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taeescript · 3 years ago

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29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!)

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (: 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it

part one || part three

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

“So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

You tip the shot back with no chase.

“You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

“It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

“You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

“I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

“And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

“Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

“I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

“You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

You shake your head.

“Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

“What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

“No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

“Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

“God help me.”

The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

He offers you his water to drink.

“I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

“Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

“We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

“Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

“It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

“Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

“Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

“Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

“The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

“Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

“The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

“It’s been going...”

Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

10:18pm “Real good**”

Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

“It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

A moment of silence.

10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

“What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

...

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

“I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

“Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

...

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

“You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

“You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

...

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

��No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

“You suck at metaphors.”

You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

“As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

“No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

“Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

“Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

“My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

“Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

“I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

“So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

“Please stop reminding me.”

“Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back.

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

“Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

“He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

...

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

“You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

“The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

“Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

“Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

“No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

“Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

“Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

“You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

“I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

“You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

...

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

“He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

“A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

The lady lays a hand on your arm. ��I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

Smiling, you type in your response.

12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

“Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

“You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

“How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

“You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

“Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

“Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

“It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

“Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room.

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

“This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

“Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

He smirks from the spot.

You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

“You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

“It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

“Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

“Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

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happiestplacehq · 3 years ago

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Into Redwood Event !!

OOC Information

Spring is here in Redwood Hollow, and our new event is about to begin! As Redwood Hollow is a town that loves its traditions, many aspects of this event will be similar to the Redwood in Bloom event from last spring. (Feel free to look at the old event posts linked, as they have an extensive list of the types of activities taking place throughout Founder’s Week, as well as the aftermath of the event and information on the History of Redwood Hollow.) Of course, this year some things have changed; There will be no Open House event, due to the increase in thefts across the town, and we have extended festivities with our ‘Into the Woods’ performance. The Hollow Hootenanny is making a return too!

This event will take place across the month of April, to ensure all players have the chance to participate in any and all aspects.

The dates you will need to know OOC are as follows;

Founder’s Week - Friday 1st to Thursday 14th of April (In Character; 1st to 10th)

Into the Woods Performance - Saturday 9th to Thursday 14th (In Character; 9th)

Hollow Hootenanny - Friday 15th to Sunday 24th April (In Character; 15th)

This means that any starters and threads taking place in or around the selected event should be posted between the stated dates. Posts will be made on the main at the beginning of each part of the event, and new starters at those settings should be limited to the stated dates too.

Below the cut you will find a list of things your characters can look forward to during the event. It is taken mostly from last year’s post, with some amendments. (Note: it’s a long post. Drink some water, get a snack.)

So, what can our characters look forward to during Founder’s Week, I hear you ask?

Market stalls, food and drink stops, street performers and all that good stuff that comes with any festival have taken over Main Street. Think farmers markets and Christmas Markets, but throw in some pastels and a ton of florals~

The Museum is offering special tours of the archive, and has exhibitions all about the town’s rich history. Note: Security has been upped.

The Redwood Hollow Zoo is hosting special visits for those wishing to see the new babies arriving this season, including the lambs and chicks.

Visit the Red Orchard for tours of the orchard and vineyard, as well as wine tasting sessions and cocktail making classes using Redwood’s signature drinks. The Red Orchard will also be part-sponsoring the Hootenanny with One Free Drinks Coupon for all ticket holders.

During the week, characters will be able to stop by Madam Mim’s cabin to place their hopes for the future in The Chest of Hope. Madam Mim and Merlin Merill can be found here, bickering as usual. A separate post will be made over on @redwoodhollowreview outlining how the chest works and all the details for how, what and where to submit OOC. (It will likely be a Google form this year, rather than blog submissions, but I will leave the option open for both.)

And what about the Main Events?

Our Two main events this year are Into the Woods and the Hollow Hootenanny.

Into the Woods will take place in Redwood’s local theatre, The Cottage, with a matinée performance and an evening performance (to ensure all the lovely folks of Redwood Hollow get to see the wonderful performances). As mentioned in the Audition Post, this has been organised amongst yourselves. My suggestion for this particular event is for players to write backstages threads with those who are cast in the play, as well as those working behind the scenes. You are also free to write a self-para about the rush of live theatre! I would also love to throw in the suggestion of an after-show dinner for all the cast and crew, and threads speaking to theatre-goers afterwards too!

The Hollow Hootenanny will happen in much the same fashion as last year. A hootenanny, for the uninitiated, is a big outdoor party, that will take place in Town Square. A big dance floor will be set up in the centre, with tables and benches surrounding the outside, and a stage at the top end. Imagine a ceilidh or a big ol’ barn dance! There’s flowers and garlands everywhere, everyone dresses in their Sunday best! And don’t forget, the theme is Fairytale Romance. All music will be played live by local artists, covering a range of genres, all with the intention of getting your character on their feet! Food stops will also be available outside the main event area. Drinks are being exclusively provided by the Red Orchard. Submission to the Chest of Hope are revealed at the beginning of the event, hung at the entrance to the hootenanny for all to read.

Important Stuff

This event is optional, though it is highly encouraged you take part in at least some way. It is up to you if you want to participate in the entire event, or just stick to one part or the other. Do keep in mind that the majority of the town is already kitted out in its Founder’s Week glory.

Event starters may be posted during the event period between Friday 1st and Sunday 24th April, but not before or after. (Please see specific dates above for when you can post each part). Threads can continue after the end date, and you can still reply to non-event threads.

Please make sure to post open starters and reply to others. The two replies before making a new starter rule applies here.

Please tag all event starters with happiestevent6 and the happiestplacestarter, and mark event conversations the same way, so it is easier for players to see who is taking part. You may also tag intoredwood and hollowhootenanny for their respective events.

As before, please like this post once you have read it. The event post can be found in the source.

#disney rp #disney roleplay #lsrpg #ouat rp #fairytale rp #happiestevent #happiestevent6 #intoredwood #hollowhootenanny

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shewalksthelefthandpath · 2 years ago

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A Gothic Themed Day of Thanks

Wow! A couple days till Thanksgiving here in Canada, things have just been wild here so time is getting away from me in the not the best ways.

BUT! Let’s get right into today’s topic; Gothing Up Thanksgiving!

I love cooking for my family, I love spending time with my family, and any day where I get to do both is a day I’m going to thrive on. So while I can’t decorate or plan the meal myself (since we are living in a generational household now) I will share with you the setup and menu for my DREAM Thanksgiving, Let’s go!~

Colour Scheme:

Black, Gold, and Deep Plum Black, Silver and Ox blood red Black, Rose gold and Pastel Pink Black, Antique gold and Sage green

Tablescape:

Starting with a solid coloured table cloth in one of the accent colours (plum, red, green, or pink) and laying a black lace cloth over top. A textured table runner also in black, either velvet, taffeta, or a delicately patterned black quilted runner. I would rather use charger plates than placemats so I would pick chargers in the accent colour and go with simple black dinnerware. Cutlery would be one of the metals, and I would aim for them to be a little more fancy. Napkins would also be cloth and black and the rings would be one of the metals with an accent colour as detail. As the centre display I’m thinking two candelabras in a matte black finish with pearlescent or metallic black taper candles, fall foliage and florals in our accent colours with a cloche on a stand with a delicate display of fungi, moss and bones. I’d also look into vintage coloured glass drinkware, coloured crystal, and coffee and tea cups in the accent colours all mismatched and unique.

Appetisers:

Cranberry Pecan baked Brie, Prosciutto Asparagus Puff Pastry wraps, and Since we’re Maritimers a Creamy Lobster dip with Toasted Pita, served about two hours before dinner so as not to spoil supper.

Soup/Salad:

Roasted Tomato and Red pepper soup or a Butternut Soup with cheddar and maple bacon. A small serving, and maybe a Autumn pear salad~.

Main Meal:

Now I like a good turkey like everyone else but I hate the heartburn that comes with it afterwards, I say this so that no one freaks out that I won’t be including turkey on my menu list. Instead I think a Roasted rack of lamb that the whole family chips in on would be amazing, with garlic and butter, rosemary, and maybe even some balsamic brown sugar sauce~. Garlic parmesan roasted carrots (cause let’s be honest here I am not going to coin or mash all my veggies….that is a small peeve of mine, but I digress), maple bacon brussel sprouts, caramelised sweet potatoes, and classic creamy garlic mashed potatoes. Then my grandmother’s stuffing and cranberry sauce. Maybe even a delicious mushroom gravy.

Dessert:

I adore making desserts, and on top of that I love when they are small so I can offer more than one thing, so I would go the route of making little pies such as classic pumpkin, apple, and a cherry. This would be so I could really wow my family with a bigger dessert display of a pecan pie cheesecake (cause I love cheesecake!). This way I could have fun and make tiny options for those who would want something lighter after a rather rich and larger dinner or allow everyone to try a little of everything.

Drinks:

In our house we do wine with dinner so since we’d have lamb I would get a nice red wine, there’s a sweet little place out in the valley that does amazing local wine and their Autumnal red would be so good with this imaginary dinner. After dinner it’s coffee or tea or if we’re feeling saucy a cocktail. Something like an Earl Grey Blackberry Bourbon cocktail, or a Campfire cocktail with a little roasted marshmallow.

Hopefully this didn’t make you all too hungry! To my Canadian friends and family, Happy Day of Thanks and Gratitude, and to my American friends and family, I hope this gave you some ideas! If you have any ideas of your own you’d like to share let us know and hit up our email at [email protected]! You just might see it on the blog!

#satan #gothgoth #altparenting #darkling #gothdad #gothmom #gothmomlife #metalhead #metalheaddad #satanicdad #satanicmom #satanicwitch #satanicparents #witchyparenting #witchcraft

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krazy-kipo · 4 years ago

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Do you think Scarlemange would want to marry his s/o or would he feel like he's above this human thing? Id love to see some headcanons for this. Please and thank you.

