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goodstories08 · 2 years

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What Greasers Want

Dallas Winston X Male Reader

Request: No (Feel free to request a story, I’m running out of original ideas)

Description: You were one of the most well known socs for your money. Your parents were loaded and everyone admire you for it, which made you sick. Pretty much everyone you knew only wanted to be friends with you for your money, so you would visit the west side every now and then, to clear your head. After one night on your way back home you catch the eye of one particular greaser.

You kicked a rock across the sidewalk as your bobbed your head up and down to the music that played from the nearby restaurants. Your hands were deep in your jacket pockets as you continued to shuffle down the sidewalk. The second you spotted an other group of teens walking your way you looked to the ground, you watched your shoes move in front of one an other as the teens started to mumble. “The hell is a soc doing here?,” one of them scoffed as his shoulder bumped into yours. “I don’t want trouble,” you say, continuing to walk away till one of them grabbed your arm. “Hey! Let go!”

“ I don’t like socs. In fact I hate them and their selfish asses,” he purred as you tried to pull your arm away but the guys grip was strong. “I said I don’t want trouble.” The tall boy scoffed, he got closer to your face as his two other friends started to intervene. “Come on Dally, let’s just go,” one of the boys nervously stuttered like a scarred puppy. You sighed as Dally came closer to you, so close that you could feel his hot breath on your face. “Why should I leave,” Dally whispers in your ear, sending a chill down your spine. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a 5$ bill, “Here, it’s all I got. Well I mean I got a bit more but I came to the west side to clear my head at the dinner, so jus take this.”

Dally looked shocked for a second, wondering why a soc would give a greaser money. “Ugh, thanks I guess,” Dally grabbed the money from your hand and backed up a bit, “See you around grease.” You spin around on your heel and walked away, “See ya Soc!” Dally yelled as he waved the money in the air, you grinned as you made your way to the dinner.

Once you entered you were greeted by the waitress who knew you since you’ve come in a lot since the past few weeks. “Hey Y/n, the usual spot tonight,” you nodded your head and and followed her to the booth in the back of the restaurant. You sighed and propped your head up on your elbows, you looked around the almost empty dinner. Before looking down something caught your eye, you looked up once more and saw the three boys from before all laughing in the booth across from you. You felt your cheeks slowly turn red as you watched Dally smile and giggle. You immediately looked down as Maria, the waitress came back and placed your burger and fries in front of you.

You thanked her and picked your burger up, you chewed as Dally stood up and walked over to you. Your eyes burned into the tables glossy surface as he sat in the bench on the other side of the table. “Hey Darlin’,” he hums after taking one of your fries, “What do you want?” Dally smiled and took a sip of your Dr. Pepper, “Just wanted to thank you for the money.” You smirked and ate a fry, “Then why are you eating my food.” Dally grinned and took a napkin out of his pocket, he took a pen out as well and handed it to you, “Maybe you could give me your number.” You shook your head no and stood up from from your booth, you threw your sweater on and walked toward the door. You pushed the door open as the chilly air hit your skin, you tightened your jacket around you and walked along the sidewalk.

A few seconds later Dally came running after you, he grabbed your arm before you could walk away faster. He pulled you toward him, “Hey, hey come on I just wanna hang out.” He said with his sexy ass New York accent and a wink witch made your stomach fill with butterflies, “I’m sorry I can’t, I gotta get home before my parents wonder we’re I’ve been.” You turn back around and walk away quicker, this time Dally didn’t run after you but he stood there and hit his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’m gonna get that, I’m gonna make that boy mine.” He mumbles to himself before running back into the dinner.

The next few days passed by quickly, all off them ending the same way, with you at the diner and Dally asking for your number. Tonight was different though, you felt something different inside, you actually felt nervous as he approached you once more, in the same spot I front of the dinner. “So what’s the answer today darlin’,” you sigh and turn to him, his beautiful brown eyes shimmered in the moonlight. You didn’t really know Dally but you knew his reputation, you knew he was though and never cared for anything, so why was he so venerable and caring with you.

The look in his eye made him seem so fragile, like you could shader his ego sending him into a spiral of depression and sadness with just one word. One word that would cut deeper than a heated blade tearing through the flesh of the heart. You looked straight into his puppy eyes and scoffed, “Don’t call me Darlin’!” His smile falls a bit as he nods, he starts to walk away till you called his name, “I didn’t say no.” His face lit up as he ran toward and pulled you in for a tight hug, his scent of grease and cheep cologne filled your nose as you buried your face into his chest. He broke the hug and smashed his lips onto yours, “Wow… wow… slow…down.” You said between kisses. Dally pulled back and panted a bit, “Sorry I’ve just been waiting to do that.” You giggle and pull him down by the collar for one more kiss, “See you around Dally Winston, and don’t you grow soft because of me.” He looks down at you and straightens his posture, “I wasn’t planning on it soc.”

You both grin as you start to walk back to your house, Dally stood there with the biggest smile on his face. Ponyboy and Johnny stepped out from the dinner shocked as Dally watched you fade into the distance, “Whats wrong with his face?” Ponyboy asked while Johnny giggled, “He’s in looove.” Johnny mocked as Dally turned to them, causing them to jump a bit. “Shut it you little shits, now let’s go.”

#dallas winston #dally x reader #the outsiders #x male reader #lgbtq #writers #so cute

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shoku-and-awe · 3 years

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McDonald’s Japan has a whole teriyaki thing going on now! I absolutely love the slogan, which is てりやきすぎて、すみません！ // Sorry for teriyaking too hard!, so I convinced my husband to investigate with me, even though we both think the original Teriyaki McBurger is way too sweet and kinda icky.

We got the Black Pepper Teriyaki and the Red Hot Teriyaki. There's also a chicken and egg burger (Oyako Teriyaki), which my friend has since told me is very good; a breakfast option (Teriyaki McMuffin), which I might consider trying; and fries with Teriyaki McBurger seasoning powder, which..... eh, I don't need that.

Anyway, first up: the Black Pepper Teriyaki!

It's basically your standard Teriyaki McBurger (pork patty + sweet, syrupy sauce) plus pepper bacon and pepper mayo. Which provides a little contrast and makes it more palatable to adults than say, the Teritama series, but still very sweet. The better of the two, but unremarkable.

Next up, the Red Hot Teriyaki! Also a pork patty and teriyaki sauce plus hot pepper cheese and spicy mayo. In this case, the double sauce was maybe a mistake…

It was so wet and slippery and soggy. I have never encountered a burger that was so hard to eat. It’s especially surprising because Japanese McDonald’s sandwiches are generally assembled with some care.

That said, the flavor combo was decent! It tastes nice as a fry dip. It was hotter than you’d expect (but nowhere near the level of the delicious Spicy McNuggets sauce, RIP), but overall, even if it tasted fine, it was not a pleasant experience. The wrapper was unusable, so I had to hold it with napkins, which got soggy and shed paper into the sauce, and even after 4 or 5 napkins, my hands were filthy and I was honestly tired. This is an exhausting burger.

#japanese food #japanese mcdonalds #teriyaki #cheeseburger #hamburger #contains meat

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weareallstoriesintheend · 3 years

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As Above, So Below

Chapter 7 - Beginnings

Now on the run with The Winter Soldier... will you be able to get him to open up about his past?

Word Count: 1,129

Read Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

“You know you eventually have to talk to me?”

Your new friend had been silent for days, granted he was going through something unexplainably traumatic but still the guy couldn’t even tell you what burger he wanted to eat for dinner.

A few nights ago you’d been sat awake as your mind had been racing; you’d encouraged him with food and melatonin pills to get some rest. It was like the guy just ran on 100% all the time and never took a second to breathe.

It took a few days but you’d finally got him to accept the throws of sleep and he’d curled up on a blanket pile on the floor, refusing to take the bed with a firm, silent shake of his head. Then you’d quickly discovered why he didn’t sleep, he would toss and turn and mutter under his breath. Sweat would drip from his forehead and his face would be clenched in pain, muscles tight.

Last night as you were sitting awake scouring over maps and car rental leaflets you’d heard him whispering to himself, he’d done it for a couple of nights so you sort of zoned it out. But then you heard more clearly what he was saying, he was muttering numbers “32557-“ He would stop and start repeatedly almost like he was chanting. You watched him for a while under, his slurred speech drifting off into soft breathing.

But right now he was very much awake and looking at you through narrowed eyes. You sighed and sat on the bed across from him.

“Okay big guy lets go through this one more time. You have been brainwashed, mind-wiped… something… and I need to get you the hell away from those people, understood?” He nodded once in response.

“I am not…. from around here and yes I have certain abilities – that’s the magical blue wispy shit you saw me do. They’re hard to explain but right now this isn’t about me.”

You dropped a menu in front of him, “Now pick a damn burger and we’ll talk.”

You tossed him a napkin as sauce slid down his chin, “So you don’t even know your name?” you said through a mouthful of food.

“I don’t need one.”

“Of course you do!” you exclaimed, he stared at you wide eyed with his mouth paused to take a bite. “You need a name! You’re a person, you need a name.”

He shrugged and shoved the last bite of his burger into his mouth. You watched him in silence for a moment, his face was stoic but his eyes always looked like he was trying to solve the biggest math problem.

You couldn’t imagine what sort of minefield he was navigating inside that head of his. Over the last few days you’d seen him start to relax, he started to act more person than machine. He was gentler than you were expecting for someone who looked so menacing. He’d made you jump yesterday and had instantly apologised in the smallest, sweetest voice. It continued to reinforce your boiling hatred towards HYDRA when you thought of who this man could have been.

“Do you remember anything about yourself?” you asked in a hushed voice, afraid to push too hard. He shook his head, “I don’t know anything.”

“Well by the accent I know you’re American, you sound kinda New Yorkish – I’ve been there enough. The tone sounds familiar” you offered quietly, he nodded closing his eyes.

You sighed and took his empty take-away boxes from him, gathering up dirty napkins and empty milkshakes. You dumped them into their original bag and put them by the door, you’d take them out in the morning. You leaned against the wooden window ledge and let the warm night air drift over you from the open window. Staring up at the night sky it was easy to forget the task you had given to yourself. You were planning on leaving for somewhere else, maybe leaving the country, you weren’t sure yet.

You didn’t know where to take him, you sure as hell couldn’t take him to SHIELD, so you guessed you could take him anywhere. HYDRA would be looking for their asset so you’d got him as far out of the state as you could for now.

You could feel him watching you as you closed the hideously patterned red curtains, you could feel the squint of his eyes as if he was trying to read your mind and you couldn’t take the silence for another second, “I’ve heard stories about you that date back a long time” you said. “At least 20 years as far as SHIELD knows, probably more.”

He had an eyebrow raised at you, “Which means?”

“Have you looked in a mirror?” you laughed, dropping back onto the bed handing him the last of the warm beers you’d been drinking “You couldn’t be more than 30 at best”

He shrugged as his face was drawn down in concentration.

“I doubt it, which means HYDRA froze you in time somehow. God knows how old you are” you said pushing your hair back out of your face.

“I haven’t even asked you your name” he said in his increasingly familiar shy voice, his eyes were like a puppy’s as he stared at you all wide and expectant.

You chuckled, “That’s okay, SHIELD called me Vic. So you could call me that?”

“But that’s not your name?” he asked, eyebrows drawing downward. You hesitated; no one knew your name. But if you were going to get this guy out of here you needed something, something to build rapport. You tentatively whispered your name, your real name, and he nodded.

You kept your eyes down unable to meet his gaze for some reason. As you chanced a glance upwards he had that expression again, glazed over and deep in thought, and his body was slumped like he had more than the weight of a metal arm on his shoulders.

“Don’t hurt yourself over there” you giggled; he didn’t move or look up at you – just stared at the bedsheets below him. You tapped the covers in front of him to gain his attention “My guess? The longer you’re away the more that will come back. If I have my way you won’t go back.”

Then you saw it, that look of fear in his eyes you’d seen at the warehouse, you felt sick at that thought of what this guy had gone through, “Hey, I promise you that.” you whispered, trying to snap him out of this trance he was in.

“James,” he said suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“I think my name is James.”

#mcu fic #mcu #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #loki x reader

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javajunkieao3 · 3 years

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Beth/Benny Fic: Being Alive - Part 5

When Benny meets Jolene.

Beth is half asleep when the phone rings on her nightstand. She just bought a phone for the bedroom a few weeks ago, and since then, she seemed to get twice as many calls. Benny groans, covering his eyes with his hand, and says, “You know, we got a lot less calls before you brought a phone in here.”

“Please spare me your bedrooms are not for phones lecture,” Beth says, nudging his arm affectionately before she reaches over him and grabs the phone. Draped over his torso, Beth answers the phone, shooting him a playful look when he pinches her side.

“Hello?”

“Beth, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Jolene,” Beth says happily, picking up the phone cradle and sitting back on her side of the bed. Benny nudges the cord behind his pillow and then proceeds to close his eyes again. “What do you need?”

“A witness for my wedding.”

“Your wedding is next month,” Beth says, not understanding. Jolene's married lawyer kept his word and left his wife for her, and they were supposed to get married at the end of the next month.

“Well, it was next month, but now it’s this afternoon,” Jolene says. “Al’s family isn’t too keen on him marrying a black woman. Like I’m not the best thing to happen to him.”

“Of course, you are,” Beth says. Jolene had always been the best of people, even when Beth hadn’t really understood what that meant.

“So, we’re saying fuck ‘em, and just doing the justice of the peace route.”

“What time do you need me?” Beth asks immediately.

“We’re meeting at the courthouse at noon.”

“I’ll be there.”

Beth hangs up the phone and asks Benny, “Do you want to go to a courthouse wedding?”

Benny opens one eye. “What exactly are you asking me?”

“My friend Jolene is getting married this afternoon and I’m going to be her witness.”

“I thought she was getting married next month.”

“Change of plans,” Beth says simply, climbing out of bed. She walks over to her closet and starts going through her dresses. “I don’t know what to wear to a courthouse wedding.”

“I’d say the rule is probably still no white.”

“I know that,” she says, already combing through the various hangers with military-like precision. Something occurs to her, and she looks back at Benny. “You don’t have a suit.”

“So what?” He’s lying in bed with his arms crossed behind his head, and he looks so positively cute that she almost forgets all about the afternoon and climbs back into bed with him, but she can’t have that. This is Jolene and she knows her friend is already not getting the wedding she had originally wanted. Benny is getting a suit.

“Ben Snyders opens at 9. We’ll find you something there.”

“I don’t need a suit. I have my black coat. That’s good enough.”

“You shouldn’t even have that black coat anymore,” she tosses over her shoulder, attention back to her closet.

“Stay away from my coat, Beth. You already made me throw away the hat.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is.”

“I promise to not touch your coat,” she says, turning back around. “But, you need a suit.”

He studies her face for a moment and then says, “This is important to you, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question, but a statement, and she nods.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll get a suit.”

----

At 11:45 a.m., Beth and Benny stand outside of the courthouse waiting for the bride and groom. Beth turns to Benny and smooths down the collar of his suit jacket, smiling to herself.

“You could try to look less smug,” Benny teases.

“I just think you look very handsome.”

“And you look beautiful.”

Beth isn’t typically a fan of public displays of affection, but she leans in and kisses him softly, lingering with her mouth against his until she hears Jolene call her name. She pulls away and turns toward her friend’s voice, surprise registering on her face when she sees the pair. Al is dressed in a traditional black suit. Beside him, Jolene is wearing a deep red silk jumpsuit.

“Aren’t brides supposed to wear white?” Beth asks with confusion.

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“Who’s they?” Benny asks.

“The patriarchy. The white is supposed to be about the bride’s virginity or some shit like that. And, I’m no virgin. So, I thought I’d just dress for me. And Al. This is his favorite outfit of mine.”

“It really is,” Al echoes, and when he looks at Jolene, Beth can see that he’s telling the truth. Jolene softens in a way that Beth hadn’t seen before, and then Jolene looks over at Benny and says to Beth, “So, you finally threw one of those chess boys a bone?”

Beth grins. “This is Benny.”

“I know who he is,” Jolene says. “I read about you, Benny Watts. You’re almost as impressive as my girl, Beth.”

Beth knows that Benny can be sensitive to the comparison, and she says, “Jolene’s biased.”

To her surprise, Benny shakes his head and says, “No, I’m pretty sure she’s right.”

Beth meets his gaze and she can feel her cheeks flush. Jolene grins wide. “I like you, Benny.”

----

Beth didn’t have many courthouse weddings with which to compare Jolene and Al’s, but if she had to guess, their wedding easily ranked in the top-five. Both the bride and groom prepared their own vows, and Beth noticed even Benny looking somewhat emotional as Jolene read from her folded up piece of notebook paper, her hands shaking. The union was sealed with a kiss, and then they went to a nearby diner to celebrate. They all order burgers and drinks, and when Benny looks appraisingly at her chocolate shake, she wordlessly trades her shake for his green river, and then tells him, “This means you can’t complain when I eat your fries.”

“I think that’s a fair trade.”

Beth does, in fact, eat a good portion of fries, and after the plates are cleared, Jolene pointedly asks, “So, when are you two walking down the aisle?”

Beth chokes on her drink and Benny says, “I can’t really say we’ve thought about it.”

“You do want to get married someday, don’t you?”

Beth is almost afraid to look at Benny, but then he says, “Sure, if it was the right person.” He stands up, putting his napkin on his seat, and says, “I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you,” Al says.

When they are out of earshot, Jolene says, “You do realize he was talking about you, right?”

“You don’t know that.”

“That boy is in love with you.”

