#this is all just a perfect mushy mess so it's on brand for me

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

perfect now - a close reading

only pure and true love for this one. it’s soft and sweet because the one he wrote it for is and needs cheesy uncool romcom soundtrack-worthy affirmations and it’s the most wonderful thing oh my the flurries 

some album booklet art for your viewing pleasure

((just a warning for below: while the lyric analysis was kept fairly neutral and close to the words and their meaning, more and more parallels did ensure me larrying out by the time the analysis kicked off so if you’re not into that, you can skip this one!))

⟼ check out @bluewinnerangel​ ‘s magnificent post with all the parallels to 1d/h&l bc it’s exhaustive and was a source for mine <3 thank you again for your service <3 bc this song really is a fanpiece of every song that has been important to them throughout their career so far, whether they wrote it or not, and it’s honestly kinda impressive

SUMMARY

you’re sad and i love you so much i will do anything to make that undone but while you’re sad know that i sill very much love you and you’re also strong enough to conquer all of this on your own but i’ll be by your side anyway

lyric breakdown ft. the many parallels, incl. little things, through the dark and wmyb

what this says about louis, his partner and the relationship he is in

never gonna dance again frenzy

identity 

louis is a marvellous majestic sonofabitch basically <3

walls, track 10

～ little things “you still have to squeeze into your jeans, but you’re perfect to me”

You don’t feel pretty and it’s hard to miss

You don’t feel pretty and it’s hard to miss

later lyric: “like a neon sign” - i see through you trying to hide away your insecurities

I wish that you could see my point of view As someone staring back at you

“you” is also staring at him, but perhaps is too insecure to realise how mutual the adoration is

i wish i could get you out of your own negative spiral and give you a look at yourself from my perspective

～ wmyb “everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you” 

～ wmyb “right now i’m looking at you and i can’t believe you don’t know you’re beautiful”

～ little things “you never love yourself half as much as I love you, and you’ll never treat yourself right darling but I want you to. If I let you know, I’m here for you, maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you”

On Friday night when we’re all out I turn to you and you’re looking down And you don’t wanna dance I know you love to dance You never stop given half the chance

heavy echoes of kmm again, but the opposite: the “nightmare on the dance floor” doesn’t want to dance

when “you” is confident rlly not being subtle with who i think that is, they love to dance <-> tpwk “feeling good in my skin, i just keep on dancing”

“i know you love to dance” = i know what you love bc i love you

“given half the chance” 

～ tpwk “giving/given second chances”

given a chance tattoo, making another appearance (see below for more tattoo meltdowns)

Just keep your head up, love, keep your head up

term of endearment <3 

～ dlibyh

this album is full of encouragement to keep going and as much as it gives me life it ruins me 

Don’t hide away, don’t ever change

“be happy, proud”

～ “just hold on”

“pick someone who’s supportive”

Keep your head up, love, keep your head up Don’t look away, don’t look away

don’t look away from me

～ through the dark “and I can see your head is held in shame”

Cause everybody’s looking at you now, my, oh my

they have the stage to themselves / new career paths they’re doing on their own

could also mean ppl they’re going out with are looking at them, which “you” interprets as sth negative, which makes them self-conscious, while they’re actually admiring them bc they steal the scene

～ wmyb “you’re turning heads when you walk through the door”

I guess some queens don’t need a crown And I know why Even when your tears are falling down Still, somehow, you’re perfect now

“you” is royalty to louis, to put it simply 

they don’t need something on their head to make it known to everyone else - they’re a queen and everyone knows it

gendered: female - also used in drag contexts - the only time L has used any gendered word to identify his partner on the entire album (more on this below)

～ steal my girl "she's been my queen since we were sixteen" can't believe i forgot this one thank you @mortalenemiestolovers for reminding me!!!

～ falling

～ through the dark “you tell me that your tears are here to stay”

You never do, but if you asked me to I’ll tell the truth lying next to you

“you” never asks for affirmations directly, but by saying shit like their pants are too tight make it clear enough to L that they do need to hear once in a while that it’s not true

Cause you’re the only one when it’s said and done You make me feel like being someone 

Good to you even at your worst

～ always you

i love you so much you are a force of life to me, and even when you hate me i want more

～ drag me down “If I didn’t have you there would be nothing left, the shell of a man who could never be his best. If I didn’t have you, I’d never see the sun. You taught me how to be someone” (sung by louis first, harry second) 

～ through the dark “even if you scream and shout, it’ll come back to you and I’ll be here for you

You steal the scene and it’s unrehearsed

reference to working on a stage - their natural presence wins everyone over - that charisma is never manufactured

Don’t you wanna dance? Just a little dance I’ll never stop given half the chance

L keeps encouraging them, will also not pass by any chance to dance with them

Every insecurity, like a neon sign, as bright as day If you knew what you were to me You would never try to hide away

“it’s hard to miss”

L sees through them trying to hide their insecurities, pretend to be strong

～ through the dark “but I know you were only hiding”

SYNTHESIS

Perfect Now is not a fan favorite and I am so not here for that discourse, so please do not pester me with negativity about this chocolate drop of a song. 

As others have pointed out, the parallels with other songs written by Louis, Harry or for One Direction are extremely present. Especially Little Things is echoed loudly, but there’s so much more to be read, as you’ve seen. These are songs that are clearly near and dear to Louis, bc he wrote them or bc performing them was special, like with Little Things and What Makes You Beautiful. A lot of the same emotions come back in Louis’s writing, so much so that you can’t help but see the larger story behind it all. Throughout Walls you can hear him singing about not giving up and holding your head high despite hardships, and if you look back at his earlier writing, it’s always been there. Through the Dark is an early and striking example of this style of Louis song: you’re sad and i love you so much i will do anything to make that undone but while you’re sad know that i sill very much love you and you’re also strong enough to conquer all of this on your own but i’ll be by your side anyway 

basically through the dark’s chorus:

Oh, I will carry you over Fire and water for your love And I will hold you closer Hope your heart is strong enough When the night is coming down on you We will find a way Through the dark

It is very clear that Louis is faced with a partner - I can freely say it’s Harry now right? are the antis gone by now? i think so - that struggles with his body, with his identity, with how he wants to present himself vs how opinions on that might push him down and dampen his spirit. Louis, always the supportive boyfriend, then tries his best to make him see the light, while keeping that space for his sadness, his struggles, or their joint struggles. Accept the sadness but don’t lose your heart to it.

I’ve linked @bluewinnerangel​ ‘s post at the start of this post, but I need to stress how good it is once more as I also shamelessly insert a screenshot from it here bc it makes me feel a lot and summarizes perfectly just how deeply Perfect Now is woven into the history of their lives, relationship and especially “you”s/Harry’s personal struggle with their identity/body/confidence...

Because yes, i absolutely think these tattoos are being echoed in the song. “Never gonna dance again” as a lyric and then as a tattoo on Harry’s legs like shackles around his ankles represents the sensation of shame, of being stuck, bc of your desires, bc of your sexuality. Obviously we can never know why Harry got the tattoo, as in what experience pushed him to choose those lyrics or what exactly he recognizes in himself, but it’s safe to say it’s about the struggles of being queer and navigating relationships with that identity and with others.

Most importantly, the sense of shamelessly dancing, dancing like no one’s watching, dancing together with your lover, as a celebration of self, life, love, is the key here. Harry got that tattoo ages ago, at a time when he undoubtedly felt way more stuck. When he couldn’t dance freely the way he wanted to and with whom he wanted to. Perfect Now is a reminder to him, an encouragement to still dance if he wants to, no matter what people say or think. Significantly, then, Harry’s own Treat People With Kindness heavily features that same sentiment, but in an extremely positive light: i have found a place (in life and in myself) where i feel like i have given and was given second chances and now i dance bc i finally feel good in my skin.

Louis has obviously been there from the start, or at least from when or before Harry properly started experimenting with/questioning how he likes to present and how he identifies as. Before he ever dared to consider pulling on a pair of women’s skinny jeans, never mind a ball gown. Louis has seen him limit himself as well as being limited by others ofc and has always seemed to have been there, with a secure hand on Harry’s back, to encourage him. Even at a time when boys wearing nail polish or skirts was unthinkable. Just remember how much encouragement Harry needed when growing out his hair; Louis literally joined him. yes this might make me cry okay i need to stop bc i’m going off track and this is just becoming a larry breakdown while i was trying to hype up this beautiful song. 

What I’m trying to say is: Louis has always seen all of Harry. He’s always had his back, no matter what. He’s loved every part of him. And now, on a completely gender neutral album, in the sweetest, softest song off of the entire thing, Louis puts in the word “queen”, and that is so very deliberate it makes me want to scream. It’s Louis confirming his love again and again while affirming the multitudes contained by Harry, including everything involving his gender journey. brb crying

It’s a raw Louis, an honest, sweet, kind, loving partner, and both of them are fucking lucky to have each other, and I also wish that all of us end up in a caring and wholesome relationship like that. I truly do.

#wow i thought this one was gonna be easier #i always do why do i think that??? #every time i look closer into l's lyrics i see more depth #this is all just a perfect mushy mess so it's on brand for me #perfect now analysis #lyric analysis #my posts #parallels

[ithinkthereforiamfandom]

Extra Quarantine

Here is the first bit of my patreon piece. I’m extending it beyond the original parameters because I’m having fun with it. Whoops, its hella long, im gonna have to try and get a cut in here somewhere. 

His head pulsed gently the throbbing timed to his heart beat, lubdub-throbThrob, John grit his teeth carefully and quietly sat up in bed, it had all been worth it. 

…

A bored genius is a dangerous thing, a bored genius trapped in a London flat during a viral pandemic was about the worst. Evidence of this fact consisted of; a pattern of bullet holes in the wall, it was unbalanced! No remains in the fridge, all experiments concluded when John froze everything because nothing could be returned timeously, and finally said genius, laying his curly head on the couch. Stifled into stillness by the tragic circumstances afflicting him. 

John was still working, but his hours had been drastically cut back so he was home far more frequently than he would have liked. Sherlock was spreading his misery is a quiet but uncontainable kind of way. He carried a blood sample home for the genius, having drawn it himself with a plan to let Sherlock have it and hopefully buy an evening’s peace with his own blood. 

The evenings so far had consisted of concerts on the violin and most recently elaborate french dishes. It had surprised John at first but noise and heavy food every evening was beginning to tax him. He didn’t know what to do, so the blood would occupy Sherlock hopefully for a few hours. 

…

“Here, take this.” Sherlock raised his head and took the warm vial. Blood John’s blood! His ears warmed in shock, John had refused all previous requests. “What’s this for?” “Experiments Sherlock, you’ve been nagging for ages. Do some experiments and I’ll cook. Let’s just have a quiet evening okay?” A deduction flashed across his mind. John didn’t like the playing, and the fancy dinners. Sherlock had played for John every night so far and cooked at the limits of his skills to reward his doctor for the hard work and risk he was enduring. And John didn’t like it. 

…

John watched Sherlock’s face fall and felt like a heel. Sherlock had figured out of course that John was tired of his constant efforts. “Lock, no. I love your playing and your cooking is incredible, I just need some quiet, simplicity, some evenings. Let me cook tonight okay?” A quick hug saw some light back in the pale face and John set off into the kitchen. Toast and eggs was not the most elaborate meal but it was filling and just what the doctor ordered. 

…

The next day on his way home John had been thinking about Sherlock’s efforts so far, it really was above and beyond but at the same time a very Sherlock thing to have done. Bombarding John with everything he liked, made John think… what does Sherlock like. 

The answer was Embarrassingly simple: John. Sherlock liked having him to himself and John felt his cheeks flush at the realisation. Giving Sherlock all his attention was relatively easy and his upcoming time off would be ideal. John’s hours were now 1 week on and 1 week off. But how did he entertain his madman when there was no crime scene visiting, or morgue visiting, or Anything he could do! 

He was deep in thought as he ascended to the flat, the smell of hot oil concerned him until the aromas of paprika and beer confirmed that Sherlock was making fish and chips. The mushy pea recipe that John had used once or twice had been such a hit with Mr I Don’t Eat It Slows Me Down that anything served with the peas was suddenly a very good thing. “John! I’ve made Fish so we need some of your" “Peas, yes Lock. I’ll do peas after I shower.” Sea glass eyes tracked him to the bathroom with a grin and John felt a chuckle bubble out of his throat. That would do. 

…

The next Monday he woke beside dark curls, Sherlock didn’t sleep frequently but could burrow in like a badger when the mood took him. He hadn’t told Sherlock he was off all week and quietly got on with his normal morning prep waiting for the inevitable. “Jaaaawn" a baritone whine escaped the cocoon of bedding. “Yes Sherlock?” “I feel very sick, you have to stay home.” John released the fond sigh he would normally suppress. 

… 

Every few days since the Lock down had started they danced the same dance and Sherlock never won. John would sigh, and pet him, and leave anyway. So when the bed dipped behind him and… Tea, John didn’t smell like tea. He spun around as best he could and there was his doctor, clean shaven, dressed, but no tea. “You’ve not had tea John" “No.” “You always have tea before you go to work.” “Yes.” John’s eyes sparkled at him. “You’re not working.” “No. I have a weekly rota. Wanted to surprise you.”

Sherlock wrapped around John’s smaller frame and hastily recovered him in the duvet lest he escape. It was perfect! A week of John to himself. “I like this surprise John.” Strong arms looped around him and squeezed his ribs, before a sandy grey head settled under his chin. They drifted off back to sleep. 

The week had begun with John’s marvellous surprise and it seemed all of London was feeling agreeable. The sun shone warmer when it was seen on John’s skin and the neighbours were less noisy when he could hear John’s voice. A contraption appeared in their lounge one afternoon. “My old printer from Uni, stopped working. I kept meaning to have it fixed but I suppose it’s a museum piece now.” John was giving it to Sherlock to do with as he pleased! A piece of John’s history. 

…

John grinned as Sherlock set to delightedly deducing his old printer. His love of taffy was evidenced by a few sweet wrappers that had left traces on… hell’s John had no idea but Sherlock was smiling. He left cups of tea to grow cold next to the man and dropped kisses onto his dark hair as the printer came apart piece by piece, spreading across the floor. Reminding himself not to scold John stepped around the mess. 

Hours later a grinning lunatic bopped him on the head with a piece of paper. “It works.” Came a proud announcement. “What?” “Your printer works John, I fixed it.” And true to his word the printer stood on their desk with a small pile of still warm printed pages. “It will be very useful for printing the files Lestrade sends.” John was shocked, quickly returning the kiss Sherlock pressed to his lips. “Necromancy" He stated in awe. “But we can’t print out police files Sherlock. It’s no legal.” 

By way of demonstration Sherlock use the page he was holding to light a fire, the evening was turning cool. “I’ve ordered take away Lock, dimsum should be here soon.” A picnic blanket was soon set before the fire, wine was opened to breathe, and John was happy to let Sherlock estimate the ratio of blonde or grey hairs he had. Dinner arrived in good time and the evening went wonderfully, finishing with a very happy Sherlock dragging John down in front of the fire. “Just lie down a bit.” They woke on the floor the next morning. 

John was nowhere to be found! Sherlock was to have John to himself for a week but their night on the lounge floor ended with him alone. Scanning the kitchen from his spot before the now cold fire place there was no John making breakfast and the bathroom failed to yield a soapy wet John in one of his customary boiling hot showers. A thunk drew Sherlock upstairs to where John stood, very dusty, cursing quietly at a very old tent. 

The fucking thing had tangled itself! It had been packed scrupulously into place and now it was bollocksed! A polite throat clearing told him he was busted. Sherlock had risen early from their cozy nest before the fire and was watching him in that annoyingly studying way. “Stop, “Stop deducing me.” “Of course John.” But the reply was far too knowing. “Go put the kettle on.” “yes John.” 

He watched his partner slip like a shadow down the stairs and hefted the whole disaster into his arms to follow a few minutes later. He could fix this after a cup of tea, he knew he could! 

…

Sherlock set the camping kettle on the hook and stand he’d had next to the fire in case the power went out. John was staring at the camp set up like it had grown two heads and was speaking to him. “The camping rig has been next to the fire since winter started, you see but you do not observe. You want to camp out in the lounge, that’s what your old tent is for.” “Yes.” Sherlock grinned because he’d been bothering John to go camping for ages! For science, naturally but mostly to have John to himself. 

Now they could camp in the lounge and there wouldn’t need to be dreary drives into the country side to shag his partner in a tent… for science. 

… 

His ribs creaked as Sherlock hugged him. John returned the squeeze with a slight chuckle. “I know you wanna shag in a tent LovelyLove. Now we don’t have to wait.” The kiss he got in response curled his toes! “We have a week Lockie, we’re gonna do everything you like. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Sherlock likes coffee for breakfast so John presented him with a brand new bag of dark roast arabica beans. The genius was soon weighing and grinding to his heart’s content sighing in satisfaction as he sipped at his perfectly brewed cup. John had placed a grocery order which arrived a few hours later. 

He was planning to cook for Sherlock that afternoon but the MRE package that Murry had stowed in his old gear as a joke was deemed more interesting than actual food. There was no way it was safe to eat but it was gladly handed over for experiment purposes. The cooking itself surprised John as it turned out that his madman actually enjoyed the chemistry and had taken over. 

…

Sherlock didn’t trust John’s cooking skills. His gun hand, his sutures, and his heart were infallible but the man was a doctor, not a chef. It’s not that John couldn’t cook it’s just not his forte. The army had taught John to cook for a hundred men, returning had taught John to cook on a shoestring budget and sometimes it could be tasted through an entire dish. Sherlock had eased him away from the dinner prep to finish dressing the tent that had eventually been set up after John had expended a few feet of extra space and most of the swear words in his vocabulary… some of them in languages Sherlock only knew by name. The lasagne came together easily, the long process of making bechamel and tomato sauces, the careful construction, it was all relaxing. Sliding it into the oven passed John’s happily sniffing nose was pure satisfaction. 

Tuesday saw the pair in their tent. John’s finishing touches had been lilos, bedding, and a small space heater. Not to be deterred Sherlock’s contribution was revealed as an Actual inflatable mattress, John hadn’t known they possessed such a thing, a very old and clearly sentimental quilt, and every ounce of camping gear London has stocked in the last two years. 

Their arm chairs were replaced with camping chairs but this was very quickly changed back when John pointed out that one camping chair won’t support both of their weights. Sherlock chuckled with John’s throaty laugh as they replaced the arm chairs and put one to good use. 

…

Strangely pleased to be allowed to make the breakfast porridge John stirred the pot over the fire. “No microscopes on camping trips Sherlock, you know you’d never take one into the bush right? Sherlock?!” The Sherlock in question didn’t look up from his microscope. “Of course I would John, plenty of things to examine in nature.” “My blood sample?” “Your blood sample of course. You may become ill with some unrecognized symptoms. I would need to run tests!”

His blood sample had become a bit of an obsession since it was handed over. It was flattering as hell but also kinda creepy. “At least stop for breakfast Love.” The fire burned almost constantly now. Porridge this morning then it would be set up to slowly cook Cod au Vin. They had received a case of wine from a client and finally had occasion to drink it. 

…

Cod au Vin, it was the only dish his father had taught him to cook. Mummy had been vigilant in ensuring both the brothers could cook reasonably well from primary school, when they were both in their early twenties Father had taught him Cod au Vin, it was a Brilliant memory. All three men were huddled in the kitchen for hours. Slicing, browning meat, and drinking almost as much wine as they put in the pot. 

Then Mummy had remarked that at least one of them had been conceived because of it and Sherlock had never made it until tonight. John had relinquished his spot by the fire in the early afternoon and admired the view, Sherlock applied the same focus to dicing onion and browning chicken pieces for John that he did examining John’s blood. A beautiful man in every way by firefight he was breath taking. 

“So I have this dish to thank for your existence right?” Fire lit contrast made Sherlock’s face dark as he turned to the smirking doctor. “That’s the theory Beloved… and I’ll thank you to not repeat it while I’m seducing you with good food by fire light.” “I consider myself seduced my LovelyLove. Please do continue.” John had a fine view of Sherlock’s butt and the breadth of his shoulders, he was thoroughly seduced! It was fantastic! 

Sherlock was delighted, he could feel John’s eyes on his body and felt his face flush over the heat of his gaze. The food would take several hours to cook over a fire and John was being deliciously indulgent. “May I seduce you back?” Sherlock startled having missed John’s approach with his mind in the gutter. “of course" 

...

The room was cold as he towed Sherlock through the door and a quiet gasp released condensation into the air. Their camping set up in the lounge was comfortable but a bit austere This, this was luxury heaped upon itself. John smiled as long fingers flexed and caressed the pulse in his wrist. It was a habit that had developed quickly, a violinist's flexibility allowed his LovelyLove to hold his hand and take his pulse at the same time. 

He had raided his old army locker for every blanket he possessed, even the old furs from his grandmother’s holiday home. Pillows and blankets piled high and looked marvellously inviting in the cold room. Quickly pulling the heating bags he had snuck in earlier John turned from the bed and undressed the most beautiful man alive. Each inch of exposed skin was met with a smile or a tender kiss and he chuckled to himself as he all but poured Sherlock into the bed. “John, John please.” 

…

He needed John Now, the stupid jumper had to go, burrowing under the covers he pulled John with him, the bastard was chuckling having gotten Sherlock so worked up. “I’m coming Lovely, you can have me. Gimme a sec.” There would be so seconds as he pulled and tugged the clothes off his partner. Finally, naked, warm, and wrapped around his Beloved. Sherlock Holmes got Everything he wanted. 

