#heating up the bottle very nostalgic

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors With Benefits: Part 1 (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Part of the #hotdilfsummerchallenge (I will be adding more and tag the Masterlist) Thank you @hellishjoel for putting on this contest. It's a lot of fun!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: Roughly 5000

Warning: Dilfy smut, age gap (23 & 42)

Mid-June, 2024. The first summer back home upon college graduation. You knew there would be an adjustment period and while you didn't necessarily feel unhappy, there was a strangeness that left you with feelings you couldn't quite pinpoint. This was your childhood home, your hometown, your room - but still, somehow it felt foreign.

You hung up the maroon cap and gown that showed off the primary color of Texas A+M, the college where you had spent the last four years studying your ass off to get a degree in criminal justice. At twenty-three years old after spending the last few years in a little off-campus apartment with some friends, you were feeling both aggravated and nostalgic upon returning to your parents' house in the suburbs. They were great and you got along just fine; but the freedoms that had gone along with renting your own place were now reeled in a bit tighter. At the very least you knew your mother would likely stay awake on the nights you were out late. Still, you appreciated how much they cared about you.

You moved to your bedroom window and flung it open to let in some air to get rid of the stuffiness that lingered in the house. Immediately, your eyes landed on a man next door standing behind a grill as smoke filtered up above him in a faint, little cloud. He flipped a burger with a pair of metal tongs and took a sip from what looked like a bottle of beer.

"Hey, honey."

You jumped at your mother's voice as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. "Hey." You pressed your eyebrows together and motioned out the window as she entered the room. "Who's that?"

"Oh, I guess it never came up in conversation," your mother said with a shrug, "That's our new neighbor. He moved in back in January."

You glanced back out the window.

"He’s a bit too old for you,” she teased with a laugh.

You whipped around and made a face. "I'm not... I'm not checking him out. I'm just asking why there's a stranger in the Wilsons' backyard." You smirked and raised your eyebrows, "Maybe if my mother told me things I wouldn't have to play detective."

"Isn't that what you got your degree in criminal justice for?"

You chuckled, knowing she would most certainly outwit you in a verbal battle. "And I'm 23 years old. No one's too old for me anymore."

"Well, in that case I hear they just built a nice, new nursing home down the road with plenty of widowed men. I can drive you there if you'd like."

You let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll pass."

The two of you giggled and your mother continued, "Will you be joining your father and I for dinner tonight? We were thinking of just going to Chili's and then heading to a play at the little theater downtown. The kids are putting on Grease."

You smiled as your phone vibrated with a text from your best friend. "It's Holly."

"So, I guess the answer is going to be no," your mother suspected. She smirked and got the hint. “Keep in touch.”

"Okay," you agreed and then cleared your throat when she turned to go. "Mom, what's his name?"

"Huh?"

"The neighbor," you went on, "I should probably introduce myself since I'm going to be a resident of 45 Harding Drive again."

"Joel," her mother replied, "Joel Miller."

Your parents left soon after and so you wandered out to the back steps, waiting for them to take off first before popping open a beer. The ice cold beverage tasted better than normal because of the incoming summer heat that was supposed to really strike the following morning. With a content sigh, you leaned your elbows back on the top step of the set of four that led from the back door into the oversized backyard.

"Jennifer?" a deep, scratchy voice made you jump for the second time that night. You put a hand on your chest and glanced off to the side when you realized a man had called out your mother's name.

The neighbor, you thought, feeling your stomach knot up.

You cleared your throat and rose to your feet, leaving the beer on the top step. "No… I’m (Y/N)." You took a few steps in his direction though he made his way almost all the way to the steps.

"(Y/N)?" His features became clear when he stepped into a small, back light beside the door. The man flashed a friendly, boyish grin from beneath a trim beard. "Tim and Jen’s daughter?"

You looked down sheepishly and smiled before lifting your eyes to meet his stare. "Yeah."

He’s hot, your inner monologue informed you, as if your cheeks hadn't suddenly grown hot.

His eyes shifted to the beer and his grin widened even more before he extended a hand. "I'm Joel... your neighbor."

"Nice to meet you." You gave a closed-mouth smile and took in his appearance, consciously telling herself not to stare. His plain white t-shirt showed off his broad chest and shoulders

Joel cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," you assured him and then cleared your throat, "Do you want a beer or something?"

A smirk twisted onto his face., "No thanks. I was actually just coming over to see if I could borrow some butter."

"Oh..." You glanced over your shoulder at the back door and then back to Joel.

"You don't have to," he said reassuringly, unable to keep the grin from his face. "You don't even know me yet so-"

"No.” You cut him off, "No, it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Joel's voice cut through you like a knife and he kept his eyes firmly locked on yours.

You nodded, unable to look away for a moment and then waved him inside.

"Don't forget your brew here, honey." He reached down and scooped up the beer as you flung the back door open.

You smiled again, "Thanks."

Joel nodded and followed you in, before glancing around at the modest but modern kitchen. "You, uh... you even old enough to drink this shit?" He motioned to the beer.

You rolled your eyes, "I can show you my ID if that makes you feel any better." You flung open the refrigerator, "I know my parents are going to treat me like I'm in high school again."

"Well... they're just trying to protect you," Joel said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three." You glanced over her shoulder at him, somewhat pleased to catch him staring - or so you thought. It prompted him to look elsewhere.

"Here." You removed a stick of butter and crossed the room to hand it to him. When the butter landed in his hand you decided to be bold and didn't immediately let it go, "How old are you?"

He chuckled before holding a wicked smirk and again held her captive with his playfully intense eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

You stared back, somewhat used to gaining control over the guys you had dated or been interested in in the past. Already, this time you felt a bit outmatched and part of it was your instant attraction to him. When Joel took one step in her direction, you swallowed hard and gave a random answer.

"Thirty-two?"

Joel laughed a little louder, putting a hand on his stomach. He ran the other hand through his messy brown hair and pointed. "You're so full of shit."

You smiled at him, "I was thinking more of thirty-eight, thirty-nine."

He sucked his teeth and gave you a look up-and-down before smiling wide again. When he didn't say anything in response you flat out asked, "Am I right?"

"Forty-two," Joel finally informed you after a long pause.

"Over the hill then?"

He snickered and then motioned to the fridge, "Ya know... I will have that beer if you don't mind."

You smiled before reopening the fridge to fetch one for him. When you placed a bottle of Bud Lite in his hand he used the counter to pop the top rather than twist it. When the dented bottle cap fell to the floor and danced in circles for a moment you glanced back up to find him continuing to stare as he took a long swig from the bottle.

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Your dad going to notice that a few of these are missing?"

"They're mine," you informed him, "And I'm not-"

"A kid, I know..." Joel rolled his eyes now and the two of you shared a laugh, "Believe me when you're my age you'll love that someone will accuse you of being younger."

"I'm sure I will."

He reached down and scooped up the cap from the ground and then held it out in his palm. When you went to reach for it he closed his hand and smiled playfully.

"I'll take it," Joel offered, "Don't want you to get caught drinking these things when your parents come home." He continued to tease you about your age.

"You know, I could've guessed you were fifty."

He laughed out loud. "Smart mouth on you," Joel flashed his index finger at her with the hand that held the bottle, "I like it."

You looked down and laughed again, feeling your cheeks grow hot again from his remark.

"Anyway, I should be getting back." Joel continued to smile, almost triumphantly and winked. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you too.”

He held your gaze for an extra second, forcing him to smirk a final time before heading out the back door.

"Thanks for the beer," he said casually, "I'll see ya around."

8:15 pm - the following evening

"Sorry I couldn't make it out last night," Holly said to you. The two of you sat side by side at barstools down at one of the local bars in town. "My boss can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."

"It's fine. I had the house to myself so I kind of just had some time to chill and binge watch some old shows."

"Sounds terrible."

You laughed and shrugged. "It was alright."

"Well, here's to... summer?" Holly raised her martini glass and you tapped her beer bottle gently against it.

"To potentially the weirdest summer of my life."

"Why's that?"

You shrugged, "I don't know. Being back home doesn't feel so 'at home' anymore."

"Give it time." Holly sipped her drink, "In a month it'll feel like you never left."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Hey, it's not so bad. I'm here." She smiled and raised her eyebrows, "Jill and Molly should be home within the week too. We can get the old crew back together before we all get real jobs and have to do shitty adult stuff."

"I'll drink to that," you agreed, taking a longer swig of the beer. You sighed and began to peel at the blue Bud Lite label, letting your mind drift to the night before with Joel. You envisioned him snapping the cap off the top of the beer bottle, using the counter. A smile crossed lingered on your face.

"Ooohh... someone's checking us out," Holly commented, "Or maybe they know you..." Her eyebrows pressed together and she motioned using her head toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Oh shit." You couldn't contain your response but realized it must've sounded out of place.

"What?" Her friend asked, "Do you know him?"

"That's my neighbor," you informed her, "New neighbor."

Joel smirked and gave a wave but quickly entertained a conversation he was having with two other men at the small, corner table.

"He's kind of a Dilf."

You snickered and shrugged, unable to take your eyes off of him. When Joel glanced back in your direction you looked away and quickly took a sip of your.

"You think he's hot," Holly suspected with a laugh.

"What?" You shook your head, "No... I mean he may have some Dilf qualities or something like you just said but…” The sentence drifted off.

"Mm-hmm..." She continued to stare at her friend with playfully accusing eyes.

"Stop," you joked, "I just met him last night."

"Last night?" Holly perked up, "And..."

"And what?"

"You tell me."

You laughed again, "He came over to the house because he needed some butter."

"More like some sugar," she winked and glanced up toward a television that had a baseball game on in front of them.

You let out a hearty laugh and shook your head.

"He keeps looking over here." Holly’s voice perked out, "Oh! He's getting up," Holly whispered, stalking him for a moment with her eyes.

You glanced over and felt your stomach twist in knots when he headed in their direction.

"So you are over twenty-one," Joel cracked a wide smile and tapped the back of her chair as he continued to walk by.

"Twenty-three," you called after him, smiling wide.

He glanced over his shoulder, winking once before continuing on around a corner toward the bathrooms.

You let out a sigh and Holly turned back around.

"What the hell are you waiting for?" her friend asked. Before you could attempt to plead your case Holly went on, "He's hot... and he's totally flirting with you."

"He's not flirting with me."

"That was a Frank Sinatra-worthy wink."

You shook your head, laughing again. "Where do you come up with these things?"

"You're glowin. You're crushing on this guy. Who cares if he's your neighbor. Get on that."

"He's forty-two," you lowered your voice.

Holly raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the doorway where Joel had just walked through before returning her attention to her friend.

"Forget it." You sipped your drink and tried to pretend like you were nterested in the game on the television.

"At least admit you're crushing."

She turned to her and shook her head, "Fine... he's hot. Okay?" You focused on the screen for as long as she could and tried to pretend not to notice when Joel rounded back into the bar. You let out a deep breath as he crossed behind you and felt a rush when he came up beside you to flag down the bartender.

"Another round?" the middle-aged bartender asked, already reaching for a beer.

"Please,” Joel said with a nod, "You can put it on the tab." He turned to you, "Any interest in playing darts over here?" He nodded toward a dart board in the corner.

"Sure."

"Don't feel obligated." He forced your eyes back to his and continued to stare into them.

"I don't." You felt that intense paralysis again and couldn't turn away. When the bartender came back with the round of beers for Joel, you felt relieved and let out a breath.

"Get these two what they want," Joel added to the bartender, "Next round's on me when you finish those."

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"It's fine. I owe you one from last night." He headed back to the small table with his friends and Holly finally snapped you out of your daze.

"I thought you just gave him butter," she whispered with a giggle, "What was last night?"

You swallowed hard and rose to your feet, prompting Holly to do the same. "I offered him a beer and he took it," she said, "It was nothing... believe me. If I had anything interesting to share I would tell you."

Your legs felt heavy as you crossed the dark bar that was scattered with only a handful of other people. While the two other men began collecting darts and erasing the chalkboard to the side, Joel stood staring with his elbow on the table. For a moment everything else was in the background and you could only focus on him.

Shit... Any wit she had going for her had betrayed her. The instant, intense attraction you had to him was completely clouding your judgment. You felt like you were about to enter a wolf den, though you didn't at all mind playing the part of Little Red Riding Hood.

The anxiety-ridden feeling you had had leading up to the game of darts diminished as the night went on. You played a few games, swapping teammates several times, beginning with a 'boys versus girls' theme and then pairing off randomly when one game ended.

"He's going to fuck it up, you watch," Joel taunted as his friend lined up, closing one eye as he released the dart, only sending it clunking off the board and to the ground. "You didn't even hit the fuckin' board." His words drew laughter from everyone and the man that missed stumbled to retrieve it, chuckling as he went.

"I'm fucked up," Skip, the older robust man, remarked as he struggled to pick the dark up from the floor.

"Ya think?" Joel joked, continuing to sip on his beer.

"It's about time I get this man home to his wife and let her deal with him," the other man, Charlie, chuckled from behind a pair of alcohol-induced crimson cheeks. "Can't hold his liquor."

Skip huffed a breath and closed his eyes with a hand on his head. "The old lady's going to be mad at me. Especially when I tell her we've been hanging out with these lovely ladies." He motioned to you and Holly, laughing at himself and making the others do the same.

"I'd leave that part out if you knew what was good for ya," Charlie informed him with another laugh. "Come on Skippy. It's past your bed time."

"Game over?" Holly asked you.

"I guess so." You raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Charlie, you guys to get home?" Joel asked.

"It's just a quarter mile down the road," Charlie waved a hand. He smiled, "Good night ladies."

"Goodnight," you both said at the same time before Holly turned to you.

"I'm heading to the bathroom. Be right back." She raised her eyebrows, noting it would give you and Joel a moment alone and you tried to play it off coolly.

"Okay." She watched a moment as Holly made her way down the bar and around the corner.

"Hope I didn't kill your girls night," Joel said.

"No." You turned back to him and leaned an elbow on the table, "We were just bored. Had to get out of the house."

"Mmm..." He slid back down into a seat and you took upon herself to join him as you waited for Holly.

Joel leaned both elbows on the table to straddle his beer, "You're probably used to night clubs filled with young guys just dying to buy you a drink. This has to be fuckin' lame."

"I was over that scene by my junior year," you told him with a laugh as you shook your head. "They were all the same with their cheesy cologne and gelled up hair."

