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#Spicy Italian sausage pasta
brattylikestoeat · 1 year
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scr4n · 10 months
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La Vita 🇮🇹
La Mamma Pizza and Penne Italiano 🍕🍝
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lordbyronskitchen · 10 months
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(via Spicy Sausage Pasta)
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queensjenn · 1 year
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Gordo's Best of the Best Lasagna - Main Dishes - Lasagna
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delicious--food · 2 years
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Spicy Pizza Pasta
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httpsleclerc · 3 months
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Okay but the prompt 'when they always feed you their last bite' screams Ollie Bearman to me :]
Can I request that maybe with the reader being George's younger sister 🤭🩷
pookie bear (man) ollie!!
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Date night with Ollie was always a calm and relatively lowkey affair - the two of you preferred to stay home and spend time just the two of you rather than go out and have him and sometimes you be hounded by paparazzi, you loved George, but you hated the publicity that came with being his sister. George had agreed to let you go over to your boyfriend's house on the condition that you stayed six feet apart at all times and that there was no funny business between the two of you, only the latter of which you agreed to, becausehow else were you going to watch blue planet together if not cuddled up beside each other under your weighted blanket which he begged you to bring over?
You were both sitting on the couch, the last of your Italian takeout in the cartons in your hands as you leaned into your boyfriend's embrace, his arm around you as your back rested against his chest, a discarded episode of the inbetweeners playing on the TV before you would settle down for your favourite documentary.
"What did you get?" You asked him, trying your hardest to make out what the last of his chosen dish was, something you knew he'd spend a good couple hours convincing his trainer that he never had.
"I don't actually know, I think its some sort of spicy sausage pasta," He laughed as he realised he actually had no clue what he had ordered - Meanwhile you tried your hardest to hide the blush that was creeping over your cheeks, you weren't sure why his laugh made you blush so much, but it had such a major effect on you it almost felt embarrassing. "Do you want to try it? I don't think I'm going to finish it." He offered you with a smile, holding the last of his food out to you on the fork.
"I'm not having the last of your dinner, Ollie," You pouted, despite how appetising the pasta looked, you weren't going to give in that easily. Ollie grinned at your pout, he teased you relentlessly about it, citing that you were so obviously the spoiled youngest child.
"Come on love, stop with the cute little pout, I know you want to try it," He teased you, trying not to laugh as your pout hardened and you furrowed your eyebrows at him in a futile attempt to portray anger. "You're so cute when you try to be mad." He grinned as he watched you finally cave in and pushed yourself up, taking the fork from his hand, you ate the pasta that was forced onto it, coughing as you found of how really spicy it was.
"Are you trying to kill me?!"
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chefcarolb · 4 months
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Here is everything you love about Italian cuisine in a hearty, soul-satisfying soup! This Italian Sausage Soup recipe is loaded with vegetables and pasta in a wine-infused tomatoey broth. It makes a big batch, so it's perfect for that holiday crowd!
https://www.fromachefskitchen.com/spicy-italian-sausage-whole-grain-penne-and-vegetable-soup/
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plumslices · 6 months
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Do you have a recipe for that pasta i need it
This is very weeknight pasta and i did it in a weird order than i normally do my brain is mush from cough medicine ok. I chopped onion and garlic browned in oil added tomato paste and spread it in a thin layer caramelized it in the pan. Added wine and deglazed removed the paste. Browned spicy italian sausage added more wine bc I wasn’t going to drink it and pepper flakes let them bloom in the mixture and then my leftover ground beef. Added blended canned fire roasted tomatoes with basil. Italian seasonings, extra basil. Add the paste back and let it simmer for a bit. Like 30 mins extra seasoning at the end. Made the pasta added a little pasta water. Parm reg on top
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pretty-princess-4ever · 7 months
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Low calorie vegetarian options 💕🩰
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Amy’s minestrone soup: entire can/190 cal
Gardein Italian wedding soup: entire can/200 cal
Annie’s all stars pasta: entire can/210 cal
Annie’s easy mac and cheese: 220 cal
Uncrustables chocolate hazelnut sandwich: 210 cal
Sandwich bros egg and cheese pita: 170 cal
Garden chik’n sliders: 1 slider/ 190 cal
Veggieful pepperoni pizza pocket: 250 cal
Amy’s tofu scramble wrap: 280 cal
Amy’s samosa wrap: 270 cal
Morningstar breakfast sandwich: 200 cal
Veggies made great spinach egg white frittata: 1 frittata/70 cal
Annie Chun’s spicy miso ramen: 1 bowl/240 cal
Annie Chun’s udon noodle soup: 1 bowl/260 cal
Tattooed chef cauliflower pizza bowl: 1 bowl/230 cal
Birds Eye rotini and vegetables: 1 package/290 cal
Balanced breaks cheese and crackers: 1 package 160-170 cal
Stauffer’s animal crackers: 16 crackers/120 cal
Flavored pistachios: 1 package/120-130 cal
Spring roll and veggie sushi: depends on brand but usually low cal
Veggieful flavored riced cauliflower: 1 cup teriyaki/ 53 cal, 1 cup southwest/93 cal
Lean cuisine spinach and mushroom pizza: 360 cal
Healthy choice creamy spinach and tomato linguine: 230 cal
Lean cuisine spinach and artichoke ravioli: 280 cal
Healthy choice “beef” and veggie stir fry: 290 cal
Amy’s Moroccan vegetable tagine: 270 cal
Amy’s mushroom risotto: 230 cal
Kidfresh marinara pasta with cauliflower: 250 cal
Quorn “chicken”: 1 filet/60 cal
Owyn cookies and cream shake: 170 cal
Good karma chocolate flax milk: 100 cal
Lenny and Larry’s cookie protein bar: 160 cal
Clif builder mini protein bars: 140 cal
Morningstar pancake and sausage on a stick: 140 cal
Jimmy dean’s egg and cheese biscuit roll up: 2 roll ups/ 260 cal
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angelsdean · 5 months
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does pizzeria dean make a meatman pizza? please advise!