…

“Foods going to burn.” An Incredibly smug voice murmured to his shoulder. John always ended up as the big spoon and Sherlock could never figure out how he did it. “No it won’t, there’s too much wine in the pot.” “It is a nice wine though… Showers first Lovely, come on.” Sherlock was strangely okay with getting up. Thoroughly satisfied, and very much cuddled he felt quite ready to start the evening after a nice hot shower. 

…

John stood by the fire with a naked chicken bone between his fingers. “It just came out.” “It’s Cod au Vin.” Sherlock smirked like that explained everything. The chicken pieces were permitted to fall apart on their plates as a couscous salad and plenty of the pot's other contents joined it. 

John groaned, it was amazing. “I can see how this resulted in kids. It’s fantastic!” Praise always had the same effect on his genius, cheeks flushed and his chin dropped. It was excruciatingly cute. Not wanting to push it, they were neither in their twenties anymore John just smiled and ate. 

…

“You know you’re not gonna be able to tell me food just happens anymore. I know you can cook now.” They were back in their camping bed having agreed to leave the luxurious pile in the bedroom intact for later use. It was actually early Thursday morning already by the time they settled down to sleep. “Yes, I can cook Beloved, doesn’t mean I am going to.” An icy cold hand settled on his belly and he shivered. “Sorry Lovely, Doctor and all.” He didn’t sound sorry at all but John’s arm followed his icy hand and a casual strength pulled Sherlock’s back against a warm chest. “Good Night Lovely.” “Good night John.” 

_______________________________________

Thursday afternoon, John grinned to himself as he quietly got today’s event set up. Their laptops had initially been banned as not camping appropriate but John was busy getting the files set up on his machine. He has requested, not bullied… John did not bully, he had requested cold case files from Greg and after a few days of requesting the good DI had come through. 

The cold cases were not digitised so it took a lot of scanning and sorting to get anything into an email and John knew he was putting a lot on Greg to get it done. Fortunately the lock down had slowed down most crimes and well he owed Greg rounds in the pub until 2022! “What are you up to?” a chocolatey voice asked and John jumped. 

“Just sorting some paperwork Lovely. I know -” “You're the one who banned the laptops John” Elegant fingers wrapped around his computer and lifted it swiftly off his lap. “Here’s your bloody files Watson, you’re getting as bad as he is. Just promise me this will keep himself satisfied for a few more weeks.” Sherlock read under his breath as John’s face pinked. “You got me the cold cases, How?” 

…

John was blushing, he had got Sherlock the cold cases he had been nagging for since the lock down started and was now flushed at having been discovered. “By pointing out to Greg that it would keep you busy but mostly by persistence. I didn’t lope off to pout after the 4th No, or even the 14th. Now Greg has had to scan and sort and email everything… I wanted to surprise you.” 

Sherlock felt his own face heat up. “That’s why you banned the laptops, so I would stop bothering Lestrade and I would not find out what you were up to. John this is amazing! you are fantastic! I can finally fix the stupid mistakes the Yarders have been making!” He pulled John’s laptop into the lounge and settled it on their desk, scrolling with a triumphant laugh through the files that were now his! 

He turned his eyes to his brilliant partner, John leaned against the door frame watching him. It was a proprietary posture but he did not mind at all. He did not mind being John’s to watch and smile at. Another email dinged and he opened the pop up. Emelia Riccoletti and half a dozen dead men, Brilliant! But she was dead before they all died. 

…

John grinned at the frantic clicking from the lounge, he had watched his partner light up at the news of cases to solve and the chance to prove he was indeed smarter than the professionals. He made pasta on the stove for a change, the novelty of cooking over the fire had dulled quickly. 

“She didn’t do it! Not after the first one!” His Sherlock, clearly on a mission, strode into the kitchen still carting his laptop around and nearly destroyed it by putting it down on the stove top. An inarticulate noise of protest redirected the mad man to set it on the counter. “She might have faked her death and killed her husband but the other murders, the other men, they died in their homes or in familiar places. The bride didn’t need to walk through walls if she was already in the house, not the bride but a bride. Any bride could kill now and London has always been full of them. 

John set the meal down on the kitchen table, it would be ignored for a few hours and no doubt moved to the fridge to face the exile of all meals when Sherlock had a case. He finished his own food while Sherlock rambled on and on. He took a minute to just take in the sights. Eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed, body in constant motion. Yes, this was a happy man and John felt proud that he was his. 

_____________________________________

The mad bastard hadn’t slept for the last two days and this was the last day of John’s leave. They had migrated back to their bedroom and John had almost got Sherlock to sleep but there was no winning when the game was on. 

“Come to bed you mad bastard!” John yelled from the blankets but knew the resignation would be clear in his voice. John rolled over to get some rest as Sherlock came in through the door. “John? Why are you sleeping?” “It’s 2am!” Is it?” Yes Lovely, its 2am and I have work tomorrow.” the mattress bounced as Sherlock dove under the covers. “Thank you John, this week has been fantastic.” As he spoke Sherlock’s arms and legs wrapped around the doctor and squeezed. The was an amused huff as John tried to reclaim some lung capacity but there was an octopus in his bed. 

…

Sherlock held onto his Beloved. The week was over! He was tempted to not sleep, if he never slept maybe the morning would not come. It was irrational but at 3am with a snoozing John Watson in his arms anything seemed possible. A warmth seemed to be exuding itself from the sleeping doctor and Sherlock felt his eyes slide shut. 

The next morning Sherlock burrowed stubbornly into the bedding. John had already left for his shift and there was no reason to get up now at all… Apart from all the cold cases he had to solve, and the fact that he needed a shower, and bacon. He could smell bacon. 

…

John grabbed his bag, mask, and mobile. He had left a beautiful man in bed this morning so the day would have to count for something! He grinned all the way to the Tube station, he couldn’t quite stop himself 

He got to work and took a few moments to compose himself but then his phone went off. The picture showed a very happy Sherlock Holmes sitting behind a huge stack of the bacon pancakes John had made that morning. John had slipped out of bed early to prepare the pancakes for breakfast and to make sure the leftover risotto was still okay. 

He had left everything in a low oven to keep warm and left a few notes for Sherlock to find through the day. Breakfast instructions seemed hardly necessary but the “I Love Yous” and “Drink some Tea Lovelylove” post its would be if he wanted to come home to a content and hydrated partner. 

…

 Sherlock heard the street door open and tried to stop himself bounding down the stairs like a puppy. Instead he picked up his violin and started a gentle waltz. He didn’t realise what he was playing until steady warmth on his back started to sing in a low tenor. I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam. They swayed together for a while as John hummed and Sherlock played on till. I walked with you once upon a dream. 

“Disney Lovely?” Sherlock smiled and laughed at quizzical blue eyes. “I play plenty of Disney John. You remember that stint we did at the children’s hospital for the Angel of Mercy killer nurse case… well I go back sometimes while you’re at work.” “You play disney for the kids.” “Little people love Disney” Sherlock chirped and moved smoothly to the kitchen before John could process what he had said.

#patreon #johnlock

[startofamoment]

please come in and just sit here for a while ♥

Jake’s laughing so hard, Amy’s sure he’s going to wheeze himself into a poorly-timed asthma attack. The last thing they need right now is to have to call for backup while he fumbles with his inhaler.

“Alright, alright,” she grumbles, her cheeks warm with embarrassment. “So a double date with a young Al Gore at the Louvre isn’t the most plausible. But you asked for my dream date– you didn’t specify it had to be realistic!”

He snorts, but she shoves him in the shoulder before he can devolve into another laughing fit.

“Aw, you gotta give yourself some credit, Santiago. A date like that could totally happen.” He pauses, amusement clear on his face. “Just remind me to tell your future boyfriend to invest in a time machine.”

He ducks before she can shove him again, and just like that he’s doubled over and full-on giggling once more.

“Like your dream date is any less ridiculous,” she huffs.

He swipes at his eyes and coughs, taking a moment to settle his breathing. “Oh, I’ll have you know my ideal date is plenty realistic but dare-I-say still very romantic? The Jake Peralta boyfriend experience is quite intoxicating, thank you very much.”

She raises an eyebrow but nods for him to go on. For sheer curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.

“I’m a simple guy. I don’t have to go to a fancy museum or whatnot to have a good time. All I need is a few fluffy blankets, chairs and stuff for structure, way too many pillows, maybe some of those fairy lights to set the mood… You following me here, Santiago? I’m talking me, my boo, and the most epic pillow fort you’ve ever seen. We’ll sneak a laptop computer into the fort and put Die Hard on, duh, and then it’ll be candy and cuddles from there on out.”

She hums, vaguely impressed but not at all ready to admit that that does sound like a respectable stay-at-home date idea. (She’s even further away from acknowledging that she maybe also thinks all of that with Jake specifically sounds more than ideal.) “Movie night in a pillow fort, huh? Never took you for someone into textbook rom com dates, Peralta.”

“Hey, I like cuddles and warm blankets! They make me feel safe,” he shrugs, then shifts to smirking and waggling his eyebrows at her. “Besides, a pillow fort is the perfect place for a good ol’ make out sesh. Seriously, by the end credits, my date and I would totally be–”

“Okay, I’m going to go ahead and stop you there before this gets wildly inappropriate. Still technically work hours, Romeo.”

He sends her another cheeky grin before raising his binoculars and redirecting his attention to the warehouse they’ve been monitoring. She refocuses as well, filing this new fact about her partner somewhere in the back of her head – to be compartmentalized and hopefully forgotten, along with her mental catalogues of Weirdly Cute Things Jake Has Done and Shirts Jake Has Worn That Make His Arms Look Good.

“Are your eyes covered?” She asks, glancing behind her to triple check before unlocking her apartment door. “No peeking until I say so, okay?”

Jake scoffs but keeps his hands over his eyes. “Ames, if this is your way of easing me into blindfolds and bondage, let me tell you–”

“Oh, hush. I told you, I just need to make sure everything’s ready.”

They step into her entryway, with Jake following closely behind her then staying put when she tells him to.

Amy makes quick work of depositing her bag and shoes in their designated places, hanging up her coat, and running to get the string of lights plugged in. (She’d made sure the whole setup was prepped even before going to bed the night before, but she’d intentionally left the fairy lights off lest she be schooled by fire marshal Boone of all people.)

She surveys her living room – or what used to be her living room and what now is an organized mess of sheets strewn over dining chairs and pillows lain on every available surface – one last time before taking a steadying breath and turning back to her boyfriend. “Okay, Jake, you can look now.”

He drops his hands to his sides, and Amy watches as his expression morphs from confusion to wonder.

“Oh my god. Is this– It’s– Holy shit, it’s a pillow fort!”

He sheds his jacket and toes his shoes off as fast as possible, tripping over his socked feet to scramble into the makeshift entrance, half-squealing and half-rambling like an excited child the whole way. Amy laughs, already starting to feel pleased with herself as she crawls in after him.

“Amy, this is amazing! Did you put all of this together on your own?” He’s beaming, eyes shining with unbridled joy. In the few seconds it’s taken her to settle in against a strategically-arranged pile of pillows, he’s managed to wrap himself up in one of the three fleece blankets she’d prepared for them to use. (She’s going to have to do so much laundry this weekend.)

“Mhm,” she nods, hoping she’s coming off cool when actually she’s buzzing with giddiness from the inside out. “Do you like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” He falls back onto the thick floral comforter lining the floor beneath them, closing his eyes and making a satisfied hum before looking at her again. “Not to be weird, but you are making teenage Jake so happy right now. Like, I for realz would spend hours trying to imagine how my fort would look like and this– yeah, this is pretty darn close. The only thing it needs is–”

“Snacks? Check under that couch cushion.” She smiles, pointing to the spot beside his arm.

He sits back up then lifts the pillow in question, gasping loudly. “Gummy bears? Fruit Roll-Ups? One, two, three… seven types of chocolate, and even the Mexican candy from the bodega near the precinct? Amy, I–” His face shifts to something between bewilderment and awe, sending another surge of nerves through her. “I don’t know what to say… This is literally my dream date. How did you know?”

“Well, it’s... kind of a weird story. You’re going to laugh.” She stops, looking down and tucking her hair behind her ears while she searches for the right words to say. She’d known, logically, that it was much more likely he’d forgotten about their random conversation way back when, but a part of her had just hoped he’d remember so she wouldn’t have to explain herself like this.

“Come on, Ames. I promise I won’t laugh,” he says gently, nudging her leg with his foot. “I swear I really only want to know how you somehow read my mind. I mean, I know my school counselor said I should’ve kept daily diaries back then but I absolutely did not, so there’s no way you broke into one of those. Did I drunkenly blurt out my mushy teenage fantasies at Shaw’s the other week?”

She shakes her head, fiddling with the hem on the nearest pillowcase. “Not last week or at Shaw’s. I don’t expect you to remember this because it was at a stakeout a few years ago, but we’d talked about our ideal dates and you’d mentioned movie night in a pillow fort, so…” Her voice trails off as she digs underneath yet another blanket for her laptop and DVD copy of Die Hard.

She almost cringes when he doesn’t respond immediately, and it takes all her courage to get herself to look up from the loading screen.

He’s got that boyish grin on his face, of course. (It’s not fair that she still finds him ridiculously attractive, even when he’s obviously over the moon at her expense.)  

“You said you wouldn’t laugh,” she says, pouting.

“I’m not! I’m just–” His grin widens into a smirk. “ So, so glad I finally have proof you’ve liked me for ages. Wow, Ames. You’ve been holding onto this piece of info for years, just waiting until you could finally put it to use, huh? That had to have been at least three years ago by now, right? Gosh, Amy, I had no idea–”

“Shut up and eat your candy,” she grumbles, throwing a packet of fruit leather his way.

He snickers but doesn’t say anything more as he tears into the plastic and bites into the chewy candy. The tips of her ears burn just the same, with her lack of an outright denial loud and clear in the air between them.

“It’s okay, babe,” he says brightly, laying a sticky kiss on her flushed cheek. (The brand new pet name isn’t lost on her at all, but she’ll unpack her feelings about that another time.) “I’ve most definitely liked you for way too long, so at least we’re even.”

#b99 #b99 fic #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago #my stuff #me writing canon compliant fluff? so off brand #me writing ANYTHING? even more off brand #fam this is probs incoherent and tbh idek what it is but we're rolling with it

[touchmycoat]

Kinktober: day 1

alskdjfhalsd you know how I can’t finish things really? I’ve decided I’ll just post daily bits of writing that fulfill the kink of the day. Literally all WIPS probably but I’m gonna finish them i swear ;;;

Day 1: Sensory Deprivation

It was one of those open sea nights that settled in soft. Dinner had been the usual raucous affair, with a number of Ace's favorites (heaps of carbs and meats on top, as Thatch very well knew), and a barrel of hearty mead had been cracked open and passed around. Marco was back on the ship after one of his patrol circuits, and he had greeted Ace, upon his arrival, with a long, loving, very sweet kiss. Everything aboard the Moby Dick was warm, and the perfect definition of family.

It all served to make Ace even more anxious, later that night, closing the door to Marco's room (well, their room at this point, pretty much) behind him.

“Tired?” Ace opened. Marco had stripped down to just his pants, and was toweling down the evening's mild sweat and dirt. His smile, when he looked back over his shoulder, was casual and unsuspecting.

“No more so than usual yoi,” was the reply, as Marco wrung the towel out one more time, hanging it out to dry on a rack. Ace, in an effort to disguise his foot-shuffling worry, had sat himself down on the bed. When his hands started twisting about themselves though, he had to sit on them too. “How about you?”

“Same. Dinner was nice, so was the drink. But I didn't have too much or anything!” Marco's amused quirk of an eyebrow was, Ace surmised, the appropriate reaction to such seemingly random defensiveness. He needed to recover, quick. “C'mere?”

“Always.”

And wasn't this just the loveliest thing about Marco. Before finding his way into this relationship, Ace had never given too much thought to sex—there had always been more relevant things, and Ace has always found libido easily dismissable (especially aboard ships filled with nosey crewmates who weren't afraid to make fun of you if they overheard anything). Which was why he didn't have much by way of expectations. Even if he did though, Ace thought he'd've still been pretty blown away by all the things Marco could, were willing, and wanted to do.

Like this kiss. Guiding, yet obliging. Powerful, yet articulate in its model of power, where the throne was always present to seat Ace. Marco, ever happy to go to his knees.

(There was something perversely thrilling in this, thinking of them not as just Ace and Marco—and Sabo, on his way, as promised by a den den mushi call just that morning—but as Ace, the wildcard rookie who wracked up a bounty like nobody's business and was offered a Shichibukai spot mere months into his debut, and as Marco the Phoenix. Second-in-Command to the Strongest Man in the World, a legend in his own right. Ace had nothing, nothing but love and respect for Pops, but in moments like this, he also quite deviously delighted in the thought that a man of Marco's caliber was here, on his knees, for Ace.)

...But Ace was on a mission tonight. No matter how much he was enjoying this, he knew this wasn't the kind of conversation they could have on uneven ground. So he (reluctantly) pulled away from the kiss, then pulled Marco up and onto the bed.

“Something on your mind, yoi?” Marco asked, a little bit of a furrow between his brow now, but still unsuspecting. Ace had pressed himself in close, and was tracing the outline of Marco's tattoo in a nervous gesture.

“There's something I need to tell you, but I don't think you're gonna like it,” he blurted. When he felt the telltale suspension of Marco's breath under his fingers, Ace hurried to add, “it's nothing bad! In fact, it's probably actually good. I think.”

“I'm more than happy to hear what you want to say yoi, you know that,” Marco said carefully, when it became clear Ace was waiting for a response. “But is this something you want to talk to Sabo about first, perhaps?”

“Honestly I wanted to tell you first because I think you'll take it harder than he will.”

“...Alright. Then not to rush you or anything yoi.” Every square inch of Marco has glaciated, and he was clearly trying not to jerk himself out from under Ace's hands. The worst part was, Ace really hadn't been able to think of a better way to do this. “But would you please tell me what's going on already?”

“Yes, sorry, I just—” Come on, Portgas, you practiced this. “Okay. So remember when you and Sabo asked if there's something I would like to try and explore? Like, he has his pain thing and you have your service thing. I was trying to figure out if there's anything I would like, in that, um, realm. And there kind of is.”

That was clearly not where Marco expected this conversation to go—his frown now was wholly confused. Knowing Marco, he had probably been anticipating a declaration about how Ace realized the only one he wanted was Sabo, and won't Marco please kindly remove himself from the equation already.

Realizing that, Ace tried to simultaneously kiss and shake some reassurance into Marco (resulting in an uncoordinated clash of teeth that nevertheless did the job, for it got a startled huff of laughter out of Marco).

“I love you, you know that right?” Ace declared in a rush. “So this isn't—There is something I'd like to try, but you need to know I'm really fucking happy with my life, okay? I couldn't be more grateful, to you and Sabo, to Pops, to everybody in the crew, and I swear on my life—okay well maybe not—I swear on my mother's grave that everything's really, really good. I have everything I think I can possibly want or need—”

“Ace,” Marco cut him off. His nose was slightly scrunched in focus, as a man used to wearing glasses did when scrutinizing a mess in comprehension. “I need you to explain again, okay yoi?” When the right configuration of words still eluded Ace, Marco offered, “it sounds like you're maybe concerned that whatever you want to try might imply you're unhappy?”

“That I'm ungrateful,” Ace tweaked. “And I'm not, I swear to you.”

“Ace,” Marco repeated, a strange expression on his face as he set a hand on Ace's thigh. “I know that yoi. What we want in the privacy of the bedroom doesn't need to have any bearing on what we want in daily life. I hardly think that every time Sabo asks to be hit in bed he wants us to beat him up during the day.”

“Right, I know that,” Ace said miserably, “but this is different.”

“How, yoi?”

Ace breathed. And breathed and breathed, and Marco just let him. Marco watched him from less than a foot away, with the steady patience of a dedicated listener, willing Ace to find the words to talk to him.

So Ace, having already chosen to embark down this road, summoned up all his stores of courage and faith, and croaked, “well I was reading that book, and I just thought, wouldn't it be nice to not exist?”

Marco's gaze went blank, but Ace gripped the hand still on his thigh hard, keeping things in place.

“They called it,” he said softly, meaning that book, the one Sabo tossed at him with a wink, “sensory deprivation. Said it feels, for some people, like you've simply stopped existing.”

“I just thought,” Ace continued, voice dissipating into something even less than a whisper. A confession, unforgiven. “It might be nice.”

The strength in his grip was disappearing just as quickly as his confidence, and Ace began to shift away. But really, what the hell had he been thinking? Surely Marco, who had gone through two lifetimes and an infinity of sparring with death just to convince Ace to stay alive, wouldn't react well to this casual talk of Ace throwing his life away. Again. It was a silly desire to begin with, something miasmic and imprecise in the depth of Ace's mind. At least Sabo had clear-cut needs—hit me until I feel branded by you, or let me hit you until I've tied you to me. Marco was even more straightforward, easily summarized in a single word: give. And here was Ace, making a mess of things again with his messy wants. He should never have said anything, because he was perfectly happy wasn't he? Selfish, to be demanding more, especially something that he knew, he knew would hurt—

“Ace.” A flash of emotional blue—the hand that came to cup Ace's cheek though, was entirely flesh. “Ace.”

