYS HERE'S WEDNESDAY'S ANGST, or Wednesday's poor excuse for angst, the original was better.

I'll be posting another angst fic later today, hopefully, it's either gonna be with Lute or another Alastor one

Song

A-one, two, three, four

You completely and utterly adored Alastor, how could you not?

He was quite charming! Sure he was a cannibalistic murderer but that for some reason wasn't a deal breaker for you.

A side effect from being in hell probably or possibly because you were just as screwed up as he was just in a different format!

Everything you do, it sends me

You had met him while working at Rosie's emporium, Rosie had asked you to make some tea while she taught Alastor the newest slang she had gathered.

Higher than the moon with every twinkle in your eye

Turns out you both had so much in common!

Both of you had gained deer attributes after your fall to eternal damnation, had a strong distaste for the lustful cravings of the flesh, thought cannibalism was neat, Rosie was a dear friend, and held a fondness and strong preference for the years you were alive.

You strike a match that lights my heart on fire

Rosie being the matchmaker she was decided to nudge the two of you together, after all she saw how well you and Alastor matched together, and it worked! Of course it did.

When you're near, I hide my blushing face

You and Alastor fit together perfectly, like pillows and blankets, like shoes and laces.

And trip on my shoelaces

He'd take you dancing, hand gently placed on your waist when you would dance more classically, or you'd have arms and legs frailing around like a octopus when you'd give more energetic dances a try.

Grace just isn't my forté

The two of you enjoyed cooking together in the kitchen, Jambalaya, curries, biscuits and gravy, pasta, gumbo, baked breads and whatever else you could think of, you made together.

But it brings me to my knees when you say

You'd help Alastor out with his radio broadcast, by either proofreading his scripts or finding an unfortunate sinner to make an appearance with their screams.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

You didn't know where things went wrong, everything was going well!

I fall into a pile on the floor, deer love is hard to ignore

At least you thought so, the last day you spent with Alastor the two of you had made a lovely dinner together, you had set the table with fresh flowers, a candle or two.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

After dinner the two of you danced to some jazzy song from his era, and he twirled you around.

We're as different as can be

His hand holding yours.

I've noticed you're remarkably murdery and I'm slightly less murdery

His red eyes staring adoringly into yours.

We balance out each other nicely

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before you went to sleep that night.

You wear fancy shoes in the snow

You had awoken in the morning and Alastor wasn't there.

You assumed he had stepped out and he'd be back soon.

In mid-July, I still feel cold

But as the clock continued to tick and the red skies turned into a deeper red you were worried but you knew he could handle himself maybe he just got caught up in something? Perhaps with that TV guy he was 'friends' with?

We're opposites in every way

Hours turned into days and days into weeks,

No one had heard from nor had they seen Alastor.

You looked everywhere for him, asking around, desperately trying to find out where he went.

but I can't resist it when you say

Vox apparently tried to get him to join his little V themed posse and Alastor rejected him, rather harshly and also broke his little TV antenna while he was at it.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Rosie hadn't heard from him either, and obviously you wouldn't be asking around if you knew where he was.

I fall into a pile on the floor

Weeks turned into months and before you knew it those months became years.

He was just gone, leaving only traces of his existence.

Puppy love is hard to ignore, when every little thing you do, I do adore

For the first few years you would frequently pop into his radio tower, hoping that maybe, just maybe he would be there for some reason, and when he undoubtedly wasn't, you cleaned the place up, keeping it in tip top shape.

Finding words, I mutter

Once it hit the five year mark you stopped popping in, allowing dust and whatever else to consume the radio tower untill further notice.

Tongue-tied, twisted

You stopped hoping that Alastor would just waltz on into your shared home, with that yellowed grin of his and static following.

Hoove in mouth, I start to stutter, Ha, ha, Heaven help me

You stopped looking for Alastor.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Seven years, he was gone for seven years,

He was back and he didn't have the decency to even pay you a visit? You had to hear about his return from him publicly beefing with Vox.

I fall into a pile on the floor, Puppy love is hard to ignore

If Alastor wasn't going to come find you then you wouldn't go out of your way to find him either, even if that hazbin hotel where he was residing was only a 30 minute walk away.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

Alastor didn't intentionally ghost you, his absence was only supposed to be for a short while.