This is Scarlemagne were talking about. There's going to be an over the top wedding.

~~~

Scarlemagne is a mute of expensive and lavish tastes. He grew up reading about kings and queens so I believe if he chose a person to marry it would defiently be a Royal themed wedding. Many say a weddings for a the bride. Not in this case. This is for him. It's for you but it's mostly for him.

He gets very excited. He wants it all to be no stress and a surprise for you (he wants to micromanage and control everything) so your kept in the loop but barley.

He wants a lavish Royal Wedding. With dress and suit changes a huge banquet and dancing for days.

For decorations he chooses the colors Red, Gold, and white. Royal and dignified just like the two of you. He scours the mall for wedding magazines and finds a picture for everything he wants.

The flowers for the wedding will be only the freshest picked roses. Red and white with gold ribbon tying them together. He has his minions raid every bridal store that's surivived to date and makes a million things for the wedding. He decides classical music will be played during the ceremony and ball room music for the reception.

He has it all planned out and he's thrilled.

It'll start with a fancy ceremony in the morning. After hours of preparing he'd be in a fine tailored suit especially for this ocassion and he'd get you whatever you need to be comfortable. A flowy poofy dress or a fine tailored suit similar to his. Anything you want as long as you look glamorous. Hair makeup nails the works. You look as amazing as the first tome he saw you.

Both of you will say heartfelt vows and when he kisses you it's the most gentle kiss he's ever given. He holds your face like your the world and from the way he looks at you, you'll know you are.

If you thought you were wearing one thing throughout the day? You are wrong. Scarlemagne is a man of taste and refinement. There will be many dressing changes.

Next is the reception and cocktail hour. You both change into something more breathable but still glamorous. You'll spend hours dancing and playing music together as you drink fine wine and receive many congratulations on your union.

After many glasses of wine and a beautiful recepticon you'll be lead to the Malls dinning hall where a seven course meal will be served. You'll both cut your cake which will be served for dessert later.

A 7 meal menu includes a hors d'oeuvre, soup, appetizer, salad, main course, dessert, and mignardise.

He plans on fluffy buttered rolls and chips. A vegetable or beef stew. Cesar salad. Lamb fish or steak. A sweet treat. And then the wedding cake.

Scarlemagne spared no expensense on your wedding or this meal. And he plans for it to be the best night ever.

... When he mans up enough to propose.

#kataow #kipo and the age of wonderbeasts #kataow x reader #kataow scarlemagne #scarlemagne x reader #scarlemagne

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natolesims · 4 years ago

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Food Preferences Tag

I was tagged by @goldoradove, @pixel-bloom and @matchacake. Thank you a lot!

FYI: I’m a glutton. I really love to eat, and I’m not always picky :v I like everything in this list no matter how it is prepared (except alcohol), so I’ll try to be the most specific I can

Eggs:

My grandpa and dad always say a breakfast isn’t a real one if there are no eggs involved. I’ve eaten every kind of egg recipes I can think of, but my favourite since I was a 3-yo gremlin are very soft-boiled eggs in a little cup with lemon, salt and salty crakers to dip in~. If not, a nice simple fried egg on a toast or bread is just fine. Eggs with ketchup or any kind of salsas are evil. I don’t like them.

Steak:

I reaaaallyyy like beef. (I also love chicken, but the category is “steak” so I won’t include it :B) I like every cut in every doneness, but I won’t ever be able to refuse to well done carbon-grilled ribs. Yes, the whole huge rib. I like to feel I’m a caveman lol. I’m not a big fan of lamb or goat, but I’ll eat them without problem. I refuse to eat rabbit.

Milk:

Surprisingly to some, I’m not always over flavored milk. I perfer a plain glass of cold milk. (I’m not lactose intolerant, so I drink it whole. Yayyy). When I was a child my grandparents used to sweet my snack dinner milk with a spoonful of sugar, but I grew to not prefer it anymore. I’ve always drank it accompanied it with sweet bread, so I get an overly sweet bad taste quickly :B

Alcohol:

I don’t drink alcohol often. That’s one of the few things I’m really picky with, and it is rare I get to finish a whole drink (bottle, can, cup, you name it). I was a hit at my uni’s parties since everybody was always chasing me around so I could give them my drink because they knew I wouldn’t finish it xD I only like one kind of beer (Indio) and I’m most likely to like sweet cocktails. Non-sweet beverages? Nope. Wine? Yuck. Tequila or mezcal? Hell no. (Yes, I’m a national failure).

Hot Drink:

I’m a tea person! My favourite is black tea with a little bit of milk. If not, every other kind is perfect, Except anise or chamomile. They used to give us either those without sugar at my elementary school whenever we weren’t feeling fine (no matter if it was a headache or a broken leg :v), so... yeah.

#tag game

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1152

survey by emptyspaces

What song reminds you of being in middle school? Patron Tequila was a huuuuuuuuuge bop in 5th grade, and I can tell you too many kids who were too young for the song nevertheless vibed hard to it. Down by Jay Sean also reminds me of mid-elementary school. I believe both have so far been one-hit wonders, lol.

What was the first thing you learned how to cook? I don’t cook cook, but I remember we had one day in like preschool when we were taught how to make homemade pizza. That was the first dish I remember making. We used white bread for the crust and topped it with tomato sauce, grated cheese, and sliced hotdogs. I ended up liking the ‘recipe’ a lot and frequently asked my aunt or grandma to make it for me.

What does your hair currently look like? It’s slightly damp since I took a shower a couple of hours ago, and it’s currently styled in a low side ponytail.

Who's the worst driver you know? It’s been years since I’ve been in a car where my uncle was in charge of the wheel, but I would always end up feeling nauseous whenever he was the one driving. I never figured out why, but my best bet is because he tends to press hard on the brakes. I also don’t trust anyone who’s fine with being way too close to other cars.

What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? I live in a residential area where there are approximately 0 wild animals roaming around lol. I do have some neighbors who keep chickens, but that’s as wild as it gets over here.

Does it take a lot to make you cry? Nah. Just show me a stereotypical emotional video, like anything to do with grandparents or pets reuniting with their owners, and I’ll produce some tears for you in seconds.

If the last dream you had came true, would that be a good or bad thing? Bad. I was relieved when I finally woke up.

Have you ever had a lucid dream? No. I’ve tried doing it before but just could never get in the zone.

How long did your last car ride last? Something like 20 minutes. The mall isn’t that far away and most of the travel was because our house is way too far from the village’s entrance.

Isn't it disgusting when people chew with their mouth open? I mean c'mon... It’s icky but I have other worse pet peeves.

What's your most prominent memory from 2009? I used to keep this journal where all of my entries were of me roleplaying in the Twilight universe. Obviously it’s embarrassing to think of now, but I must’ve written quite well back then because my classmates loved reading it and used to pass it around during recess and lunch hahaha. That was my only successful stint in fiction writing ever. I know the notebook is still around somewhere, but I refuse to see even just the outside; too much cringe lol.

Do you think there will ever be world peace? A little pessimistic answer but no.

What's your biggest problem at the moment? A client was supposed to send us this file that I needed so I can proceed with a deliverable that we were asked to do today, but he never followed through. That’s fine by me since executions get moved all the time, but it also means he’ll probably send it sometime during the Holy Week break and I’ll have to work during one of my days-off this week. -__-

Has anyone ever told you you're too emotionally needy? I don’t think so. If someone has it would most likely stick with me.

Has an ex ever told you that they want you back? Nope. She has an infinite amount of pride in her bones for her to do that.

Have you ever turned down a job offer? I have never had to, and so far I’ve only been the one turned down haha. Joke’s on them; I’m super happy with the job I’ve landed.

What's the longest hospital stay you've had? For what? I’ve only had to be confined once and that was just an overnight stay. It was a dengue scare but turned out to be just a low platelet count.

Do you know anyone who doesn't know the basics of using a computer? My maternal grandma refuses to learn anything that’s got to do with modern technology, and I suuuper doubt she’d be able to figure out how to turn on a laptop or computer.

What was the last snack you ate? I was feeling hungry earlier and had a bite of this guava chip that my workplace had sent over as a care package; but it tastes super healthy and blech and I felt like I deserved something more junk food-y for finishing off the work week haha. Now I’m having KFC delivered at 1 AM :(((

What's something really basic that you're terrible at? Lighting up a matchstick. I’m scared of fire and I always ask my dad to be the one to light up my scented candles every single time.

Is it just me, or are tv shows/movies getting to be really dumbed down? No. Different generations, different tastes catered. I also think I’ve answered this survey before because I remember saying that I actually appreciate how content these days are more inclusive and open about tackling sensitive issues. That’s the complete opposite of ‘dumbed down’ to me.

Do you know any same-sex married couples? Finding one in the Philippines is like looking for a needle in a haystack, but yeah I happen to know a couple of couples. They probably handled all the paperwork in the US, but still. I’m glad their family is able to thrive here.

What was the last appointment you scheduled? It was a telemedicine consultation. I didn’t need it, but one of our clients recently partnered with this telehealth service and they wanted someone from the agency to use a free trial so we can have a better idea of what the service offers. I was the sacrificial lamb (lmao) and so I had to have this quick video call with one of their doctors. That was the first instance I was glad to have scoliosis because it gave me something to talk about, because otherwise I would be completely lost on what to consult about.

Are you happy with the person you have become? Getting there :) I definitely don’t have as many self-loathing moments than I used to just a few months ago.

What year were you born? 1998.

What does your favorite watch look like? I don’t have one; I don’t use watches as I will probably lose them in like a month anyway.

Did you have one of those Tamagotchi things as a kid? Yeah, but I personally didn’t get the hype and quickly went back to my other toys.

What's your favorite kind of wine? Sweeter ones. I can’t stand bitter wine.

When was the last time you felt lonely? Last Sunday. I was talking to Angela and Andi more excessively than usual that day; and it was most likely the quarantine getting to me. Even though they reassure me that I’m not being too clingy or annoying I still feel like I am, so that day made me rethink and reflect about ways to expand my circles and gain new friends.

Are your parents still together? Yeah, I literally just got them their KFC orders like 10 minutes ago.

Have you ever been so broke you didn't know how you'd keep a roof over your head? I’m thankful to have never been in this position.

Do you know anyone who believes that vaccines cause autism? Possibly. But at least they’re smart enough to keep their mouth shut about it.

What was the last piece of furniture you bought? OMG OMG OMG I *literally* just received it this afternoon but I finally bought a cute lil night lamp for my room :> :> Hahahaha I’ve spent my last four employed months spending on nothing but food, but I decided to switch it up a bit and finally purchase something that won’t be gone the next day, hence the lamp. Not really furniture, but still. It’s the cutest thing ever and it’s currently lighting up my room really prettily!!!

What's a new skill you'd like to learn? Climbing.

How did you celebrate your last birthday? It was the peak of the pandemic when the entire world was still scrambling to figure out how to handle it, so all stores were closed and no one could go out. I barely remember what had happened since that day just flew by, but I do recall that Angela had a box of sushi delivered to my place.

Do you have any great housecleaning tips? Not really.

What's your favorite cocktail? Zombie.

Did your favorite movie come out before or after you were born? Way before I was born; it’s 31 years older than me.

Is there anything you need to do before the end of the day? Nope.

#survey #surveys

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soymimikyu · 5 years ago

Text

Food in Netflix’s Series of Unfortunate Events: Season 3

It is over. I finally finished season 3 about 2 hours ago and needed the time to recover and process the ending. While I have only faint memories of the ending in the book, this ending seemed very different (and I want to say I liked it more? I just recall being let down by the way the books ended; however, I was quite young at the time...).

Here is the final set of food notes from the show. The final season was comparatively sparse, but there were some interesting culinary choices. I hope you enjoy!

(Also, since this is the final installment, if anyone enjoyed my rambling carefully curated notes on food in TV shows, I would happily take requests to do this for a different show in the future. It was fun and gave me much to think about in the kitchen.)

Today’s notes are brought to you by Glassworks - Opening played by Ólafsson (because that I what I’m listening to).

Food in The Slippery Slope

Sarsaparilla

What Olaf drinks and discards while driving. It is flat. The bottle helps Violet and Klaus determine which fork to take.

Coffee and Tea

What pretentious people drink according to Olaf

Absinthe

A random beverage that popped into Olaf’s mind.

Marshmallows

Made Brucie the Snow Scout Leader sick after eating too many.

I really want to make these! Gelatin is such a fun platform for cooking so many things! The real goal would be blooming marshmallow flowers with whiskied caramel hot chocolate!

Rutabaga

What the circus freaks plan on growing on their farm.

Hot Dogs

What Olaf’s cooks with this troupe.

Brandy Sidecar or Coffee

What Esme wants with Breakfast.

A Brandy sidecar is a cocktail of cognac, cointreau (orange flavored liqueur), and lemon juice. Sounds pretty tasty -- I think (I know next to nothing about drinks...).

Frozen Orange Juice

Found by Sunny in trunk.

She uses this to make Sorbet.

Salmon

Caught in the stricken stream by Hook-handed man and given to Sunny. She prepares Sashimi with this.

Hot Cider [X]

Quigley’s last meal with his mother. What saved him from the fire.

Canned Peaches

Quigley’s meal at Montgomery’s.

Montgomery had a lot of canned peaches (or just two cans) because the Hook handed man in season 1 is also eating canned peaches when posing as a detective. Nothing wrong with this -- canned peaches are delicious.

Poisonous Berries

Mr. Poe tries to help by finding Breakfast.

I often see poisonous berries as red in TV (I am thinking mostly of a specific seen in the Netflix Witcher series) and it made me curious if real poison berries are always red. Nope: nightshade (duh) is black, and several other harmful berries are also black/blue. Some are orange. Given the brightness of these berries I am going to guess they were Mezereon or Elderberry.

Granola Bar

Mr. Poe has these. Kit has some.

Poe always has granola bars.

Lox

Sunny’s idea for dinner

Pistachios

Lemony is saying something and thinks they are for everyone one.

Parsley Soda

What Sunny gets when she requests a fizzy drink.

Boysenberry Jam

The darkest Jam in the VFD fridge.

This really makes me want good jam or to try jamming. Roasted lamb and jam...not sure where I would easily source lamb right now and is likely to be a far greater headache than I care.

Olives

There were 5 green olives filled with pimento in the jar. It indicated the gathering was on Thursday.

Mustard

All I wrote is the last safe place. I don’t recall the details -- but it was probably a clue.

Mustard is my favorite condiment. I can (and have) eat it plain.