Joel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his drink. "Sick of that shit huh?"

"Very." You mirrored his position and continued to sip on the beer you had been milking for the better part of an hour, "I'm kind of over the party scene... and the being at home scene."

"You've been home for one fuckin' day." He raised his eyebrows, "Get over it. You're saving money."

You nodded, "Yeah... yeah you're right."

"I know I am." He smiled, a charming arrogance radiating out of him.

When your phone buzzed in your pocket you jumped and quickly removed it, finding a text message from Holly.

I'm getting in my car. Snuck out the back. Have fun. You'll thank me later.

When you looked back up Joel was grilling you with his eyes. You wondered if he had managed to read the message or not. You cleared her throat. "Holly," you said simply.

"You guys need to go?"

You opened her mouth to speak, still unsure if he had seen what your friend wrote but decided to chance it and lie. "She... got sick. She's on her way home."

"She okay?"

You nodded. “Just a little embarrassed I think and decided to go." You took a sip to buy yourself some time in case he asked any more questions. When he didn't you tried to change the subject. "This place is dead."

"What's so bad about the college scene?" Joel asked.

"Huh?"

"The young guys, the night clubs..."

"Oh... nothing, I guess." You cleared her throat feeling like he was trying to read your mind. Again, your face felt flush with heat and you continued, "They're just... all the same. There's no appeal anymore. When I was eighteen I thought it was cool sneaking into bars and all that." You smiled and shook her head before looking him in the eye. "This is more my speed."

Joel stared back and didn't immediately say anything.

You almost couldn't take the quiet stalemate. The sexual attraction for Joel burned in your chest and in that moment, in the quiet corner of the bar, it was hard to fight it. All the same, you felt like you had to be reading his body language correctly in assuming he was feeling something too. Still, the fact that he was your older neighbor, who you didn't know very well, lingered in the back of your mind.

Getting involved with Joel would satisfy your instant craving for him but beyond that you knew it could only lead to making both of your lives more complicated.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told him, when you couldn't contain your feelings any longer. It was the only thing you could say without leaping across the table and initiating a make-out session that played out animalistically in your mind.

"You gunna disappear on me too?" he joked, though you could see there was a hint of seriousness in his piercing eyes behind the wicked smile that hadn't left his face all evening.

"Not a chance." You felt embarrassed by the bold nature of your words, but took a deep breath and made the long walk across the bar into the restroom area. When you pushed open the door you felt relieved that no one else was in there and quickly made your way to the sink to pat some water on her face. You let out a breath, leaning both of her hands on the counter and then took in your appearance to make sure you was satisfied with the way you looked.

I'm being ridiculous, you thought. I'm too old to feel this out of control over a guy... or a man.

Joel was a man. He wasn't at all like the college boys you had been surrounded by who loved to crush beer cans on their heads, brag about how many consecutive beer pong games they'd won and worst of all when they threw the cheesiest lines at you and your friends to try to get laid. Joel didn't have to say or do anything in particular. He could simply look at you the right way and you found yourself ready to obey any request or demand he threw your way.

I’m in over my head, you thought, but I don't care.

You took in another deep breath and felt like you had the quick break that you needed to hold a sensible conversation with him without the constant interference of your out-of-whack hormones.

"Okay," you whispered to yourself and fiddled with your hair before pulling the door open to head back into the short, dark hallway. When Joel rounded the corner at the same time from the bar both of you stopped abruptly.

His eyes stalked the length of your body before finally re-settling on your gaze.

"Checking to make sure I didn't bail?" you joked, nervously laughing just after. Your tongue danced along your bottom lip, and you couldn't help but look him up and down the way he had just done to you.

Joel swallowed hard, tipping his mouth up into a half-smirk before walking past the men's room door in your direction.

You didn't have time to process all of the questions in your mind because he marched up and planted his lips against yours, immediately penetrating them with his tongue as his hands successfully shoved you up against the door to the women's room. It opened a few inches beneath the force.

You felt an explosion of adrenaline filter through your body as you kissed him back even more savagely than in your daydreams.

Joel pushed the door all the way open with one hand, not separating himself from you as he gripped your ass with his free hand and pushed his hips firmly against yours.

You tangled a hand in his hair, kissing him back with a heated passion that you didn't bother to try masking now that he had initiated the fantasy that had been playing out in your mind since you had him.

He moaned into your mouth before taking a breath and crushing his lips back against yours. Your back collided with the tile wall at the back of the bathroom, and you arched your neck as he began to ravage you, sliding a hand down the front of your pants while gripping your face with the other to kiss you hard again.

It all was happening so fast. You struggled to keep up but couldn't process a conscious thought when his first two fingers slid inside of you.

You bit down on your lip in a break in the kiss and spread your legs wider to give him more access.

Joel left a single kiss on her lips and spoke against them in a husky whisper, "Let it out honey," he kissed you again, "Let it out."

You knew the bar was nearly empty and there wasn't another woman that had been there. Even if there had been you didn't know that you would have cared. When his fingers twitched, arcing perfectly in his technique to make your entire lower body shiver with pleasure, you groaned.

"Fuck Joel," your whined his name, desperate for his tongue to dominate your again as he continued to finger you relentlessly until you felt like you were going to explode.

Joel's arousal heightened when he traced your lips with his thumb of his free hand, prompting you to take the tip of it into your mouth.

"God," he closed his eyes relished in the feeling, pushing his fingers deeper into you.

You whimpered again, writhing beneath his touch and attempted to reach for the belt buckle on his pants. "I want you."

He removed his hand from beneath your slick panties and placed his hands against the wall on either side of you as you managed to undo his buckle and shove his pants down off his hips.

Instinctively, you dropped to your knees, taking in as much of him as you could. Joel moaned and bucked his hips once as he grasped the back of your head with one hand. You looked up, watching his head fall back as his closed eyes pressed shut tighter. Joel allowed you to have your way with him as you continued to go down on him like you might never get another opportunity to do so. "Fuuucckk." He drew the word out, encouraging you to continue as he grabbed a fist full of your hair. "Ohh shit..."

Had anybody walked by the door there would have been no way to mask what was going on. Joel didn't hold back and felt an additional jolt of pleasure when you stroked him with your hand before quietly demanding him to come.

He opened his eyes, letting his mouth hang open as he glanced down, making eye contact with you as you engulfed him again.

"Jesus..." Joel's eyes closed and he felt an unmistakable buildup brewing below his waist. He couldn't ask you to stop, not when he was on the verge of exploding. "I'm gunna come." He shouted the words so loud that you thought for sure that someone had to have heard your encounter from somewhere in the bar. Still, you didn't let up and allowed him to push deep into you, gripping the back of your head with such force that you couldn't have separated your mouth from him if you tried.

He groaned, not attempting to hold back what he was feeling, alternating different curse words in between uneven breaths that ultimately left him panting as you finished him off. With a final breath he released your hair, letting his hand drop toward your face as you wiped a hand across your mouth and slowly rose to your feet.

Joel stood there for several seconds, breathing heavy with his pants at his ankles and a hand still on your face. When he finally came down off the high enough to speak, a chuckle left his mouth and ran a hand through your now-messy hair. "Shit honey... you didn't get yours." He let out another breath and then retrieved his pants from the floor and straightened out his appearance.

"It's alright," you told him with a sly smile, noting the heat that was still brewing between your legs.

He huffed another breath and adjusted himself over his pants before regaining your gaze. Joel smiled and drew his thumb gently under your eye, "Mascara's running. Sorry honey."

You closed her eyes as he continued to wipe the stray makeup away from your face. When you reopened them, Joel sported a half grin and he raised his eyebrows.

"Guess I fuckin' owe ya one."

You snickered, pleased to know that he wasn't at all expecting this to be your only encounter. "Yeah... you do."

Joel took a final, deep breath. "Well... you know where to find me."

"Next door."

"If you see me outside come on over to... borrow some butter or something.”

"Butter..." You snickered and then swallowed hard when he took a step toward her and slid a hand back down the front of your pants.

Joel touched his lips to yours as he spoke and this time gently began to massage up and down your wet center. When your mouth twisted up in a smile and you closed your eyes again he grinned and removed his glistening fingers. "It's a shame this is going to go to waste. Too bad you're so damn good at giving a blowjob. I had all the intentions of fucking you but I could just not ask you to stop.”

"Damn," she said quietly, but smiled, praying he might have it in him to continue.

Joel smiled, reading the disappointment on her face. "I'll be in and out tomorrow," he claimed, "You see me and you feel like bringing me over some butter…”

"I think you’ll definitely need some."

He looked down and made his way to the sink to wash his hands before turning to her with a smile. He ended the night the same way he had the night before, "I'll see ya around."

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

[k4vehrtz]

⸻ NOSTALGIA !

. ✦ . starring — dom!top! nanami k. + gojo s. / m! reader

warnings — nsfw content / unprotected sex / alcohol consumption / smoking / consent check-ins / established dom+sub dynamic / light bdsm / 3some / oral / deepthroating / cum swallowing / fingering / double penetration / creampie / brief nipple play / exhibition . ✦ . wc — 2.2k . ✦ . notes — bdsm tag -> nami + reader's dom/sub dynamic is very heavy. vv special thank you to felix for letting me use his thirst for this :) <3 not proof-read!

cherry sweetness — the sweet scent of creamy vanilla with hints of ginger, spice mulled wine and pear invades your nostrils as soon as you enter nanami’s office. “glendronach…original, at least twelve years old,” you murmur, brows pulled together to form a crease in the centre of your forehead as you glance at the inconspicuous bottle of liquor on the mahogany desk. “…‘nami,” and there’s that pout, expresso–scented lips jutting forward in discontent, “didn’t know we were entertaining guests today.”

there are three glasses on the desk — each squared and stubby and filled with a deep amber–red gold liquid. definitely glendronach, you think and nanami promptly confirms this. “perfect with a rich, dark chocolate — like the ones you’ve been eating all day,” he answers slowly, gently as he glances at you over his shoulder, utterly unperturbed. “i didn’t know either, but — you remember ‘toru, right sweet boy? he decided to…let’s say drop in.”

and you absentmindedly nod in response, leaning forward with your fingers curling around the edges of his desk. “no,” he all but rasps as he sits back down on the plush leather seat behind his desk, patting his thighs sluggishly. near–silent disapproval. “i need my boy with me right now; fully.”

to which your lower lip quivers in response as you drag your fuzzy sock–covered feet towards nanami, straddling his lap with ease. an apology is hot on your tongue, replacing the comforting remnants of the expresso–flavoured chocolates. but it never makes it past your lips; not when nanami’s cherry–sweet lips lock with yours. he’s at least sipped the whiskey, you think, you can taste it on him but when you reach back for a glass yourself, he pulls your hand away.

“not yet dollface,”

satoru. he’d let himself in again, now leaning against the door to nanami’s office. where nanami’s voice was slow, almost sensual, ‘toru was faster; saying as much (or as little) as he chose to in the minimum amount of time. but you don’t linger on it, nanami’s hooking his finger beneath your chin, turning your head so that you’re facing him again.

“think you’re up to taking the both of us today?” he asks, lifting a thick brow over the rounded rim of his glasses. and ‘toru — never one for silence — quickly adds: “just like the old times? i’m feeling nostalgic.” nanami, though, rolls his eyes at that, mouthing, ‘only if you want to’ before dragging his lips against yours again.

his lips are warm against yours and when your lips part after being prompted by a gentle nip his tongue slithers into your mouth. your teeth clash momentarily — and only momentarily — before he falls into a rhythm while satoru watches intently at the side. one moment you’re swapping saliva and the next he’s sucking on your abused lower lip before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“he needs an answer sweet face, a sober one.” satoru explains, rounding the desk to push the window behind the two of you open. and then goes on to fumble in his pocket before pulling out a cigarette and a lighter. he releases the flame, it’s bright, and he tilts the contraption toward the cigarette, igniting it and bringing it to his parted lips while quenching the initial flame.

your gaze flickers between the two men you’ve known since your college days. memories of heated bodies pressed against one another moving to the rhythm of whatever song glided around the room flooding your mind. and you swallow, adam’s apple bobbing in your throat, “…yeah, i’m feeling nostalgic too.”

rich, creamy silky–smooth and slightly nutty mixes with the bitter dark chocolate and expresso in your mouth. “black forest cake,” nanami muses against your lips, snaking his tongue inside your mouth once more. and satoru scoffs, blowing a cloud of smoke in your direction in the process, “black forest gâteau.”

and nanami, too caught up in tasting the whiskey and chocolate on your slick, kiss–swollen lips makes the conscious decision to not scold satoru for that. it peeves him though; that much is clear by the glare he retorts and satoru throws his hands up in surrender, cigarette dangling in between his lips.

then he kneels behind you, delicate fingers curling around the curve of your ass. “nanamin,” it sounds like a breathy whine but it’s the farthest thing from desperate, “d’you feel how wet he is?” and he stands up, startling blue eyes meeting yours, “…all this from a little kiss?”

mockery — his voice is thick with mockery and shrouded in the scent of nicotine. satoru’s mocking you in that same, banana milk flavoured sweet tone he uses. and your cock twitches — throbs in your boxers. angry tip smearing pre-cum on the cotton, forming the wet patch ‘toru had previously had his eyes on. it’s almost challenging — as if saying is this all it takes to reduce you to a puddle?

and you may be tipsy enough for your movements to reflect nanami’s acquired sluggishness but you’re not tipsy enough to be without shame. so, warmth rises to your cheeks and crosses the bridge of your nose at the implication. “no,” you drag the ‘n’ sound, your delivery strained and needy as you disentangle yourself from nanami who leans back, unfastening the buttons of his shirt before disregarding it on the floor.

“you know how he is,” nanami drawls in a low, matter–of–fact tone, swallowing another mouthful of whiskey. “eager and ready to please,” he continues, a heavy hand on your hips, guiding you to your knees to which you oblige.

satoru exhales at that, nodding in agreement as he disregards his cigarette in the ashtray on nanami’s desk before turning you to face him. and he stares down at you, a mixture of emotions hidden behind the blue of his irises. a groan slipping past his lips as he stretches his languid limbs before he speaks again, “nanamin is so old fashioned, don’t you think?” it’s a rhetorical question; he takes your chin in between his fingers, bobbing your head so that it appears as though you’re nodding along to what he’s saying.

he purses his lips and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cross your mind to stand and take his lips into yours. you don’t though, it’s only a thought, nanami’s taught you better than that.