Beth smiles slightly, but then it dims when she thinks about how she still hasn’t been able to say it back. Jolene reads into her silence and says, “I know it can scary. Being loved like that. I felt the same way with Al. We’re not used to it.”

“It’s not that,” Beth says. “I haven’t been able to say it back.”

Beth expected some tough advice from her friend, but instead she says, “You’ll say it in your own time. Something tells me that boy will wait.”

----

When they say goodbye, Beth gives Jolene a tight hug, feeling uncharacteristically emotional. Jolene kisses her cheek and says, “Thank you for being here, today.”

“Of course. We’re family, right?”

Jolene nods, and Beth notices that her eyes are glassy, too. “Damn right, we are.”

While Al gives Beth an awkward half-hug, Jolene wraps her arms around Benny and murmurs, “You hurt her, I hurt you. Butter knife straight to the balls.”

Benny pulls away, somewhat startled, and nods. “That is a very specific threat.”

“A vague threat does no one any good.” Just as swiftly as the threat came, Jolene grins beatifically. “Thank you for coming to my wedding.”

He walks over to Beth, and as they head back to her car, he says, “So, that was Jolene.”

“That’s Jolene.”

“She’s kind of intimidating.”

Beth looks over at him and says, “She threatened you, didn’t she?”

“Yes. And in a very graphic manner. I’m about as impressed as I am intimidated.”

Beth grins. “Sounds just about right.”

#the queen's gambit #the queen's gambit fanfiction #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #Beth x Benny fanfic #Beth Harmon x Benny Watts #Jolene #Beth x Jolene

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travelfoodgallery · 4 years

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Best customary USA dishes: Top 10 must-attempt American nourishments

1. Crusty fruit-filled treat

The idiom is "American as crusty fruit-filled treat" for an explanation: this sweet treat is a public foundation. Disregard anyone who will attempt to disclose to you walnut or key lime is better, since they are lying. The straightforward blend of sugar, rich baked good and tart cut apples creates a sweet so unprecedented individuals have dedicated their whole lives to idealizing it. For an especially superb model, attempt the crusty fruit-filled treat with included green chilies at the Pie-O-Neer, in Pie Town, New Mexico. Telephone ahead and Kathy Knapp, oneself announced "Pie Lady of Pie Town", will spare you a cut.

for update information please follow the link https://fastfoodmenuprice.co.uk/

2. The Hamburger

Each and every American will have an alternate thought regarding where to locate the best cheeseburger in the nation, going from cheap food on the West Coast (In-N-Out Burger) to top notch food in New York (The Spotted Pig). In any case, just one spot is perceived by the Library of Congress similar to the origination of burgers:

New Haven, Connecticut. It was 1900 and the foundation was Louis' Lunch, run by one Louis Lassen. Today his incredible grandson, Jeff Lassen, guides the boat, which actually serves burgers produced using five-meat mix and cooked in exceptionally old cast iron flame broil.

3. Mollusk Chowder

It is essentially illicit to visit Boston without attempting New England shellfish chowder. The fragrant soup is sold all over the place, and it looks ghastly, being white and knotty. However, one taste is everything necessary to begin to look all starry eyed at. Whoever chose to blend the quahog shellfish in with delicate potatoes, salted pork, substantial cream and spices is an all out virtuoso. There are numerous approaches to eat it, yet you should go full scale and get a bread bowl at the Atlantic Fish Co., where the culinary experts cut out a depression in a new boule, pour in the radiant juice, at that point set the top back on. Consumable dinnerware.

4. Bagel and Lox

Attempting to limit New York down to a solitary agent cooking is a waste of time. A Nathan's sausage? Pastrami from Katz's? An awful cup of cafe espresso? How about we offer appreciation to the city's solid Jewish populace and go with bagels and lox, an end of the week staple on numerous Manhattan tables. Logical examinations have been directed attempting to work out why the New York bagel rules over all others; legend credits it to the water. Whatever the reason, head to Russ and Daughters on the Lower East Side and disclose to them you need a choice of smoked fish, cream cheeses and, in case you're feeling streak, caviar.

5. Thicker style Pizza

Pizza in Chicago looks and tastes changed. The dish is profound, as the name recommends, which means the outside ascents high and takes into consideration a course gagging volume of cheddar and pureed tomatoes. Obviously, they consider it a "pie". It isn't for the carefree and should just be endeavored while wearing dull garments or a huge napkin. For an especially true supper, pair the pie with sweet pop. You may get a kick out of the chance to do this at an Uno Pizzeria, which professes to have developed the Italian American half breed dish in 1943.

6. Drop Biscuits and Sausage Gravy

A roll in America implies, basically, a flaky scone frequently made with grease and buttermilk. In spots, for example, Montana, where individuals consume energy taking a shot at horse farms, scones are had at breakfast covered in a thick white sauce that is studded with pieces of hotdog. It surely gets you up toward the beginning of the day. For a great wind, attempt a melodic rendition in Austin, Texas, where Biscuits and Groovy offers shifts with names like "the Aretha Franklin" (maple bacon, colby jack cheddar).

7. Texas Barbecue

Australians may get a kick out of the chance to stir up a barbie toward the end of the week, however Texans live and pass on by the training. Mesquite smoked meats and softening rubs are regular fixations, and it isn't exceptional to go to football match-ups and discover individuals have carried whole ranges to the parking areas that are worth as much as five or even 10,000 dollars – a distraction called "closely following". For superb brisket, head to the Dallas Farmers Market, remain in line for somewhat, at that point discover a seat at Pecan Lodge. Likewise great are the pork joins, pulled pork, hamburger ribs and collard greens.

8. Hominy Grits

Southern food appears to exist in its own universe, and a whole rundown could be composed simply zeroing in on things like chicken and waffles (truly, you read that effectively). So maybe it's a smart thought to simply go with one of the nuts and bolts: hominy corn meal, which is basically corn processed into a harsh powder and afterward bubbled up with margarine or bacon oil. It sounds harsh yet it's really radiant. For evidence, attempt Blossom Restaurant in Charleston, South Carolina, which offers Geechie Boy corn meal with shrimp and andouille frankfurter. Pair it with brussels grows and improved ice tea.

9. Tacos

Los Angeles is a city with a taqueria on each traffic intersection, essentially. With so numerous Spanish-speakers it's conceivable to discover anything from oily nachos on Venice Beach to stunning Michoacan-style goat stews. For a decent sampler, overlook the chain stuff and attempt El Huarache Azteca, a small, straightforward restaurant in the area of Highland Park, where menus run the full array from fajitas to mole verde and "flautas" – singed fresh taquitos loaded down with chicken. (Guacamole is an easy decision.) Keep at the top of the priority list that Mexican food and Tex-Mex are two altogether different things.

10. Thanksgiving

So "thanksgiving" isn't in fact a food, yet it's such an incredible date on the American culinary schedule (the fourth Thursday of every November), that it should be recognized. Authoritatively, the occasion is about loved ones, yet everyone knows it's truly about turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, green bean meal and grumbles. While the plans, as most things on this rundown, appear to be uniquely crafted to give you a cardiovascular failure or diabetes, they're all heavenly, and taken together make one of the most silly and charming galas you would actually join in. Numerous cafés offer a menu, for the most extraordinary choice is consistently a companion's home, regardless of whether they consume the winged animal.

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nethwan · 4 years

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A Life By Your Side

Summary: Living together...

Notes: Couvade Syndrome affects first-time fathers and manifests itself with pregnancy-like symptoms. Stroopwafels are waffle-like cookies filled with caramel and accompanied by tea or coffee. They originate in the Netherlands. mei is Dutch for May. Nothing personal against the name Femke, it was the first one that came to mind.

Other links:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720198/chapters/63573076

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13663177/5/A-Life-By-Your-Side

________________________

For the moment, Lars and Mei tried to live in the same space without getting in the way. In the morning they each went to their respective jobs and when they returned, they took care of their own. Although Mei was in charge of the kitchen and made him eat breakfast and lunch. He also started to accompany her to her gynecologist’s appointments. The first time he saw the sonogram, he was excited and smiled at Mei. She smiled back at him forcibly. This wasn’t how she wanted to live out her pregnancy. It wasn’t how she wanted to start a family, if she could call it that.

Since Mei started living with Lars again, he could finally breath more peacefully. It wasn’t as if he wanted to control her, it was more about having the assurance that she would be protected, and that he would do his duty as her husband. He wanted her to have a comfortable and healthy pregnancy. Besides, that baby was his too, he wanted to give it the love and attention it deserved. Even if he didn’t know how, he would try to be a good father.

“You seem calmer lately,” commented Ludwig, who already knew he had come back with Mei.

“I am not really, with Mei pregnant and going to work is all I think about,” he said without reflecting.

“I’m sure she’s careful; plus, you go to school for her, right?” he asked.

Lars nodded and then smiled nervously.

“I still can’t believe I’m going to be a dad,” he admitted.

“Take it easy. I know you’ll do a great job by taking care of Mei and the baby”

Mei, thought Lars, pulling the picture out of the drawer again. It was actually nice to think they were building a home. If he could use that term. Looking at the picture, he wondered if he could ever love her. He wasn’t sure. How could he be? Now that she no longer had the task of bringing him back, she no longer spent time with him. They only talked at dinner time and still felt an invisible barrier separating them. He wanted to regain her trust and see her as happy as before. He wondered if she would still love him, most likely not, he thought. Although, the situation with Stacy had been a trap, it was logical that that, added to the time they spent apart, would end up for destroying that affection he complained so much about at first.

Looking at her closely, he could now understand that Mei was a woman who hid more than let him see. She was much more than she seemed at first glance. For him that sweet smile didn’t fit her melancholy gaze and if he added that things between them were going badly because of misunderstandings, he didn’t expect her to open her heart so suddenly. Probably only the old Lars had access, but he wasn’t there anymore.

If he had to be honest to himself, he would say that he wasn’t at all calm about his relationship with Mei and the pregnancy. The more noticeable the pregnancy was, Lars felt more anxious to see her leave every morning and carry that heavy bag along with all her materials for her classes. So, he wanted to keep an eye on her, started taking her to work, picking her up and following her wherever she went. Often, Mei would decline his help, but he always wanted to intervene, which made her nervous. There were still some grudges held, even though she didn’t want to admit it.

“Mei, I don’t think you should stretch out like that. Let me get the plates for you.”

In doing so, they both released one at the same time causing it to crash to the floor. At that moment, something inside her exploded. It wasn’t that she was bothered by the help, but by the constant surveillance. She had promised herself to stay away from him, so that when they decided to separate, because that was what would happen, she wouldn’t be able to feel that intense pain again, but the more she tried to put her distance away, he went after her more insistently. It was impossible to avoid this closeness, which irritated her.

“Look what you did. I told you, I can stand on my own two feet. I am not useless. Leave me alone!” Mei expressed.

He was silent, ashamed and at the same time sorry, because it sounded exactly like what he had told her that time. The intention was the same: to help, to be useful to her, make her feel comfortable, but it only overwhelmed her. She looked at him with resentful eyes. At that moment he thought that they were more similar than he thought.

“I’m sorry, but I am worried about you, you know very well that you shouldn’t stretch like that” he said, trying to be patient as he picked up the pieces of the plate.

She rolled her eyes and sighed reluctantly.

However, Mei ended up accepting his help as she needed it, and if she wanted to be at peace with him, she had to be more tolerant. Lars didn’t intend to harass her with such attention, she knew how he used to be when it came to taking care of her. Now his assistance had become indispensable, he helped her calm her morning sickness, pulled her hair back when she threw up and scrubbed her back while doing so. He stopped drinking coffee to get her away from that smell. Giving up his morning coffee was a small sacrifice compared to the discomfort she was experiencing, but he too was beginning to dislike the smell anyway, and as soon as he noticed it, he began to feel dizzy.

Other times, he would massage her calves to relieve her cramps, and once again he was with her on that. Suddenly, he didn’t feel very well, his head, back or legs hurt, he became more irritable and sensitive than usual and started to feel disgusted by strong odors. Added to the anxiety of thinking about Mei, he thought he was going crazy.

“You seem to have Couvade’s syndrome,” Ludwig told him, showing him an article on parenthood. Then he smiled.

“It’s not funny, I feel terrible.”

“You’ll get over it. Besides, you are not the one carrying the hardest part,” he said, looking at Mei’s picture.

“You know, I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“You said yourself it was a matter of two, well it seems that this too,” he added, unable to avoid smiling again.

Lars was not amused; he was so upset at the time that he couldn’t focus. Although it was true that it wasn’t his body that was changing and he wouldn’t be the one to give birth, so he couldn’t imagine how much more complicated it was for her. He thought of a way to make her feel better. Then he wanted to compensate her by fulfilling all her cravings, however rare they might be. Whatever and whenever she said would be a yes for him.

One night he woke up in a hurry when he heard someone lurking in the apartment. It was Mei poking around in the kitchen looking for food. Even though he wanted her to eat healthy, he ended up going to a 24-hour fast food restaurant and ordering to take-out. Mei hadn’t wanted to, but the craving outweighed her desire to check the nutritional value. He returned shortly after and she was waiting for him with the table already set, and then they both smiled as they realized they had eaten a couple of burgers and some big fries in no time. She looked happy, but worried because she had made him go out so late.

“I promise it won’t happen again,” she said.

“It’s ok, besides I was hungry too,” he answered and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

Mei was grateful that it was a warm night, because she knew that she had blushed with that gesture. He kept making her nervous, but for different reasons. She was still very attracted to him, she wanted to hug him after those dizzy spells, cry with him when she got sentimental and he would hug her and comfort her. But for the time being she was content not to make his life more difficult with her temper, her resentment and the inconveniences it caused her, and instead she prepared for him what he liked to eat, let him rest when he came home from work and put cute notes in his lunch, so that he would see that she appreciated his help.

One of those quiet Saturdays, the rain was falling and there was nothing else to do. Mei would have wanted to go for a walk, but she was afraid she would slip. So, she took a bag of stroopwafels and poured a cup of tea. She put everything on a tray and went quietly to her bedroom. She didn’t want to disturb Lars while he was reading. He looked away from the book and followed her with his gaze.

“If you need something, I can take it to you so you don’t have to get up all the time. You watch your favorite show at this hour, don’t you?” Lars asked.

“Yes, but I don’t want to bother you,” she excused herself.

“I don’t mind, I am not doing anything important.”

Mei hesitated and agreed. She felt a bit sad, but consoled herself caressing her belly very lovingly, as if to tell the baby that she would love it more than anyone else. Not noticing that Lars was watching her from the door.

“Is it alright if I join you?” he asked.

“Sure. There are still more cookies in the cupboard.”

He came back with a cup of tea and more stroopwafels. They ate in silence, while she watched TV. Although it was an interesting episode of her favorite series, she couldn’t help but be distracted by Lars, she didn’t understand why he couldn’t leave her alone, but at the same time she didn’t want him to go. He seemed indifferent to the series, but he watched it anyway. After Mei had finished her portion of stroopwafels, she told him that she didn’t like them before, but since she was pregnant, she craved them so much that she couldn’t stop eating them. He smiled, thinking that the child would probably be just like him, because he loved them. Then Mei gestured and touched her belly again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, uneasy to the sight of her reaction.

“I just felt a little kick,” said Mei happily.

He got excited; it was the first time this happened.

“Can I touch?”

She nodded, took his hand and placed it on her belly. He smiled excitedly as he felt the movement, it was almost magical. His baby was moving and he couldn’t help but be touched. It was amazing. Some colleagues had already told him about the odyssey of expecting a baby and even more so having it with them, and also, he had also begun to investigate, but experiencing it was something completely different.

“And have you thought of any names yet? Did you… did we have any in mind?” Lars asked.

“Well, you wanted them to be called Vincent, like your grandfather, or Willen, but we hardly discussed, we thought it was better to wait until a little before the birth. We were going to call them baby bunny in the meantime, but you don’t like nicknames anymore,” answered Mei bittersweetly.

“No, it’s ok, I think it’s cute. Vincent and Willem are perfect. We could pick the first one, though,” he said. “Of course, if you still agree.”

“I do,” she said. “I like both names, but if it’s a girl I haven’t thought of one I like yet,” she added, touching her belly again. They had decided not to know the sex of the baby.

He was silent, trying to think of some pretty name.

“What about Femke?” he suggested.

Mei grimaced and shook her head. They spent a long time trying to choose a female name, went through both sides of the family, thought of famous actresses and singers, characters they liked, without success. The reasons were because it didn’t match the surnames or reminded them of someone they disliked or just didn’t like. Then he thought of his great-grandmother Anri.

“What do you think of Anri?”

She stood there thinking and then smiled.

“I like it. It’s short and cute.”

They both smiled and Mei evoked one of those night, planning their life together. They would have two boys and a girl, and they would live in a beautiful house with a huge yard in a peaceful neighborhood. Their children would learn to ride their bikes, and play with their friends, while they would work in the garden and be happy. There was a silence between them and Lars was finally encouraged to ask a question that was going through his mind.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to know how we met,” he asked, because she had already told him everything else, but that. She smiled and looked down at her belly.

“Well, we met in the month of May. I remember you once told me you liked that month because it reminded you of my name.”

They met while she had gone to buy some art supplies. They were walking around unnoticed and crashed, causing her to throw some of her stuff away. He rushed to help her, but had inadvertently ruined some quite expensive material, at that very moment he offered to buy her another, although she refused as it had been an accident. However, he didn’t feel right about it, so he bought the material and she, in gratitude, invited him to lunch. That lunch had been such a special occasion that after exchanging phone numbers, they kept texting each other and then started to hang out. Little by little, love was born without them noticing it.

“I always wondered why someone as haughty as you would have noticed me, but as I got to know you, I realized you weren’t as arrogant as you seemed,” she said, looking down.

