#but yeah things like 'pumpkin spice lattes' are very much

[not-poignant]

You get spooky for spooky season?

So... Australia doesn't really do Halloween.

Or, 'we do for kids and we do for people who want to get drunk and otherwise no.'

We don't really do trick or treating. It's not normal for anyone to have confectionary by the front door or put up decorations, though it's becoming more common. Throughout my childhood it was a thing that only people in the US did, and to this day it's still how most people feel about it.

We don't have pumpkin spice (indeed, we don't have pumpkin pie, or most of the pumpkin things that are elsewhere). We don't have 'spooky' themed foods or drinks at cafes or other places. There are no franchises really participating in this outside of the stores that straight up sell decorations and lollies.

Also it's spring here, it's not autumn/fall. It's not getting cooler, it's getting warmer/hotter. By the time October 31st arrives, we will be getting a lot of days in the 30s (90s for the US folk). It's not pumpkin season. All the things that Samhain and All Soul's Night are meant to celebrate seasonally aren't happening, and it's actually the festival/sabbath of Beltane instead.

That being said, our dog was born on October 31st so idk it's Tobermory season!

I find 'spooky season' as a concept mostly kind of fun on Tumblr, but it's so very much not what Australia is doing, as we prepare to have Christmas in the blistering heat lmao.

[wonysugar]

it’s so over for me…. ch. 7

starbies~~ (half written)

a/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR BASICALLY POSTING THIS CHAPTER NOW😭i originally wanted to post it yesterday but thenvoekfke i passed out,,, so sorry. so uhm?? next chapter coming out later today<33 thank you

other, late a/n but uhm this was written wayy before the whole boycott situation.. so uhm don’t go to starbucks!! isofm!yn and isofm!ning are also boycotting as we speak so BE LIKE THEM! free palestine :]

running into ning today wasn’t something you had originally planned, since, you know, you barely even go to starbucks in the first place. today was just some sort of craving you randomly got while doing your assignments.

you approached her, laying gentle taps on her shoulder, causing her to turn around. her resting bitch face immediately turning into a wide grin upon seeing you. you were flattered, in a way. you never really doubted your guys’ friendship, but you didn’t except such an enthusiastic reaction from her.

“oh. my. god. y/n!!! it’s so great seeing you!” she exclaimed, grabbing you by the arm and jumping up and down which earned very intense stares from the other customers there with you, and despite not usually wanting to draw any attention, you didn’t really give a fuck about it, you still quietly greeted her back, wearing a bright smile.

she offered to pay for your drink, to which you hesitantly accepted, despite her being very financially stable for a college student. plus, you never really go to starbucks, so, after reluctantly accepting, you told her to get you whatever she thought was good. she proceeded to order some sort of thing that sounded like a cryptic harry potter spell, to which the barista apparently immediately understood.

you acquired your order minutes before she did, so you took the chance to settle at the closest table. it didn’t take long for her to sit down facing you, her hand holding a bag containing a chocolate chip cookie with her pinkie and somehow managing to grab ahold of some unknown drink. her other hand holding what seemed to be a… pumpkin spice latte..? you weren’t too experienced, but pretty much everyone knew what a pumpkin spice latte was.

“i didn’t peg you for a white girl, ning.” you said, jokingly squinting your eyes at her as she rolls hers.

“oh shut upp.. that one isn’t even for me,” she vaguely motions at the ‘forbidden’ drink, “aeri asked me to get it for her.” she clarified, your eyebrows unconsciously lifting themselves up. aeri, huh.

whatever, you didn’t care about her. you never did, so why were you so.. immediately uptight at the thought of her?? quickly, you switched the topic of the conversation and focused on talking about other things. the exams coming up, future hangout plans, both of your friend groups.

“oh yeah, i forgot to tell you, by the way, there was like this one private account on twitter that dmed me, and they were like?? asking to kiss me or whatever and it happened the same day you guys went apeshit and like.. apologized about it yesterday.” you quickly took a sip from your very good drink, kept note that ning had incredibly good taste, then carried on, “the apology in question was mostly just them being an ass, so. that was weird!” you giggled.

upon looking at her expression, you noticed that she didn’t seem to find it as humorous as you did. instead, she looked like she was trying to force out a fake giggle, but couldn’t.

“girl, you good?”

“no yeah. i am. i’m great, even.” she cleared her throat, taking comically large sips of her drink, basically finishing all of it in one go. what the fuck?

you stared at her dead-panned, you knew her, you knew that looking at her that way would eventually get her to say what’s on her mind.

and you were correct in thinking that!

“ughh okay don’t tell anyone i told you this and under no circumstances do you tell this to aeri but… okay so we-got-really-drunk-and-high-and-she’s-the-one-that-sent-you-those-messages-and-the-account-she-used-was-her-private-one—“

she then stared at you, apparently expectant of something. the only thing that you could do at that moment was pull out your phone and open up twitter.

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@yuki3000 @livelaughchoerry @frenchyypoo @ilovechanhee @beawolfbealionbeyou @jeindall777 @haerinfangs @rdfgfv @wygism @kimsgayness @mightymyo @havex00 @joonket @yerisdumbass @soon2berock @ddeulgiheree @kyaitosz @deong @haerinkisser @victio @imahallucination11 @wintersera @winteresss @pandafuriosa60 @astrojeezus @hyehae @manooffline @waevrs @baebeefyburrito

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

[eyeofnewtblog]

Things that happen at work:

In no particular order…

The IT Guy went on a ten minute rant about how he hates summer because it’s 1) too hot 2) he has to specifically order the ingredients for pumpkin spice lattes instead of just being able to swing by Starbucks, and 3) the ac in his office is currently broken. He is, in fact, alarmingly good at making #3 literally everyone else’s problem.

I stole a lollipop from the receptionist candy bowl and gave it to my second favorite driver.

My third favorite driver barged into my office and demanded to reorganize the master copy of the training packet I put together for new drivers (which he is responsible for training) because “the way it’s currently organized annoys the ever loving fuck outta me”.

The HR lady has been training an underling. She is secretly an accountant, but has been at the company for literally over 30 years, so she wears many hats. Every time I walk by their shared office I can hear her explaining the quantum mechanics of business accounting At Volume. She is not a loud person when she’s talking about anything else. Just accounting. This is hilarious to me personally because she is honestly so sweet, kind, helpful, and genuine that to hear her ranting angrily about tax laws, record keeping, and Paying Shit ON TIME DAMMIT is just so…vindicating to me. Like. Fuck yeah, Lisa, get it off your chest!

The company I’m at has hired two new drivers every week for the past six weeks. I am very happy to have new coworkers and something to fill my days, but my god the paperwork is astounding and I, personally, am Very Much Over It.

The truckers make up for it, they’re hilarious 92% of the time.

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance, Ch. 14

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @achaotichuman @taymartiart @northern-polaris @zivotzaruzi (Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged.)

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Wordcount: 7.9k

Summary: Tamlin breaks some hearts (and no, I will not spoil it by saying whose), and Lucien and his brother learn more about their family's company audit

Read on AO3, or read here below the cut:

Click.

Tamlin lowered the camera with a sniff and tried to wiggle his numb nose. He’d been out in the cold for nearly an hour now, and he hadn’t seen anyone matching Vassa’s description, aside from the round, red-capped finches he was pretending to be so fascinated by.

He glanced over at the busy coffee cart on the other side of the park, with its jolly holly-green umbrella and bright red coffee cups. He sighed wistfully, and his breath was visible in the chilled air. Some hot coffee would be just the thing on a cold day like this. The sky promised more snow later, as if they didn’t already have enough.

As he trudged through the ankle-deep snow, he readjusted the strap of the camera bag bouncing uncomfortably against his frozen hip, and grumbled at himself for coming up with such a brilliant plan.

At least he had Lucien’s scarf to keep him from becoming a walking, talking snowman.

As he fell in line behind two young women, he lifted the scarf to his nose and gratefully breathed in the faint, orange-scented cologne. Now that his mouth and nose were beginning to thaw, he could start thinking clearly again.

He was doing this for Vassa, he reminded himself. Vassa was Lucien’s friend, and Jurian’s girlfriend, besides. No matter how much Jurian might try to deny it.

If the Scythian mafia was after her, no matter what their reasons were, it was reason enough to keep her out of their clutches. But was it worth the risk if it meant putting another redhead in harm’s way?

“Hi! Two peppermint lattes, please,” the young woman in front of him cheerily told the coffee cart attendant.

Tamlin glanced over the black chalkboard menu, at the options written in a curly white script. He usually got a black coffee, but would it be gay if he tried a peppermint latte for once?

He shook his head and scolded himself. So what if it was? Hadn’t he just had—as Lucien put it—hot gay sex, the night before?

Even the memory of it made him blush.

“What can I get you?” the attendant asked him.

Tamlin startled, then stepped forward. “Oh, yeah. Hi. Um… Two black coffees, please,” he said automatically, and was suddenly disappointed in himself. Why would anyone care about his order, anyway? He was the one drinking it, not them. When the attendant reached for two red coffee cups, Tamlin stopped him. “Actually, could you make them peppermint lattes, instead?” he asked shyly.

“Ooh, nice choice,” someone remarked.

He turned his head to see the same two young women standing nearby, sipping at their own peppermint drinks. They were dressed in blue and green puffy jackets and white leggings, complete with woolen legwarmers and stocking hats with fuzzy pom-poms on top. They made standing out in the cold look a lot more fun than it actually was.

“We don’t really see guys go for the so-called girly drinks,” her friend continued, and shrugged shyly. “It’s cute.”

“Well, you two inspired me,” he said, smiling. “It never hurts to try something new, right?”

“Right,” she said, while her friend nudged her. They both looked like they were trying very hard not to giggle. Had he said something funny?

“You’ll have to tell us what you think,” her friend said brightly, then gestured to the other and continued, “Cat usually goes for pumpkin spice, but it is almost Christmas, so…”

“‘Tis the season,” Tamlin agreed conversationally, as if they weren’t complete strangers. Still, it didn’t hurt to be friendly.

“Indeed,” she said with a smile.

As he returned her smile, he noticed that she had bright, teal blue eyes, and coppery red bangs peeking out beneath her stocking hat. If it weren’t for her freckles and pale skin, she could almost pass for Vassa…

“That’ll be ten,” the clerk said, bringing him back to the present.

“Oh, that much, huh?” Tamlin said with a shy laugh, and pulled out his wallet.

As he pulled out the correct number of bills, the redhead remarked, “They have some of the best coffee in town. It’s worth it, I promise.”

“I’m sure it is,” he said affably, then took the steaming cups in hand with a nod of thanks.

As he stepped aside to make way for the next customer, he tried to think of a tactful way to ask for her picture, but the talkative redhead didn’t give him the chance.

“So, what do you think?” she asked him.

“About what?”

She and her friend exchanged another one of their barely contained smiles. “Of the coffee?”

“Oh,” he said, and carefully managed a sip. As the warm brew slid down his throat, he licked his lips. “It’s uh… peppermint-y,” he remarked, unsure of how else to describe it. “But it’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” her companion—Cat—said, and took a sip herself.

The redhead glanced between them, looking thoughtful. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Cat—with dark hair and equally bright blue eyes—nearly spat out her coffee. “Gwyn!” she chided, and smacked her arm.

The redhead—Gwyn—gave her an innocent shrug. “What? You were taking forever to ask him out, so…” She nodded at Tamlin, as if to say: I did you a favor; you can thank me later.

