ship/member: seokmin/mingyu major tags: N/A additional tags: restaurant owner!lsm, model! kmg, food as a love language, insulting each other as form of endearment, petition to make 'idiot' the new babe, permission to remix: please ask!
*** a/n: aghh sorry to double fill but there is not a day that goes by in this new year that i do not think of doughkyeom dk pizza vlive on xmas eve. nor cooking food as an act of devotion, a love language in its own right. nor seokgyu relations - they’re either straight up married or embroiled in intense rivalry. there is no in between. this is what you get when you mix all three. i am simply obsessed.
this was meant to be more tender(also not that much cooking here) but we started w/with some good seokgyu intentions at least
“You’re hovering,” Mingyu complains, waving his chopsticks to disperse the steam wafting from the dish. “How am I supposed to eat with you staring at me like that?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Seokmin giggles a little nervously, hands coming around to twist themselves in the canvas of his apron as he leans against the counter across from Mingyu. “I just want to make sure it’s good!”
“Then,” Mingyu pauses right before Seokmin's japchae reaches his mouth, pink lips open to make a soft ‘o’, his tiny canines peeking out. For dramatic effect, Seokmin supposes. Occupational hazard of being friends with an award-winning actor. “This is terrible and you’ve poisoned me. I’m dying.”
A terrible urge to thwack Mingyu on the shoulder arises, although all the years that Seokmin’s known Mingyu prevents him from reaching out to do so, tempering the feeling into something that resembles reluctant (yet fond) endearment. How embarrassing.
“Fuck off, you haven’t even taken a bite yet,” Seokmin rolls his eyes.
Mingyu copies him in kind, sending a middle finger up in lieu of reply as he finally takes a bite.
“It’s because it’s you that it’s good,” Mingyu says through bulging cheeks, flecks of food flying everywhere at once. “Your food is incredible. Anyone with eyes can see how much love you put into it.”
There must be some lingering doubt in Seokmin’s eyes, because Mingyu says, as politely as he can while still actively chewing, “Seriously, don’t worry, Seokmin-ah. Your restaurant is going to do great.”
“You’re gross,” Seokmin complains, though he’s secretly preening on the inside. “No one’s going to have an appetite anymore after they see your face like that, Mingyu-yah. It’s bad for business.”
“You mean this one?” Mingyu asks obnoxiously, making That Face - the one that has all the noonas going crazy for him, the one that made all the netizens fall in love with him famous when he was acting that one drama, the very same one that keeps these editorial magazines ringing up his phone.
I’m Kim Mingyu, he shouts as he stands up on a chair, don’t you forget it.
Seokmin has no intentions to. But just because he can, and because he’s Seokmin, and this is what they’ve always been to each other, he whips Mingyu with a wet dish towel, screeching in delight when the other boy topples to the floor, upending what’s left of his japchae onto his head.
Click. Seokmin grins, pocketing his phone. He is nothing but an excellent pupil, and he would absolutely disgrace Yoon Jeonghan if he didn’t take advantage of a situation like this. Perfect blackmail material, really, his mind is already racing a mile a minute with hashtags to outfit his upcoming Instagram post - #kimmingyuyouEATfoodnotplaywithit #nomannersmingyu #smh #heathen #yjhareyouproudofme, and of course, Seokmin’s personal favorite: #kmg_more_like_KLUTZ_mg (complete with the appropriate emojis, of course).
“Lee Seokmin, you’re so dead.” Mingyu grabs his drink, which has miraculously avoided all catastrophe, and angles the mouth of the cup threateningly at Seokmin. “This means war.”
Seokmin yelps, but he can’t keep the stupid grid off his face. He might be running for his life, but the way Mingyu is alive with the chase, in motion, a windmill of lanky arms and long legs that refuse to stay still, enraptures him. Mingyu has always been like that, enthralling and wondrous and bright. Seokmin can’t help but move closer to the light, just so that he can bask in the glow.
There are bits of japchae in Mingyu’s hair, loud declarations of love hidden in the minuscule details of its preparation - without carrots, because Mingyu won’t say a word if they’re in there but he really prefers his noodles without them; soy sauce from a specific brand he and Mingyu had picked up once at the convenience on the corner because they were too lazy to make the trek down the block to the supermarket; a little spice but not too much, because Mingyu loves the taste but his spice tolerance isn’t as great as Jun-hyung’s, now, don’t get too carried away.
Seokmin laughs because only he knows. It’s his secret recipe, after all.
