#Honda Grand Civic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bambiesfics · 1 year ago

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⊹ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭 ⊹

warning: water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

vague description: reader has a full bladder and is trapped in Ellie William’s hatchback.

author’s note: re-upload of my fic from last blog, also don’t read this in public. It gets intense.

“Pinup paradise diner…home to… ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake Jars?’”

You read, with your face nosed deep into the crease of the monotoned map. You deflated back into your seat, irritated at the amount of eye-strain required to make out such small font. And let the roadmap blanket the top of your thighs.

“Is that where we’re going next?”

Ellie's eyes were intently focused on the red Honda Civic in front of her, the one she’d almost rolled her windows down to spit at, less than a minute ago. Her stacked bracelets clinked as she cracked the knuckles of each one of her boney fingers.

“Is that what it says on the map?”

You flipped back to the legend, squinting at the list of diners, drive-ins, and street trucks. The corner of her plump smile quirked, hearing you mutter,

“Jesus, how do you read this thing?”

Your squint jumped between Ellie and the page, “uhhhh…yes?—yes!”

“Then that’s where we’re going next.” She crudely cracked her pinky last. The last finger with chips of black nail polish speckled on it and a snug silver braided ring that hugged it. She settled into her seat, merging onto the left lane.

“Pinup Paradise? Really? Seems like an odd choice for a drink after going to Whopping Wrap.”

You flipped the map neatly back onto your lap as your girlfriend flicked the blinker up.

“Milkshakes after chicken wraps Ellie? Really?”

“Hey—Tommy said they have the best milkshakes this side of the state. That type of man, the fucking lumberjack he is, does not fuck around when it comes to satiating that gnarly sweet tooth.”

She muttered “He probably has cavities bigger and darker than the cracks in the Grand Canyon.”

And your tiny giggle teased a smile out of Ellie, as she half-heartedly blocked the swats you struck at her with the rolled up map.

Your girlfriend got such a fucked up kick out of busting Tommy’s balls, and he knew it too.

She flicked the signal light up higher once more and cruised right into the strip mall lane that led the car through to the drive-thru, the diner growing closer each second.

In a smooth slow crawl you and your girlfriend rolled towards ‘Pinup Paradise Diner.’

A canary yellow, vintage diner, littered with paintings of 50’s pinup models that decorated all of the glass windows.

A drive-thru swinging sign read ‘The World’s Bustiest Milkshake!’ above the order window.

You were incredibly humored, noting all the double entendres and puns that weaved through the slogans graffitied across the menu board and windows.

A young crew member poked her head out of the order window, smiling tightly before asking for both of your orders. She watched on while Ellie fished for her peeling leather wallet in the back pocket, and poked her head out of the side of the hatchback window.

“Hey, can I grab a blueberry crust milkshake? And she’ll have….” Ellie trailed off, shooting you back a look with her eyebrow raised.

“…What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have a vanilla bean milkshake please. Also could I get a bottled water, if you have that?”

“Okay, so right now we only have the 1 liter sized bottled water.. would that be alright?”

“Ah, I’m sure that’s no problem, I’ll take it. Thank youuu.” you sang, and the girl mirrored your gentle smiled. You settled back into your seat and she closed the window.

“Why’d you get water?”

Ellie observed, hastily touching up her upper and bottom lashes with mascara, in the dash mirror, before she had to put her foot on the gas.

Vain. You teased in your head.

….But so pretty.

The mascara made her already long lashes, even longer. Her dark brown eyeliner was smudged, yet the grittiness was still so attractive on her. “You should wear brown eyeliner more Els. It really brings out the green in your eyes.”

She side-eyed you suspiciously.

“Thanks?…��

And you rolled your eyes. Your girlfriend loved to pretend she was allergic to compliments unless they were talking about her earth-shattering service top abilities.

Ellie grabbed both your milkshakes. And used her teeth to rip the paper cover off her straw while passing you your drink.

She put her foot on the gas and peeled out.

“You still didn’t answer the question.”

“What question?”

“The question of what possessed you to buy an entire liter of water?”

“Because like, you know the sweet aftertaste left in your mouth after you eat something really sweet? I don’t know, but it makes my mouth feel dry.”

“Ah.” she responded.

“…that’s actually real as fuck.”

“Right?” You settled deeper into your seat. Hugging the milkshake to your chest while you stalked a few instagram stories, relaxing into the rhythmic roll of your girlfriend's beat up hatchback.

Townhouses and parked SUV’s started running on either side of the car as Ellie drove on, deeper into suburbia. You pushed yourself up to gaze out the window.

“Where are we going?”

Ellie turned right into a smaller street.

“To find a place to park. I’m tired of driving.”

“Hmm, sorry baby” you hummed as you rubbed her thigh. Your eyes lit up. “Then can I drive your ca—”

“—no. When will you stop asking?”

“When you finally let me drive it? Let me behind the wheel please.”

She scoffed, eyeing you up and down. “So I can end up with my knees touching the back of my skull? Yeah no.”

“You’re not funny Ellie.”

“And you’re the only passenger princess I’ve seen whining to do her girlfriend's job. Be a lady, damn.”

You broke down laughing, clutching your chest while Ellie bit her lip down to put a lid on her own laughter.

You shimmied close to her, your breasts squishing her upper arm.

“Then can I have some of your blueberry shake?”

She circled the straw around your mouth and made you chase it.

“uh ah-uh-hah—Ellie.” You whined.

Ellie barked a laugh at how adorable you looked, and then slotted the straw onto your puckered mouth.

“Mmm…”

“You like?”

“Yeah it’s so yummy. I should’ve gotten that instead.”

Ellie attempted to take her milkshake back, but with some struggle as you leaned further and further into her seat, pressing your front body into her arms just to keep tasting it. You were practically finished your own drink, and were now drinking half of hers. And in that moment you recalled at all the previous times your girlfriend had gripped your ass and whispered how you were a greedy little princess in your ear. Ellie was an asshole through and through.

But she spoiled you, and she loved doing it.

You eased back, and Ellie stole her milkshake back. She circled her tongue around the tip of the straw before sucking it. Wrapping her pink lips around the sticky tip your rosy lip gloss had covered seconds prior.

You dropped your empty cup in the cup holder and went to chug most of your water. It provided an indescribable amount of relief from the saccharine blanket on your tastebuds. A cool feeling that settled in you, as Ellie pulled into a grassy park parking lot.

Willow trees lined up along the curb, their weeping pose provided shade to several lots, including the one above you.

Ellie killed off the engine. She tipped her head against the headrest in relief. She flexed her fingers, stretching out the kinks, feeling the breeze run past.

Her head lolled limply to face you. “Do I really look that good in brown eyeliner?”

“Yes you really do.”

Ellie’s cheek dimpled.

“I love when you tell me stuff like that.”

“Like what? That you look pretty?”

You murmured into her shoulder, looking up at her.

“Yeah, makes me feel…dunno, not like a greasy loser.”

“Please, as if I would ever let a greasy loser bag me.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jesus, kill yourself.”