Tamlin’s lips twitched into a shy smile, and he found himself blushing. “Look, it’s not that I’m flattered, but…”

“You see?” Cat said quickly. “He has a girlfriend. I knew it. Can we go now, please?” Her cheeks were as pink as Tamlin’s felt, and not just from the cold.

“The thing is, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he tried to explain.

“Oh, you don’t?” Cat said, sounding somewhat hopeful.

Tamlin winced and sucked in a cold, sharp breath between his teeth. “I actually have a boyfriend. Sorry.”

Both girls groaned and exchanged sad, disappointed smiles.

“How come all the cute ones are gay?” Cat complained with a pouting lip, which only made Tamlin blush harder.

“Az isn’t gay,” Gwyn told her, sounding somewhat annoyed.

“Yeah, but he’s taken. By you.”

Gwyn turned to Tamlin with wide, hopeful eyes. “Do you have any brothers?”

Tamlin chuckled as Cat squawked in protest, and brushed a stray hair from his warm cheek with his wrist. “They’re married,” he said ruefully, but even if they weren’t, he wouldn’t wish them on anyone, straight or otherwise.

“Figures,” Cat muttered, then gave Tamlin a polite smile. “Thanks, anyway.”

“Anytime,” he said automatically, which made no sense, given the circumstances.

“Tam? Hey, Tam!” a familiar voice called out, and he turned in shock to see Lucien, of all people, trotting up to greet him.

“Lu?” Tamlin said with a surprised laugh. “What are you doing here?”

Lucien grinned, and his cheeks were flushed from jogging in the cold. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and said, “I was just across the street and thought I’d get some coffee, and… well, here you are, getting coffee!”

“Yeah… Wow…” Tamlin shook his head in amazement, then noticed the two girls watching them. “Oh, yeah. Lu. Let me introduce you to… um…” His mind went blank.

“I’m Gwyn, and this is my sister, Cat,” Gwyn offered kindly, and Cat silently saluted them with her coffee cup.

“Nice to meet you,” Lucien said, and introduced himself.

“Hi,” Cat said politely, but it was clear she had no interest in chatting. Tamlin didn’t blame her.

Gwyn wasn’t quite ready to leave, though, since she turned to Tamlin and said, “I don’t think I caught your name, actually.”

“Oh, it’s Tam. Tamlin.”

“Tamlin,” she repeated with a smile. “That’s a nice name. I think I heard it in a song once.”

Before Tamlin could say that’s where his mom had gotten it from, Lucien interrupted and gestured to the three of them.

“I’m confused… how exactly do you all know each other?”

“We just met, actually,” Tamlin said, shrugging shyly with the coffee cups. It wasn’t much of an explanation, but what else could he say that wouldn’t embarrass anyone?

Luckily Gwyn was there to fill what could have been an awkward silence. “We got the same coffee order,” she said simply, then turned the question around on him. “What about you? How long have you two known each other?”

“Oh, Tam and I go way back,” Lucien said, giving him a small, secret wink.

That wink made Tamlin feel brave. “Actually, we just started dating,” he told the girls, smiling shyly. “And, actually, he’s my boyfriend.”

Lucien’s eyebrows rose at this public admission, but before he could say anything, Cat nudged Gwyn with her elbow.

“I told you,” she muttered. “Cute. Gay.”

Lucien chuckled at this. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

Gwyn suddenly pointed at him. “You said your name was Lucien, right?” When he affirmed that he had, and that he was, she grinned and said, “You’re Eris’s brother, aren’t you.”

Lucien’s head jerked back in surprise. “Yeah! How’d you know?”

“He comes by the theater all the time,” Gwyn said brightly. As an aside to Cat, she explained, “He’s the one dating Nesta.”

“Oh.” Cat rolled her eyes. “Yeah. See? That just proves my point. If he’s cute, he’s either gay, or taken.”

Tamlin and Lucien let out awkward chuckles.

“Yeah, it’s usually the opposite for me,” Lucien said quietly, then turned his attention to Gwyn. “So, uh, how did you know Eris was dating Nesta?”

“We’re part of the same dance company,” Gwyn said brightly. “The Valkyries?”

“Oh,” Lucien said with an impressed nod. “Sure, I’ve heard of them.”

Tamlin hadn’t, so he let them talk and took another sip of his peppermint latte. Even though he wasn’t sure he would ever order it again, he was glad he’d tried it. Best of all, he didn’t feel any more or less gay for having done so. It was just a drink, after all.

“We’re performing Swan Lake this season,” Gwyn went on. “You two should come by and see us. It’s not as popular as The Nutcracker this time of year, but…”

“Sounds great,” Lucien said quickly, before Tamlin could say anything about the show they’d missed.

“Great!” Gwyn agreed. “Well, if you ever want to swing by, just tell the Ticket Office that Gwyn—and Cat—Berdara sent you,” she said, gesturing to her sister. “—and they’ll give you the Friends and Family discount.”

“Oh my god, please kill me now,” Cat muttered, covering her face with her free hand.

Lucien ignored her, or at least he pretended to. “Berdara,” he repeated, and Gwyn nodded, beaming. “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Cat tugged on Gwyn’s elbow before she could say more. “Come along, now, Gwyneth,” she said brightly, though her next sentence was said through gritted teeth. “Before I murder you.”

“What did I do?” Gwyn whined as her sister led her away, and Tamlin and Lucien chuckled.

“Well, that was an interesting conversation,” Lucien remarked, giving Tamlin an amused smile. “Let me guess, one of them tried to ask you out?”

Tamlin blushed. “How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess.” Lucien brushed a stray hair from his face. “But honestly, I’m not surprised. What woman wouldn’t want to take a bite out of a studmuffin like you?” He winked.

Tamlin blushed harder and breathed a laugh, then his smile faded. You must be beating off the girls with a stick, the dean once told him. He sighed, and it clouded the air. Would the nightmare of Amarantha ever stop haunting him?

“Hey,” Lucien said, tilting his head to catch his eye. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tamlin said, shaking off the wisps of memory like fallen snow on his hair. “Just tired. I didn’t get that much sleep last night, as you well know.”

A slow smile grew on Lucien’s face, and his warm brown eyes sparkled. “I’d apologize, but I’m not that sorry,” he teased, then nodded at the cups in Tamlin’s hands. “Besides, that’s what coffee’s for.”

“Oh, right.” He’d almost forgotten about his order.

As Tamlin took a sip, Lucien asked, “So, what did you get?”

Tamlin swallowed. “Peppermint lattes,” he said with a shy smile, then held out the other cup. “You want one?”

“Oh… Sure,” Lucien said, accepting it with some surprise. “Who was it for?”

“Jurian, but I’m not sure he’d like it. He takes his coffee blacker than black, so…”

“So does Alex,” Lucien agreed, then lifted the bright red cup for a sip. “Mmm. It’s good. I prefer pumpkin spice myself, but… It’s good.” He licked the foam from his lips and smiled. “Thanks.”

The sight warmed Tamlin more than the coffee had, and he smiled back. “You’re welcome.”

Lucien gestured to the coffee line. “Do you mind keeping me company while I get something for Alex? Or do you need to get back to work?”

“Oh, no. It’s fine,” Tamlin said, waving dismissively with his now free hand. “Work can wait.”

“What kind of errand were you running anyway?” Lucien asked as they joined the back of the line. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Errand?”

“Yeah. Jurian said you were running an errand for him, so…”

“Oh.” Tamlin blinked, and thought quickly. “Uh… Coffee run,” he lied, smiling nervously all the while.

“Huh, okay,” Lucien said with an understanding smile, then slipped his gloved hand in Tamlin’s. “Is this okay?”

Tamlin glanced down at their joined hands, then gently squeezed. “It’s more than okay.”

Lucien smiled, and squeezed back. “Okay. Good.”

As the line moved forward, Tamlin thought back on his conversation with Jurian. He still felt like he was Bi instead of Gay, but it didn’t really matter anymore. Even though those two girls were clearly interested, he hadn’t tried to pretend he had a girlfriend instead. It hadn't occurred to him to try. Lucien was his boyfriend, and that’s all there was to it. So what if he had missed out on his chance to take Gwyn’s picture? He and Jurian would have to come up with something else to distract Koschei, which made him wonder…

“When did you see Jurian, anyway?” Tamlin asked.

“Oh, about ten minutes ago,” Lucien said, lifting his cup for another sip. “Alex is talking with him now. I wanted to give them some privacy.”

“Because of his wife?”

Lucien winced. “Yeah.”

Tamlin sighed. “Was I wrong to suggest that? For him to see Jurian, I mean.”

“Of course not,” Lucien assured him. “It’s better that he finds out sooner rather than later, especially before they start having kids.”

“Yikes.”

“You’re telling me.”

They moved forward another place in line.

“So, what’s with the camera bag?” Lucien asked, nudging him gently.

“Birdwatching,” Tamlin said automatically.

Lucien gave him a bemused smile. “Birdwatching,” he repeated. “I didn’t know you were into that… Did you see any good ones?”

“Not really,” Tamlin said dismissively. “It’s mostly just sparrows, and finches this time of year…” He gestured with his cup. “Hence, the coffee.”

“Huh,” Lucien said, then he shrugged. “Maybe you can take me birdwatching in the spring,” he offered. “Then you can show me all the good ones.”

“If you like,” Tamlin remarked, surprised. “It’s really not that interesting.”

Lucien’s head jerked back. “Then why do it?”

Realizing he had been caught in a lie, Tamlin’s face flushed. “I do it for Jurian’s sake,” he said quickly. “He’s the one with the checklist, and I’m the one with the camera, so…”

“Oh.” Lucien nodded thoughtfully, then he smiled. “We’ll find something to do that we both like, then.”

“Sure,” Tamlin agreed, relieved.

After Lucien had ordered two black coffees—for Alex and Jurian, he said—they turned back for the office. With their hands full, they couldn’t hold onto each other anymore, but they did match each other’s leisurely stride as they strolled through the park.

“I’m really glad I got to see you,” Lucien said, smiling warmly. “You were in such a hurry this morning, I didn’t get the chance to give you a proper goodbye.”

Tamlin couldn’t help his blush. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. It worked out better this way. Alex and Jurian get their time to talk, and now so do we.”

“Yeah,” Tamlin murmured, then took a deep breath. “So, where are you going after this? Back to work?”

“Nah,” Lucien said dismissively. “I’m taking the day off. Alex and I are going to lunch, though. I’m taking him to Annie’s, actually. You want to come along?”

“Oh.” Tamlin blinked in surprise. “I, uh, sure. I have to clear it with Jurian first, but…”

“There you are,” an annoyed voice said.

Tamlin and Lucien looked up to see Alex standing with Jurian in the parking lot.

Alex pushed himself away from the expensive-looking car he’d been leaning against. “I thought you got abducted, or something,” he told Lucien chidingly.

Lucien only rolled his eyes. “Will you relax,” he drawled, then held out the extra coffee cup. “I got you a black, two sugars.”

“Oh… Thanks,” Alex muttered, and begrudgingly accepted the peace offering.

Tamlin broke the awkward silence by offering Jurian the extra coffee he’d been carrying. “Dark roast,” he said. “No sugar.”

“Thanks, Tam,” Jurian said, accepting it gratefully. He’d been standing with Alex in his shirt sleeves; he probably hadn’t anticipated having to wait outside this long.

Not wanting to make the situation more awkward by apologizing, Tamlin took another sip. As did they all.

