#Chopped Vegetables Online

[aarohij]

10 Tips to Save Time on Buying Fruits and Vegetable in Bangalore

Vegetables and veggies can be incorporated into any budget. Consuming enough of these foods can lower your chance of developing certain diseases and encourage health. Your fruit and vegetable requirements can be satisfied in a variety of inexpensive methods. You can search out for online vegetables in Bangalore, which saves your money and time. 

Seasonal Fresh Fruits and Veggies

Utilize seasonal fresh fruits and veggies to mark the change of the seasons. They are less costly, more flavorful, and simple to obtain. Seasonal fruit can be found in abundance at your neighbourhood farmer's market.

Look for Discounts

Why spend the entire amount? For discounts on food, look for deals, coupons, and promotions in the local paper, online, and at the store. Frequently, bigger grocery shops offer better deals than smaller ones.

Maintain Your List

Make an advance shopping inventory and plan your meals. Buying only what you need will help you save money. Avoid shopping while you are famished. After a meal, it will be simpler to resist the urge to consume the enticing nibble foods. More of your food money will be available for fruits and veggies.

Look for Tinned or Frozen

Compare the cost and the number of portions of the same vegetable or fruit in fresh, canned, and frozen versions. The cost of canned and refrigerated goods could be less than that of fresh. 

Purchase Smaller Quantity

Some fresh fruits and veggies don't last very long. To make sure you can consume the foods without tossing and throwing, purchase smaller quantities more frequently. When an item is on sale, purchase it in quantity. For fresh produce or fruits that you consume frequently, a big bag is the superior option. Fruits and veggies that are canned or refrigerated can be purchased in large amounts when they are on sale because they last a lot longer.

Ensure Simplicity 

Purchase fruits and veggies in their most basic state. Online chopped vegetables, pre-washed, ready-to-eat, and prepared goods are practical and good options to save your time and money.

Plant Your Own

Start a garden—in the yard or a pot on the deck—for fresh, inexpensive, flavorful additions to meals. For beginners, herbs, cucumbers, peppers, or tomatoes are all excellent choices. 

Cook and Plan Wisely

Vegetable soups, stews, and other meals can be made in preparation and frozen. This reduces waste and costs. Vegetable leftovers can be blended to create broth or added to casseroles. Fruit that is overripe works well in drinks and baking.

Purchase with Intention

You won't squander money on needless purchases if you go to the store prepared with an inventory of the materials you need and a plan for the week's dinners and recipes. Saving money altogether on your grocery account offers you additional money to spend on quality produce. 

An alternative approach is to first look for deals and then organise your weekly menu around them. Perhaps you choose to nibble on discounted strawberries instead of your customary pears, or you decide to prepare grilled zucchini instead of out-of-season artichokes.

Find the Simplest form Possible

Purchasing fruits and veggies in their most basic state. Consider whole carrots over infant carrots, unshucked corn over shucked, a head of broccoli or cauliflower over bagged florets, or a small whole cantaloupe over a jar of cut-up fruit when choosing your produce. 

Endnote

Use technology while comparing prices and make it simpler to do so. It's worthwhile to prepare a buying list and meal and to research what's on sale where. Before you go shopping, think about checking deals by searching online vegetables in Bangalore or via an app, then making a food plan based on what you discover.

[inhydrogreens]

Buy Hydroponic Brinjal Online in Delhi NCR | Inhydrogreens

Hydroponic Brinjal is a rich source of dietary fibre hence promotes digestion. It helps in maintaining blood sugar and cholesterol levels. It contains phytonutrients which protects our cells from getting damaged and has strong anti-bacterial properties.

[emdotcom]

It sucks so bad that having "traditionalist values" has gotta be code for being a stupid piece of shit cunt that sucks ass to be around instead of meaning, like. "I don't think I should have to download an app to do something I could easily do in my browser," or "I think everyone that has the dexterity to sew should try & learn to mend." Real missed opportunity, there.

[humanmorph]

i had vietnamese food today. good as hell

[rieamena]

take my hand until the sun goes down

kenji sato & baseball critic!reader headcanons

the first installment

requests put in by the lovely @despacito-uwu16 (bless your beautiful big brain)

marriage hcs ♡

we all know how much ken is in love with you but after that stunt he pulled at the championship game, it got a whole lot worse. he would not let a single chance to call you his fiancée pass by. afterparty following a challenging game? "can't make it, i miss my fiancée." team planning a dinner? "let me ask if my fiancée wants to come!" trying to get out of an agonizing conversation? "oh, my fiancée's calling me." he does not miss a BEAT when it comes to you. and after you got married!?!? oh let me tell you…

he physically cannot stop talking about you. something sweet that you did, how much you are for him, how much he loves you. its gotten so bad that his teammates have to tread lightly when speaking to him just to not trigger a 20 minute long rant about you (they're just jealous!!!). "i took the stray that showed up at my house the other night to the vet and it turns out she's really sick…" "really? that's so sad. you know, that actually reminds me of how my wife and i were eating bread this morning and she just looked so pretty." "how are those two things related!??!"

personal headcanon here but kenji cannot cook for the life of him. he can chop up his vegetables and take out seasoning from the cabinet but do NOT put that man near a stove. he will burn the kitchen down. unfortunately, kenji knew of his innate talent to someway somehow manage to cause chaos everytime he turned on an oven. so what did he do? he started watching you while you cook; occasionally taking notes on online recipes he'd think you'd like. every time you had to leave for an interview or babysit chiho, ken would load up the stove and start practicing. once he felt like he got good enough, kenji surprised you with breakfast in bed. french toast, eggs, bacon, and fruits were laid out on a platter, the delicious smell of it all and the sound of your husband coaxing you from your sleep. "wake up, my love. i made something for you~"

his petnames for you gradually changed as well. 'baby' turned into 'my love', 'my pretty girl' turned into 'my pretty wife', 'princess' stayed though. he loves your reaction when he calls you princess. your eyes become lidded as you look him up and down seductively, "so… are we gonna fuck or…?" ken threw you over his shoulder, teasing your body as he walked to the bedroom, "don't need to ask me twice. you gonna' ride me?" "that was my plan all along, pretty boy."

the first time you called kenji your husband to his face, he stopped thinking. his knees buckled, his heart started racing, his breathing got heavy. he genuinely thought he was about to die but he would be doing so in your arms so it was far more bearable. also!!! he has to kiss you at least three times a day or he dies (i dont make the rules!!). most days, kenji peppers your face in kisses in the morning, presses a kiss to your cheek or forehead in the afternoon, and gives you the most loving and deep kiss just before you head to bed

"[name], i have a crush on you. i love your voice and your smile and you're just so beautiful. i'm in love with you." ken wrapped you in his arms, speaking lowly "ken, we're married. we've been together for six years." "i know but still. just say you don't accept my confession." kenji huffed "no, i do! i have a crush on you too! the biggest one actually. please date me…"

children hcs ♡

kenji is THE girl dad. no questions asked. full stop.

kenji cried and i mean CRIED when you told him you were pregnant. you planned it in such a cute way honestly, it's a shame he didn't get it at first. you baked a couple buns and put them in the kitchen oven. simple, right? wrong. when ken got home and you kindly asked him to look in the oven for you, he was mildly confused. "you just have a lot of bread in here." you lightly pushed him out of the way, taking out every bun except one. "and now?" "you have one bread in the oven." "try again." "you have a roll in the oven." ken winked at you, swearing that he got it right this time. "not a roll but a…" "a….?" "there's a bun in the oven, kenji! i'm pregnant!" 

he was the (self-proclaimed) master of the art of ponytails and braids, often getting compliments from other parents on his skills. his mornings usually started with your daughter climbing onto his lap, handing him a hairbrush and a collection of colorful hair ties. kenji would carefully detangle her hair, his hands gentle but efficient, and then he would create intricate braids that she would show off to her friends at school

kenji also knew every princess, superhero, and storybook character by heart. his nights often ended with him sitting on the edge of his daughter's bed with you, reading her favorite stories with dramatic flair, his voice changing for each character, making her giggle and beg for one more chapter.

one evening, as the sun set and the playground began to empty, she ran up to her dad, breathless and excited. she had found a shiny pebble and declared it to be a magical gem. kenji knelt down, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and listened intently as they wove an elaborate tale about the pebble's powers. he played along, his imagination as vivid as theirs, and they spent the rest of the evening concocting a story that would become a cherished memory.

and at his baseball games, he would always scan the crowd for his two girls, and once he found you cheering loudly in the stands, he never failed to flash his signature smile and give you both a wink.

