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si3rren · 20 days ago

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Hot Ramen, Hotter Boyfriend

enhypen masterlist

my wattpad

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

bf!lee heeseung x fem!reader | established relationship | pure fluff | domestic chaos | cooking ramen together

author note: i was lowkey hungry when i wrote this 😔😔

warnings: none! just fluffy domestic chaos, soft kisses, playful teasing, heeseung being both smooth and shy, and a lot of talk about ramen.

summary: you thought cooking ramen together would be a chill bonding activity. you forgot that your boyfriend, lee heeseung, has an encyclopedic knowledge of ramen, is absurdly attractive while doing the most mundane things, and also blushes like mad when you praise him.

The idea had started so innocently. A lazy afternoon, the soft hum of the apartment fan, your legs tangled together on the couch as you scrolled aimlessly through videos of people cooking fancy ramen dishes. You’d turned to him with a grin, the kind that always made his heart skip even after all this time, and said, “Let’s make ramen. Like, really make it. Together.” And Heeseung—poor, sweet, unsuspecting Heeseung—had agreed, eyes lighting up as if you’d just suggested flying to the moon. Now, standing in the small, sun-warmed kitchen, you were realizing the depth of your mistake.

Heeseung wasn’t just a casual ramen enjoyer. No. He was apparently a ramen scholar. The moment the idea was in the air, he’d gone into full culinary mode. Sleeves rolled up over his forearms (you were not immune), hair slightly messy from where he’d raked his fingers through it while explaining the “complex interplay of broth and noodle texture” like he was defending a thesis. His brows were drawn together in serious concentration as he set ingredients out on the counter: two kinds of noodles (“for optimal chew”), spring onions, soft-boiled eggs he’d prepped earlier because “you can’t rush perfection”, and even a tiny container of his “secret sauce” that you didn’t even know existed.

You leaned against the counter, watching him with a fondness so overwhelming it almost hurt, your heart full of love and amusement. Heeseung’s mouth moved as he spoke about boiling times and the importance of timing the toppings just right, but all you could focus on was the little things—how the afternoon light hit his profile, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, how he chewed his lip in thought. He turned suddenly, holding out a packet of noodles. “Okay, babe, you handle this one, I’ll do the broth. We want it to be ready at the same time, so—”

You burst out laughing, grabbing the noodles. “Heeseung. It’s ramen, not a Michelin star dish.”

His ears pinked instantly, but he huffed, trying to look affronted. “Yah, ramen deserves respect.”

You grinned, stepping closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him from behind. “You’re so cute when you’re serious about noodles.”

Heeseung froze for a second, ears now fully red, before turning his head to nuzzle against your cheek, his voice a little shy. “Stop, you’re distracting the chef.”

But neither of you moved, too content to just stay there, the kitchen warm with late afternoon light, the sound of water starting to bubble on the stove, and your hearts beating in soft, perfect sync.

Heeseung, after a moment of basking in your hug, cleared his throat and gently pried himself free—not because he wanted to, but because “the integrity of the broth is at stake” (his words, not yours). His brows were furrowed again in that adorably focused way as he leaned over the pot, sprinkling in pinches of seasoning like he was casting spells. You stayed where you were, leaning your hip against the counter, watching him like he was the only thing worth watching in the world. And maybe he was.

The soft clink of chopsticks as he stirred, the steam rising in curls around his face, the faint blush that still lingered on his ears from your earlier compliment—it was all so absurdly domestic that your heart gave an actual flutter. Heeseung looked over his shoulder at you and caught you staring. His lips tugged into a shy little smile, the kind that dimpled one cheek more than the other, the kind that made you want to kiss him senseless.

“What?” he asked, voice warm, playful, but his eyes already glinting with bashfulness.

You smirked, pushing off the counter to stand beside him. “Nothing. Just… you’re very pretty when you’re cooking.”

That did it. The tips of his ears went scarlet. Heeseung ducked his head, pretending to focus on the broth, but his grin was too big to hide. “Aish, stop it. You’re gonna make me mess up the seasoning.”

You reached out, poking his side gently, delighting in the way he squirmed, shoulders hunching as he let out a soft, surprised laugh. “I didn’t know ramen chefs were this easy to fluster.”

“I’m not flustered,” he protested weakly, voice wobbly with the effort of holding back laughter. His hand reached out blindly, fingers finding yours on instinct, squeezing them lightly. “I’m just… focused.”