She maintained eye contact with you, green eyes jumping between your own. Reflecting the amber beauty of the sun in its sparkle. She gave you a soft smile, you gave Ellie one back. A truce to the constant teasing. And Ellie took it as an invitation to dip her head down, and pull your lips into a kiss. One she’d been yearning to do since she’d first reversed both of you out of your driveway.

Ellie chased the kiss into the back seat. She gripped the fat of your hips to inch you slowly off of the center console and towards the back. She followed, kicking her loose driver’s seat forward with the sole of her sneakers. The slide adjusting rail had seen better days, and had been owned by better people than the currently horny, blunt, ungraceful young lesbian who had an avid penchant for violence, that owned it that day.

Ellie teased her hand up from your hips to the base of your neck, to grab the back of your head as she worked her puffy lips against yours. She was hungry for your little mouth, and it was seen in the way her jaw flexed.

Ellie kissed you with a remarkably intense eroticism.

Her hands ran down over the fabric of your milkmaid top before ripping the holes away from the buttons to let your tits spill out right into her hands. Each nipple immediately kissed the waiting pads of her thumbs, as they moved to greedily massage the sensitive head. Grazing each of your puffy tender domes over and over. “Fuck, need to suck these heavy tits baby.”

Ellie’s lips made their way down your chest. She suckled some swollen red marks into the skin, before making her way lower. Coming eye to eye with your nipples.

“Can you please squeeze your boobies together?”

You took your palms and pushed them together. Ellie's whiny sigh sent heat pooling in your tummy. She leaned in, licking a greedy stripe across both nipples, tickling their head with the tip of her tongue, tonguing the flesh around both areolas. And suckling your nipples intermittently then popping off them. Leaving both of them so puffed out.

Your squeaks filled the expanse of her small car, and her aroused groans joined to match.

She shoved her fingers in the waistband of your tiny denim shorts and tugged at them. They budged, but barely, so you helped your girlfriend. You lifted your ass off the seat and slid your shorts and thong down your thighs, before Ellie slid them the rest of the way off your ankles and threw them in the front seat.

The soft breeze blew past your cunt. Exposing the warm skin to a cooler environment.

“S-should we be doing this in a park?” you squeeked.

Ellie kissed her answer on your lips “there’s” *smooch* “no one” *smooch* “here.” As she shoved her hand down to palm the fat of your vagina. Feeling your pussy fill up her fingers. Ellie curled a middle finger into your tight hole, it barely wanted to split apart to accommodate her finger. But she marveled at how hungrily it sucked her in. She pumped shallowly before adding in her ring finger.

Her chrome ring grazed the swelling mound inside your hole; your g-spot. And it pulled a pathetic mewl out of you. She curled her wrist up, ligament appearing. And pumped harder. Enjoying your shaking thighs in the air.

Your brain was melting into mush. And all you managed were barely coherent babbles.

“…feels ss-s'good” your eyes were rolled backwards.

“God bunny…” Ellie marveled, “your pretty pussy’s so greedy.”

Ellie’s teeth dug into her lip “How did I bag you?”

All you could muster were delirious squeak noises in response as you tugged on the base of her ponytail.

“Look-look down” Ellie’s fingers grasped your chin, pulling your eyes away from her flushed aroused face and towards your own shiny pussy. “L-look at how you’re swallowing my fingers.”

Ellie’s forehead knocked against yours.

“Hey…c-can you squeeze for me?”

You never disobeyed her instructions, not when you both were like this. Nodding limply, you clamped around Ellie’s fingers, a choked moan escaped you. And a deep, throaty groan escaped her. Feeling how tightly you suckled in her fingers, how badly you wanted her there, made a warm heat throb between Ellie’s legs and left her boxers sticking to her sloppy cunt. Ellie could almost cry that she couldn’t bully a cock inside you, just to feel that desperate clamp around her cock.

Her ring pushed into your plump inner walls over and over, and dragged a new delicious zing of pleasure through the ribbed inner walls. Puffy, swollen, and sloppy with slick.

Ellie had a newfound resistance in her thrusting, the clamping, warm grip of your puffed out walls were holding her fingers still. But she kept pumping, like a suction cup being stuck on and popped off.

You were assaulted with thrilling pleasure from your walls clamping, chasing the press of her jewelry. And from your girlfriends frenzied, desperate thrusting. Ellie was just as hazy brained as you.

It was a costly mistake. All of the fluttering was stimulating your pelvic muscles. Which stimulated the other tiny hole snuggled in your pussy. The familiar pressure of a full bladder pressed behind the teeny hole of your urethra. Your squeaks came out strained. You scooted into different positions on the seat, trying to ebb away the pressure.

The shifting positions only made it worse as your tummy squished from movement, and as Ellie pumped upwards.

She jack hammered her fingertips against the puffy roof of your warm cunt. Her feverish ministrations put so much pressure on your bladder. You choked out a breathy plea.

Your hands skated up your girlfriend's torso, past her exposed waist and pebbled nipples that strained against her t-shirt, and finally towards her square shoulders in an attempt to push her back.

She needed off.

“I gotta…uhn… I gotta.” you whimpered.

“What was that?” Ellie sighed.

“I-ah!” The thrust felt so good.

You were whiny “th-think I needa pee.”

“I’m fucking you so good it’s got you confusing cumming for peeing? Y’so adorable it’s insane.” Ellie kissed your lips, picking up her pace.

She took the hand she’d used to squeeze and pinch your tits and brought it down to press on your lower tummy, as she thrust up.

Oh.

“Nnnnhnhn no! ph-please ewwie.. can’t—hold it.” You babbled the same desperate plea incoherently, but with a mouth nearly paralyzed from the incessant abuse of your hole Ellie was doing, you were left whiny and gulping, babbling tiny sentences at a time.

Sweat pricked at your skin, an orgasm was fucked into your vagina, and a full bladder pressed at your urethra. You didn’t know what to do as the mounting climax forced against your urethra left you with a desperate need for release, in the car.

Ellie’s lips kissed your jaw, snuggling against your head.

“You wanna let it out, big girl? Make a big mess f’me. We can clean it all up later, I promise.”

“nuh—ah Ellie no no…aghh! ”

Your urethra let out a thin light spurtle. Settling into the space between you two as more slick gushed out of your hole. You sobbed through your orgasm, from the joint pleasure of climax combined with relief from pressure pressing against your urethra. Ellie kept fingering you through each tiny pump of liquid that squirted from your urethra and through each contraction of its sloppy wet vagina, as slick spilled out of you and ran past your bare ass, onto her leather seats. With each aggressive thrust of Ellie’s fingers—fuck in—pull out—came out spurt after spurt, from each hole. She slowed down once you fell back into the seat softly; boneless and glass-eyed. Like an abused rag doll.

You both caught your breaths, Ellie from the aggressive thump and heat in her pussy. And you from your ‘accident’.

Ellie watched as the looming embarrassment creeped every so slowly onto your face, as the orgasm slowly ebbed away. She placed shaky kisses on top of your head. Cupping the back of it in support.

Sure, maybe her car wasn’t the best time to explore that kink. Seeing as the bottom half of her shirt and her belt was wet.

