#Stuffed Pasta Shells Surprise

[heavyhitterheaux]

Ghost Part 5 (NSFW)

AN: It's been a while, but we're back 🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack comforts you when he finds out that you're going through a difficult time and you got a lot more than you bargained for. Now you have to make a decision regarding the future between you and him

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Walking into work on Monday morning, you were extremely nervous. It did take some convincing on Jack’s part, but you did in fact delete your Only Fans account by the end of that very same night. Now all you had to do was hope and pray no one saw it that was associated with your job.

Once you dropped Ace off at daycare, you made your way down the long hallway in order to get to your classroom and was in for a surprise once you did.

Sitting near your desk was Alicia Hamilton who was the principal of the school. The interactions that you had with her in the past were always pleasant and she always made it a point to ask about Ace and ask about how you were seeing as she was also a single mother and knew how hard it could be at times.

“Alicia, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You asked as you smiled at her, a smile that she in fact did not return. Instead it was a look of seriousness.

“Y/N, it was brought to my attention that you have an Only Fans account that involves explicit material.”

And there it was.

“What exactly does that have to do with my job? I do that outside of here and shouldn't get penalized for it.” You answered as you stood your ground.

“Trust me, Y/N I get it. However I have had numerous complaints and my phone has been ringing nonstop since this past weekend.”

“Alicia, you of all people know how hard it is to live on a teachers salary and be a single mom. I had to do something to make sure that Ace could eat. And I was in college when I did that.” You told her as you tried to plead your case.

“Y/N, I adore you and you are an amazing teacher, but my hands are tied. We could lose funding over this. If there was a way that I could fix this and make it all better, I would but as of right now I can't. I have to let you go. Ace can still come to daycare and get a discount. I just can't allow you to teach here anymore.”

“But…”

“I have a substitute coming for you all this week and you’ll be able to pack up your classroom after school lets out.”

“Just keep everything. I clearly don't have a use for it anymore.”

“Y/N…”

Without another word, you grabbed your purse and made your way back down the long hallway. You decided to let Ace stay the rest of the day while you had absolutely no idea what you were going to do.

As you settled into your car, the waterworks started and you didn't even stop them from rolling down your face. You knew deep down that this was eventually going to happen and you had no clue what to do in order to move forward. In no way, shape, or form did you blame Jack for posting your picture because there were only good intentions behind it. But now, it was probably going to be ten times harder for you to find another job.

Moving back home didn't sound like a bad idea at the moment, but you couldn't do that to Jack after all the progress he's made with Ace.

You simply sent Jack a text because you needed a few days for yourself and to think this through and you needed to have a clear head.

You- Hey, can you take Ace for a few days?

Jack- Yes, is everything okay?

You- It's fine, I just need some time to figure some things out

Jack- Are you sure that you're okay? Just let me know if you need anything from me.

You- I promise I'm fine, if you could pick him up today from daycare that would be perfect

Jack- Whatever you need

Jack told you that Ace was excited to spend a few days with him, but he was also concerned about you. He felt as if there was something that you were keeping from him and he made it his mission to facetime you after he put Ace to sleep.

Currently you were stuffing your face with some stuffed pasta shells that you had made earlier when your phone rang. You glanced to see that it was Jack and sighed. You didn't want to talk to anyone, but had to make sure that it didn't have anything to do with Ace.

“Hey.” You softly said as you propped your phone up so that you could continue eating and Jack could immediately tell that something was wrong.

“Y/N, something is wrong and don't lie to me and say that it's nothing.”

“It's nothing for you to worry about. I can deal with it.”

“I went to pick up Ace and when he took me to see you in your classroom, you were nowhere to be found.”

“I guess not because I don't work there anymore.”

Jack's eyes went wide.

“Fuck. It's because of me, isn't it?”

“I don't blame you for it happening if that's what you're thinking.”

“But it's my fault.”

“It was going to happen eventually. I figured that it would only be a matter of time. Where's my baby?” You responded while trying to shrug it off.

“Our baby is sleeping.”

You glanced at the time on the clock that was hanging on the wall in your kitchen and saw that it was a little past 8 at night. You were happy to see that Jack was keeping him on his normal schedule.

“Hmm.”

“His bedtime is 7:30 so the same thing goes when he comes over here. But we aren't done talking about your job so stop trying to change the subject.”

“There’s nothing left to say. It's just going to be ten times harder for me to find another job teaching.”

“Just take a break and relax for a while.”

“Jack, bills do not stop and I don't have the luxury of doing that.”

“You have me and I'm going to take care of it. Y/N, you aren't in this by yourself anymore.”

“No. I'm not a golddigger and we aren't even together so that doesn't sit right with me.”

“Don't you think I know that by now? Just let me help you. How does it look if I let the mother of my child struggle when she doesn't have to.”

All you did was shake your head and Jack looked at you confused.

“What's that face for? Just let me do this to help you.”

"Why, Jackman? Why now? Where was all of this compassion you had for me when I was pregnant with your child and scared shitless because I literally had NO ONE.” You asked him as you threw your fork down.

“Because we're moving towards a better future, that's why. I know that you have a right to be pissed at me for a million lifetimes all because I was too scared to step up and take care of my responsibilities. But I promise that will never happen again. My parents and Clay would kill me if it did.”

“You've made promises to me in the past and they proved to be empty.”

“This time it won't be.” Jack replied as you took a deep breath.

“Please don't make me regret this.”

You noticed that Jack wasn't looking directly at you and figured that he was doing something on his phone.

“Send me all your expenses for the month so I can add it to my bank account to come out automatically. And I also just put 5,000 in your account and I don't want to hear a word out of you. I'm doing this.”

“But…”

“Matter of fact since I know you'll be free for a little while, pack a bag with a few outfits and you can come over tonight or tomorrow. I think tonight would be better since you won't have to get up so early.”

“Wait, what? For what?”

“I have a few interviews and appearances to do so I'm bringing you and Ace with me. I already posted about having a son so it's not a secret. That way we can really spend time together like an actual family. I know Ace will be excited about that.”

Well, he didn't say anything that was wrong and you had absolutely nothing to lose.

“Fine, give me an hour.”

“Okay, let me get the guest room ready for you. And pick between lavender or vanilla.”

“Oh, you do this for all the girls that stay at your house? And what am I picking this for?”

“No, only for the special girls and you happen to be the first one. I also want you to be the last one if you’ll let me but we'll address that later. Now pick one.”

“I… lavender.”

“Okay your bath will be ready when you get here too.”

“Jackman!”

“See you soon, babe.”

It was around 10 at night when you finally reached his house and knocked on the door. Once he opened it, he was all smiles and took your bag from you and moved to the side so you could pass the threshold.

“I have everything set up for you, come on and follow me.”

Climbing the stairs of his house, you took in your surroundings because you literally hadn't been in it for more than five minutes. You saw multiple awards decorating the walls along with a few pictures of him and Ace, Clay, and his parents. Jack led you into what you assumed was his bedroom and he set your things in his closet.

“I have a little more room in here than the guest room closet does so I put your things in there and my bathroom is bigger so I have everything set up for you in there.”

“You definitely didn't have to do this.” You replied walking into the bathroom and you were in awe. The smell of lavender hit your nose upon entering and were surprised to see that multiple candles were lit. Jack came up behind you to throw in a lavender bath bomb as you were taking it all in. You couldn't even remember the last time someone did something like this for you.

“So that's why you asked me if I wanted lavender or vanilla?” You said and he simply nodded.

“Water is warm and I want you to take all the time you need. Your towel is here along with your robe….”

“What? My own robe?” You asked, cutting Jack off.

“Yes, I got it earlier today. I knew that something had happened and I picked up some things in order to help you hopefully feel better.”

“Well I appreciate you doing this for me. Can't remember the last time that someone was this nice to me.” You said and you caught Jack off guard as you went to hug him. After the initial shock, he hugged you back. This was as close as you two had been since Ace was conceived. Because the two of you were usually arguing.

“Of course, now come on before the water gets cold. I’ll crack the door so if you need me just call out.”

“Okay.”

You stayed in the bathroom for close to an hour before getting out and drying off. After blowing out the candles and brushing your teeth with the toothbrush that Jack had bought you along with giving a quick rinse to your face, you walked out to see him reading with the tv on a low volume. He heard your footsteps and looked up and smiled at you.

“Feel better?”

“I do, surprisingly.”

“I got the guest room ready for you and it's right next to Ace’s.” He told you as he put his book down and hopped up from the bed.

“Okay.”

“Oh wait, you need something to sleep in. Did you want to grab it out of your bag? If not, I can give you one of my shirts.”

“Your shirt is fine.”

Jack handed you one of his many Louisville Cardinals shirts and you held onto it and planned on changing into it once you reached the guest room.

“And make sure you don't steal this one.” Jack playfully told you as he remembered the many shirts that you stole from him during the very short time that you two were together.

“Hmm, no promises. I still have all the other ones and this will just be another one I add to my growing collection.” You answered as you thought about all the shirts that you had of his in your closet.

“Soon, I won't have any.”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

After Jack was back in his bedroom, it gave him time to think as he threw the comforter over himself and got comfortable.

He knew that this didn't fix the amount of pain that he put you through, but was thinking that it was a good enough start. He wanted to really prove to you that he was all in when it came to you and Ace. His end goal was having the three of you under the same roof and truly being a family. He knew it was a longshot, but he at least had to try. Progress was made when you gave him a hug catching him off guard and he felt that it was a huge step in the right direction. You had been doing everything by yourself for too long and it was time for that to change.

It was around 10 in the morning when all of you were on a plane headed to Boston. You and Ace were sitting next to each other and you were doing your best to entertain him while Jack was in front of the both of you when Urban came and sat next to him.

“Hmm so I see you two are talking?” Urban asked, gesturing towards you.

“Yeah, I'm just happy she's giving me a chance to get this right or at least try to.”

“Your ass finally grew up and it was about damn time.” Clay commented as he passed the both of them and went to pick up Ace.

“I'm also hoping that she'll be in a relationship with me again.” Jack quietly said in the hopes that you wouldn't hear and Urban just stared at him.

“You're my best friend and I have to be honest. I want you to be happy, but that sounds damn near impossible.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I want us all under one roof. So much has happened and I have to make it right.”

“You can make it right by being a good father to Ace. Making it right doesn't necessarily mean that you two need to be together.”

“But I want to be, that's the thing. Truth be told, I see how amazing Ace is and I want more but I only want them with her.”

“You have done some serious soul searching because that sounds weird to hear you say.”

“Only thing is, I don't know if she'll go for it.”

“I mean, do you blame her? Look at how much shit you put her through.”

“But she hugged me last night. I called to check on her and I told her to come over because I knew she was upset. I bought her a whole bunch of things and ran a bath for her. I'm honestly surprised she said yes, but then again I wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“And yall didn't fuck? That was the perfect setup.”

“No! I need to take this slow and do it right.”

“Well…I… I just want you happy and if this will make you happy then okay.”

“What's the pushback for?” Jack questioned Urban as he saw him sigh.

“Look, this seems to be going a little too well and Y/N might pull something because of all the shit you've done to her.”

“Urb, she's not like that.”

“And how do you know? You were in a relationship with her for six months at most. You don't even know her if we're being honest.”

“I know enough to know that she wouldn’t do that, because she would have done it already with as much shit that has happened.”

“Well whatever happens, I'm here for you.”

“I appreciate that.”

It was the last day that you were all spending in Boston and you were currently helping Ace get ready because Jack surprised him and told him that he was taking him to a Celtics’ game. Knowing that Jayson Tatum was Ace’s favorite player, he got him a jersey in his size and he was wearing jean shorts with the New Balances that Jack designed. He also gifted you a pair that you planned on wearing with your olive green pants and white cropped hoodie.

When you were finished helping Ace tie his shoes, Jack walked in and smiled at the scene in front of him.

“Daddy, I’m ready!” Ace exclaimed as he ran over to Jack and he immediately picked him up.

“So that means we should get going. I have a feeling that you’re going to like where we’re sitting.” Jack had mentioned to you that you all would be sitting courtside and you didn’t tell him this, but you immediately got nervous. If you were sitting anywhere near him, you knew for a fact that cameras were going to be on the two of you which also meant that they would be on Ace.

Before Jack told Ace about his surprise, he consulted you first simply because this would be Jack’s first public appearance with him having Ace with him. He made sure that you were on board and assured you that he made a few calls to have an increase in security since the two of you would be with him.

Jack then looked over at you and smirked.

“Not you stealing my outfit.”

You looked at him confused before you looked down to see that the two of you were indeed matching. All you did was laugh to yourself and shake your head.

“I got dressed first so you in fact stole my outfit, not the other way around.” You replied back as you made your way over to the two of them.

“Hmm, I admit you do look good in it.” Jack replied and you tried to stop the smile from appearing on your face, but you failed miserably. It also didn’t help with the series of butterflies erupting in your stomach at this very moment.

“Daddy, can I get a hot dog?!” Ace asked as he looked at him hoping that he would say yes.

“Whatever you want, bubs.”

The three of you were currently outside of the arena and had just gotten out of the car when Jack could sense your nervousness and made a point to ask you if you were okay.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on over there in that head of yours?” He asked as he whispered in your ear as the three of you were being led inside by security through the back entrance in the hopes of avoiding too many fans. Last thing that Jack would want to happen is them bombarding him when you and Ace were with him.

“Just nervous, I guess. I’m not used to being around big crowds of people.”

Jack was holding Ace as he quickly went to grab your hand and held onto it tightly as he squeezed it.

“It's going to be fine, you’re with me. Just let me know if you ever feel overwhelmed and need a minute.”

You nodded your head towards him and Jack gave you a small smile in return. Soon after, you three were led to your seats and Ace couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Ace? What do you think of this view, bubs? You like it?” Jack asked and Ace immediately nodded his head as he spotted Jayson who was coming out to warm up.

“Daddy! Look!” Ace replied as he pointed in Jayson’s direction.

“Do you want to meet him?” Jack had sent Jayson a text the night before telling him that he was going to be at the game and that he was bringing Ace and how he was his favorite player. Jayson responded and told him that he would definitely make it a point to say hi to Ace during the night.

Suddenly Ace’s eyes went wide and he proceeded to turn around and hide in Jack’s chest. He would get like this often when he was meeting new people, but once he warmed up to them he was fine. He finally peeked up at Jack and gave him a slow nod which led to Jack smiling at him.

Once Jayson spotted Jack, he jogged his way over to all three of you and immediately greeted you and Jack before turning his attention to Ace.

“This must be the famous Ace that I heard so much about.” Jayson said as he squatted down to his height.

“That's me! How did you know my name?” Ace asked while looking at him confused.

“I know your dad and he told me all about you. I also heard that this is your first game?”

“Yes! My daddy got your jersey for me. Oh I forgot to say thank you. Thank you daddy.” He answered as he looked down at his outfit.

“You're welcome bubs.”

“Ace, I'll make a deal with you. If we win, I'll give you the ball.”

“Really?” He asked as his eyes went wide.

“As long as you're good for mom and dad the entire game, you can have it.”

It was safe to say that the Celtics won and Jayson even signed the ball before handing it to Ace who couldn't contain his excitement.

By the time that you all got back to the hotel and put Ace to sleep, your back was on fire. Your plan was to take ibuprofen and lay down as soon as possible.

Jack noticed you wincing as you came to steal his charger since yours was on its last leg and would charge when it wanted to. He quickly grabbed your hand to question you about it.

“What's hurting? You're wincing.”

“My back, but I'll just take something and go to sleep. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does I can barely move for like two days.”

“Umm, I can help you if you want.” Jack replied and you looked at him confused.

“Help me how?”

“I can give you a massage to help get the kinks out. It’ll probably make it feel better.”

“Seriously? Is this your plan to try and seduce me?” You questioned him while laughing.

“No funny business I swear.” He said as he held his hands up in defense.

“Well, I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Just let me check on Ace and make sure he's asleep. You can stay in here and take off your clothes so you’ll be ready for me.”

“It sounds weird when you say it like that.” You replied as you plugged in your phone and waited for an indication to see that it was indeed charging.

“I did want to be a massage therapist at one point and I’ve been told that my hands work magic.”

“Hmm, I bet all the girls tell you that, don’t they?”

“Well now these hands are only reserved for you so you’ll have to tell me when I’m finished.” Jack winked at you before going to Ace’s room in the suite that was across the hall. You listened to instructions as you got somewhat undressed and wrapped yourself in a towel and simply sat on the bed and waited for Jack.

Once he returned, he locked the door behind him and told you to lay on your stomach with your chin resting on your arms. Jack undid your towel and moved it so that it was sitting right at your waist when you heard his voice.

“Um, Y/N, you have to take your bra off too.”

“Hmm, close your eyes and don't look.”

“Promise even though I've seen them plenty of times and even had them in my mouth.”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored his last comment as you slid the bra off your shoulders and placed it next to you on the bed. Next thing you knew you felt warm liquid on your back and Jack’s hands rubbing it in.