"i mean, she needs a sister. don't want her growing up an only child like me." kenji whispered as you placed your baby daughter into her bassinet. "darling, if you want another baby, just say that." "please please please, can we have another one??" "not right now. but yes ken, we can have another baby."

requests for them are open <3

taglist <3

@mochminnie @yellowheartz @ririkacchi @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @reit0o @luvshleyyy @lovingyeet @stickypaperstarlight @raee-dreeaaamz @rreasonablydumbb @bandolls @gingersnap126126 @automalvo @spiderboogie @shellspider @blogscach @nightingale047 @deadbydad @deadbydad-writes @phantomface

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

Your partner having to pause and tend to you because you burnt your finger while cooking (Part.1)

X-Men characters dropping everything to care for you after you accidentally burn your finger while cooking.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue & Erik Lehnsherr

Logan (Wolverine):

- You’ve always insisted on cooking for Logan, despite his rugged exterior and tough-as-nails attitude. It’s your way of showing love, and he enjoys watching you work in the kitchen, though he tends to hover in the background, grumbling about doing all this “fancy stuff” when he could just throw some meat on the grill. Today, you’re preparing something special—his favorite—but as you’re chopping vegetables and tending to the stove, you accidentally brush your finger against a hot pan. A sharp sting runs through your hand.

- The hiss of pain that escapes your lips brings Logan over in an instant, faster than you expect given his usual laid-back demeanor. “What happened, darlin’?” he growls, his brows furrowing as his sharp eyes catch sight of the reddening skin on your finger. Before you can even answer, his hands are already gently cradling yours, his gruffness momentarily fading. You try to laugh it off, but he isn’t having it.

- “You’ve gotta be more careful,” he mutters, reaching over to the faucet to run your finger under cold water. His touch is surprisingly tender for someone who fights so fiercely, and you notice the way his rough hands contrast with the way he’s treating you now. It’s a side of Logan he doesn’t show often, one of quiet concern and care, though he tries to mask it behind his gruff words. His thumb traces over your skin as if double-checking that the burn isn’t worse than it seems.

- After a moment of silence, he grabs a first-aid kit from under the sink—something he’s way too familiar with—and wraps your finger carefully. “There,” he grunts, looking satisfied with his work. But instead of letting you go, Logan pulls you into him, holding you close with one arm around your waist. “Next time, you let me do the cooking,” he growls into your ear, though there’s a teasing softness in his voice. You roll your eyes but smile, knowing he’s just relieved you’re okay.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit):

- You’ve been cooking all afternoon, determined to surprise Remy with something homemade since he’s always the one who spoils you with candlelit dinners and sweet gestures. You’re working on a recipe you found online, and everything is going smoothly—until you accidentally touch the edge of a hot pan. The sting is sharp and immediate, and you curse under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear.

- But of course, Remy is in the kitchen within seconds, his heightened senses picking up on your distress. “Ah, chérie, what happened?” he asks, his voice dripping with that charming Cajun drawl. He moves closer, his red-on-black eyes narrowing with concern as he gently takes your hand in his. “You hurt yourself?” he purrs, inspecting your finger with a mix of concern and playful teasing.

- You try to shrug it off, but Remy isn’t having any of it. He moves with swift grace, grabbing a dish towel to wrap around your finger as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know, you’re too pretty to be messin’ with hot pans,” he smirks, his lips curving into that signature grin of his. Despite the lightness of his words, there’s a genuine tenderness in the way he’s handling you, his touch soft and reassuring.

- After cooling your finger under some water, he insists on kissing the small burn as if that will heal it faster. “There, all better,” he says with a wink, though he doesn’t let go of your hand just yet. Remy steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “How ‘bout I finish up in here, mon amour, and you take a lil’ break, hmm?” His voice is low and sultry, making it hard to refuse. Before you know it, he’s guiding you to sit at the kitchen table, a playful glint in his eyes as he takes over the cooking—though you know he’ll still have time to sneak in a flirtatious glance your way every few minutes.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler):

- You’re standing at the stove, focused on making Kurt’s favorite dish—something you’ve wanted to surprise him with all week. He’s been busy with missions lately, so you thought a home-cooked meal would be the perfect way to show him how much you appreciate him. But as you’re flipping something in the pan, your hand slips, and your finger briefly touches the hot metal. The sudden sting makes you yelp.

- In an instant, there’s a flash of blue, and Kurt appears at your side in a puff of sulfur-scented smoke, teleporting into the room the moment he hears you. “Liebes, are you hurt?” His bright yellow eyes widen with concern as he reaches for your hand, inspecting the burn. His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing over your skin like you’re made of porcelain. You can see the worry etched on his face, and it tugs at your heart.

- “It’s nothing,” you try to reassure him, but Kurt shakes his head, clicking his tongue softly. “Nein, even a small injury is too much for someone as precious as you.” His tail curls protectively around your waist, pulling you closer as he turns on the faucet and guides your hand under the cool water. The sensation is soothing, but more than that, it’s Kurt’s presence that calms you—his soft murmurs of reassurance, the way he leans in close, his concern for you palpable.

- Once he’s sure your burn is taken care of, Kurt teleports again, this time returning with a small bandage. “Just to be safe,” he insists, carefully wrapping your finger. His warm, affectionate nature shines through as he finishes, then presses a soft kiss to your hand. “You do so much for me, mein Schatz, but please let me help next time, ja?” His words are earnest, and his golden eyes glow with love. He pulls you into a warm embrace, his tail wrapping around your legs. “No more injuries. I need you safe,” he whispers, kissing your cheek softly before teleporting to finish cooking for you.

Scott Summers (Cyclops):

- You’re midway through cooking dinner when you feel a sudden sharp burn on your finger as you brush against a hot pan. Wincing, you step back from the stove, but before you can react further, Scott is already by your side. He must have heard your quiet hiss of pain from the other room. “Hey, what happened?” His voice is laced with concern, his eyes hidden behind his ever-present ruby-quartz glasses, but you can feel the intensity of his focus on you.

- Scott is always serious when it comes to your well-being, and it’s no different now. He gently takes your hand, leading you to the sink as he turns on the cold water. “You need to be more careful,” he says, his tone stern but not unkind. He’s always the logical one, quick to act in any situation, but there’s a softness in the way he holds your hand, ensuring the water soothes the burn.

- “I’m fine, Scott,” you try to reassure him, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He grabs a small first-aid kit from the nearby cabinet, carefully dabbing ointment on your burn before wrapping it with a bandage. “You’re always taking care of everyone else,” he murmurs, his hands steady but gentle. “But you need to let someone take care of you sometimes.” There’s a weight behind his words, a reflection of how much he shoulders as the leader of the X-Men, but in this moment, he’s only focused on you.

- Once your finger is properly bandaged, Scott gives your hand a gentle squeeze. His expression softens as he looks at you, and though his glasses hide his eyes, you know there’s a deep affection behind them. “I’ll finish up dinner,” he offers, though it’s less of a suggestion and more of a decision. Scott is always the one to step in when things go wrong, and even though it’s a small burn, his protective instincts kick in. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment. “Next time, I’m staying in the kitchen with you,” he says with a small smile, his hand resting at the small of your back as he takes over the cooking.

Jean Grey:

- You’ve been busy in the kitchen all day, determined to make Jean’s favorite dish, and the aroma of the food fills the air. She’s sitting at the dining table, flipping through a magazine, occasionally looking up with a smile to watch you work. As you move the pan, your hand brushes against the hot metal, and the sudden pain makes you gasp. Before you can even call out, Jean is by your side, her telepathic link with you immediately picking up on your discomfort.

- “Oh no, let me see,” Jean says softly, already taking your hand in hers. Her green eyes are filled with concern as she inspects the burn, and though she’s usually calm and collected, you can tell she’s worried. With a wave of her hand, she uses her telekinesis to turn off the stove while guiding you to the sink.

- “You don’t need to push yourself so hard, Y/N,” she murmurs as she runs your hand under cold water. There’s a warmth in her voice, a quiet reassurance that makes you feel instantly better. Jean’s care is always gentle but firm, and as she tends to your burn, she smiles softly at you. “I know you want to take care of me, but it’s okay to let me take care of you too.”

- She moves her hand to your forehead, her touch cooling the heat of your skin as she uses a tiny bit of her telekinesis to ease the sting of the burn. Once she’s satisfied that the pain is manageable, Jean pulls you into a tender hug. “How about I help with dinner, and we finish this together?” she suggests, her voice filled with love. You know she’s only suggesting it so she can keep an eye on you, but you don’t mind. With Jean, everything feels safe and warm, even a simple evening in the kitchen.

Ororo Munroe (Storm):

- You love the sound of rain, and today it’s pouring outside as you stand in the kitchen, preparing a cozy meal for you and Ororo. She’s outside on the porch, enjoying the weather she summoned, the gentle rhythm of raindrops creating a peaceful backdrop. You’re lost in thought when you accidentally touch the edge of the hot pan, and the sharp pain makes you flinch, biting your lip to stifle a yelp.