False spring rolls

What was prepared for a meal for Olaf’s troupe by Sunny and Hook handed man.

How did they get wraps on a mountain...maybe you can repurpose a part of a fish to use as wraps. The skin or various internal linings? Seems less appetizing / food safe.

Rutabaga (again)

What Olaf’s troupe wants to grow.

Food in The Grim Grotto

Chewing Gum

Phil only cooks meals with chewing gum.

Chewy Casserole

Chewing gum casserole.

In my experience heating gum or gummy like things often goes very poorly. You can add them towards the end of the cooking process to create some sort of layer -- but definitely not from the start.

Potato and Cod Chowder

Non-gum based meal that Sunny and Phil prepared.

Calamari

What Sunny thinks Olaf’s sonar symbol is.

I fully accept that the children are seriously smart, but where is Sunny learning all of this? Did the books have cooking books (I think so..)? I shall assume that Sunny demands to be read only cooking books as bed time stories.

Soft Pretzels

Olaf wants these. I do too -- I should make them!

Turmeric

In one of Esme’s evil laughs.

Cabernet

Olaf wants wine and gets lost in the octopus submarine looking for some. He pronounces it as Caber-NET.

Horseradish

Cure for the Medusoid Mycelium.

Taragon, Wasabi

Contents of kitchen cabinets while Sunny is sick.

The wasabi is what is used as a culinary substitute and cure. Interestingly, it is Mr. Bobby brand. Would anyone know if this has significance? Brand names in this universe are interesting.

Lemon Lime Soda, Gorgonzola Cheese, Birthday cake for Violet

Contents of the fridge while Klaus and Violet are looking for horse radish.

That is a damn impressive cake. Fondant is really well done. Can you make fondant from gum? Probably not, but Sunny is resourceful and likely found a suitable culinary substitute.

Sub Sandwich

Prepared by Hook-Handed man to delay Olaf form assisting in torturing the children.

Looks like a pretty standard sub on a softer baguette. It appeared to have sliced deli meat.

Chef Salad

Fernald’s analogy for people to emphasize that categorizing people as noble, good, bad, or evil is invalid.

Pig Eating Pork

Ok -- this one is not food, but I was amused by Olaf’s simile to describe his joy.

Food in The Penultimate Peril

The Picnic Basket

I absolutely lost my mind with this scene. We only briefly see the contents of the picnic basket as Violet removes the top layer to reveal the concierge disguises Kit prepared. I paused and replayed this seen maybe 10 times to examine what was in that top layer. I then needed to cross reference some incomplete descriptions with two large pastry books (thankfully they have an entrement section...). I feel reasonably successful:

Millefeuille [X]

This is napoleon. Adding a flavor to the custard is a great way to modernize this dessert.

Cream Puffs (Might be a profiterole) [X -- I’ve done eclairs]

Choux pastry is very forgiving and a good entry point into fancier pastries. It forms the basis of eclairs, cream puffs, and, if you are crazy, croquembouche.

3 Layer cake

Unclear what more to say. Since these are all french pastries, perhaps the sponge is genoise?

Mini Opera Cake

Opera cake is layers of Joconde sponge (almond sponge) flavored with coffee syrup, layered with italian butter cream, and then topped with chocolate ganache. It was something I planned on making before everything closed down (I can’t eat it myself X.x).

Madeleine or Beignet [X]

Since this was a picnic basket, I am leaning in favor of Madeleines. They fit the other set of deserts better than a Beignet.

Nut Entrement

I think is this another cake, but it is unclear. I can’t seem to source this one either. Maybe it is carrot cake! That often has nuts around the perimeter.

Sauvignon Blanc

Olaf’s wine of choice

Aqueous Martini

Jerome’s drink of choice.

Indian Food

Larry, in his last waiter position, poses in an Indian Restaurant. Poe orders a glass of milk.

The Barking Gin Distiller Dry Goods

Interesting brand on the bag belonging to a lady on the trolley during the sequence when Justice Strauss is searching for the Children.

Tea

In flash back with Kit and Esme. Kit likes her tea as bitter as worm wood and sharp as a double edged sword.

Sausages

Crow meat and an analogy for learning the Law (you don’t want to know how the sausage is made, just like you don’t want to know how the law works).

Too much pepper and makes the court audience cough.

Food in The End

Root Beer Float [X]

Lemony has one. It is his thirteenth.

Waffles

Partially consumed by the man following Lemony at the diner.

Mixed Nuts

All that is left to eat on the boat. Sunny offers some to Olaf, but he knocks it into the sea.

Ceviche

Since the islanders don’t have any spice, they eat raw fish.

I have never had this, but recall reading in a book about sushi how it was integrated by some sushi chefs in South America into more traditional Japanese cuisine.

Fermented Coconut Cordial

I have no idea how you could get anything resembling an opioid from fermenting coconut water. Unless Ish is adding something, this seems suspect. Fermenting something sweet and earthy also does not really sound appealing.

Wasabi and Wormwood

Sunny’s suggestions on how to treat the Medusoid Mycelium.

Wormwood and related foods appear often.

Apple

Modified by Bertrand and Beatrice to contain the sugars giving immunity to the Medusoid Mycelium.

Chocolate Cake [X]

SQUEEE this was adorable. Sunny makes a cake for Beatrice II’s first birthday.

Salad

Shared by Fiona and Fernald.

Root Beer Float

Shared between Lemony and Beatrice II as she tells him the remaining story.

I want to believe that this is his 14th root beer float.

Black Bean and Mango Salad

Sunny makes this during the Finnish Female Pirates incident as told by Beatrice II.

This sounds amazing! Slightly ripe mango with a citrusy black bean mixture would be delightful!

#netflix asoue #asoue #food in asoue #food in television

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docholligay · 5 years ago

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Pharah/Mercy!

This is really, largely, about a lot of what Pharah and Mercy see in each other, and what makes them so perfect for each other, and how that has to do so much with everything that came before int heir lives. Anyway I really love them. 2,200 words! I hope you enjoy

Ordinary, Routine, Typical

Pharah and Mercy were boring.

Every Friday night, they had a quiet dinner together before Mercy headed off to service. Every Sunday morning, Pharah brought Mercy coffee and a pastry and they sat in bed reading the newspaper or a journal or some book they had picked up, commenting one to the other from time to time on a point of interest. Every other Sunday night, they went to Winston’s for a family dinner, and, on the third Saturday night of every month, they went out on a date, nearly always the little Italian place, with the corner table, and Pharah always got the bolognese, and Mercy rarely strayed from the alfredo, and the waitress now brought the bottle of rose from the middle of the menu as soon as they sat down.

Their life was a series of mile markers on the highway, each as likely as the next, only the odd exit for snacks and a pee break in the form of a trip to Spain, a battle in Paris, the unspeakable daring of a new restaurant.

Every Valentine’s Day, Pharah brought her the same bouquet, with a card written of her virtues, and a small box of Swiss chocolate, with the dipped oranges she liked best.

Mercy did not think on this, often, but Tracer had teased her about it the day before, and left her thinking. Tracer was not this way, not at all. She had her pub, of course, and her family, anchors that she returned to when she needed a bit of grounding, but Tracer thrived on the novelty of it all. She was always taking Emily to exciting new bars with passwords and smoking cocktails, hip restaurants that she obtained entrance to by reminding them she had saved London, whisking her away for a weekend in Scotland, a school break in Iceland, anyplace with a landing strip and a hotel was open for consideration.

Mercy had moved from place to place after her parents were killed. Medical school in Zurich, internships in countries all across Europe in the summers--Italy, Sweden, Germany, and one very memorable summer in Ireland-- residencies in top-rated hospitals, never in the same place, and then a highly-regarded fellowship at a cutting edge hospital in California.

She had done it all by the age of twenty-five. And she had not been home since she was thirteen.

Oh there were places she lived, of course, sometimes for a few years at a time, and she had been in Zurich plenty, but home had disappeared for her on the day, replaced by a winding and twisting backroad of uncertainty and newness at each glance. Overwatch had changed none of this, only upped the ante on the whole operation, sometimes in a different place from month to month, always new people. It didn’t help that Mercy was, in some ways, very solitary--all those years being a teenager in medical school had taught her that it was normal--and so she spent most of her time in her lab, or her office, or checking on patients, consulting on cases.

She’d hadn’t even known she wanted to come home again until she had been walking through Boston one day with Fareeha Amari, and the light turned golden, and she felt a sudden shudder of fear that she would know loneliness again. That constant was no longer a comfort. No longer a little nitpick.

Pharah would be making dinner tonight, and it would be lamb, with pilaf and a burgundy wine.

Pharah and Mercy were boring. Well, that is not precisely how Pharah would put it. Mercy was a woman who worked very hard and so of course had little time to plan things or come up with ideas. Pharah would simply say: Pharah was boring, and Mercy paid the price for it.

She tried, sometimes, to do things that were impulsive and exciting, but she was a woman of routine, a woman of planning and order. They liked the Italian restaurant. The food was both good, and something they rarely ate at home. The service was excellent, and they knew Pharah and Mercy’s preferences. She wanted Mercy to know that she would be there every Sunday morning, bringing her coffee and a pastry she liked.

Whenever Pharah’s mother had shown up, it was always a surprise to her. Ana did important work, her grandmother had told her in a clipped, efficient way, the way she herself had as a younger woman, and so there was no sense in crying for her. She could feed Pharah breakfast just as well, and take her to her first day of school, so what did it matter what country her mother was in? Her aunt could take her in other times, depending on if her grandmother was needed at a meeting. There were family friends she could stay with. She would always be fed, and clothed, and helped with homework, but where and by whom was a bit more of a question. Amaris went where they were needed.

Pharah was the dedicated sort, even as a child, and so, not being given a framework to grow around, she built her own. She cooked her own breakfast as soon as she could reach the stove, her beans and eggs simple but nourishing, every morning. She pressed her school uniforms and kept them straight, and she kept her shoes shined and neatly lined. She cut her hair to one and a half inches exactly above the shoulder at eight, and had it trimmed every six weeks. She became a hall monitor, a student leader, a team captain. While her mother wandered in shaky loops and quick darts, Pharah raised herself up in a fine, strong line, where things were assured, whether Ana showed up to share dinner or not.

She had been so proud of her diligence, of how reliable and steady she was. But staring down at the lamb in her cart at the grocer’s, she wondered if she was too dull for Mercy, who had such a life of excitement and travel before she met Pharah. If the chocolate and poorly-arranged roses and daisies and card were too predictable.

Tracer was not this way, and everyone loved her, didn’t they? Tracer was exciting, you could never know what she would do or say next, where you would go to, and Emily seemed so pleased whenever Tracer sprung something upon her. Tracer was creative and impulsive and charming. Pharah was the filing cabinet, she thought, and this was not what she wanted for Mercy.

Pharah loved Mercy. Mercy deserved excitement.

Mercy wore the same pink dress she had worn on their first date, like she did every year, with a little purple wrap for the chill, and came downstairs. There were no candles lit on the table, and lamb did not fill the air, and Mercy was confused for a moment. Pharah had been so busy with trying to get Overwatch on track here in London, sending out releases to world governments, meetings. It would make sense that she might have forgotten, and still Mercy could not believe it. Her Pharah was steady as the tides.

Pharah came out of the kitchen in a red velvet blazer, a dark shirt with a burnout pattern on underneath it. She had pulled her hair into a pompadour for the occasion (or rather, had Dva do it, it not being on the list of three practical hairstyles Pharah had taught herself well) and stood smiling in front of Mercy.

For a moment, Angela Zeigler did not recognize her wife, or perhaps thought, even more briefly, that there had been a sort of Freaky Friday situation, and that Tracer was simply doing a very poor job of imitating her wife, who would be staring at a Tracer with her hair neatly parted in a presidentially blue suit with the same look on her face.

“You don’t like it.” Pharah’s voice was tinged with embarrassment, and Mercy saw her then, her kind and steadfast love desperately trying to be something new for Mercy.

“No, I--” She walked toward her, “I am thinking I have never seen you this way.”

Pharah nodded, and took a deep breath. “I managed to find a club for us. A private booth, with bottle service, and dancing.”

Pharah did not mention that it was Tracer’s sparkling sense of patter and complete lack of shame that had gotten it. Mercy would know anyhow. Hopefully she would see the love in asking Tracer for help.

“Oh,” Angela giggled, “so new! I am not in the clubs very often”

Pharah took her hand. “And there is a restaurant, with food I think neither of us could know. I am sure that I think they know. It seems very experimental.”

Angela nodded gamely. “I am a scientist, after all.”

“This will be a different Valentine’s Day,” Pharah brushed at her shiny, loud blazer, “I want--I want to make things exciting for you.”

“Fareeha, I am never wanting you to be exciting.” It was soft, when she said it, and I bit mumbled at the edges, and she hadn’t realized until she said it that it was true.

Pharah was dedicated in all areas of her life, and never more did she want to do well than in this. She had gone too far, and become silly, but--

“I can do this better.”

Mercy shook her head and put both hands in Pharah’s. “No. I--” she stumbled over the words, “Fareeha, my life has been too exciting. You are not doing badly. I only want that…” she looked away for a moment, “I only want that you are, how you are. I love your shoes lined up and you are like a calendar. I feel safe, knowing that I can set my watch to you.”

She looked back at Pharah, and the honesty and love in her eyes was almost more than Pharah could bear. Even in these years that they’d been married, it surprised Pharah that someone could love her so much for what she was, rather than in spite of it.

“Tracer--”

Mercy laughed. “I had my chance to be with Lena and I was so quickly saying no,” She put her hand on the back of Pharah’s neck as she looked at her, “She is different to you. Not better.”

Fareeha Amari had not realized, until that very moment in time, that sometimes she could be truly jealous of Tracer. Tracer was jealous of her, and admitted to it fairly often. Pharah was tall, Pharah was focused, Pharah was a legacy Overwatch leader, Pharah could remember where she put her keys three minutes ago. Tracer expressed all these things Pharah was, that she wished she were, and Pharah had never expressed the same. Tracer was charming and easy to like, Tracer was funny, Tracer had a constant sense of her family and her place. Yes, Pharah knew, she was just as jealous of Lena Oxton as she was of Pharah.

“Beside that,” Mercy smiled, “I am boring, too.”

Pharah chuckled. “No, you traveled--”

“I moved so much, and there I would eat delivery food always and the same box of wine, and read my medical journals, Fareeha, I am not fun, I just wandered.”

She said it with a sense of sadness and amusement, as if she could believe how silly she was for herself, not to mention saying all this to Pharah.

Pharah stroked her hair, in the same bun, with the same little enamel flower pin in it, the one Pharah had given her from the Cairo market.

“We are boring.”

“Yes,” Mercy stepped closer to her, nose to nose, “together, we are very boring. I like it. I am always knowing where home is.”