“Do I really look like that?”

She nodded in amusement.

“Mei, have I ever hurt you or harmed you in any way?”

She pondered, in compared to their current problems, their relationship had nothing but misunderstandings and petty arguments, like those of any other couple. But there were never any betrayals or unjustified fights. And of course, they ended up talking and reconciling.

“No, you were always a good boyfriend and husband. Though quite impatient, I must say,” she added.

“Mei, forgive me for everything I’ve caused you,” he asked, taking her hand in his.

“We’d better forget about it and move on. You explained to me what happened and I forgave you. I am not better either, as you may have noticed” she answered evasively, letting go of him.

He looked at her and thought that they were really so similar, and maybe he should stop not keep harassing her with the same thing. He just wanted to know what their story was. Sometimes, in between dreams, he could see her smiling, he could see himself making a big mess in the kitchen trying to follow some recipe and making another in the bathroom trying to fix something, but they were just illusions. Anyway, he wanted some of those inventions to become a reality.

One Sunday, when Mei had gone shopping with her sister and her friend, Lars looked for something to try to fix. He saw the sink tap keep leaking so he tried to fix it himself. The result was a big puddle and more water everywhere. The repair looked good even if the faucet shook when it was opened, but the constant dripping was gone. When Mei arrived, the first thing she did was look around, then she looked at him and out her hands on her hips waiting for an explanation, shocked to see the kitchen a mess.

“I can explain” he excused himself, his clothes soaking wet.

But instead of claiming him, Mei started laughing. It was the first time in their time living together that she laughed out loud. She even had tears coming out of her eyes. She put one hand on her belly and tried to calm down.

“Oh Lars, you haven’t changed after all” she said, still laughing.

“What are talking about?” he asked, because he didn’t think it was so bad to repair something as simple as a tap.

“It’s just… I’d better not tell you; I’ve told you too many stories. I’m going to change my clothes, come back and help you clean up.”

He assumed that she thought he didn’t want to know about those erased years anymore, but as the days went by, she sometimes told him without realizing it and they ended up laughing at their clumsiness during their first date, their first kiss and even their first time. He hadn’t felt ashamed to know the story, although she didn’t tell all the details of the last event, but she did tell him about their nervousness and their laughter. Mei had a very peculiar way of telling stories that sometimes made her expressions more laughable than what she was telling. Thus, it no longer seemed an idealized form of what their relationship had been.

Lately, they were beginning to speak more frankly and he liked that she was so natural and unpretentious. While they ate, they talked about their days, anecdotes from their work colleagues, about food, about what they would like to eat the next day, in short, about anything no matter how mundane it was. And they also shared more time together, he brought her the cakes and fruits she liked, they went to her check-ups together, to buy clothes and between the two of them chose some nice clothes for the baby.

In the eyes of others, they looked like a young couple expecting their first child, but they thought they were living out that fantasy alone. Of course, Mei hadn’t stopped loving him for a second, especially after receiving all his help, but she didn’t feel confident enough to try to seduce him. After seeing her suffering from the discomfort of pregnancy and even helping her out of the tub, he had seen enough of her not to find her attractive, she thought. But at least now she accepted it and could live with it. So, she had given up the idea altogether.

“This is horrible,” said Mei as she put her phone away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was reading about the discomforts of pregnancy, I don’t have some of the one it mentions yet, but I already feel awful about the ones I have,” she replied, annoyed.

“Is there any way to relieve them?” he asked.

“Yes, deliver the baby, but I’m still missing the postpartum period I might get stretch marks,” she complained, but making a funny face. “Maybe I should buy one of those creams or use some remedy. I’ll ask mom if she knows of any,” she said, uncovering her belly and looking at herself in the mirror.

He smiled, though a bit worried. He himself had read so many articles on motherhood that he didn’t want to know more so that he wouldn’t have those troubles too. At least her mother was looking out for her and helping her as much as she could. They made video calls almost every day to show her the progress or she visited her. Although he was still friendly with his mother-in-law, Lars was ashamed to show up after all that drama, but he was content to let her know that her daughter was fine and that she was not missing anything. Even his own mother often called to check on them, and he was glad of that interest.

While Mei was busy with work or drawing some of her projects, he decided to focus on his own as well. He retook one of the drafts and started editing it. He spent some afternoons trying to work on it until he was satisfied with the result. He asked her to read it for a second opinion. She had a web comic with very good comments, so maybe she could help him and give him constructive criticism.

“I loved it, it’s very good,” she said happily after reading it and mentioned details that she found interesting and appropriate. “I’m glad you decided to continue.”

“I think it was thanks to you that I dared to try new things,” he timidly said.

She smiled, but shook her head.

“No, I didn’t do it. It was your own initiative. You had told me that you would like to write something that wasn’t critical, some fiction, but all that was for yourself, you have a great talent and well, I believe in you,” she said.

He felt embarrassed, and realized that this is how nice it felt when you are truly esteemed. No like he had believed when Stacy praised him for whatever reason that seemed rather idealized.

“Well, now there’s something else I’d like to try,” he said, even more embarrassed.

“What is it?” she asked, curious and amused.

“I want to learn how to cook. I know I’ve been trying, but I still don’t feel confident doing it on my own.”

“Then I’ll help you,” she replied.

They started by preparing very simple dishes like soup and ended up baking a cake. It had been fun, even though his attempts at first were horrible. Then he looked at her and wiped the flour off her face. They both smiled and he knew that something was changing.

#nedtai #aph netherlands #aph taiwan #hws netherlands #hws taiwan #hws #aph nedtai #hws nedtai #fanfic

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louadorable126 · 4 years

Text

Demons(you).me Chapter 5 - Burgers and Meetings

>>Click here to read over on Ao3!<<

Art by Aya/ITOUYAS! <3

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Summary:

In a city controlled by the generally altered race of Demons, Lady's life as a mercenary on the lower floor was never easy. Especially when she ran into Dante. A demon on the hunt for his missing brother.

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Important information!

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Realtionships: Dante x Lady, Vergil x Lady

Characters: Lady (Devil May Cry), Dante (Devil May Cry), Vergil (Devil May Cry) Morrison (Devil May Cry), Nell Goldstien (Devil May Cry) Eva (Devil May Cry), Sprada (He’s mentioned bless him), Mundus (Also Mentioned)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Genetic Engineering, Sci-fi Fantasy, Strip Clubs and Strippers, Dystopia, Seizures, Flirting, Eva and Sprada are alive! :D, Human Experimentation, Cults.

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Chapter 5

When Vergil said he wanted to take a break, Lady certainly hadn’t expected…this.

After walking a few blocks away from the cult’s abandoned lab, the group had stumbled across a fast food truck cosily tucked away beneath a monorail bridge; the occasional train passing overhead and zooming passed in a matter of seconds. Needless to say, Dante had been quick to drag them over to such a ramshackle establishment, the moment his nose caught whiff the sizzling of meat on its grill.

Before Lady knew it, she found herself left on her own in the middle of the road. Vergil had isolated himself away from his twin’s embarrassing display, as he mindlessly drooling over the truck's menu while resting his chin against the van’s rusted counter, by going over to one of the supporting pillars of the bridge and leaning back against it. Of course, he didn’t exactly look like he was in the mood for company; looking lost in thought as he gazed up at the towering layers cascading up to the metal sky above him. Vergil always seemed to have a way to project an aura of intense disinterest when he didn’t want to be spoken too. So not really knowing what to do with herself, Lady walked over to the fast food truck.

“Hey kid, you gonna get anything or not?” The gruff, bearded, chef behind the counter asked in a polite tone. Wiping down his newly washed, worn tongs with a cloth.

“Uhhh give me a moment. It's hard to decide-“

“Not for me! Can I please have a hot dog?” Lady chimed in, as she approached. Standing beside the red demon.

Startled, Dante quickly pushed himself away from the counter and looked over at her in surprise.

“What? Thought you were the only one that was hungry?” Lady taunted with a sly smirk.

“No! I- uh…” The demon frantically stumbled for his words, caught completely off guard by her bluntness. All of a sudden, he turned in the direction of the chef and threw up two fingers. “I’ll have two of the Mega burgers please!”

“Sure. That’ll be 7.50.” The older man informed them. Swapping his hand so a holographic payment screen appeared in front of the pair.

Lady swiftly pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket and tapped it against the screen. A moment later a bright green “Payment Received” sign appeared and the hologram vanished into thin air. With a pleased nod, the chef quickly got to work putting two meat patties onto his grill, followed by frying the spongy, inner section of the buns.

“Two burgers, huh?” Lady asked curiously. Raising a playful eyebrow, as she crossed her arms.

“Well, one’s for Verge.” Dante explained, taking a glance over his shoulder at his stoic twin. Resting the back of his head against the supporting pillar with his eyes shut, seemingly in some sort of ‘meditation’. “The guy will never admit he’s hungry. But Eva would totally kill me if she thought he hadn’t been fed!"

“Are you sure he’s going to like it?” Lady questioned in an unsure tone. Leaning in closer to Dante, and keeping her voice low, and away from the prying ears of the nearby chef. “Your brother doesn’t seem like a guy whose taste palate would fit...this kind of place.”

“Nah! I’m sure he’ll be fine with it!” Dante reassured, waving his hand dismissively at the idea.

Lady still didn’t 100% agree with Dante’s assumption; her gut instinct screaming at her that this was a terrible idea. But who was she to argue when she’d only known his brother for around a day or so? Dante had known him his whole life. “If you say so then."

The two quickly fell into silence after that. The space left empty by their words was quickly filled by the satisfying sound of sizzling and spitting from the grill, and the low tunes of a rock song escaping out of the nearby radio. Their meals were coming close to being done, as the chef applied two slices of cheese over the meat and went to go and stuff the hot dog into a bun.

“Hey Lady…” Dante suddenly started to ask. His voice uncharacteristically soft in tone. Something that didn’t slip Lady’s notice, as she looked up at the boyish face hidden beneath that crimson hood of his. “What do you plan to do after me and Vergil leave?”

Well that certainly caught her off guard! At first, it seemed like such a strange thing for him to be asking. Part of her thought that they’d be together for a longer time yet. That even bringing up the idea that they would disband their small party seemed out of place at this moment. But, the more she thought about it, she started to realise where Dante was going with this.

Dante had found his brother, and by all means had completed the original mission he had set out for himself down here. It was only through Vergil’s intervention and insistence that they protect the true nature of their heritage that the boys were still here with her. Nothing more nothing less. And…well they were coming close to making that a reality.

Granted, they had about as much a clue as her when it came to predicting where or whether the next ‘leak’ would appear. It could just be that they would have to deal with this cultist and then everything would be fine. No more work would have to be done and the brother’s could return to their newly discovered mother for a heart to heart. That they would leave her, and she’d return to a mundane life without the thrill or adventure she had experienced over the last few days.

And if Lady had to be honest…she didn’t really want to go back to that.

A swell of anxiety started to curl in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, her breath heavy with conflicted emotion.

“Well…I’d probably just go back to working as a mercenary under Morrison. Don’t think much else would change really.” She answered honestly, with a small shrug.

Yet, a part of her couldn’t just leave it at that. A nagging sensation reminded her that things would change once he and his brother finally left. Maybe it was because of an overwhelming sense of sentimentality she’d grown to feel towards the demon. But Lady didn’t want him to think she wouldn’t care for his departure when it finally came. That she wasn’t thankful for what he’d done for her.

She leaned back against the trucks metal counter, letting out a small sigh, as she looked out into the distinct wistfully “But, you know....I think I’d miss your dumb ass. Things will be much less fun around here without you!”

“Who are you calling a dumb ass?” Dante whined in a jovial voice. He obviously wasn’t particularly offended by her slight jab, if that sly smile playing on his lips anything to go by. Lightheartedly poking her shoulder.

Lady couldn’t help but smile too, as she raised her hands in defence. “What? I’m just speaking the truth-“

“Alright you lovebirds! Meal's ready!” A deep voice from behind interrupted. At the sound, the pair quickly turned around. Finding the bearded chef standing directly behind them with a brown paper bag seeped with grease in one hand, and a cardboard container with a hotdog sticking out of it in the other.

Oh god! Not this again! Lady cursed in the back of her mind. Unable to save herself from the rush of heat flooding her cheeks with red, as she gingerly took the items off the man and quickly handed the paper bag over to Dante by shoving it at his chest. Head tilted down shamefully throughout. I’m never going to hear the end of this! Why does everything think just because we’re around the same age he’s my boyfriend! It's so infuriating-

“Thank you” She mumbled in a small voice to the chef. Cutting off her inner turmoil before it could rise to the surface. Keeping her cool as she ever so calmly grabbed Dante’s wrist and forcefully dragging him away from as fast as she could physically move. Which wasn’t that fast given that Dante was already briskly walking ahead of her, when they reached Vergil. Earning her a curious look from the blue demon, as he watched his twin seemingly lead her along. Dammit! She could only imagine what he was thinking! Stupid demons and their speed!

Without a second's hesitation, she quickly let go of Dante’s wrist. Letting Dante’s arm drop down limply, as she threw her hand up to her face and rubbed it tiredly. Trying to compose herself before all logical thought left her and she did something she’d regret. Well, if she hadn’t already. All Lady wanted to do was pray the ground would open up and swallow her whole right now!

Dante however, was completely obvious to this. Freed from her grasp, he swiftly wandered over to his nearby twin and pulled out a neatly wrapped burger, in a cream coloured napkin, out of the paper bag and presenting it to him proudly. "Bon Appetit, bro!”

Vergil looked down at the item in bemusement. As though he had not been expecting his brother to present him such a ‘gift’. Hesitantly, he reached out and gently took it from his brother’s hands. “You didn’t need to get me this, Dante. I’m not particularly famished right now.”

“Yeah yeah! Keep saying that to yourself!” Dante said disbelievingly, waving his brother off.

He pulled his burger out of the paper bag and quickly scrunched it up into a tight ball. Looking around for a bin, the red demon was lucky enough to spot one only a couple of meters away from the group. Never being one to pass up a challenge, Dante attempted to throw the scrunched up paper bag into bin’s open mouth at a startling speed. Sending it hurtling through the air and almost barely missing its target by a small margin, if not for the light breeze that had swept in to save the day. At the sound of the small metallic clank, made by the ball as it hit the inside of the steel container, Dante fist pumped in victory as he spun back around to face Vergil. Who was shaking his head in disapproval of his little brother’s antics.

“Come on! You can’t say that wasn’t cool!” Dante exclaimed passionately. Pointing at his grumpy brother’s person with a burger in hand.

“I see nothing ‘cool’ about littering, little brother.” Vergil said coldly. Not taking his eyes off his brother, as he unwrapped his meal with one hand. “If you had missed that shot, you would have to be the one to clear it up. Not me."

“But I didn’t miss, did I?” Dante pointed out, smugly. Vergil didn’t react to his retort however. His face remained cold and impassive, barely showing a hint of emotion as he glared at his twin. An invisible tension began to mount between the two of them. Rising up until it reached its breaking point, when Dante admitted defeat with a roll of his eyes. “Alright fine! By the way, Lady's the one who bought this meal for us. So might wanna thank her a little!”

“Wha-“ Lady blurted out at the mention of her name. Not expecting to be brought back into the conversation so abruptly. Dropping her hand and letting her vision focus, when she came to her senses, she found Vergil staring at her with an awkward smile. One that looked rather forced, uncomfortable, and….ok somewhat terrifying if she had to be honest!

“Thank you…..for this.” He said in a stilted voice. Seemingly trying his best to remain polite while obviously not caring much for what he was thanking her for, like a child who got a knock off toy for Christmas.

“Oh! Uh…no worries!” Lady said awkwardly. Trying her best not to wither under that unsettling smile of his. She glanced down at the hotdog in her hand and quickly took a small bite out of it. Gosh, it had been ages since she had one! She’d almost forgotten how good they were!

Wiping away a few small crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked back up at the two dumbfounded brother’s awkwardly staring at her while she ate. “You guys going to start eating or not? This stuff’s going to get cold soon!” She exclaimed in a muffled voice, mouth filled with food.

Without another word, Dante quickly tore open the napkin covering his burger and began to dig into it. He let out a moan of pleasure as he ate, seemingly enjoying every bite with that blissful expression on his face. It always fascinated Lady how Dante could be so pleased by anything he ate. She honestly wouldn’t have taken him as a foodie to be honest. Expecting him to be a rebellious picky eater who could only enjoy fast food and would sustain himself on nothing else.

Ironically enough, however, that title seemingly went to his brother. Vergil had yet to touch his burger in the slightest. Instead, he had pulled back the burger's wrapping and bun ever so slightly, and awkwardly poked its inner contents with his finger and gave it a rigorous examination before it went anywhere near his mouth. It was obviously not a pleasant conclusion however, as a growing look of vile disgust formed on his fair features. His face twisting and distorting as though he was on the verge of throwing up, as he quickly pulled back his finger and hastily whipped it down with his napkin.

“Is this thing made out of rodent?” Vergil commented maybe a bit too loudly. Causing the food trucks chef peaked his head up in interest a few meters away.

“Uhhh...might wanna keep it down a little, Vergil!” Lady said in a hushed voice, chewing on her food. Catching sight of the man’s movements out of the corner of her eye. Worrying that the chef might kick them out of the area, the mercenary quickly spun back around to check on the older man. Thankfully, Lady was relieved to find, however, that the bearded chef sat back down in his truck, and was nodding his head to the beat of the radio.

“I’m not eating this.” The blue demon asserted coldly. He took a step forward. Moving to walk past his brother, as he headed towards the bin.