- In an instant, Ororo is there, moving gracefully as she rushes to your side. “What happened?” she asks, her voice soft and soothing, like the rain outside. Her bright blue eyes are full of concern as she gently takes your hand in hers, examining the burn. Even with the storm raging outside, Ororo’s presence brings an immediate sense of calm.

- “Let me see,” she whispers, her fingers lightly brushing over your skin. The cool breeze from outside seems to follow her as she guides you to the sink, running your finger under cold water. You can feel the faintest touch of her powers as the air around you cools, helping to soothe the burn. Ororo is always so in control, her calm demeanor making you feel safe even in moments like this.

- “You must be more careful, my love,” she says, her tone gentle but firm. She reaches for a towel, patting your hand dry before wrapping a small bandage around your finger. As she tends to you, Ororo’s touch is filled with affection, her concern for you evident in every movement. She presses a soft kiss to your forehead, her lips cool and comforting. “How about we enjoy the rain together while I finish up here?” she offers, her smile radiant despite the storm. You nod, feeling grateful for her constant care and love.

Rogue:

- You’ve always loved cooking with Rogue. She’s a little clumsy in the kitchen, but her enthusiasm makes up for it. Tonight, though, you’ve taken over the cooking while she watches, leaning against the counter and making playful comments. You’re just about done when your hand slips, brushing against the hot pan. The sharp pain makes you wince, and Rogue’s eyes widen immediately.

- “Oh, sugar, what did ya do?” she asks, rushing over with concern written all over her face. She’s always so protective of you, and the moment she sees your burnt finger, she’s already grabbing a cold cloth to press against it. Rogue may have a tough exterior, but when it comes to you, she’s as gentle as can be.

- “Ya gotta be more careful,” she scolds softly, her Southern drawl filled with worry as she holds your hand. She doesn’t use her powers much when you’re together, but she treats you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. “Ah don’t wanna see ya hurt, not even a lil’ bit.” Her gloved hands are always so careful with you, and even though she can’t touch you skin to skin, you feel her love in every gesture.

- Rogue pulls you in close, her arms wrapping around you protectively. “How ‘bout we order takeout next time, huh?” she suggests with a small grin, her lips brushing lightly against your cheek. You can’t help but laugh at how serious she’s being over a small burn, but that’s just how Rogue is—always looking out for you. “Now come on, let me finish up here,” she insists, making sure you sit down while she handles the rest. Even though she’s a little clumsy, you know she’ll do anything to make sure you’re taken care of.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto):

- Cooking with Erik is always an interesting experience. He’s meticulous and precise, just like in everything he does, and tonight you’re both working together on dinner. You’ve just pulled a pan off the stove when your hand brushes against it, and the sharp sting makes you wince. Erik’s attention is immediately drawn to you, his eyes narrowing in concern.

- “Y/N, are you alright?” His voice is calm, but there’s a clear edge of worry as he steps closer, his hand already reaching for yours. You try to brush it off, but Erik isn’t one to let things slide. He carefully takes your hand in his, inspecting the small burn with a frown. “You need to be more cautious,” he murmurs, his tone a mixture of concern and reprimand.

- With a flick of his fingers, he uses his powers to bring a cold cloth over to you, pressing it gently against your burn. Erik is always so in control, even in small moments like this, and you can feel his intensity as he tends to you. He doesn’t say much, but the way he cradles your hand speaks volumes about how much he cares. Despite his stern exterior, Erik is always careful with you, his actions filled with quiet affection.

- “There,” he says after a moment, satisfied that the burn isn’t too serious. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Next time, let me handle the stove,” he adds, his voice softening as he presses a kiss to your temple. Erik may be a master of control and power, but with you, he’s always gentle. “You’re too important to me to risk getting hurt over something as trivial as this.” He holds you for a moment longer before guiding you to sit, insisting that he finish up dinner while you rest.

[haikyu-mp4]

Blackmailed

Fluffy workplace romance working at Onigiri Miya with your best friend and secret boyfriend Osamu, for my workplace romance event <3

requested by anonymous. word count; 969 – f!reader

You met Osamu in a business class and became instant best friends over a project you did together. You’d spend hours studying, and the studying turned into less productive hangouts. Everyone knew that if they saw one of you around campus, the other would not be far behind.

It was enough to make Atsumu jealous, and it became a whole thing when he befriended you online to assure you were good enough for best friend status.

You looked the older twin up and down, crossing your arms and squinting simultaneously at him, making him grimace. “Don’t copy me.”

“Don’t be so predictable.”

“We met ten minutes ago,” he argued. You shrugged.

“I know your brother.”

Atsumu leaned closer and you mirrored him, doing your best to copy his facial expressions. “You passed the first test.”

“Okay, stop that you two,” Osamu scolded, pushing you away from each other and huffing in his brother’s direction. While he pushed you carefully by the shoulder, his hand was very much pressed into Atsumu’s face.

You turned to the dining table where you had set up for dinner and picked up a plate of dumplings with a challenging look. “Think these might convince you to give me your approval?”

Atsumu picked up his chopsticks while Osamu groaned in the background at how both of you seemed incapable of listening to him.

Is my type… Atsumu? he wondered to himself with disgust.

While he chewed it, you stood there proudly, already nodding because you knew it was good.

“You made this?” he asked before even swallowing it.

“No, Samu did.” Atsumu deadpanned and looked at his brother as if asking if you were serious, to which Osamu couldn’t help but smile.

“What was the point then?” he asked incredulously.

“Made you shut up for a second.”

Too bad for him you’re awesome.

However, no one knew that the friendship had developed into something… sweeter.

Something where you knew how the other’s lips tasted and started adding hearts to all your messages.

Neither of you could explain how it became a thing you kept secret, but it made everything so enticing. Sneaking around while working together either cooking in the kitchen or doing taxes in the back room, you felt a thrill at the challenge of making sure no one could see the affection you shared.

You smirked, pulling Osamu in by the front of his black Onigiri Miya shirt to give him a kiss that would have him longing for more until you closed up later tonight. No customers should be able to spot you, standing at the intersection between the kitchen and the back room.

“What did Kita say about that delay?” you asked, kissing him again and giggling as his lips followed yours for more.

“Think it was just a day or two, we’ll be fine,” he assured you. You put a hand up to hold him back from another kiss and winked playfully.

“Isn’t Suna coming around today? He always gets a bunch and brings more for the roomies.”

Osamu scoffed, but you smiled at the happiness behind his eyes. He sure does love his friends. “That sly fox gets whatever’s left.”

You huffed a laugh and headed for the kitchen, starting to prepare more ingredients. Typically, Osamu did most of the actual cooking while you helped with preparations and packing orders. Then the two of you would team up for anything business-related, running Onigiri Miya together smoothly.

“Doesn’t he keep, like, blackmail or something?”

Osamu followed you, heading for the stovetop when another voice caught his attention. “You bet I do.”

Both of your heads whipped to the register where Suna stood, slouched as ever and leaning one arm on the counter while staring at his phone. Your heart raced, considering you locked lips with your secret boyfriend just a moment ago, but you tried to convince yourself there was no way he saw you.

Chopping the last of the vegetables while the two guys caught up, you eventually wiped off on your apron and nodded. “I’ll head to the back and check on the orders, will you be okay here?”

You cleared your throat and looked away from Osamu, hoping your voice and gaze weren’t too in love.

The chef moved to the side, awkwardly letting you pass while he felt Suna’s sharp eyes. “I got this, girl.”

Idiot. Since when has he ever called you girl?

Suna ate his plate of onigiri to the tune of Osamu defending himself after he made the preposterous suggestion that you and Osamu were more than friends. He chewed each bite well, savouring the taste while his friend got louder and started doing the dishes so that there would be less risk of Suna reading his body language.

Meanwhile, Suna had the last onigiri in one hand, phone in the other as he scrolled through his camera roll to where he had tucked away the evidence.

The blackmail that should get him free onigiri for at least a month until he’d accidentally send the picture to Atsumu and gather more blackmail from the inevitable twin fight. The blonde twin would be so angry that he wasn’t the first to know. Suna honestly couldn’t imagine his life getting any better than this.

Komori’s going to love this tea.

He found the picture, depicting you and Osamu smooching in the back of the restaurant. In case there was any doubt, Osamu’s hand was firmly set around your waist and your arms rested over his shoulders, one hand tucked nicely into his hair.

Suna turned the phone around, clearing his throat and making Osamu turn to him with an angry frown. It morphed into shock, and Suna finished the last of his food with a sly smile. “I’ll take it this was on the house?"

masterlist

/thankyou @cottonlemonade for thinking up the Suna part<3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 44

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 44 all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

44. the god of death

As you savor the last days of early fall before bitter cold sets in, John seems way more interested in teaching you how to ride, than planning a wedding. You are perfectly fine with that. You studied up and took the permit test online the very next day. Most of it was common sense–or at least, you’d like to think so. A trip to the DMV in Clear Forks rendered you legal for the road. 

