#wait does it count as stew if there is broth or is that just. soup. it feels more soupy

[raiseyourcups]

In my heart I already know

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: None, just fluff and Din being angry for a bit (not at you, don’t worry) Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Din comes home super stressed from a bounty so you tell him to take a nap while you make some comfort food so that he can have a taste of home and relax

You had just put the Child down for his afternoon nap, a feat that took no less than an hour most days, when Din stalked into the Crest. He was empty-handed despite leaving to catch a bounty he had been looking for, for over a week. You knew something had to have gone wrong if Din was back. 

You watch as Din all but stomps over to his weapons locker, ripping his pulse rifle off his shoulder and carefully but rigidly placing it in its place. His blaster is next followed by his belt with his flash chargers. You watch all of this silently, taking in how tense his shoulders are and how his stance just screams out how angry he is.

"Din, what happened?"

His shoulders tense even more if that were possible. "Quarry got away, went to ground."

"Oh." 

"Yeah. Oh." He said before slamming the weapons locker shut, the sound echoing throughout the hangar. You cringe and hope he hasn't woken up the Child. He finally turns around to face you and he must see something in your expression because he deflates a little.  "I'm sorry, we just...we need those credits."

"I know," you say. You know he's right, even though Karga reinstated him into the Guild he can only take the more low profile jobs. He can't afford to be seen by anyone looking for the Child but that means that every job gives half as much as he would be making. Barely enough to cover fuel and food most of the time. 

You stare as Din stares at the ground and make up your mind to help him relax. "Why don't you take a quick nap? The Child will sleep longer if one of us is with him."

"I can't."

"You said it yourself, the bounty went to ground. Take a nap for me, please?" You plead, a small smile on your face as you put on your most convincing face.

"...Okay."

You watch as he slowly climbs into the small cot, gently patting the Child on the head as he does so, and closes the hatch door behind him. You wait a couple of minutes knowing that if he's even half as exhausted as you think he is, he'll already be asleep.

As soon as you think it's safe, you're moving around the small area you had designated as a kitchen. You have been saving little things from each supply run to do this for Din. You could tell that as the days went by he was getting more and more stressed and you had planned something to help him relax. But now you finally had a reason and a chance.

As quiet as you could you started to make the food that you had painstakingly searched the HoloNet for. You hoped you were using enough spices for this one or not too many nuts for that one or that the broth for the soup wasn’t too fishy. Tiingilar, Uj’alayi, Gi dumpling soup. You went over the names again in your head, hoping that you weren’t completely pronouncing them wrong. 

It took longer than you expected but you got it done before Din woke up. You had just plated everything up, placing it all on a small table you had haggled for last time you landed on a planet with a market when the hatch of the cot opened up. Din climbed out, picking the Child up as soon as he did. It took him a good minute before he noticed the setup.

"What's this?"

"I just thought since you've been working non-stop," you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders as Din moved closer to the table. The Child immediately wanted to be put down in his chair, obviously hungry after his nap. You hadn't given him any of the tiingilar, it was too spicy for even you to handle more than a bite or two. So you had only given the Child a small bowl of soup and a slice of the Uj cake.

You gesture for Din to sit down as well, plate and bowl ready and waiting. You felt a little ridiculous, like a housewife but one that could shoot a blaster with the accuracy to rival a Mandalorian. You had your food and had already decided to go up to the cockpit to eat in order to give Din space to eat. You knew he could remove his helmet in front of the Child, the Armorer had called him his father after all but you were a different story.

"Is that...tiingilar?" Din asked and you felt your cheeks warm when you heard the astonishment in his voice. 

"Yes?"

"I haven't had this since I joined the Guild."

"Well hopefully I didn't mess it up," you said as you walked over to get your food. You had only gotten a few steps away when Din spoke again. 

"Where are you going?"

"Up to the cockpit so you can eat?" You tilted your head in confusion, unsure why he had stopped you when this had been one of his own rules. 

"I-"

"Yes?"

"I'd like it if you stayed."

"But then you can't eat…"

Din stayed silent for a long moment, the only sound the Child tapping on the table. He was apparently waiting for you two to start eating before he dug in. Din got up and looked at you, gesturing for you to wait before he went back to the cot. He came back with a blanket that he laid down on the ground beside the cot. He got up and picked up both the Child and his food, setting him down on one end of the blanket before grabbing his own food, placing it down and sitting down.

"Din, what are you doing?"

"Come here." You slowly walked over, food in hand and a puzzled look on your face. Din reached out and gently grabbed your wrist. "Sit down."

"Din you won't be able to eat," you said even as you let yourself be pulled down. 

"Just...trust me." 

You sat down with a sigh, crossing your legs to take up less space and to be more comfortable. Din let out a sigh and gently moved you so you weren't facing him at all before he settled back down. You two were now back to back and you could feel your heart beating faster at the warmth you feel even through the armor. 

"Don't turn around," Din said before, from the corner of your eyes, you saw his helmet being placed on the blanket beside you. You felt Din reach forward to grab his bowl and start eating but you were sure you were frozen. 

"Eat, cyar'ika."

"You know I don't know what that means," you whined but did as he said. Picking up your plate of tiingilar first, you wanted to leave the soup for after so it would sooth the mouth burns left by the spice filled stew. 

Din let out a low chuckle, the sound going straight to your chest and burning warm. "I know."

You leaned back a little, bumping your shoulder into his back for teasing you. After that a nice quiet fell over you three as you ate only broken by the sounds of you eating and the Child’s happy coos when his dad gave him bites of his uj cake. You and Din were back to back the entire time, leaning on each other like you had ever since you had joined him on the Razor Crest.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian imagine

[chimaeracabra]

Cooking for Cap

Author’s Note: I’m Nigerian. Lately I’ve been cooking a lot of jollof rice, wanting something new to eat in quarantine times. It’s one of my favorite dishes. Lots of autobiographical info thrown in here.

Genre: Fluff/romance

           Captain Steve Rogers leans attentively against the counter in the kitchen, watching Ada mete out a mess of seasonings he has never cooked with in his life. The centenarian usually ate whatever Sam, Bucky, Wanda, or Nat cooked. He isn’t very handy around the kitchen; he can make a good sandwich, a burger, the standard American diet, but he doesn’t know his way around cooking much where boiling isn’t involved. Ada’s umber gaze meets Steve’s and he blushes a little bit, returning her smile. Her teeth could have literally shined, they were so white in contrast to her rich espresso skin.

           “I’ve heard of thyme,” he nods, as she holds the bottle up his way before dumping a large teaspoon of the herb into a saucer, where she had already collected sea salt, curry powder, and bay leaves.

           “And this?” she asks, holding up a small clear bottle of something he hasn’t used before. The Captain’s wheat gold eyebrows arch as he reads the label.

           “Cayenne…wait, isn’t that the stuff they put in pepper spray?” he asks a little nervously.

Ada laughs.

           “I think so. But don’t worry, it’s still edible. And I never make it too spicy for…well…” Had it not been for the deepness of her complexion, Steve would have seen Ada blush, “when I cook it for other people,” she finishes, her eyes lingering a moment on his exposed forearms. They’re noticeably milky, in stark contrast to the black shirt he’s wearing, which hugs his shoulders such that Ada can see the bulge of his muscles when he shifts, standing up straight and gripping the counter. Measuring half a tea spoon of the lethal spice and adding it to the saucer, Ada’s heart throbs slightly as Steve smiles and starts around the counter until he’s standing next to her, seemingly mesmerized.

           “The recipe actually calls for one and a half teaspoons of cayenne, plus a Scotch bonnet pepper, which I hardly ever use,” she explains, reaching for garlic and plucking about four cloves to peel.

           “And I always like to do my garlic and ginger fresh,” she explains, sparing him a glance. As she peels the garlic, Steve’s white hand gracefully reaches for the plate of seasonings she’s compiling and he lifts it slowly to his nose. He closes his icy eyes and sniffs it gently.

           “Mmmm,” he hums. Ada can just about feel this expression of satisfaction rumbling deep within his chest. He places the saucer back where it was gently.

           “I can’t wait to try it, Ada,” he admits, “Aside from Thai food, I haven’t really had much of anything with all these powerful flavors,” Steve explains.

           “Oh, yes, it’s—”

           “ACHOOO!”

Steve had abruptly turned away from her in time to catch his sneeze, which causes Ada to laugh.

           “Yeah. You never want to straight up sniff pepper,” she says, “Especially not cayenne.”

           “Noted,” Steve sniffles, turning back to her, “Burns a little,” he says with an awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. His nose has pinkened now and Ada knows that another sneeze is coming. The Captain makes it to the roll of paper towels and catches his sneeze, his ears met with the pleasant ring of Ada’s laughs. She wonders, had she had the actual pepper, whether the star-spangled hero would have been able to handle her jollof. Steve is so overtly strong that it was rather amusing to Ada that a bit of spice could pretty much take him out.

           “Wow, that’s powerful,” he notes, before sneezing again, walking around the counter and returning to his safe distance from Ada’s preparation.