Pharah kissed her, and knew this is what she had always wanted, a wife who was always there, a little bit of a mess but who reveled in Pharah’s sense of structure, who loved the steadiness of her, who saw the same things Pharah saw in the routine: A sense that she would always be caught. That some things could be counted upon. Mercy was the constant person Pharah had always sought, a light at the end of a long journey that still sometimes seemed like a mirage.

“I will cancel the club,” Pharah nodded, “We are too old.”

“We are.”

“But!” Pharah smiled and gave a decisive nod, “We will go to the restaurant. Even boring people like us, should be exciting sometimes.”

“I am feeling very brave,” Mercy offered her arm, “If you are.”

Pharah and Mercy were boring. They went to the same restaurants, ordered the same things off the menu, and spent the weekends in the exact same way. They did their chores on the same days, and settled in to read the same magazines and papers with their matching reading lights at night. Their routine rarely changed, only side stops on the larger highway of their lives. They were so very dull, so very steady, and so very predictable.

And so very at home, and so very, very happy.

#valentine's ficlets #HON HON HON #seolh

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bananaairplane · 4 years ago

Text

A Bad Idea Is a Great Idea

Sometimes you commit to an idea that you know is terrible— objectively so— because you feel in your gut that, if not a good idea, it is the right idea. This was how the plan to camp in my Toyota Camry came into being. No sooner did it occur to me that I could fold down the backseats and spread a sleeping bag over the flat space that extended from the trunk to just behind the front console, than I knew I must do it.  

My camping exploit would be the centerpiece of a drive along the Pacific coast from San Francisco to San Diego. Day 1 would take me through Santa Cruz, Monterey, and Carmel, and into the heart of Big Sur. In the final episode of Mad Men, the enigmatic anti-hero Don Draper has an epiphany at a yoga commune in Big Sur. He wanders in with a few belongings in a paper bag and slowly succumbs to the beauty of the place. Why are all my aesthetic imperatives 1960s-era men? There is a debonair carelessness in their attitude when faced with challenging circumstances: the cigarette dangling from the driver’s lips in the Italian Job as he handles switchbacks at high speeds; Don Draper’s disdain for luggage. There is obviously a whole scaffolding of privileges that allows these men to drift along, so confident in the benevolence of the universe. There is a certain depravity in thinking, the world’s going to end, let’s have a cocktail. Such confidence is called something else when adopted by others, and is punished brutally. But there’s another side, one that takes in the inevitable ugliness of the world, the myriad ways it falls short of what it could or should be, and says, let my life be a piece of art hewn out of the stone of reality.  

No, I don’t have any camping gear. In San Francisco my brother, sharing the vision, loaned me a sleeping bag and— presciently, expertly— a ski hat. A hardware store in a shopping plaza in Carmel, California yielded a camping chair. It was clearly meant to be: I asked the clerk if they had any folding chairs and he started to describe some patio furniture. “I’m looking for more of a camping chair,” I clarified. He disappeared briefly and then reemerged. “You know,” he said, “I have this one chair that I was holding in the back for a customer who called in, but that was several weeks ago. I was just about to put it back out on the floor.” Kermit green, in a bag with a little strap, it was kismet. The man at the campground, the kind of hardened hippie worn smooth by Bug Sur sunsets and weed, seemed bemused at my endeavor: One person, one night. “Are you going to sleep in your rig?” he asked as he typed my license plate into the computer. Later, when I reemerged from the forest asking to use the microwave, he peered into my takeout container and asked, “where did you score this?” It was cumin lamb and I made it in San Francisco, then packed it up in the cooler bag from the Goodwill in Oregon that has been a linchpin of this road trip. He commented politely that it smelled good. I took my lukewarm noodles and a pack of firewood back into the warren of campsites.  

Wilderness is a relative term— an unknown, unmapped place, standing in opposition to settled places, to familiarity. For me, the West Coast is already a land of wilderness. It feels bigger, and the forests larger, nearer, pressing in around. Mountains, gorges, tall trees all press around the settled places, which do not seem to have won as definitively as they have on the East Coast. Even the mountains of New England roll gently and are dotted with fragile steeples. On Highway 1 at Mendocino, I saw a rugged cross standing up out of the hillside— I used to see similar crosses in Haute Savoie, in Eastern France, where they are a symbol of the maquis, scrublands that took on symbolic meaning during World War II as a place of refuge for the French Resistance. The crosses were used as landmarks by Resistance fighters, who fled to the maquis and then organized themselves there. The maquis is a good metaphor for my wilderness— a place to hide out from occupying forces, but also the place to mount a new offensive. A place outside the scope of government. Government here is another metaphor— I’m no prepper, outside of a couple of gallons of water in my trunk leftover from the threat of wildfires. Government is the forces of domestication and embourgeoisement. The government of expectations and inertia. The virus has created its own kind of maquis or wilderness, effacing our landmarks of daily life and throwing us into unfamiliar terrain. Suspending the normal flow of life and its authorities: the office, holidays, sociability. It’s a cloud bank blotting out our lodestars. Astrolabe lies useless on the map table. It’s a time of feeling in the dark. I’ve been consulting my gut to figure out where to go and what to do next. What does my gut know? It whispers, drive on. Leave behind the oasis, familiarity.

And so I sat in the dark in my camping chair, beside a blazing fire. Some kind of highway construction project was underway on Route 1, so the supreme stillness of the woods was cut by the whining rumble of large machinery doing something laborious. I sipped red wine. The brightness of the fire rendered the darkness all around me more complete. I felt like I had slipped into the space in between time. The group at the adjacent campsite was speaking Japanese, and the patter of unfamiliar words and occasional laughter tucked in around me. The sound of the machinery faded slowly as it rumbled on down the road. I turned the logs and fanned them as the fire died down.  

My brother had suggested that I test out my sleeping arrangements before leaving San Francisco, an idea that I dismissed out of hand. My plan was flawless, testing it was pointless. When I folded down the backseat in the dark, though, I immediately discovered that it did not lie flat. Scrambling in and plunging my bottom half into the trunk, I found that the angle of the seat rendered the opening to the trunk too narrow— it clamped uncomfortably around my hips. I would be sleeping in the backseat. This was, of course, why I didn’t test my plan out earlier: Learning this in San Francisco might have deterred me from realizing my vision. I unfolded the mattress pad I absurdly brought from the East Coast, that didn’t fit the mattress I ended up finding on Craigslist in Oregon. My yoga mat unfurled on top of it, and then the sleeping bag. All night long, when I opened my eyes, I saw the trunks of Redwood trees silhouetted in the dark through the surround of window glass and the pane of the sun roof.

 In the morning I packed up quickly, pumped some free campsite coffee into a hot mug, and drove to a turnout overlooking the sea. I set up my camping chair in the gravel near the edge of the cliff and sprinkled Cheerios into the empty container from my cumin lamb. There was a plastic knife in the car somewhere but I used my spoon to slice chunks of banana over the cereal. Setting the container on the trunk, I poured out milk as the occasional sports car or camper van whooshed past. The waves crashed rhythmically below and a band of mist smudged out the line between sea and sky. The brown hillsides glowed gold in the morning sunlight. The whole world stretched out around me.

#camping #carcamp #road trip #writing #my writing #travel #adventure

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avintagekiss24 · 5 years ago

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The Art of the Deal - Part Three | Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes{

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 6,001

Warnings: smut, sex, anal sex, oral sex, shower sex, threesome m/m/m, no refractory period, did I mention sex? oh, and there’s cheesecake

Summary: Steve - Steve and Sam’s tenth anniversary is weeks away, but another trip to Paris isn’t exactly what Steve has in mind. While showing a prospective business associate a night on the town, Steve links eyes with a long haired stranger - a gets a brilliant idea.

Bucky - Its a normal night at work for Bucky - free drinks, loud music, drunk, horny men. He’s twenty bucks into a lap dance when he spots a new, handsome face, sparking his interest immediately. They link eyes, and boy, is Bucky a sucker for blue eyes.

Sam - Sam? Sam’s just along for the ride (if you catch his drift).

A/N: We learn a bit more about our boy Bucky in this one! One more part after this!

Bucky raps on the familiar apartment door before tucking his hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket. He drops his head back on his shoulders, his eyes scanning the ceiling as heavy footsteps grow louder and louder as they approach. The door swings open and a large smile spreads on Bucky’s lips as he’s met by Sam’s toothy grin.

“Bucky,” Sam says warmly, extending his arms to embrace him, “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Bucky could melt into Sam’s warmth - both physically and emotionally, “You too. It feels like it’s been a year.”

“Good sex will do that to ya,” Sam winks, before pushing the door open wider for Bucky, “Come on in.”

Bucky keeps his hands in his pockets as he pushes into the apartment. It’s still the same, clean and crisp, soft hues of color bursting from the accent pieces. It’s warm, Bucky guesses from the oven and stove as the smell of freshly chopped veggies and cooking food wafts through the apartment.

“You’ll have to excuse Steve,” Sam starts as he moves into the kitchen, “I guess he had a meeting run late.”

Bucky chuckles slightly as he takes a seat at one of the bar stools in front of the stove, “I know I don’t know you guys well, but that sounds typical of Steve.”

Sam laughs wholly as he pulls out a martini glass full of cocktail sauce with shrimp carefully arranged around the rim. He slides it toward Bucky before grabbing a pinch of fresh basil to sprinkle into the pot in front of him, “This is so typical of Steve. I have to literally threaten him to get his ass home sometimes.”

Bucky lowers his head slightly as he reaches for a piece of shrimp. He remembers those days - texting and calling, sometimes having to drive down to the base just to get Rhodey out of his countless meetings.

Sam grabs a beer from the fridge, twisting the cap slowly as he flicks his eyes toward Bucky. He watches him - really, the shift in his demeanor - before cocking his head slightly as he slides the cold, golden liquid toward him, “What was that?”

Bucky shoots his eyes to Sam’s as a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, “What was what?”

“That little head drop thing.” Sam smiles slowly.

Bucky’s eyes widen at Sam’s keen eye and impeccable skill of reading body language. Bucky laughs it off as he dips his shrimp into the red, spicy cocktail sauce, “What little head drop thing?”

Sam continues to smile as he spreads out his arms on the counter, resting his weight on his palms, “You’re talking to a psychologist here.”

“No shit?” Bucky asks, smiling widely.

“No shit.”

“No wonder you’re so nosy.” Bucky winks as he tilts his head back to take a swallow of his beer.

Sam laughs again, dropping his head, “I’ve heard that my entire life. Steve likes to call me Dr. Phil.”

“Well, you’re much cuter than Dr. Phil. I’ll give you that.”

The oven beeps and Sam turns toward it, grabbing his mittens to pull out the roasted lamb, “Seriously, everything’s okay?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Bucky nods, “You aren’t gonna let this go, huh? Ooh, that looks good.”

Sam shrugs as he sets the pan onto the cooling racks, “Thank you, and no, probably not.” He chuckles as he grabs for more herbs to pepper along the meat, “I mean, my husband and I are about to invite you into our home, our lives, in a really intimate fashion, if you’re up for it.” He says, keeping his eyes on the lamb as he sprinkles a dash of salt, “I gotta make sure you aren’t some lunatic.” He flips his eyes back to Bucky, finding him staring back intently, “I mean, no offense but, Steve quite literally picked you up in a strip club.”

Bucky nods slowly, “None taken. That’s fair.”

“I’m not saying you have to share your entire life story, but I’m not big on keeping secrets either. Okay?”

Sam smiles at Bucky again, cocking his head slightly as his eyebrow quirks toward the ceiling. Bucky laughs again, a little out of shock, a little out of admiration, “Loud and clear, Sammy.”

“Good.” Sam winks before returning his attention back to his sauce, “So, how was your day?”

Bucky and Sam speak easily about their days, like they're old friends until the click of the front door sounds softly. Bucky watches as Sam’s face lights up, the glint in his dark eyes returning as he bestows a wide, bright smile as Steve comes into view.

“Sorry I’m late,” Steve apologizes quickly as he wraps his arms around Sam’s awaiting body, “Hey baby. Smells good.”

“Hey there,” Sam coos, closing his eyes happily as Steve pecks, and then nuzzles into his cheek, “You have impeccable timing, as usual.”

Steve chuckles before releasing Sam’s waist. He moves to Bucky and hugs him quickly, a soft smile on his face as his eyes wander around his boyish face, “Good to see you.”

“Same. I’m glad you guys called.” Bucky almost blushes, unable to keep the smile off of his face.

Steve grabs the plates and silverware from the counter before he moves to the table, “Has Sam been easy on you?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” Sam smiles as he pours three glasses of red wine.

Bucky laughs lightly, “You could have warned me that he was a psychologist, that’s for sure.”

“He’s good, man. He picks up on the subtlest of movements.”

“Jeez, you’re telling me.”

“You know what,” Sam starts, as he starts passing food to both Bucky and Steve, “I’m not sure this is gonna work if you two are gonna gang up on me like this.”

Bucky and Steve sit at the table once the food is spread out. Sam buzzes around the kitchen, collecting the last of random articles needed to eat - salt and pepper, extra napkins, and just a tad bit more basil to sprinkle over the lamb.

He plops down next to Steve seconds later, “Ok boys, dig in.”

Bucky watches the two as dinner moves on. He brings his wine glass up to his lips, swirling it slowly as his eyes linger on Steve and Sam before him. It’s like he’s not even here - not that they’re being rude. They’re just so comfortable - so easy with one another. The eye contact between them, the soft smiles, the lingering of each other's fingers on one another… it’s lovely to have been invited into their intimacy like this.

Bucky sips the sweet, red wine slowly before inhaling its scent. His mind starts to wander again. Back to New York. Back to their spacious apartment. Back to the mornings where he awoke entangled in the arms and legs of his lover. Back to their dinner parties where he and Rhodey were the Steve and Sam of the room.

He drops his head again. He chews the inside of his lip as he pushes it all away - carefully, this time - as to not grab Sam’s attention again. Maybe love just isn’t in the cards for Bucky Barnes. At least, that’s what he tells himself the nights when the tears come.

Bucky tucks some loose strands behind his ear and glances up, only to find Sam’s eyes on him as Steve enlightens the table about the meeting that kept him. Bucky stabs the last piece of his lamb with his fork and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he smirks back at the curious Sam. Defiant and cocky, guarded and mysterious - the signs of the classic “bad boy” image.

Sam smirks back. He loves a challenge.

“Shit Sam,” Steve chuckles moments later, none the wiser to the staring contest going on around him, “I’m stuffed babe. Thank you.”

Sam leans into Steve again, accepting another kiss on his cheek as he holds his wine to his lips, “You’re welcome, darling. I’ll start some coffee and grab the cheesecake.”

“I’ll do that,” Steve starts, pushing away from the table.