The kiss that cut off Ace's immediate attempt to apologize was—nothing like Ace expected. Nothing apologetic, nothing horrified, nothing (god forbid) pitying. It was actually... hot. Not the most devouring of gestures, but one still thoroughly suffused with want. It was so confusing that Ace had to break away.

“I thought,” he stuttered, “I thought you'd be upset.”

“You said this is a good thing,” Marco pointed out. “Did you mean that?”

“I—Yes. It's not bad, I'm not sad or anything—”

“Then great, yoi. We're on the same page.”

“Really?” Ace couldn't help but squawk. He was probably being dreadfully rude but he couldn't care less at this point. “You're turned on by this?”

“Shouldn't I be?” Despite his confident words, Marco still gave away a bit of self-consciousness by scratching the back of his neck, eyes flickering off to the side. “And well, I got quite the rush of endorphins yoi, when I realized you weren't actually breaking up with me.”

“And why the fuck would I break up with you?” Ace growled, not really meaning it as a question at all. Marco, taking the hint, gestured the question away with a slight tilt of his head. His eyes, Ace noticed, were still mostly pupil.

“I'm the predictable one in this equation yoi, you know that. So tell me—” The other great thing about Marco was, when he promised like that, with his whole body, he's never ever failed to give Ace all that was asked for. “—how would you like this done?”

continued

#do you like how i just stop at the good part #no i'm just gonna save those post on ao3 lmfAO #the actual kink of kinktober is delayed gratification for myself and my readers #marcoacesabo #kinktober 2019 #*pretends like i'm gonna be able to sustain this by demarcating the year lmfao* #my writing

[emikvs]

﹤𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙰 𝙺𝙾𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚂𝚄, 𝚂𝙷𝙴 / 𝙷𝙴𝚁, 𝙲𝙸𝚂 𝙵𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙻𝙴﹥; * - hello EMIKO " EMI " SATO. long time no see. i know a lot about you. like how you're TWENTY ONE, how you're a CLASSICS major,  and in fact.. how you LIE AND TELL EVERYONE YOU STUDIED ABROAD FOR A YEAR WHEN YOU WERE ACTUALLY IN REHAB. would be a shame if it got out, wouldn't it ? so let's play a game. 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙴 ?

*itzy vc* hey hey hey ! SDBJWBDJW what’s up......its xan aha ... this is gonna be the biggest mess ever ...just winging it as i go. and u know what ? thats on on brand babey ! lets get it ...TW: drug use/mention, accidents/hospitalization ( just in case)

backstory

virginia born and raised babey ! she’s the youngest of five siblings and ...it shows. SJDBJWBDJW growing up would have been pretty chaotic had it not been for the fact that her dad was a pretty well-respected police officer in their town ! him & her mom were high school sweethearts which made no damn sense to emiko considering they’re still happily married...the concept just seems fake to her </3

while her parents had a lot of  mushy love for each other, when it came to their kids they opted to take a more emotionally distanced kind of parenting style bc they didnt wanna like spoil their kids or anything but.....it wasnt exactly the best plan ! emi and all her siblings just learned to be very good liars JDSBWBDJW as kids with strict parents do

being the youngest emi took a while to get into her rebellious phase. for a while she’d just watch her older siblings sneak out and party and do walks of shame and all that jazz...and while she was always down to help them get out of trouble none of them ever really trusted her ? since she was the baby they figured she’d be the most likely to snitch which just made her really ///: bc she wanted to be included so bad

flash forward to senior year of high school and finally emi’s like . okay fuck this it’s MY turn ! her dad had recently decided to get into politics with some encouragement from the police chief so he was busy with his career and her mom was busy helping him. it was the perfect time to do what she wanted since it was less likely she’d get caught

so she goes to this graduation party.....and it’s BAD like she gets fucked up & carried away so she calls her oldest sister ( who had come back into town for emi’s graduation ) to come pick her up & on the way to get emi from this house party, her sister ends up getting into an accident 

she didn’t die though JSBJDSBBWJDBWJDBJWDW just broke some stuff and ended up needing surgery ): and emi obviously got busted that night by her parents which ... wasnt pretty at all especially bc they low key blamed her for her sister’s accident which just made emi feel like pure shit babey ! 

visiting her sister in the hospital is what kinda sparked her fear of hospitals ! bc emi was like super guilty and paranoid that maybe her sister was gonna die or her surgery would go wrong and she’d essentially be at fault...it was just a lot of anxiety that turned into a genuine phobia of hospitals after that

but her sister made it she was okay and her dad used all the buzz and tragedy around his family to kinda boost his political career....which was ugly. her sister had been prescribed some pretty heavy pain killers for the pain & thats where things got.....messy

emi isnt sure when exactly it started but between the guilt she was harboring over her sister’s accident, the stress from her parents as her dad got further and further into virginia politics as well as college anxiety since she was about to start at the universoty of virginia.....she stole some oxy and thats what started what would be a very messy and tumultuous addiction  

as soon as she started college, emi felt as if some of the weight had been lifted. she was living away from her family for the first time and dorming so she promised herself she’d take these four years to grow and figure out who she is......except that didnt exactly happen. instead of exploring herself in a healthy way, emi was using drugs as a sort of escapism from her “old” self. she’s extremely smart and she loves her major, but her professors would often comment her papers had the energy of a “rambling and troubled mind”. by the time she was about to finish her sophomore year she was getting so high people would find her literally passed out in the dining hall. but no one was that worried bc for a good two years, she was a pretty high functioning addict. 

cue the summer after sophomore year when emi overdoses at a party. she woke up in a private hospital room with only her father sitting on the couch, the look on his face something she’ll never forget. while him and her mother knew exactly what happened to emi, they hadn’t told any of her siblings. or anyone at all, for that matter. instead her dad had informed the university emi would be taking a year off to privately study abroad and told emi that’s what she was going to tell people bc he’d just decided to run for mayor ! he essentially guilt-tripped her into thinking telling people the truth would be a selfish act, and one that would basically ruin the family reputation and make everyone really miserable JSDWDBWBDJW he also tells her she’s gonna be shipped off to rehab ! 

so she goes to rehab for a good seven months. everyone at school thinks she’s studying abroad in italy, and emi is literally just counting the days til she can go back home to her dorm bc she’s lonely !!! in rehab !!! and she gets that she should take it seriously but shes just so mad at her dad and herself and the world too ig ... just some good old fashioned angst ! but she finishes rehab and her dad got elected as mayor of her hometown in virginia and shes like good for u can i go back to school please JSBDWJDBJW and he says yes

so she’s back ! ready for the universe to give her a break.....ahaha.....

personality + tidbits

so emi......my baby......she’s a strange one. she’s that bitch that’s super nerdy but in the weirdest way like the stuff she’s into is so specific and just....generally stuff literally no one else would care about but to emi it’s like holy shit this is the coolest thing in the world JSBDJWBDJWBJD she knows a little about a lot so she has the tendency to come across as pretentious if you don’t know her outside of class when in reality she’s just read one too many random facts. also weird in the sense that she’s a STRONG believer in the paranormal and in aliens and in witchcraft and stuff like that as well as believing in things that seem “logical”. it can be confusing to people who view that stuff as silly that someone so smart would be into it. 

speaking of smart.....she’s a polygot which basically means she can speak a bunch of languages ! she’s self-taught, and since she’s a classics major some of her favorites to study include greek and latin ( dead language who ? ). she’s pretty chill about it though and if you wanted to learn she’d be the type that’s 100% down to teach you. she always learns the curse words first just you know....for the fun of it ! she probably has very specific “pet names” for everyone in the friend group in random languages 

anyway she’s also stupid. ASDJWBDWBJDBWJDWJD i mean like in the way that she makes the most .... impulsive decisions that usually have negative consequences. she’s the type to convince herself she knows exactly what she’s then come up with the worst plan you have ever heard in your life. an example of a dumb decision emi has made ? your girl ate a pot brownie the day after she got back in her dorm after rehab bc she convinced herself it was a good way to de-stress. some other dumb decisions include various drunk tattoos ( which thankfully haven’t been too bad save for the words eat me tattooed in small font on her ass ). also owns a stick & poke gun so she’s for sure tried to tattoo friends while intoxicated despite.....not being a tattoo artist ... she’s not even an art student .... SJBDJWBDJW....but she’s very very good at convincing people to join in on her dumb antics so be weary

big on photography !!! she loves taking pictures. always that one friend who reminds you to document the moment and you get annoyed but then when you want to post a picture on insta you’re thankful she was there <3 she has the energy of like .... the dad friend when you need support JSDBWBDJWBDJW she tries to be caring but it just turns into like ... emi high off her ass putting her hand on your shoulder and being like “you know fuck it man you’re amazing” not that good at the emotional stuff like she really wants to be but she legit doesn’t know how.......kinda accidentally turned into an emo kid bc she channels her feelings though some kick ass playlists and the notes app in her iphone instead of talking to people JSBDJWBJDBWJDBJ 

she’s high key struggling but she’s the type to be like no its fine this is fine life is a ride babey better hold on ! tries to keep things flirty and fresh 99% of the time but then you’ll witness the rare emi breakdown which.....involves a whole lot of tweets that will all be deleted within 24 hours and emi will in fact deny they ever existed

really a laid-back girl but the chaotic energy is there folks......she can also very easily get into her youngest child complex if she’s upset which just involves emi being a pain in the ass and everyone having to deal with it JSBDWBDJWBDJWBDJW  she likes to make it hard to say no to her.....not exactly manipulative but sometimes she can get close /: not listed in her fears but she is in fact scared of genuine love and affection ! it’s like she craves it so much she’s terrified abt what will happen if she ever gets it.......so she makes sure she’s never in danger of that by never getting into anything serious.....but then at night shes like damn . kinda want a freak to hold my hand rn and tell me they love me ... JSDBWBDJWBDJWBJDWJDW it’s all fun and games.............

ok thats it im done rambling.................this is so long..............and for what !!!!! i made her more of a clown than i intended but thats okay (: JSDBJWBDWJDBWJ emi might hate clowns but im embracing them ! 

#╰ ♡ . 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒋𝒊 ── ooc ! ┘ #what if......u read this......and plotted with me.....aha just kidding.....unless ?

[theshamelessmanatee]

LOST IN THE SUPERMARKET

The lovely @okimargarvez gave me a silly idea about Luke and Penelope grocery shopping....with a surprise. Obviously GARVEZ.

As soon as they entered the big sliding doors of the grocery store, Luke reached for his back pocket to pick the list he had meticulously compiled at home while Penelope had made fun of him. The whole damn time.

She had started with a round of fond resignated 'You are such a grandpa, Luke', continued with snarky variations of ' I can't believe I am dating an old geezer' and finished with a ridiculous imitation of an old eighteen century british woman dramatically shouting 'oh Luke, my lovely Luke, hurry, write down all the scary little words before they fly away like our wild youth!'. 

Thinking about it made a stupid lovestruck grin appear on his face. He couldn't help it, he was just so damn happy. 

Before working with the BAU he had never thought about being so madly in love with another person, let alone being in a committed relationship with the brightest person he had ever met. But everything concerning Penelope had always been so damn easy for Luke. 

It had been easy being captivated by her over the top appearence; it had been so easy feeling attracted to her and later playfully bickering with her when she had decided he hated him on principle. Then, it had been so damn easy looking behind the colourful appearence and the snarky attitude to see the bright soul it shone behind it, and ultimately it had been so damn easy falling in love with her and accepting that she would never reciprocate his feelings. Despite being completely terrified by the outcome, it had still being so easy to gather up the courage to ask her out and kiss her on their very first date. 

He remembered being so scared that night of three years ago, heart beating like crazy in his chest, full of doubts and fears; but he had looked her in the eyes and he had been sure that if he hadn't kiss her in that moment he would have regretted it forever. Ultimately it had been the easiest thing in the world going from lonely wolf scared of feelings and commitment to being in a super steady relationship and living a blissfully domestic live with the love of his life. Because Penelope was truly the love of his life.

Luke was so sure he would never love someone as much as he loved Penelope, the most gorgeous infuriatingly kind person he knew. He was so proud of being loved by someone like her. 

Lost in these thoughts he kept grocery shopping calmly when he noticed Penelope looking pensive in the middle of the cereal aisle. 

'What's up babe?' he asked stopping the cart next to her. Penelope hated cereal, she had told him a billion times and she had never misses to shoot him a betrayed and grossed out expression every time she saw him ate them.

She blinked for a moment, snapping out of her thoughts 'I don't know what brand of cereal we should buy. Your favourite, despite being a sugary monstruosity i can't stress you enough to not eat them anymore, really, are on discount, but this new one brand seems like you could like it... and looks healtier' she mumbled more to herself than him, waving a hand in the air.

In that exact moment, in the middle of the cereal aisle, heart beating achingly in his chest, Luke Alvez realised that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Penelope Grace Garcia.  

'Marry me' he blurted out before he could stop himself. Penelope had always had this effect on him, making him a stupid and mushy mess.

‘Are you for real??' she looked outraged 'are you really asking me to marry you after I waited for like a year -but I wanted to give you your time since you clearly have commitment issues-, and you really are doing it in a grocery store, Luke Alvez? What? You had a fricking epiphany in the middle of the cereal aisle?!' she said in a false resented tone, barely containing a pleased smile that Luke was mirroring back at her.

'Ok, listen,’ she went on ‘ this is how it's gonna go. I will propose to you later, like I had already planned, and we will totally tell the others that I had blown your mind away with my perfect proposal and nobody will know the truth, which is sad, Luke, and totally booooring’.

And still she hasn't said no. And knowing her as much as he did it meant a big fat yes in the Garcia language, which Luke was really fluent in.

'Bold of you to think I am gonna say yes' he said smiling like a maniac.

'Please Luke, you can't resist me. I am your queen' she said smiling cockily. God, he was so in love with her he was sure people could see him glowing from space. Instead, heart beating madly, he took her hand, lift it to his mouth and kissed it, looking her in the eyes 'Damn right, you are.'

She blushed prettily and whispered '...and clearly I will marry you, if it hadn't been clear before.' 

Luke laughed and pull her in a kiss feeling like he was in a dream. it was a very romantic moment in its own peculiar way that unfortunately was interrupted by an old man looking for the cereal behind Luke's head.

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

‘We forgot the cereal’ Penelope later informed Luke laughing in all her naked glory on the floor, their clothes scattered everywhere and their grocery still abandoned next to the front door.

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

Penelope did propose to Luke later that week.

She hacked all the computers of the FBI building to show a powerpoint presentation of all their ridiculous photos which Luke had found the most romantic and the most hilarious thing ever. 

He had been laughing so hard when he saw the big boss marching towards them yelling, his face a red contorted mess.

They both couldn't stop smiling three hours later, in the HR office where they were being scolded for unacceptable behaviour in the workplace. Who cared? They were engaged!

The others had been waiting for them outside the office with a bottle of expensive champagne Rossi had bought and stored in his office after their first date, knowing they would marry eventually.

When Spencer opened the bottle and made the cork fly on a lamp, breaking it down with a loud noise, the HR woman opened the door, sighed, and invited the whole team back in her office to have another chat about proper behaviour on the workplace.

Since nobody could contain their giggles for more then five seconds the woman sighed again and make all of them go with a very exasperated look-

BEST. PROPOSAL. EVER. Penelope had been right.

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #my writing #my shitposting #this is ridiculous and cheesy and i know it #i am not even sorry #lmao #mine #penelope garcia x luke alvez #my ramblings #this is really cheesy #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

[loveinthebones]

Maybe "for once, I need you" or "great. Perfect. Nice. Fuck this"

(This has been sitting in my inbox for so so SO long and I’m sorry. XD)

I have actually been meaning to write something for the Madoka Magica universe for a bit and @daffodi1 had been having a bit of a low week a while back but this… took me a little bit. I am so done tweaking this and I’m still unsure of it but well… you’ll see.

Fandom: Madoka Magica

Pairing: Sayaka Miki/Kyoko Sakura

Tags: Alternate Universe/Canon divergence, pain/grief, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: Mentions of death

-Butterfly on Your Shoulder (Please Don’t Go)-

It was a windy night.

“Great.” Kyoko muttered. She brushed away her unruly bangs witha harsh flick of her wrist, uncaring of the juice splattering against them fromthe apple crushed in-between her red and bruised fingers. “Perfect…”

Sayaka was late.

She should have beenhere by now…

“She better have a good reason for making me wait.” Kyoko’s alreadywhite-knuckled grip tightened while her gaze drifted to the mess of lightsbelow and the ripped, dirt-streaked fabric of her dress whipped around her legs.

She sank her teeth into her snack with a huff. “That’s not…”

“Nice?” The familiar voice made her heart jump and for asecond, her tongue couldn’t move. The weight and mushiness of the mutilatedpulp threatened to tumble down her throat as Sayaka dropped beside her with asharp breath and a wispy chuckle. “You should know me better than that, Kyoko-chan.”

Kyoko sucked in a deep breath as she regained control of herbody, grinding her teeth.

There was pounding in her ears and her pulse drummed againsther veins, echoing the violent, stretched out thud thud thud when Sayaka had pushed her away.

She could see how Homura bared her teeth, how she tried to burySayaka in that labyrinth when she pulled the trigger.

Why are you so ready to die?

Homura will neverforgive you if you throw away Madoka’s wish.

“You’re one to talk…”

Why?

Kyoko swallowed thickly, taste lost, before she continued,staring into Sayaka’s exhausted eyes. “I had that witch right where I wantedher.”

Even with dried crimson streaking her pale skin and aweeping lip, there was the glint of something fierce and Sayaka clicked hertongue weakly, bumping Kyoko with her thigh lightly.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, nervescrackling and buzzing as the chaos reverberating in her blood pounded quicker,harder through her body.

Why do you refuse tohelp yourself? To survive…

Kyoko couldn’t breathe.

I can’t do this…

She balled her fist as the embers of an almost forgotten emotionbegan to smolder from where it was buried under the mountain of ashes that madeup her life: the sacrifice for a father who had turned his back on her soeasily, the dulled but still ever present ache in her chest from when she wouldwalk the streets alone in a city that seemed lifetimes away from Mitakihara,and…

Again.

Kyoko’s focus drifted from Sayaka’s small, brittle smile to thegentle slope of her shoulder and the dark navy curves of the butterfly’s wingsbranded there.

She didn’t want todrown.

Her chest heaved, clawing for the oxygen being stolen fromher at the worried curl of those lips.

Not again.

The moonlight glimmered in those ocean colored irises,reflecting back the pain and resignation of the girl who had been wretched fromthe brink of a deathless death against her own will.

For once…

“You know what?”

Kyoko’s lungs needed air—no. They were begging for air.

“Fuck this.” She refused to blink as the salt gathered atthe corners of her eyes, blinding her.

She wondered if Sayaka had forgotten.

If it had slipped Sayaka’s mind… that all those years ago…she had reached out to Kyoko when her soul gem seethed and curdled with hermisery.

How they had stood in that darkened arcade…

And…

How Kyoko had offered her hand.

She had trembled that day.

Sayaka should know… because the pocky sticks had beenrattling in the box.

Can’t you see?

She wouldn’t rip off another shard of her pulsing heartwithout a fight, especially to someone who was so eager to die—again.

For once—

“If you want to throw away your second chance,” Kyoko spat, ignoringhow her tears escaped the barrier of her waterline. “Be my guest.”

I need you.

It was silent, except for Kyoko’s breathless gasps andSayaka’s calm breathing but then she was yelling, screaming, screeching.

I need you to stay.

Kyoko’s lungs burned unbearably.

Please don’t go.

As those traitorous tears left their footprints behind andsnot started to cling to her lips…

Not again.

Kyoko finally let go of the forgotten apple in her hand to wrapher arms around Sayaka because otherwise, she was afraid that she would neverbe able to pull herself together again and she should know better than to care…it had taken away so much— her family, her hope, her life—but…

She had stopped being able to see Sayaka’s face clearly andthat fact made her sob even harder, fingertips digging into Sayaka’s cape tofeel her warmth, how her muscles twitched with the pressure, how she was here, here, hereand not dead or twisted by her grief.

“You need more grief seeds, right?” She was interrupted by acough and she held on to Sayaka tighter, pressing her cheek over the witch’skiss to hide it away. “To keep your gem clean? I’ll-I’ll-“ She stammered,trying to get the words past the tightness of her throat and the airlessness ofher chest. “I’ll get them—I’ll carry your grief… Just.”

Kyoko closed her eyes, inhaling deliberately, deeply. “Stay.”

Stay alive. For me.

“Oh, jeeze…Kyoko…” Sayaka’s tone was gentle and soothing—liltingcomfortingly but her nails pierced Kyoko’s waist as she pulled her closer. “I…I’mnot going anywhere.”

It was a windy night and not a cloud in the sky when crystaldroplets started to fall.

“You should know that.”

#Kat answers the lovelies #Kat's writing #Ambrose's writing #puella magi madoka magica #Sayaka Miki #Kyoko Sakura #kyoko x sayaka #I'm really scared to tag these with the main tags since I am not very confident in this one #But here we go

[pestheart6-blog]

My Favorite Cherry Pie in the History of Ever

No, really, this is the best cherry pie EVER. Nothing hard or secret about it – it’s a classic! Notes included in the recipe for using sour OR sweet cherries.

Cherry pie. It’s my favorite. It is the pie I can’t resist even when I’m already stuffed to the gills. I love the tart sweetness. The bursting cherries. The buttery, flaky pie crust. There are other fruit pies that don’t hold my attention, but cherry pie has my whole heart.