All of a sudden, he was stopped by a strong arm appearing in front of him and reaching out across his chest, blocking his way.

“Hold it right there, princess!” Dante said in a muffled voice. Stopping for a moment taking a bite out of his own burger. “Look, it's not that bad! In fact I think these burgers are pretty tasty! So I’m not sure what you're being a crybaby about bro! But, I’m not gonna let your waste a perfectly good meal-“ Dante reached out to his brother with open hand. “Hand it over if you don’t want it.”

Vergil slapped away his brother’s hand with a growl. “I’m not a crybaby, Dante! I just have standards for what I put into my body!” He paused for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath. Looking down at the burger in his hand with a hard, determined glare, as though he was facing down a fearsome foe in combat. "This meal is mine, and mine alone. Not yours, little brother! If you wish for me to prove to you that I can eat it. Then I will! "

Finishing his dramatic monologue, and without a second's hesitation, Vergil bought the burger up to his mouth and slammed his teeth into it in one mighty, powerful bite. Sending a spray of sickly-sweet, bright red ketchup sauce flying out of the other end of the burger and into Dante’s face. Covering him with sauce like a tasty face paint.

“Pffffffff!” Lady burst out into roaring laughter at the comical sight. To which she was soon joined by Dante, seemingly completely uncaring for the ketchup splattered across his face as he chuckled. Ironic, as Vergil's regal face quickly turned the same bright red shade as his tomato covered brother’s, at their mocking. Deathly embarrassed, Vergil quickly turned away from the pair of them and stormed over to the nearby bin and slammed his burger inside.

As he walked back from the bin, Lady couldn’t help but feel bad for the blue demon. He was obviously trying to play off that he didn’t care about what had just transpired. His face marred with his usual stoic frigidity, icy eyes hard and lips pressed together in a firm line, actively schooling his features so that he looked emotionless. Yet, as the bright red blush slowly left his cheeks, he couldn’t hide the light, pink dusting covering his sharp cheekbones. It was both hilarious and endearing to see. Hell, Lady might even have gone as far as to say it was….cute.

Vergil walked back over to the pillar and picked his sword up off the ground, right next to the black laptop haphazardly leaning against the concrete structure. Held it close to his chest protectively, in his crossed arms, as he stubbornly gazed up at a futuristic, bullet-like train rumbling past overhead. Although, not loud enough to cover up the sound of a stomach growling in annoyance. Given that she and Dante had certainly eaten their fair share, by process of elimination it seemed Vergil was hungrier than he let on.

Taking pity on the young man, Lady awkwardly split off the untouched end of her hotdog, and strolled over to him. She coughed lightly to gain his attention, and when his fearsome gaze fell on her, she swiftly presented her peace offering with a soft smile. “Here, take half of mine.”

Vergil raised a curious, pale eyebrow at her offer from beneath his hood. Still looking uncomfortable at the idea of eating anything from the food truck. The brunette suspected that it was going to take a bit more convincing to get him to concede to her demands.

“I-uh...saw a jar of branded hotdog sausages in the van. So there shouldn’t be anything weird in it if you're worrying about that.“ She was reassured. Rubbing the back of her slim neck with her free hand.

At the news of the hotdog's authenticity, Vergil hesitantly took the uneaten half from Lady’s hand. A small smirk creeping onto his pinkish lips as he gazed down at the meal in his grasp. “Thank you, Lady.” He said in a soft voice. There was a hint of…something behind that tone, however. Something indecipherable to the mercenary.

She didn’t have time to question it too much though, as Dante walked over to the pair of them rubbing down his boyish face with the torn remains of his napkin. It seemed he’d done a successful job of clearing away much of the ketchup covering his face, however the odd spots still remained around his jawline and chin. Apparently only the top half of his face really counted when it came to cleaning himself.

“Hey, you doing alright bro?” Dante asked in a concerned voice, as he casually leaned back against the concrete pillar beside the blue demon. “Don’t worry too much about what happened. There’s a reason I wear red!”

“I thought it was because Eva got annoyed every time you came back from a mission covered in drenched in blood, dirt and god knows what else attaches itself to you.” Vergil pointed out, without missing a beat. Looking over at his twin with a fond, yet taunting gaze. Knocking Dante off guard for a brief second, before he quickly recovered.

“Heh…well I suppose that’s true! But this just proves it has other uses!” Dante lightly pat his twin on the shoulder affectionately. “Anyway, enjoy your meal bro! Let’s hope no special sauce leaks out of the other end this time!”

Dante winked at his brother with a cheeky grin as he finished talking. At first Vergil ignored him, moving to bite into his hotdog regardless. It was only after a second of processing what his twin had said, the cogs in his brain clicking into motion, that the young man realised what he was implying. His pale face quickly flushing with bright red once again. His sharp teeth just stopped shy from the hotdog's delicate bun, before slamming his mouth shut. Gritting his teeth together so tightly that his jaw began to shake.

The mercenary started to step backwards, already anticipating the ticking time bomb about to go off before her, as Vergil moved to click open Yamato’s blade with his free hand. A murderous glint in his blue eyes as he slowly tilted his head up and glared at his unassuming twin - still resting his hand on the blue demon’s shoulder. Toothy grin still etched into his features like he had been turned to stone.

I should probably get myself a soda! Lady thought to herself wisely. Breaking off in a sprint towards the food truck, the moment a flash of bright blue light sparked off behind her, out of the corner of her eye.

“DANTEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

—————————————————————————

Click here to read more over on Ao3! :3

#devil may cry #dmc #dante #vergil #dmc lady #dmc vergil #dmc dante #dante sparda #vergil sparda #dmc fanfic

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formeryelpers · 4 years

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Yuca’s, 1075 S Fair Oaks Ave., Pasadena, CA 91105

The original Yuca’s opened in Los Feliz in 1976 to share the flavors of the Yucatan with Los Angeles. The original tiny shack is still open, but in 2017, they took over a tiny shack on the side of a liquor store in Pasadena. Yuca’s is known for their cochinita pibil, carne asada and Yucatan tamales (available on Saturdays only). They won a James Beard award in the America’s Classics category.

The menu includes burritos (asada, machaca, pollo, cochinitia pibil, carnitas, chile verde, veggie, bean & cheese), tacos, nachos, quesadillas, tortas, plates and drinks. It seems like they used to have burgers and breakfast burritos, but maybe they reduced the menu because of the coronavirus pandemic. Walk up to the order to place your order. You can also call in your order or have the food delivered.

* Cochinita pibil burrito ($6.75) comes with Yucatan style pork, pinto beans, and pico de gallo with your choice of salsa (red or green) on the side. You can also ask for spicy pickled carrots and jalapenos. Or add rice and salsa for an extra 25 cents. The burrito was flat and wide, measuring 7 inches x 4 inches x 1 inch. It didn’t have a lot of filler, which was nice. The pinto beans were tender and the pico de gallo fresh. The cochinita pibil is marinated, slow-roasted pork wrapped in a banana leaf. It comes out shredded and permeated with flavor. The pork was lean and shredded. I found it a tad salty and not as tender as I had hoped. The burrito was good and so was the salsa, but I think it needed more salsa and less salt. It was also very wet, so have those napkins handy. Rice might help with the wetness and saltiness.

There is no indoor dining area or tables and chairs, but there’s a ledge on the side if you’d like to stand and eat. Credit cards are accepted.

3.5 out of 5 stars.

By Lolia S.

#Yuca's #Yucatan cuisine #Mexican food #cochinita pibil #tacos #burritos #tortas #Pasadena #Yuca's Pasadena

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 5 years

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Tomorrow Never Came PT. 5

You’re over four decades into the past, and now you’re almost halfway through the year you had to prepare for the attack. Summer has come, and you begin to get into a groove with your routine, but when you step out of that routine for just a moment, something - or someone - finally comes to stop you in your tracks.

Read PT. 1 here | Read PT. 2 here | Read PT. 3 here | Read PT. 4 here

(a/n: I DIDNT HAVE TIME TO PROOFREAD DONT KILL ME anyways hi i’m opening requests again since i should have the rest of the main ones out of the way before the weekend is over)

July in London felt like it always did back in the future – did that sentence even make sense, you wondered? Not that your life was making sense anyways. It hadn’t since March, but at the same time, you’d never felt happier. You had a steady job, lovely roommates, and you were slowly figuring out how you were going to save your mother from a most undesirable future.

Anyways, July was in full swing, and the weather being up in the 70s to match the year had you in high spirits. Freddie and Roger were in high spirits too – they had finally played a show with Deacon as the bassist, and they’d raved about it for days afterwards. Suddenly, they were begging you to come see them play. They’d only played a few gigs here and there since you’d met them, and never with Deacon, so they desperately wanted you to see them in action.

You’d considered, of course. Although you’d gotten over the initial shock of being in cahoots with Queen, going and seeing them perform would certainly be a daunting check off of the old bucket list – after all, who else born after 1995 could say that they’d seen the original lineup of Queen play in some dingy, underground London pub? Hint – nobody. But at the same time, you worried. How would that affect the future of Queen? Would your presence make someone miss a note or forget the lyrics, inciting an argument that broke up the band before it even began? They were all testy fellows, for sure, and there was no telling what your presence alone could set off.

Roger, though, was incessant. And you couldn’t blame him – this band was his life, his dream, and he wanted to share it with you, one of his closest friends.

“It’s late tomorrow night, surely you can skive off work early?” Roger complained, tossing a fry into his mouth as you rolled your eyes. You’d explained this to him a hundred times over, and honestly, you were beginning to get tired of it. He batted his eyelashes, purposely accentuating the alluring blue of his eyes as he practically stared you down. “I mean, this is the first day you’ve had off in weeks.”

“Rog, I’m the only closing person out front tomorrow night. I’m afraid I can’t.” Pouting, he looked down to his plate again and let his shoulders sag a bit. He was awfully melodramatic today, and you couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head. “Nuh-uh, no amount of crying like a baby is going to make me lose my only job. I’ve got to pay rent, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, throwing a burnt crisp of a fry at you and giving you the stink eye as he continued to eat. He was seated across from you in a cracked vinyl-upholstered booth at some burger joint you’d heard him mention once or twice. It was a bit out of the way for you, so you’d never stopped by, but he’d insisted on it tonight – Freddie was out with Mary and you didn’t want to cook tonight. “I swear, you work every day. Don’t you ever want a break, love? Your feet have got to be killing you.”

He was right on that, your feet did ache like no other nowadays. You’d tried switching up shoes to make it better, but nothing could combat the hard concrete that was underneath the tile of that café. The wince that contorted your face when he said that answered for you, and a knowing smirk graced his lips as he crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table, arching a blond eyebrow in challenge. “That’s not the point, Rog,” you dismissed, a warning tone to your voice as you picked at your fries, your stomach starting to feel a bit full.

“I think it is,” he replied in a sing-song voice, lifting his nose at you for a moment before laughing. “Come on, Y/N, one night won’t kill you! Ask that greasy bloke that’s always giving you one-liners to cover. He’d do it for the chance to breathe your air again.”

It was tempting, and you hated how right he was today. He was making good point after good point, and you were quickly running out of defenses to avoid what you were probably going to do anyways. Looking around, you tried to stall, and you scanned the restaurant for anything to help you. A family waiting for their food. A young brunette girl sitting at the counter 10 feet away from you, talking with the chef. A salt-and-pepper-haired man, older looking, sitting a booth or two behind Roger and reading a newspaper. Nothing. Sighing in defeat, you reached for your napkin and wiped off your hands as you grumbled, “I suppose I could do that. He’s in tonight, anyways.”

Cheering, Roger grabbed his napkin as well and wiped at his face so quickly he almost knocked his hat off, his big doe eyes alight with excitement as he tossed enough money to cover the tab down on the table. He scooted out of the booth, almost crowding you in his eagerness to go over to the café. “Come on, I want to hear what the oily old chap has to say today. Maybe I can learn something from him.”

“You’re something else, Roger,” you laughed, rising out of the booth and grabbing your purse before pulling it over your shoulder. “And don’t even think about taking notes from him. He’s a disgusting pervert and you’d get slapped in an instant if you ever tried to use any of his lines.”

“They work so well on you! After all, you do have his schedule memorized,” he teased, poking at your side in fun as the two of you exited the burger place, Roger holding the door open for you before following you out onto the sidewalk. You gave him a warning look, and he whined as he fell into step with you, heading down the sidewalk together. “You know I’m joking, don’t be such a prude. I’m funny and you know it, admit it!” Throwing an arm over your shoulder, he reached up with his other hand to mess up your hair, receiving a gentle smack on the wrist for it.

“You’re such an arse sometimes, truly!” you laughed, trying to fix your hair in vain before just giving up and letting it blow back into place from the soft breeze that filtered around the corners of buildings. Stepping out into the street, you two looked like a regular couple to the untrained eye, especially when you wrapped an arm around his waist, clinging on to the white button up/suspender duo he had on. His arm was casually dangling over your shoulder, holding you to his side and bumping hips with you as you both walked. And though Roger’s scrawny figure wasn’t an imposing sort, you did feel like he offered you some blanket of security that way – you felt safe, impossibly safe, in his arms, and that scared you.

This part of the city was a bit unfamiliar to you, but you’d heard your mom mention it once or twice, and you suddenly felt a pang of sadness in your heart as you missed her dearly. You missed her smile, the way her eyes nearly closed when she did so, and the way she said your name – it was relaxing, and you hadn’t heard it in so long. And that laugh, when you said something really outrageous, the way it twinkled – God, it made every second here worth it. You loved your mom dearly, and if this was the way to bring her back, then you were determined to succeed.

Lost in your own thoughts, you felt as if you were in a daze as Roger led you down an unfamiliar street, lined with carts touting fruit and other goods for sale. An array of smells battered at your nostrils, overwhelming you with stimulation as you glanced around, taking in the sight and feeling a significant sort of loss at the fact that something like this was so rare in the 21st century.

And that’s when you heard it. Her voice, followed by that unmistakable laugh. You thought you were imagining it at first, but it was so present, so real, that you found yourself clutching on to Roger for dear life as your head whipped around, searching for the source of the sound desperately.

You found her. There she was, chatting away with a vendor who was talking her up and trying to convince her to buy just one more peach for the road. She was laughing at the flirty smiles being sent her way, her smile the same as ever, just framed by a younger, less troubled face. Roger noticed your frantic change of demeanor, and he looked down at you with a curious expression on his face. However, you gave him no time to ask questions as you ducked down, practically forcing him into the nearest alleyway and using him as a human shield when she turned away from the vendor, heading straight for where you just were. Peeking around him, you watched as your mom wandered off, vibrant, glowing, and so unbothered by life. Troubling, how the years had changed her.

Roger stood still, baffled by your behavior in the last 30 seconds but patiently waiting for an explanation as kept his arm around your shoulder. You’d turned his back to the street, so now he was leaned against the back wall of a building and mostly shielding you from view. You held him stationary with a firm grip on his arm that was leaned against the wall, your other hand still grasping his shirt like it was your lifeline.

Realizing how tightly you were holding on to him, you felt your cheeks burning as you pulled your hand away, mumbling softly. “Sorry. Er, thought I saw an ex out there. Didn’t want to see them.”

“Oh?” Roger said, suddenly interested when you’d brought an ex into the equation. “You should have told me! I could have given ‘em a serious case of jealousy, signed with a big old smooch from ol’ Roger Taylor himself.” The smirk on his lips was undying, and you fought off a smile as you rolled your eyes playfully, heading back out to the street with him now that it was a bit safer.

“Talking about yourself in the third person is weird, you know?” you pointed out, and Roger dismissed the suggestion with a wave and a scoff. “Plus, you’ve got a lot of nerve thinking that I wouldn’t smack you silly for kissing me out of nowhere.”

“That’s what they all say,” he teased, and you groaned in mock disgust as you started to head down the sidewalk with him again, heading back towards the café

The next night, the pub was noisy, as expected, and the crowd clamored with anticipation as the time for the boys to play grew closer. You’d given Roger and Freddie good luck hugs, and then headed back out to grab yourself a drink before the show started. Settling for a pale lager, you found a seat at the bar that was close enough to the stage that you had a good view of all of them, even if it was from a side angle. Turning around, you leaned back against the bar as you took a drink of the beer, observing the makeshift stage. Roger’s drums were already set up, ready to go, and some small amps littered the space, not looking completely ordered, but you knew that it wouldn’t matter anyways.

After you had a good portion of your beer gone, you saw Roger take the stage, his golden blonde hair flying over his shoulders as he quickly mounted the throne, sending a quick side glance to you and grinning before nodding as the rest of the boys took the stage. With hardly any introduction at all, they were off.

Of course, they didn’t need an introduction. Half of this crowd was here specifically for them, and the other half had most likely heard about them at some point tonight. Everyone was buzzing about Queen, the outrageous garage band that just came out with a new lineup and stole the show with their brilliant recorded demo and scarcely-muted flamboyance.

The buzz was all for a good reason. Queen’s stage presence was incredible, and they played like professionals on stage at Wembley, not four scrappy young guys who fought over who got the last of the crisps. They were a whole, a cohesive unit that played as one, and you found yourself so entranced by their work that you hardly noticed the man who’d seated himself next to you, ordering two lagers.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your focus and drawing your attention to him. The dim light made it hard to tell, but you felt like you’d met him before, and you squinted a bit before glancing at the bartender as he sat two beers on the bar. “It’s on me.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You smiled warmly, briefly forgetting about the boys as you finished off your first beer and took the one offered to you. If you hadn’t seen the bartender pour the drinks, you may very well have told this man to fuck off, but you were in a good mood, having had the day to relax and take your mind off work. So, you decided to entertain whatever was about to happen. From what you could see, he wasn’t bad looking, and even if it was terrible of you, you wouldn’t mind screwing up the past a bit in order to get laid by some random person who’d probably never have an effect on your future. After all, it had been four months, and you had needs just like everyone else. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” he asked, turning a bit towards you as he pursed his lips. “My name is Anthony. Yours?”

