#negroni week

[byroniuspunk]

Mole Negroni

[gastronominho]

Campari e a Imbibe começam os preparativos para a Negroni Week 2024

O icônico aperitivo da Itália e a revista se reúnem para mais uma edição, que acontece entre os dias 16 e 22 de setembro

O icônico aperitivo da Itália e a revista se reúnem para mais uma edição, que acontece entre os dias 16 e 22 de setembro Os recursos arrecadados pela Negroni Week para o parceiro beneficente Slow Food têm apoiado o financiamento de projetos educacionais e inovadores, com a Negroni Week 2024 prometendo outra série de grandes iniciativas A iniciativa global de caridade acontece em sua 12ª edição,…

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Alert: 12th Annual Negroni Week hosted Sept. 16-22, 2024

Campari®, the iconic Milanese red aperitivo, and Imbibe, the ultimate guide to liquid culture, partner for the 12th annual Negroni Week hosted Sept. 16-22, 2024. The #1 best-selling classic cocktail* – the Negroni – will be celebrated globally to support Slow Food, a worldwide movement of local communities and activists in over 160 countries. The classic Negroni has a storied history from its…

[gintrinsic-writing]

Based on this art.

CW: body horror, impending death.

-

Rough bark against his back. Cool moss beneath his trembling fingers. What little light managed to breach the canopy of boughs was carried on the swirling backs of leaf litter motes. Fog curtained the air between trunks, and Link found himself nestled as though within a blanket. A small comfort.

It hurt, even now—short of breath and blood alike; this ultimate transformation from living to dead. His flesh was sunken and pitted, his sagging skin like ribbons of meringue to be feasted upon by the lichen and the insects. Every inhale rattled, every swallow stuck. No moisture remained for his aching eyes. So yes, it hurt, but the pain felt like a promise, like respite, like coming home in a way he couldn’t define but could nevertheless taste and smell and sense and know, even as consciousness threatened to divorce soul.

It was fine. It was meant to be, Link suspected, in some twisting, circling way. He’d first been Kokiri, then Hylian, then Hero. Now, he was to be something other.

Stalfos, Fado had whispered a lifetime ago. He wondered if she’d known.

Time passed in increments and in multitudes. His body withered like the bark of a fallen tree—consumed bit by bit, patiently placid to this un-becoming. Perhaps it was seconds, wasting away, being gnashed upon by mouths both small and microscopic. Perhaps it was minutes. Regardless, as the Hero of Time drew one of his final breaths, there came a voice the memory of which had beckoned his rare, understated smiles for years.

“You’ve returned, friend.”

The Skull Kid approached slowly, respectfully. Their hands flittered as though they could not decide on touch. Finally, they brushed away a strand of Link’s hair. “I knew you would,” they chimed. “I knew you’d come back.”

Link tried to smile for them. His lip split like old parchment. “Did…n’t… know… where else… to… go.”

The Skull Kid tittered like that was funny. “Didn’t know? Didn’t know! Of course you knew. See?” They gestured to the woods around them, snapping their beak in amusement. “You’re here, silly Hylian.” They nodded, apparently pleased, then dragged a claw feather-light down the bridge of Link’s cavitated nose. “This will be a sacred place. A magical place. The forest is singing over you.”

Link closed his eyes to listen. A melody drifted by like a dandelion’s seed, soft and aimless, difficult to catch. It settled what remained of his nerves.

“Yes,” the Skull Kid agreed, “time to let go. No fear.” They grasped Link’s hand, gentler than he’d ever felt before. Their callouses scraped against his bones. “The Lost Woods will welcome you, and we will be friends forever.”

A breeze drifted by, stirring song once more. It took what remained of Link’s breath. He found he did not mind.

“I will stay here until it’s finished,” the Skull Kid continued contently. “You can rest. Rest, rest, rest. When your spirit is full again, I will find you. Rest, friend. Rest.”

And Link did.

