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bluejeanstrash · 5 months

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tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, just a little light-hearted fluff of seungcheol being a dramatic whiny baby when he’s sick, mentions of dry scalp and skin picking lol, seungcheol is very whiny | wc: 742

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

a classic cough and cold combo paired with a side of fever-related aches and pains — that was the diagnosis, not the life-threatening illness seungcheol was sure he’d contracted. he’d tried convincing you it was fast-spreading. like really fast. like it has taken over his body and has been shutting down his organs one by one for the past 6 hours fast.

‘i’m going to die. it’s not a joke anymore. i seriously feel like i’m going to die’ he tugs at the hem of your t-shirt as you clear up the mountain of tissues on the left bedside table, and then tugs again while you’re clearing up a pile of dishes on the right.

you sigh, ignoring him, and disappear into the kitchen to reappear with a fresh bowl of hot chicken soup ‘seungcheol, we’ve been over this already. you’re not going to die’

‘forget it! just get me my will. i have to make some last-minute changes’ he asks for it dramatically, draping a limp arm over his eyes.

‘you don’t have a will’ you blow on the hot soup in quick bursts before feeding him a spoonful.

‘ugh, never mind. it’s fine’ the will talk is waved off with a quick fan of the hand to make way for what he says next ‘they give everything to the spouse anyway. wait, do they?’

‘i don’t know, and we’re not married’ you remind him, stirring the hot liquid so the shredded chicken, his favourite part, rises to the top.

‘god, you’re right’ he sits up a little straighter and grabs your free hand, suddenly somber ‘do you take choi seungcheol to be your lawf-’

you force-feed him another spoonful to shut him up, a bit of it spilling onto the quilted blanket. the soup must’ve still been too hot because he lets out a little cry, whining, though it’s entirely possible he’s overreacting.

‘you’re not taking this seriously, i’m actually dying’

‘you’re not’

‘what do you know! you’re not a doctor!’ he grumbles, taking a moment to tell you he really likes the soup and really really appreciates you making it for him before continuing to rant.

‘yeah, and what about the actual doctor we called who said you’re not?’

‘he doesn’t know anything either, that hack. the people on the internet’ he picks up his phone from the bed, showing you a screenshot from some site you’re pretty sure is for hypochondriacs to confirm each other’s delusions, and taps on the screen ‘have told me i have less than 24 hours left. 24. 24!’

‘seungcheol, i can’t have this conversation with you anymore. seriously. you need to go to sleep’ you put the empty bowl aside, straightening, and then pulling the blanket up to cover him.

‘no, no, don’t leave. i want lap time’ he pouts, baby-talking his way into his third one of the day. you sit back down on the bed with a sigh as he repositions himself to lay on your lap, wriggling his head around until he’s comfy. your fingers slowly comb through his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp to soothe him. in a slightly gross but domestic act, you pick a few bits of flaky skin out of his unwashed hair, flicking them away. you should wash it for him later, you think. he’d like that.

seungcheol always found the sensation of you picking at his scalp strangely comforting, and surprisingly quite sleep-inducing. minutes pass without a single sound.

it’s quiet. finally. or so you think.

‘if i die, you can’t date anyone for the next 10 years. at least’

‘what?!’ you jerk your thighs up, pushing him off your lap ‘10 years? you’re crazy’

he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

‘i was just being nice. you shouldn’t date anyone ever, but ohmygod, i can’t believe you want to be with someone else’ he presses his fingers to his temples, suddenly coming down with a headache.

‘so let me get this straight’ he continues ‘you’re telling me when i die tomorrow-’

‘you won’t’

‘-when i die tomorrow, you’re going to bring some other man to my funeral?!’ his cheeks now hot with a shade of distressed pink.

you’re not sure where he’s got that from but you’ve had enough. you get up, grabbing the bowl, and look him straight in the eye, pinching his cute little cheeks ‘well, it’s a good thing you’re not dying then’

you walk out, leaving him right there on the bed, hot and most definitely cold.

#scoups fluff #seungcheol fluff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups #choi seungcheol #scoups drabble #seungcheol drabble #scoups x you #seungcheol x you

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happy74827 · 6 months

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Can you make more Joe Goldberg? You did such aan amazing job on the first one that I NEED a second one. Just please consider. Thank. Love your fics btw 💖💖💖

Lily of the Valley

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Coffee might not be his favorite, but things can change when it involves a person like you.

WC: 659

Category: Fluff

Fortunately, I already had this small idea in mind for our lovely stalker man and this request really just put the icing on top of the cake. Hopefully it fulfills your needs 🙌 (also you’re too sweet… thank you so much for the kind words 💞)

『••✎••』

Coffee. The hard, hot, and bitter drink that is the reason many people get out of bed each day and the reason why some people stay up until the early hours of the morning. He never understood the appeal.

But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy the smell of coffee beans roasting, the smell of fresh ground beans being poured into a filter, and the smell of the finished product. He didn't understand how something so bitter and disgusting could have such a calming and comforting smell.

Joe had been sitting in a booth in a coffee shop for the past few hours, watching the world outside go by, sipping a small mug of tea, and his current read, "The Woman In The Window" by A.J Finn, in front of him. His eyes were trained on the people going by, not really taking much of anything in. He was on autopilot, a default setting he slipped into whenever his mind was full of something else.