Unfortunately he was foolish enough to make a deal that had kept him away from you for seven long years, his dear friend Rosie had been kind enough to fill him in on your activities since his disappearance but not before scolding him harshly for not even having the decency to send a postcard.

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

He had been back for a time now, how rude of him to not pay his dearest a visit! After all you were looking for him until recent years right?

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

Alastor was someone you completely and utterly adored once.

And unfortunately he still adored you to some degree considering he was standing in front of you in the doorway of the house you had once shared, he was as smiley as ever, his grin grew larger as he saw your confused expression.

"Good evening my darl-" he was interrupted by you slamming the door in his face.

Every little thing you do, I do adore

It seems you weren't as excited to see him as he expected, oh well! Good thing for him that you didn't bother to change the locks.

Good evening folks my apologies, this is more comedic then angsty, hope you enjoyed though I will redeem myself.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you

170 notes · View notes

zegrasdrysdale · 1 month

Note

jamie and reader looking through baby names :((

[ what’s in a name ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : Jamie and his girlfriend try to find the perfect baby name

warning(s) : none really

author’s note : this is very dialogue heavy btw. it’s very conversation based. also kinda short oops

༺═──────────────═༻

Baby Drysdale is due in a month and they still don’t have a name. The nursery in their new house is Voorhees got done before they found a baby name.

There was a time where she knew what she wanted her baby's name to be. She was also ten. Now she’s an adult and is in charge of naming an actual human being.

Today is the day though. She and Jamie are going to sit down and pick out their baby’s name. Baby Drysdale will have a name before coming into the world if it’s the last thing they do.

Jamie sits at the kitchen island with a notebook while she runs around the kitchen to cook dinner. She’s been craving a baked dish so she’s making lasagna for them.

“Do we want a neutral gender name?” Jamie questions. “Since we don’t know if the baby’s a boy or a girl. We can come up with names for both a boy and a girl if you want too.”

She gently stirs the large pasta noodles as she thinks. “I think gender neutral is good,” she replies. “I do have one request though.”

“What?”

“If we have a girl, her middle name is Marie for my mom.”

She looks up to look at her boyfriend and Jamie smiles at her. “Absolutely,” he says. “I won’t say no to that.”

Her mom died about three months before they found out they were expecting Baby Drysdale. It’s like she sent them the little angel growing in her daughter’s belly. That is why Baby Drysdale’s middle name will be Marie if they are a girl.

Jamie scribbles down the idea. “Okay, we have a middle name,” he comments. “If we have a girl. What about if we have a boy?”

She wracks her brain as she tries to think about a middle name if Baby Drysdale is a boy. “What about your brother or dad?” she asks. “Maybe a grandfather that meant a lot to you? Any of their names?”

Her boyfriend sighs behind her. “I mean, my dad’s name is Gary and my brother’s name is Charlie,” he replies. “I wasn’t super close to my grandfathers so I wouldn’t want to name our baby after one of them.”

“I like Charlie as a middle name,” she comments. “Would he mind if we stole his name?”

Jamie laughs. “I don’t think he’ll mind,” he tells her. “He would probably love it.”

“Then Charlie as a middle name if Baby Drysdale is a boy,” she says.

She pours the cooked pasta into a strainer in the sink so she can start layering the dish. “Now we need a first name,” Jamie says. “Especially a name that goes with both middle names we picked out.”

There’s movement behind her and she glances back. He is grabbing is laptop and bringing it back to the island. “What are you doing?” she questions.

“I am going to find a list of names and we are going to go through it until we find one we both like,” he says as he types something. “And the baby’s name isn’t going to be something basic and common either. We’re going all in.”

She laughs and layers the dish. “Alright,” she sighs. “Hit me with some names.”

“We got Avery first on the list,” Jamie tells her.

Avery Marie or Avery Charlie. “I’d like it better as a girl’s name,” she admits. “Avery Marie sounds very pretty.”

Jamie scribbles that done. “I agree,” he replies. “Next we have Taylor.”

She thinks about it as she licks some sauce off her finger. “I like it,” she says. “For both.”

More scribbling as she throws a layer of foil on top of the dish. “Next we have Wyatt,” Jamie says. “I will say that I am not a fan of this name. It doesn’t go well with either middle name.”

