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#and his first love-mezcal

coffee-and-uhg · 9 months

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Diego Luna’s entire existence sponsored by Enmascarado Mezcal.

taken out of the queue and posted thanks to @sigelfire and this post.

gifs: @diegolunadaily

last photo: Camila Sodi’s IG

#diego luna #and his first love-mezcal #camila sodi

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inkskinned · 2 months

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we were drunk off mezcal and my dog had his paws crossed like he was fancy and we were giggling about it and i told you that with the sun coming back i can feel my fingers again and you grabbed my wrist and jokingly shook my limp hands while saying i have you i got you and i wanted to tell you i love you in that moment but it's actually just that it's spring and love actually seems like something that i can afford once in a while so long as i'm not overwhelmed by the crushing weight of having to do my laundry

i don't get so sad on sundays anymore and part of that is you but also part of it is that i've been watching a bird melodrama in the tree outside my window - first the robins had the run of it, then the doves. most recently a family of sparrows came through. the sky was pink today like a kiss, and i felt the pastel wrap in a warm piebald snake around my chest and hum herself into my bones

thank god for every person that forgives me for the depressive spirals i go on every winter without-fail like i swear there are absolutes in this world and it's stuff like. stoats go white in winter. the sun comes over the east. when it gets cold all parts of my soul go numb and the light can't pass through my iris without a tattoo gun. how many times can i tell a friend i'm sorry i wasn't talking to you, i truly wasn't talking to anyone

thank god i can feel my skin right now and you hold my weak little hand in your hand and then you flip it over so you can read my palm and you're smiling while you run fingertips over lines and read out my fate like it says here you like a good grillcheese sandwich and admit it you make salads by buying the pre-made spring mix and i have all your astrology shit memorized and i read your horoscope first when i'm checking my own even-though-i-don't-believe-in-it (but just in case) and i want to kiss you just to watch the blush spread in a tulip from under your freckles in that way it does, how you pull back and wrinkle your nose in laughter

thank god but today for the first time in a month i finally texted my friends back and actually made plans to hang out (how's that! barring disaster!) and i let my dog put his big muddy paws on my nice sweater and yeah actually when it's bad i always think i can't do that again. i can't crawl back up that mountain

but the sun touched me on the face this morning and we had a nice long talk about it and i said i gotta go the long way again huh and she nodded and shook back her solarflare hair and looked over to her moon girlfriend and she said you can do it. better things on the horizon.

#seasonal affective disorder #this one for my #sad #girlies #writeblr

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buckysmith · 1 year

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He gets drunk

Includes: Alejandro, Grave, Ghost and Soap

Warning: Adult stuff, mention of alcohol use, 18+ stuff but not to heavy

(Has nothing to do with the headcanons I just love that song and listened to it while writing )

____________

Alejandro: (not my gift)

- he is actually a man who can stand a lot of alcohol

- he doesn't really like drinking games, but if Rudy challenges him, he's not the one to shy away from it

- as I said, he can stand a lot of the devils liquor but holy hell after an amount of it that could possibly kill any other human he’s not the stoic thinking Alejandro Vargas.

- He knows he’s a good locking man so it’s not unusual that some chicas or chicos flirts with him

- some of his team would call you in situations like that, not because he’s a cheater no. They would call you to pick him up because he gets whiny and grumpy about that your not here with him

- ofc you would pick your love sick husband up but to be honest, after one whole bottle of Mezcal he’s fucked up (just to remember you that would most possible kill any other person) and wouldn’t really recognize you

- at first he would tell you to go away cause he’s in a relationship

- when you want to take him with you he gets angry, telling you to fuck off cause he has the most beautiful, loving, kind hearted and attractive S/O in the whole world

- you would giggle about it, telling you your his s/o

- he would try to recognize your face but because of the darkness and way to much alcohol he just couldn’t

- but he would recognize your scent

- yeah, good luck going home after he recognized you

- cough instead horny cough

- anyways, even though he’s fucked up your night wouldn’t end quickly after you got him home

- oh and even in this state your his top priority ;)

(I’m sorry but I think drunk as fuck he would dance/ sing to that song Vamos a la Playa)

Graves: (not my gift)

- He hates drinking games more than anything else

- but if someone challenges him he can’t say no, his ego ist waaaay to big for that

- after a good amount of alcohol he would call you to take him home

- he knows he’s an attractive man so from time to time people would hit at him but he would causally show his wedding ring (he doesn’t even want to look at the people that want him)

- he knows he can’t drive and he doesn’t want to take an Uber (it’s just not safe as someone like him) so he would wait for you

- he would wait till you show up with another drink in his hand

- he’s not quite talkative on your way home, but he would lay his hand on your thigh, murmur a lot of sweet nothings and a lot of dirty things

- after you both got home he would ask you to take his clothes off

- cough alcohol makes him horny and you do too cough

Soap: (not my gift)

- he likes the taste of scotch that sharp, distinct flavor is what he likes about it

- The few times he has with his whole team are most likely to have a serious matter but the rare times when they can sit in a bar drinking with each other and don’t have to worry to get killed end most of the time with a drinking game

- he isn’t as good with alcohol as ghost or price but he would definitely try to win that stupid drinking game

- price would be the one that calls you

- soap would only sit in some corner, with a picture of you in his hand whining that he wants you to be here with you (he’s love sick)

- the moment you’re in front of him, kneeling between his legs and gently touching his cheeks would end with you back first in the wooden floor

- Ghost would definitely take pics/ videos of you too, most likely to tease soap after he’s sober

- You would take your big boy home

- he’s more on the cuddle side

- he wants you to touch him, to tell him sweet nothings and praise him

Ghost: (not my gift)

- no matter how much he drinks, he isn’t able to get drunk

- fr this man can drink stuff that could kill any other human and he’s still fucking sober (at least he seems to)

- But even though he isn’t the usual drunk man, he gets homesick or better he wants to go home to you

- he knows even though he’s still able to put one and one to two he’s not gonna drive home so he would call you

- he’s a ghost, the others wouldn’t notice that he disappeared (at least they would notice when he’s already over the hills)

- love sick puppy

- he had it rough and in times like that he needs you more than anything

- he’s quite emotional when he’s drunk, it’s most likely the only time he’s able to cry and to let out his feelings

- Cuddle with him, praise him, pet him, take care of him, you’re the one he needs the most

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soapskneebrace · 1 year

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CARTEL PROTECTION

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!Reader, John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader, Alejandro Vargas x f!Reader (unrequited but also kind of requited, it's complicated) Rating: All Ages Word Count: 1.3k Warnings: None Author's Notes: The first chapter in a series that I will likely not get to, but it's fun and I thought y'all might enjoy it. Who knows, if there's enough interest I might write a connected fic or two rather than a whole thing. I hope y'all can excuse how very rough this is, because it is literally the very first draft.

The tarmac of Los Vaqueros Cuartel General is hard and hot beneath the soles of your boots, bouncing the heat of the Mexican sun back upwards toward its origin, and as you approach the truckside powwow you can feel a fine sheen of perspiration beginning to form on your bare arms. It’s hot, far too hot for late October, and you don’t imagine yourself not sweating for however long this operation is going to take.

“I need you in Las Almas,” Laswell had said over the phone, intruding on an appointment with your manicurist. “Something is going on, and I don’t have enough information.”

“Sure,” you’d replied, regarding the woman opposite you trying to hide the fact that she was listening in. The nail tech wasn’t a plant, you were reasonably certain, but only an amateur talked freely about your kind of work. “I’d love to see Alejo and his kids again.”

You put two fingers (nails painted with tiny sugar skulls) to your tongue and cab-whistle at the group of three men to catch their attention. None of them flinch, and as they all turn to look at you, you realize immediately that this job is going to be more bothersome than you’d assumed, because the skull-plated mask that turns your way is not, as it were, a new face.

You remember the iron smell of staunched blood and the full brunt of his weight driving the both of you to the ground as you’d tried to hold him up. You remember the drench of warm Kastovian rain and hydroplaning in a stolen truck across the border into Georgia. You remember watching three hours of surgery. You had not stayed to see the fourth.

It shows immediately in his eyes as you meet them. The man you only know as Ghost remembers too.

You are not in the business of dragging baggage around. “Colonel Vargas!” you call, waving.

“Alma!” Alejandro exclaims, a wide smile breaking the severe lines of his angular face. “Laswell said you were coming, but I didn’t expect you so soon!”

As you join the men, you let him hug you, unable to keep from grinning at his easy affection. Alejandro—Alejo to you—is another familiar face.

You remember reheated mole verde on rice in the General kitchen, tiny sips of mezcal as he waxed poetic about what he could do with the full stock he kept in the larders of his fabled ranch. He’d looked at you warmly then, as warmly as he looks at you now when you release your embrace.

You hold his warmth precious, but do not respond to it.

“Someone has to be the brains of this operation,” you say, and wave to Rudy in the truck.

“It’s Alma, then?” asks the soldier standing next to Ghost, in a brogue that stands out as much as Ghost does.

John “Soap” MacTavish is the only personage you do not know. Laswell had given you a very sparse brief before you’d headed toward Mexico, so you already know that he’s both effective in the field and resolutely Scottish, but it only takes you one glance to get a notion of his character. The mohawk says more about him than he probably could ever say about himself, and the stunning blue eyes tell you the rest.

You glance at Ghost. Laswell had told you about Soap, and said you knew everyone else. Damn her. She isn’t getting a Christmas card this year.

“Sometimes,” you answer the Scot, looking back at him. Alma, of course, is not your real name.

Ghost snorts. He doesn’t say anything, but you know what he’s thinking.

So you say it out loud, smiling at the sergeant congenially. “Sometimes it’s Katya. Sometimes it’s something else. Maybe I’d be Mary, if we were in Glasgow.”

He smiles back immediately. Oh yes, Soap MacTavish is a dangerously open book. “Queen of Scots, aye? I see how it is.”

“CIA shit,” grumbles Ghost. Then, to business, “Where’s Hassan?”

Las Almas is as beautiful as you remember it, colorful and lively as the Fuerzas Especiales convoy passes from the countryside into the city’s sprawling outskirts.

“So how do you know Alejandro?” Soap asks, looking at you over his shoulder. He’d volunteered to take the furthermost seat in the back, which was really more of a padded bench facing out the window, in order to give you the more comfortable chair.

You meet his gaze. The SAS needed to hang a warning sign on him—DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT—because close up, the jewel-bright azure is even more arresting than it had been at a distance.

“I met him on vacation,” you reply, lifting one brow and hopefully hiding the little jolt in your breath that the proximity inspired.

Rudy and Alejandro both laugh at that. You chance a peek at Ghost, who’s sitting beside you in the back row of the SUV, and find him looking resolutely forward. You’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

“Anyone who comes to Las Almas for vacation is either too stupid to live past the first day,” says Rudy, eyes crinkling as they meet yours in the rear view mirror, “or just crazy enough to have a good time.”

You smile back—it wasn’t the first time he’d said that about you.

“In truth, we’ve ended up helping each other a few times, haven’t we?” says Alejo. “The US is always worried about narcos crossing the border, and Fuerzas Especiales is always in need of good intelligence.”

It had been your impeccable Spanish that had convinced Kate to stick you across the border. Her superiors had been doing their augury, reading the bird formations in the sky and sifting through the proverbial entrails, and had decided via these machinations that rather than let you monitor Verdansk post-Armistice as you’d originally been tasked (your Russian is also impeccable), you should instead worry about cartels on the Texas border.

