#she wanted that chocolate but again it's coffee flavored there is no hazelnut filling in it

[strawberry-cowmilk]

I had one of my most insane work experiences today and now I'm sure nobody in retail is safe from the rude 9-12 year old kids not just employees of stores like sephora

[twsted-princess]

Valentine day dates with Melanie and @fumikomiyasaki's HSA oc's!!

💚🌺 Tyler 🌺💚

A pink butterfly flutters past Tyler who had been working on his next project. As he looks up to see the crystal being fly away his eyes turn to the box now next to him. It looked to be a standard cardboard box decorated in flower stickers wrapped up in a green bow. Upon opening the package up he saw a rather adorable stuffed hedgehog along with some pins, he had been wanting to get more. Along with that there was a box full of chocolate stuffed with tropical flavors like coconut cream and passion-fruit but most surprisingly coffee. As he enjoyed one of the little treats he read the letter with a little smile.

"Hello Tyler. I hope today's treating you well and you've taken a rest for yourself. I just want you to know how much I love you. You might not see it but you have nothing but the best. I love you so much. Please take good care of yourself and I'll call you later."

🌟🃏 Flynn 🃏🌟

The actor had just came back to his room having finished rehearsals for a play when he spotted a dancing pink butterfly holding a box for him. It was fairly normal looking, apart from being covered to shiny star stickers and topped with a deep blue bow. Taking the box he tips his hat at the creature as it flies away he sets the package down before looking inside. He felt a smile spread across his face, a tiny bag decorated in constellations and upon opening it he spread the shimmery sky night inspired dice onto his desk. With one in his hand he turned to the box of chocolates. There was semisweet and dark chocolates, each filled with a chocolate mousse along with little bits of hazelnut in each bite. He would enjoy the sweets later as he lies in bed with a letter to read.

"My North star, I miss you dearly. How I long to be in your arms and fly into that sea of stars. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. So what do you think of my acting? I'm only half joking, I do love you on this special day. If you see me tomorrow, greet me with a kiss~"

❤🐉 Gabrielle 🐉❤

It happened so fast, Gabrielle was simply cleaning her blades and was about to leave for the regularly scheduled D&D session when she noticed a little pink butterfly flying in with a package. It was dressed with red, black and gold ribbons all over and she stared at it until the creature fluttered away. Like it was a bomb about go off. It nothing happened. So very carefully, she opened it up and peeked inside. Immediately she noticed the red with white polka dots fabric and upon pulling it out she realized that...it was a dress. A homemade dress with a belt and even a necklace to complete the look. She stared at it feeling her face grow warmer. Letting out a cough into her hand to hopefully stop her heart from beating any faster. Pulling the dress on her bed she quickly took the letter from the box, ignoring the box of chocolates she went off to her club. But she read the letter while walking increasingly faster.

"To my dear dragon. I hope this letter finds you well, I know you're probably blushing right now but I won't jest. I really hope you like my gifts, you can wear the dress the next time we go out. Preferably somewhere more private. If you want to give the chocolates to Tesa I don't mind at all. But know this, I love you so much. I love you and I can't wait to see you again."

[reddielibrary]

prompt: both work at the coffee shop and talk sometimes but that's enough to make each of them fall for each other. one day business is slow so richie and eddie get some coffee and have a mini date in their own job!! boom then they're rlly in love and they all live happily ever after - for anonymous

written by: Alexis | @quixoticquest

read on AO3

“I’m sorry ma’am, the peppermint bark latte is a seasonal drink. We don’t serve it until December.”

“What? Are you kidding me?” The woman across the counter levelled an incredulous glare at Eddie, as if he had spit in her face instead of reporting something he thought to be very reasonable. “I drove all the way here and you don’t have it?”

“We don’t. It’s a holiday drink,” Eddie answered, clinging to the scripted explanations that usually worked on perfectly rational customers. Who the fuck wanted a hot mint chocolate coffee in the summer anyway?

This woman, however, was anything but rational. “Can’t you just grab some syrup from the back, or whatever the hell you use to make it? It’s not that hard to flavor a latte.”

“We don’t have what we use to flavor it, ma’am. Since it’s, y’know, June?”

“Don’t get fresh with me! I know what month it is!”

“Then you should know we don’t have any fuc-”

“Whoa there, amigo.” The edge in Eddie’s voice died off as his coworker sidled up next to him - as if there was any room in front of the POS for two. “That’s no way to talk to a customer as lovely as any other.” Smooth as you like, Richie took over, laying it on thick. “No worries, ma’am, we might not have peppermint bark, but I’ll tell you what we do have - mint, and mocha. I’ll whip you up a latte with both and you won’t even know the difference. We don’t have the peppermint flakes to sprinkle on top but I can do chocolate shavings. Whaddaya say?”

For a tense moment, they glared between the three of them, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly style. Eddie wasn’t sure where he and Richie fell but he was pretty damn certain this nuisance customer was decidedly the Ugly.

“I guess that’s fine,” she finally grumbled, leaving Eddie to wonder where that grudging acceptance had been when he was dishing out facts.

“Awesome! Eds here’ll ring you up for that. You want any whipped cream?”

“Just to melt into the latte? No thank you.”

The awful woman passed over a wad of bills and moved on to the pickup counter without even dropping her change in the tip jar. When no one came through the dinky door at the front of the shop, and no one to the register, Eddie took up the flimsy plastic sleeve of hot cups Richie had been using to stock up, before he swooped in to save the day.

“I could have handled that,” he mumbled next to Richie as he shoved cups into the rack, unable to use his normal volume with the Peppermint Bark Bitch within earshot.

“You could have,” Richie exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically, squirting equal parts mocha and mint into the steaming cup in his hand. “You would have cursed her out and it would have been glorious. I might weep hot tears of joy just thinking about it. But also, like, you probably would have gotten fired, which isn’t so glorious, ya know? ‘Specially since I’d be so lost without you.”

Richie winked, and topped the dumb latte off with a sprinkle of the aforementioned chocolate shavings, before passing it down to the pickup counter. Eddie stood there, hands planted on his hips, frowning - doing a very good impression of someone who didn’t get flustered at the mercy of one stupid wink.

With that awful woman on her merry stupid way, the rest of the shop appeared exceedingly empty. Four o’clock on a weekday in the summer wasn’t the most prolific hour for a small town coffee shop, with lunchtime passed and the morning rush long over - which meant all they could really do before their shift was over, was clean and restock until someone else came in.

When it came to maintenance, Eddie always worked faster than Richie, wiping down the machines and filling the cups and lids like a champ - while the dumb brunet spent ten minutes at a time with a rag in the pastry case. Depending on how long they had been there, he may or may not start whining too. Whatever the reason for Richie’s shitty cleaning ethic, though, he made up for it in spades with his customer service. How he got through the full five or six hours without throwing a piping hot cup of coffee in some asshole’s face, Eddie would never know.

“This is boring,” Richie huffed, already whining as he crossed his arms leaning over the counter, where the orange afternoon sun set all the muted browns in the wood and his hair and apron to sepia. “I dunno why mid shift has to do this. Night shift does a whole fucking sweep of the place and God knows only the truckers and drunks are gonna be in here then.”

“Maybe food service isn’t for you,” Eddie mentioned, just barely managing to keep the smile from curling in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re right.” The four-eyed brunet sighed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders (he didn’t), spinning to perch the other way, with his elbows balanced on the counter. His voice took on a soulful southern twang. “Mama always told me to get outta this one horse town. That I was born for the stage. That we’re all born superstars. She’d roll my hair, and put my lipstick on, in the glass of her boud-”

He got a face full of coffee-soaked rag, courtesy of Eddie. “Those are the lyrics to Born This Way!”

He didn’t realize he was staring until Richie transitioned entirely, hauling himself up to stand straight, for once.

“You don’t belong here either,” he mentioned, pointing a finger toward Eddie’s chest. “I’d peg you for a lawyer, but I’m not sure that mouth of yours would fly with the judge.”

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie retorted. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he wanted, or where he wanted to be. Just that this job payed a little better than minimum wage, included tips, and would hopefully get him somewhere better, someday.

He could think of one thing he might want though, glancing sidelong at Richie, aimlessly tidying the display next to the counter. And he didn’t even have to pay for it at all.

“I can’t really think of anything else to straighten up,” Eddie admitted eventually, rubbing his teeth over his bottom lip as his gaze trailed around the service area.

“You know what that means. Break time!” Spinning on the heels of his worn-out Chuck Taylors, Richie yanked a plastic cup from the stand - indication enough that he was going for his usual frozen favorite. “I’m making myself a drink.”

Suddenly, spurred by his presumption, an absurd idea came over Eddie. Without really thinking, he came forward and snatched the cup out of Richie’s hand, with all the gusto of someone following through with a concise course of action. This, however, was anything but.

“I know how you take yours,” he finally said, his mouth working at the same speed as his brain. “Bet I can make it perfectly.”

Richie blinked for a way too long second, long enough that Eddie’s blood started rushing with the weight of how stupid he was being. But finally, the idiot’s face took on a look of mock judgement, and he crossed his arms with put-upon petulance.

“Alright, Edspresso, do your worst.”

Calm again, and set to task, Eddie set the cup down on the prep counter and got to work. “A large caramel mocha frappe, no espresso,” he explained, narrating his actions with a dramatic roll of his eyes as he shovelled ice, milk and syrup into the blender. For a few seconds the tiny coffee shop filled with the buzz of the spinning blades, and Eddie remained silent until the noise settled, along with the thick concoction.

“Caramel drizzle around the cup,” he continued, demonstrating just so (with expert drizzling skill, if he did say so himself). He poured the frappe mixture into the cup, and darted away to grab the whipped cream can out of the ice bin. “Extra extra extra whipped cream, and to top it all off, caramel and chocolate drizzle.”

When all was said and done, with the dome lid capped over a mountain of whipped cream shooting out the hole in the middle, Eddie presented drink and straw to Richie, smiling rather smugly.

“In short, a diabetic coma waiting to happen.”

That familiar, toothy grin split onto Richie’s face, and he slow clapped for Eddie (a ridiculous gesture that definitely didn’t have him several sorts of secretly flattered).

“Well how ‘bout that.” The frappe passed from Eddie’s hands into Richie’s and he took a sip off the straw, indulging a few lip-smacks, wafting the cup under his nose as if it were wine. “Not bad, Eds, not bad. Your top drizzle is a little sloppy but I know the nozzle on the chocolate is fucked. Solid nine and a half.”

“Oh buzz off, Richie.” Eddie made to jab the idiot in the ribs but Richie was too fast, side-stepping with all the grace of a gangly newborn horse. The idiot then set his frozen confection on the counter, and plucked out another plastic cup.

“Now for you.” Winking again, Richie bopped the cup against Eddie’s nose, but was gone before the shorter brunet could protest - and the potential of Richie knowing how he took his coffee was just too great to resist, and so he clammed up.

“Medium iced hazelnut,” Richie began easily, with the tone and air of a proper English butler whilst shovelling ice and squirting flavoring. “Little less ice. Two sugars, two skim, two shots of espresso - which is probably why you’re so wound up all the time, but that’s none of my business.”

A sprinkle of sugar here and a spot of milk there and he filled the rest of the cup with coffee, gave it a good mix, and snapped a lid on before finally offering the drink to Eddie. “Short and sweet, just like you.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eddie mentioned, almost tightly as he took the coffee out of Richie’s hands, lips twitching as he fought yet another smile. Judging by Richie, who couldn’t resist a smile, he probably thought he had done a fantastic job. And to some extent, he had.

“But this is my morning order,” Eddie declared, closing his lips over the straw for a sip anyway.

Richie’s face fell. “What?!”

“Two espresso shots in the afternoon? Are you fucking nuts? My heart’ll give out.” Eddie rolled his eyes and scoffed. “If I get iced coffee later in the day I ditch the espresso and go one skim. I might even get a small too.”

“Well that’s not my fault! Sorry I don’t know the inner workings of your complicated coffee regimen!”

“Shut up, you dumbass,” Eddie griped. Before his lips could stretch too much, he took another sip, effectively quelling any inclination to smile. No way he was going to let himself finish the entire caffeine-pumped drink, though. “Besides, you were technically right anyways.”

Richie seemed satisfied with that at least, taking a moment to lick off the whipped cream puffing out over his cup. Eddie watched him for a moment, out of the corner of his eye. Even if his coffee hadn’t been completely right, there was something sort of delightful, knowing Richie had noticed enough to get his usual order down like that. All those mornings on the way to class, when Richie was scheduled and Eddie wasn’t. Busy with the regulars, and still managing to remember all those details.

Eddie could only wonder if Richie remembered them for all the same reasons.

“Hey, can I try?” Richie asked all of a sudden. “I’ve never had hazelnut before.”

“I thought you didn’t like espres-” Without warning, Richie’s head loomed down and close, and just when Eddie thought he might steal a sip from the straw, he shifted forward instead, slotting their lips together.

Richie’s mouth was cold from his frappe, and his breath tasted like mocha more than it tasted like caramel. Eddie blinked for a few endless seconds, heat creeping up into his ears and cheeks, until his friend and coworker finally slipped away - still bent at eye-level.

“Well hey,” Richie murmured, voice low as his dark eyes glinted behind his thick glasses. “Hazelnut tastes pretty good.”

Eddie shoved his hand up into Richie’s face, heart pounding as the idiot yelped and stumbled back. They calmed down just in time for the bell to tinkle over the door, and work and routine resumed in the little coffee shop once again.

Tagging: @princesass-theresa @r-u-reddie @stellarbisexual 

[mf-despair-queen]

Fake Dates - Stuart Twombly

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Stuart Twombly/Reader

Word Count: 17,921

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex, Drunk Sex, Kinda Jealous Sex, Oral (both receiving), Face Riding, 69, Reverse Cowgirl, Side Sex, Sexy Finger Sucking, Making Out, Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Cowgirl, Kinda Romantic Sex, Mentions of Alcohol, Mentions of Drunk Driving (please don’t do that, it’s bad)

Notes: I will actually admit that I really liked this. That says a LOT for me! As always, if the mobile app screws with you, I’m sorry. All I can say is try opening it in the web browser if you need to, even a mobile web browser SHOULD work. Thanks to @malia--stilinski and @savage-stilinski for lurking while I wrote and editing for me because I can’t spell LOL.

“Lunch time!” You were hollering the second the clock on your desk struck noon. You barely were able to push in your chair before you grabbed your laptop, sliding it in your bag, throwing said bag over your shoulder as you moved from your spot. Bouncing towards your friend, you linked arms with her, draggin neha towards the exit and down to the cafe-coffee shop combo. Neha laughed at your excitement, joking about your love for food.

You broke away from her once you walked in, picking up a salad from the cooler and tucking it under your arm to head to the coffee counter. You ordered your two normal coffees - a tall with hazelnut cream and sugar and a tall caramel macchiato -  and shuffled towards the exit where Neha was already waiting with her own salad.

“Either you got me a coffee without telling me, you really need caffeine today, or,” she paused, nudging your side lightly so the coffee didn’t spill as you walked through the packed Google corridors, “we are expecting a third party for lunch today.”

“I hate ordering your coffee,” you smugly stated, sticking your tongue at her. “You always get something super complicated. Some… grande low-fat Italian Roast coffee with 2% milk and extra espresso and exactly two sugars, no more. Whip cream and caramel flavor and… No. Too much to remember.”

“It’s delicious though,” she hummed.

“Right,” you returned. “We know I’m not allowed more than one cup of coffee every few hours. So, yes. Stuart is joining us for lunch. He texted me about a half hour that he was on his way over. He had his optometrist appointment earlier and is just coming in for the afternoon. He said he would join us for lunch before we head back to the office.”

“Are you sure you want me there then?” She asked with an eyebrow raised. “I don’t want to interfere with you and your boy.”

“My little Stu Boo?” You laughed, Neha smirking at you. “Don’t give me that look. It’s just a nickname. You know that. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.”

“Right,” she drew out skeptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We are just friends, Neha! Nothing more, nothing less. He is my best friend and has been since the internship. I do not, and I repeat, do not have feelings for Stuart Twombly.”

She hummed under her breath, sounding unconvinced at your words. Instead of arguing further, you dropped it, changing the topic until you hit the lounge you normally ate in. The room was filled already, but your spot in the back corner was reserved by the sweater-wearing dumb dork that was your best friend. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, slumped backwards in the plush cushions of the couch he was sat upon. His nose was buried in his phone as always, not bothering to look up when you pushed the door open with some struggle. You smiled, seeing he had forgone his beanie for once. His brownish colored sweater hung open lazily, a white button up under it, his black undershirt poking through the top unbuttoned buttons. His hair stuck up in a stylish quiff, the dark chocolate color looking fluffy on his head.

“I see a Mr. Twombly in our midst,” you hummed, holding out the caramel macchiato. It was taken without looking, Stuart simply waving in acknowledgement. You sneered at him playfully, placing your coffee and salad on the table, purposefully pushing past him to take the seat to his right. “Excuse me,” you joked, tucking your skirt under you, dropping onto the couch next to him. Your flip flops slid off your feet, your legs curled under your form where you were planted.

“That’s rude,” he deadpanned, sipping his coffee. He glanced at Neha, who shook her head. “How do you put up with her?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” Neha laughed, suggestively glancing between you both. “She’s your best friend.”

“I regret that decision every day.”

“I regret it too,” you snapped back at him. “Because your rude ass got tacos on your way here from the eye doctor and you didn’t even bring me some? It’s from Jose’s too. That’s the best tacos in town, dude. You left me to get some shitty salad from the cafe. Friendship officially ruined.”

“Right,” he flatly replied, opening the bag of food he had on the table. He pulled out his platter, two loose tacos wrapped neatly on top of it. You squealed in delight, taking the tacos. “I know you and tacos, Y/N. I would have been disowned if I didn’t get you the carne asada tacos.”

“I love you,” you cheered, kissing his cheek. Wiping his cheek in disgust, the man grimaced and turned away, unamused.

“What about me?” Neha complained.

“Get your own damn tacos,” came Stuart’s blunt reply.

“Rude!”

You pulled out your laptop, browsing the internet and your calendar as you sat in silence. The only sound between your trio was the crunching of food and the slurping of drinks, joined by occasional typing of your keyboards. Three laptops covered the table, joined by the scattered cups and food wrappers. It wasn’t unusual for your group to not interact. It was the peace of being with each other that gave you solace during lunch. No words needed to be shared unless there was something that needed to be discussed.

But, seeing as you saw their faces five days a week for nine to ten hours, if not more, you were able to have plenty of conversations to pass the work time.

You leaned back in your seat, watching some stupid video on Youtube your friend shared. Neha was typing furiously on her laptop, her smile curling occasionally - probably flirting with some tech guy again. Stuart was nose deep in his phone once more, his fingers skillfully swiping at the keyboard. He was hunched forward with his elbows on his knees, letting you run your fingers along his back absentmindedly, It helped him relax; it helped you relax. Only you were allowed to touch him like that. He always said he liked your light touch.

Perks of best friendship.

“Hey, Y/N,” Stuart called. You glanced over at him in confusion, Stuart’s phone held up in selfie mode. Your head cocked to the side, unable to smile before he snapped the photo. You blinked once, scooting closer to his side to look at the photo.

“Stu, I look horrible in that!” you cried sadly. Stuart held a cute dorky, lopsided smile in the photo and you? You looked like a deer in headlights, confused why the nerd specimen beside you was calling out for you. You eyes were wide and your lips were slightly parted, head cocked ever so slightly.

“Not possible,” he said quickly, typing away on his phone. You leaned your chin on his shoulder, watching what he was doing. He had sent the photo in a chat it seemed. “I know, I should have asked first, but my friends wanted to see you.”

“You have friends?”

“Very funny,” he snapped. “They’re my best friends from home. They didn’t believe me when I said I you were my friend. They couldn’t believe that I, Stuart Twombly, had a girl friend. So, they wanted proof!”

You blinked, looking at him. “Girl… friend?”

“Yeah. A girl that is a friend,” he said, his head turning towards you. His eyes narrowed on your blank face. “What?”

“Your friends asked about you having a friend that is a girl?” He nodded slowly. “Because you told them you have a girl… friend.”

“Yeah,” he said, almost matter-of-fact.

“You didn’t think to tell them you have a female friend?” You continued.

“What’s the difference?” he asked, not understanding what you were trying to say. “Female, girl. Same thing in the end.”

“Alright, let me try saying it like this,” you tried. “Stuart has a female friend.”

“Yeah.”

“Or,” you breathed. “Stuart has a girl friend.” He blinked. “Oh my God, Stu. Girlfriend! They think you have a girlfriend! As in romantically. As in you are dating! As in you just sent them a picture of us so they think I am your girl.”

“You are my girl though.”

“Not like that!” You cried. “They think you kiss me. And we hold hands. And probably other perverted things because guys are fucking horn dogs and only think with the cocks.”

“Hey,” he sighed, almost offended.

“You can’t say you don’t,” you glared. “Need I remind you about the strip club? Or that time I walked into your dorm and you were-”

“We don’t talk about that!” he blushed, cutting you off before Neha could hear. “We agreed never to bring that up again.”

“Porn is normal,” you whispered under your breath for him to hear. “Masturbating is normal.”

“But you seeing me jerk off isn’t,” he seethed. “But, you’re wrong. These guys have known me for years. They are the only people I was able to talk to in high school. They know me and they know that I don’t mean girlfriend. Just wait and see when they reply.”

“Ten bucks says they think we’re dating,” you huffed, grabbing your phone from your bag. You stayed pressed to his side, arms wrapped around his bicep, hugging him close. Stuart didn’t protest, just resumed what he was doing before his group chat popped up you assumed. You smiled at the lock screen, a group photo of your team when you went out for dinner your first day on the job. Everyone was drunk and acting silly, but it was a night to remember.

You quickly unlocked your phone, giggling at the home screen. It was of you and Stuart, his goofy smile present on his face. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, having taken them off while you were studying in his room that day. You were pressed to his side, similar to how you were now, licking his face playfully. His words replayed in your mind, him scolding you for such a thing. “Don’t fucking slobber on me, your punk. I will lick you back!” He never followed through, but his reaction made you laugh and fall off his bed.

“Stu,” you said in a sing-song voice. “Let’s selfie!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No!”

“I will lick you again.”

“Fine.”

You grinned, Stuart turning to your camera, allowing you to take multiple selfies of you both making silly faces. You added a few Snapchat filters for fun, laughing between each photo. The final one was using this flower filter, flowers hover above both your heads and he leaned over, placing a firm kiss to your cheek. It was something Stuart did occasionally before hugging you close to him, constantly thanking you for being there for him. It was his subtle way of showing affection for his best friend and never once did you feel like it was something more. The butterflies in your stomach arose just by being by his side, the friendship between you both making your mood lift easily.

You didn’t like him romantically. It was just friendship.

Stuart stared at the final result, scowling. His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, shaking you off his arm to elan back. “Send that to me,” he whispered lowly, biting at his cheek. “It’s cute.”

“Never say that again,” you giggled, leaning back against the couch with him. You did as he asked regardless, tucking your phone away. “The word cute does not fit coming from your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s better,” you smiled.

His phone chimed before he could retort, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Time to prove you wrong,” he grinned, opening the chat he had with his friends, effectively titled “404! Group Name Does Not Exist”, which made you giggle. The chat bubbles were popping up quickly, responding the Stuart’s crappy photo of you and him.

[Not a Disney Prince: Omfg Stu has a girlfriend. And she is hot as balls!]

[Memester: He wasn’t joking. This isn’t a drill guys! Stuart Twombly is dating the most beautiful girl in the world]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: What if he just conned some girl into posing with him?]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: How can we be sure he’s not playing us?]

[Not a Disney Prince: DON’T RUIN MY DREAM, GREG. OUR BOI IS NO LONGER SINGLE FINALLY.]

[Memester: I’m so proud. Our boi’s getting action finally. Did you fuck her yet?]

[Memester: Like… was she good?]

[Memester: Don’t hold out on us, dude. Deets.]

[Not a Disney Prince: He’s a prude. He’s probably still a virgin LOL]

[Memester: I just want what is best for him! I want him happy, healthy and laid by his hot gf because come on. Stu needs to be laid. And with her? I approve of him losing her virginity finally.]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: Guys, he’s not a virgin. He lost it in college, remember?]

[Memester: …]

[Not a Disney Prince: Were we drunk when he told us?]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: Hammered.]

That’s there the chat ended. The phone slipped from Stuart’s hand, his eyes wide with disbelief. His lips parted, ragged breaths escaping. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, his hands shaking. “No, no, no,” he panted, his hands knotted in his hair. The man tugged anxiously at his locks, mumbling to himself, “This can’t be happening. Fuck, no. This can not be happening.”