The two of you fell into a rhythm then, stirring, seasoning, tasting. You handled the noodles like he showed you, pretending not to be impressed at how seriously he took your “technique”. Heeseung leaned over every so often, his chin brushing your shoulder, offering gentle guidance in a low voice that made your skin warm. The kitchen filled with the scent of simmering broth, the gentle clatter of utensils, and the soft sound of your shared laughter.

When you weren’t looking, Heeseung would steal glances—at the way your hair fell across your face, at the concentration in your eyes, at the smile playing at your lips. And every single time, he’d have to look away before you caught him, heart thudding like crazy because somehow, even after all this time, you still made him feel like a lovesick fool in the best way possible.

At some point, the line between cooking and playful chaos blurred completely. You were stirring the noodles, trying your best to mimic the way Heeseung had shown you—gentle but firm, like you weren’t just boiling ramen but nurturing it—and Heeseung was hovering far too close behind you, watching with an intensity that made your skin tingle. His hand came up to cover yours on the chopsticks, guiding the motion without even realizing how intimate it felt.

“Here—like this,” he murmured, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. You felt his chest press lightly to your back, his body heat seeping through your shirt, and you froze for a second, heart doing a little somersault.

“Are we making ramen or slow-dancing?” you teased, but your voice came out softer than you intended, a little breathless.

Heeseung chuckled, low and sweet, his nose brushing your temple as he straightened up just enough to look down at you. “Multitasking?” His fingers lingered on yours a second longer before reluctantly letting go, but not before giving your hand the gentlest squeeze.

You shook your head, cheeks warm, trying to focus on the bubbling pot. But Heeseung wasn’t making it easy. He leaned past you to grab a spoon, his shoulder brushing yours, his arm wrapping briefly around your waist for balance as he peered into the broth. “Looks good,” he said, voice proud. And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he pressed the softest kiss to your cheek—quick, fleeting, but enough to make your heart skip.

You turned, trying to catch him for a real kiss, but he dodged with a grin, lifting the spoon like a shield. “Taste test first,” he said, eyes twinkling.

You pouted, but he scooped up some broth and blew on it carefully before holding it out to you. His other hand found its way to your hip, steadying you as you leaned in to sip, and for a moment, the world felt small in the best way. Just the two of you, the kitchen warm with steam, his fingers resting lightly at your waist, his gaze soft and full of adoration as he waited for your verdict.

“Perfect,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you meant the broth or him.

His blush deepened, his thumb brushing absentmindedly along the curve of your hip. “Good. Because I made it for you.”

And before you could say anything else, he finally gave in and kissed you properly—slow and sweet, tasting faintly of broth and the sheer joy of being right here, together.

The kiss lingered longer than either of you intended, soft lips brushing again and again like you were rediscovering each other in the middle of your tiny kitchen. His hands, warm and steady, slid from your hips to the small of your back, pulling you just a little closer, just enough to feel the way your heart raced against his chest. And you, with your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his t-shirt, couldn’t help but smile against his mouth, the kind of smile that made him kiss you deeper, slower.

But then the pot hissed loudly, steam rising in a sudden cloud, snapping you both back to reality. You broke apart, laughing breathlessly, and Heeseung groaned, hiding his face in your neck. “The ramen’s gonna hate me for getting distracted.”

You tilted your head, letting him rest there, your hand moving up to card gently through his hair. “The ramen understands. The ramen ships us.”

Heeseung snorted, pulling back just enough to glance at the pot. “Okay, okay, before we ruin it—let’s do the eggs.”

Together, you moved in sync, him peeling the eggs with delicate precision while you portioned out the noodles into bowls. His fingers brushed yours as he passed you the halved yolks, their centers perfectly jammy. “See? Timing,” he said, but there was no teasing this time—just that soft wonder in his voice, like he couldn’t believe how good this felt, how good you felt, standing here beside him.

You leaned in, brushing your nose lightly against his cheek as you set the eggs in place. “Chef Lee, I’m impressed.”

His ears flushed deep pink again, and this time he didn’t even try to hide it. He just smiled, wide and genuine, and bumped his forehead against yours. “I just wanted to make something nice with you.”