“Y/N.” You held out your hand, offering it for a quick shake, and he took it gently, his calloused one dwarfing yours as you continued to smile at him. “You here for the band?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, leaning an elbow on the bar as he glanced at the boys, who were playing one of their last songs. “I had to come here for different reasons.”

“So mysterious,” you laughed, leaning forward a bit and also resting on the bar as you sipped your drink. “What reasons, may I ask?”

He gave you a queer look, and then looked back at the band, his eyes settling on Roger for a moment. Following his line of sight, you also found yourself staring at Roger, admiring the energy he put into his performance – he was truly master of that drumset. Turning back to you, the man suddenly looked worried, age lining his face as he spoke just loud enough for you to hear. “You don’t belong here.”

“What?” You were taken aback, thoroughly confused by what he’d just suggested. Here you were, planning on going home with the man, and suddenly he was accusing you of being in the wrong place. Last you checked, this was the bar Queen was playing at. You assumed you had the address right, considering the boys were literally on stage right now.

“You don’t belong here! Get the hell out of here, go home.”

“W-what are you talking about?” you stuttered back, a bit nervous now and backing away as you sat the beer down on the bar. He was scaring you, his voice and words far too sure and serious to just be some random drunk convincing you to shag him somewhere else.

“Go back while you still have time. You can’t keep this up,” he demanded. When you remained stunned into silence, he sat his drink down as well and tugged you off the barstool with a firm grip on your arm, dragging you to the back corridor as the boy’s set ended. You looked back at Freddie and saw that he’d just caught the tail end of whatever you were doing, but he misinterpreted it wildly and gave you an encouraging thumbs up as you disappeared around the corner. When you were out of earshot of pretty much anyone, he finally stopped and made you face him.

“What’s your fucking major malfunction?” you spit, shrugging his hand off and stepping away from him. You got a chance to look at him in the slightly brighter light, and realized it was the man from the restaurant yesterday. In fact, you realized you’d spotted him around often in the past few months, at the café, on the street, in your building. “Are you following me, you creep? I ought to-”

“Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here, you and I know it!” he interrupted, cutting you off with a firm voice. “Go back to your time. You’ve put everyone in danger here.”

Stunned, you couldn’t think of any response as you tried to grapple with the fact that there was a middle-aged man telling you to go back to the 21st century, that you didn’t belong here and you were fucking up royally by being here. “Who even are you?” you asked apprehensively, not sure what in the hell to think of this man. “What do you want from me?”

“My name isn’t Anthony. It’s Weston, and I’m from the future too. I know you went through that fucking closet, and you need to go back through it right now, before you put everyone you love in danger, including those guys.”

Your mind was reeling, thinking of hundreds of questions per second as you tried to get a handle on the situation. This man, Weston, whatever his name was, was from the future, and he knew you. He knew that you were putting people in danger, and he knew about the closet. “How do you know this? How can I even trust you?”

“That man – the singer – Freddie’s dead,” he countered quickly. “That proof enough?”

“Everyone dies,” you pointed out, his eyebrows furrowing as you called out his weak point.

“Fine. Freddie died of pneumonia in ’91, when I was a teenager. You weren’t even a fucking thought yet. Happy?” You were quiet, and he took that as a sign to continue, sounding more and more frantic as the moments went on. “Now you really need to go home, back to whatever you’re trying to fix, because it can’t be fixed. Stop while you’re ahead. Reset. Forget this ever existed, and go live a normal life.”

What was he saying? Could you really be doing this for nothing? Why was he telling you these things, and how did he know about your plans? Your mind was a raging torrent, flooded with all kinds of anxieties that had been building up since that dreary day in March when you first met Roger and Freddie. But how much could this man really know? You were literally on the path to save your mother from something horrid, and how could he tell you to pass on that?

“You’re mental if you think I’m not going to fix things by doing what I’m doing,” you scoffed finally, pushing him away as you began to walk away from him, done with the baffling conversation. You had already made a mental decision to ignore his demands, to write him off as a phony. But he caught up with you, hissing a warning in your ear as he failed to make you stop.

“You keep going and you’re going to destroy them! Your family, Roger, Freddie, everyone! They’re all going to come crumbling down with your plans if you keep trying to mess with the past like this!”

But you were gone before he could keep going, flipping him off with a steady hand as you made your way back through the bar. However, you couldn’t ignore the heavy weight settling in the bottom of your stomach, making you drag a bit as you went out the front and around the side of the building to where the boys were loading up their equipment.

“There she is! God, you look flushed,” Freddie pointed out, smiling mischievously as he took your face in his hands. He looked you over for a second before chuckling. “Was he that bad?”

“Who?” you asked, already blanking on what he was talking about. Sometimes, Freddie’s conversations were so one-sided you couldn’t even begin to understand them.

“That man!” he laughed, letting go of you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you towards the van. “You two were quick, he must have been a wham-bam-thank you ma’am kind of chap. You know, I never pegged you as one to like older men, but I guess I can kind of see where he was cute. Was he big?”

“God, Freddie, shut up,” Roger groaned, lugging his kick drum from the sidewalk to the back of the van as he shot the two of you an annoyed look. Putting the drum in the van, he continued to look slightly miffed as he loaded up his set, carefully packing everything away so it wouldn’t get damaged, but he looked as though he was bothered, somehow. Something was off with him, and you couldn’t even begin to tell what it was, but you knew you had to set the record straight.

“We didn’t do anything,” you corrected Freddie. “He tried to get me to go home… with him. But I said no.”

“Shame,” Freddie pouted, letting go of you before glancing to Roger, who was just out of earshot. “I was really enjoying driving him crazy. Oh well.”

“What?” you asked, your cheeks heating up as Freddie shrugged and walked off towards Roger, stopping him with a gentle hand on the arm and whispering something to him. A considerable amount of annoyance erased from Roger’s face, but he feigned apathy as he shrugged, walking towards the van again, where you were awkwardly standing, not sure what to do with yourself. What had just went on in the bar had rattled you a bit, and Roger noticed that you were a bit off as he packed away his cymbal.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he remarked, stopping in front of you and pulling out a pack of smokes before offering one to you. Usually, you’d abstain, but you accepted the offer right now, needing an oral fixation to take your mind off of everything. Holding out his lighter, you perched the cigarette between your lips and leaned forward towards him, looking up to watch the dim light of the lighter’s flame reflecting on his eyes, which were fixated on the end of your cigarette. His free hand was cupped around the flame, keeping it from blowing out as you inhaled, lighting up the end and nodding to him in thanks as he looked up to meet your gaze.

After staring for a moment, he nodded back and looked down, putting a cigarette between his teeth and lighting it as well, then nodding towards the van. Both of you perched in the back as the other three headed inside for a drink, leaving you two behind in the dark alleyway, your only company each other and probably some disgustingly huge rats by the trash cans. This was uncharacteristic for the both of you. Usually, you would talk each other’s ears off, never running out of things to say. But something was off. You were scared. Roger was unaware. The conflicting emotions played off of each other just like the boys did on stage, mutually working to create a jarring silence that scared the living hell out of you.

“You guys were fantastic.” You finally spoke, taking a drag and holding the smoke for a moment before exhaling slowly. Looking over, you saw Roger leaned against the side of the van, facing you, and you mimicked his position, facing him and pressing your feet up against his as you watched him quietly. “Really smashed it up there.”

“Thank you, love,” he replied, giving you a small smile before he took a drag, closing his eyes and letting his head rest back against the plastic covering on the inside of the van. “I’m just happy you finally came out to one of our shows. It’s about time.”

“I should have dropped by one a lot sooner,” you admitted, taking another drag and exhaling it quicker this time, still observing him quietly. He was a bit sweaty from the show, his shirt partially unbuttoned and revealing more of his slender, scrawny build that you still couldn’t believe belonged to one of the greatest rock drummers of the century. Wavy golden blond hair fell over his shoulders, a bit damp with sweat, but still smooth and shiny under the moonlight. You were momentarily distracted by a couple passing by the van, laughing, and you redirected your focus to them, not wanting to lose yourself in Roger’s good looks for the thousandth time. Or maybe you did. It would be something to keep your mind off of Weston, after all.

“Did we look good up there?” Roger asked, distracting you and pulling your focus back to him as he opened his eyes, staring across the open space at you. His eyes were analytical, searching your face for a reaction as we spoke. “I’d like to think that I’m the show-stealer, but that’s kind of hard when you’ve got a big ass cymbal directly in front of your face. Really kills my vibe.”

You laughed, looking back out to the sidewalk and shaking your head as you conjured up the image of them on stage again, chewing on your lip. “I don’t know, I kind of thought Brian’s hair was hard to miss. And Deacon? He’s bound to be the show-stealer in general. Girls dig that wholesome, innocent thing he’s got going on.”

“What in the hell!” Roger complained, laughing with you as he kicked your foot gently. “He’s not an innocent little boy, he’s literally the saltiest man I’ve met on this our side of the Earth and he’s got you believing he’s an angel. God, what’s a handsome, charming guy like Roger Taylor got to do to get a little recognition and praise around here?”

“You’re speaking in the third person again,” you reminded him, and he groaned before flipping you off, taking another drag.

“Bugger off, you Deacon-lover. I ought to kick you out of our flat for that one, that hurts.” You snickered as he put on a faux upset look, avoiding your gaze so he wouldn’t laugh. After a moment, he had to continue. “You know what? Deacon does have good hair. I’ll give him that. But what else does he have that I don’t? I have redeeming qualities, right? Right?”

You were quiet, letting him simmer as he caught your gaze again, waiting impatiently. When you didn’t answer, he huffed and started crawling out of the van, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out as he stood up. “No, Roger, I’m taking the piss!” you laughed, moving to dangle your legs over the edge of the van and also put out the butt of your cig as he stood half-turned from you, unsure whether to trust you or not. “I’m serious now, promise.”

Sighing, he turned back around and leaned against the door that hung open in front of you. It creaked a bit as he leaned on it, but it didn’t seem to alarm him, so you dismissed your worries about the old clunker genuinely falling apart. The veins in his arms were more prominent as he crossed his arms, giving you a look that you were convinced was actually, truly upset. He must have been a bit more sore about the subject than you’d expected which baffled you. Roger was a gorgeous man, and had plenty of attention from women, so the fact that he was convinced that Deacon was more of a ladies man than him was almost laughable.

“I’m asking this seriously, friend to friend – why do girls like Deacon so much more?” His eyes searched your face as he spoke, desperate to find a reaction to hang on to, and you realized he was as serious as he could get.

Plus, he didn’t mind getting to stare at you - he enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit, mainly because Freddie would kick his ass if he admitted it. Unbeknownst to you, they’d made an agreement on the day you moved in that you were off limits for him, but every day, you made the rule harder and harder to abide by, and Freddie was obviously no help either.

“It’s definitely mainly the shyness,” you admitted, swinging your legs back and forth as you looked up at up, glad to have a petty distraction from the man named Weston. “Girls love a tough egg to crack. And Deacon’s never around our place much at all. He’s definitely far more mysterious than you-“ you noticed Roger started to look irritated, so you backtracked a bit, “-which isn’t a bad thing! Some people are just quiet, like him. So girls see that and think, ‘Wow, a soft guy? Wonder if I can-“

“What are you talking about?” You heard Deacon’s voice around the corner of the van, and he emerged moments later, joining the two of you as you grinned up at him, Roger thoroughly annoyed at this development.

“Hey, John!” you greeted warmly, patting the spot next to you and trying not to laugh as Roger rolled his eyes, grumbling. “We were just talking about you, actually.”

“Oh,” John mumbled, looking a tiny bit nervous as he sat in the back of the van with you, sitting a respectable distance away and offering you a cigarette. You looked at Roger with a knowing look, which set him off when you gladly accepted, thanking him.

“Piss off! I literally just offered you a ciggy and Deacon gets all smiles for doing the same thing? God, women make me sick sometimes,” Roger ranted, his voice high-pitched and defensive as he kicked a small rock, grumbling to himself as he stalked off towards the pub’s side door, leaving you with Deacon.

“What did I do?” Deacon asked once Roger had gone, looking at you with a baffled expression. You looked over at the fresh-faced 19 year old, laughing and reaching over to wrap your arm around him, patting his head and holding him in a side hug for a moment.

“Don’t worry, you did genuinely nothing. That’s more than enough to set off Rog. Gotta love him.”

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4

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#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #time travel #queen imagine #series

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wonderlandleighleigh · 5 years

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7 Birthday Gifts Dean Winchester Got and 1 He Got Again

It’s a little toy car that looks just like Daddy’s, and he lights up like he just won the Superbowl when he opens the little package.

His mommy doesn’t do big over-the-top gifts, but that’s okay. Dean doesn’t need ‘em.

This is the best gift ever.

The diner they’re sitting in is cold and mostly empty; maybe their heating is out.

Dean deosn’t know what day it is or what time it is, or where they are. They've been driving a long time and at this point, all the scenery looks the same, especially after dark.

Dad looks up at the waitress as she comes over to clear their plates. “Hey, can we get a slice of cherry pie?”

Dean frowns deeply at his father as he nudges Sammy off of his shoulder. The kid’s dead to the world; sleeping soundly after a full meal of nuggets and fries, and Dean’s…

Well, Dean’s confused because his father is not a pie kinda guy. Dean is though.

The waitress smiles and heads off and Dad glances at Dean and lifts an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothin.”

“You’re givin’ me a look.”

“Well I-”

The waitress is back in record time with the pie, and John takes it with a nod of thanks and slides it over to Dean.

Dean blinks down at it, and then up at his dad.

“Happy birthday, Dude.”

“Wait,” Dean snaps. “Wait. What day is it?!”

He’s woken out of a dead sleep, and pulls the machete out from under his pillow, shooting to an upright position, eyes wide and alert.

“Whoa! Holy crap!”

It’s Sam’s voice.

Sam who left for college last year and hasn’t been around much.

And by much...well…

Dean squints in the darkness and flicks the bedside light on. It flickers a little; not from ghosts or anything. It’s just a really shitty hotel.

“What the hell?” their father growls from the other bed, sitting up slowly.

Sam is standing there, looking sheepish.

John groans. “Boy, didn’t I tell you not to come back?”

“I’m not here for you, old man,” Sam snaps, and it’s then that Dean notices there’s something in his hand.

It’s a pie.

A whole pie.

Dean shakes his head. “Sammy, what-”

“Happy birthday, Jerk.”

Dean blinks and shakes his head one more time. “You drove all night to bring me birthday pie?”

“Yes,” Sam snaps. “And you better eat it, or I’m gonna be pissed.”

Dean snorts, grinning a little. “I don’t have any forks.”

“I know.” Sam drops the pie box in Dean’s lap and pulls two forks out.

“Who said you could have any?” Dean asks.

“My credit card,” Sam says, sitting down next to him. “Now open that thing up, I haven’t eaten since like four and I’m starving.”

“Dad, you want some pie?” Dean asks.

“No,” John snaps, laying back down. “Keep it down.”

“‘Happy birthday Dean, glad you’re still alive, Dean, enjoy your pie, Dean, good to see you, Sammy.’”

“Just eat,” Dean tells him. “And...Thanks.”

“You weren’t gonna remember,” Sam comments. “Somebody had to.”

They get to Bobby’s for a pitstop. It’s snowing and chill-your-bones cold and Dean can’t wait to get inside.

They hustle in, Sam first and then Dean, and he stops, lighting up when he sees a big metal toolbox with a bow on it.

“The hell is this?” he asks, bewildered and thrilled.

“Today’s your birthday, ya idjit,” Bobby chuckles from the kitchen. “I gotcha a gift.”

Dean wastes no time in opening up the toolbox on a brand-spankin’ new, shiny set of tools; socket wrenches and screwdrivers in all different sizes and shapes. A big new hammer. A few sizes worth of pliers.

From beside him, Sam produces a pie.

“Where the hell did that come from?!” Dean laughs.

“I mean...you were looking at the dirty mags in the store, so I just snuck off and bought it,” Sam admits.

Dean laughs harder, and they spend the night going through Bobby’s beer, laughing and talk. Bobby makes burgers; they eat the pie.

It’s the best birthday Dean’s had in a hell of a long time.

Too bad he’ll be going to hell in a few months.

Still.

“What’s this?”

“It is your day of birth gift,” Castiel tells him.

Dean frowns deeply and picks up the book, looking it over. “You got me a book?”

“You mentioned Vonnegut once,” Castiel comments. “I wasn’t certain if you had that one but the shop-owner said it was very good.”

“I don’t know this one,” Dean grins. “Thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome.” Castiel pauses for a moment. “What did Sam get you?”

“Nothin’ yet,” Dean shrugs. “Either he’ll show up at a weird hour with pie or he’ll forget. Either is fine.”

“Ah.”

“Birthdays aren’t a big deal.”

“It seems that some humans make them big deals.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not just some humans,” Dean shrugs. “We got bigger problems then birthdays.”

They’re back late from a hunt, and Charlie is waiting for them.

Both boys light up, and cry out in surprise; delighted surprise.

She beams at them and gets up from her chair, holding a brightly-colored gift bag, dangling it on one finger. “Happy birthday, big brother I never asked for.”

Dean laughs, a real belly laugh, and steps over. “What?” He snatches the bag and looks inside, laughing harder.

“What?” Sam asks. “What’d she get you?”