But she wasn’t going to let her girlfriend curl in on herself in shame, just because of her body’s natural reaction. Especially one that Ellie practically fucked out of you.

If not for the small space of the car she might’ve pulled you into her lap, to kiss away the upset creases between your brows. But she could do nothing more than hover above your trembling body, and caress your squished tummy with her free hand, until the shaking eased.

She was breathless. “You did so good, baby.”

You shoved your face into the crook of Ellie’s neck. The sweet cologne on the collar of her shirt calmed you down, with its medley of gourmands, lavender and florals.

Your girlfriend had a way of grounding you. Everything about Ellie had the ability to. From her cold, icy fingers, to her soft, pine scented hair. To her woodsy cologne, always left on the collar of her shirts, ready to tranquilize your unrest.

“nuh-uh I—.”

“—So good. My good girl, doing exactly what I tell you too, c’mere.”

Ellie unplugged her fingers out from your hole and suckled the last bit of slick cream off, then swiped it on her shirt. She licked her lips. Using her now clean hand to cup the side of your jaw and draw you into a heated kiss that left both of you trembling.

You shifted positions in the seat from discomfort.

“You still need to pee s’more?”

“No.”

“Babe…”

“Maybe.”

Ellie reached over and opened your door, then hopped out from her side. Jogging over to shield your body.

You crouched in behind her, her and the car towered over you from both sides.

You pouted up at her, and she glowered down at you. Her arms crossed firmly as she looked away briefly to scan around the area. Before parking her gaze back down at you as the remaining stream from your bladder emptied itself.

“No more vanilla bean milkshakes.” you winced at the feeling of the breeze tickling your swollen labia.

“Of course. Yeah, that was the real culprit. Not the mega-giant 1 liter water bottle.”

You frowned.

Ellie’s arms dropped from their cross, and her black fingernails pinched the fat of your cheek and pulled teasingly.

She reassured you.

“Yeah sure, we’ll blame it on the vanilla bean milkshake.”

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xo-xojj · 7 months ago

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Test drive/Adore

(not my gif)

Oliver Otto x Male Reader

Desc: Oliver gets a new car and the reader decided Oliver should take it for a test drive. Well what happens on the test drive? (Based on Test drive/Adore- Ariana Grande) MDNI

Type: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Smut, Top!Oliver, bttm!reader, p in a, creampie, (breeding kink if u squint), stomach bulge, overstimulation, (public exhibition if u squint) unprotected(be safe)

Enjoyyyy

Your boyfriend, Oliver, had just gotten a new car since the one his parents gave him ended up breaking down. With a lot of convincing from Cooper, you, and Oliver they finally gave in. So your boyfriend finally had his car and was super excited.

“Even though a Honda Civic wasn’t ideal, it’s still pretty nice.” Oliver said smiling. You giggled. “Well let’s give it a test drive” you say. He nods opening your door. You slid into the cars passenger seat and he went and go into the drivers seat. He looked in the rear view mirror before starting the car. He backed up a little out of the parking space before driving from his family’s house. Into the drive you noticed he wasn’t really talking.

You took this as an opportunity to get him started. You touch his thigh gently and caress it whispering in his ear, “What’s been on your mind.” You say seductively. You can spot a not so obvious tent in his pants. You can only see it because you’re close enough to.

He gulped trying to keep his eyes on the road. He didn’t even respond. So you decided to snake your hand right above his crotch. You rubbed him through his pants making the tent in his pants grow. He let out a moan as you rubbed him and kissed his neck. He tried focusing on the road put the pleasure was getting to him. He quickly pulled into an empty parking o behind a shut down mall.

He put the car park. He then kissed you with passion ass he grabbed you hips guiding you from the passenger seat onto his lap. He kissed you keeping a hand on your ass and hip. You slowly grind on him and he let out an audible whimper. He kissed your neck making you moan. You laid a hand on his chest as he attacked your neck

“fuck you gonna make me-“ Oliver moaned trying to let you know he was gonna cum. But he couldn’t even warn you before he came. He moaned very loud holding your hips down on him. You couldn’t even move if you wanted to. He laid his lips on yours moaning into your mouth as you gripped and massaged his brown hair.

He was a virgin, to your knowledge and so were you. So you ended up taking a lot of this head on with no guide besides maybe a couple porn videos. But Oliver somewhat knew what to do thanks to his mother, Kate who had a very uncomfortable conversation with Oliver about sex between you and him.

You slowly unbuttoned his shirt revealing a muscular chest. He pulled your shirt over your head and soon your guys clothes were discarded. The radio silently clicked on starting to play music which even amped up the atmosphere. He kissed you softly as you massaged his hair. He Positioned his tip at the entrance of your anus. “Tell me what you need me to do” he whispered “I need you in me” you said.

He quickly fulfilled your request spitting in his hand and jerking himself off a little before sliding into you. “Ngh, fuck” You whimper as he slid into you inch by inch. He let out strings of curses as you clenched around him. He slid you the rest of the way down on his cock and you hid your head into his neck letting out cries and tears and te mix of pain and pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight” Oliver said as you were completely on his cock. “Let me know when you’re ready” Oliver said rubbing your back. You nodded and he held your hips and you moved up and down on cock. Got stomach started to bulge as Oliver looked down seeing his cock print. He got more turned on by the sight.

He bounced you up and down on his cock a little faster than you were going and you became a mess. “You take my cock so well, I’m gonna fill you up so good baby” he said as he fucked you into stupidity. All you could do was mumble, whimper, and moan. He kissed you softly moaning into your mouth as he jerked you off.

The mix of him slamming into your prostate and him jerking you off made you go feral. You scratched his back and he arched as you did. He fucked you deep into the steering wheel making the car beep. “Look at you, you take my cock so well baby. Want me to cum in you? Fill you up so deep with your seed hm?” He asked fucking you onto him and fucking into you.

You whimpered as you came over his chest. But that didn’t make him stop. It gave him more ammunition and drive to continue. You squirm on his cock as tears fall from you face. “Don’t cry baby, you’re doing good for me, just give me one more okay, can you do that for me?” Oliver add you wiping your tears and cupping your checks asking you sincerely.

You nodded and he smiled. He sped up nearly rearranging your insides as he jerked you a little faster. You clenched hard as hell and squirmed. “T-too , much” you mumbled not even able form a proper sentence. “I know, just one more baby” Oliver said getting close himself. You kiss him softly as you near your climax. You bite down on his shoulder as you release on him and yourself for the second time and you whimpered in such a euphoric state. “Good boy….” Oliver said getting close. You weren’t even mentally there any more. He attacked your neck as he started to cum.

“Mmm fuck, gonna put my kids in you just like that” Oliver moaned as he came deep inside you. Both of your eyes rolled to the back of your heads. He whimpered softly as you rode him through his climax. You laid your head on his chest as he held you in his arms. You were going in and out still affected by the pain and the pleasure of your first time. Oliver on the other hand was smiling as he held you in his arms still inside you.