“What the? Where did you get the oil from?!”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. Just relax so I can make your back feel better.”

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but your back definitely felt better and you were glad that you agreed to let Jack do this for you. As you were about to move a little to the side to get more comfortable, you felt Jack hands on the outside of your back and they got higher until they became dangerously close to your boobs before making their way back down. He had done it a few more times before you decided to adjust again as his fingers lightly brushed against your nipples.

As his hands started to move back down, you quickly caught one of them and moved it so that it was right on the outside of your breast. Meanwhile, Jack is starting to get nervous because he wasn’t quite sure what to make of your sudden movement, but him asking a simple question was all the confirmation he needed.

“Y/N, you want me to do the front of your body too?”

“Yes.”

As you flipped over, your breasts were on full display for him and you laid your head back down as he grabbed more oil to place it on the front of your arms and chest. He massaged the oil into your arms first before gliding it over your chest and moving his way down to your stomach. Once he reached the lower part of your body, he wanted to move the towel to the side, but asked for your permission first.

“Is it okay, if I move this?”

You nodded your head and that was all the confirmation he needed. Moving the towel away from the bed, you were fully naked in front of him and he started to massage your thighs as he was trying to do his best to focus, he noticed that his pants were getting tighter and tighter begging for some type of release.

He had made his way down your entire body and quickly grabbed your hand to help you sit up indicating that he was finished. Once you did, you noticed the bulge that was evident in his pants. No words were exchanged as you immediately undid them and heard a quiet hiss escape from his mouth as you pulled them down to have them pool at his feet. His dick sprung to life and without another word being spoken, you took him in your mouth.

“Oh shit.” Was all he could moan out as he focused on you pleasuring him.

He made a makeshift ponytail of your curly hair so that it could be out the way, but knew because all of this built up sexual tension that he had every time that he was around you that he probably wasn’t going to last long.

As you released him, a river of saliva made its way out of your mouth quickly landing on Jack’s dick as you slowly put your mouth back on him.

“Y/N… fuck!”

You held eye contact with him as you moved him in and out of your mouth as he held your head in place. Your jaw was getting somewhat tired because of how big he was, but knew that he was close once you felt him twitch in your mouth.

Catching him off guard, you released him from your mouth again and he looked at you confused before you began jerking him off and sucking his balls at the same time. That was your go to move to get him to cum when you two were together and by his reaction, it still was.

“Yes, babe. Keep going, keep fucking going. I’m almost there.”

Within thirty seconds he was coming undone in front of you and you made it a point to take him back in your mouth as he was coming down from his high as you milked him dry.

When his breathing returned to normal, you simply looked up at him to see him now peeling off his shirt and removing his pants and boxer briefs from his ankles.

“You missed me sucking your dick, huh? Because I could definitely tell.” You told him as you wiped his cum from the corner of your mouth and quickly sucked it, tasting the last of it.

“I missed so much more than that, but you’re right.” Jack said as he brought his hand up to stroke your face and then leaned down to kiss you.

As hard as it was to admit, that was a feeling that you had missed.

“I figured I would return the favor for you giving me a massage, but you missed one spot.” You said as you took him in your hands again.

“Where’s that?” Jack asked and his voice suddenly got deeper making you become even wetter. Jack knew exactly where you were talking about but he wanted to hear you say it.

“You didn’t massage my pussy and I’m going to need for you to do something about that before I do it myself.” You answered as your fingers went to massage your clit, but Jack caught your hand.

“No need to do it yourself, because I’m here. Spread those legs for me.”

Smirking, you laid back as you spread your legs and soon felt Jack in between them. You felt him kiss it before he gave you one long lick making you moan and he immediately stopped.

“Be quiet babe. Don’t want you waking up Ace.”

You nodded your head and he continued to pleasure you as he slipped two fingers into you and made a note how wet you were for him.

Your hands found their way into his curly hair as you spread your legs even wider so that he could have better access to you. Catching you off guard, Jack stopped leaving you confused as he laid down on the bed next to you but not before throwing your bra that you had placed there clear across the room.

“Get up here and sit on my face.” He told you as he tapped your leg and you swung it over so that you were positioned perfectly with the help of Jack.

He had a tight hold on your legs and you knew for a fact that trying to get away from him would be damn near impossible.

As his mouth began to run over your folds, you placed your hand over your mouth in order to help you keep quiet.

Jack wasn't making it easy for you as he began to give his undivided attention to your clit. He quickly noticed how you began squirming and squeezed your legs even tighter anticipating that you would try to move away from him.

“What did I use to tell you about running from me?” Jack asked as he came up for air and was waiting for a response from you.

“That you wouldn't let me cum.”

“Good. Now stay still.”

In order to give yourself some leverage, you rested your arms on the headboard as you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach become more pronounced.

“Oh shit.” You couldn't help but to moan out.

Hearing your soft moans and whimpers was music to Jack’s ears as he could tell you were close.

Squirting all over his face, he continued to lick your folds as you did your best to stay quiet in the hopes of not waking Ace up.

When he was finished, he placed multiple kisses along your thighs as you rested against the headboard. When you felt as if you could function again, you moved yourself away from his face and scooted down until you were hovering over him leaning down to give him several kisses as you went which he eagerly returned.

“Give me another one. I miss kissing you.” You heard him say as he guided you back down to meet his lips with yours.

In between kisses, you slowly smiled because you felt the same way.

Not knowing how long he had you there for, you slowly felt him lift his hips up to enter you and you met him halfway as a moan escaped both of you.

To make yourself more steady, your hands rested on his stomach while his hands went to your hips to help guide you.

“You're riding me so good, baby.”

Using him saying that was your motivation, you began to go faster as his arms had now wrapped around your waist fully and sat up to suck on your breasts making a loud moan escape from you.

As he continued to kiss all over your chest, without warning, he flipped the two of you over so that he was now hovering above you and placed your legs back as far as they would go as he entered you again, bottoming out and began to move in and out of you slowly.

“Oh fuck, Jack go faster.” You breathed out and no words were spoken as he listened to what you wanted for him to do.

Within two minutes your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks and Jack slowly moved out of you as he came all over your chest and stomach.

The only thing that could be heard was both of your erratic breathing as you were trying to steady it. Once Jack had done so, he went into the bathroom before he made his way back over to you, gliding the warm cloth all along your body. When he was finished, he laid down next to you and immediately turned your body towards him once more so he could kiss you.

When the two of you finally broke apart, Jack still had his arm wrapped around you as you cuddled into his chest.

Waiting until Jack fell asleep and you helped move the process along by playing in his hair which you always did when you two were together, you gathered your clothes and made your way back to your room and took a quick shower before laying down and pulling the comforter over your body.

You were wide awake and your mind was racing thinking about what had just happened between you and Jack.

Regret didn't come across your mind at all, but now you didn't know where the two of you stood. Jack had been hinting on wanting to be in a relationship with you again, but at this moment in time you just weren't sure. He has definitely stepped up and been the father that Ace deserves but could he be the person that you needed when it came to a relationship?

Grabbing your phone, you opened the group chat and sent a text to Nadia, Blaire, and Liv.

You- I just did a thing….

Liv- Explain the thing!

Nadia- Wait, why are we all up? Where's Blaire?

Blaire- Present!

You- I just had sex with Jack

Liv- Oh

Blaire- 😀😀😀😀😀😀

Nadia- Okay, what's the problem? You got dicked down!

You- I think that I'm leaning towards giving him a second chance

[drpeppertummy]

ik conrads on top of the old man poll rn but im attacking my latest pal artie first bc i already had a plan

[very mild stuffing, mostly a whole lot of just Doin Stuff with little scraps of tummy in between]

"Alright, kid. You ever shuck a clam before?"

Celeste shook her head.

"It's not so hard. Look here," said Artie, taking a clam in one hand and the knife in the other. "You just stick it in that little groove..." Celeste watched nervously as he held the clam up to his face, carefully aligning the little knife in the miniscule notch between the lips of the shell. She wasn't entirely confident that he wasn't going to slice his finger off. She'd come to realize over the months that while he wasn't completely blind, he often put on that he could see a lot better than he really could. Still, he wedged the knife into the groove and, with a soft grunt, popped the shell open.

"Ta-da," he said, plucking away the top of the shell and setting it aside. "It takes a little elbow grease, but you'll get the hang of it. Anybody in your family any good at shucking clams?"

"I don't think so."

"Mine either. That's why it's important to learn. Every family's gotta have a clam shucker. Puts you high on the food chain. Here, give it a shot." He passed her the knife. She hesitantly picked up a clam, looked at it for a moment, and carefully lined up the knife.

Celeste managed to open one clam--hey, good girl, Artie had exclaimed with a firm pat on the back--before injuring herself, and then she was sent to chopping duty. She didn't have much in the way of culinary skills, but dicing the bacon and peppers was a far less daunting task than wrestling with the little mollusks. Artie, nerve-wracking though he was, blew through the rest of the bag with ease, opening up a couple dozen littlenecks in the same amount of time it took Celeste to chop up a pepper and a few pieces of bacon. Still, he praised her efforts--hey, choppin' ain't easy, especially with your hand all taped up--and they went on assembling the clams.

Artie had insisted on going all out for Celeste's birthday, and she'd driven him out to a little shack down the road to pick up some seafood. Following a good lesson on cooking, the two sat down for a mouthwatering dinner of pasta with seared scallops and lump crab meat in a garlicky wine sauce, accompanied by what Artie boasted as the best clams casino she'd ever try.

"Damn fine job you did on these," remarked Artie, holding up a clam. "You get the shucking down, you're set. You got your go-to party dish. I tell ya, this recipe has never done me wrong. You'll never wanna get 'em anywhere else."

Celeste wasn't the clam connoisseur that Artie seemed to be, but she couldn't deny that the clams were delicious, and the two ate enough of them to fill up even without the pasta. The pasta was, of course, not neglected either. The sauce was light and savory, and it mingled beautifully with the sweet crab and the buttery scallops. She could hardly believe she'd had anything to do with it. Nobody had ever bothered to teach her to cook, and her kitchen endeavors rarely got more complicated than stirring a frozen dinner between microwave sessions.

The pasta went down easy, and it was hard to stop eating, but it wasn't long before the bulkiness of it had both of them feeling full and sleepy. Still, Celeste went on picking at it. Artie, however, set his fork down and leaned back in his seat.

"Whoof, I'm stuffed," he sighed, resting a hand on his belly. "I don't think I can finish."

Truthfully, Celeste was surprised he ate as much as he did. Artie was small, and fairly slim for his age, which he chalked up to not having much of an appetite some days and not even being able to get out of bed on others. Tonight, though, he'd put away a good percentage of the big serving of pasta, along with about a dozen of the clams, and even under the compression of his back brace, she could tell his belly was full. Smiling fondly, she stood up and began to clear away their plates.

"Whoa, hey, it's your birthday, ain't it? Let me do it," said Artie, taking her arm as she reached for his plate.

"Oh, come on. You did all the work," she insisted, and he scoffed.

"I most certainly did not! Which of us was out there on the battlefield, chopping stuff up and boiling pasta? Wasn't me."

"Yeah, but you did the hard parts," she exclaimed, laughing. Artie pushed himself out of the chair with a groan.

"Difficulty is relative," he said with an impish smile, shaking a finger at her. "You did your part, now take a seat, missy, and that's final!"

Celeste rolled her eyes and sat down. There was no arguing with Artie; he was stubborn as a mule, and if he wanted to clean, there was no stopping him. She supposed he had a point, anyway--what was simple for a kitchen whiz like him took a lot more time and effort for a novice like her. Still, she stood again a moment later and joined him in cleaning up, and this time, he let her.

Artie relented and let Celeste take over washing the dishes--better eyes, he said--while he got the rest of the kitchen straightened up. Between the two of them, it didn't take long. While Celeste wasn't much of a cook, she was quick when it came to cleaning, although this skill didn't extend far beyond the kitchen sink. Feeling stuffed and eager to rest, they retreated to the living room, Celeste taking a seat on the couch while Artie dropped himself into the armchair across from her.

"Sheesh, I think I'm gonna have to adjust myself," he said, leaning back and untucking his shirt to loosen the brace wrapped around his middle. Celeste caught a glimpse of his full tummy pushing out snug against his undershirt, and she was thankful he couldn't see well enough to catch her blushing. Artie was only a friend, of course; he was nearly thrice her age, but there was little more tantalizing than a peek of tummy. He let his shirt fall back down with a sigh, looking far more comfortable, and Celeste was amused to see how much rounder his belly looked now that he'd given it some slack.

"You look stuffed," she giggled.

"Oh yeah?" Artie rested both hands on his belly, giving it a little pat for emphasis. "And what about you?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty full," she agreed, settling back into the couch cushion.

"Good, you better be. You did a great job cooking tonight."

"You think so?"

"I know so! You're gettin' good at this stuff, Celeste."

[mcteofuentes]

Well, I do love spaghetti but stuffed shells are what dreams are made of. Especially if it's got a white sauce poured all over it. I also think shrimp scampi is really good, too. Basically, if it's pasta, I'm a fan of it. Eh, I try. I think I've mostly have a pretty plain resting face, so it's hard for me to remember to make my face look relaxed. Do you ever get students who tell you that? That you're intimidating? Same here, as life long Mainer, nothing about the weather here surprises me anymore. Oh no, never. I only grill my hot dogs. Can't imagine putting them in a pot to boil. I bet! At least you have some time before the next drinking event to recover, yeah?

That's because you can never go wrong with spaghetti! Would you say it's your favorite pasta, or do you have another one that you love? Like stuffed shells or lasagna or something? Oh, give yourself some credit, I think you're pretty good at getting people wrapped around your finger, too! But I get it. I have an intimidating face when I'm reading, as my students tell me every time I'm grading papers. Just when we thought that spring was coming right?! But, you know, Maine. I'm definitely used to it. As long as you don't tell me you boil your hot dogs or something, we're coo. Don't worry. It was… an endless array of drinks, let's put it that way.

[tastesoftamriel]

I'm sorry if you've already answered this one. What are the daily meals usually eaten by the various peoples of Skyrim? Is second breakfast a thing?

Daily meals across Tamriel are highly subjective, and this list is barely the tip of the iceberg where day-to-day cuisine is concerned. Nonetheless, these are some of my favourite dishes when you're just not feeling up to something remarkable, but still want something delicious. As for second breakfast, you can have as many breakfasts as you can fit into you anywhere but Summerset!

Altmer

When it's not horrendously complex, Altmeri cooking is really quite remarkable in its simplicity. One of the most common dishes you'll find in households and taverns across Summerset is a warm, smoked seafood and dill tartine. The most popular version of this recipe calls for smoked marlin or halibut, but is also just as good with everything from eel to clams and sea urchin. Baked into a smooth and creamy egg custard in a buttery shell, and topped with a sprig of fresh dill, this is a seafood lover's go-to!

Argonians

One of the things you'll find in Murkmire is the sheer number of crocodiles. And the best thing to do with those crocodiles, bar leather, is to cook them. Similar in taste and texture to frog or chicken, crocodile is a slightly dry meat that's marinaded overnight in a spice paste, and wrapped in pandan leaves to infuse the flavour. The next day, the croc is chopped into bite-sized pieces and fried in coconut oil, and served with a big plate of rice and steamed vegetables.

Bosmer

The Wood Elves love their soup, and soups aplenty do they have! A particularly popular recipe is deer stew, which is a chunky thunderbug egg-drop soup with deer meatballs. Boiled thunderbug eggs become soft and spicy, whisked goose egg-drops thicken it up, and fried venison meatballs add flavour and texture. It's simple, tasty, and made from easy to find ingredients.

Bretons

High Rock may very well be the bread capital of Tamriel, and it's no surprise that one of the most common dishes is a type of stuffed bread. A deliciously unconventional yet very popular option is large buns flavoured with cardamom, which are stuffed with blueberries, crispy lardons, and blue cheese, and served hot with a slathering of butter. Great with a cup of tea!

Dunmer

Saltrice is a staple in the Dunmer kitchen, whether it's been fermented in sauce, stir-fried with hackle-lo, or baked into crackers. Saltrice and ash yam bowls are a typical food, where generous servings of other ingredients are served atop a bowl of freshly steamed saltrice, and slices or cubes of fried or baked ash yams. Toppings can include anything from scrambled kwama egg, pulled bantam guar, nix-hound curry, or pickled comberry and spicy seasoned hackle-lo.

Imperials

Stuffed and baked pasta logs, or cannelloni, are a Cyrodiilic staple that you'll be eating at least once a week in the Province. Stuffed with things like minced boar and vine-ripened tomatoes, ricotta and spinach, or smoked aubergine and caviar, these tubes of wheat pasta are slathered in a rich cream or tomato sauce, covered in cheese, and baked until crisp. A favourite of both the young and old.