           “It smelled good, though,” he admits, his eyes fixed on what she’s doing with genuine interest. Ada opens the food processor and drops the cloves of garlic in before finally peeling some fresh ginger and adding a smaller amount of the herb to the food processor. It’s loud for about thirty seconds before the device yields the desired result. She adds the minced garlic and ginger to the saucer with everything else. To Steve’s relief, Ada had purchased pre-chopped onions. She had admitted to hating cutting them herself. She often had to use goggles, they made her eyes so sensitive. The red of the bell pepper pops against Ada’s espresso fingers, and the sight is oddly satisfying to Steve’s sapphire gaze. He watches her chop and de-seed all three bell peppers before chopping two plump tomatoes, and adding the onions, peppers, and tomatoes to the Ninja Blender Natasha had bought for the kitchen not too long ago.

It doesn’t take long for the mixture to be like a soup, which Steve observes, having moved around the counter again to stand closer to Ada.

           “This you can safely sniff,” she grins, opening the blender. Steve’s hands brush hers lightly as he reaches for it, and his heart skips a beat. Her laugh chimes in his ears again as he closes his frosty eyes and takes a sniff of the blended vegetables.

           “Smells kinda like…salsa?” he says.

           “It pretty much is, at the moment,” Ada beams. He places the blender on the counter again.

           “Now, will you mix the herbs in?” she asks, handing Steve a wooden spoon. He’s honored she’s allowing him to do anything at this point. He had asked several times before she even started whether he could lend a hand, and Natasha had passed through at one point to tell him to “let the woman cook. He wasn’t Nigerian and didn’t know his way around their food,” which had caused the Captain to roll his eyes genuinely, but it made Ada laugh. And he loved when Ada laughed because her perfect teeth would show and just be so bright against her skin. It made his stomach do summersaults. Steve mixes the herbs into the blended vegetables as thoroughly as he can after removing the blender’s blades.

          He watches Ada pour a half cup of vegetable oil into a large pan and cover it with a lid. At some point between preparing the herbs and chopping the vegetables, she had measured one and a half cups of water and poured it into a separate pot on the stove with the heat medium. She now dumps two and a half cups of brown rice into the pot to parboil it.

          “And then all you do is heat the oil, simmer the vegetable mix, and add in the rice,” she explains, throwing away the peels from the garlic and ginger, the pieces of the bell peppers she omitted.

          “I bet it’s going to smell delicious.” Steve mixes until the herbs are evenly dispersed, “Can I pour it?” he asks.

          “In about ten minutes. Just need the rice to finish parboiling.”

           “Oh, okay.”

          “Normally, we use medium-grain rice in jollof. But I love brown rice,” Ada smiles. Steve loved brown rice, too. It was heartier, more satisfying than white rice. In fact, he thought it more visually appealing, as far as meal preparation went. It was just so earthy and healthy.

          “If my dad saw what kind of rice I use, he would probably roll over in his grave.”

          At this, Steve laughs genuinely, Ada following suit. He liked that she shared things like this with him. It wasn’t very hard to get to know Ada. From the moment he’d begun to train her, Ada had stood out among the other recruits in a way that Steve couldn’t really put his finger on. Maybe it was something in the way that her laugh made his heart race, or her cheekbones which could have cut diamonds, or the perfect way her hips were wide and swung when she walked, Steve blushing now as Ada traipses to the trash to throw away pieces of unused vegetable. He swallows hard. He has never really seen an ass like that.

           “Are you okay?”

           “Huh?”

           “You didn’t sniff that cayenne again, did you?”

           “What?”

           “Your face is so red, Steve,” Ada explains.

Steve glances out the window, and Ada senses the faintest bit of nervousness emanating off of him.

           “Guess that pepper got into the air a bit,” he says.

And he turns away in time to catch another sneeze in his elbow. Little does Ada know that this sneeze was in fact fake. Steve pulls himself together, hearing the sound of the refrigerator dispensing filtered water behind him. When he turns around, Ada is already approaching him with a glass of water.

           “Here you go.”

           “Thanks,” he says, and he blushes like a cherry for a moment. Ada begins to wonder if it was really the cayenne that had gotten to him again.

           “How long does it cook for?”

           “Maybe forty minutes. I usually lose count after thirty. I just like it to cook long enough that the rice is neither squishy, nor too al dente.”

He nods.

           “And the other key ingredient, which I don’t personally use, is a bouillon cube.”

           “Hmmm, I’ve never heard of a b…bou,” Steve struggles with the word, which makes Ada hold back a laugh, “B...booollon cube.” Ada starts laughing and Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket and Googles it. The phone says it and he repeats it correctly with finality, looking rather satisfied with himself.

           “Yes. It’s a—”

           “Stock cube. A type of broth, formed into a small cube about thirteen millimeters wide, typically made from dehydrated vegetables, meat stock, a small portion of fat, MSG, salt, and seasonings, shaped into a small cube,” Steve finishes, flashing her a smile, and pocketing his iPhone. Ada nods.

           “Well, I think what you already used will be more than enough seasonings for me,” he adds, “Plus, I swear I’ve heard some bad news about MSG.”

           “Yeah, that’s part of why I don’t use it,” Ada explains.

           “Did your dad use bouillon cubes?”

           “He did, actually. But I can’t remember him ever making jollof. I do remember him making rice and stew, and when I was in fourth grade, he’d make a lot of it, and my mom would come into the classroom and read about Kwanzaa to my class, hand out the food, and everybody loved it,” Ada continues, this faraway, nostalgic expression surfacing on her face as she leans back against the sink, her arms crossed as she nods into the gustatory memory.

           “Yes, and my mum would bring in these kente cloth scarves and give one to everybody. My classmates really liked the way my mom would read the Kwanzaa book.”

��          “It’s like Hanukkah, sort of,” Steve chimes excitedly, “Well, I mean you still have that candle stand, which looks kind of like a menorah. But it’s like a celebration of the harvest, isn’t it?”

When Ada’s umber gaze meets Steve’s again, his pulse quickens.

           “I spent a little bit of time in Wakanda and I was there during some of it,” Steve adds. He’s cultured, curious, open, and eager to learn, something which Ada finds rather delightful.

           “Hmmm, let’s see…” Steve’s frosty gaze is cast skywards momentarily, “There are seven principles. Umoja, for unity in the family and community. Ujima, collective work and responsibility…boy, there’s a bunch I won’t even try to pronounce or I’ll butcher it,” he grins. Ada finds herself very impressed suddenly, especially considering how much trouble he’d had pronouncing bouillon, a French word. The principles just sort of rolled off Steve’s tongue as though he’d said the words regularly.

           “You know a lot more than most people.”

Steve shrugs.

           “Well, that’s a shame. African history is American history.”

           “Very true.”

Ada’s heart swells. There’s a moment of silence between the two, where they’re just looking at each other. Steve shifts slightly, his brawny arms traveling from across his chest, his hands landing on the counter on either side of him. There’s a noticeable vibe or tension between them, so thick that the pair is almost certain they could cut it with a knife.

           “Do you actively celebrate?” Steve asks.

           “Me? Oh, my family did. Sometimes, one of my aunts would invite everyone over and one of my uncles would lead a libation in Igbo,” Ada smiles, lost in memory again, “And in my immediate family, we did it when I was growing up. But over the years, we just kinda got lazy and kept forgetting to light the kinara—the candle holder. So, eventually, we stopped.”

Steve looking rather sad to hear so makes Ada feel the same way.

           “That’s too bad,” he says, “People don’t really observe holidays like they did when I was coming up. We used to actually go to church and mass for Christmas. I never really got that many gifts growing up poor, and now it’s all the kids ever care about. They don’t really understand the significance of the holiday anymore. Same applies to a number of other holidays.”

           “I agree. It’s gotten very…secular.”

Steve sighs wistfully, shakes his head in disappointment.

           “Ada, I tell you, if I had kids, they’d understand their roots and the history behind that. It really teaches values that people don’t exactly bother to pass down in quite the same way in this day and age.” His gaze makes her uncomfortable suddenly, but not in a bad way. Just the way he was talking made it feel like it was about her specifically. Sometimes she forgets just how old Steve is. It’s very clear to her that his life experiences have taught him things in a similar, yet vastly different way. He could appreciate things like this in ways many people were simply not open to in her experience.

           “That makes sense. I mean, I couldn’t really tell you everything about Kwanzaa, if I’m honest. But the food is just so vivid to me.”

           “Food is something everybody likes, right?” Steve beams, “It’s a great way to experience culture.”

           Ada nods, “I’ve never made it myself, but my dad used to make fufu—”

Steve snaps his fingers, “I’ve had that. With the spicy soup? Burnt the mouth off me when T’Challa had me try it,” Steve reminisces. Ada laughs.

           “Very tasty, though.”

           “Yes, that’s why it’s called pepper soup,” she giggles, “You’re brave, Steve.”

           “He warned me, too,” the Captain grins, “But I liked the flavors.”

           “So, then my jollof will be less than mild for you.”

The timer goes off and Steve checks the rice with an oven mitt.

           “This ready?” he asks, gazing into the steaming pot. Ada hurries over to dip her spoon in the side and check that the water is gone. When she finds that it has all evaporated, she nods and turns on the pot inside which she had poured the vegetable oil.

           “Now, we just heat this oil up, and you can add in the vegetable mix.”