You sneak a glance at Ghost again. He’s looking at you this time, eyes narrowed.

The reassignment had come to you at the third hour.

“Hopefully ‘Alma’ can help again, then,” he says, and it is very strange to hear that name on his tongue, to hear the syllables bend around the brassy, rumbling Manc that had comfortably used another name for you entirely.

Verdansk. A hollow shell of a building, its veins somehow still pumping water and electricity. His mask, pulled up over his nose, revealing a hard line of a mouth as he sipped bitter black coffee, the corners twisting as he was unable to hide how much he hated it.

“You should be burned for this by itself, Katya,” he’d grumbled.

“You do groceries next time,” you’d replied pleasantly. “See if the shelves magically fill with boxes of Tetley when you’re there.”

“Fuck Tetley. Even this swill is better than that.”

He still drank the whole cup.

“Think I prefer Mary,” says Soap, settling against your seat back.

The brogue brings you out of the memory and back into the present. Verdansk is half a world away. So is the Ghost you’d playacted domesticity with. You needed to make room in your head for missiles, rogue Quds Force majors, and enterprising narcos. The job had no care for anything else.

“And that’s why I’d choose it,” you say, mimicking his posture and sitting back. The Scot has no place in any of your memories, not in Kastovia and not in Las Almas—and you’re thankful, in that moment, that he’s there. “People are willing to do things for someone that sounds like one of their own.”

You hear the smile in his voice as he responds, “Can’t think of a man who wouldn’t do anything for you, bonnie—”

“Alright, sergeant!” Ghost snaps.

The reprimand surprises you both, and you lapse into awkward, contrite silence. Alejo meets your eyes in the rear view, concerned, and you give them an exaggerated roll.

The need to ground yourself notwithstanding, it was a bad idea—and, you think, massively trashy—to flirt right in front of him.

You slouch in your chair. Laswell is getting coal for Christmas. The grossest, sootiest stuff you can find.

#ghost x reader #soap x reader #alejo x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #og post #i'm not gonna bother tagging for maximum visibility

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mountedeverest · 1 month

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Fuck it Friday (WIP) Buddie Fic - Steps

Rated M Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Edmundo "Eddie" Diaz Fandom: 911 on ABC Words: 4k Summary: As Buck and Eddie venture slowly into this new relationship, they encounter a lot of firsts, going slowly at the beginning, and then really fast.

Snippet: “Now that Chris has gone to bed, we can move on to more… mature things.” Buck waggled his eyebrows. For as corny as he was, Eddie still felt a powerful twinge of hot want come on suddenly at Buck’s suggestive words. Not to mention that it was out of character for Buck to initiate, preferring to leave Eddie his space to grow in their intimacy. Turned away from Eddie, Buck looked for something in his duffel. When the anticipation threatened to kill Eddie, Buck finally turned around with… blu-rays? “So I’ve got Die Hard 1 and 2, and a bottle of mezcal I had laying around from my previous… trips- Uh Eddie, you-you okay?”

Hi ! Trying fuck it friday for the first time :)

This fic is a WIP and this would not be the first chapter, but I couldn't wait sooo, here goes. Fic under the cut!

***

That night was a very standard night as any in the Diaz household ever went. Buck showed up at 6PM with pizza and a deck of Uno, Christopher chose some MCU movie he was super excited about, and Eddie tried not to burn the microwave popcorn.

In between games of Uno and arguments about the best Marvel superheroes, there were also quick kisses and slower ones, jokes about said kisses being gross, and much hair tousling.

“You know it’s gross because you’re my dad and not because I don’t like Buck and you together or anything like that, right? Right, okay.”

Eddie and Buck settled into this easily, not much changing from the before to the after. Cold beers - a cold soda for Christopher - and a movie were as much a time honored tradition now as it was then.

Too soon, the clock struck 9:30 and it was Christopher’s bed time.

Dragging his feet somewhat, the young man got up off the couch, and went to brush his teeth. There was some protest, some mentions of his age (fourteen, thank you very much) and the fact that he was no longer a baby, but his heavy eyes and frequent yawning betrayed his sleepiness in the end.

Buck only watched, fond as he looked at the two Diaz’s arguing in jest.

The ease with which Christopher accepted the change in his and Eddie’s relationship still baffled Buck and made him so grateful for moments like these.

“Yeah, and no sneaking out of your room mijo, unless you want to see two old men kissing.”

Christopher scrunched up his nose in mock disgust. “I’m good, thanks.”

Once the three of them exchanged good night’s and love you’s, Christopher retreated to his room for the night.

“Now that Chris has gone to bed, we can move on to more… mature things.” Buck waggled his eyebrows. For as corny as he was, Eddie still felt a powerful twinge of hot want come on suddenly at Buck’s suggestive words. Not to mention that it was out of character for Buck to initiate, preferring to leave Eddie his space to grow in their intimacy.

Turned away from Eddie, Buck looked for something in his duffel. When the anticipation threatened to kill Eddie, Buck finally turned around with… blu-rays? “So I’ve got Die Hard 1 and 2, and a bottle of mezcal I had laying around from my previous… trips- Uh Eddie, you-you okay?”

Eddie hadn’t realized he’d been white-knuckling his beer from the second Buck had said mature things. His face was hot, his breath was heavy, and his eyes were wide.

It took a moment for Eddie’s brain to compute.

“Yeah-no, I-I’m fine it’s just-when you said-”

“Oh. Oh. Umm, I mean- I didn’t want to assume- and with Chris there I-”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Silence hung heavy in the air, embarrassment too thick for either of them to do anything about it.

“Should I just….?” Buck said gesturing at the blu-ray.

“Yeah, yep.” They’d known each other for years, yet a single miscommunication was enough to fluster them both like teenagers on a first date. How were they so bad at this?

Eddie reached for the bottle of mezcal and took a swig straight from it. Buck chuckled next to him and did the same, easing the tension.

Soon enough, they settled back into their comfortable chemistry, Buck’s arm slung around Eddie on the back of the couch. It felt nice, easy. So much so that at some point, Eddie stopped watching the movie and just looked at Buck in the blue light of the screen. He was handsome, and warm and open. Their hands inched closer on Buck’s thigh until they were clasped together tightly. When Buck noticed Eddie’s gaze on him, he turned around and gave Eddie a soft kiss.

It started off chaste enough, plush lips against plush lips, no tongue. But Eddie got hungry, greedy, and pushed back against Buck, deepening the kiss. Kissing gave way to touching, which then became heavy petting and soon, Eddie and Buck were sprawled over each other on the couch, disheveled, panting, and hard. An overwhelming feeling of what next? hung above them as they nuzzled and groped, looking for any kind of friction or relief, toeing the line into a place they had never gone before with one another.

As things went in the areas of intimacy, they were treating this almost like a teenage relationship, going slow and tentatively like it was the first time. In a sense, it was. But Eddie wasn’t sixteen, and Buck was anything but demure. The last few times it went this far, something always stopped them, be it nerves or time or, heck, Christopher. This time, nothing kept them from going further.

Maybe one thing stopped them. Inexperience.

In Buck’s case, there was also an imperative desire to renounce his earlier fuckboy reputation. He wanted to make sure he wasn’t pressuring Eddie, to a point where he barely initiated anything physical himself, still too unsure of the solidity of their intimacy. This, Eddie knew, appreciated even. But sometimes, when the courage failed him, he’d wish Buck had been a little less careful and a little more ambitious.

This was not one of those times, and maybe the frustration had caught up with Eddie which is what made him so bold. He placed a hand on Buck’s chest above him pushing him away softly, breaking their kiss. Buck immediately stiffened, thinking something was wrong. The look Eddie gave through his lashes was enough to calm Buck’s split second of panic. Doe-eyed and lips parted, Eddie moved his hand downwards slowly, catching on the folds of Buck’s shirt. He stopped on the band of Buck’s sweatpants just short of his bulge, looking in the other man’s eyes for any sign of uncertainty. Satisfied, Eddie confidently grabbed him through the fabric, a high and heady blush on his cheeks and a defiant look in his eyes.

Buck moaned silently, transfixed by Eddie’s chestnut eyes and the soft brown curls falling in front of them. Eddie’s hand palmed him through the cotton, shaping the length of him, squeezing to assess the girth, and Buck leaned into the touch. Eddie felt like a curious child, like a kid studying a bug. He wanted to know every reaction, every consequence of a touch or a graze, the little jerks and gasps, and the swell under his fingers.

The TV still buzzed along in the background, John McClane long forgotten as Eddie continued his over-the-pants ministrations. Buck strained quietly, clearly chasing for more but never asking for it, couldn’t ask for it. Eddie couldn’t wrap his mind around how teenage it all felt. The discovery and awkwardness of first times, the tentativeness and the restraint on Buck’s face, he ate it all up.

Continuing his experiment, Eddie snaked his hand under the band of Buck’s sweatpants, under the fabric of his underwear, and took proper hold of him. Without thinking too much about it, Eddie did what he liked doing on himself, and stroked tight but not too tight, with every twist of his wrist delicate but firm.

When Buck gasped, he gasped with him, his eyes never leaving Buck’s face. And when Buck came into his fist, quiet and discreet but trembling and utterly destroyed, Eddie was fascinated. He held Buck who was still hard in his hand, and noticed he was also very hard himself.

“I’ve got an idea.” Eddie whispered suddenly, staring into Buck’s blue eyes.

“You-” “Shh, lay back.” Eddie guided them with his free hand until they were both sitting up on the couch, Buck gripping his ribs to bring him up with him. Buck then laid back on the other side of the couch and Eddie pulled his hand out of his pants, holding it up closed so as to not make a mess. Eddie sat in Buck’s lap, hovering above his softening bulge.

“Help me with these.” Eddie said softly, pointing to his own sweatpants doing nothing to hide his own arousal.

Buck did as he was told and pulled down the fabric until Eddie’s cock was out, standing fast. Eddie sat back on his haunches, aligning his still barely covered ass directly onto Buck’s groin. With his cum-filled hand, Eddie took a hold of his own cock and stroked. Boldness continued Eddie’s experiment and he grabbed at Buck’s hand that was on his side, planting it firmly on his ass. Buck understood the assignment and grabbed on with both his hands, grounding Eddie down on his still rigid cock. With every rock of Eddie’s, Buck slipped some of his fingers deeper under the elastic bands of Eddie’s sweats and underwear, long splayed fingers taking hold of the plump flesh of Eddie’s ass. I hope it leaves a mark, Eddie thought.

Soon enough Eddie had a rhythm, and with his free hand, he pushed up Buck’s shirt to reveal the taut, slightly hairy skin underneath. His fingers rested on his chest, flicking a nipple with his pinky absently, grasping at times when waves of pleasure hit him particularly good.

When Eddie came, he did it with his eyes closed. He barely made a sound, careful not to wake the teenager sleeping in his room. As he collapsed on top of Buck, sweaty and sated, the man under him chuckled.

“Shit. I could go again.” Buck looked sheepish, a hand on his forehead, grin wide. Despite clear indications that Eddie did in fact want him and was ready for things to move further, Buck still felt as if he was duty-bound to pace their sex life in spite of his penis.