“No, no, no, sit,” Sam stops him, “You’re the businessman, remember?”

Bucky watches Sam as he disappears back into the kitchen before turning his attention back to the blonde in front of him. He leans forward as another smile spreads across his face, “Well, businessman?”

Steve chuckles, “I’m not sure how I’m going to manage having two of you bossing me around.”

“You’re handling it well so far,” Bucky shrugs.

Steve smiles and throws a wink in Bucky’s direction, “So, as you know, Sam and I had a great time with you. You made our anniversary really special, so, thank you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Bucky answers softly, “Thank you for trusting me and allowing me to be of service.”

Sam reenters, his hands full of dessert plates and coffee cups, “Thanks babe.” Steve coos as Sam sits next to him again.

“What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, I was just thanking Bucky for making our anniversary so memorable.”

“Yes,” Sam beams, “We had such a great time, you got us... thinking.”

Bucky laughs as he takes a sip of his coffee, “I can’t wait to hear what about.”

Steve links his fingers with Sam’s, “We would like to offer you something permanent with us. Only, if you’re up for it of course, but we’d… like to have more of you.”

“Lots more of you,” Sam laughs, “We don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

The smile on Bucky’s face finally reaches his eyes. He slices into his cheesecake and pops it in his mouth, removing his fork slowly and seductively from his mouth as he moves his eyes between Sam and Steve’s, “Well, isn’t that sweet, boys.”

“You just have to name your price.” Steve smirks.

Bucky takes a breath while dipping back into his piece of cheesecake. He takes another bite - slowly - turning up the charm and seduction of it all as his libido starts to stir and swell within him. He’s not even in the mood to talk money. He just wants to be on all fours, with Steve in his mouth and Sam in his ass.

He leans back into his chair and points toward the quickly disappearing dessert in front of him, “This is good, Sammy.”

“Thank you,” Sam winks, “There’s plenty more where that came from.” He answers, leaning up to place his chin in the palm of his hand.

The shift in the atmosphere is palpable. Bucky thinks they’re all turned on for completely different reasons - and that turns him on even more. He flicks his eyes to Steve who stares intently back at him. He rubs his middle finger along the pad of his thumb, the gears in his head spinning. He blinks slowly at Bucky, ready to counter and negotiate, ready to win. He loves the art of the deal.

Sam’s ardor is much more based in emotion. The connection between people, the peeling back of one’s layers is what really turns him on. The mysteriousness and seemingly hard exterior of Bucky is a turn on all in itself, but mixed with his overtly sexual nature and this soft, unearthed hurt, and longing in his eye that Sam stumbled upon tonight, makes him nearly irresistible. It makes him think that not a lot of people really know Bucky Barnes. The fact he’d even be comfortable enough to let his mind wander in front of them, means something. Despite his training and all the latin phrases his mind is screaming at him to diagnosis Bucky, the bulge in his pants silences it all.

And Bucky? Well, it doesn’t take much to turn Bucky on. Two beautiful, strong, intelligent men wanting to put his dick on retainer is all he needs to know.

“You’re the businessman, Stevie. Make me an offer I can’t refuse.” Bucky says softly, tilting his head flirtatiously as he chews on another bite of cheesecake.

“Yeah, Mr. Businessman,” Sam echoes, his eyes twinkling with lust as he cuts his eyes toward Steve.

Steve slips his hand between Sam’s legs, his thumb stroking his thigh as Sam’s fingers wrap around his shoulders and neck, “Five thousand a month, cash, plus a credit card with another five thousand dollar limit. We get you any time we want you, eight hours notice. You take down your ad online, and your grindr profile.”

Bucky nods slowly as he takes another bite of Sam’s cheesecake. He takes a deep breath as he chews, his eyes wandering around the opposite wall as he contemplates his counter offer.

“Twelve hours notice, grindr stays up, but I change my status to just looking for friends, and I still get to strip. Oh, and Sammy makes me a cheesecake every month.”

Steve squints, “Why?”

“It’s a really good cheesecake.” Bucky chuckles, winking at the blushing Sam.

“No,” Steve shakes his head, “Why do you want to strip? I’m offering you over a hundred thousand a year in cash and credit.”

Bucky shrugs, “It’s not about the money.”

“You enjoy it.” Sam states.

Bucky takes another slow bite and nods, “Mmhmm.”

“You enjoy the attention,” Sam adds, arranging the puzzle pieces in his brain.

“Maybe.”

“We’ll give you more than enough attention.” Sam counters.

“You sure?” Bucky winks as his mind whispers. It’ll keep me from getting too attached to you.

Sam leans back, his eyes squinting as his gears start to turn. Bucky has offered up yet another piece to his ever growing puzzle. It doesn’t bother Sam either way, they’re not trying to change him entirely. He likes that Bucky just won’t roll over because Steve wants him too. He also kinda likes that he’s a stripper. Sam turns to Steve, their eyes linking as a silent conversation plays out between them. Sam then shrugs and quirks his eyebrow toward the ceiling, “Shouldn’t hurt, hm?”

Steve nods slowly, “Fine. Twelve hours notice, one of Sam’s cheesecakes, grindr profile gets updated, the ad for your services comes down, and you still get to work. That can’t interfere with us, though.”

“It won’t. I’ll be here right after my shift, or, I’ll just cut it short. Promise.”

“Good.” Steve answers, obviously satisfied.

“One other thing,” Bucky starts, “What if I want to have sex with someone who isn’t the two of you? I mean, I’m still allowed a personal life in this whole thing, right?”

Sam takes a deep breath and expels it through his nose, “That’s fair. Could you at least let us know? We may want some tests done, just to stay safe.”

“How about I make a monthly appointment, test results get sent straight to you. Anything pops up, which it won’t, I’m very selective, but if it does, we call it quits. I wouldn’t want to hurt either one of you.”

Steve nods, “You okay with that?” He directs to Sam.

“Yes. So it’s a deal?”

Bucky smirks again and finishes off the last piece of his cheesecake, “Deal. When can we get started?”

Sam laughs, “Don’t we technically have to give you twelve hours notice?”

“Nah,” Bucky waves him off, “I’ll give you a freebie this time. Plus, I owe you for this delicious dinner.”

Steve stands, keeping his fingers intertwined with Sam’s. He reaches for Bucky, wiggling his fingers to entice him, “Come.”

Bucky slips his hand into Steve’s and lets him lead him and Sam back to their bedroom. He shuts the door with a soft click once they’ve all entered and leans against it as Bucky cups Sam’s face in his hands. He kisses him hard, stealing the air right out of Sam’s lungs. He releases Sam’s thick lips seconds later, just to delve back in for them again, sucking his plump lower lip between his. He sinks his teeth into Sam’s flesh as he pushes his body into his, crushing their chests together.

Steve pushes away from the door and slides behind Bucky, sweeping his brown tresses over his shoulder before dropping his lips to his warm skin, “Shower?”

His eyes meet Sam’s, who in turn grabs Bucky’s hand and begins pulling him toward the lavish bathroom. Sam twists the knob, forcing an instantly hot stream of water to splash against the marble floor of the shower. They undress quickly, random articles of clothing falling to the floor in a heap before they step underneath the steady stream of water.

Bucky runs his hands through his hair, pushing water through it as it starts to stick to his wet skin. A chuckle rumbles through his chest as Sam peppers his neck and clavicle with sweet, chaste kisses. He throws his arms over Sam’s shoulders and hugs him to him, pushing his lips along his shoulders.

Steve goes for the body wash, squirting the expensive soap into his hand before rubbing them together to create a healthy lather. He rubs slow circles into Sam’s muscular back, tilting his head as his hands roam along his skin. Steve smiles softly as a moan from Sam bounces off of the tile walls. He digs his fingers into Sam’s lower back, kneading his muscles gently, drawing more loud moans from him.

Bucky sinks to his knees as his hands move along Sam’s stomach. His fingertips brush along his abs and then curve around his waist before he grips his flesh in both hands. He likes their dynamic. He likes Steve’s dominance. It’s not overbearing or suffocating. It’s rather gentle. Sure, he likes to direct, he likes things a certain way, but he doesn’t have to force it. It oozes from him, and it consumes Bucky. He likes that Steve wants Sam to be nothing short of satisfied. He likes how much they love each other.

That consumes him too.

Bucky can feel Steve’s eyes on him. He flicks his eyes up toward him and bites his bottom lip as he takes Sam into his hand. A shiver runs down Bucky’s spine as he keeps his eyes on Steve’s - lucky for him, Bucky likes to be watched. He drops his eyes back to Sam’s stomach and cock as he pumps him. He kisses Sam’s tip, smiling hard as he feels the man jump and hears a sharp ‘fuck’ fall from his lips.

Bucky closes his eyes as he takes Sam slowly into his mouth. He slides his tongue along his shaft, moaning and humming to add some vibration.

Steve pushes his hands over Sam’s shoulders and flattens his palms on his chest. He lets Sam fall back into him, resting his head on Steve’s broad shoulder, his face tilted toward the ceiling as the warm water washes over them. Steve nuzzles into his exposed neck and blinks slowly as he watches Bucky bob back and forth. He puckers his lips and pecks at Sam’s neck once, twice, three times before sinking his teeth into his thick skin.

Sam jumps again. He balls Bucky’s wet hair into his fist as a guttural, scratchy grunt pushes through his teeth. He can feel Steve’s erection pressing into his ass, Bucky’s warm, wet mouth and tongue caressing him in the most gentle of ways - it’s luxurious.

Steve keeps his eyes cast down on Bucky as Sam’s heartbeat thumps against his palm. He feels Sam's hips as they start to move - slowly pushing into Bucky’s mouth before pulling back out. Steve drops a hand to his rigid erection. He drags his palm along his length and sweeps his fingers over his pink tip before pushing back down his shaft. He blinks back down to Bucky again and can’t help the groan that scratches at the back of his throat. He finds Bucky stroking himself as he continues to suck on Sam. He’s so pretty like this.

Sam bites his bottom lip as his fingers continue to tangle in Bucky’s hair. Darkness consumes his senses as his eyes remain closed. He releases a soft breath through this teeth as Steve slips his fingers between his asscheeks, rubbing them along his puckered hole. God, is he ready.

Steve replaces his fingers with his cock, sliding in the cleft of Sam’s ass before he lines himself up with his hole. He pushes slowly and grips Sam’s shoulder as his breath hitches in his chest. Steve lets his eyes close as Sam’s internal heat envelopes and spreads through him. He drops his hands to Sam’s hips, placing them over Bucky’s digits and giving them a squeeze.

His pace is slow and steady at first. He rocks into Sam gently as his moans grow louder and quicker, his head still resting on Steve’s shoulder. Steve lets his hand wander - over Sam’s stomach, through the tough patch of hair at his navel and back up to his chest as he fucks him slowly.

Bucky hums as the lust in his chest builds. He pumps his hand along his own cock as he pulls back from Sam, licking his lips quickly and swallowing the tangy spurts of cum on his tongue. He releases himself long enough to stroke Sam with both on his hands, and sends his eyes up toward the couple. Sam’s eyes are closed, his mouth hanging as his natural soundtrack paints the walls. Steve’s head is low as he fucks Sam, his fingers digging into his hips, leaving indentations in his skin.

The sight sends a chill right down Bucky’s spine. It’s so private. So intimate. So personal, and sexy. He takes Sam into his mouth again, this time rougher, sloppier, faster. He wants him to cum. He wants to taste it and feel it. And then he wants Steve to fuck him.

Bucky Barnes loves his life.

Within seconds, Sam is shuttering. His chest heaves, unintelligible words fall from his lips as Steve deepens his thrusts and Bucky swirls that talented tongue around the tip of his cock. His heart pounds against his ribs, his stomach is in his throat as adrenaline pumps through his veins. It’s in moments like this that Sam knows just how lucky he is.

He comes without warning. Bucky grunts at the sudden hot ribbons of cum flooding his mouth, but hums in contentment soon afterward. His eyes flutter shut as he sucks Sam through his orgasm, swallowing every last drop that Sam has to offer.

A soft smile spreads on Steve’s lips as Sam works through his release. His hips slow as he wraps his arms around Sam’s middle, flattening his palms on his stomach. He mumbles his love for him into his ear and nibbles on his earlobe and jaw as his muscles tense with his orgasm. Steve’s smile broadens as Sam starts to come down from the high.

He flattens his palm on his chest as he peers at his boy, “You are so pretty when you come.”

Sam chuckles as he places his hand over Steve's, “You think so?”

“I know so. I think Mr. Barnes would agree?”

Bucky is back on his feet and closing the distance between he and Sam’s lips within seconds. He kisses him deeply, his tongue sweeping along his teeth and bottom lip before he pulls away, dragging Sam’s bottom lip with him.

He releases it quickly and smiles, “Absolute beauty.”

“He pays you to say that,” Sam winks, his head still swimming, his eyes hazy, his smile lazy, “Let’s lie down.”

Steve throws his eyes to Bucky, “Bed?”

“Let’s do it… literally.”

Steve reaches for a towel as Bucky turns off the water, throwing it over Sam’s shoulders before he steps out. He lets Bucky follow Sam and steps out last, throwing Bucky a towel to rid himself of excess water. Steve follows suit, swiping at his limbs and chest with a towel before discarding it to the floor and moving into the bedroom.

Sam’s already climbed into the large, soft bed. He’s at the headboard, his eyes heavy but his hand busy as he slowly strokes himself. Bucky lays at the foot of the bed, holding his head in the palm of his hand as his free hand skips up and down Sam’s calf. He smiles at Steve and Steve smiles back.

“You ready for me?” Steve asks.

Bucky smirks, “How do you want me?”

“Face down, ass up,” Steve answers.

“And what’s the magic word, Mr. Businessman?”

Steve smirks, “Please.” He says sweetly.

Only then does Bucky oblige. He repositions himself on the bed, sinking his knees into the mattress and he places his hands flat on the sheets. He lifts his eyes to Sam’s, making direct eye contact with him. He reaches out and skirts his fingers along Sam’s skin again before wrapping his hand around his ankle. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as Sam drags his hand along the length of his gorgeous cock, never taking his eyes off of Bucky’s blues.

Steve grabs a bottle of lube from his armoire and squeezes a dollop onto his fingers as he approaches the foot of the bed. He rests his left hand in the center of Bucky’s back and rubs his thumb along his soft, damp skin. He massages the warming gel along himself before sweeping his fingers lightly between Bucky’s cheeks. He inches forward, pressing against Bucky as he grips his shoulder.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as Steve fills him up slowly. He tightens his grip on Sam’s ankle and lets out a focused breath through his teeth as soon as he feels Steve’s hips are flush with his body.

Steve starts slow, acquainting his body with Bucky’s. He lets his fingers dance along Bucky’s skin, gripping, squeezing, kneading as he fucks him. He flicks his eyes toward Sam’s, finding them hooded and hazy, drunk almost, as he strokes himself to the same rhythm of Steve’s hips. Steve’s chest constricts almost immediately. He hips jut forward, hard, pulling a yelp from Bucky.

Steve stops and squeezes his shoulder, but Bucky laughs it off, “I’m good, cowboy.”

Cowboy. Steve likes that. Steve also likes that he can take it. He sets his pace faster - his strokes deeper - as Bucky’s soundtrack grows louder. He skips his fingers down Bucky’s body and between his legs. He caresses the inside of his thigh gently - sweetly - and then pinches without warning.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans as pangs of pleasure and pain flash through him.

This is the best decision Bucky’s ever made.

Steve keeps his eyes on Sam as they bounce between his and Bucky’s. Steve watches as Sam’s chest rises and falls faster, his hand pumps harder, his toes curl and flex as his moans mix and mingle and rise with Bucky’s. Fuck, the beauty of it all is enough to make Steve stutter again.