“Don’t pull out-“ you murmured. “I won’t baby” Oliver said holding you. “I love you baby” Oliver said. He made you look him in the eye as he said it. “I love you too” you said. He kissed you passionately then you laid back in his arms and put your head back in his neck. The rest of that hour was right there. Hopefully nobody saw…

#male reader #american housewife #american housewife x male reader #american housewife x reader #oliver otto #oliver otto x male reader #smut #oliver otto x reader #Oliver Otto smut #bottom reader #Spotify

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robobarbie · 8 months ago

Note

What kind of cars do the BP and aai lis drive??

xyx: jeep grand cherokee

nightowl: fiat spider (eventually) (this bro has no car atm)

nakedtoaster: porsche taycan

quest: honda civic

major: lexus es

jerri: volkswagen golf

sungho: mazda cx

felix: toyota camry

#bp ask #aai ask #anon ask #bp server #aai office

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sapphirelightningbug · 6 days ago

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Love, Actually [Chapter 2: O Christmas Tree]

Series Summary: Christmas 2005, you and Aegon meet in a dog park in your hometown of Newark, New Jersey. He’s a strange foreigner who you’re hesitant about at first but he’s enamored by you. The only thing that can help you two is a Christmas miracle, and maybe a New Years kiss.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Comment if you'd like to be tagged!

Taglist in the comments!

The Lowe’s parking lot is vacant when you pull in—well, almost. At 8 a.m. on a Sunday, there were three other vehicles in the lot: a gunmetal grey Dodge Ram pickup sitting three spots down, a red Nissan Altima next to it, and an ugly, dilapidated Toyota Camry across the lot. The air is crisp and the once lush scenery, now contained only leafless trees, all that remained the skeletons of an erst spring.

You hop down from your truck a magnificent, red 1999 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Reminiscing, it was the first nice car you’d had. In the past, you'd solely had used vehicles—a silver Honda Civic and a Nissan Frontier—but this one was fresh off the lot and is still in pristine condition. It was your baby; constant upkeep and baths every weekend, well when there wasn’t a consistent fall of sleet.

The ground was jagged underneath your feet. You run your hands over the slick outer shell of your lavender puffer jacket, rolling your fuzzy black gloves off your hands. Curdling them into a ball and shoving them aimlessly into your pockets.

The days-long blizzard had finally diminished the evening before, leaving the roads unburdened by snow in the morning. You reach the sidewalk opposite the parking lot and embark into Lowe’s. The fluorescent lighting beaming off the ceiling is overtly obnoxious, an unabridged contrast to the soft, cool light of the outside air.

The scent of wood and metal floods your senses as you head for the Christmas section. There were a few finishing embellishments you needed to do for your apartment’s decoration.

Passing the aisles of hardware, you step into the holiday décor section, some eerie-looking animatronics playing Christmas music. You hum to the melody as you head over to the statues searching for a snowman to put outside your house. You find one you’re keen on and look it over. It’s a classic snowman, made out of what looked like polyresin. The snowman had on a top hat with a plaid stripe, two stick arms, button eyes, and a fabric carrot nose.

“Hey stranger,” you jump slightly, hearing the satin smooth voice, and spin on your heels to see who it is. You’re met by the face of the same blonde man from the day prior. Aegon. A small thrill runs up your spine. My silent prayers have been answered, the universe really does love me, you surmise.

“Oh gosh, fancy meeting you here,” your heart stutters, his smile was ever-present. He had a dolly, its rusted metal squeaked as it stirred. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask why you were here. “Oh I’m just getting the final decorations for outside my apartment,” you smile, “What about you?” You gesture to the dolly he had.

“Trying to pick out a Christmas tree my flats pretty bare,” he rubs the back of his neck as if embarrassed. It's honestly kind of adorable, you brush the thought out of your mind.

“I can help you pick out a tree if you’d like. I happen to be quite the interior designer,” you cringe at the words that throng out of your mouth.

“That’d be great, I kinda suck at it,” he snorts and you chuckle along with him. You inspect him, today he didn't have a hat his disheveled fringe sat in a thatch on his head. He had a windbreaker on, sleeves bushed up haphazardly. There was a gold watch on his wrist, it was classic the hands a gleaming amber hue.

You two wander over to the Christmas trees. “See any of them you like?” You watch him as he looks over the different trees, a big tall fluffy one catches your eye, wonder filling them. “What about this one?” You look it over with him brushing the artificial needles.

“It’s… pretty," his voice was hesitant, the tone less burnished than usual.

“Oh my gosh, you hate it!” Your tone is almost playful with an undertone of alarm.

He chuckled, “No, I don’t hate it,” there was a small smirk on his face.

“Then what's wrong with it it’s like the perfect Christmas tree.” It profoundly was, it was nostalgic and had an aura of childhood around the large downy branches.

“It’s just a little too big for me to put up myself and I don't have a roommate or anything so I was looking for something maybe a little smaller.” He didn't have a roommate. He didn't have a roommate. A swell of elation filled your stomach.

“Oh. I could help you I'm free today it's my day off and I'm not busy," you commented nonchalantly attempting not to appear excited.

“If you don't mind," his tone was sanguine. A small optimistic smile on his face. He wasn't great with chicks, sure he could get into their pants, but having fortune with a woman he actually likes? He should be so lucky.

“I don't," His eyes light up and his satiny voice speaks up once again.

“Then it's a plan.” You both prop the box on the dolly before he rolls it to the checkout. On the way, you nab the snowman you had liked before and get in line behind him.

You disassociate as he checks out, involuntarily staring at him, he grins at the cashier being polite as she helps him scan the parcel. His eyes light up slightly when he looks at you and realizes you are paying attention to him.

He has a scar under his eye that you notice for the first time as his cheeks turn up when he smirks. He has a ring on his pinky finger that has a little dragon carved into it. You get lost staring at him as all these details flood your brain.

“Ma’am?” The cashier calls and Aegon places a hand on your shoulder. You startle as you realize you are staring and crimson tinges your face.

“You okay?” You nod and plod toward the cash register, embarrassment conspicuous on your face. You get the box scanned and pay for it before you both go to load the boxes into your respective cars.

Oh gosh. Of course, his car was the putrid Toyota Camry. You snicker to yourself before climbing up into your car. You lean against your wheel for a few moments watching Aegon across the lot. You tap your fingers against the wheel before starting the car and sanctioning Aegon to escort you to his apartment.

The roads of New Jersey suck. Both cars swerve out of the way of potholes about every twenty feet. Trees and bushes are overgrown on the bystreet and Aegon drives slightly erratically. It matches his personality, honestly, he was still a mystery to you. You didn't know a great deal about him other than his dog and you realize he doesn't know much about you either.

When you two arrive at his apartment building you succor him in getting the box up the stairs. The door was green and had the number 305 on it, he unlocked it with a silver key, and as soon as he opened the door loud whines were audible.

As you stood next to the box Sunfyre jumped onto Aegon like he was a family member lost to war. “Hey buddy!” he rubbed the dog's sides and back as his paws bashed into Aegon's shoulder. Sunfyre’s tongue darted out to lick Aegon's face, he attempted to pull away but all was futile against the golden retriever.