Steve reaches for the blender full of blended onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and herbs, removing the lid and closing his bright eyes to inhale a few more times. There’s something almost erotic about the way his chiseled face develops such a satisfied look. And he gazes down at her, the corner of his full, pink lips curling. Ada melts for a handful of seconds, beginning to sweat a little bit. She suddenly tears her gaze away and uses the same oven mitt with which Steve had checked the rice to lift the lid off the pan of oil and find that it is beginning to bubble and pop.

           “Shit,” she mumbles, “go ahead, before the oil splashes.” She moves clear out of Steve’s way and he pours the vegetable mix into the pan, her ears perking up to the sizzling noise that it makes.

           “Wow,” Steve states, turning the heat down, something Ada was about to do when he beat her to it. He reaches for the wooden spoon and stirs the mix into the oil, as if he has cooked this hundreds of times before.

           “Is this good?” he asks.

           “Yes. You’ve definitely gotta turn the heat down so it doesn’t burn.”

Steve nods. Shortly, he places the lid back on the pot to get it to heat up the vegetable mix faster.

           “And once that’s hot enough, add the rice?”

           “You’re a natural,” Ada shrugs, impressed with his eagerness to cook. Steve has been wanting to get better at cooking, and his hands-on approach allows her to relax a little bit.

           “In the meantime, I’m gonna go ahead and wash these.”

Ada retrieves the blender and the food processor.

           “You’ve already worked so hard. Don’t add in extra work for yourself,” Steve explains, taking the blender out of her hands before she can put it in the sink and opening the dishwasher, which still has dirty dishes from breakfast in it, and the pan on which Wanda had made some sort of Sokovian pancakes for everyone. Ada loves this about being on the team. Everyone is so warm and inviting to her so far, sharing their homelands in the kitchen. She finds herself looking forward to some Asgardian dish Thor had decided to cook for dinner.

           Steve’s milky hand brushes Ada’s as he takes the food processor, disassembling it, and placing the parts strategically in the dishwasher. He then reaches into the cupboard for a clean dishtowel, soaking it under hot water, and adding a little dish liquid before rubbing it to get suds and approaching the counter where she’d prepared ingredients. Ada lifts the cutting board out of his way and pauses at the sink to watch Steve wipe the counter clean. She had seen him clean up before, but something about it is very appealing and she turns away to finally wash the cutting board, glad he can’t see her blush. By the time she turns around, she finds Steve spooning the rice into the pan. She leans against the counter to watch him stir until everything is evenly dispersed. He places the lid on again, turning to look at her.

           “Thirty minutes? Forty?” he asks.

           “Just do thirty for now.”

His fingers punch in the numbers and he looks rather satisfied with himself. His stomach growls audibly and he blushes.

           “The stomach doesn’t lie!”

Ada giggles.

           “Can you wait that long?” she asks.

           “Of course. How about some coffee in the meantime?”

Before Ada can answer, Steve is already pulling the French press and his favourite brand of coffee out of his area in the cupboards. Steve loves coffee. It’s his favorite part of the day, and everyone knows never to borrow Steve’s coffee without asking first. He just wasn’t himself in the morning without it. He preps it all so quickly, producing two large mugs by the time Ada answers him.

           “Sure, I’ll have a little.”

           “A little? Come on,” he says, that New Yorker accent making its way out of his mouth. He winks, causing Ada’s heart to race again. The scooper looks comically small in Steve’s large hand as he scoops a generous amount of the ground beans into the French press. Ada helps him by filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. Steve turns it up high, eager for his coffee.

           “It’s starting to smell good.” Steve hovers near the cooking rice and inspires deeply.

           “It’s my favorite west African dish.”

           “I can always tell by the smell that I’m gonna like something,” Steve explains.

Shortly, the kettle whistles and Steve wastes no time in pouring the boiling water into the French press.

           “You take cream and sugar?” Steve asks, stepping towards the fridge.

           “Uh, I can’t do dairy.”

           “Oh, right. I forgot, sorry,” he explains, glancing back at her before finding her almond milk. He shakes the bottle, something he has seen Ada do several times in the morning before adding some of it to her cereal. He glances at the bottle.

           “You, uh, like vanilla?” he asks. Again, she’s glad he can’t see her blushing.

           “I don’t know what kind of psychopath uses plain almond milk in their cereal,” Ada explains, cocking an eyebrow. This causes Steve to laugh heartily as he places the milk on the counter beside the French press. Ada’s humor is very unique, he has learned, and it always leaves his gut aching, especially when she doesn’t laugh nearly as hard as something she’s said causes others to laugh.

           “Well, you’re in luck, doll,” he says. Doll. Ada has heard him call only his closest female acquaintances this nickname, but something about the way he says it to her is just unique, “‘Cause I only do French vanilla for coffee. I’ll do hazelnut every now and then, but something about vanilla…”

           Many times, Ada had passed by Steve in the kitchen and he’d been caught off guard by something he’d smell. It took a while, but he had begun to realize that it was Ada’s skin or hair. He never got quite close enough to distinguish which part of her it was, but it always smelled very pleasant to him. As she turns on her heel to bring the saucer she had put the herbs on to the dishwasher, her braids whip slightly in their pony tail, and Steve catches the scent again. He closes his eyes in the moment, not wanting the aroma to dissipate. He turns away towards the counter again, unable to fight the fire beneath his cheeks. He keeps his back turned as he presses the plunger down slowly, forcing the coffee beans under pressure, releasing their oils and scent.

           She hasn’t had the pleasure of Steve making her a coffee yet, but he always would if anyone asked. His nisus to get her a cup fascinates her as she watches him lift the lid of the French press. Carefully, he brings it to her nose and she takes a whiff.

           “Wow, that’s powerful,” she says, closing her eyes. Steve smiles.

           “Trust me, you won’t find a brand as good as this one anywhere else,” he promises, handing her the bag so that she can read the label.

           She watches Steve pour and mix some vanilla almond milk into her cup, stirring it gently.

           “You may not even need sugar,” he says, pouring his own cup next. He adds one spoon of sugar to his cup before taking her almond milk back to the fridge. He makes his way back to the counter without the milk.

           “You don’t use creamer?” Ada asks.

           “No. I like my coffee black,” he explains, looking her full in the eyes as he continues to stir his cup. A lump develops in Ada’s throat, and she can’t tear her eyes away from the Captain’s, but her hand reaches shakily with his bag of coffee and places it back on the counter top. There’s not much space between them now, and Steve looking down at her creates that tension again. It’s rather swift when he ducks his head to compensate for her height at last. Her hands already knew where they wanted to land, and she finds herself clutching Steve’s shoulders as his mouth makes full contact with hers.

           Steve’s lips are as kissable as Ada had imagined. They aren’t thin, like some of the white men she’d kissed before. But hers are as juicy as he thought they would feel. His hands rest gently at the small of Ada’s back, and she’s a little surprised when his tongue makes contact with hers. He’s not shy at all. A satisfied mmm emanates from Steve’s mouth, traveling through Ada’s whole being, causing her to shiver, despite the heat of his hands, one of which is drifting towards her rear. He seems to be enjoying a taste, a smell, similarly to how he had sniffed the blended vegetables. She starts to wonder how long Steve has been wanting to do this. The thought had crossed her mind several times.

          “It smells amazing in—!”

Natasha stops dead in her tracks, Steve releasing Ada’s left butt cheek almost as quickly as he had grabbed it.

           “Here,” Natasha finishes, cocking a flaming brow and smiling, Sam beside her looking away as if he hadn’t seen anything, but the two of them know that he did. Steve scratches the back of his head a moment, looking rather disappointed to be interrupted.

           “Ada is making us jollof rice for lunch,” Steve explains, crossing his arms.

           “Uhuh,” Natasha nods, walking towards the cupboards and pulling out one of her bags of popcorn before popping it in the microwave.

           “Call me when it’s ready.” Sam’s voice fades as he makes his way casually out of the kitchen.

           “Well, I’ve been wanting to ask you out on a proper date,” Steve explains, looking hypnotized as he speaks quietly to Ada, knowing that Natasha can still hear him. Ada gazes past him at Natasha, who is grinning knowingly. The redhead gestures to her encouragingly.

           “Ya know, at like a restaurant, where we can eat…in private.”

Ada laughs. For a moment, Steve looks crushed.

           “I’d love to, Steve.”

He exhales in what seems like relief, and they reach for their coffee at the same time, unaware of the buttery aroma filling the kitchen, mingling with the jollof’s savory scent, the popping noises in the background, that same tension resurfacing.

           “It’s about time, Rogers. I knew you liked her!”

Steve nearly chokes on his coffee.

#Steve Rogers x black OC #Just somethin' I randomly whipped up #story #somebody read this and comment #>__> #<__<' #fanfic #Steve Rogers #jollof rice #Natasha Romanoff #Sam Wilson #original character #fluff #romance #Steve Rogers x reader #Sorry for lying. It's third omniscient. #Steve x black reader #cooking #forearms #Kwanzaa

[nln4]

stew - a chargestep fic

Pairing: M!Ortega/GN!Sidestep Word Count: 1546 Rating: G for grins and gazes Pre-Heartbreak

stew /st(y)o͞o/

noun: a dish of meat and vegetables cooked slowly in liquid in a closed dish or pan.

verb: 1.  remain in a heated or stifling atmosphere. 2. worry about something, especially on one's own.

