#everyone used to be in one pot but then i moved the tomatoes because they were growing too well

[szappan]

you guys see that? the flower of the melon? the flower of the melon in a pot?

AND DO YOU SEE THE MELON ITSELF. HUSBAND AND WIFE INTENDED FOR EACH OTHER SINCE THE BEGINNING EXCEPT THAT THERE'S ANOTHER MALE FLOWER FORMING NOW THAT I LOOK CLOSER SO IM NOT SURE WHICH ONE I'LL GO WITH YET BUT ANYWAY THIS IS A BEAUTIFUL THING

[silverstagspirit]

The Prefects's Perfect Sandwich

Warnings: none

Enjoy

~

The culinary crucible was underway once again and the Prefect decided to step in this time after the boys were finished. Sometime during lunch earlier that day, they spouted some idea about "Wait! I wonder if I can make it here."

They got access to the kitchen as soon as possible. After asking the ghosts if they could use the kitchen, they cleared everyone out so they could make the mystery food.

Unbeknownst to them, some of their seniors heard about this and were hiding in the other room so that they could make sure they weren't being reckless. The other freshmen were there, too.

The Prefect stood near the window

"I am ready to receive instructions from the world of creation above me for the sandwich I am about to concieve. I am open. Use me."

Yuu turned on some classical music and did a weird little dance before taking a deep breath.

They washed the vegetables in a washing basin. Made sure to sharpen the knife exactly 6 times. Fetching a steak from the fridge, placing Rosemary and Tyme on it, and suving it at 135 degrees.

Azul was taking some notes for Monstro Lounge in case this recipe was actually good. Recipes from another world will certainly be good for business.

They got their bread, cut it, and toasted it with a blow torch.

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere."

"Cream cheese!"

"Pickles from my boy Prizmo!"

"And some dill!"

The boys heard some chirping from the window until it was replaced with some struggling squawks before it was silenced.

A little bit later, the Prefect resumed the sandwiches construction.

"Diced boiled eggs!"

"Bird from the window!"

The last bit made the boys freak out silently. Vil was getting ready to storm in and tell that potato that they are not a raccoon and shouldn't be eating stuff that can make you sick. However, the Prefect kept going.

"Yeah, baby! Now we're rolling!"

"Common cucumber!"

"Sliced Roman tomato!"

"Sweet yellow onion! organic!"

The Prefect sobbed

*sniff* "Eeeuuargh— almost done!"

"Tears for salt!"

"Meat prepared suvied!"

"Bacon~"

They heard the Prefect move to another station. They grabbed a pot of water by the sound of it and took it to the sandwich.

"You're the most important part."

*Splash*

SCREEEEEeeeeee~

What the seven was that!??

"Lobster Soul"

The Prefect turned the sandwich towards them, and it started to glow a bright white light.

"It's amazing!" The Prefect whispered right before they heard a thump.

The boys who were listening looked to see what it was. The Prefect had fainted and was flat on the ground.

As they started to get up, though. One certain freshman took this as an opportunity.

"Okay, whilst their down, grab the sandwich and run!"

"Ace?! What are you—"

He had already got the sandwich and was running away. Prefect was not having it, though, as they now chased after him from waking up.

Azul sent Floyd and Jade to retrieve that sandwich intact for him to taste. Vil sent Rook because he did not want any of those potatoes eating that abomination. Jamil had to stop Kalim from wanting to eat that, and he was not making that thing for him either. Jack wants to know why your world has such wierd methods of preparation. Sebek is stumped that this magicless human knew a recipe for magical food. Lilia finds this whole situation hilarious.

Rumors spread throughout the school of the Prefects perfect sandwich. And now everyone wants to try it. But it's going to be a battle.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2023-11-27

Snow

Listening: Someone on IRC linked me to 3Blue1Brown's Hallelujah Parody about the vicissitudes of apparent patterns in sequences.

Reading: You Want My Password or a Dead Patient:, a paper about information security and the lack thereof in medical contexts. Paper linked here, but I first heard about it in this Choast.

A very good deep dive into the extremes of classic reasons why information security is bypassed: it's just much more important that you have access to resources Right Now in a hospital context than it is that they are secure against hacker, most of the time.

Hospitals process a lot of private information, so they are often beholden to the security standards imposed by regulations agencies. If you've engaged with mandatory security regulations you'll know a lot of them are, uh, bad?

(Famously if you want to meet US FIPS Government Standards you cannot use the Good Elliptic Curve ed25519 and instead you have to use a different, less well secured curve.)

Anyway what this means is that you have a significant conflict between the very high stakes and fast paced world of hospital medicine, and a system that wants you to log back in every time you step away from the x-ray machine.

Watching: Nothing.

Playing: As you may know if you're following me, I started Dark Souls this week. I am having a great time in Dark Souls! It's a lot of fun. I am still where I was yesterday, having just beaten the Belltower Gargoyles.

There are definitely notes that I have. It is for sure a 12 year old game. Some of the opacity is definitely intentional difficulty, like requiring you to just feel out the parry timing, but I it probably wouldn't make the game any easier if it had reliable indicators of when you're in position to backstab or riposte someone and it would make parrying much more fun. I like parrying but so often you parry someone and then just hit them normally instead of going for the cool finisher riposte.

Making: Like ten minutes ago I reopened Cinnabar and Calcite and did a little hardware swap, moving a new network card into Calcite and Calcite's old network card into Cinnabar. Everyone is settled back in. Wifi card upgrades are not really essential but it is nice to have wifi on a desktop even if you don't use it because a) someday you will and b) it's free bluetooth.

Also: Wrote some very bad bash to use my motherboard RGB as a tally light for recording these Dark Souls clips, since I've lost a few clips to hitting the wrong record button a few times.

Tools and Equipment: Original Tuesdayposter @girlfriendsofthegalaxy had a video on marinara sauce this last Tuesday and I was inspired to try some tomato pasta bakes. I usually make Mornay sauce based pasta bakes because it's what my parents usually made, but you gotta try a really spicy tomato pasta bake.

I got some habaneros and jalapenos from the farmers market and made a big pot of spicy tomato tuna bake and especially with the weather being How It Is that was great, I'm making a mushroom one sometime soon it kicked ass. That recipe was loosely based on this one, although I put in a bunch of extra vegetables.

[withlovefromsimtown]

A Not-So-Short Update

The last time I posted about my life was some sad news, so let's talk about how I've been moving forward from that point.

All the zoo went to the vet in March because of a bacterial respiratory infection. We probably picked it up from one of the very frequent vet visits with the 2 chronically ill cats before they both passed. Only 2 of the remaining animals actually had the respiratory infection per bloodwork; everyone got preventative shots, & everyone is doing GREAT.

In the same vetting round, I got everyone up on their yearly vaccinations. It was close enough to that time that I didn't want to drag everyone back again.

One of the cats got a little sneezy & wheezy again last month. She did not have a contagious variant & aside from being VERY ANGY at me for shoving her into a transportation prison & dragging her to the vet for round 2, she's doing great again now.

My family has been over at my house like 1-2 times a week pretty consistently.

I planted flowers.

I've been slowly rewatching the 1990s Trigun with my friend, it's still SO GOOD & I love so much sharing things with people. Especially when people are experiencing things I love for the first time, it's like seeing it again for the first time myself. <3

My kitchen light died. It had nothing to do with the lightbulbs. My dad helped me fix it.

My plumbing broke & I spent somewhere around $3700-$3800 total in diagnosis & repairs. I am not mathing right now. It was in the drainpiping, not cosmetic, & I still have to put a section of wall back from that "adventure" when I feel up to it.

The plumbing issues are FINANCED to a point where they are...ultimately manageable with very minimal damage to my daily life. Ask me about how to game the US credit system, sometime.

I feel like this is a good point to mention my Ko-fi . Although I've got it fine on my own & I don't expect anything from anyone, literally anything helps ease the burden a bit if anyone out there has anything to spare. This has no effect At All on whether or not I make anything Sims-related. The break has nothing to do with my financial situation.

My dad has offered to help me do some cosmetic repairs to the bathrooms (he's paying for new sink handles as an advance on my birthday present but it's super helpful).

I potted some new veggies; my dad got the first ripe pepper off the red poblano plant tonight & I'll have the other ripe one the next time I make an omelette. The squashes are working their ass off, the tomato hasn't flowered yet, & I'm keeping an eye on my bell peppers because they're getting around.

Due to a series of events my former gym has a) changed management & b) owed me like 6 months of membership, so I have that prepaid & going forward for me, I'm back at the gym 3-4 days a week, which has been helpful both mentally & physically.

The lawnmower is repaired, the weedwhacker is charging, the lawn isn't 6 feet high, & most of the jungle is cleared from around the sheds.

Jury's still out on the pressure washer being functional ever again but we'll cross that bridge when I feel like rewiring a power cord with a shutoff switch.

I steam-cleaned all the carpet upstairs.

I replaced my bedframe & have been working on the spareroom/guestroom again (it doubles as storage & sleepytimes, it's not like... rentable, or there for income... it's just a place for friends to sleep that's comfy & full of cattes.)

I got almost all my laundry done & put away. Everything that's not on my ass right now is clean & either dry or drying.

[hylianengineer]

Recent family drama has me pissed off about gender roles, and for some reason I'm thinking about how that plays out through food. Almost none of the men on either side of my family cook unless it's on a grill. My dad does a little bit sometimes but it's nowhere near what my mom does. I know he knows how, he just doesn't.

When I became a vegetarian my uncle tried to demand I cook meat for him. I said I wouldn't, I'd cook what I wanted to eat and maybe share that with him but I wouldn't cook something I didn't want to eat. He tried to make me feel like the asshole in this conversation. He was never entitled to any of my cooking in the first place, it was a gift and people who are assholes about gifts don't deserve them. I still wonder how much of this conversation he thought was a joke - maybe all of it, but if it was it was in rather poor taste.

My (paternal) grandfather does not cook almost at all. He grills, he makes fudge every Christmas, and he makes spaghetti sauce out of the tomatoes he grows. When my grandma had knee surgery, she cooked a lot of extra food ahead of time to put in the freezer because god forbid he cook for himself and his wife who was recovering from surgery. God forbid he be an independent adult for once in his life.

My dad can cook. But again, he doesn't do it very often. He makes salads and he grills meat and he knows how to throw a roast in a crock pot. There's this one marinated cucumber dish that's his specialty. My mom does easily 75% of the cooking, and I guess she must be okay with that - she's not like my grandma (her mother-in-law), she doesn't put up with gender role bullshit. My mother is a female electrical engineer who grew up with an absent father and a mom who did everything. My dad raised two AFAB kids (both nonbinary, though he doesn't know it) to use power tools, fix cars, and not need a man to do anything for us.

Every holiday, my grandma calls the shots. She orders everyone around - women in the kitchen and men out of it. I remember a memorable incident last year when she was trying to get all the women (and my sibling who she's been told is a trans man although they're secretly enby - she still calls them 'she') to cook things and the men to move furniture and I (her as-far-as-she-knows cisgender granddaughter) said no actually I want to go move furniture. She didn't fight me on it but I'm kind of fuming about it to this day - the way she thinks labor is supposed to be divided.

It's funny - my parents think they have a daughter and a transgender son. They actually have two nonbinary children, but shh, we're in the closet about that part. What's funny is that I, the supposed daughter, am the one doing traditionally masc stuff. I'm the car person in this duo. I'm the scientist, they're the arts major. I'm the one who owns work boots. I'm the one who likes tools and wants to carry a pocket knife. My twin actually DID get a pocketknife as a gift a few years back, but the only use it sees is when I borrow it.

My twin is a better cook than me. They're better at sewing than me. They want to spend their life making art and I want to spend mine playing in the dirt. We're very much not putting up with the roles our family has tried to put us in. Neither of us cooks very much, but what cooking does occur in this household is NOT split along gender lines.

[vampxbby]

I can’t take it anymore

I feel like everyone is watching me slowly lose my mind. I feel like they are watching a rotting corpse try and put on a smile or even move. I don’t feel anything I do is right and I felt like I’ve been pushed to fly without a parachute. I want to hit the ground and just disintegrate into something else. Plants? Trees? Flowers? Something something other than me. I’ve always wanted plastic surgery and to be someone else, someone that both my mother and father would love. Someone where her brothers would call her. Someone who deserved to have the wheel taken from them sometimes. I’m so jealous of people who have families, who love them, who care for them, who want to see them succeed. I just have a mom who wished she never had me and a dad whose a workaholic. What’s the point of doing the things I want to do if I’ll be poor anyway and have a mom telling me I’m no good at it anyway? What’s the point of breaking my back over things anymore to just be the one to rescue myself anyway? What’s the point of asking for help when I’m just told about how I’m feeding an addiction? I wished my existence was just worth something more than to break my back over a job, have kids and die. I would give anything to not feel what I feel everyday, I would rip my skin off, pray to a foreign god or even lie to myself if I knew I could be free from this turmoil. I have tried being happy for so long now and maybe I was just doomed from the start. To always be left to the side and forgotten about. Leaving university for a boy who needed to be constantly pushed to do something was stupid. But I loved him and believed in him and maybe I believed in something I couldn’t see. I want to eat sushi one last time with though, I want to see him smile or crack a stupid joke. Oh how much better our lives would have been had we been loved by the people who made us and spoken to gently and softly. Could we have been more?