“Agreed. Next.”

There’s a moment of silence between them as she puts the dish in the oven and timer. She walks over to Jamie and wraps her arms around him from behind so she can see over his shoulder. “How about Silas if Baby D is a boy?” he asks. “It just popped up at a separate list at the end.”

Silas Charlie. “I love it,” she replies. She watches Jamie write it down.

“So I think we have our names,” Jamie comments. “Avery if Baby D is a girl and Silas if Baby D is a boy.” He looks up at her.

Without realizing it, tears well in her eyes. “We have our names,” she echoes. The tears spill onto her cheeks.

Jamie turns in the high stool and faces her. “Baby, you don’t have to cry,” he coos as he uses his thumbs to dry her tears. “This is supposed to be a happy moment.”

“I know,” she laughs. “I can’t help it. I’m a very emotional person right now.”

He pulls her into a hug and rests a hand on her belly to give the baby a hug. “I love you both,” Jamie says. “Emotions and all.”

She laughs and rests her cheek on her boyfriend’s head as he gently rubs her belly.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist: @fanboysfangirl @dasiysthings @equallyshaw @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable @ivy-34

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #hockey blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl blurb #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale fic #zegrasdrysdale request

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mountainsandmayhem · 1 month

Text

Aisle Amore

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader Summary: You truly never know who you might meet in the grocery store. CW: no smut, all fluff. Flirting, mention of divorce, talks of food, more adorable flirting. Word Count: 3.4k AN: I've gone soft!! I couldn't stop thinking about how the couple in Wonderful Tonight and Netflix & Chill met and even though no one asked, this is exactly how they met. I worked in a grocery store for almost 15 years and I can tell you right now that I would to SPRINTING to the pasta aisle. Special thank you to @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading and both her and @littlevenicebitch69 for helping me come up with a title. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

To you, there’s nothing worse than asking for help. You’ve been fiercely independent your entire life, and these snapped ligaments have been testing you. Your friends say they don’t mind helping, but YOU mind them helping. The pain in your ankle has finally subsided enough that you can put a little weight on it and only use one crutch.

Freedom!

You shut your laptop at 6 pm, change into something that isn’t pyjama pants and begrudgingly put on a bra. The first stop on your newly found freedom tour is the grocery store. Thirteen year old you would be appalled at how excited you are over this. You jot down all the ingredients you’ll need to make homemade pasta, marinara sauce and meatballs.

Living in downtown DC has lots of perks, one of them being you can walk to the grocery store that’s just around the block. After gingerly testing your ankles a few times you decide you can walk there. Your dad’s voice echoes through your head, “This family doesn’t cry, take care of yourself, don’t depend on anyone but you”.

The walk there is easy, it feels good to be out in the summer evening sun, soaking in the vitamin D that you’ve been missing out on the last few weeks. You grab one of those small baskets with wheels and head into the store. It might be dramatic, but it’s been almost three weeks since you’ve been out on your own and you feel that same hyped elation you had at 16 when you got your license and your parents allowed you to go out on your own the first time. Except at 16 you picked up your friends and went to the record store, you were much cooler in your youth.

“Stick to the list,” you say to yourself, realizing you’re slowly becoming just like your mother. That’s fucking depressing.

The first items are olive oil and flour, you crutch along, the sounds of metal clicking and the rubber bottom squeaking following you as you move along the shiny white tile floor. A song you vaguely remember hearing during your childhood plays overhead, Eric Clapton singing about a woman looking lovely. The bakery must have fresh bread, and the delicious scent of it makes your mouth water.

Focus!

As you turn down the pasta aisle, you brush past a man in a suit who’s looking at the canned pasta sauces, poor sap, and stop about ten feet away from him. The small bag of flour you need is on an easily accessible shelf but of course, there’s only one left and it’s all the way at the back.

Marcus holds up a jar of canned marinara, silently humming along to Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton. He swears he hears his grandmother on his mother’s side rolling in her grave. She wasn’t Italian, but owned a restaurant and was definitely looking down at him ashamed that he was BUYING something she taught him to make.

Sorry grams, he thinks, just as someone hobbles past him, vanilla wafting behind her, temporarily replacing the scent of the fresh bread he’s also going to pick up. His grandmother might come back just to slap him for this dinner tonight. Granted, he did just return from seeing his ex and her new boyfriend so maybe she’d take pity on him. Bake him those gooey chocolate chip cookies he loved so much.