“Stu, it’s fine,” you whispered, picking up from phone from the ground. You held it out for him, Stuart making no move to take the device from you. “Why not just tell them it’s a misunderstanding? Accidents like this happen. It’s just a miscommunication. Just tell them we aren’t dating. We are just friends.”

“No,” he replied shortly, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Why not?”

“I can’t,” he breathed, clammy hands rubbing to his jeans. “You just don’t get it. I can’t tell them that. They’re my best friends…”

“Stuart, that doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you tell them?” You pried lightly. You placed your hands on his, his having clasped together in his fit of anxiety.

“I can’t,” he cried quietly. “I can’t lose them.”

“Stu?”

“I’ve never had many friends, Y/N. These are the only friends I have outside of you guys. And I’ve always been the… the nerd of the group. And I can’t imagine what they will say if I tell them I’m still single. It’s just… They’ll unfriend me because I’m just lame. I’m not cool. I’m not manly. I don’t fit in. I’m turning twenty-three soon and I’ve never had a girlfriend while they’ve had plenty. They joke enough that I’ll end up alone but if I tell them they’re wrong, they’ll leave me forever. I just want to fit in with these guys. I want them to know that I can have a beautiful girl too. That I’m capable to dating, not just computer shit. I don’t want them to look down on me because of this. I can’t…”

You frowned, sympathizing with the man. Even if it was a horrible decision, you understood why he was acting this way. You had your fair share of friends leave you for stupid things, especially when it came to not fulfilling their expectations. And Stuart had the extra pressure of being ‘manly’ to them, even if you thought it didn’t matter. Guys were complex and had this need to stand up to their friends views, showing how cool they could be. Stuart wasn’t the most manly man around, but he wanted to fit in with his friends as much as you would want to with friends back home. He was scared of losing the people closest to him, the fear of them making fun of him and leaving him for good for something as stupid as a miscommunication hanging over his head, and you couldn’t argue with that alone.

You sighed, giving him a small hug. Stuart sunk into your hold, massaging his face. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed.  

His phone chimed again, both of you staring at the messages that popped up.

[Memester: Isn’t Stu coming home in like… a week?]

[Not a Disney Prince: Oh yeah! HE IS.]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: So, why doesn’t he bring his girl with him? I’d love to meet her. Any girl that can win Stu’s heart must be awesome.]

[Memester: Greg, as always, makes the best suggestion in the world. I wanna meet her too! We need to meet this girl and find out why she is dating someone so far out of her league!]

[Not a Disney Prince: Hey! That’s our friend, Joe. We are supposed to be happy that he found a girl that is obviously smart, beautiful, and can stand his sarcastic ass for more than five minutes.]

[Memester: I am happy! It’s just… did you see her? Maybe she is a Stuart clone and we don’t know it though? That’s why he got such an awesome girl finally. He held off until he found a perfect female specimen!]

[Not a Disney Prince: STUART TWOMBLY. CAN YOU BRING YOUR GIRL HOME WITH YOU WHEN YOU COME VISIT? WE WANNA GET TO KNOW HER! SHE SEEMS COOL AS FUCK]

[Bananas Aren’t Just For Eating: Why all caps?]

[Not a Disney Prince: Emphasis.]

Stuart pursed his lips, staring at his phone in thought. His head turned to you, leaving you to melt in his orbs. He looked almost like a lost puppy, the liquid caramel color dripping over you. His glasses always made them darker - the color more like honey without them - but they were beautiful. Your heart broke slightly at the lost look he held, a spark of something unknown hiding in his slightly dilated pupils. His tongue ran over his lips, wetting them. He ruffled his hair, the ends sticking up more than before. He wanted to speak, his mouth opening and closing multiple times in an attempt to mold his scattered thoughts into coherent strings of words.

“I think I have an idea,” he finally choked out. “But, you have full right to decline.”

“What is it?” you asked hi, blinking slowly. He laced his fingers together, his foot tapping rapidly to the floor. You could see beads of sweat building on his forehead, a clear sign of his nervousness. You hesitated briefly before reaching forward, taking his hands in yours. “Stuart, you can ask me anything. I’m here to help.”

“Go on a date with me.”

His words were so fast, you were caught off guard. Your mouth opened, closing when nothing but a short croak came out. Stuart cast you a short glance, his eyes pleading with you with inaudible words. Your hands around his tightened subconsciously, letting out a shaky breath. “C-come again?”

“Maybe I should clarify,” he whispered. “Go on a fake date with me. I’m going home in a week. I haven’t seen these guys in months. Y-you can come with me as my… as my fake girlfriend just to show them that they are right. Then, we get back, we can fake break up because we thought it was better to stay friends. Then they won’t pick up on the lie. Everyone’s happy! I just… I’m scared of them finding out the truth and they leave me. So just one small, fake little date, appease my friends, and we can go on with our lives.”

“Why me?” you asked him. His eyes fell to the carpet, pondering for a second before he spoke.

“Because you’re my best friend and I trust you to do this with me. You know me better than anyone and I can’t do this without you.”

You stayed quiet, biting your lip. Something swirled in your gut, the feeling wrenching from side to side. I felt wrong to lie but, at the same time, it felt right to agree. It would just be one night. What harm could it do, right? He was your best friend and he made you happier than ever. Why not make him happy for once?

“Alright,” you finally squeaked, Stuart turning to look at you. “Anything for you, Stu. You are my best friend. You are one of a kind. Besides, how can I say no to a hot nerd like you?” Stuart chuckled, shaking his head. “Tell your friends I’m in. And… come by tonight. We will come up with a game plan for this fake date.”

“You,” he breathed, pulling you into a rare but tight hug. His arms looped around you with ease, crushing you to his chest. “You are a literal angel. What did I do to deserve you?”

“You got stuck with me during the internship and I wouldn’t leave you alone,” you laughed. “We just click, Stu.”

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile on his phone. “I’ll be over around seven tonight, We have a week to prepare. We need to know everything about each other. No holes. My friends will pick up on them and they’re going to want to make sure you are ‘right’ for me.”

“So,” you hummed, nuzzling into his cheek. “Studying!”

“Yeah,” he grimaced, poking at his ear. “Assuming I’m not deaf.”

“Get over it,” you laughed, kissing his cheek. “I’m gonna head back to work. Don’t forget. Studying, tonight, seven sharp. Bring pizza!”

Stuart waved you off, whipping out his phone to reply to his friends. You caught a short glance at his words as you packed your bag, gathering your garbage.

[Tech Lord: She’ll be coming with me because of you losers. Just… don’t scare her away please. She’s too good to lose.]

You smiled to yourself, tossing your stuff and rushing from the room, skirt flowing behind you.

~

Over the next week, you spent ever waking spare second of the day curled up on your bed in your tiny apartment, boxes of chinese or pizza lining the floor, crumbs covering your sheets from your constant snacking. You had your share of laughs and cries, nose buried in books and notes, practicing until things were perfect.

The first night, Stuart had shown up at seven sharp as promised. His arms were full of books and albums, the man stumbling into your apartment before they fell to the floor. He was determined to have you learn every bit of his life, forming you into the perfect ‘girlfriend’ his friends would approve of. You, too, had gathered materials from your past, wanting to make sure that every base was covered when you confronted his friends that weekend. Your answers needed to match perfectly because one slight slip up would tip them off.

Every night, you would be tested on your knowledge of the other. Likes, dislikes, music taste, college degree, relatives, first pets, allergies. Hell, even awkward things like puberty and first times came up. In those few days, you realized something. In the time you had known Stuart Twombly, the glasses wearing nerd becoming your closest friend in all of San Francisco, you never realized how eerily similar you were. You had similar pasts - bullies, choice of college, family drama. You had the exact same tastes, be it music, food or even movies. You would turn to blasting your favorite songs until your neighbors were banging at the door, letting the tunes relax you while you took turns on flash cards of the others past.

By day four or five, you weren’t sure at this point, Stuart had the bright idea to practice actual relationship gestures. If you were to be his fake girlfriend, you had to show it. His friends knew Stuart wasn’t the type for a lot of PDA, but they would want to see some sort of affection towards your respective other. If you sat stoic side by side in front of them, they would call you out for sure.

Hugs were easy. Stuart didn’t seem like it, but he was a giant teddy bear to you. He liked to cuddle during your movie nights. He hugged you good morning and good night as a normal greeting and goodbye wherever you were. His arm casually found its way around your shoulders when you were sat on the same couch, his nose not buried in his phone and his fingers not typing away on his laptop rapidly. He was used to you in his arms; it was your normal position and everyone knew it. Nick and Billy were always jealous too because Stuart nearly punches them in the gut every time they try to touch him.

The hand holding felt weird at first. It took a while to figure out how to hold his hand properly. One way was too uncomfortable while another would be sweaty. One wasn’t super romantic while one looked like he was ready to drag you to a hotel and ravish your body. When your fingers laced together, fingers tingling from the feeling of his soft skin, things felt right. Your hand fit in his exactly, the lines of your palms matching flawlessly. It surprised you how seamlessly your hands melded together - it’s like they were meant to be clasped together in a tight hold.

The most nerve wracking was practicing kisses. You were used to kissing his cheek playfully but that was it. The thought of kissing your best friend made a shiver run up your spine, your nerves through the roof. And no matter how many times he reassured you that it wouldn’t ever be big kisses - that short, chaste kisses would suffice - you would remain freaking out internally and externally. During practice, you backed out a few times whenever he got close, a wave of panic setting in before his lips could touch yours. A few times, he would be leaning in and his hand slipped from under him, landing in your lap instead of your lips that lead to a round of laughter that lasted ten minutes at a time. When you finally got a kiss out, it was like fireworks explode, your limbs giving away even though you were sitting on the bed. It was beyond perfect, and got better with each short kiss to follow.

The night before your trip to Oakland where Stuart was from, he was staying with you. You were deep in thought as he wandered your apartment in nothing but his usual sweats, making sure everything was ready for the short drive. The entire week, you were debating with yourself. You were feeling odd with the entire situation, and it wasn’t because of the lie you were partaking in.

It was Stuart himself.

Whenever you looked at him, your heart would race. Whenever he did something, your body would heat up. The look in his eyes made you melt inside. But you shook it away regardless. There was no way you were feeling anything for him. Stuart had been your friend since the early days of the Google internship. He was the only person you could bring yourself to talk to due to shyness and you were the only person he could stand to talk to reasonably. He was your best friend and there was no way it was more than that.

Right?

This isn’t a crush, you tried to convince yourself, pushing the butterflies in your stomach out forcibly, shoveling the feelings into a grave to never see the light again. But no matter what you did, a small sliver would slip through again, making you question what was going on. And as you watched the shirtless man walk out of your bathroom, a gentle look in his honey eyes that weren’t shielded by thick black frames for once, you felt your crack once more, a small ounce of fear settled deep inside you, rooted at your core.

He gave you a tender kiss to the forehead before retreating to the living room, collapsing on the couch. The lights went out around you, your mind too preoccupied to let you sleep. You spent hours staring at the wall until you let yourself drift off, asking yourself quietly if you liked Stuart. Stuart was barely able to sleep himself. He stared at the ceiling, his fingers grazing his lips, the touch of yours still lingering more than twenty-four hours later, your last practice kiss being the prior day. His mind raced with thoughts, the man unable to clear them to find the answer he sought.

Neither of you would admit that things were deeper than you thought.   

~

“Hey! Guys!” Stuart yelled to the three guys that were standing in front of the restaurant. Stuart left your side to run towards them, the three guys cheering and meeting the Googler halfway. They were tackled into a tight hug, the foursome letting out incoherent words at each other.

You were running late, the original plan of Stuart hanging with his high school buddies delayed by multiple things. The car wouldn’t start so you left later than you wanted. Stuart had to make a stop by his parents house, leaving you in the car for over and hour before you snuck out, wandering down the street to a local park. His parents didn’t know about this fake dating fiasco and he wanted to keep it that way. It was bad enough lying to his friends. He didn’t want to lie to his parents too just for you to supposedly break up days later.

By the time you were able to meet with his friends, the sky had grown dark, the time nearing seven. Your stomach was growling when you climbed into his car, yet you were elated when he mentioned you would be joining his friends for dinner at this fancy Italian restaurant in town. You were there shortly after, his friends already waiting for your imminent arrival. And the second Stuart was parked, he was running through the parking lot.

Stuart pulled from his hug when you were slowly walking over, shaking his friends off to grab your hand. Your fingers laced together as practiced, Stuart tugging you towards the group of boys. “Y/N, I want to introduce you to my best friends. Joe, Flynn and Greg.” The three guys waves in unison, you returning with your own shortwave. “Guys, this is Y/N. My girlfriend.”

Your smile fell slightly, catching the short stutter in his voice at announcing that, but his friends didn’t seem to catch his short hiccup. They all greeted you happily, pulling you from Stuarts hold to give you tight hugs. Stuart held a sour look on his face, disliking the closeness of his friends on you. The first chance he got, you were tugged back to his side, his arm securely wrapped around his waist. You fidgeted slightly in his hold, nestling closer to him regardless.

“I hate to be the one to ask,” you chimed in, all four sets of eyes turning to you. A red hot blush filled your face, making you nervous. “C-Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

“I like her,” Flynn said, pointing at you. “Get you a girl that can eat.”

“We haven’t even seen her eat,” Greg pointed out, walking towards the restaurant with Flynn by his side. “What is all she eats is salad?”

“Naw. I can tell. She’s a pasta loving girl,” Flynn reassured. “I have this food sense!”

“Sorry about them,” Joe laughed, walking with you and Stuart inside. “They’re stupid.”

“No, they’re nice,” you giggled, Stuart smiling to himself. “But, I really am starving. Don’t expect me to share any breadsticks.”

Joe laughed, nudging Stuart. “She’s a keeper, dude.”

Dinner was slightly awkward. You were able to maintain a proper conversation with the three new en in your life, Stuart chiming in occasionally to back up your words on something. But that was the easy part. Just like Stuart, you got along with his friends easily, understanding why Stuart was as close as he was with them. But it was, once again, Stuart that made your heart rate skyrocket. Your foot tapped against the ground, Stuart’s hand placed on your knee for some unknown reason. The guys couldn’t see it, so it wasn’t necessary. But the familiar heat of his touch bled into your bare knee, making you antsy.

“I don’t get how you can put up with this nerd,” Flynn laughed, handing the waiter his card for payment. You tried to protest, Stuart’s comrades repeating their desire to cover dinner since you had come out to visit. Stuart had moved his hand behind your chair, leaned back as he listened to the conversation. His eyes were glued to the side of you face, watching you laugh at Flynn’s remark.

“I dunno,” you hummed. “We just click I guess.”

“Same,” Joe laughed. “We were the fantastic four in high school, even if no one knew us. We didn’t seem like we fit together, but we were the best of friends. We had all agreed to stick together through thick and thin. Then this fool up and left us.”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” Stuart protested.

“What happened?” you asked.

“This fool,” Flynn started, pointing a leftover breadstick at Stuart, “decided he was gonna abandon our plan to all go to Stanford because he wanted to go to Berkeley. He had full ride and everything and he gave it up.”

“Really?” you asked. You glanced at Stuart, his face a pale pink. “You gave up Standford for Berkeley? Why would you do that?”

“Better computer science program,” he said with ease. “Not like it mattered anyway. You all ended up at different schools anyway.”

“True,” Greg laughed. “Trust me, none of us were mad that he changed his path. We get it. You go where your heart tells you. We all kept in touch regardless. And we’re glad Stu was able to get where he is now. Google was always his dream after all.”

“You know,” you hummed, looking at Stuart. “I went to Stanford.”

“Oh my God!” Flynn yelled. “You squandered meeting her earlier because of your college choice? I am salty now.”

“It’s just a few years,” Stuart clarified. “Besides, I have her now, guys. That’s all I need.” He placed a kiss to your cheek, making you blush.

“You guys are sickening,” Joe fake gagged, everyone laughing. “But seriously. It’s been nice having you home, even if it’s just for dinner, Stu. We miss you around here.”

“I know, guys. It’s just hard to get away with everything back in San Fran,” he sighed. “Always busy with something.”

“Something. Or someone?” Flynn laughed, giving you both a wink. Stuart flipped him off, your head buried in his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

“We get it, bro,” Greg reassured. “We’re just glad you’re happy. You have a great job and a great girl to share your life with. It’s nice to see you smile.”

Stuart gave a half-hearted smile, the weight of the lie on his shoulders. Your own frown was hidden, feeling his tense and knowing what he was thinking. I just lied my ass off to my best friends.

Your party headed out to the parking lot, Stuart twirling his keys. “I hate to cut the night early, but we are heading home. It’s been a long day and we have to drive home tomorrow.”

“Aw, come on Stu,” Flynn whined. “We barely get to see you. And it’s barely eight! We have time still!”

“We should hit the bar!” Joe offered. “The Dutch Pot guys? Best drinks in town?”

“Hell yeah!” Flynn and Greg cheered. Stuart frowned.

“I don’t know guys…”

“Come on, Stuart,” the guys pleaded.

“You are barely ever in town. Just a few more hours. That’s all we ask.”

“We just want to spend a little more time with you before you go back to your fancy Google life.”

“Just one drink. Please?”

Stuart looked down at you his eyes asking what his mouth didn’t. You nodded, squeezing his hand that was clasped in yours. “One drink won’t hurt, Stu.”

The man sighed, ruffling his hair. “Fine. One drink.

“One drink!” the guys cheered.

~

One drink didn’t happen.

It started with a round of shots. The one turned into two. Two turned to four. The four turned into a bottle each, the guys being kind enough to order a margarita since you didn’t care for the taste of their beer. And before you knew it, your small group was beyond buzzed, laughing and chatting happily amongst each other.

You spent time playing random drinking games, drinks being downed left and right. You were even dragged to the dance floor, your body ending up pressed firmly to Stuarts. Your hips grinded against each other, the slight blur pushing all of your skeptical emotions away. His arms were wrapped firmly around you, pulling you taut to him, your sweaty bodies moving in sync. You had unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it flopping open to reveal his dark undershirt, hands running up his torso to his neck. His hands pushed against the small of your back, shirt hiked up around your waist. The skirt you decided to wear rode up whenever you pushed your ass into him, Stuart groaning in your ear.

When the current song ended, you stumbled back to the table, the three guys sitting there with bottles in their hands.

“Have fun?” Greg asked, sipping his drink with a lazy smile. “You looked like you were.”

“It was a lot of fun,” you told him, sitting in your seat. Stuart flopped next to you, pulling you against him.

“You know. It’s weird,” Joe hummed aloud. “The entire night, we haven’t even seen you guys kiss.”

“Are you the non-PDA kind of couple?” Flynn asked.

“I guess you could say that,” you chimed when Stuart didn’t respond.

“Well, break your little code just for once. Give us a kiss guys!” Flynn cheered. You and Stuart shared a glance, shrugging in unison. You leaned forward, placing a short kiss to his lips, the touch tingling. Feel accomplished that you were able to do it so easily, you smiled at him, Stuart returning it. But when you sat back, his friends seemed unimpressed.

“Lame!” Joe whined. “That’s not a kiss!”

“What?” Stuart grumbled. “Of course it was. Maybe you’re facing drunk blindness or something.”

“I can see perfectly!” Joe claimed.

“It was lame,” Greg hiccuped. “Give her a better one!”

“A nice, sloppy, juicy lucy!”

“That’s a sandwich,” you deadpanned.

“You know what I mean!” Flynn cried. “The sloppiest, wettest, most passionate kiss in the world! Do it, guys!”

The guys started chanting ‘do it, do it” repeatedly, the words getting louder every time it circled around. The words kept hitting your ears over and over again, making you nervous. Stuart rubbed your shoulder to calm you, only making it worse. He tried to protest, but the guys weren’t having it.

“Alright!” he finally cut them off. You said nothing, turning in your seat to face Stuart completely. You felt your palms sweat, shifting uncomfortably against the leather booth. Stuart licked his lips slowly, leaning in slowly. Your heart was hammering to your chest, your only thought being Fuck, we didn’t practice this. What if I suck?

But when his lips hit yours, you instantly melted into it, arms moving around his neck. His arms moved to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heads tilted in opposite directions, allowing you to get closer. His lips tasted of the bitter liquid he had been consuming, but you didn’t mind. They were still soft, enveloping yours completely in a passionate connection. He didn’t push to go further, but from what you were already doing, the world around you didn’t exist. All that mattered was him and the way he was making you feel. The kiss made your stomach knot and your skin burn.

You craved more.

He pulled away slowly, licking his lips once more. Your eyes fluttered open, your mind racing to figure out when they closed. Your hands were shaking slightly, layers of bewilderment running through your veins. You stared at his face, noting how pink lips that were slightly puckered still, swollen from the single kiss. His eyes were closed, his eyelids fluttering with the movement of his orbs behind them. Your body heated up, ready to lean in again.

Your heart nearly stopped before you did though. You were holding your best friend in such an intimate way, the shrill wolf whistles of his friends cutting through the muffled sounds in your ears, blood flowing quickly in them. You had kissed him and you found yourself wanting more. You admired the way he looked, admitting how handsome he looked. It felt good to have him pressed against you, and it wasn’t in a friendship sense.

It was like the alcohol was gone in a snap, your mind sobered. I think I like Stuart, you told yourself. Maybe it was the alcohol, but the feelings that lingered weren’t the friendship you always told yourself it was. And it scared you.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, not caring that you straddled Stuart to slip from the booth, your chest hitting his face and knocking his glasses into a lopsided position. Stuart finally opened his eyes, going to stand to join you, ready to say something. But you were gone, quick steps caring you towards the bathrooms. Stuart frowned, sitting back in his seat. He was handed a beer, Stuart not hesitating in drinking.

“That was hot,” Flynn grinned, Stuart glaring.

“Fuck off.”

Inside the bathroom, you were hunched over the sink, ignoring the looks of random strangers behind you. Your ragged breathing came out in wispy gasps, tears threatening to spill over the rims of your eyes. You quickly turned on the cold water, ignoring your hours worth of makeup to splash the droplets to your skin.

“Stuart is just my friend,” you tried to tell yourself over and over again. My insane handsome, funny, smart, sarcastic best friend. I kissed my best friend. I can’t like him more than that. It’s just friendship.” You paused, glancing at yourself in the mirror. Your lips still tingled from him, the memory replaying in your mind without end. The more it replayed, the more your heart sped up, your body burning with intensity. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening. He’s Stuart. I-I can’t…”

You thought back on the years of knowing him, from the second you met in the hall for the internship to the days sent in your apartment studying every aspect of your lives. You remembered the joy you felt from him, bewilderment raining over you as you learned everything you had in common. You thought about how comfortable he made you; cuddling in his arms randomly, hanging out and watching tv, hugging him multiple times a day, and even the rare tears he would wipe away from failed dates. He was always there for you, yet the giddy feeling you felt every time was overlooked, written off as the extreme friendship you had instead of romantic emotions. Now that you looked back on it all, you were sure you were wrong, having lied to yourself since the first time he pulled you into his arms willingly for a hug.

“I have a crush on my best friend. Fuck!”

You stayed leaning against the sink for a few more minutes, allowing your breathing to regulate slightly and the tears to cease. You splashed water to your face again, drying it before attempting to apply a quick layer of makeup to hide the redness from your crying. Once you were satisfied, you dropped them back into the bag that hung on your side, taking one more deep breath. You pouted at yourself before shaking your head, slow steps carrying you towards the door. You hand met the handle, one thought crossing your mind. This fake date was the worst decision ever.

You made it back into the center of the bar, spotting the table the guys were at. Not eager to return to the drunken idiots, you wandered towards the bar, thinking to wash down your sorrows in alcohol. Sliding into the empty bar seat, the bartender sent you a smile.

“What’ll it be, sweet cheeks?” he asked.

“Something strong,” you pleaded. The bartender, whose name tag read ‘Thomas’ , nodded, turning to make what you requested. You didn’t watch what he put in it, opting to smile when it was placed in front of you. “How much?”

“On me,” he chuckled. You sent him an odd look, Thomas giving a small smile. “I know boy trouble when I see it.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you run off not too long ago,” he said. You gave him an odd look. “I’ve worked here for a long time, sweetheart. You get used to paying attention to everything.”

“Right…”

“Care to talk about it?”

You hesitated, sipping the drink in front of you. Your face puckered at the bitter taste, shaking it to rid yourself of the strong taste. Thomas chuckled, leaning on the bar. You finally caved after another sip. “I have a crush on my best friend.”

“I don’t see the problem then,” Thomas hummed thoughtfully. “Relationships are best when it’s with your best friend. My mom always told me to be friends first then lovers.”