And as the two of you stood there, bowls of ramen steaming between you, your fingers intertwined despite the chopsticks clutched awkwardly in your other hands, you realized you’d never tasted anything as perfect as this moment.

Heeseung watched you with that gaze—the one that always made your breath hitch no matter how many times you’d seen it. Like you were the only person in the world, like he was memorizing every little detail of you, as if blinking might mean losing the chance to soak in the sight of you standing there, bathed in warm kitchen light, hair a little messy from all the chaos, cheeks flushed from the heat of the stove and the softness of all those kisses. His eyes traced over you with so much tenderness it made your chest ache, dark lashes fluttering as if he couldn’t believe you were real, standing here with him, laughing and making ramen like it was the most important thing on earth.

You felt the weight of that stare, felt it wrap around you like a hug, and your own gaze softened as you met his eyes, seeing every bit of that adoring love reflected right back at you. Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long, lingering moment. He just looked at you, lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find words big enough for what he felt. His thumb brushed gently across the back of your hand, slow and reverent, and the world outside that little kitchen faded to nothing.

Finally, he let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head like he was scolding himself. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how pretty you are,” he said, voice low, like it was a secret meant just for you. His free hand came up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering at your jaw, tracing the line of it so delicately it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Heeseung…” you whispered, heart thudding, because what could you even say to that?

He grinned, soft and bashful but still holding your gaze like he never wanted to let go. “Sorry. I know the ramen’s gonna get cold. But you’re distracting.”

You laughed, leaning forward until your forehead rested against his, both of you swaying just slightly like the gentle pull of gravity between you was too strong to resist. “You’re one to talk,” you breathed, nose brushing his, eyes falling shut for a second just to feel him this close.

For a few beats, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke. Just the quiet of the room, the sound of your hearts beating in sync, the steam curling around you like a soft haze. Then, as if on cue, you both reached for your bowls, grinning like fools, hands bumping and fingers tangling because neither of you wanted to stop touching the other, not even for a second.

You sat side by side at the small kitchen table, knees pressed together, stealing glances as you ate. Heeseung kept looking at you like he still couldn’t believe his luck, his foot nudging yours under the table, his chopsticks forgotten for whole seconds at a time as he got caught up watching you enjoy the meal you’d made together.

And when you leaned your head on his shoulder between bites, he pressed a kiss to your hair, his eyes closing, his smile soft and full of that quiet, overwhelming love that needed no words at all.

The ramen was good—better than good, honestly. But the way Heeseung looked at you like you hung the stars? That was the part that would stay with you forever.

a/n: PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT OR FEEDBACK THANK YOU!!!

#🧜‍♀️’s author era #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen #enha x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen oneshots #heeseung smut #heeseung fluff #heeseung x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic #heeseung x reader

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sungiescheotluv · 6 months ago

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kiss it better ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, crack (if you squint), swearing, you're mark's long-time friend

summary: jaemin's been lucky enough to get everything he wants, all except you. at this point, it may take a christmas miracle for you to look his way. or something else festive-related.

notes: i do realize it is (checks calendar) 25 days after christmas, but after i came across this prompt list, i couldn't say no. thank you so much to @dumplingsjinson for the prompt and the following swooning i did while writing this. i hope you enjoy a bit of jaemin's charm in this fic. hope to post soon, hope you have a great day! much love <3

Jaemin is a natural flirt.

Blessed with looks that warrant more than a double take, doubled with an ever so kind personality, it’s no wonder he leaves a trail of fawning hearts in his wake. Honestly, it amazes you every time, how people bend over backwards to make his life simpler. He’s lost? He’s personally escorted to his destinations, sometimes even given money for an Uber. He’s a few pennies short for his coffee order? It’s on the house, served with a complimentary pastry. He’s picking up rubbish in his local community? He’s scouted by SM entertainment.

Moral of the story is, he’s very lucky. You guess, it’s a reflection of his goodwill. How pure and kind-hearted he is, reflecting back at him in the real world. It’s a side he doesn’t allow many people to see: discreet donations made in other’s names, disappearing on his days off to help uplift marginalised communities. Heck, he’s been the one to pay for people’s Ubers when they’re lost, cold or drunk. He’s never once accepted anybody else’s efforts to do the same for him.