As he turns to head toward the pasta he sees a woman who quite frankly takes his breath away. She’s so beautiful that he almost can’t take her all in at once. Her bare legs are toned and tanned, wrapped in long black biker shorts, paired with a plain grey t-shirt and unzipped black hoodie. One high top converse laced up on one foot, the other in an uncomfortable looking boot. Her hair is in a low messy bun with almost too perfectly placed pieces along her neck and face. She seems to invade every ounce of him, until all he can see is her and all he can smell is warm vanilla. His mouth goes dry, and his heartbeat fills his ears.

This next bit happens so quickly that he doesn’t have time to even think about it. But you would later describe it as not one of your finest moments, and he would describe it as the moment that changed his life.

He watches as you reach above your head, raising up on the tippy toe of your good foot. As you lean forward, your hollow aluminum crutch slips out from underneath you and falls to the ground. An echoing tinny bang startles you and you stumble, putting too much pressure on your broken foot. The sweetest sounding “Ouch! Motherfucker,” leaves your pouty pink lips as Marcus rushes to catch you.

“Whoa,” he says as he reaches out to steady you, one hand wrapping around your hip, the other cupping your elbow, helping you off your injured leg. “Are you ok?”

Your cheeks flush as you look up at him. “Sorry, thank you.”

Your bright blue eyes wash over him, and something tugs behind his heart. Eric Clapton singing "Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight" as he stands there temporarily stunned, unsure of where he is or what is name is. It's just you.

It doesn’t make any sense, you could be married for all he knows, but something about you draws him in. He didn’t think he’d feel this way again for a very long time, but he needs to find a way to keep talking to you.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, his hand moving from your elbow, reaching up and easily plucking the flour off the shelf.

“Thanks, I could have gotten it.” You say and he fights to stop from laughing. He can tell that you’re not someone who asks for help. No, you’re independent and strong willed. And fuck if that doesn’t just make that tug behind his heart pull that much harder.

“I know you can, you just scared me.” He looks down at you softly as you stare up at him.

He’s suddenly very aware that he still has one hand on your hip. Your shirt had ridden up as you wobbled, and the skin of your hip is soft and warm against his palm. He finds himself wondering if the rest of you is just as comforting. Just as an inviting. The light scent of your vanilla perfume fills the small space between the two of you.

“Look,” he says, finding it inside himself to peel his hand off you now that you’re steady, placing your flour in your basket and bending to grab your crutch. “My grandma is already cursing me from heaven for buying canned sauce and boxed pasta. Can you please let me help you?”

You open your mouth and then close it, almost like you’re trying to come up with a reason to not let him, so he quickly adds, “For my sake.”

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head and taking your crutch from this incredibly handsome stranger.

Please don’t be married. Or a total creep.

“Smooth,” you say teasingly.

He tugs at his white button up shirt collar. “Is it hot in here?" He fakes a dramatic cough, "I swear - she’s watching me.”

You look up at the white painted ceiling of the grocery store. “OK, grandma. Chill. I’ll let him help me.”

When you look back at him he’s smiling from ear to ear, and if you thought he was handsome before; well, fuck, there’s not even a word to describe how unbelievably charming he looks right now.

He looks down at your basket before saying, “Do you have a big list?”

“Umm,” you say holding out the special lined paper you have to make grocery lists. “I have a few things, ya.”

His thick fingers brush lightly against yours as he takes the list. You can’t help but notice that he’s not wearing a wedding ring, score, his nails are trimmed short and his cuticles are nicely manicured. You assume he must have some sort of fancy office job, like a lawyer or an accountant. He seems to radiate stability and you didn't realize you could be so aroused by fingers.

“Are you making pasta? And sauce?” He asks as his brown doe eyes scan your list.

“I am,” you say proudly. You might not be a world famous chef, but you take pride in your cooking abilities.

He smiles back at you again. “Stay here,” he says softly, “I’m gonna grab a cart.”

As he turns to walk away, taking your basket and his sauce with him, you notice the way his grey suit jacket clings to his broad shoulders. Accountant by day, muscle model by night? Muscle model? Great, he’s broken your brain.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the distinct rumbling of the plastic wheels of a shopping cart heading your way. Just as your handsome stranger comes back into the aisle “At Last” by Etta James starts to play.