“but, then again, you’re just his softheaded boy, needin’ a big, strong man like nanamin to take control and fuck you into the mattress — or any surface, really, i’ve heard the stories.”

you swallow the lump in your throat (muddled words you don’t dare whisper), bringing your trembling hands towards the crotch of his skinny jeans. nanami kneels beside you, warm lips pressed to the shell of your ear, his breath pricking at the sensitive skin.

“slowly,” guidance, “just like i taught you,” whispered guidance.

just like he taught you, you slowly unzip satoru’s jeans, nails curling around the band of his boxers before you separate it from his skin and free his cock. and his cock is heavy in your hands, pulsating even. it’s standing at full mast, curving inwards slightly. where he’s lacking in girth (something nami has a lot of) he makes up in size and it’s almost intimidating.

“focus doll, you’re going to take all of me down yer’ pretty throat.” tooth achingly sweet voice — satoru again. and then there’s nanami’s firm warning, “a few strokes and then you can start taking him in your mouth, baby, don’t overwhelm yourself.”

drunk or otherwise inebriated, they still care for you in their own way. it makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, a warm feeling that pulsates throughout your body. and perhaps nanami’s current actions — he’s moved behind you, freeing your cock from its confines as he pulls your cheeks apart to toy with the bejewelled plug in your hole — contributes to that feeling.

the specifics don’t matter though. what does matter is the pleased groans that each stroke of satoru’s cock elicits. purposeful touches; alternating between the length of his cock and simply fondling with his balls. it’s enough to make him cum (which all three of you are aware of).

and after a few minutes — you don’t know how long it’s been, truthfully — his bright pink tip that’d been seeping pre-cum is spurting thick clumps of cum onto your hands and face. and when it does land on your face you gasp, breath catching in your throat. nanami had been timing it, you’re sure, because he cruelly pulls the plug out at the same time without warning. thus, resulting in the desperate, filthy noise that slides out of your kiss–swollen lips.

despite this, nanami clicks his tongue and shakes his head in that same near–silent disapproval. “what do good boys do?” and you answer immediately: “clean messes, not make them.” earning yourself a pleased hum from the elder man. his praise is almost like a drug in the way it gets you going.

with this new buzz, you slowly push your tongue out, licking any remnants of ‘toru’s cum before turning your attention back to his cock. slow licks at first — almost like a kitten, really. then you work your way up to taking the pink tip in your mouth, sucking on it, experimental licks now and then.

“good god,” satoru, who is by no means a religious man, grunts under his breath as he traces shapes on your hollowed cheeks. “you’re doing such a good job.”

more praise that makes you feel warmer inside. perhaps it’s a mixture of their affections and the whiskey that left you feeling as though you’re floating. you’re not sure but whatever it is, it’s encouragement enough to keep you going.

while you continue to take more of satoru’s cock into your mouth; your lips are practically stretched thin around him, nanami’s fixated on fingering you. it started with one thick digit grazing against your prostate with precision but soon turned into two and two then turned into three. and every so often you shiver — not from him fingering you but because he drips some of his drink over your hole. it’s so obscene…but every time it happens your gummy walls clench around nanami’s fingers in the way he likes. he really does know you best.

“i’m going to—” it’s a warning, but it comes out muffled and difficult to decipher.

“it’s hard to understand you when your mouth is filled with cock, baby.” nanami counters knowingly, a tinge of mockery to his otherwise coolness. and satoru laughs, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he doesn’t understand you either, before slowly pushing your face into his neatly trimmed pubes. it’s not every day he finds someone capable of taking all of him, and he will use it to his advantage.

so, you’re left like this; mewling around satoru’s cock as it hits the back of your throat, nanami’s fingers assaulting your prostate, and your own cock pulsating until finally, you succumb to the pleasure of it all. ropes of cum splattering between you and satoru while you gag around his cock until he orgasms for a second time, shooting his load down your throat.

it tastes something in between salty and sweet but you can’t quite explain it. all in all, it tastes good and you wouldn’t be opposed to more of it. but, as it turns out, they have other plans.

“colour?” satoru’s voice again, from above you, as he slides you off of his cock with a ‘pop’ sound. and as your chest heaves in an effort to catch your breath you respond, “green.” to which they both grunt in acknowledgement.

nanami — he’s got thicker, slightly calloused fingers — is the one to reposition you. bending you over the desk while satoru brings a half–empty glass of whiskey to your lips and you swallow the remnants of the liquor with ease. then he disappears behind you with ‘nami and you curl your fingers around the edge of the desk in anticipation.

which is, all things considered, short-lived. you can feel them, both of them, pressing the heads of their cocks to your hole. and your lips part, eyes flickering shut, as a string of moans slides off of your tongue when that tight ring of muscle is breached. it’s an immediate feeling of fullness — one you’ve only experienced with the two of them.

they don’t move immediately; giving everyone time to adjust and to savour the moment. the feeling of their cocks throbbing against each other as you clench around them is mind-numbing. no one’s speaking anymore, it’s only grunts and groans that border on being animalistic as each of you relieve the tension of your lives in your own way. it’s a mutually beneficial affair.

and when they do move, you’re choking on your moans. salty tears cascading down your heated cheeks at every creak of the table you’re lying on top of; hard pecs to cold wood. a squeal every time they decide to pinch or twist the sensitive bud. it’s nothing short of pornographic.

not grazing your prostate or touching it in one way or another is impossible like this. but somehow, they hold out, pivoting their hips against your ass until the only sound that echoes throughout the office is the slick clapping of their thighs against the fat of your ass as it ripples from the impact it creates. and then they’re cumming — hot semen pouring into your ass and being pushed impossibly further into you by way of their equally erratic thrusts. you’re seeing stars at this rate, and it’s only round one.

[sugarbcnes]

✿ ༉‧₊ — 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. ellie williams

very random things i associate with ellie/think ellie would love in a non-apocalyptic world (hc’s). [ contains: femme reader mentioned, nsfw, sfw, mentions of drugs. ]

MUSEUMS AND AQUARIUM DATES — nerd alert! we all know ellie loves space and dinosaurs and things like that. her heart feels so full when you’re gripping her hand tightly as you both take your time strolling to each exhibition and display. she’s too engrossed in the small info boards to notice your eyes glimmering and softening as you take in the smile she fails to hide as she gets excited. even at 19 years old, as you spend your one year anniversary at the history museum, she still wows in awe as you walk into the room that contains the massive brachiosaurus skeleton.

JAW KISSES — ellie’s great at hiding how she feels most of the time. apart from when you kiss her jaw. the moment she feels your lips press to the soft skin that clings to the sharp bone of her jaw, she melts. her hands sneak around your waist as you nestle into her neck and pepper kisses all over her jaw, burning deep crimson on her freckled cheeks. “mm baby” she’ll mumble if you nip the skin lightly, causing her to let out the sweetest, soft little breaths.

HOUSE PLANTS — they’re an absolute nightmare for her to take care of at first but after a while, she grows emotionally attached to them. she specifically loves monsteras and ferns, even going as far to name them. she has a small smile on her lips as she reaches the part of her morning routine where she provides them with their extra delicate care. you can’t help but giggle from the kitchen as you hear her mumble “good morning fernado, you’re extra bright this morning” to her favorite fern.

RECORD STORES — she loves bobbing her head to the music and weirdly enough, the smell. it’s nostalgic somehow.

STICKERS AND CUSTOMIZATION DOODLES — pretty self explanatory. ellie loves to cover her shit in random stickers and doodles. her laptop, her water bottle, her sketchbook, her guitar. she has the same design as her tattoo painted on her guitar (it took her forever to do and she did it instead of completing an overdue assignment).

SHOWER SEX — it started with the soft, butterfly kisses you’d splurge across ellie’s freckled shoulder blades before you grabbed the soap to scrub her back. eventually she began to press you against the wall, kissing you deeply as the warm water hits you, hands exploring your bare, wet body. (100% is obsessed with soapy boobies too)

POST SWIM NAPS — summer on the farm means sweltering heat. nearly everyday you and ellie trek across the fields and spend all day swimming in the creek by the woods. sun kissed and hot, the both of you collapse in bed in nothing but a tshirt and your underwear, cuddled and falling into a slumber until later that evening when it’s cooler.

GRAPHIC TEES — it’s a strange obsession and she’ll hardly know what’s on the shirt but she accumulates a massive collection.

ESSENTIAL OILS — she thought they were tacky and useless at first until she got a diffuser as a birthday gift and was knocked straight into such a peaceful slumber by her soothing lavender oil.

FOLLOWING YOU INTO FITTING ROOMS — again, self-explanatory. we all know she’s awkward and very much the loser-lesbian girlfriend. so the first time you take her shopping with you, she moves to sit on the provided seats outside the fitting rooms. she’s just as confused as you are as you stand with the door half open and your collection of clothes in your arm. you tilt your head “are you not coming in?”. she fumbles to get up and rushes in. at first she was awkward, head down at the very second you’d take your tshirt off and mentally cursing herself as she peaks at you in the mirror from the corner of her eye. now, your full-fledged girlfriend, she’s got her hands grabbing at every sliver of bare skin she can see before you annoyedly swat her hands away.

LATE NIGHT SESH — it’s usually when she’s feeling anxious, escaping to the roof to smoke a little and talk to the stars. most of the time she goes alone but sometimes you go with her. you usually sit in comfortable silence, pressed against eachother as she smokes and you try your best to keep your eyes awake at 3am because even though she assures “go back to bed, sweetheart. i’ll be okay,” you don’t want her to be alone.

part 2? abby version?

[jahnavisurenda-21]

Hazbin Hotel||Alastor X Reader||When You Are Under the Weather||Sickness Comfort

It's a pure torture to be unable to do your usual chores or take care of yourself the tiredness is overwhelming. So, take it Easy. Though, I know the illness would recover if Alastor was there in your room.

You didn't ever feel the need to be worried about your body needing extra sleep, because the tiredness was overwhelming, or your body failed to perform the chores it usually did.

The Early October season, your father would run to the supermarket, to pick out medicine, and get fresh herbs to feed you green tea every evening, or if it got too bad you would drink them two times a day.

It was like he expected you to catch the virus. Well, that much hasn't changed, how nostalgic. But you really wished after in hell, your body would develop the immunity after being in a place that is clearly not for comfort.

You had gotten really lucky on that note also, really grateful for that. Alastor, ever the charmer.

He took really good care of you, it would sometimes strike worry that he is a sinner demon those red eyes, his sclera, irises are a proof of how many souls work under him.

But you had never found such a safe place than in his arms, although he isn't always for physical assurance.

"No, I'm not going anywhere today My dear, my schedule is all cleared up, maybe later in the evening to treat the sinners to a broadcast, but other than that I'm all yours." Alastor, changed the cloth on your forehead, "It's such a lovely thing the age-old napkin dipped in cold water to ease the heat!" He commented,

"Alastor?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I'm a little hungry..."

"Say no more My dear, although you did worry me when you refused to eat my well-cooked dish this morning."

You heaved a sigh of relief, he was astonishingly patient, it made your heart feel like a swarm of butterflies danced there, it also made your stomach sink a little when you felt like you were bothering him too much."

"My dear, sit up now." He instructed,

You pushed yourself, still feeling your head pound bullets, you received the cream soup with a grateful smile which made Alastor push your hair behind your ear,

"I'm really sorry for bother--"

"Nonsense my dear, it doesn't feel too good seeing you in such a weak state." He honestly replied.

The day passed, by watching some movies despite, Alastor's Proclaims of not wanting to indulge, "In Noisy picture box activities." He did, for you, I told you he was a total sweetheart.

He prepared a bath for you, and changed the sheets so you could sleep better.

The entire gesture made your eyes well up in tears, only for Alastor to shush, and as the last step brought you a little closer to him, yes, you were ridiculously short.

"No one had ever taken care of me, like this... except at.. m-my home... It's so... I miss this, so much" You sobbed,

"Come now my dear, I'll take care of you as long as you need. I'll cancel my broadcast if that's what you need."

"But I want another audio."

"Shall it be a little different?" Alastor asked, brushing your hair, to distract you for a while.

"Different?"

"Since, you like my voice which is very flattering I think you can add this to your again very flattering collection."

The movie finished at 1am, before you fell asleep, and a few minutes later Alastor just lightly opened the door to check on you, filled your water bottle before closing the door.

[anonsally]

Day 4 in Chile: Museo Baburizza in Valparaíso and then transfer to Santiago

Today, after a lovely breakfast (and admiring the cats hanging out in the backyard), we packed up, checked out, and left our luggage at the hotel. We wanted to visit the art museum in the extremely ornate building we had seen on the tour.

On our way out, we heard a bird singing and I tried Merlin sound ID even though it doesn't know South American birds, but it did suggest a house wren (which inhabits most of both American continents). The glimpse I got was of a very tiny brown bird, so it's plausibly correct. I also saw a purplish pigeon with a fancy neck plumage situation, so I'm almost sure it was a Chilean pigeon. But I didn't have my binoculars with me, so I didn't have the greatest look at it.

We set off and got waylaid by an artisan notebook shop. I really have no self-control when it comes to little notebooks. I have so many. I bought a yellow one and a purple one and got my initial stamped on each one. Next we were unable to walk past a tiny independent grocery shop. We ended up buying some fruit and veggies and several little healthy snacks. So then we had to go back to the hotel to drop off our purchases!

Then we walked to the museum, but we didn't have enough cash to buy the tickets and they didn't take cards, so we rode the funicular down to the train station to get cash again, and then rode back up again. Finally visited the Museo Baburizza! The building itself was really interesting. There were some artworks by Chilean artists and we enjoyed those.

Then we went back up toward the hotel, stopping again at the grocery store so I could buy bread, cheese, and a cucumber for lunch. They were very friendly and I managed to speak a little Spanish, and between our incompetent Spanish and the woman's limited English, we managed to negotiate the transaction.

We ate our improvised lunch at our hotel, but the driver arrived a little early and we had to pack up in a rush, and Wife seems to have left her faithful water bottle behind.

It rained a little on the drive, but we still had good views of various mountains including the snow-capped Andes! And the driver was sort of loudly playing 80s music which was fun and nostalgic for me.