You go for rides together almost every afternoon, through the winding mountain roads, and down in town in higher traffic as well. You’ll be good and ready for your test come spring. You feel as though he has gifted you a set of wings, when you are flying down the highway together, the mountains looming majestically in the distance. Once you get the hang of it, it’s not hard to work the bike, it just takes focus–or you might die. 

Oddly–the risk seems totally worth it. Not just for your own enjoyment, but his too. You can tell that being on the bike soothes something in this man’s battered soul, and you’re rather honored that he’d share this hobby with you.

When the days get short and winter sets in, it’s too cold for the bikes, even with battery heated jackets, you fall into a new routine. John is usually the first one out of bed. Sometimes he wakes you with kisses and his beautiful cock before wandering down to the kitchen to make a simple breakfast for the two of you, usually eggs and sliced fruit with coffee. John disappears into his workshop repairing a set of first edition Beatrix Potter books, and you go to your studio, though true inspiration continues to escape you. You feel as though something is hovering just beyond your grasp; inspiration waits behind a curtain, if you could just find the right trigger to sweep it aside. 

After lunch you often sit together and read in the den with the fireplace burning. When the first snow falls it feels like magic, in that house with him. You make love on the couch and then watch the fat flakes fall through the window from under a soft blanket, John’s arms wrapped around you. Later you make dinner together, feeding each other tidbits while chopping up vegetables, bumping into each other on purpose just to steal a kiss. You close the evening with a glass of wine and sometimes a movie or a show, and sometimes you read some more. 

Sometimes, John looks at you with that smoldering warmth in his dark eyes, and you go to bed early.    

Life is so damn near perfect that it almost scares you. It really seems like the Camorra have convinced the idiotic young Dante to leave you alone, and a part of you deep down wonders if you could truly be so lucky? You know that John has not forgotten about him completely. He does not let you go to town by yourself, not even to the grocery store. This doesn’t particularly bother you–even something so mundane as pottering up and down the isles with your trolley is fun with this man at your side. You crack jokes in the wine aisle, and exchange kisses in the produce, and you’re sure everyone around you is rolling their eyes at your expense–you’re so in love you simply do not care. 

One morning John cuts up a pomegranate for breakfast, the juicy little seeds glowing brilliant magenta in the sunlight, and as he holds out one for you to try from his fingertips inspiration hits you like a shovel to the head. You accept the morsel between your lips, laving his digit clean with your tongue as you gaze up at this man in black towering over you: your lover, your protector, your captor turned your intended. Sensing the change in you, John tilts his head slightly, raven hair swinging into his midnight-dark eyes. You reach up to brush it behind his ear carefully, almost as though you are seeing him anew. 

“You like it?” he asks, and there is something fragile in his tone. Neither of you are sure he’s talking about the pomegranate. 

“I love it,” you assure him, putting him at ease. You tangle your legs with his under the breakfast table, further affirming your affection. But for the first time in a while, you cannot wait to get up to your studio.

You start with sketches, working manically to make a sort of storyboard, plotting out a whole series. You incorporate the symbols of the pomegranate and the narcissus, telling the tale of a girl who is snatched up from beside a Venetian canal by a God of Death–and how she falls in love with him. 

Though you work with your door closed, needing the privacy to create, you know John looks over what you’re making later. Sometimes he’ll place a pen or a sketchbook not quite where you left them, as though signaling that he’s been there. His most blatant admission comes in the form of a sticky note pasted like a caption below one of your gouache illustrations on thick paper, of a glowing girl clutching a bright white narcissus flower, gazing up at a man in shadow sitting upon a throne of skulls, “And the God of Death fell hopelessly in love.”     

Later, while you’re snuggled together on the couch with dog at your feet, he tells you, “If you make them on longer pieces of paper, I can bind them for you.” This quiet offer of collaboration on an art project fills your heart with a sneaking warmth that starts in your chest, and spreads all the way to your toes. 

“I would like that,” you admit, kissing his cheek sweetly. 

His next question comes quieter still; you see the worry written in those soulful dark eyes: “Are you still angry?”

You realize that the answer to that is complex. The truth is: you were, deep down, despite how good things have been. But putting all of it down on paper with ink and pigment has exorcized something toxic from you. Something that might have acted as a slow-leaching poison in your relationship, had you not administered these therapeutic paintings as your antidote. Something about reclaiming your story in the images drawn from your hand, and telling it the exact way you please, (with some stylistic embellishments borrowed from Hades and Persephone) acts as a healing balm. 

“Not anymore,” you tell him, and you mean what you say. 

John’s relief is a palpable thing; you feel the tension release from his body pressed against yours. It still has not ceased to amaze you, the power you seem to hold over this formidable man. But it goes both ways, and somehow, through blood, sweat, tears, and all the love in your hearts, you have managed to strike a balance together that makes both of you happy. 

Maybe you are young, but you are smart enough to know that is a rare and precious thing indeed. 

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

No Excuses

PAIRINGS: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wife!Sri Lankan!Reader

WARNINGS: HEAVY FLUFF, Simons a fucking simp for the missus, good food :)

SOME INFO: 'Avurudda' means 'New Year', and Kottu and Appa are some famous Sri Lankan traditional food

WORD COUNT: 1,484

ENJOY!

"Yes, Amma. Yes, I cleaned the house like you told me to," you confess softly to your Sri Lankan mother, a tender smile gracing your lips as you recall the gentle encouragement she always provided.

Avurudda season has arrived, a time when the essence of your Sri Lankan heritage fills the air with warmth and nostalgia. In homage to your roots, you meticulously prepared your home, ensuring every corner gleamed with the promise of new beginnings. 

And with a sense of reverence, you sought out a traditional Sri Lankan lamp online, a beacon of light to guide you through the festivities of the new year

When you married Simon, Your parents hesitated, their reservations echoing the unspoken fears of marrying outside your culture lingered in your heart

Yet, can they really blame you?

You fell in love with the Lieutenant while you were a techie for one of the TF-141 missions. The mission was primarily automotive, so the team, especially Simon, heavily relied on you. You didn’t think that you had it in you to thaw the ice around the Lt’s heart, but to him, you were his solace, his light.

In the steady rhythm of time, Simon's heart quietly yielded to the gravity of your presence, each day etching deeper into the stone of his resolve, sculpting a silent monument to the unyielding strength of his love for you.

After a few tense debriefs, he finally had the courage.

From the tension of your first encounters to secret touches, which morphed into silent kisses behind closed doors. Your both grew needing the other, the love you have for him and him, you, just became heavier in the depths of your hearts.

Soon, you moved into his flat. And a year later, you’re sleeping next to the love of your life with a gold band on your finger and his last name after your first.

Your parents soon backed off when they realized how much Simon cared for you and you for him.

Your mother's voice breaks you out of your reverie.

"Have you seen the recipes I’ve sent you, the Kottu and the Appa ones?" Your Amma questions, and you tilt your head back and close your eyes. "Yes, Amma, I did. Haven’t I told you that already?"

-----

You hear the door open as you sauté some vegetables the way your mother said to, in her recipe.

"Love? Are you here?" you hear the gruff voice of your husband through the entrance hall of your home.

You holler that you’re in the kitchen.

With a gentle embrace, Simon enfolds you in his arms, his touch igniting a spark of warmth that spreads through your body like wildfire. You lean into his embrace, relishing the comfort of his touch as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin. "Hi, handsome," you whisper softly, your voice a tender caress that lingers in the air between you.

Simon grunts out a laugh and hugs you tighter, "missed you, love."

You both stand in silence, letting Simon take you in.

"Have you brought the things I asked you to?" you whisper gently, switching off the heat of the stove. Simon nods, "it was tricky to find them, but I managed to."

 Simon finally releases you and goes to grab the paper bags from the table near the door and places them on the kitchen counter.

You smile at him and give a little squeeze to his bicep and dig through the bag. "Great, everything is here, thanks babe," you lay out everything and start to cook your Kottu. You start chopping up the fresh thin, soft rotti until it's the right size.

You feel Simon peek over your shoulder and then go back to the pot and get a whiff of the food you made already. "Jesus, love. It smells incredible," he leans against the kitchen counter watching you chop the last of the rotti and throw the shredded fine bread into your pot.

You inhale deeply, "well, it's Avurudda. Sri Lankan new year." You say sheepishly, as you throw a glance at your husband over your shoulder.

Simon’s eyes go wide and he nods slowly, "I see." He rubs a hand over his chin and takes in the information you just gave him. He pieces everything together and scolds himself for not remembering, "love, I'm sorry I didn’t know."

You chuckle and shake your head, "honey, it’s fine, really." Simon shakes his head, "I should remember my wife’s cultural holidays. No excuses, love." You pout at Simon beating himself up, "hey, I know what can make you feel better."