It was only when a waitress with a short, black pixie cut walked over to his table that his eyes come back into focus, and his thoughts began to slow down. She didn't look like she belonged in a coffee shop. With a long, floral dress, combat boots, and a cardigan, she was far too pretty and too interesting to be serving lattes. She was a rose in a garden full of daisies, a peacock among chickens.

Then, like a snap to reality, the sound of his name pulled him away from her and onto… you. The whole reason he was here in the first place.

If he thought the waitress was a rose, you were a whole bouquet.

"Jonathan! Are you going to order anything, or are you just going to keep sitting there, scaring all our other employees?" You said a laugh in your voice.

He hadn't even noticed the waitress had already left, and now, you were standing by the table, holding a coffee pot.

Yeah, he needs to stop letting his thoughts take over.

"No, no, I was just, uh, reading."

"Reading a book, or reading her?" You said, cocking your head to the side, indicating the waitress who had moved on to another table.

"Reading the book."

"Mhm, sure." You said, not at all convinced. God, he just wanted to kiss the smirk off your face. Those pretty lipstick-covered lips moving against his.

You shook your head, smiling.

"You want a muffin… or something? On the house, since you're a regular and all."

He looked down at the book again, then back up at you. Unlike the waitress, you were dressed for work in a black, collared shirt tucked into black pants and a black apron tied around your waist.

It told him a lot about you, like the fact that you were a rule follower organized. The other waitress played confidence to stand out. You wanted to blend in, but still, he noticed.

How could he not notice you?

"Sure."

"Blueberry, right? Your usual."

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll be back in a second."

You had just turned to leave before you spun on your heel and stopped.

"And, Jonathan,” you paused. "That book in your hands? Wonderful read."

As you walked away, he realized how his heart had started to beat faster, and he couldn't stop the grin on his face.

A bouquet? No, you were something far more rare and far more beautiful than that.

You were an orchid.

And when you returned with that perfectly shaped muffin and that award-winning smile, Joe decided this would be the last time he ever chased a woman. Because this one?

You?

It was as though you were a mix between all his past loves and yet someone entirely new.

You were that new orchid in the greenhouse, the lily of the valley, and he wanted to nurture you and make you grow.

It's time to stop blending in; he would bring you out to bloom.

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struwberrii · 3 months

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hi lovely !! (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

i saw you also love suga~ and after seeing those oikawa headcannons i would love to know if you would make some sugawara ones (i don’t know if i have to specify but, pre-timeskip:3)!!

koushi needs more loveeeeee 𓂃 ࣪˖

thank youuu!! have a great day!!

suga headcannons ⋆˚🐾˖°

thank you for the request (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

i totally agree w u!! where are all the sugawara fans at!!! but here are some of my cute and silly sugawara headcannons :3

༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ

he loves thrifting, his ideal hangout would be grabbing some fast food or boba then thrifting

loves doing those stupid tiktok trends, like he has a million capcut edits of chickens pooping you out lol

he gives me middle child vibes, i feel like he would totally have an older sister (she’s like a year older and they’re besties)

the best guy to go to for advice, like even if you don’t want advice he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel better

you guys HAVE to have a movie night at least once a month

his bag is covered in those cute hot topic pins

he always smells very fresh, like floral

he has the worlds biggest stanley cup and refills it at least 5 times a day

he’s super good at drawing and is always sketching silly cartoon characters on his assignments

he loves baking with you, even if neither of you are good at it, you always end up laughing and covered in flour and batter

he is a god at imessage word games, he shows no mercy

probably also in art club with yachi (they both just talk drama and paint) (also idk if u can be in multiple clubs let’s just pretend guys)

wears/keeps everything you give him, like if you make him a bracelet he’s never taking it off, if you give him a keychain it’ll be on his bag forever

if you ask him for advice on a situation he isn’t afraid to tell you when you’re at fault, he does NOT sugarcoat it

serial candle lighter, his room always has candles lit

always has medicine on him incase anyone around him isn’t feeling well

he’s the best tutor ever, if you’re confused suga is the guy to talk to

he has a polaroid camera and has like a hundred polaroids of his siblings, friends and you

probably has a plant that he takes the best care of

probably really into conspiracy theories, true crime and creepy pastas, he’s always watching scary stuff like that

his pinterest is updated hourly

always sneaks his phone during class and never gets caught

has the comfiest hoodies ever, if you’re ever cold he’ll let you borrow one

always has hand sanitizer on him

always brings extra snacks just incase

probably really into reality tv and loves talking about the drama with people who are also watching

he plays stardew valley

he has the cleanest and most organized bag ever

old people love him

he probably listens to the most random podcast ever like emergency intercom or very really good podcast

takes notes in different colored pens

probably loves romance anime and has the best recommendations

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alrawdahfarms2023 · 1 year

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alrawdah · 2 years

Link

Organic Mortadella in Dubai

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#organic mortadella #chicken mortadella #fresh chicken #fresh chicken mortadella #fresh chicken products

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najia-cooks · 10 months

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[ID: A greenish-brown soup with an herb garnish in a bowl surrounded by a halved lemon, green cardamom pods, and bay leaves, followed by a close-up of the same soup. End ID]

شوربة الفريكة / Shorabat al-frika (Green wheat soup)

Frika (فَرِيكَة or فَرِيك; also transliterated "freekeh," "frikeh," or "farik"‎) is durum wheat harvested in the early spring, while the grain is green, unripe, and tender. Durum wheat, or semolina, is a different species of wheat than that which is ground to produce all-purpose flour (common wheat, or bread wheat); it is used to make couscous (كُسْكُس), bulghur (بلغور), and many types of pasta, and is widely consumed in North Africa, the Levant, and the Arabian peninsula. After harvest, unripe durum is sun-dried and then set ablaze in piles to burn off the straw and leave just the heads of wheat, resulting in a nutty, smoky flavor; the heads are then vigorously rubbed, traditionally by hand, to remove the bran. Frika is named after this last process; the word comes from the verb "فَرَكَ" "faraka," "to rub."