yes yes his specialty of course! and he proudly proclaims "i'm the meatman!" whenever someone orders it. he also has a custom apron and chef's coat that says MEATMAN. there's also a meatman sub sandwich and a meatman pasta dish.
the meatman pizza would probs be bacon / ham, italian sausage, pepperoni, meatball, maybe some kind of chicken too like buffalo or bbq? a fancier version would have chorizo, spicy soppressata, and prosciutto (this IS an authentic italian pizzeria after all) instead of bacon / ham / pepperoni
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lifedeathtimespace · 4 months
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TADvent Day 8 - Food and Baking
@theamazingdevildiscord
TAD songs as food I've made this year (with no explanation):
Love Run (intro) - cornflake cakes
King - bacon and brown sugar chicken
Pruning Shears - raspberry marshmallows
Shower Day - brigadieros
Elsa's Song - honey garlic shrimp
Pray - birria tacos
Little Miss Why So - pavlova
New York Torch Song - Kolkata chilli chicken
Two Minutes - chocolate cherry cola cake
Not Yet/Love Run (reprise) - crispy garlic potatoes
The Rockrose and the Thistle - peppermint creams
The Horror and the Wild - frozen chocolate raspberry bites
Wild Blue Yonder - tostadas
Welly Boots - chicken tikka masala
Farewell Wanderlust - Italian sausage risotto
Fair - creamy cajun pasta
That Unwanted Animal - red velvet whoopie pies
Marbles - Lemon cupcakes
Battle Cries - homemade oven fish and chips
Secret Worlds - spicy bacon honey traybake
The Calling - key lime pie
Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious - roast chicken
Blossoms - hunter's chicken
Chords - iced spiced biscuits
The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace - cherry and almond loaf cake
Ruin - gingerbread biscuits
Inkpot Gods - cherry cheesecake brownies
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scr4n · 2 years
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Messicana Pizza 🍕 (tomato sugo, mozzarella, cajun chicken, jalapeños, red peppers and red onions)
Rigatoni Salsiccia 🍝 (onion, chilli and Italian sausage in a creamy Napoli sauce)
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wildbornsiren · 2 years
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Idle Hands | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin/Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw
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Idle Hands.  Summary: The promise of not having to eat mess hall chow leads to consensual breaking and entering. Homemade pasta, white wine, and kisses. One shot 1,439 words. Slash Warnings: None.  Notes: For the TGM fic exchange. A humble attempt at Hangster. Likes are appreciated, comments and sharing are absolute gold. Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate it so much and it means the most. 
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“Hey Bradshaw,” Jake is sprawled out on the bunk opposite him. “You got anything planned today?” He’s quiet for a few minutes, before putting his book down on his chest. “What do you have in mind, Hangman?” He tips his head to regard the man who was focused on him. “Something other than laying around the barracks all day.” Jake sits up, a silver key ring dangling from his fingers. “I want to cook, I’m tired of mess hall chow.” “Who’s keys are those?” Bradley sits up, intrigued at the possibilities that Hangman’s offering. “Nat’s. Her and Bob are renting a place. She’s out with Halo, and Bob’s watching the Star Trek films with Fanboy.” “That’s somewhere I don’t want to be.” Bradley chuckled. Fanboy and Bob would often get into spirited ‘debates’ over which of the space operas were better, Star Wars or Star Trek. “Wait, you stole Nat’s keys?” “Technically, they’re Bob’s, they fell out of his pocket in the locker room.” The key jingles as Jake spins it around his finger. “Come on, I miss being in the kitchen, you like to eat, and we’ll leave leftovers as a peace offering.” “You’ve put a lot of thought into this plan, considering you’re assuming I’m in on it.” “Come on, you’re just as bored as I am Bradshaw. You’ve been reading the same page for half an hour.” Jake’s grin is genuine and real, dimples on display as the full force is turned on him. Bradley drops his gaze a little uncertain with the flutter in his stomach. Bradley knew it was just due to proximity, and seeing each other every hour of every day, but that grin made him weak—though he was loathe to admit it. “You’re not wrong.” He gets to his feet. “Come on then.” Jake nearly springs from the bed, grabbing his keys and wallet. “I have an Instacart order showing up at their place,” he looks at his phone. “It’ll be there when we get there.” The drive to Phoenix’s place is pretty enough and they’re pulling up to a gray rambler with a brilliant yellow door. The walkway is an explosion of flowers, the riotous color and sweet smell going to Bradley’s head. Jake turns when he’s halfway up the walk, sunlight illuminating him with a brilliant glow. That smile hits him again, and Bradley’s heart nearly stops in his chest. “Come on, Bradshaw, they’ll be back before we know it.” Bradley picks up the last grocery bag, following Jake inside. The house was clean and well lived in, and once again he was thinking about his choice of staying in the barracks rather than finding space of his own. Though, bunking with Jake wasn’t all that bad. He follows the other man into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Jake makes himself at home. The blond had retrieved an apron from somewhere, tying it around his waist, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, and beginning to unpack bags. “So, what are you making?” “Hand cut tagliatelle, with spicy Italian sausage, spinach with an alfredo sauce.” Jake is scrubbing his hands, before drying them on the apron. “Do me a favor and open that bottle of wine.” Bradley reaches for the bottle of white wine, opening it, pouring some into the glasses that Jake places in front of him. One is offered to him, and he takes it, a shock running through him when his fingers brush Jake’s. He’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s never truly been alone with Jake. Sure, they bunked together, but they intersected in the shared space only in the morning and evenings. Their days were spent