I have attempted many times but never completed but I think for once I am not afraid. I only worry of the pain and suffering I may face but I’m not scared for once. I had plans on Monday to attend a party but I think I’ll be a homebody again and miss it. She was so sweet too.

So for now, I can dream of the music I would have made, the books I would have written, the games I would have played or made, and I’ll live in that world.

I know there is nothing afterwards just atoms evolved into comso and eventually a vastness of emptiness and stars. I hope I become that comet. I never got see it but hopefully I will pass by earth once in a millennium and orbit briefly before going on its journey once more. I know there is no god, for now, but for once I beg of him to rid of this misery. No one deserves this misery, not he or I. And I’m not strong enough to withstand this misery with no one to rescue me at least once in awhile. I don’t ask very much but I would ask to be cremated. Grow me into a great pot of flowers, turn me into jewelry, spread me across a garden and watch me bring life. I hope I pass on the life that I never got into a hydrangea, a harvest of tomatoes, or in a flower field far away in the mountains of Washington. I hope I make people laugh and smile when I see them. I hope I remind them to be kind and kind to themselves. I hope most of all that the people who feel they deserve redemption from me know they have gotten it. Because I am no longer angry and hateful, but alone and sad. I was writing suicide letters in middle school, I can imagine I’m a novelist at this kind of angst. Wonder if I will write a book about suicide in my next lifetime. I hope I made you laugh, smile, and even cry. But please don’t forget me. Make sure you always find me in small trinkets, flowers on the side of the road and scenic views. I may be a bank teller with bipolar, but I’m also an astronomer, writer, musician, weightlifter and hopefully a good friend. I don’t mean to cause you any sadness or frustration with my debts and I’m sorry I’ve left them to you, but take care of yourself and remember to take your medicine. I don’t have very many pictures or videos of me, but I do have my words and I hope they ease you. Goodnight everyone, I love you.

[angrybeescooks]

Alright. I am extremely proud of this particular dish.

Yesterday I woke up with the sudden urge to make Étouffée. I say sudden. it was not sudden. I have been neck fuckin' deep in the Hazbin fandom and everyone has decided this is The Dish that Alastor would have enjoyed as a child. That and Gumbo. Soooo here we are.

I have never made Étouffée but that wasn't about to stop me. So about a dozen recipes and at least as many 'family recipe' videos later, I went to the store.

I'm not out here saying this is the most authentic thing in the world. but it really was delicious. And... easy? Also I cook random things quite often and this is just the first of me putting down what i made into a post. Half the share, and half so i can find notes on what I did last time lol.

Ingredients (I'm bad at measurements. the only thing i measured was the butter and flour here) 2lbs shrimp 1/2 cup butter (salted) 1/2 cup flour White wine Seafood Stock (1 pint) 1 green bell pepper 2 med yellow onions 2 celery ribs 1 bunch of green onions enough tomatoes for about 1 cup of chopped tomatoes 1 - 8oz can of tomato paste Creole Seasoning Garlic Powder Cayenne Pepper Worcestershire sauce Cooked Rice (Fluffy/long grain rice) 1 lemon

Pre cut and clean everything. for the love of god, once the roux starts you are on a timer. You'll want to finely dice (and im talking like a quarter of an inch cubes) 1 green bell pepper, two ribs of celery, and 2 med yellow onions (or one large). For the green onion, separate it by whites and greens, because we will use them separately.

Clean/prep your protein. For me this meant de-veining/de-shelling my shrimp. If you wanna be fancy and make your own stock, save the shells for that. Season your meats a bit with some Creole seasoning/salt/pepper/cayenne pepper (is there cayenne pepper in the creole seasoning? Yes. but we want more). Squeeze the juice of one lemon onto the seasoned shrimp, and put that shit in the fridge.

Crush/chop/whatever your garlic. as much as feels right for your soul.

Put all your prepped food in bowls, so you're ready to go. You can mix most the veggies together, but keep the garlic and green onion separate for now. Make sure everything is in reach of the stove outside of the meat, bc its gonna be real difficult to step away from the roux at all.

Make a roux. If you want a more cajun flavor you'll want to make an oil based roux, but for that creole flavor you can go more french with a butter roux. Do not rush this part. It will take at least 40m, but the longer the better. You can google how to make a roux, but I did half a cup of butter, half a cup of flour... and then just whisk that shit until you can't whisk no more... and then go another like 5-10m lol. It should be on a low-med heat. You want to brown the flour/butter but Not Burn it. it should be smooth and smell nice and nutty :D. Do Not Stop Stirring. Ever. (more cajun roux will use oil/lard. if we're leaning creole we can steal from the french and use butter, butter has a lower smokepoint tho, so be careful not to burn the milk fats)

Once the roux is a nice Peanut butter/ carmel color and smells deliciously nutty, it's time to add in the veggies. Slowly pour the chopped veggies into your pot with the roux and mix. You want to coat the veggies in the roux, and then let them cook down a bit before moving on. about 5-10m. (you're gonna keep it on that med-med/low heat until its time to bring it to a boil. Low. Slow. and Developing those Flavors)

Here I would do the first layer of seasoning. We're gonna layer in seasoning as we go, so don't over do it. But once you've cooked down the veg a bit, start layering in creole seasoning, cayenne, white pepper, and your crushed/minced garlic. Stir in.

Add in one 8oz can of Tomato paste and about 1 cup of either fresh chopped or canned tomato chunks. Stir Stir again and let that cook down a bit. (5m)

Time for the liquids. I started with some white wine (whatever floats your boat) about half a cup at a time, to deglaze anything on the bottom of the pan. Once I'd added about 1.5 cups of wine I switched to seafood stock. If you don't have access to seafood stock you can always use a chicken/veggie stock.

Add in the stock slowly, stirring as you go. The sauce will be quite loose, but that is okay. The roux will do it's thing after it reaches a boil.

Season again, add in your bay leaves (2-3 of those babies, you aren't driving) and TASTE IT. Start tasting that broth and season until it feels right.

Now it's time for the Étouffée - we're gonna smother this shit. Bring the pot to a Rolling boil. Like, bubblin' across the whole surface of the pot, not just the edges. Stir consistently to ensure nothing sticks to the bottom.

Once you get it to a boil, turn it back onto simmer, and let it sit! At least 30m, but you can let it cook longer. You want all the flavors to marry and the veggies to break down and the roux to do it's thing. I was in the middle of a gaming event and i let mine simmer for like just over an hour. While it's simmering, check on it often, stir it, taste it. Add seasoning if ya need it!

It's finally time. If you went the shrimp route (or crawfish) now is the time to add that in. Bring the pot back up to a boil, add your seafood, and stir for 4-5 minutes or until the protein is cooked through. (this is also where I added a splash of Worcestershire, the juice of the other half of the lemon, and the whites of the green onions.)

Serve over jasmine rice (or any long grain rice of your choice) and top with some fresh green onions/scallions

That's it. I know its a lot of steps. but like. It's mostly just chopping veggies. stirring. and letting it do it's thing. It's so so good and imma have it for dinner for a 3rd night in a row today! Enjoy :D

[edgewaterfarmcsa]

CSA WEEK 14

P i c k l i s t

watermelon - roma tomatoes - garlic - poblano pepper - 

Cherry tomatoes - carmen peppers - lunchbox peppers - carrots

THIS WEEK AT EDGEWATER…

We remain swimming in field tomatoes.  I believe the crop of plums might be at peak, or nearing peak yields right now.  The plants are dripping with fruit, and this abundance is simultaneously soul-nourishing-farmer-pleasing and totally overwhelming.  Being rich in tomatoes lends itself to a real feeling of urgency.  A crop based time crunch.  

For one, as soon as the fruit ripens, we have only so much time until the juice of the tomato bursts through the skin and rots the fruit.  The crew has done an incredible job of staying on top of the pick, however it is inevitable that some of the cherries and plums will rot before we move/sell/cook/eat them. 

The second feeling of urgency comes when the weather turns and the nights move toward fall and flannel.  This is that moment in between seasons that makes me want to harvest everything all the time by day and preserve via canning or freezing all the time by night.  This harvest rush makes for a real crazy person (i.e. me).

This week’s CSA share 100% reflects that crazy.  Please join me as we get into it and go deep with tomatoes.  By Sunday I expect everyone of your countertops to be tomato splattered and every dish piled high in your sink. But come JANUARY, you will be so pleased that you followed suit and took to heart the farmy foodie canny pro-tips.  

Let’s CAN people!

 (wait wait let me try again) 

We CAN do this!

FARMY FOODIE PRO-TIPS the canners edition: 

by far my fave way of preserving cherries and plums

It is simple and the only ingredients you need are tomatoes/salt/pepper/GARLIC/olive oil.

READ ON…

Cherry, grape or small Roma tomatoes

Whole cloves of garlic, unpeeled

Olive oil

Herbs such as thyme or rosemary (optional) Preheat the oven to 225°F. Halve each cherry or grape tomato crosswise, or Roma tomato lengthwise and arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet along with the cloves of garlic. Drizzle with olive oil, just enough to make the tomatoes glisten. Sprinkle herbs on, if you are using them, and salt and pepper, though go easily on these because the finished product will be so flavorful you’ll need very little to help it along.

Bake the tomatoes in the oven for about 3 hours. You want the tomatoes to be shriveled and dry, but with a little juice left inside–this could take more or less time depending on the size of your tomatoes.

Either use them right away or let them cool, cover them with some extra olive oil and keep them in the fridge for the best summer condiment, ever. And for snacking.

JENNY’S NOTE:  Smitten’s slow roasted tomatoes stop there… but I am suggesting you take it one step further.  Let’s can :)

STEP 1: Prepare your jars and lids- clean them, dry them/ get em lined up and ready.  

STEP 2: Prepare your water bath (big pot with boiling water)

STEP 3-STEP 100: is an excerpt from Tart and Sweet: 101 Canning and Pickling Recipes by Kelly Geary and Jessie Knadler (Rodale, 2011). The excerpt is from Chapter 6: Summer. I am also going to provide their favorite recipe to can tomatoes in case you want to go the “whole” tomato route.  However, if you want to take your newly roasted tomatoes and skip ahead to the canning part, go ahead and ladle your warm batch of tomatoes into jars, skip to bullet point 3 and proceed with the lemon juice. But do not add water- any juice leftover from your smashed down cherry tomatoes is enough!

Canned Tomatoes 

• 12–15 pounds tomatoes, blanched, peeled, andcored • About 8 cups water per quart jar • 2 tablespoons bottled lemon juice (or 1 tablespoon per pint jar) • 1 teaspoon kosher salt (or 1/2 teaspoon per pint jar)

1. Leave the tomatoes whole or quarter or halve them, as desired.

2. Bring the water to a boil in a large saucepan (you may need more or less, depending on the size and cut of the tomatoes). Reduce the heat, but keep the water hot.

3. Place the appropriate amount of lemon juice and salt in each hot jar. Top with raw tomatoes.

4. Ladle hot water into the jars to cover the tomatoes, leaving 1/2 inch headspace. Check for air bubbles, wipe the rims, and seal. Process quarts for 45 minutes, pints for 40 minutes, adjusting for elevation.

YIELD: 4 quarts or 8 pints

Ok DO YOUR BEST HERE PEOPLE! I Highly recommend you get yourself a copy of this book. It is extremely user friendly and chock full of all my fave ways to preserve. Writing it one more time for the boys in the back:

Tart and Sweet: 101 Canning and Pickling Recipes by Kelly Geary and Jessie Knadler 

And if you are not ready to can, but do want roast your maters go ahead and these little gems on toast, with eggs, by the spoonful, or make soup:

Roasted Tomato and Goat Cheese Soup from the cook book: lucid food

serves 4

12 ripe tomatoes

2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed

1 yellow onion, coarsely chopped

1 tablespoon honey

2 sprigs fresh rosemary

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

4 tablespoons olive oil

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 dried bay leaf

1/4 cup fresh goat cheese

Preheat the oven to 425°F. Core and quarter the tomatoes and scoop out the seeds, reserving the seeds and cores for the stock. In a large bowl, toss the tomatoes with the garlic, onion, honey, rosemary, 1 tablespoon of the vinegar, 3 tablespoons of the olive oil, and a dash of salt. Spread the mixture on a baking sheet and roast for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove the rosemary and set aside. Combine the tomato scraps, bay leaf, and 1 cup water in a pot and bring to a boil over high heat. Decrease the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 15 minutes. Strain the stock into a bowl and discard the solids. Rinse the pot and return the stock to the pot. Add the roasted tomatoes. Bring to a boil over high heat, then decrease the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes. Let the soup cool for 10 minutes, then pour into a blender. Add the cheese and blend until smooth. With the blender running, add the remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Season to taste with salt.

Garnish the soup with the remaining 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar and a few grinds of pepper and serve.

[wolferine]

Family Feud - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Wolverine-powered!Reader joins the Avengers and immediately catches the attention of the team’s resident redhead.

Warnings: Violence

Word count: 2812

Requested by @confusinggemini612: I love your work & Wolverine is one of my favorite superheroes so could you please do a Natasha x Reader where the reader has the same powers as him? Reader is recruited by Fury & eventually gets closer with Natasha leading to them dating. Thanks

Part 1

AN: Y’all are the best as usual. Thank you so much for the support on the first part. Stay awesome, my friends.