A staple in Palestine, shorabat al-frika (with diacritics, Levantine pronunciation: شُورَبَة الفْرِيكَة) is often eaten as an appetizer with the fast-breaking meal during Ramadan. It may contain nothing more than an onion, olive oil, frika, and water, but sometimes contains meat (usually chicken, but also beef or lamb), green chili peppers, and spices including cardamom, black pepper, bay leaves, turmeric, cumin, and seb'a baharat; some people today like to add chickpeas. Shorabat al-frika is often prepared with the chicken broth obtained by boiling chicken to make musakhkhan (مُسَخَّن), and served alongside it. It is a warming, filling, and earthy soup, with a complexity of flavor imparted by the frika itself: a fresh tartness due to the unripe grain, and a roasted aroma due to its harvesting process.

Shorabat al-frika is in keeping with a Palestinian food ethos of using simple, local ingredients to their fullest potential. Frika itself is sometimes thought to symbolize adaptability and resilience, as it was often eaten in times of scarcity when other crops were not yet ready to be harvested. Legend holds that it was discovered in a time of similar necessity: when villagers in the eastern Mediterannean tried to salvage a field of wheat that had been burned by ambushing soldiers, they found that the grain was still edible beneath the blackened chaff, having been saved from the fire by its moisture.

Frika, due to its centuries as a staple in Palestine, has also come to symbolize acceptance, Palestinian history, and connection to the land and community. In the Palestinian diaspora and amongst internally displaced people in Palestine, food is conceived of as a form of connection to homeland across distance; continuing to make Palestinian food, and remembering or using baladi ("native," "from my country") varieties of grains, produce, and herbs, is a link to the land and an expression of the hope to return.

By the same token, though, frika has come to represent Palestinian displacement and "cultural obliteration," per Rana Abdulla. One of the ways in which Israel rhetorically justifies its existence is by claiming sole ownership of an old, organically arising culture rooted in the land: the easiest way to do this is, of course, to rebrand what was already there. Food connects and combines language (in terminology and pronunciation), culture, history, climate, and land into one web of discourses, and is therefore a prime site for colonial myth-making and ideological nation-building. Thus a construction such as "Israeli freekeh" is, in fact, an intensely political one.

Nevertheless, frika continues its life as a symbol of connection, community, and resistance during adversity in Palestine. Nasser Abufarha, of the Palestine Fair Trade Association, noted in 2015 that more and more Palestinians across the West Bank were harvesting some of their wheat early to make frika, rather than relying on cheaper, imported rice. As of October 23 2023, and in defiance of an Israeli air raid which destroyed their kitchen in 2014, Jamil Abu Assi and his cousins were using frika, alongside lentils and rice, as staples in distributing food to thousands of refugees per day in Bani Suhaila, near Khan Younis. Others in the community donated ingredients or volunteered to distribute meals.

Support Palestinian resistance by contributing to Palestine Action's bail fund or to Palestine Legal's defence fund, or by attending court or making a sign to support the Elbit Eight.

Ingredients:

1 cup (170g) frika baladia (فريكة بلدية), Levantine frika

4 cups water, or vegetarian chicken stock from concentrate

1 large yellow onion, chopped

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 green chili pepper (فلفل أخضر حار), sliced (optional)

1/2 tsp ground black pepper (فلفل اسود)

5 cardamom pods (حب هال)

2 Mediterannean bay leaves (ورق غار)

250g chicken (or beef) substitute, torn or cubed (optional)

Salt, to taste

Parsley, to garnish

Halved lemon, to serve (optional)

I have kept the spices relatively simple, as most cooks do, to highlight the earthy end of the taste spectrum and to allow the flavor of the frika itself to come forward. Most people add at least cardamom and black pepper; many add bay leaves to this duo; turmeric is the next most common addition I have come across. I have seen a few people add cumin, coriander, or allspice.

Frika can be found in the grains section of your local halal grocery store (labelled "فريكة", “فريك" "freekeh" or "frikeh"). Look for something that specifies “roasted.”

You may also be able to find frika at a speciality or health foods grocery store, but it might not have been fire-roasted as it is in the Levant. If your frika doesn't smell toasty, try roasting it in a dry pan on medium-heat for a few minutes until fragrant.

Frika may be found whole, cracked, or fine (نَاعِمَة‎ / na'ima). You may use any kind for this soup; most people use cracked or fine frika, because of its shorter cooking time. You can pulse whole frika a few times in a food processor or spice mill, until coarsely ground, if you prefer a fine texture but can't find fine frika.

Instructions:

1. Heat olive oil in a large pot on medium. Add onion, a pinch of salt, cardamom pods, and bay leaves and fry, stirring occasionally, until the onion is golden brown.

