#brooklyn wine storage

[howardazaria]

Contemporary Wine Cellar - Medium Mid-sized modern wine cellar design with travertine flooring and storage racks

[organizeworkers]

Why Unionize a Restaurant?

From "Why Unionize a Restaurant?"

My current restaurant job is at Barboncino, a pizza-and-wine bar in Brooklyn. The restaurant’s previous owner and founder, a wealthy film producer, broke into the industry in the early 2010’s with a pizza oven and a dream provoked by a trip to Italy. Employees made minimum wage while his daughter, who worked intermittently over the course of a few years, was salaried for tens of thousands of dollars. He used profits to fund her film projects.

For some, it was the wage theft. For others it was the disorganization and overwork. The night that tipped the scales, though, later dubbed “poop night,” was when a sewer pipe burst mid-service, drowning the storage area in rancid water. Two bussers waded into the basement to clean up the mess, wrapping trash bags up to their knees and bailing sewage out the back door. Service never stopped, at ownership’s instruction. When the owner told them to get back to work clearing tables, their legs still covered in sewage and plastic, not allowing them to go home and change or shower, the bussers walked out. Ownership threatened firing. Workers contacted the Emergency Workplace Organizing Committee and began the unionizing process.

Read more:

[stosanyc]

Popular Trends in Modern Kitchens: What NYC Homeowners Love

New York is known for a lot of things, but the interior trends in the Big Apple are one of the most profound aspects of the city. Whether we are talking about the swanky architecture of the Upper East Side or the humble yet chic and industrial vibe of downtown Brooklyn, there’s a lot to experiment with when we talk about modern kitchens in NYC. If you are thinking about why you need a bespoke kitchen, let’s walk through a scenario.

You step into a sleek, contemporary kitchen with smart gadgets, and minimalistic, clean architecture. Before you even put down your grocery bags, you would be moved by the feel of the space and be motivated to cook your favorite meal. Sounds like a dream right? Well, in a city where space is at a premium and time is always ticking, having a custom kitchen feels like one of the most satisfying aspects of living. Want to design a modern kitchen and are looking for some inspiration?

Here are some of the latest trends you need to look into!

#1 Compact but High-Impact Storage Solutions

In NYC, where square footage is often limited, storage is always a massive concern for homeowners. With time, people have found creative ways to add more storage space into their kitchen without sacrificing the design, and you can do it too. Whether we are talking about pull-out pantries and built-in shelves to under cabinet storage systems, there are lots of elements that you can add.

#2 Bold Backsplashes and Statement Lighting

Who doesn’t want their home to look like it has come straight out of the vogue magazines? And if you think the same, bold backsplashes with intricate tile designs, bright hues, or patterned mosaics can be a great idea. In addition, you can also add statement lighting such as pendant lights or sculptural chandeliers to add flair to otherwise minimalist kitchens.

#3 Multipurpose Kitchen Islands: The Hub of Activity

In NYC kitchens, where space is often limited, the kitchen island has become a multitasking powerhouse. Homeowners are incorporating larger, more functional islands that serve as prep stations, dining areas, and even additional storage. Some islands now feature built-in appliances like wine coolers, dishwashers, or microwave drawers, making them a one-stop shop for all kitchen activities.

Source: https://stosa-ny.com/blog/modern-kitchens-trends-that-nyc-homeowners-love/

[lanceschaubert]

Hard to Find Vintage Wines — NYC Craigslist

Sometimes you come across extremely specific NYC posts on Craigslist. This post on hart to find vintage wines seems… in that neighborhood. They aren’t extremely rare, but they’re also a certain measure of obscurity. Reminds me how must of the hollowed out parts of the Brooklyn Bridge are bonded wine storage. Liquor / Red Wines- hard to find Vintages / Ports for sale (EAST 23RD ST) All must go…

[kentavewine]

Elevate Every Occasion: Explore the World of Wines & Spirits with Kent Wines & Liquors

The perfect drink can elevate any occasion, from intimate gatherings to celebratory evenings. At Kent Wines & Liquors, we take the guesswork out of selecting exceptional Williamsburg wine and spirits online, offering a curated collection delivered directly to your doorstep. Whether you're a seasoned connoisseur or just starting to explore the world of beverages, we're here to guide you on your flavor journey. Explore crisp whites, bold reds, or sparkling wines for a touch of celebration.

A Universe of Flavors to Discover

Move beyond the limited selections at your local store. Kent Wines & Liquors boasts a meticulously chosen collection that caters to every taste:

Wines for Every Palate: Embark on a global adventure with iconic wines from Napa Valley and Bordeaux. Discover hidden treasures from emerging wineries worldwide, each offering unique grape varietals and innovative winemaking styles. For a hint of celebration, try some sparkling wines, strong reds, or crisp whites.

Premium Spirits for Discerning Tastes: Our selection of spirits boasts a symphony of small-batch whiskeys, gins, vodkas, and more. Crafted with meticulous care by artisanal distilleries, these libations offer distinct flavor profiles perfect for enjoying neat, on the rocks, or in expertly crafted cocktails.

Local Gems: We champion Brooklyn's thriving craft scene! Find a curated selection of exceptional wines from esteemed Brooklyn wineries, alongside local, small-batch spirits. Savor inventive concoctions and uncover the distinct essence of Brooklyn's rapidly emerging beverage industry.

Effortless Ordering, Reliable Delivery

Kent Wines & Liquors makes discovering and enjoying exceptional wines and spirits a breeze:

Browse from the Comfort of Home: Our user-friendly website allows you to explore our extensive collection from anywhere. To locate the ideal bottle for your requirements, refine your search by category, varietal, area, price range, or occasion.

Seamless Ordering: Just select your preferred delivery window and add the wines and spirits to your cart. To guarantee that your order arrives cold or prepared for storage as needed, we provide a variety of shipping choices.

Reliable Service: Relax and let us take care of the rest! Our reliable delivery service ensures your order arrives promptly at your doorstep.

Unforgettable Experiences at Home

No matter the gathering, Kent Wines and Liquor offers the perfect selection to add a touch of sophistication:

Dinner Parties with Distinction: Impress your guests with a thoughtfully curated selection of wines that complement your culinary creations. Pair your meal with a bold Cabernet Sauvignon or explore a lighter-bodied Pinot Noir. For a touch of celebration, pop open a bottle of bubbly.

Game Nights with a Twist: Elevate your game nights with a selection of craft beers or artisanal spirits. Experiment with new cocktails or enjoy classic favorites while enjoying friendly competition.

Relaxation After a Long Day: Unwind after a busy day with a glass of your favorite wine or spirit. Our extensive selection offers something for every palate, allowing you to create your perfect moment of relaxation.

More Than Just Delivery: Your Beverage Concierge

Kent Wines & Liquors goes beyond just offering online ordering and delivery. We are passionate about beverages, and we're here to guide you on your flavor journey:

Online Chat: Have a question about a specific wine region, a trending cocktail recipe, or need a recommendation for a special occasion? Utilize our online chat feature to connect with our friendly staff who are experts on the latest trends and can tailor suggestions to your preferences.

Personalized Recommendations: Don't hesitate to reach out! Let us guide you through the exciting world of wines and spirits and help you discover your new favorite libation, whether it's a classic vintage or a groundbreaking creation from a local Brooklyn distillery.