Dean holds open the bag, and Sam starts laughing too.

“Oh, god.” He lifts the complete Star Trek Original Series blu rays out of the box.

“What do you say we order a pizza, and then boldly go where no man has gone before?” Charlie grins. “And by that I mean, like...the DVD’s. Not...y’know.”

“We know,” Dean grins, pulling her in, his arm wrapped around her neck as he kisses the top of her head. “Thanks.”

The singing starts and Dean’s eyes nearly fall out of his head.

Jody, Donna, Claire and Alex are carrying out the biggest fucking pie he’s ever seen; candles stuck in it.

“What?!” Dean cries, laughing.

“Happy birthday dear Dean,” they and Sam finish singing. “Happy birthday to you!”

“I picked the pie,” Sam tells him. “And it was my idea.”

“Course it was,” Dean shakes his head. “You guys didn’t have to-”

“Shut up and blow out the candles,” Claire snaps.

“What she said,” Jody adds.

Dean shakes his head, grins and blows them out with one puff. They all cheer.

Donna rubs his arm. “I bet you wished for something good.”

Dean grins at her, before turning back to everyone. “So what’re you guys eating?”

For his trouble, he gets five napkins thrown at his face.

Mom hasn’t back to the bunker in a while, and Dean can’t help worrying, but hell. She’s a grown-ass woman. She can take care of herself.

Still.

He looks at his phone to see if she’s texted, and instead, sees the date.

January 24th.

“Crap,” he grumbles.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks up quickly, seeing his mother standing at the door. “Uh...y’know? Nothin.”

She descends the stairs, looking curious. “Where’s Sam?”

“Don’t know,” Dean lies. His kid brother is probably on a mission to find pie. He just…

She forgot.

She forgot his birthday and it stings, but it’d hurt her more to realize it, and he just-

“I got you something,” she says, grinning and sitting next to him.

He blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Did you forget your own birthday?” Mary asks, looking amused. “Dean.”

“Well, I…”

Her smile fades a little. “You thought I had.”

“I mean, with everything that’s been goin on...Jack and Michael and-”

Mary wraps her arm around his shoulder, and pulls him closer, kissing his temple. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

He shuts up.

From her purse, she pulls a dusty little toy car.

“This is a little cheesy,” she says. “A little sentimental, and I don’t know if you remember, but-”

“I remember,” Dean beams, picking up the little tiny black Impala, rubbing his thumb over it to clear the dust.

“It’s not the same one from when you were little,” Mary admits. “But I looked everywhere for one.”

Dean smiles at her. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

The door opens again and shuts loudly as Sam bursts in, pie box in hand.

“Found one!” he says, and stops, his eyes widening. “Mom made it!”

Mary smiles and pats Dean’s hand. “Mom made it. That thing smells amazing. We got candles?”

Dean sits back and watches them fuss about and bustle around for candles and plates and forks, and spins one of the wheels with his index finger.

END

#Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Mary Winchester #John Winchester #Bobby Singer #Charlie Bradbury #Jody Mills #Donna Hanscum #Alex Jones #Claire Novak #Castiel #SPN #Supernatural #fic

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rabbitcruiser · 11 months

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National Hamburger Day

Grill up a hamburger for yourself, or visit any number of sandwich shops and restaurants to enjoy one of mankind’s greatest, greasiest culinary inventions.

Let’s face it; there isn’t anything in the world quite so delightful as your first bite of a rich, juicy hamburger. Don’t believe us? One of the first popular vegan-faux-meats? The Veggie Burger. Even vegetarians couldn’t resist the taste of a tasty burger; they had to create an alternative so that they wouldn’t have to leave all that was good and right about the world in the past. National Hamburger Day celebrates the history of this most irresistible of sandwiches.

But why are hamburgers so amazing? Well, it’s clever really, it matters not who you are, there will be some form of burger for you. Unlike some popular dishes where you just get what you get, a hamburger can be designed and created for the person who is eating it.

In a strange way, a hamburger resembles an art form that you chew. While that last statement may sound crazy, it’s far from it. If you sit back and think about it, whenever you make a burger at home, you have specific ingredients that you like to mix with your pate, and more than this, a burger is one food that welcomes OCD. What do we mean by that? Well, can you honestly say that you don’t freak out if the cheese is in the wrong place?

The truth is, a burger is a universal food; it’s a food that has many forms; it’s a food that brings people together, and ultimately it’s loved. So, if you really look at things from a logical perspective, a hamburger is more than a food, it’s almost the basis for a religion.

So, next time National Hamburger Day comes around, and you find yourself craving a hamburger, don’t settle for a flat, plain pate. It’s time to think big, think outside the box, think of the power of the pate and celebrate National Hamburger Day in style.

History of National Hamburger Day

The invention of the hamburger has been claimed by so many that there’s only one real origin. Hamburg, Germany. No matter who says they invented the hamburger, no one can deny that it was the second-largest city in Germany that was its namesake. While not all types of ‘burgers’ resemble the meat that came out of Hamburg, they all have the roots of their preparation in this noble city.

Hamburgers have come to be a symbol of all that is right in the world in the modern-day. Barbecue’s where families gather, surprise rewards by your boss, a quick bite to eat on your lunch break, or the first date shared with a new potential partner. All of these things can, and often do, include the hamburger in any one of a million of its potential preparations.

Burgers no longer are made from just beef either, these days you can find Turkey Burgers, Buffalo Burgers, Chicken Burgers, Emu Burgers, any of a million forms of meat all ground down and compacted into this most recognizable form, the ‘hamburger.’ Who would have thought that such a simple meal could come to represent so many things?

One of the most interesting things about hamburgers isn’t actually about the burger itself, believe it or not, there are actually people out there dedicated to finding out the truth about who really invented the hamburger.

If we track back to the beginning and look at the namesake Hamburg, where the burger undoubtedly gained its name, there are many people who think the burger was created in 1881 by a gentleman named Otto Kuase or Otto Krause.

On the other hand, the Library of Congress would have you believe something else. It seems the US audience seemed to favor the story of Louis Lassen in 1900. The popular story goes that a businessman was in a rush and wanted some food in a hurry. Louis is said to have placed a piece of grilled meat in between two pieces of toast and thus invented the burger.

Where this story gets interesting is here, the US disregards Otto Krause simply because his name has three different spellings, which is common with German names. As for the Lassen story, well, when it comes to putting grilled meat in between two pieces of toast, he was pretty late to the party, it seems the Chinese had been doing that since 1045.

So whether you believe it’s Otto, Lassen, or the people of the Zhou dynasty, there is no question hamburgers are one of the greatest creations in history, and National Hamburger Day is something that will go on for centuries to come.

How to celebrate National Hamburger Day

Ok, celebrating National Hamburger Day is easy peasy. Find yourself financially enriched? Head on out to Red Robin and get some of the best burgers you’ll ever put in your mouth. Grab a tower of Onion Rings while you’re at it.

No, Red Robin? The best burgers are usually found at Ma and Pop shops; those little one-off burger stands that can be found around most small towns, it just so happens they have the best fries and milkshakes as well! Of course, if you’re daring and handy with a grill, we suggest making up your own blend of hamburger spices and having a good old fashioned cookout!

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

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The Bartender - Part 8

Mr. Gold/Belle French, Rumplestiltskin/Lacey, G

Summary: Originally a prompt fill for an Anon on Tumblr who asked for Bartender AU. Now a Dark Lace cursed AU.

Chapter Summary: Rumplestiltskin visits Belle (Lacey) at the Rabbit Hole to make amends, and a date happens.

Notes: Sorry for the delay in an update. Familiar lines shamelessly taken from the episode Lacey. ;) I hope you all continue to enjoy where this is going.

[AO3] [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8]

Belle wiped her rag over the bar, pressing hard and digging with her thumb nail to scrape up the sticky sludge of squished cherry.

She frowned and finished wiping up the stain, tossing the rag in the sink as she walked the length of the bar. The initial post-work rush had slowed, which left her with too much time to think. Mostly about Gold.

Their encounter a few evenings ago had left her shaken and confused. Why did he call her Lacey? Why was he babbling about a queen? If it had been anyone else she might have believed they were drunk, but it seemed quite of out character for Mr. Gold to be openly intoxicated. He could have been in some kind of accident, or hit his head perhaps, but physically he’d appeared to be fine despite leaning on his cane a bit more heavily than usual.

Then he’d kissed her.

She swallowed and leaned against the back counter. The kiss had been lingering on her mind since that night, playing out in her dreams in a hundred different scenarios, some of which ended with them in a very compromising position in his shop. Her cheeks flushed and a slow heat crept up the back of her neck.

Just then, the man in question appeared, standing just inside the door with his hands folded over the handle of his cane.

Belle licked her lips and turned away as he strode over to the bar, taking his usual seat near the far end. She stacked a few glasses into the rack behind the bar, and pulled another pint of IPA for Leroy. Goosebumps rose on her arms, despite the warmth of the room, and she could sense Gold’s eyes on her, following her movements as she set the beer in front of Leroy.

She busied herself with lining up a row of shot glasses on the back counter, until he cleared his throat to get her attention. “Can I get you something, Mr. Gold?”

“Scotch,” he replied. Then he paused and ran his fingers back and forth over the edge of the bar before adding, “And perhaps a moment of your time?”

Finally, Belle met his eyes as she set the glass of Glenfiddich down on a small napkin. Her eyebrows lifted, waiting, and he sipped at the drink before he spoke again.

“I want to apologize for my behavior the other night,” he said, turning the glass with his fingers as he looked between it and Belle’s face. “I was...not quite myself, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I behaved terribly, and it won’t happen again.”

She shook her head and forced a smile. If he regretted the kiss, it was fine, she knew her feelings had always been one-sided. “It’s alright, Mr. Gold, I could tell you weren’t feeling well. I know if you hadn’t been that we wouldn’t have - I mean you wouldn’t have -”

His hand covered hers and she stopped abruptly, her eyes widening as they drifted the length of his arm, up to his face.

“I didn’t mean that,” Rumplestiltskin said, giving her a soft smile. Her lips against his felt so right, so perfect. He couldn’t allow her to believe he regretted it, no matter how awkward it had made things between them.

Belle’s skin warmed and her lips parted as she let out a surprised ‘oh.’ Rumplestiltskin shifted and moved around the end of the bar to stand toe-to-toe with her. He reached for her hand again and brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

“Now that I’m back to my old self,” he began, fighting to hold back a smirk at how very true the comment was, “perhaps we could...spend some time together.”

She licked her lips, watching as his eyes followed her movements. “So like...a date?”

His mouth twitched, curving slightly at the corner. “If you like, yes.”

She shivered and swallowed hard as he looked down at her, something tickling the back of her mind as she contemplated his offer. She wanted to know who Lacey was and why he was so intent on that name, and her, the other night. Maybe it was nothing, but the strangeness of the entire situation made her think there was far more to it than Gold feeling a bit out of sorts.

He didn’t regret kissing her, and he definitely seemed like he wanted to do it again. Right now in fact, if the way he was looking at her was any indication. The unspoken offer in his eyes was entirely too tempting.

Belle stepped back, pulling her hand from his. He started to frown, assuming she was declining his invitation.

“I’m sorry, I -”

“Yes,” she interrupted, secretly delighting in his surprised but pleased expression. “Where and when?”

“The Italian place by the water? Tomorrow night?” he suggested.

Lacey had always enjoyed the finer things, food and clothes and flowers from the exotic places they traveled. The restaurant in question was the fanciest that Storybrooke had to offer, such as it was. He thought it would help to immerse her in the life she had forgotten, hopefully triggering latent memories that would ease the breaking of her curse.

Belle nodded in agreement, forcing a smile while her stomach twisted itself in knots. She had never been there before, and the only thing she’d heard about it was that it was pricey. It seemed Mr. Gold was very serious about this date.

“That sounds...lovely, Mr. Gold.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a crooked smile and inclined his head, feeling nearly giddy at the prospect of having Lacey back in his life. “Until then my - Belle.”

Belle fidgeted in her seat as she studied the menu.

Everything sounded both delicious and expensive, just as she’d heard around town. She glanced around the room, awed by the soft glow of candles, starched white tablecloths, and gentle click of silver against fine china. Sure it was just a small family run joint in Storybrooke, but it was like a five star restaurant in the big city to her, and she had never felt more out of place.

Burgers at Granny’s was a treat for her, and it would have been more than fine if they had gone there. She couldn’t recall ever eating at a place like this, but it had been Gold’s idea, and she didn’t want to be rude by suggesting somewhere that was probably beneath his standards outside of the occasional cup of coffee in the mornings.

“Any idea what you would like?”

His voice startled her, and the menu slipped between her fingers, nearly sliding to the floor if not for her last second save.

“Uh, I’m not sure,” she said, flashing him what she hoped looked like a pleased smile. “It all sounds good. What are you having?”

Rumplestiltskin sat back with a smile. “I usually have the fettuccine, but tonight I think I could go for the chicken parmesan.”

It felt odd to speak of his cursed self as if he was still the man she thought he was - Mr. Gold - as if he still picked up carry out almost every night and took it back home to his lonely pink castle. He wanted their old dinners back. He wanted lamb and gravy made rich with wine and mushrooms, and tender little potatoes simmered in butter. He wanted the delicate torts with tangy red berries, and to lick the drops of chocolate off his lover as they indulge themselves in the finer things, and each other.

But he was making concessions to the curse, and the crispy breaded chicken and thick marinara sauce sounded not entirely inedible to his palate. It also seemed the kind of thing Lacey might like, simple and homey, but flavorful with bursts of roasted garlic and gooey cheese. He hoped that was something she and Belle shared.

Belle nodded and looked down at the menu again. Chicken seemed reasonable, both to her stomach and to Gold’s wallet, but when she scanned the price column her eyes went wide. How could this restaurant charge that much for -

“Belle?”

She glanced up and met his eyes, as she hastily set the menu aside. “That - that sounds fine.”

The waiter came to take their order, and she felt even more awkward as she fumbled over her order. Gold gave her a warm smile and followed smoothly with his own order, including a bottle of white wine, but she sensed that he was not entirely comfortable, either. It was probably her fault, and he was probably regretting this date already.

The food was very good, but midway through their stilted conversation, she felt her stomach start to turn. Nothing she did or said was making the situation any less weird. Her outfit, a sparkly blue dress she’d purchased at the secondhand store just for this date, didn’t feel dressy next to his three piece suit. It felt cheap and trashy. She was just too uninteresting and boring for the enigmatic Mr. Gold. She was a nearly broke bartender on a date with the richest man in town.

Everything about this was wrong.

“Excuse me,” she said, pushing back from the table before standing up.

Sensing her discomfort, Rumplestiltskin stood up as well. “Is everything alright?”

Belle smiled. “Yeah, I just, um, need to use the washroom.”

He let out a soft ‘oh’ and sat back down, frowning as he watched her weave through the tables to the short hallway beside the bar where the bathrooms were located. Something seemed amiss but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Their usual banter that had carried them through their first meeting and many other nights together at the Rabbit Hole, had fallen off into blase small talk. The spark that had been there when they’d danced together was a tiny, fizzled bit of ash. He was at a loss for what to do as his entire plan for the evening was crumbling before him. There would be no casual walk home, no soft goodnight kiss, no promise of more to come between them.

Rumplestiltskin thumped his fist on the table, shaking it and nearly sending her wine glass to the floor. He caught it at the last second, his frustration mounting at his own carelessness, and then realized Belle had not yet returned. He checked the time and then abruptly stood up, pulling out his wallet to toss some money on the table. It was twice what their bill would be, but he was in a hurry.

The hallway to the restrooms was empty, and he cautiously pushed open the door to the women’s room. It was empty as well and he took a slow, steadying breath, resisting the urge to put his fist into the wall.

A moment later, he was outside the restaurant, making his way back to his car when he heard the distinct clicking sound of heels on pavement. He followed it to the corner and caught a flash of Belle’s blue dress in the streetlamp.

“Belle, wait,” he called out, wincing at the ache in his leg as he tried to catch up to her. Thankfully, she stopped, and the pain eased as he came to stop beside her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Gold,” she said, shaking her head.

“What happened?” he asked, hesitating to take her by the arm or hand. He wasn’t sure if he’d upset her somehow, or if there was something of the curse at play that he was not aware of. “Is something wrong?”

She huffed and stepped away from him. “No, I’m fine. I just needed some air.”

Rumplestiltskin moved to stand in front of her, blocking her path down the sidewalk. “But...our date? I thought it was - it was going well.”

Belle let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head again. “No. No it wasn’t.”

“What?” He reached for her and she shrugged him off.

“It never was,” she said, folding her arms over her stomach. “This place, this dress...I was trying okay? But it’s not me. It’s - it’s you.”

He smiled and brushed her arm, feeling the chill of her skin from the night air. “Let me at least drive you home, La - uh, Belle.”

She stepped back again, her eyes wide and her mouth open. “Oh. This - this is about Lacey isn’t it?”

“No no, just -”

“Look,” Belle said firmly, holding up a hand. “I don’t know who the hell she is to you, but I am not her.”

With that she walked past him, her shoes loud and echoing in the darkness, and Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Yes you are, my love,” he said quietly, turning to watch her leave. The sight of her walking away, again, made it feel like his heart was being ripped from his chest, but he forced himself not to follow her. “Yes, you are.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #dark lace #dark lace fic #the bartender #my rumbelle fic #fic

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andimeantittosting · 6 years

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So, this was originally started in February 2017 for Round 5 of @mittensmorgul‘s Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt and promptly fell by the wayside in favour of real life nonsense and other projects. I finally did get around to finishing it, and while I'm a little embarrassed at how long it took to write what is ultimately a short fic, I'm happy to be able to share it.