After he assaulted Aegon, Sunfyre went to you, sniffing your hand before licking it. Clearly, he’d remembered you. “Oh hi bud,” your voice inch as you spoke to the dog. Sunfyre's honey blonde tresses were neatly groomed having undoubtedly been brushed through just that morning.

Aegon commanded Sunfyre to lie down before you labored together to get the crate through the door and into the living room. You look around the apartment. It was unvarnished, to say it politely. Natural light flooded through a single uncovered window. The living room was cavernous: extensively unfurnished with only a loveseat and a coffee table stationary in the middle. A TV perched on a stand opposite the small couch. There was a draft in the room though you couldn't tell from where it was coming.

Other than the living room there was a small sepia-colored photo that sat in the kitchen you caught a glimpse of a young light-haired girl and three young light-haired boys. There was a bowl supposedly for fruit that sat empty next to the frame. A few mostly empty bottles of whiskey sat in a glass cabinet. You inch yourself into the kitchen at a slow pace.

The countertops were thinly veiled with dust. There was a dental office card left on the fridge, and a few scattered sticky notes were stuck to it. The notes had neat feminine handwriting on them. Did he have a girlfriend? A fiancé? A wife?! You glimpse a few words on the note your irrational thoughts running wild. 'Call Mom' written among them.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, his thumb was on the backside of it and you could almost feel his breath on the back of your neck. You turn to look at him with raised eyebrows. "You okay?" He queries that sly smirk still ever-present on his face. You nod and sauntered past him, his head falls to look at the ground as you make your way out of the threshold of the kitchen and into the living room.

"Would you want something to drink? Water? Hot cocoa? I do owe you," he spins the ring around his pinky as he inquires. You look up at the cream-colored walls as you respond.

"Hot cocoa, hm? Well, I might just have to take you up on it," you crack a smile. The same beverage he left the shop with yesterday he was now standing over the stovetop making. He flicked a light on in the kitchen illuminating the house further. The amber luminescence from the ceiling cast shadows on his face, you look over the curve of his nose, the fullness of his cheeks, and the gentle swoop of his platinum eyelashes.

You watch as he makes the hot chocolate, he has a formula to it as if he'd done it a million times before. "You've got skills," you lean back on the counter hands pressed against the top as you peered at him.

"It's a comfort thing, I think that's what my shrink called it?" He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. He did that often from what you could tell, laugh at uncomfortable or sad sentiments.

"What do you mean?" You lean forward to listen closer eyeing his chapped lips as he spoke. He grabbed each ingredient from their respective places, before igniting the stovetop and pouring the milk sugar and cocoa powder into the saucepan.

"I used to make it for my brothers and sisters when we were kids, so I think she said it's a coping mechanism or something now," he still had a grin on his face only now was it slightly saddened as his eyes flicked to the left as if he were remembering something long since past. He meticulously stirred the sugar and cocoa powder into the milk in the saucepan.

"I'm sorry," you whisper from beside him. He shakes his head, feeling shame. You push off the counter and step only a bit closer to him. "I don't pity you," he looks at you with a hardened expression. "How could I? I barely know you we met yesterday," he snickered down at the stove. It was a sad laugh one that pulled at your heartstrings.

"You make a fair point," he voices. He runs a hand through his bright fringe and up onto his head. You look at the clock: ten thirty-four. Your eyes widened, had it been that long since you'd arrived at Lowe's earlier that morning? Aegon pours the hot chocolate into two different cups; one was tan and green with speckles of black interspersed upon it and one with a small penguin painted on it, a red and green scarf wrapped around its neck. The latter was almost childish but it was nostalgic, homely.

He walked over to the fridge and swung it open. You peer in and don't see much. A Tupperware container sat in the right corner, and a few condiments were on the door. There's a pint of milk positioned on the second shelf next to some coffee creamer and eggs. He emerged from the fridge with a small bottle of what looked like alcohol in his hand. He proceeds to a cabinet and pulls out an unopened box of candy canes, plucks two out, and rests them on the counter.

Aegon shakes the small bottle in his hand, "Want some? It's peppermint flavored," the corner of his mouth quirks down in a half-smile. You notice a small 32% alc/vol at the bottom and cringed.

"It's also 10:30 in the morning."

"More for me then," he uncorks the top with his teeth and pours the contents of the bottle into the cup with the penguin. The irony of the image was almost sweet. At the same time though, a small pang of sadness hit your stomach. Day drinking at 10 a.m.? Someone had hurt this man, and badly. Maybe it was a parent? Or a girl? Your brain goes to one of the most unseemly places. Why would it even matter, he was cute but you didn't know him.

He plopped the candy canes in each cup respectively and handed the green and tan one to you, the curve of the candy cane hanging off the lip of the cup. "Thank you," you take a sip your soft lips taking in the drink, a hum of satisfaction leaving your mouth. You take the cup down from your lips and for the first time spot a record machine next to where Sunfyre was sat.

"How about we brighten the mood?" Your voice sounds almost romantic as you say it. His eyes fell amorous, which was strangely appealing. When you recognize the thought, you immediately rebuff it. You approach the machine in the corner and turn to him. "Do you have any records for this thing?"

"A couple," he gestures to a crate underneath the side table. You reach it and Aegon veers his side against a counter as he watches you. You kneel and look through the sparse number of records he had. You spot some Billy Joel and a band with a German-sounding name before coming across the one.

"Oh, we are listening to this," You pull out A Charlie Brown Christmas and sit it atop the negligible table.

He chuckles, "Oh yes, my sister got that for me as a gag gift."

"What's her name?" You wanted to know more about him, about his family. You shift to put the red vinyl on the platter of the record machine, setting the needle to stir on the grooves and the music begins to play. For a gag gift, it was sweet.

"Helaena she's a year younger than me," he smiles recalling his tenderhearted sister. She'd always been there for him.

“Well she sounds lovely,” you muse before turning to him with a playful grin on your face. He returned the expression, “You ready to get this party started?” You chuckle.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk like an elementary school teacher?” He chuckles and you feign being offended. A hand on your chest as you gasp and grin playfully.

“Well, I didn’t think it was that obvious but thanks,” his eyes widen, obviously nonplussed.

“Oh like you actually are?” You nod a small smirk on your lips. “Well that makes sense then,” he was almost coy. He invariably had a kind of self-satisfaction to him too. It made him appear like he could never feel anything but haughty. Maybe it was uncertainty? Or a method to conceal it? He did sometimes have the look of a lost puppy, subdued and feeble.

"Come on now," you adjure, grasping his hand and pulling him to the Christmas tree box, a bit of hot chocolate spilled over the rim. With a quick prise, you remove the tape from the box and open it. Artificial pine needles burst into the air, escaping from their smothering incarceration. You begin plucking out the pieces one by one, the cutting fluff unpleasant against your velvety hand. A wisp of the green spikes runs down your arm.

Aegon takes a slurp of his hot cocoa semi-chapped lips pursing as he swallows, the warm liquid flooding and heating his body. You begin assembling the tree asking for his assistance with the top portion. “Oh isn't this just so cute!” You exclaim a big grin on your face. “This time of year is the best,” he chuckles at your delight.