[thesungod]

in ao fucking drunk for fuck’s sake

[mildmayfoxe]

no pic but i just cooked up some steak i got for ONE dollar as an add-on from my meal kit box (ONE DOLLAR??? i WISH i'd gotten more) and fried up the last ~chalupa shell~ that i bought that time i wanted pita but there wasn't any pita at target and spread that with the last of the fancy garlic dill spreadable cheese i got at the farmers market and then put steak on there and more cheddar cheese and then the last of the red cabbage cucumber spicy slaw from that other meal and then red onion and then put on more sweet tangy hot sauce and it was sooooooo good

[my-52-weeks-with-christie]

Cocktails With Christie: Blood Orange Negroni

Inspiration: Perusing one of my favorite baking magazines a few months back, they advertised an upcoming cocktail book that looked interesting — Holiday Coupetails. Trusting the editors of Bake From Scratch, I gave the book a go…and am delighted that I did. Not only does Holiday Coupetails have drink recipes, but it also gives instructions on how to make the garnishes and some fun, festive…

[fashionfoodcocktails]

Cocktail of the week| Negroni

As the weather warms up I get so excited because I can’t wait to sip on my favourite Summer cocktail, a Negroni. A sophisticated and well-balanced drink that has stood the test of time. With its rich history and simple yet elegant composition. Follow along as we explore how to create this classic Italian aperitif.  Continue reading Cocktail of the week| Negroni

[bostonfly]

1st Place: 1 oz. Sipsmith London Dry, 0.75 oz. Cocchi Vermouth di Torino, 0.75 oz. Campari

2nd Place: 1 oz. Beefeater, 1 oz. Campari, 1 oz. Cinzano Rosso

3rd Place: 1 oz. Bombay Sapphire, 0.75 oz. Campari, 0.75 oz. Martini & Rossi sweet vermouth

[byroniuspunk]

Cocoa Negroni

[gastronominho]

Uma noite enigmática com a Campari

O Parla Piano acontece em um endereço secreto de São Paulo, trazendo uma imersão sensorial completa

O Parla Piano acontece em um endereço secreto de São Paulo, trazendo uma imersão sensorial completa Não é possível comprar entradas, nem mesmo utilizar quaisquer um dos meios de pagamento disponíveis. Para poder vivenciar a experiência Parla Piano, em São Paulo, é preciso, participar da Negroni Week. Para começar, o primeiro passo é aderir a uma dinâmica de colecionar moedas personalizadas e,…

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Alert: 2023 Negroni Week, Sept. 18-24

Campari, the iconic Italian red aperitif, and Imbibe, the ultimate guide to liquid culture, come together September 18-24 for Negroni Week. For one week only, bars and restaurants around the globe will join forces to celebrate the iconic Negroni, while supporting Slow Food, a global movement of local communities and activists in more than 160 countries. Since its creation in 1919, Campari has…

[blissfullyecho]

2025 is:

Baccarat Rouge 540, La Perla lingerie, Chanel No. 5, caviar and oysters, first-class lounges, Soho House memberships, Hermès Birkins, Dior sunglasses, Van Cleef, Cartier, Tiffany, Ritz-Carlton spa days, Nobu dinners, St. Barts holidays, Pilates reformer classes, Montblanc pens, bulletproof coffee mornings, St. Regis afternoon tea, skiing in Aspen, sailing on a Sunseeker yacht, dating men wearing custom-tailored suits, handwritten thank-you notes written with custom stationery by Smythson, interior design consultations, negronis by the fireplace, silk pillowcases, cashmere throws, helicopter rides to the Hamptons, fine art auctions at Sotheby’s, private wine tastings in Napa, chef’s table dining experiences, Le Labo Santal 33, Rolls-Royce chauffeured rides, horseback riding in the English countryside, Ladurée macarons, Rolex watches, a Montauk beach house, Louboutin heels, afternoon reads of The Financial Times, medical-grade skincare routines, investing in blue-chip stocks, attending Paris Fashion Week, tennis matches at Wimbledon, and Courchevel ski chalets.

[edward-munson]

kissing the cold away | E.M.

Summary: Eddie always visits you at the coffee place during his breaks, ordering the same drink every day.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!reader

Word count: 1.6k

No warnings

❆☕︎

Eddie walked in the coffee place, trying to warm his hands that were almost hard as rock from the cold. It was snowing outside, and he was on his break.

The Hideout was in the same street as your work. He would always come to get coffee whenever he was free in the afternoon. It was always almost by 4 pm. The bell above the door rang and you looked at it, facing him. He was wearing a black beanie, leather jacket on top of a sweater and ripped jeans. God. He can never let go of his style, even when it's freezing cold.