“So,” Jurian announced loudly, when they’d all drunk. “Tam. We have a new client. Who I’m sure you’ve already met.”

“Yeah,” Tam said, nodding at Alex. “Hi, again.”

“Hey,” Alex murmured, then sighed. “Look. I’m sorry…”

Tamlin waved him off. “No, it’s, uh… It’s okay… I didn’t realize you were out here waiting, so…”

“That was my fault, anyway,” Lucien interjected. “I ran into Tam across the street, and we got to talking…”

“Yeah,” Alex said quietly, then sighed again. “Well, Lucien and I should probably get going, so…” He stuck out his hand to Jurian, who shook it. “Thanks, again.”

“Sure,” Jurian said kindly. “I’ll be in touch.”

Alex nodded, then stuffed his hand into his pocket. “Keys.”

“Oh, right,” Lucien said quickly, and shoved his hand inside his own coat pocket.

While he dug, Alex turned his attention to Tamlin next. “In case I don’t see you for a while, good luck… with everything. I hope you get the help you need.”

Tamlin’s head jerked back in surprise. “Help?” he repeated. “Why would I need help?”

“Ah-ha-ha,” Lucien said quickly, and shoved the found keys at his brother. “Here you go,” he said in a sing-song voice that sounded a lot like Shut up now.

Alex fumbled with the keys and his coffee. “Hey—What? What are you doing?”

“Lunch. Car. Now,” Lucien said quickly, trying to herd him toward the driver’s side door.

Alex stepped back and looked at him askance, however. “You didn’t tell him, did you.”

“Tell me what?” Tamlin asked, looking between them.

Even though Lucien tried to shush him, Alex said, “About Eris? Taking on your case?”

Tamlin’s bemused smile faded. “What case?” he asked, looking to Lucien.

His boyfriend grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fucking fuck,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to say anything until I was sure…”

“Sure?” Tamlin echoed. “About what? What is he talking about?” His heart started to sink without quite knowing why.

Lucien took a moment to swallow. “Eris is a lawyer, you know? One of the best. Anyway, I… I sort of asked him to look into what happened to you… You know, seven years ago.”

Tamlin fell back a step, stunned. “You told him?”

Lucien spread his hands wide, at least, the hand that wasn’t holding his coffee. “I just wanted to know if there was a way for you to get your life back… To win a-a settlement, or something—”

“A settlement?” Tamlin echoed. His voice sounded hollow and far away. “You mean going to court? Against that witch? Are you fucking serious?”

Lucien flinched and turned pale. “Tam, I just wanted to help—”

“No. No,” Tamlin said, backing away. The awful memories came back in a rush. “I am not going through that again. You can’t make me.”

“Tam—”

Jurian stepped in. “I think you need to leave,” he told Lucien coolly. When he got like this, it was easy to imagine him in an official uniform and wielding a baton.

Lucien faltered, and tried to skirt around him to catch Tamlin’s eye. “But… But I—”

“Now.”

“Come on, Lu,” Alex said quietly. “We should go.”

Tamlin couldn’t look at them. Any of them. The pancakes he had made that morning threatened to make a reappearance, and he pressed a hand to his mouth.

Lucien sounded broken. “Tam, I’m… I’m so sorry…”

Jurian remained unmoved, however. “If he wants to talk, he’ll call you,” he said firmly, then over his shoulder, he told Tamlin quietly, “I’ll meet you inside.”

Tamlin managed a nod, then opened the door to the building without looking back. He made it just inside the lobby before he started shaking.

Not a minute later, Jurian followed, sans coffee cup, and pulled Tamlin into his arms and let him break down and cry like the frightened child he was.

* * *

“Look, I said I was sorry.”

Lucien glared out the passenger window as hot tears continued to roll down his cheeks. “That doesn’t bring back my boyfriend now, does it?” he said tightly.

Alex sighed as he made a turn down a residential lane. “I didn’t know you hadn’t told him,” he said sorrowfully. “I didn’t know he’d take it so hard. Besides, you were just trying to help—”

Lucien scoffed. “Obviously it didn’t work,” he muttered, and sniffed as he swiped at his wet cheeks. “And now I’m never going to see him again.”

“You don’t know that,” Alex chided. “Give it time, I’m sure he’ll come around—”

“Yeah, in seven more years,” Lucien said mournfully, watching a line of festively decorated houses roll by. “We were going to spend Christmas together.” His chin began to quiver. “And New Year’s.”

“Come on, Lu,” Alex whined. “Don’t do this. You’re supposed to be the one comforting me, remember? I might be getting a divorce. You’re not even married.”

Lucien buried his face in his hands.

“Yet,” Alex added hastily. “You’re not married yet. You never know. This might be a funny story you tell at your wedding someday.”

“Fat chance of that,” Lucien muttered, but he lowered his hands and managed a sniff. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“Mom’s house, remember?”

Lucien groaned.

“Oh, no. Don’t give me that,” Alex warned, turning onto a familiar street. “You’re the one who kept suggesting I come here,” he said, then pulled into the driveway of an old-fashioned, two-story house. “Now, we’re here.”

“You could have warned me,” Lucien complained. “I thought we were going to lunch or something first.”

Alex sighed and turned off the car. “I didn’t think you’d be hungry.”

As his brother dug his duffel bag out of the trunk, Lucien stood back and left the shopping bags where they were. Violin strings and rosin. For Tamlin.

Fresh tears filled his eyes, and he forced himself to look away. Would he ever be able to give them to him? Would Tamlin even accept them? Or would he have to live with the fact that he’d broken Tamlin’s trust in him forever?

“Alex?” Their mother’s voice drifted toward them from the covered porch. “What a surprise! What are you doing here?”

Alex smiled at her and closed the trunk. “Hey, Ma,” he called back. “I thought it was about time we came to visit.”

She gasped audibly at the sight of both of them. “Oh, Lucien, my baby!” she called out happily, then trotted down the steps to meet them.

The former Mrs. Vanserra was a pleasantly plump woman with long auburn hair she wore in a chignon. When she wrapped her arms around her two boys, she smelled like cinnamon, chestnuts, and warm apple pie.

“Mm, it’s so good to see you,” she gushed, giving them both a squeeze. As she pulled away, she looked between the two of them. “Where’s, um, Ianthe?” she asked politely.

Their mother didn’t like Alex’s wife any more than the rest of them, but she at least tried to make an effort.

“It’s a long story,” Alex said with a grim smile.

“Oh,” she said, then noticed the bag in his hand. “Oh, I see,” she said with a wince, then turned to Lucien. “How about you, sweetheart? Are you…?” She trailed off when she noticed Lucien’s red eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. “Oh, dear.”

Lucien didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d found a boyfriend and lost him all in the same week, but his mother probably already knew that. She knew a lot of things.

“Well, come inside, both of you,” she said brightly, giving her sweatered arms a brisk rub. “I just made some gingerbread cookies.”

As she turned her back to lead them into the house, Lucien gave Alex a knowing look. “Told you,” he mouthed.

Alex gave him a resigned shrug, then followed after their mother, and Lucien shoved his hands inside his coat pockets and trailed along behind.

His childhood home looked and smelled much the way it had when he was growing up, like warm bread and furniture polish. It wasn’t exactly the same, of course, since it had been sold the same year his grandfather died, when Lucien was about eight years old. The Autumn Corporation had been willed and given to the former owner’s three daughters, but his only son-in-law was named the new owner and CEO: Beron Vanserra.

The Vanserra family had led a comfortable life before, but suddenly the modest, red-brick home was too small for such a wealthy business executive, so Beron sold the house and moved them all into the heart of the city.

Lucien had really liked it at first. He finally had his own room, they went to plays and the ballet, and he could get whatever he wanted for Christmas and birthdays… But his mother no longer sang as much, and she baked—and ate—a lot more than she used to. Looking back on it, Lucien knew that his father blamed her weight gain as the reason he started sleeping around, but that wasn’t really true. Beron liked being important. He liked the attention.

Just not the sort of attention having a gay son gave him.

And Lucien despised him for it.

It wasn’t until years later, when all the boys were grown, that Beron’s ego was finally taken down a peg. Once Eris had his law degree, he helped their mother get a legal separation from her husband, and a proper settlement besides. He helped her buy back the house that she had so dearly loved. He had helped her get her name back. She was no longer the nameless wife of the CEO, Mrs. Beron Vanserra; she was once again Laura Autumn, baker extraordinaire, and mother of seven, in that order. She was finally herself again.

Lucien would always be grateful to Eris for taking that kind of risk. Beron nearly fired him when he found out, but he reconsidered once he realized that Eris could end up working for his competition. So he kept Eris close. He kept all of his boys close, even Lucien. Not in a familial way, of course, but at least the job paid well. And it came with a nice expense account… When he was allowed to use it, anyway.

While Alex took his bag into the living room, their mother bustled around the kitchen. The radio was playing a soft version of Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire. The still-hot oven filled the tiled kitchen with warmth and the smell of cinnamon. Rows of gingerbread cookies were moved from cooling racks and onto decorative platters for icing later.

Watching her, Lucien felt like a little kid again. After a long day of school, he’d come home out of the cold and kick off his shoes and drop off his backpack by the door, then clamber up onto the stool and let his socked feet dangle while his mom puttered around the kitchen. She would listen to him complain about math or how the mean kids had made fun of his lisp again, then she’d let him lick the stirring spoon, or give him a fresh cookie with a glass of milk to help him feel all better. It always helped.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the sort of problem that even homemade cookies could solve.

He let out a sigh and shrugged out of his coat, then draped it over the back of the barstool before sitting down at the counter. Just like he used to do when he was little, he hunched over and rested his chin on his fists. “Hey, Mom?”

“Yes, hon?”

Lucien sighed again. “Have you ever made a huge mistake?”

She smiled to herself as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, lots of times.”

He quirked his mouth to one side. “Did you ever make one so big it ruined your whole life?”

Her warm brown eyes twinkled with amusement as she met his gaze. “Nothing that dramatic, I assure you.”

“What did you do?”

Her smile faded and grew thoughtful. “Well, I married a man far too old for me, but… I was eighteen, I was in love, and I thought I knew better.” She sighed as she untied her apron strings and went on, “Now, I do know better, but the knowledge came with more wrinkles and more stretch marks than I’d care to admit.” She pointed at Lucien as she went to hang up her apron on its wooden peg. “But I want you to know that I don’t regret having a single one of you boys… I love you all to bits, even if you do turn my hair gray sometimes.”

Lucien huffed a laugh, even though it hurt a little. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, giving him the same smirk that he and his brothers shared. She gestured to his own auburn strands. “You’ll get your own gray hairs soon enough. I can promise you that.”

Lucien wrinkled his nose and sniffed. “Probably a lot sooner than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

Alex walked into the kitchen, dusting off his hands. “Hey, Ma,” he said. “Did you get rid of the old couch?”

“Yes, I decided a loveseat was a better fit for the space.”

Alex looked truly taken aback. “When was this?”

“Oh, about three months ago,” she mused, moving some dirty dishes to the sink. “If you came to visit more often, I’m sure you would have noticed.”

Lucien and Alex exchanged a guilty wince. It had been a while.

At their silence, their mother quirked her mouth to one side and placed a hand on her hip. Tapping her elegant fingernails against the countertop, she said, “All right. Who’s first.”

They startled.

“First for what?”

“What do you mean?”

She arched an eyebrow. “I’m lucky if I see one of you boys once a month, and now two of you are here on the same day?” She gestured between them. “There is something going on, and you are going to tell me. Now. Who’s first?”