“Dunno about you but I need a shower.” Eddie muttered, looking up with his big doe eyes into Buck’s steely ones.

“We could-” “You wanna-”

A beat passed before both laughed at their awkwardness. Eddie stared lovingly at Buck and kissed him deeply.

“Yes. I would like to formally invite you to my shower, this time with me also in it.”

Buck smiled and kissed him on the tip of his nose. “That way you can’t blame me for using all the hot water.”

They tucked themselves back in their pants and made their way to the bathroom on their tiptoes like thieves, careful not to wake Chris. They giggled and kissed softly as they undressed each other, feathering goosebump touches on each other’s skin.

In the steam of the shower, they experimented a second time. Eddie’s back was pressed to Buck’s chest. They kissed and they laughed and Buck tugged Eddie’s hair while he thrust into the crease of his ass. And if Eddie’s legs almost gave out under him when he came for a second time, Buck was there to catch him, a strong arm wrapped around his chest.

Going to bed after that was a compromise between the sleepiness and the excitement of this new threshold they’d just crossed. But they did end up closing their eyes, wrapped in each other, as they settled into the night.

–

The morning after hit Eddie like a delayed suckerpunch, softly at first and then knocking the wind out of him. He woke up first, loose limbed and content as the sun slowly filtered into the room. A soft smile etched itself onto his face as he took acknowledgement of the warm lump of man behind him, an armed draped across Eddie. Soft snores still echoed in the room, Buck was a heavy sleeper.

That’s when it hit. The smile, the loose limbs, the ease. He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up like this, if he ever did. He’s woken up tangled in Buck before, it was nice. They’d even slept in a couple of times like this. But it had never felt this indulgent.

At the risk of completely short-circuiting, Eddie made a quick list of things that hadn’t happened before. One was very obviously at the top; last night was the first time Buck and Eddie had made each other come. It was the first time they’d had sex, in a sense. Something had unclenched in Eddie, a tension string come loose, and that was it. He felt changed, more mature somehow, even for a thirty-something single dad. He felt… gooey.

Moreover, he felt horny.

Like the feeling one gets at the top of a rollercoaster, Eddie’s stomach dropped in exhilaration at the new possibilities. He felt hot all over, air like steam coming out of his lungs. There’s so much he wanted to do.

He turned on his back and looked at Buck still asleep. He looked like a kid, eyebrows high and relaxed, mouth slightly parted. A big, thick, warm, dopey kid. Eddie wanted to bite him.

With lithe fingers, Eddie started tracing Buck’s features. First, his cheek exposed to the sun, then, his birthmark high on his brow, the tip of his nose, the shell of his ear (that one seemed to tickle). Eddie then drew a finger down Buck’s plump lips, catching on the bottom one slightly. Like a princess being woken by a kiss, Buck opened one eye, the other one still firmly shut against the harsh light of day. It took him a second or two to assimilate his surroundings, after which he took a deep breath in, and drew a wide lazy grin on the exhale.

“Hey.” Buck’s voice was thick and gravely in the morning, yet soft.

Eddie answered with a kiss. It was the opposite of rushed, long and languid, and open. Eddie hadn’t ever kissed like this, he didn’t think. He’d never wanted so much to melt into another person.

When they broke apart for air, Eddie’s hair was tousled from Buck’s hand in it, and Buck’s pupils were blown.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Buck chuckled.

“Stop me if you don’t want this, ok?” Before Buck could protest, or even understand what was going on, Eddie gently pushed his shoulders until he laid flat on his back. He slid down Buck’s naked torso, licking and sucking his way down under the covers. Buck started to get an idea of the plan, and couldn’t for the life of him find an ounce of objection in his mind.

When he felt that wet heat around the head of his cock, Buck knew exactly what was going on.

Eddie had never sucked dick in his life. He had never been close enough to one, never even had the opportunity to learn. He had, some weeks ago, started to experiment with foods, as one curious person does in experiment. Always alone, away from the secret shame of being found out, Eddie had started softly with bananas, ice pops, and other such long foods, trying to understand what it would feel like to have that kind of shape in his mouth.

The first time a banana hit the back of his throat, he’d choked and wheezed himself so red he had tears in his eyes. It had also hit a note so violently in his head he’d had to immediately jerk off after he’d regained his breath. Filed away in his brain for later, Eddie continued his secret experiments until he’d felt somewhat more comfortable with breathing through his nose, the placement of his teeth, relaxing his throat, etc. The last one, he remembered, had been less than a day ago, before Buck arrived at his house to go pick up Christopher from school. Eddie hadn’t felt quite ready then, still somewhat virginal in his self-exploration. He’d mastered the teeth for one, but didn’t quite have a hold on his breath.

Now, under the sheets, nose buried in the hair at the base of Buck’s cock, there wasn’t a single thought about technique. Eddie was chasing the feeling he’d had when he had choked on that banana, the split second of burning lust it had awoken in him. His eyes were closed as he licked from base to tip, and engulfed Buck’s enormous cock as far as he could in his mouth, which truly was not that far.

Buck pulled the covers down, he needed to see. As he uncovered Eddie, Buck wasn’t quite as ready as he thought for the sight before him.

Eddie was messy. He seemed unbothered by the abundant saliva dripping down his chin, down Buck’s dick and onto his balls. His hair was feathered and askew. Buck slid a hand over Eddie’s cheek, feeling himself there and Eddie looked up at Buck then, big brown eyes searching for something.

When he found it, he closed his eyes once more, a profound blush sitting high on his cheeks as he doubled back down onto Buck’s cock, stuffing as much as he could down his throat. When that familiar feeling hit him, that sweet spot between being choked and being so turned on it made his head spin, Eddie moaned around Buck, resulting in an answering groan. He stuttered around his gag reflex and relaxed, breathing through his nose and toeing the edge of choking until his eyes rolled back in his skull.

Eddie was a vision. Buck guessed that what Eddie had seen on his face was probably awe.

There was no finesse to Eddie’s head, no technique, no tricks, and it was infinitely better for it. It was enthusiastic, inexpert and sloppy… and wet, so wet. And out of it all, Eddie seemed to really enjoy himself. Buck could come from that fact alone.

As a matter of fact, Buck had been the one using techniques, expertly holding off his orgasm in an effort not to burst the second Eddie’s lips touched the head of his cock. He’d lasted the last couple of minutes, but even his sexual experience was no match for how completely consumed he was by Eddie.

Everything with Eddie felt new, was new. It didn’t matter how many women he’d slept with, or how much praise he’d gotten in the past, Buck was right back where he started; fifteen and gangly, in his room one afternoon with Stacey Feldman who was a senior. He wasn’t though, he was thirty-one, frankly quite tall and strong, and with Eddie Diaz who was a man. The context might have changed but the feeling was the same.

Buck had never thought he could live the euphoria of a first time more than once. What’s more, they’d unlocked a step the day before after months of dancing around it. They’d been so tightly wound, wanting yet careful, but yesterday had seemed to open the floodgates and reached deep within them. Everything was happening so fast and not fast enough all at once.

“Eddie.” Buck said low. Eddie kept right on going, as if he heard nothing.

“Eddie, Eds-” Buck said with more urgency. “I’m gonna-” He ran a hand in Eddie’s hair, tugging. Eddie popped off Buck’s cock with a moan.

“What, what? D’you wanna stop?” Eddie said out of breath.

“I’m about to come, I-” Eddie didn’t let him finish his sentence before he went right back to it. One hand was concentrated on stripping Buck’s cock hard and fast, while his mouth bobbed in time taking as much as he could. Buck tugged on Eddie’s hair in warning and Eddie somehow quickened his pace.

Even though Buck knew he had been teetering on the edge, it still took him by surprise. When he came, he came hard. His head hit the headboard with a thump and his fingers twisted in Eddie’s hair as his whole body tensed and shuddered. A silent groan caught in his throat as he unloaded wave after wave of orgasm throughout his body.

Buck unscrewed his eyes hoping to capture the moment a little bit. Eddie has swallowed most of it, choked a little. Some had dribbled on his lips and chin. As Eddie let go of Buck’s spent cock, he held Buck’s gaze, absentmindedly massaging some of the spit and cum into Buck’s hip.

Eddie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Buck dragged him up. For a moment, Buck forgot. Buck forgot about the world, about troubles, about morning alarms, and about teenagers. Buck kissed Eddie hard and flipped them, bringing both of Eddie’s legs around his waist and thrusting down against his clothed ass. “One day, I am going to fuck you so hard-”

“Da-aad! I can’t find my glasses!” Christopher burst through the door, completely oblivious to the situation that had been happening in his dad’s bedroom.

“Sh-shit!” “Chingada madre, Chris what-” Both jumped, Buck trying to retrieve the covers somewhat in order to have a minimum of decency. There was a good chance Christopher had still had the time to get a glimpse - albeit very blurry - of Buck’s ass.

“Buck?”

“Chris, he-eyy buddy.” Buck answered back with a slight wave, trying for nonchalant and failing. Eddie just threw his head back onto the pillows and muttered an exasperated dios.

“Were you just…?”

Eddie and Buck looked at each other, defeated.

–

Breakfast that day was awkward to say the least. Buck was hiding, busying himself with the dishes in the sink, while Christopher and Eddie were locked in an intense silence, sitting across from each other at the table unable to look each other in the eye.

“So Chris, uhh. Maybe we need to update the Talk.”

“Gosh, dad! I’m fourteen, not four. I know what you were doing.”

Buck dropped a plate and Eddie looked as if he’d been hit in the face with a wet towel. “When you say you know-”

“I know about sex, dad. And I’ve kissed girls too, you know.”

Girls? Girls? The plural of girl? “Mijo, what? Y-you never told me.”

“Didn’t seem relevant at the time.” Christopher muttered into his bowl of cereal.

An uncomfortable beat passed.

“Do you- a-are you uhh, are you-” Eddie had a hard time finding his words. Voicing the possibility that his baby boy was there was somehow too hard for his dad brain to compute that particular morning.

“Oh my gosh, dad no, not yet, loRD!” At the very least, Chris had the audacity to seem shocked.

“It’s fine if you are, Chris, you just have to be caref-”

“Careful, I know, condoms always because a pill does nothing against STIs, I know dad I remember the first Talk.”

“And consent is-”

“Validate often, never pressure, no is no, yes dad I know.”

“Just making sure, mijito.”

Another uncomfortable silence stretched over them.

“Can I go now?” Christopher exclaimed in typical teenage fashion.

“Hey, we still need to talk.” Eddie sighed. “Okay. Here goes, you have to knock.”

Christopher just looked at Eddie blankly.

“Buck is my partner. I love him and we’re… sexually active.”

Chris groaned. “Ugh, da-ad!”

“No, mijo, no ughs, we have to use the real words. How do you think you were made?” Christopher scrunched up his nose. “Now, obviously, it’s not gonna be all the time, but it is going to happen under this roof. We’re respectful of your boundaries so you have to be respectful of ours.”

“Can’t you just do it when I’m not here?”

Eddie sighed and dropped his head.

“Okay. I’m gonna ask a question I absolutely do not want the answer to but I need you to get the point. Do you always wait to be alone in the house?” Eddie said, at the end of his wit.

Buck dropped another plate in the sink. Christopher turned beet red and stayed very quiet.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Okay. I get it, dad. Can we now stop having this very awkward conversation?”

“Dear lord, yes. Go get ready for school.”