Khajiit

Noodles are a Khajiit's best friend, and roast meats are any noodle dish's best friend! Roast duck, barbecue pork, or chicken noodles with a sweet-and-salty sauce are sure to be a hit at any home in Elsweyr. Thin egg noodles are stir fried with a signature moon sugar soy sauce, and topped with juicy slices of roast meat with crispy skin are served on top. For a couple of Septims more, you can make it a truly satisfying meal by throwing in a few crispy shrimp dumplings!

Nords

When it comes down to it, nothing hits the spot for a Nord quite like a good old jacket potato with spiced beef, sausage, and beans. There really isn't much to say here, aside from the fact that nothing is off limits when it comes to jacket potatoes. Whether it's Eidar cheese and bacon or reheated rabbit pemmican, everything tastes great when it's been mashed together with a potato that's about the same core temperature as Red Mountain.

Orcs

Contrary to popular belief, the Orsimer have a varied diet beyond roasted meats and root vegetables. A popular Stronghold dish, for example, is spaghetti squash stew, made with a curious type of squash that turns stringy when cooked, mimicking Imperial spaghetti. The stew it's served with is made from meat (usually beef, boar or mammoth), cream, mushrooms, and a good measure of ale. It's rich and hearty, and also goes well with a side of bread to mop up the gravy.

Redguards

Goat is the staple meat in Redguard cuisine, and it's in everything from curries to kebabs. One of my favourite ways to eat goat is a commoner's dish of baked goat in coconut milk, served with saffron rice. The meat is juicy as it is baked in a clay oven in a sauce made from a thick paste of spices and coconut milk, and has a bit of char that brings out the flavour. It's complemented perfectly by the rice, and is best washed down with a cup of sweet cardamom tea.

[finediningdiary]

Acquerello (San Francisco, CA)

One of my favorite perks of being a management consultant is that (COVID-permitting) I often get to travel to new cities and experience the local cuisine. In larger cities such as San Francisco, this can sometimes mean getting to try 2-star Michelin restaurants like Acquerello that have been at the top of my list for several years.

Our party was fortunate enough to book Acuqerello’s Gold Room for our year-end holiday dinner, which allowed for a quiet and highly personalized private dining experience within Acquerello’s renovated Milanese cathedral building. This review focuses on the Seasonal Tasting Menu for December 2021, which I would rank among my Top 10 Greatest Hits of all time.

The first of our sit-down courses was the Hamachi crudo with melon and citrus. Although a carpaccio appetizer initially sounded like a standard offering for an Italian restaurant, I was pleasantly surprised by the unique texture created by the tapioca pearls in the dish. The melon and citrus flavors were a good balance to the butteriness of the hamachi, and definitely started the meal out on a high note.

Next on the menu was the Monterey abalone. With so many other ingredients listed on the menu for this course (”roasted chicken zabaglione, Matsutake mushroom”), I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but all concerns were assuaged when I saw the dish’s beautiful presentation in a real abalone shell. The umami of the chicken and truffle amplified the flavors of the abalone to create one of the most unique and memorable flavor profiles I have ever tasted, setting us up well for the more classic flavors in the next course of Maine lobster with citrus butter and rye. This course, too, was perfectly prepared, with the toasted rye bread crumbs providing a welcome contrast to the tenderness of the lobster tail and silkiness of the citrus butter sauce.

As someone who is admittedly not always the hugest fan of Italian food, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the two pasta courses were the standouts of this meal for me. The Piramidi stuffed with guinea hen were a unique take on dumplings and ravioli that were hearty without feeling heavy. Afterwards, the ridged pasta with faux “foie gras” provided an explosion of flavor that I can still taste almost a month later. The Marsala wine was slow-cooked to the point of caramelization, resulting in a rich caramel flavor that perfectly complemented the faux foie gras. The ridged pasta provided a wonderfully textured and aptly-sized canvas for this masterpiece of a sauce.

The main course of honey-glazed quail was well-done, if not somewhat unmemorable compared to the earlier dishes. The two desserts that followed - pear and green cardamom sorbet, and a date and vanilla mousse - seemed geared towards cleansing the diner’s palate in preparation for their sendoff, providing a thoughtful coda to a well-harmonized meal.

While my reviews for Fine Dining Diary focus on food, I will also note that the service at Acquerello was impeccable. The private dining staff accommodated numerous dietary restrictions and changes to our party size on short notice, and guests who ordered the wine pairing were given a thorough explanation for each course by the restaurant’s sommelier. All in all, I would rate Acquerello as one of my top dining experiences of all time, certainly worthy of its 2 Michelin stars - and given the opportunity, I would seriously consider having them host another private dining experience.

[clockwork-sunshine]

Pasta Shapes Correspondences

I love to make meals with pasta and sometimes it can be good to slip your intention in with the very shape of your pasta pieces and not just the toppings.  Here is my list of personal correspondences and uses, feel free to use them!

Acini di pepe- This is pasta in tight tiny balls- For temporary spells

Agnolotti- Little pasta parcels- Gifts, money

Alphabet pasta- This is pasta that is in the form of letters- Writing, studying, research

Anelli- This is pasta in the shape of small rings- Bonding, relationships/friendships

Calamarata- This pasta resembles squid rings- Good for hiding/invisibility glamours

Campanelle/Gigli- This pasta is in the shape of a frilly flower- Relaxation, tranquility, peace

Casarecce- The name of this pasta is from the Italian word for ‘homemade’- Family, warmth, hearth magic

Conchigle- This pasta is made in the shape of a shell- Communication, sea magic, water magic

Crest di galli- Pasta shaped a bit like the pipette but had a frilly edge like tripoline on top. I had it a lot when I was very young and I think looks like the Loch Ness monster- Imagination, creativity

Elbow Macaroni- I think this pasta looks like rainbows- Welcoming, affection, bonding, comfort, hope

Farfalle/Farfalline/Corbatta- This pasta is in the shape of butterflies- Transformation, renewal, changes

Fusilli/Cavatappi/Rotini- This pasta looks like a corkscrew- Celebrations, festivals and holidays

Gemelli- Means ‘twins’ in Italian but many think it looks like a unicorn’s horn- Good for fae work

Lanterne- Though the name means ‘lantern’, I think they look like waves- Sea magic, turbulance, change

Lasagna- Flat sheet like pasta- Protection, safety

Linguine/Fettuccine/Pappardelle- These are all flat, ribbon-like pasta shapes- Beauty, self love and acceptance

Maltagliati- Meaning ‘badly cut’ as it is made from scrap and left over pasta- Resourcefulness, creativity, adaptivity

Mezza Luna- This pasta is shaped like crescent or half-moons and is stuffed with meats or vegetables- Lunar magic, celebrating points of the lunar cycle

Nuvole- This pasta is shaped like little clouds- Good for weather magic

Orecchiette- This shape is named after ears- Communication, understanding, listening

Penne- The name of this pasta means ‘pen’ in Italian- Writing, long distance relationships/friendships

Pipe/Pipette/Lumache- These all look like closed ended pipes or snail shells- Good for slow acting but stubborn spells

Radiatori- This pasta is named after radiators!- Warmth, affection, friendships

Ravioli- Little pillows stuffed with meat, cheese or vegetables- Dreaming, rest, good sleep

Rigatoni- Wide and ridged tubes- Memory, retaining information

Rotelle/Ruote- This pasta is shaped like wheels- Safe travel, exploration

Spaghetti/Angel Hair/Bucatini/Vermicelli- Thin lengths of pasta- For long-lasting spells

Spighe- This pasta looks like an ear of cereal- Harvest, fertility, plenty, money

Sorprese- Meaning ‘surprise’ in Italian due to not having filling and they resemble fortune cookies too- Luck

Stelle- Often given to children and are shaped like stars- Adventure, discovery, finding spells

Tagliatelle- Little nests of flat ribbon pasta- Hearth magic, family, affection

Tortellini- Little stuffed rings of pasta- Bonding, relationships/friendships

Tripoline/Mafalda- Both are frilly edged long pastas, but tripoline only has one frilled side and they look like jellyfish tentacles- Good for curses, banishing

Trofie- Twisted up pasta- Reliving stress, relaxation

Vesuvio- This twirled pasta has a flattened and domed end and is named after Mount Vesuvius- Destruction, power, good for curses

Ziti/Tubini- Smooth sided tubes- Forgetting, fading, disappearing

This list is not for every single pasta type, just types I have came across and have used and think I will use/make in the future. Please, if you have an interesting pasta shape, add it on!

[wkemeup]

The Witness (5)

series summary: After witnessing a Hydra hit and the handsome, borderline endearing cop who had become a regular at your bar takes it upon himself to ensure your safety off the books, you learn to rely on someone else for a change and find you don’t mind it at all. Not when it’s him.

pairing: detective!bucky x reader

word count: 7.2k

warnings: enjoy your fluff while you can 😉

series masterlist // previous chapter

Every day for the next two weeks, true to Bucky’s word, the buzzer in your apartment went off at exactly six o’clock. By the time you’d throw your jacket over your shoulders and shove your keys into your pocket, you’d see Peter waving at you through the bars of the window in the front door. He’d escort you down to the bar, telling you all about the latest prank Sam was working on and how pissed off Bucky was when he found his office supplies covered in saran wrap. Bucky apparently retaliated by tossing Sam’s keyboard in the dumpster behind the station.

You had come to enjoy your walks with Peter and the few hours he’d sit at your bar before Bucky showed up. His energy was infectious and it helped to distract you from the constant state of anxiety you tried so hard to mask. He’d ask about a million times if there was anything he could do to help – sweep the floors, refill the pretzel bowls, wipe down the tables. After a few days, you finally gave in and assigned him a few tasks. The kid couldn’t sit still and he refused a drink when you offered it to him, claiming he was on duty, even though Bucky specifically said that Parker was volunteering on his own time. Didn’t stop him from carrying around that walkie-talkie on his hip, though.

The bell at the door would ring out around nine and Peter would jut out the door with a quick wave goodbye as Bucky strolled in and took his seat. He’d send you that smile that made your stomach weak and he’d ask you for that bourbon he claimed to like.

You never spoke of the almost kiss, but something had changed between you. His touch would linger on your hand a little longer than usual when you’d hand him his drink. His eyes followed you down the bar when you were tending to another patron. His lips curving up in a smile as you told him all about the ridiculous request one of your longest regulars had made for a VIP section complete with a velvet red rope.

He'd stay through close. Every night. Not a single complaint other than the smell of must that wafted over in his direction every time Smalls came up for a new round. He’d sit patiently and wait for every customer to leave before he’d help you clean down the bar and lock up.

The walks home were nice; quiet mostly, save for his soft humming. He’d follow you up into your apartment, insisting he take a quick look inside first as you wait in the hallway. He never found anything, but it was comforting nonetheless.

Of course, there were times Bucky couldn’t be there. He’d make sure you knew beforehand, so you didn’t worry when someone else walked through the door at nine o’clock. The first time he got held up at work, he had sent Sam.

Sam was someone you were comfortable with and Bucky understood that. You didn’t mind spending a few hours with him that night. He had you laughing constantly, tears welling in your eyes as he told you stories about him and Bucky when they were rookies in the academy. He’d easily throw back the jests at your patrons that they sent his way as they tested him out. Always quick witted, he earned their respect rather quickly. Sam’s drink of choice was a jack and coke, two limes.

A few nights later, you found Captain Rogers sitting at the end of the bar. It took him a while to sit down, eyeing the rowdy patrons as they shouted amongst one another and sloshing beer onto the floor in the commotion. When you finally got him to take a seat, he rolled up his sleeves, asked for a Budweiser on tap, and insisted you call him, ‘Steve.’

He was a little more reckless than you expected for a police captain. He had a shy kind of smile and a surprising compulsion for street fighting in his youth, only backed up by Bucky given he was about a third of the size at the time. For a captain, it was clear he didn’t care much for the tedious rules of law enforcement, breaking them when he saw necessary. Like now, as he sat at the bar of the unnamed witness to a Hydra hit, completely off of the books. The only rule he seemed to enforce was for overtime and that was just to get his team to sleep for once.

A week and a half into the new arrangement, you met Natasha Romanoff. You recognized her as the woman from the station that Sam stole his coffee creamer from. Vibrant red hair sweeping against her shoulders, a long, pointed nose, and the sharpest stare you'd ever seen; Bucky was right when he said she was tougher than most of the men in the precinct. Even the patrons of your bar hushed as she walked in, slouching down in their chairs when she eyed in their direction. She went for a vodka on the rocks, top shelf, and drank it empty before the ice had melted. She was gentler than she appeared and with a wit that could outsmart even Sam, you took a liking to her easily, just as Bucky said you would.

Bucky always made his best effort to be the one in the bar and the one walking you home at night, but you understood when work kept him later than he planned. He had an important job, one that involved saving lives and protecting more people than yourself. Besides, he had good friends at the one-four and you enjoyed their company.

Even when Detective Stark came in the prior night with a look of disgust on his face as he wiped down the barstool before he sat, you hadn’t minded. He was funnier than you expected and apologized for how he had treated you the first night in the station. He told you about how his parents had been killed in Hydra crossfire and how personally he took these sorts of cases. You understood and poured him a single malt scotch you kept in the back office. You had a drink with him as well.

***

Nearly month had gone by without a leak of your identity. The constant presence of one of fine, upstanding members of the fourteenth precinct of New York was welcomed given the circumstances, but you were starting to feel trapped. Even now, as you strolled down the cereal aisle of the mini grocery store down the street with Bucky trailing at your heels, you couldn’t help but feel a little suffocated.

“Hey Buck? You’re standing really close to me.”

Bucky blinked a few times, not realizing that he was practically breathing down your neck as he held the basket filled with produce. He stepped back and mumbled an apology. As you struggled to reach for the box on the top shelf, Bucky easily grabbed it down for you and set it in the basket draped over his forearm.

You sighed. “You know I appreciate all you’re doing for me, Buck, and it’s been nice getting to know your friends from the station, but... is this all necessary? I get you guys standing guard at the bar and walking me home late at night, but I feel like I should be able to walk down to the corner store by myself.”

Bucky was looking over his shoulder as you talked, eyeing up a man as he was taking too long deciding between the Honey Nut Cheerios and Froot Loops. You hit his shoulder. He spun back towards you, his expression softening as you waited impatiently for an answer.

“I’m sorry, doll. I know this is a lot.” He followed as you made your way down to the next aisle. “I just can’t take any chances. You of all people know how dangerous Hydra is. It’s not safe for you on your own.”

You nod and an aching feeling burned in your chest. You tossed a box of pasta shells into the basket.

A can of green beans and a jar of tomato sauce later, you checked out at the front and made your way back to your apartment. Bucky followed behind you, as he always did, carrying your bags and pulling them out of your reach when you tried to grab one. You led him up the stairs and spent an extra minute undoing the new locks he had placed on your door a few weeks back. He went straight to the kitchen and started to unload the groceries, having done it so many times at this point he knew where everything went.

“Thank you,” you said as you kicked your shoes off, gathering the plastic bags and stuffing them inside one another. He smiled shyly, nodding. He glanced back over at the door, then to his shoes. You chewed on your lip as a silence took over.

You knew he didn’t have to do all he did for you. No one in their right mind would spend all their free time protecting some random witness to a case, even if it would help bring down the biggest crime organization in the city, but he did it anyway. Not only that, he convinced he friends to volunteer on their off-duty nights to keep you safe as well.

Memory flashed back to the night the newspaper learned there was a witness. The fear that had come over his eyes. The wash of relief when he knew you were safe. The almost kiss.

He had become shier around you in the days since, though he never lost an ounce of his charm. It was like he was walking on eggshells, always afraid to overstep but longing to take the chance. You’d never spent time together outside of the necessities; your shift at the bar, walking home in the early hours of the morning, escorting you on errands. You missed him when he was gone, and though you hate to admit it, a sliver of disappointment stung in your chest on the nights he’d have to send a different member of the one-four in his place.

Maybe, he didn’t have to go just yet.

You swallowed, watching as he started to fiddle with the empty plastic bag on the counter top.

“Do you want to stay?”

Bucky’s eyes snapped up to yours, narrowed, surprised.

You shrugged nonchalantly, trying to mask the nervousness in your stomach. “I’ve been meaning to watch this true crime doc on HBO and I’ve got too much popcorn in the pantry. So, I mean, only if you want-”

“I’d love to, doll,” Bucky grinned, blue eyes lighting up the entire goddamn room. He was already making his way to the food pantry to grab the bag of popcorn.

You laughed under your breath and plopped down on the couch in the living room, reaching for the remote. Before you even had a chance to glance back towards the kitchen to check on him, Bucky was settling in beside you, handing you the massive bowl of popcorn to hold in your lap as he adjusted his position. It was a small couch, one you had gotten from a thrift shop a few years back, with cushions that were weighted unevenly with feathers and filling, causing Bucky to lean towards you as he sat. Hip to hip, Bucky laughed nervously as he tried to push himself away from you to give you space. As soon as he’d take his positioning a few inches away, the cushions would have him leaning again in your direction.