“But, he’s my best friend. I can’t love my best friend.”

“Well, you seemed pretty loving earlier,” he quipped. “Dancing, kissing, holding hands?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not real,” you pouted. “Its all fake. I agreed to be his fake girlfriend just to show his friends that he was capable of having one. One stupid picture and wrong words made them think that we are dating. It was all a misunderstanding but here I am, pining over my nerdy best friend because he’s just… perfect. He’s so cute. He’s handsome and funny and smart. He’s sarcastic to boot. But we work so well together and I can’t picture myself without him. And it hurts because after tonight, we will go back to being friends. But I don’t know if I want that. How can I possibly go back to how things were after tonight? We were so worried about his friends accepting me and for Stuart to fit in like he wanted, for Stuart to not lose his friends, we didn’t even think about what would happen!”

You weren’t sure why you spilled your guts to him, your heart on your sleeve to this unknown man, but he smiled at your words, taking you hand. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. Things like this happen. And it happens when you least expect it. Sure, this is fake now, but who says that next week it won’t be real?”

“Because he doesn’t like me like that.”

“I doubt that. He looked pretty upset when you ran off,” Thomas claimed. “And it wasn’t the kind of look that says his best friend ran off. It was the kind of look that says the girl he liked ran off.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I guarantee it,” he laughed. “You just can’t give up. Because something good will come from this. Who knows, maybe this isn’t as fake as you think.”

“I doubt that,” you sighed. “But how are you so good at giving relationship advice?”

“Because I was in a similar situation once with my boyfriend, Isaac,” Thomas admitted. “We were ‘dating’ girls so no one would know that we were into each other. But it made us stronger because we realized how good we are for each other. And that was five years ago. We’re still going strong. The fakeness around our relationship made our relationship something we can’t forget.”

“That’s actually really sweet,” you laughed, Thomas smiling. “Thank you. I really needed that.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. You guys are cute together, so I’m rooting for you. I hope you have soe success after this little fake date. Don’t let your feelings be fake, either.”

“Oh, witty, ain’t ya?” you joked, Thomas grinning.

“Isaac loves it.”

You didn’t notice Stuart’s eyes glued to your from from his seat the man slouched deep in the leather booth with his hands in his pockets. His teeth gnawed at his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing when the bartender took your hand in his. He couldn’t hear what you were saying to each other, but his gut wrenched in discomfort from the short action. It twisted even more when he picked up on the faint echo of your laugh over the music, Stuart bouncing unhappily.

You were his fake date for the night. Sure, his friends were drunk off their asses, but that didn’t give you any right to flirt with the bartender, especially in front of him. Watching you smile and laugh hurt, his heart aching. He was pissed, but he was also sad. His fake girlfriend wasn’t by his side. His best friend wasn’t by his side.

He wasn’t going to have it. He stood from the booth quickly, pushing past people quickly. His hand wrapped around you upper arm, your eyes wide as you turned to him. “Can we talk?” he insisted harshly through gritted teeth. You frowned slightly, opening your mouth only to shut it quickly. “Please. Like, right now? It’s important.”

“Stuart, I don’t know,” you started, Stuart tugging you off the seat.

“Just come on,” he growled, tugging you away. Thomas sent you a sad look, giving you a wave. Your drink was left half finished, your body dragged through the crowd by your nerd of a crush. You stumbled behind him, arm beginning to hurt from his hold. His long legs carried him forward quickly, your own strides having difficulting keeping up with him.

“Stu, can you slow down?” you asked, Stuart not answering. “Stu, answer me.” Still nothing. His lack of response made you plant your feet, ripping your arm from his grasp. “Stuart, will you just stop?!”

He turned to you instantly, eyes flaring. Neither of you cared that you were in the middle of the dance floor, drunken idiots dancing around you. “What gave you any right to do that?” he snapped.

“Do what?” you snapped back, not backing down. “Get a drink at the bar?”

“No!” he yelled over the music. “What gave you any right to flirt with the bartender? Especially in front of me!”

“Flirt with the bartender?”

“Yes!” he practically screamed.

“Even if that were true, Stu, you seem to forget that this is a fake date. I’m not your girlfriend. This entire thing is not real!”

“I don’t care!” he hollered. “I can’t sit around watching you do that. It hurts too much to see you flirting with him. I care about you too much to watch it. I watched you run off, worried that I did something wrong, and then this? I can’t stop feeling like… like I’m losing you. I don’t care that this is a fake date! You are my girlfriend and I can’t stand seeing you talking to him. My heart hurts.”

“Stuart…”

He rubbed his lips together, massaging his jaw. “I can’t stop thinking like this, alright? I can’t stop this twisting inside me knowing that you weren’t by my side. You should have been flirting with me. I can’t watch you flirt with someone else when those words should be for me.”

You watched the man, surprise written all over your face. He just admitted that he wanted you to flirt with him instead of the bartender, even if you didn’t do what he thought. Your heart raced, slamming against your chest. Your eyes landed on his lips, admiring how perfectly plump and pink they were. His anger from before seemed to have subsided already, and now he was antsy, shifting between his feet like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

You launched forward, the fakeness of your date no longer weighing on your mind. The only thing you could think about was him. Your lips pressed his, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close. Stuart didn’t wait to respond, his arms wrapping around your waist. He returned the kiss with the same amount of vigor, enveloping your lips with his. The sound of your lips pulling apart noisily and reconnected was washed out by the pounding music in the air. Your noses brushed together, teeth somewhat clashing whenever you leaned it. Sparks flew everytime you kissed him, your body smoldering hot in his arms. They weren’t fast kisses, but the passion level was out of this world. The taste of the alcohol on his lips mixed with his natural taste made you smile, giving him a flavor all his own. You mind was blank, nothing but him running through it.

The world around you seemed to vanish. The people dancing didn’t exist. The music was silent. The warm air was only because of your connected bodies. In that moment, with your hands on his cheeks and his moving down to grip your ass, nothing else mattered. Just the two of you in the middle of the bar, kissing like your life depended on it.

~

You stumbled together through the door, Stuart pushing you through the halls towards his room. It was a small apartment his parents continued to pay for for him so when he returned home, he had a place to stay without needed to be with his parents. They occasionally rented out the spare room in the apartment, but currently, it was unoccupied.

In retrospect, you should be glad you were in his apartment now. Alive, at that. You made the worst decision in the world, your common sense dulled by the alcohol allowing Stuart to drive you both home while intoxicated. Not the smartest decision, but your hormones were a bit haywire. He had broken a few speed limits on the way. It was also impressive that he was able to keep the wheel straight in his blurred, drunken vision, your lips pressed to his cheek and your hands running along his body. You tried to give him road head a few times, only managing to get his pants unbuttoned before he would do a sharp turn, your body flung from his lap. He was definitely antsy though with the teasing he got, jittering in his seat as he drove, overly anxious to get home - hence the speeding. You were glad, and surprised, that you weren’t pulled over with the number of traffic laws he had broken in the attempt to get home, and right now, you weren’t regretting the decision.

Tomorrow, you would though. When the hangover sets in and you remembered how you got there, you would probably vow to never drink and drive again.

Right now, your burning body was ready for more, Stuart’s touch making your blood pressure spike with desire. You were backed into the bedroom, your hands attempting to remove each others clothes. You struggled to walk and undress tripping over your own feet when you tried to pull his shirt over his head or he tried to pull and unhook your bra, your shirt left dangling on the doorknob of his bathroom. His pants were sliding down his hips, your skirt left in a heap in the hallway. Your heels clacked as you walked, Stuart bouncing to kicked his own shoes off.

Your kisses had grown messier in the tie between the dance floor and his room, strings of saliva connecting you together whenever he pulled away for air. Your tongues tangled together, his controlling for the most part, wandering your cheeks to memorize the shape and taste. His hands roamed your body as he kissed you, tugging your lip with his teeth. They were swollen from the intensity, the furious kissing making your lips hurt with want.

You bodies spun in an attempt to continue undressing. You were pushing his pants and boxers down eagerly, Stuart finally achieving his goal of unhooking your bra. But the second he pulled it free from your body, he fell back, his pants around his ankles making it hard to move. He let out a noise of surprise, falling back on the bed.

You smiled at him, dipping down to pull his pants from his legs. They were tossed behind you, breaking a lamp on the way, but you weren’t concerned with that. Your eyes narrowed on his exposed cock, licking your lips slowly at it. It was huge - larger than you were used to - with a swollen red tip. It twitched against his stomach, a string of precum connecting the tip to the happy trail of dark hair along his toned stomach. Stuart laid bare on his bed, crooked glasses on his nose as he propped himself up to watch you. He was definitely more handsome than you ever would have admitted, seeing him nude making your arousal rise. He was handsome; a toned stomach and chest, arms flexing under his weight, his giant cock twitching and ready for you, and his face staring down at you, moles lining his cheeks and his honey-caramel eyes turned a dark black. Your panties were soaked, your pussy throbbing and crying for attention.

“Fuck,” Stuart mumbled, watching you back away in nothing back your underwear and heels. You stood carefully, body wobbling from left to right uneasily to remove the heels. Your round breasts bounced with your movements, Stuart letting out raspy heaves. Your nipples were hard and taut, his mouth watering and his fingers itching to wrap around him, tugging at them. He watched you slowly shimmy from the wet panties, you ass exposed to him and your core dripping, juices running down the insides of your legs. “So hot.”

You said nothing to him, straddling him as you climbed atop him, pressing your lips to his in a steamy connection. Your tongues twisted together, swirling in circles, enjoying the taste that came from the other. Your bodies moved so you were properly laying on the bed, your nude bodies flesh against one another. His hands roamed yours as they had been since the kiss at the bar, yours tangling in his hair. Your groins rubbed against each other viciously, making your body shudder with arousal. Your core was throbbing more than before, yelling at you to do something to it.

Your lips left his, dragging down and tugging his lips with it. You kissed along his chest, flicking your tongue against his nipples to make him squirm. His breathing picked up, his eyes watching as red marks were left littering his chest. You continued down his body, licking his ab lines to his cock. You kissed it once before moving back up his body completely, connecting your lips in a sloppy, fast kiss. Your body slid up as you kissed his jawline until your lips left his skin completely, your core hovering over his face.

“Woah,” he breathed, inhaling your scent, his nose nuzzling into your clit. You mewled slightly, your nails clawing at the paint on his walls. His tongue ran through your folds, dipping into your core once before retracting. He let out a content sigh, his hands finding home on your ass. “It smells delicious. You taste even better than you smell. Fuck, I’m drooling, baby. I’m so hungry for you and your delicious pussy. Let me taste you, baby.”

“Please, Stu,” you whimpered, sinking further onto his face. He grunted happily, a low slurping coming from under you. His tongue rant through your folds repeatedly, lapping at your juices constantly. He would dip into your core, swirling circles inside you. He traced your walls, the tip smoothing over the sensitive nerves. It tapped at your g-spot, making you moan loudly. The buzz in your ears got louder, the alcohol that you had consumed making the pleasure even sweeter than normal. Or, maybe that was just him?

He made you feel amazing. He groaned against you, letting out low pants when he licked you harder and faster. He swapped between your core and your clit, spelling his name on the engorged nub and flicking it rapidly. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking at it vigorously, tugging it with his lips. You moaned louder with each passing second, head falling back as he ravished your lady parts, loving them with extreme intensity. He ripped the moans from your throat, grinning against you.

You looked down at him, his eyes piercing into you. You couldn’t see below his eyes, but they remained unblinking, only closing occasionally to savor your fluids on his tongue. He watched your face contort happily, your breasts bouncing with the subtle thrusts of your hips. Your body shifted against his lips, pressing deeper onto him.

“Stu,” you whined. You could feel his body shuffling under you, your head turning to glance over your shoulder. His hand was wrapped around his cock, jerking it quickly, matching the pace of his mouth and tongue. The precum was smeared over the tip, his fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he stroked it. Your body heated up just at the sight, a trail of saliva dripping down your chin that you shamelessly wiped away with your hand. Watching him masturbate while eating you out was a dream you regretted never having because it was beyond sexy to see. “Fuck, Stu.”

You lifted off of him only to spin around, leaning over his body. Your core still pressed to his lips while your own lips replaced his hand. You bobbed along his length, Stuart ceasing his licks long to let out a long grunt. You moaned around him, the noise vibrating his cock. His licks resumed to match your bobs, your bodies moving in sync to please each other. Your nose was buried in the dark hairs at the base of his cock, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Stuart’s tongue moved to your clit, licking it rigidly until you were a quivering mess.

“I’m gonna cum,” he grunted against your core, sucking at the nub harder than before. You return the favor, tongue running along the vein on the underside of him, sucking his length harshly. His breathing quicken, your own nostrils flaring with increasing breaths. Your core knotted, unraveling quickly in a sea of fire. You were shaking violently, Stuart’s cock twitching against your cheeks. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

You sped up, urging him nonverbally to do as he wished. He let out a straggled grunt, his body convulsing under you. Streams of white, hot cum spilled from the tip, washing down your throat in waves. You swallowed every drop with difficulty, your own body quivering with your orgasm. Stuart let out a pleased nise the second your juices hit his tongue, the man selfishly lapping at every drop you released. He swallowed every last drop, same as you, savoring every second of it.

You pulled away, licking your lips clean of the droplets that escaped. Stuart was panting, his warm breath fanning over your core. Your desire spiked once more, your pussy contracting with want. You licked his tip teasingly, the shaft hardening from the simple action.

“Baby,” he whined, nuzzling his nose into your core. “You’re so wet still. God, you’re so wet. You must still be horny.”

“I am,” you let out in a raspy, seductive voice. You sat up from his cock, your body sliding down until you were situated on his pelvis. Your hips rolled against his, wet core making his shaft more slick than just with your saliva. Stuart grunted. Peering with dark eyes at your backside. “I want more.”

“Ride me,” he said in a husky tone. “Fuck me, baby.”

You smiled, though he couldn’t see it, lifting off his body to align him with your core, sliding down on his cock with a loud moan. Stuart groaned, letting his eyes close, relaxing under the pleasure of your tight pussy around him. You felt goosebumps run up your spine, stilling for a second to feel the pulsating of his cock against your walls, making your blood pump harder.

You circled your hips for a second before shifting forward, his cock sliding free from inside you. He was buried back instantly when you sat back, repeating the process steadily. Stuart moaned this time, his eyes cracking open to watch your ass move against him. Your body moved like a pro, rocking against him expertly. His cock emerged from your pussy soaked to the hilt, disappearing back in your tight hole with ease. Your ass jiggled timely with your motions, Stuart appreciating the way you looked as you rode him.

“You’re so hot, baby,” he gasped out, reaching forward to fondle your ass cheek. He gave it a gentle smack, making you squeal and shift against him. You moved against him faster, leaning farther forward. He coughed slightly at the new feeling, the feeling constricting around him more. “Oh, shit. So tight. You’re so tight.”

“You’re so big,” you whimpered loudly, head falling back, your hair whipping in different directions. Your sped up, Stuart thrusting up to meet your movements. “Oh God, Stuart.”

His fingers traced up your spine, his stomach tightening to keep himself upright. They tangled in your locks, tugging lightly at them. You moaned loudly, letting your head fall back more, Stuart’s tugs getting harder the faster you moved. You were on the verge of screaming, arching more from his touch.

He let go of your hair, arms wrapping around your waist. He sat up completely, your body halting. Stuart kissed along your shoulder blades until he hit your shoulder, sucking and nipping at your neck. You relaxed against him, mindlessly rubbing at your clit to please yourself. Your walls clung around him, making him bite and kiss harder at your neck. His hands moved to your chest, fondling them in the palms. He tweaked the nipples between the tips, tugging at them until they were stiff.

“Stu.”

“What, baby?” he breathed. “Do you like this? You like me playing with your nipples? Or do you wish I was sucking them?” He kissed your neck once, a smile on his face. “God, I do love your tits, baby. So round, so firm. I bet you would moan loudly when I suck on them.” One hand moved down to yours, helping to rub your clit. “Such a dirty girl you are, Y/N.”

“Stuart!”

He pulled you back with him, his back colliding with the bed. You were rolled onto your sides, Stuart’s slithering down your body to lift your leg, slinging it over his waist. His hips snapped into your backside, his arm winding around your waist to keep you close to him. You moaned loudly, head falling back against his shoulder, allowing him to thrust as much as he wanted into you.

His cock hit your g-spot with ease, the arm that had ended up under your head, gripping your breast tightly. His hips bucked against your ass, the slapping sound filling the small apartment bedroom. His cock slid in and out of you without problem, shoving into you relentlessly and rubbing along your walls. You were a moan mess against him, the ecstasy you felt from his powerful, godly thrusts making your stomach coil.

“Stuart,” you whimpered, pushing back against him harder. His thrusts sped up, his head buried into your neck as he pounded into you. His cock pistoned in and out of you quickly, making your body shake with happiness. Your leg bounced against his waist, heel kicking against his ass. His hand squeezed at your breast harder, Stuart never once slowing down.

“Y/N,” he growled, pushing his head into the back of yours. His thrusts were getting sloppier already, his second orgasm obviously approaching fast. “Shit.”

“Stuart, baby,” you gasped out. You took his hand from your chest, bringing it up to your mouth. Two fingers were wrapped by your lips, Stuart’s grunting getting louder. You moaned around the two digits, sucking at them sensually, tongue lavishly circling them. His chest heaved, his sloppy thrusts hitting your backside.

“I’m cumming,” he rasped. “I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming!”

His cock twitched inside you, a loud moan in your ear ringing before he was spilling himself into you. Streams of his seed spewed from the tip into you, his thrusts slowing. The warmth of his orgasm and his seed filling you completely burned the coil that had been building inside you. You moaned around his fingers, your juices washing over him, splattering your walls. His thrusts slowed to ride out your highs, your bodies close together in a thick layer of sweat, heat, arousal and passion.

He pulled out of you slowly, rolling from the bed to stumble on uneasy feet to the bathroom. You heard the rippled of water as you laid in the bed, signalling that he was urinating before cleaning himself off. You ignore the sticky feeling between your legs, bundling in the sheets. Stuart made his way back to the bed, not bothering to get under the covers as he curled into your side.

“I love you,” he mumbled in a slurred voice, the alcohol mixing with his exhaustion. He was out seconds later, a low snore escaping his lips.

You frowned. At this point, you had sobered up, fully aware of everything that had happened between you both. You turned to look at the sleeping man, his eyes fluttering against his cheeks as he slept quietly. Your frown deepened, your heart falling. You wondered if he would remember in the morning what happened and if he would still feel the way he claimed. You wondered if things would remain this way when you returned home, or if they would be awkward, attempting to go back to the way they were.

You knew there was no going back though.

You moved his arm from your waist, sliding out of the bed. You slowly dressed yourself, taking a pillow and blanket to the couch. You sat on it, glancing at the clock before sighing, your head buried in your hand with silent tears.

“I love my best friend. But, this is all fake.”

~

Things were awkward like you had feared when you returned home.

The drive home was silent the next day, neither of you saying anything about the events in Oakland. You weren’t sure if he remembered, but he never questioned. You assumed he knew, that his words meant nothing; it was the once time that drunken words did not represent sober thoughts. So, you let it go, never once choosing to talk about it.

Your office was filled with an unusual tension, words hardly shared. You didn’t embrace each other like normal and tried to remain on different tasks that didn’t overlap to keep from interaction. You sat on opposite sides of the room, no matter where you were. You couldn’t even spare him a glance without your heart clenching, a wave of sorrow raining over you. Your heart yearned for him, but he wouldn’t return the gesture, no matter how much you hoped.

Neha tried to ask, but you changed the topic every time. You just tried to put up a front, only allowing yourself to cry in solitude at home. You loved him - an unrequited love. You wished he would remember, telling you the same three words as that night. You wished you could forget that night at the same time you wished to remember; the pleasure you felt with him was beyond you, never something you had felt before with any other guy. You had shared the perfect moment but the fake date ruined it.

It was never meant to happen.

You were sure you had ruined your friendship with Stuart Twombly because of a misunderstanding, an agreement, a fake relationship, alcohol and your personal feelings that had developed. The mixture sent your life down a spiral in the toilet, letting it plummet to the ground.

Two weeks had passed since the unspoken night with Stuart, and you had yet to share two words with him. You sat outside alone for lunch, munching on a sandwich as you typed on your laptop in an attempt to finish your current assignment. Your headphones were in, letting the music block out your surroundings.

You heard the seat across from you scratch against the concrete through the music, your eyes darting up to see who it was. You had to double take when you noticed Stuart sitting in the chair, anxiously tapping his foot. He was fidgeting in the seat, obviously nervous and uncomfortable. Carefully removing the earbuds, you cleared your throat, knowing it was dry.

“C-Can I help you, Stuart?”

The man frowned, obviously saddened by the lack of nickname he was used to. His mouth opened to answer, closing when nothing came out. He tried a few times before clearing his throat as well, licking his lips. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said flatly.

“What? No-”

“You’ve been avoiding me because we had sex.” Your face fell, the tears already forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry. We were drunk and I was mad. I-it was emotional and…”

“Just stop, please.”

“No!” he yelled, lowering his voice before speaking again. “I can’t. I’m sorry. But I can’t go on like this anymore. I…” he rubbed his lips together, scratching his chin. “I don’t regret it, alright? It was the best night of my life. And yes, I was drunk. But I remember everything so clearly that happened between us. Up until I… I came in you, I remember everything.”

“Oh,” you said shortly.

“I’m sorry though, alright. The fake date shit should have never happened. I ruined us because of my stupid ego with my friends. And I can’t stand what we have become from it. You’ve been avoiding me because whatever happened between us - it changed us. I feel like I hurt you because of what we did. And I want us to go back.”

“Stuart-”

“I can’t stand this anymore,” he cried, ruffling his hair until it was messy. “I can’t stand not having my best friend in my life.

You frowned. Ouch, was I just friendzoned?

Stuart rubbed his lips together, wetting them often. His mouth was dry and he was struggling to form words. “I-I can’t stand this awkward tension that has formed between us. I can’t stand not having her in my arms all the time, hugging her day in and day out. I can’t stand not being able to call her just because I want to. I can’t stand us not hanging out, watching movies or tv shows and throwing popcorn at each other. I can’t stand not hearing her beautiful voice, whether it’s happy or sad or confused or intrigued. I can’t stand…” he paused slightly, biting his lip. “I can’t stand that I can’t call her mine every day.”

“Stuart.”

“I can’t stand just being friends.” He stopped talking, leaning forward on the table. His hands were together in tight fists, pressed to his lips. His eyes were red and glossy, trying to hold back tears. That made you heart wrench, your own tears ready to spill. He ruffled his hair again, staring at the table instead of at you. “I can’t stand withholding these feelings - my feelings - because I know they won’t be reciprocated.”

You blinked once, taking in his words. You were confused slightly, taking a moment to understand what he was telling you. Your gut bubbled with delight, your body seeming to understand before your mind. You stared at him, Stuart glancing up when he got no response. When it finally clicked, you stood abruptly, leaning forward to kiss him.

But your heads bumped together painfully.

You fell back in the seat, both of you grunting in pain. You rubbed the spot on your forehead, watching Stuart do the same. His eyes met yours, a small laugh finally escaping both of you. The laugh gradually built until you were laughing loudly together, using the table for support.

“So um,” he started, leaning on the table. “All that practice we did kind of went down the drain, eh?”

“Oh, shut it,” you grumbled, kicking him playfully. He grinned, moving to your side of the table, taking your hand.

“Let me at least do this properly then,” he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, turning to wrap your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer by the waist, his lips enveloping yours. You felt a familiar spark, your body physically melting into his hold. It wasn’t a steamy connection - just a passionate, slow on, your feelings conveyed with every ounce of will you had. Your lips moved together, heads tilting to let the connection speak for itself.

When he finally pulled away, he smiled, caressing your cheeks with his hands. Your foreheads rested against one another, low breaths escaping your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “The fake date was the worst.”

“It really was,” you giggled.

“But, it showed me how much I like my best friend as more than a best friend.” He smiled, kissing your lips again softly. “It showed me how bad I have it for her because she is the most amazing girl in the world. And I want to prove it by taking her out.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, backing away.

Stuart chuckled, rushing to his bag and pulling out a bag of food labeled ‘Jose’s’. “I had meant to use this as a peace offering to get you to forgive me for what happened. But, I guess now it’ll be my proposal to you.”

“P-proposal?!”

“Not like that!” he sputtered. “I meant like…”

“Stu?”

“Y/N, I want to take you out on a date,” he said full of confidence, holding the bag of tacos out. “I want to take you out on a real date this time, not a fake one. Because I have a crush on my best friend and I want to take her out for a good time to show her how much she means to me.”