He dropped us off in Santiago at the place we will stay for the next 3 nights. It's sort of halfway between a hostel and a hotel. The rooms are private and have bathrooms, but they are very tiny rooms! On the positive side, though, the prices are closer to the hostel level, and we don't seem to be the oldest guests. There are shared areas including a bar and courtyard patio. The decor is cheerful and the family that runs it is friendly, but we are starting to suspect that Chileans simply do not get cold. The rooms here are not really sufficiently heated, and we've had to keep our jackets on at most meals.

After checking in, we set off to explore the neighborhood and run a couple errands. It was interesting looking in the shops and getting a feel for the area. It is very much a Big City, which is not my favorite setting, but I've seen some bird murals and heard parakeets flying around. Before returning to the hotel, we went to a restaurant that turned out to have great food at a very reasonable price, though it became clear upon visiting the rest room that it was very much a bar that we were not really cool enough for!

[darrens-toyhouse]

Oh, Mr. Policeman!

Estevan Aguliar, Morgan Grantz and the town/city, East Armeira belong to @mrboogerlip

This is just a little fanfic/gift fic on how Estevan and Milo met! Nothing more!

~~~

"Now that that's done, I can head back home!"

Wiping his tears away, the young man got off the ground, dusted off the dirt and gravel of his skirt before turning around and heading back to his shithole apartment. It's been weeks since he last been outside in the summer heat so he was feeling a bit sweaty and dizzy, maybe he should've picked a better time to see his friends, or maybe he shouldn't have gone outside at all?

No. No! He needed to get out this time! Get some air and feel the sweet summer light on his skin, even if the light did hurt his eyes a bit after being cooped up inside for so long.

As the young man adjusted his glasses and walked downtown and back into the quiet city, he sighed as he walked passed a couple of teens smoking cigarettes and drinking what seemed to alcohol straight from several unlabeled bottles. They were all wearing baggy pants and lose shirts with the exception of one, a young girl, who wore a tank top and low-rise jeans, she even wore hoop earrings that matched her white shirt.

He shifted his eyes towards the group to get a better look at them and chuckled to himself.

It made him feel nostalgic...

Sometimes he wished he could just go back to being a teenager, a little gangsta hooligan with no future ahead of him in sight, sitting outside a disheveled, rundown, abandoned, house covered in graffiti and trash, drinking that good ole' blue freeze with his buddies while the most irritating rap blasted in the background.

Glance after glance as he walked, the teens continued to laugh, joke, cuss up a storm and cough up their lungs before washing all that tar with straight warm booze. No one could stop them now, they probably thought.

No one expect the police...

As soon as he heard those sirens blare and the red and blue lights blind his eyes, the man steady hid behind the small claustrophobic alleyway between two neighboring apartment homes, hiding his hands behind his back as if he were a kid again, hiding a stolen can of spray paint after spraying someone's car or worse a baggy of drugs.

Peeking out from behind the corner, the man adjusted his glasses and gasped silently as he watched the teens laughter fade ruther and ruther and be replaced with sighs of worry, annoyance and anger as the police car drover closer and closer before finally, parking right next to them!

One teen hurriedly got up, fist clenched and ready but was immediately pulled back by another as the officer stepped out.

He was wearing the typical bright blue uniform barley hidden behind a dark blue vest which matched his hat and pants, there was also a belt tied straight to his waist in which he carried a gun and taser, and a gold badge strapped to the right side of his chest.

The man pondered about the outfit as it was very VERY unusual for AcersVille police who often wore a dark black shirt and black vest, driving around in their white and black cars, a gun mostly already in out of their belts and a little walkie talkie in their upper vest pockets to be wearing something so...off? Maybe the times have changed?

It wasn't until he looked a little bit more closer at the cop car itself. It was blue, a deep dark blue that on the right side of the car read in big bold letters, EAST ARMEIRA PD.

The man gulped, "East Armeira?"

East Armeira, the large yet bustling city where everyone truly lived happily, and even if some had their own dark past or secrets to hid, it still didn't stop them from enjoying life in their own city unlike the people of AcersVille.

Yet it was still a shocking surprise that someone from a city so bright and full of hope would even come down here. Not to mention, the fact AcersVille often closed itself off constantly from outside cities, such as blocking the only entrance in the springtime.

Some of the teens gave the officer a stern look of pure rage while some showed faces of guilt, others showed shame. They knew that each and everyone of them all had a history with the law at such young ages and couldn't afford to go back to jail, after all those bottles of alcohol were not cheap.

The police officer shifted his eyes down at the multiple cigarette buds on the ground and then towards the bottles of alcohol, and shook his head in disbelief.

He had been told way back at his time at East Armeira Police Academy about on how troubled AcersVille teens were and how the police there were struggling to keep things under control but to see it for himself now, it truly was ridiculous! He didn't understand why the East Armeira police department was so ready to head into AcersVille and help parole it, even if it was for a very small amount of time, but now he knew why they were also so hesitant to deal with it's citizens in the first place.

It was almost like they knew the happy-cheerful smiley face façade was just that...a façade!

"What are you little rascals doing out here in the blistering heat, huh? I see you guys got some cigarettes on you."

He turned his attention back to the booze, "A couple of drinks too? Wow! You kiddos have homework right? Why not instead do that instead of being on the streets? It's more safe!"

He gave the teens a warm smile, assuring them he wasn't going to arrest nor hurt them. They were just some juveniles, AcersVille juveniles, but juveniles for sure. All they needed was someone to swerve them on the right path!

"Homework? You think WE got homework!?!"

One of the teens spat on the police officer's shoe, it was the girl! She held up her fist and started going off!

Even though, she was smaller then her male friends, she seemed to have a very smart mouth, a nasty attitude and heavy anger issues on top of being drunk out of her mind and as she stumbled, her hoop earrings swayed side to side each time, her friends desperately trying to hold her back.

"Why don't you fuck off! We ain't do shit!"

One of the boys put a hand on the girl's shoulder, trying to comfort her by saying her name and when that didn't work, he spoke up in a clear tone.

"Come on, let's just back head to the park."

Yet the girl still flat-out refused to listen!

She began to cuss even louder at the officer about how she didn't do anything even though they were technically drinking, smoking and causing a ruckus. And when the officer asked them were did the booze and cigarettes even come from and if they stole it, that's when the teens all got defensive, leading to a knife being pulled out.

The man hiding from behind the corner knew where this was going and quickly ran over to the police officer and declared that it him, who purchased their stolen drugs before then looking back at the confused teens and then back at the officer, hands slightly up as he faked a guilty look.

"It was me, officer."

His voice softened slightly. He shifted his eyes to the now cowering teens and reassured to them that everything was going to be okay, if they complied, before swiveling back to officer, his face even more guilty then before.

"I-I was the one who bought them the cigarettes and booze."

The officer raised an eyebrow, a look of confusion painted his face as he turned his view back to the teens who nodded hesitatingly.

"I see. Well guess you little rascals are off the hook."

The officer then pulled out a pair of cold sliver cuffs and cleared his throat. He hand cuffed the other adult and sighed.

"As for you, madame, you're coming with me."

The officer escorted the young man, or who he perceived to be a young women, into the back of his car before he turned back to the group of trouble making teens and gave them a disappointed glare. He knew that at the end of the day they were just teenagers but something else told him, they would never change their ways.

As he closed the back passenger door and made his way over to the driver seat, he looked down at the other adult and frowned.

"You didn't have to lie for them you know, miss. They're just some hooligans."

He looked up at the teens who were now spray painting the building they had been sitting in front of and rolled his eyes. As someone who had grown up to follow all of his mother's rules and work extremely hard to get were he was, it practically disgusted him. Such troublesome behavior that could never be fixed.

"Before you know it, they'll all be dead by tomorrow anyway."

The other adult simply chuckled in response and looked up at the officer with a look of pure emptiness and replied in a soft, yet dead toned voice,

"Then let today be their tomorrow."

×××

Past BlueBird Rode and down MaryLane, the two finally made it to the broken down apartment complex that was completely covered in trash, littering not only one balcony but multiple. There was even an old roach infested, bloodstained mattress sitting outside which let off a strong musty stench in the heat.

The police officer covered his noise as he parked his car in front of the apartment and got out in a hurry.

While he did not want to judge, he just had to blurt out,

"You live here, miss?"

To which the other man nodded, "Better than the rode we just past. I would never go back to living down BlueBird Rode again! To many prostitutes at night down there and to think people still raise their kids to grow up in this city."

The only thing the officer could say to such as response was a simple, nervously confused, "Oh?"

The young man let out a cute, soft giggle at the officer's wariness, "Hey, how about I offer you some tea? You look a little scared, Mr. Policeman!"

"D-do I?"

"Mm-hm! My treat! Now come on!"

Before the officer could say anything else, he was immediately pulled by the arm and lead up a couple of stairs, each hallway they past smelled like smoke, cigarette buds and dust littered the black carpeted floors and the mold in the corners had started to blend with the carpet. Each door they had past was either busted slightly open, scratched up with chalk from the kids who lived here or in the case of one, blown up with bullet holes.

The only door that didn't look tattered up or had mold and cigarette buds everywhere, was the only one with a slightly faded but readable number, apartment 208!

The police officer watched the other unlock the door and swing it open, causing a loud THUMP to be heard, followed by the sound of shattered glass as a picture had suddenly fallen off the wall.

While the apartment looked to be squeaky clean there was still some things that looked off.

There were slight cracks in the wall, dirty dishes piled up in the sink, small bits of crumbs and paper accumulated in some corners of the living room, and the dinning room, which was cramped right next to the living room couch was dusty beyond belief and looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

"Sorry if it's a bit dusty and dirty, I wasn't really expecting a visitor."

The other man snickered and pulled over a chair, "Please by all means take a seat, Mr. Policeman! I'll be right back, okay?"

The officer did as he was told and sat down, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it. Was this really was the hottest summer yet? Or maybe he was just uncomfortable? He never knew the city was this bad after all! Sure, rowdy, rebellious teens was one thing but this? This was a living nightmare!

As soon as he finished his tea, he would leave and head back home immediately and report back to his boss, the chief of police, Morgan Grantz! AcersVille was clearly NOT the city that needed to be protected by outsiders!

The officer gulped and turned his attention back to the cracks in the wall and adjusted his collar.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, miss, how long have you lived here? This places looks a bit-"

"Shabby? Yeah, I know. The last people that lived here left it a hot mess, hence the cracks. I've been trying to find another place to say but there really isn't a safe place to go."

When the man came back, he was holding a small tray that had two cups of tea diligently placed on top of it. He carefully sat the tray down on the table, and sat across from the officer.

He picked up his cup of tea by the handle and frowned, "Everywhere's the same..."

The officer shifted his eyes to the single cup om the tray and picked it up, taking a small sip. He was curious so he finally popped out the question that was truly on his mind, "Can't you just leave?"

The other man in the room got quiet.

"Leave?"

A long, awkward pause.

"No. I can't just leave. I was born here."

The officer shrugged and sat his cup down, "So? I was born in East Armeira, but that doesn't mean I have to stay, even if it is my home."

"Y-you wouldn't get it..."

"Get what? That this city is a extremely disheveled? Unsafe even?"

The man bit his lip and fiddled with the rim of his cup, "It's complicated..."

Another long awkward pause.

The young man adjusted his glasses and looked up at the officer, now curious.

"What's East Armeira like anyway, Mr. Policeman?"

"I don't really know how to explain it that well, miss. It's a very nice place, nicer than here anyway. Everyone gets along, everyone knows everybody, it's perfect!"

The man raised an eyebrow, he had never heard someone describe a city as perfect before.

"Really?"

"Sorta. Crime exist but its mostly petty theft. Nothing really too serious, ya know."

When the police off took another sip, the other man's eyes started to sparkle with curiosity! He began to question the officer about everything he knew about East Armeira. Like what were the people or if they had a mall? Did they also have a nightly carnival like they did over here? The possible amount of questions was endless!

And each time the officer would answer, giving out what he knew from a personal perspective of growing up in such a wonderful town! And each time he did, the man's eyes got even more filled with curiosity and he began to ask even more questions.

"Oh I see! Maybe one day I can come and visit you, Mr. Policeman!"

The officer let out a light chuckle followed by a warm smile as he sat his empty cup down on the tray, got up and put his hat back on.

"Oh please, call me, Estevan! Estevan Aguliar!"

"Estevan? That's a very funny name!"

"Oh? Then what's your name, miss?"

The nam hesitated at first even backing away in the process. He swore he would never give his name out to anyone else ever again, especially not a police officer but since Estevan seemed very very kind and extremely sweet, he broke his vow.

He cleared his throat and let out a hushed sigh.

"...Milo Campbell. Milo J-Josiah Campbell. Though you can just call me Milo..."

The officer blinked then let out a mean snicker, "You look a lot more like a Lily or a Charlotte, miss."

Milo was about to say something but kept his mouth shut once Estevan checked his watch and shook his head. He gave Milo another warm smile and started to head back home.

"Guess I have to go, Ms. Campbell! Thanks for the tea by the way, it was delicious!"

Milo smiled back, "Oh, no problem! Feel free to stop by anytime, Mr. Policeman!"

Estevan let out a light laugh as he headed out the door and back to his car, only to see it completely vandalize with gang graffiti. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he rolled his eyes abd walked over to the driver's seat and scooted his way inside.

The last thing he saw was Milo. Standing by the window, waving goodbye.

~~~

Sorry @mrboogerlip if Estevan is written out of character I tried my hardest to say in character but I always end up picturing him as a serious yet stern guy with a sensitive soft side XD

And sorry if I got East Armeira wrong too! I have no idea what the town or city is suppose to be like but I imagine it's a big city/town with lots of people who are very very sweet and are easy to get along with but the town itself also has some very dark stuff like the whole Correa Family!

[sisterspooky1013]

Parallel, Chapter 5/6

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

When they return to Malibu, Mulder goes out for a run, leaving her alone in the apartment. She uncorks a bottle of very expensive wine and wanders from room to room with glass in hand, exploring the minutiae of this other life. This other path.

In addition to the master suite, there are two other bedrooms and a full bath. One bedroom is an office, the other a well-stocked library, and she notes a handful of familiar titles: Moby Dick, The Scarlet Letter, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. But just like the music on the radio, the vast majority of them are new to her. The books appear to be arranged by genre, and she locates a section of nonfiction historical works that looks promising. The spine of one reads “The Rise and Fall of the United States of America,” and she feels both afraid and excited as she gets comfortable in an oversized armchair and begins to read.