He sits on the stool close to the espresso machine. He loved the smell of it. He loved the smell of it mixed with your perfume, actually. And it's probably something he could never admit out loud. You turn around and shoot him a warm smile. One that makes your eyes crinkle. He smiles back at you and crosses his arm on top of the counter.

"What can I get you today, nerd?"

He grabs the menu from the counter and lifts it up to his face. You roll your eyes. He pretends he's reading the list of coffee options. You know he just likes to drink cold brew with almond milk. You don't know how or why. Even if it's not that, he just chooses a Frappuccino instead. You think it's because it's warm inside, because how else would he drink that outside? Might as well just pick up the snow from the floor and make a snow cone.

"Uhhhh" He stalls, purposely. "I'm going to want a cold brew with almond milk. And please add extra ice"

You gasp. You're not sure if he's joking or not. He starts chuckling, throwing his head back.

"Wouldn't you like me to pick some ice from outside? Maybe there's some with pee on them" You retorted, playfully mocking him.

"Now that's–" He points his finger at you in objection "Really low of you, honey"

You melt with the nickname. Your ears start to burn immediately every time he calls you that. You're not sure it's because you're shy, or because it sounds too sweet coming from him.

You shrug and start his order as you catch up with the news of the day. He says he's going to play a small gig next weekend. You tell him you're going to have a week off next month.

He drinks his coffee and makes a scene whenever he takes a sip. He closes his eyes, knitting his brows, and his lips leaves a sigh in delight.

"You're such a dork"

He muses towards you, placing the mug on the counter, and tilts his head.

"A dork yes, but you love him"

You eye him up and down and grimace mockingly. "Yeah, you wish"

You turn your back to him, only to serve a new customer. He watches as you smile at them, giving them suggestions about the drinks. He swallows his coffee slowly, gulping when you glance at him for a split second before using the machine.

He suddenly became incapable of speaking. You're just in your usual barista uniform, your hair tied in two small braids on the front. Your eyeliner is very discreet. Eyelashes with mascara fluttering as well. Your makeup is so light, and yet it lasts an entire day.

His coffee is sitting on the counter for almost five minutes, because that's how long it took for you to finally be free to talk to him again. You look at it first, and then to his face.

"Your coffee ain't getting colder, you know" You speak up, nudging your head towards the mug.

He creases his brows in confusion, looking down at it. Eddie didn't think he was being too slow to drink his coffee today and you seemed to have noticed it though.

"What do you mean? I'm a slow drinker" He tries to be bold about it, but you scoff at him.

"You almost always inhale your drinks. Unless it's a Negroni, which is like the worst drink ever"

Eddie opens his mouth in offense. "Don't you dare speak of the best recipe invented!"

You're staring at him, defiantly. You're leaning against the counter, holding the edge of it with both hands. He downs the entire cold brew, placing the mug back on the counter. He licks his lips and glances up at you, wiggling his brows.

"Now you're just going to get a brain freeze, dork" You giggle at him.

Eddie is the king of acting. So when you least expect from him, he shows his skills. "Ow, fuck. Ow, ow"

He's squirming in his seat, one hand spread over his forehead like he's having a headache. You immediately take a step further and hold his head with both hands, looking concerned. He removes his hand from his face and smirks at you.

"You're the most insufferable person I know, Munson" He watches as you slap his hands away, laughing at your reaction. "You finished your beverage. Now get out of here"

He is still giggling at you. Your face might show how annoyed you are, but deep down you match his energy. His sense of humor is one of the things you like the most about him. You love the way there's never a bad time for him, even if he's short on money.

"Hey, you can't kick your clients out! It's snowing outside, it's a crime to let people freeze"

When you look at him, he knows you're about to be serious. "I'm gonna commit a crime myself if you don't stop annoying me"

Your forehead is wrinkly because of your eyebrows that are knitted. He tries not to laugh at you, but he finds it difficult when he's having fun pushing you.

"Sorry, honey. Just trying to lighten up your day a little more" He raises his hands up in surrender, his bangs moving as he shakes his head.

He stays there until he has to get back to work. He tells you the most stupid jokes, he tries to flirt with your friend Betty and when you try to whack him with your dish cloth, he shields himself with the menu. Eddie makes your day better, no matter how it's going. He knows when you're in a bad mood, too, which makes him dial down his clownish demeanor.

He always offers to pick you up from work and drive you home. Even if you live only a few blocks after him. He doesn't care if he has to go back. You try to bring your own food every day so you eat better, but sometimes he makes up the idea of having different food whenever he thinks of it. And today you were going to eat pizza.