“I’m Marcus, by the way,” he says, grabbing a box of pasta on the shelf and sitting it next to his sauce in the top part of the cart.

You say your name and notice the tiniest glint in his eye as the sound of it wraps around him. “Well then, we’d better get going on this list.”

He moves slowly, allowing you to set the walking pace. He’s taken your list and the entire thing feels almost too domestic, like you can envision yourself doing this every weekend with him for the rest of your lives. Maybe there would even be a kid in that little part where he puts his boxed pasta and canned sauce.

“Alright, so we covered names and who grew up where. So, what do you do for a living?” You ask, snatching a bottle of olive oil off the shelf.

“I - uh - I work in law enforcement,” he says.

You look at him, then his tie, then back at him. With a hint of amusement in your voice you say, “Pretty fancy dress code. What are you? Like FBI or something.”

“Yes, actually. And now that you know that, I miiiight have to kill you.”

You laugh, “Sure know how to put a girl at ease, Agent Pike.”

The way you say agent, all teasing and flirty, goes straight to his cock. He’s been called Agent Pike thousands of times over his career but it’s never sent a shiver down his body like that before.

He runs a hand over his patchy scruff. “I’m kidding. About the killing part, not the FBI part.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” you laugh.

Whitney Houston’s voice floats across the store, singing about dancing with someone who loves her.

Neither of you is particularly paying attention to your list or what aisle you’re in. You snake up and down each aisle, both of you occasionally grabbing something you need.

“What about you?” He asks. Something about the way he asks a question seems different. It’s like when Marcus asks something he’s genuinely asking, not just trying to force conversation. With every answer you give his eyes focus on yours, he nods and seems curious and excited to hear what you have to say.

The bar is truly in hell if I’m turned on by a man who’s just treating me like a human.

“I run a small online store for my, umm, for my designs.” This part is always awkward, men change how they treat you once they find out what you do for a living. You avoid his eyes, he’s so goddamn handsome and you’re already disappointed that he’ll soon give you an ick with how he’ll respond to your career, how all men respond.

“Your designs? Are you an artist?” His eyes light up and he stands a little taller when he asks, he must love art. He’s going to be thrilled to find out your best friend owns a gallery, and probably even more thrilled when he learns you hurt your ankle falling off a step ladder she had you posing on as she painted you, and yes, you were completely nude.

“No,” you laugh. “I design clothing. Sort of.” You continue avoiding his eyes and chew on the inside of your cheek as you grab some dried oregano and place it in the basket.

“Hey,” he says softly, stopping by the spices, “You don’t have to tell me something you don’t want me to know.”

“It’s not that. It’s just,” you stop, glancing up at his warm chocolate brown eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows, and you have the sudden urge to sink your teeth into his neck. “Men just usually treat me differently once they know.”

He narrows his eyes at you and his lips curl into a tight lipped and curious smile. “That’s clickbait. Now you have to tell me.”

“Or you’ll kill me?” You laugh.

“Yes, FBI remember,” he says sarcastically.

You take a deep breath through your nose before you begin. “Ok, I design and sell lingerie.” You try to sound as casual as possible, smiling sweetly at him before you start walking again.

Marcus doesn’t follow along so you look over your shoulder at him. Is he blushing?

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes. “I don’t see how that would make someone treat you differently.”

“Then why are you blushing, Pike?” You flutter your lashes at him as he catches up to you in the aisle.

The pink of his cheeks deepened, “I’m not blushing. Pretty sure I got a sunburn when I grabbed the cart.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that being indoors during sunset is a very dangerous UV time.” You joke.

He laughs, “You’d be shocked how many people don’t believe it.”

You both laugh as you head towards the produce department for your tomatoes and onions. Elvis’s ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ comes over the speakers, and even though other people are shopping, it feels like it’s being targeted at just the two of you. You pluck a few tomatoes from the shelf and he opens the little plastic bag for you to place them in.

He takes a breath to start speaking and you brace yourself for the inevitable. All men do it. They all either ask what your company is called so they can look up your Instagram later or they’re bold and flat out ask you to model some of your designs for them.