with the rest of the group, or in the air. Jake moves around the kitchen the same way he does everything else, effortlessly, deliberate. “If you’re not going to talk to me,” that grin is back on his face, “then turn on some music.” “I don’t want to distract you.” Bradley says. Jake tips flour onto the countertop, making a well and cracking eggs into it, and another egg yolk. “If I wanted to avoid distraction, I wouldn’t have invited you.” He tosses a wink Bradley’s way, and he can’t help but mirror the way Jake smiles again. “You think I’m distracting?” Bradley leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re the second best looking in the group.” “I suppose you’re the first?” “You tell me.” Jake flicks flour Bradley’s way. He licks his lower lip, mouth dry, the wine doing nothing to sate the discomfort. “You know you are.” Bradley blinks noticing the stain of red that appears on sharp cheek bones. Jake’s attention very focused on the olive oil he’s adding to the blob of pasta dough. It’s almost cute, which is a word one wouldn’t use to describe one Jake Seresin, but in this situation, it worked. “This needs to rest.” Jake mutters more to himself, draping a kitchen towel over the ball of dough. He washes his hands again. “What are you looking at Bradshaw?” “You,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve seen you happy before.” It was the simplest way to describe the easy grin, the way Jake’s shoulders are relaxed, the ease he moves around the kitchen. He notices that Jake’s hand fumbles the wine glass when he sets it down. “Am I really a distraction?” Another slow spread of red, across Jake’s cheeks, down his neck. “Everything else is a distraction. It interrupts my thoughts about you.” Bradley sets his own glass down, walking around the island. Jake’s throat bobs as he swallows, looking down at the marble surface, brushing invisible flour from it. Bradley hesitates only for a moment, letting his hand rest on top of Jake’s. “What sort of thoughts?” There’s a moment where Bradley doesn’t know where he’s at, just that the edge of the counter is digging into the small of his back, Jake’s hands are in his hair, and his lips are parting under the slow drag of Jake’s tongue against his lower lip. His own hands find purchase on Jake’s hips, pulling the other man closer, flush against him. The sound Jake makes goes straight through him, the kiss deepening. Bradley groans against Jake’s mouth when those nimble fingers pull just right on his hair. Warm, open-mouthed kisses trail down his neck Jake’s tongue lingering on the scars he finds. “Better than I imagined.” There’s a softening of his words, the drawl more pronounced. Hands sneak under the hem of Bradley’s t-shirt, palms skimming up the flat of his stomach. Jake’s pulling away hurriedly, Bradly blinking a little fuzzy headed. The absence of Jake’s warmth against him makes him shiver. Green eyes flicker toward the door, and there’s the sound of conversation, getting closer. Natasha and Bob cross the threshold. “Told you that was Seresin’s truck.” Bob says. “Boys,” Natasha grins easily, dark eyes flickering between the two of them. “What’s going on?” “Jake-Jake’s cooking.” Bradley steps back to safety, the other side of the island, next to Bob. “What are you making Hangman?” “Pasta, and plenty of it.” Jake starts rolling out the dough into thin sheets. “Start a pot of water and toss some salt into it. “Bobby, grab a cutting board and start dice the sausage.” “Let the man loose in the kitchen…” Bradley mutters. “You want to finish that sentence Bradshaw?” Jake points at him. “Insult the cook and I’ll order you McDonald’s.” He turns away, and starts messing with a pan on the stove, the smell of onions and garlic beginning to cook filling the air. There’s an ease between the four of them, Bob’s cracking terrible jokes, Natasha’s laughing so hard there’s no sound coming out except for the occasional snort. Jake’s singing along with the old country song on the radio, terribly off key as he cooks. There’s the sound of footsteps, and Payback and Fanboy enter the kitchen to a riotous noise. Silverware clatters, Mickey setting the table, Reuben’s spinning Natasha around the kitchen. An ache settles in Bradley’s chest—a warm familiar ache that somehow, doesn’t hurt this time.  Bob’s trying to sneak a handful of parmesan cheese into his mouth, only to be chased away by Jake brandishing a wooden spoon chasing the lanky WSO away from the cheese. “You were right.” Jake startles slightly, “What do you mean?” “I was bored,” Bradley murmurs, one arm dropping around Jake’s waist. “And this smells better than mess hall chow.” “Damn straight it does.” Just for the briefest of moments, Jake leans against him once more. “Now go sit, lunch is ready.”
 ------- Tagging in: @ratcatcher2world @shadeds-library @lt-natrace @blue-aconite @writercole @hoe-on-the-range @hederasgarden @callsign-phoenix @therebeccaw @sailorscuttle @imjess-themess @jostystyles​ @iloveprettyboysblog​  @evansrogerskitten @marvelandotherfandomimagines @mayhem24-7forever​ @green-socks​ @mandylove1000​
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storiesofsvu · 7 months
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Heavy Hearts Ch 15
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Warnings: language, alcohol and drug consumption, manipulation/emotional abuse slowly starting, some mentions of sexual situations.
 It wasn’t a surprise the next morning when you and Brock were finishing up breakfast that Eleanor came barrelling into the guest house all excited about your doctor’s appointment. She had a smoothie in her hand, one that she insisted you drink, full of all the proper antioxidants of course. The entire drive to the doctor’s office she was going on and on about all of her own pregnancy ‘hacks’ and things she had read on the internet recently and she didn’t stop until Brock finally snapped, telling her to be quiet. You couldn’t help but let out a little breath of relief, squeezing at his hand that was wrapped around yours in thanks. You were already doing your best not to freak out at the entire thing, you didn’t need Eleanor chanting in your ear about birth plans right now, that was months away. Right now was just the first ultrasound, making sure everything was going well and to get you on the right path to have a healthy baby.