Lucien took a deep breath, but Alex spoke first.

“I’ll go.”

“No, I’ll go,” Lucien insisted. “It won’t really make sense unless I start from the beginning.”

“How far back are we talking?”

Lucien swallowed. “About seven years.”

* * *

Tamlin glanced up from his seat at the desk as Jurian walked through the office door, bearing a takeout bag with Annie’s logo on it.

“Hey,” Jurian said kindly, setting it on the one clean spot on the desk. “I’ve got Corned Beef on Rye, and Annie’s famous apple pie,” he offered, shrugging off his coat. “Oh, and Alis said to tell you Hello.”

Tamlin swallowed, but he still had no appetite. “Thanks,” he said quietly, then returned his attention to the piles of papers he’d been sorting. He’d needed to file them for a while now, and now was the perfect time to take his mind off of… well, everything else.

Jurian sighed, then closed the door to hang up his coat. “So, any calls?”

“No.”

“Any calls from him?”

Tamlin shook his head this time. “No.”

Jurian considered this, then gently lowered himself into the empty seat across the desk. “You want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

“Not really.”

“Okay,” Jurian said, sitting back in his chair. He took a deep breath and twiddled his thumbs. “What about that assignment I gave you before. Any luck?”

Tamlin sighed, and ran his thumb over the papers’ stapled edge. “I couldn’t do it,” he said quietly. “There was someone there, in the park, who looked like Vassa, and I couldn’t do it.”

Jurian lowered the chair to the floor. “There’s no shame in that,” he said gently. He seemed to be considering his words carefully. “Maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be doing this, anymore.”

That got Tamlin’s attention. “What do you mean?”

Jurian took a deep breath. “I made some calls today,” he said slowly. “There’s a Scythian embassy in the northeast part of the country. It’s going to take some time, but… the guy I spoke to on the phone, he’s interested in working with us… He wants to know more about Mr. Koschei.”

Tamlin’s brows rose in shock. “What about Vassa?”

Jurian shrugged. “Any information we can give him, he’ll take, but I don’t think we have to give Koschei anything else.”

Tamlin let out a sudden breath. It was the best news he’d heard all day. “So we’re free? Just like that?”

Jurian chuckled. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said wryly, “but essentially, yeah.”

“No photos?”

“No headshots. No nothing,” Jurian finished, smiling tightly. He shrugged again. “I thought you could use some good news, after today.”

Tamlin’s smile faded. “Yeah,” he murmured, and dropped his gaze. “Thanks.”

“Of course, this means we won’t be getting a new couch,” Jurian remarked. “So, if you’re okay with that…”

Tamlin’s heart twinged, as did his neck. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Jurian sighed and shook his head. “You don’t have to lie, you know. You can say it fucking sucks, because it does. It really does.”

Tamlin breathed a laugh, but it was a sad laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

* * *

The kitchen was almost peaceful as Lucien sat at the table with his mother and his brother, drinking hot tea and nibbling on fresh gingerbread as they looked out at the snowy backyard. Twittering birds flitted from birdfeeder to birdfeeder, fattening themselves up on nuts and seeds before perching on the same snow-covered swingset that he and his six brothers had played on all those years ago. It would have made the perfect Christmas card… if Lucien had not just finished telling his mother the story of what had happened to Tamlin all those years ago.

Crack.

Lucien winced as yet another walnut shell shattered under his mother’s forceful nutcracking.

Shells littered the table like shrapnel, but she didn’t seem to notice as she dropped the kernel into a separate bowl and reached for yet another walnut.

“If that devil woman ever dared to lay a finger on one of my babies—” She put the nut between the jaws of her metal pliers. Crack. “—She’d be marking the days on her jail cell wall with chalk held between her toes.”

“Ma,” Alex said cautiously from the other end of the table. “Don’t get so worked up. You’ll give yourself a heart attack, or—or arthritis, or something.”

She glared and reached for another nut. “Don’t worry. I’m perfectly fine.” Crack.

Alex sighed and shook his head, and Lucien sighed, too.

As he crumbled gingerbread crumbs between his fingers, he asked her, “So you don’t think I was wrong to ask Eris for help?”

Crack.

Their mother huffed. “No,” she said quietly, reaching for yet another nut. “But, really, you shouldn’t have kept it a secret from your boyfriend. If you had told him what you wanted to do from the beginning, he might have been upset, but I think he would have come around. Eventually.” Crack.

Lucien leaned forward. “See, that’s what I wanted to do, but if Eris didn’t think he had a case, I didn’t want to risk upsetting him.” He glared at his brother. “Then Alex had to go and open his big fat mouth.”

“Hey!” Alex squawked. “Don’t pin this on me,” he said, pointing. “You’re the one who stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.”

“Me? You’re the one who kept pestering me with so many questions.”

“That’s because you never tell me anything.”

“For good reason!”

“Boys,” their mother warned.

The two of them sat back andcrossed their arms and mumbled an apology.

“Sorry, Ma.”

“Sorry.”

Their mother drew a deep breath, then set the nutcracker aside. As she wiped off her hands with a clean dishtowel, she declared, “It was an unfortunate accident. What’s done is done. The only thing you can do now is… well, wait for him to come around.”

Lucien sighed again, and shoved his plate aside to slump forward and rest his folded arms on the table. “What if he doesn’t? What if I never see him again?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and rubbed his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. But that’s up to him.”

“It could be worse,” Alex offered. “He could be cheating on you and giving you the silent treatment at the same time.”

“Is that what happened to you, sweetheart?” their mother asked gently.

“Yeah,” Alex mumbled, glumly swirling his mug of tea. “Well, maybe. I know Ianthe is pissed at—sorry, Ma—I mean, mad about me staying late at the office, but that’s not my fault. Dad’s been hounding me over the numbers for this stupid audit.”

“Oh, has that started already?”

“Not yet, but—” Alex sat up. “Wait. How do you know about the audit?”

“Because I called and asked someone to look into it.”

Alex gawked at her. “You mean you called the press?”

“They weren’t my first call,” she remarked, reaching for her tea, “but, yes, I did.”

“You, wha—Were you going to tell us this?”

She smiled sweetly. “If I did that, then that would ruin all the fun, now, wouldn’t it.”

“Fun?” Alex echoed.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, still smiling, and took a sip of tea.

Lucien sat up, stunned. “Why an audit? Why now?” he asked her.

She rested her elbows on the table as she cradled her mug, looking thoughtful. “That’s a good question,” she mused. “I suppose I decided to do it this way when your father’s picture appeared in the paper last month. You know, at the city’s annual charity dinner?”

“Sure,” Alex said, but he looked as confused as Lucien felt.

“I didn’t go,” Lucien said with a shrug.

“Neither did I, but do you know how much your father paid for a plate at this particular dinner?”

“No.”

“But I can guess,” Alex offered.

She didn’t give him the chance. “It was more than he gives me in a month.”

Lucien’s mouth fell open. “What?!”

“No way,” Alex declared, leaning forward. “I’ve seen the books. You should have gotten a lot more than that…”

She smiled a tight smile. “I know.”

Lucien and Alex exchanged worried glances.

When neither of them spoke, she assured them, “Don’t worry. I have plenty of savings. I’m perfectly all right.” She shifted in her seat, then went on, “But, per the terms of our separation agreement, Beron agreed to pay me a generous monthly stipend. He would never agree to divorce me, because my father wrote that into his will. If Beron left me, for any reason, he would get nothing. Unfortunately, the same was true for me.”

She smiled sadly and ran a thumb over the handle of her mug. “My father wanted me and my sisters to have some security,” she said softly. “After my mother died, he was never the same. He knew I was making a mistake by choosing Beron, but… he wanted me to be happy. And at the time, I was.”

She sighed and shook her head, then continued, “I first noticed my stipend decreasing this past summer. Beron said sales were down, and I chose to believe him. Every company has its ups and downs. I know that. Besides, Eris made sure I was comfortable.” She paused to take another sip. “But then, last month, my stipend was almost half of what it was. The holidays are the busy season. They always have been,” she said firmly, then smiled a cool, calculating smile. “So, if sales are truly down, then an audit is the least of Beron’s worries, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucien huffed an amazed laugh. “Damn,” he said appreciatively, then winced. “Ooh, sorry Mom.”

She chuckled as she lifted her mug. “That’s all right, baby. I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Alex rested his chin in his hand. He suddenly looked very tired. “I wish you had told me,” he complained. “Then maybe Ianthe wouldn’t be giving me such a hard time right now.”

Their mother gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you can always call her. Provided that she doesn’t tell Beron about the audit. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you both to keep this a secret from your father, too.”

“I thought secrets were a bad thing,” Lucien pointed out, even though he had no intention of telling his father anything.

She gave him a wincing smile. “I know. But I just don’t want to give Beron the chance to retaliate. He would burn the Autumn Corporation to the ground before giving up control, especially to one of you boys.”

“Can we tell Eris, at least?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” she promised. “But only after the audit starts. Then Beron will have no reason to suspect he was involved.”

Lucien sat up with a start. “Hey, Mom, did you ever do any research, or hire a private investigator before you got started, or…?”

She looked surprised, but shook her head. “No. This was all my idea. That’s why I don’t want your father to know.”

“So, Tamlin wasn’t involved at all?”

“Did you think he was?”

Lucien felt a relieved smile grow on his face. “Eris thought he might be, because he works for a private eye, but…” He breathed a laugh. “He’s not, is he?”

She shook her head. “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

Lucien grinned, then pushed himself away from the table. “I need to go see him. Can I tell Tam about the audit? I promise he won’t tell—”

“Lucien.”

He paused at his mother’s firm tone.

She took a deep breath. “Does your boyfriend know that you suspected him of being involved?”

His hopeful smile faded. “No.”

She gave him a sad smile in turn. “Then you shouldn’t tell him. He needs time to be alone. Just give him that. Can you do that, for me?”

Lucien sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“I know this is hard,” she said gently, “but it’s for the best.”

She pushed herself away from the table to take the bowl of nuts over to the counter. As she began cleaning up, she offered, “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I have some pasta in the fridge, or there’sthat charming little pizzeria we used to go to when you were little. How does that sound? I’m sure they still deliver.”

He managed a smile. “Sure. Thanks, Mom,” he said quietly.

The pizza was as good as he remembered, but he still didn’t have much of an appetite. When dinner was over, he asked Alex to take him back to his apartment. He agreed without arguing, for once.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?” his mother asked as he and Alex put on their coats. “You’re welcome to spend the night, you know.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lucien assured her, buttoning up his coat. “I’d rather sleep in my own bed, anyway. It’s been a long day.”

She sighed. “I understand,” she said kindly, and rubbed his arm. “Call me when you hear something, all right?” When he said he would, she pressed a bag of cookies into his hand. “And here’s something for when you get home.”

He chuckled, and accepted the cookies, and his mother’s hug. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, bending his head to kiss her cheek.

Snow was just starting to fall when Alex’s car pulled up under the awning of Lucien’s apartment. Alex kept the car running while Lucien retrieved his bags from the trunk. Before he could go inside, though, Alex rolled down the passenger side window and called him over.

“Hey, Lu?”

Lucien trudged over and leaned in. “Yeah?”

Alex gave him a tight smile. “You take care of yourself, okay?”

Lucien nodded, even though his heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, okay. Be safe out there.”

“I will.” Alex tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. “Listen. I’m sorry again, about your boyfriend…”

Lucien shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Mom’s right. I just need to wait it out.”