He looks up at you confused and raises a brow. "I bought a Sinhala lamp, could you help me set it up?" you smile at him as he nods eagerly before you finish your sentence. You give him the instructions and show him the package that came in this afternoon. "Alright, I’ll get on with it," he whispers, rubbing a hand on your lower back and kissing your temple.

You smile and finish your work in the kitchen.

-----

Simon sets the table and you plate the food. 

Then you sit down to enjoy the meal you've prepared together, the flickering light of the candles casts a warm glow over the table, bathing you both in its gentle embrace. 

Now he sits in front of you and looks at the crispy Appas and delicious looking Kottu sitting between the both of you.

"Alright, so. This is Kottu, it's basically pieces of thick paratha or rotti, cooked with veggies and shredded chicken. It’s my ultimate favorite dish," you point at the plate of food, and talk animatedly.

You don’t see the subtle smile on your husband's face as he sees you talk passionately, and he opens a file in his mind and files in the information that Kottu is your favorite meal. You then point at the crispy upside-down domes.

“These are Appas, or Hoppers, they are amazing with chicken curry," you point at the curry you made a little while ago, "alright that’s it, dig in! And, Suba aluth avurudak weva, mage rattaran.” Simon has learned a little Sinhala for you since you first got married, and he translates your words in his mind.

Happy new year, my darling.

-----

As you and Simon delve into conversation about your respective days, you both begin to enjoy your meals. With each bite, you savor the taste of home, the flavors of your heritage filling your senses with a sense of belonging.

You take occasional sips from a glass of wine, Simon leisurely drinks from a bottle of beer.

“It’s absolutely delicious, love,” he says, reaching for your hand across the table. He rubs his thumb on the delicate skin of your hand. You smile and say your thanks.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locking in a silent exchange that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that moment, as you sit together in the soft glow of the candlelight, you know that you are exactly where you're meant to be, with the man who holds your heart in his hands.

Your leg brushes against his ankle, the fabric of your sock gliding over his skin. Simon grins and gently clasps your limb, placing it tenderly on his lap. Your smile broadens as he begins to caress it, sending waves of comfort through you.

The atmosphere is filled to the brim with your love for each other, the only source of light is from the candles lit on the table and the traditional lamp next to your dining table.

Simon reflects on his fortune, marveling at the serendipity of finding a woman as remarkable as you. He finds solace in the thought of a love so deeply reciprocated, where every beat of his heart echoes with the resonance of your affection, intertwining your souls in a bittersweet symphony of devotion.

-----

You stir from slumber to the not-so-gentle melody of your phone's alarm.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you reach out to silence it, yearning for the familiar presence of your Simon beside you. 

Yet, as you turn, you find only the empty space where he once lay, his absence palpable in the morning light.

With a soft exhale, you sit up, the soft rays of dawn casting a warm glow around you. It's then that your gaze drifts to his bedside table, where a bouquet of delicate pink and white tulips awaits, their petals kissed by the soft light of dawn. 

Nestled among the blooms, a note written in his hand catches your eye.

It’s in his handwriting, the ink scratchy and blotchy. His sinhala words marking their spot on the hard paper.

A rush of emotion floods your senses as you read his words, each stroke of the pen a testament to his adoration. 

Happy New Year, my love.

🎀🎀🎀

OMG!

My first Simon Riley fic!!

And

My first Sri-Lankan!Reader fic!!!

One of the main reasons I wanted to start writing is because there is very minimal representation of brown girlies in the fanfic world. Especially, there is lack of rep for South Asian women. And even though I do associate myself with being a WOC, there is still a difference in between cultures.

I srsly keep in touch with my Sri Lankan heritage, and value that part of me.

It's why I try to make my Fics as inclusive as possible, but sometimes ya girl's got to represent her girlies back home.

(dw desi babes, I got a Diwali fic planned for y'all)

Sorry for the ramble and I'm sorry if this is not what most of you lovelies wanted😅😅.

But I've planned this for a while.

Suba Aluth Avurudak Weva, my loves!

(Also, please lemme know what you lovelies think about the fic!!)

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[spacelazarwolf]

avi rates jewish foods

difficulty scale i'll rate these on a scale from 1 to 4, 1 being beginner friendly and 4 being difficult. (i'm not going to rate any recipes that are like ridiculously difficult bc the point of this project is to encourage more ppl to cook these recipes!)

to determine difficulty, i'll average these four categories:

how much active work? (chopping veggies, breading meat, making dumplings, kneading bread, etc.)

1 - little to none; this would be easy to throw together at the last minute or if you need to just toss something in the slow cooker. 2 - some; the recipe did require some time to prep the ingredients but it would be fine for an average weeknight dinner. 3 - a fair amount; a little too taxing to make every night, but i'd make a recipe like this once a week for a nice shabbat dinner. 4 - a lot; this required a lot of work, and i'd probably only do it for special occasions like high holy days or seders.

how easily can you get the ingredients? (i'm working under the assumption that you have access to a grocery store. i'm in the us so that's my frame of reference but ymmv)

1 - i was able to easily find all the ingredients in my local grocery store. 2 - i was able to find almost all the ingredients in my local grocery store; there were one or two specialty ingredients that i needed to get at an international market or order online, but hypothetically you could make it yourself or substitute it for something easier to find and it would not affect the recipe. 3 - i was able to find some of the ingredients in my local grocery store; there were several specialty ingredients that i needed to get at an international market or order online, and technically you could make it yourself or substitute it for something easier to find but it would probably be more difficult and would likely affect the recipe. 4 - i had to get several specialty ingredients at the international market or order online; you might be able to make it yourself or substitute for something easier to find, but it would be very difficult and definitely affect the recipe.

what kind of cookware do you need? (i'm considering "the basics" to be: a pot and pan, spoon, knife, stove/oven)

1 - just the basics. 2 - would be easier with one or two specialty utensils but you can still make it without. 3 - probably need one or two specialty utensils to make it correctly. 4 - you definitely need specialty utensils to make it correctly.

what kind of kitchen skills do you need?

1 - can you boil water? can you chop a vegetable? you can make this. 2 - would be helpful to know some basics (knife skills, sauteing, etc.) 3 - you need to know some intermediate skills (frying, basic bread making, etc) 4 - you need to know or learn some fairly advanced techniques.(higher level bread making, special techniques that apply to the recipe, etc.)

personal rating

1 - did not like, could not finish it. 2 - it was ok, but i wouldn't eat it again. 3 - good, i wouldn't go out of my way to make it again, but i would happily eat it if someone served it to me. 4 - really good, i would make this again. 5 - excellent, i am adding this to my regular rotation.

[aarohij]

Post Workout Breakfast Ideas for Your Busy Schedule

Workouts are tiring and demanding. Thus, we often crave something tasty as we return home after hitting the gym. Have you ever thought of eating something healthy and filling post-workout and refraining from munching on the same unhealthy snacks, but, you find it difficult to cook something in the hurry of your daily activities? So here we are to discuss some healthy recipes that can be made in no time to support your busy schedule. Also, to save additional time order fresh chopped vegetable delivery online. Now, without any further delay let’s dive into the significant, so you can have a healthy breakfast and start your day on time. 

Healthy Post-Workout Breakfast Ideas

Protein Smoothies

Protein Smoothies are one of the best breakfast ideas. They require no time to make, are highly customizable, and are rich in nutrients. As they are versatile you can add or remove any of the ingredients, and here we are discussing one of our best smoothie picks- the spinach banana smoothie.

Ingredients:

·         1 cup plain kefir

·         1 tablespoon peanut butter

·         1 cup spinach

·         1 banana

·         1 tablespoon honey (Optional)

Process:

Put all the ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth. You can choose to add milk (as per your requirement), in case you want a more liquid consistency.

Fruit and Veggie Muffins

Muffins are great when you want to munch on something tasty. Also, by customizing the recipe you can make them healthy. These can be stored, making them the preference in your weekly diet list, as you do not need to cook them on the go, rather just grab them when you are off to work. So, here is our healthy muffin recipe.

Ingredients:

1 cup whole wheat flour

1 cup multi-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 cup sugar

4 tablespoons butter, unsalted softened

2 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup steamed broccoli florets 

1 small shredded zucchini 

1 1/2 medium finely shredded carrot 

1/2 medium apple

1 medium banana

1/4 cup unsweetened applesauce

1/4 cup Greek yogurt, plain

Process:

   Start the process by preheating the oven to 375 degrees F.

  Then, take a medium-sized bowl to mix flour, baking soda, salt, nutmeg, and cinnamon, and set the mixture aside.

 In another bowl, mix the sugar, softened butter, eggs, vanilla, and Greek yogurt. Beat well.

 Then in a food processor, combine steamed broccoli, shredded zucchini and carrots, apple, banana, and applesauce. Grind until smooth.

Transfer the ground fruits and vegetable mixture into the bowl with wet ingredients and beat the mixture until the ingredients mix properly.