Experience the Difference: Order Today and Savor Exceptional Beverages

Skip the crowded stores and long lines. Visit Kent Wines & Liquors online or contact our friendly staff to discuss your needs. We are committed to providing you with a convenient, informative, and enjoyable experience. Elevate your next gathering or simply unwind in style – order your curated selection of fine wines and spirits delivered straight to your doorstep today! Cheers to effortless enjoyment from Kent Wines & Liquors!

For More Details Kentavewines

☎️ Phone: (929) 337–6363 📬 Mail: kentwines@gmail.com 💻 Website: kentavewines.com 📍 Address: 420 Kent Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11249

[missperfectlyfinewrites]

open to: any muse 21+ no brooklyn decker fcs, that is what her sister looks like. possible connections: movie or tv/star, somebody working the event, somebody in her management, a colleague, etc. muse: saskia hart / early thirties / children's tv presenter-entertainer / switch / a sweetheart who is amazing at her job but feels a little out of place in the industry - and in her family. plot: saskia's gone to find a room to take a breather in, somebody goes to follow her in?

Big Hollywood events were not Saskia's thing. She knew it was important to have a presence in the community - sometimes it wasn't what you did but who you knew, and that it was good for her to be here. But, Saskia wasn't like these people. She didn't do big movies or the last prime time dramas. Sure her children's show Saskia's Show Time was a huge hit - but among toddlers. She didn't know how to be around big celebrities and go on red carpets, it just wasn't her comfort zone at all.

With her fingers wrapped carefully around her barely touched wine glass, Saskia slowly slipped from the room. She was sure nobody would miss her - she'd barely chatted to anybody, and maybe just having a breather would allow her to find some bravery - or leave, maybe she'd been here long enough.

Saskia slipped down the hallway, silent apart from the swish of her dress and the little click of her heels. She found a room within a few moments, it looked almost like a storage room of sorts but she didn't care. She let the door swing shut behind her and sighed quietly, placing the wine glass onto a near by shelf before her hands came to fidget with her hair, a nervous habit. To her surprise the door swung open after a few moments, and she stepped back, surprised, unable to see who it was.

"Oh I'm sorry, I know I'm not meant to be back here."

[knossosf]

10 Creative Custom Cabinet Ideas for Small Kitchens

As more and more people are moving to cities and urban areas, the need to maximize space has become increasingly important. Small kitchens are particularly challenging, as kitchen cabinets take up the most space, leaving little room for other essential appliances. Small kitchens often pose a significant challenge when it comes to optimizing space and functionality. However, with the right Kitchen cabinet ideas, you can transform your compact kitchen into a stylish and efficient culinary haven. Custom cabinetry is a great solution for solving this problem, offering the ability to create unique storage solutions that maximize available space.

Pull-Out Pantry Cabinets

Maximize your storage potential by installing pull-out pantry cabinets. These space-saving wonders are perfect for organizing dry goods, canned items, and even kitchen appliances. With pull-out shelves and adjustable racks, you'll have easy access to your kitchen essentials without compromising valuable floor space.

Corner Lazy Susans

Small kitchens often have awkward corners that go unused. A corner lazy Susan cabinet is the perfect solution. With its rotating shelves, it allows you to access items tucked away in those hard-to-reach corners effortlessly. Say goodbye to wasted space and hello to efficient storage.

Under-Cabinet Drawers

Utilize every inch of space with under-cabinet drawers. These sleek and modern additions provide extra storage for your utensils, cutting boards, and kitchen linens. They're discreet, space-saving, and an excellent way to declutter your countertops.

Floating Shelves

If you're looking for a chic and open storage solution, consider installing floating shelves. These shelves are not only practical but also visually appealing. Display your decorative kitchen items, cookbooks, and dishes, giving your kitchen a modern and airy feel.

Custom Spice Racks

Spices are essential in any kitchen, and custom spice racks can help you keep them organized and within arm's reach. Whether it's a pull-out drawer or a custom built-in spice cabinet, these innovative solutions ensure you can find the right seasoning for your culinary creations.

Overhead Pot Racks

Free up cabinet space and make a style statement by installing overhead pot racks. They're not only functional but also add a touch of elegance to your kitchen. Hang your pots and pans, and you'll have more room for other kitchen necessities.

Glass-Front Cabinets

Create the illusion of space by incorporating glass-front cabinets. These cabinets reflect light and make your kitchen feel more open and spacious. Plus, they're an excellent way to showcase your elegant glassware and china.

Appliance Garages

Small kitchens often lack counter space, and appliances can clutter your surfaces. Appliance garages are the perfect solution for hiding blenders, toasters, and coffee makers. When you need them, simply open the garage door, and when you're done, close it to maintain a tidy kitchen.

Roll-Out Cutting Boards

A custom cabinet with a built-in roll-out cutting board is a game-changer for small kitchens. This multifunctional addition saves counter space and provides a convenient spot for food preparation.

Multi-Functional Islands

If you have enough space for an island, make it a multi-functional centrepiece. Custom cabinets beneath the island can store pots, pans, and even a wine rack, while the countertop can serve as an additional workspace or a casual dining area.

Custom cabinetry offers endless possibilities when it comes to small kitchen storage solutions. By utilizing the above ideas, you can create a functional and stylish kitchen that maximizes space and meets all of your needs. Consult with professionals in this field to make sure you get the most out of your custom cabinetry project.

Furniture Design Knossos, Inc.

2430 Brooklyn Queens Expy W, Queens, NY 11377, United States

+17187290404

[briamichellewrites]

95

Ever since meeting Bria, Justin spent every minute he had with her. Brad, Mike, and Shiloh had gone home after spending a week with her. It was a very fun week with her. It was as if nothing had changed. They missed having her as their neighbor, but they were happy she was doing okay. The next time she was in LA, she promised to make them something special. Since the band was working together on their fourth album, they wanted to know how she was doing.

She was doing okay. What did that mean? She knew her way around her neighborhood and was comfortable living by herself. They talked about Bradley a few times. She was very angry with him for cheating on her, though that wasn’t one hundred percent confirmed yet. What did he do? He told them what he knew.

Bradley was presenting himself as a single man and was flirting with other women. His friend, Justin something or other thought he may have been hooking up with different women. He was the one who let her know what he was doing. They met him and he seemed like a decent guy, though they didn’t want her jumping into another relationship. After she got the text message from him, she left Bradley. She moved her stuff into storage, boarded her cats, and got a hotel room.

She also took her name off of the lease and their bills, making him pay for everything. What was she paying for? Everything except rent. They split everything according to income and she was naturally paying more since she could afford it. Her new apartment was very nice and expensive! He couldn’t remember how much it was! It was like thirty million dollars or something like that.

Holy shit! Where in New York did she live? She lived in the Upper East Side, so a very expensive area. Her building was only a short walk away from Central Park. She said she chose that area because it was safer. That was true. She thought about Brooklyn or Staten Island, but she liked being able to spend her afternoons at the park. It was also a short walk to Target. They laughed. What about her car? She didn’t have a car.

“She said she doesn’t need one because she can walk, get a taxi, or use the subway.”