Alex sighed. “Yeah. Well, if you ever need to talk…”

“I’ll let you know,” Lucien agreed, nodding. “See you at work tomorrow?”

Alex sucked in a sharp breath and winced. “Probably not. I think I need to avoid Dad for a little while. You know how shit I am at keeping secrets.”

Lucien snorted. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Alex smirked. “Hey, at least I wasn’t the one who told you Santa Claus wasn’t real.”

“Wow. Anything else you want to say to ruin my day?”

Alex chuckled and made to put the car into gear. “See ya, Lulu.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Alex was still laughing when he rolled up his window and drove off into the snowy twilight.

Lucien shook his head and smiled, but it had faded by the time he made it up to his floor. It was a lonely walk back to his apartment, and it was going to be even lonelier when he went inside. As he unlocked the door, he thought about having a glass of wine, and maybe watching a movie to unwind.

As he remembered the movie he and Tamlin had ‘watched’ the night before, he decided to havetwo glasses of wine. He’d have one hell of a hangover the next day, but at least it would give him an excuse to call off work. Then he wouldn’t have to face Eris, or their father… or the memories.

He sighed as he dropped his keys onto the little table by the door, then set his bags underneath. As he straightened to unbutton his coat, he paused. He hadn’t had any wine yet, so why was he seeing double? There were two sets of keys on the table, and the fireplace was lit, which could only mean…

“Hey, Lu.”

He gasped, and his heart leapt to his throat as Tamlin pushed himself out of one the easy chairs in front of the fire.

Tamlin managed a tight smile as he slowly wrung his hands. “Can we talk?”

[sweetwriter]

Imagine

The bucket list

Choose x Black!Reader

You were tasked to “humanize” Choso. YN didn’t know what she was doing, this is a whole grown man who has been alive longer than she has by a long shot. 

As you were looking through your photo album- you found, your old bucket lists. 

“Hello, I’m YN, nice to meet you. You’re Choso right?”

“Um yeah” There was a long pause. There was a really awkward pause. Remember YN he doesn’t know what to do, you need to be patient.

“Well- lets go” You walk out Jujustu High and head to the dorms. 

“Alright Choso, here’s the plan, I’m going to teach you about everything- well as much as I can think of- and I’m going to teach you through a bucket list.” Choso was following, until he heard the word bucket list.

“What’s a bucket list”

“It’s a list of things that you want to do. We’re going to write somethings that I’ll do with you so you’re not doing it by yourself. And then when the list is done- you’ll no longer need me.” 

Choso shoulders slugged a little bit, the thought of one of the first people to care about him, saying that she will eventually leave, but hopefully that’s farther down the line.

It took a couple of days, a lot of explaining and lots of pens and stickers to make the most Judy Moody-esque bucket list ever.

pull an all-nighter watching movies

Make a sand castle

Ride a bike

Buy a pumpkin spice latte

Late night drive

(Those were some of the ideas)

“Ok, so this is a bucket list” Choso sighed. He was actually in awe- because he has never seen someone anything like this. 

“So, when do you want to start” YN smiled at him. 

It was a February day and YN looks at this list, some of these things, Choso can’t do until the specific season, some things they could make work, she thought. 

“Alright, let’s go to the grocery store”

“Is that where all the food is?” He says as he gets up. YN notices that Choso is very docile, it takes her aback, remembering how forceful he is as a fighter. 

She watches him put on his new favorite sweater- it had a picture of him and his brothers on it and they headed out the door. You guys drive by playing rnb through the radio. Choso is usually on alert, to protect his brothers and himself from an ambush. This time around, he doesn’t feel his eyes checking every direction to make sure no one is sneaking up on him.

Choose was able to rest- and now on a mission to experience as much as possible

A/N: Just a lil thought

[harrywavycurly]

Can we get an update on pregnant reader and Eddie?

Hiii babes!! So I am working on an update that’s actually another request so in the meantime I thought maybe I’d give you some random conversations. I hope that’s okay??😬💖

-friendly reminder in this series Eddie is a boy dad✨

*Eddie knows you’re pregnant but he doesn’t know much else…also this mentions Chrissy because in this universe everyone is alive lol*

“You like the color black?” “Yeah it goes with everything and it’s just easy.” “It’s easy? It’s a color princess not a math test.” “It’s just an easy color to find things in like when people try to get you a gift or whatever it’s always easy to find stuff in black.” “I’ve never thought of it like that…” “what’s yours?” “I like black but I also like red.” “How very metal of you Eddie.” “That’s me. Totally metal.” “Well Mr. Heavy Metal can you hand me that pack of onesies so I can wash them.”

“Did you really just ask me that in the middle of the frozen section of the mini mart?” “I mean…no time like the present right?” “Eddie…” “what? I just..I just realized I like doing things like this…with you and I know we kinda are on this crazy journey right now but I just needed to know where you’re mind is…about…us.” “I mean you’re offering to help me raise my baby so…I kinda thought you were my boyfriend at the very least.” “Really? Thank god I was terrified you were about to drop the best friend line on me.” “Best friends know more about each other than we do. So yeah you’re my boyfriend…if that’s okay?” “Hell yeah that’s okay baby.” “Now what kind of frozen pizza do you want?” “Whatever my girlfriend wants is fine with me.” “You’re kind of annoying has anyone ever told you that?” “Everyday since I was three.”

“Hey sweetheart do you drink coffee?” “Yeah I just can’t right now.” “How do you take it?” “My coffee? Just cream and sugar and I do like to dabble in holiday flavors when they are out.” “Please tell me you’re not a pumpkin spice girl…” “says the man who goes crazy for anything gingerbread flavored.” “Gingerbread is delicious.” “So is an iced pumpkin spice latte.” “Moving on…do you drink tea?” “Yes herbal teas are my favorite. I drink peppermint when I’m nauseous.” “Just by itself or do you add shit to it?” “Well peppermint I drink plain but like the ginger lemon one I add honey.” “Honey…ginger lemon…got it.” “Are you writing all this down?” “Yeah.” “Why?” “So one day when you ask me for coffee or tea i know exactly how you like it…why are you crying?” “You’re so fucking cute Eddie Munson.”

“So you loved her? Or was it just a crush?” “Uhh just a crush I think…never acted on it so not sure…Chrissy was nice though she was never mean to me like her asshole boyfriend was.” “That’s good I’d hate to have to kick her ass.” “What about you? Anyone I need to beat up?” “Uh…I can think of one….” “did uh did you two date or was it like a uhm…one night type thing?” “he was an on and off type thing but he decided to cut all ties when he found out I was pregnant.” “Shit I’m sorry sweetheart. He’s clearly the world’s biggest idiot for letting you go.” “Thanks Eddie.” “I’ll gladly kick his ass for you baby just point him out and his ass is grass.” “Hopefully I won’t ever see him again but yeah…I’ll point him out for you.” “You know I’d never make you do all this alone right?” “What if…what if this get to be too much for you? I wouldn’t blame you for leaving.” “Let me make it clear for you okay? Even if one day we decide we aren’t good for each other and break up or whatever…I will still be apart of his life, I will make sure he knows he’s loved…now I may not be the best role model but I’ll at least be there for him to look up to.” “Why do you always make me cry? It’s fucking rude.”

[transmickey]

weekly tag wednesdays aw hell yeah 🕺 thank you @deedala for bringing back tag game days + @creepkinginc @mickeysgaymom for also tagging me :D

name: ajax

age: hey siri play '20 something' by sza yes i know i've made this joke before shut up

favorite color: dark blue 🫐

what emoji best describes your current mood? 🥱🥰🥶 you can have three. as a little treat.

what season is it where you are right now? the best season 🍁🍂🐿️

were you up before or after the sun this morning? after 😬 definitely was not meant to wake up before 😬 definitely did not sleep through my 9am class 😬😬😬

are you currently in possession of a pumpkin? nope.. i think it's been like 5 years since i last was now that i think about it :o

do you prefer to carve or paint your jack-o-lanterns? i didn't even know people painted them!! i always carved 🎃

do you have a favorite pumpkin-spice flavored treat? If so, what is it? i do not........ i only ever really saw pumpkin spice lattes until a couple years ago and i do not like coffee so..

what's your favorite season and what's your favorite pie that you associate with it? autumn 🍂 + probably apple..? i feel like pies aren't really a big thing here 🤔

we're having a pot-luck, what are you going to bring? hmm.. a big cheesy garlic bread because ykw i want right now. some freakin cheesy garlic bread

it's chilly outside and you need a hot drink in your hands, what are you drinking? gonna be very stereotypically british and say good ol' english breakfast tea

will you be wearing a costume for Halloween? Is it ready? i will not :( i am like 99% sure my halloween will be spent sat at my desk writing a lab report so. no halloween plans for me.

finally, what's something you've made or done recently that you're proud of? um. um. um. i haven't done much lately HAHA umm i started writing my postgrad applications..? kind of....???? i've been putting it off for months bc Stress

aaaand tagging some lovely people if you would like to join 🫶 @lupeloto @jrooc @milkovichrules @gallawitchxx @heymrspatel @stocious @deathclassic @rereadanon @jademickian @mickmilks @tanktopgallavich @m4ndysk4nkovich @thepupperino @juliakayyy

[bingoboingobongo]

task force 141 + favorite starbucks holiday drinks

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: bc the 'alpha males only drink black coffee' mentality is stupid. give these men a creme brulee latte. also can u tell im running out of ideas (help)

simon "ghost" riley:

yeah yeah ik i said this was gonna be starbucks holiday drinks but guys you really think simon's the kinda guy to order a sugar cookie pumpkin spice creme brulee apple strudel frappucino?

yeah that's what i thought

the others will all follow the theme tho i swear

but for now let's talk about simon

he doesn't drink starbucks very much but when he does he usually has two go to drinks

a steamed apple juice or a london fog tea latte

he'll get the latte hot or cold depending on the weather ofc

his favorite thing to do is cozy up with a nice book and a warm drink from starbucks especially during the winter months

and bc he's an environmentally conscious king (and because he has a reputation to maintain let's be real) he always brings his own black tumbler for the drink

also i don't know why but i like to think that he has a bunch of starbucks gift cards from random holidays over the years

so he hasn't spent his own money on starbucks in months

he also never orders in person

and he puts down another name for his order too

sometimes ghost will order a hot chocolate though

but they have a tendency to be really sweet so they're not his favorite

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so i feel like soap's go to holiday drinks is the irish cream cold brew

also before i explain why why is no one talking about the shadows constantly calling soap a leprechaun and an irish person?

like it happens multiple times during the alone mission and it's so funny

anyways

what can i say soaps a cold foam kind of guy

he's just like me frfr

honestly he really doesn't have much of a sweet tooth (at least when it comes to coffee) and he feels like the slight sweetness of the cold foam mixed with the bitter cold brew makes the perfect coffee sweetness

also soap's the kind of person to get iced drinks no matter the weather

like it could be snowing and hailing and he'd still get his iced coffee

he also asks for extra cold foam

bc he likes those first few sips where all you get is the foam before the coffee starts mixing in

also off topic but soap also went feral during the free red cup day

like you know he dropped everything to grab one before they ran out

he's done it everytime they do it and he's so scared that he's gonna miss his streak because of work some day