A few years ago, I decided homemade cherry pie did not appear in my life as frequently as it should, and I resolved to change that by establishing it as a tradition. If it’s tradition, it has to happen right? So I decided every 4th of July (or within a week or so if we are traveling), we needed homemade cherry pie. (And let’s be honest, most Thanksgivings, too.)

It took me a few years to get this cherry pie perfectly perfect, but this is the version I’m sticking with forevermore. It’s straightforward. It’s simple. And the flavor is the best I’ve ever tasted (and trust me, I’ve eaten a lot of cherry pie in my day). 

We are going to pretend I don’t already have a cherry pie recipe in the archives. That recipe is almost 10 years old; chalk it up to cherry pie maturity (and a decade of taste testing), but today’s recipe is 1,000 times better. Promise.

Homemade pie can seem really intimidating. I get it! It’s not exactly the quickest thing to whip up on your average Tuesday night. But if you plan a little time, work with fresh, delicious ingredients, and keep everything cold, cold, cold, you’re going to be making pie like a rock star before you know it. 

I’m going to walk you through the steps of making this homemade cherry pie today. Not because it’s hard…but just because sometimes a visual how-to can make all the difference so you can go from “no way, not me, homemade pie is the devil” to “I think I’ve got this; oh yeah, I’VE GOT THIS!”

There’s a lot of information in this post. Read it. Absorb it. Think about it. Take some deep breaths. And then go make the best cherry pie of your life. 

I have a lot of pie crust tutorials/boot camps/lectures already on this site, so I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty of how to make pie dough on this post. 

But I will say that for this cherry pie (and all other pies), I use one of two pie crust recipes:

For the pictures in this post, I’m using the sour cream pie crust. The flavor and tenderness and flakiness is so, so good. To get started, you’ll want to roll the bottom crust to about 12-inches in diameter and gently place in the bottom of a 9-inch pie plate. Trim the dough leaving 1/4-inch excess beyond the rim of the pie plate.

Homemade cherry pie filling! Could life get any better? 

I include many of these same details below in the recipe, but I’ll outline them here, too:

I’ve tested this recipe using sweet, dark cherries. The sugar level in the recipe is counting on the cherries being perfectly ripe and naturally sweet. If the dark cherries you are using are on the tart side, you might want to increase the sugar just a bit.

I haven’t tried Rainier cherries, although they usually substitute really well for dark cherries in terms of sweetness and flavor.

I also haven’t used sour pie cherries because they are rather hard to find fresh where I live (and the canned varieties scare me off a little because, hello, mushy cherries).

The good news is, I hear it’s pretty darn easy to convert a cherry pie from using sweet, dark cherries to sour pie cherries.

To substitute sour pie cherries, try, decreasing the lemon juice to 1 teaspoon (don’t leave it out completely) and increase the sugar to 1 cup (or slightly more, depending on how sweet you want the pie). 

I haven’t tried frozen cherries (yet!), but I think they could be used with pretty good results as long as they are thawed and very well drained before using. They might be a tad bit softer after the pie is baked – but if they are good quality prior to freezing, chances are, it stands a good chance of working. 

The filling of this cherry pie recipe is as simple as combining all the ingredients together in a bowl and letting it hang out while you get the pie crust in the pie plate. We have a lot of u-pick cherry farms near us; maybe that’s what’s increased my love for cherry pie? Very possibly. 

You can bet just about every homemade pie maker has a pretty strong opinion about what should be used to thicken the filling. Flour. Cornstarch. Tapioca. Clearjel. Fasting and prayer.

I’m not out to make enemies over the subject, but after loads of testing (and so.many.cherry.pies), I stand firmly by the recipe below. I’m not saying this thickener lineup should be used for every fruit pie ever made, but for this cherry pie, it’s money. 

Tapioca flour/starch + a little bit of cornstarch. The combination creates a perfectly set cherry pie filling that isn’t cloudy or glumpy with weird gelatinous blogs hanging around.

I know tapioca flour isn’t the most common pantry ingredient in the world (we happen keep it on hand 24/7 for this Brazilian cheese bread that gets made at least weekly), but it’s worth grabbing for this pie recipe. It’s widely available in many grocery stores, even my small town grocery store, in the baking aisle (Bob’s Red Mill is a popular brand) and definitely available online. 

Does using tapioca flour vs 100% cornstarch make a difference? YES! It’s what transitioned my cherry pie from pretty good to really amazing. 

As I mention in the recipe below and already once above, keeping the pie dough chilled is the key to success. Warm pie dough is a recipe for disaster. 

Roll the top crust out to a 12- or 14-inch circle and cut 10-12 thick strips. Scoop the pie filling into the pie plate and get to work on that lattice crust! 

Yes, you can bypass the lattice crust and just slap on a whole top crust, cut a few vents and toss in the oven.

But where’s the fun in that? Plus, I submit that creating a lattice-topped pie might be one of the most satisfying endeavors of my life. And also, cherry pie JUST NEEDS A LATTICE TOP. 

You can see from the quick little collage below that it’s really just a matter of lifting the right pie dough strips in order to lay down a horizontal lattice strip…and repeating that several times. It doesn’t have to be perfect. The strips don’t all have to be the exact same size. Pies should have personality! 

Just go for it. You’ll be glad you did. 

Once the lattice top has been lovingly and carefully assembled (work quickly so the pie strips stay cold and don’t get warm and melty in your grubby little hands!), trim the lattice strips evenly with the bottom crust. 

Now take the bottom crust and roll/fold it up and over creating a lip that sits right on the edge of the pie plate. Press gently toward the inner edge of the pie to seal the edges and trap the ends of the lattice strips. 

With that thicker edge, you can flute the edges of the pie all the way around. Again, this is another aspect of homemade pie making that doesn’t have to be perfect. And it’s also another area that should go quickly so the warmth of your little fingies doesn’t melt the butter in the pie crust.

Refrigerate that pie for at least 30 minutes! An hour is even better. You want to make sure the pie crust is really, really cold. I wouldn’t let it hang out in the fridge much past an hour – the risk of a soggy bottom crust is not worth it, in my opinion. 

I like to brush the top of the pie with a simple egg wash. This is optional. But it greatly enhances the ability of that pie to get the perfectly shiny/golden vibe going on that definitely increases the pie rock star feelings. 

Pop that pie on a foil- or parchment-lined baking sheet (trust me, it probably will bubble over a bit – totally normal – and easy cleanup will be your friend). Bake it at 400 degrees for about an hour. Watch closely. Every oven differs a bit in oven temp.

If the top or outer crust is over browning but the bottom crust (looking through a glass plate) or filling needs more time, tent the top of the pie with foil to continue baking. 

Now for the hard part. As appealing as it is to dig into warm pie, if you don’t want a soupy mess running all over your plate (and probably your pants), let the pie cool. It doesn’t have to cool completely, but I recommend a 2-3 hour cooling period so the filling has time to set up.

If you cut into it too early, you’re going to cry big buckets of tears and insist the recipe is flawed or that I was totally off on my thickener soapbox. Cooling it for the right amount of time means perfect pie. And if I’m being honest, I actually prefer my cherry pie at room temp. It’s the best.

Ok, there you have it! My favorite cherry pie in the history of ever. 

I wouldn’t consider myself the best pie maker in the world, and I certainly don’t make pie on the weekly, but I’ve come to really love the pie making process (even the frustrating moments).

There’s just something magical and so utterly self-confidence boosting about taking a homemade pie out of the oven. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to hearing angels sing in my kitchen.

And embarrassing as it is to admit, I’ve actually been known to say these words as I stare lovingly at the piping hot pie in my oven mitt clad hands: “oh my gosh, I’m amazing.” Homemade pie will do that to you. 

Here is a quick list of all the tools/ingredients I use for this cherry pie (and for most of my pie-making endeavors). The right tools make all the difference. Affiliate links included for products I’ve purchased from Amazon.

Now go make yourself some cherry pie! 

Yield: 9-inch pie

Prep Time: 30 minutes

Cook Time: 1 hour 5 minutes

Additional Time: 3 hours 30 minutes

Total Time: 5 hours 5 minutes

Ingredients

Double crust 9-inch pie dough (see note for recipes)

For the cherry pie filing:

5 cups (about 28-30 ounces) pitted sweet, dark cherries - you'll start with around 2 pounds whole fruit (see note for sour pie cherries)

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (from 1-2 medium lemons)

1/4 teaspoon almond extract

3/4 cup (5.75 ounces) granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon coarse, kosher salt (use 1/4 teaspoon for table salt)

1/3 cup (1.5 ounces) tapioca starch/flour (see note)

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1 tablespoon butter

Egg wash:

1 egg yolk

2 teaspoons water

2 teaspoons cream or milk

Instructions

Keep all ingredients/pie crust as cold as possible throughout the making process to ensure the most delicious pie ever! Roll out bottom pie crust according to pie dough recipe instructions and place in the bottom of a 9-inch pie plate (I use a glass pie plate). Trim edges leaving 1/4-inch excess from outer rim of pie plate. Refrigerate until filling is ready.

For the filling, in a large bowl, combine the pitted cherries, lemon juice, almond extract, sugar, salt, tapioca starch and cornstarch. Mix until well combined. Set aside.

Roll out top crust to 10-inch diameter and cut into 10-12 strips (I like to cut thicker 3/4- to 1-inch strips).

Scoop cherry pie filling evenly into refrigerated bottom crust, scraping out all the sugar and liquid. Dot the top with 1 tablespoon butter (pinched or cut into small pieces).

Weave strips on top of the filling for a lattice crust (see above pictures in post for how-to). Trim lattice strips evenly with bottom crust. Fold bottom crust up and over evenly with edge of pie plate and press/pinch to seal. Flute the edges of the pie crust.

Refrigerate the pie for at least 30 minutes or up to 1 hour to make sure the top crust is completely chilled.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Place the pie on a parchment or foil-lined baking pan. Bake for 50-60 minutes until the crust is golden and the filling is bubbly and thickened (will thicken more as it cools). The exact time will depend on type of pie plate, thickness of crust, if pie was refrigerated, etc.

Let the pie cool for 2-3 hours before serving (if it's too warm, the filling will be soupy). The pie can be covered and kept at room temperature for 2-3 days.

Notes

Pie Crust: I use either this recipe or this recipe for flaky, easy to work with pie dough.

Cherries: I have not tried this pie with frozen cherries; if doing so, I highly recommend thawing and draining thoroughly before using. For sour pie cherries, decrease the lemon juice to 1 teaspoon and increase the sugar to 1 cup (or more, depending on how sweet you want the pie).

Sugar: For any type of cherry, the exact amount of sugar really depends on the sweetness of the fruit. Even dark, sweet cherries can be quite tart depending on when they were picked. The 3/4 cup sugar called for in this recipe for dark, sweet cherries assumes the fruit is perfectly ripe and sweet. If they are slightly underripe and a little more tart, increase the sugar by 1/4 cup.

Almond Extract: I normally do not like almond flavor in hardly anything - I almost always leave it out if it's called for in a recipe, but I promise, the almond extract is everything in this recipe! That small 1/4 teaspoon adds the best complimentary flavor to the cherries. Don't leave it out!

Tapioca Flour/Cornstarch: I like a pretty firm cherry pie filling and after a lot of experimenting I really prefer this lineup of tapioca flour with a little bit of cornstarch. It gives the best texture without being glumpy and globby. Tapioca flour/starch is pretty easily found in the baking aisle of most grocery stores (definitely in stores with bulk bins); can also be ordered online. Alternately, you can grind minute tapioca or other tapioca pearls until finely ground.

Make-Ahead: Pie can be made start to finish and cooled 1-2 days ahead of time. Cover well and keep at room temp. Warm in the oven (250 degree oven for 10-15 minutes) or individual pieces in the microwave. I haven't frozen the unbaked or baked pie.

Recommended Products

As an Amazon Associate and member of other affiliate programs, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Recipe Source: from Mel’s Kitchen Cafe

Disclaimer: I am a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.

Posted on July 11, 2019 by Mel

Source: https://www.melskitchencafe.com/my-favorite-cherry-pie-in-the-history-of-ever/

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

It’s a mystery in many houses – where in tarnation do the odd socks go? In others, there’s people like me who have a special ability to wear and snag holes … in just one sock … at a ridiculous rate.

This leaves many sad, lonely “survivor” socks waiting for their mate to appear, or hoping the next ripped sock matches it.  Then, commonly, after ages spent waiting with other sad, lonely survivors accumulating beside them, they’re sent to the landfill.

   Happily, it doesn’t have to be so. Those socks have massive potential for increasing our preparedness.

They can save us money and effort now, and they can be especially useful in a protracted crisis! Unmatched socks have a place from our kitchens and baths, to our gardens and back, winter and summer.

Garden Tie-Ups

One of the best-known uses for socks in in the garden is as ties for our vining plants like tomatoes and heavier squash or melons. They can be used whole and as-is, although that can be bulky. They can be split longwise down to the toe to create longer lengths, or cut off in rings or shorter strips.

Socks can also help us by holding the fruit itself. We can split them and tie them at the center to make a 4- or 6-strand “X” that we tie up from around the bottom of fruits to suspend from a trellis, enabling us to grow vertically and save space. Doing so can also limits some of the garden munchers.

Alternatively, with thick-stemmed autumn-winter squashes and melons, ties can be suspended from near the base of the fruit to the supporting rack. (Psst … check to see if they’re ready to slip regularly.)

I also use socks to tie and cover the plastic bundle I make when I propagate by air layering, to tie young trees and shrubs to their protective posts, and when I create limb spreaders for young trees or am creating an espalier or diagonal cordon fruit tree.

While they do hold more moisture than garden twine, they’re also less abrasive. I like the fact that they have some elasticity, too. Instead of snapping, they bend like a willow in the wind, and in some cases, because of the “give”, they can absorb some of the damage we get from summer and winter storms.

Pollination Protectors

If we’re gardening with a long-term disaster or instability in mind, eventually we turn to seed saving. Many of our garden plants are promiscuous, which can present challenges. To keep seeds true for another season, we can cover up flowers before they open (to include corn) and hand pollinate. Hose and dress socks excel here, ensuring we have another harvest we can count on from our efforts.

If flowers are delicate, we can slice up yogurt cups, plastic bottles, seed tray cups; bend wire clothes hangers into spirals; or create a couple thin willow rings to form a hollowed-out frame and keep our thin socks and hose from putting too much pressure on our forming flowers and their young fruits.

(Full disclosure: Pro’s actually use paper bags for breeding corn – zero chance of pollen seeping through the weave.)

Pest Barriers

Socks and hose can also help save our fruits from predation. As with breeding stock, some fruits may benefit from a ring or frame that keeps the cloth from making direct contact.

Coddling moth on tree fruit is the most common foe defeated this way, but it can help with everything from birds and bramble berry bunches, to tomatoes and hornworms. Cloth socks can also be substituted for newspaper when protecting transplants from cutworms.

  Wicking with Socks

Heard of Earthboxes, or sub-irrigated planters and beds (sometimes called self-watering)?

DIYs from buckets, storage totes, and 2L bottles regularly call for a wick. There’s no need to buy mops or pond baskets, though. A polyester sock filled with coir, wood chips, or your planting soil will work just as well and last nearly as long. Cotton and wool socks can be cut into strips to perform the same functions for smaller containers.

On a different note, farmers and gardeners have started cutting up cleaned waste wool pieces from shearing, and tilling it into gardens or sticking it near root zones, especially for particularly thirsty crops. The wool absorbs water, keeping it available to plants longer. Natural-fiber sock pieces can do the same.

Allium Chains

Never really got the hang of braiding garlic and onions into chains for storage? No big deal. Thin dress socks or hose can make it faster and easier to accomplish the same.

Once cured, just bundle them up. You can use bread ties, paper clips, or clothespins to separate bulbs in a chain instead of tying knots, or you can cut right below the knot. (Remember to save the “toe” for flower & fruit protectors.)

Goo Grabbers

Got any bottles of oil in the kitchen – or one of those oil sprayers to replace Spam? Get any dribbles down them?

No? Can you teach my entire family how to not do this?

If you do, or if you have slick stuff it’s tough to grab in the kitchen or shed, socks can help. Cut the toe off, slide it over, fold over if desired. Dribbles will catch in the sock, not pool under the sprayer or bottle, and you can gain a little extra traction on those bottles.

Their ability to prevent accidental splatter or drippage also extends to paint cans and shoes.

When you’re ready to paint, roll or twist your sock(s) into a thin rope, and tie it around the can. As with the oil, it’ll catch any drips from the rim.

When you’re painting and staining and priming, you can also slide mismatched and sole-survivor socks over your shoes (and your hands) to help limit any drips or side spray from making contact.

   Washing Up

Got a carpet mess to clean up? Stick bar soap in one of those sole survivors of the laundry, dunk, scrub, repeat. Bar soap in a sock will also make it easier if you’re planning to hand-scrub your laundry at some point, with or without a board.

Tired of losing those little slivers of bar soaps, or of dealing with the mushy mess?

Stick them in a sock, and hang the sock from a hook. You could hang it to drip into the sink, but for even less waste, set it up so it drips onto a sponge or the floor-scrubby louffa squash you grew.

(Psst … that sock thing also makes it fast and easy to wash hands over a catch bucket while camping.)

When it comes to cleaning up, we can also repurpose lone socks as reusable “Swiffer” pads for dusting, sweeping, and spot mopping.

Socks also make excellent dip stick wipers (and “hot pot holders”) to tuck along the inside rim of a vehicle hood. Tuck a few in with your air compressor to save your hands (and knees) there, too, so you spend a little less time using soap, scrubbing stains, and patching holes with them.

     Critter Care

Got a small dog or pup prone to getting super cold in winter? Piglets or rabbits that need a sweater? Doggy child like to dip its ears in its dinner? Or shake them after an injury?

Socks can be the answer.

With a few snips we can create hoods and sweaters for our pets, as well as some of our small livestock.

They can also be turned into chicken vests, or used to create stockings and suspenders to keep animals from reopening leg wounds or chewing “hot spots” that may develop from allergies to grasses and insect bites.

A quick knot, piece of Velcro, or old belt can work to hold them over the shoulder, or you can use some garden twine to tie off between their shoulders or to a harness.

Those stockings can also be used in winter to help dogs gain some traction on ice. There’s some limited assistance for dogs that end up with balls of packs snow between their toes, too.

The biggie for me in winter, though, was always in limiting how much deicer ended up on their feet and in the house. It only works for front paws, but since that’s what mine will sit there and lick most often, that’s a win.

Every tiny speck that turns their socks crunchy-crispy is a speck they’re not consuming, so it was worth it to me even not being a perfect “boot”. A quick coat of spray sizing or waterproofing limits that exposure further.

Hoofstock can have fitted socks used to replace light brush guards as well as help keep them from messing with an injury. Socks can also be soaked as fly repellents, or help keep a heat rub or anti-inflammatory dressing in place.

If socks aren’t big enough to slide over a hoof, we can still use them instead of ACE type flex-compression bandages. As with garden supports, we can slice them long wise from the opening to the toe and use them as a wrap.

Just make sure they fit well, won’t slide off, and that we use tape or a salvaged piece of Velcro, especially for animals we won’t be watching – constantly and closely.

Applying a medical aid does little good if Rin Tin Tin or Silver manage to swallow an ACE clip or step on a safety pin. (That goes for brand-new, purpose-specific items, too, not just repurposed items.)

   Solar Boosts

Got a water bottle that boils in summer? Pull a white sock over it. Want to help water absorb solar rays, either to stay warmer in winter or cut down on boiling time for instant meals in summer? Sheath it in a black sock instead.

The black sock trick can also be used as a heat sink for winter plants, with cans, bottles or emptied jars.

Socks as Saviors

We spend enough money on preparedness. Save it where you can. There are all sorts of things that can be given new life. Unmatched socks in particular are pretty useful around a home and yards – and we barely brushed the surface of their potential.

From feminine hygiene to small pouches, mittens to coin-roll saps, homemade draft rolls and dusting gloves, even as a washable alternative to paper for windows and mirrors – it’s a pretty big list, with pretty wide applications. They don’t have to cycle from waiting to the trash.

Go ahead and stash some back for hard times, but get started seeing nothing as a waste product now, too.

  The post The Lone Sock appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

#SHTF #TEOTWAWKI #MARTIALLAW #BUGOUT #PREPPERBAG #USAF #USSOCOM #ARMY #NAVY #SurvivalFirestarter #Sur

[letsplayscrabble-blog]

hurry home, partner. [the end.]

- I had to. I just had to get this out for you guys to enjoy the finish. Please enjoy Jay Halstead as a father because it just might be one of my most favorite things I’ve written. Thank you for all of your kind words on this work of mine. You all are wonderful. (Before you read this, there are NINE parts total. I released the eighth part earlier today. Make sure you read that before this one.)

------

“Alright, Anabel… open up! Here comes the airplane! Here comes the….You don’t like peas, do you sweetheart?” 