Christopher rose and reached for his crutches before turning around.

“Um dad, does that mean that I can close the door the next time Penny comes over?”

“Uhh- That’s a conversation for after you come back from school, okay?”

“Okay, dad. Love you.”

It was terrible how simultaneously grown and little Christopher was at times, disarming Eddie with a simple love you.

“Love you too, mi tesoro. Now go get changed.”

////

Would love your feedback on this!

tags: @tizniz

lmk if you want to be added/removed~

thx!

#buddie #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #edmundo diaz #911 abc #911 on abc #fanfiction #fuck it friday #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 buddie

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lvlyghost · 1 year

Text

More Alejandro and Rodolfo info/headcanons that still no one asked for 🕺🏻✨

A/N: So, after how well received the first part was I decided to make another one. I just have so much fun writing these little things, please if you have any questions feel free to ask anything 💗 Enjoy!🥰

Part 1

My base is your base! This is basically the military version of “Mi casa es tu casa.” We mean it! Mexicans are such welcoming people, never to hesitate to lend a hand to those in need. You need help, you got it, you need a place to stay we have plenty of space! Wanna come and have dinner with us? Bienvenido!❤️‍🩹

Carne asadas & parties! Whether it’s saturday or tuesday we don’t care, what are we celebrating? Nothing and everything! But you’re invited anyway 🫶🏻 expect children running around, uncles getting drunk, lots of laughter and a good time. You’ll definitely learn how to flip tortillas, Rodolfo would be the one to teach you, Alejandro burns his fingers constantly.

Las Almas is a magic town you cannot convince me otherwise.

Multicultural country💫 we come in all shapes and colors! And everyone’s welcome here, we don’t care about looks💃🏻

Music: these two are excellent dancers. Expect them to teach you some good moves to regional music🤠

Alejandro loves mezcal whereas Rodolfo is more of a tequila type of man😌 and would definitely try to get the 141 team drunk

Would 100% want their new friends to celebrate September 15th/16th with them! It’s Mexico’s independence day and the whole country lights up with fireworks and… just look at it

And we DON’T celebrate Cinco de Mayo 🫣 only Puebla does, let’s move on

I feel this in my heart Ale’s jam is Sirena and Rudy is playing session #52 on repeat on the next carne asada

The mexico-uk bromance is real and strong🇲🇽💕🇬🇧

I also believe they make the sign of the cross whenever they drive past a church. It’s super common, truuuust me. Respectful babies 🧎🏻‍♀️✨

Want to teach you spanish, especially curse words! Heh…

Speaking of curse words… didn’t mention this one on my previous posts because I forgot.

“What the fuck did you just say to me pendejo?” Ale to Graves. Please use it, we love it. It means asshole and for some reason when he said it to Graves who probably didn’t understand shit I WHEEZED

Ale is teaching Soap and Ghost spanish on their next break✨ Rodolfo teaches Price and Gaz✨

Hasta la vista💃🏻

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #alejandro vargas imagine #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo parra imagine #cod rodolfo #cod alejandro #cod modern warfare

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years

Text

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 19: Domestic Bliss

Word Count: 6.1k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, binge drinking in a bar, hold the moan, PIV sex, clitoral stimulation, hand job, sexual contact in public, oops did we accidentally talk about marriage, vomit mention, drinking game, domestic abuse, the word cunt shows up a lot, dancing, attempted sexual assault, FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT, nachos

Chapter Summary: Our heroes go out to the bar and drink (arguably) too much in mixed company.

Notes: Chapter title from "Domestic Bliss" by Glass Animals. The spotify playlist for this chapter is large and in charge and has a high ratio of LCD Soundsystem songs. It's fitting because this is a big chapter (relatively speaking) that is under the influence of alcohol. If you're in the US, happy labor day weekend, remember that worker's rights movements are critical. Join a union, like IWW! I'm a member and I'm a stay-at-home mom. They have a sliding scale for monthly dues. Okie dokie friends, thank you for reading, I love you (probably- or is that weird? whatever).

[ Masterlist for Series ] [ Taglist ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]

The Pour House, Laredo, TX July 25, 1998

The tartness of lime ruptures onto your tongue and neutralizes the cheap mezcal’s harsh burn. Your insides buzz as the 3rd tequila shot you’ve taken tonight settles in your belly.

“Shit, that went down too easy,” Dan hoots and slams the shot glass down on the table, making you flinch. Claudia flashes a barely detectable dirty look at him across the table, then glances at Kim to make sure she didn’t notice. Kim is sitting next to her, sharp blue eyes scanning the room as she sizes up the Saturday night crowd, completely oblivious.

You’ve been glancing up at the door every time it swings open, like a love drunk adolescent waiting for that boy. The slam of the heavy door sends your heart racing in some kind of a Pavlovian response. When he finally walks in, handsome dark features contrasted by a sky blue button up shirt, you try to remain neutral and friendly as you wave him over to the booth. He smiles wide when he spots you, then approaches the table and greets everyone, acknowledging the empty shot glasses.

“Sorry I’m late, can I get this round? What’s everyone drinking?”

Kim follows him up to the bar to “help him carry drinks back.” Your eyes are glued to them, taking note of the way she’s hanging off of his shoulder while they wait for Gina, flashing her perfect smile and arching her back towards him. A pang of jealousy stabs through you.

“I didn’t know he was meeting us here,” Dan grumbles, watching you carefully as you watch Javi and Kim.

You divert your attention back to the table and frown, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow, “I told you at dinner last night, remember? I called him and Kim and they both said they could make it out.”

“I remember,” Claudia chimes in helpfully.

You point to her and grin, “See?”

He noticeably sours, scoffing as he mutters under his breath, “I don’t remember that.”

“Is there a band playing tonight?” Claudia asks, ignoring the angry man child sitting across from her as she nods towards someone setting up sound equipment on a small raised stage.

“I bet. No wonder there are so many people here,” you look around the dreary taproom again, recognizing a few faces here and there. None of them you desire to acknowledge, but still.

One drink in each manicured hand, Kim returns to the table first. She leans across the table to slide a gin and tonic over to Dan. You’re certain the action has everything to do with the jean shorts she’s wearing and the view Javi can get from his spot behind her. When your eyes flick to his, they’re on you. Heat rises to your face and you drop your gaze to your hands, where you start to pick at lavender nail polish.

Kim returns to her seat next to Claudia, sliding across the sticky pleather booth far enough for Javi to sit next to her. Javi doles out the remaining three cups to their rightful owners. You flash a smile of thanks to him and lift the straw to your lips. He motions for you to move over so he can sit next to you. You oblige and beam involuntarily, then try to hide your face with your hair.

“How’s Judy?” he asks when he settles in, taking a sip of whiskey, leaning onto an elbow as he faces you.

“She’s being a little punk, as usual,” you respond with a smile. His brown eyes somehow sparkle in the dim lighting when they meet yours.

He chuckles, then blatantly looks down to your lips, “Taking after her mother, then?”

“She’s a natural,” you shrug, lighting a cigarette, and add, “We had to take her in to get all her shots yesterday, which was horrible for everyone involved, but we managed to get out alive.”

“Barely,” Claudia confirms and raises a scratch-streamed arm as proof.

Javi mutters a sympathetic “shit,” as he shoves a cigarette between his lips and lights it.

“Ouch,” Kim winces and presses her fingertips to one particularly thick scratch.

“Have you met our cat?” Dan leans forward and makes eye contact with Javi directly.

Our cat.

As if he has been referring to Judy as anything other than your pet since you brought her home.

“He stopped by the day I got her-“

Dan looks like he stops himself from sneering at you before he says, “Not talkin’ to you, babe.”

“I stopped by the day she got the cat,” Javi responds dutifully, making eye contact with Dan as he takes a long drag. You contain the urge to start spouting lies about why Javi was at your house, hoping maybe Dan will let it slide without question.

He doesn’t.

“You were at my house?” Dan tilts his head with interest, then fixes his gaze on you and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“I- he was only there for fifteen minutes to meet Claudia and Judy,” you explain timidly, avoiding eye contact by chipping away at your fingernails, “There wasn’t much to tell you.”

He raises an eyebrow in response. The slightly tense moment is broken up when Gina stops at the table with a serving tray, then starts setting down a salt shaker, shot glasses filled with reposado, and limes.

“Fuckin’ a, really?” Dan chuckles, raising an eyebrow at his little sister, who he pins as the perpetrator.

At least that seemed to clear his mind of the previous subject. Thank god for an alcohol-induced short attention span.

She smiles innocently, “I want to have fun with y’all tonight.” Her gaze lingers just a beat too long on Javi. You feel him shift in his seat.

This is your hell. She’s not a threat, you know that Javi would never jump ship, but the attempts to flirt with the man you’re in love with still make you host to a green-eyed monster.

Shots are divided amongst the group. Lick the salt, shoot the tequila, suck the lime. Bing, bang, boom. It heats your veins and settles like a bonfire in your belly. You shudder audibly when Javi’s fingers land on your bare leg and start to ghost across the tender skin of your thigh. He exhales a chuckle.

“You ok?” Dan asks with a furrowed brow, putting an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for an awkward side hug.

A loud nervous laugh escapes you, so you instinctively cover your mouth, then tell him, “I’m fine. It… umm, didn’t go down well. That’s all.”

“Javi, you should take another one,” Kim tells the man whose touch is dancing on your leg, leaning in towards him flirtatiously with a wink, “You have to catch up with us.”

“You know, Kimmy, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get Peña liquored up,” Dan teases and takes a long sip from his gin and tonic.

Kim flits her gaze to Javi and shrugs after glancing down at his lips, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

A strong territoriality makes your blood boil and your face hot. You take a deep breath, then suck down your drink to stop from indulging in your temper. The touch on your thigh draws circles that bring you back to your body.

Javi shakes his head and smirks, “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that.”

Your stomach flips upside down and releases a whole fleet of butterflies.

“Your girlfriend?” Kim jerks her head back in surprise, flared nostrils giving away her own jealousy under the surface, “Who’s that? When did this happen?”

“We met in San Antonio a while back. It’s only been a few weeks, but it’s getting pretty serious,” he covers his mouth bashfully as he smiles from ear-to-ear, absolutely glowing. It spreads to your face, too.

It’s getting pretty serious.

“I’m so happy for you, Javi!” you exclaim, clapping your hands, “I can’t wait to meet her.”

I deserve a fucking Oscar.

The fingertips on your thigh slide further up, flirting with the hem of your short black dress. The dress Dan hates. The one Javi loves. He nods and takes a drink, pretending he doesn’t notice your breathing quicken, then smirks, “I’ll make sure to bring her around sometime soon.”

“Whatever,” Kim dismisses the conversation with a huff, obviously a little perturbed that her Plan A for getting laid tonight isn’t working in her favor. She’s nothing if not hot and resourceful, though, and you have faith she will come up with a worthy Plan B.

“Did Gina tell y’all who’s playing tonight?” you ask Kim and Javi.

Kim nods, “Turnip Darling.”

“Wow, what a name,” Claudia marvels.

Javi’s fingers slither up further to tease your pantyline. You lean onto the table with your elbows, breaking contact with Dan’s hand around your shoulders, and spread your legs for Javi. He greedily accepts the granted access, finger pads catching friction across the delicate lace of your underwear, stroking the sensitive bud beneath.