You're sitting on your couch as Thundercats is on TV. You talk through eating and watching the TV, laughing every now and then when you start gossiping.

Eddie finds the most random things to talk about and, strangely enough, you like to hear about them. He geeks out about Lord of the Rings and D&D, which you don't understand but you nod anyway.

You're talking about your plans to go to college, rambling over your insights, and how you're planning on getting a place to share with Robin. You're distracted by your own subject, when Eddie impulsively reaches out his hand to rub off the pizza sauce from the corner of your mouth. He slightly ran his rough thumb over your skin, removing the stain off of it.

He gave you a kind smile as soon as he dropped his hand back to his plate. You sheepishly smiled, like you just lost confidence by standing next to him.

Sometimes he doesn't want to leave your place, he wishes you would ask him to stay, but he doesn't want to overstep his limits. As he dries the dishes, Eddie stays in his daydream, thinking of how he could ever ask you out. Because he would love to. He just wouldn't know if you'd love to.

As you stand on your doorstep, you say goodbye to each other while he makes another joke or two. It's always like that, he wants to make sure you're still having a good day when you lie in bed.

It didn't cross your mind before, but now it feels like you could actually have him around sometimes. Do some sleepover, or something. You take a step towards him, lifting your feet up to stand on his height. You press your lips against his cheek, inhaling his fragrance that slightly lingers on his skin. One of your hands reaches for his shoulder for support.

Eddie stays frozen for a moment, until he holds your waist against his arm. Suddenly he doesn't feel cold anymore. He turned his head only a few inches, pecking your lips gently. They're plushy and soft. You don't know why you haven't done that before, and you're great he did for you.

He stands still, holding your face with his hand, rubbing his thumb over your chin. Both your noses are cold.

You're both a little shy. He can't express the feelings that are bubbling inside of him. But he doesn't want to cross a line yet. And he thinks you would agree with him.

"Till tomorrow, honey" He says as he takes a step back, walking to his car. "Don't forget to lock the door!"

You chuckle at his words. He's always been too protective over you.

Once he's inside his car, he buckles the seat belt and grins at himself. He's feeling like he's on cloud nine and it was only a kiss. Eddie stays in the car for a couple of minutes, digesting what happened. He tries to remember your taste, pinching his lower lip.

You're still standing by your door, your back leaning against it. Your heart is hammering against your chest, and you can't describe how good it was.

He can't wait to see you again tomorrow, and he wonders if he's still going to kiss you again. You can't wait to see him, wondering if he still wants to kiss you again.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {4}

Summary: The plan is set and it's time to get things into motion. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, abusive parents WC: 2k

One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Two Weeks Later

You were barely through the ornate arch that separated the foyer entrance from the dining room when a fist of razor sharp fingernails cut into your upper arm. 

“Hi,” you greeted your mother as she dragged you into the room lit by a gilded chandelier. You were late to the regular Friday night dinner but time had slipped away from you at Arthur’s apartment. Charles had picked you up after flying in from Maranello and taken you to Monaco to finalise the plan after officially signing a contract his lawyers had drafted. The risk of exposure was too great to be an employee through his Ferrari team so everything had gone through his personal solicitor.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me you ungrateful little-sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you would be bringing a guest.” Your mother’s eyes widened as Charles stepped in behind you, his palm warming the small of your back. “I’ll have one of the maids set a place for you, Charles.”

You had coached Charles through the cutlery he could be expected to use, even in an informal setting such as a family dinner. The variations of forks would no doubt be a test that your mother would use to judge the latest guest. In return, he had posted cleverly taken photos throughout the week to ‘soft launch’ the relationship. 

“Madame Florence told me that you missed your piano session this afternoon,” your mother said sweetly, but her nails dug deeper into your skin. 

“That was today? It must have slipped my mind, you know what a ditz I can be.” Your aloof tone only set to anger her more but you knew she wouldn’t lash out while Charles was around. She always had to maintain the perfect image, like how her bruising grip was hidden by the sleeve of your shirt. 

“You play piano?” Charles asked as your mother turned on her stiletto heel and took her place beside your father at the head of the table. 

“Not by choice,” you muttered.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them,” you mother quoted Shakespear like the actress she had failed to become. “She might not be the first, but my daughter could achieve greatness if she applied herself and actually attended the lessons.”