You begin to fluff up the branches on the tree, languidly dispersing them so they can fill the empty spaces and gaps. “So… do you have any ornaments or garland, lights, a topper? Anything like that?” Sunfyre gazes up at you from where he sits tongue hanging out of his mouth.

He nods, “One second,” he swivels around, his back facing you, and positions his hot chocolate on the counter as he walks away. You seize your beverage and take small sips from it while he's out of the room. You scratch the backside of Sunfyre's ear, he grumbled lowly, contented.

When Aegon reappears he has an average-sized brown box in his hands. He opens it to reveal some lights, a few ornaments, and a gold seven-pointed star topper. You reach out to grab the star, “Wow this is magnificent where did you get it from?”

“It was my mother's but she wanted me to have it so I didn't stray from the faith or whatever,” his eyebrows pinched as he mentioned his mother they must've had a strained relationship.

“Okay well it's stunning but lights first,” you unravel some warm-toned lights to swathe around the tree. Aegon helps, letting the string fall in a chaotic but visually pleasing manner. After the lights, you two arrange the few ornaments mostly childhood handmade ones and classic ball ornaments.

One of the decorations had a family photo of four blonde-haired children of similar ages, two more mature-looking women, one with auburn hair and one blonde like the four younger, and a man who looked like he could be their father. The four children resemble the ones in the sepia image on the counter next to the vacant fruit bowl, this was his family, she assumed. You look over the tree to make sure there aren’t any empty spaces to fill before turning to him.

“Ready for the star?” He nodded and you both put it on the top of the tree, his hand plunged down to your waist to ensure you didn't fall. The skin there tingled at his caress. After doing so you both collapsed on the couch Sunfyre wriggled his way onto your thighs like he thought he was a lap dog.

You looked over Aegon's face, his side profile, more specifically his nose, and lips before looking away. “Do you have flour, brown sugar, spices, and eggs here?” You inquire trying not to think about what these sensibilities denotated.

“Yep,” he smiled holding the still warm cup quickly taking a gulp of the drink. His throat bobs and his tongue runs along his lips to collect any residual droplets.

“Wanna make cookies?” She leaned into him slightly the tension between you two palpable, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Your eyes flick down to his lips before you reprimand yourself mentally.

“If I ever say no to that take me out back and shoot me in the head,” you both chuckled, he had an ardent look in his eyes. You attempted to get Sunfyre off you and arose when the doorbell rang.

Ding-Dong.

#love actually #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x you #got

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foxilayde · 1 year ago

Note

Taking a break from Thanksgiving thots to ask how you envision OTTR Leto meeting reader?? I haven’t given it much thought before this moment and now I’m desperate to hear your thoughts on the beginning of their relationship

I think about this one all the time.

You met Leto in Venice. Ocean Front Walk Venice, CA.

It gets hot in the Valley.

So hot that when you’re getting off your shift one blazing afternoon in downtown Los Angeles, the prospect of sitting in dead stop traffic on the 60 to Jurupa Valley, in your busted Honda Civic, only to go home to a stifling house with no AC…. Is anything but appealing.

So you do something unexpected. You are going to cool down, and you’re going to treat yourself while you do it. You’re going to pretend your life is ab-fab (absolutely fabulous) if only for one evening.

You take off from the parking lot of your job and instead of heading east, you go west. You stop at Neiman Marcus and you buy a dress. One that is too expensive to actually keep. So you wear it out and tuck the tags with every intention to return the next day. The dress looks amazing tho, it’ll be a shame to say farewell. It’s a classy little black cocktail thing that goes well with your plain black work shoes.

You get a little touch-up at the makeup counter to refresh your lipstick and spray on some Diptyque, and you head back to your car. You google, “open houses ocean view near me” and you take off to the coast.

You park your car a few blocks away from the listing. If the agent sees that heap, they probably won’t let you step inside. I mean this house is listed for nearly 15 million dollars. You shouldn’t even be walking down this block. You feel almost guilty for parking anywhere near this neighborhood.

There’s about 5 or six other people in the house looking around. The agent smiles at you and hands you a brochure when you enter. A glossy embossed thing listing the amenities as well as her contact information. You feel a little overdressed. The men are in tommy Bahama shirts and the women are in Lulu Lemon leggings.

You get a glass of free champagne and you help yourself to the charcuterie tray, looking around the house with appraising eyes, trying to nod your head at the bannisters and balconies like “hmm yes, maybe this will do.” Truthfully the house is beyond gorgeous. It’s ocean adjacent and has it’s own deck, pool, hot tub rooftop lounge, bedroom balcony… the kitchen is a thing of ART. The whole open concept and glass everything makes you feel so utterly out of place.

But its not like buying it was ever in the cards or the intention. the AC works, that’s all you care about, and you step outside the living room patio balcony, the ocean breeze hits your face in the most cooling fantastic sort of way. You audibly sigh and close your eyes breathing in the air. A voice from behind you startles you.

“Refreshing, isn’t it?” You nearly drop your glass, surprised by the man’s proximity.

God. He is handsome. Slick backed hair, mirrored aviators, a thousand watt smile, movie star jaw, and a dark navy suit cut, sewn, and ironed by Giorgio Armani himself. He looks like a magazine advert for Ray Bans. Now this, this is the type of man who buys a 15 million dollar home. Not you. The way he’s smiling at you now seems like… like joke or something. Like he’s laughing at you. He can smell the Honda Civic on you, can clock your shoes as Margiela knock-offs… heat creeps up your face despite the cooling breeze.

You look down at the floor and smile politely. “Excuse me” you mutter and go inside to investigate another part of the house.

You run into him again in the closet. Literally, you bump into him in the grand walk in. He’s probably going to need a closet this big for his collection of fine Italian sartorials. “Sorry” you mumble, ducking out. God he smells good.

You head back down to the kitchen to grab more cheese and crackers. Another bonus of open house crashing along with the free AC and free sparkling wine. Free food.

You’re midway through shoving another Brie covered cracker into your mouth when you see him again, in the kitchen, examining something attached to the marble countertop. His glasses are hanging from the center of his undone silk shirt. Those eyes.

You cover your cracker-full mouth and gulp. He’s so fucking cute furrowing his brow at the contraption and he spins the lever of it with one hand and smiles. He looks up at you.

“Pasta maker.” He points to it before shoving his hand back in his pocket. “You ever use one like this? It’s old school.”

You shake your head, still swallowing cracker.

“Wonder if it comes with the house…” He muses, looking up at the recessed lighting. He points up. “They all come with this now, you notice that?”

You shake your head again.

He tsks and continues, “Can’t stand it. I like something softer, y’know. These are harsh. You get up at 3 in the morning to get a glass of water and you want to kill yourself.”

You shrug and take a sip of sparkling wine. You wish you could talk to him but you can’t. You can feel yourself on the verge of saying something fucking stupid and it’s best to just not speak at all. So you look up at the recessed lighting with a curious face, trying to see the harshness, as he put it.

“Something hanging, like right over here,” he indicates over the island. “Something with yellow light. Soft, capiche?”

You smile at the word. It makes you more comfortable for some reason. “What? Like the Tiffany lampshades in the pool hall?” You offer with a smile.