The next morning, you and Natasha are kicked out of your room early for the cleaning crew. You grab some questionable coffee from the motel’s complimentary café and offer Natasha a Styrofoam cup while you sit on the steps in the parking lot, waiting for the SHIELD agents to come pick you up.

“Thanks for…last night,” you say a little awkwardly, not sure how to phrase your gratitude. You sip your watery coffee and grimace.

“You’re welcome,” Natasha says, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries or anything—”

“No, you’re good.” When you see her wringing her pale hands together, you take off your leather jacket—not that it will help very much against the freezing temperature—and drape it over her shoulders. “Here.”

“Oh, it’s okay—”

“I’m not cold.” You shuffle closer to her, trying to share your body heat with her. She wraps her hand around your arm and rests her head against your shoulder. It almost scares you how comfortable you are around Natasha. But it’s a nice change of pace from having to be cautious of everyone. You don’t need your enhanced senses to know that she is someone you can trust.

Natasha looks at your hands, noticing the reddened area between your knuckles where your claws come out. “Does it hurt when they come out?” she asks, noticing there are natural openings. She traces her fingers over your knuckles delicately.

“Every time,” you whisper.

***********************************************************************

Despite Victor’s interference, the mission is successfully completed by the other SHIELD agents, and you and Natasha return safely to the Tower. Fury sidelines you from participating in missions while they track Victor enough to make sure he’ll stay out of your way in future missions.

You don’t really mind, because it gives you time to bond with Natasha. You learn that she is a completely inept cook and possibly more dangerous inside the kitchen than outside of it.

While you and Clint are cooking dinner one day, Natasha insists on helping, so you give her the simple task of boiling water for pasta. However, she becomes so distracted trying to flatten the pointy tufts of your hair that all the water in the pot evaporates, nearly starting a fire.

“Please get your girl out of the kitchen, Y/N,” Clint chastises, tossing a towel on the flames shooting out of the empty, smoking pot. You don’t have time to mull over his choice of words as you reach for the fire extinguisher under the sink.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha mumbles for the hundredth time as you fill up a new pot with water and let her sheepishly place it on the stovetop.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Clint warns. “Tony will get suspicious when he sees the amount of pots we have to throw out.”

“Just stand right here and don’t move until the water’s boiling.” Without thinking, you place your hands on Natasha’s hips and position her in front of the stove. At first, she tenses, not expecting the contact, but relaxes quickly under your touch. 

She doesn’t want you to let her go.

“Hey, Y/N,” Clint says. You back away from Natasha, not noticing her sigh. “Can I borrow your claws to cut up the salad?”

“How about I just stab you with them instead?” you respond. He and Natasha laugh.

You use an actual knife to help Clint chop tomatoes for the salad, and Natasha announces the water is finally boiling.

“Wh…What do I do now?” she asks, frantically dancing around the stove.

“Just put the pasta in,” Clint says.

“How?”

“Have you never been in a kitchen before?” you say, sliding the box of pasta across the counter to her.

“They banned me from being in the kitchen by myself,” she admits, opening the box.

“I wonder why.” You stand behind her and take her hands, guiding her in pouring the pasta into the pot without dropping a single uncooked strand. She looks back at you with a giddy smile. 

“Thanks. Maybe if you had been there to supervise me, there wouldn’t have been any problems,” she says, winking at you.

“This is a kitchen.” Clint comes out of nowhere, bumping you aside with an enormous pot filled with tomato sauce. “Get a room, you two.”

***********************************************************************

When Natasha asks you to help her teach self-defense to the new SHIELD recruits, you accept immediately. You don’t think you have much patience to be a teacher, but if it gave you the chance to show off in front of her, you weren’t going to say no.

A group of six, young SHIELD recruits wait in the gym for both of you. They are clearly starstruck in Natasha’s presence, but since you’re the newest member of the team, they have no idea who you are. But you don’t mind. You’re ready to make an introduction none of them will forget.

After a quick round of warmups, Natasha tosses you a rubber knife to demonstrate self-defense tactics to the recruits.

“Are you sure you don’t want to use a real one?” you tease.

“Maybe later.”

You stand across from her on the sparring mats, holding the knife in your right hand.

“Eyes on me,” Natasha says, and it takes you a moment to realize that she’s talking to the recruits. Not that you could stop looking at her, anyway. Dressed in casual workout clothes, walking the recruits through basic moves, she’s clearly in her element. She commands the class with confidence, and it annoys you how much you’re drawn to her.

You already know what a bad idea it would be to fall in love with a colleague, but your almost two centuries of life taught you that some things couldn’t be helped.

Natasha nods at you. “Ready?”

You step forward, swinging your arm out widely. Natasha catches your wrist with one hand, grabbing your shoulder with the other and straightening out your arm. “As you can see here, Y/N has very little power in this position,” she tells the recruits. “So, I can strike the knee, the groin, the stomach…” Natasha thumps you in every body part she names.

Your skin burns where she touches you. 

“To disarm, your opponent, just do this…” She pushes against your knuckles, causing your wrist to flex inwards and you instinctively drop the knife. “Just like that. Now, let’s do it in real-time.”

You back up and repeat the same attack, allowing Natasha to grab your arm and strike you in the stomach. She bends your wrist and curls her fingers into yours, almost like she’s trying to hold your hand. But then she rips the knife away from you and aims the tip towards your throat. You stare her down with a satisfied smile.

“It’d be a lot more different if I was actually trying,” you say.

“I don’t think so.” She sounds dangerously sure of herself, and you take this as a challenge. But she doesn’t give you the chance to request another round, because she turns to the recruits and says, “Okay, everyone, pair up and start practicing.”

While Natasha goes to watch the four male recruits, you watch the two females. One of them is a short brunette, who’s either never done knife tactics before or is just nervous to be in front of you.

When she can’t quite get the technique right, you decide to intervene and say, “Here, try it on me.” You take the knife from her partner and position yourself across from the brunette. Slowly, you throw your arm towards her. She grabs your wrist and shoulder, straightening out your arm until your elbow locks. Her hand trails down your bicep, giving it an appreciative squeeze.

Suddenly, Natasha flies in out of nowhere, literally shoving the brunette to the side and replacing her hands with her own. “You think your opponent is just going to stand there and let you feel them up?” she snaps at the recruit, and you realize she’s insulting you as well. In one fluid motion, Natasha knocks the knife out of your hand. “Let’s practice with some urgency, okay?” 

“Sorry,” both you and the brunette recruit say.

“No, you’re okay,” Natasha assures, picking the knife back up and pressing it into your hand. You don’t miss the way her fingers linger across yours.

Natasha moves to teaching the recruits defensive handgun tactics. You come up with an idea to end class on a fun note (at least for yourself and Natasha).

“Agent Romanoff,” you say, feeling awkward using her official title. “You up for a challenge?”

“Sure.” She displays no sign of hesitance as she joins you in the center of the mats.

“I know you already showed the recruits how to disarm an opponent with a knife, but what if you can’t?” You raise your right hand, allowing one claw to slide out between your knuckles. There is a collective gasp of shock around the room.

“That’s disgusting.”

“That’s badass.”

You smile at their reactions.

“You improvise,” Natasha says with a shrug.

“You want to show them how it’s done?” you ask.

“Bring it on.”

The recruits gather at the edges of the mats to give you and Natasha as much room as they can. For a moment, you two circle each other silently, each waiting for the other to make the first move. You’re very confident in your own abilities and the control you have to make sure you don’t harm Natasha in a training session. Even if she was as tough as she claimed, you would be careful and respectful with her.

Natasha, on the other hand, is ready to wrap her legs around your neck and take you to the floor any way she can. (She also wishes she had you in her bedroom instead of the gym, but maybe another time.)

She lunges at you first and is lithe as a cat as she dodges and weaves around you. You are mindful of your claw, keeping it well away from her body, but she is doing a fine job of it on her own. Natasha clamps her hand around your wrist, pulling you off-balance. You flip mid-air so you land on your back, but Natasha is quicker and shoves your hand towards your face.

You retract your claw out of instinct, not that she would make you stab yourself.

“Too easy,” she says, winking at you.

The recruits burst into applause.

“I was holding back,” you lie, standing up and brushing off your shirt. 

“Well, next time, don’t. I can handle it.” Natasha looks at you and licks her lips. Your stomach flips and your face feels hot.

“This is the strangest flirting I’ve ever seen,” one of the recruits mumbles, and you know they’re right.

***********************************************************************

You decide to let Natasha make the first move. You’ve had your share of being the initiator, and it was cute to see her become flustered and shy every time she was around you. During group meetings, she always found a way to sit next to you and intervened in training sessions every time a recruit got too handsy with you.

She’s strangely protective and possessive of you, despite you two not being officially together.

You’ve just stepped out of the shower one day when you smell Natasha outside your bedroom door. You hear her heartbeat racing, and for a moment, you panic because you think she’s been hurt.

You open the door before she even knocks.

“Are you—oh, hey, Romanoff,” you say, when you glance over at her. She’s wearing a casual button-up shirt and jeans.

You’re only wrapped in a towel and water droplets glisten on your shoulders and collarbone. Your hair is wet and ruffled in a way that Natasha finds annoyingly attractive.

“Uh, hi,” she says, fiddling with her fingers. “Sorry to bother you. I didn’t know you were in the shower—”

“I’m done. What’s up?” you ask. Your enhanced hearing picks up on an increase in her heartbeat. But she is clearly not injured anywhere, so why is she so nervous?

Then it hits you and you grin.

“I…” Natasha inhales shakily. “I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with me today.”

“Like as colleagues, or…?” you trail off teasingly.

“No. A date, I’m asking you on a date,” she says, not wanting there to be any miscommunication between you two.

“Oh.” You feign surprise. “Well, that’s very flattering, Romanoff—”

Natasha’s eyes widen. Had she misread the signs this entire time? While she thought she had been flirting with you, maybe you had just saw it as messing around for fun? What if you just didn’t want to be with her because she didn���t have as much life experience as you did?

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” you finish, laughing at her reaction.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” You step forward to breathe in her scent and press your lips delicately to her forehead. Natasha snakes her hand around your waist, going behind to squeeze your butt. You jerk forward in surprise and she grins at you.

“Now that you’re mine, I can finally do that,” she says. 

“I’ll let you do a little more than that,” you whisper in her ear, hearing her heartbeat quicken at the thought. “But first, you owe me some food. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.” 

“Okay.” But you don’t let her walk away and pull her into your room.

***********************************************************************

Natasha chooses a nice little restaurant for your first date. You sit at a table on the patio, enjoying the breeze and fresh air.

“I’m pretty sure our recruits will be very happy now that we’re going out,” you say. 

“Why?” Natasha looks to you in alarm.

“Oh. I forgot you can’t hear them talk about us behind our backs.”

“What do they say?” she asks.

“That we would make a good couple…”

She relaxes with a laugh. “That’s cute. I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t actually think you’d say yes to me.”

“Why not?”

“You’re like…200 years old and you’re not exactly the easiest person to get close to,” she admits. “But that’s what makes it worth it. And as much as I tease you about it…I really, really like your hair.”

You snap your fingers. “That’s always what pulls them in,” you say, patting the tufts on your head gently. 

While you wait for your food, your hands fidget absently with the cutlery out of habit. Natasha reaches across the table and takes your hand, brushing her fingers over your knuckles. You still your movements and she smiles gently at you.

This woman understands you and loves you, despite not knowing you for very long. You know love like this is extremely rare, and you’re glad you get to experience at least once in your prolonged lifespan.

After your food arrives (you had ordered the largest T-bone steak the restaurant offered, while Natasha stuck to a simple chicken salad), you pick up your knife and saw off a massive piece.

“You’re not gonna use your claws to cut that?” she teases.

“That’s unsanitary and we’re in public,” you dismiss. You spear the piece on your fork and offer it to Natasha first. She takes it and chews thoughtfully. “Good?” you ask.

“It’s a little rare.” 

“I’d eat it raw if they’d serve it that way,” you joke.

“No, thank you.”

You cut yourself a piece but just before you can take a bite, you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. You take it out and toss it on the table, reading the caller ID that says “Fury.”

“Did you tell him that we were busy?” you ask Natasha, silencing your phone.

“I did,” Natasha replies.

“Weird.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain hits you in the back of your neck. You clap your hand over the spot that radiates pain and something feathery brushes your fingers.

“Mosquito?” Natasha asks, a leaf of lettuce dropping off her fork.

“No…” You lift your hand in front of your face, but your vision is already so blurry you can’t even see what you’re holding. You feel the poison spreading through your veins rapidly, and there’s almost no time for you to react. 

“Nat…Run…” you slur as you slump forward, breaking the table in half due to your increased weight from your metal skeleton. 

Natasha sees the tranquilizer dart in your fingers, but can’t catch you in time as you fall. Not to mention you tip the scales at almost 300 pounds and end up pinning her legs underneath you.

“Y/N!” she yells, shaking your shoulder aggressively. But you’re completely unresponsive, instantly knocked out by the tranquilizer dart. Nearby customers start screaming and running.

“Need some help, darling?”

A massive shadow suddenly blocks the sun. 