Bucky tightens his grip on Sam’s ankle and drops his face into the mattress as he lunges forward with each of Steve’s thrusts. He slams his eyes closed as a chorus of grunts fall from his lips. He yelps again as another flash of pain rips through him - Steve’s fingers pinching again, harder and harder as his hips crash into his.

Bucky lifts his head just in time to see Sam come undone again. He bites his bottom lip as he watches the ribbons spurt from him and falling against Sam’s chest and stomach. He shutters as Steve runs his hand along his spine and… that’s just about all he can take. He doesn’t even have to touch himself. He just cums. He drops his head to the mattress and lets Steve fuck him through his orgasm as he spills himself onto the soft, white sheets.

Steve falls forward as Bucky’s body constricts around him. He grips Bucky’s shoulder, his fingers digging into his skin as the threat of his own orgasm rushes through his veins. He grunts as electricity flashes through him. His vision tunnels, his chest tightens… and then he’s filling Bucky with his hot spunk. His hips jerk as he holds onto Bucky’s shoulders, barely able to breathe as he cums.

Bucky can’t help the chuckle that rumbles through his chest as Steve collapses on top of him. He reaches back and caresses Steve’s hip with the tips of his fingers as their three ragged, heavy breaths fill the room. He’s almost sad when he feels Steve’s weight leave him. He peeks over his shoulder as Steve disappears into the bathroom and reemerges with washcloths.

Bucky watches as he moves to Sam first, pecking him on the lips before he starts to clean him. He’s gentle with him. He sweeps the warm washcloth over Sam’s chest and stomach before giving the same ample attention to his dick. Once Sam is squeaky clean, he kisses him again, and then moves back to the foot of the bed.

He taps Bucky’s ankle, “May I?”

Bucky nods slowly as he tucks his hands underneath his head and stretches out his legs. He loves a control freak. He closes his eyes as Steve caresses his skin with the warm washcloth and cracks a quick smile as he lands a smack against his ass before retreating back into the bathroom.

He feels another tap on his ankle, “Under the covers.”

Bucky has something snarky to say, but he’s in a good mood, so he just climbs up next to Sam and slips underneath their expensive comforter. The TV flips on, Steve’s heavy footsteps move around the room before his weight sinks into the mattress and the soft light from his laptop washes over him.

Sam reaches over Bucky and lets his hand and fingers brush along Steve’s arm - just so he can feel them - and drifts off, taking Bucky with him.

----

Bucky takes a breath, his eyes fluttering as he stretches his limbs. His eyes open slowly and focus on the blue numbers projected on the ceiling from Steve’s clock. 3:17am. Sam’s arm is still slung over his chest. Steve rests against the headboard, his head rolled the side, his hands still propped on his laptop. Bucky smiles slowly. It reminds him of -

He stops. He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze back to the blue numbers. 3:19am. He needs a cigarette.

He wiggles out from between them and shimmies into his tight boxers before digging through his jacket pocket. He slips out, and pads through the apartment to the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. He steps out into the warm night, sliding the door partially closed before bringing a thin cigarette to his lips.

He’s gone through about three of them before he hears the door slide on the track. He doesn’t even turn around, he knows who it is. He takes another drag and exhales the grey smoke slowly before he bends over, resting his forearms on black railing.

“His name was James,” he starts slowly, dropping his head between his arms, “James Rhodes. But, everybody called him Rhodey.”

Sam smiles softly as he leans against the walls behind him, “How long were you two together?”

“Five years,” Bucky laughs, “Isn’t that crazy? Still surprises me that I was capable of that.”

“Anybody is capable of anything Bucky. You must have really loved him.”

Bucky nods slowly, “I did. I gave him everything. I gave up everything.”

“Before we get there,” Sam says gently, “How did you two meet?”

Bucky takes another drag of his cigarette and lifts his head to gaze out onto the city, “We were both in the military, he was a Colonel.”

“Bucky, that’s-” Sam cringes.

“No, no, not - We didn’t meet like that. He was in the Air Force, I was Army. I was discharged after a few years cuz I have a heart murmur, and I couldn’t manage to get back on base by curfew.”

Sam chuckles, “That’s not surprising.”

“Anyway, I was working at this bar, on base, and he came in one night. We ended up talking. He took me out a few nights later and a month later, I moved in.”

Sam smiles harder, “Steve made me move in after two weeks.”

“That’s not surprising.” Bucky chuckles.

It gets quiet between the two of them. Sam doesn’t want to push, he knows this is a place that Bucky is not comfortable navigating, especially with someone he barely knows. So, he waits for him to get there. He watches him as he finishes that cigarette and promptly pulls another from his pack. The small fire sparked from his lighter adds a dim light but it dies away just as quickly as it came.

“I straightened up,” Bucky says after a long while, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he holds the cigarette between his fingers, “I stopped dancing, I got a straight job, I started cutting my fucking hair again. I straightened up for him, because I loved him and I wanted him to be proud to have me on his arm.”

The anger becomes undeniably present - suffocating almost - and they’re quite literally sitting out in the open. Sam thinks he knows where it’s going, but Bucky needs to say it, “What happened?”

Bucky shrugs, “I don’t know. I did everything he wanted me to, I became the person he wanted, and I came home one night and there was another man in my bed. Some fuckin’ Private or whatever the fuck they call ‘em.” He swallows hard as he stares at the trees, his jaw set in a hard line, “I gave him everything I had, and it meant nothing to him.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. I’m not saying what he did was right, I’m not going to call it a mistake because that’s a conscious decision, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t love you. It certainly doesn’t mean that you meant nothing to him.” Sam tilts his head as he stares at Bucky’s back, “Your worth is up to you, not to anyone else.”

Bucky smiles, but it’s sarcastic - cynical, “I’m sure you get paid a lot of money to say stuff like that.”

“I do. Lucky for you, you’re getting it for free.”

Bucky laughs, “I like you, Sam.”

“I like you, Bucky - and before you say something snarky, no, I don’t get paid to say that to everyone.”

“Sure,” Bucky sings, peeking over his shoulder quickly, “You got any other words of wisdom?”

Sam nods, “You got out of there. You stood up for yourself, that’s something to be proud of, and it means that you know deep down that you deserve better than that. I mean, five years is a long time. This was in New York, I’m presuming?”

“How do you know that?”

“Everyone hears the Brooklyn in you, but you.” Sam laughs, “Seriously. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but to uproot your life and start over in a new city - on your own no less, is incredibly strong. Knowing who you are and being comfortable with yourself, is something that some people never learn how to do.”

Sam stands and leans against the railing next to him, tilting his head until Bucky makes eye contact with him, “You could work on the vulnerability, but that wild side of you - that freeness, is like catching lightning in a bottle. This James guy is an idiot if he didn’t realize that. There’s nothing wrong with you, you didn’t do anything wrong, and I like your hair long.”

Bucky laughs again, but this time, he really, really means it. Sam kisses his forehead before retreating back to the sliding door. He stops and glances over his shoulder, “I’m very familiar with this bad boy act, so, no sneaking out. Bring your ass back to bed when you’re done.”

Before Bucky can get out another word, the door clicks shut. Bucky smirks again and lets out another breath. He drops his eyes to the concrete as his mind spins. It’s weird. He feels a little better. He puts out his cigarette and does exactly what Sam told him to do - he promptly takes his ass back to bed.

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riddlesandqueries · 5 years ago

Text

Valentine’s Evening

A roleplay between @themarmaladeblog and myself, concerning the relative conditions of a civilian, a rogue, and the unspoken.

It was… a date, right?

It’s Valentine’s day.

Bruce waits in a small cafe he’s fond of, where he knows the food and coffee are good and the people are friendly, where there’s quiet tables, and enough interference between them for a modicum of privacy. The atmosphere is close, and… affectionate, given the day, and the other diners.

He’s dressed in blue. Edward’s suggestion, when they first had dinner together at the manor. He said he’d look better in color, than black and white, and Bruce had taken it to heart. ….He’d accepted. Edward had accepted the invite for dinner, and Bruce stresses over this, twisting his napkin between his fingers and nervously watching the door. Of course, the word ‘date’ had never been mentioned, it was just…. dinner. - But, it’s a date, right….?

Oh, god, is this a date? Is this what dates are like when you actually care? Edward scowled against his nausea, parking the car and giving his hair a quick comb. This is probably what Hell is like, isn’t it. Just nothing but doubt and insecurity and never getting answers. The last one was his least favourite thing in the world, and it burned in him like an ulcer. Adjusting his tie, he strolled inside despite his stomach ache. “Hello, Bruce.”

God, he’s cute. Bruce muses, through a faint and worryingly earnest smile.

Does he… look? As smitten as he feels? Bruce hopes not. It would be a terrible idea to actually… date, Edward Nygma.

Nygma, A man he’s personally concussed three times, and locked in the VR, who’s tried to kill him on multiple occasions. He couldn’t in good conscience date Edward Nygma. Not when he still can’t actually tell him who he god-damn is.

(Not that Bruce’s put on the cowl in some time. His heart, just…. hasn’t been in it, lately.)

Bruce finds himself searching Edward’s face, trying to discern his expression, weigh the amount of affection he can find in the other man’s eyes, see if it matches his own. He should’ve brought flowers, god.

No, god damn it, under no circumstances should I be buying him flowers.

“Hey, Eddie.“ His smile, despite his better judgement, grows just a bit. "Had a good February?”

“All half of it? I’ve had worse.” Edward says, taking a seat. He’s in rich green, so dark it’s almost black, with bright accents in white and gold and purple in his details. “How about you? You’ve been quiet.”

“Heh, it’s one of those dark months, I think, that kind of… carries me off into thinking…. So, uh, lost in thought? Lots of days in the gym, staring into space.”

Bruce pauses, as dimly it occurs to him that he should at least greet Edward properly. “…You look fantastic. Heh, no surprise, though….”

“Dark months? Do you get that seasonal affective disorder?” Edward frowns curiously. “There’s light box therapies for that, you know.”

“Oh - no, nothing like that, I just… deeply crave it to be light enough to go rock climbing. I get nostalgic for warm-weather sports as the winter drags on, but it’s not depression, I don’t think, so much as I zone out easier on exercise machines.” Bruce rubs the back of his neck, a bit. “Easy to get lost in thought on an elliptical. I mean, I guess it’s good for my creativity….”

“Bruce, that’s dangerous.” Edward gently chides. “You could mash a toe.”

The first instinct is to object, to protest that he’s done it a hundred times before, that he’s had worse, but… Bruce quashes that reflex. It’s honestly kind of nice, he decides after a half-second pause, to be worried after. By someone other than Alfred.

In fact, it would be nice if it was anyone worrying after him, he tells himself, the fact that it’s Edward has nothing to do with it. Bruce absolutely insists upon this fact mentally, though he can’t even manage to convince himself. He smiles, sheepish. “Yeah… you’re right. Old habits aren’t easy to break, though, y'know?”

“Oh, sure.” Edward chuckles wryly, looking over the drink menu. “Even new habits are hard to break: they’re there for a reason, after all. But I hope that things lighten up for you soon.” Bruce still has a tan. Maybe he should be a snowbird.

“Yeah, soon as the sunlight lasts past when I tend to leave the office.” Bruce laughs, a cheerful sound that briefly fills the small cafe. They’re smiled at, by a waitress, though ultimately she passes them over for the nonce, as Edward is pondering the offerings – largely Greek fusion – and Bruce picks up the drink menu.

He’s, ah, quite thirsty for some reason, and… has the sneaking suspicion that this evening will go smoother one cocktail in. Just one. Don’t want to get sloppy drunk around a crush.

…Come off it, it’s been months. I think we’re a bit past the whole 'crush’ bit. - Bruce just about catches himself before he sighs heavily at his own thoughts. - Knock it off. Focus on the drink menu.

Edward remains oblivious. Oh, that laugh…as cheerful as ever, if maybe a bit more honest than during his usual social performances. He swallows his thoughts, and decides on a simple sangria, as well as spanakopita: he hasn’t had the latter since the summer.

“They’re supposed to be really good at uh, traditional dishes here, according to all the reviews I read.” Bruce decides, silently, on Lamb Kleftiko, and he ignores the fact that 'stolen lamb’ is weirdly thematic given his company. It prompts a quiet chuckle, under his breath. Stolen - well, that’s fine.

“I was, going to get a drink while it’s still early, did you want to look at the wine list, or…?”

Edward wiggles the drink menu he’s holding. “I’m getting the house sangria to see what all of the fuss is about.”

That begets a fond grin. “I’ve only had it once….” Bruce considers, warmly. “If you get the white wine peach version, I’ll split a pitcher with you?”

“Done deal.” Edward grins. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but I’ve poked my head in and gotten takeaway pastry a couple times on the way home from work. If the rest of the food is as good as the baklava, we’re in for a treat.” Bruce’s grin is broad and easy when he talks about food. This is, good, this is fine, this isn’t weirdly awkward or yearning, he can do this.

It’s probably not even a date. It might be a date. Bruce might not be great at spotting a date. He could… ask Edward if it was. But that way lies danger. No, maybe he could just, just, see if Edward seems to think it a date, that’d… - Except, we really shouldn’t be dating the Riddler.

“If we aren’t, you owe me a decent meal.” Edward teases, smirking. This if fine. What was he ever worried about? Liking Bruce’s smile too much? …That sweet, endearing, dogged smile? AUGH.

“Work’s been all right?” asks Edward lightly.

“I mean, it’s been work.” Bruce laughs, lightly, rubbing his cheek. “Not that, you know, I’m really complaining. I do, honestly… find what I do to be, fulfilling. Busy, though, pretty much… all the time. Just, you know. It’s not a vacation in Hawaii, but…” His grin is his best attempt at disarming. A joke, right?

No harm in jokes, not even if it is the flirtatious ones.

“If only it could be, huh?” Edward grins. “What a trip that was: I still haven’t gotten all of my photos developed. Kind of makes me wish I’d brought a Polaroid.”

Bruce’s face lights up. “Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were taking that many, I got… a handful, but…Man, remember the volcano summit? At sunset? That was amazing.”

You were amazing.

God, Bruce quietly chides himself, he almost said that out loud.

“It was beautiful, wasn’t it?” Edward hums fondly. “It makes sense that people climb mountains, when they want to be that close to the sky. Makes me feel kind of bad for being such a city boy.”

“I mean…. if you wanted to travel again, it was… it’s something I’d love to do with you in the future. Not like we wouldn’t come back.” HI, MAYBE AVOID THE ‘LOVE’ WORD, BRUCE. GET YOUR HEART OFF YOUR ARM.

Before he can freeze up too terribly, though, the waitress swoops in.

If only we could. Edward smiles kindly to the waitress, and asks for the pitcher of white peach sangria…the spanakopita, and… ”What was it, Bruce?”

“Oh, ah, lamb kleftiko. And bread, please?”

“Pita?” asks the waitress kindly.

“Yeah, just, something to soak up any leftover sauce.”

“Sure thing. Be right back with your waters!"

Edward waves after her. "I don’t think we could do that again, Bruce, considering your schedule.”