“Don’t worry about it, Bucky, I don’t bite,” you teased, amused by his chivalrous efforts.

“Long as you don’t mind me crushing you,” he smirked as he let himself settle comfortably at your side. The length of his thigh pressed against yours, his arm bumping yours. He pulled his left arm back and let it hang behind your shoulders, draping over the back of the couch. You smiled nervously at him and he pressed his lips into a thin line, reaching for a handful of popcorn with his free hand. You’d end up leaning against his side, curled against him, just a few moments later, though neither of you said anything about it.

By the time the film was over, Bucky had asked about a million questions. You should have figured not to watch a true crime show with a cop present, as he was constantly berating the on-screen detectives for missing obvious clues and mocking the defense attorneys. He didn’t even pause to finish chewing the popcorn in his mouth as he waved his hands at the TV, talking as if the interviewees could hear him. It had been a while since you laughed so much.

The credits rolled on the screen and Bucky let out an exuberant sigh.

“I could have solved that case in half the time, you know,” he said, cocky grin upon his face you hadn’t seen in a while. You had almost forgotten how charming it was.

You laughed, standing from the couch to carry the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen. “Oh, I’m sure you could have. Too bad you’re stuck on this case instead. You could be solving higher profile crimes than this.”

You had meant it in a teasing manner, but Bucky’s smile fell. He jumped up from the couch and grabbed the popcorn bowl from you, turning on the faucet in the sink to begin washing the butter away.

“I’m not stuck on this case, Y/n,” he said slowly, sincerely, eyeing you briefly before he turned back to the sink. “I wanted this case from the second I saw it was you in that alley. I had to fight Steve on it. He kept saying I had a conflict of interest since I’d been coming to see you for weeks prior, but I couldn’t let this case go to anyone else. It had to be me.”

“Here I thought you were only coming to my bar for the shitty bourbon,” you nudged his arm, smiling softly at him when you saw the tension building in his shoulders. He sighed, a smile lifting his lips and you felt a sense of relief.

“You know it’s more than that, don’t you?” He turned to face you, shutting off the running water. You swallowed, nodding slowly, heat rushing to your cheeks under his stare. The way he watched you, so softly, kindly, longingly – you'd never had anyone look at you like that. It made your stomach twist to knots.

His hand gently nudged at yours before you opened your palm to him, allowing your fingers to intertwine. You were certain he could feel the race of your heartbeat through your wrist, but as his free hand reached up to brush ever so slightly over your cheekbone, resting down at the crook of your neck, cupping your cheek, you couldn’t bring yourself to worry what he might think of it.

He licked his lips, eyes darting down to yours so quickly you almost missed it. A deep breath as he slowly guided you closer, your hand reaching up to grip at the fabric of his t-shirt over his chest. He paused just inches away, looking to you to make the next move; always so patient, so careful of your intentions. His breath tickled at your skin.

“Bucky,” you exhaled, your entire body urging you closer to him, “I --”

His phone started to ring, startling you both as you jumped back, your hands untangling from one another and his fingers slipping out from your hair. You clenched your jaw shut, nervously tucking a fallen hair behind your ear as you looked anywhere but at Bucky. He sighed and dug his phone from his back pocket, stealing a glance at the caller ID and cursing under his breath.

“Sorry, doll, I have to go,” he said reluctantly, sending you an apologetic, tight-lipped grimace.

You nodded, forcing out a smile, somewhat thankful to not have had a chance to finish your sentence. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

Bucky bit his lip, guilt sweeping his features. “Actually, Steve’s gonna come by. Parker’s got a personal day and I’ve got a perp in lock up I’ve got to see if I can get more information out of. Used to be a Hydra hitman. Thought maybe he could give us a lead on the guy in the alley.”

“R-right, of course.” You swallowed, folding your arms over your chest.

It was easy to forget that he was still actively pursuing the case even three months after the fact. With no new leads, this case should have gone cold. It didn’t sit well in your stomach knowing he was throwing himself into this mess, visiting hitmen in prison and interrogating criminals. It was his job, you knew that. He was more than qualified and he was damn good at it, but it still made you feel a little sick. You worried about him more than you cared to admit. The pendent of your necklace felt heavy on your chest.

Bucky gave you a soft, reassuring smile. He ran his hands along your arms as he usually did when he caught onto your anxiety rising. “I’ll be fine, doll. And Steve’ll take good care of you. Just ask him about the time he tried to take on a guy twice his size with the lid of a garbage can and I had to come bail him out. That’ll get him talking for hours.”

You laughed despite yourself and cursed at the cool feeling in your arms when he pulled his hands away. He started walking towards the door and you followed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night after my shift, alright?” he asked as he opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “I’ll let Parker know if something comes up so you won’t be too disappointed when Wilson walks through the door.”

That pulled another smile out of you and he grinned in response. He had a way of doing that.

“Lock the door behind me?”

“Always do,” you said, leaning against the frame to watch him as he walked down the hall and disappeared out the front door.

***

Steve must be some friend to Bucky because he not only picked you up at six, but he stayed the entire night at the bar to walk you home at two in the morning after you closed. All the while, doing it in his own free time at the request of a subordinate. Though, you knew Bucky meant more to him than that. He told you as much in stories of their childhood. Bucky was apparently always the protective one; something that didn’t surprise you.

As you walked next to Steve down the block towards your apartment, you started chewing nervously on your lip, stealing glances up in his direction every so often. He raised an eyebrow at you, catching on.

“How long do you think this is going to go on for?” you asked, trying to hide the trace of frustration and anxiety mixed in your voice.

Steve shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans. It was odd to see him in such casual dress. “All I can say is that we’re putting everything we have into finding the man who killed your friend and bringing down Hydra. Bucky certainly doesn’t get an ounce of sleep with the amount of energy he puts into it.”

You nodded, a pang of guilt in your chest.

“But don’t worry about him,” Steve continued, seemingly noticing the change in your expression. He nudged your shoulder lightly. “He’s knows what he’s doing. He’s a good cop and an even better guy. Nothing’s gonna happen to you as long as he can help it.”

His lack of an answer didn’t slip your notice.

Suddenly, a sharp clanging erupted from the alley next to you and you let out a yelp, throwing yourself in Steve’s direction. He shoved you behind his back as he faced the alley, a hand resting on his gun affixed to his hip, as the other wrapped stretched back at his side to keep you steady. The alley was too dark to see down more than a few feet, but you peered out from behind his arm.

“Who’s there?” Steve called. “NYPD! Show yourself!”

Then, a small, thin black cat jumped down from the lid of a garbage can, the same startling noise ringing out, as he took one irritable look up at Steve before scurrying down the street to the next garbage bin he could find. The two of you watched as the cat disappeared, blending amongst the darkness.

You let out a shaky exhale as Steve let his hand fall back to his side. He chuckled under his breath, though it died rather quickly when he saw you wrap your arms tightly around your waist, clenching your jaw as you stared down the alley.

“You alright, Y/n?” he asked slowly.

You nodded, though your heart was in your stomach. Trembling hands tucked the fallen hairs behind your ears as you started to pick up the pace. You hated how easily affected you still were by sudden noises. It brought you right back to that night in the alley, watching as that man murdered Charlie without so much as a thought. You had been getting better since Bucky set up this round the clock watch dog system. But every once in a while, when something did startle you like that, the thought crossed your mind that it could have been the last.

If Steve noticed the change in your demeanor, and you wouldn’t put it past him if he did, he didn’t say anything.  

By the time Steve got you to your front door, you were aching for your bed. It had been a long day to begin with and with your heart unable to settle down, all you wanted was to curl up under your blankets and hide away.

“You sure you’re okay?” Steve asked again, his eyes settling on your hands as you curled them into fists to stop the nervous twitching. He pursed his lips into a frown.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you promised, though you knew it didn’t sound convincing in the least. “Go home, Steve. I’m sure Peggy’s missing you.”

Steve chuckled at that, the slightest hue of pink in his cheeks. It always surprised you that a man so strong, so intimidating on the surface, blushed easily. He gave you a subtle wave and turned towards the door to leave. As the latch of the front door clicked into place and his silhouette disappeared into the night, you started to turn the locks of the knob and the deadbolt Bucky installed. Then, you slid the chain across the frame and allowed your feet to carry you directly to your bed. You didn’t pause to change your clothes.

***

“Is, uh, everything alright today, Miss Y/L/n?” Peter asked nervously as he half-jogged, weaving in and out of pedestrians in an effort to keep up with you.

Another two weeks had gone by and you barely had a moment to yourself. Not with Peter escorting you to the bar, Bucky or one of the detectives from the precinct sitting at the counter top every night, walking you home, taking you grocery shopping, accompanying you to haircuts and doctor’s appointments. Even your morning runs were supervised by Steve and he only seemed to run at an ungodly hour. You could tell he was scaling back his usual pace for you and that frustrated you more than the lack of light before sunrise.

By the time Peter picked you up nearly one month into the new arrangement, you were desperate for a drink.

“All good, Parker,” you huffed through a tight smile, skirting around a man in a suit with his eyes glued to his phone. “Just really looking forward to work.”

“Oh, alright,” Peter replied, though he still seemed skeptical.

When you finally got the key in the lock and opened the door to your bar, a wave of relief washed over you. It smelled like stale pretzels and old beer. It smelled like home.

You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for the scotch you kept hidden in the office. It was a bottle your father had bought for you when you turned twenty-one and you only brought it out when you really needed it. The only other times you’d drank from it was the night he went to prison, the morning after you witnessed Charlie’s murder, and the glass you shared with Stark after he told you about his parents. It wasn’t exactly a celebratory choice of drink.

Peter watched you as you took a glass from the shelf and gave yourself a heavy pour. You could tell he was weary, unsure if he should say something, but the moment the liquid hit your lips and burned so sweetly on the way down, warming your chest, you couldn’t find it in you to care. You sighed, a content smile filling your face.

“The broom still over in the closet?” Peter asked, already making his way there. You nodded, taking another sip. You’d let him handle the pre-opening cleaning today. He was eager to help, anyway, and damnit, you needed a break.

You had refilled your glass again by the time your first customers came through the door. Peter was now sitting at the end of the bar, a nervous look about his face as he watched you greet Bernie and Big Al enthusiastically.

“Gentlemen! Welcome!”

They both paused in the doorway, eyes narrowing on you like you had a few too many heads.

“You alright there, Y/n?” Bernie asked, seemingly put off by your newfound cheery attitude. “You’re awfully… chipper.”

“I am excellent,” you exclaimed sincerely, buzzing from the lightheaded feeling. “What can I get you boys?”

“The usual,” Al muttered, even stealing a glance over at Peter who shrugged in response.

You filled two glasses with your cheapest beer on tap, nearly over filling them as they splashed some liquid over the edges. Bernie and Al took them from you suspiciously before heading back to their table at the far-right corner by the TV.

It was a better night than most, though maybe you should attribute that to the glass of scotch you kept refilling and the warm kind of dizziness in your head. Peter was watching you with a nervous look the whole time, constantly asking if you wanted a glass of water or if he could take the bottle of scotch back to your office for you. You’d wave him off, tap him on the nose as he’d flinch away, and take another sip of heaven.

It was coming on nine and Peter was constantly checking his phone, glancing over at the door. You were in the middle of serving Brenda another mojito when Peter waved you down.

“Have you heard from Detective Barnes today?”

You shook your head, “nope.” You popped the ‘p’ on your lips.

Peter slumped his shoulders, tapping his foot.

Another half hour and Peter started messing with his phone. He called a few numbers and grumbled under his breath when he wasn’t getting through to anyone. You strolled over to him and grabbed the phone from his hand, setting it on the bar.

“You worry too much,” you chuckled. “Have a drink, kid.”

“Something’s up,” he muttered, reaching over behind the bar and grabbed your glass of scotch, tossing it down the sink.

“Hey! That’s shit’s expensive!”  

“Barnes isn’t answering his phone and it’s almost ten. That doesn’t strike you as strange?” Peter questioned, snatching the bottle of scotch and twisting the cap back on. “It’s not like him and I can’t get ahold of Captain Rogers either. You need to stop drinking.”

“I’m sure Bucky’s fine. Besides, drinking helps me relax,” you groaned, reaching out to grab the bottle back from him but your reflexes were too slow. “Let me be in a good mood for once, Parker.”

“It’s illegal to be drinking while you work, you know that don’t you?” Peter raised an eyebrow and you pouted, rolling your eyes. “I know this has been hard on you, not being able to be on your own ‘cause we all know you’re capable of taking care of yourself. But you gotta let us help you. Please, no more drinking tonight. Not at least until Detective Barnes is here. He can probably handle this weird super happy version of you better than I can.”

That got you laughing, wondering why it took two glasses of a very expensive scotch before anyone ever classified you as ‘super happy.’ Just to appease the kid you had grown fond of, you conceded.

“Fine!” You threw your arms in the air rather dramatically.

“Drink some water,” he added, pointing to the clear spicket at the end of the tab.

“Okay Dad,” you groaned, laughing when his cheeks started to turn red.

When ten-thirty came around and still no word from Bucky, Peter was starting to pace back and forth down the bar, drawing the irritable attention of some your patrons. You watched him as he started talking under his breath to himself and you handed Brenda another round.

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. He’s probably just busy at the station,” you called to him over the music. He paused to look over at you for only a moment before he resumed again. You sighed, wincing at the headache already pulsing behind your eyes. Your good feeling didn’t last nearly as long as it should have.

Peter came to a stop. He nodded his head a few times as if he had finally convinced himself to calm down, and he was just about to come back to the bar when a muffled buzzing came from the walkie-talkie on his hip.

“We’ve got a 273D out on 31 Westchier Street,” the radio voice called out.

Peter clenched his jaw before he pulled the walkie up to his face. “This is Parker, badge number 8679. I’m a few blocks away. Anyone else in the area? Over.”

No reply.

“Shit,” Peter cursed and he ran his hand over his face. He sent you a sort of a helpless look before he clicked down on the walkie and spoke into it again. “I’m on my way. ETA ten minutes.”

Before he could have a chance to apologize, you held a hand up. “Go.” He started to protest but you shook your head. “Peter, I know police code. It’s a domestic violence call. Please go. I’ll be fine. I’m sure Bucky’ll be here soon.”

Peter grimaced, eyes darting towards the door in hopes Bucky would walk in. No such luck.

“I’ve got this handy card, remember?” you pulled the business card from the back of your jeans. You gave him a smile, hoping to alleviate his reluctance. “He might not be answering your texts but he’ll pick up if I call. I’ll be fine, Pete. Just go.”

Peter nodded before he took off towards the door, shouldering his way outside without another word.

“Damn, I thought he’d never leave,” Bernie grumbled as he handed you his empty glass.

***

Four hours later and Bucky never showed up. You wished Peter would have let you keep drinking, or at least allowed you to nurse the rest of what had remained in your glass. Maybe then you wouldn’t have a ball of nerves settling in your stomach.

Being sober sucked.

You knew he was probably caught up in paperwork or called out on another case like Peter was, but it was the not knowing that bothered you. You wondered why he hadn’t sent Sam or Steve, even Nat or Tony, in his place. That much, at the very least, was unlike him.

Despite this, you did your best to breathe through it. The walk home certainly wouldn’t be enjoyable. If you were on edge with Steve the previous night, you knew walking alone would bring out all kinds of paranoia; shadows will look like men and every sound will feel like an assault. Living in New York, you were bound to run into both.

The bar had emptied out and you had just finished wiping down the counter tops. You walked back to the office and shrugged on your jacket, tucking the keys into your pocket. It was quieter than you remembered. It had been a long time since you were alone like this without the company of an armed friend. It didn’t feel the same as it did when you spent your mornings by yourself in your apartment. Perhaps it was the darkness of the night or the lack of three locks upon every door that made it feel so much worse.

Your hand slipped into your back pocket and you felt for the thin paper card. Bringing it up to the light with a sigh, you ran your thumb over the ink. Maybe you could call him just to ease your mind. He wouldn’t mind, right? Certainly, he’d understand if you were a little paranoid these days. He said to call for anything, didn’t he?

A nervous inhale as you reached for your phone. The first three numbers dialed on the screen when you heard the bell of the front door ring out. You narrowed your eyes, turning towards the door when you saw three men walk in.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you called as you made your way back to the bar. You didn’t recognize any of the men. Two of them lingered back towards the door; big broad shoulders, covered in tattoos, and an angry look in their eyes as they surveyed the room. The man at the front; tall, dark hair, a strong jawline, and an almost objectively handsome face if it weren’t for the burn marks on his left side.