“That must be the nicest thing you have ever said,” you commented as you took a seat opposite them. Charles pushed your chair in before taking his beside you where Alicia had placed a setting for him, an appetiser already waiting. “Charles is staying over so perhaps I can have some greatness thrust upon me tonight.”

Your mother choked on her negroni and the oyster fork slipped from your father’s hand, clattering to the fine china plate. Even Charles looked a little shocked but he quickly recovered.

“If that is alright with you of course, not the uh thrusting, but staying the night,” he said after clearing his throat. 

“This isn’t a hotel,” your father stated. “Or a brothel.”

“Not sure about that since everything around here is completely fucked,” you whispered to Charles and caught the hint of a smile before turning to the head of the table. “Father, Charles is my boyfriend - get used to having him around.”

Charles’ fingers laced with yours and he kissed your knuckles. “At least until you move in with me.”

“Let’s just take a step back,” your father chuckled. “Boyfriend?”

You nodded and watched the amusement fade. 

“You are dating the boy you spent weeks, months, crying over?” your mother asked with a laugh. 

“Really?” Charles asked behind the napkin that he patted along his clammy upper lip. 

“I was an emotional teenager, but I grew out of it - don’t take it personally,” you lied. 

The dishes were swiftly taken away and replaced with the main course and Charles frowned when he saw the child size portion on your plate. “We can share,” he offered, thinking that his sudden arrival for dinner meant the kitchen was short of food. 

“She’s on a diet,” your mother tutted. “It’s Social Season and we can’t have all those lovely gowns ill fitting.”

You stabbed the salad fork into a sweet cherry tomato and watched the seeds and juice splatter over the lettuce, morbidly imagining it was a certain someone across the table. You didn’t bother to even finish the plate of rabbit food before you excused yourself. 

“You can stay,” you said to Charles when he rose to follow. “They’ll let you have dessert.”

“I’d rather your company,” he replied before turning to your parents. “Enjoy your evening.”

You felt his presence following closely up the stairs and you knew he was biting his tongue from the waves of discontent that seemed to physically roll off him. The second floor of the mansion was quiet as you walked the hallway and turned a corner to see Alicia step out of the staff stairwell. 

“Rough night,” she said with a sad smile and held out the tray of food Chef Alain had prepared. This time there were two portions of dessert. Her eyes darted to Charles and she started to speak before closing her lips. Finally, she worked up the courage and asked, “Are you alright? I can call Franco.”

You smiled genuinely at her concern and placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her that Charles was a welcome guest. “I’m fine, thank you, no need for the big guy. But, could you please let him know we’ll be heading out the south entrance tonight?”

Alicia nodded and relaxed slightly. Unable to fight the habit, she bobbed sedately and ducked back into the shadows of the stairwell. Your parents may have acted like the house staff didn’t exist but they were always around, and they always saw what the outside world didn’t. You would have lost your sanity long ago if it weren’t for their help, even if it meant risking their jobs. 

Charles took the tray from your hand and you opened the plain white door that looked just like the others down the hall. He remained silent as he cast his eyes around the room that dripped lux from every surface. The plush carpet absorbed his footsteps as he stepped into the sitting room and the sheer curtains wavered in the breeze coming in from the sea beyond the wide balcony. In one adjoining room a large canopy bed spread across a wall decorated with blue and silver hand painted damask designs while an equally large desk sat in another connected by open glass doors.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he placed the tray on the coffee table and continued his quiet judgement walking around the rooms. 

“Still not up to your standards?” you asked as you followed him to the bed that he sat comfortably on, toeing his shoes off before kicking them up and reclining back among the pillows.

Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I think I like the dump better, at least it has some personality. You don’t even have any photos on the wall.”

You thought about correcting him again for calling your sanctuary a dump, but gave up on the idea. Instead, you reached under your bed for the duffle bag you kept there and disappeared inside your wardrobe to pack. “You’re in luck, that’s exactly where we are crashing tonight.”

You dumped the bag on the floor in your spacious closet and dropped to your knees before rummaging around the bottom shelves. You pushed aside a box of Prada pumps you hadn’t yet worn and found what you were looking for as a shadow dimmed your light.

“Why aren’t we staying here?”

You looked up to find Charles towering over you and sat back on your heels, pulling the gym gear onto your lap. “It’s Friday, I have a fight.”