“…Yeah, probably not this year.” Bruce mutters, gloomy. It seemed different, out of the city, more plausible while they’re away.

I should tell him. Bruce muses, glum. At the end of dinner, like… like ripping off a bandage. I can’t keep talking to him if he doesn’t know I’m Batman.

Edward casts Bruce a sympathetic look. “I am sorry for that fact. It’s not easy, I can tell.”

Bruce chuckles, though there’s little humor in it, rueful. “I mean, half of it is, I think I got attached to having you around.” Mumbled. That was a bit more honest than he meant to be, but… well. He lives in a big empty house, right? He has… plausible deniability behind why he would miss something like that..

Oh… Edward smiles slightly, a bit of colour in his cheeks. It’s a lopsided smile, a bit bashful, a bit bare when he’s off his rhythm. “I bet you say that to just anyone.” he chuckles, brows raised. “That’s quite a compliment.”

Bruce can’t quite hide how… pleased he is at that smile, certainly not fast enough. He does his best to quickly look off to the side, but is visibly charmed. Pink, in his ears. In a way he can’t pretend is sunburn, not now. “I dunno. Never been on vacation with anyone else, I’ll, have to get back to you on that one. If, uh, if it ever happens.”

“As long as I’m out of lockup, I suppose I’m available.” Shut up shut up shut up and STOP STARING

Water is brought around.

Available. God, if only that were true. Bruce takes to the water, almost… gratefully. It’s going to be a long, long dinner, huh.

Edward sips his own, taking in and letting out a slow breath. This is torment. Say something. “So, it’s Valentine’s Day, huh?” - GOD DAMN IT NOT THAT - “I expected Calendar Man to do something.”

Oh. He noticed. Of course he noticed, why the fuck wouldn’t he notice, it’s a holiday. “Yeah, uh, heh, happy, uh - happy Valentines, Eddie.”

The quiet as Bruce fishes for something else to say nearly deafens him. “…Could I... get you dessert, maybe?”

“Pick each other’s desserts? Sure.” - I swear by all that’s holy Edward do NOT overthink this.

Bruce nods. That’s agreeable, and… segue to small talk, maybe. Just, try and talk a bit… The romantic atmosphere is not helping, not at all. He shouldn’t have asked him out, not tonight, he knows this now. Jesus, uh… “I, missed this, you know? Dinner together.”

“It’s fun, isn’t it?” Edward grins. “We should just try out restaurants, I had a few friends back home who I’d do that with. Once a month, go try somewhere new.”

If you’re willing to speak to me after tonight, that sounds like a lot of fun. That thought translates onto Bruce’s face as a somewhat unusual, wistful smile. “That sounds fantastic, honestly.”

“It’s fun! It always keeps everything fresh: no falling back on old standards, and you can’t repeat a dish.”

Bruce grins. “I take it these rules are tried and true?”

“Absolutely.” Edward affirms. “Otherwise, someone orders the same baseline dish for every kind of restaurant they go to: tacos at every Mexican place and such.”

Bruce smiles a bit, nodding. “Anything you absolutely won’t eat? Don’t want to commit some kind of faux pas.” Food. Food is a safe topic.

“Me? Not really…it’s all worth trying twice at least, just to dispel bad first impressions if any.” he hums, thinking. Is there any food I don’t like..? Edward’s successfully been derailed.

“And no allergies, then?” Bruce asks, “Because I’m up for anything, yeah?”

“None I’m aware of, but if some develop, that’s a surprise for everyone.” Edward chuckles.

“God, I hope not.” chuckles Bruce, fond.

“Me too, frankly. Do you have any allergies?”

“No, not to food! Thankfully.” Bruce waves the notion away, “I don’t always get along with, uh, some kinds of polyesters, but that’s all that comes to mind.”

“Oh, I understand. The first problem is that you were wearing polyester.” Edward smirks.

Bruce grins. “…You were right, about the blue suit.”

“Hm? Well, you look good in it.” Edward says, gesturing to Bruce. “Do you like it more?”

“I mean, yeah. Brown and black all the time is, boring. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments today, too, so… thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You look good in black, but colours are a nice indulgence against the status quo.” Edward grins.

“I mean,” Bruce hums. “You always look amazing in green. I don’t think I’ve seen that suit before?”

“No, not this one. Bright shades aren’t for winter, not for me.”

Bruce’s head cants to one side. “They aren’t? …I wish I was half as good at clothes as you are. I don’t get seasons at all.”

“Black is never wrong. The rest of it’s made up, largely, so do as you will.”

Bruce smiles faintly, nodding, as food comes around. Smelling, as predicted, fantastic. It’s easy enough to keep up… this vein of comfortable, pleasant compliments and arm’s reach affection. It’s for the best, he tells himself, as dinner wends towards dessert, and they huddle together to pick what the other is going to be eating. He expects they can probably split it between them anyway.

It’s for the best, because Edward’s definitely never going to speak to him again.

As a surprise for one another, just for extra fun, they order one another dessert: Bruce receives a chocolate torte with strawberries, and Edward receives a chocolate baklava, which he’s very pleased to see. “Perfect…geez, maybe I should have been more on-theme.”

“Well, on the bright side, I love strawberries?” says Bruce earnestly. (You keep using the love word, Bruce.)

“Hard not to. Bon appetit!” smiles Edward.

Bruce lifts his spoon in a lazy toast, and sets into it. Quiet. Right, he’ll break the bad news any minute now. Any minute. He just, needs to bring it up, so… like ripping off a bandage. Easy.

….Bruce takes a sip of the sangria, frowning into it.

“…Does it taste wrong?” Edward frowns.

“No, I uh…” Bruce stalls. Come on, get it over with. “I need to tell you something, Eddie, it’s…. it’s important.”

“…Yes?” Edward asks carefully, raising an eyebrow.

“…You probably won’t want to hear it.” Bruce mutters to himself, unable to keep his gaze. “I, uh. I’m…. I’m, um…”

Go on.

“I’m… I’m kind of smitten, with you.”

BRUCE. WAYNE. WHAT, PRECISELY, ARE YOU DOING?

“…What?” Edward utters, gobsmacked.

THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAY, BRUCE. Yes, well, that doesn’t make it less true!

“I - I, yeah. I um….Look, I know it’s… stupid, of me it’s… You’ve mentioned yourself, you don’t, think of people. Not like that, and…..God, I tried, you know? To put it aside, especially after Selina, this is, I know this isn’t something you want to hear, but. …It’s valentine’s day. Lover’s day, you know? It, I’m having trouble not talking, suddenly, feel free to interrupt me at any time, just...”

I wonder if this is what a nervous breakdown feels like. What was that checklist on therapy? The fact I can’t remember offhand says everything about the situation. Edward takes a big sip of his sangria, and takes a deep breath. “We should not discuss this in a public restaurant.”

…That makes it easier. Okay. Just, smile, and, it’s fine. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably best. Okay.” Softly. Resigned, Bruce’s eyes fall to his plate, and he grows quiet to come to terms with what is at least seems like it will be a polite rejection. What did he expect, anyway? At least you can move on, Bruce. …Just focus down dessert, and steel yourself for heartbreak.

“…” Edward picks at his dessert, then sets down his fork. “Let’s get these to go.”

“ - Yeah, okay.” Check: paid. Not like he really has his appetite, anymore.

Boxes gathered, and they’re out the door. “…Somewhere private?” Edward murmurs.

“…Your house? My, house?” Personally, Bruce would prefer Edward’s, if he’s going to be shot down, but…

“That cliff on the outskirts of town, maybe.” says Edward firmly. Neutral is best.

Jeesh, punch me in the gut while you’re at it. “Yeah, okay, I can drive.”

“I’ll need to be brought back to my car eventually.” Edward warns, following along to Bruce’s car.

Stop complaining, Bruce, the horrid little voice in his head chides, this wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just confessed what you were supposed to confess.

“I mean, yeah, that’s - “ Bruce flounders, numbly “ - it’s just weird to head up in, two. Cars, I mean.”

“Is it? I don’t know the protocol.” Edward mutters, getting into the car.

… On the bright side, I suppose it does solve the moral dilemma of crushing on someone you’ve hurt so many times. Now he even gets to hurt you back. You deserve this, Bruce. You know that, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t know why, never knows he’s got it, at least he’ll have his revenge.

Bruce is quiet, as he drives. A bit to shake off traffic… then not much longer, once the city loses its grip. “… Sorry.” is all he can manage, in a small voice, as they park.

Edward holds his dessert in his lap, staring determinedly out the window, thoughts almost visibly ticking like clockwork around him. "Sorry?” he says, snapping out of it.

“For shoving that off on you.” Bruce mumbles, finding that he can’t, actually. Look. At Edward.

“I’m, not angry.” Edward frowns, bemused.

“… Oh.” Bruce murmurs, also bemused. “… You, um, wanted to talk.”

“Yes, just not in the restaurant. People, paparazzi, there’s nothing I hate like gossip I didn’t start personally.”

Bruce nods, mute. For want of avoiding foot in mouth disease, Bruce very carefully has nothing to say.

“You like me, as in, romantically?” Edward asks, dissecting the words carefully.

“… Yeah. I - I know it’s, you’ve said on your blog yourself, you don’t… I’m sorry for inviting you to dinner with ulterior motives.” Bruce says this all so quietly, and he stares at his own hands in guilt. “I knew all that already, but…”

“Bruce.” Edward prompts.

Ah, Bruce. Even when he’s talking about his own feelings, he’s putting other people first. He’s rationalising rejection before it’s even been delivered. Giving Eddie an out. “I know.” he says softly. “ - Sorry, yeah, go on. I’m listening, I promise.”

“First of all, there’s nothing wrong with liking me.” Edward says primly. “I’m wonderful. But I’m also a very dangerous criminal, and you should not date me under any circumstances. I’m not good for you.”

Bruce pauses, reviewing the statement. That… that isn’t, that’s not really a rejection. Is it? He blinks up at Edward, visibly confused.

Edward looks stern. Determined, even.

“… Yeah?” Bruce almost sounds, hopeful, bless him.

“I can’t be in a relationship with you.” Edward says plainly. “You’re only going to get hurt and you don’t deserve that.”

Yes I do, that’s a fucking lie, I’ve hurt you more times than I can count, thrown you in Arkham… “I don’t know, it… Can’t be much worse than friends, can it…?”

“…Can it?” he asks, wary.

“And you’re a fantastic friend.” Bruce adds.

“People are going to threaten your life over this, Bruce, it isn’t a game.” Edward says, annoyed. At least, this part isn’t, anyway.

“… No, I mean. I know.” Bruce condedes. “You’re right. You’re right, Eddie. People could try to hurt you through me, they could try to use me to get close and do terrible things to you.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand that.” Edward sighs.

“I know you’re right,” Bruce continues on, “But the feelings are here anyway… And I mean, it’s not like I don’t already hate to see you hurt.”

“Maybe I don’t want to see you get hurt, have you thought of that?” he snaps quietly.

Bruce rubs the back of his head, quiet. I should drop it. Drive him back to his car, and pretend this conversation never happened.

Against all wisdom, Bruce pushes on: “… I can’t pretend it’s not a nice feeling to know that you care, either.”

“…” Edward huffs, sitting back in his seat, looking away.

“… So, um, thank you for that.”

“One of us has to keep his wits, I suppose.” Edward snips.

Bruce chuckles softly. “You always were smarter than me. … I know it’s a terrible idea. I know I shouldn’t, I know I should drop the idea and run. But I… I can’t. I’ve been trying to rationalise it away for months and, no matter which angle I look at it from, no matter how bad an idea this could be, it… I’m more attached to how, nice it might be, more than I am scared of the opposite.”

“How nice that must be.” Edward grumbles.

“… Honestly, it scares the shit out of me.”

“…” Edward looks over, incredulous. “You just said…”

Bruce rubs his nose, frowning. “… I’m not scared of being hurt, Eddie. I’m scared of… you leaving.Walking away, wanting nothing to do with me. I’m scared of, how hard it is to put this crush out of mind.”

“I’m not going to do that, Bruce.” Edward mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with a sigh.

“… Penny for your thoughts?” A pause. After a moment, Bruce adds, “… You know, you haven’t actually turned me down.”

“I know.”

“.. Do you, want to talk about it...?”

Edward takes a deep breath, and slowly lets it out in a sigh. “To me, a river bed is better than water beyond grasp, and food in the air is better gone than present in despair.”

Bruce frowns at that for a moment, scratching his palm with the opposite fingernail. “… Is that…Do you mean like, Greek Mythology? Tantalus?”

Edward nods, lips pursed. It’s always so hard to speak, when it’s important.

“…All right….” Bruce mumbles, slowly. “To extend the metaphor, um… If, you do want I - I’m offering to bring you a cup. Or pick the fruit, so the trees can’t bend out of the way anymore.” Softly.

“You’d be cursed too, if you did such a thing.” mutters Edward, glancing away.

“… Yeah, maybe. It’s - I’ve been trying to tell myself this is a bad idea since the spa day, Eddie. I know this isn’t… wise. … But if it’s at least mutual, I’d… I’d prefer to, you know.”

“… Try it with company, instead of alone.” Bruce’s laugh is tired, and hollow. “Even if it is a bad idea, at least it’s one I get to make with you, instead of in spite of you.”

Since the spa day? Geez. “What do you mean by that?”

“No matter how bad an idea it is to date you, I still want it… And if that’s mutual, at least I wouldn’t have to navigate whatever comes next by myself. And neither would you. Which… you, implied was the case?”

Edward sighs, tired. Damn it. “Mhm.”

Bruce gives a brief nod, then stares out the windshield, frowning. You shouldn’t have brought it up.

Just because I’m struggling to communicate doesn’t mean you have to match it. Edward rolls his eyes, and grabs Bruce’s hand to hold it, chin propped in the other as he frowns out the window. Stupid crush. Stupid words, thoughts, FEELINGS.

… The pessimism vanishes, just… briefly, as Bruce squeezes Edward’s hand. “Let me try this again.”

“Go on.”

“I think you’re wonderful, Eddie. The smartest man I’ve ever met, fun to talk to, and company I treasure. I cannot really… put into the right words, in the right order, how glad I am to be able to call you at least my friend. I think you’re about the most attractive man I know, and I actually fancy you rather a lot. It’s a bad idea. For a lot of reasons between your… vocation, and my publicity, this could blow up in a bunch of ways that could hurt one or both of us. And despite this, I still think it’s worth it to… try. If you feel the same, I think it’s… worth being a little selfish. Just this once… but at least, I can’t just, sit on that anymore.”

“…I’m already holding your hand, Bruce.”

“Yeah, but I made a mess of the words.”

At least you can. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. It certainly won’t be,” Edward says. “But I’ve had some nagging issues on my mind myself, shall we say.”

Bruce nods, and is quiet for a moment.“… I was ready for rejection, you know.”

“What? Some genius I’d be, turning down a catch like you.”

Cautiously, Bruce shifts to lean against Edward. “… I’m not great at being selfish.”

“It’s a nice trait about you.” Eddie murmurs, leaning in a bit himself.

Faint smile. Oh, that’s all right then. Bruce settles, a bit less nervous. “Even if I treat myself, this once..?”

“…do you know who you’re talking to?” Edward grins.

“I’d hope so, or this has all been a terrible mistake.” A glib joke is a good sign.

“If you’re Clayface, you’re dead.”

Bruce has a brief flicker of existential horror. “God, I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“At this point, it’d be a hell of a long play.” Edward snickers.

With a faint grin, Bruce rests an arm around Edward’s shoulders. It’s not unlike the visits leading up to the new year, he decides, when a sleep-deprived Edward would lean on him. Except Edward’s not sleep deprived.

You’re in trouble, Bruce, Warns the little voice at the back of his head.

Just… let me have this. Bruce pleads back at it, in turn. Let me enjoy it while it lasts. “… It’s a, a shame we missed sunset.”

“There will be others.” A promise, that. Edward’s nervous, despite the calm demeanor and measured words.

“… Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“Just…I’m here, yeah?” This is an effort to be comforting, complete with hopeful smile.

“You are, yes.”

“… I’m nervous too.”

“Why? I said yes.”

Bruce sighs, softly. “I’ve never really had a good relationship, before? Selina’s the closest thing to… and it’s not really the same. So this is all going to be new territory.”