The little girl sat with her arms stubbornly crossed over her chest and her bottom lip out in a perfect reenactment of her mother’s signature pout and he had to chuckle because damn he really had his hands full now. “That’s okay because I think peas are disgusting and we just won’t tell mommy that you-”

“Don’t you dare, Jay Halstead. She needs to eat a vegetable, you pushover.” Erin appeared in his line of sight near the refrigerator, her hair piled in a mess on top of her head and one of his baggy old Army t-shirts draped effortlessly over her tiny frame and if their daughter wasn’t in the room he would’ve had his way with her on the kitchen counter without so much as a second thought because motherhood looked beyond sexy on her and so did the brand new title of his fiancee. Before she’d been discharged from the hospital a few months back, Jay had found a free minute alone with Hank to ask for his official blessing and though he’d been so afraid he thought he might actually black out in front of his sargeant all had gone just as he had hoped it would. And so he had gotten his mother’s ring and Will’s go ahead and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand lying there in the hospital bed with their daughter in her arms and watched his favorite smile fall across her lips, the kind that brought out her dimples and the sparkle in her eyes that used to always distract him from her desk across the bullpen. The one he’d seen way back when he first met her with her firm handshake and fiery attitude and knew she’d change his life someday.

“C’mon, baby, let’s go get you changed.” Erin scooped up the girl from her high chair, who was now beaming at the sight of her mother, clapping her hands in excitement and seeming to forget all about the mushy green peas that had been zooming towards her face, much to Jay’s delight. He hated when Anabel was doing anything other than smiling, except of course sleeping with her head nestled right on his chest where she could feel her tiny pitter-patter of a heartbeat. And on nights when the both of them were far too exhausted to wander down the hall to an actual bed, Erin would curl right up on his other side, the warmth of her body lulling him into the first decent sleep he’d been able to have in months. Because the demons of his past had vanished from his head when he was given Anabel, as if someone up there had heard his pleas and his sobs and his desperate screams and he’d like to think it was his mother up there, watching over him. Watching this new life he had created for himself with the woman of his dreams and this sweet baby girl in their cozy apartment full of way too many bottles and diapers and bibs.

Her hazel hues fell onto her daughter’s face as she carried her down the hallway, one hand firmly under her backside and the other on the back of her head, keeping her as close to her body as she could manage because of Anabel’s newfound love of wiggling and squirming and gurgling during all hours of the day and sometimes well into the night. Not that either Erin or Jay minded. If nights grew long and endless and she refused to close her pretty blue eyes they camped out on the living room floor with at least twelve pillows for Erin and maybe a handful for Jay and Anabel nestled right between the both of them with some old chick flick on the screen and one of his hands trailing up and down her arm, sending goosebumps all over her body and even at two-thirty in the morning she craved him.

She looked up then at the sound of Jay’s footsteps, his abdominal muscles clenching deliciously above a sagging pair of sweatpants as he sat on the floor near Anabel’s head, chuckling as the child began kicking and thrashing trying to maneuver herself closer to him and away from the new diaper her mother had prepared in her hands. And as much as Erin hated to admit it, Anabel was a daddy’s girl through and through. It had taken her days to get the baby to fall asleep in her arms but the instant Jay took her out of the cradle with her exhausted cries and flailing limbs she was out in an instant. And Erin tried to be angry about it, tried to pretend that it bothered her for all of about five minutes but when she caught him looking down at the little life they had created as he rocked her back and forth, with her ocean blue eyes and messy brown waves from the doorway of the nursery she could only manage silent tears of joy. Because this man, this beautifully broken and spectacularly selfless man was the epitome of what a father should be. An epitome of a father that she had never gotten the chance to have, with no clenched fists or angry shouts or broken beer bottles. No, Jay Halstead was everything but.

He was bottle feeding at four am when the sun hadn’t risen and her eyes were too heavy to even attempt a roll out from under the covers with a whispered ‘I love you, go back to sleep’. He was demanding to push the stroller around the neighborhood on their weekend walks, keeping one hand wrapped around Erin’s smaller fingers to fiddle with the diamond on her left hand. He was peek-a-boo games on Sunday mornings, his matching blue orbs crinkling in laughter along with Anabel’s shrill shrieks of amazement, her tiny little fingers grabbing for him to come closer. He was bursts of laughter during a diaper change, trying to figure out how someone so little could create such a huge mess and still be that adorable.  He was early morning kisses and heavy breathing and sharp intakes of breath with his lips trailing to the crook of her neck and then the sweet release inside of her. He was her anchor. He was her home.

“Er?”

She snapped back to her darling little girl who was now wrapped in his arms, her head against his chest and he’d dressed her- a pale pink onesie with ‘daddy’s favorite’ scrawled across the front and again she had to grin.

“You amaze me,” she murmured, standing to meet the both of them and as she leaned forward to graze her lips across Anabel’s cheek Jay pulled her to him.

“My girls amaze me,” he murmured back to her and she let out a soft sigh of contentment. This right here, right here in this very moment was everything that she had ever wanted.

“How about we have a few more?” She didn’t even need to look up at him to know that he was grinning from ear to ear. She could feel it.

“First, a motorcycle. Then babies. Lots more babies. And probably a wedding thrown in there somewhere,” he added with a chuckle as he brushed his lips against the top of her head.

“I love you,” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss against his mouth.

“I love you too, Er.”  

And all of their bad and all of their ugly had led them to that very moment with that perfect baby girl and their never-ending love for each other and he knew without a shadow of a doubt he would do it all over again if it meant it would bring him right back here, to the smell of Erin’s vanilla shampoo and Anabel’s toothless grin.

#linstead #linstead fanfic #linstead fanfiction #erin lindsay #jay halstead #Erin x Jay #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #cpd fanfiction #cpd fanfic

[thedeadnotesofficial]

London (UK), 20.02.2019

Freiburg. We meet up at 8 am, still 33 hours left to get to London on time.

The plan is to leave Freiburg at 1 pm as we still need to pick up new merchandise in Münster as well as pick up our good friends KID DAD in Paderborn. If everything works out we should still have some time to rest at Jakob‘s place in Cologne later before we head off to the ferry quite early in the morning. So far, so good. What really happened:

Let‘s go one step back first. Let me introduce to you: „Al Azul“. It’s the name of our brand new van and one of the main characters in this drama I'm about to tell you here. We recently bought ‘Al’ from our friends in Redensart and we bloody love this vehicle. It makes us proud to finally call him our very own. We already toured in Al Azul many times and I think it‘s quite an 'institution' in Freiburg‘s and Europe‘s diy scene. 

Everything is prepared for the biggest European headline tour we‘ve ever played to date. This is way to exciting. We weren‘t lazy and even cleaned the whole van very carefully and got a new soundsystem installed, too. We load in our backline, pick up our sound guy Robert and even manage to leave on time just as planned. Perfect. The sun is shining and everybody is looking forward to cross the channel tomorrow.

We’re on the motorway, not too far from Frankfurt when we first hear strange noises that seem to be coming from the engine. Can‘t say how long the noises have already been there because we were listening to Rob’s first band “Fed Up 74” on max volume until realizing that Al Azul sounds like an old tractor and we decide to get off the motorway as soon as possible. We call the ADAC but have to wait for almost two hours. Everyone still is like “Shouldn’t be a big thing” whereas I’m a little scared (have to admit that I’m always the biggest pessimist in this band). The yellow car arrives and we show them the problem. It doesn't even takes two minutes until Mr. ADAC drops the following sentence:

“The engine might be broken.” What? “The only thing I can still do is to tow off the van“ .F***ing Hell.

#throwbacktime: On our last UK tour in 2017 the exact same thing happened on our way to Brighton. The only difference is that it’s not a hired van this time but our very own van. It’s fucking Al Azul! 

We really are the most cursed “bad luck kids” on this whole planet. We immediately call every single car hire station nearby but no one seems to have a nine seated van available on this short notice. We‘re already four hours delayed at this point and spent the last hours going completely crazy, pissing each other off and losing hope in literally everything. While the van is towed off to a garage nearby we receive the news that Mary @ Turbo Booking might be able to sort out a van. Only problem. The van is located in Cologne and we are stranded in a small village called Groß-Gerau, 200 km away. If we learned something from playing in an intensely touring band for the last 8 years, it's to always make the best out of tricky situations and that sleep is sometimes overrated. Within seconds Darius and Jakob decide to take the next train to Cologne. We are well aware that we‘re about to lose shit-loads of money that we don‘t have, when the bus driver on the bus to the train station in Frankfurt even wants to charge a massive extra fee because the guys bought the wrong tickets. They bought tickets for 8,60€, the right ticket actually costs 8.70€. Come on. What is wrong with people?

Rob and I are still waiting for the guys to pick us and our backline up in front of a closed Fiat-garage stranded in the middle of nowhere.

The ‘new’ rental van is a little smaller but at least it’s warm in here. We‘re 8 hours delayed at this point, finally ready to drive another 4 hours to our next stop, Paderborn, where we arrive at 5am. For the first time since the van breakdown I feel very well again until I get to see the huge pile of Kid Dad gear in front of their rehearsal room that definitely won‘t fit in the van.

We don’t have enough time to play van-tetris the whole morning so everyone has to place some gear on their legs. Our main goal is to catch the ferry to the UK somehow, so we will still make it on time for our London show.

It’s not a big surprise that we miss the first two ferries but at least we pass the British border control without any problems. Crossing the Channel, Dunkerque to Dover became a routine for us and everybody is looking forward to finally getting something to eat at the “7 seas restaurant” on board. Fries, mushy peas and baked beans served on plate. We jokingly call it “prison meal”. Always a nice welcome to this beautiful island.

In the end it takes us nearly 35 hours to make it to London, but it feels like a huge success when we finally arrive. It’s only fair that there’s a parking spot right in front of the venue. Thank god. Not too fair that we are charged an extra 100€ parking ticket a few hours later. Surprisingly there’s still enough time for a quick soundcheck for Kid Dad at the beautiful „The Monarch“ in Camden before We Bless This Mess, our good friends from Portugal, now London based play an absolute killer set. Go check them out. 

We are a bit overwhelmed with everything and exhausted by the lack of sleep but the show turns out as the best London show we’ve ever played and I’m pretty sure Kid Dad are “happy” as well. The venue is packed with at least 50 kids and when we get on stage we are relieved how this all came together somehow. Can‘t really put into words how grateful we are and how proud I am that everyone in this travel party works together without a single moan which would be more than understandable under such circumstances.

Ps: Two days later we receive a phone call that our beloved „Al Azul“ was diagnosed as a write off. We can call us proud van owners for at least two hours now. Unfortunately we lost many thousands of euros on this one and still don‘t really know how to afford this loss. If you wanna buy some merch in order to support us and keep the whole thing going this would mean the world to us. Anyway, come what may. We‘ll be doing our very best to rock this with the same intensity as usual and I don‘t think anything will ever stop us as long as we‘re the happiest bad luck kids in the world.

Photos: Ilkay Karakurt

#thedeadnotes #uk2019 #london #themonarch #camden

[softestseraph]

Kitten [castiel]

This is my submission for @casbabydontgoineedyou‘s 1K challenge. Congrats on the accomplishment Katie, and I hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: #16 - “If cops show up, I don’t know you.”

Warnings: language(like, 3 words), adorable kittens and angels… thievery? weird condoms and mentions of sex, but very brief

A/N: Look, this was supposed to be a cute, funny little fic involving shenanigans at the store, but at some point i got really mushy, and at another point my jedi-cat compelled me to include him in the fic. It’s kind of a mess, but so is my life. Enjoy anyway :)

Word Count: 2,219

You shuffle into the kitchen, the sight of your half naked boyfriend leaning over a cereal bowl greeting you. Your eyebrows furrow. “Where’s the boys?” You ask Castiel, peeking around the corner into the hall. “They never skip breakfast.” You turn to the fridge and grab some milk while you wait for an answer. When silence greets you, you turn around to see why the ex-seraph is being so quiet, only to catch him sitting with a spoon halfway to his mouth, eyes fixed on your ass. “Cas,” you coo sarcastically, drawing his name out with a smirk spreading across your lips. Your blue-eyed lover snaps from his daze, shoving the spoon into his mouth as his cheeks flush and he avoids eye contact. You chuckle, amused by Castiel’s embarrassment. Despite being together nearly two years–both of which were filled to the brim with sex of all kinds–he still acts like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar sometimes.

“They’re in Iowa hunting a tulpa,” Castiel mumbles from around his mouthful of food. You hum in reply, occupied with fixing yourself breakfast. “Dean said they’ll be back in three days.”

You sit by Castiel, reflecting his happy smile when you place your feet in his lap and grab one of his hands. “Well, what do you wanna do?” You ask. “We’ve got three days of free time…” you trail off suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows and sending Cas an exaggerated wink.

To your surprise, Castiel ignores the innuendo (and suggestion). Instead he pulls out a crumbled piece of paper from the pocket of his sweatpants–the ones that hang just right, so you can always see those glorious hipbones and his cute tummy freckles. “We can go grocery shopping. Sam left a list.” You blink once, twice, thrice. Grocery shopping? Castiel chooses to go grocery shopping, over lazing about? Over sex?

“Okay, sure,” You say after a second-too-long of silence. “We’ll go in an hour,” you add, standing up. Castiel beams and you melt. Fuck him with his perfect face and his fucking amazing self. He nods enthusiastically and shoves the last spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth, grabbing your dishes and rushing to the sink. You thank him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind where he stands at the sink, and press a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m going to go shower, join me when you’re done,” you say before turning to leave. Castiel mumbles something in reply, but through the food it’s barely understandable.

You point towards the carts and Castiel dashes off, pulling a basket from the stack. After the two of you showered together–without sex, because shower sex is a tricky maneuver that takes longer than half an hour to pull off–you’d dressed and driven to the nearest convenience store. “Okay,” you start as Castiel appears back at your side. His eyes are roving over the store, finding pleasure in the brightly colored little Easter decorations scattered about. As a human, he’s found more time to just enjoy life and all it’s tiny little joys. Especially when he’s around you. He enjoys the way your eyelashes rest so delicately on your cheeks when you sleep, the way your hair flutters with every move you make, the gentle blush that glows on your face when you’re embarrassed, the way you gaze at him as if he is the most amazing thing you’ve ever stumbled upon. As an angel, Castiel hadn’t truly known love, he’d never felt it, nor been shown it. It was as foreign as freedom. He was told that his ‘family’ loved him, told that he had freedom, but it was all a facade. Until the Winchesters, he’d never really known freedom, and until you, he’d never really known love.

“Babe?” You repeat, waving a hand in Castiel’s face. He blinks, pulling his mind away from his thoughts and focusing on you. “You okay?” You ask, lips quirked and a small laugh escaping. “Get lost in La-La Land?”

“No, I was here,” Castiel replies, head adorably cocked in confusion. “I can no longer fly, remember?” He continues. Worry etches into the lines of his face and he rests a palm on your forehead, checking for a fever. “Are you sick, [Y/N]?”

You laugh and brush his hand away. “No, honey, it’s an expression.” At Castiel’s dubious look, you insists, “I’m fine, Cas, really.” You press a quick kiss to his lips as if to prove the point and draw his attention to the list. “Looks like we need paper towels.” You look up at Castiel, batting your eyelashes dramatically and holding an arm out. “Shall we, my love?”

Castiel, instead of hooking your arm with his, wraps his hand around yours and says, “Only if you’re sure you’re okay.” You nod, resting your head on his arm for a second before intertwining your fingers with his and leading Castiel toward the proper aisle. The two of you make your way down the fairly small list. Beer, bread, beef, pie, kale, chili… Castiel asks questions at every moment, his curiosity never waning, if you pass a stand of apples, he spews some random fact about apples, or if he spots a peculiar chip flavor, he places it in the cart. You answer his questions patiently, used to the newly-human-Castiel’s nature, and show interest in the randoms facts he’s collected from eons of life. When he places random items in the basket you wait until he’s distracted by something new and place it back on the shelf. In many ways, it’s akin to taking a child shopping.

You’re just about ready to check out, but you need to grab some more tampons real quick. You sigh upon seeing the rows of various boxes of tampons and pads, knowing that it is going to be a tedious search to find your specific brand and type. While you survey the options, Castiel wanders down the aisle a bit to where the sex accessories are. When you notice the silence, you turn to look for your blue-eyed boyfriend, only to see him standing by the condoms and lube. Uh oh. You walk over, trying to seem nonchalant to the couple other patrons perusing the self-care shelves. That all goes in the gutter when Castiel asks, loudly, I might add, “[Y/N], I don’t understand this. What is the necessity of size-enhancing, ribbed condoms?” He draws the attention of the nearby shoppers, and you rush over.

“Cas. put those back, please,” you beg, glancing around the two of you. “They’re just for added sensations when people have sex, it’s nothing.” You carefully pull the box from his hands, putting it back where it belongs.

“Would you like added sensations?” Castiel asks innocently, eyes flicking from a box of glow-in-the-dark condoms to your face. His query is, yet again, rather loud, drawing the attention of a mother and her teenage daughter picking out pads. The woman shoots you a glare, and the girl simply looks on in curiosity.

“No, Cas, normal condoms are fine,” you say, grabbing Castiel’s arm and pulling him away. “Let’s go, yeah?” You pose it as a question, but it’s really a demand. “We’re done in this aisle.” When you get away from that situation, you stop. “Okay, we just need to check out, and we’re done,” you announce, searching for the shortest line.

“This one,” Castiel says, pointing to a line that’s moving quickly. The two of you join the queue. Ten minutes later and you’re leaving the store, each of you carrying two bags. Your gaze is fixed on your gorgeous 1966 Chevelle when Castiel gets sidetracked. You come to a stop and turn around to see the once-seraph practically pressing his face against the glass of a pet-store window. You take the couple steps to join him and peek through the glass. Inside you see a single tuxedo kitten sitting there staring up at you. His wide green eyes and patch of white on his chin portray an expression of jaw-dropped awe, and the tip of his bushy tail flicks around excitedly. “Can we go in?” Castiel asks after a minute. You nod, completely entranced by the kitten and follow Castiel in. Both of you round the entrance and approach the little pen the kitty sits in. He meows when you get close, standing up on his stubby little legs and putting his paws on the wall, peering up at you. As if by Jedi mind power–something that cats seem to innately have–you and Castiel are impelled to crouch down and reach in to pet him. He purrs loudly as you run your fingers through his thick fur, Castiel scratching at his chin.

“Oh. My. God,” you whisper, utterly in love with this sweetheart of a cat. “Fuck, babe, I don’t think I can resist him,” you add. Castiel hums in agreement, both of you absorbed in petting the little creature. “I want him. Cas, can we have him? Please?” You plead, turning your gaze to Castiel. He looks at you wide eyed and shrugs. “Shit, wait, no. We don’t have the cash, and I didn’t bring any cards.” You frown.

“Perhaps we can come back,” Castiel says, disappointment lacing his tone as he casts his eyes back to the kitten. “Or maybe there is another way,” he adds after a bit, piercing blue eyes sending you a look. You squint, catching his gist, mind whirring.

Scanning the store for customers and employees, you turn to Castiel. “Grab him and go,” you hiss, pulling the grocery bags from his grip and standing. Castiel jumps into action immediately, carefully wrapping his hands around the tiny kitten and clutching him to his chest. You stand, moving for the entrance. Castiel follows closely, and the two of you dash out the door just as an employee catches you and shouts in annoyance. “Go, go!” You take off in a sprint.

The employee apparently grabbed his manager and coworkers, because now there are three prepubescent boys and a middle aged man on your tail. They yell at you to, “Come back with that cat!” You only run faster, panting. This was so a bad idea. Dammit, what the hell were you thinking? You glance over to Castiel, face painted with affliction. The middle-aged manager stops running, instead pulling out a phone. He dials something and brings it to his ear. Fuck.

“If cops show up, I don’t know you,” you grumble to Castiel, casting a furtive glance over your shoulder. Castiel rolls his impossibly-blue eyes in reply, shooting you a dubious glare. You put your hands up in surrender. “Look, babe, I didn’t get us into this situation,” you defend yourself. “You’re the one that said we needed to go grocery shopping.” You pick up your pace, the sleek cherry red of your car becoming clearer.

Castiel scoffs, fixing you with an incredulous look, despite the fact that the two of you are currently sprinting away from a pet store. “You’re the one who told me to grab him and go,” Castiel rebuts, looking down into his arms where the all tuxedo cat sits, unfazed, blinking up at the sky in wonder.

“But you gave me the idea in the first place!” You insist, the humor of the situation not lost on you. An ex-angel and a hunter sprinting away from a pet store with groceries and a stolen kitten in tow must be quite the image. “Shit, my keys are in my pocket,” you wheeze. Castiel immediately reaches over and pulls them out. He fumbles with them, trying to figure out how to work the fancy new fob you’d gotten. “Hurry, hurry.” You’re close to your destination now. Castiel unlocks the doors. You swing the driver door open, clambering in and haphazardly throwing the groceries in the backseat. You start the engine and Castiel climbs in just as you begin pulling away. You peel out of the parking lot right in time for the pet-store workers to reach your previous parking spot. It’s quiet for a minute while you put some distance between the two of you and the store. “Fuck,” you laugh out, gaze darting to Castiel. He beams widely at you, teeth glinting and eyes squinting as he laughs freely. That’s another thing about being human, he’s laughed more in the past month than he had in the previous eons of existence.

You pull over into a parking lot when you feel you’re in the safe, and throw the car in park. “We now own a cat,” you say, reaching over to pet the fluffy ball of purring love that Castiel holds in his lap.

“Yes, we do,” Castiel confirms. He smiles happily down at the cat before fixing you with an affectionate look. “We’re parents.” You laugh and nod, leaning across to peck his pink lips. He reciprocates before pulling away and fixing you with a serious expression. “We should name him Jack.” At your inquiring look he continues, “Dean introduced me to the Pirates of the Caribbean.” Castiel blushes lightly and you snicker, thinking of the scene where Jack Sparrow–sorry, Captain Jack Sparrow–ran across the beach, feeling as if your experience was very similar.