Natasha looks up and sees your brother, Victor, staring down at her with a cold smile curling his lips.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @norwaynatasharomanoff @thatonebrazilian @when-wolves-howl @milfloverslut @fayhar @poptartpoppyy @idk-what-to-put-help​ @romanoffswrld @emril-osvigne @angie-1746 

Click here for the next part.

[dumdaradumdaradum]

5. Kittens.

Unedited

Masterlist

Going out when the sun was still casting a haunting orange glow was not best idea Y/n figured but if she was to get back in time to make dinner and clean the storage room, she had to step out early.

Ram was roaming around the city with Akhtar to find someone; Y/n hoped he wouldn't find him.

He was her husband and she would stand by him forever but she couldn't just wish for somebody's death just for sake of being a supportive wife. Anyways wasn't a good wife supposed to want the right thing for husband, not just what he wanted?

A light and cantaloupe colored saree sat on the bed as she changed her payal to a lighter one.

"I hope the vegetables are not overpriced, I don't want to fight in the middle of the street, bhagwaan!"

She opted for smaller gold hoops.

Once ready, Y/n looked at her reflection, "Haye! Don't I look good in minimal jewelery?"

Quickly slipping into the sandals and picking the jingling keys, she rushed out.

"Y/n!"

Her eyes squeezed and her smile became strained. Not today. She was happy. She did not need to hear anything against her Ram today.

"Ha chachi?"

It was a miracle that chachi didn't detect the tension in her voice, Y/n mused.

"Going to the market ha?"

"Ji, aap bhi?"

Y/n was well aware of what she had done, now this lady won't leave her till they came back and she locked herself in the house again.

Luckily the market wasn't too far away, a couple of other neighbor ladies joined them.

"I always knew Malini's daughter-in-law was not fit for the family!"

"I heard she even called her rowdy brothers to talk!"

Y/n looked at the two ladies walking by sides, "what are you talking about?"

One of them snorted and looked away,  other however lit up. "You don't know? Malini's bahu called her rowdy brothers to threaten her in-laws. Poor family."

"I mean she's  old enough and 8th pass woman, shouldn't she know how to handle her husband's temper, they've been married for so long. Poor guy can't even look at people in eyes because of her."

A dull ache formed at the back of her head. She remembered how her brother used to scream at her bhabhi. Y/n was almost sure he even hit her.

She gulped back her feelings. Her bhabhi was the sweetest, she had always treated her like a kid.

Her pace quickened, she moved a little ahead them.

As she was arguing for the tomatoes, dark clouds spanned across the sky and the wind picked up.

Everyone in the market started securing the shades infront of their shops and the makeshift vendors started wrapping up.

"Looks like the first storm of the season is here!"

Y/n paid and left to get some lady-fingers.

Crowd was starting to disperse, the ladies from  her colony called for her. Nodding towards them, she gestured the vendor to make haste.

Her hair came out of the intricate braid and framed her face. Y/n grabbed the pleats of her saree and beelined for her home with everyone.

She thought of Ram. He better get home before the storm hits.

The mighty clouds rumbled above their heads. She kept her head down. Dust on the road gathered and swirled around the street.

"Y/n, come on!"

One of ladies grabbed her free hand, she was thankful- somewhat.

Reaching home in record time, she changed and took out gram flour and chopped up onions and potatoes.

Wiping her hands on a cloth, she walked towards the gate, wind and dust made her feet tingle as she walked.

"He better be home before it rains."

She gathered the jars with pickles in them and took them inside.

Y/n looked at the table, it was cluttered beyond words and she couldn't find the energy to arrange it.

Picking up the steel pot she went to the small handpump in the corner and filled it.

Chai and pakode were a match made in heaven. Speaking of, where was her match?

She lit the oil lamps, placed one in the kitchen and one in the adjacent living room.

Where is he?

Winds were getting stronger, trees near their house were swaying as if they'll break. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, she hoped he had took shelter somewhere.

Big drops hit her head, startling her. She really hoped he took shelter or stayed with Akhtar.

She took the brooms and put them in a corner of the shed.

She was about to wipe her face of the water when she heard knocking on the door.

"You're just in time," her words left her before she saw his face.

"Yeah well, Akhtar dropped me."

"And you let him go back in rain?"

He sat on the chair. Y/n took the towel and began drying his hair. "What is wrong with you? Akhtar-"

"Yaar he insisted, you know he's stubborn."

They heard a loud bang from a door nearby. "I guess I should have been more stubborn."

Y/n slowly rubbed his hunched shoulder, "he'll be fine. Go change. I'll make Chai and pakode."

He put his hands on her waist and rested against her for a moment then went inside.

"Y/n!"

His voiced sounded small behind the chatter of rain. "I'm going upstairs! You come up when you're done! Okay?"

Hearing a faint yes, Ram turned and stepped on the stairs.

The fritters made a sizzling  sounds she put them in the oil. The mix was almost done, she would just have to heat up Chai and she'd be done with the dinner.

For a huge man, it was unbelievable  how particular Ram was about food. "Y/n! The stairs are ..., be ...when you...!"

She cursed the rain, it was so loud due to the wind and the thunder.

"What?"

"Be careful when you come up, there's water on the steps!"

"Ha okay!"

Wiping the sweat, she put the last batch on the plate, removed the kadhai and put the Chai over the flame.

While it heated up, Y/n grabbed a bigger platter and two small glasses.

Carefully she focused on the grip as she climbed up. The stairs were small, steep and slippery. Letting out a sigh of relief when she was done, for a second Y/n looked around then she saw a faint glow of the candle from one of the rooms. He must be in the shaded balcony.

Cold winds dried her damp clothes, she craned her neck as she sat down next to him, on the swing. As the air traveled beneath the layers of her clothes and soothed her, she thought this must be how the heaven feels like.

Cool, soft and it must soothe the tension of your soul like this weather took away her stress.

Ram looked at her, trying to get more ventilation. He couldn't help but think of how skin glowed when she worked. She always looked so lost in what was doing.

For some time they just ate in silence. Y/n kicked her feet as the soft rushes of wind sent shivers through her back. A soft smile graced her lips.

Ram felt his chest constrict.

She was a work of art.

A crack of lightning snapped him out of his stupor. "Do you want water?"

Y/n looked at him and nodded slightly. She hoped he felt as light as she was feeling. It felt as if the strong currents will  whisk her away to a far far land, where there'd be no strife, just her with him.

Ram felt the heat hit him as he descended from  the stairs. His mind flashed with the crinkled saree bunched at her waist, the red bangles on her wrists.

Shaking his head, he put the empty glasses and plate down and filled a pitcher with water. On his way up he picked up two clean glasses.

Y/n gazed as he set them down and handed her one.

Did he not realize how pretty he was?

It wasn't fair how he could pull off any look and keep looking more handsome.

Just a few months ago, he sported a crazy look : he had a moustache that he kept very groomed at all time, and he didn't allow his beard to grow.

She swore he was trying to kill her. Did he not care that she had periods every month? That just one look would make her go crazy? After her marriage she had added another reason to why she hated periods.

There was this one time when she cried, she actually cried because he looked so so handsome but she couldn't tell him that, couldn't even look at him properly. She was stuck with stolen glances.

A quick snort captured his attention, "what are you thinking about?"

"Your angry lion look. A few months ago you looked like you'd rip into anything and everything that pissed you off."

"And now?"

"Now? You look like a kitten who just wants to snuggle and never leave comfort."

Ram's eyebrow arched, "a kitten?"

Y/n pressed her lips together  and hummed. She saw him look at her unimpressed and the next moment he was on top of her, his fingers stroking her stomach, waist and neck, eliciting laughter.

His breath pricked her neck, goosebumps erupted on her arms. He kept tickling her, "Haahha, Ram bas please-"

"I look like a kitten, huh?"

She laughter harder, shaking her head, giving in. "No! No, you're my personal king of the jungle."

Finally Ram sat back, folding his legs and faced her.

He would have agreed but the dim light from the candle exposed the mischievous sparkle in her eye.

"But you're also a kitten." She trailed off. His lip curled in a knowing expression, Y/n bit her tongue from laughing further.

"How?"

"Well, you look like you'd claw the hand off that dared to touch you but you also look for attention and affection. You're aloof like a kitten. You're cute like kitten, and so on and so forth."

His eyes crinkled around the edges, "Why does your brain think all of this?"

"It just does."

"Maaf Karo devi." A wave of affection hit Ram, stilling him.

Another sudden rush hit them. They both looked at the nearby Ashok, as it bent to the force of wind. The leaves created a lullaby.

Ram looked at her, she had stretched out her arms happily. He shifted a little and settled his head on her shoulder, close to her chest.

Y/n's eyes opened in shock. His hair brushed against her chin. His hand grasped her waist  and held her in a loose hug.

Her cheeks grew hot.

What was this man doing?

Her heart skipped a beat. She wrapped her right arm over him and massaged his head, another held onto his upper arm.

"Like I said, kitten," whispering in his hair, she pressed a small kiss there.

"Not a kitten."

Her frame stilled, his breath was stroking all the wrong places, well right but wrong. His scent dizzied her.

Unable to handle the sensory and emotional stimulation, Y/n leant and rested her back against the swing.

His shirt was folded to his elbows, like usual. Her fingers lightly traced the distance between his sleeve and palm. She felt him shift again, and somehow he managed to get even closer.

His breathing was slow and steady, was she the only one being affected by the proximity?

"Sometimes you force me to think."

Nuh-huh, he should not have spoke against her bare skin. No. Just no. She suppressed a tremble.

"How?"

Her hand continued to stroke him, gently alternating between his neck and his hair.

"I'm here snuggled up, next to you. Am I the kitten?"

Y/n grunt softly, "next to me? You're almost on me, first of all. And yes, you are the kitten."

"But you behave the same. Kabhi kabhi you give the most piercing looks when I try to hold you but the next moment you're all over me."

She shook with laughter and tugged on his arm. "Fine, let's both be kittens in this relation."

Ram felt her lean her head against his, he was sure she felt his fingers grip her harder the next second.

Y/n kept fondling his head. All of a sudden there was a huge flash of lightning making her cower into herself.

Ram's hand traveled higher and puller her tighter, his fingers stroked her stomach. "Do you want to go down?"

She wanted to take a long deep breath, but he was just shy from resting his head on her bosom. Unable to breath, her chest hollowed and constricted. "No. Ram, shift a bit."

"Mhm no, comfy."

As if to make a point he pecked just below her beauty bone. Her eyes widened comically, whatever little she was breathing got knocked out of her in millisecond. "Ram."

She felt him smile. "Ram this isn't funny." Y/n hated how weak she sounded. Not even able to speak in proper volume, her voice came out as a whisper.

"Never said it was, jaan."

If she could, she would bash his head against the pavement and then stab herself. "Ram." 

Whining. This man had reduced her whining now.

"Take some pity."

"You don't have to be so stiff, seriously you've gone to sleep holding me much tighter than this." He took his hand from her waist and held her arm. "Breathe with me."

Unmoving from his position, he rubbed her arm and guided her. In few minutes, he felt her back relax. His thumb rubbed slow circles on her, "There you go, better?"

Y/n was glad beyond words. She fiddled with the folded sleeve. He was a rarely affectionate person, the amount of times he initiated hugs like this or any actually could be counted on one hand.

"I like it. The damp soil in the wind," the swing went in a very slow motion as to keep them there, in that moment, as if it avoided pricking the bubble they were lost in.

Caged in each other's arms, they both thought about their day.

Ram's eyebrows bunched as he his brain went to that member of Gond tribe. Breathing out a cold sigh he clutched her tighter. Why did this happen to me? What did I do? Wasn't I just a kid?

The motions of her hand stopped as Y/n heard a slight whimper.

Her brain went in overdrive, was he in pain? Was something wrong?

Was it even a whimper?

Worst part was she couldn't even ask him, if he was truly just happy then she didn't want ask and ruin it.

Her eyes shut in pain as she felt his chest motions quicken. She started massaging his shoulder, running her fingers through his hair once in a while. Using her right hand, Y/n pulled on his hand bringing him closer.

After a while he seemed to calm down. She sighed in relief. Despite not wanting to ask him as he had just calmed down, she did. She couldn't let him internalize his issues.

"So will you tell me?" Y/n started quietly.

"I shouldn't have married you."

He felt an acute pinch on his arm. "You shouldn't be in my arms."

"You shouldn't be in my head." He nudged his nose against her collarbone. She really shouldn't behave like she could read his mind. It shocked him on occasions.

"Like you leave mine, mister."

"I can't or you'll never tell me what you think truly."

"Say it again, slowly this time."

Ram lifted his head and sat properly, still holding her. "You should stop."

"Stop what? Stop making you talk and let you kill yourself? Hard pass."

His knees bumped with hers, "you shouldn't be worried about all this."

"But I am."

Ram let her out of his hold and shifted to face the street. Y/n's hair blew to her side.

She turned to the side and cupped his cheek, "Ram I'm married to you. Your problems are mine as your joy is mine. You are mine, completely. The stress? that's mine too. Just like mine is yours."

He leaned in a bit and closed his eyes.

"Did you find him?"

She wondered if he ever thought of leaving this job, this place and taking refuge in his village, his home.

His silence and the lines of  his forehead were the answer. Unable to form words he pulled her in his lap and once again put his head in crook of her neck.