“Where’d you learn to make pasta?” He asks, his voice quivering at the closeness of your body to his.

“Umm, I sort of did an Eat, Pray, Love thing recently.” You say quietly, smiling up at him. It’s the tiniest movement, but you swear his eyes flick to your lips as your hand brushes against his while you reach into the bag. Your heart is pounding behind your ribs, it’s almost unfair how handsome he looks under these fluorescent lights.

“Oh? Like you went to Italy?” His voice is low and nervous as he watches you picking up tomatoes, squeezing them gently and smelling them. Carefully choosing the best ones.

“Yes. Without spilling my whole life story, I got married young and then divorced a few years ago. I just kind of needed a hard reset on myself.” You drop two more tomatoes in the bag and then side step, or more more like side hobble, to the onions.

“Huh,” he says, “I can honestly say that I know exactly what you mean by that.”

You both smile at each other, you swear you can see his pulse flutter in his neck before he says, “Unfortunately, I think we have everything on your list,” he finishes off his sentence by saying your name and it sends an explosion of butterflies in your lower belly. You don’t know if you’ve ever met someone who makes you feel like you have somehow known them for your whole life but is also brand new.

“Sorry. You probably have places to be and I’m -“ Your voice trails off when he slowly steps even further into your space.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says softly, his fingertips brushing against yours causing a buzzing up your arm. Just then ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden rains down from the speakers. Marcus laughs gently and continues, “Is it just me or has the music been interesting in here tonight?”

You move your pointer finger just a hair so it brushes against his, “ya, sounds like the crab from The Little Mermaid is in charge.”

A laugh from his stomach passes his lips, it’s joyous and melodic and even though you’ve just met him, you want to make him laugh like that for the rest of your life. He’s smiling so big that you can see all his straight white teeth. His head tips forward slightly and the skin around his eyes crinkles. You’re both so close, he smells like mint and a new book and everything around you seems to fall away, blurring around the edges. It’s overwhelming. Dizzying even. He’s the one. You can’t explain it, but you were meant to be in this grocery, with this annoying boot and crutch.

“That’s not quite the comparison I would have used, but yes.” His eyes dance around yours, still laced with amusement and happiness. “Is he a crab or lobster?”

“I think he’s a crab,” you say, pulling your hand back from his to stop yourself from leaping off that cliff and into his arms.

“I think he’s a lobster,” he counters, stepping back but never breaking the connection of his eyes with yours.

As you head towards the checkout you glance towards the shopping cart nervously, remembering that you walked here.

Both of you pay for your groceries in a comfortable silence and he scolds you teasingly for trying to grab your bags. “Grandma is still watching.”

The two of you head for the exit. “Did you park somewhere?”

“No. I can take them from here,” you’re not going to let this man drive you somewhere or walk you home. That’s ridiculous. You are strong and you’ve already impeded his life enough.

He lifts his eyebrow suspiciously and turns just a touch so you can’t reach your bags. “You walked here, didn’t you?”

“It’s really fine, Marcus. It’s not far. Thank you for your help. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I have an apartment that way,” he says, nodding his head in the same direction you need to go.

“Oh that’s very forward of you, but I know better than to go to a secondary location with a stranger.” And he does it again, that beautiful, happy laugh. “I’m in the same direction.”

You walk down the quiet street. People always say they wouldn’t want to live downtown because it’s too noisy, but truthfully, after the work crowd disperses for the evening and the dinner rush parts, it’s quite peaceful.

“How sure are you that he’s a lobster? Willing to make a bet?”

He looks over at you cautiously. “Alright. I’ll play along. I’m 100% sure he’s a lobster. What’s the bet?”

“Wow. Marcus Pike, does the FBI know you’re such a risk taker?”

He says your last name and follows it with, “Quit stalling, what’s the bet.”

“Ok ok. Once I’m off all the painkillers. If he’s a crab, I make you REAL pasta. If he’s a lobster, you take me out for real pasta.”

You both stop at the same time in front of the same building, “This is me. So is it a bet?”

Marcus pulls a key fob out of his pocket, “This is also me. And yes, we have a bet.”

You cross the lobby together, you select your floors and exchange phone numbers on the way up and then he finally gives you your bags.

“Thank you,” you say, smiling at him sweetly as the elevator approaches your floor. “I appreciate you using your grandma to help me.”