Many thanks to wetkitchenpaint for beta reading.

Birds of a Feather (AO3)

Dean is thrilled to share all his favorite human indulgences with Cas, until he realizes that Cas is falling. Clearly, the only solution is to introduce him to healthy things, intellectual things, Sam things. Too bad Cas prefers Dean things.

"You'd better have left me some hot water," Sam bitches. He's the last one back to the motel, having spent the day interviewing witnesses, rather than down at the sheriff's office with Dean and Cas. They've both taken their turns in the surprisingly awesome shower already.

Dean holds up his hands. "Don't look at me, Cas was in there way longer than I was." In fact, he'd only just emerged from the steamy bathroom right before Sam came in, and there are still droplets in his hair, that Dean is absolutely not captivated by.

"Wait, do you even need to shower, Cas?"

"Dean was going on about how great the water pressure was," Cas shrugs. "I wanted to try it out for myself."

"Right," Sam says. "Dean, don't corrupt the angel with your freaky shower fetish." He disappears through the door, only to emerge a moment later, clad in a towel, and looking perturbed. "Uh, Cas? Want to tell me why there are feathers in the drain?"

---

They're in a diner that might once have had a deliberate retro vibe going on, but which now just looks old. The food smells amazing, though, and Dean surreptitiously jerks his finger towards the burger a waitress has just placed in front of a trucker who's hunched over the counter, sky-high with toppings, and with perfect golden brown fries and onion rings on the side.

"I know what I'm getting."

Sam gives him a look that clearly states, You're going to have a heart attack by the time you're forty, Dean. He looks to Cas to back him up, but Cas is staring consideringly at the architectural wonder of a burger.

"I think I'll have one, too," he decides, and both brothers look at him in surprise.

"I didn't know you were eating these days." There's a hint of a question in Dean's tone.

Cas waits perhaps a beat too long before answering. "I haven't been. But I believe circumstances have changed enough that I may be able to enjoy food again, without tasting the molecules. I would like to try it."

"What do you mean, circumstances have changed?" Dean demands, "What-" He cuts himself off as the waitress approaches, notepad out and ready to take their orders, and the subject is dropped for the time being. It's worth the niggling itch in the back of his mind to see Cas inhale the burger with gusto, which he does, after removing the pickle, which he declares unsettling.

"I can see why you enjoy this so much," he informs Dean solemnly.

"You know, Cas," Sam tries, "If you want to eat human food, there are a lot of healthy, delicious options, too."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sam," Cas promises, not sounding as if he has any intention of doing so. He pops his final onion ring in his mouth and licks the grease off a finger, and Dean's brain short-circuits.

"Uh, napkin," he manages, shoving one at Cas, as if he or Sam have any room to talk to Cas about table manners.

"Thank you." Cas wipes his hands on the napkin instead, and Dean ignores the part of himself that is disappointed.

It's as they're shuffling their way out of the diner that Dean happens to glance back towards their booth. There are three fluffy white feathers on the bench where Cas was sitting.

"Hold on." He makes a show of patting his pockets. "Think I dropped my phone." Dean hurries back to the booth and gathers up the feathers with a frown. In the parking lot, he passes them over. "Everything alright, Cas?"

---

"Y'know," Dean says, a couple days later, in a different diner. He points his fork at Cas. "Now that you're eating, again, you should really try some pie. You haven't had it before, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, you're in luck. We ate here last time we came through this way, and the pie is to die for." He rolls his eyes heavenwards in apparent ecstasy, and Cas can't help smiling at him fondly. Sam shakes his head, but Dean catches Cas's look and grins. "So you'll have some?"

Cas glances down at his empty plate, where he just finished devouring a reuben and a heaping stack of fries. "I don't know if I can manage a whole piece," he admits.

"So we'll share," Dean offers, while Sam's eyebrows make a valiant escape attempt. He nudges Cas with his elbow. "C'mon, split a piece with me."

"Very well," Cas agrees, indulgent. They chat quietly about their case, until the waitress, a woman in her fifties who looks like she could take any of them in a bar fight, arrives to bus their plates.

"Anything else I can get for you boys?" She asks, balancing the stack of dishes on her forearm.

"A slice of that strawberry-rhubarb pie, if you don't mind," Dean requests with a charming smile.

"Sure thing, honey." She turns to Sam.

"I'll just have a coffee, thanks."

"One coffee. How about you, sugar?" she asks Cas.

"Oh, uh, I'll have what he's having," he fumbles, nodding towards Dean. "Um. But just one. With two forks." There was a time when he couldn't blush, but he's pretty sure he's bright red, now. Dean is shaking with suppressed laughter at his side, and Sam shoots his a consoling glance across the table.

The waitress pats him on the shoulder kindly. "You got it, sweetie."

The pie is, indeed, delicious, once he gets over his embarrassment, and Dean seems pleased to let him take the lion's share.

"I can't believe you're sharing your pie." Sam looks far too amused at his brother's expense.

"Shut up. Cas deserves to enjoy the good things in life."

"You just like that he likes the same things you do."

"That's because I've got awesome taste, Sam. Tell him, Cas."

"It is very enjoyable." Cas smiles as Dean offers him the last bite. "Thank you."

"Oh my god." Sam rolls his eyes, grinning. "Only you would corrupt an angel with pie, Dean."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Dean says, but he's distracted by an itch at the back of his neck. Reaching back, he discovers a piece of down that's gotten stuck between his collar and his skin. He twirls it idly between his thumb and forefinger, watching Cas scrape the last of the sticky filling onto his fork, and pop it into his mouth.

Cas looks over, feeling Dean's eyes on him. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't ask if you wanted the last bite."

"Nah, it's okay, man. I'm glad you liked it." He slips the feather into his pocket, determined to think about it later.

---

Dean can put two and two together, and the final straw comes when he wakes up to a face full of loose feathers. His explosive sneeze wakes Cas, who is dozing beside him on Dean's memory foam mattress.

"Mmph," Cas says, barely cracking his eyes open. "Whrrmmi?"

Correctly parsing the question as, "Where am I?" Dean replies, "You're in my room, buddy. We must've fallen asleep watching the show." Dean had spent the evening introducing Cas to the joys of his favorite trashy telenovela via a marathon rewatch, but the comfort of the mattress, combined with the exhaustion from a long day of driving must have caught up with them at some point.

"Good," Cas mumbles, already letting his eyes drift shut again. Within seconds he is snoring quietly, a small feather wafting gently downwards to settle on Dean's pillow. Dean, on the other hand, is wide awake. Cas is falling, and he realizes with a sinking heart that it is entirely his fault.

---

When Cas finally shuffles into the kitchen several hours later, Sam is freshly back from his run, and Dean is prepared. “Guess I'll start on breakfast,” he remarks casually, as if he has not spent the whole morning racking his brains for ways to slow Cas's fall. So far, this is his best idea. “How'd you two feel about egg white omelets?”

Sam's eyes nearly bug out of his head, and he chokes on his water. Dean watches him surreptitiously slip a flask of holy water out of his pocket.

Cas wrinkles his nose. "That sounds bland," he opines.

"I'm not possessed, Sam." Dean scowls. "And it's not bland, Cas. It's healthy." He feels the urge to cross himself for such blasphemy. "Sam eats them all the time."

Sam's eyebrows are ascending steadily into his hairline, and Cas continues to look skeptical. Dean crosses his arms, spatula and all, across his chest.

Mouth twisting in amusement, Sam offers, "They really are tasty."

Finally Cas relents. "Very well. I'll try this egg white omelet."

"You won't regret it," Dean promises.

---

Cas regrets it."I'm sorry, but I think I would have preferred the molecules," he informs Dean, as he picks at the rubbery scraps on his plate.

"I'll finish it." Sam reaches for Cas's plate, and Dean slaps his hand away.

"He needs to eat," he insists around his own tasteless mouthful of egg whites.

"I don't need to eat yet," Cas argues. "Sam you can have my eggs." He passes over his plate, ignoring Dean's attempts to protest while swallowing.

Mouthful gone, Dean demands, "What do you mean, 'yet'?"

Cas doesn't answer, pushing away from the table to refill his coffee mug. Dean frowns.

"Are you sure you should be having so much caffeine?" he asks. "What do you mean, 'yet', Cas?"

---

"What are you watching?" Cas asks several days later, poking his head into the room they have repurposed for watching tv.

"Nothing!" Dean fumbles for the remote, but not before Cas catches a glimpse of The Passions of Santos on the screen.

"Another telenovela?" Cas's face lights up. "I'll join you."

"Nope. No, no, actually no." Dean finally manages to switch away from his show. "I'm not really watching this. I just flipped to it during the commercials." He conveniently ignores the glare of the Netflix home screen. Cas narrows his eyes at him.

Dean clears his throat. "Anyway, I was about to watch this," he scrolls to a documentary on Machiavelli that Sam's been going on about for weeks. "You can watch too, if you want."

Cas is giving him a quizzical look, that he pretends not to see. "Can we make popcorn?"

Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Sorry, no popcorn. I bought rice cakes, though. I'll just go get them. You sit tight."

Although Cas watches the documentary with an expression of polite interest on his face, it's clear that he isn't enjoying it. Who can blame him? The narration is as dry as the rice cakes, which are quickly discarded. Cas had nibbled on one, while watching Dean cram one in his mouth and promptly choke.

"It's like eating cardboard," he'd complained around a mouthful of crumbs.

Cas had gently set his aside. "Maybe we can feed them to the squirrels."

They'd settled in to watch the movie, but forty-five minutes in, Cas makes a noise of impatience and grabs the remote, pausing on an uncomfortable close-up of the narrator's face.

"Hey, what are you stopping for?" Dean asks. "Come on, let's power through this." The sooner they turn the show back on, the sooner it will be over.

"Dean," Cas chides. "Why are we watching this?"

Dean chuckles weakly. "You're not enjoying it, huh?"

Cas's look of scorn could give Sam a run for his money. "It is poorly filmed, badly narrated, and wildly historically inaccurate."

"It's not that bad, is it?" Dean asks placatingly. He wilts under Cas's gimlet eye.

"You're not enjoying it either," Cas points out calmly.

"Fine, you're right." Dean deflates. "It's awful. Sam has terrible taste."

"You're the one who insisted on watching it." Cas navigates back to the main menu, while Dean grumbles under his breath. "Is this what you were watching when I came in?" He clicks on Santos, settling comfortably back into the couch, close enough to touch Dean, who is frozen in dismay.

"Cas," he tries, but Cas shushes him.

"Quiet, Dean. I need to catch up."

Sure enough, when they turn off the t.v. so Dean can make dinner, and Cas departs with the bag of rice cakes to gift to the neighborhood rodents, he leaves behind a drift of white feathers. Heart in his throat, Dean gathers them up with gentle hands, cursing himself for being so careless. He can't drag Cas down with his trash. He just can't.

Dean agonizes all through cooking and eating dinner – some quinoa-based monstrosity that Sam practically inhales, and that Cas merely picks at. He racks his brains all through washing the dishes, and turns in early to toss and turn on his divinely comfortable mattress, trying to come up with a solution. The way he sees it, it's pretty clear:

That Cas is falling.

That it's happening whenever Dean convinces him to share his greasy food, or his trash t.v., or his stupid, self-indulgent creature comforts.

That Cas has no interest in being steered towards healthy food, or Sam's nerdy shows; and

If Dean can't convince him to try those things, then he has no way of stopping Cas's fall.

---

With no idea how to convince Cas to slow his introduction to humanity's more corrupting elements for his own good, Dean takes to avoiding him instead, leaving him to Sam's tender mercies. Maybe Sam will be a good influence on him – a better influence than Dean at any rate. As luck would have it, cases are thin on the ground, so there's lots of time for Sam to work his magic. So far, it's not working. He knows, because Cas has got in the habit of sleeping until Sam comes in from his morning run, sweaty and cheerful, and encouraging Cas to join him next time. Cas turns him down every time.

"You should go with him," Dean encourages him one day, from his place at the stove, and Cas whips around to stare at him, which, fair, Dean hasn't said more than a handful of sentences to him in the past week. He clears his throat, ducking his head back over his cooking. "Be good for you. Don't be a lazy ass like me."

"You're not a lazy ass, Dean." Dean can hear the frown in Cas's voice.

"Yeah, well," he grumbles.

Avoiding Cas has been easier said than done. For starters, there's the betrayed looks Cas has been shooting him whenever they do happen to be in the same room. For another, there's the way Dean misses him with a gnawing ache that is ridiculous to feel over someone who is living just down the hall. He's bad for Cas, he reminds himself; he just drags him down into the muck. He can spend time with him again once Cas is out of danger of falling.

That's all well and good, until the night he steps into the kitchen for a late-night snack and spies Cas sitting alone and eating Ben and Jerry's out of the tub. He beats a hasty retreat before Cas can look up and see him, and stomps off in search of his brother.

He finds Sam doing chin-ups in the Bunker's well-equipped, if dated, gym. "Sam," he barks, when he's at the highest point. Infuriatingly, his brother doesn't even startle. "Why the hell did I just see Cas eating an entire pint of Cherry Garcia?"

Sam lowers himself slowly. "Concerned about his figure?" He does another chin-up, smirking. "Maybe he's heartbroken about something."

"Sam!" Dean snaps, not at all in the mood to be ribbed by his brother. Sam rolls his eyes, and lets go of the bar, dropping neatly to the floor.

"Why do you care?" He asks, picking up a hand towel to mop his face. "You can always buy more ice cream if he eats it all." He picks up a water bottle and squirts it directly into his mouth.

"Not the point," Dean growls. "You're supposed to be introducing him to your nerdy, salad-freak ways, not letting him give himself diabetes or-or a heart-attack!"

"Dude," Sam says. "You were the one who was all about introducing him to junk food. 'The finer things in life,' you called it. And I'm pretty sure angels can't have heart attacks."

"Sammy," Dean says, his voice breaking open, "he's falling."

"What?" Sam instantly turns serious.

Dean rubs a hand over his mouth. "It's my junk food. And my crap t.v. And every stupid thing I like to indulge myself with. I just wanted him to enjoy himself, but every time I introduce him to some more of my trash-" he throws his hands up. "Feathers."

"He's losing feathers?" Sam asks, and Dean can tell he's wishing there were some sort of WebMD for angels. But he doesn't need that, because Dean's already figured it out.

"Which is why," he explains, "you need to get him into your Sam things. Y'know, healthy things, classy things, intellectual things. Stop me from dragging him down into the human muck."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You know my things are human things, too, right?"

"Shut up," Dean mutters.

"Look." Sam holds his hands up placatingly. "Right now, Cas isn't interested in my things. But maybe if you go talk to him-" he trails off, letting Dean fill in the rest.

"Fine," he grumbles, because he knows Sam is right, dammit, and now Dean's gonna have to do it. He's going to have to explain to Cas that he wants him to eat salads, and go on runs, and watch boring documentaries because he's worried about Cas's health.

"Good." Sam pats him on the shoulder, and Dean half-heartedly swats his hand away. "I'm gonna shower and then go to bed. Don't get in a shouting match."

---

Cas looks up with a tentative smile as Dean enters the kitchen. "Hello, Dean. Would you like some ice cream?" And yeah, it's a little melty, and Cas has been eating directly out of the carton, but damned if Dean doesn't need some comfort food if he's going to have this conversation. He does fetch his own spoon, even though Cas offers up his, because that is a road too far.

He eats two spoonfuls of the cool treat, before reluctantly discarding his spoon in the carton and squaring his shoulders. "Cas," he says, voice weighty, "we need to talk about the feathers."

"Oh." Cas sets his own spoon aside and absently runs his tongue over a spot of melted ice cream that's caught on his upper lip. Dean nearly has heart palpitations. "You can use them for spell ingredients. I don't mind."

"Jesus, Cas." He blows a breath out through his nose. He's very carefully stored all of Cas's dropped feathers in a box in his room, precisely so they won't get mixed up in any spells. "I don't want to use them-" and now Cas looks mildly offended, like Dean thinks his feathers might not be up to snuff. "I want to know why you're dropping them at all."

"Oh," Cas says, as if it's the most casual thing in the world. "I'm falling."

Dean gapes at him. "You-you're falling. That's great, that's just-" He pushes out of his seat to pace a few short, sharp steps away, and then back, scrubbing a hand over his face. He takes a deep breath. "This is because of me. Because of all the human things?"

Cas considers this. "Yes," he concludes, and isn't that a blow to the solar plexus. But then he continues, "Or at least, that's a large part of my motivation."

"Your motivation?" Dean squawks, suddenly lost.

Cas stands, too, examining his face in that too-intimate way that he does, and Dean can feel his cheeks heating under that steady gaze. "Dean," he says, gently, "I am falling voluntarily."

At that, Dean thumps back down into his seat. "So, you've chosen this?" He asks in a dazed voice.

"Yes," Cas confirms, resuming his own seat, close enough that their knees are brushing.

"And the feathers?"

"The method I've chosen is a gradual process. The feathers shed faster as I enjoy human things. I enjoy the things you've introduced me to."

Dean glances off to the side. "They're just a few measly creature comforts."

"And I enjoy your 'creature comforts' very much." The overly solemn way Cas repeats Dean's words makes him huff a laugh, looking back up into Cas's smiling face.

"Alright, alright." He shakes his head. "You sure you want this?"

Cas's countenance is shining and open. "Yes, Dean."

"Okay." Dean runs his tongue over his lips, glancing curiously at Cas when he sees that his gaze is tracing the same path. "I'm just gonna need a minute to recalibrate, here. I thought you were dying, man."