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so maybe it's sorta simple but in gaz's opinion you can never go wrong with an iced peppermint mocha

i mean the name itself just screams holidays

and the flavor speaks for itself

gaz is just a fan of chocolate in general though

and he actually doesn't really like coffee, so the sweetness of the chocolate is nice because it combats the bitterness of the coffee

he also really likes peppermint so it works out too

like you know those peppermint chocolates you get from olive garden?

he eats those up oml

he also only puts in one shot of espresso

because a lot of caffeine makes him anxious

also he doesn't like staying awake at night most of the time

plus he always gets less whipped cream

it's surprising but he's honestly not that much of a fan

that being said though, you can't have a mocha without whipped cream

so he'll oblige a little bit

john price:

alrighty so price's favorite drink is a caramel brulee frappucino

and i am very confident in saying that

i don't really know why but i just feel like he would enjoy it

i like to think that the first time he had it was when someone else went on a coffee run and he told them to just get him whatever

so they got him this and now he's obsessed

he's always been a fan of caramel so it only makes sense

like he goes ham on the caramel

people have told him to just get a caramel frappucino instead but he never does

so instead he gets the caramel brulee frappe with caramel sauce, syrup, drizze

the whole nine yards

i mean price has a sweet tooth what can i say

he needs something to balance out the flavor of all those cigars he smokes

and yes gaz and the others always makes fun of price whenever he gets his drink

but price doesn't even care he is living his best life

he also definitely gets a reindeer cake pop too whenever he goes

the chestnut praline latte is definitely a close second for price tho

but he likes the texture of a frappucino over a latte

alejandro vargas:

okay so honestly ik it's kinda basic but alejandro is a hot chocolate kinda guy

i mean it's like the most iconic holiday drink there is

besides like eggnog or smthing but tbh i always forget eggnog is a thing

anyways hot chocolate is always like the thing to get alejandro in the holiday spirit

it brings him back to making ibarra hot chocolate with his family as a kid

ofc starbucks hot chocolate is not as good as ibarra

but hot chocolate is hot chocolate and it gets the job done in a pinch

one time he tried adding cinnamon to the starbucks hot chocolate to make it more like ibarra

man to this day he doesn't know what he did wrong but he knows something was wrong bc it did not taste like ibarra at all

it tasted worse than it started too

that was truly disappointing

he also likes getting a sandwich or croissant from the bakery too as a light snack

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright so this one is easy

and honestly like the first one i thought of

but rudy lives for the sugar cookie almond milk latte

i also like to think that rudy tends to run pretty cold (especially during the winter) and so he gets the hot version and holds it in his hands with his sleeve pulled to his fingertips and let's the steam warm him up

while he does like a little dance to try and keep himself warm

i mean what can i say rudy is like the epitome of having a sweet tooth

plus he really likes sugar cookies so it works out

like he loves those soft sugar cookies you get at walmart (the lofthouse cookies)

also rudy is lactose intolerant

ur welcome all my lactose intolerant readers out there he's ur representation

idk man i just feel like that makes sense to me

and bc like the rest of you lactose intolerant lunatics he's incapable of actually avoiding dairy (seriously you guys have a problem) he has a bunch of lactaids in one of the pockets of his vest

[amywritesthings]

Hello Hello Hello-ween! 👻

This is Episode 1 (...dunno whether there will be more...) of

Oddly Specific Asks🗿✨️

where you will get oddly specific questions and choices that will tingle your pringle. Let's go!

1) Favorite line in Avatar: The Last Airbender?

2) Best Justin Bieber Song?

3) QUICK ROUND! Pumpkin Spice or Matcha Latte?

4) Favorite way to cut a sandwich?

5) Most annoying Anime character?

6) QUICK ROUND! Mint chocolate on pizza or cheesy pineapple on ice cream?

7) Rate yourself: How well would you perform with ODM gear? On a scale from Sasha's potato to Levi VS Beast Titan.

8) In a fight between a peanut, a pistachio and a macadamia nut - who would win and why?

9) QUICK ROUND! Never read FanFic again or never write FanFic again?

10) GET CREATIVE! Write a short dialogue between any AoT character and a mindless titan about the lastest hairstyles in Mitras. Add details of the titan's reaction as well as at least two rhymes.

Thanks for playing! If you enjoyed this stupid game my silly little brain has come up with, let me know in your answer and I will give you another round. I hope this made you smile at least a little!

Best,

a very weird German <3

hallo-sleepover '24! / accepting.

When I tell you that I just finished eaten a chicken pesto sandwich and opened my inbox and went my god. I am so game.

1) Technically, I have two because I'm a LoK truther as much as ATLA. Unironically, they're both Uncle Iroh. "Perfection and power are overrated. I think you are very wise to choose happiness and love instead." (ATLA) + "If you look for the light, you will often find it; but if you look for the dark, that is all you will ever see." (LOK)

2) I don't know many Justin Beiber songs, but one of my cardio classes once used "Friends" and it's such a good song.

3) Pumpkin Spice, I'll never choose anything different.

4) In half because I am lazy.

5) Bestie you're going to get me in trouble 😭 my heart says Eren from AOT (I'm sorry please don't add me to the weird yeagerist hit list) but I feel like the diplomatic answer is Mineta from MHA. I want that diaper grape eviscerated.

6) Mint chocolate on pizza. Something about a cheesy pineapple makes my texture sensitivity want to fly into the sun.

7) Without a threat? I'd be able to use ODM gear at like a confident 4 because I train with weights 6x a week, but the second you put a titan in front of me? -10. We're getting eaten, my friends. I am so bad with scary things.

8) I'm going to be so honest -- I have never eaten any of these LMAO so I'm going by name, and 'Amy Macadamia' sounds very Myspace to me, so I'm going to sit myself in the mac nut corner.

9) Never read fic again. I've been writing my own self-indulgent fanfiction since I was ten years old on every surface I could pen or type. There is no way I am giving up the ability to hide in my own little escapism world.

10) You're fucking crazy SKDJFKSDF ALRIGHT I DID MY BEST

Chewing on one-half of his slightly stale sandwich, Connie squints at the titan strapped down by Hange's latest invention. Surveillance shifts sucked, but not even the brainless could convince the boy not to talk.

"So... you got a whole head of hair. Wild. Kinda flowy, and stuff -- to be put it mild." He chomps down on another edge, speaking with his mouth full. "How'd you grow that out?"

The titan blinks right through Connie's sandwich, its tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

"Or were you... uh, titan-born that way?"

Another blink.

Yeah. this conversation was going a whopping fuckin' nowhere.

"Thought about growing out my own situation." Connie holds up his free hand to pet it through his own buzzcut. "I'm not bald, for your information."

It didn't ask. Then again, Connie didn't ask to get put on this damn detail, so he keeps going. He puffs out his chest and considers.

"I know Jean's already growing out his mullet, but would that be copying if I did it, too? I mean Mitras has, like -- what, three good hairstyles right now?" He lists on his sandwich-slicked fingers. "Mullet, braid -- ew -- and the undercut thing. I'm not getting flack for copying Captain Levi, though. No, siree."

The titan gurgles, and Connie can't help but feel like it was big guy code for indifference to his plight.

"...damn, you're really no help."

[hannahhook7744]

Saving Christmas!

Summary; Ben finds out why Chad and Audrey aren't going home for Christmas this year and decides that he's going to save Christmas for his old friends. Takes place around d1. Trigger warnings; mentioned death, unintentional neglect, emotional abuse, sick child, unintentional favoritism, sick child, etc.

🎅🤶🧑‍🎄🎅🤶🧑‍🎄🎅🤶🧑‍🎄🎅🤶🧑‍🎄🎅🤶🧑‍🎄🎅🤶🧑‍🎄

"Hey what are you guys doing for Christmas break this year?" Ben asked one day over lunch. 

It was a particularly wintery December 1st when the question was asked and Jane, Doug, Lonnie, and four very excited vks answered almost immediately. 

Mal and Jane were going to the Moors with FG to celebrate it.

Doug and Evie were going over to Snow White's castle with his family to celebrate.

Lonnie and Jay weren't celebrating but still had plans. 

Lonnie was going home to visit her family. 

Jay was going to Agrabah after being invited to by Aziz and Jordan. 

And Carlos was going to be spending it in London with the Radcliffes after their niece, Amber, had sent him an invite. 

After sharing that his grandfather was coming over to celebrate it with him, Ben noticed something.

Audrey and Chad had been eerily silent for the conversation. 

And looking back, it didn't take Ben long to realize that Chad hadn't spoken much all morning. 

"What about you two? What are you doing?" The brunette asked, shooting the two a sweet smile.

Thinking that they were just getting put off by the new group dynamics again. After all, it did take some getting use to —going from a tight knit group of six friends to ten almost overnight. 

And Chad always did have trouble warming up to new people. 

"Uh, we... aren't celebrating this year" Audrey replied, uncharacteristically awkward when it became apparent that Chad wasn't going to. 

The blonde hadn't looked up from his tray to acknowledge any of them since they sat down and was just playing with his food, looking downtrodden.

The amount of prunes, chocolate pudding, and pizza on his plate had stayed the same despite the fact that lunch was nearly over. His pumpkin spice latte hadn't been touched either. 

Ben couldn't help but feel concerned now that he noticed it. After all, the prince never turned his favorite foods down but here he was. Doing just that. 

And the fact that he and Audrey now apparently weren't celebrating Christmas—THEIR FAVORITE HOLIDAY—either was just worsened the concern he felt. 

Apparently he wasn't the only one feeling that way either. 

"WHAT?!" Jane yelped, "but you guys love Christmas!"  

"Yeah. What's going on?" Doug added. 

He and Chad had slowly began repairing their friendship after Ben's coronation after Chad had apologized to all of them for his behavior over the year. Plus their families usually spent Christmas together since Snow White was Chad's (non-fairy) godmother. 

No one had mentioned anything about plans changing to him. 

Audrey gave them a tired look– as if almost asking 'really?' Before sighing and halfway giving in to their questions. 

"Grammy is still upset that Ben and I didn't work out, Ariana is smug about it and has a new prince boyfriend, and my parents, aunt, uncle, and fairy Godmothers are too busy to attend this year. And since I really don't feel like being criticized over every little thing this year with no one there to buffer it, I've decided to stay at school with Chad."

No one was quite sure how to react to her snappish response. But the vks– Evie especially– looked downright murderous. But instead of commenting after a few painfully long silent moments, Jay decided to prod some more. 

"And you can't just celebrate with Chad, why?"

Audrey shot the thief a harsh glare, confirming everyone's suspicions that she had been avoiding the question, before begrudgingly answering. "Because Chad has absolutely no motivation to decorate because this will be his first Christmas without his grandfather, Prudence, and Duke who died before the school year started since before he was adopted." 

Ben got a sinking feeling in his stomach as he glanced over at his oldest prince friend. Oh. Oh.  

Oh no. 

Suddenly the pudding on his own tray didn't seem as appetizing anymore. 

Surely he hadn't gotten so caught up in his kingly duties that he had forgotten to check in on his fellow prince to see if he was doing alright? And surely he had checked in on Audrey after the love spell wore off? 

Looking back at the events of the school year and Chad's and Audrey’s behavior made him realize that he had, in fact, dropped the ball on this one. But before he could say anything, Doug spoke up. 

"But, uh, why isn't Chad going home? Not that I don't understand he's upset—" he said quickly after the hard stare the princess gave him—"It's just that he and his family usually spend the holiday at Aunt Snow's with my family and Jane's, and besides Fg and Jane, no one's mentioned a change in plans."

Audrey gave a long sigh. "Doug, his sister has a heart condition, remember?"