It’s a side of him you like seeing, more often than not, witnessing the image he projects for others. Charming and quirky, maybe even a bit weird by other’s standards. It’s like he’s wears his idol persona even after he’s off work, and since you’ve met him through Mark - someone he works with - maybe that’s why he’s this way with you. You’re unsure. All that you know is that in any other case, he’s usually successful with getting what he wants out of this world.

Except for you.

Ever since Mark, your long-time friend, introduced you to the group a few years ago, Jaemin’s not let up on pursuing you. Thinking a few innuendo compliments and acts of service would have you wrapped around his finger. How wrong he is, because even after two years, he’s still more or less in the same place - close enough to text you on days off, but not enough to call you his. Honestly, you kind of admire how laser-focused his interest is, no whispers of him looking any other way since the day you met. Mark even made a comment about it, that he’s been in multiple scenarios where Jaemin politely refuses a confession or advance, stating, “I have someone I’m interested in. They’re the only person I want to focus on. I’m sorry.”

Is it bad that when you heard this, your heart fluttered? It’s like a light switched and you were seeing Jaemin in a new light, how earnest his efforts to be with you were. How his compliments, while some based on your appearance, were more heartfelt - more personable. How at any point to be chivalrous, he was - carrying your heavy belongings, giving you his jacket when you shivered, walked on the outer side of the pavement and all the likes. There was one incident where you were helping prepare vegetables for a hotpot you and the guys were making, and Jaemin guided you aside by your waist to chop the rest. Said the knife was too sharp and worried you’d get hurt, chopping the spring onions like he was a world-renowned chef. If you weren’t braced against the counter, you’re pretty sure your knees would’ve given out.

Why you were unable to take that last leap, you don’t know. Your feelings for him were growing, less platonic as you interacted, but maybe it was because he hadn’t asked like before. When you’d first met, every time you’d come face to face, he’d propose dinner and for you to be his, which you denied with a laugh. Now, you didn’t bat an eyelash when it was only you two at a restaurant table, and he’d stopped asking. Maybe because he thought the door had closed, like after all this, you still only wanted to be friends.

If only he knew.

Christmas brings a chill to Seoul like no other, snowflakes floating down to the heaps of snow you trudge through to get to the lobby of Mark’s apartment building. This could be worse than the cold sting against your cheeks, you could’ve walked here like you initially were going to do. When Jaemin caught wind of it, he simply texted you:

pain in my ass?: Uber will be there in three. Hope you’re ready.

Unlike before, you’re grateful for the gesture and now as you walk through Mark’s doorway, Jaemin welcoming you, you can’t help the warm bundles of nerves building in your stomach as he helps take off your coat and hang it.

“If you eat another jelly bean, we’re going to have problems.” Haechan sighs.

What you’ve walked into, is best described as chaos. There’s flour. Everywhere. On the counter tops, on the ceiling and even on Jisung’s cheek who you heard later on didn’t have a hand in baking because of a fork-in-microwave incident that happened years before that kept him permanently out of the kitchen. Alongside the sugary scent of cookies and spice of gingerbread, another hearty meal wafts in the air. Your Christmas dinner, you assume. After all, it’s the very reason you’re here, a dinner hosted by your long-time friend to celebrate the rare day off and the good year that’s quickly coming to a close.

If you remember correctly, it was around Christmas two years ago that you’d first met Jaemin, the flirtatious raise of his eyebrows amusing you more than wooing you.

Oh, how time flies.

“What the fuck, you decorated the tree without me?” you curse, footsteps thumping against the heated floors as you approach the Christmas tree, mostly dazzled with ornaments and lights.

“I told them to wait for you,” Jaemin raises his hands in surrender, closer to you than you thought he’d be.

“Naked Christmas trees make me uncomfortable,” Mark remarks, compiling pieces of his gingerbread house with Chenle beside him. “Should’ve come sooner, like the agreed meetup time.”

“You know I’ve been trying.”

“Try harder,” Mark laughs, snickers filtering around the dining table covered in gingerbread crumbs and frosting. “Maybe showing up on time can be your new year’s resolution.”

“Maybe not being lame can be yours,” you roll your eyes, catching the top of the Christmas tree and how bare it is. “No star this year?”

“We at least saved that for you,” Haechan murmurs, hand swatting Jisung’s mid jelly-bean snatch. “Though you’ll have to find another way to get in on. Renjun’s using it so he can be a few centimetres above the stove.”