2. Add the chili pepper and cook briefly until softened.

3. Add frika and black pepper and roast, stirring occasionally, for a few minutes until fragrant.

4. Add the water or stock and stir to combine. Bring to a fast simmer and cook, covered, about 50 minutes for whole frika and 20 minutes for ground, until fully cooked. Add additional water as necessary. The frika will still be chewy at the end of the cooking time.

5. Fry meat substitute of your choice in olive oil with salt, black pepper, and a optionally a pinch of Palestinian seven-spice, until browned. Add to soup and stir to combine. Taste the soup and add salt and more black pepper, if necessary.

6. Garnish with whole or chopped parsley and serve warm.

The meat is usually added to this soup just after the onions, and simmered along with the frika. You can do it this way if you like, but I have never found simmering to do the texture of meat substitutes any favors.

#Palestinian #Levantine #chicken #frika #freekeh #farik #cooking

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 1 month

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say you miss me | kylian mbappé

🥂 synopsys: you haven’t seen kylian mbappé in 10 years, but when he calls asking for a favor, everything changes. kylian, now a successful football star, is organizing a charity dinner and believes you're the perfect person to help him. warnings: a little angsty, a little fluffly. ( around 3.5k words )

PART I

Théo raised chickens. That was the thing that made you interested in him, actually. The first time you met him was when your friend took you to his house for a random dinner party. In your first conversation together he told you about the chickens and how he ate fresh eggs every day.

He lived in a townhouse in the middle of Paris that somehow had a garden big enough for him to raise some chickens. Perks of being a rockstar, if you were to guess.

At the time you thought you wanted that more than anything – eating fresh eggs every morning with him. You kept thinking that for the following couple of years and until twenty seconds ago, when he got down on his knees in the middle of that same garden, with both of your families surrounding you.

Théo kneels before you and it’s so hard to understand what he’s saying. Your brain is simply refusing to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. You’re hearing but you’re not really listening, it’s confusing. You start to hyperventilate because you’re seen it before – in the movies, but still, you know what he’s doing.

And then he says it, like he’s casting a curse on you.

“Will you marry me?”

“No…” Comes out so softly that you’re not sure you even said it. So you repeat it, “no, no…”

You’re being firm now. Your eyebrows are furrowed and you’re squinting your eyes trying to understand where the hell did he get this idea from. You never talked about marriage and then he decides to do this in front of your family?

“What?” Théo looks confused. Why is he confused?

“No!” You forget any other words you might have to say to him and just keep repeating: no, no, no…

Until you’re out of the door, on the street. It’s a warm Parisian spring evening, but it's difficult to appreciate the weather right now. Your cousin has her arms around your shoulder and it sounds like she’s giving you advice but you tell her you’re getting a car and going home. Your uncle insists on driving you but you finally manage to get your phone out of your purse and it’s ready to open a ride app.

That’s when you get a notification.

Kylian Mbappé has sent you a message.

You don’t know where he got your phone number – you haven't changed it in ten years, is it possible that he just remembers it? You feel your stomach getting sick but you still open the message because it doesn't make any sense doing anything else.

It’s an audio message, forty seconds. Forty seconds of him talking to you for the first time in ten years. You put your phone in your ear and bite your nails while you listen, paying attention to his words, with your cousin still holding onto you.

“Hi…” There’s a half-second pause. “Hey, I know it’s been a while…” Another brief pause. “I’m throwing this dinner party. Uhh… A fundraiser event. It’s a farewell party, in a way.” He giggles, you still remember his laughter. “I wanted it to be meaningful, tastefull.” You hear him taking a deep breath. “And I think you can help me with that. Uhh… I would love to meet up. If you can, when you can… Anyway, that’s it.”

Immediately after, he sends a text that you read right away:

sorry, i was trying to make the phone write it for me these things never work, right? i was going to send an email anyway how are you?

PART II

I've been sleepin' alone, out on my own I'm sure it seems like I'm takin' my time to get back to you You been doin' your part, working real hard I'm not lying, sure it seems like I'm trying to get back at you

He asks you to meet him at a restaurant for brunch, he’s there with his publicist and a couple of friends. The place is in the fancy neighborhood you never go to. In the venn diagram that is both of your lifes, this is the circle you avoid overlapping.

It’s not like you’re not used to hanging out with the rich and famous, but they’re usually all pretentious artists who think they’re underground / alternative / progressive but are actually nepo babies wasting their families fortune on what should have stayed as a hobby. No shame on your ex, of course.

Kylian looks amazing, and you hold your tongue not to cuss under your breath. You try to focus on your breathing but as he shakes your hand, it’s his perfume that invades your mind. He starts doing the whole ‘meeting an old friend and being polite about it’ routine, and it almost makes you walk out.

“It’s just funny that we’re meeting when you’re about to leave.” You say, for a lack of better words.

It’s difficult to hold a conversation at first, you find it difficult to even make eye contact with him. The restaurant is a bit crowded and the noise around you is helping you calm down, sometimes focusing on another's table conversation.

Kylian was never your boyfriend. You two never really dated. He was your first kiss and the first guy that saw you without your bra on, but it was never an official relationship. Even if your last conversation felt like a break up and even if it feels like you are sitting in front of your ex, you're not. Because he was never your boyfriend.