She gathered him in her arms rocked gently, "It's okay, it'll be fine. Sab thik ho jayega, mere chaand."

Ram contemplated the options of crying his heart out or kissing her. After a second of thought he decided to do neither, instead hid his face further in her hair.

"My heart feels like it'd burst out any second now."

He felt the lines she traced as her fingers ran through his hair. He suck in a deep breath as she placed another feather-light kiss on him.

After sometime the clouds scattered, winds carried them away. It was quiet late and he was still thinking about his mission, his wife who was resting in his lap was a distraction of another kind, altogether. Weather remained cold against his skin. Y/n had been fast asleep for a while now.

He felt her heart beat, the routine slowly forced him to close his eyes and let him slip into the familiar darkness.

@thewinchestergirl1208 new ending 🙂

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.3 Accidental Bonding (Part 3)

You can start at Part One, if you'd like.)

"Piss off, Malfoy," Jenkins snarled from across the room at the end of the training exercise, drawing Harry's attention from the conversation he was having with Ron. "You are such an arsehole. You think you're so clever, so much better than us," he shoved Malfoy's shoulders, "but you're just a slimy Dark Lord worshiper-"

"Oy!" Harry shouted, darting forward and physically putting his body between Jenkins and Malfoy, "Don't talk to him like that."

"I'll talk to that fu-"

"You need to back down," Harry growled, his body thrumming with energy, fingers tingling with the urge to punch Jenkins in the face, his magic racing hot and bright under his skin.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Don't," he said. "He's not worth it."

He glared at the other man for a moment before taking a step toward the locker room.

"Oh, I get it," Jenkins sneered, "some people are so possessive of their pets. He's letting you fuck him now, so-"

Harry spun around so fast that Jenkins didn't have a moment to see what was about to happen as Harry's fist connected with his jaw. "Watch your mouth," he growled, low in his throat. "We aren't sleeping together but even if we were that wouldn't change the fact that he is twice the auror you will ever be." He took another step closer, "He's smarter, faster, and has better instincts. And everyone knows that your pathetic attempts to belittle him are out of jealousy. So you can fuck off before you make an even bigger arse of yourself."

"Alright," Ron said, holding out his hands between them. "That's enough."

Jenkins spat blood at Harry's feet but had the good sense not to say anything more as he left and slammed the door behind him.

Harry turned to see Malfoy storming away from him. "Malfoy," he shouted but the other man threw him a two fingered salute and stalked off.

"What the hell?" Harry grumbled.

(Read more below the cut)

Ron shrugged, "Beats me, mate." He slapped him on the shoulder, "but I wouldn't want to be going home with him. He looked pissed."

-------------

Regrettably Ron was right, Malfoy was pissed. Harry couldn't understand it and the other man wouldn't say a word to him about it.

They went home and Malfoy shut himself in the bedroom without a word, leaving Harry standing completely confused in the living room. "What the hell?" he repeated.

Hands on his hips, he stared off after the other man and replayed what he'd said to Jenkins for the fiftieth time, trying to figure out what had made Malfoy so mad.

Giving up on trying to puzzle it out seemed like the only course of action so he headed into the kitchen and started dinner. In the past week and a half, Draco had cooked, they'd cooked together, or ordered take out. Harry hadn't cooked anything on his own since he's arrived and honestly, he was glad for the chance to cooking now.

He chopped up an onion, diced a carrot, chopped up a stalk of celery, and minced several cloves of garlic. Then he turned to the stove and heated a frying pan, pouring in some olive oil before tossing in the veggies and letting them cook down while he chopped up lettuce for a salad.

After about ten minutes, he added the ground beef, salt, and pepper into the frying pan and uncorked a bottle of Merlot, pouring himself a generous glass and dumping a few ounces in with the beef and veg.

He cast a simple spell to keep the spoon stirring while the beef browned and he turned to cut up tomatoes and onions for the salad and made a simple vinaigrette. When the beef was brown and fragrant, he added in tomato paste, diced tomatoes, basil, oregano, and a dash of nutmeg before stirring it all together.

With a pleased hum, he put the lid on the pot and cast a spell that would condense the simmering time to about thirty minutes instead of three hours.

While the sauce cooked down he baked brownies, tossed the salad, and prepped the water and spaghetti. Boiling the spaghetti, cutting the brownies, and plating everything was easy after that. Harry topped the bowls of bolongese with freshly grated Parmesan and basil.

Then, after a moment of debate, he decided to bring dinner to Malfoy instead of the other way around and laid out their salads, bowls of bolognese, glasses of wine, and brownies onto a tray. He levitated it down the hall and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Malfoy called, sounding bored and detached and Harry had to take a steadying breath to tamp down the irritation that tone of voice invoked before opening the door.

"Made dinner," he said casually.

Malfoy turned his head from where he was laying on the bed, idly catching a snitch and releasing it. He sat up, his blonde hair trailing behind him, "It smells good."

"You don't need to sound surprised," Harry teased.

Malfoy opened his mouth to protest but Harry continued as he set the tray in the middle of the bed.

"I'm just kidding," he assured quickly.

"Do you really think that it's wise to consume red wine and pasta on a white bed?" Malfoy asked, one eyebrow arched at him as he climbed onto the bed across the tray from Malfoy.

"It'll be fine," Harry assured as he picked up his salad bowl and speared a tomato. "We're wizards, we'll magic it away if we must."

Malfoy hummed but picked up his own salad. "Thank you."

He shrugged a shoulder, "No problem. I like to cook, actually."

"Do you?" Malfoy asked curiously.

Harry nodded, "Yeah. Once we left Hogwarts and I was living on my own, I was eating out all the time and it wasn't doing me any favors. So I learned how to make some simple things that taste good." He tilted his head, "What about you? You're not a bad cook."

His cheeks turned a light pink and he cleared his throat, "That's Granger's doing actually."

"Sorry?"

He sighed, "She made a really good case about house elves. I didn't want to be who my parents wanted me to be so when I moved out and joined the aurors, I basically shunned anything that whiffs of pureblood bullshit. It has no place here," he said gesturing to his home with his fork.

Harry blinked, "That's amazing."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious," Harry said. "You're amazing and I had no idea."

"Stop," Malfoy said. "Please, it's not-"

"Is that what earlier was about?"

Malfoy stilled, "Excuse me?"

"Is that why you were upset?" he asked. "You thought that I was taking the piss?"

"I thought that you have an insufferable hero complex that makes me want to vomit," he growled.

"You're a hedgehog," Harry said, finally understanding.

Malfoy froze, "Who told you that?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked.

"That my patronus is a hedgehog," he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry laughed and Malfoy flushed cherry red, his eyes narrowed. "No, sorry," Harry said holding out a hand, "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I had no idea, honestly!"

"Then what made you say it?" he asked suspiciously.

"Just," he paused and took a bite of bolognese as he searched for the right words, "When you start to feel vulnerable or like someone is going to hurt you, you curl into this defensive ball that will stab at someone no matter what they say or do."

"I-"

"You are genuinely one of the best aurors in our class," Harry said earnestly, steering the conversation to something more tangible that they were less like to fight over. "I was serious."

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "You're just saying that because the bond-"

He shook his head, "I've always thought that," he protested. "It's annoying as fuck because it always seems like everything comes so easily to you. I used to complain about it to Ron all the time."

"Says you," Malfoy protested. "You're always doing everything right; throwing yourself into danger to protect people." He shook his head, "By all accounts, what you do shouldn't work but it does. You're a good auror, Potter."

Harry swallowed, "Thanks, Malfoy. That means a lot coming from you."

"Yes, well," he said as he took a sip of wine, "Don't let it go to your head."

Harry chuckled and they took a few bites in companionable silence before Draco started to talk again.

"You didn't have to come to my rescue with Jenkins, you know."

He waved the thought away, "He's an arse. We've had it out before."

"I'm just saying," he argued, "I was fine. Honestly what he was saying wasn't even that bad."

"Not that bad?!" Harry yelped. "He-"

Malfoy shook his head, "It's the bond, Potter, don't you see that? Jenkins has said a lot worse, other trainees have said a lot worse, and you've never felt the need to jump in and defend my honor before."

Harry frowned.

"You're being swayed by what the bond wants you to feel about me."

"I'm not sure you're right," he said. "Because you shouldn't be treated like that at work. No one should be treated like that."

"Be that as it may-"

"I'm just saying, even if the bond brought it to my attention, I would have done that for anyone. If he'd been saying shite like that to Ron, I would have decked him, too."

Malfoy looked like he was going to argue with him, before visibly changing his mind, "You do have a wand, you know. There's no need to resort to brute force."

Harry shrugged, "But there's just something so satisfying about punching someone."

A laughed forced it's way up Malfoy's throat and Harry grinned at him. Shaking his head, Malfoy replied, "You're ridiculous. And this is good, by the way," he added, pointing to his pasta with his fork.

"Good," Harry said with a pleased little smile.

The conversation turned lighter as they bickered about the training exercises and the best approach, but the bickering held none of the animosity it had a week and a half before.

And Harry couldn't help but wonder how much of this was the bond's doing and how much was simply him.

-----------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

[springgirlwaiting4fall]

Hey, you lovely human being!

I've just read your sweet date nights and it gave me a new idea. Your heart throb is home for a few days, and you decide to cook together. What are you making, and who takes the lead in the kitchen? Or maybe you need to order something in the end because your creation's burnt...for reasons?

Love ya!💚💜

So I’m going to let you in on a little secret when I was in my early 20’s I thought I was going to be that girl. The girl that could hang with the guys, be super secure and never get jealous, and on top of that always have these amazing dinners and baked goods every night. That my man would bring the leftovers to work and everyone would be jealous. I also stayed skinny and was able to pull off an oversize sun hat.

None of those things came true. The 1st time I moved in with a man I burnt a frozen pizza and the fire department was called. Most recently I started a small kitchen fire when I was making spaghetti.

This was a really hard one for me to write, because I loved the idea so much that it was hard to pick just one guy. Plus I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be dream me or real me. So sweet Tits it’s your lucky day. Your getting a double!

Eddie had been gone all week he left Saturday Morning for an AEW Fanfest and Pay per view; than had a show each night for an independent company. He texted me earlier today to see if I would be done work in time to pick him up from the airport. I told him a little white lie about someone calling out sick and needing to work late. In reality I had left work at lunch to set up a romantic surprise and took Monday and Tuesday off, so we could spend time together before he had to leave for AEW again. During the afternoon I ran errands to my waxer, grocery store, and butcher. Than rushed home to clean up the house and prep dinner. Eddie’s flight was landing when I went into the shower. I put on a sexy dress and did my hair and make up. He walked into the house as soon as I was pulling a cold beer out of the fridge for him.

“What’s all this?” Eddie was used to coming home and finding me passed out on the couch, with some Doritos dust all over my face and love at first sight on the tv.

I kissed his cheek and told him it was his welcome home party and all he needed to do was shower and put on something comfortable. I love wearing summer dresses, but I love seeing Eddie in his sweats and cut off shirts even more.

While Eddie was upstairs showering I grilled

Steaks and loaded the table with his favorites. For desert I made his favorite homemade ice cream cake. When he came downstairs, it took everything in me not to rush over at him and throw myself at him.

He was always came out of the shower smelling so good. Like Irish spring soap and a smell that was just Eddie; it made me feel primal.

But I pulled myself together and was able to to get him to sit down at the table. That night we had a perfect meal while catching up on everything we missed. Eddie’s thank you kisses ending up with me on the dining room table and him having me for dessert. We did eventually have the cake…upstairs in our bed after round 2.

“Why are we doing this?” Trent ask as he tries to juggle the tomatoes I had set out on the counter.

“Because our date box subscription says that cooking together can be a romantic and sensual activity.” I reply putting the recipe card that was sent in the box down and wrapping my arms around Trent’s waist. Trent easily picks me up and sets me down on the counter and in between his legs. “Don’t you want to be sensual with me?”

“I can think of a lot of ways for us to get sensual together,” he kisses my neck, trying to distract me.

“I can too. But right now your going to fill that pot up with water and and I’m going to start washing the veggies.” I jump down and smack Trent’s butt as he does what I say.

I’m almost down peeling and chopping all the vegetables, while Trent is cutting the baked chicken. “Babe, is the water boiling yet. We should put the pasta in soon.”

Trent has his hat on backwards and he is looking so good, I almost want to ditch the cooking and just have him for dinner. But he turns around to check on the pasta.

“Shit.” I gasp as Trent is pouring in the noodles, the knife slips out and cuts my finger. Trent turns around and spills the noodles all over the stove top and burner.

“Here, let me see.” Trent takes me in the bathroom and helps clean up finger. After applying a bandage, he kisses it. “All better.”

I’m about to tell him that I’m going to need more kisses to make it better when the fire alarm goes off. We both rush to the kitchen and find that dry pasta noodles are actuality very flammable as the whole stove top is covered in bow tie pasta each noodle on fire.

Trent grabs the fire extinguisher, while I run around looking like a sim when their oven catches on fire. When the last noodle is fire and smoke free, I look at the ruined noodles and vegetables covered in my blood.

“At least the chicken is still good.” Trent tells me trying to put a positive spin on this, he knows how much this date night means to me.