He nodded, likely wondering—like the rest of them were—what Chloe had to do with anything. 

Audrey continued.

"Well, because of that, it's dangerous for her to get sick because it can weaken her heart more. So their parents decided that with the Pixie flu going around that it's best that they stay home. And since Chloe is going to be in bed and his parents are probably gonna continue to try and get the Tremaines off the isle nonstop even more than they did before your proclamation the entire holiday, Chad decided it's best he doesn't return either. You know, since he could get his sister sick and will probably just get overlooked while he's there. "

Doug caught on "which also means that we can't visit them at the castle cause we could get Chloe sick if we do. And Chad doesn't want to make Chloe feel bad by going anyway."

Ben swallowed. 

He hadn't thought about that.  

Suddenly Chad behavior paired with his unkempt hair and him still being in pajamas made much more sense. 

Chad was feeling forgotten again. And this time, only Audrey had been around to try and keep him out of it. 

It was like Chloe being born all over again, except this time no one had caught onto how he was feeling and people had actually died.  

And Audrey had been suffering in silence alongside him.  

He had to fix this. 

For both of them. 

So he said the first thing that came to mind "why don't you two come and celebrate it at my place?" 

Everyone stared at him like he'd grown another head. 

Chad looked up and Ben felt even more confident in his decision.

"Ben, I don't think that's a good idea," Audrey replied softly. 

"Why not? It's not like you haven't stayed at our place before."

"Your parents hate us."

Ben shook his head. "That's not true. Mom and dad love you guys and grandpa's been dyi–begging to see you two again. "

Audrey didn't know what to say to that and finally, Chad spoke up. 

"Well.... If you're sure they wouldn't mind, then we'd like that."

Ben grinned in response "I'm positive. Trust me."

The bell rang before the conversation could continue any further and as the group flooded out of the cafeteria, their moods lifted. 

🧑‍🎄🤶🎅🧑‍🎄🤶🎅🧑‍🎄🤶🎅🧑‍🎄🤶🎅🧑‍🎄🤶🎅🧑‍🎄🤶🎅

Big thanks to @eahravinqueen and @panthera-tigris-venenata for the help. Happy Holidays y'all.

[ozimagines]

dating ryan o’reily would include . . PRETTY PLEASE !!!! 🤌

Oh absolutely. The appearance of the please is inconsequential lol I’ve always wanted to write this. The key to Ryan O’Reily is he puts his whole pussy into everything he does, and I feel like dating him would be more of the same. I present to the council:

Dating Ryan O’Reily would include…

The key to this man is obsession

Could be your looks, could be something you said, could be something you did for him; it doesn’t matter. Once he’s hooked, he’s hooked.

Will jokingly flirt at first, making quick passes at you, but he’s a flirty guy so you just assume it’s another O’Reily-ism

“Lookin’ good today… very good.”🥵

That is until you notice all your stuff starting to disappear.

It’s little things at first; a hat of yours, some makeup, but then you notice one of the pillows on your bed is missing

Bring it up and he’ll deny it, but he wanted to own some part of you

The real kicker is when you meet Cyril

Cyril immediately distrusts you; he remembers Ryan and the bad lady (Howell)

But you’re kind and gentle with him, and better yet, you don’t talk around him like he’s an object. You talk to him. And he notices these things.

“I like you… can we be friends?”🥹

When Ryan comes down the stairs to meet you, you and Cyril are talking like old friends, watching Miss Sally and discussing if Nooter or Pecky is better.

At this point, Ryan is more in love with you than ever.

He tells you as much, not bothering to ask you on a date before confessing his love.

“Hey, I love you. I love you more than anything.”💘

(If you’re same sex, he’ll insist he’s not a “fag” but say he loves you all the same, hoping you “know the difference🧐”)

It… it’s a bit much. Even for you, who feels the same.

You ask if you can take it slow.

He says yes yes yes and then tells everyone you’re in love and will be together forever🤣

He remembers all your food orders. Like, down to food restrictions and preferences on toppings lol.

Anything you don’t like, he’ll eat for you and give you his meal.

“Yeah, one Venti iced pumpkin spice latte with oat milk, three pumps of pumpkin, one pump vanilla, cold foam, and a sprinkle of cinnamon. And one regular coffee, I guess.” 🤣

Kind of a guy who when he stops quickly or short in the car, he puts out his arm over your chest to stop you from lurching forward.🥲

Dates are always epic and wild

He took you to a fair and won you and Cyril the biggest stuffed animals they have; you can barely carry it, but it’s a point of honor for him.

He took you to the zoo (lots of your dates include Cyril) and put you up on the rails over the lion pit, him being the only thing stopping you from going over.

Talk about trust lol

Ryan fucks like a beast but he makes love as well

Cotton sheets and candles lit, Ryan’s lips grazing over your body.

He holds you gently, like he holds Cyril after nightmares, kissing you all over.

Ryan, like many guys in Oz, just wanted to a chance to do over his life❤️‍🩹

And you gave it to him. Everything. His everything.

He wants kids with you, adopted or otherwise. Starts calling you mommy/daddy to get you on board

Cyril gets very excited to be and uncle, and even though you were worried about him being gentle with a kid, Cyril holds them like a mama bear holds a baby cat😅

Ryan had to learn some things, like not to smoke around the baby and that kids can go into poker houses🙃

He still teaches his kid to play poker and pick a lock because “you never know, right?”

You find him staring at you a lot, and when you ask what he’s thinking, all he says is “I’m lucky, that’s all.”

“I love you. I love you with everything I have.”

“Love you too, Ryan.”

Bonus: Ryan loves Sitcoms! He’ll never say it out loud, but he likes dis-functional families that all still love each other. He tears up every time a show ends. His favorite is Cheers, because he identifies with Sam Malone.

[dracwife]

decorating.

ship: junto word count: 1179 summary: art trade w/ @iantistic ! i told u i would make them happy and god dammit i did. kind of.

"What'dya think about this one?" Ianto glances back. 

When he turns, however, he realizes quickly he is standing alone there in the aisle.

"Ju?" He spins, confused. Not but a moment ago was the other behind him, talking softly about the scent of the cinnamon spice candle he'd just offered, retorting that perhaps the silly name of "Fall Leaf Crunch" wasn't quite so appropriate for such a scent. 

Had he known purchasing decorations for the Headquarters was going to be such a difficult task, perhaps he would have put together a list beforehand, like normal.

"No need, you'll be in and out I'm sure," that's what Jack had assured him as both he and Juette were brushed out towards the street, bus pass in hand and nothing but a wallet full of cash and to be quite frank -- a nigh impossible dream of getting a Halloween party together on such short notice.

Most things in the store were picked over already, leaving cheap decorations behinds, the plastic kind with defects from the molds, and that smelled of low-budget, chipping paint, that kind of must you can only get from a mass-produced, capitalist warehouse somewhere in some cheap costing labor factory far, far away. And beside those, the crumpled paper decorations, cardboard ripped already and bent and folded in ways that make them almost impossible to parse without close inspection. A few acceptable packages, or at least to Ianto's standards, were strewn about as shoppers decided against their purchasing last minute, though they were sparse as it was and as a result nearly impossible to find amongst the disarray of shelves. 

See, the thing is, Ianto is a planner. He likes things neat and organized, simple and clean. When one faces such inexplicable chaos daily, it’s no wonder that when given the opportunity, he would much prefer the comfort of familiarity and predictability to counterbalance the rest.

His brows furrow, and he turns back towards the shelf, though as he turns the other way he finds just that very person he had been searching for, and startled, nearly drops the candle. 

“Ah, there you are,” his voice is low, and he consciously and carefully replaces the jar back on the shelf. 

“Yeah?” Juette asks, leaning the brunt of  their weight against him now. Their head falls to the side as they too begin reading the labels of the leftover candles, a few less-crumpled decorations in their arms, that they quickly dump into the basket Ianto carries. 

“Was just looking for you, is all,” he reasons, hesitant to snake an arm around their waist, and instead allowing his fingers to brush against their side before he retreats them to his own, “What’d you find?”

They glance down, with a soft “Uhm,” before mentally ticking off the items they had just carried over, “Couple of silly things. Those paper skeletons. And the foldable pumpkins. I figure we can hang some streamers, too.”

Ianto nods, and begins leading them down the aisles again.

“I miss wax warmers.”

He looks over at them curiously, “You miss them?”

Juette shakes their head, a silent ‘It’s a future thing’ ringing through the action. 

“We can get some Cider. I have a great latte recipe for it as well.”

They snake through the supermarket, grabbing the last of what they can, filling their autumn basket with all the orange and purples and greens they can hold, the treats and decorations and everything else they can possibly muster until at last they find themselves on the bus back home, quiet now in the small period between lunch and dinner, when everyone was still at work.

For a moment, Ianto almost craved that sort of normalcy, a simple nine-to-five, where you can be twenty minutes late and miss nothing, sit in your little cubicle of safety all day until the sun half set, when you would finally pack it up and get on the likely delayed bus home, TV dinner waiting in the freezer and the flat, dirty and disheveled just as you’d left it in a rush this morning, feeling only half homey, the other some detached, capitalistic nightmare. Ironically, what a dream it would be.

But that decidedly was not the life he chose to live. And he’s reminded as such as his phone goes off again, a text from Tosh now about calibrating something-or-other when he got back. A smile blooms over his face as the body next to him shifts, leaning against him, to remind him of where he is now, and the friends he’s made, the love he’s found not just in the team that waits for him -- as difficult as it may be for him to see at times -- but also in the only person he could now see himself ever spending the rest of his life with. He looks down at them again, with the grocery bags piled at their feet and in their lap, and he hugs his own bag closer, wanting desperately to just fall asleep here, let the bus take them on its route perhaps the rest of the night, give them a chance to relax in the serene eve like this. 

“It’s chilly out, you know?” he mumbles. Juette scoots closer, their bare arms bundling into the sheer sweater they wear. It’s endearing to him -- their commitment to their fashion. He would have expected the future to be different perhaps, though it was not so distant. It was a strange sort of comfort to know that maybe it would not be, that things wouldn’t change all that much, hopefully in the right ways. Or maybe they too were just a peculiarity, a victim of circumstances and sought also the comfort of nostalgia, which of course to him would have been the present. 

It was funny, the way they seemed to come together like this, bound so tightly by the minutest details despite being worlds apart. 

“It’s not so bad.”

Ianto smiles, just slightly. He does not admit he finds it amusing, not as his arm slips around their shoulders for him to hold them just a little closer. And as they arrive back at the familiar door, and as Ianto holds it open to help carry in the bags, he does not say just how much he enjoyed their trip together, even if it was as something as simple as shopping, a grueling task for many, but to him the highlight of the day. He does not mention he thinks they look particularly cute in the fishnets they’ve chosen today, or those black studded shorts, either. 

And he doesn’t mention how much he loves them, as they begin to decorate the HQ, arms brushing as he reaches above where Juette cannot to hang decorations, soft smiles and lips grazing perhaps once or twice, or not at all if anyone were to ask. 

But he doesn’t at all say any of these things, not aloud.

Likely because when their eyes meet, and they both smile, he doesn’t say, because he knows that all of them are better left unsaid.

[thebreakfastgenie]

Okay the food dislike poll made me remember you had strong feelings about this (at least I think it was you, there is every possibility that I am thinking of someone else and this ask is just going to really confuse you)

What is the deal with pumpkin spice

I am a non American so pumpkin spice wasn't a thing here until the last couple of years (I had heard of it a long time before I ever saw it for sale) when the cultural exchange finally happened. and it's VILE.