“I heard that, asshole,” Renjun curses from the kitchen opposite the dining room, Jeno laughing beside him. “He’s just covering up for the fact that he broke it. And probably his tailbone too.”

“What were you doing?” you laugh.

“Just some manly repairs around the house - you know how helpless Mark is,” Haechan has the audacity to puff out his chest, hands behind his head in a not so subtle way to flex.

“Bro literally couldn’t reach the medicine cabinet because he got a paper cut and then broke his tailbone.” Jeno chirps, a chorus of loud laughter echoing throughout the apartment as Haechan sighs in defeat, having the decency to look sheepish.

“If not healed in time, papercuts can be deadly. Get infected and stuff,” Haechan retorts, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky I’m alive to tell this story.”

“Sure you are,” Mark pats his back, a smirk that has Haechan rolling his eyes. “Anyways, you’ll have to find something else to help you. You’re welcome to use something less deadly than a step-ladder.”

“I’ve got it,” Jaemin says and suddenly his warm hands are on either side of his hips, star shaking in your hand as you’re hoisted up like you’re nothing. “The star.”

It’s like he’s speaking another language. The star, of all things, that’s what he’s focusing on? Not that he’s lifting you like you’re weightless in front of your friends, who might you add, are smirking and high-fiving in your direction? If your brain wasn’t busy short-circuiting, you’d give Jaemin and your friends a piece of your mind, but your face’s entirely too hot and the lights from the Christmas tree twinkle in Jaemin’s adoring eyes and you’re at a loss what’s happening in your chest. How fast your heart can possibly rabbit in your chest, especially when he gives you an easy, heartfelt smile and nod as if to say, go on. So, you do go on, placing the star on as best as you can and are only let down when you’re satisfied with its position. Jaemin lets you down easily, no huff or puff and admires your work, like you’d decorated the big tree all yourself. And when his eyes flicker to yours, laser-focused on him, his hand gives your lower back a pat, voice low and entirely too intimate as he says,

“You did well.”

You excuse yourself to the bathroom soon after. Or right after, really because what was that? When did he become less cheesy, and so swoon-worthy? When couldn’t you pry your eyes from him and long for him at your side when he stood elsewhere? Perhaps, your life isn’t busy enough for you to be entertaining such thoughts, but what remains true for here and now is that this Christmas dinner is going to be a lot different from years past.

After you’ve returned, you’re conveniently paired up with Jaemin to build your gingerbread house. He asks if you’re ok, if you needed any painkillers or wanted to lie down, all which you dismiss more flustered than you usually do and try to get to work, scowling when you catch Jeno and Mark snickering to themselves. In usual, tender-hearted Jaemin style, he specifically bought your favourite candy to decorate the gingerbread house, an assortment of candy you both share a love for too. You keep your cool. He laughs, like he adores you when you put some icing on the tip of his nose - you keep your cool. He only encourages you when the house comes tumbling down in your hands, the two of you working together to build a stronger, better house - you keep your cool. However, what really sends you over the edge is when in a rotation of jokes, Jaemin snags some icing from Renjun and Jeno’s serving, a cheeky lift of the eyebrows as he licks three fingertips of icing off his hand.

It’s when you and Mark manage to make eye contact immediately afterwards that you know you’re screwed, an amused shake of the head coming from him as you turn away, the smile on your face too obvious.

You take another bathroom break after you’re finished building your houses, another tagline of ‘nice work’ thrown your way before you go. Were you not complimented enough throughout your life or were you developing a praise kink? Because, your reactions to his words are amateurish to say the least. Bracing your hands against the basin, you collect and expel breaths, somehow in your reflection deciding that if the opportunity came about, you’d accept Jaemin’s advances. Christmas is the season for giving, after all. Not that you saying yes is a gift, but he sure made it out to be, and who knew, maybe being with him would be a treat to yourself. Only time would tell.

Exiting the bathroom, your eyes are downcast, obscuring your peripheral which would’ve caught the body breezing past, except it’s your body that catches the body, two figures colliding into one. The slippery surface of the floor makes you spin on your socks, secured by your waist as your hands brace against the back of biceps. Very hard biceps, might you add. You’re about to thank Jeno, except you’re not met with a cat-like smile as you peer upwards, only pouty lips and puppy-dog brown eyes.

“You alright?” Jaemin asks, like he’s almost out of breath.