In what could only be described as a sitcom moment, our two usually very well behaved dogs strut into the kitchen while one is getting pets, the other one jumps up on the counter and grabs the chicken. Both run away before we can say anything.

I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes and that lump in my throat get harder and harder. I can’t tell if I’m more angry or sad, I just wanted a romantic night in. I feel Trent wrap his arms around me. “Come on.” He rubs my back and I dig my face into his shoulder. “How about we get ice cream fro dinner?”

Ice cream dates with Trent is the best kind of date.

FUCK IT! Your getting 3!!!!

Today was a crap day. My shoe broke on the way to work, so I had to wear my stinky gym sneakers all day. Than I spilled my coke all over my lunch and I didn’t have time to run out and get something else. And of course I didn’t get out on time and now was in the subway on the way home back to Brooklyn in a crowded rush hour filled subway. To top this all off Santana wasn’t going to be home until tomorrow morning. All I wanted to do was get in the tub and order way too much Chinese food for one person and binge watch New Girl for the thousandth time.

The apartment door was unlocked and when I walked in loud music and an amazing smell were coming from the kitchen. Santana was home early! I quickly kicked off my sneakers and called out “erizo bebe.” When I first started to date Santana I would call him my hedgehog. He looked prickly and mean to everyone else, but for me he was adorable and sweet. Than the first time he took my to Purtero Rico his family tried teaching me Spanish, every time I would say something everyone would just crack up, but nobody would laugh harder than Santana. By the end of the trip I was calling him my headgehog baby in Spanish just to get him to laugh and it stuck when we got home. He came out of the kitchen and I met him halfway in the hallway. Santana easily picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. “This is the perfect surprise.” I kissed him, he tasted like toothpaste with a hint of spice.

“Go get freshen up. I’m making your favorites.” I slide down his body when I put my feet down just to tease him a bit. In the bedroom I threw my hair up in a messy bun to give him easy access to my neck later. Santana was an amazing cook, but he was usually so tired we would usually just order out, so this was definitely a treat. In return I throw on a pair of my shortest yoga shorts and one of his old shirts that I tied up so it would fit me in all the right places.

He definitely noticed as his eyes got big once he saw me. Santana hand a spot at the table waiting for me with a coke and water. He loved to tease me that I couldn’t handle the spices yet, but that I was getting there. He sat down next to me and handed me a bowl filled with Caldo Santo. A flavorful soup made with shrimp and fish. My mouth watered at the sight. Before eating Santana kissed the corner of my mouth and whispered. “If you’re a good girl and eat all your dinner there’s dessert for you too.”

[twistedtranslations]

Kalim Al Asim - Master Chef

You can unlock this story by getting Kalim’s SR Master Chef

Translation under the cut

Chapter 1

Cafetaria - Judging Venue

A little while before the cooking preparations start-

Kalim: Chef! Please take care of me!

Trey: Well, aren’t you excited?

Ghost chef: He certainly is. Were you perhaps looking forward to the Master Chef program?

Kalim: Yeah! I’ve always been told that “I’m not allowed to use kitchen knives or stoves because they’re dangerous”. That’s why I pretty much never cooked before. But they gave me the okay because a professional is instructing me today! So I’m super excited to try some real cooking!

Ghost chef: S-So, they forbid you to touch knives and stoves? You must’ve grown up in quite an overprotective household. Nevertheless, I am elated that you were looking forward to this program so much! I am eager to teach you. Let me list the meals we’re going to make today.

Kalim: We’re going to make biryani, right?

Ghost chef: Yes. Biryani is a seasoned rice with meat and all kinds of ingredients and spices. We steam curry and rice together, alternated on top of each other in layers. Originally it was a dish of the royal court, and is served a lot at festivals~

Kalim: That’s great! Seems like a perfect dish to welcome guests with.

Trey: Hey Kalim. I have one question… You’re always hosting the banquets. Have you never worked behind the scenes? If you never did, I understand why you wouldn’t know how to cook on purpose but…

Kalim: Now that you say it, Jamil always takes care of the preparations, not me. But this time I know that it’s the host's job to cook the meals to entertain the guests at the banquet. Seeing a chunk of meat roast in front of you, cutting stuff up… I really wanted to try it myself!

Trey: I see. So that’s why you took up Master Chef.

Kalim: Yeah. I can entertain more guests by learning more ways to delight them. By the way, you’re in charge of making the sweets at Heartslabyul’s tea parties, aren’t you? You seem like an expert at receptions, so if you have any secrets, please tell me.

Trey: I don’t think you should use our Unbirthday parties as reference. It’s basically just a gathering of people of our own. It’s different from your parties with guests from all over. And even if you were to use it as a reference… Don’t you want to try making sweets for divided preferences?

Kalim: Huh! So you do it like that. I just want to make everyone eat whatever I like… But yeah, there probably are some people who don’t like peculiar tasting herbs. I realized that next time I hold a feast, I should have a menu that everyone loves and not only ornate dishes. I just want to please as many people as I can!

Ghost chef: Indeed, the guests’s wishes are most important for hospitality. I too stand in the kitchen every day to see the smiles of our students. But enough chattering. It’s about time to cook!

Kitchen

Ghost chef: Kalim, there are enough ingredients to make this recipe three times. In the unlikely event that you fail, we’ll be fine. Relax and enjoy the process.

Kalim: Gotcha! I’ll do my best!

Ghost chef: First, we should cut the ingredients. I’ll have you cut the ginger, garlic, onions and tomatoes. Let’s start with the tomato. Put the flat side on the chopping board. That makes it easier to cut.

Kalim: The flat side… Like this?

Ghost chef: Yes! Now you take the knife with your dominant hand. Hold the tomato down with your other hand so it won’t move when cutting. Put the knife in front of you and press down the middle, while moving back and forth to cut it. Try to use big movements instead of force.

Kalim: Softly with big movements… Wow, I cut the tomato in half!

Ghost chef: Yes, well done! Continue cutting it like that.

Ghost chef: Okay, we finished cutting everything. Next up is…

Kalim: Hm? Hey, chef. There are still some uncut ingredients on the table, can’t we use them?

Ghost chef: Those were just spares in case you failed. You can add ingredients to your preference if you want to?

Kalim: Really? I’m going to use everything!

Ghost chef: E-Everything!? That’s about three times more than the recipe calls for. If you do that our next step might become problematic… Are you sure?

Kalim: Yeah. The more ingredients, the more our guests can eat to their heart's content. Okay, I’m cutting the rest!

Ghost chef: We have now finished cutting up all the spares. Next up is a vital part of biryani’s flavor… the curry! First, heat oil in a saucepan. Stir-fry the green cardamom, clove and cinnamon.

Kalim: Gotcha. ...Ah, wait! You know, I think it’d be splendid if we add more spices, considering we also added more ingredients.

Ghost chef: Right. If you added three times the ingredients, we should also add three times the spices…

Kalim: Great! Okay I’m adding all the spices!

Ghost chef: What?

/Pouring noise

Ghost chef: (H-HE POURED IN ALL THE SPICES~~!)

Kalim: Hahaha! I’m sure this will turn out great with all these ingredients and spices! Let’s continue cooking!

Chapter 2

Cafetaria - Judging Venue

Ruggie: Lalalalala~ Man, bein’ chosen as judge is so great for my food expenses. I’m so looking forward to it. I can already smell the aromas from the kitchen… BLERGH!! T-This intense smell… are those spices!? What the heck happened there!?

Kalim: Hey, Ruggie! So you’re the judge. That’s great! I got some biryani to serve.

Ruggie: No… I have to judge Kalim’s food…

Kalim: Here you go, bon appétit.

Ruggie: Bon appétit, he says… wait, why is there a mountain spilling off this large plate!? How many servings are there!?

Kalim: Uh, I used all the spare ingredients… I wonder how many servings there are? Anyway, it was a huge pot!

Ruggie: O-Okay. (Just as I expected, this seems spicy…) But not eating it would be a waste… I just gotta dig in!

/Chomp

Ruggie: HHHHHHHOOOOOT!! This is too spicy! Is this a punishment!?

Kalim: A-Ah? I wanted you to eat your fill, so I put in a lot of ingredients but did I overdo it? … Ruggie! You’re dripping in sweat after only one bite of the biryani! Hm… and Trey even told me that thinking about the preferences of the guests is important in hospitality. If you don’t like biryani I should just serve another…

Ruggie: ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! Eatin’ what’s served is my creed. Even if I take it home, I’ll finish it! I’m very happy that there are so many ingredients… I’ll be fine, I’ll eat it!

Kalim: H-Hey. This is the first time you made such a cornered expression!? To think I made such an inedible thing for you to persist like that… Sorry, Ruggie! I’m not used to cooking…

Ghost chef: Oh, calm down, you two! It’s fine to remake it instead of being pessimistic.

Kalim: If it weren’t that spicy you should be able to enjoy it right!?

Ruggie: Now that’s a wonderful idea!

Kalim: Okay, let me make something that you won’t regret! But how should I remake it?

Ghost chef: Right, how about this?

/Placing cutlery down

Ruggie: Hmpf… I’m so full! I’m satisfied! And the way you wrapped the spicy biryani in an omelet like omurice, and how you stewed it in coconut milk. That got me. Kalim, your do-overs were all amazing.

Kalim: Great! What a relief.

Ruggie: By the way, can I take the leftovers home?

Kalim: Of course!

Ruggie: Shshshs. I won’t have to worry about food for a few days with these!

Kalim: … While the biryani was a failure, I still learned a lot of skills and satisfied Ruggie. Thank you, chef!

Ghost chef: You’re welcome. Kalim, you honestly have a lot of potential. I want you to continue challenging your cooking.

Kalim: Really? I’ll do my best to learn many more recipes to please my guests!

Ruggie: Wait there, I think you should taste it as well...

[incorrectnessduskwood]

A/N: Alright, here it is! Part two of the story I posted here (I guess I should come up with a title for it, huh?) There a few hundred words less than the other one but I liked the way it ended and I decided to go with it. I still have ideas to keep it going so let me know if you're interested in it. Hope y'all enjoy it!

Pairing: Jake x MC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: spoilers for ep. 8 (still), a little jealous!Jake, and you can see some of my own theories there but nothing much

Falling asleep was never something that came easily to Jake; the constant fear and anxiety of being found were always in his head and every little noise outside of his room would startle him awake, no matter how long he had been sleeping. Even when things were relatively safe and he knew there wasn’t anyone after him, sleeping was something Jake rarely did. He would sleep as little as humanly possible and usually only when he couldn’t bear to be awake any longer.

So it was a pleasant surprise when he quickly fell asleep by MC’s side. She had asked him to lay with her so she wouldn’t be alone because she was afraid of having more nightmares and Jake could never deny MC anything if there was the possibility of saying yes. They laid side by side, MC resting her head on his arm, her own over his waist, one leg between his, and her face mostly hidden in his chest. Jake had threaded his fingers through her hair, heard her sigh and relax against him, and she was asleep within minutes. She looked like the most gorgeous person he had ever seen and he was more than content in watching her throughout the night, to just keep her safe.

Still, Jake’s eyelids got heavy half an hour in, his hand tiring and resting on MC’s shoulder just before he finally gave in and let himself fall asleep, not wanting to fight to stay awake one more night.

When he woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and food, two things Jake wasn’t used to. His heart beat fastly as he sat up, looking around the room with wide eyes until he spotted MC sitting on the table with a mug in her hands and her tablet in front of her, and he remembered her showing up there the last night. She only raised one questioning brow, taking a sip from her mug as Jake finally breathed out, allowing himself to relax, and laid back on the bed. He heard MC chuckle and he only waved her off, closing his eyes and placing his arm over them. The bed was soft and still warm and Jake wouldn’t say no to getting some more sleep, even if he felt more rested than he had ever felt in years; he also wanted to bask in the feeling of being relaxed for a while longer.

A few minutes had passed when he felt the bed weigh down by his side and Jake felt MC’s hand in his hair, so he moved his face until her hand cupped his cheek. He took his arm off his face to look at her, smiling when he noticed the soft blush that covered her cheeks and placing one of his hands on her knees, running his fingers in random patterns.

Neither of them said anything for a while and Jake was more than content to just watch her, to memorize the soft lines of her face, the way her hair fell over her eyes, making them slightly darker but all the more beautiful. Her presence still didn’t feel real and Jake was afraid of it all being a dream—even if he wasn’t creative enough to come up with all of that—so he would take all the chances of having the reassurance that she was indeed there, he would take all the touches she deemed him worthy of having, he would enjoy all the looks she would spare him; anything that would allow him to have her as close as possible. He’d be happy to just look at her from across the room, to just know she was there with him and that she was real and safe and—

“Jake?” MC’s voice broke through his concentration and he blinked a few times to focus on her face again, finding a smirk on her lips.

“I’m sorry, MC. You were saying?”

“I just asked if you were hungry,” she answered through chuckles. “I made breakfast with some of the stuff you had in the fridge. I’d guess you’re just as hungry as I was when I woke up.”

Jake smiled, nodding before sitting up again. “Starving, actually. Do I smell coffee, too?”

“Of course you do. What do you think I am, a savage?” she pointed at the coffee pot on the table she was sitting at. “I wasn’t sure how you’d take your coffee and I didn’t try and guess it either.”