He grins the most dazzling smile at you, stepping a foot closer and nodding. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but keep talking.”

“I was thinking more Venini myself.” You offer, taking another sip. He nods at you with appreciation.

“Tasteful. And soft. I’m listening.”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling at this point and you take a few steps to the living room gesturing near the sofa.

“An Arco floor lamp in the corner right here.” You submit to him, looking back over your shoulder with a wink. He chuckles.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“And for the foyer,” you stride over to the front entrance, “A Sputnik. Right in the middle.”

“Gold or silver?” He asks.

“Bronze of course.” You reply with an affected air.

“How silly of me, dear.” He puts his hand over his heart.

The real estate agent makes a remark on what a gorgeous couple you are and how you just “fit the house”.

You start to protest but the man puts his arm around your shoulders and thanks the agent saying, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” Winking at the woman and KISSING the side of your head. Which makes your face turn hot instantly.

He is… good at playing along, isn’t he. Well isn’t that what you were doing already? cosplaying as someone who could afford the house, and now you’re cosplaying a couple with this man whom you don’t even know the name of? Jesus—Just go with it, you suppose. Enjoy the pretending before you have to go back to the heat of Jurupa Valley…

“Now what about the dining room?” He asks into your ear in a deep voice, arm still over your shoulder.

“Hmmm,” You’re slowly running out of lamp styles, but you can’t let on. “How do you feel about Venetian glass, darling?”

“Inspired. Really,” he squints his eyes at the recessed lighting over the dining table. “We are in Venice after all.” He laughs with a toothy smile. “You have fine taste…” he leads.

You give him your name. He repeats it before telling you his. “Leto”

“I should have known you would have fine taste by the dress you’re wearing.” He compliments, picking up a glass of sparkling wine on the marble counter and gesturing your dress up and down.

“Thank you.” You blush. It’s not even yours. It’s on loan. You’re returning it tomorrow and you feel like a fraud.

Leto bites his bottom lip in contemplation then takes a step towards you, his hand making its way towards the nape of your neck with stern concentration on his lips. Oh fuck he’s about to kiss you. You make the split second decision to let him, closing your eyes gently, puckering your lips, holding your breath, and leaning in slightly.

But he doesn’t kiss you. You feel the slide of glossy paper down the back of your neck and the settling of it under your dress. He was tucking in the price tag of the dress for you. Jesus fucking Christ. You step back, embarrassed. He pats your arm. You cover your your brow, feeling your face get hot once again. So much for searching for that cool breeze by the coast!

Leto chuckles pleasantly. “Hey, hey, don’t be embarrassed. Happens to the best of us.”

God he’s probably giving you the benefit of the doubt. Probably thinks you just have so many new designer dresses that you innocently forgot to take the tag off… but if he had, would he have tucked it back in like he did? Or would he have just plucked it off?

“You like the house?” He asks, still jovial like the most embarrassing thing in the world didn’t just happen to you 5 seconds ago.

“It’s amazing. Perfect, really. The location, the style. It’s a dream. I have always wanted to live in Venice… the energy here is unbelievable.” You look around at the pristine grandiosity. The sun is close to setting now over the ocean and you sigh wistfully at the stunning view. “Whoever gets it is a lucky duck, I’ll tell you that.” You say, cheersing the sun itself before knocking back a sip of wine.

Leto watches you watch the lapping waves. “Let me buy it for you?”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Leto?! The house??”

Leto nearly doubles over in laughter, holding up his hand in apology, “No. No. I’m sorry, I— I meant the dress.”

Your face goes hot again. He knows! He knows you’re planning on returning it. Shit, he probably saw you pull up in your Civic!

“Please let me buy it for you. It suits you perfectly and it’d be a shame for anyone else to own it.” His eyes are so soft and kind and pretty and you almost want to cry.

“I… I can’t let you do that. It’s already on my card. I promise I won’t return it though, after that compliment, how could I?”

Leto nods. “At least let me take you out to dinner? Give you an excuse to show it off?”

Your heart nearly sinks. He’s probably the type to insist on picking you up. And he’s going to, what? Drive to the IE to do that?

“I live kind of far away…” you trail off, cringing slightly.

“I can send a car for you.”

“Leto, No, I—“

“Do you live father than a car ride? I can send a plane for you if you’d prefer?”

You laugh, but the returning stare isn’t a joking one. He’s fucking serious.

“I promise I won’t try anything funny. I just… want to pick your brain for more design ideas.” He grins and scratches the back of his neck, “It doesn’t have to be a date. Could be a business dinner? You would be my consultant…”

“Oh really? Consultant?” You cringe.

“Or it can be a date. A proper one. The best meal of your life. The Barber of Seville at the LA Operahouse, dancing, desert, a starlit walk on the beach outside my brand new house.” He grins. God what a fantastic smile.

“Sound like a 5 hour date.” You assess.

“What? You want longer? Because I will have a hot tub by the time this date rolls around and that can add up to 2 hours.”

“Two hours? Ambitious.”

“Agreed. But if done properly…” he winks and hands you a business card with his number on it. “Just think about it. I’ll be around.” He takes a deep breath, surveying the house and you, “I could stay and play house with you all day but I have a sudden urge to get ahold of my broker.” He takes your hand and kisses it.

“Nice meeting you Leto… Atreides.” You read off of his card.

“The pleasure was mine, gorgeous.”

Once he leaves, you have to go out to the balcony again for a breath of fresh air.

#oh my god this completely got away from me #but i literally have been thinking about the meet cute for like a year and a half no joke #Leto Atreides x you #Scout tag

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blueiscoool · 11 months ago

Text

Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures

Tom Askjem is a time traveler. Every May to November, he disappears into the bowels of the earth, descends to depths of 13’-plus, and returns to the surface with treasure—bottles and glassware from farming’s past.

After 1,800 pits and hundreds of thousands of relics, Askjem is equal parts archeologist, thrill seeker, and mole. Muscle on dirt, the North Dakota farm boy has turned an addiction into a career, multiple books, and a captivating YouTube channel with millions of views. However, Askjem seeks more than glass.

“I’m digging for adventure, history, and love,” he says. The past is in these holes and there are countless numbers of them across farmland.”

Time to hunt with a master.

The Infection

On the flats of extreme eastern North Dakota’s Traill County, Askjem, 32, prepares for a dig trip. “No mountains and no hills in the Red River Valley,” he describes. “You can see your dog run away for days. The land is mostly featureless, other than a few big cottonwoods and shelter belts where farms used to be.”

A mop of blonde hair sits atop a 6’-tall, lanky frame as Askjem saddles his pony—a Honda Civic. At the current mileage rate, the Civic will be junkyard fodder before it has a scratch: 60,000 backroad miles added to the odometer in the past six months.

Askjem piles layers of gear into the trunk, including three of each tool for insurance: shovels, pronged garden forks, trampoline pads, probe rods, buckets, plastic scoopers, trowels, tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, air mattresses, clothes, and waterproof, Redwing leather work boots.

“It never gets old,” he says, wearing a wide grin. “I caught the infection when I was a kid.”