“Good for her! We will have to visit her some time”, Phoenix said.

“She has, I think four or five bedrooms. Though, one is for her cats.”

They laughed. Justin and Bria hooked up after he kissed her. They were attracted to each other, romantically and sexually. While talking about it later, he came up with the idea of getting back at Bradley by dating. She jokingly asked if that wasn’t the plot of every romantic comedy. He gave her a look that said, work with me here. How long has he been thinking about this? Since the night he met her. She called him adorable. He officially asked her out. She agreed. He kissed her happily.

Though they wanted to get back at Bradley, he genuinely wanted to date her. She was beautiful and he didn’t deserve her. Instead of staying inside, they went out. Bradley was too afraid of the paparazzi to take her out. Justin didn’t care if they saw them together. For their first official date, he took her to UVA, an Italian restaurant. He waited while she changed clothes.

She put on an oversized sweater, a pair of nice jeans, and white Converse sneakers. He kissed her cheek and told her she looked beautiful. They walked to the restaurant holding hands. It was a little chilly outside, so she was happy she wore a sweater. They didn’t know it, but Bradley happened to be watching them from where he was standing. He was meeting one of the girls he hooked up with and was not expecting to see his ex and his good friend together.

He debated whether he should make his presence known. Before he could, they were talking to the hostess at the stand. They were then brought inside to be seated. He would have to talk to them later. Since she didn’t have experience with wine, she had to ask the waiter for his recommendation. She decided to try it. Thank you. Justin then ordered his drink.

After the waiter left, they heard his name. They looked up to see Bradley and another woman. He played it off as a coincidence and they decided to play along. Bria introduced herself to the other woman. It’s nice to meet you. Bradley asked how long they had been dating.

“Since we both found out you were cheating on me. Didn’t you get my note I left you?”

Ouch! Justin had to hold in his laugh. Bradley excused themselves. She asked if that was petty. It was but it was great! She laughed and then went back to the menu to find something to eat. When the waiter came back with their drinks, they ordered their meal. While they ate, they learned about each other. She was upfront with him about her history of escorting. He asked what that meant.

She dated wealthy men for money. Why did she do that? She needed money for rent and bills. What about her parents? She never met her parents. Her mother surrendered her to the police after she was born. She died a year or two later from a heroin overdose. Her father died from heart problems a few years ago. She didn’t know he existed until she was contacted about her inheritance. Who took care of her? She was in foster care until she became emancipated at sixteen.

The reason why she quit was because her friends were worried about her safety. He took that information in before deciding it didn’t matter. She joked about keeping him forever. He laughed. Was he from New York? No, he was from Michigan. He grew up there with his parents and older brother. Then, he came to New York for college at NYU Tisch School of Arts.

They learned he was Jewish while she was not religious. She didn’t grow up with it, though she had friends who were Jewish and Christian. Was he vegan? Yes, he was. Was it that obvious?

“I’m asking because my two friends are vegan and Jewish.”

“What denomination are they?”

“I think they are Ashkenazi Jewish, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

“I’m reform Jewish. It means you are continually searching for knowledge and improving the world.”

“I’m going to have to look into that.”

He laughed and asked if she wanted to convert. She wasn’t there yet. Okay, he would give her that. While in the bathroom, she was asked by the woman Bradley was with if it was true he cheated on her. Yes, it was. They were engaged for two years when she found out. The woman told her he had approached her at a bar and they had slept together at her place.

Bria felt like she was going to be sick. The woman apologized because she didn’t know he was engaged. Bria joked about needing a very heavy drink. All she had was OxyContin. She handed her two pills. Bria put them into her pocket to take later. Thank you.

Before they left, they exchanged phone numbers. The woman let her know she could hook her up with whatever she needed. She would let her know. Since she was on a date, she would have to wait to take the pills. She did hours later after Justin left. It felt amazing! She felt happiness she never felt before. It was as if nothing could get in her way. She texted the woman back and asked her what else she had. After giving her the address, she replied she was on her way over.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia

[querida-cinderela]

Wine Cellar - Medium

[voleuri]

Contemporary Wine Cellar

[moonknightly]

so scarlet, it was

marc spector x reader, mentions of steven grant x reader and jake lockley x reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: smut smut smut, p in v sex, dirty talk, light choking, light degradation, light exhibitionism.

You’ll be the first to admit it — Christmas Eve in New York really does hold a special kind of magic. It’s cliche, it’s something that the protagonist in every Hallmark Christmas movie to ever exist has to say at least once but it’s true. The city in December makes you feel like a kid again in the middle of bustling concrete and 9 to 5 routines.

The frigid air, the twinkling lights hanging from every building and the festive decorations lining the sidewalk in front of your favorite shops and cafes. The music, the smell of fresh baked cookies or cinnamon rolls or hot cocoa at midnight because you have to have something sweet before bed.

The snow. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s snowing and you’re standing in your kitchen with your warmest slippers and your boyfriend’s hoodie covering your body and it’s perfect. You’ve just pulled your cookies out of the oven and didn’t even flinch when you burned your tongue on a melted chocolate chip. The radio is turned down low but you can still clearly hear your favorite Christmas songs move through the speakers. Your apartment is warm, the pot you’d used to make a homemade soup still soaking in the sink. You can hear Marc moving behind you, the sound of glass clinking but you don’t turn to see what he’s up to — you can tell he’s grabbed a couple of wine glasses and you make a bet with yourself on which red he’s going to choose.

And your guess is right. Marc picks a sweet red wine that he can only find in the midwest. It reminds him of Chicago, of his childhood but it doesn't bring the same wave of nausea as slamming doors and leather belts.

He’d stolen a bottle from his parents the day he turned 18. His plan had been to drink it by himself whenever he found a cheap motel room or an overpass for the night but he’d never popped the screw top. He’d held onto it for years, moved it from storage unit to storage unit until he found himself living in a fifth floor walk up in Brooklyn and met a girl and finally had a reason to drink it. You never lived with him in that apartment, but you were always over, always waking up in his bed or on his floor and he bites back a smile because the only reason you were on the floor in the first place was because of this stupid wine.

Now, you share an apartment on the Upper East Side and you’re still the only person he’ll drink it with. And for some reason, each time he shares a bottle with you, it makes him hate Chicago a little bit less.

You take the wine when he offers it to you, clinking your glass with his in a silent toast, neither of you noticing the small drop that slips out of his glass and lands on your hoodie, neither of you caring when it stains the material a deep burgundy that you won’t even attempt to get out once you finally wash the damn thing.

Marc watches you over the rim of his glass as he takes a sip, devastatingly beautiful brown eyes locked on yours. They’re sparkling in the low kitchen light, the home you had made for yourselves fading out until the only thing that remains is him him him. The smell of your cleaning supplies is replaced with his aftershave and you can’t hear the music anymore when you focus on the sound of his breathing and somehow, the scene is even more perfect than before.

He smiles a little bit and his eyes crinkle in the corners. You just watch him as you lower your glass, watch as he tilts his head towards the window in your kitchen and his smile slowly turns into a devious smirk.