You felt a wave of relief flow through you at the doctor’s words, knowing that whatever you’d been doing in the weeks before the positive test hadn’t done any harm and that things were looking good so far. The doctor ran a couple of other tests, wrote out a list of vitamins they recommended and left you with a date for your next appointment and a stack of pamphlets and book suggestions to answer any other questions in the meantime. Brock smiled brightly at you, ducking to press a kiss to your lips as you left the office, saying he’d be home for dinner before he disappeared into a car to take him off to work. Eleanor escorted you back to the other car and didn’t stop talking until you’d arrived back at the Lexington’s estate. You gave her a small smile, saying you were beyond tired and were incredibly thankful when she let you vanish into the guest house in peace.
As it turned out, you actually were pretty exhausted, after a quick snack you’d collapsed into bed and slept most of the afternoon. When you finally woke up you could hear someone clattering around the kitchen, the smell of food wafting through the house and that was enough for you to pull yourself out of bed, realizing you hadn’t eaten since the smoothie that morning and considering you were eating for two now, that probably wasn’t a great idea.
Padding down the hallway you felt your stomach grumbling already, surprised when you rounded the corner to find Brock in the kitchen instead of a housekeeper. He glanced up from the stove, a grin on his face as he greeted you,
“Hey sleepyhead.” His arm wound around your waist and you were too tired to push him away, letting his lips hit your temple, “you hungry?”
“Yeah.” You yawned, stretching out your body as an excuse to shift away from him, “smells amazing.”
“Well, I do have skills in other places than the bedroom you know.” He smirked and you held back an eyeroll, making your way around the island to take a seat, “those are for you by the way.” He gestured to a brown paper package along with a gift bag and your brow furrowed as you reached out, pulling it toward you, starting with what looked like a bouquet. You were right on the nose thinking it was flowers, an incredible bouquet that was a mix of red, pink and purple roses,
“Brock… these are gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous flowers for my gorgeous girl.” He grinned, flicking the burner on the stove off, letting the food rest for a minute as he pulled down a vase to pour some water in before helping you put the roses into it, “just thought you deserved something pretty.” He shrugged.
“Thank you.” Your gaze stayed on the flowers for a moment before drifting back to him, finally able to give him a soft smile, “they’re really nice.”
“They’re just the start.” He smiled back, turning around to plate up dinner, spicy Italian sausage and pepper pasta, asking what you wanted to drink before settling in at the island across from you with a beer.
Conversation was quiet at first, not that you had much to update him on, but once you’d asked about how his day at work was it started to flow easier. He was already high ranked in the up and coming political community and as the year wore on he would start his campaign for city council. He had enough to ramble on about to take over the rest of dinner, satisfied with the amount of times you interjected to ask a question, probe further or feign praise over his career. By the time you were both done eating he scooped up the plates, clearing the island and making sure everything was in the dish washer. He returned to the island to nudge the gift bag toward you,
“There’s more in there you know.”
“Brock.. you don’t have to buy my affection; you’ve kinda already got me locked in.” You groaned with half a tease and he laughed.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t spoil you.” He squeezed at your hand over the counter and you dug through the bag to find a couple of stuffed animals, finally pulling out a handful of catalogues of home furnishings. “I guess technically these aren’t for you, but I swung by a couple of places on the way home, I figured we should probably start thinking about the nursery.” He squeezed at your hand again, bringing it up to his lips to lay a kiss on the back of it.
“Yeah…” You replied, fingers tracing the outline of the crib on the front cover, feeling your stomach begin to churn at the thought of all of this being real and not some kind of fever dream nightmare.
“I mean, it’s either this or my mother hounding you with wedding catalogues.”
“Ugh.” You dropped your head into your hand, “no. This is way more important, and gonna happen before we know it.”
“I know.” He grinned across at you, “so how about we start to pick some pieces, I can make sure they get ordered right away.” He nodded toward the couch, picking up his drink so you could scoop up the catalogues and move into the living room.
This was happening, and you had to be prepared for it no matter what.
**
The nursery was beginning to be filled with boxes and bags of shopping, items to be put together, organized and decorated in the days to come. Some of it was ordered through catalogues or websites and some of it you wanted to see in person, to compare to other options available. Considering Brock was working even more hours now, you ended up strolling through stores with Eleanor, happy that you were able to distract her with baby stuff. You were thankful for your ability to block her out as she was clearly the person most excited for the baby to come, to have a grandchild finally, she rarely stayed quiet. She rambled on with stories from Brock and Archer’s childhoods, traditions that she wanted to continue on, she was about to start recommending private preschools to you when you stumbled into the crib section and she instantly got distracted.
You appeased some of her decisions and swayed her on a couple of others, reminding her of the planned theme for the nursery and the items you’d already bought and she’d quickly agree about not wanting things to clash. She loaded the cart up with an array of adorable onesies and toys, it was apparent this kid was going to be getting far too much spoiling from grandparents. After the third store you’d managed to find most of what you wanted and needed, at least for the start and she had the house staff take everything back to the house and dragged you out to lunch. Ending up on the patio at Ocean Prime where Eleanor indulged in caviar deviled eggs, prime steak tartare and probably too many cucumber gimlets while you poked and prodded at some lobster mac and cheese, sipping on your water.
“Honey you need to eat, you know it’s alright to complain and send it back if you don’t like it.” She commented and you let out a small sigh, leaning back in your chair.
“I’m honestly not that hungry.” Your hand settled on your stomach, “I know it’s called morning sickness but it really hits any time of day and it’s been so bad.”
“Oh well let’s get you a ginger ale.” She flagged down a server to order the drink, flashing an incredibly fake smile at them before they wandered off to get it. “I’ve got an extensive list of smoothie recipes back at the house, good for all sorts of ailments, anything from sore muscles, nausea, allergies, migraines, they do wonders! I’ll get some copies made for you, have the maid pick up what you need for them.”