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.” He says with a big smile. Kylian looks genuinely happy. It’s almost contagious, but you try not to show it, feeling inappropriate. “Paris will always be my home.” He pauses then, searching for the right words. “But I have this feeling… That I need a proper goodbye before moving on.” And then faster than a blink, he corrects himself. “Not a goodbye, more like a ‘thank you and see you soon’.” Now he looks embarrassed, eyebrows furrowed, he’s trying to be honest with you, this person he hasn't seen in forever, trying to express his feelings. “With the club there was a goodbye, you know. We won a final title together…” He looks at his friend for courage and they all nod at him, so he continues. “I want something like that with the city. Because it’s the city I’ll miss the most. I think it’s about the feeling of leaving a place better than I found it.”

It’s strange seeing him pouring out his emotions like that, being trusted with so much information after so long, but at the same time it feels like no time has passed and it is only natural for him to share all that. Smiling brightly again, he asks:

“I heard you did something like that for Di Caprio, so why not me?”

You laugh loudly at that. The thing is, you work as an event planner at this really small company for the last 3-4 years, you also spend a lot of your time doing charity work in the neighborhood you grew up in. And because of your ex you got to meet all kinds of progressive / pretentious a-list artists. Including a certain Hollywood actor who hired you to organize his annual charity event. Now, how did Kylian find out about it? You had no idea. You took great pride in being a private person.

“So you want a Leo Di Caprio kind of party?” You ask, still chuckling. Kylian shakes his head and now with the help of his publicist and close friends, they all begin to explain to you what they were thinking. Is easy to understand and you think you already knew what he wanted the minute he contacted you. He doesn't want anything luxurious or it’ll look tacky and disrespectful, but nothing too simple or it’ll seem careless.

You nod throughout their explanation, knowing all you can do is hope that you’re really the right person for the job.

PART III

Do you miss me too? Baby say I'll miss you, just say you'll miss me too (Ooh, ooh, ooh) Do you miss me too? Baby say I'll miss you, just say you'll miss me too

He doesn't have to be here. But he shows up for the meetings anyway, and he has an opinion on every little thing being discussed. It will be a celebration of young athletic talent in Paris and there’s a few partnerships involving organizations that help those young athletes and invest in sports.

As it’s all being explained, you desperately try to slip your professional persona into place. His publicist is a polished woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a sleek black dress. She’s going over the logistics, but you’re barely listening. Instead, you’re watching Kylian as he nods along, occasionally interjecting with his ideas. He seems almost boyish in his excitement, and it’s hard to reconcile this version of him with the memory you have.

In your memory he’s still a teenage boy, in your memory he never really grew up.

“Alright.” You say, pulling out your phone to start making notes. “We’ll need to narrow down the locations, figure out the logistics, and–”

“Dinner.” Kylian interrupts, and you look up, confused.

“What?”

“Let’s go over the details tonight, over dinner.” He says, flashing you that smile – the one that always made you weak in the knees. “Just us. It’ll be like old times.”

You hesitate. He is half-joking because the two of you never had dinner together, ‘old times’ was just two kids hanging out after school and in between his football practice sessions. But then you see the way he’s looking at you, hopeful and a little vulnerable, and you find yourself nodding.

“Dinner it is.” You say, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He takes you to his favorite place where he knows all the people and shows off about understanding the menu. The food is actually so great that for a while there’s a comfortable silence at the table, the two of you focused on eating to the sound of silverware clinking. It’s Kylian that breaks the silence, almost wishing he hasn’t.

“You know, I was surprised you answered me.”

You look up. “Really?”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long time. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me again.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You ask him, genuinely puzzled. “We may not have talked in a while, but that doesn’t mean I forgot about you. Besides, this is important to you. How could I say no?”

He looks down at his plate, fiddling with his fork. “I guess I just didn’t know where we stood. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

You shake your head, a feeling of embarrassment creeping over you. You didn’t expect him to address the past so bluntly, so you try to play it cool.

“We were kids. I’m not holding grudges for something that happened when we were fifteen, and I hope you don’t either.”

He looks up at you then, and you can see the relief in his eyes. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. By the time you leave the restaurant, you’re both feeling more than a little nostalgic.

PART IV

I've been losing my mind, wastin' my time I'm not crazy, sure it seems like I'm lazy, let's get back to you You been takin' it hard, I know it's hard I'm not lyin' sure it seems like I'm tryin' to get back at you

As you step outside the restaurant, Kylian walks beside you, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Do you want me to call a car for you?” He asks.

You hesitate, glancing around the mostly empty street. “Actually… would you mind walking me home? It’s not far.”

He looks pleasantly surprised, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Sure, of course.”

The walk is short, but it feels longer with every step. The conversation is light, mostly small talk.

When you reach your building, you stop at the entrance, turning to face him. Kylian looks at you, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The street lamp casts a soft glow, and you can see the way his eyes search yours.

“Well… this is me.” You say, your voice coming out softer than you intended. You don’t really want to say goodbye.

Kylian nods, his eyes lingering on you. “Yeah… I guess this is goodnight, then.”

There’s a pause, a heartbeat of silence where you should probably just say goodbye, but instead, you find yourself stepping closer. It’s like something takes over, something that has nothing to do with reason or thought – just pure instinct.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you lean in and press your lips to his. The kiss is quick, almost like a reflex, and the second it happens, you freeze, pulling back slightly, shocked by your own boldness.

“Sorry, I didn’t –” You start to say, already kicking yourself for acting on impulse, but before you can finish, Kylian reaches out, his hand gently cupping your face.

“Don’t be.” He whispers, and then he pulls you back in, his lips finding yours with a tenderness that takes your breath away.