BUT maybe we just do it wrong?? Or maybe sometimes pumpkin spice fucking sucks and other times it's good and I don't know how to tell the difference? Or maybe I just really really hate pumpkin spice, that's also a possibility.

Can you shed any light on this.

That was me, yeah!

There is definitely a huge variation in what pumpkin spice actually tastes like. Sometimes I like it a lot, sometimes I find it meh at best (I rarely strongly dislike the taste of something, so meh is a pretty low rating from me lol).

Pumpkin is kind of an American/North American thing because it's a native plant here. Some people like squash and pumpkin, some people don't. I am someone who does.

Pumpkin spice is a set of spices, the kind pumpkin is usually prepared with, especially in pumpkin pie. It's... kind of ambiguous whether "pumpkin spice" includes actual pumpkin or not. Some pumpkin spice drinks do, or include a pumpkin flavor syrup (that may or may not taste much like pumpkin) but many of the most famous ones (e.g. Starbucks) do not. I am personally of the rather strong opinion that "pumpkin spice" should include pumpkin, that it means basically "pumpkin+spice" just as "apple spice" means "apple+spice," and that "pumpkin pie spice" means "the spices used in pumpkin pie" and drinks and treats that contain those but not pumpkin should be labeled that way. "Pumpkin pie spice" and "apple pie spice" are also both spice blends you can buy if you're not someone who keeps the individual spices on hand.

So, all of that being said, what are the pumpkin spices? It varies a bit, but it almost always includes cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and/or cloves, and ginger.

It is... very easy to make a blend of those spices that just tastes bad. Especially in a latte or something. And that's before you even factor in individual taste. I like pumpkin spice but I'm not really that passionate about it, I tend to get it a couple times a year because I like seasonal drinks, but I absolutely love pumpkin: pumpkin pie, pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin gnocchi, pumpkin sauce....

tl;dr: Sometimes it's good and sometimes it's bad, so the one you tried may have just been bad, but it's also possible you just don't like it at all! I wouldn't say you're missing out so badly you need to try it again.

[tekutiger]

Chai Espresso [1.5 Liter] - Teku's Style

I've been working on this recipe for a couple of months, trying to perfect it to my personal preference and thought I'd share it. I know it wont be everyone's cup of tea (hehe get it?), but perhaps someone else out there will like it. This is a strong Chai Espresso. No light flavors here.

It started when I bought this Pumpkin Spice Latte drink from Starbucks and I got my first introduction to Espresso. I was like wait- this tastes like coffee, but stronger and has more depth. I'm actually not a coffee person, but I realized then that I was an espresso person. I'm also very much a cinnamon person and that carries over to all things Chai and Pumpkin Spice. So here I am combining Chai and Espresso.

We aren't going to do this the lazy or easy route however, we're going to do this the legit route. You can find some shortcuts doing this yourself and I'll offer examples of things you can substitute in and out, but I'll be showing you how I do it and the things I use.

This recipe is also going based off the fact that you have an Espresso Machine that can make 2-4 shots of espresso at a time. You can also make the chai and drink it by itself, just do not add the espresso!

That being said, here's some items you'll see me use, and potentially items you may need. Keep in mind you do not need the exact same brands. Just because I have McCormick cinnamon sticks, doesn't mean you need to have McCormick cinnamon sticks. Infact I just ordered more cinnamon sticks from Spicy World (they appear to be a different type of Cinnamon - Saigon, where McCormick is Cassia). Buy and use what you prefer to use.

Three of the things not shown here that will also be used, is ginger, milk and a pitcher that can hold 1.5 liters. If you're looking for a recipe list:

7 Cups Water (goes into the pot)

16 Cardamom Pods

12 Black Peppercorns

9 Cloves

8 Slices/Coins of Ginger

5 Sticks of Cassia Cinnamon (McCormick for example), 4 Stick of Saigon Cinnamon (Spicy World for example)

1 1/2 tbsp Assam Tea (can substitute out for packets of tea or other favorite loose tea)

2 to 2 1/2 tbsp Milk (adjust to personal preference)

5 tsp Stevia (or substitute out for sweetener of choice, may need to adjust measurement)

3 1/2 to 4 shots Espresso (made via machine and add by preference)

4 Star Anise (optional, I don't add this)

Everything in this recipe is adjustable to personal taste. I put some explanations in parenthesis already but I'll add more in-depth explanations as I go further down the post. I just know people (myself included) like short and simple recipe lists.

If you want to add star anise, I'd say probably add 4 for this recipe and work your way up or down on preference. I personally do not like it so I didn't bother with it 🤷🏻‍♀️

Step 1. Throwing everything into your pot and putting it onto the stove to boil.

This is rather simple actually. To start, add 7 cups of water to a medium sized pot.

We're just going to grab our handy pestle and mortar with our 16 Cardamom pods and give them a gentle pound to open them up.

We're also going to slice up our fresh ginger until we have 8 coins/slices. I find this to be the easiest and quickest way to use ginger. I mean, yeah we can dice it up, or we can cut a piece off and crush it, but it takes so much more time and then we have more things to clean. Trust me, this is easier and we still get all the flavors.

Next we're going to simply grab 12 peppercorns and 9 cloves and plop them into the pot, along with 4 or 5 cinnamon sticks- depending on if they are Cassia or Saigon (and optional star anise). Cassia and Saigon have different flavor profiles and strengths, so there is a reason why we are adding more or less of these.

I set this to my next to highest heat, which is 8 or 9, until it comes to a rolling boil. When it reaches that point, I set it to a medium point, around a 4-5 for about 20 minutes or so.

This does actually take a bit, but you want the spices to release and infuse the water, and for the water to get a nice rich brown color. You'll notice the cinnamon sticks open up, the cardamom pods get poofy, and it'll very much already smell like chai.

2. In the meantime, get your Espresso going. It's as simple as that. My machine will vary from yours so I cannot instruct you here. But prepare 3 1/2 to 4 shots of Espresso of your favorite blend to pair with this chai. When it's finished, set it aside. You can potentially get this done in the time your chai is doing its thing in the background.

3. Back to the Chai

So your cinnamon sticks are opened up, cardamom pods are poofy, your pot of chai actually smells like chai.

It's at this point that I turn down my stovetop even further to around 3, and I add my 1 1/2 tbsp of Assam tea (or other favorite loose tea, or 3 packets of tea).

It only takes about a minute (or two) of letting the tea sit in the pot when I take it off the heat. Letting tea seep too long can make it bitter, so I try not to leave it too long. I know there are some debates that this isn't the case with herbal tea and black tea but I beg to differ with black tea 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Basically when the leaves "open up" or no longer look shriveled as they do in the bag, that's when I take it off the heat. It'll continue to 'cook' in its residual heat even after I remove it off the burner anyways.

This is where we add about 2 to 2 1/2 tbsp of milk. I usually eyeball this but I measured it out for this recipe. You can add more or less depending on your preference, but you're aiming for a caramel color with your chai. As for your milk, I personally use 2% lactose-free milk because its what I was raised on and what I'm used to, but traditionally for chai, whole milk is best. Choose what you prefer.

Remember that small strainer tool from the first picture? We get to fetch that for this next part. We also get to fetch our Espresso from Step 2 and our 1.5 Liter Pitcher.

My pitcher is a little extra, in that it is dishwasher safe and can withstand hot fluids. I don't have to wait for my Espresso or Chai to cool down before pouring them into the container. If yours is not capable of this, you may have to wait until your fluids cool down, which could take a while. Please be cautious and double check any container you intend to use for this before hand, as it may warp or melt.

I always first pour in my Espresso into the pitcher, followed by adding in the 5 tsp of Stevia and mixing well. If you're using a different sweetener, or pure sugar, you may have to adjust the amount of sweetener used as I've never used another type of sweetener.

Next is something you can opt to do or not, it's just a convenience thing. I take a pair of metal tongs and fish out the cinnamon sticks before straining (toss them away in a compost bin or however you choose to dispose of them). I find they like to jump forward at you during the straining process and this makes it a little less messy in the long run.

Take your strainer and strain the pot of chai into your Pitcher. Give it a stir with a paddle or spoon durable of the heat, and you're finished! Viola, Pitcher of Espresso Chai!

Exactly 1.5 liters.

Step 4. All that's left is to drink some in your favorite mug.

(mug is from OctoNation 🐙💓) And no, nothing in this post is an Ad. Everything is just stuff I love a lot.

If you have comments or tips to share, feel free to drop them!

❘✧༻༺༻༺‿︵‿༻༺✧*̥˚‿︵‿ °∘❉∘°‿︵‿*̥˚✧༻༺‿︵‿༻༺༻༺✧❘

[greensleeve]

🎃October diary🎃

I used to think September was my favorite month but...maybe it´s actually October? Anyways, I decided to make a little diary about this wonderful month in a form of random pictures taken by yours truly. There will probably be part 2 too because I already have so many pics and it´s only the middle of the month)

I´ve had some nice autumny hiking action, first of all...

A lot of random squirrels everywhere too (I love them) (and I love the pose the squirrel is giving me)

And these two pics are so poetic??? How is Lahti capable of looking this pretty lol

I managed to find a clover too??? In October??? (and some 2 ml syringes next to it, probably for drug use, ewwww)

Also I have been cycling so much and also gymming in the gym (no pics though)

(Been experiencing a lot with the color red so lotttts of red lipstick and red nail polish. Toe nails too. I´m in my red era clearly, uh-huh💋why are my nails so chipped in that pic though, ew)

Oh and I went to a guided walking tour in the Finnish National Opera House. It was nice but now I kinda feel that some magic has been lost because I´ve now seen what happens behing the stage lol. So in short, I played myself

I also went to this one art exhibition. Didn´t like it because it was so repetitive and straight up just fucking ugly (not in a good way) but maybe I just don´t understand art like that. (Also the tour guide kept staring at me the whole time?? Awkward. Like dude just let me enjoy this ugly art in peace lol. Maybe he sensed my distate for the art)

Also during one of my cycling sessions I witnessed the most rainbowiest of rainbows. The pic does NOT do it justice, it was sooooo huge and rainbowy in real life, like damn

Another cycling trip and all of a sudden I saw a shit ton of swans??? There were at least 50 of them. The hell??? Don´t they live in pairs, how have they managed to get together like this? Imagine the planning it takes, the logistics, this swanspiracy? Yeah I don´t know anything about swans

Also lots of hot chocolate with marshmallows (and whipped cream too for the hell of it) It´s not the healthiest but damn it´s what you´re supposed to do in fall, you know?

I Also...

-went to see the movie Joker 2. Quite the shit show haha

-went for a pumpkin spice latte with a colleague/friend, it did not taste good though? Disappointing but the carrot cake muffin was yum

-called 911 for the first time in my life, nothing huge though

-randomly met an ex colleague from years back in a grocery store and had to shoot the shit for a while, was very nice

-randomly stumbled on three different stores that all happened to have some huge sale going on. I bought socks and protein drinks and a very pretty tray for my perfumes hehe

-went to a museum, it was nice and cool and got there for free too which was random

-discovered the TV show called "The Great" which is about Catherine the Great and it´s so good??? I don´t watch any TV (House of the Dragon being the only exception) so binging this has been weird but hey I have one more season to go so...

-donated some money for a local animal shelter because hell yes

(okay why has so many things happened to me in just 2 weeks? Just realized)