“Thanks.” You reply was more directed toward the server who was dropping off your ginger ale, but Eleanor didn’t need to know that.
“You know, now that I’ve got you out of the house we should go to some dress stores next.” She grinned widely and you glanced up with a confused expression on your face.
“Why dress stores? We don’t know if it’s a girl or boy yet.”
“Not for the baby silly,” she laughed, “wedding dresses! For you!”
“Oh…” you stalled suddenly sitting upright as you brain scrambled, “I don’t really know if that’s a good idea right now…”
“Well why not?” She took another sip of her cocktail, “I mean after all, you are getting married.”
“I know it’s a bit non traditional to have a baby before getting married, but there’s still so much planning to be done for the wedding and I don’t want to be a pregnant bride, especially if I’m showing…”
“Oh goodness! You know, I didn’t even think of that! No, we don’t need that at all, you deserve to have a glass of actual champagne on your wedding day. Not to mention the baby weight…” Her lips pursed as she surveyed you for a moment, as if you were already showing and carrying extra pounds, “no, that won’t do at all. You’re right, we need to make sure you’re in tip top shape before you walk down that aisle. My Brock does deserve the best after all. I’ll have my trainer at the club put together some workouts for you, some easy stuff you can do to help get rid of it.”
“Great.” You feigned a smile, swallowing back a yawn and Eleanor frowned.
“You need to rest.” She pointed out, “we’ll get the rest of this to go. I’ll make sure to send over one of the cooks to get you some dinner, need my grandbaby to grow big and strong.”
“Yeah.” You replied with a tired smile, folding your napkin on the table top as she got the cheque.
Back at the house Eleanor quickly summoned one of the staff to take the shopping you hadn’t sent back already over to the guest house before she disappeared into the main house and you were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Unlocking the door you could hear someone clattering around down the hall and figured it was someone on the Lexington’s staff doing their daily clean. You stepped out of your shoes, tossing your coat onto the coat rack before wandering down the hallway to the nursery and you ended up finding the source of the noise, surprised to see that it was actually Brock. Sitting on the floor, tool box and a beer on one side, instruction manual on the other as he was putting together the crib.
“You’re home early.” You greeted with a tired smile, placing down the other bags of shopping in the corner of the room.
“Figured I could duck out.” He glanced up to you with a wicked grin, “a new baby is the greatest excuse.” You let out a huff of a laugh.
“I’m sure.”
“Did you want me to start on the dresser?” He asked, nodding toward the box, “so you can organize some of the clothes?”
“No, keep doing what you’re doing.” You replied with a yawn, “your mother successfully exhausted me, I need a nap.”
“Okay. I’ll do my best to keep it down.”
“No worries.” You paused for a moment in the doorway, looking back as Brock continued to work on the crib. It felt weird, a little like you were watching an alternate universe unfold in front of you, never in a million years did you expect someone like him to actually be involved in this. You’d already made peace with the fact that you’d be relying on housekeeping staff to get things ready and essentially do everything else on your own. Maybe you’d misjudged Brock and he wasn’t going to be the absent father you’d expected of him.
**
The kitchen windows were cracked open, letting the fresh evening air in as a playlist echoed from your phone on the counter. You’d finally managed to have a day with little to no nausea and more energy and had decided to take advantage of it. You heard the door opening, the sound of Brock dropping his keys on the entry way table as he stepped out of his shoes, his briefcase finding home on the floor beside it before his footsteps rounded into the kitchen.
“What’s all this?” He asked with a grin as he stepped toward you, winding an arm around your middle as he kissed the side of your head.
“Dinner.” You replied with a shrug.
“You didn’t have to; I could’ve had the staff cover the meals; you know that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You let out a small laugh, “I was bored, it isn’t much.”
Brock shifted around you as you turned back to the stove, reaching into the cupboard to grab a pint glass, “it’s still something, and it smells incredible.”
“I mean,” you started with a laugh, “Casey did call deem it my engagement deserving stir fry she loved it so much.”
Your attention was on the pan in front of you, a small smile on your cheeks at the memory, even if thinking about Casey was still painful, and Brock was lucky you were distracted, his hand clenching too tightly around the glass at the mention of the other woman. You jumped at the sound of glass shattering, a quiet shriek escaping your lips as you whipped around to find Brock facing the other counter.
“Shit.” He swore, quickly inspecting his hand before glancing over his shoulder, catching you with the worried expression on your face, “sorry. Didn’t realize I’d put it down so hard.”
“It’s fine.” You replied, “wasn’t like it was my favourite cup or anything.”
“Yeah.” He mumbled, moving to clean up the glass before dumping into the garbage, “how much longer? I’m gonna go change outta this suit.”
“Like five minutes.” You replied, turning back to the stove and he vanished from the room.
**
“You know, no matter how hard you stare into there you won’t summon things to the fridge, right?” Brock teased with a laugh as he caught you in the kitchen and you let out a sigh, swinging the door shut.
“Incredibly unfortunate.”
“What’re you craving?” His arm wrapped around you, hand settling on your stomach and you cringed internally.
“Double chocolate brownie ice cream.” You replied with a grumble, slipping from his grasp and moving toward the living room, “oh…and flaming hot Cheetos, used to hate ‘em ‘til Casey got me hooked.”
“I hope you don’t mean together.” Brock laughed, following you around the corner, watching you drop onto the couch with a huff. He leant over the back of it, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll run out and grab them. And I won’t judge if you do make some weird concoction.”
He was gone out the door before you could protest or thank him, leaving you wondering, yet again, if you really had known Brock before all of this began or if you’d only known the façade he put on to get by in this politically filled world. You’d never been one on one with him, he’d never held down a girlfriend long enough for you to hear good things about him, he always had a new date on his arm or was flying solo flirting with anything with a pulse. You were starting to wonder if maybe all it took was a bit of privacy and commitment for him to drop the act and actually reveal that he was a good person. It would’ve been far easier to send one of the house staff out to the store.