He was too busy looking around the bar to notice you standing in front of him, a foot or so below his eye line.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said, a little more inpatient. “We’re closed. So, if you don’t mind-”

“I’ll take a whiskey, neat,” the man said, his voice low and graveled and you were sure you’d heard it before. It left an unsettling feeling in your stomach.

You swallowed. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re-”

He gestured to the men at the door and they flipped back the edge of their jackets to reveal handguns nestled against their hips. He turned back to you, raising an eyebrow. He moved to take a seat at the bar, his back turned to you. A breath hitched in your throat when you saw the semblance of a tattoo peaking up from under the collar of his shirt.

Tentacles.

Hydra.

That voice.

Oh God.

The gunman from the alley.

You bit down so hard on your cheek; the cooper taste of blood filled your mouth. You swallowed it back, wincing as you did. The man tapped his fingers on the bar impatiently as he waited to be served. Quickly, you scurried back behind the bar and reached for a glass, setting down in front of him. You tried to mask the shaking in your hands but the unsteady pour of the whiskey gave it away.

The man eyed you suspiciously as he watched you struggle to put the cap on the bottle.

“No need to be nervous, dear,” he purred, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip. He smiled as he went down. “I’m just here to ask you some questions. That’s all. Answer them honestly and we’ll be out of here with no trouble. Isn’t that right, boys?”

The two men at the door nodded.

“What is it you’d like to know?” Your voice was stronger than you felt. You found your right hand settling over the safe under the bar where you kept your rifle. It was useless. You knew that. You'd never be able to load it and fire before they could take you out. It was more of a scare tactic than anything else. You'd never used it before and hadn’t even brought it out with the intention to. You weren’t as strong willed as you let on. Not even the weight of the necklace hanging under your shirt could bring you any sort of comfort.

“Why don’t we start with names?” the man grinned. “Mine’s Brock Rumlow. What’s yours, sweetheart?”

You didn’t know what to say. Was it better to give him a false name? Or would it earn you some credit if he knew you were the daughter of your father, an ex-hydra operative before he was imprisoned? You had never asked Bucky, or anyone from the station what to do if this happened. It was never supposed to be a problem. You were never supposed to be alone.

“Y/n,” you said finally, too much time having passed by to think of anything else. He raised an eyebrow and you added, “Barnes.”

Charlie had been a known friend of your father’s and it didn’t earn him any favors. Best not to take any chances. As for the new last name you took on, it had just slipped out, the first thing to come to mind when your own last name didn’t pass through your lips. Rumlow nodded, seemingly pleased with your answer. He didn’t question it, at least.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he hummed, “are you familiar with a Charlie Homes?”

“Should I be?” you responded, willing your voice steady. You dug your nails into your palm enough to draw blood. The sharp sting was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Rumlow shrugged. He took another sip from his glass. “Rumor is he was killed in the alley next to this bar. Know anything about that?”

“I know the police did a shit job of covering it up.”

This got him laughing and you took a deep breath, hoping it would ease the tightening in your chest. He raised his glass, sending you a grin that made your stomach hurt.

“I like you, Y/n.”

“Look, I serve a lot of people here, Brock,” you continued, ignoring his comment. “I don’t know the names or faces of everyone who comes in here. Particularly the forgettable ones.”

Rumlow leaned forward, intrigued. “And what would make someone unforgettable?”

You shrugged and you forced yourself to keep eye contact. His stare on you sent unpleasant shivers up your spine.

“Big tippers. Fighters,” you leaned against the bar, enough for his eyes to fall to your chest as you intended. Men like this were easily distracted. He’d dismiss you if you flirted with him a little. You pushed your dignity aside and curved your shoulders so the fabric gaped a bit, enough to expose the curve of your breast.

“The kind of man who’d walk into an obviously closed bar and order top shelf whiskey anyway,” you added sultrily. You ran your tongue over your upper lip.

A smirk rose upon his face and you swallowed back the bile in your throat. It took too long for his eyes to trail back up to yours, absent of a modesty that would have him look away sooner. The way he stared at you, hungrily, was enough to make you feel sick.

“You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” This voice rang like razor blades down your spine. You forced out a smile, pursing your lips for him as he reached out towards you and ran his fingers along the side of your face, a thumb brushing over your lip, down along your neck, over your shoulder, until he pulled away.

You were on fire, scorch marks along your skin where his fingers had dared to touch you.  

Rumlow threw back the rest of the whiskey in his glass and handed it back to you. Reaching into his back pocket, he set several twenties on the table. His eyes scanned your body again, a shake of his head as he licked at his lips.

“Let’s go boys,” he called over to his friends and he pushed himself from the stool. “If you learn anything new about my man Charlie, you let me know.”

“Of course,” you smiled, batting your eyes. He winked at you and you clenched your jaw to keep from screaming. You watched as he staggered over to the exit, the door closing behind him and his men as they left.

The very second you were alone again, a sob raked through you so painfully, you fell to your knees. The adrenaline too much, your hands shaking too violently. It was a miracle you were able to hold it together enough to put on a mask for that vile, heinous man.

Brock Rumlow.

You knew his name.

Through the tears tracking down your faces and struggling to catch your breath between sobs, you yanked the paper card from your pocket and reached for your- shit, your phone. You scrambled up to your feet, your hipbone slamming into the corner of the bar as you sprinted to your office. You groaned, nearly knocked off balance, but you grunted through the pulsing pain and shoved your way through the door.

There your phone sat on the edge of the desk. You lunged for it as you started to feel your breath picking up in pace and you slammed the office door behind you, pressing in the lock. Sliding down to the floor, you typed in the numbers listed on the card wrong four times before you were able to get all ten in accurately. You cursed yourself for not just entering the damn number in your contacts before; you supposed it would have made it too real -- the possibility of ever having to use the number in an emergency like this.

You pressed the green icon and brought the phone to your ear. Your heart was beating louder than the dial tone.

Ring.

“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up,” you chanted under your breath, bringing your knees up to your chest.

Ring.

“Bucky, please,” your voice was shaking.

Ring.

“Pick up!” He was taking too long to answer. You were growing frantic. Hand clutching so hard at your necklace, it stung the inside of your palm.

Ring.

Ring.

“Please, Bucky, please, pick up,” your face was wet with tears. You could hardly breathe. Your heart aching every ring that went unanswered.

Ring. "Oh God, please answer,”

Ring.

Then, his voice. “Leave a message.”

Beep.

You froze, trying to catch your breath. This can’t be happening.

“B-Bucky, please,” you begged into the speaker, wincing at every crack in your voice. “I need you to answer. P-Please, Buck. Shit. He was here. He was just here! Please, I need you. C-Call me back. I’m -- fuck-- I’m scared. Please. I don’t know what to do. No one’s-- no one’s here. It’s just me. Bucky, please. You promised you’d answer. You promised.”

Another beep and the message ended. The phone slipped from your hand and fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

He wasn’t coming.

part six

tags 🌟 @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @lumar014 / @alohafromhell1 / @bucksandroses / @teardropcup / @beautiful-aravis / @me-chi / @somewereinthegalaxi / @marvelfansworld / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @yourwonderbelle / @fairislesheets / @brokeinflight / @verygraphicink / @lollipopdomination / @emotionallysalty / @forsaken-letters /  @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @ashlieadelia / @ladymelissastark / @panic-naran / @breatheeagainnnn / @pinkisokay / @jewelofwinter / @jsmith509 / @hennessy0274-blog / @littlemsrantsalot

[mewithanie]

COVID-19 update

I’ve been to the grocery store.  Who knew the grocery store could make someone so angry?  

The next COVID-related death is gonna be me murdering the guy that was arguing with the grocery store employee whose job is currently to prevent a run on their small supply of toilet paper. (“Please sir, this is all we have until Tuesday night, I’m just doing what they tell me”)

Things the grocery store is out of: scallions. ginger root. ground meats. chicken (except jumbo chicken wing packs, frozen). windex. pasta (except shells-for-stuffing and lasagna noodles). milk (except fat-free). A variety of types of tea. 

Things the grocery store is not out of: toilet paper (only barely, because of a brave young employee). raspberries. Orange juice. Ice cream. Fucking SOAP. They have so much soap it makes me angry. (angrier. buy soap people!!!! stop buying my gingers and buy soap!) And every variety of alcohol you can imagine. There is absolutely no shortage of alcohol, which is very surprising to me given how mad I am after this trip. 

I have invented a drink consisting of orange juice, caribbean rum with pineapple liqueur, chambord, and occasionally muddled (read: squashed with my bare hands) raspberries. Guess I’ll be living off that, raspberries, oreo cookies, and possibly the ginger soup I was at the grocery store for in the first place (...if I figure out how to make it ...without ginger) until everyone has stopped hoarding the nation’s supply of food and windex. 

[gustorafoods]

Surprising Desserts Made With Pasta: Summer Pasta Special

When someone said that pasta is a meal in itself, they were surely not very far from the mark. Pasta is a versatile item that makes it a great meal and a greater addition to everyday food. 

According to the best selling Italian pasta manufacturers in India, you can use pasta in your salad, in starters, in your main course meal, and if you are versatile enough, it can be used to make a great dessert as well. 

Yes, a dessert made with pasta or at least uses pasta as a major ingredient. 

If you are planning on surprising everyone with a new dessert, or just want to give the children a new way to eat pasta, even if you are planning an all pasta meal, these pasta desserts are definitely worth trying your hand at.

Desserts Made With Pasta:

Desserts A La Pasta

Chocolate Stuffed Pasta The best part about pasta is that you can stuff them with just about anything; vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, caramel, and so on depending on the shape of it. However, this preparation is made of chocolate. For your Kids’ pasta love, you begin with tossing noodles, flat or round in some cocoa powder and add anything you think they will like. For the best memories of a delicious dessert though, try filling it with milk chocolate and dark chocolate pudding.   

Cannoli Pasta Bites Much like conchiglie shell pasta, Cannoli is also a great way to make pasta dessert filled with great flavours inside it. You begin with coating the pasta in sugar, chocolate, and cinnamon before cooking it. After frying this pasta, you coat it in sugar again before filling it with the dessert mixture.

Fried Spaghetti Crisps Spaghetti is the comfort food of several generations of pasta lovers. Irrespective of your age, you love spaghetti. Then why not make it into this delicious fried dessert? You need your twirling skills in this one though. You will be twirling, forkfuls of pasta before dipping them in a mix of honey and orange zest. Shallow frying these will create the most amazing dessert you have had.

Chocolate Clusters/Cookies Chocolate cookies are easily the most memorable childhood memory for most of us, whether old, young, or teens. Imagine making the same with spaghetti, though. All you need to do is melt chocolate and butterscotch, mix the peanuts and noodles in them and drop them on a wax paper before chilling them. And your next amazing pasta dessert is ready to be enjoyed.

Lemon Fig Ravioli Cookies Moving from chocolate cookies, we come at this amazing preparation of lemon fig ravioli cookies. Prepared much like ravioli itself, you will be using fig preserves, lemon, sugar, hazelnuts, nutmeg, and cinnamon. And here comes the twist! If you don’t want the hassle of making ravioli, then you can use farfalle pasta for it.

Summertime is a great time to make fond memories of the best food and the most amazing time spent. Nobody said that this memorable time could not be spent around the dining table, right?

[welcometoaucklandtatum-blog]

Everything You Could Possibly Need To Know About Auckland

It’s no easy feat making a move to a new city. But never fear, we’ve rounded up a local’s guide of the best things to try, buy and eat around town so you can live your best life here in Auckland!

Food

We’re happy to report the foodie scene here in the city of sails (it’s a nickname, just go with it) is thriving. Whether you’re looking to get dumped by gyoza or the best fried chicken in town, check out the below for tried and tested local gems.

The Coup, Takapuna – Dare we say it, The Coup puts the colonel’s 11 secret herbs and spices to shame. Don’t pass up a chance to give one of their game-changing Po’ boys a try.

The Blue Breeze Inn, Ponsonby – Any Aucklander will tell you The Blue Breeze Inn is one of the best in town. Featuring a pan-Asian inspired cuisine, head here for a legendary Mai Tai (or two). While you’re at it, order a round of dumplings, pork belly bao and XO noodles. We warn you this spot is addictive!

Eden Noodle House, Mt. Eden – Speaking of dumplings, Eden Noodle House is legendary among locals for a cheap bite. Often with lines out the door, you can’t go wrong with anything on the menu – they’re that good.

Rude Boy, Freemans Bay – Offering classics done right, head here for ultra gram-worthy dishes and sprawling cabinet food that’ll make your mouth water. We recommend the mixed creamy mushrooms or if you’re on the go, a sourdough doughnut from the cabinet.

Sugar, Northcote Point – Take a day and head out to the Chelsea Sugar Factory to Sugar. Their high tea is a must for special occasions and is complimented with some of the best views in town.

Winona Forever, Parnell – Another café doing good things, the Eton Rifle French toast is not to be missed. The big breakfast plate also hits the spot.

Oh Calcutta, Parnell – Serving the best Indian in town, once you try their butter chicken and tandoori salmon, no other will compare.

De Setti Soldi, Epsom – A small but mighty family-run Italian spot offering fresh classic pasta and pizza. You’ll fall in love at first bite.

Prego, Ponsonby – Another fabulous Italian spot offering excellent Italian cuisine. Their spaghetti agioli is a must-try.

Wu & Yu, Mt. Eden – A whacky and wonderful blend of East and West, Wu and You’s menu boasts dumplings, soft shell crab tacos and a dessert menu to die for.

Garden Shed, Mt. Eden – The closest a café will come to a garden picnic, The Garden shed keeps things classic and focusing on flavour and presentation. Their burger is one of the best and not for the faint-hearted.

Giapo, CBD – You’ve never seen ice cream like this before. Prepare for your mind to be blown.

Dr. Rudis, Viaduct – To finish off those big work weeks look no further than Dr. Rudis. Featuring an in-house bowling alley, micro-brewery on-site and live music, see out the week from their rooftop.

Headquarters, CBD – Another after-work favourite, head here for a cold beer, lounge in the sun and boogie to Dad music.

Miann, Morningside – For handmade chocolate creations. BYO stretchy pants.

Lowbrow, Queens Rise CBD – Southern American foods at its finest.

Bars

Deadshot, Ponsonby – Tucked away on Ponsonby Rd, Deadshot is a table service bar where bartenders come to you and whip up a concoction based on your preferences.

Caretaker, CBD – Same as above but in Britomart underground.

The Churchill, CBD – A rooftop gin bar in the Four Seasons on Queen Street. At an international standard, head here when you’re wanting to impress.

Talulah, CBD – A tiki bar with strong neon hues and even stronger cocktails. Our advice, tell the bartender to surprise you, you won’t be disappointed.

Chapel, Ponsonby – Not a destination but a stop along the way on any big night out.

AV Club + Saturdays, CBD – A one-stop spot for when you’re in the mood for a quiet one and a boogie. Saturdays keep things mellow while AV blasts house music at its finest.

Family Bar, K Rd – A hub for the local LGBTQ+ community, head here for non-stop Britney and Beyonce all night long.

Beauty/Hair

We’ve already made the questionable choices, so you don’t have to!

Spring Spa, Ponsonby – From facials to pedicures they do it all! Pro Tip: Ask for Kushbu when booking, she’s a threading genius.

Dry & Tea, Newmarket – For when you want a little more sparkle for a night out.

Rose Quartz Hair Studio, Parnell – One of Auckland’s best kept secrets, owner Michaela’s hands are magic when it comes to hair. And her chat is great too!

Blaze, Newmarket – Masters of their craft when it comes to hair colour.

Health

Sweat up a storm at these spots.

Box Fitness Studio, Newmarket – A boxing class like you’ve never seen before!

Westward Cycle, Newmarket – A spin class by candlelight. Think of it as a dance party on your bike.

KCore Pilates, Victoria Park – Feel the burn at one of the best reformer Pilates classes in town.

Body Tech – Offer curated fitness programmes backed by research, not claims.

Morning People – Pre-work rave? Keep an eye out for weekly pre-work raves at local bar Cassette.

 Shopping

Key malls to check out are Sylvia Park Shopping Centre and Westfield Newmarket. Expect to find classics including H&M, Zara, Kookai, David Jones and Decjuba.

K Rd, CBD – Head here for thrift shopping. Check out Stalgic Society, St Kevins Arcade and The Army Shop.

Ponsonby – A hub for local designers including Ruby, Lonely and Deadly Ponies. Head to Tatty’s for pre-loved designer treasures.

Things To Do

Waiheke – A hop, skip and ferry trip away, Waiheke is a wine-lovers paradise. Vineyards to checkout include Cable Bay, Casita Miro and Mudbrick.

Beaches – Classics include Mission Bay, Kohimarama, Takapuna, Piha and Red Beach.

Staycation - For when you want to get away without getting out, head to The Hotel Grand Windsor. You’ll find yourself immersed in olfactory hospitality with lush rooms, a spa on hand and flowing cocktails from Cooke’s Restaurant & Bar. Dreamy!