[FILL] all this love in my kitchen
major tags: N/A
additional tags: restaurant owner!lsm, model! kmg, food as a love language, insulting each other as form of endearment, petition to make 'idiot' the new babe,
permission to remix: please ask!
***
a/n: aghh sorry to double fill but there is not a day that goes by in this new year that i do not think of doughkyeom dk pizza vlive on xmas eve. nor cooking food as an act of devotion, a love language in its own right. nor seokgyu relations - they’re either straight up married or embroiled in intense rivalry. there is no in between. this is what you get when you mix all three. i am simply obsessed.
this was meant to be more tender(also not that much cooking here) but we started w/with some good seokgyu intentions at least
“You’re hovering,” Mingyu complains, waving his chopsticks to disperse the steam wafting from the dish. “How am I supposed to eat with you staring at me like that?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Seokmin giggles a little nervously, hands coming around to twist themselves in the canvas of his apron as he leans against the counter across from Mingyu. “I just want to make sure it’s good!”
“Then,” Mingyu pauses right before Seokmin's japchae reaches his mouth, pink lips open to make a soft ‘o’, his tiny canines peeking out. For dramatic effect, Seokmin supposes. Occupational hazard of being friends with an award-winning actor. “This is terrible and you’ve poisoned me. I’m dying.”
A terrible urge to thwack Mingyu on the shoulder arises, although all the years that Seokmin’s known Mingyu prevents him from reaching out to do so, tempering the feeling into something that resembles reluctant (yet fond) endearment. How embarrassing.
“Fuck off, you haven’t even taken a bite yet,” Seokmin rolls his eyes.
Mingyu copies him in kind, sending a middle finger up in lieu of reply as he finally takes a bite.
“It’s because it’s you that it’s good,” Mingyu says through bulging cheeks, flecks of food flying everywhere at once. “Your food is incredible. Anyone with eyes can see how much love you put into it.”
There must be some lingering doubt in Seokmin’s eyes, because Mingyu says, as politely as he can while still actively chewing, “Seriously, don’t worry, Seokmin-ah. Your restaurant is going to do great.”
“You’re gross,” Seokmin complains, though he’s secretly preening on the inside. “No one’s going to have an appetite anymore after they see your face like that, Mingyu-yah. It’s bad for business.”
“You mean this one?” Mingyu asks obnoxiously, making That Face - the one that has all the noonas going crazy for him, the one that made all the netizens fall in love with him famous when he was acting that one drama, the very same one that keeps these editorial magazines ringing up his phone.
I’m Kim Mingyu, he shouts as he stands up on a chair, don’t you forget it.
Seokmin has no intentions to. But just because he can, and because he’s Seokmin, and this is what they’ve always been to each other, he whips Mingyu with a wet dish towel, screeching in delight when the other boy topples to the floor, upending what’s left of his japchae onto his head.
Click. Seokmin grins, pocketing his phone. He is nothing but an excellent pupil, and he would absolutely disgrace Yoon Jeonghan if he didn’t take advantage of a situation like this. Perfect blackmail material, really, his mind is already racing a mile a minute with hashtags to outfit his upcoming Instagram post - #kimmingyuyouEATfoodnotplaywithit #nomannersmingyu #smh #heathen #yjhareyouproudofme, and of course, Seokmin’s personal favorite: #kmg_more_like_KLUTZ_mg (complete with the appropriate emojis, of course).
“Lee Seokmin, you’re so dead.” Mingyu grabs his drink, which has miraculously avoided all catastrophe, and angles the mouth of the cup threateningly at Seokmin. “This means war.”
Seokmin yelps, but he can’t keep the stupid grid off his face. He might be running for his life, but the way Mingyu is alive with the chase, in motion, a windmill of lanky arms and long legs that refuse to stay still, enraptures him. Mingyu has always been like that, enthralling and wondrous and bright. Seokmin can’t help but move closer to the light, just so that he can bask in the glow.
There are bits of japchae in Mingyu’s hair, loud declarations of love hidden in the minuscule details of its preparation - without carrots, because Mingyu won’t say a word if they’re in there but he really prefers his noodles without them; soy sauce from a specific brand he and Mingyu had picked up once at the convenience on the corner because they were too lazy to make the trek down the block to the supermarket; a little spice but not too much, because Mingyu loves the taste but his spice tolerance isn’t as great as Jun-hyung’s, now, don’t get too carried away.
Seokmin laughs because only he knows. It’s his secret recipe, after all.