You stuffed a sports bra and shorts into the duffle bag before adding a pair of sneakers, knuckle tape and Vaseline in too. Lastly, you grabbed the hoodie Charles had given you and tossed it on top. 

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” Charles said, blocking your exit from the small room. 

“I’ve never been forced, the whole point is that it is my choice. Now move aside.”

He ignored your request and stayed planted in the doorway as you stepped closer. “Your mother said you cried over me. Why?”

Your back stiffened and you swallowed at the memory. “You’ve seen my family, I had plenty to cry about. Maybe I blamed you one day when she caught me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care.” You tried to duck under his arm and escape but he was quicker and dropped it, catching you around the waist and tugging you against his body. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek and just how strong his body was as his arms tightened their hold. 

“I think you’re lying and I want to know why.”

“What good would the truth do?” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes and wondered when he had grown so tall. “Do you enjoy feeling guilty?”

Charles’ eyes bored into yours and you noticed the little crinkles around them as his frustration grew. “Just tell me, please.”

Your resolve broke and you shoved against Charles until you had the space to breathe. “I never got to say goodbye to him.”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Who, Jules?”

“God, I hated you,” you laughed humorlessly as you sat on the edge of your bed and looked at your hands fidgeting on your lap. “Things were great before you came around, not here, obviously, but with the Bianchi’s. We would go karting on the weekends, Mélanie would let me help her bake. I didn’t know what a home felt like before then.”

The bed dipped as Charles sat beside you and took your hand. It was one thing to act as if there was a relationship but your heart stammered a little when he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“I know now that my father already had plans for Jules before you met him, but that was when I noticed things started to change. Whenever I went to their house he would disappear, then there were no more karting days. Whenever I asked, he was busy karting with you. I thought you stole him from me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“But it made you cry.”

Your shoulders jumped with a clipped laugh and you shook your head. “You know, I never went back to the hospital after that day.”

“What day?” Realisation dawned on his face and his hand slipped out of yours as he covered his mouth. 

“I never got to finish the story. I never got to say goodbye,” you whispered as your voice broke and fresh tears burned your eyes. “And that is why I need to fight. There is so much anger inside me that I don’t know what else to do. It’s just sitting here,” you beat your fist against your hallow chest, “burning a fucking hole through me.”

A sob cracked the room as you admitted aloud for the first time something even Arthur didn’t know. You let Charles see just how close to the edge you really were and how little it would take for you to break. Strong arms enveloped you and pulled you onto his lap as you fell apart. You tried desperately to shut yourself off from the emotions but you had let too many through that it was impossible. 

“I hate you,” you rasped as you hit his chest. The punches were weak without the space to swing your body behind it, but somehow it served to hurt him more. He knew you were stronger and seeing your feeble attempts crumble cleaved his chest apart more than your words. “I hate you, Charles. I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered as he held you closer and took each hit he more than deserved. “I hate me too.”

Part Five.

[minkdelovely]

homebodies

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor x GN!Reader

tags: domestic!alastor, fluff, established relationship, alcohol consumption, not “explicit” but as a general rule MDNI 18+

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: more self-indulgence. just a little something that’s been on my mind since i watched ‘casablanca’ over the weekend. i tried my best not to get too ooc, but idk - i feel like under the right circumstance, alastor has great potential for coziness. here’s looking at you, kid.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Tonight was the night. The decision was made a week ago and there was no way you would be backing down.

You didn’t know why you had gotten the urge one day, but once it was there you were determined on getting an antique TV. It had taken visiting several antique shoppes throughout Cannibal Town, but you had managed to find one: a 1949 Packard Bell television (or possibly Hell’s greatest dupe) that was in beautiful shape.

It had been so exciting rearranging your furniture to make room for it, and you set it up to play some of the movies you had also found. The perfect cozy piece that had been missing from the lounge area in your suite. You loved how it looked with the rest of your things, fitting in seamlessly with some of your other antique finds; the morning glory gramophone being one of yours and Alastor’s favorites.

Thinking of him, you began to feel a little nervous about your impulse buy. You knew how he felt about modern technology but… would a TV from 1949 really count? If the concern was Vox, surely the Vees wouldn’t be interested in bugging this old thing?

Uncertainty won out, and you decided to conceal it with a scalloped, ivory tablecloth, placing a vase of flowers on top to complete the transformation. Just until you could work up the courage to show it to him.