“Get some real shoes on.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. You rush to the entryway and trade your slippers for your socks and boots, and you steal a pair of Steven’s sweatpants off the dryer. You don’t worry about a heavy jacket or gloves or a scarf, but you do grab a hat to keep your ears warm. The blanket that Marc grabs will suffice in making sure you don’t freeze, and while you don’t appreciate his body heat on a warm summer night you’re more than grateful for it as you step out onto the chilly fire escape.

You set your wine and cookies down while Marc clears away some snow and puts the first blanket down, the material waterproof and thick so you won’t get wet. He gets himself situated first, then motions for you to sit between his legs with your back pressed to his chest. He takes the other blanket and wraps it securely around your bodies, trapping the warmth in underneath.

“You know this might work better if we were naked,” he teases, the smirk evident in his tone as you reach behind you to lightly smack his cheek. He only laughs. “What!? I’m serious. It’s like, a scientific fact or some shit that sharing body heat is more effective when you don’t have clothes on.”

“I’m sure our neighbors would love getting to watch me strip on our fire escape.”

“Exactly,” Mark deadpans, his lips tickling the back of your ear, causing blood to rush to your cheeks, the sensation more of a burn than just a generic heat. “Who wouldn’t enjoy that?”

You roll your eyes and ignore him, and he chuckles even though he can’t see your face — he just knows you well enough to know you’re probably feigning exasperation or annoyance. And even though he doesn’t encourage it any further, he still pushes your, his hoodie up your stomach a few inches so he can rest his palm against your skin. It feels nice, warm and safe and familiar and your lips twitch into a small smile again.

The silence is comfortable, it always is. You can sit with Marc or Steven or even Jake for hours and never say a word and it never gets weird, never gets old. Your boys are your home and you live for moments like this where you’re able to just exist alongside one of them. These quiet moments make the chaos worth it, though you’d always find them worth it regardless.

You eat your cookies and sip on your wine together as you watch the snow turn your surroundings white. You think about how you’ll wake up in the morning to pancakes and cocoa and soft kisses, and how no matter who is fronting they’ll most definitely coax you back into bed for a few hours before you finally get up and sit around your Christmas tree. You’ll open presents together for the third year in a row, growing more and more comfortable with the way the boys spoil you on Christmas with each passing year.

You think about how you’ve created your own little family for yourself, and how you can’t wait for the next Christmas, and for the one after that, and for the first one you’ll celebrate where you share Marc’s last name.

You’re so lost in your own little daydream, it takes you a moment to realize that Marc’s fingers are trailing further and further down your stomach, hovering right over the waistband of Steven’s sweats. His touch burns, it always does in such an inviting way and it makes you squirm and shiver against his body. His warm breath is still tickling your skin.

Marc continues to stay quiet as he pushes his hand into your panties, his movements almost rushed, like he’ll implode if he doesn’t touch you immediately. He lowers his head, allows himself to bury his face into your neck so he can kiss and lick and bite at your skin while his fingers trace light circles against your clit.

You don’t make a sound, you don’t even moan. You don’t make a show of it or cry out for more. You just relax against his chest and let him work your body as he pleases. You let him do exactly what he wants how he wants.

You turn your head just enough to press your nose into his hair and inhale softly, his smell intoxicating and enticing and oh so Marc. It only adds to the pleasure rolling through your veins because it’s just so entirely him, your man.

“That feel good?” he purrs, keeping his pace the same, the pressure behind his touch the same.

You nod breathlessly and finally let a moan slip past your lips. Marc purrs again and you can feel his cock growing beneath his sweats when he rolls his hips once, twice. He’s growing needier and needier but he still doesn’t switch up the way he’s working your body, still doesn’t do anything to give himself any sort of stimulation.

You’re the one to pull away from his pleasure and turn in his lap, the first one to break and need more more more.

Marc’s hands move with you until they settle on your ass, holding you up, holding you to him. He lets his own moan slip into your mouth as his lips find yours and he immediately feels intoxicated, drunk off your kiss — another cliche but another one that proves to be true time and time again. He always feels this way when he’s kissing you.

His lips trail from yours down your jaw and to your neck. He bites gently, letting his tongue soothe your hot skin before he pulls your hoodie to the side and bites harder, a red mark that will surely bruise against your collarbone.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against you after he pulls away, one of his hands moving to brush your hair out of your face, cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin.

“Says you,” you mumble, leaning into his touch, craving more. “With those stupid brown eyes.”

Marc snorts. He rolls his eyes and kisses you again before you can say anything else. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you and you let your hands wander down between your bodies, down until you can easily palm his cock beneath his sweats. He moans again, and he has to break the kiss so he can try to catch his breath but pulling enough air into his lungs proves harder than it might seem. He’s so overwhelmed already and you haven’t even touched him, not really. Not skin on skin.

“I thought you didn’t want to give the neighbors a show,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut when you slip your hand into his boxers and wrap your fingers around his length.

You start off slow. You want to drag it out, want to make him desperate to be inside of you and it doesn’t take long, it’s not hard at all. He’s always desperate for you, always eager to have you any way that you’ll let him.

“Don’t drop the blanket,” you hum simply, shrugging your shoulders.

You keep stroking him, keep watching him, keep waiting to hear him beg but he’s holding his composure. He wants you to be the one to break first again.

And you do. Somehow you always do.

You pull his dick out of his sweats and push down your own, letting them tangle in the blanket — you’d worry about how you were going to get them back on later.

“Put me in baby,” Marc mumbles, voice almost lazy, eyes only half-slits as he watches your face.

He’s already so far gone as he focuses on the way your jaw drops when you take the first inch, and how your eyes slowly close then squeeze tightly shut when you take the second and third. Your nails dig into his shoulders when you take the fourth and fifth, and your grip only tightens as you take the rest of him until you’re fully seated on his cock. The wind is knocked out of him when you don’t give yourself or him a chance to adjust.

You roll your hips a few times before raising them, hovering over him for a second or two before you slip back down onto his length, over and over again. You throw your head back and moan once you find a rhythm that works for you both, not having to try very hard to do so because you’ve been with Marc so many times, you know his body and what he likes almost as much as you know yourself.

“Look at you,” Marc hums, a moan catching in his throat to accompany yours. “Fucking this cock like a trained fucking whore, huh? Like you were fucking made to stretch yourself out on it, to just fucking take it.”

His words only encourage you, only make you work harder so you might hear more. You’ll take his words, his moans and groans, anything. You just need more.

“Keep going.”

“Yeah?” He slides his hands up and down your sides, wishing he could watch your tits bounce in his face but he doesn’t have the patience to try and work your hoodie off under the blanket. “You like how it feels inside of you, don’t you? So thick and hard, yeah baby? And you do that to me. You fucking get me like this, so fucking wrecked for you.”

Marc isn’t even one hundred percent sure of what he’s saying anymore. He’s just going on and on, spewing filth left and right but if you didn’t know any better you would say he rehearsed it. It was just too fucking good.

“Fuck I can’t wait to keep you in bed tomorrow.” He reaches up, lets his hand close around your neck, his eyes locked on your face even when your own are still screwed shut. “And you’ll let me, won’t you? That’s all I want for Christmas, yeah. Fuck I want to keep you in bed and fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your name. I want to throw you over the edge of the mattress and shove my cock everywhere you’ll let me.”