Day Trips – Just over an hour and a half away, locals escape to Matakana and Omaha at every chance they get. Matakana’s weekly farmers market is legendary as is Omaha’s expansive range and surf.

Night Markets – On the hunt for local up and coming foodie trends? Look no further than the Auckland Night Markets, where many of Auckland’s hotspots have started.

Rangitoto – Another short ferry trip away, you aren’t an Aucklander until you’ve done the trek up Rangitoto at least once.

Auckland War Memorial Museum – Learn all about basically anything with a stroll around the Auckland Museum.

Cornwall Park – Our answer to a central park, Cornwall makes for the perfect running route and picnic spot.

The Capitol – Level up your dating game and book a movie at The Capitol, a hidden boutique cinema that’s equal parts intimate and magical. And within walking distance of your house!

Stream – While we’re sure you’re missing Stan, we have a killer slate of streaming options. Check out Neon for the latest and greatest movies and HBO drops, Lightbox is only good for The Handmaids Tale, and TVNZ OnDemand, home to The Bachelorette, Grey’s Anatomy and is 100% free!

Creative Mornings – A free series of morning talks from local creatives and industry leaders; topics vary but you’ll only leave having learnt something new. Tickets are limited so be sure to register on creativemornings.com to be in the know!

A Guide To Speaking Kiwi

Guilty of merging and switching vowels and ending every sentence like we’re asking a question; us Kiwis sure do make it hard for newbies to fathom exactly what we’re saying.

Instead of nodding, smiling and acting like you completely understand this unique accent, find an empty room, say the following words out loud and soon enough, you’ll be convincing everyone (and yourself!) that you are a true-blue Kiwi!

Dick: A wooden platform outside a house. Usually enjoyed in the summertime.

Tin: One more than nine.

Iggs: Laid by chickens and often enjoyed with evercardo on toast.

Chups: Chips.

Fush: Found in the sea and enjoyed with chups.

Why-poo: Small seaside town.

Tiddy Beer: Your cuds favourite stuffed toy.

Cud: A young person or goat.

Beer: Large mammal often found in forests.

Beer: Not clothed or covered.

Beer: A cold beverage enjoyed in the summer.

Rung: A piece of jewellery worn on a finger.

Bug: Large/ considerable size.

Bugger That: Not going to happen

She’ll be right: That’ll do. 

Bloody Nora: WTF. 

Beard: Where you go to sleep.

Hid: Rests on top of your neck.

Ear: What we breathe.

Stuck: A thin piece of wood found on a tree.

Pig: Used to hang up wet washing.

Silly-brities: A famous person.

Really: Something that hardly ever happens.

Cheer: Something to sit on, often round a table.

Sucks: Comes before sivven

Have any questions? Concerns? Need a pal? Don’t be scared to reach out! 😊

You can catch me on jaiden@lassoo.co.nz or 02102837039

[the-alice-of-hearts]

Broke Kid Cook Book

Recipes under the cut. The first paragraph is me talking about the cook book.

So I was talking to a couple people at my work about grocery shopping and one of them commented that they spent so much money on groceries and I said, my roommate and I spend like 100USD a week for us. This floored her, so when I was like “yeah it’s kinda a lot, but we splurge now since we have solid 40 hour a week jobs”. I didn’t realize that she was surprised because 100 sounded like too little. So I asked her if she wanted me to type up the recipes that we ate when we only spent like 60USD a week on groceries. SO! Since I already typed them up, I am giving them to you all as well!

Chicken and Sauce:

1lb chicken (you can use less)

1 can cream of chicken soup (get the cheapest option, original I think it says “great for cooking”)

Cut chicken into bite sized pieces Brown in pan Once cooked through add 1 family sized can of cream of chicken soup

Can be served with rice or mashed potatoes. Potatoes taste better, but rice is cheaper

Stroganoff:

1lb ground beef (can be less but this way you will have leftovers for a day)

Noodles (I like bowties because they are correct, but you can pick pretty much any small noodles you want. They should never be more than 1.50$)

2 cans gravy (my mom uses beef gravy, I like to use turkey gravy with the ground beef)

Smallest container you can find of sour cream

Cook noodles Brown the meat Add both cans of gravy to the browned meat Add a large spoon full of the sour cream. This part is a little tricky, but you want enough that the gravy concoction turns about 3 shades lighter.

Serve over noodles!

Fancy Mashed Potatoes:

Potatoes (I like to use red potatoes, but russets are usually cheaper)

Milk

Butter or margarine

Salt and pepper

Lunch meat

Cheese (optional)

It’s literally just mashed potatoes but add lunch meat and cheese if you want. Lunch meat costs like 1$ if you get the cheap kind, and cheese is the same. I like to use red potatoes with this and leave the skin on. By eating the skins of the potatoes with the nutritional value of potatoes and adding lunch meat you are eating a nutritionally complete meal.

Chilli Mac:

Noodles (we use shells, but once again you can use whatever small noodles you want)

Ground beef 1lb

2 small cans of tomato sauce (should be about 50 cents each)

Chilli powder

Make noodles Brown the beef Once the noodles are done add the beef to the noodles Add in the cans of tomato sauce Add in chilli powder. A lot of chili powder. You kinda feel this one out as well. Add until it tastes good basically

Breaded chicken:

Chicken 1lb (honestly you just need however much feels like enough)

3 eggs

Breading. I use the itiallian seasoned stuff, but just pick what’s cheap

Boxed stuffind or rice-a-roni

Vegetable oil (once again get the cheapest option.)

Make breaded chicken. It’s that simple. In case you haven’t made breaded chicken before here are the steps.

Crack the eggs into a bowl. Wisk. Coat the chicken in the egg wash. Cover chicken in breading. Fry in the vegetable oil. Make the stuffing or rice-a-roni according to instructions. It’s a really simple meal, but it tastes good and everything reheats really well.

That’s all the ones I know off the top of my head. When I find the rest of them I will add them on. These are just really easy to make and filling. 

The meals should be less than 20USD each, a couple of them are like 10. 

The biggest thing is the cost of meat. If you are able to I like to buy meat on sale. 

And honestly sometimes I will check around for the cheapest option. If you have a big enough freezer you can watch for meat sales and get enough for the month. Otherwise learn when your grocery store gets their meat shipment. The night before they will red tag a lot of the meat. I also like to go shopping at like 11pm because that is when they are rolling out sales like that. 

Another really good dinner option is get a premade rotisserie chicken from walmart. It’s 5USD and will feed two people. I like the lemongrass one, but they also have a rosemary one. Pair it with a pasta-roni, rice-a-roni, or stuffing you have a full meal for like 6USD. When we have this it usually feeds the two of us and we still have leftovers.

So there you go! 6 meals that should give you dinners and leftovers for lunches!

A few last tips:

Margarine is cheaper than butter

Never buy fresh fruits or vegetables unless you have a specific plan for them. They will otherwise go to waste and there is no reason to just throw out money.

Buying milk by the galleon is only worth it if you are drinking a lot of milk. Otherwise just buy half gallons.

Milk is on sale every other week at walgreens. The off brand walmart milk is still cheaper, but if you want on brand higher quality milk that will last longer you can plan accordingly.

Milk is cheaper at big walmart. The neighborhood market is always more expensive.

Focus on getting enough calories before focusing on “balanced” meals. Starches and carbs are going to help you a lot more.

Meat isn’t very important. Put it at the bottom of your priorities list

You need 1600 calories to stay alive at minimum

If you do not have the physical energy to make food you can get the steamer microwave meals. They are 2.50USD each (sometimes they are even on sale) and if you eat two of them you actually get a filling dinner.

Mac and cheese is a cheap meal that doesn’t take a lot of energy. Adding canned tuna or chicken can make it feel more filling

Other low energy cheap meals: the Dinty Moore microwaveable meals plus a 5-min rice single microwave serve make a filling meal that you only need to microwave.  

That’s everything I have for you. If anyone wants to add on their cheap meals please feel free! 

[errorkraut]

These red and white stuffed pastas are completely different, but use the same technique, making it a breeze to put together. This recipe is also a great way to use up leftover ham and ground beef or Italian sausage.

[evanescible]

These red and white stuffed pastas are completely different, but use the same technique, making it a breeze to put together. This recipe is also a great way to use up leftover ham and ground beef or Italian sausage.

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Honey! You are accepted for the role of Mandy Silverman. This is another sample application for potential applicants to have a look at. You’ll notice that this is quite a long application, but that’s just how I write. You can do whatever you like with yours! If you have any questions about this application or any characters with a connection to Mandy, don’t hesitate to let me know.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Honey Age: Twenty five Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT+11 Activity estimation: I essentially work full time and have several obligations, but this group is so tightly organised and planned that I’m confident in participating regularly on the dashboard and as an admin! My admin duties will always take precedence but I will be able to reply to threads several times a week. Triggers: (REDACTED)

IN CHARACTER: BASICS

Full name: Amanda “Mandy” Silverman Age (DD/MM/YYY): Thirty (02/03/1966) - Pisces (Sun), Virgo (Rising), Cancer (Moon) Gender: Cisgender female Pronouns: She/her Sexuality: Homosexual homoromantic Occupation: Adult Education Coordinator Connection to Victim: Mandy did not know the Goode family. She knew of them in the way all newcomers to Devil’s Knot are known: through rumor and glimpses in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. Mandy had little to do with Linda; she’d seen David and Beth at school, when she’d gone in to meet Mary after work; but she’d never met Brian at all. Alibi: Mandy was at home that Saturday working on a craft project. She ran out of glue at around three, then walked into town to go to the craft store, where she spent a few dollars too many on a crocheting kit. She decided to pick up some coffee and doughnuts then walked back home, where she stayed for the rest of the day.  Faceclaim: Elizabeth Olsen

WRITING SAMPLE

 This is a self para written for the Mandy in 1984.

The Datsun.

It was such a shit little car. Really, it was. Sandy’s miscellaneous paraphernalia littered the dashboard. Her dad’s manuals and work shit stuffed beneath the front seats. Pete had stamped grubby hands all over the back windows - people asked them all the time if they had a dog. “No,” Mandy replied grimly, hoisting Pete up on one hip. “Just a kid.” The motor turned over more often than she could count, which would put her father, ever the optimist, into an agitated but vaguely amused mood. Him, hunched over the wheel, grinding the key, revving the engine, If I… could just... Then, Sandy, cranky and likely hungover, snapping from the passenger side: I told you we needed it serviced! They had about a thousand tapes in the center console, most of them in the wrong cases, with a mix that spanned from Bob Dylan to Pete’s ABC children’s songs. Them, zooming along a damp highway, rain splattering the glass, her dad cheerfully singing, The wheels on the bus go ‘round and ‘round! as Pete laughed in delight. Mandy tries to forget that she’d eventually lose her temper and shout, Can we turn this stupid shit off? as her mother mumbled, Amen, behind enormous sunglasses and a gas station Slurpee.

The Datsun, which was rotting away at the police station right this second. Mandy hasn’t asked when they’ll get it back. It’s evidence, that’s it. She has her bike or her skates and Sandy doesn’t leave the house unless she has a ride (Aisha pulling up front and blasting the horn; Sandy, clattering around gathering her things, muttering, Where’s my goddamn…). Their family car is nothing more than a shell, a marker in the Pete and Phillip Silverman’s trail to murder. Kind of like a pit stop. Wrappers marked with imaginary blood stains littering the cab floor. That clean-sour smell of nervous sweat. Her Dad was always a sweater, mopping his brow and fanning himself, Jeez, it’s hot today. Mandy kind of loved that about him. How when she was looking for him in a crowd, she just had to search for the slightly damp white button-down, the back of his nearly-balding head. His hair was soft, like down, and Pete’s was too. Two twin sandy blonde heads sitting in front of the television, Pete curled into his father’s side, Phillip slowly stroking back those baby-shampoo-soft curls.

So, yeah. The Datsun. Scene of family road trips and midnight grocery store emergencies. A wreck that managed to limp from point A to B, with her dad faithfully in the front, eager to drive her to friends’ houses or cheer practice or a competition two towns over. She still thinks about winding the windows down as far as they could go when they were on the highway. Her dad would look over, catch her eye, and grin in a way that made her think of him as a teenager, a young man, that cheerful abandon of youth that was infectious as a whisper, goose-bumps prickling her arms.

“Shall we see how fast this baby can go?” He’d yell, and Mandy would laugh and laugh: “Go, Dad, go!”

ANYTHING ELSE?

Here is my Pinterest board for Mandy (featuring ‘84 and ‘96 boards, because I’m that kind of person), and her account can be found here.

HEADCANONS

Mandy works at the Community Centre as an Adult Education Coordinator. Which is just a fancy way of saying she organises craft classes for senior citizens. Seriously. Mandy picked up the job mainly to get Sandy off her back. After commuting to Lansing to attend community college, her decision to drop out and live and work in Devil’s Knot was met, unsurprisingly, with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a loud slurp from a glass of wine. And Mandy knew, she just damn knew, that if she stuck around her childhood home any longer, she and Sandy would end up killing each other. The job isn’t taxing: she works a few days a week, has a desk up on the mayor’s floor in the Community Centre, and spends way too much time putting flyers together for their new pasta making courses or adult literacy classes. The administration is what really bothers her, because the students are lovely. Little old ladies she’s known for years; grandfathers who remember her father back in the day. Best of all, they like her. Mandy wouldn’t consider herself a charismatic person, but she is a patient one. She’ll listen to a grandmother’s story a thousand times, nodding in the right places, exclaiming, asking questions. She’s gentle. Around other people it can be a slightly different story. She’s not clipped, exactly, nor is she rude. But she is shy, and Mandy is naturally suspicious. When people stop her to talk, she hesitates. It would be too much to link that back to ‘84, although there’s little doubt that that October and the months that followed succeeded in severing her trust in adult figures for life. No, Mandy prefers to keep to herself, to the people she knows. It’s safer that way; controllable.

Mandy loves movies -- always has. Bobby, Mandy, and Perry always went on about music, talking rapturously about guitar solos and funky beats, all while Mandy pretended to grimace and trade teasing looks with Jenny and Mike. But movies. Mandy’s favourite genre is horror. Surprising, maybe, but she can’t get enough. Sci-fi is her second favourite. Her ritual is to go down to the Videoport on a Friday afternoon and stock up for the weekend. She trails down the aisles, fingers skating over the titles, looking for some weird German expressionist thing or a summer blockbuster she can zone out to. Mandy would hardly consider herself a connoisseur, but she has an encyclopedic knowledge for actors and actresses, and can name their filmography from memory just by looking at them. It’s like, one of her only talents.

Mandy enjoys cooking. She mainly enjoys cooking for Mary, who will always, without fail, praise her skills until Mandy’s rolling her eyes and begging her to stop. Even if it’s crap (which it is a lot of the time; God knows Sandy never taught her to cook; this was all the result of afternoon cable and Reader’s Digest), Mary will come up and hug her from behind, kissing the side of her neck, suffusing Mandy in warmth and her spicy perfume. That was so good. You’re so good to me. Doing things for people is Mandy’s way of showing she loves them. It doesn’t matter what it is -- laundry, vacuuming, cooking -- she’ll find herself doing things automatically. It’s a little funny that she’s turned into a housewife ever since moving out with Mary, but it’s also really damn nice. Mandy looks after their small apartment so tenderly. Watering the plants on the windowsill, buying kitsch ornaments from the thrift store, airing out their cramped bedroom in the spring sunlight. Much of Mandy’s life revolves around domestic duties. She picks up the mail, pays bills, goes grocery shopping. Mary comes too, of course, but doing things together in public can get difficult when all Mandy wants to do is kiss her deeply in the fruit and vegetable section. Mary’s full-time job is also demanding, and Mandy only works a few days a week (despite what you may believe, there are not that many adult education classes to organise; the biggest scandal was when they introduced a salsa class and everyone collectively lost their minds). Maybe, in some way, it’s Mandy’s way of holding up her end of their relationship. And maybe, in a deeper, smaller way, it’s also an excuse. If she’s busy, how can she possibly go back to college? Who’ll make apple crumble and fold the socks? Huh? The pixies? If this makes Mandy sound territorial, it’s because she is. She clings to these chores because it’s far easier than thinking about the alternative, which is to get off her ass and actually make something of her life. She’s thirty years old. Nearly thirty one. And she’s got absolutely nothing to show for it. That hurts more than anything. Maybe that hurts most of all.

Mandy is a lesbian. She knew. Even when she was a teenager, she sort of knew. She and Mike started dating when they were thirteen and just... kept going. Certain things seemed inevitable: prom, college, maybe even marriage. It was so simple to imagine her life with Mike, whose family, the Hawkers, were best friends with her parents; they’d all been born months apart; they were raised together. Most of Mandy’s childhood memories involve Mike and Mary, Jenny. They tumbled around together like puppies, climbing trees and having sleepovers. Then they started to grow up, and Mandy and Mike got together, and the atmosphere shifted a little. Mandy liked Mike. She did. Maybe she loved him, in a way. But it was so, so platonic, and the way she felt when she looked at Mary was anything but. Mary used to scare her; still does, sometimes. She was a force of nature and Mandy was the eye of the storm. Looking back, the signs were obvious, but then again, they always are.