You blinked, staring up at him. His face faltered, scared you were about to deny him when you nodded, taking the tacos.

“You have yourself a date, Stuart Twombly,” you told him, standing up. You kissed his lips before grabbing your stuff, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “A real date.” You walked off, leaving the man to silently cheer, fist pumping the air.

~

Stuart shoved his finger into the doorbell the following Saturday night. He tugged at the collar of his button up, sweating profusely from nervousness. He glanced up at the light above your door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He took a second to sniff himself, wondering if he smell alright with the new cologne he was wearing. Following up, he pulled out his phone to check his slightly spiked hair and glasses, checking himself over. He prayed he wasn’t overly dressed in a simple button up and dark jeans. He let out shaky breaths, the long wait playing at the back of his mind.

Finally, he heard the lock click, the door tugged open. “Sorry. I was finishing getting ready,” you told him, leaning on the doorframe to slip on your shoes. Stuart didn’t reply, his jaw slack as he stared. “What?”

“You…” he tried to say, swallowing thickly. His Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down, his eyes roaming your body. You were in a black dress that hugged you perfectly with some black flats. You glanced down at yourself, almost worried.

“Do I look bad? Am I overdressed? Should I go change?” You rapidly asked. Stuart shook his head vigorously in response.

“No!” he almost squeaked, his voice cracking. He blushed at the sound, clearing his throat. “You look amazing. Like… beyond beautiful. I was just shocked because you look so good. I mean, you always look good but… I can’t believe I’m going out with you. And I think I’m underdressed now compared to you. We’re just going to dinner at Romano’s so it’s not fancy, but you look spectacular compared to me.”

“Stu,” you cut him off, pushing up on your toes to kiss him softly. “You look fine. Now, let’s go. I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

“Alright,” he chuckled. You shut your door, locking it and dropping your keys in your purse. Stuart held his arm out for you, yours linking through it as he walked you down to his car. He opened the car door for you, allowing you to slide in and get situated before shutting it for you, shuffling to the driver’s seat quickly. The ignition came to life, roaring with a slight hum. “You know, this is going to be hard.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“It’s going to be hard to focus on this date because I can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispered, tilting his head towards you with a bright smile that was uncommon for him. It was contagious, you own smile spreading on your cheeks. You leaned over the center console, pressing a kiss to his lips that he returned without hesitation. His lips remained puckered as you pulled away, smiling like the goofball he is.

“Now, date please?”

The date had been the best thing you had been on in all your years of dating. He had taken you out for dinner at your favorite restaurant, the two of you chatting like normal throughout the meal. You had agreed on no alcohol, considering what had happened with alcohol last time, opting for water instead. He paid for the meal despite your protests, saying how it was only right for the man to treat his girl to a god meal. That just made you blush.

Following the dinner, he took you to an aquarium on Pier 39. He was shy at first, your hands brushing as you walked through the glass tanks. When he finally gathered the courage to take you hand in his, your fingers lacing like they did when you practiced many weeks ago, you felt at home, nuzzling closer to him as you wandered through the building. Your hands even stayed connected when you stopped to pet the baby sharks and manta rays, Stuart recording the oy on your face with his phone.

On your way back to the car, you dragged him into a photo booth, Stuart almost reluctant at first. The pictures went fast, most being silly photos you would normally do with your selfies together. But you were able to catch him off guard on the last photo, turning him towards you so you could kiss him fully, the man melting into your touch and returning it before the click was heard. You each got a strip, your heart thumping rapidly at the smile he held looking at them.

The final stop was the same hill your team ventured to during your internship after the crazy night at the strip club. You sat at the same table you were at before, Stuart’s arm around your shoulders to keep you close. You head rested on his shoulder, his on top of your head, the two of you in silence as you stared at the night sky and the twinkling lights of San Francisco. After what seemed like forever, he called your name softly, making you look at him. He smiled softly, leaning in until he was kissing you, no words shared.

Just soft kisses in the moonlight to end the night.

The clock hit midnight as he parked in front of your apartment, killing the engine. He turned to you, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel before speaking, “Can I walk you to your door?”

“Do you have to ask?” you giggled. Stuart cracked a ghost of a smile, sliding out of the car to run around the front, opening your door for you. He took you hand, the two of you taking slow steps towards the door. Your hands swung in unison, a silence having formed between you both.

He stopped once you got to the door, both of you turning to face each other. You opened your mouth at the same time he did, neither of you managing to get words out before you started laughing. He rubbing his hand along your arm soothingly, playing with your fingers. “You first.”

“I just wanted to say,” you started, digging your toe into the ground, looking away awkwardly. “Thank you. Thank you for such a wonderful night. I’ve been on a lot of dates through college and even here, and nothing has compared to tonight. This was… this was perfect, Stu. Thank you.”

He chuckled, making you look at him. “You know, you took the words out of my mouth,” he mused. “I was going to thank you for letting me take you out. For giving me a chance after… after the whole fake girlfriend fiasco. I didn’t think I would get a chance like this because my dumbass proposed that whole thing. Then we had sex and I loved it but we fell apart after and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. So I thought that This crush that had developed would be unrequited. But, when you agreed, I… I was elated, baby.” You blushed at the nickname, Stuart flushing also. “S-sorry. Slipped.”

“You know, you called me that a lot when we had sex.”

“I know,” he hummed. “I liked it a lot.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “Well, I like hearing you call me baby.”

“You do?” he smirked, pulling you closer by the hips. “Maybe I will have to call you baby more often then.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered, pressing your lips to his. Your eyes closed, his following suit. It was a tender kiss, lips pressing against each other firmly but barely at all at the same time. His lips were soft, slowly dragging along yours as he pulled away. The low smack of your lips disconnecting filled the air, Stuart pressing his lips to yours again. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, making him shiver amidst the kiss.

He pulled away, licking his lips to relish the taste of you, backing away slightly, keeping his hands on your waist. “I should go,” he mumbled. “It’s late.”

“Oh, right,” you replied shortly. “Late, yeah.”

“Thank you again,” he whispered, pecking your lips and pushing your hair behind your ear before pulling away. His hands tucked into his pockets as he backed away down the walkway, give one final smile before he turned to leave.

You tapped your foot for a second, going to unlock your door. You cracked it open, turning back to your date before he made it to the car. “Stu, wait!”

He whipped around, his thick black frames almost flinging off his face from the speed he turned. His eyes lit up, the caramel color making you melt on your feet. His hair billowed softly in the light wind, a toothy smile growing on his cheeks. “Yeah, Y/N?”

“I know it’s late and all, but I was thinking,” you hummed, hugging the jacket he leant you earlier that night closer around your body. “Maybe you’d like to come in for some coffee or tea? You don’t need to rush off just yet.”

Stuart smiled, clicking the lock button on his car so it beeped, signally the alarm was set. He didn’t want to seem too eager as he bounced back up the path towards you. “I’d like that actually.”

You pushed the door open for him, both of you stepping in. The door clicked shut, Stuart helping you take off your jacket. He turned for a single second to hang it up, finding your lips on his when he went to face you again. He returned it instantly, his hands cupping your cheeks, yours back around his neck. The kiss was infinitely messier than the one minutes ago, tongues greedily battling for dominance that he easily won. The smacking sound was louder and more consistent through the entryway to your apartment, Stuart pulling away for small bursts of air before he dipped back in. He easily controlled the kiss, your teeth clashing and your noses brushing even though your heads tilted to give you the best access to his luscious lips.

He pulled away with a short gasp of air, kicking off his shoes as he talked. “Maybe we should take this elsewhere.”

“I know the perfect place,” you told him, taking the front of his shirt in your hands, slipping your flats off before backing into the house towards your bedroom.

You both fell onto your bed, laying on your sides facing each other, engaged in a heated make out session. You played with his hair, moving down to mess with the buttons on his shirt, moaning into the kiss he gave you. His hand had settled on your thigh, playing with the bottom of your dress, flipping it up your waist so he could rub your ass through your underwear. He let out a few breathy moans in the middle of the kiss, shifting to help you push off the button up, leaving him in just a white undershirt. Your legs were tangled together in a heap atop the blankets, keeping you close.

Your hand moved next to the button on his pants, popping them easily and tugging the zipper down right after. Your hand slid into the front of his pants, his breath hitching when your fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking it slowly. He pulled away to get some air, connecting his lips to yours again, shoving his tongue down your throat, tracing your cheeks to memorize the layout. His hand pushed into the front of your panties, drawing circles to your clit. You squirmed under his touch, your moans vibrating his throat and tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away from the kiss, tugging your hand from his pants after his was pulled from your panties. He sat up, pulling you with him, tugging off his shirt the second he had a chance. Your dress followed, your arms raised so he could lift the black material off your skin. Your breasts fell free, Stuart pushing up on his knees to hover over you as he kissed you for the umpteeth time that night. You were pushing at his pants as he kissed you, his hands finding your chest rather fascinating.

He struggled to kick off his jeans, letting them off over the edge of the bed when they finally hit his ankles. You were both just left in your underwear, Stuart moving to lay you back to the bed. He broke the kiss, his eyes locking with yours before he spoke. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, scratching from his shoulders to the back of his head. “And this time, we are both absolutely sober enough to say that.”

“I never thought I’d say it, but thank God for no alcohol in my system,” he chuckled, pulling his glasses off the bridge of his nose, placing them neatly on the side table so they didn’t get damaged while you were getting frisky. The frames were apparently crooked last time. He leaned back on his heels, shuffling from side to side as he pushed his boxers off, allowing his cock to spring free. It slapped his stomach gracefully in all its glory, standing long, hard and proud at attention. It stood straight out for you, your panties growing moist at the sight. “So um…”

“What?” you asked, playing with the tip of his cock. He grunted, feeling it twitch under your touch, throbbing anxiously.

“D-Do we need a condom or anything?”

“I mean,” you blushed, turning to your table. “I have some if you prefer to be extra cautious. But I’m on the pill. And we weren’t that cautious when we had sex in Oakland.”

“W-well that… that was not the best,” he claimed. “We were drunk and I was horny a-and you were hot.”

“I know, Stu. You don’t have to justify it,” you joked. “Just make the decision. Rubber or no rubber?”

“Well, as much as I would prefer without because it feels way better, we should probably be proper adults and use it,” he huffed almost sadly. “We can work our way back into no condoms.”

“Oh. So, we’re going to have sex more than once?” you jabbed at him.

“Well, if I’m any good, you will always want me to sex you,” he laughed, leaving you to slap his chest. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. But, I would like to. You’re just that good and I don’t want to stop anytime soon.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” you told him, leaning over to grab the condom. You swear you heard him let out a sigh of relief, glad you had agreed. “What size? Regular? XL? XXL?”

“Do I want to know why you have that many?” he hummed, leaning down to kiss your stomach, working his way to your chest. You moaned at him, finding it hard to concentrate on the boxes in the drawer.

“I’ve had sex with guys before, Stu. And it never hurts to be prepared. But when every guy you meet is different, you have to have something for every occasion.”

“Well,” he said, sucking at your nipple harshly, tugging it with his lips to hear you moan. “Do me a favor,” he continued, sucking red marks to your breast, repeatedly kissing the stiff peak to prolong his words. You were a moaning mess, Stuart’s head nestled between your arms, your arms still outstretched to grab him a rubber package. “Toss those regular and XL ones and buy two more of the XXL because baby, you’re gonna need them with how much I’m going to fuck you.”

“Holy shit, Stu,” you whimpered, falling back on the bed, unable to fulfill the task. He was ravishly attacking your round mounds, licking and sucking at them vehemently. He was happily nipping at the buds, making them taut under his lips. He let out a throaty groan as he kissed at them, swapping between each one with a loud pop.

“I thought I told you to toss those boxes,” he joked, pulling from your chest, leaving you feeling empty. He grabbed the boxes of regular and XL condoms, physically tossing them behind him, making you break out into a fit of laughter. He pulled out the XXL box smirking at you. “Unopened?”

“No one has ever… fit my expectations for them.” Stuart rolled his eyes at your pun, opening the box and pulling out the square packet.

“Never say that again,” he scolded, placing the package between his teeth, he kept it there as he moved down, pulling your panties free from your legs. You spread your legs, two fingers running through your folds. The condom ended up falling onto the bed, his jaw slack. “Fuck, baby. You’re soaked. Are you ready for me?”

“I’ve been ready.”

“What do you want?” he asked seductively, his voice dropping an octave into a husky tone. The two fingers slid into your core, your moan loud.

“Stuart.”

“You want me?” he asked, your head nodding in agreement. “What do you want? You want my cock in you? You want me to please you while I tell you how beautiful you are?” His lips met your clit, lapping at the swollen nub. You back arched, scratching at his scalp with your nails. “You want me to fuck you, baby? You want me to pound you into your mattress until you scream my name? You want me to hold you while I show you just how perfect you are? I’m gonna make you cum, baby. Cum so hard you won’t remember your own name.”

His fingers had curled at this point, your body quivering at his words and touch.. He was able to hit you sweet spot without trying, his trimmed nails scratching along your sensitive walls. His mouth to your clit never slowed down, the man lavishly ravishing it, spelling his name over it like you remembered. He was determined to full the promise making you scream his name, the only thought racing through your mind being his name on replay. As much as you wanted his thick cock inside you tiny pussy, you were loving the way his fingers made you feel. And you knew after tonight, you would have a hard time being around him, the sight of his veiny names reminding you of what he can do.

You might get in trouble a few times because you would probably drag him off to the copy room for a little foreplay. AKA, his fingers and tongue so far up your pussy, you’d be seeing stars the rest of the day. And occasionally his cock, most likely.

“Stuart,” you gasped, aching against your sheets. His free hand reached up your body, fondling your breast firmly, giving it a squeeze to enhance your pleasure. “Oh, God, baby. I’m going to cum. Oh God, I’m going to cum!”

“Cum, baby,” he whispered against your clit, giving it a sloppy kiss. His fingers sped up, the noisy sloshing of your wet core around the digits mixing with your moans and gasps. “I want to taste your sweet juices.”

“Holy shit,” you gasps again. You body spasmed, walls clenching. “Oh, fuck! I’m cumming! Oh, God, I’m cumming! Stuart!” You screamed, violent shakes running through your form. Your juices spilled down his fingers, the digits soaked for a second before they were pulled from you, his tongue replacing them. He slurped at your pussy, drinking every last drop of liquid that you secreted, making sounds of satisfaction as he swallowed.

He pulled away, licking his lips before his arm wiped them dry, the man taking a moment to lick his fingers clean. “You taste delicious,” he quipped happily. He moved to stroke his still hard cock, the precum oozing more. “But, I think I need to be inside your tight little cunt, baby.”

“Fuck, me, Stu,” you pleaded.

You watched with half-lidded eyes as he scrambled to find the condom on the bed, having lost it when he realized how wet you were before. He cursed under his breath, finally cheering when he found it under your leg. He ripped it open with his teeth, rolling the rubber down his length expertly.

He nestled between your legs, leaning down to kiss you, his face softer than earlier. “If I hurt you, tell me to stop.”

“You could never hurt me,” you reassured him, kissing him lightly.

“I know. Just…” he sighed. “I don’t want to risk anything.”

You took his hands in yours, his body almost collapsing on top of you so you could link your fingers together with his. “I trust you and you aren’t risking a thing. I want this, Stu,” you told him.

He smiled softly, taking one hand from yours to align himself with your core, returning it to your hold when he slid in easily. You both moaned simultaneously, Stuart stilling to allow you to adjust. He laid soft kisses to your cheeks, forehead and jawline, finally kissing your lips passionately. Your tongues sensually rubbed against each other, slowly moving your lips together.

His hips shifted back, pulling himself from inside you only to snap back strongly, your moan caught in your throat. His thrusts became steady, speeding up gradually until he was wildly pounding into you. Your hands tightened around his, the hold on his hands keeping you grounded. He pulled from the kiss, his head buried in your neck instead, light kisses applied to it. Your nose buried in the side of his head, kissing at his temple and moaning into his ear.

His hips bucked anxiously, the tip skimming your g-spot with every thrust your legs wound around him, trying to tug him closer, wanting to feel him as go as deep as he could. You could hear his low grunt, feeling him piston himself in you quickly.

“Stuart,” you moaned into his ear, your hips circling against him. He grunting, telling you he was listening, a smile forming on your face. “I want to ride you.”

“Oh fuck,” you heard him rasp, rolling you both over instantly. You sat up against him, Stuart’s eye a dark shade at this point, shielded with layers of lust. “I love you riding me. You’re so hot when my cock is shoved into you, your body bouncing against my cock. Fuck, me baby. Fuck me hard.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna go hard,” you teased, rocking against him slowly. The way his cock slid out of you was slow, the slide back in even more agonizing. He groaned in dissatisfaction, bucking upwards into you. “Want do you wanna do, baby? You want me to go faster? You want me to ride you like a pro again?”

“No,” he let out. His hands found your waist, stopping you from moving. “I’m going to fuck you still.”

His hips bucked upwards quickly, rapidly shoving himself into you. A scream came from your throat, head falling back in pleasure. He hit better angles than before, hitting your g-spot full on. His movements were sloppy and fast, but they were beyond pleasurable, the level of ecstasy you felt through the roof. His cock pistoned into you core without remorse, your bodies colliding in deafening slaps. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, reverberating off the walls of the small bedroom.

“Fuck, Stuart!” you screamed, the man drooling at the sight of you over him. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his fingers itching to touch them and his mouth watering to taste them. Your eyes were clenched, lips parted for your many moans. His cock was dripping when it slid free from you, the rubber glistening in your juices before sliding back in with ease. It was harder for him to feel aroused due to the condom, but he felt his heart racing and his stomach clenching, his cock pulsing and twitching as he neared his end. It was taking longer than he thought and hoped, but watching your pleased face made him happy and definitely was getting him closer to the orgasm he sought.

His thrusts slowed to a stop, his body pushed up until he was chest to chest with you. Your eyes cracked open, staring at his beautiful orbs, feeling him move your legs around his waist. Your arms moves around him, under his arms so he could keep you upright against him, his hips bucking into you. It wasn’t the hard, powerful thrusts as before. This was more sensual - more connected. He still could hit your sweet spots without trying, your body shaking against him.

“Stu,” you cried, nails raking down his back. Red marks lined his muscled skin, his nails digging into your hips. His steady thrusts into you made your stomach clench, eyes squeezing shut. “Oh god. I’m so close. Faster, baby.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, thrusting a bit faster than before, hips rocking into yours rhythmically. His eyes closed, lips puckering as he began chasing his orgasm, shoving into you as fast and hard as he could muster. He kissed and nipped at your collarbone, finding it harder to concentrate. Your walls were hugging him tightly, the pulsing in his shaft translating to your body. Your hearts beat together, sloppy thrusts an indication of his inevitable orgasm. “I’m cumming baby. Are you cumming?”

“Yes,” you cried shortly, out of breath. “Stuart, baby. I’m cumming,” you whimpered.

“Fuck,” he gasped, moving to kiss you instead. “I love you.”

You were taken aback, barely managing a short, “I love you too” before you were quivering in his arms, pressing your lips to his in a passionate connection. Your juices splattered around him in powerful waves, dripping down the latex around his length. Your toes curled into his back, nails clawing at him harder. Stuart’s body grew warm, the moisture and warmth of your core making his stomach clench. Even through the condom, he felt everything, his cock twitching sporadically. His seed spilled from the tip in squirts of white, filling the small air gap at the end. His groan was muffled by your lips, the knot inside both of you disintegrating. His thrusts slowed to ride out your orgasms, careful not to rip the condom before he pulled out completely.

He lifted you off the bed, still deep inside you, lying you on the bed so he could pull out. He waddled to the bathroom, supporting his condom-covered cock, stripping himself of the rubbed. It was tied off and discarded, Stuart using the bathroom before cleaning himself He returned with a warm, wet cloth, cleaning your thighs and core or your juices and sweat, giving it a light kiss when he was done.

He draped the blankets over you before curling up next to you, his head resting on your chest. Normally after sex, you would want to cuddle into the guy, but this felt more comfortable for some reason. Your hand ran through his soft hair, playing with the ends happily. You always loved his hair, the locks insanely pleasing to run your fingers through. And maybe it was just having his body pressed against yours, holding you securely, that made you comfortable.

You also knew that at some point during the night, you would adjust so you were resting on him instead. It always happens when you cuddled, falling asleep on your bed or his bed during a movie. You find yourself sleeping on his chest, his arms holding you tight.

“You know,” he mumbled sleepily. You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. Two hours of sex later, here you were. “I can’t really sleep without my pillow.”

“I know.”

“But,” he continued, nuzzling your chest, kissing the side of your breast. “You make a better pillow I think.”

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, continuing to pet his head. You knew he was falling asleep quickly, the man able to sleep with ease after sex it seemed. He must have been exhausted from all those thrusts he did. You pussy still aches just thinking about it. “Get some sleep, Stu Boo.”

He mumbled something incoherently, probably acknowledging what your said, He shifted against you, kissing your chest again before saying, “Be my actual girlfriend, Y/N,” he said, voice laced with sleep. “My real girlfriend, not my fake one. I can’t stand the fake shit.”

“Alright. Anything for you, Stu. You are my best friend and you are one of a kind,” you whispered. He turned to look at you, his eyes glazed with sleep. “Besides, how can I say no to a hot nerd like you.”

“I’m your hot nerd,” he whispered back, curling back against you, falling asleep. You smiled at his sleeping face, letting yourself relax on the bed.

“It’s not fake this time,” you told yourself through a yawn. “I fell in love with my best friend. And I don’t regret it.”

As a a subnote, the chat names are KIND OF inspired by friends in my real life. My friend, Joe, is the fucking memelord of our group. And my friend Greg (RIP) had once wired an audrino board to place Stepmania with bananas. It was the best thing to see while in college. 

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @parislight; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @honeymoonmuke; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @xmadwonderland; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @crystals-marie; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @veronicarapp; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo; @supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @malia--stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5 

Want to be tagged? Send as ask! - Bold accounts are ones I cannot tag.    

[kurly-quill]

Robin’s Nest Cafe (part 1)

So, here goes nothing! This will probably have more than one part, but will likely be non-chronological. 

Pairings: JayTim, maybe future JayDickTim 

Rating: Mature for Language [for now] 

Coffee Shop AU (sort of), Civilian!Tim (mostly?)

         Part 1 - Part 2

(1) Hot Chocolate

The first thing to know about Gothamites, is that they are objectively, irrevocably rude as fuck.

It’s not like New York City, where people bustle past without so much as a nod of acknowledgement because they have somewhere to be and don’t have time for pleasantries, or the aggressive shoving on the metro in Tokyo, or God forbid, like Metropolis, where people born past 1930 still tip their hats at passerby.

No, the average Gothamite would see you, without an umbrella, soaking wet, and shake their umbrella off on you on the way inside. If you gave up your seat to an elderly Gothamite on the train, they would sooner say fuck you than thank you. If you tried to mug a Gothamite, they would probably punch you in the face and steal your wallet, because, hell, you’d be the fifth person to try it this week.

And Tim, for all of his “good breeding” and “respectable upbringing” is, at his very core, a Gothamite.

His smile is so wide that he’s baring teeth, and while it doesn’t match the snarl on the face across from him, it’s no less able to convey the sheer amounts of fuck you very much, have a fucktastic day!!

“I ain’t sayin’ it again -” the man bellows, spit hitting Tim’s face and, ew, probably his lips too, “- give me the money inna register ‘afore things get ugly!”

His eyes glimmer with the sharpness of the icicles hanging outside along the shop window, barely sparing the knife shaking under his chin a second glance.

It’s 11 pm on Friday night, and the cafe is still open because Gotham never really sleeps and Tim lives above the shop, anyway. Behind Knife Guy, there’s a few people in line, displaying varying degrees of concern.

(1- was born in a Gotham alleyway, please if you’re going to stab the cashier just do it I’ll pour the coffee myself, 5 - been in Gotham for awhile, kinda worried but Killer Croc smashed my car last week and I just really need a coffee, 10 - visiting Gotham for the first time this weekend-- and the last time.)

Tim looks skyward, praying for strength. There are cobwebs up there he’s never noticed.

“Sorry, the money in the register is a seasonal flavor. But hey, bright side, we’ve just got peppermint mocha back in, so I can ring you up for that instead?”

Knife Guy gapes for a second, squinting at Tim like he expects him to start tap dancing any second now. Tim raises a brow, patient. With a frustrated snarl, the knife jolts forward enough that it clicks against Tim’s nametag, chipping at the edge of the black and yellow batman sticker beside his name, which is his favorite sticker so excuse you.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. Either you put away the knife and order a peppermint mocha with christmas tree sprinkles, and we pretend this never happened, or we do it the less fun way, with the GCPD. Who are a total buzzkill, by the way, believe me. Your choice.”