The images that start floating through your head make your pussy clench — you on your back with Marc’s cock down your throat, you with your ass up in the air while he works your tight little hole enough to take him. You want him in your mouth, your ass, your pussy, everywhere. Gods, he’s unreal.

“Yeah, you like that baby?” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a moan when you clench around him again. His hands fly back to your hips and he grips them tightly between his fingers. You’re fucking yourself harder, faster, chasing your own high while trying to push him into his. Again, like everything between the two of you, it’s not hard.

Marc keeps mumbling absolute filth to you but soon enough you can’t understand a word he’s saying — it’s so jumbled, so broken apart with moans and whimpers and it’s all you need to fall over the edge. You cum hard, squeezing Marc’s cock tightly, and his orgasm is enough to keep you floating when you feel him spill himself inside of you, hear him moan your name over and over again like a sacred prayer.

Coming down is the hard part. Marc doesn’t want to let you. Even when his dick is so fucking sensitive that feeling you squirm on top of him fucking hurts, he doesn’t want to let you. He’s thrusting up into your cunt, rubbing your clit, keeping you suspended in midair until it really is too much and he has to stop, face twisted in pain that is so worth it.

“There we fucking go,” he coos while he watches you float back to earth. He holds you tightly, lets you collapse against his chest and once again, he pulls the blanket tight to keep the cold air out. “That’s it baby, there we go.”

You hardly hear him. The drumming in your ears is so loud. You think maybe you black out because next thing you know you’re back inside, laying on the couch in front of the Christmas tree you and Steven decorated before Thanksgiving was even over, wrapped in Marc’s arms with a second glass of wine in your hand.

The maroon liquid sloshes in your glass as you sip on it and allow the alcohol to warm your cheeks, that holiday magic still so papabile and you silently ask yourself if it’s just the “Christmas in New York” air or if it’s coming from the man you love.

[steve-rogers-new-york]

Recipe Advent Calendar - Day 1

Happy Holidays!

To celebrate the season, I am doing 12-days of seasonal recipes from the 14th to the 25th December. These are recipes published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle newspaper during the period that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes lived in Brooklyn in the early 20th century.

Christmas Cake Tips

Christmas cake recipes are many and varied. Some of them have been handed down from mother to daughter for generations. It is worth noting that many of these old standbys contain brandy, not so much for flavoring, since most of the taste is lost in the cooking, but because brand added to the keeping quality of the cake. Slow cooking is the rule for success in all fruit cakes. Tried and true recipes would have you steam the cake first and then bake them to a cake texture. You may cook the cake in almost any shape and any size tin—coffee or baking powder tins, loaf or square pans. Whichever type you use, follow the method of topping the tins with heavy wax paper. Leave this covering on during the steaming and all but the last half hour of the baking. In this way the cake will not become too brown. After the cakes are cooled, wrap them in wax paper and store them in the tins in which they were baked. A neat and easy trick that makes for successful storage is to top the tin a sheet of heavily-waxed paper. Put this package in a moderate oven until the wax on the paper has melted. Remove it from the oven and press the waxed paper around the edge of the container. As the pan cools, the melted wax will harden and make a perfect seal over your cakes. This wax paper may be removed every week or so, while you add an additional spoonful of grape juice or wine for additional flavor, and reseal until the next time.

Early American Fruit Cake

2 tablespoons cinnamon 1/2 teaspoon cloves 1 teaspoon nutmeg 4 cups sifted flour 2 cups shortening 2 cups sugar 1 tablespoon grated orange ring 12 eggs, well beaten 1 pound of seeded raisins 2 pounds currents 1 pound pitted dates, chopped 1 pound citron, shredded 3/4 cup brandy or sherry 3/4 cup rose water Prepare the fruit the day before mixing the cake. The next day mix and sift the flour and spices; mix with the prepared fruits. Cream the shortening until soft and smooth, gradually add sugar, creaming until fluffy; beat in orange rind and eggs. Gradually stir in flour and fruit mixture alternately with the combined brandy and rose water. Turn into greased loaf pans lined with waxed paper and gain greased. Fill the pans three-quarters full. Cover the tops with waxed paper and steam one hour, then bake at 250 degrees about three hours, depending on the size of the baking pan. The one-pound loaf takes three hours, while the two-pound will take about four and a half. Remove the wax paper the last half hour of baking. The recipe yields ten pounds of fruit cake.

The recipe appeared in the Monday 24 November 1941 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

Advent Calendar Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12

[ Support SRNY through Patreon and Ko-Fi ] And join us on Discord for fun conversation! I also have an Etsy with up-cycled nerdy crafts

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Grace’s Brooklyn, New York apt. is so eclectic and fun. 

She’s got a little tropical vibe going in the combination living/dining room and the green accents really make it pop. 

Wow, look at those stacks of books! 

Modern, mid century, and vintage things come together in harmony. 

Books and art pieces are all over the home. 

I’ve seen that rabbit are on wallpaper. Notice the skull on the retro stool. 

In the kitchen is a tiny table/storage piece with fun canisters. 

If you look around, you’ll see some whimsical touches, like the fake doorbell above the bed that says to ring for wine.

She doesn’t hide cute kitty shoes in the closet- they’re on display.

I always liked this idea for storing & displaying jewelry.

Love the wavy pink paper in the bathroom. 

https://theeverygirl.com/grace-atwood-brooklyn-apartment/

[violetfaust]

Here's my pitch for the post-credits scene in Dr. Strange: Multiverse of Madness.

Open on a large wall-mounted TV clicking on to some news station.

Pull back so we can see a white cat sitting on a wooden coffee table, batting at the TV remote: she's just turned it on.

Then we start a slow pan around the room: nice, not huge, lived in. A squishy sectional couch with a huge photograph behind it of a graffitied wall outside an NYC subway station. Video game controllers on the coffee table. A floor plant or two. Music playing in the background, turned down quite low; we can't make out all the words.

The room flows into a dining room: big MCM-style table with the CA shield at one end. It's upside down and a black-and-white cat is curled up in it, asleep. There's an MCM sideboard with a record player and some speakers on top; a large mason jar filled with wine corks. Open storage on both sides; one side has a collection of vinyl records, the other a stack of board games and video game cartridges.

There's a record on the player, and now we can hear it clearly: Etta James's Trust in Me (we can also hear indistinguishable voices in the background, some muted laughter).

We can get along, we can get along

Oh, if you trust in me

While there's a moon, a moon in the sky,

While there are birds, birds to fly

While there is you, you and I

I can be sure that I love you

Oh stand beside me, stand beside me all the while,

Come on Daddy, face the future,

Why don't you smile

Trust in me and I'll be worthy of you

Camera keeps panning, never stopping, into an open kitchen: black cabinets, white subway tile, wood counters and floating shelves. A magnetic knife rack with a HUGE number of knives. Two almost-empty glasses of red wine on the kitchen island.

Music fades out and we can hear the people talking more clearly; the camera never stops to focus on them. We just get bits of conversation. It's Sam and Bucky, washing dishes at a big old farm sink. One of them washes and the other dries.

"--birthday, and Sarah asked if you'd bring that chocolate cake--"

"Oh, a request? For my chocolate-potato cake?"

(muttering)

"My 'Depression nonsense' cake? That cake?"