Mandy used to dress the way people expected her to dress. T-shirts and jeans, bleached white sneakers and cheer uniforms. Not feminine enough to please Jenny, who’d wrinkle her nose and fondly say, “Mandy, are you kidding? You cannot wear that,” and not masculine enough for her dad, who’d hand her wrenches as he worked on the Cadillac on weekends, shooting sidelong glances at her squad jumper, mumbling, “You’ll get grease all over you, honey.” Scrunchies and high ponytails. Pale pink jackets and a signet ring Mike gave her when they were fourteen. Just enough to be acceptable; to be palatable. To blend in, fade away, be nothing at all. These days it’s the opposite: Mandy dresses like an amorphous blob. In fact, she’d rather people hazard a guess at what she really looks like underneath her oversized flannel shirts and huge boots. The more clothing she has on, the more protected she feels. Layers upon layers. Band shirts worn soft with too many washes; jeans more grey than black. She still has her pink jacket from high school (Mary hung it up in their wardrobe and shrugged when Mandy found it, saying, “You always looked cute, and I’m a sucker. So sue me.”) Mandy pulls her hair up and away from her face; she doesn’t wear make-up. Still has the signet ring, though. She’s a sentimental doofus, she knows.

Mandy loves arts and crafts. Pottery, weaving, knitting; painting, sketching, cooking. These are things that bring her peace, that quieten her inner world. Growing up, she wasn’t creative in the slightest. Mandy was decidedly pedestrian: the most creative thing she ever did was design banners for the cheer squad or doodle in the margins of her school notebooks. But after Pete was returned, she needed something, anything, to stifle the panic static in her brain. Countless nights were spent sitting on the couch in front of the television, Pete curled into her side, her doing finger knitting or making a collage, eyes darting between her project and the cartoon onscreen. Over the years she’s gotten better -- last winter she managed to knit Mary a hideous scarf -- but her hobbies were never pursued in the same vein as her other achievements. Mandy still remembers practicing for cheer for hours in the cold, or studying in her room until midnight, eyes dry and head aching, quietly panicking about a test the next day. Everything she did, she did obsessively. These days, Mandy just wants to be still. Their apartment is stuffed with half finished craft projects: stacks of coloured paper, jars of beads, wool in miscellaneous piles, flowers drying on the windowsill. Sometimes Mary will come home to find her sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, a pot of sauce bubbling on the stove, Stevie Nicks in the background, Mandy carefully cutting out prints for her art journal. She started journaling when she was a teenager, mainly to help with her father’s murder and the stress of the subsequent trial, but it’s a habit that has followed her happily into adulthood. Mandy would be lost without her projects, her art. It’s a channel for everything she feels; it clarifies her. And it’s never undertaken with any attempt at perfection. Mandy’s learning, slowly, to let go of unattainable ideas. Life is messy. She’s trying to accept that about the world, herself.

Mandy failed community college. Well, it felt like she failed. In reality, she dropped out. There were only so many classes about psych and childhood trauma that she could take (and ironic, right? That she studied psych? Mandy remembers the day she flicked through the brochure to pick her classes, ticking boxes on the vague notion she’d specialise in children, maybe, in kids who’d been taken or abandoned, and help them find their childhood again). The people were too much. Tons of people like her -- great in high school, but not good enough for a decent college out of state -- and older people too, people who reminded her of her dad (not that he’d gone to college; he used to joke that that was all above his pay grade, No, no, I’m happy where I am! Although Mandy knew how avidly he poured over science magazines, and how impressed he was with Apple and that computer stuff. Maybe in another world he would have done something else, been someone great. Maybe it runs in the family). Mandy felt boring in turning down invitations to parties or even drinks down the campus bar. She’d cite anything -- Pete’s homework, the long drive home, dinner waiting -- and soon that got old. She felt old. Like she’d skipped the fun part of her twenties and jumped right into middle age. It didn’t help that everything after ‘84 melted her brain into goop. The minute Mandy received her final marks from school, she shoved the paperwork back into the envelope and hid it with her dad’s old things. The word failure pounded in her head. How did it happen? How could she have gone from mathletes and cheer to barely scraping by? To holding on by a thread? And why? Why did it all affect her so much; why was she such a damn baby about everything? Pete was back safe. That should have been enough, right? But his return didn’t come with everything. Somewhere between Pete disappearing and that Christmas, Mandy cut herself loose. Swapped SAT prep for making spaghetti for her returned little brother. Watching reruns on TV until it was way too late, tucking him into bed. Some nights she didn’t want to leave him, so she put out a sleeping bag on the floor by his bed between him and the door. Just in case. Mandy always wanted to go to Oberlin for one reason: it was far away from Devil’s Knot (and, okay, she liked the name). Ambition was a thing she wore because it fit, not because she liked it. Watching her dad’s face light up when she showed him her grades was reason enough to try hard; and studying with Bobby made her feel light, if only for a little while, them laughing and whispering about D&D campaigns, teasing each other like siblings. Being smart felt good, even if it didn’t come wholly naturally, and Mandy worked damn hard to keep it up. Giving it away should have been freeing. Instead, Mandy knows she disappointed everyone. She’s just another person who raced to the state line only to stop dead, toes at the edge, and feel fear prick the back of her neck. 

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Saying Good-Bye to Yesterday-Chapter 3

In this chapter, Sharon and Andy return to LA. Ricky tells Sharon about the visit he and Emily made to Jack's about the annulment. Sharon worries that it is taking them longer than planned to find a house and that Andy might be getting tired of living in her condo.

Shandy Heat!

You can find this chapter here https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13004092/3/Saying-Good-Bye-to-Yesterday

and here https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321687/chapters/36271923

and right here

"Here we are, home sweet home." Andy pushed the door open to the condo, allowing Sharon to enter before he followed her in dragging in their large suitcase, the big carryon leather bag on his shoulder banging against the doorway as he tried to maneuver everything in.

Sharon dropped her smaller carry-on and turned to look at him with a sympathetic smile. She appreciated the sentiment, and yes, it was where he was living now, but she knew it wasn't home. With most of his things still in storage until they found a house to buy, aesthetically, nothing had really changed since he moved in.

"Mom, Andy, you're back."

"Ricky!" Sharon's excited squeal of surprise and the way she embraced her son brought a smile to Andy's lips. The pureness of her love for her children was something to behold.

"You just saw me, yesterday, Mom," Ricky laughed at Sharon's enthusiasm.

"Yes, and I didn't expect to see you again for quite a while. I thought you were flying back to San Francisco yesterday?"

Ricky's eyes met Rusty's with slight trepidation. "Yes, well, I had something I needed to do."

"What's that?"

"We'll talk after supper. Rusty and I cooked." Sharon's eyes met Andy's but he just shrugged. He didn't know any more than she did.

"Rusty cooked," Rusty corrected his brother while pulling a glass baking dish filled with stuffed pasta shells covered in spaghetti sauce and melted mozzarella cheese out of the oven. "Ricky stood around trying to tell me what to do."

"You weren't putting enough ricotta in the shells; I like a lot of ricotta. Mom always puts in extra for me."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm not your mommy."

Andy's lips twitched with amusement and he gave Ricky fist pump, he loved a lot of ricotta too. Rusty shook his head at Sharon who smiled; anyone would be hard pressed not to take Andy and Ricky for biological father and son.

"It smells delicious," Andy said, making his way to the kitchen. "We're starving."

"We thought you might be." Ricky grabbed a big wooden bowl full of greens and made his way to the dining room. "I made the salad."

Rusty brought the dish to the table setting it down on a hot plate. "Like I said, Rusty cooked."

"And we appreciate it, both of you." Sharon gave Rusty's shoulder a quick squeeze before sitting down at the table. "Saves us from having to order a pizza." Which, exhausted from their cross-country flight, was exactly what they had planned on doing when they got home.

"Well then, let's eat."

*****

When they finished their meal Andy suggested that he and Rusty do the dishes giving Sharon more precious time with the son who lived 6 hours away and would be leaving the next morning. Ricky took Sharon's left hand eyeing the east-west emerald cut diamond. He saw it in Connecticut but everyone had been fighting to have a look and he had only gotten a quick glance.

"Not bad, Andy, nice work. "

"Oh, well, I can't afford a ring as beautiful as she deserves, but thanks. "

Sharon twisted the band on her finger admiring the way the light played on the diamonds. "This is much more than enough. It's perfect and I love it. Now, do you want to tell me why you skipped out on your flight and stuck around here in LA?" Her worried eyes moved between her two sons. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to talk to you about the wedding. Have you guys discussed a date yet for the ceremony?" Sharon shook her head in a 'drop the subject' way and rested her hand on his, confusing the hell out of him. "What?"

"Rusty, how about we go out and get some air?" As happy as both he and Sharon were with the idea of getting married, the topic of the wedding itself was a touchy conversation and Andy figured Sharon would like a little privacy with her son.

"Okay, sure." Rusty gave Ricky a look of support as he followed Andy out to the balcony.

"You know, Ricky, we talked about this in Connecticut. There are issues."

"Mom, no, no, no. This is your time to be happy, don't postpone it."

"I am trying to move things forward, but if I want to get married in the Catholic Church. Oh, I don't know." She sat back with a dejected sigh, the pain heavy in her chest.

"I do. That's why I stayed here in LA, and so did Emily. We went to see Father Stan yesterday about an annulment. He said all of Dad's past behavior, the drinking, gambling, disappearing acts; they create an easy straightforward annulment of your first marriage, secured by the bishop."

"And your father is going to have an issue with that."

"Oh, I already talked to him."

"You what?" She couldn't have been more stunned.

"Emily and I got the papers from Father Stan and we brought them over to Dad's place this morning. We walked Dad through the entire thing and we made it abundantly clear that if he wants to continue to have a relationship with us then he has to agree to the annulment."

"And Jack was okay with all that?"

"Oh, he was pissed." Ricky laughed, making light of it. If she knew what really went down it would only upset her and that was the last thing he wanted. "But he agreed to sign a letter of approval, which I have here. He's going to fill out the questionnaire and have it back to me by next week."

"How did you know to go to your father about my annulment?"

"Mom," he took her hands in his. "How can we not know what the church means to you? And how could we not go full out for our mother who gave so much to us."

Sharon sat back with a far-off look, her silence louder than any words.

"Is there something else?" He asked with concern.

"Yes." Her eyes fell on Andy out on the balcony with Rusty. "I am not the only divorced Catholic in this relationship."

"Well Andy's ex-wife remarried, I don't think she'll mind giving him an annulment."

"Moving forward on an annulment of Andy's former marriage has got to be his idea, not mine and certainly not yours." She narrowed her eyes at him, without effect. He just gave the same look back at her, with a little growl. She couldn't help but smile. Just like with Andy, she found it very difficult to stay angry with him.

"Okay then, I can't see him not wanting an annulment, but if for some reason he doesn't, then would you consider getting married outside the church and finally stop letting them dictate who is and isn't your family?"

Sharon shook her head sadly, Ricky just didn't get it. "When I said yes to Andy, it wasn't contingent on either of us getting annulments. I am going to marry him, no matter what, but if I can't do it in the church…." A look of pain filled her eyes and her voice broke. "I will be losing something very precious to me."

"See, that's just it. I don't want you to lose that, Mom, none of us do. I guess we just have to hope that Andy feels the same way."

And that Nicole came through.

*******

"What did she say?" Rusty asked, once Sharon and Andy had gone off to bed and Ricky was preparing the couch with blankets.

"God, I can't wait until Mom and Andy buy a house and I don't have to sleep on the couch anymore."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Rusty always felt guilty when Ricky came home and had to sleep on the couch because he had taken over his bedroom.

"No worries, that's the way it happens. Older kid moves out and younger sib takes his room. Besides, I used to get stuck on the couch when Emily and I were both visiting at the same time anyway. Did you know Mom was supposed to get a three-bedroom condo? Our house sold before the condo was available so she had to take the two-bedroom unit. Didn't think it would be a problem at the time, but I guess she didn't see you in her future."

"Yeah, I'm sure I wasn't part of her life plan. So, come on, what did she say? Was she mad at you?"

"A little, I think. But not as bad as I thought. She seemed more…I don't know, resigned, than anything. It's like she expects this not to work out. I hate that. Nothing in her life ever seems to work out the way she planned or hoped. Even her job. Did you know that when Chief Pope was selling Mom a transfer to take over Major Crimes, he promised to make her Commander? She got the job, but not the promotion."

Rusty snorted. "That doesn't surprise me. Lying is a way of life over there."

"Yeah, well, for once, I'd just like to see her get everything she wants and deserves…completely. I just want her to be happy."

"She will be. I trust Nicole. She'll fix things on her end and then Mom and Andy will both be able to get the ball rolling.

*********

Andy came out of the bathroom in his bathrobe, boxer briefs, and a t-shirt to find Sharon seated, propped up by pillows, on her side of the bed. He paused for a moment to take in the sight of her in one of his favorite shortie pajama sets; a lavender lace-trimmed silk camisole with matching tap pants that were so short they revealed almost all her long, lean legs, which at the moment were drawn up toward her chest. The cream she was rubbing into her arms filled the room with the scent of vanilla and jasmine.

There was something special about seeing her like this in their bed, something he still didn't take for granted. As beautiful as she was during the day, with her hair perfect and her makeup emphasizing her stunning features, having her here in bed like this, with her hair pulled back in a messy bun, her glasses sitting on the nightstand and her face scrubbed clean of makeup he was given the unique privilege of seeing her in a more natural state; the little sprinkle of pale freckles on her nose and cheeks, the clarity of her stunning jade green eyes and the fine laugh lines at the corners of those eyes that deepened when she smiled. It was a side she allowed very few people to see. Even on her days off his lady love didn't as much as run out to the grocery store without being put together. She might be wearing jeans and a t-shirt like everyone else on a day off, but she paired them with nice boots and stylish jackets in leather and suede and always wore at least a touch of makeup. Those Wal-Mart shoppers in the pictures all over the internet were an alien species to her. Even when he'd stayed with her before they were sleeping together while he recovered from his blood clot she had never come out to the breakfast table without having her hair freshly blown dried, her glasses on and her face made up. He'd never thought about it until then, but the way she looked, the way she dressed, it was like another shield for her. Now he was beyond the shield, allowed to see her every vulnerability, but he still remembered what it felt like to be so close to the inner sanctum yet still so far away.

Back when his original injury had turned into a dangerous blood clot in his carotid artery that required constant supervision and he'd moved in with Sharon, they had only been dating for a couple months and hadn't yet had sex. Sharon wanted to take things slow, she wanted an old-fashioned courtship, though to be honest, it felt to him like he'd been courting her for almost two years. Whatever. He understood where she was coming from. One of the best things about Sharon was that she wasn't like the kind of women he usually dated, certainly not the type to hop into bed on the first date. Sex was meaningful for her, it wasn't just about the quick thrill of pleasure, it was about sharing herself with him. It was also the last barrier in their relationship. Once that was gone, it would be complete intimacy and that was scary for her. The baggage she still carried thanks to the way Jack had treated her over the years was still quite heavy and workplace romances could be sticky if they didn't work out. Love had come easily to them; trust was a little harder and had to be earned.

So, by the time he'd moved in…to Rusty's bedroom, they'd had a few heavy make-out sessions, he'd had his hand inside her blouse and one tantalizing time up her skirt, but he had yet to see her naked and they had yet to make love.

And it was killing him. Killing…Him…There he was living in the same condo with her and still denied the pleasure of knowing her in the carnal way of his fantasies, this time, not just because of her hesitance but because he was physically restrained from all that kind of activity. Hell, he wasn't even allowed to cross his legs, whatever that was all about.

He'd lain in Rusty's bed at night, knowing with every fiber of his being, that Sharon was sleeping just across the hall. What was she wearing? What would it feel like to sleep pressed up against her? Did she think about him and touch herself the way he did when he thought about her? Damn. Mentally he knocked himself upside the head. Those were dangerous thoughts. Before the clot, when those kinds of thoughts about Sharon brought him to this state, he could just finish himself off. That was no longer an option now. The last thing he needed was to get the blood rushing and shove that clot right into his brain.

His first morning in the condo, he'd put on his bathrobe and padded across the hall to the bathroom. The shower was running so he knocked. 'Be out in a few minutes,' Sharon called out. Crap….it had to be her in the shower. Yes, his mind went there in an instant. Just on the other side of that door, Sharon Raydor, the object of his desire, stood behind the glass doors of the shower, water sluicing down over her nude body, the body denied to him for so long. If they were lovers, he could walk through that door, slip out of his bathrobe and join her. He could run his soapy hands over her curves, feel the weight of her breasts, tease the springy curls between her thighs. If they were lovers he- 'Andy, just a heads up, she takes a pretty long shower.' Shit, he forgot about the kid. He turned away slightly to hide his hard-on. Rusty was already suspicious enough of him, the last thing he needed was for the boy to see him lusting at the bathroom door over his mother.