There’s an eye-twitch, and a change in the man’s expression that makes Tim’s finely-honed Gotham instincts go “oh damn, here we go”, when someone opens up the front door with far too much strength, the glass rattling with the force of its inward swing. The freezing night wind billows in, the scent of oil and snow filtering through the warmer scents of the cafe. There’s an unceremonious tinkle of the bell dangling on the doorframe, and beneath it stands another man.

Tim stares. Knife Guy stares. One of the customers looks up from her phone, groans long and loud, grabs her triple-espresso hazelnut latte with caramel drizzle, and walks out into the late-November chill.

The Red Hood holds the door open for her, because he’s a fucking gentleman.

The door swinging shut with another tinkle, and there’s a pause filled only with catchy holiday jingles that have been playing over the radio since September. Hood surveys the scene before strolling toward the counter.

“Damn, lemme tell ya, it’s cold as fuckin’ balls out there,” Hood laments, with absolutely zero prompting, rubbing his hands together as though he’d gain any friction through the gauntlets. He stops just short of where Tim and Knife Guy are facing off, the blade hovering threateningly in the air just under Tim’s chin. Hood cocks his head.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?”

Tim takes a quick second to make sure that, if he opens his mouth, his jaw won’t hit the floor, before he replies, “Just regular customer service in Gotham. Hope you’re not here for the money in the register too - We’re fresh out of stock. Moving onto the Winter Menu, you know?”

Hood nods, making what sounds like an understanding hum through the voice synthesizers, “Some people just never check the website. Read you’ve got a mean gingerbread latte on special.”

Tim would respond, except now the knife is shaking to a worrying degree– Knife Guy is scared shitless, because the Red Hood is nearly shoulder-to-shoulder– or, well, shoulder-to-bicep with him, because the man is huge and smells very distinctly of cigarette smoke and blood. Tim would sympathize if he wasn’t having an internal fangasm to end all fangasms at this moment.

In a display of panic-borne, truly ballsy stupidity (unfortunately, also a common trait amongst Gothamites, particularly the ones that rob cafes at knife-point at just the hour the Bats tend to come out), Knife Guy whips the knife to the side to turn on the vigilante.

Hood’s got the knife out of the guy’s hand in an instant– Tim has just enough reflexes to grab the steaming cup of caffeine goodness that’s sitting innocently in harm’s way– and in the next second he’s grabbing the guy by the hair and slamming his head backwards onto the counter, spine bent at an angle that makes the onlookers flinch. A few more scurry out the door. There are other places to get a caffeine fix.

“Look here,” Hood growls, No-Knife Guy going cross-eyed as the knife points straight at his nose, “I ain’t lookin for a side of stitches with my candy cane hot chocolate with heavy cream, ya feel me?”

Mr. No Knife squeals.

“P-Please– I’m sorry, I’ll go! Promise! Just– fuck, l-lemme go!”

Hood’s head makes a minute motion, somehow conveying sheer exasperation despite the helmet (Though Tim can just feel the eye-roll going on). He drags the wannabe-robber up to his feet, though it’s pretty useless seeing as the guy’s knees give out they’re shaking so hard– and, oh dude, gross, that’s definitely a wet spot in the front of his jeans there. Tim’s nose wrinkles. He better not have to mop that up.

Hood pays the fact that he’s basically holding up all the man’s weight one-armed no mind, dragging him to the front of the shop. The bell chimes merrily as he gives the guy a literal kick in the ass out the door. The guy lands face-first in dirty, oily, Gothamy snow. An eight year old kicks him as she walks past, hand-in-hand with her father to the nearest bus stop. That Uptown Gotham charm, amiright?

“You’re just lucky I’m feeling the holiday fucking spirit right now– Plus, no offense,” a quick appraisal, “you’re kinda pathetic.”

And then Hood closes the door.

But he’s still here.

Tim looks around the shop. Apparently, at some point in the last 2 minutes, the rest of the customers have decided that they really don’t have time for the typical Bat-dramatics today and fucked off to another cafe. Tim should be more upset about the loss in business than he is, but that’s the furthest thing from his mind.

Because the Red Hood (It’s him, it’s really him) is still standing there. In the cafe.

 With Tim.

He glances down at his chest to make sure the knife isn’t actually buried there, because the possibility that he’s died makes more sense than the Red Hood standing in his cafe, surrounded by a horrific mash-up of dollar-store Hannukah and Christmas (because his family is technically Jewish even if they didn’t celebrate jack shit, and Steph took the shitty plastic menorah on top of the espresso machine as a challenge).

“Um,” Tim remarks, scrambling for the words he wants to say to one of his childhood heros, “So, can I get you something? I feel like I should get you something. Cause I mean. This is an establishment that supports vigilantism, okay? Robin’s Nest cafe, at your service. At least a 10% discount, just like military. Just putting it out there.”

Right. So where is that knife again? Can’t speak if he doesn’t have vocal chords.

The vigilante makes a sound through the synths in his helmet that must be a chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. He moves back up to the counter with movements far too fluid for someone of his size, and Tim swallows a bit as he’s forced to look up (and up) at close proximity. Wow, the helmet is something else– he’s itching to get his hands on it, take it apart and see all its functions and how it was made.

“Gotta first aid kit?” is almost lost to Tim, he’s so mesmerized – he thinks distantly that he’s probably looking a little manic, cause he’s running on caffeine and spite, and people have always told him that his tendency to hyperfocus is unnerving on a good day – but then the words click. He frowns.

“Yes, we do? He didn’t get you with the knife, did he?” he questions, eyes raking up and down Hood’s leather jacket for any telling rips or tears.

Hood tuts, reaching up to tap at his neck, “Nah, not me, but you’re ‘bout to need a new white shirt.”

Tim mimics the movement on autopilot, clapping his hand to the side of his neck and feeling the stickiness there. His heart jumps for a second as he pulls back his hand and sees enough blood there to wonder how he’d missed it.

“Oh. Damn.”

And that’s how, five minutes later, Tim’s got the doors to the cafe locked and finds himself sitting in the break room with the Red Hood dabbing at his neck with a cotton swab.

If he finally manages to overdose on caffeine tonight, he thinks he could go happily.

Hood’s so close that Tim’s 100% sure the vigilante can feel his heart trying to burst all his arteries by its sheer pumping force. He’s getting light-headed because he’s trying not to be creepy and do something like smell the the tall, buff guy with gentle hands (Cause, God, somehow the scent of cigarettes, leather, and gunmetal just work for him) and has thus forgone taking any deep breaths.

“Lucky you, s’not deep,” are the only words either of them has said since he plopped down on the table. Tim hesitates for a second, watching Hood close the first aid kit and step away, before he clears his throat.

Courage, Tim. Come on, you’re from Gotham.

“So. Thanks. For all that, I mean.”

Hood shrugs.

“Eh, there are worse ways to start the night. Plus, it’s way warmer in here than out there. Wasn’t kidding when I walked in– was gettin fucking blue balls out there, and not even from anything fun this time.”

Tim lets out a surprised laugh.

“Oh? Well, I think I have a way to warm you up.”

There’s amusement in every line of Hood’s shoulders as he tilts his head, becoming increasingly intrigued by this particularly bold civilian. When he speaks, there’s a definite purr there, mechanized though it is. Something prickly hot shoots down Tim’s spine, and he has to fight down a flush.

“Yeah? You got something in mind?”

Tim can’t help but grin. “Oh, I’ve got just the thing.”

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“Let me guess. Hot chocolate with heavy cream?”

“Shut your shittin’ mouth, Dick.”

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“…. It’s got candy cane flavor in it”

[whindsor]

Mutton Bakery AU, Pt. II (Sutton belongs to @universalfanfic) (I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been watching GBBO and needed a break from writing the drama of Civil War haha)

Bucky still remembered the first day he tried to bake after the accident.

It was a Sunday morning, and he was up long before any light started making its way through the Brooklyn streets. He’d snuck out of the apartment and made the quiet walk to the bakery in the dark, enjoying the feeling of having the city all to himself for a moment. As he let himself into the back of the bakery and flipped on the lights, he felt a sense of surrealism come over him as he took in the familiar counters and mixers and carefully organized ingredients. The bakery was the same, but he was not.

He stood, resting his hand on the metal counter for a long time as he tried to figure out where to start. Cupcakes, right? That was a bakery essential. The first issue was getting the ingredients to the counter; instead of piling them into his arms as he usually did, he had to carry them, one at a time, and hope he didn’t drop anything. Then came the tools, and he was glad for all those days in the gym so that he could lift the stand mixer with the one arm.

It definitely took a lot longer to make the mix than usual, which was frustrating. And then came time to fill the tins, which was also frustrating. He was reduced to wedging the bowl against his stomach to stabilize it as he used the ice cream scoop to spoon it in. He ended up one short on the batch, considering the batter necessary for it was spread across his apron where he’d hit it by accident with each scoop. Frustrating.

Making buttercream was easy enough, the mixer running happily as he figured out how to get the cupcakes out of the tins one handed. That, of course, took longer than anticipated, and he let out a groan as he glanced at the mixer to find his buttercream had split. Frustrating. He thought to spoon it into the trash can, but he was already too mad at it, and that would require more problem solving than he wanted to give it. So he put the bowl in the sink and grabbed another, starting again.

Another hour later, he had twenty three clumsily made cupcakes and a completely trashed kitchen. His apron, while usually had a couple stains or two, was completely covered with every element of the bake. The cupcakes were lopsided and sloppy and hideous, and he honestly considered throwing them against the wall. But of course, that would mean more cleaning.

He heard the key in the lock as Steve let himself in, carrying two cups of coffee in a drink carrier. He paused, taking in the sight of the kitchen, and of Bucky. He put the coffee down on the one clean spot of counter, not quite knowing what to say.

“I know.” Bucky said lowly. Steve came over, picking up one of the ugly cupcakes and taking a bite. Bucky couldn’t look as he chewed it thoughtfully.

“Still tastes good. The rest will come back soon enough.” he said, finishing it off. He patted Bucky’s back in a comforting manner. “Come on, I’m not cleaning all this by myself.”

[]

Sutton had never worked so furiously in her life.

The first challenge was a dozen decorated cupcakes, which was about the extent of their instruction. Flavor and design were completely up to them. At first, Mika and Sutton thought about playing it safe with some of their more signature flavors, but then their competitive natures kicked in, and they decided to make not one, but two variations. Mika started on the chocolate and graham batter, as well as the fall spice batter. Sutton, for her part, started on the caramel dipped hazelnuts and meringue. Once it was all in the oven, she was able to start making the tiny fondant details for her pumpkin decorations, and Mika got to work on the fillings.

An hour and a half in, Sutton noticed Mika’s work piping the meringue had slowed to a stop. She looked over at her, concerned that she was about to pass out or something, but just found her to be watching their competitors.

“Mika, focus.”

“He’s making pastry with one hand.”

“What?”

“Look!” Mika said, gesturing at Steve and Bucky. With her chagrin almost faded from their earlier interaction, Sutton was finally able to look over at them. Sure enough, Bucky was carefully rolling and flipping short crust pastry, his hand spread wide over the roller to keep the pressure even.

“Okay, we can admit that that is super impressive. But we’re still going to crush him.” she said, going back to her pumpkin decorations.

“Oh absolutely. I just had to be amazed for a second.”

“Well, you need to be piping and blowtorching.”

“I’m multitasking.”

“I regret ever introducing you and Natasha.” Sutton sighed, and the tired resignation in her voice was enough to bring Mika back to center to complete the task. The orange and red colored meringue made a lovely fire on the chocolate and graham cupcakes, with the tails of the hazelnuts making sparks fly above them. Sutton piped her cinnamon vanilla buttercream (also orange) over the fall spice ones before carefully shaping them into pumpkins on a vine.

With mere seconds to spare, they finished, high diving and hugging each other as the exhaustion set in.

[]

Sutton didn’t realize how terrifying the judging would be.

It was just her and Mika, standing front and center in front of three of the most influential bakers in the US. She was insanely proud of their work, yes, but for some reason all she could think about was how many flyaways had escaped her ponytail, and how much flour and food coloring was on her apron. Mika stared confidently at the judges, pretending that her insides were completely liquefied at this point from her nerves.

“So, tell us what we have here.” the first judge said. Sutton glanced at Mika, who cleared her throat and answered,

“A fall spice cupcake with vanilla cinnamon buttercream and a coffee mousse filling, and a chocolate and graham cupcake with Swiss meringue and caramelized hazelnut topping.” She appeared confident, but Sutton knew she was nervous because her accent was a little thicker than usual. Her smile was just as bright as usual though, the one she used when trying to sell the last of their bakes for the day. Another judge perked her eyebrow.

“Two different flavors?” she asked, surprised at their endeavor.

“We like to overachieve.” Sutton said, trying to make a smile and not a grimace. Time seemed to drag as they tasted each of the flavors, complimenting the flavor combinations and critiquing the textures slightly. Overall, they were very complimentary, and as they settled back onto the stools by their bench, they felt they could finally breathe again.

Next it was Bucky and Steve’s turn, the latter throwing a wink at Sutton as he grabbed their tray and walked up to the judging table. Sutton chose to pretend she didn’t see it, and that she wasn’t blushing, and that she couldn’t feel Mika’s eyes on her as she tried to subtly get her attention. They weren’t here to make friends. They were here to win.

[]

“And what have we here?” the judge asked as Steve placed the tray in front of them.

“A cider cupcake, stuffed with vanilla bean ice cream and topped with a miniature apple hand pie.” he explained, stepping back in line next to Bucky. The judges were silent for a long moment before one finally spoke up.

“This was a cupcake challenge, you know.” he said, suspicious of what was in front of him.

“Yes. And we made a cupcake.” Bucky replied with a grin.

“And ice cream.”

“And pie.”

“All in the time limit.” Steve finished, both boys smiling at what they had accomplished. There was a moment, about halfway through, that they were both concerned that they were overdoing it, but like everything else in life, they made it work. The judges looked hesitant before tasting it, not bothering to hide their surprise as they discovered how good they were. In the end, the general consensus was that the cupcakes were a little weird, but definitely delicious. They returned to their benches, nodding to the girls that looked vaguely impressed.

Bucky grinned to himself, and now that the cameras were off of them and focused on the judging table, he took an extra plate and put two of their cupcakes on it.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, wondering if there was a second judging he’d forgotten about.

“Making friends.”

He silently stepped across to the other table, Mika and Sutton watching him with matching perked eyebrows. He held up the plate, leaning close to whisper to Mika, “Trade you.”

“Gladly.” she replied with a smile, getting Sutton to pass her another plate and putting four of their cupcakes on it.

“Overachievers.” he said as he took it from her. “So cupcakes are the specialty then?”

“Nope.” Mika replied, though she still didn’t give him an actual answer. He chuckled, holding the plate up in a salute.

“Guess we’ll still have to find out then, huh?” he said, going back to his bench with his spoils. As they tried each others’ cupcakes, they refused to make eye contact.

Cause then they might know how good they thought they were.

[morethanaprincess-a]

After much pondering about what gift to give the princess, the former human decided to offer her a rare, old book about vampire tales, together with a few manuscripts about the supernatural he had found while searching the old church. It wasn't the most romantic gift, but he knew she would most likely love it regardless. "Happy Valentine's Day Sonia. It's the least I could do after how much you've helped me." (from ruki)

She hadn’t expected any sort of gesture for the holiday, beyond the black box tied with silver ribbon she held in her left hand. Ruki was her friend, a very important friend but a friend nevertheless. Due to his name, Sonia suspected he was far more familiar with the Japanese method of celebrating the holiday than the Western ways. So she’d arranged a small box of chocolates to be sent from home, with her specific instructions regarding the type and quality. Tucked beneath the black velvet lid were dark chocolate squares and truffles filled with a variety of flavors: almond, coffee, pistachio, hazelnut, caramel, and more.

But before she could present it to him, he’d surprised her with a gift of his own. Sonia had all but dropped the box she was holding when he’d approached her, an ornate book in his outstretched hand.

“A gift? For me?” She blinked in disbelief, slowly processing that for the first time in a very long time, their conversation was far removed from the mysterious Trismegiste. “Ruki, I...”

Sonia trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Her blue gaze had left his face to stare down at the book in her hand: the leather cover and gold script heavily faded but still legible as she traced over it with her index finger. A relic from the first rise of gothic works in the mid-18th Century, that particular title was something rare, something that inspired the gothic romances that all followed after it in a series of haunted castles, besotted heroines steeped in sensibility, and the dark, brooding vampiric lords who ruled over all. “This has been said to have influenced Wapole, Goethe, and Lord Byron, though found copies primarily exist in museums or universities. Ruki, this is a most remarkable find! And manuscripts in immaculate condition...I...”

She’d found herself rambling. A young woman who was no stranger to gifts: from chocolate to jewelry to flowers, if she didn’t have it, most things could easily be procured. But it was never something she truly wanted. This was the first gift in so long that truly spoke to her as Sonia, not the Princess of Novoselic, something anyone could discern from the soft pink flush on her cheeks.

“I’ve been carrying on, I’m sorry. Thank you so much, Ruki. This truly is wonderful!” In her state of surprise and delight, she’d completely forgotten to thank him. But when she remembered, her smile was just as warm and bright as her words as she held the book and manuscripts both to her chest before setting them down carefully, giving him her full attention again. “I doubt my gift for you compares, but I wanted to give you some chocolate today. I had these sent from home with my specifications. I did not know if you like chocolate or what kinds, but I hope you enjoy this assortment. And you are never in my debt: after all, you saved my life. That is something I shall never forget.” Her smile then turned from jubilant to slightly nervous, taking a deep breath as she handed the black box to him. She’d look like a fool if she’d got it wrong and he preferred milk chocolate instead.

[stressbakeling]

Hiding from Writing and an Italian Interlude - 8/24/2019

Let’s get meta on writing. I used to write Hamilton style, cranking out poems, prose, rap song parodies and unrequested book and film reviews fueled by what I can only guess was a combination of dormitory stir-crazy and teenaged angst. As I move into my mid to late twenties (such demography), I find myself having to negotiate with myself to keep my buns on a seat long enough to put my words somewhere every thirty to ninety days. Did I stop having creative thoughts or time or... has my personality changed? I feel like I have so many conversations in my head. All day long I’m asking questions, I’m having arguments--I close my eyes and have vivid dreams night after night as the filing cabinet that is my brain dumps itself onto the floor and the tender, anxious nerves of my dying youth rush in to sweep it away and prepare for the next batch. I don’t think it’s because I have nothing to talk about. Yesterday I mused on why blueberries don’t usually end up in jams for about an hour on the train, conceding that it’s probably because their weirdly whitish flesh does not match the color of their purple/blue peel and people just don’t know how to embrace that kind of dissonance (and surely not because of their lack of naturally occurring pectins). I also regularly have time to sink into social media, reading hefty books by dead people, painting tiny figurines for games I don’t play, and of course that super laborious hobby that involves zero dead time whatsoever--bread making. I have time. The time I’ve spent on YouTube watching a Croatian man talk to his giant spiders alone is revealing to the room in my life I have available to barf my head thoughts onto a social media platform that the next generation will probably remember as readily and fondly as mine does of the teletype. “So say it, Marisa! You just don’t wanna!” Well, if that were true, why do I dust this puppy off so frequently? I do wanna. I used to think I wanted to do this for money! Adamantly! When a professor told me my future in such an industry would be compromised if I didn’t show up to three hour workshops weekly and write about ghosts haunting my childhood home, I believed! And while I do occasionally push when it says “pull,” I’d like to think I’m no dunce--certainly I managed to get this far, and ten years ago I don’t think my logic was tragically worse off. K, let’s revisit that list then: - too busy - nothing to write about - no desire - no strong opinions - no avenues or opportunities - too expensive - not as interesting as it used to be - afraid

Ah ha! It’s the dust. It’s the piles of beautiful leather bound notebooks and fountain pens I’ve been gifted over the years that look so beautiful in their clean slate state. It’s the negative feedback. It’s the positive feedback. It’s the it’s-too-late-nows and the it’s-already-been-saids. But no one is asking me to quit my day job. I’m not even asking me to do that. Yeah, but what’s the drive, why do it at all? I’m not a fiction writer, I do love a good story but there isn’t a song in my heart that’s dying to be sung. I think writing is highly therapeutic, it’s cathartic, it’s informative, it’s definitive. People have been keeping diaries and journals for centuries just to help make sense of the world--to capture something that our memory sieve of a brain will lose inevitably. It’s also entertaining and performative. I could write into little books and shove them under my bed at night, and indeed, some of the best writing was found in this state--never prepared to be shared with the world--but then I build my own bubble. And part of the fear of writing (offending, triggering, or even directly endangering people in certain situations) can and must be offset by the great things that come of it (discussion, connection, mental expansion). “Well, that’s very bold of you. Thank you for your contribution to the body of literature that is fine, poignant, and enriching Tumblr posts.” Yeah, yeah, let me do my yoga in the public park and chill in the hot tub at my apartment complex. You are welcome to join me. So, then also let me talk, and in return I will also listen.

Now, wait isn’t this a baking blog or... something?

I went to Italy for two weeks in July, so it’s worth talking about the pastry, bread, and other sweet and savory encounters I had there. It started at baggage claim at FCO where I ordered a cappuccino (like a goddamn American!) and a caprese sandwich while waiting for Eric’s plane to land. This pedestrian airport Italian coffee kicks the living cajones off of any American coffee I’ve ever had outside of artisanal roasteries, and even still--it’s close. The sandwich nearly made me cry. I was starving but was mostly expecting waterlogged tomatoes, spongy but weirdly wet mozzarella and wilted/blackened basil on soggy bread since these things were probably prepared this morning and it was officially 1:30pm Roman time. Negatory, doctor. Everything was death defyingly fresh (I didn’t yet know that I basically was kicking off the lunch hour at this counter, Italians eat pretty late) and the Italian woman behind the counter laughed unabashedly at me as I moaned into the baguette and drank my breakfast milk.

Italian pizzas from the Roman countryside. Italy knows how to make a fucking pizza. Really brilliant work combined with crazy fresh ingredients made these super memorable. This experience makes me very scared of pizza dough knowing how crispy and light and perfect it can be. These pizzas were each about $9 USD and cranked out faster than my sister and I could down a glass of wine.

Meredith and Alan had a beautiful wedding and our hosts made us an incredible dinner, but the two most memorable parts of the meal had to be the lasagna (good lord I’ll never have lasagna that good again) and the dessert--an Italian take on a croquembouche. Croquembouche (a French invention) is typically profiteroles (read: cream puffs) piled high in a tower held together by a crunchy spun caramel. The Italians basically take French pastry and proverbially deep fry its butter. Instead of a tower with lightly spun and delicate caramel strands, the Italians pile the cream puffs in a mound and cover it in rich but creamy dark chocolate ganache. Instead of the choux pastry puffs being filled with a light vanilla scented whipped cream, they go chantilly or bust--but don’t worry they save that light whipped cream that would go in the croquembouche for the outside, and ring the chocolate mountain with beautifully piped examples of the stuff, adding strawberries while they’re at it because Jesus why not. We ate it gleefully with stomachs that were bursting, and when we couldn’t eat anymore, we popped the plastic tub with the leftover contents open and ate the rest hungover at the breakfast table the next day. Best. Breakfast. Ever.

Semifreddos in a super cold fridge in Vernazza on the Cinque Terre. I think they’ve figured out sweet dairies over there. Gelato is served in tiny cups and is everywhere and the rainbows of flavors make each one novel. I had pistachio, fig, hazelnut, coconut, coffee, amaretto, peach, orange, mixed berry, cantelope, mint, tiramisu and stracciatella. I think I had at least two scoops of gelati everyday and I never regretted it, it was scorching.

I had this vanilla ricotta and mascarpone filled cannoli with pistachio crumbs down by the Arno our last night in Florence. It came out of a food truck. It was 85 degrees outside and the sun was down. I melted into a puddle and had to be scraped off of the ground to be carried back to our rooms. Cannoli are always done wrong, they have a bad rap of being too greasy, too sweet--this thing could have fallen in the dirt in front of me and I would have talked it right into my mouth without hesitation.

Amuse bouche from our final meal outside of a hotel or airport in Italy on the main piazza in Arezzo Antico. The shortbread cookies remind me of my Italian Nanni’s favorite nibble, the thing she always had in tins when we’d come to visit. They fall apart without much convincing and melt in your mouth--the butter to sugar content isn’t what I’d make for myself, but the execution was excellent. The cream puffs continued to kick choux ass and take chantilly names.