“Country band, she says they’re a lot of fun,” Kim adds, then looks around the table, “Are y’all going to dance with me tonight, or what?”

You lose yourself in the rhythm of Javi’s touch humming around your clit for and a whimper starts to crack from your throat. You cover it by giggling, then raising your hand, “I’ll dance with you!”

“You will?” Kim and Claudia ask at the same time. They’ve both received a crinkled nose from you at the suggestion of dancing more times than you can remember. But that was a different you.

“Yeah, fuck it, why not?” you respond breathlessly. Heat rises from your neck to your face as your pulse pounds. Javi’s touch swirling around your clit is creating a cyclone at your center. It’s getting harder to conceal how turned on you are.

“Are you ok?” Javi frowns. This pulls all eyes around the table to your face.

You’re not sure if he’s trying to mentally fuck with you over the table as he physically fucks with you under the table, but as he says this, he slips a finger under the fabric of your underwear and starts to rub you directly. You swallow hard and exhale a shaky breath as you lie like your life depends on it, “I don’t know, I feel like I need to go outside, maybe. I think- fuck- I think I’m going to puke.”

I’d like to thank The Academy…

“Shit, ok,” Javi pulls back to let you out of the booth, then looks around the table, “Should I go with or-?”

Claudia raises an eyebrow in amusement and says nothing, Kim shrugs, and Dan grimaces, “Be my guest.”

With a nod to your comrades, he follows you out the back door to the patio. When the screen door slams shut with a creak-bang, you keep walking, knowing that he’s hot on your trail. You keep walking until you can turn into a dark alleyway. The creak-bang signals his departure from the bar, and Javi emerges in the alleyway a few moments later.

He strides over and crowds you as your hands link behind his neck. He grips your waist and kisses you hard, expressing his aching lust with an exploratory tongue. Unfinished wood scratches against the exposed skin of your back as he shoves you against the Pour House’s tall patio fence.

His forehead presses against yours when he pulls back and breathes, “We have to be quick.”

You arch into him and guide one of his hands between your thighs, whispering, “Just play with me for a little bit, baby.”

He groans and pulls your underwear down your thighs, then meets your sex with deft fingers. They run up and down your slit, spreading your slick, and he draws tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. A deep, tingling pleasure roils in your core. You respond with a wanton moan that’s much too loud, to which he responds by covering your mouth and growling in your ear, “Hush.”

Grabbing his hand with both of yours, you press his fingers flat against your tongue, then rut them in and out of your mouth with a quiet hum. His fingers stretch the muscles in your lips thin and scratch against your tongue lightly. He hisses, pout form an approving “O” as he watches you with love-blown eyes, never ceasing the steady thrum of circles that have you panting. Desire accumulates molten hot at your center and breaks your body out into a sweat. You need to feel him.

After releasing his wrist to tug at his pants, you stumble around the belt and zipper until he takes his hand out of your mouth, stringing saliva along on its departure, and uses it to pull out his smooth, hard cock, stroking it up and down, lubricating himself with your spit. You take over for him, pumping his length, and he groans under your grasp. He throbs and thrusts into your palm, only making you more needy.

“I need- I need-“ you huff as you clutch his shirt and rock your hips against his fingers on your clit. Static is building in your center, but you need to be filled.

He knows your body well enough to give you exactly what you need, wordlessly turning you around to ease his cock inside your wet heat. You prop yourself up on your forearms against the abrasive boards of the fence and whimper when he starts to speed up, then finds a rhythm that makes your ears ring. He holds back a moan by biting down on your shoulder, shooting a delectable ripple of pain and pleasure down the middle of you.

He pulls your back against his chest and holds you there as he buries himself inside you, stretching your cunt again and again, and his whisper his hot on your neck when he asks, “Is that what you need, babygirl? You need to get fucked?”

You whine and nod, tilting against him for better access, making you gasp when he gets it.

He gets closer to your ear and breathes, “Does it turn you on when I touch you right in front of him?”

“Fuck, it does, baby- wish he’d see and know I’m yours-“ you whimper.

He groans through gritted teeth, then grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck to crane your face towards his, rutting into you with two especially deep and hard thrusts, “You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you?”

Your mouth hangs open and you babble in delirium as his cock rubs against something utterly divine, filling you from top to bottom with a blissfulness you wish would never end, “That’s fucking perfect- fuck- I want you always, Javi. I- I- wish it was you - wish it was your ring on me-“

He drags his tongue across the side of your face, ripping a moan from your throat, and rumbles in your ear, “You want to fucking marry me, hmm? Be my wife? S’that how much you love my cock?”

“Ssss how much I love all of you, Javi,” you whisper truthfully, and he leverages his grip on your hair, crashing his lips into yours, kissing you breathless as he continues to fuck you. The deafening pressure of pleasure continues to build inside you, and you’re almost at your breaking point.

“I want it, too,” he pants into your ear, deep voice filled with such a raw vulnerability, and if you could marry him right now, you would.

Your lips meet in a sloppy, desperate kiss, and soft whimpers grow louder. You cover your own mouth, trying to muffle the moans as he moves more frantically, and the ecstasy crests inside your body, making your vision fill with stars as the feeling obliterates you. Your knees almost give out, but he holds you there and works you through your climax, the tremors in your cunt squeeze around him and push him over the edge. When he cums, his cock pulses deep inside you in such a way that another wave of all-consuming pleasure swells and crashes down on you.

His breath hitches and sputters as your body contracts around him again. This time, he holds his hand to your mouth, as you’ve completely lost control of your faculties, and start to sob. When the wave passes and the huffing and heaving calms, you and Javi peel apart like Velcro, then you stumble backwards a little trying to regain your footing back on Earth.

—

You’re nervous sweating as you return to your group. Both of your hands are dripping wet because the bathroom didn’t have any goddamn paper towels, so you wipe them on your black dress as you return to the table. Javi is at the bar getting a drink, so you scoot into the booth next to Dan unencumbered.

Dan lays hazy eyes on you and pokes, “Did ya barf?”

You grimace and nod, looking down at your watery whiskey ginger with faux disdain before you take a sip.

“How’re you feeling?” Claudia asks with an exaggerated pity frown that is a dead giveaway she is not fooled.

You owe her a million times over for playing along. Truly an angel. Or a devil, you suppose, depending on one’s moral compass.

“Better. Ready to drink more,” you sigh, then glance around the table, “Sorry, I think I had too many shots too close together.”

“Boot and rally, babe. Boot and rally,” Kim winks and wraps her plump lips around the straw in her drink.

Javi slides back into the booth, setting down a cup of water in front of you, then grins, “Did you tell them you puked on my shoes?”

Your mouth gapes open in disbelief that he would make something up like that. Is it genius? Yes. But is it needlessly embarrassing? Absolutely. Regardless, you roll with it, scoffing, “I thought that was not supposed to leave the alleyway, but OK,” then you turn and announce, “Hey everyone, I puked on Javi’s shoes.”

“Suddenly I don’t feel bad for not volunteering to go with you,” Claudia snorts.

Dan guffaws with satisfaction, “Welcome to the club.”

“How many people’s shoes have you puked on, exactly?” Javi asks you, shit-eating grin spread across his face. If he wasn’t so cute, you’d catch an attitude with him, because he knows the answer.

You clear your throat and grab the sweaty watered down whiskey ginger in front of you to take a sip, then you grumble, “I will not be participating in this assassination of my character.”

“Wow, that’s dramatic,” Javi laughs. You stifle a laugh and shake your head.

Claudia sits up tall and says, “All whose shoes have been puked on by this woman, say aye.”

“Aye,” all four of your companions confirm.

You feign annoyance with Javi, whose sparkling eyes and smug smirk are warming your insides faster than the booze, then mutter as you roll your eyes, “You’re buying me a drink for that.”

The table takes one more tequila shot and gets some more drinks, and soon the volume noticeably rises several decibels as the liquor dulls senses and lowers inhibitions. You’re getting hazy and precarious in your intoxication. Javi gives in to Kim’s peer pressure and takes another shot by himself. Apparently you’re all on a mission to get fucked up tonight.

“Have you guys ever played most likely?” Claudia asks. When everyone shakes their head no, she explains, “So we go around the table and take turns asking the group who is most likely to do something. Then we count to 3 and everyone has to point to the person they think is most likely to do that thing. You take a drink for every finger pointed at you.”

“How do you win?” Dan frowns.

“Nobody wins or loses, we all just drink,” Claudia grins. This answer causes Dan to wrinkle his nose, but he doesn’t seem to oppose it.

“Fuck, ok,” you exhale a deep breath and try to prepare for how much drinking this might pertain.

I am the master of my domain. I can hold my liquor. This is fine.

“I’ll start,” Claudia announces, then thinks for a few seconds, “Who is most likely to get an ass tattoo?”

Everyone points at Kim, except for Kim, who points at you.

“Jokes on y’all I already have an ass tattoo,” Kim sticks her tongue out, takes 4 sips, then asks, “Who’s most likely to get into a fight?”

You and Claudia point at Dan, and everyone else points at you.

“I punch one guy and now I’m the fighting person?” you scoff and take 3 sips.

“You got in a ton of fights when we were younger, too,” Claudia notes. Javi leans forward in his seat, interested to hear more. You put your pointer finger to your lips and shush her because this man doesn’t need any more goddamn ammo to tease you.

When Claudia rolls her eyes and zips her lips, you see her wink to Javi. They are obviously in cahoots. You give Javi a don’t fuck with me look and he raises his hands defensively, laughing, “Easy now, Muhammad Ali.”

This game goes on for about a half an hour until the band starts warming up, at which point, you are all drunk. You separate from the herd after a bathroom break in order to get some fresh air and, ironically, smoke a cigarette. There’s an empty picnic table out on the patio, so you sit down and light up. A creak-bang sounds from the door behind you as someone else walks onto the patio.

Recognizing the gait immediately, you grimace to yourself, then turn around to face your fiancé.

“What’s up?” you give him a boozy smile while taking a drag.

“Jus’ seein’ how you’re doing,” he shrugs, then sits down next to you.

You hum, “Mmmmm drunk. But good, I’m having fun.”

“Yeah? You wanna maybe uh…” he points to a decrepit shed in the corner of patio, right outside the alleyway Javi fucked you in earlier, “Go have some fun in there?”

The suggestion actually makes your stomach lurch, and you respond without thinking, laughing in his face, “Absolutely fucking not.”

His face goes dark as he asks through gritted teeth, “What?”

In a true move of alcohol induced shortsightedness, you take a drag from your cigarette and blow it in his face before rubbing it out in a nearby ashtray, “I said n-“

His mitt of a hand seizes your jaw and forces you to look at him as he spits, “Talk to me like that again, bitch, see what happens.”

“Ow, Dan, what the fuck?!” you howl and pull yourself away from his bruising grasp, then stand up and scramble to get inside. Need to be around other people. Right now. He catches up and grabs your wrist before you can open the door. You start panicking and try to rip your arm back, but it doesn’t shake him loose.

“Chill the fuck out, babe. You’re being crazy right now,” he scolds. His contradictory actions and words spurn you into a frenzy.

“Fuck OFF, Dan. Let fucking go of me!” you thrash your arm violently, trying to get him to release you. He lets go of you right as you yank with all of your might. Your ass breaks your landing, bouncing off the cement as you tumble backwards. If you weren’t already sedated and numb from the booze, it would have fucking hurt.