“Jack, I like that,” you say, rubbing Jack’s ears. “Now, time to go shopping for cat things.”

#katies 1k writing challenge #castiel #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #castiel fanfic #cas #cas x reader #cas x you #cas x y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn #spn x reader #spn x you #spn x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #Kitten

[kisuruby]

As it turns out, I was the CLAMP Secret Santa for @faikitty this year. Worked from the prompt: "Kurogane and Fai being happy and gay." I'm sorry this fic didn't quite become smut, but... it got close and... I hope you like this...

Title: Trapped Under Ice Rating: T (borders M?) Words: 5,024 Fandom: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle Pairing: Kurogane/Fai Summary: Being trapped in a freezing cave with Fai has downsides. Actually, alone time might be what Fai needs even if Kurogane doesn't understand... AO3 Link

The fic is also under the cut.

Normally, the group never ended up in a world bombarded in blustery blizzard winds. Mokona’s ability to maneuver into a peaceful place to land had merit and could be useful. Times when they were all separated happened, absolutely. Kurogane couldn’t help but grit teeth at the bleak landscape regardless. Snow flurries swirled and fell from the clouds in a near suffocating amount. A snow-capped mountain rose in the distance. Trees that resembled skeleton with protruding dead branches stood in neat rows; gigantic rocks were hidden underneath pure white. Sitting in a cramped snowdrift, Kurogane hugged himself to cover the burn of the cold assaulting his upper arms, thoroughly embarrassed on all counts. It did nothing to help the stiffness in his limbs and his growing frostbite. “This looks promising.” Sarcasm in this situation at least made him feel semi better, and he smirked to efface any whatever self-doubt. Fai hummed thoughtfully. He stood above the snow on another snowdrift off to Kurogane’s left, primly brushing the snow off his long cloak. He shivered; he was practically pure white head to toe, blond hair dotted in white. Even five minutes in this place was too much to handle. “Wherever we are, I see Mokona is nearby. We understand each other!” Kurogane supposed that was minimal comfort. Still, it did not account for Syaoran and Sakura’s whereabouts. On the bright side, Syaoran was likely to find Sakura and keep her safe before them. Kurogane shrugged. Disgruntled, he pushed himself to a stand and wobbled. He grumbled and glanced over the snow bank. The cold burned his palms. The thickness seemed to hold him captive. Fai reached out for him. He smiled knowingly, eyes half-lidded, amused but not forcing anything. “You’ll end up like a snowman if you keep struggling.” As if offended, Kurogane shook the flurries out of his black hair like a wet dog. Moodily, he scoffed at the pleasantry, but he didn’t reject his help. That alone would show what he thought of falling prey to such a fate. He clasped Fai’s hand and let him tug him up. He fell into Fai’s chest. Fai laughed and threw his arms around him, burying his face into his neck. Kurogane’s face flushed a brilliant crimson and it most certainly was because of the cold! Even in this situation, the magician wanted to play around!? Fai laughed again and dodged when Kurogane swiped at him for real; the movement was stiff and lopsided but no less staved from his usual anger. Fai glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Kurogane scowled at the sheer smugness in that look, blood boiling from his annoyance. On closer inspection, he briefly wondered if Fai’s abrupt flirtatiousness was on purpose for that end, but he didn’t dwell on it. After all, the snow was swallowing his feet, and he could have done it himself… eventually. But most of all, Fai’s hand was too nice and warm to be true. Was Fai sure he wasn’t using magic, honestly? With one last heave, Kurogane joined Fai in an awkward stand while patting down his hand in the mushy snow. Fai still held onto his hand. He wanted to pull it away. He wondered if he would sink back into the snow. Kurogane didn’t chance the outcome. “Let’s go find a village or something first.” Finding a village through this wintery wonderland would take a while. The sky was relatively calm, but Kurogane wouldn’t trust weather to cooperate. Progress was slow. Their walk was hindered in the near zero temperature. Fai trudged less huffily about their journey than Kurogane, but Kurogane couldn’t have curbed his thoughts from earlier anyway. The wind numbed Kurogane’s fingers. He opened and closed them, but it only worked for seconds. Shortly after, Fai paused and pointed to the left. “A cave.” He wrapped himself in a hug and shivered. The dark opening of a cave was only a pinprick, but Kurogane spotted it easily enough and continued to walk as briskly as possible. This would have to do. About another ten minutes earned them the respite they sought. Fai and Kurogane peeked inside the cave and examined it for anything—animals, traps, anything else lurking—and finally deemed it safe. Then, a rumbling sound like thunder boomed above them. Kurogane for a fact knew that a thunderstorm was out of the question in a climate like this, but he swung into position. Only looking up made Kurogane realize the true culprit; his chest seized at the sight of impending rush. A flood of snow weaved in a snake-like movement on the hill above them. He only had five seconds to leap at Fai and push them both inside of the cave before the snow tumbled on them. The ground shook like an earthquake as snow filled up the entrance and blocked their escape route. Darkness swallowed Kurogane’s vision. A pain throbbed at the back of his head, and he winced, slapping away a sharp rock away from his head. He touched the spot. Thankfully, no signs of blood seemed to meet his skin. It still throbbed. Something heavy rested on top of him. At first he thought it was the snow, but when he realized it was warm and definitely not cold he groaned. Fai leisurely stretched out above him. “You’re always so grumpy, but you’re a really soft landing!” Fai reassured. His arms clamped around Kurogane’s torso. “And chivalrous for saving me~” Once again, Kurogane swatted at him and tried to roll away, but Fai hung onto him and refused to let go. When he was done good-naturedly laughing at Kurogane’s expense, he pushed himself to his feet. “What did we do? Did we hit an alert?” Kurogane asked, puzzled. Snow didn’t fall like that without a plausible reason. Well, they might as well get down to the barebones facts before figuring that out. He hauled himself to a sitting position on his elbows. Kurogane didn’t need the light to envision Fai shrugging and lifting an eyebrow. He was almost mystified at the whole situation himself, and Kurogane internally cursed at that prospect. “I didn’t feel anything trigger,” Fai replied, reworking the basic facts himself. “It could have been cloaked magic, though. It wouldn’t be unordinary to keep an intruder on their toes if there’s something valuable in this cave to steal.” A noise came like Fai scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “Oh my, are we thieves?” Well… perhaps that was good enough reason. Obviously, they weren’t really hurt, and they could probably explain their intentions later in need be. It was better than a hostile trap that wanted to keep people from one of Sakura’s feathers. Kurogane only needed to know the essentials, and what had been done was just an obstacle to overcome. Fai turned towards the pathway. “Since you saved me,” Kurogane could just hear the tickle of happiness in Fai’s voice, “I’ll go scout out the cave for a little bit. I’ll be safe, don’t worry~” Kurogane grunted in reply and settled down to wait. Honestly, he was more worried for whatever unsuspecting sap might come across his traveling companion over Fai being in any real danger. Kurogane heard the feather-soft step of Fai’s feet as he wandered towards the back of the cave. He knocked on the wall, his footsteps heading far down. At one point he heard no sound at all but the ragged, accelerated patter of his own breathing. Here, in any case, it wasn’t as cold as the outside wind shield. Kurogane meanwhile examined the entrance; nothing budged and he didn’t expect it to. Where were the kids and the manjuu at, anyway? Footfalls returned more hurried than before, and Kurogane’s found some relief to his heart rate. At any rate, he felt that shred of relief until he heard what Fai was telling him next. But he couldn’t even take that totally seriously with Fai’s enthusiasm. “Kuro-pi, we really are thieves!” Fai yelled in triumph. Kurogane’s stiffened. He grit his teeth. Of course, that had to mean that something bad was happening. “What do you mean? We didn’t—“ Kurogane’s retort was snapped up in interest as he caught sight of it. Fai’s face was illuminated in a gentle green light. He blinked a few times to adjust to the new lighting. “What is that?” Kurogane asked, honestly baffled but intrigued. Assuming it was safe, he reached out and placed his hand on top of the gem. Though the surface was rough and jagged, the light emitted a faint heat. “It’s a gemstone. There’s tons of them in a treasure chest further back, all glowing like this one.” Fai finally sounded nervous at this. He didn’t want to be branded a thief, but he had brought it back for observational methods. “Haha, I shouldn’t open my mouth about these kinds of things, should I?” Kurogane could see where that conversation would go from a mile away. Blaming himself over a minor prediction was pointless. “How’s the tunnel back there? Can we go through it and find an exit?” “No back exit further into the cave. It keeps going and gets a bit narrow,” Fai reported. “We shouldn’t try if we can’t see anything, or have a plan first.” Already the great news was rolling in for Kurogane. But something going in their favor would go against the grain. Kurogane looked around for clues to bring them out of this mess but no other flashy lever or lights on the ceilings stood out in the darkness. “Perfect,” Kurogane murmured, preparing himself to work. Because he wouldn’t’ have another choice now. “Digging ourselves out will take forever.” Kurogane hated himself for having to stoop to this method with his sword, but he didn’t have another option. He got to his feet, unsheathed his sword, and he slashed at the ice. Light flashed directly in his eyes and he winced. A sound like metal on metal screeched in his ears. The breath was knocked out of him as he flew back against the wall, gasping. Fai whistled at the sheer brusque nature of the ice. He reached and grasped onto Kurogane’s hand. Kurogane wearily glanced at his hand, but he relented and let Fai haul him to his feet. It was just so warm again and he didn’t want to argue that Fai shouldn’t touch him. It was a weird sensation. “So it’s a force field? Perhaps the snow is interlaced with magic against thieves like we guessed,” Fai suggested. He shifted the gemstone in his hands, tossing it lightly from hand to hand, careful not to drop it. “Imagine it, a dark mystery world filled with treasures! The local government likes to trap the greediest men and take to prison. How corrupt! Magic so potent it is even in the snow and works to their advantage, which wouldn’t be strange for worlds covered in snowfall or rain. Handy.” Fai said that all so cheerfully. As if he knew that Kurogane would protect him from having to go to some jail cell, and damn right he would. But he wouldn’t admit that again. He did almost feel like reaching out to touch Fai’s hand for the third time, but Kurogane’s lips were instantly sealed there. Mokona would probably slip through the jail bars. Kurogane choked back a snort at the thought. All things considered, he had a point. But that did nothing to curb Kurogane’s patience wearing thin. “For our sakes, I hope you have a wild imagination. You seriously can’t dig us out with your magic?” Kurogane asked, the frustration building in his tone. Obviously, the answer would not indulge him, but he had to point out the quickest fix possibility. “You know I can’t do that, Kuro-pan,” Fai replied. “I guess we’re trapped here until we’re found.” No. No, and double negative no. Besides, they really didn’t know about the kids, but Fai didn’t seem particularly worried. He must have had faith they were fine if he wasn’t in mother hen mode. Kurogane sagged back against the ice. The sharp icicles cut into the back of his shoulder blades. “What do you propose we do, then?” Kurogane asked. Being cornered like this had his blood in a tizzy, and his smacked on it with his fist. “We spend quality time together!” Fai’s face brightened like the nonexistent sunshine. It looked especially eerie under the gemstone’s light. Incredulously, Kurogane glowered at him. Fai positively smiled like a white-winged angel. Face souring, Kurogane’s sword smashed into the mound of snow. Again and again. This time, he was far more desperate. The avalanche might be the death of them if they relied on luck to pull through. Powdery snowflakes chipped off the edge of the pile this time and scattered across the floor in his frenzy. Not even his power broke that accursed ice. What an improper use of Ginryuu… Hand pressing against the hard sheet of ice, Kurogane panted heavily, exhausted. “You know that won’t work,” Fai clicked his tongue. He dropped down on the ground. “We’re stuck together for a while. I’ll keep you entertained!” Kurogane had no idea what that meant, but he just knew he didn’t want to give into anything. Not warmth. Yes, goosebumps had risen on his bare arms. How would have known before coming that he would land in a blizzard world after a tropical jungle? His muscles tensed, strained and tingly. He didn’t want to give into that little nagging instinct. He definitely had to get out of here. Pronto. But if there was anyone he was stuck in here with, he guessed he was in good hands. Even though, of course, Kurogane would never admit that out loud. -------------------------------- Since the gemstone was mainly useable for light, Fai placed it in front of them on the ground. Having a source to see was more of a relief than anything else Kurogane could have hoped for, honestly. Everything was cold. The icy ground, the frostbitten air, and the cracked stone beneath his fingers all resembled a country perpetually frozen over. At least oxygen still circulated. Kurogane would have been on edge about dying like that. Or sharing the breathing room with Fai would have been another huge tally against his sanity, because he knew how steamy that could get without a heartbeat. But with Fai’s discovery that the cave lead far back, he didn’t have to worry so intensely about dying. Admittedly, Fai had tried. He had chattered some small talk, keeping a face up despite how long they were there. He had left Kurogane alone seeing him curl in on himself without admitting his weakness. Sullen, Kurogane sat away from Fai. No, he scolded himself for the umpteenth time, he had to remain strong and not give himself away. He wished at times like this he wished he could shatter the ice and show some brawn. In spite of him, however, the ice refused to listen to logic and remained a cage. Fai watched him intently in the dark. Kurogane noticed the little movements until he was bumping Kurogane’s side. He waited for it to happen. Like clockwork, Fai threw his arms snugly around Kurogane’s neck and squeezed him in a hug. “Hug me,” Fai whined, snuggling his face into the crook of Kurogane’s chest shamelessly. Kurogane bristled, but he didn’t pull away. What the hell. He was still completely carefree. “Get off.” Kurogane shrugged, but he didn’t pry Fai off. He quite frankly had an inkling he didn’t want to at this point. “Don’t you get that I’m cold enough?” There. He had said it, and he particularly felt annoyed that the snow had melted a bit into the fabric of his clothes and dampened them. “But that’s what’s so brilliant about this plan! We’re going to share body heat,” Fai said matter-of-factly. An eyebrow furrowed at this, mildly surprised. Kurogane had not expected this response. Put into that in perspective he… just… The way Fai looked at him with knowing bright blue eyes and a quirked mouth infuriated him in a really, really good way. “I’d rather freeze to death.” Kurogane shoved weakly at him, and the motion was all but ineffective. Fai pouted. “Don’t say that. Your clothes are cold. Mine are too. You know what Sakura-chan always scolds us about—we’ll catch colds like this.” As if on cue, Kurogane sneezed. He growled. Fai was guilt-tripping him. Fine, he was persuasive. He knew he would win the argument. Technically, Fai was right about that, and it might be unavoidable if both of them were stuck in this cave overnight. He had to come up with some strategy, a plan… Fai’s hand slid under his shirt, and he traced a circle on the hard, hearty muscle of his abdomen there. Fai knew he had hammered down the truth. The mischievousness in his tone rose up about one hundred degrees at his suggestion. “So let me take over and help you out of these clothes~” Kurogane couldn’t even find the strength to fight Fai back. He was mesmerized in the contrast of chill and warmth. He could barely believe how lightheaded it made him feel. It was like letting loose after a hard day’s work and coming home to a warm fire. The shirt was flung off somewhere out of immediate view and forgotten. Beads of water dripped down Kurogane’s torso, but Fai’s hand scattered and flattened them under his searching palm, and the skin became drier instantly. The fingers danced and massaged Kurogane’s tense and sore muscles while absorbing, and reciprocating, the friction of heat. Admittedly, Kurogane did feel a little less bogged down from the moisture in his clothing. He had not even really considered it until feeling Fai’s hands. Why was Fai a master at distracting him? “We should do something more physical, don’t you think?” Fai asked, blue eyes gleaming under the green light washing over them from the gem. Kurogane scoffed. He was so transparent and opportunistic at times like this. “Is that all you ever think about?” He should have expected that. But Kurogane still gave into the temptation of it. The thin, damp shirt was drawn over his head and joined his wherever it had gone; he detected the faint outline of curved shoulders and a slim build. His hand landed on Fai’s lean stomach out of reflex. “Of course not,” Fai replied. He didn’t really look innocent at all, though, and a trademark devilish-but-meaning smile quirked his lips. “I think about the roughness of your lips, because they’re much gentler than you always hollering and screaming~” That idiot—he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. Kurogane couldn’t think of a coherent response to that—did he just say he screamed for no reason?—before Fai’s lips slotted against his own. Those lips were passionate and not intrusive, considerate even. Fai’s tongue still swiped the bottom of his lip. Fai’s arms snatched him in with a vice grip around the waist. Kurogane couldn’t even say when every article of clothing was discarded. His hip bumped against Fai’s the smooth skin of Fai’s, and he only found this to be his first recollection of when. He just knew it felt a lot better. The ground was still a little soggy, but their little space of the cavern was not quite as lacking in comfort or as cold as before. Fai’s head rested on the crook of his shoulder and collarbone. He breathed in slowly and then out, seeming like he was on the precipice of doing something else but not being quite sure what. Kurogane hesitated. Fai didn’t even say anything. Through some oddity, he could feel it in the sheer intensity of Fai’s need to be close, flush against each other even if it wouldn’t lead to anything especially risqué. This wasn’t the first time, and neither would it be the last, but sometimes Fai would just… stop and need assurance. He stared down at the mop of ticklish, wavy blond hair under his chin. It wasn’t until then that Kurogane realized Fai was probably not quite as jovial about the situation as he appeared to be. He was clingy all the time. But he usually persisted with it not only to make him angry but to distract himself. He could live with that at least, even if it wasn’t explicitly expressed. He probably really wanted a random hug for some reason. Kurogane obliged. He wasn’t so reserved about wrapping his arms around Fai and drawing him closer, and Fai sighed happily, fully placated. Why was he so simple to please? And why didn’t Kurogane care if he could really understand it? At least, not right then. But one day, he would. “You never make anything easy.” Kurogane kept the brunt of a fluster from his voice, but he didn’t really know how to push him off, nor had any will to. “Don’t I? I think this is as peaceful as it gets,” Fai said. A scent of wistfulness graced this statement. He held onto Kurogane’s arm and seemed thoughtful. Kurogane shrugged. “We’re trapped.” Maybe going further back would have been a good idea, but any other traps would have been a serious hazard without a plan in motion before such obstacles. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure a way out of here later,” Fai mumbled, tone low but sincere. His hands again traced the contours of his upper arms without any real direction except feeling Kurogane’s skin. Kurogane noted he could have gone lower, but he didn’t really take advantage of that; he just remained tightly entwined with Kurogane’s limbs. Time elapsed. Kurogane didn’t know how long, but he knew he heard the swift drum of Fai’s heartbeat several hundred times. Even at a close proximity, it was a sound that couldn’t be heard with clothes on; he had heard it before but not quite like this. Basking in that was the fondness of peace and the heat wave of togetherness that just was existence. So, when Fai shifted, Kurogane’s eyes sleepily slipped back open. He had lost track of time. Fai stretched and fumbled in the discarded pile of clothes; he pulled his cloak out, the fanned out sleeves swiping Kurogane in the leg as he drew it around his shoulder, then leaned over and draped it over Kurogane’s. “It’s getting colder in here now, so I think we should do this. Let’s share my cloak~” As the long thing that took the most batter and damage during their travels, Fai’s cloak was always pristine white. And, remarkably, it really didn’t look as soaked as the rest of their clothes had been. Kurogane squared his shoulders, but Fai was surprisingly more agile, and they both found themselves surrounded in the white cloak. “I don’t want to share,” Kurogane said. Everything about his tone was half-hearted at this point, but he had standards he had to show at some level. He tried to sound nonchalant and brave, looking away. Like hell would he draw attention to that fact. As if reading him anyway, something soft was wrapped around his shoulders. Kurogane instinctively pushed back, but Fai just wrapped it around them both closer, and he found himself sandwiched between Fai’s side and Fai’s lingering body heat inside the cloak’s right velvety pocket. “You can’t keep denying the truth, you know!” Fai made himself completely at home and snuggled up against Kurogane once more. He yawned and his voice trailed off. “Now, we probably should get rest before we figure out what we should do from here…” It grew quiet. And Kurogane, to his actual disbelief, heard Fai’s labored breaths through his nose. He had fallen asleep without any prompting. Kurogane seized onto the cloak. Despite that the material had worn down with time and usage, the thickness and fluffiness of the cloak outweighed the rest. To Kurogane, he swore he felt something stir within the fabric, and he glanced over to the side. Fai’s head lolled on his shoulder. Blue eyes were shut, face devoid of habitual stress lines. Kurogane couldn’t help but marvel at such plain slate; it was another scarce moment Fai showed nothing that alluded to distress or concern on a daily basis. His mouth worked but he didn’t have words to add. He should complain about something just to put up a front… or resist for the sake of it. Kurogane knew he should do that logically, but gazing at Fai’s tranquil face lessened Kurogane’s willpower to do so. Damnit… how did that magician assuage a situation even when he was fast asleep and unaware of him? At least wasn’t worrying Syaoran were Sakura digging out of snow drifts. The manjuu was fine —Fai’s incessant chatter had made it apparent they were nearby and safe (and hopefully not trapped). Huffing at the display, Kurogane let the thought sink in, allowing slumber to overtake his doubts. -------------------------------- Even when Kurogane woke up the faint gemstone light was a blurry mirage he couldn’t navigate until his head stopped pounding. Kurogane’s shadow bobbed on the wall across from him. It sunk in           nothing had changed overnight—if the night time had passed at this point. He sighed. Everything was still bitterly cold, of course, but he felt significantly more comfortable and warm snuggled up under Fai’s coat. It just was right. For the second time he pondered if Fai was using some kind of magic he couldn’t detect. But it didn’t matter. The cave was engulfed in darkness and hadn’t changed at all. Kurogane shifted. He wanted to thwack the ice for simply disappointing him, but he was stopped before he could reach for his sword’s hilt. Fai proved to be awake and his arms wrapped around him tighter. “What time is it?” Fai asked. His voice was thick from murky sleep. He tiredly snuggled against Kurogane’s side and buried his head in the crook of his neck. “How should I know?” Usually, he would answer this question automatically if there was actually a way to see the sunrise, but Kurogane had only minimal ideas in the cave. “It might be the morning for all I know. We should come up with a plan now that you’ve sidetracked us for how many hours.” Yes, this was Fai’s fault. Fai accepted with a smile. Well, he couldn’t exactly say he was completely opposed to their current predicament, but he was still agitated about the kids’ whereabouts. Fai could have been wrong and the meat bun could have landed them in a spot that trapped them, too. He instantly felt guilty about not being the responsible one here, but he really had tried to break through and the back of the cave was a gamble in itself. Crunch, crunch. Scraping noises. Inside the cave the footsteps were barely audible, but he heard it. “Are we at the right spot?” Syaoran’s voice, though muffled, slipped through the barrier between them. “I hope they’re okay,” Sakura said nervously. “They’re here. Mokona knows,” Mokona said. Jolting awake at the prospect of freedom, Fai paused. He glanced towards the cave’s mouth as if he knew exactly where they were standing. “Ohhh~ Looks like they found us,” Fai observed, proud. “We’re in here, and I protected Kuro-fuu!” Kurogane snorted. He had only “protected” him with his warmth and he didn’t want that communicated. The footsteps halted on the thick snow. “We have special tools!” Syaoran called. His voice shook slightly. The chatter of his teeth resonated. “We got it from the nearby village,” Sakura supplied. “Mokona will dig, too!” Mokona cried courageously. Pushing himself to his feet, Fai stretched like a lithe cat with arms above his head. He yawned sleepily but satisfied and rubbed both blue eyes awake. Yet again, Fai didn’t seem to have any reservations about having to restfully wait for them to dig, either. Thin muscles tensed as shirt sleeves rolled over them; he shook his head, blonde hair flying, as the shirt fell over the plane of his chest and stomach. It didn’t take him too long to finish getting dressed. Kurogane stared, unamused. Even now, he couldn’t help but gloat and act like he hadn’t been upset—he had been enjoying himself too much. Fai could have known something this entire time, but he doubted it. Just decoding that message was kind of impossible. Kurogane sighed and reached for his own shirt. The fabric was still moist and cold and it made him want continue basking in the warmth here, but he found it comforting with immediately on the other side. Snapping and hissing came from the other side of the ice shield. Sunlight slowly filtered through the cracks as snow was chipped away a little by little. Kurogane’s finished with his clothes. He reluctantly pushed Fai’s coat away. Even so, he had known that if they were both useless, the kids wouldn’t be. “Mokona is a Kurogane detector!” Mokona told them all proudly. She probably had her chest puffed out. Kurogane’s ears pricked up, nostrils flaring. “You’re a what!?” he roared. Fully dressed and spirits lifted, he jumped to his feet and yanked out his sword. By then, not much ice remained. He slashed at the last bit of ice in front of him. In a wave of fragmented shards that reflected like rainbows in the morning sun, Kurogane’s red eyes flashed in victory. Fai laughed merrily. He snuck up behind Kurogane and shoved him. Kurogane lost his balance, arms raised and legs poised forward. He crashed into the snow face first and angrily thrashed around. “Oh, look, we’re finally free from death! You really did save me from dying back there,” Fai praised, casually leaning against the snow drift and winking cheekily down at him. “Always so, so strong.” “So strong, so strong!” Mokona sang, bouncing into direct view in a little blue coat with ear mufflers. She landed on a patch of snow in front of Kurogane. Lips curled into a snarl, Kurogane crossly side-eyed them. He hoped he looked as fearsome with snow stuck to his eyebrows and eyebrows as he felt.