This kiss is different – deeper, more intentional. Like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.

Time stops for a moment, and all you can think about is the way his lips move against yours, the way his hand cradles your face like you’re something precious. You melt into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as if to anchor yourself to the moment.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other. And then you start to panic.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You blurt out, your hands shooting up into the air as you take a step back from him. Your heart races, and your mind spirals into a panic. “That’s… Wow. That’s crazy, right?” You look around your completely empty street, trying to lower your voice not to awaken your mostly elderly neighbors. You start taking quick, deep breaths, feeling your anxiety level go over the roof. “I just got out of this super long relationship, like a week ago!”

Kylian chuckles, a sound that’s both comforting and maddening to the mental state you are. “Oh, so I’m the rebound?” He asks, clearly amused by your reaction. His relaxed demeanor only makes you feel more frantic. He’s very obviously not taking the situation as seriously as you are.

You shake your head, running a hand through your hair. “No! Well… I don’t know. The guy proposed… I think my brain is in this fantasy, ‘what if’ mode. Meeting you again is just making it worse. I don’t know!” The words tumble out, each more confusing than the last.

“Hey, hey.” Kylian interrupts, stepping closer but keeping his hands at his sides, giving you space. “Breathe, okay? It’s fine.”

His calmness is like a lifeline, and you latch onto it, trying to match your breathing to his steady, measured pace. He’s not panicking. Why isn’t he panicking? Shouldn’t he be panicking?

“I just kissed you!” You exclaim, still unable to fully grasp what just happened. “I didn’t even think – I just… did it!”

“And it was nice.” He says gently, his voice low and soothing. “But it doesn’t have to mean anything unless you want it to.”

His words start to sink in, and you feel the tightness in your chest begin to loosen. You take a few more deep breaths, closing your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, more softly this time, opening your eyes to meet his gaze. “I didn’t mean to freak out on you. I just – this is all a lot, you know?”

Kylian nods, his expression full of understanding. “I get it.” He smiles a soft, genuine smile that makes you feel warm all over. “So… Do we say goodnight again?”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension finally breaking. “I guess.”

He grins, leaning in just enough to brush a kiss against your cheek, a sweet, lingering gesture that doesn’t send your anxiety skyrocketing this time. “Goodnight.” He whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

“Goodnight.” You echo, your voice steady, your heart finally slowing to a more manageable pace.

PART V/THE END

Baby say I'll miss you, just say you'll miss me too Baby say I'll miss you, just say you'll miss me too

After the party ends, you stick around, helping with the cleanup, organizing the last of the decorations, and gathering up stray glasses. It’s late – well past midnight – and you’re beginning to feel the weight of the day settling into your bones.

Kylian lingers too, standing off to the side, watching you with a quiet intensity. His presence is both comforting and distracting, making it hard to focus on the tasks at hand. His mother and sister-in-law are still there as well, keeping a watchful eye on him, but more relaxed now that the crowd has thinned out.

Eventually, the staff finishes up, and you all find yourselves sitting at one of the now bare tables. The tablecloths and decorations are long gone, leaving only the plain wooden surface beneath. The room is dimly lit, a soft glow from the remaining lights.

His niece and nephew are fast asleep in the arms of their mother and grandmother. You’re not entirely sure how you all ended up sitting down together, but once the conversation started, it was hard to walk away. There’s a comfortable rhythm to it, a natural flow as you swap stories, forgotten memories from childhood, and update each other on old friends.

Kylian’s mother tells a story about a long-ago summer when Kylian and his brother got into some trouble, and everyone laughs as Kylian sheepishly confirms the details. Melissa chimes in with a joke about a recent family gathering. You find yourself laughing along, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

At some point, you look at the time and realize it’s well past 1 AM. “I should probably get going.” You say, reaching for your phone. “I’ll call an Uber.”

“Nonsense.” Fayza says, waving away your concern. “His driver will take you home.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble –”

“It’s no trouble.” Melissa insists, adjusting her sleeping child in her arms. “But he’ll have to make two trips. We’ll go first, and then he’ll come back for you and Kylian.”

You start to protest again, but Kylian gives you a reassuring smile. “That sounds good to me.” He says lightly.

You nod, conceding, and soon enough, the driver arrives. You help Fayza and Mel bundle the kids into the car, making sure they’re all settled in for the short ride. As they drive off, you and Kylian are left alone.

He looks at you, his gaze soft and lingering, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment. “I’m glad you stayed.” He says, his voice low and sincere.

“And you’re leaving in a week.” You reply, slightly shifting the conversation.

“It’s Spain.” He bargains, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “I’m not going to Japan. It’s only a few hours away.”

He looks down at his shoes, and for a moment, there’s a boyishness to his face that makes your heart skip. “You should kiss me again.” He says, almost casually.

“You’re crazy!” You laugh at him, the exhaustion making it hard to hold a conversation without giggling.

“Are you scared of airplanes? No? Then kiss me again, please.” He pleads, his voice playful.

“No way!” You’re still laughing at the absurdity of it all.

“Just say you think I’m a bad kisser, it’s okay, I won’t get offended.” He’s trying to joke, to lighten the mood, but there’s something else there too – something almost vulnerable.

“I would never. I never thought that of you, you know that.”

“So you enjoyed kissing me?” He asks, his tone teasing but his eyes serious.

“Well, yes…”

“Then do it again.”

“Are you crazy? You’re leaving in a week. What are you asking me?”