He scoffs at you and walks inside without another word.

“FUCK! YOU!” you scream at the top of your lungs at the closed door. It releases some of the pent up rage that’s been percolating. Feels fucking lethargic. You get back on your feet and dust yourself off, take a deep breath, then go back inside.

Javi clocks how upset you are as soon as he sees you approaching, as made evident when his face falls from loaded contentment to concerned bravado. He’s planted in the outer ridge of spectators watching Turnip Darling, who are playing a cover of Alan Jackson’s “Chattahoochie” at a deafening volume. Leaning in towards your ear, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Fuckin’ Dan,” you grumble loud enough so he can hear you, pursing your lips, unable to bury your anger, “Being an asshole, keeps tryna touch me. Grabbed my face. I fuckin’ fell on the cement.”

Javi’s warm brown eyes flick behind you to (who you’re assuming is) Dan, then back to yours. His nostrils flare and jaw tightens, then he leans closer to you and asks in a low voice, “You want me to go talk to him?”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but laugh at the ludicrous suggestion, “Oh, yeah, that will go well,” you scoff, “I’d really like to get through this night without being assaulted or becoming unhoused.”

“Come live with me,” he responds simply. You flinch back in surprise and study his face. He’s not kidding. Your hands start to tingle and heartbeat races. With a shrug, he leans in again, “It’ll be safer.”

“Can we talk about this when we’re not shitfaced?” you ask, unable to comprehend the turn this conversation took. What you want to say is yes, absolutely yes. But you’re aware that it might be the alcohol willing him to offer this to you.

He nods then looks down at your lips and back to your eyes, “I’m just letting you know… you know, that it’s an option. I’m ready.”

Fuck, I want to kiss him right now.

“Javi?”

“What?”

“I fucking love you,” you tell him, then watch his face brighten into a big dopey smile. He licks his lips and looks down at your mouth. He wants to kiss you right now, too.

His eyes catch on something behind you and he nods in greeting. Kim and Claudia join your party of two, pulling you both out to the dance floor with them.

In confirmation of the previous genre determination, Turnip Darling only plays covers of country songs. You’re not complaining, though, because it’s a blast to dance and sing along to the music. While you, Javi, and Kim dance in a carefree and noticeably inebriated fashion, Claudia drunk dances in a style that can only be described as midwestern robot dad. It involves a lot of jerky hand and arm movements, and is so obnoxious that it’s endearing. Dan sits at the bar and watches you like a hawk as he continues to guzzle hard liquor.

You do your very best to ignore his gaze and let go of everything, to just have a good fucking time… and you do. It feels like freedom. Dancing with your favorite people in the whole world like nobody else can see you brings you immeasurable joy.

When Turnip Darling announces that they’re taking a break, you all go out to the patio to cool down in the nighttime air.

Once again, you light a cigarette, and then Dan emerges. This time, though, Javi, Claudia, and Kim are with you, smoking and stumbling in place and laughing about all of the very righteous dance moves you’ve all been busting. The company brings you a sense of sanctuary until Dan comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, bending over to nuzzle his face into your neck as your body tenses. Claudia is frozen, and Kim scrunches her nose at the obviously unwanted physical affection. Your eyes shoot to Javi, who is unmistakably upset. He’s rigid, staring at Dan’s hands as they slide around your body like he’s trying to light them on fire with his mind. His lips are pursed and his free hand is clenching and unclenching at his side.

Dan starts laying kisses on your neck, bringing his hands up against your rib cage, inching closer to your breasts. Javi takes a step forward, then back, and he runs a hand over his face. He looks like he’s fighting with himself, and you know exactly what the topic of contention is. You roll your shoulders to shoo your fiancé, wincing as you chide him, “Dan, stop.”

He doesn’t stop pawing at you, so you turn around to scold him. The boozy sly smile on his face takes you by surprise, and you jerk your head back. He puts your chin in a vice grip and leans in to kiss you. You step back and plead, putting your palms out towards him as you shake your head, “Hey, come on, don’t-“

“You come on, babe,” he purrs and grips your waist to pull you close. His mouth presses against yours and you feel his tongue trying to gain entry. It makes your stomach churn as you recoil, screaming internally for this to end.

“Stop, Dan, please,“ you whine in a shaky voice. When you push against his chest and lean away, panic seeps into your bloodstream. Your pulse quickens and you resist the urge to curl up in a ball atop the dirty cement.

“Hey, she said no,” Javi snaps. You cease movement and gaze up at him with pleading eyes. His face is a cold machine you barely recognize. It sends a shiver down your spine.

In response, Dan growls in frustration, then grabs your wrist and drags you stumbling along behind him towards the shed. He doesn’t break his stride when he calls back, “Mind your own fucking business, Peña.”

The panic grapples in your chest until it finds something different to utilize. Instead of feeling like you're seconds away from hibernating within yourself, you start to feel your skin trying to fly off of your bones.

Get off get off get off

“Dan, fucking let go of me!” you dig your heels into the cement and throw your weight down, breaking his hold. Javi catches you before you fall on your ass again. He steadies you, then puts himself between you and Dan, who’s backtracking towards you. His blue eyes have turned black. He looks like he’s been possessed by a demon. But you know that this is him, really. This is him at his core. His mask has slipped. He looks like he would rip you apart with his bare hands if he could get ahold of you. A tight coil of fear implants itself inside your belly, twisting and turning, making you feel nauseous.

Javi puts a hand up towards Dan in an attempt to calm him. Dan stares around Javi like he’s not even a human, just an obstacle between him and the thing he wants to destroy. He oscillates back and forth, trying to find a point of attack, never breaking eye contact with you, then starts ranting, “You crazy fucking cunt, you’re making a huge mistake. Make me seem like the fucking bad guy. Ok. You have no idea what I’m capable of, bitch. I will fucking ruin you.”

“Stop-“ Javi cautions.

“Shut the fuck up, Peña. Can’t believe this bitch has you caping for her. You been spending a lot of time with my wife, huh? Don’t let her get your hopes up, she’s a selfish fucking cock tease. Gets what she wants and then takes pussy off the table, fucking bitch-“

“I’m not your fucking wife,” you spit. Even though you can’t see Javi’s face, you know his eyes are glued to Dan. You see him close his fist around a lighter and keep it there. The writing is on the wall.

Dan is pacing like a caged animal. You’re his prey. His face is blazing red and shiny with sweat. A stick of dynamite about to fucking detonate.

“Yeah and at this rate you never fucking will be. Try me. You think someone else is going to put up with you? You think he’s going to put up with you?,” Dan points to Javi, who slowly tilts his head at the comment. He keeps raving, “You crazy fucking cunt. I give you everything you could ever want and this is how you thank me? No wonder your own parents don’t even fucking love you-“

Dan has such tunnel vision in his tirade against you, he doesn’t notice Javier come at him, red hot. Javi throws his weight into a blow to Dan’s face, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sick wet thud of skin-on-skin contact is loud enough to make you jump back and gasp in surprise.

“ENOUGH!” Javi screams, then stands over Dan, who is crouched, clutching his face. Javi pulls him up by his shirt, leveling his eyes with the agitator. He pokes a finger against Dan’s chest and growls through gritted teeth, “If you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, I will fucking kill you, do you understand me, motherfucker?”

He pushes Dan stumbling backward and watches him regain his composure, at which point, Dan seems like he’s going to try to get into Javi’s face. However, Kim saunters up past Javi, towards Dan, and pats her brother’s chest, signaling him to follow, “Come on, Daniel. Don’t be an idiot. Let’s go back to my place and get some sleep.”

You feel Claudia come up behind you and grab your tingling hand as you watch Dan huff, then begrudgingly follow his sister out into the alleyway. Once he’s out of sight, you turn to her, and your face crumbles when you meet her sad eyes. You sob, “I’m so sorry, Claud.”

She pouts, eyes pooling with tears, then pulls you in for a hug and whispers, “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

You hug her back as you choke out, “I know it’s just- I didn’t want it to be like this when you were here.”

She gives you an extra tight squeeze and takes a step back to look into your burning, teary eyes, “It’s ok, I promise, it’s ok. I love you.”

You sniffle and squeak, “I love you too.”

She nods, then retreats so Javi can console you. He draws you close and you melt into his embrace, sobbing against his chest, apologizing profusely. He pets your hair, kisses your forehead, sways you back and forth. His deep voice like lullaby calms you as he mumbles words of affirmation into your ear, trying to undo the damage of Dan’s scathing tirade.

“I love you, cariño,” he whispers, mustache tickling your cheek, “Do you two want to come to my house?”

You shake your head, “I- I have to bring Claudia to the airport tomorrow morning. All her stuff is there-“

“I’ll stay with you there, then,” he decides.

“Ok,” you draw a shaky breath. This brings you a considerable amount of comfort. As if it knows you’re out of immediate danger and can now concentrate on less pressing concerns, your stomach growls. You sniffle, “Can we make nachos?”

He burst out laughing, then takes your hand in his, kissing it before telling you,“Absolutely, baby, let’s go make some nachos.”

The three of you collectively have enough sense to make nachos in the oven without burning the house down, thankfully.

“I love you guys,” you tell them as you curl up on Javi’s lap with a plate of nachos. Dawn of the Dead, one of your comfort movies, plays on the TV. Like the drunk slob you are, you continue talking after shoving a chip in your mouth, “Like, you’re my two favorite people ever. And I get to eat nachos with you both right now. This is the best.”

“It’s pretty fucking stellar,” Claudia agrees, then looks at Javi, “Although, sorry, Jav, you’re not one of my favorite people yet. Maybe someday, though. You stood up for my best friend and I think that’s very favorite-people worthy.”

“Honorable mention, at least,” you contend, looking to your beau with love in your eyes.

He shrugs and winks at Claudia, “I’ll get there someday.”

Being the most responsible (see: sober) one in the house, and an actual sweetheart, Javi herds you and Claudia’s into your bed when the movie is over and the nachos are gone. He goes out into the living room to sleep on the couch.

You and Claudia giggle and joke around as you fall into a sleepy drunk delirium. Judy settles into the space between you and vibrates with happiness as she sleeps. Claudia turns on her side to face you and whispers, “I really like him. And the two of you together. I’ve never seen you this happy.”

You giggle and take a few long blinks, “Which is saying something considering what a fucken mess it is.”

“It’s cute,” she yawns, then rubs her eyes, “You ‘n’ Javi, not mess. Mess’snot so cute.”

“He’s the one, Claud. Gonna marry him. Have his babies. I know it,” you mumble. She’s already snoring.

[ Next Chapter ]

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greenhousethree · 8 months

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9, 19, 23 for Harry?

Thanks, anon!

(Random Character Asks here)

9. Scene that first made me love Harry:

I read these books so long ago that I don't remember my initial impressions. However, two scenes stand out to me that I still think of as the most underrated representations of Harry's true character:

Chamber of Secrets, Privet Drive - tipping half of his tinned soup into Hedwig's cage while he's cold, hungry, and locked in his room. For a severely abused twelve-year-old, it's a remarkably generous gesture.