---

The apartment has seen better days. Or better states, rather. Takeout boxes, empty bottles and newspapers litter the room, so dense you can barely see the floor underneath. The barest hint of sunlight peeks through a sliver in the curtains. You can only imagine how much he hates being cooped up.

“Sorry,” he says, with a quick flash of a grin. “Didn’t have time to clean.” 

If you didn’t know him well enough, the grin would be just fine. 

But you do, and see the pinched strain in his eyes, the guilt of letting the villain get away and getting himself hurt, the anger threatening to boil over, the impatience of wanting to get back on the field…

“Nobody blames you,” you say, dumping the plastic bags on the counter. 

Ordinarily, you’re a lot more choosy with groceries but the Marshal insisted you send the bill to the Rangers and there are just so many desserts you wanted to try. 

“What, for not cleaning up?” he laughs, kicking the apartment door shut. “You’re not that special.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say acidly, rifling through the bags for the limited edition candy bar that had caught your eye in the checkout aisle earlier. “How’s the arm?” 

He holds up the arm, bound in a cast and sling - or does his best to do so anyways - with a wince. “Well, the doctors say that if I break it again, I won’t have many options other than retirement.” 

“Maybe you can get a cool new Mod, like Chen.”

“Ehh,” he sighs with a noncommittal shrug of his good shoulder. “Of course, the engineers said that if I crack the emitters again, they’ll saw my arm off.” 

“And lose their cash cow? Please.” The Rangers Corporation have him on a leash. Exactly how tight, you don’t know, but it’s enough that his eyes grow a little cool every time it’s mentioned.

He gives the same half-shrug again, his eyes flitting every which way to find a new distraction and you’d press the matter of him avoiding talking but there’s no point. He charges forward, sure as always.

“Tell me you bought actual food,” he says, eyeing the candy bar you’ve been nibbling on, finally deciding on his target to steer the conversation away from himself. 

“Yes, Tía,” you reply with a sarcasm that you would never use with his mother. “I bought stuff for soup.”

“Soup?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Do you actually know how to make soup?”

“It’s not that hard, you just toss it all in a pot.” 

His face scrunches up, lips pressed in a tight grimace. “Nope, not how it works.” 

“You sure? Maybe I’ll use the blender then.” 

“No!” 

And in between his shock and disbelief that you could possibly be so desperately bad at cooking, he laughs, whole face lit up like Christmas and your heart gives a funny leap of relief. It feels so much better when he’s laughing. If you could ease just a bit of the pain, you would. For now, you’ll settle for seeing him smile. And then the realization sinks in that it makes you happy to see him smile and your heart stutters even worse than before.

“What about you?”

You busy yourself with another bite of chocolate, pulling vegetables and pre-made broth from the bags, anything to avoid his eyes because your face might be burning. 

“What about me?” 

(Might be.)

“Are you doing okay?” 

(Might.) 

“I feel okay.”

“You sure? I’ve seen better looking trainwrecks.”

You scowl. “Uh, we live in Los Diablos? The preferred description would be ‘natural disaster.’” 

He snorts. “Okay, ‘natural disaster,’” he says, grabbing onto the back of your hood with his good hand and yanking, gently as to not hurt you but with enough force to make you take a step back so that you’re close, face-to-face. His tired eyes search yours, finds what he’s looking for. “I guess we’re both wrecks, aren’t we?” 

“Speaking of natural disasters,” you say, leaning away from the scent of stale beer and sweat. “You stink.” 

“Hey!” he says, indignant, waving the bulky cast. “It’s been hard to manage and I’m injured, stop making fun of me.” The last word is drawn out in a pathetic whine. 

Your nose wrinkles in disgust, both at the smell and at his tone. There’s an impish grin on his face as he leans closer, rubbing his head against you like an overgrown cat because he knows exactly which buttons of yours to press as you jab fingers into his sides in revenge.

“Stop!”

“Ow, oww, hey, ow!” 

He bats his eyes at you, bottom lip jutting out and quivering. “Help me wash my hair.” 

“Only because I refuse to eat with your nasty smell around me.” 

“So mean!” He draws a line of tears down his face with a finger. “Wait until the public hears about how Sidestep the hero is just a huge bully.” 

“Shut up,” you say, though lacking any real vitriol before pushing him down the hall towards the bathroom. He deftly avoids another barrage of your pokes at his sides. 

The bathroom is much more luxurious and spacious than your own - and thankfully also comes with a bathtub as you would have no idea how’d you attempt to help him clean in the shower. So you roll up your sleeves, as far as you could manage and run the taps, test the water for a decent warm temperature. 

“A little help?” 

You turn to find him stuck, half-way out of the white t-shirt and with a little bit of wiggling, you manage to maneuver the shirt around the cast and extricate him from his clothing. For a second, your gaze drifts across his torso, down his abdomen, at the multitude of scars he’s managed to collect, some long faded, some still healing. 

You have to clench your hands into fists to stop yourself from reaching out and tracing your fingers along them. 

His thumb pulls against the waistband of his sweatpants and your gaze jerks upward to catch a wicked grin stretched across his lips. “Well, I don’t need help with these.” 

“Don’t you dare, Ricardo, I swear--”

“I’m joking!” 

“Bend over.”

“Ooh, buy me dinner first, at least!”

You turn off the running tap and flick him with water in annoyance so he retaliates with a splash and soon you are both soaked but you are both laughing as he settles on the floor and makes himself comfortable. It’s a little awkward for you to lean over the tub to reach him but you manage well enough as he leans backwards, his neck resting against the curve. You squeeze a bit of shampoo into your palm and work it into a lather in his hair, scratching gently against his scalp with your nails. His shoulders slowly relax and he gazes at you from half-lidded eyes.

“What?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’re staring.” You’re still scrubbing away, fingers caught in his hair and there’s something so satisfying in the repetitive motions, it almost calms you more than it does him. 

“Well, it’s either you or the ceiling.” 

“Oh.”

You take great care to massage and rinse, until no trace of shampoo is left and you’re so close you can see every pore, every scar, every water droplet clinging to his lashes, the lines of his lips, the earnestness in his eyes that tell you he couldn’t turn away, even if he wanted to. So close you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin and your face burns again. 

It would be so easy to close your eyes, to close the distance - but all of life is full of hard choices, so you force yourself to turn your head, pull the plug on the drain to release the water.

No need to make this complicated. You two are partners. You’re there to help him. 

That’s all there is to it. 

“Where are the towels?” Your voice manages to come out as steady as you can manage, even with what feels like your heart in your throat. When did the air get so heavy? When did it get so hard to breathe?

(That’s all there is.)

“Over there, on the rack.” His voice sounds breezy, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole on your back as you leave to get one. 

(That’s all.)

So you count to one, two, three and take a breath, brace yourself, toss him a fluffy towel. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He drags it over his head in an effort to dry his hair but it looks like he’s struggling so you kneel down, grateful that the towel covers his eyes as you help him dry off. 

 A bright brown eye peeks through a gap in the towel, through his unruly hair, and his hand catches yours, gives yours the briefest squeeze before letting go. You can still feel the warmth of his palm against your skin, like a small jolt of a static shock that has nothing to do with his powers.

His gaze never wavers.

You can’t return it. The look. Or his feelings.

“I’m gonna call Tía, see if she’s got a recipe for the soup.” 

(You can’t keep lying to yourself either.)

“Mm,” he murmurs in agreement. 

(You can’t.)

#fallen hero: rebirth #ricardo ortega #sidestep #my writing #ah...the pining...

[oyehobi]

The Perfect Recipe (Seokjin X Reader)

Prompt: Seokjin Chef! AU

Genre: Fluff!