He covers his heart with his hand. “I would never!”

As the elevator comes to a halt he glances up at you sheepishly and your heart almost breaks open right then and there at how devastatingly handsome and heart meltingly adorable he is all at the same time.

You smile like a damn fool the moment you’re out of that elevator. Of all the ways you thought your night was going to go, it did not involve a very charming stranger making you all nervous and delusional.

The second you get inside your apartment you fight the urge to prove yourself right and cash in on our dinner, but you already miss him, so you text him.

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

#pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #the mentalist #pedropascal #pedro pascal #pedrohub

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klausysworld · 10 months

Note

Can I get some fluffy Klaus headcanons where he’s dating someone who cooks/bakes? Not as a career, but as a hobby

Klaus and his little baker girl:

When Klaus met y/n she didn’t know that he was a hybrid. She found it odd and somewhat worrying with how little he ate and often cooked or baked things for him whenever she saw him.

She knew her food was good, she’s had many friends and family members tell her so and so if he didn’t eat her food then she knew something was wrong.

Thankfully Klaus has good taste in all senses and nearly licked the plate clean.

He could see the glint of relief in her eyes and the warmth that spread through her when he told her how delicious her strawberry tart was and it made his heart swell.

It was clear to Klaus that this was y/n’s love language, giving to him and caring for him.

Klaus wasn’t used to walking in to a warm meal and a smiling face each night.

Every night he made sure to stop at y/n’s knowing she would have something ready for him no matter how late he showed up. He found that since knowing her, he felt hunger for something other than blood but instead for actual food and for her presence.

No matter what she was making: a stew, a roast, a steak, a pasta dish, a fish dish, something savoury or something sweet. Whatever she served him, was always delicious. And he always wanted more.

He wasn’t sure where she got all the time from to bake him his shortbread, brownies, angel cakes and other little treats. Between him being at her house and her being at work while he’s amongst a war, he didn’t know how she managed to find the time for her hobbies. But he was thankful she did nevertheless.

Klaus was certain that if he weren’t supernatural then he would’ve had diabetes from the amount of sugar she fed him. At one point he questioned if she was trying to ‘fatten him up’ to which she laughed and offered a ‘maybe?’ back to him.

He loved how sweet she was, so soft and innocent in the best of ways. Her biggest worry was that he didn’t eat enough and her main wonder of each day was what she would cook for dinner.

And when she accidentally found out he had a big family, her first thought (after getting upset that he didn’t tell her) was to invite them all for dinner. He was very reluctant but he couldn’t tell her big eager eyes no, not when he knew it was something she would love.

So after a lot of threats and physical fights, Freya, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah, Hayley and Hope all arrived at miss y/l/n’s home along with Niklaus of course.

She had made a mix of foods for them so they could pick what they wanted and made some simpler dishes for young Hope as the fancy foods didn’t appeal. It was something that instantly made the Mikaelsons like her and also have them all see the love shine in Klaus’s eyes. True, pure love.

It was the first of many things the mikaelsons would try from y/n.

Once she became a frequent visitor there and they came comfortable at hers, they were almost always snacking on something.

Elijah had a craving for cobblers and crumbles, Freya had taken to anything with strawberries in it, Kol went for anything in sight and Rebekah wanted to try everything at least once. Meanwhile Hope and Klaus were slowly learning some of y/n’s recipes and Hope was making slight alterations to make them more to her liking.

Often Klaus would notice y/n adding a cake to Hoped lunch box and sneaking out of bed early to set the breakfast table.

If she were to ever miss a meal then every mikaelson was on alert thinking she was missing.

If she didn’t bake something for a couple days then they were trying to find what was wrong and when she got too stressed and over baked Hope was bringing brownies to school while the vampires in the compound would come and steal a biscuit.

Everyone loved y/n’s baking and her cooking. Many times Freya, Rebekah and Hayley had tried to tell her to open a coffee shop but she argued she like her other job just fine and liked that food was something she did because she loved and not because it was a responsibility.

The mikaelson home was a brighter place with her cheerful smile and loving nature.

Klaus was so much happier with her caring nature around him. So much warmer as a person, whether or not it was the constant sugar rush or the flood of affection, he wasn’t sure but he loved it either way.

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