She learns that the pivotal moment, the turn of events that separated this timeline from her own, was the circumstances of the Civil War. Under different leadership and with the allegiance and support of a powerful European ally, The Confederacy sought not to secede from the United States, but to overthrow it. Only by joining forces with their neighbors to the north was the Union able to maintain control of a small portion of the former United States and its territories. A map in the book shows an extension of the Canadian border down the east and west coast like two legs, one encompassing Washington State, Oregon, and California, the other every state from Maine down to Pennsylvania. The rest of the country, including most of what would have become the Midwest, is labeled as the Confederate States of America. It’s described as a nearly dystopian wasteland, plagued by violence and lawlessness. The border between the Canadian territories and the C.S. is heavily guarded, and frequent checkpoints ensure that no C.S. citizen is able to infiltrate.

Scully closes the book, half wishing she hadn’t read it, and continues her aimless wandering, stopping along the way to refill her wine. She ends up in the master bedroom, watching from the window as the sun comes into view and begins its slow march toward the horizon. Beachgoers look like lines of ants as they pack up their towels and umbrellas and walk back to their cars, and she feels nostalgic and homesick, both for her California coast childhood and her East coast apartment that is likely part of the Confederacy in this world. She wants to go home, but she is home, at least as close to home as is available to her right now. She wants her sister, and she wants Mulder, but the versions of them here are the wrong ones. In her desperation for comfort, she draws herself a bath.

Beneath an opaque veil of bubbles, she closes her eyes and indulges in one of her favorite fantasies. It’s an entirely plausible scenario in which Mulder kisses her on her couch after an evening talking over case files, and she wordlessly leads him to her bedroom. When she’s almost to the best part, she hears the front door open and listens as Mulder moves through the apartment, kicking off his shoes and stashing his keys.

“Dana?” he calls out, and she gets a little thrill from the domestic normalcy of answering that she’s in the bath.

He appears in the doorway, bare-chested and glistening, and she’s grateful for the modesty afforded her by the bubbles.

“Feeling better?” he asks, and she shrugs.

“A little.”

“Mind if I grab a shower?”

She shakes her head, then watches as he strips off his running shorts and boxers while he waits for the water to heat up. She doesn’t bother trying to hide her open observation of him, and he doesn’t seem to notice. Why would he? In his experience, she’s seen him naked hundreds if not thousands of times.

When he’s finished, he wraps a towel around his waist and grabs a second one off the rack, then steps up beside the tub and holds it open wide.

“It’s golden hour,” he says, and it’s clear that it should mean something to her.

In a surge of either resignation or bravery, she opens the drain on the tub and stands up, leaving only a thin film of bubbles covering her body. Mulder offers her his hand and she steps out onto the bath mat where he wraps the towel around her as well as his arms, holding her close while water glugs down the drain.

After what feels like minutes, he says, “C’mon, we don’t want to miss it,” and pulls away enough to guide her out into the bedroom. She follows his lead, like she has done much of the day, as he lays on top of the comforter with the towel still slung around his waist. She secures her own towel under her arms and lies down beside him, and he snakes his arm under her shoulders. After some adjustments, she ends up tucked up against his side with her head on his chest, the room awash in a sea of reds and oranges and both their faces turned toward the window to soak it all in.

They are quiet, and she listens to the sounds of ambient traffic and shrieking gulls, and the steady beat of Mulder’s heart under her ear. He idly traces his finger up and down her forearm, following the long bones in her fingers from wrist to tip and back again.

“What’s wrong?” he asks suddenly, and she immediately feels like crying. “You just…you don’t seem like yourself today,” he adds, giving her arm a squeeze.

“I don’t feel like myself today,” she confirms. “I’m sorry if I’m acting strange.”

“That dream really threw you for a loop, eh?” he says.

“Yes,” she says quietly. “It really did.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

She lifts her head off his chest and props herself up on an elbow. His hair is damp and wild, his cheeks rough with stubble. Her eye falls to his shoulder, very near where her head was resting moments ago. With her free hand she touches the place where her Mulder would have a long-healed pink scar that she gave him and runs her fingers across unblemished skin. She lowers her head and presses her lips to that place, aching for this part to be real. This easy, uncomplicated way of being together.

“I love you,” she whispers against his skin. It feels like an experiment, like a chance to see how it feels to say it out loud in his presence.

“I love you too,” he says quickly, without hesitation, and it breaks her heart.

“Why?” she asks, lifting her head to look at his face. “Why do you love me?”

He inverts their position, rolling her to her back and hovering over her. Her towel shifts and exposes a long strip of flesh from beneath her breasts down her belly, and she resists the urge to adjust it. Mulder cradles her jaw in his palm, his thumb gently stroking her cheek, and it feels so real, like something her Mulder would do. He searches her face for a moment before he kisses her forehead, letting his lips linger. She tries so hard to keep the tears from falling, but she can’t. They run down the sides of her face, pooling in the whorls of her ears. When he finally pulls away, he brushes the tears off with the backs of his fingers, first from one side and then the other.

“How could I not?” he asks earnestly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

She kisses him then. She pulls him down by the back of his neck and she kisses him like she’s always wanted to. Like she wishes she could. He slips his hand under her towel and touches her bare waist, her hip, then skirts back up and palms her breast. She’s overwhelmed with arousal and excitement and fear, aware of the press of his erection against her thigh and how incredibly wet she is. The room is warm and soaked in sunset, and his body is firm and smooth, and she gets lost in how good it feels to be touched and held. To be loved without question.

“I want you,” he murmurs, running his fingers down the inside of her thigh. She wants him so much she feels like she might burst into flame. He pauses, apparently waiting for a response. “Dana?” he asks.

At the sound of her first name, her eyes fly open and she sits up abruptly. She looks around, disoriented. This sherbet room, this California king bed, this man beside her with a tent at the front of his towel. This doesn’t belong to her. This isn’t right.

“I’m sorry,” she says, tugging her own towel up to cover her breasts. “I’m sorry, I just—I don’t feel like myself today.”

The tears return, and she’s just so exhausted by this whole ordeal. She feels lost in a way she doesn’t know how to explain to him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, sitting up behind her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “We don’t have to have sex if you’re not up to it.”

“But the calendar,” she chokes out, feeling like she’s ruining another version of herself’s chance at motherhood.

“Screw the calendar,” he says, giving her a squeeze. “There’s always tomorrow, or next month. We can just lay here, or go watch TV. We can do whatever you want.”

She nods and wipes her cheeks.

“Maybe just lay here, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay,” he says emphatically. “I’ll be right back.”

He goes to the closet and slips on a pair of boxers, then throws her a cotton nightgown that she pulls on over her head before discarding her towel. She lies on her side facing the window and he cuddles up behind her, one arm draped over her waist and a respectable distance between his groin and her backside.

“This okay?” he asks, kissing her shoulder, and she nods.

“Thank you,” she whispers, relaxing into him.

They watch as the sky fades from orange to pink, and her tear-salted eyes grow heavy. She feels the press of Mulder’s chest rising and falling against her back with his breaths, and it lulls her into a trance. The last thing she remembers is his deep, contented sigh, and the way she feels it in her bones.

Tagging @today-in-fic

[cassynite]

"Happy Valentines day, Sparrow and Daeran!

I know we don't know each other terribly well yet, but you are Daeran's chosen partner and so I must send my congratulations - and also extend this as an invitation to get to know you better! I hope he hasn't been as difficult for you as he was for me. Gods knows what kind of pain in the ass he was during the Crusade for me, but he has also been one of my closest and most sincere friends now that this whole mess is over.

I also don't know what he has said about me in response but...! I promise I am not nearly as terrifying and "Hellknighty" as he suggests (only when he pisses me off, which, to be fair, was pretty often). Dae is a wonderful friend to me an I am quite offended he hasn't formally introduced us yet! I had to learn about you second hand from Woljif of all people, gods.

I understand we're both from Cheliax, is that right? Or at least you spent a good amount of time there growing up. Westcrown too, right? I've sent along a few things from the homeland that hopefully give you good memories instead of bad. I know how terrible things are back home right now, but hopefully there is a brighter dawn sooner rather than later. These treats are Wiscrani through and through and I hope they find you well. I grew up there when it was still the capital and these haven't changed in over a century! They're just as nostalgic as when I used to swipe them from the stalls as little street orphan. I'm not sure if Daeran has ever had them but I think he'll like them too! Please enjoy them with this limoncello I've sent from the area, too.

I also heard you've spent quite a lot of time in the Chelaxian courts? I'm sorely out of practice - they used to be my hunting grounds when I was just a fresh Scourge knight after the war - maybe we can meet up for some drinks (your choice on alcoholic or not) and talk about the latest trends? I'm in need of a primer if I want to settle back into my old habits. Or at the very least, we can trade our best war stories about the courts. I have one about the time I sent a young Thrune cousin sprawling across the floors after he tripped on my tail. I have a feeling you'd like that one.

I hope you two have a wonderful Valentine's day! Even Daeran, who has been so rude and a terrible friend as of late (I know you're reading this!)

-Warm regards, Minovae"

Sparrow stared at the letter in the foyer.

It had been a highly diverting day, occupied with a boat ride down the Sellen and an evening dinner. Daeran had secured a group of Desnan singers who performed with no instruments, instead using their own vocals to mimic the sound of fully accompanied music to dramatic effect. Sparrow was still thinking of the sound when she returned home and saw the delivery waiting on the table--the letter, addressed to her and Daeran, along with a brightly wrapped box that tugged at Sparrow's memory in a way she could not place, and a bottle of sunshiny liqueur.

"Daeran," she called, gathering the items and moving to their rooms. "Were you expecting correspondence from anyone?"

"I am always expecting correspondence, darling. Consider just how popular I am among the bored elite," Daeran said, which Sparrow took as a 'no.' He had already begun to undress for the day, and she felt the heat of his body as he sidled up behind her. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and tilted the envelope to read the address. "I recognize the handwriting. It seems Minovae wrote."

"Minovae?"

"I've spoken to you about her before," Daeran said, amused. He took the box and the bottle from Sparrow. "I distinctly recall bringing her up after we had finished repaving those endless paths around the lake, when we discussed who we might be inviting by."

The name did seem familiar, though Sparrow was embarrassed to realize she couldn't place it. She broke the seal and pulled out the letter, reading through the clear, confident script. "Ah. The field maralictor."

"Minovae," Daeran corrected. "She usually doesn't bite people's heads off for using her first name. Unless you annoy her, which I doubt you'd have accomplished before now since she didn't know you existed."

Daeran had told her of the woman before. He had even made the same comment about it being fine to refer to her by her given name when he brought up the possibility of meeting and making acquaintance.

Sparrow hadn't believed him. She had heard "Hellknight from Cheliax," and then "married to our old friend Regill," and she'd immediately created the person in her head that she felt would fit those descriptors. It had not been someone she was terribly eager to meet, and though she hadn't said anything of the sort, Daeran hadn't brought up the subject again.

The voice behind the letter did not match the person Sparrow had imagined. The person who wrote this seemed excited, had asked to meet, had called Daeran a dear friend even as she called him a pain in the ass. Minovae reminded Sparrow more of Seelah than Derenge. She seemed kind, and hopeful, but clearly also loved her country and her duties to the Order.

A dissonance, Sparrow would have called it. Or a lie. But what would be the purpose? Why would Daeran think of her as a friend if she were anything other than what Sparrow was seeing in this letter?

We are more than the places we come from. Sparrow had said that once, in defense of her own time in Cheliax, back when people thought she was Lady Evaethi Arvanxi. People were more than their land, and land was more than its bad history, its bad rulers.

And yet here she had been, doing what she had so resented of others doing to her--placing the burdens of her grief with her homeland onto someone else she'd never met and pressing a person down into a single experience. She didn't know Minovae. And from what she was seeing by this letter, and the lovely gifts, Minovae was someone she might want to know. Someone she might be friends with if she was brave enough.

Sparrow had so few memories of Westcrown that were positive in any way, and none that were not tinged with the soul-crushing hopelessness that came with being a tool to be used as needed and discarded when done, captive with no escape in sight. But Cheliax was more than those memories, more than her slavery. It had a different past, and hopefully a different future, one she barely knew of and had deliberately ignored; to her, it had only been a place to escape.

And apparently it boasted the sweets Daeran was unwrapping, fruit tarts and soft fresh-looking pound cake and dark chocolates cupped in filmy white wrapping. Sparrow had seen the packaging before when she had roamed the streets of Cheliax's former capital with Evaethi; she was reasonably sure she'd walked by the very patisserie these were made. She had never once tried any of these things.

Her throat tightened, and she abruptly felt ashamed. She looked back down at the letter, at the cheerful introduction of someone Daeran had told her of over six months ago. "I'll write back. Perhaps we can arrange a time to formally meet."

Sparrow should also send gifts; it would be appropriate. Sweets? Regill never seemed to care for such things. Would it also be seen as tired, since that was what they had received? Perhaps there was something of interest in her library she could obtain a copy for--or were books also boring? Maybe--

The letter was pulled from her hands, and Daeran folded the contents away in the envelope. "Not tonight, you won't."

Sparrow reached for the letter and scowled when Daeran stepped away. "It would be rude not to respond as soon as possible."

"Dearest, I have seen you pen correspondence to individuals who make you nervous for no discernible reason. You'll take days to write 'yes, let's meet and get to know each other' in a register so formal my cousin would find it excessive in high court, and then fret about the entire ordeal until you receive a response. That stress can wait until tomorrow--our day together is not yet over and I would like to enjoy the rest of it with you."

"I--" Sparrow sighed and stepped back. "I should still start tonight."

"Or," Daeran opens the box and takes out a piece of chocolate, "we could try the confectioneries that were so generously provided for us and enjoy the rest of the holiday. If you have an opinion on the sweets, you can even put it in the letter, which is practically beginning to write back anyways. Here, tell me what you think."

Sparrow held out her hand, but Daeran stepped close again and pressed the chocolate to her lips. She rolled her eyes, but opened up and let him pop it into her mouth--she inhaled sharply when she bit down and the bittersweet notes of the chocolate melded with the hidden fruit filling. "Oh, that is lovely."

"Is it? Let me try." Daeran swooped down and kissed her, pressing her mouth open and tasting the sugar on her tongue. Sparrow mind went white-blank and fuzzy at the edges. Pulling back, he smiled at her slightly vacant expression. "I agree, very sweet."