Pour the mixture into the bowl of the dry ingredients and mix just until combined and wet.

Spray the muffin tin with cooking spray or oil. You can also use silicone muffin cups.

Fill each cup about 3/4 of the way full, with the prepared mixture.

For minor muffins: Bake in a 375° F oven for 15-20 minutes.

For regular-size muffins: Bake in a 375° F degree oven for about 20-25 minutes.

Bake until the tops are slightly brown and a toothpick comes out clean or they bounce back when you touch them with your finger.

Mixed Vegetable Omelet

Omelet is rich in protein and you can make it extra nutritious by adding vegetables of your choice. We are sharing with you our recipe for a mixed vegetable omelet. However, the ingredients are highly customizable and can be changed as per your preference.

Ingredients:

·         2 organic eggs

4 small button mushrooms

·         1/2 cup of chopped spinach

1 small chopped tomato

1 small chopped capsicum(buy capsicum online)

1/2 cup of chopped lettuce (order fresh lettuce online)

1/2 finely chopped onion

1 finely chopped clove of garlic

1 tsp extra virgin coconut oil 

1/2 tsp paprika powder

1/2 tsp mixed dried Italian herbs

·         salt and ground pepper to taste

Process:

·         Start by heating oil on a nonstick pan.

·         Once the oil is hot add onion and sauté them until translucent.

·         Then add chopped garlic and fry for a minute or two.

·         Add the chopped mushrooms and sauté for 4 to 5 minutes until all the water evaporates.

Now add the tomatoes and fry for another 2 to 3 minutes

·         In a separate bowl beat the eggs and season them with salt and pepper and the other spices.

Now spread the veggies around the pan, gently pour the beaten eggs all over the vegetables, and spread it evenly.

Cover the omelet and let it cook for 2 to 3 minutes. 

Check the omelet to turn brown on the side of the pan and flip it over to cook it from the other side as well for a minute or two.

Your omelet is ready. Serve with a sauce or crusty bread and enjoy. 

Order Chopped Vegetables Online in Bangalore Now

So now that you have the recipes for a healthy post-workout breakfast, do not wait to try them the next morning. You can considerably reduce the cooking time by ordering fresh-cut vegetables online. If you are searching for a credible platform, GreenChopper is one of the best-cut vegetable suppliers online in Bangalore.   It offers fresh vegetable delivery in Bangalore, chopped in a variety of shapes and sizes. It is also known for providing healthy ozone-washed vegetable delivery in Bangalore. You can also try their vegetable salads for healthy evening snacks.  So, do not wait, and visit GreenChopper now.

[inhydrogreens]

One of the Best Hydroponic Leafy Greens in Delhi NCR | Inhydrogreens

Leaf vegetables, also called leafy greens, pot herbs, vegetable greens, or simply greens, are plant leaves eaten as a vegetable, sometimes accompanied by tender petioles and shoots. Leaf vegetables eaten raw in a salad can be called salad greens. Nearly one thousand species of plants with edible leaves are known. Leaf vegetables most often come from short-lived herbaceous plants, such as lettuce and spinach. Woody plants of various species also provide edible leaves.

[izvmimi]

cw: language. one (1) reference to a rico nasty song.

The sudden clatter of a knife being dropped on a cutting board should have surprised you, but you’re too focused on the screen of the laptop before you to notice that Izuku has stopped chopping vegetables. He looks up over at you carefully, but you continue to type furiously on the other end of the kitchen island, not registering the set of eyes focused on your person.

“Babe?”

Clickity clack, clickity clack, goes the keyboard.

He sighs.

“___.”

His voice is stern and just loud enough that you do somehow hear it, and pulled out of your flurry of vitriolic thoughts, you look at him quizzically.

“Huh?”

“What are you doing?” he asks.

You grimace, then smile and scoff in just the way that concerns Izuku even further. He could tell from the pressure on the keyboard and the small noises of frustration that slipped out of you indiscriminately that you were clearly upset about something, and he could name a couple things that had popped up recently in the news to make you feel that way, but whenever you got to typing for this long with this level of focus, it could only mean one thing.

“I’m just drafting a response to a few criticisms I’ve seen online recently.”

His lips press into a thin line.

“Love, you promised-“

You frown at him and raise an index finger. “First of all, I did not make any promises-" He raises an eyebrow and you look at him sheepishly, then look away. “Fine.”

“Let me see it,” he insists. Before you can even consider closing your laptop, he’s behind you, one hand resting softly on your shoulder. His eyes scan the top half of the reply in the comments and you watch his response attentively, taking in how his frown deepens the longer he reads.

“Baby.” He rubs your shoulder gently, but you can tell he’s between irritated and disappointed with you immediately. Defensively, you shrug him off softly then cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m just communicating my discontentment.”

“Really?” He highlights a sentence at the end, and clears his throat before reading it aloud. “If I see you in the street, bitch your ass is done? That’s discontentment?”

You can feel your cheeks burn.

“It’s a quote!!! From a song!”

Izuku places a hand atop your head and squeezes gently. “It’s also a threat?”

“But-“

“___, you’re a professional Hero. This person could be Quirkless.”

You pause, consider, and then let out a sound of frustration, raising your hands in the air before placing your forehead to the desk.

“Look, I’m just tired of unkind things being said in the media. I don’t mind if they say mean things to me but we’re gonna have a conversation if you’re gonna attack my friends so viciously.” Your voice is muffled and whiny, which means you’re in your inconsolable mood, but by now Izuku is practiced and can get through to you. Izuku’s hands shift from your shoulder to your back and he pulls the stool beside you to sit down.

“I get it, but people say stupid things all the time. Think about what people say about me daily.”

Your head turns to face him.

“The media literally adores you, what are you talking about?” Izuku gives your a cheeky half-smile.

“True, but they didn’t always.”

You give him a soft punch on the shoulder. “Show-off.”

He laughs, and pulls you to him. “You know what it was like when I was a kid though.”

You frown again, thinking about the punches she still thinks she owes Bakugou despite the fact that he’s redeemed himself, and rest your head on his shoulder.

“Can I delete it?” he asks.

“Sure,” you agree. 

“Good girl.”

You feel your cheeks warm but don’t say anything as the angry text disappears. He kisses your cheek and gets up again to finish preparing the meal he’d started. You get up as well and wash your hands before joining him.

You work side by side for a few moments before Izuku bumps you gently on the hip. 

“Are you gonna save a bit of the feistiness for bed?” he asks, eyes twinkling.

You bump him back on the hip.

“Pervert.”

He beams. “For you? Absolutely.”

[trueangel420]

Kai Anderson, change ୨ৎ fem reader,established relationship, use of y/n, kai is a warning in itself. wc 1632

You remember Kai Anderson—not the political figure, but the fresh college graduate who sought understanding online. This is the Kai who cried at cheesy romance movies and buried his face in your chest when life felt overwhelming. He’s different now, scarred in ways that run deeper than his appearance. His eyes, once so full of life, now appear hollow—filled with sadness and stress. You miss him terribly, the sweet brown-haired boy who grappled with family issues. The ache of nostalgia pulls you back to that wretched town, that dreadful city, in search of the Kai you once knew.

"You look lost," a short blonde woman said, glancing at you. "I am... I'm looking for..." you held out a piece of paper, revealing Kai's address. you'd hoped he was still at the same house. "Ivy," the woman murmured, her eyes widening at the address. "You want to see Councilman Anderson?" you felt a jolt of confusion. Did everyone in this town know Kai. "Kai Anderson... yeah," you replied, noticing Ivy shift uncomfortably.

Yo stared at Ivy, leaning against the doorframe. "And... you know him?"

Ivy nodded, almost hesitantly. "Is he here?"

Ivy opened the door wider, urgency creeping into her movements.as you stepped into the familiar hallway, everything felt… off, you could hear thumping from the basement, like footsteps echoing off the walls you ignored it Moving toward the bedroom, you paused at Kai's parents door, now firmly locked. You touched the lock, shivering slightly. You glanced into Winter's room but shook your head; the house felt so empty. Letting out a deep sigh, you turned back into the living room and descended the basement stairs.

That's when you heard him—Kai's voice, loud and intense, echoing through the space. "I'm the only one you can trust. I'm the only one who knows the truth. I know things!" He shouted, and the sound of men cheering filled the room.

As you edged closer just to peak, you saw men sitting in camping bags, their eyes fixed on him, hanging on his every word. Kai's shoulder-length hair was now dyed dark blue, sticking to his forehead, giving him a wild, intense look.

"Fear is truth," he declared, his eyes closed as he smoothed out his white button-up shirt and adjusted his black dress pants. "Fear is truth," he repeated, his voice rising. "Pain is a call to action. Pain is essential, just like anger is. Take pain in one hand and anger in the other. Use them."

you felt a chill run down your spine as you realized how different he had become. you tried to stay hidden in the corner until something caught your eye—Winter. Winter sat near Kai, anxiously biting her bottom lip. you hesitated, torn between interrupting or retreating upstairs to wait. A nagging voice in your head urged you to leave, but the longer you watched Kai, the more you missed him.