#CLAMPSS2016 #Tsubasa RESERVOIR CHRONICLE #KuroFai

[impattiwithaneye-blog]

I don’t mean to brag, but ask anyone who has had it…but I make the best eggplant parm!   Through much trial and error I have perfected this recipe and have learned a lot. I used to fry it on the stove which took FOREVER and made the BIGGEST mess, not to mention I was frying it in a ton of oil, not very healthy.  I learned that you could cook it in the oven and it changed everything! It is so much easier, just as crispy and delicious, and a little healthier.  Plus, it frees you up for a little while in the oven, as opposed to standing in the kitchen for 2 hours.  When my mom first heard I was going to try to bake eggplant instead of fry it, she had zero faith that this would turn out well (lol), needless to say she was shocked at how good this turned out.

I want to mention I only will use certain eggplants and specific ingredients, I don’t substitute any of them ever, because it won’t be as good and I will be annoyed at myself that I wasted my time in the end.  Also, if you have a garden and compost like we do, there is a TON to put into your compost at the end of this recipe!

It starts with selecting the correct eggplant.  If you’re like me and hate seeds then you need to only buy a male eggplants, yes…male.  Seriously, who knew eggplants had a gender, but they do and it makes a total difference in how your eggplant comes out.  So, much like humans, males are long and skinny with few seeds and have just a dot on the bottom of them.  Female eggplants are rounder, plumper, sweeter, FULL of seeds (gross) and her bottom looks more like a slit (crazy, right?!).  I chose to have less seeds over sweetness, plus the sauce adds sweetness later on.  I also peel the eggplant because I am not a fanof the skin.  I slice them very, very thin.  Now they are reading for breading.

Grab 2 bowls, in the first bowl, beat some of the eggs.  I never use all of the eggs at once, I usually start with 3, use that up then add 3 more and eyeball it for the rest as I go (I don’t like to waste the eggs and never use the same number every time I make this).  In the other bowl pour only some the bread crumbs.  I only use a small about of bread crumbs at a time because after a few rounds it gets gross and chunky, so I dump it out (in the compost bowl) and pour fresh crumbs in.  These store brand bread crumbs I use may seem like an odd choice (since they’re the cheapest on the shelf), but they are SO good.  I prefer this store brand over the most expensive bread crumbs out there.

I use this, and only this, oil to coat the baking sheets with.  I pour a little bit then use a brush to cover the entire sheet.

Then start breading. Eggplant, into eggs, then both sides in bread crumbs, and place on the pan so that no edges are touching.  I try to fit as much on as possible to cut down on time, since this does take a while. Once the sheets are filled, I drizzle some oil across the top of each one.  Put in then oven at 410 for ten minutes or so until the bottom looks crispy, then flip over.  All pans have different cooking times, my one is super old and well seasoned to it crisps up quicker than my newer less seasoned sheet.

This is how it looks going into the oven…

Here is how it looks coming out of the oven..

Once the first round is in the oven, I prepare the 9×13 glass dish with a layer of paper towels, this is where the eggplant goes once it comes out of the oven.  I reuse this dish to bake the eggplant pam in also later on.  Lay the eggplant flat on the paper towel and once that layer is full, then a paper towel, and cover that with eggplant, another paper towel, another layer of eggplant… and so on.  This is when the kids and Dadam come in and sneak pieces while I’m not looking!

I coat the glass dish first with a thin layer of sauce like this…

Then layer…eggplant, ricotta, sauce and shredded mozzarella until all eggplant is used up. I dislike when eggplant is wet and mushy so I make sure that the eggplant is baked crispy and not overdo it with sauce.

You can either bake this now or freeze it, just like this and just put in the oven when you’re ready .

I always serve eggplant parm with raviolis, sausage and of course, bread and butter.  Let me know if you try this and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me!

INGREDIENTS

3 MALE eggplants, peeled and thinly sliced

3 eggs

1 lb. Shoprite Italian Style Bread Crumbs with Romano Cheese

9-12 eggs, depending on how much eggplant there is

Pompeian Extra Virgin Olive Oil, Smooth

Ricotta Cheese, I don’t use the whole container

Shredded mozzarella

Marianara Sauce of your choice – I use Rao because it is delicious and makes my life easier.

DIRECTIONS

Eggplant

Preheat oven to 410

Dip eggplant in eggs, then bread crumbs and line them on the prepared baking sheets

Drizzle tops of eggplant slices lightly with olive oil

Bake for 10 minutes (or once bottoms are crisp) and flip for another 10 mins

Once both sides are crispy, place on paper towels until all eggplant is cooked

Parm

Coat the bottom of the dish with a thin layer sauce then go in this order, starting at that layer of sauce and up.

Thin layer of sauce

Single layer of eggplant

Ricotta smeared on each piece

Sauce

Mozzerella

Repeat…until you have used all of the eggplant.

Bake in the oven at 350 until the sauce is all melted.

ENJOY!

The Best Eggplant Parm I don't mean to brag, but ask anyone who has had it...but I make the best eggplant parm!  

[cuteyute-blog1]

Baby Burp Cloths and Other Essentials for Newborns

As you shift by way of the 1000's of wholesale child merchandise you will discover online, one of the extra important objects can be baby burp cloths. That is an important software to assist guarantee not solely that a child is being correctly burped, but that the cleanup from the mess that may follow will likely be one thing that can be simply managed.

As your infant eats, it would sometimes ingest air along with the milk it is consuming. When an excessive amount of air is consumed, the child will then spit up the contents of their stomach because the air is eliminated. In older youngsters and adults, the air Social Profile for Cute Yute pockets are eliminated via burping naturally. Nonetheless, a child will need assistance moving this pocket of air by being placed on a guardian's lap, whereas frivolously having their again pat. Doing this helps to avoid extreme spitting throughout feeding.

Child burp cloths are designed to be placed in the area of the mouth of the child, to catch the spit up from the kid. This reduces the necessity for frequent washing and ensures that the toddler's clothing and the mother and father clothing aren't stained from the milk the child has consumed.

Additionally, it would allow you to to cut back the period of time that is spent cleaning up after feeding. When clothing is dirty, it should have to be washed and that can take a number of time in case you are regularly washing your clothes. This implies more time vested in cleansing up after feeding and that further laundry can delay running errands and finishing other required duties over the course of a day.

Earlier than you set out to grab designer child burp cloths, take into account the wholesale baby merchandise out there. When you think about what they're getting used for, it makes monetary sense. As long as the material is tender, absorbent and hypoallergenic, your little one should have no issues utilizing a basic cloth designed for these functions. There are some cheaper choices in the marketplace that will likely be too skinny, when potential pattern the thickness of any fabric to make sure will probably be able to handle any mess created.

You will also must pay close attention to the size of the fabric being chosen. It should cover the shoulder of the parent it is being placed on and ensure that it's enough on both sides to catch the contents of the stomach that come up. By doing this, you can scale back the amount of mess that has to be dealt with.

There might be loads of options on the subject of the wholesale baby products in the marketplace for baby burp cloths. Will probably be important that you simply keep all these considerations in thoughts as you seek out one of the best decisions on your newborn. That manner, you may be sure your youngster stays comfy as you free up some time by lowering the mess being made throughout burping.

There are such a lot of issues for brand spanking new mother and father, together with little one-proofing the house, deciding between a nanny and daycare, and choosing the perfect childcare accessories. When it comes the latter decision, there are even more options within the childcare accessories: child bib reward sets, infant towels, and child burp cloths simply to call a number of. The difference, original site however, between baby burp cloths and the other choices is that they are often created from recycled or home made items. Hopefully this uplifting bit of stories will lighten the stress load that many parents keep it up their shoulders. This article will focus on the most well-liked fabrics that may be found in other household items and are additionally used as baby burp cloths.

Material Diapers

Material diapers are most likely the preferred choose for baby burp cloths. These are a popular possibility for a lot of reasons including they don't seem to be very costly, straightforward to locate in stores and because of their alternate function - very absorbent. Cloth diapers additionally make nice child bathe activities because they are often simply decorated by adding ribbons or paint to make enjoyable designs,

Cotton or Flannel baby burp cloths Shirts

Each choices are very common solutions for baby burp cloths. Cotton is often the extra fashionable choice of the 2 because messes are inclined to run off of flannel cloths. Nonetheless the extra the flannel shirts are used and washed, the extra delicate and absorbent they turn into. If parents wish to purchase child burp cloths, they should look right into a more absorbent flannel material or the organic choices. Organic cotton can usually be discovered online and is very mushy, very absorbent and environmentally friendly.

Terry Fabric Washcloths

Terry cloth is a great choice for baby burp cloths because of its absorbency and ranging coloration and design options. It's easy to clean as a result of it will possibly simply be thrown in with the laundry but just like flannel shirts it might require multiple layers to thwart leaking. Also if the dad and mom are involved for his or her child's consolation, this material selection is probably not as a mild as the previous choices.

Regardless of which possibility the parents chooses, all could make for nice baby bathe or bonding actions. All of the materials mentioned above might be minimize, sewn, or embellished into whatever designs are desired. These child burp material materials options also subsequently make great bonding opportunities for mothers and fathers. Handmade cloths could deliver that bond even closer because so much extra time and thought was put into it. It is also an ideal calming train for those mother and father which are stressing and continually running around preparing for the infant's arrival.

There are greater than 4 million babies born yearly in the United States, and plenty of of these are born to first-time dad and mom. Whereas they'll anticipate to receive advice, hand-me-downs, and even toddler reward sets from mother and father, grandparents, associates, and co-workers, they will nonetheless lack some knowledge related to child elevating. One thing that oldsters typically overlook is the necessity to burp their child. An older baby is positioned over the shoulder and the mom or father pats the newborn on the back till he or she burps. Nonetheless, since newborns shouldn't have a lot power in their back and neck, they should be burped by being positioned in the mom or father's lap.

The primary cause for burping is to expel the air ingested whereas a child eats. But, what many dad and mom don't count on is that the baby also sometimes spits up meals when he or she burps, creating a need for great post to read child burp cloths that are typically included in infant gift units on wholesale which are sold at upscale boutiques. The rest of this text will take a look at why parents will benefit from buying this item.

Keeps Clothes Clear

When a child burps up meals, the costly child clothes that came in toddler gift sets purchased on wholesale, and also the clothes that the mother or father is wearing, will get dirty and potentially even stained. Even when there isn't a stain, it's going to still mean more laundry for parents. That means increased laundry payments, even whether it is pants as a substitute of shirts that need washing.

Saves Time

Without baby burp cloths, parents will waste time doing laundry and cleansing up messes. Working mothers and fathers especially have little time to waste, so having a single article of clothing that can be taken off of the child and thrown into the washer after burping is much extra handy than having to change clothes.

Since all mother and father need to hold clothes clean and save time, child burp cloths are a well-liked gift merchandise from pals, households, co-workers, and neighbors. There are a variety of causes that make them nice presents. For starters, they're comparatively inexpensive, so they are an excellent option for acquaintances who don't want to buy more expensive objects like a crib or designer child clothing. They also come in a lot of designs, so reward givers searching for a present to pair with clothes objects will be capable to combine and match.

When buying child burp cloths, there are some things to consider. Most are constituted of flannel, but if gift patrons attempt to cut costs they are going to wind up with cloths which might be too thin to be absorbent. Moreover, one needs to pay attention to the scale of the cloth. Whether it is too small, then it will not match over the mother or father's shoulder. A great way for present givers to obtain these items is by buying toddler present units on wholesale. These sets, along with accessories that go nicely with these cloths, may be purchased from stores that inventory wholesale newborn items.

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 6

But why? We are dating, aren’t we? Damn it . . . if I ever want to win her over, I need to figure out what makes her tick. I’m not above asking for help. And who knows a woman better than her best friend?

I already know Camryn works in the marketing department. Tracking down her cubicle is easy from there. When I find it, I see it’s a mess of papers and folders, one of those chaotic systems where I’m sure she’d try to convince me she knows where everything is.

She’s typing away, and when I stroll up, her fingers suddenly stop and her eyes lift to mine.

“How can I help you?”

I almost laugh. She’s so formal. She and Selena are definitely cut from the same cloth; I can see why they’re such good friends.

“I need to talk to you about Selena,” I say, and Camryn’s brow furrows.

It crosses my mind that maybe she won’t want to help me. I decide to lay all my cards on the table and see if my candor will make her bite.

I lower my voice and lean in closer. “You know about the whole marriage contract, right?”

“Yes, and I’m not going to help you try to convince her, if that’s why you’re here. Selena’s a big girl, and she can make up her own mind.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Fine. What do you need? I’m not exactly Team Justin, you know?”

“That’s fine, because we’re both Team Selena.”

She swivels her chair away from the keyboard and faces me. “You have five minutes.”

“Why is Selena so opposed to this? I hate to be so cocksure, but most women drop their panties at my slightest interest.”

“Selena is not most women.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

“So, what seems to be the problem, lover boy?” She shifts her weight in her seat, looking me over with an amused expression. She’s enjoying my desperation way too much. “I never imagined that Justin Tate, the legendary sex god, would have any problem seducing a woman.”

“Sex god, eh?”

She shrugs. “Are the rumors true or not?”

“Depends on which rumors you’re referring to.”

“That you have a magical nine-inch dick that tastes like strawberries?”

I burst out laughing despite myself. We’re in a crowded work area with people sitting well within earshot, and she’s discussing my cock like we’re picking out carpet samples.

“As much as it pains me to say this, let’s get off my dick and onto the topic at hand.”

She squares her shoulders. “Right. Selena.”

“Tell me what she likes. Hobbies. Interests. Things she enjoys.”

Camryn takes a second to think it over. “She works her ass off all week, which I’m sure you know. So if you’re referring to the weekends, she likes watching rom-coms and has a secret romantic side. She buys herself a bouquet of peonies at the farmers’ market every Saturday.”

“That’s good.” I pull out my phone and type peonies into the notes app. “What else? Favorite color? Food?” I already know she likes dirty martinis and red wine, but charming Selena will take a lot more than just liquoring her up.

“Green. Like money.” Camryn grins. Selena always was an overachieving powerhouse. “And she loves tapas.”

“Isn’t that just appetizers for dinner?”

“Basically,” Camryn says with a shrug.

“Got it. Anything else?”

She looks away for a moment. “Well, there is one thing, but I don’t think you’re going to want to hear this.”

“Lay it on me.”

“She has this scrapbook of her dream wedding. She’s been adding to it since she was a little girl.”

“Selena?” My eyes widen. “The same Selena Cane who protested getting married has dreams of a grand wedding?”

“Exactly. She’s always dreamed of a big, beautiful wedding. She’s actually really mushy underneath that hard shell. What her mom and dad shared was special, and she’s ultimately looking for the same thing. The perfect wedding. The perfect husband.”

It all hits me at once. “And this arrangement crushes her lifelong dream.”

“Well, yes.”

Camryn seems oblivious of the huge bombshell she just dropped on me. It doesn’t matter if I know Selena’s favorite color or dinner spot. She wants the one thing I can never give her—a real happily-ever-after.

My heart sinks a little. No matter how well we’re getting along, I’m not foolish enough to think I could fill in for her soul mate. Unless . . . I swallow as a wave of nerves hits. Holy freaking matrimony. Am I ready for that?

“One more thing,” I ask Camryn. “Why doesn’t she ever date?” Not since that douche of an ex in college have I seen Selena with another man.

“Basically? She’s a picky bitch,” Camryn says with a fond smile.

“She’s waiting for her Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet.”

“Something like that.”

“Thanks, this has been really helpful.”

“Good luck,” Camryn calls as I head toward my office. She lets the you’re going to need it go unspoken.

Fuck . . . I’ve got my work cut out for me.

Chapter Twelve

Selena

On Justin’s tuxedo-clad arm, I walk into Clair de Lune, a five-star French restaurant overlooking the East River. Escargot, caviar, white tablecloths, hundred-dollar bottles, the whole nine yards.

Even though this event is purely business—a dinner meeting meant to win over a new client—Justin brought me a bouquet of peonies when he came to my office to pick me up. He was polite and attentive, and it almost made me forgive him for getting me riled up the other day.

Who am I kidding? The man riles me up every five minutes.

The hostess guides us to our reserved table, where Miss Estelle Osbourne, the forty-something chief marketing officer of Parrish Footwear, is already seated with a glass of champagne in front of her. She looks regal in her lavender-gray chiffon evening gown, its sheer capped sleeves appliqued with silver lace—a sexy, yet sophisticated touch. I suddenly feel both underdressed and frumpy in my simple knee-length black sheath.

I read Miss Osbourne’s business profile online while studying up on her company for this dinner. After completing her Ivy League education, she landed a job with fashion giant Luxor Brands and has been climbing the corporate ladder ever since. She just took over Parrish’s esteemed head of marketing role last year, and so far she’s doing great things.

Talented, successful, beautiful, with keen business instincts . . . she’s exactly the kind of woman I strive to be. Which only makes the prospect of trying to impress her more nerve-racking.

“She got here early? Now it looks like we’re late,” I hiss under my breath.

“Relax, Snowflake,” Justin murmurs as he pulls out my chair for me.

Easy for him to say. How does he always stay so cool? I’m balanced on a knife’s edge of excitement and anxiety. Getting hold of this new client in the first place was an unbelievable stroke of good fortune. If we manage to charm this woman, her company’s contracts will go a long way toward digging us out of the red. Tate & Cane desperately needs this business dinner to come off without a hitch.