MC stood up and offered him one of her hands. Jake took it and let himself be pulled up by her, finding it all the better when she didn’t let go of his hand and walked with him to the table. She sat at the chair she was before, grabbing her mug once again. Jake poured himself some coffee on another mug and slowly sipped it as he watched MC read something on her tablet, her brows furrowing as she went along whatever text she had open. She would sometimes write something on the piece of paper she had by her side, then she would stare at it as she tapped her pen on the table, her lips moving as she reread some sentence or tried to make sense of something.

Jake realized he could stare at her all day, just watch as she did nothing out of the ordinary but still looked like the most amazing person in the whole world. That was until his stomach growled and he realized he actually needed to eat something and that he should get back to work. MC smiled at him when he raised from the table and walked to the kitchen. She had managed to put together some eggs with what seemed melted cheese and tomatoes, and Jake would be lying if he said it didn’t smell amazing. He took the whole pan and a fork with him before walking to his computer and turning it on.

There were a bunch of notifications from the group chat, mostly everyone keeping each other up to speed about how they were doing and that they were okay. MC had answered for both of them without actually saying they were together, but it seemed to be good enough for the rest of the group; she never ceased to amaze him with how well she dealt with people and how quickly and strongly she had managed to earn the trust from the group. Not that it should surprise him so much when he was also between the ones that had started to trust her so easily.

He hadn’t gotten any notifications about his persecutors nor any news about the police. Apparently, they were still investigating Hanson’s house and trying to find anything because, unsurprisingly, everything was gone by the time the police had gotten there. Good thing Jessica thought of taking pictures of everything so they could at least have some kind of proof; Jake wouldn’t be surprised if the police tried to turn it around and blame it all on the group. He opened Thomas’s videocall to try and see if anything stood out, if he could better the image of the kidnapper’s physique or face or anything that could tell them who it was behind the mask.

Sadly, there wasn’t much he could; even his extensive knowledge couldn’t magically unblurry the whole video or get rid of the mask. There were a few things he could take from the writings and pictures on the walls—not everything because it moved too fast—and he could say for sure that the kidnapper was strong and quick. Thomas had a hard time holding him when he yelled for Jessica and the kidnapper ran almost as fast as the two of them. Even if Michael had kept up with taking care of his physique and trained, he still would have a hard time keeping up with Thomas and Jessica.

Staring at the better screenshot he had managed to take from the kidnapper, he called out, “MC? Could you do me a favour?”

There was no answer and Jake turned his head to look at her. MC seemed deeply concentrated on whatever she was writing on the paper, her hand moving quickly and her head moving from the tablet to the paper and back to the tablet. He quietly stood up and made his way to her side, looking over her shoulder at the paper. Her handwriting was messy and things didn’t seem to follow an order Jake knew about, so he had no idea what she was writing. On the tablet, however, she seemed to be going through some police reports and their discoveries from the cloud. The only thing that stood out to him was the name ‘Phil Hawkins’.

Jake sighed, sitting on the chair next to her and placing a hand on top of the paper she was writing. MC pushed his hand enough so she could finish writing whatever she was writing before raising her head to face him, placing the pen on the paper.

“Everything okay, Jake?”

“I called you and you didn’t answer, thought I could take a look at what you were doing.” She dropped her eyes to the tablet and seemed to realize Jake knew she was searching for something about Phil. “What are you looking for, MC?”

“I’m trying to find out what they arrested Phil for and if we have anything that could prove his innocence.” She hesitated for a few seconds, her eyes darting down to her tablet before focusing on him again. “And I actually wanna ask a favour from you. Could you give me access to Phil’s phone?”

“Why?” Jake heaved a heavy sigh out his mouth, pulling his hand closer to him and staring at her. “Why are you so worried about him?”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, straightening her back before looking back to him. “He trusted me enough to call me for help, Jake. Not a lawyer or his sisters, me. We still don’t know for sure what his connection to Michael is or how much they actually knew each other back then, but I believe him.” MC sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I know you don’t like him and I truly appreciate the fact that you want to protect me, but there’s a reason why you trusted me to help find Hannah.” She turned fully to him, placing a hand over his, her eyes soft and caring. “But you also have to trust my intuition. We both know it’s been right when you weren’t and I truly believe Phil is innocent concerning Hannah and Amy.”

“But you don’t know the whole truth either, MC. How can you be so sure you can trust him and that you won’t be helping a murderer get out of jail?”

MC smiled sadly, her eyes dropping to their hands. “You know, a while ago, when we first started researching about the man without a face, Richy asked me to be careful and not to turn it into a bigger thing than it was and I told him that I’m looking for facts and not monsters, and I am. I won’t get Phil out of jail by my intuition only. I need proof for the police to actually let him go and for me to be right. But I also need to look for the proof, I need to go through everything I can to make sure I’m right and for my conscience to be clean about freeing him. And if we’re going for not knowing the whole truth about something or someone,” she raised her eyes to him and Jake had never seen her look so serious before, “I also don’t know the whole truth about you but that doesn’t stop me from trusting you, does it?”

Jake didn’t have an answer to that and he couldn’t take looking at her eyes and seeing the hurt there. He knew she was right; he was, indeed, hiding things from her and, even if it was to protect her, it didn’t make it any less of a lie or an omission. How could he judge someone about hiding something when he was doing exactly the same, especially to her?

“Hey,” she placed a hand under his chin and raised his head so she could look at him. “I’m not saying it to make you feel bad. I’m sure you have your reasons to be hiding things from me, even if it’s just because of your hero complex, though it doesn’t make it any easier. But I also know everyone in the group is lying about something to me, too, just like you and Phil are. No one is one hundred percent honest all the time and I can’t force anyone to be. It just doesn’t stop me from wanting to help any of them or you. None of them have given me a bad enough reason not to try to help or to trust them. Even Lilly did her best to show she’s trustworthy. I don’t see any reason why it should be any different for Phil, especially if your only excuse is not liking him. As much of a flirt as he can be, it’s not enough for us to just let him rot in prison for a crime he didn’t commit, don’t you think?”

He sighed, nodding against her hand before turning his head to rest it on her palm, her thumb caressing his cheek. “Would you believe me if I said I’m actually feeling slightly guilty of going against proving Phil’s innocence, now?”

She chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Of course I believe you.” MC’s fingers trailed over his arm, leaving goosebumps in their trail, her eyes soft as she stared at him. “Will you give me access to Phil’s phone, then?”

“That’s not fair. You know I couldn’t deny you that, MC.”

“I know you can’t but it doesn’t mean I can’t ask nicely. Me proving Phil’s innocent isn’t about choosing between him and you, Jake. Believe me, Phil may be nice and flirty, but he’s not my type. I’d rather keep insisting on this stubborn hacker I know.”

Jake chuckled, placing his hand over MC’s and turning his head so he could kiss her palm. “If he’s as stubborn as you are, I’m sure you’ll have a hard time getting through him.”

“You have no idea.” MC smiled, tilting her head. “Will you do it?”

“Of course I will, on one condition.” She sighed and muttered something Jake couldn’t make out, though he was sure it was something sarcastic. “Promise you won’t put yourself in danger over this. Or in any more danger than you already are. Freeing Phil will never be more important than keeping you safe to me.”

“I promise. I mean, if we’re both careless, who the hell is going to make sure we’re not caught?” Jake laughed and shook his head at her. MC leaned closer to him, their foreheads touching, her other hand sliding up his arm until she placed it on his shoulder. “Jake?” He hummed, not being able to look anywhere but her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you first.”

But MC was faster in closing the distance between them and Jake got caught in how soft her lips felt under his and in how her hands moved to wrap around his neck and play with his hair. He moved one of his to MC’s waist and the other to her cheek, wanting to pull her as close as he physically could, wanting to share the same space with her, to keep her from moving away from him.

Sadly, his lungs didn’t seem to get the memo and they soon burned and forced him to part from her. When they broke apart, Jake panted a little, letting his forehead rest against hers and keeping his eyes closed. It took a few seconds before MC talked again, “You know, making out with me won’t rid you of hacking into Phil’s phone for me.”

Jake chuckled, opening his eyes to stare at MC, and he thought he had never felt as happy as he did at that moment.

[wienerbarnes]

A Certain Romance (2/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,685

Warnings: not rlly anything

A/N: a lil bit of a deeper dive for these two’s relationship👀... enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST | A CERTAIN ROMANCE MASTERLIST

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Sam invited him out to some restaurant, but after the last one he suggested, he decided to pass. And when Sam asked him what he was doing instead, if he was seeing you, Bucky lied and said yes. It made Sam happy and got him out of going to another ridiculous restaurant, so he saw it as a win-win.

Once Sam left, though, his thoughts did drift to what you were doing.

You two exchanged numbers at the pizza place after your date, but you two haven’t texted much. He texted you making sure you got home safe, which you did, and a day or so after, you texted him a picture of some advertisement with an awfully cheesy pick-up line written on it, which even he agreed was awful.

But that’s about it. So, he texts you.

Hey. What are u doing?

About to make dinner. Y?

Told Sam I was seeing u. Wanna hang out?

Come over.

Simple enough, he thinks.

You two haven’t had the most meaningful text conversations, clearly, but it’s still nice. No flirting, no typing and retyping messages in order to hook, line, and sinker, no ghosting. No relationship texting.

It was a dream for him. To have a new friend. He’s made plenty of friends, both in New York and in Wakanda. But it’s all under the same… umbrella. Always an agent, a fighter, an analyst of some sort. Someone to train with, to fight with, to fight for. Never someone like you. Someone that works a mundane job and lives in a mundane part of New York where her weekends are filled with going on mundane blind dates or otherwise cooking dinner for one.

It’s a breath of fresh air to not talk about fighting or missions or press or media or anything else he has to hear about at work. The only connection you have with Sam is that you met in a coffee shop a few years ago that has since closed down. He was one of your first friends here.

You could care less about Captain America, too. Which hurts Sam’s ego, and in turn, makes Bucky smile.

So, he goes over to yours.

He’s not sure what you’re making, but he brings a bottle of red wine as a courtesy. You are making dinner after all. Besides, women love wine, right?

Your apartment is nice. Very you.

Enough going on to show that someone does indeed live here, but also enough to show that you’re not exactly swimming in riches, like most people that live in this city.

The place smells like garlic and basil, and he’s glad that he brought the wine.

Shoes discarded at the door, he helps chop up the rest of the ingredients while you put a pot of water to boil. He chops up mushrooms, onion, pancetta, eyeing the bottle of vodka out on the table and tube of tomato paste next to his hand.

It's an understatement to say he’s excited. Most of the pasta he makes is from a bag of precooked noodles and a jar of tomato sauce.

Basic small talk floats through the air as the two of you dance around one another in the kitchen. Even though you’re “dating”, you don’t know much about each other. This isn’t too uncommon from how dating was for Bucky when he was a teenager; you’d marry women knowing very little about them.

Your favorite color is orange. You played violin in grade school. You had a childhood dog named Chowder. Bucky tells you his favorite color is green. He played a little bit of piano when he was younger, but did boxing in his late teens and early twenties before the war. You poke fun at him when he can’t remember the name of his own childhood dog.

“He’s probably rolling over in dog-heaven.”

“Good boy; he’d deserve a treat.”

You laugh.

Easy conversation continues on the couch as bowl after bowl of pasta is eaten and replenished. As fun and seemingly simple questions are asked, like each of your favorite movies or whether or not you pour the milk before the cereal, the room that’s left is used for deeper questions.

“What’s your most embarrassing moment?” You ask him.

He thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, only to close it again. “One time when Princess Shuri was fixing my arm it wasn’t secure completely, so it flew off while I was playing with some of the children.”

“That’s not your most embarrassing moment. I know it’s not, now you have to tell me what it really is.” You tease him.

He’s never been the best liar.

“You’re right, it’s not my most embarrassing moment. My actual most embarrassing moment is just kind of… sad. And I didn’t want to ruin the mood or anything.” He explains, hoping you’ll accept that but instead you give him an encouraging smile to hopefully give him some comfort that whatever it is he wants to tell you is safe in your apartment.

“Okay, uhm. So, in the 40’s, after I was rescued by Steve, but before we shipped out again where I was recaptured for the second and final time. We were all holed up in this little dance club, all the soldiers and their gals. And in walks Peggy Carter in a pretty red dress,” He begins, only glancing at your eyes periodically as if to make sure you’re still there.

“I know she’s Steve’s gal, he told me all about her. I wasn’t flirting with her because I wanted her, I was flirting with her… to make sure I still could. I mean, after being held in that… place… they injected me with stuff, told me things that weren’t true, I mean Steve told me I was repeating my number over and over again when he found me, I didn’t even remember doing that. I felt… violated, used, not like myself. I felt like I wasn’t me anymore.

“So, when Peggy walked in, I thought about how everyone always called me a ladies man, how good I was with women, I mean, I’d take girls out about every damn weekend, you know? I wanted to feel normal, so I flirted with her, tried to get her to dance with me. And she completely ignored me. She never even took her eyes off of Steve. It’s like I was invisible. And it just sort of felt like the nail in the coffin for whoever James Barnes was before the war. It was a realization that I’m never going to be that person again. And it was embarrassing for me.” He explains.