"What, you gotta make me say it?"

"You know what? Yeah, I do. C'mon. 'Bucky, I love the chocolate-potato cake.'"

"Okay, fine. FINE. Bucky, I love--"

Camera is panning out of the kitchen, in a circle back to the living/dining room, so the voices fade and we hear the music again. Passes an exposed brick wall with a ton of pictures and artworks, gallery style: black-and-white and color photos of families, the boat, a black-and-white photo of lower Manhattan seen from Brooklyn about 70 years ago, the wartime pic of Bucky and Steve from the Smithsonian, the picture of Sam and Riley from TWS, a candid of a lot of people from Tony's Avengers party at the beginning of AOU, a laughing Natasha Romanoff batting at Redwing, a WWII-era "Captain America Wants You" poster.

And we've come full circle back to the TV. Which is playing "Breaking News" footage of lightning flashing in purple skies and half of Manhattan falling into that huge sinkhole.

Alpine meows. Cut.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

cardigan

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence

a/n: this is a limited three part series based on three of my favourite songs from taylor swift’s 2020 life saving albums; cardigan, willow and invisible string. this one is cardigan, hope you enjoy xx

WILLOW

She clutched onto her worn out brown leather bag as she stepped inside the her father’s precinct. There wasn’t much that looked different from when she was a little girl, the tables still stood on the same messy layout which made no sense, the officers still didn’t look up whenever someone came in and the whole room smelled like stale coffee and burnt bread. The only difference was that the once endless room now felt small, nauseating, confining, a place where she didn’t want to be. 

      - Y/N. - her father’s voice rang through the small room, making her look up to where he was standing. Captain William, or dad if she was lucky enough to call him as such, was an intimidating presence even after all these years yet after her mother’s death it was him who was left of her family. - Come in. 

Her shoes felt heavy as she stepped inside his office, two more officers standing inside as she walked with her father. He closed the door, nodding his head which was a tell tale for everyone to sit down. She sat at the end of the dark green couch, away from the other two officers who were looking her up and down as if she were a prey.

       - I told you she would be perfect. Inconspicuous, he wouldn’t even think she’s undercover.

       - She’s not the type of woman Barnes go for.

       - She doesn’t need to be the type of woman he goes for, she needs to be the one who works in his bar and listens to their plans. 

Her father had told her about James Barnes. They had been trying to get him in for minor offences yet nothing seemed to pan out. The force knew they could never apprehend him for the crimes he knew he had committed but if they could get him in for something small: weapon charge, drug charge, something. For that to happen they needed someone to be in their circle and unluckily for them, Barnes and his men knew everyone who worked in the force but they didn’t know her. In return for her working in his bar, the force would pay her tuition fees as well as any books she needed. 

“It won’t be hard” was what her father had told her but as they dropped her at the bar she couldn’t help but freeze at the door. They were expecting her, she had gotten the job yet she couldn’t find herself walking inside. In any other situation she would’ve rushed past it, it wasn’t the place she would like to be in. Her hand grasped the bar of the door, pushing it open. The nightclub looked vastly desert with squeaky clean floors and bright lighting which showed the dark aesthetic of every single owned Barnes club in town. She didn’t know the man but she knew his style, dark, sleek, leather, sensual even, enough to make people feel sexual whenever they walked into his club. Yet, in broad daylight it was merely an abandoned establishment with one a table with a few hangover men still nursing a bottle of beer each, waiting for 7 PM for the club to come back to life. 

She stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in brown tones. A loose gingham black dress over a brown turtle neck covered and low black Mary Janes. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for someone to speak to but someone found her first. A tall man, probably pushing fifty, toothpick hanging from his lips and dirty rag on his left hand. She felt short, cowering under the gaze of the man.

     - You're the new girl, or what? - he questioned, thick Brooklyn accent yet Y/N didn’t dare reply, instead nodding at him. - Do you have a name?

     - Y/N.

     - Y/N, that’s nice. I’m Bobby, I’m the bar supervisor. You wanna talk to anyone? You talk only to me and you’ll do well.

She nodded her head quickly, almost like a bobble head figure, following him behind to bar. Now Y/N knew about bars or at least what they did in them, she just wasn’t expecting to see the huge amount of spirits, wines, and beers behind her. She was almost sure if someone robbed the club, they’d be better off with the booze than the money in the cash register.  The man, Bobby, ran through the basics, showing here with the cleaning products were, where some more complicated cocktail mixtures were written, how the washing machine worked and how crucial it was to constantly collect glasses from the bar and put them in there. She held a small reporter notepad, pen scribbling down messy wiggles which she wouldn’t be able to understand later on but it was still worth it. She could memorise it, she was a university student after all hence her memory for cocktails shouldn’t be hard. Everything was so polished, meticulously placed, almost too organised for a bar; the bottles placed onto glass shelves which light from under, placed almost the same measure apart in a sea of expensive beverages. 

     - Don’t serve any drinks to people who haven’t presented a payment form. If the boss comes in, serve him whiskey on the rocks. Glenlivet, no other brands. 

     - I’ve never seen the boss.

     - You’ll know. 

She was left there watching as more staff came in, the sun going down at the same time. “Just breathe, Y/N” she remembered her father’s words, she could do it, she could do it. How hard could it possible be to be a bartender? Just breathe, Y/N. She can do it, she can help his father, she can do this and then no longer have to worry about how many hours she would have to do at that little mean shop which had taken more of her than she gave them. She could be a regular university student, she just needed to breathe.

The purple, blue lights started to light the sunlight coloured bar as people started to queue up outside for a chance to get inside one of the most famous bars in town. She could faintly remember hearing her friends talking about how exclusive it was but as she looked out the window and at the queue she could finally understand it. As the doors opened and people started flocking in, suddenly she was serving drinks left and write, vodka and other shoots drenching her dress and apron as she messily tried to serve everyone at the bar screaming at her to hurry up. She kept running around like a crazy person, dragging bottles and bottles and pouring drinks which kept overfilling and dropping onto the floor. People kept yelling at her “hey sugar, how long does it take you to bring me some vodka?” but one man who was sitting still, gaze glued onto her while a cigarette hanged from the middle of his lips. She cowered under his gaze returning to hand a tray of jello shots to some girls. 

She continued to work until the last person was out of the bar but the man remained calmly leaned against the bar, the flame of his cigarette dying down. She tried to avoid him, pretending to clean the spot over and over again but the man merely scoffed, rubbing the butt of the cigarette against the ash tray.

      - You’re terrible. - he spoke out, voice raspy. - Who hired you?

      - That’s nothing to do with you. - Y/N turned around to place back the bottles onto the shelves.

      - Are you the owner?

      - No. - she placed the bottles on the shelf, hands shaking. 

      - Then it is something to do with me. - the air seemed to be punched out of her lungs, as her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle she was holding. She refused to turn around and look at him, understanding what it implied. Instead she just looked at herself in the glass wall. Just breathe, Y/N. - Can I get a ...

      - Glenlivet. - she rose herself on her tippy toes, interrupting him mid sentence. Grabbing from ice from under the bar, she added it to the glass, topping it with the expensive whiskey before placing it under a black square napkin. She continued to wipe down the counter until Bobby came back from the storage unit with more alcohol. 