Words: 4,155

As the bright sun filtered through the open window, a light breeze blew gently across the homely restaurant, sending the delicious smell of freshly prepared food dancing into the street. A warm figure stood in his small kitchen, happily preparing his favorite stew. The cheerful colors of the decorations illuminated the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere. As the stew simmered cheerfully in the large pot, the man was prepared to taste his brilliant dish, lifting a wooden spoon full of delicious broth up towards his mouth. Before he could appreciate his hard work, the sharp sound of a metal drill rang through the room, effectively shattering the peace and simultaneously causing the man to spill the contents of his utensil all over his freshly ironed shirt. More upset about the wasted soup than his clothing, the man instantly felt a growing annoyance at the unexpected disturbance. Slamming the wooden spoon onto the clean counter next to him, the man angrily marched out the swinging doors of the kitchen, past the empty tables and chairs of his restaurant, and out the front door. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, as he looked at the developing building across the street, but an exuberant girl, shouting at the burly construction workers certainly wasn’t on the list. “No! No a little to the left!” she shouted, waving her arms to the right for emphasis, “no, no that’s right, Jihoon! I need it left!” “But you waved to the right!” the man called back, obviously struggling with the large letters spelling out the word, ‘big’, “and my name is Jihyun!” Groaning, the man walked forward determinedly, already feeling a headache coming in. If he didn’t at least quiet the yelling woman, the whole spectacle would be terrible for business. As he moved closer and closer to the woman crazily waving her arms around, he could feel himself growing more and more irritated. Who was she to wake up the entire neighborhood with her loud construction? Besides, their small town had enough stores anyways, there was simply no need for all this commotion. Ready to give the young woman a piece of his mind, he wasn’t prepared for the failing arm flying straight at his face. Effectively knocking the much bigger man to the ground, the young woman burst into laughter. “See! I always tell you not to sneak up on me Jungkook,” she snorted, her back still facing the man crumpled on the ground. Slowly spinning on her heels to face him, her smile quickly melted, instead replaced by a panicked look. “Oh my gosh! Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I thought you were my dumb apprentice, Jungkook!” she yelled, immediately trying to haul him up by the shoulders. ‘Apprentice? What was this the 1800’s?’ the man thought as he picked himself up, completely ignoring the young woman’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine,” he said pointedly, not wanting to be there any longer after what just happened, “I just wanted to let you know that there are some people here trying to work and your excessive construction noise is making that a little bit difficult.” The girl merely stared at him before turning back to glance at the construction. “No! Junho! It needs to be higher up!” she shrieked, completely forgetting about the current conversation at hand. Slightly offended that she completely ignored him, the man loudly cleared his throat, hoping to get her attention once more. “Oh right! Sorry!” she cried as she spun around to face him, “That’s right we were talking! Sorry, I just want everything to be perfect for my first restaurant!” Almost blinded by her beaming smile, the man felt a bad feeling creep into his stomach. “You’re opening up a restaurant? Right across from mine?” he asked pointedly, narrowing his eyes at her growing smirk. “Well a little healthy competition never hurt anyone, right…” she trailed off, unsure what to call him. “Kim Seokjin,” he said, rolling his eyes, “and I don't think there will be much of a competition here.” Instead of giving him a glare, Seokjin was surprised when she simply burst into laughter. “You’ve obviously never tasted my food,” she grinned, before extended her hand, “my name is [Y/N].” Begrudgingly, Seokjin shook her hand, letting go not even a second later. “Whatever, just keep the noise down,” he grumbled. “No promises!” She laughed turning back to yell at the construction worker.

The sweet sound of gentle humming danced through the room as you finished preparing another customer’s orders. Although today hadn't been very busy, you relished in the way you've had two more customers come in than Seokjin. Not that you were counting, of course. Tasting the dish, you decided it could use more basil. Walking over to the looming cabinet, you quickly realized the situation at hand. Placing a chair in front of you, you were determined to not to let the height of the cabinet intimidate you. You could do this! You were an independent woman, you've had your own restaurant for years now, this was nothing compared to all your achievements! Standing on the tips of your toes, you could feel your fingertips brush against the edge of the herb. Stretching out a little more, you wrapped your hand around it- “Noona!” A voice screamed, breaking your concentration and causing you to teeter over the edge of the chair. Taking a nasty spill, you heard a loud gasp before a heavy weight rushed over to you, attempting to forcefully pull you off of the ground. “Noona? Are you okay?” “I’m fine Jungkook, get off of me!” You groaned. You shoved the boy off of you, triumphantly holding your prize in your hand. “You did all that for a container of basil?” he asked, trying to hold back his laughter, “If you needed help you could have just asked!” You rolled your eyes, restraining yourself from hitting him in the back of the head. “I didn't need help!” you hissed, “I would have been fine if you hadn't burst into here like you were running for your life!” Jungkook’s eyes instantly widened, as if he had just remembered something important. “That’s right Noona! I had something to tell you!” He paused, waiting for you to say something. “Okay, what is it?” you asked, breaking the silence. You loved Jungkook but sometimes he tested your patience more than you'd like to admit. “Oh right! So I was walking to get supplies for the restaurant, you know from Yoongi-hyung’s shop? And while I was there, you'll never guess who I ran into?” Your ears perked up, his story finally beginning to capture your attention, “who? Jiminie?” you asked, thinking of the sweet kid who ran the flower shop down the street. “No, no! Not Jimin-hyung, Taehyung,” he whispered, instant dislike taking over his features. “Isn't that Seokjin’s apprentice?” you whispered back, your face matching Jungkook’s at the mention of your arch nemesis. “Exactly! I tried to ignore him, but he started bad-mouthing you and I couldn't help it!” You frowned, unsure of what he was talking about, “you didn't hit the kid, right?” If it were possible, Jungkook’s doe eyes widened even more. “Oh god no! He’s annoying, but not that annoying.” “What did you do then?” you asked, your eyes glancing back to the dish waiting on the counter. Luckily the customer ordered an appetizer, but you knew they would start getting impatient soon. “Well, he started talking about how Seokjin was a better cook than you, and I got mad. And…” “And?” “Imayormaynothaveacceptedaduelinyourname.” “What? Jungkook slow down I can't understand you,” you groaned, rubbing the sides of your head. “I said, that I accepted a restaurant duel in your name,” he frowned, his head hanging low in shame. “You what?” you growled, your head snapping up to look at the guilty boy. “I know, I know! You've told me to stay out of your feud with Seokjin, but you should have heard the things Taehyung was saying about you! I couldn't just ignore him!” You sighed, this was ridiculous. There was no way you could battle Seokjin! You didn't mind arguing back and forth with him, but to completely shut him down by having a duel? He wouldn't be able to handle it, and you never were a cruel person. “Jungkook-” you said, beginning to list all the reasons why this wouldn't work. However, before you could say anything you were interrupted by the chime signaling a customer entering your shop. “This is not over,” you hissed, pointing at the dish you had set aside earlier, “go take this to the customer in the corner, and don't forget to add a pinch of basil first!” Nodding his head, Jungkook quickly went to work, leaving you to take care of the newcomer. Putting on your best genuine smile, you pushed past the swinging doors that led to your kitchen. “Hello, customer! Welcome to The Big Hit, where every dish is guaranteed to be a big hit with your taste buds! What can I get you…” you trailed off as you realized who was sitting at the table. “That was cute,” he said, unable to keep the smirk off of his face. “What are you doing here Seokjin?” you groaned, your smile instantly dropping from your face. Taking in his disheveled light brown hair and messed up apron you could tell he must've come straight here from work. The side of his face was illuminated by the light coming from the window, and you couldn't help but follow the movement of his hand running through his hair. Maybe, when he was just sitting still, he wasn't that bad. “Well it definitely wasn't to eat anything,” he said, shattering the illusion and pulling a face, easily succeeding in annoying you, “I came here to talk about the cook-off Taehyung and Jungkook set up.” “Oh that?” You rolled your eyes, “You can forget about it.” Seokjin suddenly smirked, leaning closer as if the conversation had just become a lot more interesting. “And why is that? Scared you're going to lose?” he laughed, crossing his arms. You snorted, “I just didn't want to send you to an early grave.” You two glared back and forth until the sound of a bell chimed, signaling more customers. “I’ll be right with you!” You said, trying to put on as much of a sincere smile as you can while your nemesis was sitting in front of you. Feeling eyes on the back of your head, you turned around to see Seokjin staring at you, a strange look on his face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, not used to this side of Seokjin. As if someone had dumped cold water on him, his demeanor quickly changed back into his usual hostility. “I just can't believe you're genuinely trying to poison people with this stuff you call food.” You scoffed, this was ridiculous. He comes into your restaurant, takes up an entire empty table, and just spends time insulting you? “Fine,” you yelled, “we’ll have a duel.” “Wait, really?” he said, caught off guard. He didn't think you would actually say yes, and now having gotten so far he didn't quite know what else to say. You rolled your eyes at his reaction, “Yes really! Just give me a time, place, and recipe and I'll try not to ruin your confidence too much.” “You can try,” Jin smirked, “but if there's one thing I've never run out of before, it’s confidence. “Can I be a judge?” You heard an excited voice say to your right. Taking a step back, you hadn't realized that the owner of the deep voice had been sitting there all along. “Oh yeah, have your apprentice be a judge at your restaurant duel, that definitely wouldn't be biased at all,” you said sarcastically. This was taking up too much of your time and you could physically feel your customers getting antsy. “First of all, this isn't medieval times, stop talking like that,” Jin sighed, rubbing his temples, “and no Taehyung that wouldn't be fair.” Taehyung pouted, his disappointed features quickly changing as the shadow of a man crept up behind you. “Yeah because I’m going to be the one judging! Right Noona?” Jungkook smirked proudly, returning the younger boy’s fierce glare. “No, Jungkook,” you said, not missing a beat. “What? Why not?” he hissed, “Who else is going to do it?” You paused, he had a point. Someone had to decide who won and who lost. “How about Hoseok?” You asked, a small smile creeping up at the mention of your best friend’s name.    “You’re asking me to let your boyfriend judge? Over my dead body,” Seokjin spat, his hostility growing over the faint blush settling on your cheeks. “H-he’s not my boyfriend!” You stuttered, “and I don't see you coming up with any better ideas?” “Yoongi,” Jin said, as if it were the simplest answer in the world, “he'd be perfect.” “Yoongi? The guy you've known your entire life? The roommate who you've lived with for four years? Yeah that really seems fair,” you groaned, turning around and giving Jungkook the signal to go help the customer who had just walked in. “Why not just invite one more person then?” Taehyung said, his temper fading away now that Jungkook had left. Almost as if someone had flipped a light switch, you both shouted, “Jimin!” Slightly annoyed that Seokjin was thinking the same thing as you, you angrily nodded your head. “Now that that's settled, can you please get out of my restaurant? Unlike you, we don't have time to waste.” Seokjin let a humph before gathering his things and making a graceful exit. Slowly trailing in his wake, Taehyung turned around and stuck his tongue out childishly. As soon as you heard the door click shut you let out a sigh of relief. Slumping into a chair you let your head fall into your arms in defeat. What had you gotten yourself into?