"It wasn't that sweet actually," Sparrow said, trying to collect her scattered thoughts.

"Really? My mistake. Let's try again with the rest of the gifts. I would very much like to sample that limoncello."

#

[A letter written on thick paper in a formal, though exceedingly correct and simple script.]

"Greetings and Happy belated Valentine's Day, Field-Maralictor Aur Minovae.

(First, please let me know if you are comfortable with informal address. Daeran insists that you would not care, but I would not wish to be overfamiliar.) This letter was a surprise, but a very welcome one.

Your letter, and your gifts, arrived in good condition, to Daeran's particular delight.  He mentioned that you both had not corresponded in some time and had expressed regret at that fact. Woljif had not mentioned he was traveling south, or Daeran would have reached out before now; he stated he will rectify this issue "as soon as, and in the most surprising way, possible for the dear Paralictor's health." Please interpret this in the worst way possible and prepare accordingly.

I myself have been rather busy with the educational program I am hoping to have fully institutionalized by next year in Drezen, but that is not an excuse. Daeran spoke very highly of your leadership prowess (he insisted I inform you that he called you "very boring most of the time" and "incredibly frightening to your enemies" which I interpreted to mean you were more than competent in your past and present duties--not that Paralictor Derenge would have found a partner in anyone less). He also had spoken of setting up an arrangement to meet, something I had been too busy to look at fully. I do apologize for that oversight.

Your letter was an incredibly kind gesture, especially considering we had not been in touch before now. Thank you again for your correspondence. I would be honored, if you were still amenable, to meeting face-to-face.

I do not think I would be able to return to Cheliax in the near future, but if you were planning on traveling north perhaps we could arrange to meet in Mendev? The renovations at Heaven's Edge are nearly complete and would be open to supporting guests, if you would like, and Drezen of course has open doors for travelers. Fye, of the Half-Measure Tavern, mentions you fondly, and I still try to support his business when I can, so we could meet there if that sounds feasible. If that is too far of a trip for you, Daeran has made comments about traveling to the River Kingdoms recently, and I have been hoping to make time to go to Andoran within the year to visit Sosiel. Perhaps we could arrange for a rendezvous at a halfway point.

I do not know if I would be very helpful, but I could certainly speak on the Cheliaxian Court with you as it was before I left several years ago. I'm sure you know that House Arvanxi has fallen into decline in the past century, so my presence had never been required for high social events, but I might be able to offer some advice. In return I would like to learn more about the Cheliax of your youth. It would be nice, to learn more about what the nation used to be like, and what it could be again one day.

And thank you again, formally, for the gifts. Daeran had not sampled any of the delicacies you provided before, and had insisted we share them together, which was a very lovely experience. I was partial to the dark chocolate, myself. I do not know if you ever found yourself partial to the desserts common in Mendev, but a new shop specializing in baked sweets opened recently in Drezen that I've become fond of. I've provided some samples with this letter.

For the Paralictor, who I recall did not like sweets overmuch, I've provided a copy of Indarah's latest volume on her historical examination of the Last War of Jistka. There is a chapter on military tactics used during Osirion's final push to victory that I believe he might find particularly interesting; I've marked the passage for him.

Both Daeran and I hope your Valentine's Day was as fulfilling and happy as you helped make ours. I know Paralictor Derenge needs to be pulled away from his work at times, but hopefully you managed without too much trouble. I look forward to speaking with you, and meeting with you, soon.

Best wishes,

Sparrow and Daeran Arendae

[sycamorre]

🎨 for Verena. 🔥 for Ledo. 🏆 for Treasure Planet Maudi

[mini oc memory snippets]

🎨 — A nostalgic memory — Verena

Fwip!

"Shit!"

Verena could not help but chuckle at the timing. A violet blade of psychic energy was now stuck in the doorway inches away from the face of the man that just walked in, who shot the drow a very pronounced frown as the blade faded away. "That wasn't intentional, I promise," she said, leaning forward from where she was previously lounging.

"Liar," the man responded, grumbling, before crossing the room to sit at the table next to her, laying out a spread of parchment across the surface, what seemed to be a selection of letters and dossiers. Curious, Verena rose from the chair and came to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder as he tried to organize the pages. A few seconds of silence passed before he finally paused, then huffed lightly before answering her unasked question, "It's information on some key targets we are being asked to infiltrate. Or rather, that they are asking you to infiltrate."

The drow's eyebrows shot up, and she stepped around to his side for a better look. "Really, now? I thought the big boss wanted me to keep a low profile, considering I only just started some of the bigger jobs. Did she have some kind of change of heart?"

"Something like that," he responded, pushing one of the pages aside. "We can only pick one, but we have the pick of the lot before we have to pass the rest on to the others. But if we play our hand well..." He finally smiled, a corner of his lips tugging upward. "We might start to make a name for ourselves around here."

🔥 — An angry memory — Ledo

It could have been a very nice, quiet evening. The setting sun was creating a wonderful array of colors above the town and the temperature was just right as crickets came out to sing. But even as Nuzur tried to enjoy the evening, winding down from the day's work, the sound of hammering at the forge beside his house was hard to ignore. The half-orc grunted, briefly staring down at the bottle he had just started, before standing up and slowly walking in the direction of the noise.

"Ledo," he called out between hammer swings, leaning against the entrance to the covered area, "You know sunset usually means we are finished working, right? Not starting again."

The tiefling did not answer him at first, only sparing him a glance over her shoulder before she continued hammering away for a moment longer. Nuzur knew this look, and waited, arms crossed, for her to finish and put the piece back into the forge itself "I wanted to finish something," she half-mumbled while the metal was heating back up, her hand reaching up to pull on the bellows. "Had no time to earlier."

"And it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"No."

Nuzur did not respond, letting the moment stretch out a few seconds longer. He knew what she was working on, and his gaze briefly settled on the tiny draconic homunculus watching from the rafters above. She had only started working for him a couple of months prior after wandering into town, but at this point he could read her mood well enough. Normally, she would start explaining things to him, regardless of if he had asked, and the little creature would be right up in the forge to lend a hand as well under normal circumstances. Something was off.

"Alright, talk." Nuzur took a few steps further in, finding a stool to sit on. "You're either pissed about something, or one of the pieces you worked on earlier came out wrong. Either way, I want to know."

At the mention of something coming out wrong, Ledo almost opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. Instead, she frowned at Nuzur's unyielding stare before turning back toward the forge. "Nothing came out wrong. This is a personal thing. I... I guess I am just pissed." She yanked the metal out again, placing it back on the anvil to continue her hammering with renewed vigor. "That piece of shit at the tavern again. I just wanted to eat a meal but he was already drunk and had to make a comment about me again. Accused me of being a thief this time, tried to claim I had taken Drache from someone else despite the fact I have said on multiple occasions that I made him myself years ago and—"

She stopped hammering suddenly, realizing a bit too late that she had gone too far and the metal was now thinner than she needed it to be.. With an infernal curse, she threw the metal into the water beside the forge, crossing her arms while the steam rose from it. Ledo turned to finally look at Nuzur with a tired look, though her jaw still seemed clenched.

"He shouted that I should go back to Twalan. I know I should have ignored him, but I yelled back. Said that I would if I could so I would not have to listen to him, but in a... less-polite way." She took a deep breath, trying to keep a straight face. "And I know that you are going to say you understand. I do not doubt that. But dammit, it's frustrating! I had rank! I earned the respect of those around me in Twalan. Only for me to end up here, in a place where it feels like I have to fight for basic decency, just because—"

It was at this point that Drache seemingly could not take watching from the rafters anymore as his master's voice was rising in volume, and he glided down to perch on her, clicking and nudging her cheek. Ledo groaned in acceptance as she reached up to pet him, head turning down as she tried to calm down again.

Nuzur, strangely enough, couldn't help but grin a bit at the display, pointing to Drache. "I think if anyone else doubts that you made that little one, they ought to see how in tune he is with you. But you know, I think the last thing you need is to be in here working while your mind is wandering. Did you finish your meal at the tavern?"

"No, not really." Ledo replied softly. "I left before I got angrier. I didn't want people thinking you had hired someone who could not control their temper."

"Ah, then you need to eat. Come, I think I still have enough left to share. The old ladies down the road still comment to me that you need more meat on your bones anyway, so I can't let you skip meals just because someone wants to be an ass."

🏆 — A proud memory — TP AU Maudi

"Easy on the angle there. You sure you've got it?"

"Aye, taking it slow."

It had been some time since Maudi had actually driven a solar longboat, but she was more than happy to re-learn it now that they were in need of extra hands around the ship. They were supposed to be focusing on the creatures they were commissioned to study, but she had to admit that some days, doing things like steering the boats and helping them track things down were becoming much, much more interesting. It was at least a little less dull.

Two of the other passengers in the longboat - the other astrobiologist, and one of the younger crew members - were watching the jungle around them as they passed through the trees, wary of any movement that might be out there. The younger boy was noticeably nervous at this point.

"Are you sure you know where we're going? I don't think the captain wants us out here after dark, and we have no camp supp—"

"Relax lad," came a rougher voice from the floor of the boat. One of the senior officers had accompanied them, and he was the reason they were already going back. He had been unfortunately stung by one of the creatures in the jungle, one that they had not identified, so rather than risk the reaction getting worse by lingering, Maudi and her own colleague had made the call to cut their studies short. But even now, the initial bad reaction the officer was having seemed to be improving. Though he could barely keep his head up, he could at least look up at the boy to reassure him. "I've worked with Maudi before. She learned how to navigate from the best. You'd do well to trust her, because I do. Now stop whimpering and keep an eye out for more of those blasted bugs."

Though she kept her own eyes ahead and purposely did not look at the boy's reaction, a corner of Maudi's lips came up in a proud, silent smile at the reassurance. She knew it was not just for him, but also an encouragement for her. She would have to make sure to thank him once they were all safely on the ship.

[morganamandavos]

The complimentary colors that are featured on this book cover are violet and yellow, which are opposite each other on the color wheel. The vibrant yellow flower center really stands out amongst the all violet background and immediately draws your eye to it. From there your eye moves outward to the rest of the piece, with the help of the flower petals to lead the eye. 

The analogous colors used on the bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch are used to make a visual connection between the product’s branding and a valley where herbs and vegetables may be grown. As we can see, the greens and blues that are used in the logo are also used in the illustration of the valley behind it, creating a sense of harmony and unity. I would predict that the designers goal here is for the consumer to associate the flavors of this product with the freshness and naturalness of the valley. 

In this case, I think that the cool colors that dominate the majority of this book cover are used to communicate the somber and reflective mood of the novel. This novel is set in post-war Germany, and the different shades of blue used to illustrate the setting in the background help convey the historical atmosphere. The designer ultimately wants you to associate the feelings the cool colors elicit with the themes, setting, and emotions of the book. 

I like using Frank's RedHot Buffalo Sauce as an example because the warm colors on its bottle directly communicate the warmth and intensity of the product. By utilizing warm colors, the design effectively conveys the sauce's flavor profile, as these colors are commonly associated with spice and heat. The intentional use of warm hues by the designer encourages consumers to associate the product with the fiery sensation that these colors typically evoke.

The cover of "Everybody Knows" uses contrast of hues in multiple ways. Firstly, the contrast between the red and blue hues not only suggests police lights but also symbolizes the dual nature of the character depicted on the cover, portraying her internal conflicts and struggles between opposing sides. Additionally, the vibrant yellow typography stands out against the darker background, immediately capturing the viewer's attention and communicating the most important and apparent information to them. 

This graphic that is on one of my favorite sweatshirts displays the Gestalt principle of closure. While at first glance it may not be apparent, if you look at the lines that make up the subjects of the design, many of them are incomplete. Our brain fills in the gaps however to create fully formed objects without even thinking twice about it. 

This book cover illustrates an active figure-ground relationship using the bird shapes that are cut out of the letters. Depending on what you place your focus on, you will notice something different. If you are focusing on the words you may not notice that the cutout shapes resemble birds, and if you place your focus on the cutouts it is very apparent that they are birds. 

This graphic T-shirt showcases a scene of an In-N-Out Burger, likely set in the 1950s era. With its nostalgic ambiance, the design communicates the retro vibe through vintage cars, clothing, and architectural aesthetics. By offering such a T-shirt design in 2024, the brand effectively communicates the rich history and cultural significance of the fast food chain.

[pinerreader]

Portrait painter pabst

Cancer is ruled by the moon and the beer takes its name from a rare lunar occurrence. In kind, Blue Moon was born from America’s past time, developed at the Sandlot Brewery at Coors Field. If Cancer were a sport it would be baseball it’s nostalgic AF, no one gets hurt and everyone is trying to make it home safe. CANCER (June 21 – July 22) Blue Moon Cancer is ruled by the moon and Blue Moon is an ode to rare lunation. Be it Clydesdale horses, hammy hounds or bellowing frogs, the message is clear and incessant. In turn, no beer brand has made better use of marketing than ladies and gentlemen, Budweiser. Gemini is ruled by rapid fire, trash talking, yarn spinning, sonnet singing planet Mercury which governs over communication and the problematic art of advertising. GEMINI (May 21 – June 20) Budweiser This Bud’s for you, Gemini. The ethos of founder Frederick Miller, “that the best things in life should be available to all” resonates with the Taurus spirit which views pleasure as birthright and decadence as always deserved. Bulls love a good time and a fine bargain in equal measure, making moderately priced, High life promising Miller their spiritual spirit. The most indulgent sign in the zodiac, Taurus rules the second house of values and valuables. TAURUS (April 20 – May 20) Miller High Life Taurus is about the high life baby, making Miller the banner beer for the sign. Through their “Fighting Spirit” campaign Modelo helps to revitalize gyms and is committed to providing funding and aid to under serviced military veterans and Hispanic communities, “to ensure that finances are never a stumbling block to achieving dreams.” Fighting the good fight and doing the right thing, all very on brand for these warmhearted warriors. The sign exhibits real superhero swagger and the Modelo brand exalts in that jock/hero energy. Getty ImagesĮver the avenger of the underdog, Aries has no fear of a fight. Getty Images/iStockphoto ARIES (March 21 – April 19) Modelo Modelo celebrates the fighting spirit of Aries. On tap, out of the bottle, poured from a can or a keg stand, these are the beers that align with each zodiac sign. With the stars above and the foam below, we offer a hearty cheers. in the Zagros Mountains of present day Iran.īeer in it its frothed glory has been linked to all manner of muck and miracles it can cause weight gain, dicey romantic decisions but also may have untold health benefits and according to some doctors can help folks survive a heat wave.Īlleged murderer, total Taurus and absolutely iconic bassist Sid Vicious, once admitted, “I’ve only been in love with a beer bottle and a mirror.” In a similar celebration of self-love and emptied vessels, we’ve compiled a list of the zodiac signs as beers. Indeed, the fossil record of booze dates to a Neolithic grog brewed 9,000 years ago in China’s Yellow River Valley while the oldest barley based beer was was imbibed around 3400 B.C. Steins high, kegs tapped, bottles open and refreshment at the ready, we raise a toast every year on September 7th to “National Beer Lover’s Day.”įor as long as we humans have faced reality we have been fermenting ways to soften its sharper edges. “For a quart of Ale is a dish for a king,” lauded playwright William Shakespeare once said, so today we feast. Japan launches campaign urging young people to drink more booze Viral US Open beer chugger Megan Lucky opens up about Jumbotron moment King Charles’ amazing reaction to fan asking him out for a beer

[piastrinorris]

Rained Off

AO3: Here!