“I’ve never had any. I’ve never had these feelings before and they’re not even slightly comfortable.”

Bruce slowly nods, taking that in. “… If I can, make that easier on you…I’ll, try. Though I don’t know how.”

“The concept as a whole is like a movie about a pandemic, such that everyone else around me always seemed to be getting infected and I was assumed immune…and the twist ending is that I’ve been a carrier, asymptomatic.” Edward shudders. "Obviously, I’ve made some degree of peace with it: I did that on the drive over, I was banking on it being one-sided, after all. It’s not all bad, it’s just a relatively immediate change after a lifetime of nothing, and it’s dreadful in every sense.“

“… I’m sorry, Eddie.” Bruce murmurs, not an apology this time at least, but compassion, emphasized by another gentle squeeze.

Privately, he considers, yeah, it does sort of seem like a disease. It’s not like he hasn’t been arguing with his own head for months, trying to plead his way out of infatuation. Though he’s not sure he’d call it a virus; it’s not like it’s contagious. It’s more like dementia. Not the time to correct him, maybe. “I was… I assumed the same. That it’d be one sided, that… you remember in Hawaii, when you went to the porch for a bit? I thought you’d noticed, that I was too obvious, that you were upset.”

Edward had, in fact, considered it as such, but dementia was even less comforting as a prospect and he didn’t need the stress. "No…that was the time I’d realized what had changed in me, and why I kept feeling feverish with an uneasy stomach.” His analogy holds water. “I was upset, yes, but that was because I didn’t want to have a crush. I still don’t, but here I am.” Edward laughs weakly. “So what choice is there, but to pursue it?”“There’s always a choice.” says Bruce quietly. “I don’t want to make you sick.”

“I didn’t want to go through this like Tetch.” Edward frowns. “So I tried to outthink it. Like being on a diet, perhaps. But…yes, Bruce, there’s always a choice, and I made it on the drive over.” he hums, glancing over as he pats Bruce’s hand. “Keep up, I’m just monologuing a little, it’s my turn.” A half-joke, in these trying times.

He gets a quiet laugh at that, and Bruce defaults to nodding, resting against Edward’s side. God, this isn’t even a little bit comfortable with the gear shift between them, but who cares.

“But really now…a rogue and a civilian, it’s dangerous…I really don’t want to drag you into that swamp, that’s why I’ve never told you about any of it, plausible deniability and such. But now especially.”

“…Yeah, you still shouldn’t tell me any of that, I don’t think.” Bruce murmurs.

“I never will.” Edward promises. “It’s not that I don’t want to talk, it’s recognition of what I do not need to share.”

Edward is quiet for a moment, frowning. “…you’re really going to be all right with dating a super villain? I’m still doubtful about that, we’re notorious for being a handful.”

“I promise I know that already, at least. I’ve had a thing with Selina for… God, a couple years now.” Bruce replies quietly. “Different MO’s, maybe, but I’m at least, familiar with the idea of turbulence. I’m, honestly, more nervous about dating a man. You’re not the first guy I’ve had a crush on, but I’ve never actually brought it up with any of them before now.“ By this time, he’s quieted to a mumble.

"What do you think the difference will be like?”

…Softly, Bruce hums in thought. “I… have absolutely no idea.”

“…can we go somewhere that there isn’t a gear shift in my ribs?” asks Edward gently.

“Yeah, wanna go grab your car and just… head to someone’s couch or another?”

“Yes please.”

“Your place or mine?” Bruce asks as he leans away, stretches a bit, and puts the car back into gear. Seatbelts, seatbelts… “…God, that sounds like a terrible pick up line.I - I promise I don’t mean it like that.” Bruce says with a flustered chuckle.

“You, not flirting? Casanova himself?” Edward says, settling back into his seat with a grin. “Let’s do yours.”

“Yeah, all right.” Bruce grins faintly, pink in the ears, and heads back to nab Edward’s car before the lot closes. And then, off he drives for home.

Edward follows at his own pace, back to Bruce’s, pondering. This is unturned ground for him, after all. Could be gold in those hills. This could be fun, actually, couldn’t it? It’s new, It’s interesting…yeah. Yeah!

Meanwhile, Bruce takes the drive back home to overthink. God, he should’ve put on cologne. Does he need mouthwash? That wasn’t even what I was supposed to tell him in the first place fuck damn it, how long do you think you can keep it hidden now? From the smartest man in Gotham?

You’re a fucking idiot, Bruce.

…Maybe it won’t be so bad. Bruce finds himself hoping, against all hope. Maybe he’ll forgive me. Maybe he’ll never find out. Even if it blows up, I just… I want to enjoy this while I can.

#dcau askblog #themarmaladeblog #long post #btas askblog #happy valentine's day #off camera #plot

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kat-feinated · 5 years ago

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My favorite Denver restaurants

How was your week?

My week included being invited to have a threesome with two of my work clients, who are both meth addicts and lost custody of their child due to said meth addiction.

My boss asked me to send the text to her and just replied “FOR GOD SAKE” and I feel like that’s the perfect summary of my year.

Speaking of meth, we finally finished watching “Tiger King” this week. I know I know, that show is so one month ago. But I have a lot of thoughts that I need to share with the world.

1. Did anyone else find Joe really sympathetic and felt bad for him? Yes, I know he’s unstable and probably killed animals and stuff but I found him...endearing!?

2. Doc Antle is the creepiest ever ever ever.

3. Jeff Lowe sucks. And his wife is way too young for him. And THE WHOLE THING WITH THE NANNY I JUST CAN’T.

4. The guy with no legs whose name I can’t remember was my favorite character. And just seems so normal. How did he end up there!?

5. I’m proud of Saff for standing up for Joe in the aftershow...everyone else just sold him down the river!

6. Howard Baskin. Howard Baskin singing. Howard Baskin’s wedding photos with Carole Baskin. The show is worth watching just for Howard Baskin.

7. Do I think Carole murdered her husband and fed him to a tiger? Yes. Would I still hang out with her in a heartbeat? ABSOLUTELY.

8. I’m extremely mad that I didn’t come up with “hey all you cool cats and kittens”. And now it’s already over-used.

Do you miss eating at restaurants as much as I do? (Probably not because you’re probably a normal person who has friends and other hobbies). I miss restaurants so much it HURTS. I miss looking up menus and deciding what I’m going to order days before I go. I miss people-watching and commenting on everyone else’s food. I miss kind servers bringing me baskets of bread and drinks that I didn’t make. I MISS RESTAURANTS YOU GUYS.

So, while I’m eagerly waiting for restaurants to start re-opening, I thought it would be fun to share my very favorite places to eat in Denver. Share this list with your favorite Denver local! Or better yet, come visit Denver and try these spots out (and invite me!!).

Cuba Cuba: This was the first restaurant I tried in Denver, because it’s across the street from our old apartment. It’s located in an adorable blue bungalow but is surprisingly spacious on the inside. For drinks, order their house made mojitos or a pina colada. For appetizers, order the plantain chips with guacamole and garlic sauce (YUM) or the empanadas. Everything I’ve eaten there for dinner has been delicious, but I especially love the coconut shrimp and the chimichurri steak.

Perfect for: a date night or girls’ night where you feel like getting a little dressed up (but you’d be fine going there dressed more casually).

Rioja: This is my mom’s favorite Denver restaurant, and she insists we go every single time she’s in town. It’s located in Larimer Square, the cutest and most charming street in downtown Denver. It’s a bunch of old Victorian buildings that have been converted into restaurants and shops, and the street is decorated with twinkly lights and Colorado state flags so it’s a great spot to get a touristy picture when you visit.

The menu changes constantly, so it’s hard to recommend exactly what to order, but you can’t go wrong with the pasta dishes. They are known for their artichoke tortelloni and it’s honestly the best pasta I’ve ever eaten in my life. Last time we also ordered the tagliatelle and clams which was fantastic. For starters, order the smoked pear and raclette if it’s available-so yummy.

Also, Rioja makes all their bread in house, and it’s probably our favorite part of the restaurant. Waiters literally come around with a giant tray of bread and I always try every single type. The lavender sourdough and rosemary biscuit are life-changing.

Perfect for: when your parents come visit (and pay!) or a special occasion like an anniversary or birthday dinner. It is on the pricey side.

Work & Class: This is probably the Denver restaurant I’ve eaten at the most. Located in the very hip Five Points neighborhood, Work & Class is always busy and does not take reservations, so I would recommend going on a random weeknight vs. a Friday or Saturday. If you do go on the weekend, plan on an hour plus wait-the good news is you’re surrounded by bars and breweries to help pass the time.

Work & Class is a South American/American fusion restaurant, and everything is served tapas (small plates) style, so go with someone you are cool sharing with. They have fabulous in-house cocktails which change seasonally, so definitely order one while you peruse the menu. It’s hard to make food recommendations since I’ve probably tried everything on the menu and have never been disappointed, but some of my favorites include: the lamb, the empanadas, the mac & cheese, and any of their vegetable side dishes.

Perfect for: your group of friends who you’re comfortable sharing with (eating off of each other’s plates!).

Mercantile Dining & Provisions: This is another spot that my mom insists on visiting every time she comes to Denver. It’s located in Union Station in downtown Denver, which is itself a great spot to visit. It’s an old train station (that is still a working train station) but also home to a hotel, an ice cream parlor, a bookshop, a florist, and every other small adorable business you can imagine.

Mercantile serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner (I’ve had all 3 there), but my mom and I have created what we believe is the perfect system for dining there. We always go on the day she is leaving town, since she can take the train from Union Station to the Denver Airport after our meal. We try to go around 11am, and we order a raspberry muffin. My mom doesn’t even like muffins, but these are no ordinary muffins-not too sweet, perfectly fluffy, moist (I’M SORRY) -just sheer perfection. After sitting and people watching for about an hour, we then order a short rib sandwich around noon, as soon as they start serving their lunch menu (it gets quite busy at this time). SO GOOD. SO TASTY. Plus, the restaurant itself is so cute-it looks like Joanna Gaines designed the perfect black-and-white chic modern farmhouse.

Perfect for: brunch/lunch after a morning exploring downtown Denver, or a quick bite before catching the train to the airport.

Lowdown Brewery: Is it cheating that this is actually a brewery and not a restaurant? I say it counts because they make all their food in house. I don’t always love going to the popular breweries around Denver because they’re usually packed. I’ve never seen Lowdown packed and in my opinion it’s the best brewery in Denver in terms of food and ambience-and the beer is good too!

Not only do they make and sell their own beers, but their menu always features a seasonally rotating list of Colorado beers as well. They have a lot of IPA’s (which I despise but everyone else seems to love). I’ve tried their blood orange wheat, selfish (pale ale), and their blackberry sour and have enjoyed all three. In terms of food, you can’t go wrong with any of their pizzas, salads, or sandwiches, but I personally can’t get enough of their beer cheese dip (served with broccoli, apple slices, and soft pretzel bites-I’M DROOLING).

Perfect for: sitting out on their patio with friends in the warm weather. Bring your dog!

El Five: El Five has one of the coolest views of downtown Denver, not to mention delicious food and drinks and great service. Their sangria is the best I’ve ever tasted, but they have tons of great cocktail, beer and wine choices if that’s not your thing (but also what is wrong with you). For appetizers, try the spreads of the med-a platter of house made pita, hummus, and veggies. For their traditional tapas, I’ve tried and enjoyed the patatas bravas, the shrimp & calamari, and the goat cheese croquettes. Then, of course, you must try their paella. I’ve tried both the Valencian (made with rabbit confit!) and the seafood and would recommend either. Be prepared to log roll out of the restaurant when you’re finished because you will have gained 100 pounds.

Perfect for: a festive date night, dinner with your parents, drinks with your girlfriends-just be prepared for an expensive bill.

Stowaway: I’ve only been to Stowaway once, right before the shelter in place order started, but I’ve been dreaming about it ever since. First of all, it is tucked into the cutest former warehouse-turned-hipster-coffee shop/brunch spot, complete with exposed pipes and red brick walls. I AM HERE FOR IT.

We went on a Sunday morning with some friends who warned us to expect a bit of a wait. Fortunately, the Denver Central Market is just a few blocks away so we were able to enjoy some cocktails and/or coffee while we waited.

When we finally got in, I ordered the Colorful Colorado (an egg dish) because of the 8 million reviews I’d read ahead of time that told me I must order this dish or live a life of unending misery and regret (ok, that might be a slight exaggeration but it was something along those lines). I also split the fruit toast with Joshua because I have to order something sweet and something savory when I go to brunch (I know I have a problem, just leave me alone). Both were so freaking good. I can’t wait to go back soon and try everything on their menu (or more likely, order the same two dishes over and over again).

Perfect for: brunch with your favorite hipster friend.

Linger: This is the one restaurant on my list that I love more for the location/ambience than for the food, though the food is certainly tasty. Linger is located in my favorite neighborhood in Denver (LoHi or Lower Highlands) and the building it’s in USED TO BE A MORTUARY. Like, WHERE DEAD PEOPLE WOULD BE SENT AFTER THEY DIED. I personally find this so cool, and if this freaks you out, you would never know except that I just told you (sorry). It’s very airy inside with cozy mood lighting and exposed brick walls. This is another place that does small plates and they’re all globally-inspired street food dishes-the menu is literally divided by continent (i.e. Asia, Africa). For drinks, order the turmeric mule. For eating, you really can’t go wrong, but some dishes I’ve enjoyed include: the bao buns, the impossible burger persian sliders, the tuna tostadas, and the potato masala dosa. Skip dessert because right around the corner you’ll find Little Man Ice Cream-one of my favorite ice cream spots in the city.

Perfect for: a first date/date night, a girls’ night, or a summer brunch on their rooftop bar.

Snooze: Full disclosure-Snooze is a chain and is not just located in Denver; they have locations across Colorado and in a few other states including Texas and California. That being said, I just have to include it on my list because I believe it is completely worth the hype.

Because there is always a long wait (I’m talking 2 hours sometimes), we always go on a Monday morning when there’s a federal holiday that other people don’t get off, such as Columbus Day. Don’t kid yourself-there will still be a wait, but it will hopefully be closer to one hour. Plus, they give out free coffee while you wait!

I don’t even like pancakes, but I always order the pancakes here. ORDER THE DAMN PANCAKES PEOPLE. You can even get a pancake flight where you can sample three different types of pancakes (I highly recommend the blueberry danish pancakes and the sweet potato pancakes). If I’m in a savory mood, I’ll order the breakfast tacos with a side of one pancake.

Perfect for: brunch with your friend, brunch with family or anyone with kids, brunch with your arch nemesis, brunch with anyone.

Hopefully this list made you excited to go back to restaurants again in the future, instead of depressed! And please send me your best restaurant recommendations! These conversations are what I live for.

#denverrestaurants #denvereats #restaurants #food #foodie #denver #colorado #tigerking #carolebaskin #joeexotic

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