He shakes his head, a little exasperated, but still smiling. “It’s Spain,” He repeats, stretching out the word as if to emphasize how close it is. “Not the end of the world.”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious or just messing with you. The way he’s looking at you, though, you realize he’s not entirely joking. There’s something real in his eyes, something that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

Before you can overthink it, before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s both tender and intense.

When his driver arrives the two of you have been kissing for a while. His hands are warm on your skin, his touch both familiar and electric, sending shivers down your spine. You’ve forgotten about everything else.

The soft cough of his driver clearing his throat brings you back to reality, but even then, you’re reluctant to let go. You pull back slightly, your lips tingling from the contact, but you keep your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling in the cool night air.

“We should… we should probably go.” You murmur, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Yeah.” He agrees, but neither of you makes a move to step away.

For a few more seconds, you linger, savoring the warmth of his body against yours, the way his fingers gently brush your cheek.

Finally, with a soft sigh, you both pull apart. As you slide into the backseat, you decide – almost defiantly – that you’ll worry about the aftermath of this decision tomorrow. As the car pulls away, you glance at him one more time, and he gives you a small, knowing smile, as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #football fanfic #kylian x reader #kylian x you

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miasmaghoul · 2 months

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whos the best ghoul cook? do you think they have any weird eating quirks (like water ghouls eating raw fish, mountain chewin on his terra cotta plant pots, fire ghouls needing to eat more bc of higher body temp, anything like that)?

Did I ever tell you guys that I earned a scholarship to culinary school? I couldn't go, but cooking and baking remain passions of mine that I do NOT get to talk about enough.

But now you've given me an excuse >:)

So here, a BUNCH of my cooking (and favorite food) headcanons for the ghouls and Papas alike!

(There's some murder ghoul content here, mostly in Alpha's section - couldn't help myself 😌)

Aeon isn't one for cooking. Loves eating food, certainly, but not making it. He's more of a snacker, partly because it's more convenient but mostly because he doesn't have the attention span to do much more than microwave instant noodles. He's not picky though, will eat whatever is put in front of him as long as someone else has prepared it. Also doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, more of a salty/savory guy. Favorite foods include hot cheetos, thick cut beef jerky (good to gnaw), and whatever appears on his plate at meal times.

Aether is a ghoul of simple tastes. He'll cook when he has the time, but it's going to be one of his four go-to recipes every time. Always some format of protein + starch + veg, with a complementary sauce. He meal preps every weekend after his retirement so he can have easy meals to microwave and eat in the infirmary. Isn't the biggest fan of cooking with company, unless they're willing to stay out of the kitchen and not interrupt his routine. Has a weak spot for bananas. Favorite meal is one-pan roasted chicken, potatoes and asparagus with rosemary and garlic from Mountain’s garden.

Alpha does not cook, wouldn't dream of it. He doesn't even deign to eat human food most of the time, turns his nose up at it when offered. He likes his meat raw, and wants to hunt it himself so he can feel the blood run down his chin. Any prey is fair game - if he finds you in the woods, you'd better hope you can outrun him. (You cannot.) Favorite foods include the flesh and organs of anything with a pulse.

Aurora likes the idea of cooking, but in practice...well, she tries. She's impatient, is the problem - what do you mean simmer for 20 minutes? She's hungry now! She inevitably rushes everything she makes, no matter how much input she gets from the others, and has yet to learn her lesson. She also has a MASSIVE sweet tooth, they can't keep enough sugary snacks in the pantry as far as she's concerned. Favorite foods include spaghetti with butter and cheese (one of the only things she can always get right), boxed brownies and any kind of fruity candy she can get her paws on.

Cirrus can cook pretty well, if she says so herself, but it's rare that she does it for anyone but herself. She has very particular tastes, and doesn't want to have to adapt them for others. She loves organ meat and bitter vegetables, enjoys the intensity of those flavors while the smell alone keeps most of the others away. Oh well, more for her! She'll eat anything thats made for her though, especially if its served on a silver platter by someone on their knees. Favorite foods (aside from the aforementioned organs) mostly include healthy things like fresh fruit and veggies, steamed shellfish and lean meat.

Cumulus is more of a baker than a cook, but enjoys any time spent in the kitchen either way. She's the type to make a day of it, in her comfiest clothes with music playing while she dances in front of the stove. Her food is never the prettiest, but it's made with love and tastes so much better for it. Her favorite things to bake are cookies and pies, but she doesn't eat many sweets herself. Prefers seeing the others enjoy them. Favorite foods include homemade bread (she has a sourdough starter named Breadly) with lots of butter and flaky salt, anything citrus-forward and wants her proteins heavily spiced (not spicy, she has a low tolerance, but loves the fragrant flavors of herbs and spices).

Dewdrop doesn't advertise it, but he's one of the best ghouls to have in the kitchen. His precision and attention to detail are second to none, and while it doesn't make him particularly fun to share a kitchen with it does make him an outstanding cook. He likes very intricate, involved recipes because he can use them to showcase his skills (and earn a whole bunch of praise at the dining table as a bonus). Loves spicy food, which everyone assumes is due to him now being a fire ghoul, but he's actually always enjoyed a good burn. Favorite foods include any meat served on the bone, fermented foods (kimchi and sour pickles especially) and anything smoked.