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1448

Summary: You and your old best friend have a whole spring break of nostalgic adventure planned… But the weather has other ideas for you.

A/N: Hey gang! Sorry for the radio silence, I got hit with the 'vid, and the only fic inspo I could get is for a multi-chapter Steddie x reader that you'll be seeing... Very soon. But this idea came to me and so I thought I'd write this quick little drabble as a break from the Big Fic. Enjoy!

This one's dedicated to @denim-mixtapes bc well, I love her <3

You almost didn't recognise Eddie when he stood waiting for you at the airport. The scrawny-looking, buzzed-haired barely-turned-teenager you'd left behind in middle school is taller, naturally; has more hair now, naturally; but his face remains unchanged. There's no mistaking the Eddie Munson smile that you've missed for the last few years. He still hugs just as tightly.

"So, I thought we'd go to the old stomping ground, make sure no other whelps have taken over our old territory," Eddie marks off on his fingers as he stops his van at a traffic light. "Then we go to Benny's - food's still just as terrible, but you didn't come to Hawkins for a vacation, we're doing it all for the nostalgia, right?" You nod, laughing. "Exactly. So then, it's my D&D campaign tonight, it's a whole lot of backstory-related stuff this session, I don't think I can sub you in," he frowns, but you tell him that it's fine. "And then tomorrow, it's a Tuesday, and without school this week, the Coffin boys and I are just doing all rehearsal all day, we've got some new covers to perfect for our tiny crowd of 40-somethings drinking to forget everything except their teenage glory days, in the evening. And then on Wednesday -"

"Do you have plans for us for the entire week that I'm here?" you laugh.

"Why not?! I've missed having my best friend! There's so much I wanna do while I have you back again." And then the heavens open. Raindrops fall like bullets on his windshield. It's truly deafening. "Ah, shit," Eddie curses. "Suppose we better put the nostalgia tour on hold, get back to the trailer and wait all this out." You nod in agreement, and Eddie speeds through the streets of Hawkins to get back home.

Once he's parked up, you both sit there, in the van, staring at the trailer in front of you as the sound of rain falling rattles your eardrums. Eddie fishes around the seats of the van until he finally pulls out a leather jacket. Laughing victoriously as he holds it in the air, he hands it to you. You gratefully accept, hooking your bag over your shoulder before braving the effort to quickly wrench the van door open. However, as you're doing so, Eddie yells, "Race you!" Now that it's a challenge, you hold the jacket above your head, kick the door behind you and sprint to stand underneath the awning of the trailer. Eddie only just beats you, and you complain that it's only because you had to run around the van. Eddie simply leans in to laugh in your face before opening the door.

The rain is still audible against the trailer roof, but far more muted than in the van. You rub your arms, "God, I do not miss how cold Hawkins springtime is."

Eddie shrugs, "The trailer isn't exactly equipped with a heating system, if you need to warm up, we'll have to go over here," Eddie gestures over to a door you vaguely remember. Some of the stickers on it still remain, some have faded, some have been scratched off. There's plenty of newer additions to it, too. Still very much Eddie Munson's bedroom door.

Despite the scattered cigarette butts, empty bottles and occasional shirts and socks strewn across the floor, you still appreciate that Eddie must have tidied up a little for you. "You want me to leave you to take a nap, or...?" Eddie asks.

You shake your head. "Not tired. Though I am hoping the Human Heating Pad's services are still available."

Eddie cackles, "Oh man, yeah, I forgot how you're always so cold!"

"You know, my grandma always used to say: cold hands, warm heart," you defend indignantly as you kick your shoes off and throw back Eddie's bedsheets.

"Then I must be a cold-blooded killer!" Eddie puts on a gravelly, cheesy-horror voice as he waggles his fingers at you menacingly. You laugh, climbing into his bed. Eddie soon joins you and pulls you in to cuddle up to you. He's still just as warm as ever, but now he smells faintly of cigarettes and coffee, covered up with the Stetson cologne you always associated with Wayne. "You good there, now?" he asks in his regular voice.

"Yeah, I'll be toasty in no time," you grin. Eddie smiles back, ruffling your hair a little. His hand stays there as you both lay there in his bed, watching the dust dance in the faint hints of sunlight peeking through his mostly-closed blinds, listening to the soft sound of rain hitting the trailer roof.

Eddie eventually breaks the comfortable silence with a single chuckle. "Ha, this takes me back."

"To when?" you ask.

"Seventh grade. It was me, you, Bridget and Sammy, remember?"

You laugh, "Oh my god, and the break-up where they claimed custody over each of us! Bridget wanted us to play together every day after school and I had to tell her my mom wouldn't let me just so I could hang out with you for once instead!"

"That's it! Though, this specifically brings me back to before all of that," Eddie explains, slowing his voice a little.

You come to the realisation, blushing slightly. "Oh! I remember now. Back when they were young and in love and they wouldn't stop talking about how much fun kissing was." You start laughing, "And we thought the concept of it was so gross!"

"Yep! It was at your house, right? Snow was falling hard, so your parents let me stay the night in the spare room, and you'd snuck in to hang out with me," Eddie reminisces fondly.

"We were talking about... How you thought it was dumb to want to put your mouth on someone else's, and I just hated seeing my parents doing it all the time, and so we..." you trail off, but Eddie picks up.

"We thought we'd get it over with, right? See why everyone loves it so much."

"You know, considering how little was put into it, and it was a first for both of us, I do still think that was one of the best kisses I've ever had," you admit.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, beaming proudly. "Think I've gotten any better over the years?"

You lean up to look at him, then feel the compulsion to push yourself up to lean over him, propping yourself up by resting one fist either side of his torso and staying up at arms' length. He looks into your eyes, then down to your lips longingly, keeping that expression as he makes eye contact with you again. You smile, "Was that an invitation to find out?" He nods, and you lean down to kiss him.

It's not the peck he pressed onto your lips all those years ago. This kiss has momentum, he's adding pressure and taking it away, just to add it again. You straddle him entirely to get comfortable, and he wraps his arms around you. You pull away from the kiss to press a quick one to the corner of his lips, and then down to his jaw, trailing them down his neck. He lets out a long, guttural moan. "Okay, unfair," he protests, and you giggle against his skin, burying your face in. He moves to hold your face, pulling you back up to look at him. "Did you leave any marks?" he asks in a low, seductive voice. You shake your head, and he starts to move your head back down again. "Then get back to work."

"You're the one who stopped me before I could!" you pout, but Eddie only laughs back. You sink back to where you had been kissing his neck, finding the most supple feeling part and suckling on it. Eddie grasps you by the hair and by the hip, both hands squeezing tightly as he moans.

"Oh, I'm so getting you back for this," he promises as you scrape your teeth against his skin.

You sit up, still straddling his hips, and grin proudly. "Think I've gotten better over the years?"

"Everything I could have dreamed of and more." His delirious grin, matched with the halo of messy curls and his newly-bruised neck are enough for you to feel like you'd stepped straight into a dream, as well.

"You know... You had all those things planned for us..." you start, tracing shapes across his chest.

"Well, D&D and the band I can't ignore, but other than that..." Eddie starts before smirking, "you wanna ditch all that and just make out all week?"

"Sounds like my kinda spring break," you grin, leaning down to kiss him again.

[trexrambling]

Can I be a greedy bitch and request another one? For some reason “and you're absolutely sure this is what you need? “ absolutely screams Dean to me - either that goofy grin he gets trying to convince someone to do something he thinks will be fun, or the slightly pained smile when he’s trying to play off any pain/impairment he may be feeling. I’m not sure if he’s drunk, hurt, or hit by a spell, but whatever he’s proposing sounds like something the reader thinks is ridiculous, and Dean would never admit to if unimpaired/uninsured, but the reader is secretly pleased by it? Anyway, just thought I’d pass it along - these you’ve written have been wonderful!

"And you're absolutely sure this is what you need?"

You'd been thinking something more along the lines of a long, fast drive in Baby, an easy hunt where he could just chop some heads off a few vamps, a baseball bat and some ugly mugs to smash, even drinking the night away at a bar. He'd surprisingly only had a few beers before making this request, and you'd willingly helped him find what he needed at the local dollar store, biting your tongue so the many questions rolling through your mind stayed there.

Dean nods, looks at you sheepishly, and you immediately regret pushing the matter.

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Easiest two dollars I ever spent." You hand him one of the bottles and keep the other for yourself, untwisting the cap and swirling the contents inside around. "It's just..."

"Yeah, um, I know," he says, clearing his throat and avoiding your gaze. "I guess I was feeling a bit...nostalgic."

The park you'd driven to is still blessedly empty, the early morning sun casting its steady light through the trees and warming your skin. You fold your legs in to sit criss-cross in the grass, pull the plastic stick out of your container, and bring it to your lips. With a soft blow, the first set of bubbles forms, drifting in the breeze that carries them up and away from the two of you. A second trail of bubbles joins yours as Dean blows beside you, and you watch with a smile as the light catches the soapy orbs.

"I used to do this with Sam," he says quietly. "Long time ago." He clears his throat, and you set another group of bubbles free while you wait for him to continue.

"Those first few years, when Sam and I were both too young to go out with Dad on hunts, when I had to look after Sam because, well, there wasn't anyone else. And we didn't have much money, but this stuff-" he holds up the bubble mixture, turns it to examine the label- "I could find loose change on the street to pay for it. And Sammy, god, he loved it. But he'd always lose these wand thingies, and I'd have to make him some out of plastic straws."

There's so much sadness in the small smile on his face. You try to swallow the lump in your throat back down so you can keep blowing bubbles, keep surrounding the two of you with these glistening orbs that come to such a delicate end with the simplest touch.

"We're going to help him," you finally say. "He's going to get his soul back."

He sighs beside you. "Yeah... maybe."

Dean raises the wand to his mouth again, and both of you watch as the memory from his past drifts away in the wind, disappearing in the heat of the sun and popping on the sharp blades of grass as they land.

------------

If anyone has a wee Drabble request, I’m very much feeling this list of prompts right now and would love to do some writing! xo

[softnow]

bread

msr | s? | gen | words: 600ish

i keep a notebook for writing practice and use a different word every day as a prompt. oct 4th’s word was “bread.” posted at the behest of @o6666666.

— — —

Her foyer smells like his platonic ideal of an autumnal childhood when he unlocks the door with his so-recently cut key. Warm, yes, and sweet, like a candle burning somewhere, one of the orange ones she bought at the farmer’s market last weekend as he trailed behind her, holding her canvas shopping bag of apples and dates, marveling.

There’s a crispness, too, in the temperature, but also in the smell. She must have a window open, though he can’t imagine why. It’s not quite sixty outside today, but the edge in the air is comforting despite itself, evoking dew-damp pickup games on the grade school playground, scratchy wool cardigans soaking up the scent of fog and sweat.

The image is so visceral he nearly forgets where he is, a near-forty-year-old man in his girlfriend’s apartment, a bottle of red in his hands and mud on his shoes.

He toes off the shoes and lines them up beside hers on the mat, and the sight of her dainty leather boots next to his old clodhoppers squeezes his heart.

He considers calling out to her to announce himself, then decides against it as the prospect of sneaking up being her, catching her unaware, and sinking his nose into the sweet curve of her neck where she dabs her expensive perfume, presents itself to him, and he moves lightly on stocking feet deeper into the apartment, chasing the nearness of her and that bittersweet nostalgic smell.

There’s something else to it now, tickling the inside of his nose, something that summons a harvest bonfire, piles of red and yellow leaves and the dry sticks they fell from providing the embers over which to heat flagons of cider and sticky, puffed marshmallows. Does she have a fire going in the hearth? Just the candles? But neither option feels quite right, the acridness more elemental, more wild.

And then he is greeted with the final piece of the puzzle, so nearly lost under everything else, a Thanksgiving yeastiness, the close, warm smell of the insides of tea towel-covered bowls, the smell of white dusted handprints on an apron, the smell rarest of all in his boyhood memories.

He rounds the kitchen at last, and there she is, not in an apron but in flour-covered sweatpants and an academy t-shirt, two orange pumpkin candles ablaze on the stove, a window open, a 9 volt battery on the sill, clearly recently plucked from the smoke detector dangling corpse-like from the ceiling, and there, flanked on either side by oven mitts, a blackened lump in a loaf pan.

She turns before he can surprise her, before he can make it to the sugared crevice between her ear and shoulder, and she is flushed and chagrined and beautiful.

“Martha Stewart makes it look easier,” she says.

“Ah,” he says, reeling her in by the waist, noting the flour in her hair like streaks of grey, and he sees her in thirty years, just as radiant, just as inept in the kitchen, and his stomach does a yo-yo at the prospect—the very likely prospect, or at least, more likely than he ever could have believed—of being there to see it. “But Martha Stewart never looked so good covered in baking powder.”

And he kisses her, and she tastes as sweet as a brown sugar donut, as new as October’s first sunrise, as familiar as the New England chill. She tastes like fall. Like falling, every day, still.

[imastrangeone98]

Happy... Holidays?

(A/N: Lmaoooo it just dawned on me that Christmas is almost here in America so @philistiniphagottini here is something for u~~~ I decided to just stick with my fanfic roots and go back to dmc- hope u don't suffer holiday burnout like I do!!)