Deathly Hallows, Shell Cottage - forgiving Mr. Ollivander for passing information to Voldemort. This is maybe my favorite Harry moment in the series (and there are so many to choose from!). It really displays an evolution of Harry's character, a maturity and a nuanced understanding of hardship that we haven't yet seen:

"He was torturing me!" [Ollivander] gasped. "The Cruciatus Curse... you have no idea..." "I do," said Harry. "I really do. Please get some rest. Thank you for telling me all of this."

19. Vices/bad habits:

Harry "I-like-the-quiet-life" Potter is an adrenaline junkie. As the years pass and his job becomes more desk-oriented, he seeks out experiences that offer bodily thrills: racing broomsticks, visiting Charlie's dragons, maybe flying a motorbike here and there... things that Ginny might prefer not to hear about unless she can tag along, too. He tries his best to curb the habit as his kids grow old enough to learn from his example, but still finds himself chasing the high only a Wronski Feint or a near-death experience can provide.

And for those quieter evenings when that itch has been otherwise scratched, I like to think Harry wouldn't say no to a glass of something strong: Firewhisky or a nice Anejo mezcal.

23. If Harry were a scented candle, what would he smell like?

I have to think George and Ron rolled this out at some point:

From the WonderWitch fall cosmetic line, we present: Essence of the Chosen One! Soak in a bubble-filled tub among the aromas of musky sandalwood and polished ash: scents of the Boy Who Lived that are sure to keep your candle burning for hours! Or, for the true Potter effect, spritz your special someone with our limited edition Smell-Alike Cologne, which blends a nuanced balance of sweet treacle with the same full-bodied woodsiness. Never again wonder what it might be like to curl up by the fire with the Chosen One!

If you ask Ron or Ginny though, they might say Harry's candle would smell more like fresh-cut herbs and peppermint shampoo, with a hint of sock funk. 🧦

#asked and answered #harry potter #random asks #anon asks #headcanon

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drinkacefahz · 1 year

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THE SPIDER & THE BUTTERFLY | Improved Cocktail, Old-Fashioned, Sazerac-Style, Sidecars

“I didn’t create these drinks to be wasted like that.”

The third in my series of Improved Cocktail/Old Fashioned inspired TRIGUN cocktails, following the Life and Love and the NOMAN’S Eucharist

First, fill serving glass with ice* and add about .25-.33 fl oz of absinthe to glass. Then, in a mixing glass with ice, stir together

2 fl oz or 60ml Mezcal, preferably a Joven(unaged) one

.25 fl oz or 8ml Apple Schnapps or Liqueur (NOT Sour Apple Pucker)

1-2 barspoons of dark agave nectar

1 dash Angostura bitters

1/2 dropperful/1-2 dashes floral bitters of choice. I used the Burlesque bitters and Old Forester’s Hummingbird bitters but I think the apple blossom bitters from Hella would work great if I could uh find my bottle of it

1/2 dropperful of Bittermen’s Winter Melon Tart Bitters. You could also use a dash of vinegar, a citrate, or even a pinch of citric acid -- a very small pinch!

Meanwhile, the asbinthe rinsing your presentation glass will have begun to louche and turn cloudy from the ice melting. Anyway, you’re going to take a strainer that fits your glass rim, and strain that louched absinthe into a sidecar, like a shotglass or a glass used for drinking baijiu or vodka. Then dump out the ice and strain the cocktail into your serving glass. I’d go with a smaller glass than a double old fashioned/rocks glass if you have one. Express a lemon twist or garnish with a herb like basil, mint or sage. To consume, alternate between sipping the cocktail and the absinthe. I believe it’s Simon Difford who serves his Sazeracs with a sidecar of the absinthe used to rinse the glass.

This is a powerful drink to sip slowly, with patience. I’ve stayed mostly in a Southwestern motif for ingredients but Knives being Knives, what common people are limited to isn’t a limit here, and both the sharp, aggressive, occasionally gasoline-like qualities of many young mezcals suits his personality. The absinthe also speaks to his obsession -- and madness -- as well as the common depiction of absinthe as a “green fairy” with butterfly like wings, while the appearance of the agave plant and its many spines calls to mind the legs of a spider. The variety of plants and flavors involved in the combination of bitters make it remarkably balanced -- the Burlesque Bitters feature hibiscus, acai, and long pepper -- a distinct reddish motif -- and realizing I use them in this and Wolfwood’s drink, I think they’re somewhat representative of Vash.

And, the modifying liqueur here, well... read Trigun Maximum if you haven’t.

*Fun fact, before the invention of big freezer units we could store glassware in for service, this is how a bartender in a saloon in the 19th century would prepare a glass to provide a cold cocktail.

#trigun #anime cocktails #millions knives #trigun stampede #sazerac #improved cocktail #mezcal cocktail #fandom cocktails #cocktails

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nuwildcat · 1 year

Text

WIP Wednesday Christmas Surprise

Sooooo, along with finishing Echoes I’ve been working on a holiday surprise with the fabulous @mortimerlatrice! We are planning to put it out around Christmas time for you all to enjoy.

I’m venturing into new territory with this one and exploring a world of Big/Tay. It’s been decided, by both of us, that Tay deserves all the love and Big is just so full of it, we can stick them together.

Mort has agreed to illustrate some parts of the story which I am AMPED about. Here is your sneak peak for WIP Wednesday from Chapter 2!

“First off, I have two twists on classics for you. Khun Kinn, yours is a Fireplace Old Fashioned with bourbon, smoked duck fat, chestnut, and cherry bitters.” Kinn smirks at Oliver knowing his preferred liquor. “For Khun Tay, I have the Blonde Ambition,” Tay laughs. His hair is pretty close to blonde, with the platinum color he’s sporting currently. Oliver gives him a cheeky smile, “It’s made with gin, elderflower, grapefruit, and a hint of cardamom and bergamot. Enjoy.”

They both sip their drinks, humming in enjoyment as the flavor bursts across their taste buds. Swapping is almost automatic at this point. Kinn’s has a lovely smokey flavor that finishes with distinct umami and cherry tones.

They chat for a little while. Catching up on what they’ve missed in each other’s lives in the past week and a half.

“I have something to tell you,” Tay figures the cocktail can count as liquid courage.

“Oh,” Kinn says inquiringly.

“I’ve decided to break up with Time.” Kinn chokes on his fancy drink, and Tay laughs while giving him firm pats on the back.

“What?” Kinn croaks.

“I’m breaking up with Time,” he repeats calmly.

Kinn blinks at him for a few seconds, wrapping his head around what he’s just said. “Are you sure?”

“You don’t think I should?”

“No!” he lurches forward as though to physically stop Tay from taking that option. “No, you should do what’s best for you.”

“Good, ‘cause this is what’s best for me,” Tay says finishing the last of his drink. It went down very quickly.

“When did you decide this?” Kinn asks.

Tay chuckles a bit. “This morning,” he says ruefully.

Kinn rapidly downs the last of his drink as well, as though fortifying himself for the rest of this conversation. It’s great timing, or great bar tending, as Oliver is on his way to them with their next drinks.

“Up next, a taste of Thailand. Khun Tay, you have the Tamarind Twist. It’s got two different spiced rums, lime, coconut milk with Tamarind syrup, with a float of soda water. Khun Kinn, you’re on an adventure with the Change of Air. It has a Thai parsley-infused gin paired with mezcal, bitters, egg white, lemon, and elderflower. Cheers!”

The drinks are beautiful. His is served in a highball glass so that the darkness of the rum and Tamarind blends into the milky white of the coconut. The soda water on top adds a light look to the top of the glass. It’s garnished with a sprig of mint. Kinn’s on the other hand, is a golden color, milky due to the egg white, and with a stunning foamy head paired with a curl of lemon rind on the rim.

Again they try their drinks. Murmurs of satisfaction follow before Tay all but snatches Kinn’s drink from his hands. His is just as good as Tay’s. They make eye contact and know that they are hiring Oliver for the job, no matter how the last round goes.

“What made you finally decide?” Kinn is being oh, so gentle with him.

Tay plays with the little cocktail napkin from his last drink. He folds and folds and folds it, until he can’t anymore and then undoes the whole thing so that he can do it again the opposite way. Kinn lets him think for a bit, to mull over his words.

“Partially, it was Khun,” he starts.

“You talked to Khun?”

“Yeah, the last time we had a meeting in your sun room. He found me in the gardens and decided to give me the harsh talk.”

Kinn grumbles something under his breath that sounds like ‘he shouldn’t have done that,’ but Tay can’t be sure.

“He reminded me of something that I had forgotten.” Kinn raises one of those bushy brows at him. “That I used to talk about finding a partner that supported and loved me.”

The silence between them echoes with memories of the past. Time that they’ve spent together, becoming themselves and growing right next to each other.

“I never did thank you for bullying me into friendship,” Kinn teases.

“Well,” Tay says imperiously, “I could hardly leave you there to fend for yourself. You looked like a kicked puppy and cried for your mother for half an hour.”

“Lies, slander, I have no memory of this,” Kinn keeps up the banter.

Tay fights back his laughter, “Convenient Khun Kinn, how your memory fails about embarrassing things. I suppose you also don’t recall the time in high school when I had to come to get you after you decided to go down on—” Kinn’s hand covers his mouth.

“We do not speak of this, and you know it, you little shit,” Tay smiles with his eyes until Kinn takes his hand away.

“I guess your memory isn’t that bad,” he says smugly.

Kinn rolls his eyes and takes a large swig of his drink. Then humming in pleasure, goes back for another. Porsche has been training him with cocktails, so the man who used to only drink whiskey straight has gotten more adventurous.

“You know that we will be there for you. Porsche should have said something.”

“Yes, he made it very clear that if I were to choose my own happiness, the two of you would be there for me to lean on.” Tay twists in his chair to look at Kinn.

Kinn continues to stare at the glass in his hand before turning to look at Tay. “You are my oldest and dearest friend; there was never any doubt I would stand with you.”

#wip wednesday #christmas special #big #tay #big/tay #kinnporsche #I'm crying in cocktails #honestly I should get a bar tending license out of this #the number of cocktails and bars I looked at #poor Mort had to listen to me spew about all of this #take your drinks and enjoy them

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nancywheeeler · 1 year

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hello em! i've read everything you've written in the ted lasso fandom and i haven't found any other fics with writing, dialogue and character dynamics as good as yours! so i was wondering if you have any ted lasso fic recs?

hi anon! i'm really glad to hear you like my TL fics and i absolutely have some fic recs for you:

with our arms unbound by resurrectionhymn

my absolute favorite TL fic (and this is coming from someone who is, for the most part, Ted-pairing agnostic). i love this take on Colin coming out and Ted coming out. the character voices and writing is just *chef's kiss*

Only the Welsh Can Cwtch by starryeyedknight

if it is Colin Hughes-centric, you know i'm going to be there. one of the tags on this fic is "Colin is ridiculously cuddly: that's literally the plot" and oh, what a plot it is. tbh i recommend all of starryeyedknight's fics. every single line of dialogue they write could fit seamlessly into the show.

And, if that doesn’t work, we can always get some mezcal by PrincessAmericaChavez

short, sweet, and so! flippin'! funny! i just love the himbos coming together to support Roy and them crashing his Marabella vacation is the perfect recipe for delightful chaos.