After days of restless sleep and countless ingredients wasted on practice, although Jungkook’s full stomach would beg to differ, the dreaded day finally arrived. “Alright Jungkook, remember what I said,” you mumbled, attempting to tighten the apron around your waist. “This isn't just a battle, this is war,” he nodded determinedly, dramatically sharpening the knives laid out on the kitchen space in front of you. From across the room, Seokjin rolled his eyes turning back to his employee. “Taehyung, while there’s no doubt we can beat that mess,” he said, grimacing as the other two began to chant rhythmically, “I want you to keep in mind our motto.” “Win. Lose. I don’t care because at the end of the day I still have this face, so who’s the real winner here?” Taehyung recited without skipping a beat. Grinning proudly at his trainee, Seokjin was finally ready to end this feud once and for all. “Okay, I think we’re ready to begin-” he started, the smug grin on his face quickly wiped away by the interruption coming from his left. “Um, excuse me? Mr. Perfect? Not all of the judges are here yet,” you snorted. Shocked, Seokjin glanced over to the judge’s table, only to find a bored looking Yoongi sitting all alone. “How is it that I’m the only one on time?” Yoongi drawled, laying his head on arms. Before anyone had a chance to say anything, two panting men burst through the front door of your restaurant. “S-sorry,” Hoseok breathed out, trying to catch his breath, “we were at the dance studio and time got away from us.” “That’s okay,” you said, quickly stepping over to Hoseok, “as long as you're here that's all that matters.” Awkwardly stepping around the both of you, Jimin moved to greet the others in the room. It wasn't that you weren't happy to see him as well, but Hoseok was your best friend, of course you would be excited to see him. While people always assumed that you both had something more going on, you both knew your relationship was nothing more than platonic. Although, not even you could deny how attractive he looked windswept and sweaty. Blushing slightly at the thoughts of Hoseok running through your mind, you jumped at somebody's presence behind you. “Are you guys done? Or should we get you a separate room?” you heard the smooth voice behind you say. As you were turning around to tell Seokjin off, you were surprised to see his signature glare directed not towards you, like it usually was, but towards Hoseok instead. “Alright, no problems here,” Hoseok surrendered, a knowing smile dancing on his lips, “let's start shall we?” Dazed, you followed without arguing. As you walked back to your table you couldn’t help but look over at your enemy one last time. Locking eyes, you were unprepared for the strange look he gave you. Wasn’t that the same look he gave you a few days ago in your restaurant? The same look that instantly sent a blush to your face and butterflies to your stomach? You were startled by the sound of someone clearing their throat. “We are gathered here today, friends, family, esteemed guests, to celebrate the life and death of the beautiful soul [Y/N]......because hyung is going to destroy you!” Taehyung cheered, ignoring the exasperated looks of the people around him. Growling, Jungkook let out a warrior's cry before tackling the other boy to the ground. “Stop!” You cried, trying to pull your apprentice off of Taehyung. Your actions were fruitless as the boys continued to wrestle, and panic started to set in. You never were good at confrontations, except when it came to Seokjin of course. He seemed to be the only person who could rile you up, make you feel uncomfortable in the best and worst way. Pulling both of the boys up by their collars, you couldn’t help but stare at Seokjin’s straining biceps. “Alright, that’s enough,” Seokin sighed, pushing Jungkook towards you. “What were you thinking?” you hissed, pulling the boy towards you. You quickly looked him over for any injuries, relaxing only when you saw that the biggest blow went to his pride. “I’m sorry noona,” Jungkook frowned, upset that he had disappointed you, “but you heard what he said! I couldn't just-” “Jungkook,” you silenced him sternly, “it doesn’t matter what he said, you know better. Now apologize. “But noona-” “Now.” Begrudgingly the two boys took a step forward, awkwardly shaking hands. “I’m sorry,” Taehyung winced, as if each word took a bit of his soul with him. “I’m sorry too,” Jungkook said, his frown slowly turning into a mischievous smirk, “that my grandma throws a better punch than you! Maybe we can try this again when you actually learn how to fight-” Almost as if it had all happened in slow motion, your body reacted in pure fight or flight mode. Pushing Jungkook out of the way, you took in what had to be the hardest punch you’ve ever felt in your life. Taehyung definitely threw a better punch than your grandma. 

The last thing you saw was Seokjin’s usually collected figure coated in worry, as you sunk into darkness.

Bright lights and murmured voices were the first things you noticed as you finally came to. Forcing your eyes to adjust to the lighting, you could barely make out what looked like a hospital setting. Looking around the room, you found it nearly empty, save for the warmth sitting by your side. Staring down at your interlocked hands, you followed the arm up all the way to the owner of the body, and the last person you would expect to see. Seokjin. What was he doing here? Asleep at the side of your bed, he looked like he hadn’t moved since you had gotten there. Blushing, your mind brought you back to the feeling of his large hand intertwined with yours. Warmth spread through your body at the very thought of him watching over you. Almost as if your thoughts were too loud, Seokjin stirred from his sleep, instantly making eye contact with you. “[YN]!” He gasped shooting up, quickly letting go of your hand. You tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment washing over you, after all, you two weren't even friends. You didn't even like him...right? “What happened?” You tried to sit up but quickly decided that was a bad idea as the pain in your face set in. At the first sign of distress, Seokjin rushed over to you, cradling your face in his hands like it was something precious. “Don't move,” he whispered against your ear, before gently helping you back into the pillow. You couldn't help the fierce blush that overtook your features. This couldn't be happening, he was your number one enemy! He hated you! After everything that's happened, could you really say the same? “Jin I-” “[Y/N], there's-” You both spoke at the same time, causing your face to heat up more. At that moment a bang was heard as someone threw the room door open and sprinted towards you. “Noona!” A hyperactive Jungkook cried, launching himself into your bed. You groaned, crushed under his full weight as he hugged you tightly. “I’m so sorry, this was all my fault! I should have listened to you instead of fighting!” At that moment another figure walked into the brightly lit room. He entered slowly but just as guilty. He moved to stand in front of your bed, head hung low. “[Y/N] Noona,” he said solemnly, “I am so sorry!” The boy seemed on the verge of tears. He looked utterly ashamed, unable to look you in the eyes. You smiled at him, gently placing your hand on his arm. Before you could completely forgive him, another voice spoke first. “Hyung, it was my fault. I shouldn't have provoked you,” Jungkook said. Shocked, the room was silent. “Uh, yeah um,” Taehyung stuttered, unsure how to respond to Jungkook in a way that wasn’t mildly insulting, “-I mean, it was both our faults.” You looked at the two boys in front of you. They looked nearly identical with deep frowns and heads hung down in shame. Suddenly, you burst into laughter, not believing the situation. “I’m okay,” you said in between laughs, “I just can't believe I let a kid like you knock me out! Next time you won't be so lucky Kim Taehyung, you better watch yourself.” On cue, Taehyung face split into his infamous box smile. Lurching forward, he launched himself onto you, pulling you out of Jungkook’s arms and into his own. “Okay okay,” a voice came from your left, “don't injure her more. Disappointed, the boys crawled out of your bed. You turned to look at Jin, noticing that he was wearing the same look that kept you up at night only a few days ago. “Fine, there's free snacks in the cafeteria anyway!” Jungkook said excitedly. Turning towards Taehyung, he let his signature smirk crawl back onto his face. “Race you there?” “You're on!” Taehyung said determinedly as they darted towards the door. Before Taehyung ran out the door he paused. Turning back to look at you one last time, he tilted his head, opening his mouth to speak. “You know noona, you’re actually pretty cool. I can see why hyung likes you so much now! I hope you feel better soon!” he grinned, throwing up two thumbs up before racing out the door. Shocked, you turned to look at the blushing man next to you. “You like me?” you asked, unsure of when you became so bold. Blushing, he spluttered incoherent words, trying to find out some excuse to block him from your penetrating gaze. “I, uh- I mean, what?” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands, “No, I mean yes, okay I like you.” This time it was your turn to blush, unprepared for his confession.   “Why?” you asked, confused as to where this all came from, “I thought you hated me.” He sighed, moving closer to your bed. “I don’t hate you. I mean, at first I did. I don’t know when it changed or when my heart started to beat at the mention of your name. All I know is that I like you, even if you can be a pain in my ass sometimes, I can’t stop thinking of you. You make me feel crazy in a way no one else can. I understand if you don’t feel the same, the way I acted-” Tired of hearing him ramble, you pressed your lips against his. “You talk too much,” you giggled, loving the way his face burned bright red. Splitting his face into the biggest smile you've ever seen him wear, he pulled your face back to his. 