You nod rigidly, hands hesitating between letting go and looking suspicious or indulging and looking even more suspicious. “Y-yeah, yeah. I’m fine. All good.”

Jaemin gives you an unconvinced look, pink lips puckered with a crease in between his eyebrows. Fuck, you’re really losing your barings if all you could think is kissing him silly right now.

“You’ve been skittish all day, you sure?” he asks.

So, he’s noticed. Great.

“Positive,” you confirm, not meeting his eyes. When did he get so muscular? Under the soft lighting of Mark’s apartment, his chest looks broad and sturdy through his black sweatshirt, and he feels firm. Rigid. Like someone you can rely on. “You know what they say, gatherings make everyone nervous.”

That’s definitely not what they say. Whoever they are.

“We’ve been doing these dinners for ages, I’m not so sure about th-” he goes to say, but something grabs his attention. Makes him extend his neck and from your view, it makes you gulp. Several times. “Oh.”

Oh? What could get such a reaction?

You follow his gaze, finding a nicely tied mistletoe hovering above the two of you. One of the few strung around because Mark gets a kick out of his friends begrudgingly peck either’s cheek or bicker incessantly. It was funny to watch, and watch only. Now, you stand below one with the one man you’d love nothing more to kiss, if only he’d let you. Ask you if he could be yours again.

A gift or curse, you’d soon see what this would be.

“Oh,” you echo.

“Is your heart beating as fast as mine?”

You chuckle, half of out of habit and the other out of nerves. If he was any closer (which he couldn’t have possibly been), then he’d be able to hear how nervous you are. You cover up the skipped beat your heart does with a lame cough when his gaze falls back to you, smugness curving his lips.

“You wish.”

“I don’t think I have to wish,” he chuckles, then doing something out of your worst nightmare. Craning downwards to hear your heart better, forgetting he can feel your pulse that fights against your neck. He’s doing this to mess with you - there’s no other reason why. “Let’s hear your heartbeat.”

Suddenly, you’re downward spiralling, realising the gravity of your situation, how completely too close your bodies are and how, for some reason, in the face of someone who’s made their attraction to you known, you’re acting like you have the crush now.

“Too close,” you stutter out, hands finally leaving his biceps and wanting to separate but he’s been going to the gym, getting stronger and so, it’s no use escaping his grasp.

Especially when he holds you firm, brown eyes intent as he stares down at you, flickering between your eyes and lips. You swear your heart’s going to beat out your chest.

“Not close enough,” he murmurs, so close, practically sharing the same breath as you. “Can I?”

To drive home his point, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, holding you even closer as he shares a question between just the two of you, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, rigid and awkward, like you’re resigned to your fate and when Jaemin’s face flickers with concern, you find yourself leaning in first. Initiating the kiss.

Huh, who would’ve thought?

In any case, your hands are migrating from his sturdy biceps to his handsome face, melting into him as you kiss to become one. So deprived, so peaceful. United as one, lips moving as you taste vanilla icing and the beginnings of forever on his lips.

“Thank fuck,” you hear behind you, the moment gone in an instant as your head swivels behind you, finding each and every one of your friends peering over a wall at you. Having watched you and Jaemin kiss. “Jisung, you owe me pork belly when we’re next out.”

And so, that’s how you spend your Christmas dinner. Mercilessly teased by your friends who fake-kiss each other, burying your face in a hearty meal while Jaemin and you hold hands under the table. Lucky, in a way, that you’re shouldering your embarrassment together.

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violetwolfraven · 6 months ago

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Hey guys? As grocery prices go up and fresh food gets harder to get, knowing it will probably only get worse…

Potatoes are pretty easy to grow once they start turning green and sprouting. Just stick em somewhere they’ll get a lot of light about 2 weeks before you want to plant them for real and wait. After that bury them about 4 inches deep in a garden or container and they’ll be ready to harvest after the plants stop flowering.

You know how if you leave garlic alone for too long, it starts to sprout? Put that shit in some dirt with the sprout exposed, water it, and you’ve got yourself a garlic start.

You can grow peppers from seeds out of the ones you get at the supermarket. Peppers are decently easy. Start them indoors in a small pot, bury the seeds about an inch deep. Keep it next to a window or under a grow light for at least 10 hours a day and water it enough to keep the soil damp (~3x a week in summer, ~1x a week in winter). You should start them in winter or early spring so they’ll be nice and big and strong in time for the growing season. If you have the space to do so, move them outside after the danger of frost has passed. *with the caveat that they might or might not give you peppers in the first year.