Ifrit does not know how the stove works. He survives on protein bars and any leftovers he can pilfer from the abbey kitchens. Food is not a thing he's super interested in, just takes what he needs to fuel himself, and would rather follow in Alpha's footsteps anyway. He likes to hang out at the lake every now and then with Mist, though - she'll pop up from the water every now and then with a nice plump trout to toss his way, which he will roast with his bare hands. Doesn't really have a favorite food, but does like crunchy things.

Mist, if she isn't sharing her spoils with Ifrit, will keep her catch for herself. She's small enough that one good-sized lake fish will tide her over for the day. She does prefer them raw and whole, always a bit on the feral side, but she can be convinced to join the others for sushi if the offer arises. Favorite foods include anything alive and not poisonous in the lake, and cookie dough ice cream (don't tell anyone).

Mountain is overall considered to be the best cook amongst the ghouls, and definitely has the goofy apron to prove it. Naturally skilled and adaptable, he enjoys preparing meals for his pack and will do so with anyone that wishes to lend a hand. Usually it's Cumulus or Sunshine, but they all keep him company at one point or another. He grows much of the produce used in their kitchen himself, all of it fresh and delicious, but Mountain does not eat a bite of it. He's a total carnivore - the closest he gets to eating his homegrown goodies is including them in a stew but avoiding them in his own bowl. Favorite foods include rabbit, venison and this one Vietnamese style grilled beef and rice noodle dish that Dew makes.

Omega learned to cook by osmosis, if you ask him. Time spent under three Papas will do thay to a ghoul. He doesn't cook much, but he's excellent at crafting simple, filling pasta dishes that are good for the soul (so to speak). Also treats it as an excuse to drink plenty of the good wine stashed away in the abbey's cellars - blame Terzo for that habit. Favorite meal is fresh pappardelle served with roasted tomatoes, basil and spicy sausage.

Rain doesn't cook if it involves more than the microwave, not because he can't but because he prefers to be waited on. Breakfast in bed, charcuterie plates in the afternoon, specially prepared dinners to make sure he's kept happy - none of it is necessary, but Rain can't help how much he loves being served. Good thing no one minds giving him the royal treatment. He will also indulge in the odd raw fish during a swim, but only does it beneath the surface, away from prying eyes. Favorite good is soup, any kind, but he prefers brothy ones over thick or creamy styles. If he had to pick a single favorite varitey, it would be miso.

Swiss is only allowed in the kitchen because he's good with a knife. He can burn through prep work like nobody's business, but that's where his skill set ends. He's caused one too many greasefires to he trusted at the stove, and every time he's put something in the oven he's forgotten about it until smoke filled the room and the ghoulettes had to magickally air it out. But he can chop like a food processor, so he gets the knife pass. He's another one that'll eat anything put in front of him, with one exception: eggs. Can't stand them. Favorite foods include red meat served rare, really dark, bitter chocolate and anything with hideous amounts of garlic.

Sunshine is chaos personified in the kitchen. She loves to experiment with flavors and techniques, but has yet to have anything close to a success. Pasta with pesto and pineapple (alliteration is fun), chocolate covered avocado balls (with bacon, because why not), a tuna sandwich made with coconut yogurt instead of mayo (it's healthy!) - these are but a few of the food crimes that have lost her solo access to the kitchens. This girl could burn cereal, and no one wants to see that. She does love to eat though, and will frequently hang out when someone else is cooking so she can sneak bites whatever they're making. Favorite foods include cheese (all kinds), sour candy and all the orchard fresh peaches she can get her hands on.

And for the Papas:

Primo had to learn his way around the kitchen from an early age, thanks to the responsibility of raising his younger brothers falling onto his shoulders. He learned by watching the kitchen staff - a pair of elderly Sisters with so much skill in their gnarled hands that Primo couldn't look away. He never got very good at it, mostly sticking to a handful of reliable dishes that could be made cheap and easily for the three of them. His favorite of the bunch was also the one thing he was best at making - a simple mushroom risotto.

Secondo took to the kitchen like it was second nature, once Primo could trust him to not chop a finger off. Would spend hours poring over cookbooks and learning by doing, eating his own failures so his brothers wouldn't have to. He really enjoyed making simple but hearty comfort foods, lots of rib-sticking braises and stews filled with herbs and veggies from Primo's modest garden. He even cooked the last meal they ever shared together, on that fateful Uno night. It was his favorite, a lasagna constructed from fresh sheets of pasta, homemade ricotta, spinach and a simple tomato sauce, served with roasted garlic focaccia.

Terzo did not get the cooking gene, aside from being able to boil water for his tea. It wasn't a big deal since his brothers picked up the slack, and he decided there were other things that took priority - like music, history and how to retain a full head of hair after age 30. He preferred drinking over eating anyway, mostly saw food as something to put in his stomach to cushion the wine. He was a man of simple tastes, and his favorite thing was a humble sandwich of mortadella, provolone and spicy pickled peppers.

Copia never had to learn to cook, raised by the Clergy and doted on thanks to a not-so-subtle suggestion from Sister Imperator. More than a little spoiled in that sense, he would also go on to be the most worldly Papa in terms of his tastes. So much time spent traveling the world helped to expand his palate, and he got into the habit of sending pictures and descriptions of his favorites back to the abbey so the kitchen staff could figure out how to replicate them. It's impossible for him to pick a favorite, but thanks to so much time spent in LA he does have a real soft spot for Mexican food. Tacos al pastor in particular, but without the cilantro (he has the soap gene).

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