     - You can go now, Y/N. I’ll see you at 7. - Bobby dismissed her and almost like thunder, she bolted off, not even stopping and allowing him to question why their boss was sitting at the bar.

Clutching her bag against her chest she started walking up to campus. She had done it, or at least managed to do something yet get no information her father wanted. That is unless her father wanted to know James Barnes’ drink of choice which she was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. Reaching her flat, she turned the key around, opening the door to see her friend Wanda waiting in the couch. 

    - You’re alive. - she mocked, turning the TV on. - Once again, tell me why you said yes to working in a mob bar ...

    - It’s not a mob bar, Wanda.

    - It is a bar owned by a mob boss who has been blamed on several murders. It is a mob bar. 

    - I’m just a bartender, nothing is gonna happen.

    - Can you tell me again why you’re doing this? Your father is the reason why you were raised by John Hughes’ movies. 

    - Okay, Wanda, you made your point. - Y/N took her jacket off, hanging it onto one of the hooks in the door.

    - I’m buying you pepper spray.

    - Pepper spray is illegal, Wan. 

    - So is the bar you’re working.

    - Okay. I’ll be careful, don’t worry. I’ll go to sleep now.

Wanda continued to ramble about her working where she was but there was really nothing she could do other than continue. All she had to do was breathe and listen and the department would pay for her tuition for the rest of her degree. Small price to pay for a much bigger price. 

As another day started, the routine started once again with her awaking up and running into class with Wanda complained about her brother followed by spending the rest of her free time until her shift began. Walking back to the bar she was telling herself once more that she would be just fine and that Wanda slipping a knife inside her bag was only her overreacting. Stepping inside the same building, Bobby was setting some shoot glasses on the counter.

    - Y/N. - he acknowledged her. - Glad to see you’re still here.

    - Wouldn’t be anywhere else. - she placed her bag and jacket under the bar and tied her apron around her waist. - Busy day?

    - Fridays are the busiest. All the university kids. Let me know if you need a hand.

    - I’m sure I’ll be okay.

Once again, wrong. She was not okay and as everyone found themselves flocking to the bar she was already running around like a crazy person, holding two bottles on each hand as people. The lights were blinding, shining on her as she served and slide more drinks onto the bar counter and to the waitresses who’d give her snide remarks whenever she took too long. Her hands were numb from the ice already yet her face was warm from moving side to side. At least, Mr. Barnes wasn’t around and that was already something she could be thankful for. She knew she had to eventually speak to him if she wanted to ever hear anything or maybe she wouldn’t have; she was good at being invisible, maybe she could just overhear something without having to ever speak with him.

   - Hey, sugar, where’s my drink? - a sluggish voice came from the bar and Y/N ignored it. Bobby told her, if anyone sounds or looks drunk to cut them off that “Mr. Barnes doesn’t need drunk people being roudy in his bar”. She continued to serve the group of girls celebrating passing an exam until the man moved over to them. - Hey, I asked where is my drink?

   - Sorry, you’re cut off. - she shrugged, grabbing some glass onto a plastic bucket so Bobby could put them in the washing machine.

   - What the fuck? C’mon give me my drink.

   - No. - Y/N just ignored it, turning around to put the bottles back onto the shelves.

   - Well then be useful and show me your tits. - the man scoffed as if it was the best joke in the world. Y/N turned around, speechless at what he had said before grabbing an half empty drink from the bar and throwing it at him which surprised the man just as much. - You bitch!

   - What’s the problem here? - fuck. Of course he had to show up. Mr. Barnes made his way towards them, holding that same powerful yet frightening stance as the strobing lights painted his face. His eyes were on her, waiting for her to say something but Y/N was mostly frozen. That was it, she was about to get shot, or worse, lose a finger or a leg or an arm. Oh god, how could she take exams without an arm? 

   - Your bartender isn’t serving me. - he pointed at her as if he were a 5 year old. 

   - Really? - Barnes stood slightly behind him and all she could see in a glimpse second was his metal arm, reflecting the strobing lights, come up to the nape of the man’s neck before he slammed his face against the glass topping of the bar counter. Y/N was startled by this, jumping back against the wall of drinks. - Get the fuck out of my bar. 

The man ran off, bloody nose, like a scared wounded animal leaving Y/N only to stare at him. Her mind rushed miles an hour, wondering if he had done that to someone what he would do to her. She should’ve taken the pepper spray from Wanda. 

   - Get back to work. - he left her with that, turning around and getting lost in the sea of people dancing. 

   - Hey ... - Bobby touched her arm, waking her from her own mind. She looked at her hands; good she still had both hands. - Go take a break, wash the glasses, I’ll do the bartending for a while.

   - I’m fine, Bobby.

   - I know. I just want you to go do something else. - Y/N nodded, not wanting to disobey anyone yet she couldn’t help but be glad she would be in the back where the big washing machine was for most of the pint glasses and other oddly shaped cups. After all, Mr. Barnes wouldn’t be hanging in the kitchen.

She pushed her hair away from her face and put on the big pink gloves and started to wash the glasses and plates from some small appetisers they sold until closing time started to near. Once the bar was cut off, she joined Bobby to clean the always messy bar and make it look as precise as it looked every single day. Another day survived, no limbs lost. 

   - That was a good one, Y/N. See you tomorrow. - Bobby bid her farewell as he exited through the door. Y/N stayed behind, moping the floor behind the mar which was mostly a pool of mixed drinks that she always somehow managed to overfill and drop onto the floor on her way to serve them. As she continued to mop, the person who she didn’t want to see sat at the bar and without much thinking, she served him his drink of choice. 

   - I ... hm ... I have to go, I have to walk home and my flatmate is waiting for me.

   - You’re walking home with your flatmate?

   - No, she’s waiting for me at the flat. - Y/N grabbed her cardigan, putting it on which immediately brought her a nostalgic warmth. 

   - I’ll drive you. 

   - Oh .. no, Mr. Barnes. It is not necessary, I’ve walked home before, I know the way. 

   - And I know the type of men who walk around my bar. - he downed the whiskey as if it were water. - Come on. 

Oh god, I’m going to sleep with the fishes. He’s gonna kill me in his car. Y/N thought to herself as she followed him to the back of the bar where he had parked his car. Of course it was a good car, a new model black Audi with sleek matte black leathered seats which looked more expensive than everything together at the bar. She wondered how much money he made. Her father hadn’t told her much about him and all she knew was merely gossip. He opened the door for her which she took as a sign to get inside the car. Once in, she noticed how awfully warm it was, he probably had the heating on so she took off her cardigan, shoving it in front of her feet as he entered the car. 

   - Where am I dropping you?

   - The student campus, south building

   - You’re a student? - he asked as the motor roared, signalling the start of the car. - Why you working here then?

   - It pays well. My mother paid for my first years but I still have my third one and a possible masters. 

   - Why not ask mum for the rest of the money then?

   - Well she’s dead. - she said, not taking the eyes off the road. - Her inheritance lasted as long as it could but tuition is expensive.

   - I’m sorry. - he tried to sneak a look at her but gave up, instead keeping his eyes on the road. - You’re a terrible bartender.