Mint may not be a full meal but it’s a good addition to a salad or spring roll. It’s also ridiculously easy to grow. You kind of just get a store bought seedling and let it do its thing. Water it occasionally and be aware that it will die back over the winter, but mint is stupid easy. It can and will take over an entire space though, so maybe only plant it in a container.

Green onions can be sprouted from the white part with the roots. Just cut it about 2 inches away from the root, save the ends, stick the ends in a glass with some water, put that under light for a few days, then plant.

A short list of common edible plants you might be able to find (*with the caveat that most of my knowledge comes from only one region): lilacs (flowers), dandelions (leaves and flowers), lavender (flowers), peonies (flowers), basically any aggregate berry (shaped like a blackberry or raspberry).

With anything you want to start inside and later transplant outside, you should harden them off first. Hardening off is when you put the pots with the baby plants outside for longer and longer for a week or two leading up to when you’re transplanting. Start with leaving them outside for only a few hours at a time before you bring them back in and work your way up to leaving them out in their pots overnight before you plant them outside.

I’m a pretty amateur gardener and this is based on my experiences. Feel free to add your own if you know other tricks that might help someone.

#us politics #gardening

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kimyoonmiauthor · 9 months ago

Text

Slight note about the system of food.

'cause adding it to the large doc might crash my computer?:

I've realized that though historical fiction minds this more when set in pre-industrial times, that often fantasy set in agricultural societies doesn't seem to do this, though it should.

So I'll give you an example...

Almost everything in Korean food is centered and bred for two things: Kimchi and soy sauce.

But what you don't realize in your industrialized state how freaking long it takes to make these things and how much planning is involved and how much you have to mind the seasons in order to make it correctly.

Kimchi:

Baekchu (or other vegetables) that's often harvested in fall.

The salt, which was traditionally sea salt was harvested in the spring and summer months.

Garlic is a spring to mid summer crop.

The sweet rice that goes into winter kimchi takes a ton of work to make and can take from Spring to fall.

The fish sauce that goes into Kimchi that helps preserve it for over a year, takes and ENTIRE YEAR to make. Yes, a year. You really, really have to plan on that. And what do you do if the fishing is poor for that year?

Spring onions are faster to grow, but you still have to time it for the fall kimchi making.

The fish are seasonal. For example, Yellow Corvina is taken in Korea in the spring. Shrimp in the summer (June), and anchovies in early spring to fall.

Your timing has to be impeccable and you need an entire year to plan this one dish.

Meanwhile, you, industrialized person, take for granted that you can get fish sauce any time you like and can pour it over kimchi.

In fantasy this could add flavor to your fantasy make up, if your character can only get this dish once a year. It can add political unrest (What do you mean the salt harvest was poor and we're left with the shitty metallic salt), because your characters in an agricultural society will be subject to weather changes, which you get when reading historical fiction and so on. Three seasons of poor harvest, daaaamnn... the people might overthrow their government. There might be new religions that pop up, there might be uprisings because the King and Queen are eating feasts every day while the peasants are eating things that are empty calories.

What I'm saying is that you can't be too entrenched into industrial mindset if you're not writing an industrial setting.

That orange is seasonal and only comes about in a connected system that has winter and a warmer climate.

Maybe there are key foods for your climate that are highly treasured or sought after. Mandarins once were. Cacao. Think a bit about those things and how it might interact with the larger world. When does your plant mature and when can it be harvested? is it different from different climates? There's wars that have been fought over food. (Tea, famously, at least a few times).

A staple crop failing is going to have devastating consequences.

And yet, often in fantasy, I often see people going, ya know what I can eat in the dead of winter, strawberries. Do we have greenhouses? No. Did we have freezers? No. But you know what my character is eating? A strawberry. Yeah, think about that. Strawberries don't preserve well. So plan out the timing of your dishes a bit (to the climate and subsistence system) and it can give a bit of background worldbuilding to your dishes and food.

I do have to say that the small mentions from Rings of Power on what's in season or not and why kinda made me feel like the world and the traveling was more "real" with the Harfoot. There's small references to fall v. spring crops.

#worldbuilding #writing tips #writing advice #fantasy

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