"Dante... What the actual fuck is this?"

You stare at the horrific chaos on the table: bottles of expensive liquor half-opened, glasses of said liquor lines up on rows, boxes upon boxes of unopened pizza, and the largest pack of marshmallows you had ever seen in your life. And among the mess sat an equally messy half-demon, dressed in a disheveled Santa Claus suit, the hat hanging precariously on his silvery head.

He gives you a mischievous smile, one that clearly tells you he's not remorseful in the slightest about ruining your nice dinner table. "Happy holidays, babe~ Wanna make some cocktails?"

"Fuck no, you know I don't drink," you huff with a roll of your eyes. "Also, it's only Christmas Eve; Lady and the others won't be here till tomorrow! And you're just starting to ruin my table-"

"Aw, chillax, babes! I'll help you clean up the second we're done!" He grabs you by the hips and snuggles up against you, his stubble tickling your collarbones. "And I know you don't drink; I'm just experimenting with some cool stuff that the others could try tomorrow, and I could just use some advice!"

You sniff the air. "You smell that?"

"Smell what?"

"Smells like your bullshit." You tap him on the nose, and he barely blinks at you in surprise. "I know you're just looking for an excuse to get drunk."

"I'm part demon; I can't get drunk," he mumbles against your skin. "Anyway, you don't need to try the drinks or anything; I already kinda figured out what I wanna give out tomorrow-"

"So you literally just lured me out here for nothing-"

"No I didn't, you came out all by yourself!" He nudges you with his head. "But it's good that you did; let's get to the actual event and roast some marshmallows!"

"I literally just brushed my teeth-"

"Psh, excuses excuses!"

He grabs your hand and drags you over to the kitchen, handing you a prepped skewer, and ignites the old gas stove. You then spend what feels like hours standing there with him, roasting marshmallows on a dying gas stove that Dante has to routinely kick the side of to keep the flames going.

"...Y'know, I haven't done anything like this since my mom died," he suddenly says to you. When you glance up at him in shock, he simply has a nostalgic smile on his lips. ""Didn't really have a reason to. But it's nice, y'know? I've spent so long dwelling on how it ended to remember that there were some good times too." He looks at you, a warm glow on his face that makes your face heat up. "You get me, yeah?"

You blink, and you rule that the heat in your cheeks is simply because of the fire. But you grin at him, and you know what he's trying to say without even a word. "Yeah. I get you."

He blows out the fire on his very burnt marshmallow and shoves the thing into his mouth. "Let's make hot cocoa." And while he busies himself with filling up the kettle and grabbing some chipped mugs, he asks you, "Hey, you got any fun holiday stories?"

"I'm sure I can rack one up. What do you wanna hear?"

"Your family... If you've got any to tell."

Your eyes widen, but you can't help but smile, even if he can't see you. You already know how he feels anyway. "Alright. How about I tell you the one where my dad nearly fought a moose?"

"Sounds good, let's hear it."

So you do, and through it all, you see the corners of his mouth tilt in what was very much a genuine smile.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I wrote this while walking on my treadmill and dear god my thighs burn. But holy shit I suddenly thought of this idea and had to write it

Also I know we promised to not write anything but I couldn't resist so plz don't be angry at me oh mighty naga 🥲😅

[quillsanddaydreams]

mad first love

remus lupin x reader

—author’s note: I was thinking about how train rides are kind of nostalgic and time stops when we travel and well, this one-shot is the result. What happens when you spend your journey with an ex? Particularly the one you still seem to stuck on? Enjoy!

—warning(s): mentions of food, gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—wordcount: 2,476

The train brought back memories. Happy moments. Times that were filled with laughter and glee and lighthearted chats. Smiling wistfully, you moved through the bustling compartments to the one at very end. It was the only one which was empty. Peaceful and quiet. In other words, perfect. Placing your bag at the top rack, you sat down next to the window looking at the crowd outside. A mother fussed over her kid’s hair who tried their very best to move away. The hunched vendor shouted their wares attracting the attention of small children.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice came and you snapped attention towards the sliding door. Your eyes broadened taking in the light brown hair and tired eyes looking around the compartment awkwardly. A flash of recognition crossed the pale face.

Remus.

You didn’t realize you had whispered his name. He gave you a small smile and for a small minute, the two of you just stared at each other. Remus spoke first.

“May I sit here? I’m afraid rest of the compartments are either full or too loud,” he said slowly and you shook yourself.

“Yeah, of course,” you said as he settled himself opposite to you.

How long had been since you last saw him? Six years or maybe more? Your heart clenched suddenly remembering the time you spent with him. You turned to look outside the window again. It always struck true, didn’t it? There was nothing quite like your first love. And you always supposed Remus to be the one.

The train started with a small jolt, moving past the station. People waved their good-byes, some of them running along with the sleeper shouting promises to meet again. Remus however, found himself sneaking glances at you. You had changed. Of course you had, it had been years since he last saw you. Your eyes were the same though. Sparkling with curiosity and threatening to see right through him. It was strange, sitting across you but feeling miles apart. But then again, it was how he made it to be.

The floor hummed as the train picked up pace. You stood up, taking out the book you had been reading before. Town dissolved into outskirts and it seemed too soon that the roads were replaced by unending fields. Placing your bag at one end of the berth, you laid down. It was going to be a long ride and you might as well make yourself comfortable. Remus huddled in a corner scribbling something in his diary. Time passed and you looked over at him, moving your book slightly. He looked exhausted. More exhausted than you had ever seen him at school. His eyes had dark circles as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Interest took over.

“So how have you been?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible. Remus’s eyes widened, not expecting you to speak to him.

“I’ve been okay,” he started, struggling to find the right words. “Been hunting down jobs. It’s not easy considering, well, my condition.”

You nodded. As much as you knew, he was one of the best as a student— anyone should be happy to recruit him. The wizarding society drowned in irrational fear. It made you sick. Remus had always been insecure about his condition. You remembered trying to help him through it even though he never heeded. Now you wondered how was it possible not to doubt oneself when you were treated like him.

“What about you?” Remus asked, breaking you out of his reverie. “I remember you being passionate about charms. Charming random stuff to fly around by themselves?”

You let out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m doing exactly that,” you said getting up and sitting to face him. You scratched behind your ear. “I’m working for the ministry to improve the transfer of letters and objects. It isn’t that bad, but somehow someone ends screwing up and the room ends in an utter mess. Lucky, I don’t have to clean after.”

Remus grinned seeing you shudder. He followed your hand movements as you re-enacted the explosion. You giggled. Noticing Remus staring at you, you sat up, a bit more properly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. You felt your ears heat up under his gaze.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” he said, a twinkle in his eye. You raised an eyebrow.

“I could say the same about you.”

Remus’s lips upturned, eyes childlike.

“I don’t know, can you?”

You smirked.

“I mean— messy hair, a grey sweater,” you moved your eyes over his form. Remus shifted in his seat. “dock martins and talking with that always-polite-voice? I would say you haven’t changed at all.”

Remus grinned, ready to quip back but stopped himself. He cleared his throat, looking away.

“Guess I haven’t.”

You fell silent too. The past seemed to cling on to both your backs, heavy and demanding. There was no escaping it.

“How are James, Sirius and Peter?” you asked taking a deep breath, sitting back. Anything would be better than the tense silence right now. Remus looked thankful too.

“James been working with the Bigonville Bombers, Sirius is mostly travelling around and is starting a T.V. show,” he sighed, face falling a little. “and Peter is busy with restoration of his parents’ home”

You rubbed your palm.

“I’m sure you’ll find something soon,” you whispered as Remus shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

“It’s not that easy.”

The train rattled a little. You held onto the edge of your seat and looked out. Dark clouds filled the sky. It seemed that the world was reacting to the atmosphere in your compartment.

“What if you become a teacher?” you said out of the blue. Remus raised his eyebrows.

“A teacher?”

“Yeah. The DADA position is open and Dumbledore was kind enough to let you in the school as a child,” you started. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you there as an adult.”

Remus seemed to ponder upon the idea before shaking his head.

“I don’t know about it. Am I even capable enough to teach children?”

“Well, you definitely were better than any other teacher when we were at Hogwarts,” you stated seriously. “You helped me score a perfect 100 back then.”

Remus let his head fall back, humming in response. A knock shook the two of you. The trolley lady offered the two of you a warm smile.

“What can I get the two of you?” she asked, gesturing towards her cart.

“I’ll love some of those sandwiches and lemonade,” you said, taking out some money from your purse. She handed you the things and you paid her in turn.

“And for you dear?” she asked Remus.

“Nothing, thank you.”

You frowned lightly. There was no way he made something and the journey was going to be long.

“Actually, can I have another one of these?” you asked the woman pointing to the one you remembered Remus liked; as he tried to interrupt. “Thank you”

The trolley lady left shutting the door behind her. You could feel Remus’s gaze on you. Handing the sandwich and the bottle of lemonade to Remus, you sat down slowly. He sighed.

“Did you have to?” he asked as you shrugged. You could see a small smile near the corner of his mouth.

The two of you sat in silence eating and drinking. You recalled sitting with Remus like this. He was never the one to say much and you enjoyed the calm that came with it. How many times you sat huddled with him in his dorm and his friends never even noticed? How many times he had kissed you so gently that you felt you would melt right there? You shook your head. A path down the memory lane didn’t seem like a good idea. Remus didn’t look bothered though. Afterall, wasn’t he the one who wanted to break up? You took a sip of the juice watching the scene outside.

He was supposed to be over you. He was supposed to be over you. Only he found that idea crumbling right then. It had been seven years. Seven long years. Remus had heard about all the people you dated. Successful people. People who were worthy of you. Hadn’t that been the idea all along? Feeling his chest wound up, he took another bite of the sandwich. Damn these feelings.

Time passed as you lay down and read the book you had bought. Remus was focused on his journal. You couldn’t concentrate though. Not for long anyway. Your mind kept wandering off to Remus. Unknows’ to you, he found himself in the same predicament. Both of you wanted to cross the invisible barrier but neither of you wanted to open old wounds. It was strange. You never felt more away. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe you two were supposed to be just strangers. Light rain fell against the window and you found yourself a kind of tranquility fall over you.

“Do you still sing?” Remus asked after a while, his voice soft. Your heart thumped and you inhaled deeply.

“Not anymore, no,” you said, feeling something stick in your throat. You stopped singing after the two of you broke up.

“What— why?”

Remus looked at you curiously. He spent countless nights with his arms around you as you sang softly to him. Listening on fondly as your soft voice lured him to sleep. Those moments were scarce. So precious and gentle that he treasured each one.

“I just don’t,” you said not meeting his eye, giving an intended shrug.

“But—” Remus started and you felt your temper rise.

“Remus I hate my voice,” you snapped. “I hate to sing, always had.”

There was a beat of silence. You pointedly looked at your wrist watch.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It’s just you sang to me so many times.”

“Well, I saw you in pain and I’d never felt more helpless and hurt,” you said with a dry laugh. Tears pricked your eyes remembering those times. Perhaps you weren’t as over him as you thought you were.

“So when you asked me to sing, I forgot about it for a while,” you continued. “And you seemed to love it. It made you happy. I decided to do it for you from then.”

You let your head fall back, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Remus looked down. He didn’t know what to say.

“You did, you made me happy,” he whispered after a while. You snorted.

“Come on, I did not make you happy.”

“You did, you were everything I could ask for—”

“Stop that,” you hissed. “If I were, you wouldn’t have broken up with me.”

You uttered before you could stop yourself. It hurt. As much as it killed you to admit, that part always stung. Your stomach turned. The rain was pouring down heavily, it’s pitter patter filling up the compartment.

“You know it’s funny Remus,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I begged you for a reason. I begged you to tell me why you wanted to break up with me. Just a reason. All you gave me was that it’s not you, it’s me bullshit. And I spent years just nitpicking at my faults. Because I loved you. I loved you so much and I did not know what I lacked in giving you. So, tell me. Please tell me the real reason why you broke up with me.”

Staring at him, you sat up straighter. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. His adam apple bobbed as he spoke.

“It was the career aptitude class. I talked about my condition and what options I had,” he said. “There were close to none. I saw everyone coming back, talking about their futures whereas I sat there knowing I had nothing. And I was right wasn’t it?”

Remus gestured at himself.

“Who— who in the right mind would want to be with me? I felt like I was losing everything and that eventually I would lose you too. And I decided that it was better then, than later. You deserved better. You deserved people who you could match you. Me? I would be a nobody. It seemed proper that I broke up with you.”

Remus fell silent. You opened and closed your mouth several times. He turned towards the window.

“Would it have killed you to tell me just that?” you said, your voice kinder.

“Remus, I had never ever needed you to be successful to love you. Not once. I was, am not someone who needs money or the so-called respect from the world to be happy. Remus, you are worth it. Whether you believe it or not, there are people would love to have you.”

Something flicked over Remus’s eyes. He nodded.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the ride. The grey clouds changed into a sunny sky and you could hear birds flying outside. The compartment was so quiet, one could say it was empty. Sometime in between s kid came in confused, shouting something and running back. Remus and you exchanged a glance and turned back to what you were doing.

Time seemed to fly. You could see your destination all too soon. Taking a deep breath as your station arrived, you got up to take your bags. Remus helped you. He stood behind you as you walked outside. The line was long, people chattered excitedly. You felt something building up in your chest. You didn’t want to say goodbye to Remus again. It didn’t feel right. Stepping down from the carrier, you stopped before Remus. Words failed you two.

“I guess it’s time to go,” Remus said, his voice barely above a whisper. He searched your face.

“Guess it is.”

You moved your arms around awkwardly, praying silently for him to stop you. It was his decision now. He gave you a small nod, and turned to leave. Your head throbbed watching him disappear into the crowd. Clutching your bag tightly, you started to move your own way. Pahul waited for you at their apartment. You would have to take a muggle taxi. All you wanted right now was to curl up and watch some movies to forget all that had happened that day.

“Wait!!!”

You heard shouts behind you and you turned to see Remus running towards you. He puffed out a few breaths, standing in front of you his hands over his bent knees.

“Would you— would you— like to catch up some more sometime? Over dinner maybe?” he asked, a heavy breath punctuating each word.

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

You stared at him, his face all read from running, biting his lip waiting for an answer. The scene made you smile.

“I would love that.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

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