He hasn’t looked up at you again, but he heard your fork stop moving around your bowl a minute or so ago. He feels a lump in his throat thinking about that time, how he knew he’d never get back the man he was, even before knowing what was in store for him after falling off that train. How he used to be this man that wanted a long, happy marriage, six or seven kids running around a big backyard, a white picket fence surrounding a big two-story house in a neighborhood of identical homes. He wanted the cheesy life, at one point. But the same man that wanted that life died falling off a train many years ago.

All of that’s forgotten, though, when you open your mouth, and seem to say the perfect thing to make him feel better.

“One time in the third grade, this girl pulled my skirt down in front of my crush, and I wasn’t wearing any undies.”

A snort escapes his throat as you, somehow, after he’s shared something so deeply personal, something he never even told Steve or Sam about, still found a way to make him laugh. Which is what he wanted, he realizes. The comfort of moving on from that confession and not having to wallow in it like other people would try to. His hand leaves his fork to cover his face as tears threaten to leak out from how hard he’s laughing.

He took that secret to the grave, even if it wasn’t his own. He told himself he’d never tell Steve about how he felt in that situation, and he never did. He never told Steve that he didn’t enlist, either. He couldn’t imagine how Steve would’ve felt knowing that the army would’ve rather taken men that didn’t want to go to war, men who were terrified to go to war, had too much to lose and wanted to be selfish and stay home, than men like Steve who would do anything to enlist. Including lying on the damn enlistment form.

He wonders if Steve is looking at him now. Watching over him as he shares something that he never did with his best friend, with you, a girl he’s met barely a week ago, on your couch over bowls of pasta while he points out leftover sauce on the corner of your lip.

“What’s your greatest fear?” He asks you next.

“Dying alone. Actually, no. Getting kidnapped, probably.”

“Oh, mine’s spiders.” He shares.

It’s so easy to laugh with you, he finds. He jokes with Sam a lot, all the bickering and teasing all in good fun at the end of the day, and it’s mostly pretty funny. But laughing with you. He feels like a teenager again. Somehow, everything is funny; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s laughed so much, especially about things that aren’t even that funny.

It’s raining at the end of the night. Early morning, rather.

“You can take the couch, if you’d like.”

“Nah, I don't mind a little rain, and I like the ride home.” He fed Alpine before he left, but he imagines his cat misses him, even if she’s probably busy licking herself to even notice he’s left.

“Suit yourself.”

You don’t push him. A simple pleasure that’s more of a luxury for him. There’s no pushing or convincing or Are you sure’s with you.

Certainly a luxury, you are.

[vanillann]

double sided recipe card (pietro maximoff x reader)

a/n: hi, pietro is literally the love of my life so OF COURSE i’d do this!! also request are always open so don’t be scared to send an ask whenever!!

word count: 2.3k

“Has anyone seen Pietro?”

I swung around the kitchen of the compound, walking in to find Clint and Nat in a conversation about who knew what. They both smiled when they saw me but Clint's face dropped slightly when he realized my words.

“Why do you need Roadrunner?” Clint crossed his arm, leaning back on the kitchen island slightly.

“I have his physical and if he wants to go to the mission tomorrow,” I tried off, smiling at Clint when he rolled his eyes.

“I think he’s in Wanda’s room,” Nat pointed over her shoulder, patting my shoulder when I passed her.

I did the lightest jog to the evaluator, finding Wanda’s floor number and smashing the button. The folder played between my fingers, my eyes begging to look but I knew I’d get in trouble if I was caught on camera.

The smallest ding drew me from my stares, informing me I had made it to the correct floor. I skipped out lightly, smiling when I noticed Wanda's door slightly ajar, the slightest bit of laughter spilling out into the hallway. I didn’t think much of him in Wanda’s room, he tended to sit around everyones room beside his own.

I stepped closer to the door, my knuckles ready to knock but I stopped when I noticed a female voice laugh. I looked closer, noticing Pietro sat in front of the T.V. his back turned to me but his knees were pressed to his chest as he stared at the T.V.

“Pietro,” a little bit of a younger Wanda's face smiled from the screen, her giggles sounded the same as they do now as she looked up.

“I’m shocked you didn’t see it coming,” Pietro's voice sounded around the room, the entire video was starting to catch up. Wanda mentioned she had a few older home videos in her room, she didn’t watch them but she never had to heart to watch them.

“I’ll kill you.”

Pietro suddenly slammed his hand on the remote, doing his best to make the video stop but the laughter never stopped. He held in the air, ready to throw it at the T.V. before my feet took off. I don’t know how I made it to his side so fast, my hand wrapping around the remote as I placed my other hand on his back.

“Hey,” my voice was soft as I got his hand to fall, he looked shocked for a second and I realized he probably was upset. I was watching but that didn’t matter as he curled closer to me. His hands pulled at the overshirt hoodie that clung to my frame, his face pulling closer.

He didn’t cry, just took angry breaths and held himself closer to me. By the time dinner rolled around he had drifted off, his hands lose on my shirt as I played with the edge of the folder.

“Piet-” Wanda knocked lightly on the door, a little smile on her face before she spotted us on the floor.

“Hey Wanda,” I spoke softly, trying to get his hand off so I could speak away from my ear, making sure I didn’t wake him. Wanda waited a second, most likely reading my mind for a second before she gave a sad smile.

“The home video?”

I just nodded, following her from her own room to the kitchen, where I could smell the food flooding the building.

“He does alot of bottling up, with the anniversary of mother birth-” Wanda trailed off, upset as she spoke about her poor mother.

“When’s her birthday?”

“Tomorrow,” Wanda shrugged, both of us stepping foot in the elevator.

“During the mission? I’m so sorry, I can lie to Tony and tell him you aren’t clear-”

“Don’t worry about it (Y/N), it’ll be good not to think about it.” Wanda smiled lightly, looping her arm in mine as she leaned on me slightly.

“Thank you, for being there for him.

“Of course, you know I care about you both.” The door slid open, the smell even stronger as we heard Steve’s laugh fill the compound.

“Care isn’t the word I’d use,” her accent was thicker as she rolled her eyes at me, the hint of a smirk on her lips as we walked closer to the kitchen. I pinched her side, laughing when she jumped slightly.

Once we made it to the kitchen the smell well smashed into my system, walking over to look down at the soup that was lightly boiling.

“It’s a Saliva meal,” Wanda handed me a bowl, holding one in her own hand while she waited for me to hurry up.

“Should I wake Pietro? He wouldn’t want to miss this-“

“I’ll make it again, for now he should rest.” Wanda held my arm, smiling at my concern for her brother as I gently picked up the ladle and became pouring my own soup in the bowl. I watched the light brown broth pour into the bowl and suddenly I knew exactly what I had to do.

“Wanda, would you leave the recipe card out for this?”

I stumbled into the kitchen, the reusable bag full of different ingredients practically falling from the bag.

“Aren’t you glad you aren’t an Avenger,” I heard Pepper’s soft voice from behind me, her giggles coming from the doorway. I only shrugged, looking down gloomy as the ingredients that sat over the island.

“What are you making?” I felt her presence beside me now, looking over the food beside me. I didn’t say a word, holding up the recipe card Wanda had thankfully left out.

“This is what we had last night,” Pepper noticed, looking at the side of my face with the smallest smirk ever across it.

“I’m making it for Pietro for when they get back, he didn’t get any last night.”

Pepper bumped my shoulder, my eyes rolling in the back of my head before I reached for a tomato. I let it roll around in my hand a few times, looking down at the card Pepper had placed back down.

“You don’t know what you're doing?”

“Nope,” I popped the “p”, walking around the island to grab one of the pots and filling it up with water. I placed it on the stove, staring at it for a little bit as if waiting for something to happen.

“Would you like help?”

I probably should say yes, I was trying to make this soup when I should barely make a bowl of cereal. Maybe soup was one of the easier foods to make but I would spend half the time as a few words still in Russian on the card.

“I’ve got it don’t worry,” I brushed her off, simply because I was hoping if I could pull this off alone he would be proud of me. I was hoping he’d make a smartass comment with that little smirk and mention that I did a great job.

“Okay, let me know if you need help. I’m always happy to do so for you and Wanda, just not Tony.” I laughed slightly at her sarcasm, waving over my shoulder as I heard her light footsteps leave the kitchen.

I finally reached out and turned the burner on, smiling when I heard the small click signaling it was in fact on and ready to begin boiling the water. I turned back to the island, picking at the index card. I assumed it was a family recipe but the handwriting and the older terms were used within the recipe.

As I finally placed the tomato on the cutting board, a large knife in hand I thought things were falling into place.

I was in fact, wrong.

I panicked when I heard the elevator open, hearing a light noise of voices enter the floor. I couldn’t be everyone as they weren't as loud and also with how late it was. Clint wasn’t going to hang around with everyone at 2:12 in the morning.

“Just go in the kitchen,” I heard a light female voice speak, my panic rising as I realized Pietro was in fact home and probably seconds away from walking in the kitchen.

I hid my bandage hand behind my back, trying to block the few things I managed to chop before I attacked my own hand with it by accident.

“Why?” His accent was thick with sleep, which made a little smile dance across my lips. I understood why Nat was teaching them to lose the accent for safety reasons but I loved the way they spoke with it.

“Just do,” I saw the door slightly move, knowing someone was going to walk in soon and part of me panicked. I was more worried about Pepper finding me like this, she would have my head if she saw this and I didn’t let her help.

“Fine fine,” I watched him finally walk into the kitchen, lucky alone, as he looked around it for a second. When his eyes spotted me against the counter he smiled but it quickly fell when he spotted the mess behind me.

“(Y/N)?”

“Pietro?” I spoke with nerves. my body on high alert.

“What’s this?” He looked down at the island, his eyes spotting the recipe card I had forgotten to put away. His finger picked it up, a sad smile on his lips before he even read the words on the card.

“My mothers,” his voice sounded far away, as if for a second he was back home before the bomb, before they lost everything but each other.

“Wanda let me use it,” I pointed with my unharmed hand, trying my best to make him comfortable with the conversation.

“She told you?”

“Just a few details,’ I brushed off, my eyes suddenly looking everywhere but him as I wanted to leave the kitchen and run into my own room. I had already ruined the meal, let's not ruin a whole friendship.

“You told me you couldn’t cook?”

I laughed at the memory, I completely forgot about the time I told him about Bruce’s birthday. Thor and I thought making a cake was a great idea but it ended up with a weird green blob. I was much younger then sure, but it definitely showed my abilities with making any sort of food.

“You remember that story?”

“I remember all your stories, as you do mine.” I finally stopped looking at the floor, looking up at him as he titled his head at me. His arms were crossed on the island but his under eye bags stood out against the harsh light of the kitchen. The natural light was long gone and it was only the moon that bought light from the outside.

“You should probably get to bed,” I wasn’t thinking straight as I walked forward and lightly pushed open the door for him. I high when my fresh cut hand hit the wooden door slightly too hard.

Even as tired as he was, Pietro was at my side in milliseconds, looking over my hand with the awkward bandage across it.

“What did you do?” I ignored the little pet name, trying to pull my hand from his grip.

“I’m really bad at cutting potatoes,” I shrugged, the awkward smile making its way across my lips. He said nothing, looking up at me with a disapproving look.

“You must be more careful,” he looked at it a little longer but eventually let my hand fall to my side as he smiled slightly at me.

The silence felt like it lasted forever, like it would never end, but it eventually did when he spoke.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t exactly make it,” I pointed to the brown sad water with nothing else in it. I didn’t make it far before things started going bad. Pietro frowned at me, speeding around the kitchen quickly before he stood in front of me.

A bowl was held in his hand, the brown water now had a few of the vegetables floating around in it, it looked much better but still not what Wanda made last night.

“I don’t know what you mean, I have it right here.” He held a spoonful up, taking a wide bite. I could tell it wasn’t what he thought but he didn’t look like he was going to be sick.

“It’s not your mothers recipe,” I looked up at him, trying my best not a smile at his little pout every time I said something.

“No, it’s your own.” He placed the bowl down, flipping the index card around and grabbing a pen that stayed in the kitchen for any reason. I panicked when I saw him start writing on it, my hand shooting out to stop him but he just quickly moved to the otherside of the island.

“That was your mother Pietro!”

“Now it’s your and my mothers! Two of my favorites on one card, don’t tell Wanda that,” he pointed at me with the last part, his smirk painted across his face making me feel little butterflies in my stomach.

I watched him write my name across the top with the ingredients he saw I had used. Once he was down he slid it across the table, smiling when I laughed at the title.

“(Y/N)’s Happy Mistake.”

“Yes, it’s my personal favorite,” he smiled, my own growing wider as the seconds went on with his looking at me like that.

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, for everything,” he walked slowly, for the first time, around the island. He leaned beside me, his arm touching my own. I let my head rest there, smiling when I felt him leave a gentle kiss on my crown.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything Pietro,” I felt myself lean closer to him. I knew we would have to talk about this feeling in the morning, but we were both too tired to care for now.

“There aren’t any potatoes in my mothers’ soup.”

join the taglist!!

permanent taglist:

@kittykylax​ @itstaylorcale @head-over-heart @marvel-rhapsody @accioxtina @always-spaced-out @carnations-red @onetoomanyfilms

marvel taglist:

@lovinlikeloki​ @zizzlekwum​ @waywardwifey​ @welcometomyworldwithoutrules​