Later, it was a relief to learn that Sharon had not been immune to the sexual tension he'd felt. Once he healed and they finally started sleeping together, she admitted that having him in her condo, sleeping in the next room, using her shower, laying on her couch in his pajamas had all stoked a few of her own fantasies, for which she'd gravelly chastised herself knowing that any kind of sexual activity could have been dangerous for him. She also admitted, with an adorable blush, that yes indeed, she did fantasize about him and touch herself, which, Christ Almighty, was one hell of a turn on. Just because she wanted to take things slow didn't mean that she didn't desire him, or that it was any easier for her to hold off until she was ready.

Thankfully, they were beyond all that now. He took his bathrobe off and tossed it over the chair, focusing once again on the woman sitting on the bed now rubbing the cream into her legs. Whatever frustration he felt back then had only made the intimacy between them now all the sweeter. Much, much sweeter.

As he approached the bed and didn't receive even a flicker of interest, it was obvious that she too was a million miles away.

"Hey," he said, sinking into the bed beside her. "Are you still stewing about Ricky going to see Jack about the annulment?"

"Hmm…What?" She turned to him with confusion, pulled out of her thoughts. "No. I told you I was letting it go for the night and I have. Besides, I don't stew."

"Of course you don't." He grinned, leaning over to kiss her bare shoulder. "God, you smell good."

She shivered at the feel of his whisker rough jaw against her skin. "I don't," she insisted. And, thank you."

"You're welcome. So," he continued to nuzzle along her shoulder. "If you aren't stewing about Ricky, what's bothering you?"

"What makes you think something is bothering me?"

He gave her a questioning head tilt, and then just waited her out. Pushing only caused her to retreat but if he waited her out long enough to form her thoughts, he knew she would open up to him. She set the jar of body cream down on the nightstand, and then she surprised him by flipping over and pressing her body up against his. "Andy?" Her fingers began rubbing the extra soft fabric of his sleep t-shirt the way she did when she was nervous about something.

"What is it, babe?" He rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Does it bother you living here?"

"What?" That wasn't the question he expected.

"Today when you came into the condo, you said 'home sweet home', but I know it can't really feel like home to you. I feel terrible that all your stuff is still in storage."

"We agreed that was for the best, there's no reason to move everything twice."

"I know. I guess when we discussed it I thought we would find a house a lot faster than we have. And I know that I've been a little pickier than-"

"Sharon, stop." He took the hand that was playing with his shirt and brought it up to his lips. "Sometimes I've just wanted us to find our perfect house so much I jump in too quickly and don't always look at the bigger picture. Every time you've put the brakes on you've been right. If it isn't perfect for you or if it isn't perfect for me, then it isn't perfect for us."

"I know. I just feel bad that this place isn't more 'home' for you."

"This place is home for me, sweetheart. Because you're here. I would rather spend the rest of my life with all my stuff in storage, living here with you, then to spend it in a spectacular house surrounded by all of my things without you. You are what makes me feel at home, not my stuff. "

"Oh dammit, there you go again."

"Huh?" His look of confusion was adorable.

"How do you always do that?" She rose up on her elbow, cupped a hand over his cheek and looked down on him, her eyes shiny with tears.

"Do what?" He leaned into her palm.

"Touch me, right here." She took his hand and placed it over her heart. "No one has ever made me feel the way you do, Andy. I love you, so, so much." She bent down to kiss him, moaning against his lips when his hand slipped inside her camisole to cup over her breast. The proximity was just too much to resist. He'd always been a leg man, but breasts were a close second, and with Sharon, he might even call it a tie.

"Love you too," he murmured against her lips. "But, babe, I do have something I need to confess."

"Okay." She grew serious, a slight frown marring her brow. "What's that?"

"I really do miss my pool table."

"Andy!" She shook her head, her laughter muffled into his cheek. "I promise we'll find a house with enough room for your pool table."

"We better, because you still owe me." He let his lips trail down the column of her throat, latching on to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. She purred, her hips growing restless.

"Not my fault we caught a murder." Her breathing grew heavy as he began sliding his thumb over her nipple again and again until it was pebble hard and aching.

"No, but we never finished our game." He pulled her thigh over his hip, thrusting his hardening cock directly into her mound. When her breath caught and she finished the roll on top of him, grinding against his rigid groin, he grinned. He hadn't expected this tonight, figured they would both be too tired. "And I was winning. I had you down to those sexy red lace panties. One more bank shot and I would have been hitting a home run with you on that table."

She gave a sultry laugh. The few dates she'd gone on after her separation had been sober outings with oh so serious men. Being with Andy was different, it was the most fun she'd ever had. He was irreverent and spontaneous and he had a way of cajoling her out of her comfort zone that left her feeling daring and sexy in ways she'd never felt before. "That was the longest trip from Valencia to the PAB I can ever remember."

"You're telling me. You're not the one who had a hard on the entire trip." The whole drive from the valley to LA his mind kept flashing on the vision of Sharon standing in his den in those red bikini panties and nothing else. Just the thought of her bending over his pool table and how he'd planned to claim his victory kept adding fuel to the fire between his legs.

"I think you're exaggerating a little there, but I am glad it was gone by the time we got to the city."

"Yeah, imagine explaining that to Provenza. Well, you see, Sharon and I were at my house playing a game of strip pool." Andy chuckled at the thought. "You know how he always says he's going to die at his desk? Well, that might have sent him right over the edge."

"You might be right," she laughed while closing her hand over the bulge in his briefs, gently caressing and squeezing him.

"Oh, Christ Shar…That's good"

She smiled and gave him one last squeeze before pulling his underwear down to release him. When her hand closed around the bare warm skin of his thick shaft, his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Seems like you still have that problem." Letting him go for the moment, she reached over into her nightstand searching around for the trusty little bottle.

"What?" he asked when she frowned.

"I can't find the lubricant."

He chuckled softly despite the pressure between his legs. He always thought it was cute that she hated the word 'lube'. "It's usually right there in the front."

"I know. Oh, never mind. I can take care of it myself."

A jolt of pure lust ran from his spine to the tip of his penis at that declaration. He knew what was coming …and that it was pure heaven. Holding his breath he watched as Sharon bent her head and began pressing tiny little kisses along his cock. His buttocks clenched involuntarily each time she flicked her tongue over the head, his eyes closing so he could savor the sweet sensations of her tongue running up and down his length, her fingers caressing and teasing his tight heavy balls. So lost was he in the exquisite sensations that when she finally slid her mouth fully over him he gave a deep guttural groan of surprise and arched off the bed. She paused, looking up at him with alarm.

"Shit. Sorry." He glanced toward the bedroom door. Her two sons were just on the other side. "We really do have to buy a new house." He grabbed a pillow to show her he had his groans under control and she continued to go down on him. Watching Sharon sliding her mouth up and down his cock was so erotic it was all he could do to keep from coming.

"Taylor…Turner…Bellinger…Puig…."

Sharon hummed with a soft laugh against him. It was the Dodgers batting order and that meant Andy was getting close. She'd be more than happy to finish him off knowing that he'd reciprocate, but chances were tonight he 'd be so tired he'd fall asleep once he was sated and her own body was thrumming for release. So, she let him slip from her mouth.

He was about to protest when she bent for one last kiss to lick away the little pearl drop at the tip, a move that always drove him a little crazy. His voice husky, he pled with her. "Shar…don't stop…"

"Oh, honey, we're not done yet." She gave him a wicked grin and slowly began sliding her sexy French knickers down over her hips and thighs, her cami up over her head. His hands immediately reached up to cup over her breasts, as she'd known they would. After a few moments of kneading the soft mounds, he gently tugged her closer for better access to her chest. His tongue snaked out to flick over her nipple the way his thumbs had earlier and when he sucked the hard rosy peak into his mouth she threw her head back with a soft plea of her own. The gentle ache between her legs grew to a fevered throb and she took his penis, now stiff and ready, and slid it up and down her warm wet cleft, shivering each time he passed over her clit.

"Sharon." Her name came out strangled, filled with a desire that never ceased to amaze her. She continued to slide him back and forth, once, twice, then teased him at her opening, allowing his tip to enter her then removing him again and again until they were both panting with the unrequited need that was only one tantalizing slide away. Positioning herself for it, Sharon placed her hands on Andy's shoulders and bent her head to press her lips against his. He could taste himself on her tongue and deepened the kiss at the same moment she slid her knees wide allowing him to penetrate her all the way to his balls, her cry of pleasure caught in his mouth. They stayed that way for a few moments, hearts pounding, both close to the edge. Then, without withdrawing, Andy rolled her over, pulled her long leg up over his back and began the deep, long, slow thrusts she liked to get started with. It didn't take long to bring her up to his level of arousal, in fact, he'd barely begun when she started whimpering against his shoulder, shoving her hips into his and digging her nails into his butt in an effort to pull him deeper.

"Andy…Andy…Andy…." His name was a plea. She couldn't form a coherent thought but he knew her well enough now to know exactly what she was begging for… and complied. Gripping her luscious ass in his palms, he pulled her up tight against him and began the deep frantic thrusts that quickly sent them both over the edge, her sheath squeezing and contracting around him while he ejaculated with a deep groan of utter bliss. Completely spent they collapsed together in a tangle of arms and legs, hearts pounding and bodies rippling with the aftershocks of their orgasms.

Coming back from the bathroom after cleaning Andy from her and sticking a panty liner in her underwear to catch the rest of his leakage, Sharon paused at her nightstand and began rooting around inside. Finally, way at the back of the drawer, she found the bottles that had been right in the front.

"Found it," she said, lifting the bottle of 'uberlube' with triumph.

"Hmm?"

She was right. Andy was already almost asleep. It was so much easier for a man to clean up after sex than a woman.

"I found the lubricant. I just don't know why it was way in the back of the drawer. We used it right before we left and it was right in front."

"Come to bed, sweetheart," he sleepily patted the spot beside him. "I don't think Goldilocks has been in our bed."

"No, I suppose not." Sharon slipped into bed beside him. But she still couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been messing around in her drawers…and with her lube.

There she said it.

Lube.

Ugh. It still sounded like something out of a porn movie.

TBC

[patchwork-panda]

Curiosity killed the Klance

Could it be?! Klance?! On my blog??

Oh it be. It very be. Much crack. Very fluff. I am but a humble multishipper. Please be kind to these poor boys and their raging hormones.

Rest of the story is under the cut but for starters, here is part of it...

Lance’s fork fell to the table with an abrupt clatter, the sharp ringing of Altean silverware still not enough to wipe out what he’d just heard.

It had been a small sound. So small he thought it was just his imagination and that no one else had heard it. But then he looked around the table and realized it wasn’t just him. Shiro’s ears had turned a very blatant shade of pink and Hunk was tactfully avoiding all eye contact, showing only the bare minimum of polite embarrassment.

Keith, the quiet, moody, somewhat stoic member of the crew, had moaned.

To be fair, Hunk’s cooking really was that good. But to moan like that?!

Lance was simply unable to *not* stare and only Pidge swiftly kicking his shin under the table was enough to make him blink.

“Don’t stare, it’s rude!” she hissed.

“But he just--”

Another kick. Lance’s eyes watered.

“Look, he’s had a tough week. Let him have this!” Pidge whispered urgently. Lance noted she wasn’t looking at Keith either.

“Hunk, this is amazing,” Keith sighed, finally removing the fork from his mouth with a loud, cringe-inducing pop. Shiro’s hands were shaking and Lance thought he could detect the slightest whiff of melting metal. Yeah, he was definitely not the only one who heard.

“Thanks, Keith,” Hunk replied, his voice so even that Lance now had to redirect his incredulous stare. Luckily, Pidge had stopped kicking him--she was too busy digging in.

“Seriously, Hunk, what did you put in this sauce?” Keith insisted, shoveling another mouthful of noodles past his lips. Lance twitched

Why in God’s name did the sauce have to be white? Watching it drip from Keith’s lips was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. The United States must have outlawed this kind of thing, so shouldn’t the Alteans?? But no, Allura and Coran were daintily tucking in, with no apparent awareness of Lance’s particular predicament. He eyed Allura curiously, wondering if she was going to make a similar sound as well (that would be even more amazing than Hunk’s pasta, which was already saying a lot). But when she looked up, she only cleared her throat and asked Lance politely to pass the salt.

That left only one option.

“Shiro--”

“Thanks, Hunk. That was a great meal.” Ears and neck now bright red, Shiro was on his feet already. “I got something to take care of so I’ll have to get going. I’ll do dishes next time, ok? Promise.”

He was out the door before Lance could get a second word in and now he was stuck. Here. Across the table from Keith, who was still eating his pasta with an almost inappropriate gusto. Oddly enough, with Shiro’s hurried departure, it seemed the moment had passed and now Lance was pretty sure he was the only one who was still fixated on Keith’s mouth. One by one, the others finished eating at their usual pace and exited the room, leaving him alone ...with Keith. Thankfully, the boy had finally finished eating but as he looked up questioningly at Lance, wiping his lips with a brusque swipe of his palm, Lance had to look away in order to pull his mind out of the gutter.

Of all the unexpected things that could turn Lance on, Keith diving into a plate of alien Alfredo would not have made the list. But a lot of unusual things had happened in the last month. Keith had saved his life, not once, but twice just this last week, which was two times more than the usual. The most recent rescue involved Lance dangling over the edge of a sheer cliff with a broken jet pack and Keith blindly throwing himself at him in order to snatch his hand out of thin air. And the way he had looked at Lance as he pulled him back over the edge... Lance half thought Keith would start crying with relief and there was something about that look on his face, so terrified, so thrown off, so out-of-character for Keith. Lance had never been able to forget it and it was those very same dark-blue eyes that were now staring pointedly at him with the usual expression--indifferent and slightly arrogant.

He hadn’t realized he was still staring absently in the direction of Keith’s mouth until the object of his attentions slowly licked his lips and smirked.

“Looks like you’re on dish duty,” Keith declared, pushing his chair back with a grating squeal, thoroughly breaking the illusion. And he left, hands tucked casually into his pockets, a lightness in his step that Lance might find thoroughly suspicious if he had been in his right state of mind. But that ship had sailed the instant he heard that sound coming from Keith’s throat.

It haunted him all day long. It followed in his footsteps, echoed in his brain until the ambient lighting of the castle’s night-time settings were all that was left to keep him company. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to not replay that moan in his mind, but navigating around the dark corners of his mind was proving more treacherous than flying through an actual asteroid field.

Keith... Keith Kogane was capable of making that kind of sound.

The kind of sound that you’re supposed to make when someone kisses you and kisses you good. The kind of sound Lance imagined Keith might make if he were to shove his hands down the boy’s tight black pants. Really, what would it take to get him to make that sound again? He let out a slight whimper and threw his pillow over his face. It was no good. He wasn’t getting any sleep at this rate. His nighttime beauty regimen--ruined.

“Going to the bathroom,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He got up, stuffed his feet into his blue lion slippers and pushed the button to his door. He didn’t make it two feet down the door before he ran into the very person he’d been trying not to think about.

“Keith!” His voice sounded way too much like a surprised yelp. Keith raised one dark eyebrow, a perfect black arch disappearing into the tousled mess of his hair.

“What?” 

Keith’s voice sounded the same as it always did. Bored, rough, bordering on the edge of irritated as he squinted tiredly at Lance and sighed.

“If you’ve got something to say, just come out with it. You’re blocking the hall and I really don’t have time for this right now.”

“I don’t... I don’t have anything to say,” Lance stammered, trying and failing to sound angry. And then, Keith let out another odd sound. Not quite a moan, but something about the sheer breathiness of that sigh... it made Lance feel like his brain was dripping out of his ears like pink food goo. Suddenly, he couldn’t take it any more. As Keith rolled his eyes and tried to side-step him, Lance suddenly gripped his arm.

“Wait.”

He swung Keith around so that the black-haired boy found himself with his back against the wall. His deep blue eyes widened in surprise and his lips parted a fraction.

“Lance, what--?”

“I gotta know,” Lance groaned and pressed his lips against Keith’s.

He felt Keith’s body go rigid. Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was that Keith punching him in the head repeatedly? He wasn’t sure. His mind was in a fog. As he pulled away at last, he found Keith staring at him, wide-eyed and shell-shocked, his face bright red and his mouth hanging slack. He wasn’t hitting Lance. He wasn’t moving. He was just standing there, his hands hanging limply at his sides. So Lance went back in for another kiss and as their lips connected one more time, he heard it again. One small, tiny, satisfied moan, like an indescribable thirst had been quenched at last.

Finally.