You had given yourself a week, and it was finally time. It had been all planned out, from what you’d be having for dinner to the movie you would ask him to watch. The two of you had a long-standing routine of staying in on Friday nights, with activities ranging from you each settling down with a book to dancing in the lounge all while the radio played. Needless to say, it had been a long time since you had felt so nervous about him coming over. What if he really hated it? Or worse… thought it was silly?

A distinct rapping at the door interrupted your spiral, Alastor peaking his head in before fully entering your suite. Despite the number of times you had told him he didn’t need to, the knocking was a habit he refused to give up. Tonight you were grateful, as it gave you the slightest bit of warning to pull yourself together before you hurried to greet him.

He was already removing his coat by the time you reached him, and he kissed your hand in greeting when you tried to take it. A gesture that still left you with butterflies.

“Evening, dearest. Tonight couldn’t have come soon enough, I’ve been looking forward to it for days,” he sighed, finally allowing you to take his coat as he loosened his bow tie with a tug of his fingers.

You would never get used to seeing him be so relaxed around you. He was always so composed and properly dressed that the moments in which he was casual were precious to you, like a secret.

“I know, you’ve been busy this week,” you commiserated, already reconsidering your plan of action as you put the coat away. It was rare that he was tired like this. “What would you like to drink? I’ll get it for you.”

Maybe this isn’t be the best time to try and spring something new on him, you thought as he took a seat at the small table in your makeshift dining area.

“Surprise me,” he said, resting his head in his hand. His eyes trailed you as you made your way to the bar cart, the lazy smile on his face making your heart jump.

Husker had recently taught you how to make a few cocktails, the Negroni turning out to be a surprise favorite. You made two and set his glass down in front of him, exchanging a silent cheers before taking a sip.

Dinner went off without a hitch, and you took turns catching each other up with superfluous details of the week now that you finally had the time. It was during all of this that you worked up your courage to stick to the plan. Maybe a movie might be a nice distraction?

“I bought something last week that I’ve been meaning to show you,” you said, fiddling with your glass.

He raised a brow and hummed. “And why the wait?”

“I was nervous at first, how you’d react to it — it’s nothing bad!” you added quickly, seeing the look on his face. His imagination could be the worst sometimes. “Just… unexpected? I bought a TV from 1949. It’s been hiding in the lounge.”

Alastor turned to look and you got up to remove its disguise. Seeing it for the first time since covering it, you fell in love all over again. It really did fit your space so perfectly.

“It’s not… terrible,” he conceded, standing over it with a suspicious air. “It doesn’t stick out, at least. And you intend to watch it, I presume?”

Here goes nothing.

“I do,” you said, not as confidently as you’d have liked. “I, um… I was actually wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me? It’s from 1942.”

“You don’t have to keep telling me which years they’re from, dearest,” he sighed, taking a seat on the couch. “But first, I’d like another drink.”

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“I’d like to think that you killed a man. It’s the romantic in me,” Louis said from the television, and to your surprise Alastor chuckled. Was he… enjoying this? You couldn’t help but dare take a peak, and the relaxed smile you found nearly killed you.

He was actually watching it! This was a victory you’d soon not forget.

You started to covertly look over at him as the movie moved along, curious to see which parts of it he reacted to. He was so absorbed that you were able to get away with it for nearly half the movie.

Alastor nearly caught you when the Paris flashback was over, giving you an unmistakable ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ look. You couldn’t help but laugh, and he soon joined in.

You picked up on moments here and there throughout the rest of it, mostly when involving Rick and Louis. And he really enjoyed when Victor began to sing La Marseillaise, singing along with just as much passion. Laughing when Ilsa pulled a gun on Rick, disappointed when she didn’t follow through.

Before you knew it, Rick and Louis were walking off into the proverbial sunset and the movie was over.

“I wouldn’t mind if you ever wanted to watch that again,” he said, looking down at you. You had been inching closer and closer to him throughout the movie, until he tucked you under his arm.

“Really? I’m so glad you liked it!” You couldn’t fight the smile on your face. This had gone so much better than expected, and you were just so happy. “Can I kiss you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“Goodness, so well-mannered tonight,” he teased with a laugh, voice low and eyes heavy. “I suppose, since you asked so nicely.”

The kiss had started chaste enough, before he said he wanted ‘payback’.

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