#bts #bts scenarios #seokjin #bts seokjin scenario #bts jin #bts jin scenario #bts fics #seokjin fic #fluff #bts fluff #bts au #seokjin chef! au #eatjin #kim seokjin #bts kim seokjin #my writing

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10 Vegetarian Meals From The Slow Cooker

10 Vegetarian Meals from the Slow Cooker

(Image credit: Guy Ambrosino)

Need some inspiration for working an extra meatless dinner into your meal plan? Look no further than your slow cooker. When the slow cooker's involved, you know cooking is bound to be an easy affair. From bean enchiladas and tikka masala, veggie pot pie and a curried chickpea stew, here are 10 vegetarian meals to make in your slow cooker.

(Image credit: Guy Ambrosino)

Forget the takeout! This Indian favorite, with chickpeas swimming in a creamy, spiced tomato sauce, is easy to bring to the table any night of the week when your slow cooker is involved.

(Image credit: Lauren Volo)

Pull out your slow cooker and loaded veggie pot pie is easy to fit into your midweek meal plan. Keep it simple by topping the meal off with a tube of flaky biscuits or, if you have a little extra time, consider popping a batch of cream biscuits into the oven.

(Image credit: Diana Yen)

When stovetop simmering isn't in the cards, lean on your slow cooker to get your ratatouille fix. It makes a big batch, which is great news for those who love leftovers.

(Image credit: Karla Conrad)

Get this meatless meal started before you head out the door for work and when you get home at the end of the day, dinner will be waiting.

(Image credit: Emma Christensen)

Add these veggie-friendly enchiladas to next week's meal plan and Taco Tuesday is guaranteed to be a hit.

(Image credit: Maria Midoes)

When you want a meatless meal that is truly comforting, look no further than an easy batch of dal made in the slow cooker. This version is made with split red lentils and a warm medley of spices like cumin, mustard, and fennel.

(Image credit: Maria Siriano)

Lentils and beans are the star ingredients that give this vegan chili a totally satisfying meaty quality. And because it's made in the slow cooker, you can count on it being easy to pull off.

(Image credit: Emma Christensen)

Flavored with ginger and garlic to complement the warm curry aroma, this comforting stew gets its bulk from protein-rich chickpeas, and is versatile enough for any veggies you have lingering in the fridge.

(Image credit: Christine Han)

With the help of the slow cooker, this is one of the easiest mac and cheese recipes you'll make. Stir dry pasta together with the other ingredients and in a few hours time you'll be tucking into a rich dinner.

(Image credit: Guy Ambrosino)

This veggie and bean dump-and-go soup picks up an extra layer of depth and richness from a Parmesan rind that gets simmered along with the ingredients. Pair it with a fresh baguette and you've got dinner.

Related Questions:

Is a slow cooker eco-friendly?

Yes, they do not use high temperatures, so they use less energy. However it's important to test your crockpot liner for lead. You can get a lead test kit at the hardware store. Wouldn't want that leaching into your food now would you?

What temperature do slow cookers cook?

What temperature does a slow cooker cook at? If you have a slow cooker, you have probably wondered what temperature the low and high settings actually are, since few slow cookers actually tell you on the dial or even in the manual. And some are definitely fussy about ensuring food is thoroughly cooked in order to avoid food illnesses. Slow cookers, and their accompanying recipes generally come with two settings. The low setting is actually 200F. The high setting is 300F. Both of these temperatures are suitable for cooking raw meat when cooked for the length of time the recipe recommends. Some slow cookers also have a warm setting, this setting should only be used after the main meal has been cooked and you are keeping it warm a short time before dinner is served.

How do you prepare a roast in a slow cooker?

A slow cooker will not roast (the temperature is not high enough). However, if you brown your joint of meet in a frying pan on all sides then place it in the slow cooker with some vegetables, herbs, pepper, salt, stock and a little wine to just about cover it, it will cook slowly for 4 - 8 hours and taste wonderful.

How do you decrease slow cooker recipes for smaller slow cookers?

The easiest way is to cut the amount called for of each ingredient in half. Thus instead of one cup of chicken broth you would use one half cup of chicken broth. If you have a really small slow cooker you could use one fourth of each ingredient.

Can milk be used in slow cooker?

Yes, milk, rice and a little sugar makes a smashing rice pudding in a slow cooker.

Is a crock pot a slow cooker?

a crock pot and slow cooker are very similar. They both cook slowly but a crock pot usually has a removable insert which makes it great for serving at the table and cleanup. A slow cooker does not have a removable insert so you have to put the whole appliance on the table to serve.

Which companies make slow cookers?

Rival makes the most popular brand of slow cookers under the "Crock-Pot" brand, however KitchenAid, Breville, and Hamilton Beach also manufacture slow cookers.

Where can slow cooker recipes be found?

Slow Cooker recipes can be found in hundreds of cook books, and many websites all across the Internet. Certain magazines may come with a variety of healthy choices for slow cooking recipes as well.

What are the release dates for Sandra's Money Saving Meals - 2009 Slow Cooker Savings 2-10?

Sandra's Money Saving Meals - 2009 Slow Cooker Savings 2-10 was released on: USA: 2010

What are the release dates for Sandra's Money Saving Meals - 2009 Slow Cooker 4-7?

Sandra's Money Saving Meals - 2009 Slow Cooker 4-7 was released on: USA: 2011

Article Summary:

Need some inspiration for working an extra meatless dinner into your meal plan ? Look no further than your slow cooker. From bean enchiladas and tikka masala, veggie pot pie and a curried chickpea stew, here are 10 vegetarian meals to make in your slow cooker. Forget the takeout! This Indian favorite, with chickpeas swimming in a creamy, spiced tomato sauce, is easy to bring to the table any night of the week when your slow cooker is involved. Pull out your slow cooker and loaded veggie pot pie is easy to fit into your midweek meal plan. When you want a meatless meal that is truly comforting, look no further than an easy batch of dal made in the slow cooker. Because it's made in the slow cooker, you can count on it being easy to pull off. With the help of the slow cooker, this is one of the easiest mac and cheese recipes you'll make.

credit, slow, cooker, meal, batch

[notable-law-music-tech-news]

Summer-Vegetable Surplus? Try a Warm-Weather Italian Stew

[Photographs: J. Kenji Lopez-Alt]

I have two related problems, but bear with me, because they are about as first-world as problems come.

The first is too many vegetables. I take my daughter to the San Mateo farmers market every Saturday morning, and despite repeated advice to the contrary, I usually do it on an empty stomach. Bad mistake. I wind up buying far more produce than our small family can eat within a week, which means I'm constantly trying to figure out ways to pack more vegetables into a single meal.

The second is too much bread. My neighbors down the road run a bakery called Backhaus and my wife and I have a delivery subscription. Every Thursday, there's a new loaf of incredible bread waiting for us on the doorstep. We eat it fresh for the first few days, but figuring out what to do with the remaining chunk of stale bread after that is a weekly problem that I'm constantly trying to find creative ways to solve.

Then Daniel went ahead and solved both of those problems for me. The solution? An Italian soup called ribollita. Actually, it's an Italian stew. Or actually, an Italian pancake. It's all three of those things, depending on how long you cook it.

In Daniel's recipe, he makes the hearty soup by sautéing aromatic vegetables, then simmering squash, kale, and cannelini beans in some water before adding in chunks of stale bread and cooking it all down until the bread thickens up the broth. But there's absolutely no reason to stick with squash, beans, and other winter vegetables. In fact, Daniel spells it out for us in his article:

Let me stop here to point something out: In my recipe, I give a precise list of ingredients and quantities. Please, please don't make the mistake of thinking you need to adhere to that list. This kind of soup is practically begging for variation. Add vegetables that you like, add vegetables that are in season, make it up, invent, improvise: You really, really can't go wrong. I always try to use some combination of the most basic aromatics, such as onion and/or its close relatives, like leeks and shallots, plus garlic, carrot, maybe celery. But beyond that, go wild! (And frankly, if you hate garlic, carrots, or celery, by all means leave them out.)

Taking his advice to heart, I decided to make a more summery version with one of my farmers market hauls.

I start the same way he does, by sautéing garlic, onions, leeks, carrot, and celery, along with a few stems of rosemary or thyme in a good amount of olive oil. And by "good amount" I mean "an amount appropriate for sautéing a whole lot of vegetables," not good in any calorie-counting sense of the word. A few tablespoons at least to start off, and a drizzle here and there if the pot ever starts to look dry or the vegetables stick at all. You can remove the leaves from the rosemary and thyme and chop them up, but I find it much easier just to throw the sprigs in whole and worry about fishing out the stems before serving. To punch up the flavor a little, I also add a spoonful of tomato paste.

Next I top it all off with water, then dump in my vegetables—summer squash, zucchini, green beans, and spinach—along with a couple bay leaves, a handful of chopped fresh basil leaves, and a Parmesan rind to help deepen the flavor. After simmering the vegetables until tender, I add my cubed bread.

Incidentally, there's no reason to wait for your bread to stale before making this soup. I happen to always have some stale bread on hand so it makes sense, but if you want that ribollita right now, a fresh loaf from the shop will work just fine and will actually shave a few minutes off of cooking.

Now comes the easiest part: simmer everything until it's done. How do you know it's done? Well honestly, it doesn't matter. It's totally up to you.