Digging Bodies

Pushed from the Grand Forks area by the historic Red River flood of 1997, Askjem moved to a farm outside Buxton at six years young. The main property was an 1878 homestead—a progression from sod house to log cabin to the present standing 1898 farmhouse decked in Victorian-era woodwork and hardware.

Surrounded by history, including the skeletons of old wagons and rusting machinery, Askjem explored a 5-acre patch of woods on the property, and chanced on a garbage dump: pop bottles and trash.

Askjem dug.

“I went deep and found stuff going back to 1898. When you’re a kid living in the country, there’s no going down the street and there’s no hanging with friends to play video games—you make your own adventure. I started hitting up all the farmers I could find for leads.”

Behind the wheel of a rattling go-cart, Askjem sought Buxton old-timers and collected tips on abandoned houses. “They all helped me,” he says. “Nobody cared where I hunted because I was just a little kid exploring for all the right reasons.”

“I’ve still got an elementary school journal with an assignment describing my weekend,” he adds. “I wrote, ‘Me and Mom dug up old bodies.’ The teacher marked my paper out of concern,” Askjem describes, with an easy, deep chuckle. “I meant to spell bottles, not bodies. But it shows I was truly hooked.”

Indeed. Wonderfully hooked.

Soft Landing

Why are bottles buried under farmland and old house sites?

Prior to plastic and synthetics, glassware held everything: medicine, hygiene products, alcohol, soda, and beyond. Glass was it.

Additionally, prior to waste disposal services, homeowners discarded trash on-site—in back yard outhouses, trash depressions, burn pits, and wells or cisterns. In short time, the various ground receptacle spots were filled and forgotten.

“Let’s say, for example, a family moved in around 1880,” Askjem explains. “That site likely has two or three outhouse locations prior to World War l. The outhouse spots filled up at a rate according to family size. I dug one farmhouse site that had six outhouses in a 10-year span. Folks went into the outhouses and threw away bottles: medicine, opiates, beer, whiskey. It was convenient and private, and had a soft landing, and got covered quickly. Even now, the bottles often are still preserved.”

“Generally, these houses also had a burn pit and/or dump pit. In the early days, they burned all trash in the stove for heat. Also, homestead bucket wells were filled up with trash and bottles once they were replaced by pump wells. Cisterns also were eventually filled up, but most of those are associated with houses in town.”

And the sites remain, he emphasizes, hiding intact relics beyond the reach of farm machinery or tillage equipment.

X Marks the Spot

Location. Location. Location. Other than a tip or invitation, how does Askjem find dig sites?

X marks the spot, at least in the county courthouse or public library. He spends winters poring over early property transaction documents. “I look at lot sales. If several lots sold for $100 each in 1880, but one sold for $1,000 in 1885, the price climb tells the story and likely represents a building location.”

“I also read old newspaper archives, looking for hotel or business advertisements,” Askjem continues. “Then I can look up the proprietor’s name and keep tightening the scope, narrowing down the exact building location.”

“Every single house is different, but generally, in the countryside, outhouses were 30 paces out the back door. In the city, where most lots were 140’ long, outhouses could be as close as 5-10 paces.”

Confident of a site’s potential, Askjem first asks for permission to dig from the landowner. “Property owners are always so kind to me and I don’t hide anything I find. They’re curious about what is in the ground, just like anybody else.”

Second, he grids out the site. “I put down markers 2 paces apart, maybe 20 paces long. I push probe rods into ground and feel for compaction differences. Depending on the location, I’ll call in and have utility lines marked out for power and gas.”

Decked in Levi’s and a tank-top, it’s time to tunnel.

Claustrophobic Comfort

Shovel in hand, Askjem descends into a layer cake of dirt: black topsoil to brown-colored clay to telltale ash to a use layer containing treasure.

“Generally, I go deep to find old items in quantity. The earliest bottles were used to the last drop by farmers and thrown out empty. Therefore, when they froze in brutal Dakota winters, the glass didn’t break from liquid expansion.”

As Askjem extracts glass vessels from the dirt and grime, his encyclopedic knowledge registers with each find. He recognizes the type, manufacturer, and age. Ink bottles, hygiene bottles, medicine bottles, beer bottles, soda bottles—and far more spill from the holes.

“I find patented medicine bottles across the country, but my favorite are soda bottles because they are unique to their locale and have character. The old soda bottles are usually marked with the bottler and town name because they were returnable.”

The outhouse pits are typically 6’-deep at home sites, with an average size of 6’-by-4’-by-3’. “I’ve dug ghost towns, dug saloons, train depots, and pool halls that were 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 8’ deep. I remember a hotel pit that was 20’-by-20’ and 8’ deep. There was a military fort with pits behind the barracks that was 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 13.5’ deep: That was a week’s worth of digging.”

Askjem’s subterranean realm provides no comfort to the claustrophobic. At 8’-9’, he braces the holes with woodwork. “I’m in a solid clay base that doesn’t cave, but I have a healthy respect for the ground’s limitation. Sometimes, it looks like I’m digging a rabbit hole.”

Preserved in nature’s freezer, the artifacts unearthed by Askjem often are in phenomenal condition.

“Pieces of newspaper can still be read; bottle labels are legible; white lime used in decomposition is visible; and undigested seeds are everywhere. Even 120-year-old human waste sometimes is perfectly preserved and still smells like hell. I wear a hydrogen sulfide respirator in those cases.”

“It’s all there; almost like it was dropped yesterday.”

Ghosts in the Ground

In 2022, Askjem began chronicling his digs via a YouTube channel, Below the Plains, and soon captured millions of views. At two posts per week, he gins footage at a steady rate to feed the algorithm, a tough task considering the ground in his geography is frozen from mid-November to mid-May.

Additionally, Askjem has written two in-depth books (Nebraska Soda Bottles 1865-1930 and A History of North Dakota Bottling Operations 1879-1930) and has more on the way. “I put the bottle prices in the books because they can sell for a whole lot and I always tell the landowners. Listing prices draw criticism, but that’s important to me because it helps preserve the item, and preservation of history is what drives me.”

Covered in dust or mud at the end of each day in digging season, Askjem is highly respectful of what he finds—almost reverent after 1,800 digs. “I appreciate everything I uncover because it represents a part of someone’s daily life and existence. There’s nothing wrong with coveting bottles, but I’m really in those holes for the moment of discovery.”

Even when not digging, Askjem is on the move, surfing on the coasts or river diving for lost cargo. In the decades to come, will he continue burrowing into the past? “Twenty years from now, I hope I’m still digging and there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now.”

“There’s not an infinite amount of lost bottle sites, but there’s certainly an incredibly high number,” he continues. “There were 300,000 homestead farms in North Dakota with a minimum of one well, one outhouse, and one trash dump. And that doesn’t include towns where most of the population lived. There are millions of these sites in North Dakota and far more in other states.”

Respect to a freewheeling hunter like no other. Bottles draw the eye, but ghosts draw the heart: “The moment never gets old when you uncover a bottle and find that history,” Askjem adds. “Never.”

By CHRIS BENNETT.