   - You’ve said that one time already, I’ve heard it. If I’m so terrible why don’t you fire me?

   - Bobby likes you. Says you’re a quick learner. Yet again, he likes every single wide eyed Disney Princess girl who works behind the bar. I give you a month or two before you quit or get knocked up.

   - I’m not gonna quit and I’m not gonna get knocked up either. 

   - Got a boyfriend?

   - No.

   - Husband? Friends with benefits?

   - I don’t have the time so if you want to get rid of me you’ll have to fire me.

   - I don’t fire people. - she saw her building come closer and closer from the car window. - Is it that one?

   - Yes. - she grabbed her bag, eager to leave the car before anything could happen. 

   - Hey, you got a black dress? - he asked as she exited the car and she nodded yes. - Good, bring it to work tomorrow. 

She mumbled an okay as the car drove away. God, she was alive. Good.  All she wanted now was to return to her home and in a few minutes she was back in her living room where Wanda and her twin brother Pietro were waiting for her. Of course waiting meant watching Shark Tank and discussing how bad all the inventions were. 

   - How was work in hell? - Wanda didn’t even look at her, eyes glued to the TV while she stuffed popcorn in her mouth.

   - I didn’t need to use the knife you snuck into my bag, thank you.

   - You snuck a knife onto her back? - Pietro looked dumbfound at his sister who immediately snapped back with a response. 

   - She’s working for James Barnes, she needs to carry a knife block and she’s lucky I only put a steak knife. - Wanda turned around in the couch. - Hey where’s your cardigan? I swear you left with it. 

   - Shit. - Y/N looked around. - Fuck, I’ve left it in his car.

   - Whose car? 

   - Mr. Barnes’. He gave me a ride and I took my cardigan off because the car was so warm. Fuck. I’ll never see it again.

   - Why were you in his car, are you crazy? - now Wanda was interested. Clearly her best friend’s lack of judgment was more interesting than the poor soul trying to pitch a tuna can opener shaped like a tuna to a bunch of executives.

   - He gave me a ride ... oh and do you have a black dress?

   - I do. - Pietro said gaining an odd look from the two girls. - What? Girls love me and I love them. Stuff get’s left behind. What can I say?

   - You’re disgusting. - Wanda rolled her eyes. 

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically​

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 79, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

STORY WARNINGS: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering

First rewritten reworking 07/04/2023

Second rewritten reworking 11/15/2024

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1127

“Hey!” I yelled out, waving my hand at Jackie and Sammi outside Burger Jointz. Peter had decided to treat my sisters and I to lunch at one of his favorite hole in the wall burger joints, and so after showing me the house, he drove me into downtown Brooklyn, where we were now.

“Hihi mamachita!” Sammi rapped, hugging me. “How’s little girl?”

 “She’s doing good!” I directed my baby sister’s hand to my stomach, where she was met by a harsh kick to her palm. Sammi’s eyes were comically huge as she stared down at where little girl had just announced herself.

 “Hey there, big sis!” Jackie greeted me, standing from her seat to hug me this time. “How are things?”

 “Things are doing good so far!” I giggled, standing on my tiptoes to embrace my taller sister.

 “So, our birthday is next month!” Sammi was bubbling to Peter.

 “That’s what my sweetheart was telling me,” he said as a waitress came over to take our drink order. After getting a round of lemonades for us ladies and a Coca Cola for Peter, we resumed talking. “I’m extending an offer for the three of you to have a joint birthday party at our new place once we get everything set up- I talked to the lead contractor today and he told me that everything should be finished in about two weeks.”

 “Jackie, just wait until you see the kitchen- it is glorious,” I sighed. “Enough storage to hide a family, and the countertops are so freaking adorable! It’s the retro booming prints that I’m really fond of in pink, blue and green!”

 “I remember you saying that you always wanted a pink kitchen, sweetheart,” Peter told me, taking a long sip of his soda. “Well, I hate the color pink, but I decided to work it into the design in small bits.”

 “I love you,” I cooed, leaning into his side and wrapping my arm around his chest.

 “I love you too sweetheart,” he returned in a low rumble, kissing the top of my head.

 “Oh my God, you two are so cute it’s disgusting!” Sammi squealed, getting smacked on the back of the head by Jackie.

 “Thanks for the compliment, baby sister!” I bubbled, giggling as Peter slung his arm around my shoulders, effectively pinning me to his side. “So, getting back to the subject, do the two of you funky monkeys want to do a joint birthday party again this year?”

 ~xoXox~

 “I mean, I like a good balloon garland just as much as the next person, but it’s going to need to be cleaned up at the end of the day,” I was telling them as Peter took care of the bill. “Plus, I’m thirty weeks pregnant with a high risk pregnancy.”

 “Are we going to want to make this a dry event or a BYOB thing?” Sammi asked.

 “Peter?” I turned to him, not wanting to accidently trigger his addiction. He hummed as he did the calculation in his mind, adding up the tip with the total. “Are you cool with the party having adult beverages for people to enjoy?”

 “I’m good, sweetheart,” he murmured, bumping his nose behind my ear at my mermaid tattoo. “I’m more of a red wine kind of guy- the dryer, the better. I don’t like beer- it makes me burp.”

 “I can burp my ABC’s!” Sammi announced. “Want to see?”

 “NO!” Jackie and I both yelled in unison.

 “I swear Sammi, you spend way too much time with our older brothers,” I bitched, sliding out of the booth after Peter and waiting for Jackie and Sammi to follow behind. Peter tucked me into his side and led the way out from the restaurant

 “Yes, I do!” she stated proudly as she followed Peter and me out of the building and out onto the sidewalk. “Thank for lunch by the way!”

 “Yeah, thanks,” Jackie chimed in, walking on my other side as we moseyed our way over to where Sammi had parked her Pumpkinmobile Volkswagen bus in the parking lot. “How are thing with Kody Williams going, anyways?”

 “Well, there’s going to be a trial for certainly,” I began. “Because it’s a high risk pregnancy, I’m being given a few options, like recording my testimony instead of standing in front of a judge and having the trial pushed back a bit. Officer Kelly- he’s in charge of the case- he’s already sent in the request for the trial to begin after I yeet little girl out of me.”

 “Wow,” Sammi blinked.

 “And also- that judge who had been denying me a restraining order is no longer a judge due to his old fashioned views that I only need to go out with the grade-A creep and that he’ll forget all about me in a few weeks,” I scowled as I repeated his words.

 “Good,” declared Sammi in a firm voice. “A guy like that does not deserve to be in such a high position of power!”

 “Agreed!” I hummed, leaning against Peter as he wrapped his hand around my shoulder, tugging me into his strong body once more.

 “Peter, I just noticed your hand!” Sammi was staring at Peter’s hand, which had scratches from Mitten’s claws and was covered with pink band aids. “What happened?”

 “Mittens, she’s one of my cats, had decided that little girl is her kitten and she will literally attack me whenever I show affection to my soulmate in any shape or form,” he grumbled. “Christ, she is going to be nasty when you’re carrying my kids!”

 “Peter, let’s hurtle that bridge when we come to it, alright now my love?” I grumbled, pressing my face into his ribcage and getting a laugh out of him.

  Mamachita, little mother, Spanish

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