*
Brock pulled the car into the driveway and shifted it into park, letting out a grumble as he grabbed the grocery bag from the passenger seat to get out of the car, popping a cigarette into his mouth as he did so. He glanced up when a beam of light burst from the main house as the front door opened and shut, Archer stepping outside.
“Hey.” The other man greeted with a grin, “thought you’d be on nursery duty.”
“Craving control.” He held up the bag before lighting the smoke.
“You whipped or what? Why not just send Carl?”
“Needed more smokes.” He took a particularly long drag, inhaling as much as he could, falling in step beside Archer, “already blew through a pack this week.”
“Geeze, work that stressful?” Archer asked and he simply grunted in return, “what’s eating you?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh c’mon, I can tell you’re lying. You not loving fiancé life?” He asked with a tease, snagging the pack of smokes to steal one, lighting it up and taking a drag. Brock let out a grunt of a sigh, pulling on the smoke again before his face hardened.
“It’s her damn ex.”
“The dyke from Harvard?”
“Yeah.” He flicked at the cigarette, “she keeps coming up. I don’t think it’s on purpose but it’s pissing me off. Everything was done right; she should hate the bitch but for some reason she continues to slip into conversation.”
“Bro…” Arched laughed, “you have got to get that girl out of her head.” He clapped his shoulder, laughing harder, “otherwise she’s gonna remember that she can do so much better than you. Even if her parents don’t want her marrying a girl.”
“Dick.” Brock punched his chest, “the Vanderbilt’s know they can’t get better than this.”
“Yeah? You might wanna talk to dad before you get too cocky.”
“Stop fucking worrying about it, okay?” He snapped, “I don’t see you doing anything to help the situation. I did what I was supposed to, now fuck off, I’ve got a fiancée to take care of.”
“Yeah, okay.” Archer chuckled, clapping his shoulder once again, “how about you go put on the moves and fuck her so good she forgets about anyone else?”
“Whatever.”
*
The ice cream was half finished, stashed away in the freezer for whenever the craving hit again as the two of you retired to the bedroom. It started out as normal, slipping under the covers and curling up away from Brock until his arm wound around you, rolling you onto your back and his lips met yours. The taste of cigarette smoke invaded your mouth as his tongue slid its way in and you were about to push him off you when he broke the kiss, lips trailing down your neck as his hands shifted lower on your body. For only a moment it was a relief but the nicotine smell was completely taking over your senses.
“Brock, stop..” You muttered, clawing at his shoulders.
“C’mon baby…” He smirked against your collarbone and your stomach churned.
“I mean it.” You barely made it over the edge of the bed, yanking the garbage can into position before the contents of your dinner came racing back up. Brock jolting away from you as you continued to gag. “I told you I didn’t like the smell and that was even before you knocked me up.” You groaned, slipping from the bed to deal with the garbage bag and re-brush your teeth.
“Hey,” he caught your arm, “I’ll deal with that and I’ll go to the guest room, you sleep here.”
“No.” You shook your head tiredly, “the pillows already smell too, I’ll go to the guest room, it’s fine.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
**
Brock rolled off you, letting out a satisfied groan as he collapsed against the pillows, his body coated in a sheen of sweat as he pulled the sheets back up. He playfully slapped at your hip, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he did so,
“Wow you really are good at that.” He smirked, “well… we are I guess.” He laughed again.
“Yeah.” You mumbled, pulling the sheet tighter around you. You could still taste the whiskey on your lips from his tongue, the nicotine burning your mouth, feeling it fill with saliva and you wished you could chug a bottle of tequila to rid yourself of the taste.
“I’m gonna go smoke.” He tossed back the blankets, tugging on a pair of sweats before he practically stumbled from the bedroom to head outside and you let out a low breath.
Waiting until you heard the front door swing shut behind him you then slipped from under the covers, scooping your pyjamas from the floor before darting into the bedroom. Brock had been working more and more hours recently, staying out late, work dinners with too much booze and too many cigars. Some of which you were dragged along to, playing the role of supportive fiancée with the rest of the wives who wanted nothing more than to be a trophy on a rich man’s arm. His work load had increased and you knew it, he was stressed about it, he had more responsibilities, he was in charge of his own team, gearing up for his campaign for city council and it showed. What used to be one beer with dinner had turned into three. He was smoking nearly a pack of cigarettes in two days and he was starting to miss more dinners and bedtimes than you’d expected at this point. You hadn’t been concerned about it until you were sorting things for dry cleaning and found a tiny empty plastic baggie in one of his pockets and realized he was doing coke at these late night dinners too.
Tugging on your clothes you let out a sad sigh, looking at yourself in the mirror while you gained your bearings. It would be fine. The election would pass before you knew it, things would be fine, they had to be. You brushed your teeth, splashing some water on your face before retreating back to the bedroom, finding Brock propped up on the headboard already.
“God you’re fucking sexy.” He murmured, a near slur to his words as he tugged you to him in an attempt to kiss you again, a hand cupping at your ass.
“Brock.” You protested, pushing away from him as you gagged, your eyes closing for a moment as you tried to ignore the cigarette smell. “I’m going to the guest room.”
“Oh c’mon.” He laughed, “you can handle round two. It’ll be worth it…”
“I’m exhausted.” You mumbled, sneaking off the bed.
“Alright, alright. Get some sleep darlin’. I guess I’ll get myself off.”