Quietly, you back up the stairs, his voice booming through the room, oblivious to your presence. You glance around the living room, shuffling to the couch, unsure if you’re supposed to be there. The air feels tense and thick.

"He'll be done soon and come back up here," Ivy says from the kitchen, making you turn to glance at her. The short blonde woman looks around Kai's age, and you feel a flicker of curiosity. "Are you his... girlfriend?" you ask, biting your lip.

Ivy scoffs, shaking her head. "I'm dating Winter."

Your heart sinks slightly. "Oh."

"Winter's a lesbian?" Your eyes widen, guilt bubbling inside you. You realize how much you’ve missed—once so close to them, now you feel like a stranger.

"Yes, she is," Ivy chuckles, grabbing a chopping board and a knife.

"I don't understand what all those men are doing down there," you finally speak up, your gaze fixed on Ivy as she starts to chop vegetables. "I thought you knew Kai? I mean... he can explain what he does here," you add hesitantly.

Ivy pauses, glancing over her shoulder. "It's complicated. He's leading something... different now. It's like he's become a voice for those who feel unheard."

You frown, feeling a mix of concern and confusion. "But what does that mean?"

"You'll see," Ivy replies, continuing to chop vegetables, the rhythmic sound filling the silence. You watch her, the tension in the air thickening as your mind races. What has Kai gotten himself into? The uncertainty gnaws at you, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. You feel a mix of anxiety and curiosity, waiting for the moment when you will finally understand.

An hour passed, the aroma from the kitchen wafting through the air as you listened to the sturdy sound of boots climbing the stairs. You turn as the basement door opens, revealing Kai and Winter. Winter heads straight for the kitchen, not even glancing at you as you sit perched on the couch with a shaking leg, watching them intently.

Kai pauses, standing taller as he catches sight of you. His gaze travels over you—he couldn’t believe it. He doesn't say anything; his breath hitches in his throat as a wave of emotions washes over you both. "Hi," you speak softly, rising and taking careful steps toward him until you stand directly in front of him. He’s taller than you remember, his skin paler, a change that catches you off guard. The gap between you feels vast, filled with unspoken words and memories.

"I've missed you," you say softly, your tone gentle as always. For a moment, he’s taken aback, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity you remember.

"Let's talk somewhere private," he grumbles, grabbing your arm with enough force to guide you but not to hurt you. He pulls you downstairs, past the sleeping men, deeper into the basement. The room he leads you into is medium-sized and dark, lit by only a few dim lights. A desk with a computer sits in the middle, and in the corner is a small black table with two chairs facing each other. Kai leads you to the chairs and lets go of your arm, motioning for you to sit. You oblige, feeling the weight of the years you’ve been apart. You really do miss him.

"y/n," he starts, his lips pressed into a tight line as he holds his pinky up to you.

"I've missed you," you say again, this time your voice stronger.

"I... I've missed you too," he manages to get out quietly, his tone almost strained, holding out his pinky again. You know what he’s trying to do—your game of truth, a pinky promise not to lie. He always knew when you lied.

You hold up your pinky, intertwining it with his. "Truth," you say, looking directly into his eyes.

"Why did you come back here? To Brookfield Heights... to my house?" he asks, his eyes studying your expression intently.

"Somewhere along the line, we lost touch, and I don't know why, Kai..." you begin, your eyes locked onto his. "You're my best friend, Kai. I haven't heard from you in years—I thought you died, y'know? And then I see you on fucking CNN," you murmur, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and longing. He tenses up at your language , his eyes looking away from you. A part of Kai knows it was wrong to abruptly stop reaching out. Ordering Winter to do the same had been harsh, but he had been building something significant. Now it was built, and he wasn't the same 27-year-old you had known. He was now 30, a political figure, and most of all, a cult leader.

"Sometimes you have to let the past go," he says, his voice reluctant. You tense, your eyes wide in disbelief. "Let the past go? Are you serious? Kai, you're my best frien—" He unlocks his finger from yours, slamming his hand on the table.

"Everything must come to an end. The old me died, y/n, a long, long time ago," he says sternly.

"You have to be kidding me," you murmur under your breath, grabbing his hand and interlocking your pinkies again. "Truth, are you pushing me away right now?" you ask, your eyes searching his face. Kai's gaze hardens, but beneath it, you can see his thoughts. You know him well, just as he knows you like the back of his hand. He’s tried to bury the part of his life that includes you, focusing on the cult, on spreading his chaos. To him, you’re a mere distraction.

"You don't ask the questions," he snaps, but his voice wavers just slightly.

"Don't speak to me like that, Kai. Don't speak to me like I'm a stranger," you say firmly, your voice tinged with hurt and defiance. He lets out a breath, his nerves fraying as anger and warmth wash over him. "I said, you don't ask the questions. I'm not the same person you knew. Let it die," he continues, his tone darker as he pulls his pinky away from yours.

"No, I won't just let it die, Kai. You remember—" you begin, but he cuts you off, the memories flooding back. He remembers everything—every moment he laid on you, venting about his home life. That past weakness now disgusts him, and he has sworn never to let fear plague him again.

"Shut up," he hisses, his jaw clenching. He shifts in his seat, leaning back, trying to control his boiling anger. He doesn't want to hurt you, but the feeling inside him is hard to contain. "You've changed, Kai," you whisper, swallowing hard. You stand up, looking at him. You want to cry, to mourn the loss of the Kai you once knew. Though he’s there physically, he feels like a hardened shell you can't break through.

[alotofpockets]

Cooking class | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You meet Wanda at a cooking class that she teaches.

A/n: A special thank you to @catasha, without your ideas I would not have been able to finish this fic!

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 2.8K

You recently discovered your love for cooking. You found it both relaxing and exhilarating, being able to add all these ingredients together to create a beautiful dish. Growing up your parents never really taught you how to cook, so you started by learning some cooking videos that you had seen online but the videos were general and not that fun, so you were searching for other ways to learn more cooking techniques. In your search for options you came across a cooking class taught by Wanda Maximoff, just a few blocks over.

When you entered the building you were in awe of the place. There were rows of stove tops, ovens and counters, all basked in sunlight from the floor to ceiling windows. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The women that walked up to you said. “Yeah, it looks great. I love the way the light enters the space.” The woman nods in agreement. “Everything is so fancy here, I can’t wait to cook here.” Wanda smiles, “Oh, trust me, cooking here is amazing.” The woman answers. “Oh, have you taken classes here before?” In response she holds out her hand, you shake it with a confused look plastered on your face. “Wanda, nice to meet you.” That’s when the puzzle pieces click, you were talking to the owner of the place. “Oh, haha, well Wanda, you have a beautiful place here. I’m y/n.”

The first class starts, and after some quick introductions, Wanda starts telling you about what you will be learning during these few classes. You were going to start easy and work your way up to some more intricate dishes. You were going to be making a dish each week for the duration of the four week starters course. Today you were going to focus on some cutting techniques, since you will be using that throughout the whole course. 

Wanda shows everyone how to hold the knives and how to get the best results and tells you to try it out for yourselves on the carrots in front of you. She goes around the kitchen islands giving everyone pointers and compliments. The dish for this week's class was vegetable soup, which meant lots of veggies to be cut. When you were done with the carrots, you chopped up leeks, tomatoes, and parsley. All that was left to cut were the garlic gloves. You felt quite comfortable with your chopping skills after the carrots, Wanda noticed and gave you a compliment, “Nice work, y/n, keep it up!” 

You continued to make the soup step by step, as Wanda told you more about what each of the steps would do for the dish, taste, texture, etc. She was an amazing teacher, she explained not only with the end goal of a dish in mind but also transferred her knowledge on certain ingredients as well as in what different ways they could be used. You enjoyed your first class very much, and the soup you created was delicious. 

Next week you arrive at the kitchen again, not realizing that you were there a bit too early until you saw that Wanda was still setting up the counters. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was so early.” You say as Wanda looks over. “Don’t worry, darling, come on in.” You blush slightly at the nickname. “I was just setting up the ingredients for today’s class.” She smiles in your direction. “Need a hand?” You say as you place your bag in the corner, “I’m here now anyways.” Wanda is very grateful for the help as she started a bit late with setting up herself, she showed you what each cooking station needed and you got to work while continuing the conversation with her. You placed thyme, bay leaves, sugar, worcestershire sauce and a beef cube on every station, while Wanda distributed the beef, canned tomatoes, onion, garlic cloves, tomato paste, and a small block of parmesan cheese. 