After everyone shakes hands and introduces themselves, Justin and I sit down. The waiter materializes with the wine list and three menus. I order the beef bourguignon and a glass of last year’s Beaujolais nouveau. Bring on the red wine.

The waiter departs and I take a sip of ice water to clear my dry throat. Don’t worry, you’ve got this.

“So, as I was saying earlier on the phone, Tate & Cane is currently implementing a solid plan for—”

“Oh, surely business can wait until after the main course.” Miss Osbourne, or Estelle, as she’s told us to call her, interrupts with a smile that says she’s clearly accustomed to getting her way. “How long have you two been together?”

“Uh . . .”

How the hell do I explain that we’re in the trial phase of an arranged marriage? We only started dating a few days ago, but in a sense, we’re sort of . . . pre-engaged? I should probably just make something up. And I have to do it fast because I’ve already paused for way too long. But I also have to make sure my lie won’t come back to bite us in the ass later.

“For as long as we can remember,” Justin says, smoothly covering the awkward silence. “Our fathers were close friends and business partners, so we spent most of our childhoods together. It was meant to be.”

“How sweet.” Estelle simpers, looking between us with curiosity.

“In fact, that reminds me of a story from when our families summered together . . .”

Oh God, here it comes. Justin deploys one of his secret weapons: a cute anecdote about how he once saved a puppy from drowning in Shinnecock Bay. It’s an old tale, wildly embellished over the years, guaranteed to make women fawn and panties disintegrate.

I start tuning it out in favor of concentrating on the fragrant food that just arrived. I’ll let Justin have his playtime for now. It’s probably a decent strategy to let our prospective client get a few drinks deep before pitching our business anyway.

Eventually, Justin finishes his story amid Estelle’s approving murmurs. I start listening again when he leans slightly toward her, his manner conspiratorial, as if he’s about to say something intimate and profound. But all he asks is, “Tell me . . . would you happen to be named after Estelle Carmen, the Hollywood designer?”

Estelle actually giggles. “You and I both know I’m too old for that to be true. She was only a girl when I was born. But I appreciate the attempt at flattery.”

“Really? I would have sworn otherwise.” He flashes her a thousand-watt grin.

“Stop it,” she says in a coy lilt that tells him to do no such thing. “But I’m surprised you know that name at all. Are you a student of fashion, Mr. Tate?”

“I’m always interested in what beautiful women are wearing . . . or not.”

“You ought to be more careful with that fresh mouth of yours,” she says, scolding him playfully.

What the hell is happening here? Did I suddenly turn invisible to them?

I shoot a glance at our waiter, who’s cleared the main course dishes and asked twice if we’d like dessert. He looks almost as irritated as I feel, which is both reassuring and terrifying.

At least I know I’m not just going crazy here, but I hate that Justin and Estelle’s antics are so visible. With the way they’re carrying on, anyone would assume they were old friends . . . or maybe even a couple. I’m the odd man out. My only companions are an empty wineglass and the first hints of an oncoming headache.

“Sorry about that,” I tell the waiter. “Yes, please go ahead and bring us the dessert menu. And the cocktail menu too. Thank you.” Gotta buy time to get this dinner back on track . . .

I seriously have no idea what’s going on. Justin and I reviewed our game plan at the office just a few hours ago—talk numbers, explain why Estelle should trust her company’s advertising campaigns to Tate & Cane, and get a commitment, even an informal one. But he’s gone totally off script.

They’ve covered a wide range of topics from their favorite sushi bar (they share the same one), to the best Vegas hotels, to last year’s dip in the stock market—which Parrish Footwear weathered quite well, thanks to Estelle’s forward thinking—but nothing to do with securing her business. No hard facts, no persuasive arguments, no recognition of the entire fucking reason we came here tonight.

So far, I haven’t managed to get out a single sentence of the sales pitch I spent three hours preparing. Not to mention that the way he’s flirting with her makes me want to puke. Aren’t we supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend? Because Justin sure as hell hasn’t been playing the part.

We can’t walk away tonight until we have a firm idea of whether or not Parrish is with us, which means I have a long damn way to go. And the first thing I need to do is have a word with my dear sweet boyfriend. Preferably someplace private, where our client can’t hear me ripping his balls off.

I check my phone, pretending that I heard it ding, then interrupt their lovefest with a plastered-on smile. “Honey, can I steal you away for a moment? My father just texted me with an important question.”

Without waiting for a response, I push out my chair and stand up, grabbing Justin’s hand. I drag him all the way to the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen’s swinging doors. A passing waiter gives us a curious look.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growl, trying to keep my voice low despite burning with rage.

Justin blinks in surprise. Then a smug grin begins to dawn over his face. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of me paying attention to another woman. That’s so cute. Don’t worry, Snowflake. You’re the only girl I have eyes for.”

I correct him with barely restrained fury. “Don’t you dare try to flirt your way out of this one, you self-obsessed ass. I couldn’t give a damn about where your eyes go. I’m pissed because you’re making our relationship look like a joke, and I don’t appreciate being the punch line. You were practically licking the béarnaise sauce off her fingers!”

Another waiter passes by. This one looks amused. I don’t really blame him—we must look ridiculous, a pair of socialites dressed to the nines and feuding outside the kitchen.

I grind my teeth. I’m already humiliated and mad enough that everything just makes me feel worse.

Justin scoffs at me. “Oh, come on. It’s called networking. Greasing the wheels. She knows it’s nothing serious. I’ve done this kind of thing a million times.”

Why am I not surprised? “That hardly makes me feel better. And our waiter seemed confused as to who the couple was here, me and you or you and her.”

“Who gives a shit what he thinks? She’s the one holding the purse strings. She’s who we’re here to impress.”

“I’m asking you to give a shit what I think!”

He blinks. “What? Of course I—”

“No, you clearly don’t, because otherwise you’d be listening good and hard right now.”

He throws up his hands. “Okay, fine. I’m listening. Just explain what the problem is.”

I suck in a deep breath through my nose, trying to calm down enough to put my thoughts in order. “Let me spell it out for you. You’re the one who made such a big deal about putting on a good performance, keeping up appearances, making our relationship look real. And now you’re acting like the same manwhore you’ve always been. Except now, I’m here to catch your collateral damage, and it’s embarrassing. You disrespected me.”

His eyes shoot open wide. “I never meant—”

“It doesn’t matter! Your intent doesn’t change the results. Maybe it never even occurred to you that I’d have a problem with your bullshit. I can give you that benefit of the doubt. But I’m standing here now, telling you how I feel. So, please knock it off.”

He covers his mouth with one hand, pulling down hard, and lets out a loud, harried sigh. “I . . . didn’t look at it like that. I was just trying to woo the client. Like I always do.”

Wow, he actually looks taken aback.

Somewhat shocked, I let my voice soften. “Well, if I’m in your life now, that can’t happen anymore.”

“In my life, huh?” He considers me with an expression I can’t quite read. “So that goes both ways, I guess. I’m in your life too?”

“Seems that way.” I sigh. “We’re stuck together for a good long while, at least.”

Now I can read his face—the first flickers of that familiar sinful smile. He reaches up, and at first I think it’s to cup my chin. But then he just runs his finger down my neck, that long stretch of exposed skin, all the way over the curve of my shoulder. I can’t help my shiver.

“You make it sound like a jail sentence,” he teases.

I smile. Only slightly, but it’s there.

He leans even closer and asks, “Are you sure you weren’t jealous at all?”

My two glasses of wine have lowered my guard. That’s my excuse for why, instead of telling him to shut up, I admit, “Maybe a tiny bit.” Then I regain my senses and add, “But that doesn’t change my original point.”

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say anything.

My cheeks start to warm as he regards me. Why did the jerk even ask, if he was just going to stand there staring?

“What?” I’m starting to get embarrassed again, but it’s different from before—a ticklish, almost excited twist in my stomach, instead of an upset, painful tightening. And the defensive tone of my own voice only intensifies the feeling.

“Nothing. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes in an attempt to stop staring into his. “Come on, don’t give me that. You know the effect you have on women.”

That grin is full-blown now. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“No. I refuse to play travel agent for your ego trip.”

“If you want, I can take my turn first.” Before I can stop him, Justin starts listing my pros. “You’re the smartest, most diligent person I’ve ever met. Watching you work is fucking hot—in your element, poised and confident, the way your pretty blue eyes flash when you’re about to tear some poor schmuck apart. I can’t help wondering if you’re just as fierce and tireless and creative in bed. You’re honest to a fault . . . is your body honest too? Do you wear pleasure on your sleeve? Or would you try to hold back, make me work for it? Believe me, I’m up to the challenge.”

His words knock me breathless. What the hell just happened? And why does it have to make me tingle in the worst way?

The half praise, half dirty talk strikes a weak point I didn’t even know I had. Or maybe I only feel this way because it’s Justin who’s saying such sweet, filthy things, gazing at me so fervently. His husky voice softens and warms me, and I suddenly feel so exposed. Unshielded. But not in a bad way, not like a naked-at-the-important-meeting nightmare, because I know that Justin would never hurt me. He would never take advantage of my vulnerability.

Or maybe he would, but only in the ways that I secretly want.

Justin takes my hands, turns my palms up in surrender, his thumbs rubbing light circles onto the soft thin skin under my wrists. When I can’t repress the shiver that races through me, he grins like a wolf. Oh, he saw that reaction, all right. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I both hate it and love it.

“And I’d do just about anything to get my hands on your amazing body,” he continues mercilessly. “I’ve never seen a more perfect woman . . . every inch of you, tight ass and luscious tits and legs just made to wrap around my back. Kissing you the other night wasn’t nearly enough. I’d love to watch your expression change as I pound into you. Watch you give up control, turn off your brain and just feel.”

“Y-you don’t play fair,” I finally manage to stutter.

“Hey, that’s not how this works. Compliments, not insults. Believe me, I already have a pretty good idea of what you think my bad points are.”

“Uh . . .” I swallow. “You’re pretty cool too, but in a different way. Good with people and words and stuff, instead of numbers and strategy.”

“Is that why you’re blushing right now?”

In a way, yes. But his sculpted jaw, full lips, and piercing dark eyes are what make his words truly intoxicating. And the fact that he still hasn’t let go of my hands.

“You take charge, and sometimes I hate that, but sometimes . . . it’s nice to have a break.”

His smile turns mischievous. “Oh? I’ll be sure to make a note of that. Anything else?”

I retreat to safe, familiar ground. Harsh words, something I can deny later as just a joke. “Are you just trying to get me to admit you have a nice ass?”

But when his only response is a silky, dark chuckle, I realize my mistake. He wasn’t fooled at all—why did I ever think he would be?—and now I’ve backed myself into a corner. Literally and figuratively. As I talked, Justin slowly leaned closer, bit by bit, until I can just barely feel the tickle of his breath.

Suddenly, acutely aware of the rising temperature between us, I cut myself off. “Shouldn’t we get back? It’s rude to keep Miss Osbourne waiting.”

Justin’s stare is too intense for me to look away. “The only woman I’m interested in entertaining right now is you.”

I shift a fraction, needing to leave but wanting to stay, and I realize that my panties are soaking wet. Everything I never let myself feel or think about Justin rushes to the surface. My body doesn’t care that he’s a juvenile jerk. I hate that my libido is so totally out of my control. I hate that I’ve always had such a wicked crush on Justin. Fate must be laughing her ass off at me right now.

Justin leans even closer, stopping just short of contact. I can almost feel the brush of his lips against mine, and my stomach clenches with desire.

“Still only first base?” he whispers against my skin. “Or do you want more?”

I don’t answer. I’m not even sure I can speak. I just wet my lips.

That one tiny move is like loosening a coiled spring. Justin lunges forward to devour my mouth. My knees weaken with his expert onslaught. His strong arms wrap around me and his hands are everywhere, igniting my nerves, fingertips grazing what feels like every inch of bare skin. I feel a flash of frustration that my dress is so modest; I want his touch all over me, unrestrained.

He yanks our hips together and I feel his erection press into my belly. Something wild shoots through me, a fierce, territorial satisfaction. That hardness is all for me. Not Estelle, not any of his past conquests. I’m the one who’s making him feel this way right now. Such powerful, primal need aimed squarely at me and only me.

He’s all mine. The unbidden thought strikes deep into an animal part of me I never realized I had.

On fire, I cup his bulge through his pants, wanting to assert control and show off my sexual power. But that was a big mistake . . . emphasis on big. Feeling just how impressive and steely hard he is only makes me even more desperate. I groan and squeeze him in my palm.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem,” he growls out.

I giggle, feeling almost tipsy with lust. “You sure it’s our problem and not just yours?”

He abruptly draws back, pulling an involuntary noise of disappointment from my throat. But my fervor spikes again when he takes my hand and hurries me toward the nearby restroom. He pulls me inside and locks the door. I drop my purse in the corner just as he shoves me up against the wall.

Our mouths crash together again, lips and tongue moving like they were made for this. Our making out intensifies as his fingers fumble at the back of my dress. He finds the zipper, tugs it halfway down, then abandons it to push my sleeves down past my shoulders, trapping my upper arms.

I squeal in shock—then quickly clap my hand over my mouth—when he kneels to swirl his tongue around one nipple and pinch the other . . . hard.

“No bra tonight?” he murmurs between licks and suckles and gentle bites. “Naughty girl.”

I want to explain that this dress doesn’t work with a bra. I want to tell him to shut up and fuck me. But all I can do is tremble at the sparks of sensation shooting from my breasts straight to my clit.

“God, these are beautiful,” he says on a groan, taking my nipple in his mouth.

I can only watch, desperate, as he kisses my breasts, and let out helpless moans.

“And so sensitive.” He moves to the other, giving it a wet kiss that ends with an audible sucking sound. He hikes up my skirt and runs his fingers along the center of my panties. “Just as I thought,” he murmurs. “Nice and wet for me.”

I open my mouth to argue, but Justin chooses that moment to kiss me again.

Then he lifts the side of my panties and his fingers slide in. No fumbling at all now, no fooling around, no teasing—he knows exactly what I’m dying for. One long finger parts me, petting me, putting just the right amount of pressure on that swollen bud. I mumble some unintelligible groan. Justin’s tongue continues working against mine. Then two deft fingers crook deep inside me and the heel of his hand rubs my aching, swollen clit. Heat surges through my core and I choke out a cry of relief. Yes . . .

Justin growls with possessive satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear, baby. This pussy is mine now, and we both know it. I’m going to take damn good care of my wife . . .”

His dirty talk pisses me off and sets my body on fire all at the same time. I don’t know what to feel. I can’t think at all. I just hang on to Justin, struggling to keep standing while the white-hot pleasure coils tighter and tighter. I bite my lip hard to muffle my moans.

“Fuck . . . Justin . . .” I moan, rolling my hips hard against his hand. I’m so agonizingly close. Just a few more seconds . . .

Someone knocks at the door.

We both freeze in place, me topless and clutching Justin’s shoulders, Justin with his hand up my skirt. The absurdity of the picture suddenly strikes me. I might have laughed if I weren’t so terror-stricken—and teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing climax. Even with the fear of getting caught washing ice through my veins, I’m still burning up.

“If you move your fingers, I’ll kill you,” I whisper frantically to Justin. No way would I be able to keep this orgasm quiet. It’s been six long months in the making. And I want it more than I want my next breath.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

Oh my God. That’s Estelle’s voice. Our client is standing less than three feet away, and my stupid sexy boyfriend’s hand is still down my panties.

“It’s Justin and Selena,” Justin calls, pulling off a perfect casual voice. “We just had a few things to talk about.”

“In the bathroom?” she asks with obvious skepticism.

Is she suspicious or just confused? Damn it, I should just throw myself out the window right now.

“Private family matters, you understand. We’ll just be another minute.��

After a heart-stopping pause, I finally hear her footsteps move away.

“Stop touching me,” I hiss under my breath.

Justin gives me a hey, not fair look. “You told me not to move my—”

“You know what I meant, smartass! Now get out of my panties!”

Chuckling, he withdraws. “I think that’s the first time a woman’s ever said that to me.”

“If you want to hear worse, that can be arranged. Now, zip me up.”

After Justin helps me yank my clothes back into place, I check the mirror over the sink. Jesus, I look like a train wreck. Lipstick smeared everywhere, hair rumpled. My appearance practically screams I just humped a guy in the bathroom! What a great bargain . . . all the public embarrassment of sex with none of the “actually getting to have an orgasm” part.

I retrieve my purse from the corner, pull my travel brush through my hair a few times, then start scrubbing at my lips. As I apply a fresh coat of lipstick, I notice that Justin hasn’t moved from his spot. He’s straightened his tie and rebuttoned his jacket, but other than that, he’s just been waiting patiently for me.

He could at least have the decency to look ashamed about tempting me into this mess . . .

“Aren’t you going to wash your hands?” I snap at him. One of them was just buried in my you-know-what, after all.

With a wicked grin, he lifts that hand to his nose and makes a show of smelling his fingers, inhaling my scent, and my face flares bright red.

“No way,” he says simply.

I tear my hungry eyes away and huff, “Whatever. Let’s just get back to the table and hope we haven’t already ruined this deal.”

“Uh, sweetheart . . .”

I glance back at him. “What?”

He releases a deep breath slowly through his nose. “If I go back out there like this, I’ll be arrested for indecency.”

I follow his gaze, which has dropped to the front of his slacks.

Holy hell. It looks like he’s smuggling a pineapple in his underwear.

“Get that thing under control.”

He squeezes his eyes closed and takes another deep breath. When his eyes open again, he looks slightly more composed. “Let’s roll.”

As we leave the bathroom, I try to pull myself together. With Estelle in my sights again, I get my head back in work mode.

Sure, Justin may be unfairly attractive—and now I know he’s good with his hands too, on top of being a skilled kisser—but I still need to stay frosty here. He’s an arrogant, cocky, immature playboy who doesn’t take business seriously enough.

So, keep your head in the game, Selena, I remind myself.

But the unsatisfied ache between my thighs is almost too much to bear. This dinner will definitely qualify as the longest evening of my life.

Chapter Thirteen

Justin

“Well, that went well,” I say as I maneuver my sleek black Tesla out of the parking garage. I give the gas pedal a modest tap and we fly off down the street.

I feel ten feet tall, as smug as can be, and I don’t give a shit right now. Not even the way my cock is aching like a motherfucker can ruin my mood.

Selena shoots me a questioning glare, and I know she’s wondering what I’m referring to—the business meeting with the new client that we’ll probably land, or my favorite part, almost getting her off in the bathroom. My body is still primed and ready to deliver.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wash your hands,” she snaps.

“I may never wash this hand again.” I smile and make a lewd gesture with my fingers.

She turns away from me with a huff and looks out her window in silence the rest of the way home.

When we arrive, the penthouse is dark and quiet and my hormones are still raging. Selena sets her purse and cell phone down on the entry table, then turns, putting her back toward me.

“Will you unzip me?”

I drag her zipper down her back, letting my fingers graze her skin, appreciating the twin dimples in the small of her back and the very top of her lacy thong.

Torture. This is pure torture.

Taking a chance, I lean forward and place a soft kiss against the back of her neck. “We could finish what we started at the restaurant.”

Her breathing has grown shallow and I can practically smell her arousal. I know her panties are still soaked. The idea of touching her again has me nearly overcome with desire.

“It’s probably not a good idea. We should keep this strictly professional from now on. We need to focus on the business, don’t you think?”

But she sounds the slightest bit unsure, and that’s all I need. It tells me that it’s only a matter of time until I get what I want. And what I want is her tight cunt wrapped around my cock, where I can pound away for hours. Days, even.

“You were so close back there. I could feel your pussy gripping my fingers, that swollen little clit pulsing in time with every heartbeat. You were about to come,” I whisper.

The heat of my breath sends a rash of goose bumps racing down the back of her neck. I know a woman’s body well, how to read all the signs and signals, and everything about Selena is blaring that she needs to be fucked. Stripped down, laid on the bed, and worshiped like the goddess she is.

“Justin . . .” Her voice is almost a groan, and my cock hardens instantly.

“What do you do for fun, Snowflake? Everything can’t be about work. Sometimes blowing off some steam is a good thing.”

“For everything there is a season.” She straightens her posture. “And this is our season to buckle down and focus on business, not play grab-ass games. I’m sure that’s a foreign concept to you, but—”

“Believe me, I’m dead serious about Tate & Cane. But business is for the workday. After hours is for playtime. And in case you failed to notice . . .” I trail one fingertip down her spine, lingering at the waistband to her panties. “It’s dark outside. And we’re two consenting adults.”

“Two? Try counting again.”

The ice princess takes a step away from me and heads toward the bedroom, where I drink in one last glimpse of her bared back and hips before she shuts the door. I can just imagine her letting the dress slip down her long legs, the fabric pooling around her still-heeled feet, her firm ass covered only with a scrap of lace . . .

God. Fucking. Damn it.

I rake my fingers through my hair and blow out a frustrated sigh. For a second, I don’t know if I’m frustrated because I’m horny and insanely attracted to her, or because she’s making it impossible to win our bet.

No. Fuck that. It’s just because I want her. I want to take her in my arms and understand that we could really have something here. She’s just so damn stubborn. And her secret dream of a romantic wedding—I may not be her first pick, but I want to at least meet her halfway, as more than friends. I’ll just have to find a way to pull this off and keep everyone happy.