**
You were curled up on the couch, a blanket half tossed over your body while you stared at the mindless television show playing in front of you. You were exhausted, alone, your entire existence feeling emptier with each day that went by. Not only was Brock busier with work, you noticed the way he was slowly starting to come undone, the late nights, even if he was home were accompanied by bourbon instead of beers, he was staying up until the crack of dawn after you went to bed and you knew that wasn’t unassisted. He was still doing his best to make sure you were fed, taken care of, and getting the nursery set up, but he was on edge and it worried you. You spent the days making sure the house was baby proofed, trying to avoid Eleanor and he constant wedding planning. Flipping through books of venues, flowers, caterers, even just the type of food you wanted, everything was a question and more and more pressure on you while you were just trying to remain healthy for yourself and the baby. You were forever thankful that that was always a good enough excuse to get out of things, wedding planning binders spread across the coffee table and kitchen island each day.
You could hear Brock clattering around somewhere deeper in the house, potentially the bedroom while you wound down from dinner. He’d been late, again, saying he’d already eaten while he poured out a stiff drink before he vanished from the room. Suddenly his footsteps got louder, closer and you almost thought, angrier until his voice shook through the air.
“What the fuck is this?!” Whatever he was talking about he’d clearly thrown over the back of the couch, hitting directly onto your ankle bone and you winced.
“Ouch! Brock what the hell?” You sat up, hand darting out for it and your eyes widened when you realized what it was, your heart jumping into your throat as you tried to hold back the tears.
“Why the hell do you have an entire album filled with pictures of your ex?!” He shouted, lunging closer to the back of the couch and you dropped the album, nearly leaning away from him. “Shouldn’t you be over her? You said she broke up with you.”
“She did.” You replied, holding back the sorrow in your voice, “I.. didn’t realize I even still had this.”
“Well it was on the top of your bag!”
“Brock, c’mon, I’m sorry.” You pleaded, watching the anger in his eyes, the way the vein in his neck was throbbing, “when I moved in here I just tossed all my stuff into bags. I was unpacking the last of it this morning and found it at the bottom of my suitcase, that’s it, I swear.”
“You talk about her a hell of a lot.”
“She used to be a big part of my life. Used to. In the past, okay?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” You heard the tremor in your voice that time, “believe me, she’s blocked me, we haven’t said a word since the breakup. She was a whole lifetime ago, you and this baby… that’s my future.”
Brock let out a sigh, running a hand over his face and brushing through his hair as his shoulders sagged, “is any of this stuff online? Any other copies or something? You know how politics work; the other side could twist something like these photos into some gay affair that’ll sink my entire campaign and career.”
“No.” You ducked your gaze, “those are the only copies. I’m sorry, I’ll get rid of it tomorrow.” Your hand closed around the small album, tossing it to the coffee table with the mental note to hide it as soon as you were out of his line of sight while the tears began to invade your eyes. Brock suddenly softened, noticing the state of upset,
“Hey…” He quickly rounded the couch, waiting for you to shift, glancing up at him before he sat beside you, still giving you space, “hey.. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.” His hand cautiously reached out for your knee, squeezing softly, “darlin’, I’m not mad at you, swear. Work just has me so fucking stressed, it’s like every single thing I do could fuck up my entire career with only one second. I didn’t realize how much pressure it was going to be this early in the game.”
“I know.” You replied with a quick sniffle, hand darting up to wipe away a tear, “I’m sorry too. I’m just tired.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He squeezed at your knee again, “I overreacted,” he gestured to the photo album, “I just worry about you sweetheart. I know how much you cared about her and those feelings take a while to go away, no matter what happen. I don’t like the idea of you hanging onto pieces of that relationship when she tossed you aside like you were trash, because you’re a fucking gem and if you keep shit like that, I worry that you’re gonna let yourself continue to get hurt. And sometimes it makes mee feel a little inferior.” He admitted with a shrug, “I know we didn’t exactly happen like most couples do but this is what I want, promise.” He leant in, kissing your cheek, “I’m sorry, so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Kay.” You replied, letting him wrap his arm around you and pull you into his shoulder as your eyes blurred with tears, gaze remaining on the photo book and the memories that it held.
**
It was late. Later than you planned on being up, but that ice cream craving was hitting again, specifically with those Cheetos. So you were standing in the kitchen, scooping up dessert on the chips, your gaze settled on the ultrasound on the fridge. Brock had been at the appointment of course, only long enough to find out you were having a girl and that everything was healthy before he disappeared back to work and had yet to return home.
But that didn’t matter.
As the seasons changed and the air began to chill as the leaves started to turn all that mattered was you and the baby, your daughter, who was currently gently kicking against your abdomen. You let out a happy hum, your hand rubbing along your small bump,
“I know, I know. You want more cheezies.” You chuckled, “as you wish.” Your gaze drifted back up to the ultrasound, “it’s just you and me bug. I’ve got you. I promise. No matter what happens, you’re my everything, us against the world.”
**
The door to Casey’s dorm room was open, giving off a friendly, approachable vibe as she unpacked all of her things for the coming term. As horrible of a summer that she’d had she was ready to put all of it behind her, to start on a new leg, a new life, to spend her final year at Harvard focused on school ready to ace every single exam and essay that came her way. She’d managed to convince herself that having you around would only have been a distraction anyways; this was a blessing in disguise.
“Case!” Kristen’s voice called out as she rounded into the room with a bright smile, “Sherry told me you’d moved in!”
“Hey!” She turned with a bright smile, greeting the other girl with a tight hug.
“What’s with the single dorm?” She questioned, glancing around the room, “I know you and y/n liked to share but a single bed’s a little small don’t you think?”
“Uh.. you didn’t hear?” Casey nervously glanced around the room for anywhere to look but the other girl.
“No…what happened?”
“We’re not talking anymore.” Casey sighed, dropping down onto the bed, “things kinda went haywire after she went back to D.C.”
“Well that’s gonna make class awkward.” She laughed.
“It would, but she’s not coming back.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Casey huffed out a laugh, “uh.. we’re like.. done, done. She’s engaged… and pregnant..”