You wanna talk about foolproof recipes? Ribollita's about as foolproof as they come. It's okay if you don't use all the ingredients. It's okay if you add other vegetables. It's okay if you undercook it. Heck, you can't even really overcook it. Cook it down past soup stage and it becomes a delicious stew. Cook it past stew stage and you can transfer it to a skillet and fry it up like a pancake (really!). Don't want a pancake? That's ok, just add a little more liquid and it's still good to serve.

I finish it all off with some grated Parmesan, more extra-virgin olive oil, and freshly ground black pepper before serving.

By the way, if you want to make sure your farmers market trips are a little more frugal, I heartily recommend eating a bowl of ribollita before you go, because it certainly won't leave you hungry.

from Serious Eats http://ift.tt/2qFME2h

#newsofnote recipe

[foodgemsg]

http://ift.tt/2joPLDj Read on our visit to Princess Cruises | How Do I Survive With Limited Internet for 4D3N by FoodGem

Media Travel

Personally, I have never been on a relaxation trip. Busy shopping, many miles of endless walking and even work on my trip. These adds to travel fatigue though it was meant to be an unwinding on holiday. Holidays are supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? In my recent cruise journey with Princess Cruises being in Ko Samui basically gave me a taste of what a perfect relaxation trip. If you have been following my IG @Foodgemsg ; great foods, drinks, entertainment and more. Being an active blogger/ influencer, it felt rather empty initially, missing 24/7 internet access. Well, there’s internet on sea, however it is costly at USD$0.79/ minute and at slow surfing speed. Probably a blessing in disguise! I need not check on my work and stuffs (Shhhhh!). Always feeling welcome and a part of this big family with friendly crews and passengers. Looking forwards to a list of endless activities on Princess Cruises.

Food

Being a foodie on vacation, food play a big part on my beautiful adventure. I would have to admit that the food on board Princess Cruises are very impressive. Enjoy in the comfort of stateroom with 24 hours room service or dine at any dining room extending from casual dining to speciality restaurant, where each restaurant presents the perfect food for every palete.

Crab Shack

Crab shack is famous for its steam seafood extravaganza. Featuring savoury freshly steamed Alaskan King Crabs. I’ve received 6 large Crab legs with a variety of fresh seafood eg. fresh clams, prawns, mussels and more! The portion is really HUGE, do visit on an empty stomach. 4 course dinner consists of appetiser, soup, main, dessert with coffee or tea at USD29 per person. UNBELIEVABLE!!! It’s definitely a steal.

The popcorn shrimp appetizer started a bang. Choice of dipping sauce in Bayou style or tartar.

Manhattan clam chowder with bacon, tomato and potatoes. Locks of love for these extra clam juice it calls for just what was in the clams.

Selection of gateaux and tarts from the pastry shop, served with coffee or tea.

2. Santa Fe/ Pacific Moon

Princess Gourmet Beef Burger: Savoury good beef patty topped with blue crab meat dressed in asparagus and hollandaise sauce. It is served with french fries.

Cream of wild mushroom soup with sun-blushed roms tomatoes.

Not the usual scallops that is laid on the plate. Sea scallop that has been hand-picked off a rock by a scuba diver. Diver scallops are more biologically amicable and less lumpy. Diver scallops also give a firmer, gentle texture with a nice colour. It comes with three beurre-blanc, vegetable julienne and red bliss potatoes. Definitely one of the must try dishes at Santa Fe.

Beautiful pink rain drops surfacing chocolate mousse on brownie.

Strawberry Sorbet to cleanse the palate. It is infused with lemon and wild thyme.

3. The Savoy Dining Room

Seafood stew with Chilean sea bass, black mussels and clams. Fresh seafood in a plate of creamy broth. Flavoured with sauteed fennel and a variety of herbs, spices and seasonings. Best to enjoy the stew with slices of toasted baguette soaking in the goodness of every drop.

Trio of premium seafood selection from lobster, shrimp and squid with orange filets lime-cilantro vinaigrette. The sweetness of seafood with the citrusy of fruits makes an amazing starter.

Double beef consomme with mini choux buns and green onions. Although its a clear soup but the stock is richly flavoured.

Watermelon and Feta cheese showering with toasted pumpkin seeds and drizzled with extra virgin olive oil lemon.

4. Buffet at Horizon Court

Something that elevates to a buffet is that they serve a wide selection of foods – but not limited to Western, Japanese, Chinese, Italian, Indian cuisines. It starts as early at 5am and ends at 11pm. Expect to see ribeye steak, salmon sashimi, alluring desserts and more! Buffet was delicious, consistent, even its presentation in the tray.

5. High Tea at The International Dining Room

The large selection of high tea does not impress me. Not a fan of very sweet pastry. Probably it’s just me, saving the calories at other restaurants or even the buffet!

6. Room service dining

Say yes to 24 hours room service! That gonna be one of the coolest as I get to order any meal anytime in the comfort of my personal stateroom. Breakfast served after I’ve washed up in the morning or a simple salad/ sandwich at midnight. Speedy delivery after 20-30 minutes of waiting. Hot foods served and prepared specially upon order. Besides the western breakfast, you can also order Chinese food eg. Wonton noodle! Room service can never be better.

Accomodation

Nothing beats lying on a comfort Princess bed after a long day of activities. Satisfying your senses with Princess amenities such as 100% cotton, high thread count linens and duvet, down pillows and more!

Entertainment

I woke up every day so psyched for what lay ahead. Probably a morning Japanese bath experience or Zumba class, followed by shopping at duty free boutiques. In the afternoon, pick a champagne at the art gallery or offshore excusion. And in the evening, live entertainment in the lounges, games at casino, enjoy a movie under the stars, the spectacular musical production or even dancing in the disco.

Highly recommended Production Show that you shouldn’t miss: Bravo

Light opera musical theater and pop opera songs show tunes exhibited in a rich setting summons a significant night at the Opera. Starring the Diamond Princess singers, dancers and orchestra. Featuring Lena McKenzie, an off-the-beaten track Soprano, who caught everyone’s attention with her perfect high notes.

The night is still young with gala balloon drop party.

Galley tour and behind the scenes for an insider’s look of how our meals are prepared.

Featuring Chef Nilo Palma presenting in a light hearted and comedy cooking demonstration.

Love boat disco deck party at Nepture’s Reef and Pool.

Facilities

Participate in Princess Cruises’ onboard activities, including movie under the stars, pools, hot tubs, poolside activities, sports courts, gym and more!

Indulge in luxury spa experience named Best Spa on a Cruise Ship by Spafinder Wellness 365. The Lotus Spa provides pampering services – from manicure to massages. Or visit a simple wood paneled dry sauna and a tiled steam room.

Gymnasium, aerobics room with jogging tracks.

Shore Excursions

Elephant show exhibited the ones essentially highlighting ability and inventiveness of the elephants.

Elephant trekking with authentic jungle paths and a gentle breeze.

Wat Phra Yai, also known as the Big Buddha Temple, is a Buddhist temple on Ko Phan. It is a small island offshore from the northeastern area of Ko Samui, Thailand. The 12-meter-tall Golden Buddha takes endurance of steps flanked by two emerald dragons with the towering focal figure at the foremost. Big Buddha fulfills both the religious visitors and also the tourists. Mirroring these standards, a ring of extensive bronze prayer bells surrounds the Buddha. Tenderly influencing in the cool sea breeze. Use one of the wooden strikers to delicately ring every bell for good fortunes as you take in the eminent perspectives. I’ve recorded the process and hope anyone who plays this video gets the blessing too.

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2017 Diamond Princess Schedule | Departure Dates from Singapore

Princess Cruises; voted as “Best Cruise Line in Asia. Set sail on a roundtrip cruise holiday from Singapore through the ports of Thailand, Vietnam, Indonesia, and Malaysia. Short trips at these weekend getaway spots from Singapore. It’s only a short cruise to many amazing holiday breaks for families, couples, friends and solo travellers.

5 Days 2 Ports Thailand Roundtrip from Singapore. Available date/s: 2017 Feb 23, Thursday Interior Stateroom starting from: $778.00* SGD per person.

5 Days 3 Ports Malaysia Roundtrip from Singapore. Available date/s: 2017 Mar 11, Saturday Interior Stateroom starting from: $778.00* SGD per person.

7 Days 3 Ports Thailand Roundtrip from Singapore. Available date/s: 2017 Mar 4, Saturday Interior Stateroom starting from: $1103.00* SGD per person.

There’s so many great spots in Southeast Asia. If you have time for a longer journey, consider a 9/11 day roundtrip cruise from Singapore calling in Malaysia, Thailand, and Vietnam’s most popular ports of call, including the captivating city of Bangkok, the antiquity Ho Chi Minh City.

9/11 Days up to 6 Ports Southeast Asia Roundtrip from Singapore. Available date/s: 2017 Feb 8, Wednesday 2017 Mar 16, Thursday Interior Stateroom starting from: $1688.00* SGD per person.

*Subjected to Taxes, Fees & Port Expenses

Visit princess.com for more details.

The post Princess Cruises | How Do I Survive With Limited Internet for 4D3N appeared first on foodgem: Food & Travel.

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