"Not dying." Cas shakes his head. "Living."

There is a bubble of warmth spreading in Dean's chest. "There, uh, any human experiences you particularly want? I can help you out." Cas says nothing for a long moment, and when Dean looks up at him, he is once again studying Dean's mouth closely. "Uh, Cas?" he asks, licking his lips again, butterflies erupting in his throat.

Cas meets his eyes. "May I kiss you, Dean?"

He gets as far as, "Yeah, uh-" before soft lips are pressing against his and there is down in his hair. In the morning, Sam will be confused to find a trail of feathers leading from the kitchen to Dean's room, but right now, Cas is warm, and solid, and so very human in Dean's arms, and hey, at least they don't shed any clothing until they reach the bedroom.

"I like this," Cas says when they break apart to breathe, and Dean grins against his neck, as he urges his arms upwards so he can shed his shirt. "I like this very much," he says when Dean has removed his own shirt and is nibbling at his jawline. Then it's a breathless litany of "Dean, Dean, Dean," as Dean finishes undressing him, and shoves him onto the bed, and proceeds to go down on him with every ounce of skill he possesses, because if Cas wants human experiences, then Dean is going to damn well give him the best human experience he can muster.

He moans, achingly hard, when Cas tugs on his hair, and then, without warning, Cas is coming in his mouth, and it was quick, but that's okay, because Cas is new to this, and he sighs something that sounds suspiciously like I love you when he comes, and then Dean is crawling up his body, shoving his own pants out of the way and rutting against his hip, mouthing, "Me, too. Me, too," against his jawline, until he comes with a strangled cry.

When he rolls onto his back, the room is a mess of feathers.

---

The last of the feathers fall a few weeks later, when an otherwise dubious motel gives Dean the chance to introduce Cas to Magic Fingers. Sam takes a room well across the building from them, but neither Dean nor Cas has any regrets.

"I'll have what he's having. But just one. With two forks." - This is an actual thing my brother-in-law said, the second time ever that I met him. (Well, he said "she," because he was with his then-girlfriend, but close enough.) It remains one of the funniest things he has ever done.

The Passions of Santos, is a fictional telenovela from Jane The Virgin. I am endlessly fascinated by the made-up TV shows that exist within actual TV shows, and I one hundred percent believe Dean would be into Santos.

#deancas fic #destiel #destielfanficnet #profoundnet #Sting writes fic #the great fic writer scavenger hunt #round five

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hollowgroverp · 6 years

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“I’m Mayor Cresswell and I’d like to welcome you to the 31st annual Spring Fling! Today we have twenty-two very charitable suitors who have willingly offered up their day for a wonderful cause. The Displaced Children’s Fund, to support supernatural children displaced by the cruelties of our world is a cause close to so many of us. All proceeds from today’s event will go to the fund. Now settle in and will begin the bidding momentarily….”

Below the cut you will find the 22 baskets that were submitted for the event. Bidding will take place until WEDNESDAY, at which point the bidding will close and then I will pair up the bids with basket. We will do our best to ensure everyone gets matched up with someone. If you would like a certain pairing based on plot reasons let me know and we can make it happen. If you have multiple characters I will do my best to ensure at least one of your characters gets paired for a basket.

How to bid: Comment on this post with your characters name and their three bids. If you bid you must place three bids to ensure we can make proper pairings. ex: Sophia Greyson bids on basket 1, 4, and 15. If you do not follow the bidding rules ie: you bid once or you send an ask, your bid will not be considered.

When will the picnics take place: Picnic dates, can take place any time after bidding concludes on Saturday, this includes during the event or poste event. These threads can carry on after the event ends but we encourage you to reach out to your pairing and plot.

FINALLY, HAVE FUN WITH IT!

Basket 1 submits a grey ALL CAMP insulated cooler bag lined with a blue and white gingham picnic blanket. Inside, you’ll find: two motorcycle helmets, two pairs of mirrored aviator sunglasses, two cuban sandwiches, black bean soup with rice, a six pack of coronas (with lime wedges)

Basket 2 submits a woven edible bread basket stuffed to the brim with a parmesan pretzel base and a garlic braided handle. Inside you’ll find: Two different marinara sauces to eat the basket with, homemade classic spaghetti and meatballs, a greek salad, fried ice cream drizzled in chocolate sauce and topped with a cherry, two blown glass figurines of Lady and the Tramp, and a hand-painted map to where a picnic blanket and a telescope lay to watch the stars.

Basket 3 submits a white wicker basket lined with sky blue fabric. A single red rose lies on top. Inside: a variety of finger sandwiches, deviled eggs, chilled bottles of pink lemonade and water, sliced fruits, angel food cake, a small glass jar filled with melted milk chocolate, an array of cheeses, wheat crackers, sushi rolls, two slices of banana cream pie, utensils, and linen napkins. Also tucked into the bottom of the basket are two colorful golf balls.

Basket 4 submits a old brown wicker basket with broken handles and a squished in lid that oddly resembles being crushed by a truck driving over it. Inside you’ll find: A single can of half cooked SpaghettiOs, two snuggies a half-eaten sandwich, an unsolved rubik cube, an expired tamagotchi, a 'I owe you' for a free tattoo, and two deep fried twinkies for desert.

Basket 5 submits a black ash basket wrapped in a red satin bow. Inside you’ll find: spinach artichoke dip and oven-toasted baguette slices, deviled eggs, caprese salad, sautéed portabella mushrooms, two bread bowls filled with chicken fettucine alfredo, and a strawberry-blueberry shortcake. For the drinks, iced sweet tea and a bottle of red wine. At the bottom is a small, portable record player with a few classics, as well as a toy-sized oar and a neatly folded throw blanket.

Basket 6 submits a white wicker basket, complete with multicolored paint splatters and inside are two karaoke microphones, a Twister game box with a sticky note proclaiming Messy Twister, a bundle of water bottles filled with glow sticks and a small glow in the dark ball with a sticky note labeled glow in the dark bowling, and an IOU for burgers and fries.

Basket 7 submits a Country Picnic Basket with a single red rose sitting on top. Inside you’ll find: a small radio playing 90’s RomCom songs like “Kiss Me” by Six Pence None the Richer, two vanilla milkshakes, fries, caesar salad, two cheese burgers, two slices of homemade apple pie, and an envelope with a certificate to name two Stars orbiting around each other whatever you so chose and a IOU for an all expense paid weekend getaway to a place of your choice.

Basket 8 submits a wicker music box with an IOU for candlelit dinner for two, a flyer with the promise of dancing lessons for two, and a diamond bracelet inside.

Basket 9 submits basket that is a dark stained wicker with a gray checkered blanket hanging out of the top and on the inside it has a bottle of Chateau Lafite wine from 1787 and two tickets to a production of Macbeth at Hollow Grove University. There is also a handwritten note inviting whoever wins the basket to a candlelit dinner before Macbeth at L’Atelier de la Magie restaurant and wine bar for an evening of wine and fine dining.

Basket 10 submits a large black wicker basket lined with blue silk cloth embroidered with silver constellations, with a handmade movie ticket tied to the handle with silver ribbon. Inside you’ll find: popcorn, movie candy, sodas, champagne, whiskey, pork shoulder, brisket, grilled octopus, fries, salad, and New York cheesecake.

Basket 11 submits a large Oval Madras Chalkboard Basket.Inside you’ll find: A bottle of Strongbow Hard Gold Apple Cider, Porchetta Sandwiches with Marinated Onions and Salsa Verde, Black Pepper and Honey-Marinated Cantaloupe with Basil and Rocky Road Brownies. A pair of Ray-Ban Original Gold Aviator Sunglasses. And for later, a burgundy Mambe Extreme Weather 100% Waterproof outdoor blanket, a bouquet of Tropical white morning-glories and an 18-inch Leather Sheathed Brass Spyglass Telescope w/ Hardwood Case.

Basket 12 submits a wooden crate lined with nothing. Inside the sad excuse of a basket: a bottle of expensive champagne, two ornate champagne flutes, an assortment of exotic fruits, and a map of the town with a red ‘X’ over Leakey Falls.

Basket 13 submits a black picnic cooler with tacos, chips and dips. There’s also a jug filled with a mixed drink, two beer mugs, two slices of carrot cake, and a game of jacks. Resting on top of the cooler are two paper crowns and at the side of the cooler there’s a blue folded blanket. With the basket, there’s a small container included filled with paint balloons.

Basket 14 submits a black wicked basket lined in red velvet, with a bottle of Moet and two glasses, a bottle of whiskey. To snack on is a selection of imported breads, meat and cheeses, and a selection of grapes and strawberries. Under this are two Southwest Chicken and Swiss Paninis. Beneath is an envelope with a key to the roof area of Nina’s.

Basket 15 submits a rectangular dark brown wicker basket lined with nautical stripes. Inside you’ll find: Two chicken salad sandwiches, four bags of sour cream & onion chips, a six-pack of Angry Orchard hard cider, two slices of chocolate cake, a box of Monopoly, and a deck of cards.

Basket 16 submits a light brown picnic basket with a red and white plaid blanket folded messily on top. Inside you’ll find: Disposable plates, a large pepperoni pizza with two bottles of coke. A plastic container with a mixture of berries, grapes and strawberries, a six pack of beer and a portable dvd player with the disc options of The Fast and Furious (boxset of all movies), Looper or Big Daddy.

Basket 17 submits a light brown wicker basket lined in white clothing. Inside you’ll find: two blt sandwiches, freshly baked cookies. There is also two bottles of Corono, a bottle of white wine for anyone else’s preference. There are also strswberries, and grapes, along with bags of Skittles, M&Ms and mini Twix bars.

Basket 18 submits a patten leather basket with tooled detailing. Inside you’ll find: a large marvel blanket with all the super heroes on it folded on the bottom, two polaroid cameras with six extra packages of film, a bottle of white wine, a pitcher of lemonade, two wine glasses, fruit salad, assorted cheeses, crackers, roast beef sandwich, a veggie sandwich, potato salad, chocolate dipped strawberries, a vanilla bean cake, two sets of silverware, and two plates.

Basket 19 submits a hand carved dark oak wood chest with a red lining. Inside you’ll find: a large dark blue quilt with the design of a waterfall at night under the stars on it placed on top, champagne, two crystal champagne glasses, a bouquet of red roses with sprigs of bath’s breath mixed in, fire crackers, sparklers, a fondue machine with the skewers, assorted cheeses, different types of fruits, bread, different types of chocolate, marshmallows, two prime ribs, a raspberry cheesecake, two pillows, another smaller dark green blanket, and a telescope with a note on it saying “Will you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Basket 20 submits a metal basket with barbeque cooking utensils, a black apron that says ‘Boss of the grill’, hamburger buns, condiments, and a note that says ‘food on the grill'. There’s also two bottles of ginger ale, half a dozen home-made cookies, and a teddy bear in a chef outfit in the basket.

Basket 21 submits a teal bucket, inside are many different ice cream toppings, along with two empty ice cream bowls. There is an inflatable pool in a box, and a note attached with the offer of all you can eat ice cream and a backyard movie of the bidder’s choice.

Basket 22 submits a traditional wicker basket with a blue and white checkered blanket rolled up on top of it next to a bundle of wildflowers. Inside you will find a bottle of red wine, two glass wine glasses, chocolate dipped strawberries, two cheeseburgers, and two. You will also find all the necessities for smores inside. You will also find a tabloid loaded with cheesy romantic comedies, and 90′s love songs.

#hgspringfling18 #hgevent

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venuefit · 4 years

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Exclusive use Luxury Townhouse Package (£4850.00)

Townhouse No.5 can be exclusively yours for your special day. It includes opulent features, original fireplaces, rich wood paneling, dramatic stained glass windows and sweeping wooden staircases with 12 truly luxurious bedrooms and suites, as well as the ultimate honeymoon suite, 'Domaine Georges Vernay', complete with private patio area. Capacity Ideal for up to 80 guests in the day guests and 120 evening guests. The property's own 'secret' terraced garden is perfect for an intimate and sophisticated wedding ceremony and reception. The Macallan, Glenlivet, Ardbeg and Glengoyne private rooms will all be at your disposable. ✔ Private function rooms ✔ Honeymoon suite on a basis for the wedding night ✔ 12x luxury bedrooms on a B&B (Bread and Breakfast ) basis for the wedding night ✔ Dedicated Wedding co-ordinator ✔ Flowers for table centerpieces ✔ Place cards ✔ Personalized menus ✔ Candles ✔ Cake knife ✔ Master of ceremonies

Menu Options

CANAPÉS (£3 PER CANAPÉ) Oyster in shell with caviar Mini roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and horseradish cream Seared, hand dived Scottish scallop with chorizo Dunkeld smoked salmon with a herb bannock and crème fraîché Tartlet of spiced Mediterranean vegetables with aged Parmesan Deep fried calamari with sweet chilli jam and mango Bon bon of Dingwall black pudding and pear chutney Pea and Parmesan crostini Sun blushed tomato and mozzarella Free range chicken satay and salsa RUINART MENU ( £44.50 PER PERSON ) Dunkeld smoked salmon, classic garnish Roast plum vine tomato soup with basil oil Tian of Stornoway black pudding confit potato, poached free range egg and Dijon mustard Green apple sorbet Cullen skink soup, lemon oil Strawberry jelly, Champagne foam Pan fried sea bream with herb pommes purée and sauce vierge Butter roasted corn fed chicken suprême with pommes fondant, truffled haricots vert and a Madeira cream Loch Duart salmon fillet with a warm salad of ratte potato and spring onion, caviar and cucumber, beurre blanc Risotto of fresh herbs and Roquefort blue cheese with herb oil Devonshire sticky toffee pudding with clotted cream Peanut parfait, cherry sorbet and chocolate sauce Fresh fruit pavlova with crème Chantilly Tea or coffee with petit fours Supplement of £9 per person: Selection of British and continental cheeses POL ROGER MENU (£49.50 PER PERSON) Risotto of saffron and fresh pea, aged Parmesan Terrine of smoked ham hock and puy lentils, toasted farmhouse bread, pickles Cullen skink, lemon oil Crab bisque Lychee and chilli sorbet Carrot and cardamom soup. Traditional roasted sirloin of Scottish beef, Yorkshire pudding,truffled French beans, château potatoes, red wine and rosemary sauce, béarnaise Pan fried sea bass, basil crushed potatoes, anchovy beignet, sauce vierge Roasted rump of Perthshire lamb with baby carrot puree, pomme fondant, savoy cabbage and thyme jus Butternut squash and ricotta gnocchi, micro herb salad. Dark chocolate and pistachio tart, pistachio ice cream, cocoa nib croquant White chocolate panna cotta, passion fruit syrup, langue de chat biscuits Poached William pear, crème frâiche mousse, Valhrona chocolate sauce Tea or coffee with petit fours Selection of British and continental cheeses Supplement of £9 per person VEUVE CLICQUOT MENU (£55.00 PER PERSON) Chicken liver parfait, baby figs, toasted brioche Tian of west coast crab, avocado, cucumber and dill dressing Velouté of wild mushroom and hazelnut oil Lemon sorbet Lobster consommé Champagne granita, strawberry mousse Highland roasted venison loin, dauphinoise potatoes, cinnamon braised red cabbage, celeriac purée, port wine jus Beef Wellington, wilted baby spinach, mange-tout, sauce à la périgourdine Fillet of line caught halibut, chowder of mussels, surf clams, razor clams, tomatoes, wilted greens, basil oil Italian white truffle tagliatelle, Parmesan cream Valrhona chocolate crème brûlée, shortbread fingers Baked New York cheesecake, apricot coulis Chocolate and golden raisin brownie, rum and raisin ice cream, white chocolate espuma Tea or coffee with petit fours Selection of British and continental cheeses Supplement of £9 per person BARBEQUE MENU (£29.50 PER PERSON) Pork and apple sausages Mini Cairn Hill burgers, sesame buns Marinated St Bride chicken legs Halloumi vegetable kebabs SALADS&VEGETABLES Pasta salad Tomato, cucumber and coriander salad Seasonal rice Potato salad coleslaw Grilled sweet corn INDIVIDUAL DESSERTS White chocolate panna cotta Fruit salad Tarte au citron, raspberry sorbet Strawberries and clotted cream DRINK PACKAGES (FROM £25.00 PER PERSON) PLANETA (£25.00 PER PERSON) A glass of sparkling wine Half a bottle of house wine Glass of sparkling wine for the toast GEOFF MERRILL (£29.50 PER PERSON) A glass of Champagne Half a bottle of house wine Glass of Champagne for the toast Half a bottle of mineral water WILLI OPITZ (£34.50 PER PERSON) A glass of Champagne Half a bottle of wine to complement your menu (please speak to your Wedding Co-ordinator) Glass of Champagne for the toast Half a bottle of mineral water FAQ What's the capacity of the function rooms? Our venue offered the exclusive use of a Townhouse with a number of private rooms in it. The smallest is our Glengoyne room seating up to 10 / The Ardbeg seating up to 16 / The Glenlivet seating up to 50 or if combining the Glenlivet & Ardbeg it can seat up to 80. What are the check-in and check-out times? Check-in – 3pm / Check out – 11am What else comes with the function room (projector, stage, table setup: boardroom table, etc.)? All tables, white table linen, white linen napkins, crockery, cutlery, glassware, wooden dancefloor hire, and own events staff. What is the cancellation policy? There is a non-refundable deposit of £ 1000 to reserve the day and make preparations for your event. Cancellations will : 7-12 months prior event date, we charge 10% 4-6 months prior, we charge 25% 3 months or less prior, we charge 100%) Is a special food arrangement possible for food not listed on your menu? We can tailor catering to suit each party Read the full article

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