“Oh fuck.” Kristen’s eyes widened, dropping onto the edge of the bed beside her, “okay well, fuck her and fuck that. I’m on your side, and we’re gonna make this year your year! Find you the best hottie we can and you won’t even remember her name by graduation.”
“Thanks.” Casey laughed, a slight sorrow in her eyes as she did so, “but how about we just focus on school and ignore everything else? I can get back into dating once we’ve passed the bar.”
“Whatever you want.” She leant in, kissing Casey’s cheek, “you gonna come down to the kegger tonight?”
“Maybe.” Casey replied, flashing her a small smile as the other girl bounded from the room with a giggle and she let out a soft sigh. Her eyes drifted to one of the smaller boxes she had yet to unpack yet, a couple of the coziest and most worn shirts and hoodies that belonged to you that she’d never gotten the chance to return. Buried at the bottom, a tiny box with the diamond she’d been planning on giving to you after you’d both graduated.
A future she had once been certain of.
A future that she now was certain would never happen.
______________________
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denim-mixtapes · 2 years
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could you do "giving the other a spoonful of the meal they’re cooking to test it out, holding their hand under their chin so nothing falls." with Robin from the domestic prompts post in your tag? <3
How did you know cooking for people is my love language T.T I love this so much!!
Word Count: 577 Warnings: Language, food mention, big gay, very soft
“Honey, I’m home!” Robin calls from the door to your apartment, sing-songing the phrase and giggling at her own insistence to greet you like a sitcom husband. She drops the act as soon as she crosses the threshold to the kitchen and is hit with the scent of tomato and basil. “Shit, that smells incredible.” 
You hum at her praise and lean into her embrace when she walks up behind you at the stove to wrap her arms around your waist. She presses a kiss to your cheek and you lean into it, smiling. “Hope you’re hungry,” you say, turning to catch her lips for a proper kiss. “I don’t know how to divide this sauce recipe. It’ll feed a small army.” 
“Mmm, perfect,” she gives you one final squeeze before letting you go to continue cooking and grab herself a drink. “Steve’s always telling me I could eat as much as a small army. Need any help?” 
With a laugh at her comment, you shake your head. “It’s okay sweetie, you just got off of work, and I’ve been home all day. I don’t mind!” 
Leaning on the counter, she raises one eyebrow, “translation: stay the hell out of my way, right?” 
Gasping sharply, you throw a dramatic hand to your chest and break into another giggle. “I would never say such a thing.” You both roll your eyes. 
Robin snags a chunk of pepperoni from the cutting board as you pick it up to dump in the sauce, and you jokingly slap at her hand before she pops the piece into her mouth with wide eyes and raised brows. “Sure you wouldn't.”  She giggles and perches herself on the counter between the stove and fridge, her favorite place to sit while watching you cook. Near enough to feel close to you, but the tiny section of counter is so small that she doesn’t feel like she’s using up valuable counter space in your tiny kitchen. 
She’s told you before that the kitchen was her favorite place to observe you. At the time you cracked some joke about her being a scientist, and you, the thing she was studying, but since then you’ve gotten to know what she meant. You were happy in the kitchen. Always loved cooking, and in the moments when you perfected a recipe or tried something new that worked out in your favor, she was always there to celebrate you and share in your happiness, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek or the crook of your neck and tell you how she couldn’t wait to eat whatever it was you concocted. 
She also loved to taste test. 
Stirring the pasta sauce until the pepperoni is fully incorporated, you taste it yourself and groan happily at the spicy, acidic taste. 
“Come here,” you say, dipping the spoon into the sauce again, making sure to get equal parts tomato, italian sausage, and pepperoni so that she can taste all the elements at once, and blow on it to cool it. Cupping your hand under the spoon to catch drips, you bring the spoon to your girlfriend's lips. You’re granted a very brief look at her eyes lighting up before they squeeze shut in bliss and she groans just as you did. 
You set the spoon to the side and flush under her praise. “That good?” “Baby,” she says, cupping your cheeks, “someone needs to call Earl Payroux, because you belong on Gourmet Cooking.”
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drinkbooksreadtea · 3 months
Text
American Vegetable Soup (A Customizable Recipe)
When people say "American home cooking" to me this is the dish that comes to mind. I've always struggled with what to call it- it's minestrone's cousin, calling it just vegetable soup feels misleading since there's meat, goulash implies a connection to a completely unrelated Hungarian dish, I don't know. American Vegetable Soup feels right don't yell at me.
I've bolded all the ingredients/necessary components for ease of making a list. I hope that's helpful.
In a pot over medium heat add diced aromatics (onion, garlic, peppers, carrots, celery, so forth: mix and match what you have) and fry. Brown a 1 lb package of meat (beef, turkey, pork, chicken, sausage imitation meat or even sliced mushrooms). When it's brown add 1 small can of tomato paste and fry for a few minutes. Then add 1-2 bags of frozen vegetables of your choice (frozen mixed vegetables are standard but if you only have corn and peas, or a stir fry blend, or California blend, just dump it in). Add water to cover, whatever bouillon or stock cubes you have on hand, Italian seasoning, a bay leaf, garlic powder, onion powder, and spicy powders to taste (cayenne, paprika, chili powder, red pepper flakes- you can use other non-heat related spices like dill or fennel if they feel right but I like to add A Red Spice, basically), and bring to a boil then simmer.
Now you need a carb component, and what you choose changes your cooking time. If you just want vegetables and meat, cook 30 minutes and you're done. Some of my favorites are pasta (add in when there's ~10-15 minutes of cook time left depending on your pasta choice), barley (add when you add the veg, cook 45 mins minimum), rice (add when you add the veg, cook 30 minutes), or cubed potatoes (add with veg, cook 30 minutes).
Enjoy!
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