My final stop was a layover in Munich where I chased down a pretzel that came with this cold wurst salad. The German bartenders were fascinated that as an American I would 1) order this dish 2) eat all of it. Onion breath for days. No regrets.  In conclusion, I think my hesitation to post is unwarranted. I’ve also baked many things in the month of August I won’t post here because I wouldn’t want to sully the beautiful golden rays of Italia we’re basking in right now, but if you can do me a favor and ask me next time you see me why I haven’t posted lately, I’d be entirely grateful. :)

[abiteofnat]

2019 COME AT THE BUTTON ON MY HIGH-WAISTED JEANS

Because by the end of this week, I had eaten enough to question the strength of the stitches holding my pants together. 

This year has started off with some of the best meals a grandma shark could hope for, from steakhouses to creative cocktails, it’s all been wonderful. I still have not mastered the art of breakfast, or bringing lunch to work, or how to avoid being hangry all eight hours of work due to not fixing either of those aspects... but maybe 2020 can be the year I figure that out! The good thing about forgetting to eat the entire length of a workday is that by the time it ends, I’m ravenous and ready to CHOW DOWN on some GOOD SNACKS. And by snack I mean a three course meal. 

So, without further ado, here are the meals I’ve eaten so far in 2019. 1 week, lots of empty plates, no shortage of flavors. It’s been grand. 

(Sort Of Meal 1, Actually Last Meal Of 2018): RPM Steak

For NYE Eric and I wanted to paint the town red with the blood of a well-cooked steak for him and a bottle of Merlot for me, so we went to RPM Steak for JUST THAT! I’m pretty sure we’ve been to every steakhouse in Chicago in the past year which is pretty incredible/terrifying on its own, however we hadn’t been to RPM and when’s a better time to blow some coin on five pounds of potatoes than NYE? I had mild expectations but they were all blown out of the water, as each course got better and better. We started with the camembert fondue, which was fucking dazzling to see, smell, and taste. From the piles of toasted bread coated in melted butter, to the cast-iron skillet holding a whole wheel of camembert topped with shaved truffles, it was a sight to behold. While truffle and melted soft cheese can be an overwhelming combo, it worked beautifully together and made for a decadent yet not too filling appetizer, and left me wanting much more (while not feeling ripped off for the price). 

Next up, I got a caesar salad for my main and it came complete with a deviled egg on the side, which was a wonderful surprise and as far as such a simple salad can go it was quite delicious. Eric got a bison steak, no comment on that since I did NOT try it, and then we also got blue cheese whipped potatoes and the “Millionaire Potato.” OOOOO BOY. THOSE POTATOES. The blue cheese whipped potatoes were easily my favorite thing we ate, because they had the perfect texture, right amount of blue cheese, a sprinkle of fresh pepper, and add some steak salt? Goodbye, you just died of joy. The Millionaire Potato was a twice-baked potato that had more black truffle, butter, and fontina cheese. It was heaven, and I wish I had another right now. The best bang for our buck was the side of onion rings for $8, and it was truly a huge bowl of onion rings and some dipping sauces that provided a nice crunch to break up the soft, rich foods. 

To finish off, Eric told the waiter it was our one-year anniversary (which is true one month from now, yeehaw!) and so we were treated with a rich dark-chocolate cake topped with flakes of gold and ganache. It was so incredibly dense and chocolatey and with a sip of red wine after each bite, 10/10 dessert. I would go back for a glass of wine and that cake after a long day in the future. 

Overall, it was an absolutely perfect last meal of 2018 and I got to spend three hours enjoying dinner with my love. Good stuff, good year, GOOD CAKE. 

Meal 1: Tweet

I’ve blogged about this brunch hotspot before, but it deserves another spot for being my first meal of a new year THREE YEARS IN A ROW. YEP. I order the same thing every time, and it never ever gets old- the vegan chorizo tacos, with a side of hash browns, and a side of hollandaise sauce (for the hash browns, OF COURSE). Can’t miss out on the spice cake appetizer that they bring without a minute to waste, and their iced coffee that includes one full glass and a whole carafe to keep on fillin’ up! Go to Tweet, plan on waiting a hot minute for a table, and enjoy the wild hot mess of perfection that it is. 

Note: It’s cash only, so get cash or be sad! And it’s incredibly gluten free/vegetarian/vegan friendly, hooray! 

Meal 2: Flight Club Darts USA

Skipping a few days ahead now, but no one cares about pizza and Whole Foods sushi, which is what I ate. So now we’re at Friday, the first Friday night of the new year! Hot stuff! Somehow I lucked out and was offered a full dining + playing experience at Flight Club Darts USA in Chicago, so after work Eric and I met in the charismatic yet impossibly “cool” dining area on the first floor and took a cozy table in the corner by the window, letting us watch the full bar and dart oches fill up with happy hour kids blowing off some steam like us. With a scotch on the rocks for him and The Butterfly cocktail for me, we ordered almost one of everything on the menu and ended up with quite the spread. I got the Spaghetti with lump crab, breadcrumbs, butter and citrus, and for sides we got the fries, green bean fries with a sweet & sour dipping sauce, and the mini tuna poke tacos. The green bean fries are for sure my favorite pick from the whole menu, as they’re perfectly crisp on the outside but still juicy on their green bean inside, and the fries are a close second with their cheese and seasonings. The spaghetti was rich and cooked a lovely al dente, and with a cocktail made of vodka & grapefruit juice I was in tastebud paradise! MY DRINK LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE THE COCKTAIL EMOJI! 

After dinner, we headed upstairs to where it’s darts central and where there’s a second bar much more populated with dates, groups of friends, families enjoying a game night, and every other group you can think of. When they say it’s “social darts,” they’re not kidding!! We got our own dart board and played nearly every single game available, and it was very relaxing to hurt real metal darts at a cork board after one heck of a day at work. Eric was scared, I was empowered, he won anyway but I had a GREAT TIME. 

This place is an awesome pick if you’re looking to meet friends for drinks after work, have dinner with work friends, or bring family to entertain them for an night when they’re in town. And you get great views of the city! 

Thank you again to Flight Club for letting us enjoy for the night, we had a great time and I will certainly be back for more dart therapy. 

Meal 3: Eataly

Ok I know this one isn’t revolutionary, because who hasn’t eaten at Eataly? I frequent this place and every time it’s just so freakin’ good. Their thing is authentic Italian food, and they really nail it with their homemade pasta, fresh sauces, expansive wine list, and sea salt ciabatta to dip into multi-dimensional olive oil. But, this meal had to do with my last post of 2018- about truly being in the moment and enjoying time with loved ones. Since my sister is home from college for break, she’s been going to all her favorite spots and this was one yet to be crossed off. We’re both bananas for the Cacio e Pepe- al dente spaghetti tossed with cheese, salt, and pepper. It’s perfect. So I told my family to meet me downtown on Saturday night and have a family dinner at Eataly, to cross the pasta off Elise’s group and family time off my life. We had wine, talked about our week, and I felt so happy to get to do that with them. Eataly is somewhere we’ve gone a lot as a family, and it always just feels like home when we’re there. With a gelato sundae to finish off, we left very full and ready for a sleep! 

Pictured: Cacio e Pepe, the squid ink pasta, truffle pizza, chocolate and hazelnut gelato. 

Meal 4: Replay Andersonville

Brunch. Nachos. Lemon Raspberry Ricotta Pancakes. Mimosas for $5.50. Skillets. Free arcade games. Lots of TVs for football. That’s all you need to know; this place is IDEAL for brunch and is my new go-to. Even on football Sunday it wasn’t that busy but still full and the food blew me away for being a bar. Eat, drink, play some old school arcade games, leave feeling revived and young again. I LOVE BRUNCH. 

Anyway, that’s pretty much it for this week! 2019 has not been kind to my wallet but I’ve already eaten so much good food and I can’t wait to keep the ball rolling! Fork in hand, I am ready. 

Until next time, Happy Eating!

-Natalie

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: Easy You Are To Need

Enriched dough was truly her favourite type of dough to make.

Jo loved enriched dough - it’s so springy and soft and silky and bounces back as she kneads it thoroughly under her palms against the floured kitchen table top. She would usually have done this on the kitchen counter but the height was too high for her to get the pressure right and comfortably knead the dough out. The gentle pattern of knead, fold, turn and knead again over and over in a smooth, soft rhythm as she went through the motions in time with the soft music playing in her earbuds.

It was a nice night - cloud cover keeping some warmth in but the cool breeze off the lake that blew through the kitchen window was just enough to keep the air from feeling anything other than the perfect temperature to be working with the buttered dough. The oven was pre-heating and there was a pot of water for a coffee when she wanted it as the hours got later, but all Jo wanted to do tonight was make something.

Perhaps she’d make babka - the dough rolled and stretched thin before being slathered with the sugar and cinnamon mix, or perhaps the coffee and dark chocolate mix, or even Nutella and blitzed toasted hazelnuts; window pane thin and then rolled tightly before cut into small blissful blobs to be baked individually or wrapped in around itself into a loaf tin for the more traditional style to be served warmed in the morning with coffee as she tossed small, torn off pieces to their darling before being scolded for giving the dog too many treats with a laugh. If she made the dark chocolate and coffee flavored ones, perhaps she’d have a very good morning; while Nana would be safest with the cinnamon ones and if Jo made them individually sized, they could eat freshly reheated ones on a walk down to the lake again.

However she could also instead only roll it out to a thick inch thick spread before cutting the dough into strips, to fit the same loaf pan but split apart with slices of cinnamon spiced apple. A warm apple pull-apart bread to be heated back up in the morning before getting a vanilla icing drizzle and a coating of butter on the face as it was pulled apart by clever fingers and icing sucked off the very same across the table with a blush and smile. She always did love sweet bread loaves, and the apple tree from next door had already begun dropping the odd fruit into their garden the last week. Perhaps she could stud it with some soaked raisins as well and the whole loaf would last through into the weekend for sure.

Turning the dough over again for the next methodical knead, her eyes vacantly looking out the darkened window into the wee hours of the morning, Jo bit back a yawn as she continued to try to decide what exactly she would do with the glorious dough that bounced back at a smack before she’d press out again.

She could cover the whole kitchen table in tea towels, coated in powdered sugar, and work slowly and methodically to stretch the dough out wafer thin. Thinner than the babka would require, until she could read a newspaper through it if she chose, thin as she could ever get it gently coaxing it to stretch ever thinner until it covered the whole table in the thinnest dough layer - before stewed, diced apples and rum soaked raisins would again be used with buttered and toasted breadcrumbs to be rolled up and baked into the traditional Viennese strudel. The dough so thin it was practically pastry, golden crisp and sweet around the warm filling and she’d need to pick up some cream in the morning to enjoy such a treat.

But instead she could roll it out to the thickness of a few fingers and then get her cookie cutter out and instead cut out some glorious doughnuts to be fried or baked. She had had a craving for the sugary glazed types for a while, but she could leave them the ball variety and fill them with peanut butter and jelly or a sweet strawberry jam, or even a custard and jam mix to surprise. Jo had suggested she could teach her love to make them, and what better way than through a first demonstration when she was unsure what to bake already with the springly, smooth dough.

Or... She could roll up some cinnamon buns and have them big and puffy and beautiful for breakfast. Something that she knew she couldn’t make nearly as great as her hunny did, despite his claims - but perhaps he’d enjoy the treat of not cooking and some lovely cinnamon rolls in the morning once the sun had risen again. He always thought hers tasted the best, but Jo figured that was only given she baked all her love for him into them, much the same as he did hers for her.

Frowning as she did a final knead on the dough, sitting plump and taunt and just daring her to give one more knead and start to work the gluten into a tight mess that would leave whatever she baked tough and chewy when she wanted soft and fluffy. Taunting her that she was still undecided on what form she wanted to bake the swell of love and happiness and that tiny shred of uncertainty into.

Whatever she made, she’d make it well, and it would bake golden brown, and be warmed gently in the oven again in the morning before being shared as she concealed a yawn and he twitched his hand repeatedly before just reaching out finally to cover her own and the big brown eyes would stare up at them to the soft thump of a tail as they started a fresh day, but Jo couldn’t see what they shared as she stared down at the white globe of dough.

Scowling, she threw a fist down and into the centre of the dough, a perfect imprint of her knuckles left in its surface as she pulled her hand free before laughing quietly to herself to the fading piano notes of her music as she slowly rolled it back how it had been and decided to go with her gut, first thought as she started to roll the dough out to make a tray full of individual babkas. An impromptu breakfast picnic by the lake where Nana could frolic and she could cuddle up into warm arms as they eat warm, sweet pastry's seemed to be what the cloudy summer day forecast called for.

[michaelfallcon]

The Sprudge Coffee Guide To Colombo, Sri Lanka

Colombo is the gateway to Sri Lanka’s powder-white beaches nestled in palm groves, expansive paddy fields, and sweeping tea plantations. Days in Colombo start early, where ladies in sarees and high heels march faster to catch their daily commute. Cars and passenger buses whizz past the pedestrians before the office hours begin.

Wee hours in the morning begin with hole-in-the-walls serving piping hot cups of tea. Think of strong black tea or enticing red tea with two spoons of sugar. Often, breakfast ends with a cup of thick milk tea prepared with powdered milk or a layer of rich condensed milk. Chic lounges now pop up in every corner of the city featuring high-end artisan tea brands and exciting tea “dishes” such as tea ice creams, shakes, and tea cocktails.

The island nation has always been one of the largest producers of tea in the world. But before tea, there was coffee. In the first half of the 19th century, the small island in the Indian Ocean was the leading exporter of coffee in the world. Sri Lanka supplied coffee across the oceans to European countries, reaching the then continental demand of six million coffee cups a day. However, plantations began to vanish with the introduction of coffee leaf rust, known locally as “Devastating Emily,” a fungal disease that decimated coffee production here.

Today, several coffee houses are trying to reignite Sri Lanka’s coffee culture with homegrown, handcrafted coffee. Some of them also import coffees from across the world, catering to different profiles of connoisseurs while others provide a collaborative space for the creatives. What follows are some of the dynamic spaces in the city’s evolving, fascinating coffee scene. You should come to Sri Lanka for many reasons—the incredible natural beauty, culture, history, and food—and now again for the delicious coffee.



Kopi Kade

Kopi Kade has been open for just four years, but in that relatively short time it’s become an international go-to spot for coffee in Colombo, and was the first Sri Lankan cafe to be featured on Sprudge, back in July of 2019. Kopi Kade occupies a popular corner on Stratford Avenue which bustles with assorted shops, boutiques, and cafes. Guarded by frangipani trees, exteriors denote a rustic, old school vibe. Walk inside and you will find a sleek, dim-lit space, carefully curated by a local architect.

Sri Lankan born Australian Nimeshan Namasivayam derived the cafe’s name from an old Sri Lankan soap opera. Namasivayam and his small team now offer single-origin pour-overs, espressos, and cold brews, bringing roasts from all corners of the world from Ethiopia to Ecuador, Indonesia and Vietnam.

Kopi Kade aspires to provide an alluring coffee experience for their dedicated audience. There are roaster sessions and brewing workshops for groups and individuals. They also offer tasting notes alongside every order, inviting customers to ask questions and know more about the cuppa they drink.

There’s little for the ‘gram here, but young crowds frequent the spot for Kopi Kade’s French toast with a Sri Lankan twist. Namasivayam aims at recreating his northern Sri Lankan roots through the cafe’s all-day menu. Try nibbles such as the mutton pattie, which accompanies the punchy spicy notes of the Jaffna Peninsula.

Kopi Kade is located at 15/3 Stratford Ave, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Instagram.

  Plus Nine Four

Here’s another crowd favorite in Colombo: Plus Nine Four, the sister cafe of popular local food joint Café Kumbuk. While the latter strives to promote healthy living combining both local and international flavors, Plus Nine Four creates a warm, welcoming coffee house experience for city dwellers. The coffee shop has outdoor seating nestled in a breezy tropical garden, set alongside a beautiful cafe compound wall adorned with a monochrome mural of plantain trees and coffee buds.

“We wanted to create a friendly and comfortable neighborhood coffee shop experience,” says owner Shana Dandeniya. Interiors are bright and well-lit, providing a chic, modern ambiance. While there’s a familiar Western feel, the coffee shop highlights Sri Lankan grown produce and flavors. Championing locally grown coffee, Plus Nine Four offers Soul Coffee, a brand that aspires to redefine Sri Lanka’s coffee culture while empowering the local communities.

“Plus Nine Four would not have come to life if not for its collaboration with Soul Coffee,” says Dandeniya. Young urbanites frequent the aesthetic space for their matcha lattes and salted caramel lattes. You can choose between Soul Coffee’s medium or dark roast blends. There’s also a great selection of pastries, cakes, and tarts such as the homemade buttermilk cake or chocolate coffee caramel ice cream tart.

Plus Nine Four is located at 35 D. S. Fonseka Rd, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

  Whight & Co

Whight & Co is one of the first cafes to open each day in Colombo, opening its doors at six in the morning sharp. The coffee shop sits on Marine Drive, facing the roaring Indian Ocean, and is housed inside a historic colonial building, where morning sun flickers through the windows while tall ceilings and pure-white walls create a calm, soothing atmosphere. As the day goes on, the retro space turns into a modern business hub while those who are looking for a relaxing space retreat to the lounge on the first floor. From the top, you get a clear view of the blue sea and the rickey train which runs along the old colonial-era railway tracks. This is as picturesque as coffee gets.

Apart from the go-to lattes and cappuccinos, Whight & Co are popular for their pour-overs, cold drip, and Vietnamese-style coffee made with condensed milk. Australian expat owners seem to have a cafe on nearly every corner of the earth, and so it goes with founders James and Gabrielle Whight. Alongside their team, the Whight’s brew each cup from scratch on the shop’s premises, and also roast Sri Lankan coffee in-house from their own Ruby Harvest brand, established in 2002.

There’s also a modest, refreshing menu for those looking for some fish and chips or an order of Australian lamb pie. Visit during evenings and grab a top floor seat for a stellar sunset view.

Whight & Co is located at Aloe Ave, 24 Marine Drive, Colombo. Follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

  London House of Coffee

The father and son duo behind London House of Coffee had one vision: to bring back the iconic coffee culture of the mid-1800s to modern-day Sri Lanka. With the supervision of agriculturists and coffee specialists, they now grow their organic coffee in the wet, central highlands of the island, and translate that into a coffee bar in the city.

Housed in a beautifully restored building with granite exteriors, London House of Coffee is located in Colombo 07, one of the greener parts of the city. Dark wood interiors with large lavish sofas provide a cozy vibe inside but you can also grab a spot in one of the comfy couches in their open-air balcony.

There’s an ever-evolving list of single origins to choose from, which expands beyond double espressos, macchiatos, hazelnut lattes, and flat whites while caramel cappuccino remains the bestseller. Beyond coffee, they also take pride in their organic smoothies, flavored tea, and an all-day menu crafted with locally-sourced ingredients. Try a bowl of penne pasta with creamy mushrooms, a slice of their Death by Chocolate, and the cafe’s in-house cheesecake.

The ever-smiling friendly staff are crowd pullers at the shop. Dressed in white shirts with long sleeves and an iconic red tie, roasters and baristas are happy to chat with you about their specialty coffee or the brand concept.

London House of Coffee is located at 2B Srimath R.G.Senanayake Mawatha, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

  Butter Boutique

A decade ago, Rukshi Nethicumara was a home baker who sold her cakes in a weekly market in Colombo. Her brainchild Butter Boutique started out of pure love for cakes and coffee. Nethicumara’s first encounter with Niccolo Coffee (a Melbourne-based roaster) was during one of her trips to the United States. Later, she wrote to Davide Drummond, Niccolo Coffee’s founder. Inspired by Nethicumara’s vision, Drummond flew to Colombo to train the staff at Butter Boutique.

The cafe first occupied a tiny space with seating for 10 people, and Nethicumara believes that it was among the very first places in all of the Sri Lankan capital to specialize in coffee and cake. “I wanted to create an indulgent experience with a variety of flavors,” says Nethicumara. One of the first shops in the city to introduce latte art, Butter Boutique soon became a major destination on the Colombo cafe scene.

Now, this cake-and-coffee shop fills a much larger, no less quaint space down Rosemead Place. “Coffee beans are air-flown from Melbourne and we source some of the best ingredients for our cakes and desserts,” says Nethicumara. A pioneer in introducing new bakery flavors to the market, Butter Boutique was also the first shop to introduce tres leches in Sri Lanka four years ago. They’ve been out in front for a decade and continue to be among the country’s very best coffee shops, with outstanding cakes to match.

Butter Boutique has multiple locations in Colombo. Follow them on Instagram.

  Coffee & Company

Nestled in a charming corner of Pedris Road, Coffee & Company is all about what the name suggests. Interiors here bring out a homely vibe with cutesy, Instagram-friendly decor. A large, old-school blackboard is hung above the main sofa which says “Know Your Coffee.” A small space, it’s easy to miss this house-turned-cafe, and there aren’t any cupping sessions, workshops or cutting edge coffee theories being experimented upon here. Instead what you’ll find is a relaxing space, great for first dates or seeking out a reading nook with a good book.

There’s a small menu which offers comfort foods, including sandwiches, pasta, and a few dessert options. I like ordering an Americano here, but they also make the city’s best hot chocolate. You’ll look cute here, your coffee will taste good, and your ‘gram will get a lot of hearts. What’s not to like?

Coffee & Company is located at 37/3 Pedris Rd, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

Zinara Rathnayake is a freelance journalist based in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Read more Zinara Rathnayake on Sprudge.

The Sprudge Coffee Guide To Colombo, Sri Lanka published first on https://medium.com/@LinLinCoffee

[shebreathesslowly]

The Sprudge Coffee Guide To Colombo, Sri Lanka

Colombo is the gateway to Sri Lanka’s powder-white beaches nestled in palm groves, expansive paddy fields, and sweeping tea plantations. Days in Colombo start early, where ladies in sarees and high heels march faster to catch their daily commute. Cars and passenger buses whizz past the pedestrians before the office hours begin.

Wee hours in the morning begin with hole-in-the-walls serving piping hot cups of tea. Think of strong black tea or enticing red tea with two spoons of sugar. Often, breakfast ends with a cup of thick milk tea prepared with powdered milk or a layer of rich condensed milk. Chic lounges now pop up in every corner of the city featuring high-end artisan tea brands and exciting tea “dishes” such as tea ice creams, shakes, and tea cocktails.

The island nation has always been one of the largest producers of tea in the world. But before tea, there was coffee. In the first half of the 19th century, the small island in the Indian Ocean was the leading exporter of coffee in the world. Sri Lanka supplied coffee across the oceans to European countries, reaching the then continental demand of six million coffee cups a day. However, plantations began to vanish with the introduction of coffee leaf rust, known locally as “Devastating Emily,” a fungal disease that decimated coffee production here.

Today, several coffee houses are trying to reignite Sri Lanka’s coffee culture with homegrown, handcrafted coffee. Some of them also import coffees from across the world, catering to different profiles of connoisseurs while others provide a collaborative space for the creatives. What follows are some of the dynamic spaces in the city’s evolving, fascinating coffee scene. You should come to Sri Lanka for many reasons—the incredible natural beauty, culture, history, and food—and now again for the delicious coffee.



Kopi Kade

Kopi Kade has been open for just four years, but in that relatively short time it’s become an international go-to spot for coffee in Colombo, and was the first Sri Lankan cafe to be featured on Sprudge, back in July of 2019. Kopi Kade occupies a popular corner on Stratford Avenue which bustles with assorted shops, boutiques, and cafes. Guarded by frangipani trees, exteriors denote a rustic, old school vibe. Walk inside and you will find a sleek, dim-lit space, carefully curated by a local architect.

Sri Lankan born Australian Nimeshan Namasivayam derived the cafe’s name from an old Sri Lankan soap opera. Namasivayam and his small team now offer single-origin pour-overs, espressos, and cold brews, bringing roasts from all corners of the world from Ethiopia to Ecuador, Indonesia and Vietnam.

Kopi Kade aspires to provide an alluring coffee experience for their dedicated audience. There are roaster sessions and brewing workshops for groups and individuals. They also offer tasting notes alongside every order, inviting customers to ask questions and know more about the cuppa they drink.

There’s little for the ‘gram here, but young crowds frequent the spot for Kopi Kade’s French toast with a Sri Lankan twist. Namasivayam aims at recreating his northern Sri Lankan roots through the cafe’s all-day menu. Try nibbles such as the mutton pattie, which accompanies the punchy spicy notes of the Jaffna Peninsula.

Kopi Kade is located at 15/3 Stratford Ave, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Instagram.