The dish for today was a spaghetti bolognese, with the main focus for the class being the making of the sauce. Wanda started by letting you cut your onions and mince the garlic, like how she taught you in the previous class. Then step for step she walked you through making the bolognese sauce. You loved pasta dishes, at home you always made them with store bought pasta sauce but now that you knew this recipe you were for sure going to use it. It was so much richer in flavor, while the cooking time wasn’t even that much longer. 

Before ending the class, Wanda announced next week's plans. “Next week we are going to have a little friendly competition.You are all going to create a dip of your own choosing. Email me the ingredients you will need before Friday, and I will make sure that they are ready for you on your counters next week!”

You were searching through recipe books and recipes online for a dip that would really impress Wanda. Most of the dips you found looked good but were still pretty basic. A couple of days went by without any ideas and then it hit you, during one of your conversations Wanda had mentioned that she was from Sokovia. You immediately started searching for Sokovian recipes and found the perfect dip. However, you saw that it would take a bit longer than a regular dip to make, so you decided to ask Wanda if maybe you would be able to come in earlier to use the oven to prepare your main ingredient. Wanda let you know that it would be no problem, and that she would be there starting 1pm, so any time after that would work. When you got her message back, you sent her the list of ingredients that you would need for your dip. 

That Sunday you arrive forty minutes before the official start of the class. “Hi, y/n, how have you been?” Wanda asks with a smile. “Hey, Wanda, I’ve been well, thank you. How about yourself?” Wanda waves you in before answering, “I’ve been doing good, thanks. I put your ingredients on your station, so feel free to start whenever you’d like.” You sent her an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Wanda, I really appreciate this.” 

You start working on your dip. The beets you need for it had to go in the oven for thirty minutes and would have to cool down for another twenty before you could use them. You start by poking some holes in the beet with a fork, and put them in some foil, before putting them on a baking tray. You are so focussed on your preparations that you don’t hear Wanda approaching, who was previously getting some things from a back room. Once you’ve put the tray into the oven and look up you finally realize that she is standing there, leaning against one of the other counters, admiring the focus you had. You feel a blush making its way to your cheeks again but quickly cover it up by turning around and cleaning up some of the things you won’t need to use in the recipe anymore. 

After that all there was left to do was wait for the beets to bake. So, you decided to see if there was anything you could do to help Wanda prepare for the upcoming class. Together you set up the ingredients on the other stations, while you were asking Wanda questions about what got her started on cooking. You learned that her mother loved to cook, and that after she passed away when Wanda was younger. Wanda shared that she felt closest to her while she was cooking, which is how she got into cooking. You shared how you got into cooking, and wanting to learn more about her. The conversation flowed so easily you hadn’t noticed that half an hour had passed until the oven beeped. 

You take out the tray with beets and let them cool down on the counter. The conversation with Wanda not faltering while you walk around in the kitchen. Soon after the rest of the class walks in. Wanda greets everyone separately before starting the contest. “Alright, I’ve seen some delicious ingredients in your lists, and I cannot wait to try the dips you have come up with! Is everybody ready?” The class cheers. “Ready, set go!” Wanda jokes, she was having so much fun with the competition. She walked around the counters to see what everybody was working on, lingering a bit longer at your counter. You add some yogurt to your grated beets and stir the mixture together. To give the dip some extra flavor, you add some finely chopped garling, some pepper and a pinch of salt. Finally, to top it off, you chop up some spring onion and sprinkle it over the top of your Sokovian purple beetroot dip.

Everyone presents their dip to the class, and Wanda tastes all of them. You could see that she had some clear favorites, and got a little nervous for her to taste yours. Those nerves went away once you saw the sparkle in her eyes after she tried it. You give her a knowing smile, before she moves to the next counter. 

“You have all made some incredible dips, I am very impressed. I am also very proud of the creativity you all put into these recipes. However, there can only be one winner, and that is…” Wanda looks at all the dips in front of her, before picking up yours. “Y/n!” The class applauds, and congratulates you on your win. The class ends and everyone starts walking out. You clean up extra slow, hoping to spend some more time with Wanda. She notices and walks over, “So, did you pick a Sokovian dish to impress me?” You laugh, “Depends, did it work?” Wanda laughs with you. “It did, the flavor brought me right back to my childhood. I remember this dip being present on every birthday platter.” You smile as she talks about her connection with the dish that you made. “Yeah, I hoped to be a step ahead with the Sokovian origin but the dip actually tastes amazing.” 

“Hey y/n, if I’m out of line here, please let me know but I was wondering if maybe you would like to come over to my place and cook dinner together tonight?” Wanda looks up at you hesitantly. “Yeah, that sounds wonderful.” The corners of her lips perk up slightly, “Like as I date, I mean.” You place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “Yes, I would love that.” You exchange numbers so Wanda can send you her address. “Oh, and you can bring your dip, that way we can use it in the starter.” You tell her that you think that’s a great idea. “I’ll make some flatbread for it and then we can cook the main course together.”

A couple hours later, you make your way over to Wanda’s house. You ring the doorbell, and just seconds later Wanda opens the door. “Hi, y/n, come in. The flatbread is almost ready, and do you want a drink? Wine? Water? Oh, I can put on some music, maybe?” Your heart warms at the way Wanda is so clearly nervous rambling. You reach out your hand to take a hold of hers, in order to ground her. “I’ll have whatever you are having, and music sounds nice.” Wanda looks down at your hands, her cheeks flushed. The moment gets interrupted by the ding of the oven. “Oh, I have to get that.” Wanda says and rushes off, leaving you on the doorstep. You smile and shake your head, as you let yourself in and close the door behind you. While Wanda was in the kitchen, you walked around her living room, admiring the way she decorated the space. 

Wanda walks back into the living room with a tray in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “You have a beautiful place, Wanda.” She thanks you as she places two wine glasses, and a platter with the flatbread down on the table. You place the beetroot dip next to them, and reach for the bottle of wine when Wanda walks to the side to turn on some music. You fill up the glasses and hand Wanda one when she walks back and sits down on the couch next to you. Wanda relaxes more as the conversation starts up.

You sip on your wine, as you enjoy your starter together before going to the kitchen with Wanda to cook the main course. You're cutting up some vegetables, while Wanda walks around gathering pots and pans, utensils, spices, and the rest of the ingredients. She moves behind you, placing a hand on your back, making sure that she wouldn't bump into you while you're holding a chef's knife. Instead the gentle touch just distracts you from the chopping, as a blush crept up your cheeks. Wanda does this a couple more times as she walks from side to side in the kitchen, noticing your flustered state every time her hand touches your back.

"Hey, Wands, how can I best cut these?" You say as you move onto the next vegetable. She tells you how she would cut them, and you give it a try. Failing at your first two attempts, not being used to holding the knife in that way. "Want me to show you?" Wanda offers. "Yes, please." You expected Wanda to take the knife from you as she reached out for it but instead she takes a hold of your hand, and moves her body to stand behind you. Your breath hitches, when Wanda says, "Follow my lead." next to your ear. She starts moving your hand in the motion of the cut besides the vegetable before you actually slice into the vegetable on your cutting board together. Focusing on the technique is nearly impossible with Wanda pressed against your back. "See, easy as that. Now you try." Wanda keeps standing behind you but leans to the side and puts her hand on the counter, looking over your shoulder. Though you had trouble focussing for a moment, you practiced the motion Wanda just showed you once besides the vegetable again, before you tried it for real. “Yeah, that’s it! Nice work.” Wanda compliments you. You look over at Wanda with a proud smile plastered on your face. She smiles back at you and leans in to place a soft kiss on your cheek. Your cheeks instantly redden. “I hope that was okay.” Wanda says nervously. You smile at her again, “It was more than okay, Wands.”

The dinner came along nicely, you made a great team in the kitchen. You were sipping on your wine and swaying to the music as you effortlessly danced around each other in the kitchen. Wanda set the table along with some candles. The food tasted amazing, you were so happy with how it turned out. 

You cleaned up the dishes together before it was time for you to go home. Wanda only lived a couple of blocks away, so after the few glasses of wine that you had had, you could easily walk home again. Wanda walked you to the door, plans for seeing each other next already made. “Hey, Wanda, I know this was only the first date but can I kiss you?” In response Wanda smiles and leans in. You meet her half way into a soft kiss. You smile into the kiss and feel Wanda doing the same, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. On your walk home you can’t stop smiling. Once you enter your home, you text Wanda to let her know that you made it home safely.

Before the last cooking class the next Sunday, you had met up with Wanda many times again. You went on a picnic date on your day off, and enjoyed some snacks by the waterfront. Wanda joined you to try out one of your hobbies. Besides that you spend most evenings after work together, either watching a movie or just hanging out. When Sunday came around, it felt like you had known Wanda for years. When the class was over, you helped her clean up once again, and went home with her after another movie night. 

What you thought would be a one time cooking class to learn something new, turned into dating an incredible chef who would teach you all about it from the comfort of both your homes. Signing up for that class, had led to meeting your new favorite person, and you could not be happier.

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