  Plus Nine Four

Here’s another crowd favorite in Colombo: Plus Nine Four, the sister cafe of popular local food joint Café Kumbuk. While the latter strives to promote healthy living combining both local and international flavors, Plus Nine Four creates a warm, welcoming coffee house experience for city dwellers. The coffee shop has outdoor seating nestled in a breezy tropical garden, set alongside a beautiful cafe compound wall adorned with a monochrome mural of plantain trees and coffee buds.

“We wanted to create a friendly and comfortable neighborhood coffee shop experience,” says owner Shana Dandeniya. Interiors are bright and well-lit, providing a chic, modern ambiance. While there’s a familiar Western feel, the coffee shop highlights Sri Lankan grown produce and flavors. Championing locally grown coffee, Plus Nine Four offers Soul Coffee, a brand that aspires to redefine Sri Lanka’s coffee culture while empowering the local communities.

“Plus Nine Four would not have come to life if not for its collaboration with Soul Coffee,” says Dandeniya. Young urbanites frequent the aesthetic space for their matcha lattes and salted caramel lattes. You can choose between Soul Coffee’s medium or dark roast blends. There’s also a great selection of pastries, cakes, and tarts such as the homemade buttermilk cake or chocolate coffee caramel ice cream tart.

Plus Nine Four is located at 35 D. S. Fonseka Rd, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

  Whight & Co

Whight & Co is one of the first cafes to open each day in Colombo, opening its doors at six in the morning sharp. The coffee shop sits on Marine Drive, facing the roaring Indian Ocean, and is housed inside a historic colonial building, where morning sun flickers through the windows while tall ceilings and pure-white walls create a calm, soothing atmosphere. As the day goes on, the retro space turns into a modern business hub while those who are looking for a relaxing space retreat to the lounge on the first floor. From the top, you get a clear view of the blue sea and the rickey train which runs along the old colonial-era railway tracks. This is as picturesque as coffee gets.

Apart from the go-to lattes and cappuccinos, Whight & Co are popular for their pour-overs, cold drip, and Vietnamese-style coffee made with condensed milk. Australian expat owners seem to have a cafe on nearly every corner of the earth, and so it goes with founders James and Gabrielle Whight. Alongside their team, the Whight’s brew each cup from scratch on the shop’s premises, and also roast Sri Lankan coffee in-house from their own Ruby Harvest brand, established in 2002.

There’s also a modest, refreshing menu for those looking for some fish and chips or an order of Australian lamb pie. Visit during evenings and grab a top floor seat for a stellar sunset view.

Whight & Co is located at Aloe Ave, 24 Marine Drive, Colombo. Follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

  London House of Coffee

The father and son duo behind London House of Coffee had one vision: to bring back the iconic coffee culture of the mid-1800s to modern-day Sri Lanka. With the supervision of agriculturists and coffee specialists, they now grow their organic coffee in the wet, central highlands of the island, and translate that into a coffee bar in the city.

Housed in a beautifully restored building with granite exteriors, London House of Coffee is located in Colombo 07, one of the greener parts of the city. Dark wood interiors with large lavish sofas provide a cozy vibe inside but you can also grab a spot in one of the comfy couches in their open-air balcony.

There’s an ever-evolving list of single origins to choose from, which expands beyond double espressos, macchiatos, hazelnut lattes, and flat whites while caramel cappuccino remains the bestseller. Beyond coffee, they also take pride in their organic smoothies, flavored tea, and an all-day menu crafted with locally-sourced ingredients. Try a bowl of penne pasta with creamy mushrooms, a slice of their Death by Chocolate, and the cafe’s in-house cheesecake.

The ever-smiling friendly staff are crowd pullers at the shop. Dressed in white shirts with long sleeves and an iconic red tie, roasters and baristas are happy to chat with you about their specialty coffee or the brand concept.

London House of Coffee is located at 2B Srimath R.G.Senanayake Mawatha, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

  Butter Boutique

A decade ago, Rukshi Nethicumara was a home baker who sold her cakes in a weekly market in Colombo. Her brainchild Butter Boutique started out of pure love for cakes and coffee. Nethicumara’s first encounter with Niccolo Coffee (a Melbourne-based roaster) was during one of her trips to the United States. Later, she wrote to Davide Drummond, Niccolo Coffee’s founder. Inspired by Nethicumara’s vision, Drummond flew to Colombo to train the staff at Butter Boutique.

The cafe first occupied a tiny space with seating for 10 people, and Nethicumara believes that it was among the very first places in all of the Sri Lankan capital to specialize in coffee and cake. “I wanted to create an indulgent experience with a variety of flavors,” says Nethicumara. One of the first shops in the city to introduce latte art, Butter Boutique soon became a major destination on the Colombo cafe scene.

Now, this cake-and-coffee shop fills a much larger, no less quaint space down Rosemead Place. “Coffee beans are air-flown from Melbourne and we source some of the best ingredients for our cakes and desserts,” says Nethicumara. A pioneer in introducing new bakery flavors to the market, Butter Boutique was also the first shop to introduce tres leches in Sri Lanka four years ago. They’ve been out in front for a decade and continue to be among the country’s very best coffee shops, with outstanding cakes to match.

Butter Boutique has multiple locations in Colombo. Follow them on Instagram.

  Coffee & Company

Nestled in a charming corner of Pedris Road, Coffee & Company is all about what the name suggests. Interiors here bring out a homely vibe with cutesy, Instagram-friendly decor. A large, old-school blackboard is hung above the main sofa which says “Know Your Coffee.” A small space, it’s easy to miss this house-turned-cafe, and there aren’t any cupping sessions, workshops or cutting edge coffee theories being experimented upon here. Instead what you’ll find is a relaxing space, great for first dates or seeking out a reading nook with a good book.

There’s a small menu which offers comfort foods, including sandwiches, pasta, and a few dessert options. I like ordering an Americano here, but they also make the city’s best hot chocolate. You’ll look cute here, your coffee will taste good, and your ‘gram will get a lot of hearts. What’s not to like?

Coffee & Company is located at 37/3 Pedris Rd, Colombo. Visit their official website and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

Zinara Rathnayake is a freelance journalist based in Colombo, Sri Lanka. Read more Zinara Rathnayake on Sprudge.

from Sprudge https://ift.tt/2ScgffM

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Cinnamon Quotes

Official Website: Cinnamon Quotes

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• A person of good intelligence and of sensitivity cannot exist in this society very long without having some anger about the inequality – and it’s not just a bleeding-heart, knee-jerk, liberal kind of a thing – it is just a normal human reaction to a nonsensical set of values where we have cinnamon flavored dental floss and there are people sleeping in the street. – George Carlin • Agent Jones switched to the big screen and a grainy video of MoMo sitting at his enormous desk, a swivel-hipped Elvis clock ticking behind his bewigged head. ‘Death to the capitalist pigs! Death to your cinnamon bun-smelling malls! Death to your power walking and automatic car windows and I’m With Stupid T-shirts! The Republic of ChaCha will never bend to your side-of-fries -drive -through-please-oh-would-you-like-ketchup-with-that corruption! MoMo B. ChaCha defies you and all you stand for, and one day, you will crumble into the sea and we will pick up the pieces and make them into sand art. – Libba Bray • Almond milk + cinnamon crunch = major key to success. – DJ Khaled • And Mocha’s berry, from Arabia pure, In small fine china cups, came in at last. Gold cups of filigree, made to secure the hand from burning, underneath them place. Cloves, cinnamon and saffron, too, were boiled Up with the coffee, which, I think, they spoiled. – Lord Byron • Anyone who gives you a cinnamon roll fresh out of the oven is a friend for life. – Daniel Handler • As a rule, I do not approve of messing around with coffee. No sugar, no milk, no chocolate, hazelnuts, cinnamon, no nothing…. Just drink it black, the way God does – Klay Thompson

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Cinnamon', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_cinnamon').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_cinnamon img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cinnamon bites and kisses simultaneously. – Vanna Bonta • C’mon, Amy, cinnamon rolls are calling us.” Dan put a hand to his ear. “Do you hear? ‘Amy? Dan?'” he squeaked. “‘Come and get my sugary, sticky goodness! – Judy Blundell • Cotton balls is an example of something I would buy, but not want to have as a nickname. Cinnamon buns, on the other hand, is something I would buy and want to have as a nickname. ‘Are you Cinnamon Buns?’ ‘You bet your sweet ass I am.’ – Demetri Martin • Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. – George R. R. Martin • For something warm, try adding cinnamon sticks and nutmeg to apple cider simmering on the stove. You’ll get the added benefit of making your home smell amazing. – Clinton Kelly • Have you tried the cinnamon things?” Poppet asks. “They’re rather new. What are they called, Widge?” “Fantastically delicious cinnamon things? – Erin Morgenstern • Her tiny hand gripped mine with a surprising warmth, and in a shocking wash of emotion, I felt everything I knew shift. The scent of cinnamon and baby powder hit me, and as my eyes widened, my heart melted, making room for her. – Kim Harrison • His smell—the scent of a demon, cinnamon incense, amber musk—wrapped around me, filled my lungs. I felt like I could breathe again, without every breath being tainted by the stench of dying cells. The smell of him seemed to coat my abused insides with peace, and flow down into the middle of my body to spread through my veins. I filled my lungs again. While I could, before what was undoubtedly a hallucination vanished. – Lilith Saintcrow • I actually put peanut butter on my bagel. I really like peanut butter and I like to ruin the bagel. You know what’s even crazier that I do sometimes? I do cinnamon raisin bagels with peanut butter. It is really, really out there. – Evan Peters • I always go to the lowest common denominator for that ingredient. So if I think squash, I try to think what it means to me — and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, I’m not gonna do well when I cook it. So [squash] means to me: fall, maple syrup, cinnamon, and things just come into your head so you can narrow the vortex and make it a bit smaller and you go with something because there’s no time. – Geoffrey Zakarian • I always make my favorite pancakes with milk, and I also add some fruit – like a banana or apple with some cinnamon sprinkled on top. I also sometimes put peanut butter on my pancakes! – Gabriela Isler • I can’t tell you enough about cinnamon. Cinnamon is an awesome spice to use and it goes great with something like apples in the morning or in a mixture of fruit or in your oatmeal or even in your cereal. – Emeril Lagasse • I don’t know if I’ll find the cinnamon girl. I think I already did, but I’m still singing, who knows. – Neil Young • I eat a huge breakfast every morning – it’s what I look forward to. I’ll do steel-cut oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries, an egg white scramble with mushrooms, zucchini, and onion, and a piece of cinnamon Ezekiel bread with almond butter. I could do that every single day. – Heather Mitts • I like cinnamon rolls, but I don’t always have time to make a pan. That’s why I wish they would sell cinnamon roll incense. After all I’d rather light a stick and have my roommate wake up with false hopes. – Mitch Hedberg • I love Christmas! I’m not religious, but I love the trappings of the season. I love the decorations, and the music, and Santa, and the festive food, and the cinnamon- and vanilla-infused aromas. – Jane Cleland • I love the scents of winter! For me, it’s all about the feeling you get when you smell pumpkin spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, gingerbread and spruce. – Taylor Swift • I realize that it’s like spices in the kitchen. I need that turmeric. I’m sorry, but cinnamon isn’t going to substitute . I feel that I can teach my listener about a new word they can use too. “Well, what words are part of my own community, even if I’m monolingual, that I’m not allowing myself to use in a public sphere?” – Sandra Cisneros • I really don’t think I need buns of steel. I’d be happy with buns of cinnamon. – Ellen DeGeneres • I was just taking out my trash and I had, like, 300 cans of Diet Coke. It was just like, ‘How did that happen?’ I don’t even remember buying them. I also like Cinnamon Toast Crunch. My addictions are pretty much the only things I consume. – Robert Pattinson • I wasn’t eating the right kinds of calories. I didn’t know about healthy carbs such as brown rice and lentils. Now I eat small meals throughout the day: oatmeal with cinnamon to start, fruit and yogurt as a snack, and vegetables or with chicken or tuna, and a healthy carb, like a yam, for lunch. – Alison Sweeney • I’d like to wear my old [cinnamon buns] hairstyle again – but with white hair. I think that would be funny. – Carrie Fisher • I’m getting fat … as I planned. Luckily, my gut is intentional. I’m actually preparing for a big role. Sure, it’s a cinnamon roll. – Jim Gaffigan • In football you need to have everything in your cake mix to make the cake taste right. One little bit of ingredient that Tony uses in his cake that gets talked about all the time is Rory’s throw. Call that cinnamon and he’s got a cinnamon flavoured cake. – Ian Holloway • In November, the smell of food is different. It is an orange smell. A squash and pumpkin smell. It tastes like cinnamon and can fill up a house in the morning, can pull everyone from bed in a fog. Food is better in November than any other time of the year. – Cynthia Rylant • Instead of doing cinnamon, nutmeg, and all those baking spices I’ll have one spice that’s for sweets, and that’s pumpkin pie spice. – Sandra Lee • It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon. – Sarah Addison Allen • I’ve been juicing lately, making different smoothies and such. It was interesting, and tough at first, but it’s been doing wonders for me. I’ve been leaning in up, shedding fat, burning fat and I’m feeling good, feeling clean. My favorite so far is some almond milk with a little cinnamon there. It’s good. I have that as a little night cap at the end of the day. – Brandon Spikes • My mother was good at reading books, making cinnamon biscuits, and coloring in a coloring book. Also she was a good eater of popcorn and knitter of sweaters with my initials right in them. She could sit really still. She knew how to believe in God and sing really loudly. When she sneezed our whole house rocked. My father was a great smoker and driver of vehicles..He could hold a full coffee cup while driving and never spill a drop, even going over bumps. He lost his temper faster than anyone. – Haven Kimmel • Oils of cinnamon and eucalyptus are as powerful against some microorganisms as conventional antibiotics, and are especially effective against flus. Sandalwood oil from Mysore, India, is not only a classic perfume oil but is also a traditional remedy for sore throats and laryngitis. Lavender oil, so often used in toilet waters and scented sachets, has a dramatic healing action on burns. – Robert Tisserand • Promises are lies wrapped in pretty ribbons -Cinnamon – Virginia C. Andrews • She serves me a piece of it a few minutes out of the oven. A little steam rises from the slits on top. Sugar and spice – cinnamon – burned into the crust. But she’s wearing these dark glasses in the kitchen at ten o’clock in the morning – everything nice – as she watches me break off a piece, bring it to my mouth, and blow on it. My daughter’s kitchen, in winter. I fork the pie in and tell myself to stay out of it. She says she loves him. No way could it be worse. – Raymond Carver • Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries. – Terry Pratchett • Ten silver saxes, a bass with a bow The drummer relaxes and waits between shows For his cinnamon girl. – Neil Young • The jelly – the jam and the marmalade, And the cherry-and quince-‘preserves’ she made! And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear, With cinnamon in ’em, and all things rare! And the more we ate was the more to spare, Out to old Aunt Mary’s! Ah! – James Whitcomb Riley • The only fruit which even much living yields seems to be often only some trivial success,–the ability to do some slight thing better. We make conquest only of husks and shells for the most part,–at least apparently,–but sometimes these are cinnamon and spices, you know. – Henry David Thoreau • The secret of food lies in memory – of thinking and then knowing what the taste of cinnamon or steak is. – Jerry Saltz • There’s no time to be modest. Reason will not work here. Without warning, I kiss Kartik. His lips, pressed firmly against mine, are a surprise. They are warm, light as breath, firm as the give of a peach against my mouth. A scent like scorched cinnamon hangs in the air, but I’m not falling into any vision. It’s his smell in me. A smell that makes my stomach drop through my feet. A smell that pushes all thought out of my head and replaces it with an overpowering hunger for more. – Libba Bray • They take unbelievable pleasure in the hideous blast of the hunting horn and baying of the hounds. Dogs dung smells sweet as cinnamon to them. – Desiderius Erasmus • They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream-excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory. – Liane Moriarty • This morning, Tegus welcomed me again with an arm clasp and cheek touch. I wasn’t startled this time, and I breathed in at his neck. How can I describe the scent of his skin? He smells something like cinnamon– brown and dry and sweet and warm. Ancestors, is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell? – Shannon Hale • Tigers love pepper…they hate cinnamon. – Zach Galifianakis • Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter’s deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world’s oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter. – Shauna Niequist • We have fried catfish, country fried steak and cinnamon-roasted pork. We have collard greens, black-eyed peas, hush puppies, biscuits, sweet potato pie and lots of gravy. Most players love it, but we also have a baked catfish for players who are still looking to stay on the approved diet. – Mark Farner • What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds. – Jack Gilbert • When a kid says “smell my hand,” it almost never smells like cinnamon. – Brian P. Cleary • You know, you still owe me pancakes. I think I could go for…apple cinnamon ones now. “ “Apple cinnamon? You sure are demanding.” “It’s all right. I think you’re man enough for it.” “Thetis, if I actually believed you had either apples or cinnamon in your kitchen, I’d make them for you right now.” I didn’t answer. I was pretty sure I had some year-old Apple Jacks, but that was about it. – Richelle Mead • You liked me.” I smiled. “You were smitten with me. You were speechless to behold my beauty. You had never met anyone so fascinating. You thought of me every waking minute. You dreamed about me. You couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t let such wonderfulness out of your sight. You had to follow me.” I turned to Cinnamon. He licked my nose. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. It was your rat I was after.” She laughed, and the desert sang. – Jerry Spinelli

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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[equitiesstocks]

Cinnamon Quotes

Official Website: Cinnamon Quotes

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• A person of good intelligence and of sensitivity cannot exist in this society very long without having some anger about the inequality – and it’s not just a bleeding-heart, knee-jerk, liberal kind of a thing – it is just a normal human reaction to a nonsensical set of values where we have cinnamon flavored dental floss and there are people sleeping in the street. – George Carlin • Agent Jones switched to the big screen and a grainy video of MoMo sitting at his enormous desk, a swivel-hipped Elvis clock ticking behind his bewigged head. ‘Death to the capitalist pigs! Death to your cinnamon bun-smelling malls! Death to your power walking and automatic car windows and I’m With Stupid T-shirts! The Republic of ChaCha will never bend to your side-of-fries -drive -through-please-oh-would-you-like-ketchup-with-that corruption! MoMo B. ChaCha defies you and all you stand for, and one day, you will crumble into the sea and we will pick up the pieces and make them into sand art. – Libba Bray • Almond milk + cinnamon crunch = major key to success. – DJ Khaled • And Mocha’s berry, from Arabia pure, In small fine china cups, came in at last. Gold cups of filigree, made to secure the hand from burning, underneath them place. Cloves, cinnamon and saffron, too, were boiled Up with the coffee, which, I think, they spoiled. – Lord Byron • Anyone who gives you a cinnamon roll fresh out of the oven is a friend for life. – Daniel Handler • As a rule, I do not approve of messing around with coffee. No sugar, no milk, no chocolate, hazelnuts, cinnamon, no nothing…. Just drink it black, the way God does – Klay Thompson

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Cinnamon', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_cinnamon').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_cinnamon img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cinnamon bites and kisses simultaneously. – Vanna Bonta • C’mon, Amy, cinnamon rolls are calling us.” Dan put a hand to his ear. “Do you hear? ‘Amy? Dan?'” he squeaked. “‘Come and get my sugary, sticky goodness! – Judy Blundell • Cotton balls is an example of something I would buy, but not want to have as a nickname. Cinnamon buns, on the other hand, is something I would buy and want to have as a nickname. ‘Are you Cinnamon Buns?’ ‘You bet your sweet ass I am.’ – Demetri Martin • Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. – George R. R. Martin • For something warm, try adding cinnamon sticks and nutmeg to apple cider simmering on the stove. You’ll get the added benefit of making your home smell amazing. – Clinton Kelly • Have you tried the cinnamon things?” Poppet asks. “They’re rather new. What are they called, Widge?” “Fantastically delicious cinnamon things? – Erin Morgenstern • Her tiny hand gripped mine with a surprising warmth, and in a shocking wash of emotion, I felt everything I knew shift. The scent of cinnamon and baby powder hit me, and as my eyes widened, my heart melted, making room for her. – Kim Harrison • His smell—the scent of a demon, cinnamon incense, amber musk—wrapped around me, filled my lungs. I felt like I could breathe again, without every breath being tainted by the stench of dying cells. The smell of him seemed to coat my abused insides with peace, and flow down into the middle of my body to spread through my veins. I filled my lungs again. While I could, before what was undoubtedly a hallucination vanished. – Lilith Saintcrow • I actually put peanut butter on my bagel. I really like peanut butter and I like to ruin the bagel. You know what’s even crazier that I do sometimes? I do cinnamon raisin bagels with peanut butter. It is really, really out there. – Evan Peters • I always go to the lowest common denominator for that ingredient. So if I think squash, I try to think what it means to me — and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, I’m not gonna do well when I cook it. So [squash] means to me: fall, maple syrup, cinnamon, and things just come into your head so you can narrow the vortex and make it a bit smaller and you go with something because there’s no time. – Geoffrey Zakarian • I always make my favorite pancakes with milk, and I also add some fruit – like a banana or apple with some cinnamon sprinkled on top. I also sometimes put peanut butter on my pancakes! – Gabriela Isler • I can’t tell you enough about cinnamon. Cinnamon is an awesome spice to use and it goes great with something like apples in the morning or in a mixture of fruit or in your oatmeal or even in your cereal. – Emeril Lagasse • I don’t know if I’ll find the cinnamon girl. I think I already did, but I’m still singing, who knows. – Neil Young • I eat a huge breakfast every morning – it’s what I look forward to. I’ll do steel-cut oatmeal with blueberries and strawberries, an egg white scramble with mushrooms, zucchini, and onion, and a piece of cinnamon Ezekiel bread with almond butter. I could do that every single day. – Heather Mitts • I like cinnamon rolls, but I don’t always have time to make a pan. That’s why I wish they would sell cinnamon roll incense. After all I’d rather light a stick and have my roommate wake up with false hopes. – Mitch Hedberg • I love Christmas! I’m not religious, but I love the trappings of the season. I love the decorations, and the music, and Santa, and the festive food, and the cinnamon- and vanilla-infused aromas. – Jane Cleland • I love the scents of winter! For me, it’s all about the feeling you get when you smell pumpkin spice, cinnamon, nutmeg, gingerbread and spruce. – Taylor Swift • I realize that it’s like spices in the kitchen. I need that turmeric. I’m sorry, but cinnamon isn’t going to substitute . I feel that I can teach my listener about a new word they can use too. “Well, what words are part of my own community, even if I’m monolingual, that I’m not allowing myself to use in a public sphere?” – Sandra Cisneros • I really don’t think I need buns of steel. I’d be happy with buns of cinnamon. – Ellen DeGeneres • I was just taking out my trash and I had, like, 300 cans of Diet Coke. It was just like, ‘How did that happen?’ I don’t even remember buying them. I also like Cinnamon Toast Crunch. My addictions are pretty much the only things I consume. – Robert Pattinson • I wasn’t eating the right kinds of calories. I didn’t know about healthy carbs such as brown rice and lentils. Now I eat small meals throughout the day: oatmeal with cinnamon to start, fruit and yogurt as a snack, and vegetables or with chicken or tuna, and a healthy carb, like a yam, for lunch. – Alison Sweeney • I’d like to wear my old [cinnamon buns] hairstyle again – but with white hair. I think that would be funny. – Carrie Fisher • I’m getting fat … as I planned. Luckily, my gut is intentional. I’m actually preparing for a big role. Sure, it’s a cinnamon roll. – Jim Gaffigan • In football you need to have everything in your cake mix to make the cake taste right. One little bit of ingredient that Tony uses in his cake that gets talked about all the time is Rory’s throw. Call that cinnamon and he’s got a cinnamon flavoured cake. – Ian Holloway • In November, the smell of food is different. It is an orange smell. A squash and pumpkin smell. It tastes like cinnamon and can fill up a house in the morning, can pull everyone from bed in a fog. Food is better in November than any other time of the year. – Cynthia Rylant • Instead of doing cinnamon, nutmeg, and all those baking spices I’ll have one spice that’s for sweets, and that’s pumpkin pie spice. – Sandra Lee • It looked like the world was covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon. – Sarah Addison Allen • I’ve been juicing lately, making different smoothies and such. It was interesting, and tough at first, but it’s been doing wonders for me. I’ve been leaning in up, shedding fat, burning fat and I’m feeling good, feeling clean. My favorite so far is some almond milk with a little cinnamon there. It’s good. I have that as a little night cap at the end of the day. – Brandon Spikes • My mother was good at reading books, making cinnamon biscuits, and coloring in a coloring book. Also she was a good eater of popcorn and knitter of sweaters with my initials right in them. She could sit really still. She knew how to believe in God and sing really loudly. When she sneezed our whole house rocked. My father was a great smoker and driver of vehicles..He could hold a full coffee cup while driving and never spill a drop, even going over bumps. He lost his temper faster than anyone. – Haven Kimmel • Oils of cinnamon and eucalyptus are as powerful against some microorganisms as conventional antibiotics, and are especially effective against flus. Sandalwood oil from Mysore, India, is not only a classic perfume oil but is also a traditional remedy for sore throats and laryngitis. Lavender oil, so often used in toilet waters and scented sachets, has a dramatic healing action on burns. – Robert Tisserand • Promises are lies wrapped in pretty ribbons -Cinnamon – Virginia C. Andrews • She serves me a piece of it a few minutes out of the oven. A little steam rises from the slits on top. Sugar and spice – cinnamon – burned into the crust. But she’s wearing these dark glasses in the kitchen at ten o’clock in the morning – everything nice – as she watches me break off a piece, bring it to my mouth, and blow on it. My daughter’s kitchen, in winter. I fork the pie in and tell myself to stay out of it. She says she loves him. No way could it be worse. – Raymond Carver • Soon to come in licorice, orange, cinnamon, and banana, but not strawberry, because I hate strawberries. – Terry Pratchett • Ten silver saxes, a bass with a bow The drummer relaxes and waits between shows For his cinnamon girl. – Neil Young • The jelly – the jam and the marmalade, And the cherry-and quince-‘preserves’ she made! And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear, With cinnamon in ’em, and all things rare! And the more we ate was the more to spare, Out to old Aunt Mary’s! Ah! – James Whitcomb Riley • The only fruit which even much living yields seems to be often only some trivial success,–the ability to do some slight thing better. We make conquest only of husks and shells for the most part,–at least apparently,–but sometimes these are cinnamon and spices, you know. – Henry David Thoreau • The secret of food lies in memory – of thinking and then knowing what the taste of cinnamon or steak is. – Jerry Saltz • There’s no time to be modest. Reason will not work here. Without warning, I kiss Kartik. His lips, pressed firmly against mine, are a surprise. They are warm, light as breath, firm as the give of a peach against my mouth. A scent like scorched cinnamon hangs in the air, but I’m not falling into any vision. It’s his smell in me. A smell that makes my stomach drop through my feet. A smell that pushes all thought out of my head and replaces it with an overpowering hunger for more. – Libba Bray • They take unbelievable pleasure in the hideous blast of the hunting horn and baying of the hounds. Dogs dung smells sweet as cinnamon to them. – Desiderius Erasmus • They would think she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream-excellent), but she was actually savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory. – Liane Moriarty • This morning, Tegus welcomed me again with an arm clasp and cheek touch. I wasn’t startled this time, and I breathed in at his neck. How can I describe the scent of his skin? He smells something like cinnamon– brown and dry and sweet and warm. Ancestors, is it wrong for me to imagine laying my head on his chest and closing my eyes and breathing in his smell? – Shannon Hale • Tigers love pepper…they hate cinnamon. – Zach Galifianakis • Use what you have, use what the world gives you. Use the first day of fall: bright flame before winter’s deadness; harvest; orange, gold, amber; cool nights and the smell of fire. Our tree-lined streets are set ablaze, our kitchens filled with the smells of nostalgia: apples bubbling into sauce, roasting squash, cinnamon, nutmeg, cider, warmth itself. The leaves as they spark into wild color just before they die are the world’s oldest performance art, and everything we see is celebrating one last violently hued hurrah before the black and white silence of winter. – Shauna Niequist • We have fried catfish, country fried steak and cinnamon-roasted pork. We have collard greens, black-eyed peas, hush puppies, biscuits, sweet potato pie and lots of gravy. Most players love it, but we also have a baked catfish for players who are still looking to stay on the approved diet. – Mark Farner • What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds. – Jack Gilbert • When a kid says “smell my hand,” it almost never smells like cinnamon. – Brian P. Cleary • You know, you still owe me pancakes. I think I could go for…apple cinnamon ones now. “ “Apple cinnamon? You sure are demanding.” “It’s all right. I think you’re man enough for it.” “Thetis, if I actually believed you had either apples or cinnamon in your kitchen, I’d make them for you right now.” I didn’t answer. I was pretty sure I had some year-old Apple Jacks, but that was about it. – Richelle Mead • You liked me.” I smiled. “You were smitten with me. You were speechless to behold my beauty. You had never met anyone so fascinating. You thought of me every waking minute. You dreamed about me. You couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t let such wonderfulness out of your sight. You had to follow me.” I turned to Cinnamon. He licked my nose. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. It was your rat I was after.” She laughed, and the desert sang. – Jerry Spinelli

[clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

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[businessweekme]

The 16 Dishes You Should Have Eaten in 2018

The year 2018 has not been a great one for the food world. There was the loss of two of the brightest people in the business, Anthony Bourdain and the Pulitzer Prize-winning Los Angeles critic Jonathan Gold. Likewise, it was hard to find one new, unifying restaurant that captured everyone’s imagination.

That doesn’t mean there weren’t captivating dishes. In fact, these 16 were positively remarkable. They run the gamut from just-caught king salmon in Alaska to exquisitely aged Irish beef in London. There’s a lot of bread—it was, after all, the 2017 dish of the year and still looming large—but no noodles. New York introduced two places you’d assume would make the cut: Missy Robbins’s pasta-focused Misi followed her breakout, Lilia, and David Chang reimagined ramen at the new Momofuku. Yet different dishes stood out more on their menus instead.

To find out what those dishes are, and the 14 other most outstanding ones, read on. And grab a snack while you’re at it—you’re going to get hungry.

Sukchae | Atomix, New YorkUnlike most dishes that feature a dollop of caviar, what grabs your attention with this exquisite Korean omakase counter’s cooked vegetable course is not the pricey fish roe. Chef-owner Junghyun Park layers tender celery root on a bed of fresh, yogurtlike buttermilk cheese—and adds the caviar, sure. But then comes the unforgettable component: creamy, softly sweet hazelnut sauce that Park pours over it all to finish the dish. It balances the saline pop of caviar, the silkiness of the celery root, and the tang from the cheese.

Whole Roast Duck With Duck Confit Salad | Spoken English, Washington, D.C.This small, standing-room-only restaurant (literally) is hidden in the groovy Line hotel, a new D.C. hotspot that once was a church. The dining room consists of two short counters, which are an extension of the kitchen; it’s like snacking at a friend’s house. On the menu are twisted classics such as chicken skin dumplings from chefs Erik Bruner Yang and Matthew Crowley, as well as the best duck I ate this year—a time when there’s been a lot of good duck out there. Here it’s cured in tea for four to five days before being roasted over wood and carved up. The legs are confited and tossed into a salad, the breast is thickly sliced, and the supple tortillas to roll it all up in are made with duck fat instead of lard.

Roasted Tomatoes With Hot Honey | Misi, BrooklynA few years ago at Lilia, chef Missy Robbins made a long, curly stretch of malfadini noodle with buttery pink peppercorns New York’s most sought-after dish. At her new place, Misi, in the southern reaches of Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood, the best thing isn’t pasta but oven-blasted tomatoes. Roasting for a couple of hours intensifies their sweetness, which is then hit with a drizzle of Calabrian chile-infused honey, further punching up the shriveled halves. A licorice bite from the cracked coriander seeds and fennel, tucked into the oil, takes it over the top.

Maine Chutoro Hand Roll | Mr. Tuna, Portland, MaineInstagram: Mr. Tuna on Instagram: “End Labor Day…

Forget lobster and oysters. The local bluefin tuna belly that Jordan Rubin gets in late summer and the fall is the seafood standout in Portland, Maine. In mid-2017, Rubin bought a hot dog cart and started making hand rolls and sushi burritos on the downtown streets. His operation quickly grew into a mini food truck empire that now includes a space in the Portland Public Market. The hand roll’s nori wrapper is notably crisp because Rubin keeps it warmed in an electric toaster before wrapping it around tangy rice and fatty, melt-in-your-mouth chopped fish mixed with sea salt, scallions, and potent fresh wasabi sauce.

Poulet Roti | Frenchette, New YorkTwenty years ago the roast chicken at Balthazar, carved tableside, made the bird chic in Manhattan. Now the chefs who helped put it on the map there—Lee Hanson and Riad Nasr—have reintroduced it at their beyond-buzzy Frenchette. Not simply a vehicle for crispy skin, it’s a superbly juicy and supple bird served in a shallow casserole. Standing alongside is a separate pot of pommes purée that’s approximately half butter, and often garnished with roasted maitake mushrooms, giving you all the earthy flavors on one table.

Panna Cotta | Brawn, LondonFor those who think they never want to eat panna cotta again, it’s time you taste the triangular wedge at Columbia Street’s cult favorite wine bar, where it’s served as if it were a cake. The custard is infused with piquant cardamom and topped with charred orange slices that offset the sweetness. But the beauty of this dish is the rich double cream that chef-owner Ed Wilson sources to make it, lending a texture that’s not too gummy, not too loose—just perfect, like the best ice cream made ever-so-slightly more solid.

Aged Beef Sobrasada on Toast | Bright, LondonAt this spare new Scandi restaurant and wine bar, chefs Will Gleave and Peppe Belvedere rely on their neighbors—specifically the great local butcher shop, Hill & Szork. They take Irish sirloin that’s been aged at the shop for 45 days (there’s not enough room at Bright to age it themselves) and then grind it with funky aged beef fat and salt, pepper, and paprika. It’s served on sourdough toast brushed with more of the fat, then topped with capers and chives macerated with elderberry. It’s the platonic ideal of beef tartare.

Blum’s Coffee Crunch Cake | Valerie, Los AngelesValerie Gordon may have gained notoriety for her chocolate bars, now a common sight at coffee shops across the country, with their bold packaging and flavors such as salt and pepper with crispy rice. But the real standout of her eponymous confectionary are the classic desserts she re-creates out of fear they’re fading into oblivion. Blum’s cake is an architectural masterpiece, studded with shards of chewy, coffee-infused honeycomb that superbly contrast the coffee whipped cream oozing out between layers of tender yellow cake.

Cheese & Crackers | Elske, ChicagoThe deceptively simple dish at Michelin-starred restaurant Elske has just three components: cheese, jam, and crackers. The cheese is Wilde Weide, a two-year-old aged raw cow gouda with crystallized streaks. The jam is vanilla-infused tomato dolloped into a nest. And the crackers are made from a yeasted dough that’s doused in olive oil before baking, which gives them a superbly flaky, buttery texture, like a French pastry you didn’t know existed. Together, they’re unstoppable.

Slow-Roasted Lamb Neck Shawarma | Bavel, Los AngelesAmong the slew of promising new Middle Eastern restaurants across the U.S. is the greenery-filled Bavel in downtown L.A. Ori Menashe takes an underused cut—lamb neck—and coats it with a paste of tangy sumac and caramelized onions. The meat is roasted for hours until falling-apart tender, and the rub is baked in. It’s served with an array of sides including pickled vegetables and creamy house-made tahini, as well as the flatbreads for which the restaurant has rightly become famous.

Fried Blue Prawns | Momofuku Noodle Bar Columbus Circle, New YorkDavid Chang is on a mission to get you to eat the whole shrimp—shell, head, all of it. To accomplish this, he and his crack chef team of Tony Kim, Matthew Rudofker, and J.J. Basil have created a scintillatingly spicy coating at the new Noodle Bar in the Shops at Columbus Circle, aka the Time Warner Center. A blend of cumin, togarashi (the Japanese version of chili powder), sugar, salt, and Sichuan peppercorn is plastered onto the delicately fried shrimp, making it impossible not to eat the wafer-crisp shell along with the sweet meat inside. A spritz of lemon and an accompanying bowl of yuzu mayo cools it all down.

Dilliwala Butter Chicken | Adda, New YorkNormally, butter chicken is a forgettable staple of Indian takeaway. That all changes at the thrilling, no-frills Adda in Long Island City, Queens. The dish is recognizable only by name, and it makes you realize that all the versions you’ve had before are lame. The deep orange sauce is lit up with darkly sweet fenugreek, cardamom, cilantro root, and a generous hit of red chiles, making it much hotter than usual. The biggest difference: the local tomatoes and honey that replace the standard canned tomatoes and sugar, lending the dish a punchy freshness that cuts through that classic slick of butter on top.

Pork and Shrimp Bao Bao With Fried Egg | Kym’s, LondonWell-made dumplings are enough for most people, especially when the filling is a mix of juicy seasoned pork and chopped shrimp in a tender wonton wrapper. But at Kym’s in the Bloomberg Arcade, chef Andrew Wong, who heads the Michelin-starred A. Wong, ups the ante by frying them with eggs for extra unctuousness. The result is an Asian-style shakshuka with golden, crispy bits of white and creamy yolk enriching the already rich dumplings. The final touch is a sprinkling of scallions, sesame, and chili oil studded with alluring bits of fried onion.

Grilled Ivory King Salmon | In Bocca al Lupo, Juneau, AlaskaChef Beau Schooler of Juneau’s In Bocca al Lupo calls his dish simply “salmon offcuts,” which may be true, if perhaps a disservice to the quality of what you get on your plate: a combination of the collar, belly, tail, and head, depending on what was caught in the last 24 hours. There’s never a guarantee that he’ll have white king salmon, but if he does, order it. The incredibly fresh fish has a cleaner richness then common salmon. Salted and drizzled with olive oil, the fish gets popped into a wood-burning oven, right next to the coals, so the skin chars. The accompaniment is an equally elemental charred lemon wedge, a garlicky parsley pesto that’s intensified with a blast of fish sauce, and a finishing sprinkle of Alaskan sea salt from Sitka.

Ibérico Katsu Sando | Ferris, New YorkIt’s been a big year for sandos in New York, the most high-profile being the $185 version of the Japanese sandwich made with wagyu beef. But pay attention to the one crafted by chef Greg Proechel at Ferris that costs about one-tenth the price. Made with succulent acorn-fed Spanish pork, about ¾-inch thick, it’s egged, breaded, and fried to medium rare so it’s crunchy but still supremely juicy. The toast is judiciously brushed with a fruity, hoisin sauce and is just thick enough to keep the cutlet secure.

Ilaria Pie | Una Pizza Napoletana, New YorkPizza prince Anthony Mangieri figures he’s tried every buffalo mozzarella in the U.S. and half of the ones in Italy. He came across his favorite outside Naples—it’s grassy and slightly animal-y—and along with that classic “mozz,” he brings in a quantity that’s been wood-smoked to star on Una Pizza Napoletana’s simple, standout pie. The Ilaria, named for his wife, is a doughy delight, like a lightly charred pillow. It features pools of that smoky mozzarella paired with the refreshing snap of cherry tomatoes and arugula.

The post The 16 Dishes You Should Have Eaten in 2018 appeared first on Bloomberg Businessweek Middle East.

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Best of the Fest: What to Get at Epcot’s Festival of the Holidays

The Epcot International Festival of the Holidays is ON!

This annual Epcot Festival just kicked off today and runs through December 30, 2018. And in addition to over a dozen international food booths, guests will be entertained by Holiday Storytellers and the Candlelight Processional, which share cultural traditions for the holidays around the world.

Green Tea ‘Yule’ Log at Festival of the Holidays

Returning this year is Chip & Dale’s Christmas Tree Spree — a festive kid-friendly Scavenger Hunt similar to Remy’s Ratatouille Hide & Squeak Scavenger Hunt from the Food and Wine Festival. Only for the holidays, we’re helping Chip & Dale collect ornaments to decorate their Christmas Tree.

And this year, the expanded Peace on Earth holiday version of IllumiNations: Reflections of Earth carries additional significance since this is the final holiday season for the IllumiNations nighttime spectacular before it is replaced with an all-new show in 2019.

But our favorite thing about the Festival? It’s the HOLIDAY FOOD BOOTHS! Holiday Kitchens offer enhanced food offerings around Epcot, serving cuisine from around the globe reflecting various cultures and holiday traditions.

CLICK HERE for pictures of EVERY FOOD ITEM AT THE BOOTHS, PLUS prices and menus!

We’ve been eating our way around Epcot to determine the Best of the FEST! And now we’re sharing our favorite food and drinks with you… because we’ve tried them ALL, and we want you to know what you can’t miss at the Epcot Festival of the Holidays!

Bouchée à la Reine Traditionnelle: Turkey and Mushrooms in a Veloute Cream Sauce served in a Light Puff Pastry at Le Marche De Noel Holiday Kitchen

A traditional dish at the French Booth, the Turkey and Mushrooms in a Veloute Cream Sauce served in a Light Puff Pastry should be on your tasting list! The pastry was the best part of this (you can smell it as soon as you walk up to the France booth!), but the filling was savory and delicious as well.

Bouchée à la Reine Traditionnelle

An amazing addition to the Epcot festival!

Whatever dish you choose, be sure to include the Spiced Rum Punch Slush in your order.

Spiced Rum Punch Slush

Mixed with Spiced Rum, Rhum Clement V.S.O.P., Orange and Pineapple Juice with Cinnamon, this specialty cocktail is sweet and tart at the same time. The “spiced rum” isn’t the overwhelming flavor — this is more fruity than spicy.

New Year Celebration Soba at Shi Wasu Holiday Kitchen

DFB’s 2018 pick at this Japanese holiday kitchen is the Buckwheat Soba Noodles in Hot Dashi Soup with Chicken and Spinach.

New Year Celebration Soba

You’ll want to get the Cinnamon Apple Cider made with Plum Wine, Orange Juice with Lemonade and Apples at Shi Wasu as well. We were surprised how much we enjoyed this one.

Cinnamon Apple Cider

Both are solid, seasonal choices!

Potato Dumpling with Mushroom Sauce at Bavaria Holiday Kitchen

The DFB team recommends the Potato Dumpling with Mushroom Sauce at the Bavaria Holiday Kitchen.

Potato Dumpling with Mushroom Sauce

Of course, the cheese fondue is a returning favorite!

Cheese Fondue

Ready for a seasonal sweet?

Black Forest Roulade with Cherry Whipped Cream

Dig into the Black Forest Roulade with Cherry Whipped Cream!

Hand-carved Smoked Ham at American Holiday Table Holiday Kitchen

At the American Holiday Table, we found a sweet and savory Hand-carved Smoked Ham with Green Beans and Sweet Potato Casserole.

Hand-Carved Smoked Ham, Green Beans, and Sweet Potato Casserole

Another returning favorite recommendation from the American Pavilion — Slow-roasted Turkey!

Slow-Roasted Turkey

Served with traditional sides of Stuffing, Mashed Potatoes, Green Beans and Cranberry Sauce, this dish delicious.

Warm up with American Heritage Milk Chocolate Gourmet Hot Cocoa.

American Heritage Milk Chocolate Gourmet Hot Cocoa with Wondermade Marshmallows

Made with Wondermade Marshmallows, this cocoa is extra creamy and we could taste what sure seemed like real cocoa!

ALL three are great options for kids, too!

Potato Knish at L’Chaim! Holiday Kitchen

Look for the Potato Knish with Herb Sour Cream at L’Chaim! Holiday Kitchen.

Potato Knish

With dough resembling a cross between a bagel and a pretzel, you’ll want to grab one of these!

Another delicious option — Pastrami on Rye with House-made Pickles and Deli Mustard! This one is only for you if you’re a big deli fan, though. If you didn’t like pastrami before this, the dish won’t make you a believer.

Pastrami on Rye

And we can’t leave this holiday stop without mentioning the Black and White Cookie. This one was thick and cakey, which had our DFB team arguing a bit! Some members thought that a black and white should be thinner and larger, while some remembered their black and white cookie experiences being similar to this cookie — a thicker version with a more cakey texture. Which side do you fall on?

Black and White Cookie

The Black and White Cookie is part of the Holiday Cookie Stroll!

Croissant Doughnut with Eggnog Pastry Cream and Gingersnap Crumbs at Taste Track

Eggnog fans will enjoy the Croissant Doughnut with its sweet and spiced Eggnog Pastry Cream at Taste Track.

Croissant Doughnut with Eggnog Pastry Cream

A super tasty twist on traditional seasonal flavors!

Pork and Vegetable Egg Rolls at Shanghai Holiday Kitchen

Serving Pork and Vegetable Egg Rolls, go ahead and line up at the Shanghai Holiday Kitchen. These are super savory and flavorful — just plain yummy, even if they are pretty standard Chinese take-out egg rolls.

Pork and Vegetable Egg Rolls Inside

The Mongolian Beef Bao Bun with a Fortune Cookie was also one of our favorites this year! The sauce is excellent.

Mongolian Beef Bao Bun and a Fortune Cookie

The returning Celebration Barbecue Pork gets high marks again.

Celebration Barbecue Pork

You’ll definitely feel fortunate while savoring the flavors at Shanghai!

Seared Salmon at Yukon Holiday Kitchen

Yukon Holiday Kitchen serves up Seared Salmon with Crown Maple Whisky Glaze, Parsnip Silk, Apple Chutney, and Hazelnut Croquant.

Seared Salmon with Crown Royal Whiskey Glaze

Enjoy a Canadian favorite!

Returning this year, we still recommend the Traditional French Canadian Tourtiere with Canadian Ketchup.

Canadian Tourtiere with Canadian Ketchup

Wash it all down with the popular Frozen Coffee with Tap 357 Whisky!

Frozen Coffee

Turkey Poutine at Refreshment Port

A full meal, the Turkey poutine at Refreshment Port is served with Sweet Potato Fries, Turkey Gravy, Cranberry Relish, and Crispy Onions.

Turkey Poutine from Refreshment Port

This seasonal poutine was super flavorful.

Warm Caramel Stuffed Salted Pretzel at Refreshment Outpost

The Warm Caramel Stuffed Salted Pretzel with Soft-serve Ice Cream and Chocolate Sauce is a DFB 2018 favorite found at Refreshment Outpost.

Warm Caramel Stuffed Salted Pretzel

A sweet and salty treat!

FESTIVAL WINNERS

Enchilada de Pollo con Mole at Las Posadas Holiday Kitchen

Serving festive Mexican cuisine, Las Posadas is our FESTIVAL WINNER for the 2018 Holiday Kitchens at Epcot’s Festival of the Holidays. While all dishes were great, the Enchilada de Pollo con Mole and La Posada Margarita were the stand-outs!

Enchilada de Pollo con Mole

The Chipotle Chicken in a Corn Tortilla is topped with Mole Negro and garnished with Shredded Oaxaca Cheese and Sesame Seeds. Very impressive!

Your festive sips should include the La Posada Margarita.

La Posada Margarita

It’s mixed with Cazadores Blanco Tequila, Horchata-Cinnamon Liqueur, and Agua de Horchata topped with Cinnamon. Christmas in a cup.

Warm Beignets at Sapphire Holiday Kitchen

Our next winner of the 2018 Festival of the Holidays is Sapphire! While all the dishes here are worthy, one of our DFB team members found the “Sfenj” – Warm Beignets — to be the best thing she ate all day.

Sfenj

Cream, Cinnamon Sugar, Toasted Almonds, and Chocolate Sauce add to the sweetness of these beignets.

CLICK HERE for pictures of EVERY FOOD ITEM AT THE BOOTHS, PLUS prices and menus!

Thanks for joining us for the Most Wonderful Time of the Year at Epcot! If you’re planning to visit Epcot during the Festival of the Holidays, be sure to visit our Epcot Festival of the Holidays page for all the information you need.

See the Epcot Festival of the Holidays in action in our DFB YouTube video!

What would you most like to try at the Epcot Festival of the Holidays? Please let us know with a comment!

Don’t Miss Out on Any Disney World Fun This Holiday Season!

The DFB Guide to the Walt Disney World® Holidays 2018 is a one-of-a-kind resource that will help you get the most out of your holiday vacation at Walt Disney World. Order The DFB Guide to the Walt Disney World® Holidays 2018 now!

It includes over 400 pages of must-have information, including:

A full What’s New!! chapter for the 2018 Holiday Season

A full Monthly Schedule of Events for the Holiday Season

How to avoid the crowds on Disney World’s busiest days (and when Disney World closes their parks due to capacity!)

ALL of the events, activities, and holiday additions in Walt Disney World. ALL. OF. THEM.

And of course we’ll tell you where to eat! ;-D

Order your 2018 Guide now and get 20% off with code PEPPERMINT!

As always, our e-Books are 100% guaranteed! If you don’t love it, you get your money back!

Related posts:

EAT THIS at Epcot Festival of the Holidays!

Here’s What We Can’t WAIT To Try At The 2018 Epcot Food and Wine Festival!

News! MENUS for the Holiday Kitchens at the 2017 Epcot International Festival of the Holidays!

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