Sometimes you laugh, but usually you cry by ToshiChan

a fantastic Colin character study that has been eating my brain since 4-5-1.

is it cool that i said all that (is it too soon to do this yet) by instantcaramel

it would be very off-brand of me not to include a Colin / [insert richmond player here] fic, so i'm shouting out my favorite Colin/Jamie fic. the first of its name!

other favorite colin / [insert richmond player here] fics: Moe Bumbercatch's Hughes-McAdoo Betting Pool by connorswhisk (Isaac/Colin), looking for the sunset by littleboxes (Colin/Sam), every mother's dream by your_token_trophy_wife (Isaac/Colin), be sweet to me baby by romcommunism (Jamie/Colin; note: this one is locked to only AO3 users)

i hope that's a good start! i'm unfortunately not the best person for roy/jamie or ted/rebecca fic recs, but if anyone has TL fic recs of their own and wants to share them, feel free to toss them in the replies!

#ask #i now have like 10 tabs reopen so i can reread all these faves

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hungerpunch · 2 years

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PLEASE TELL US ABOUT PIERRE MICHAEL DANIEL

tell "us," as if you did not help me write the whole thing?!

okay, i actually love this one. we wrote this as a reaction to/continuation of @charlesxcx's fic, "safe bets for thrill seekers."

so, set in 2021, after the events of sam's fic, trying to self-soothe the sting of pierre feeling left out of his own threesome! what better way to remedy that than to slide him in between two slabs of aussie beef.

dan breaks the silence after his drink is down to a thin sheen languishing under the ice in his glass. "would you call me immature if i said we could make them jealous?"

pierre, in his surprise, snorts in the middle of a toke and fully has to cough it out. when he regains his composure, wiping his eyes, dan smiling all bemused at him, he says, "not sure 'immature' is what i would call it."

dan ticks his head to one side. pierre's eyes skate the thick muscle of his neck. "what would you call it?"

pierre gives a rueful smile. "maybe optimistic."

"aww," dan laughs, an easy huff. "nah. trust me." pierre looks at him and dan nods emphatically. "they would be. trust me," he reiterates, eyes widening for a split second.

dan tastes smokey—mezcal, pierre realizes—with a bite of something bright, probably the orange slice that garnished his drink and pierre knows he just tastes like beer and weed but he pushes against the choking grip of self-consciousness and slides his tongue against dan's, coaxes it into his own mouth, tilts his head for a better angle and sets his weed pen down so he can slide his hand into dan's cropped curls.

he's gratified to hear dan's empty glass be set on the coffee table, slightly surprised at how much he likes dan's other hand coming up to rest at the hollow pierre's throat, fingers splayed wide over his clavicle and sternum. it's so good to have the attention, to be touched, even if the motivations are childish.

dan hums happily in his throat and pierre shuffles closer, eyes still closed, his high brain wondering if he could simply climb into dan's lush mouth and die there.

[ffwd bc i rly wanna throw out a bit with michael too]

which is why when dan opens the door to his flat and leads pierre in, they stop in the den first, where michael is lying on the sofa, shirtless in grey sweatpants and glasses, engrossed in a book that has a picture of an apple on the cover. "hey mike," dan says, knocking on the doorway.

michael looks up, does a double-take at pierre, and then nods. "'sup, mate?"

dan makes a show out of winding an arm around pierre's back, hand settling at his hip, fingers grazing the sensitive skin there under his shirt and setting pierre on fire. "lad had a bad threesome," dan says, serving the sparknotes version. "up for showing him a proper one?"

it would be fair of michael to look surprised, but if he is, he hides it fairly well. he just makes a considering face and shuts his book. "hm," he thinks aloud. "'spose we could do. give me five, i'll meet ya there."

#bitch there's a whole ass fic in here #we should like. clean it up. and post it as inspired by sam's. if all parties are agreeable.#ask #thermocrying #lo fic

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tlacehualli · 1 year

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" hey, i said i'd go to the party, never said i'd have fun. " (hi, I hope it's okay to send this if you're still accepting! )

"Now you tell me you're not having fun." She rolls her eyes but it's not that deep because she tosses the vaquera a wink too - then she's taking a slow and careful inhale of the bong in front of her before shaking the flame out and pulling out the bowl to complete the inhale suddenly. Holds up a finger, then she exhales and passes the bong to an older Puerto Riquena on the couch.

"Okay, come with me to the kitchen yeah?" It's not far - just behind the long couch behind her, actually, and she's already moved to pick up a knife and start slicing up a few lemons into quarters, pouring two shots of mezcal, pulls some Tajin out of her purse (a necessity honestly).

She passes one of the quartered lemon slices to Ashe and takes one for herself. "Tell you what, if you're still not having fun after a few shots with me and shooting the shit, we can take off. Bien? Pero first, I want shots." Then she leads by example - knocks the shot back, licks Tajin off the back of her hand, then bites into the lemon slice. "Fuck, that's good. Seriously, if nothing else, you'll love the mezcal."

#dynamiss #asks #these party ones are so fun #and so is ashe and sombra and trouble YAY

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psychewritesbs · 2 years

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Wait... should I be offended that Watanabe totally stereotyped Tijuana and Mexicans?

At least give him a taco and a bottle of tequila mezcal, carajo...

Wey... mínimo un burrito, no sé.

Vaquero, mam. “Adiós, vaquero.”

She’s even wearing ribbons in her hair. FFS Watanabe... could he have gotten any more cliché?

I literally just praised him for his masterful use of symbolism and tropes in Zankyou no Terror, but it feels like in Cowboy Bebop he’s using the tropes at face value? At least in the first episode it feels like that.

Maybe it’s because I’m Mexican that it feels like he didn’t try to step away from the cliché stereotypes, but when I saw the first episode of the live action (it was the one and only episode I saw), I couldn’t help but wonder whether I should have been offended by how Tijuana was depicted.

Like... ffs Watanabe, please do not reduce me and my people to a stereotype.

Right. I do love tacos.

Anyways...

I understand that Cowboy Bebop is a bit of a mod podge of different pop culture references--noir, jazz, space fiction, cowboys, etc.

So I guess it should not be surprising that in the first episode we’re greeted with a reference to the Spicy Latina trope and her power over cowboys.

Lol to the Native American stereotype dude.

Ok, ok I’ll stop nit picking on the tropes... onto episode 2!

Neta wey. Te mamaste Watanabe.

#cowboy bebop #I'm in a watanabe state of mind

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shiclded · 2 years

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❝ but if you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing’s changed at all? ❞

( BOOMING LAUGHTER, THE FIRST DROP OF RAIN FROM A CLOUDY SKY, & A SHATTERED MUG FULL OF A PATRON'S SECRETS )▸ welcome to latverion, THOR ODINSON ( GOD OF THUNDER ). it’s time to be gracious, for in this vast multiverse, you have been saved by emperor doom. according to records you are 1500 and use HE / HIS pronouns. emperor doom expects you’ll enjoy your career as A BAR OWNER IN DOOM'S SQUARE , or else. excellent. we look forward to your contribution.

ABOUT BASICS .

FULL NAME:

Thor Odinson .

ALIAS:

God / Lord of thunder ( he isn’t picky ).

AGE:

1500 ( and, trust me, he will not let you forget his birthday ) .

AFFILIATION:

Avengers / Guardians of the Multiverse ( and maybe even one day the galaxy... a God can dream, okay? ) .

GENDER & PRONOUNS:

Cis-male & he/his .

FACE CLAIM:

Chris Hemsworth .

IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS .

POINT OF ORIGIN:

MCU, as that’s where most of my Thor knowledge comes from. Although, I’d love to see some of his comic book storylines come into play, especially if there’s anything that fellow players would want to see in game!

ABILITIES/SKILLS:

The real question is, what can’t Thor do ( I’m kidding, but let the record state that he isn’t )? Mostly, he’s got a lot of superhuman abilities from being an Asguardian, aka, he can fly, he’s stronger than most, and he’s got a lot of regenerative properties. Of course, he has the power to manipulate the weather as well as generate electricity, but he’s still getting used to those powers, as they’re fairly on the newer side. He can also fly through the air, now without Mjolnir, although he occasionally misses his old hammer.

HAVE THEY BROUGHT ANY FAMILY/PETS WITH THEM:

No, although Thor would have brought Rocket if Rocket would have let him...

HEADCANONS:

Thor, despite it all, sometimes misses Odin. He hates that fact, because he doesn’t particularly like his father, but at times, when he’s looking at a particularly lovely Doomstadt sunset, he can’t help but think what his father would do, if he were here. Of course, he knows what Odin do. Odin would fight to bring the Asgardian’s home, and a part of Thor is ashamed that he isn’t doing the same.

He misses Loki and is not afraid to admit that. In fact, he wears an emerald ring for his lost brother. Who, of course, isn’t lost anymore. But that’s besides the point. He wears it because he’s a good brother who cares.

Of course, he loves a good mead, but his favorite drink is actually a margarita. Particularly, if it’s strawberry and even more particularly if it’s got mezcal in it.

Thor’s started to run a training boot-camp in the bar on weekends early in the morning. He’s got enough space that he’s able to host at least a few people, and he’s never minded a bit of physical labor ( which he has to do, in order to move the equipment in and out of the space ). Working out has actually become a strange form of therapy for him, and Thor really loves getting to help other people along a fitness journey. It gives him a small sense of purpose, because, really, he’s lost his purpose now that he isn’t king.

Thor’s favorite movie, although he doesn’t often watch them, is Sleepless in Seattle. He’s a romantic at heart, really. It makes him cry. Every. Single. Time.

QUESTIONNAIRE .

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT EMPEROR DOOM?

Thor’s had quite a bit of time to think about how he feels about Emperor Doom, and it’s not particularly one way or the other. Quite frankly, he was tired of fighting, and is just happy that the people he cares about are safe. Then again, he doesn’t particularly like Doom or the way he’s set up the world they live in. And, he misses his Godly status, at times. Still, at least here, with his bar, he’s able to do a bit of soul-searching... Even if that leads him to realize that he needs to stand up for the very people who are seemingly safe at the moment.

HOW DOES YOUR CHARACTER FEEL ABOUT THE BATTLES? ARE THEY TRYING TO AVOID THEM? OR ARE THEY EAGER TO JUMP IN?

Thor would be lying if he said he doesn’t miss the battles, and sometimes he’ll participate for old times’ sake. Of course, being the Strongest Avenger has its disadvantages, mostly being that he feels poorly for anyone he goes into battle against. Still, sometimes he needs a little bit of action. Most of the time, he’s avoiding his feelings, and trying to live a good life, now that he’s freed from his job as Avenger.

WHY HAS YOUR CHARACTER ACCEPTED THEIR JOB POSITION? WILL THEY USE IT TO GET CLOSER TO DOOM? OR WILL THEY USE IT EXPLOIT HIM? OR DO THEY SIMPLY LIKE THEIR JOB?

He’d like to think he was offered his own bar because it kept him from completely dominating in the Killiseum, but Thor actually quite likes own his own place. Folks come and go, but he’s able to learn about them; learn their stories and tell them his own. It’s his own little way of keeping Asgard alive, after all. Thor’s not particularly looking to do anything for or against Doom, but if trouble comes a’knocking, which he assumes it will, he’ll be ready for it. And he’s never one to back down from a challenge.

#. ( introductions ) .#latverion:intro #. thor odinson ( but if you close your eyes does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all ) .

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slovenlyrecordings · 2 days

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Tonight! The MONSTERS en La Mezcalli

by Susana Iglesias

(abajo en Español!)

You think about James Dean before you go to sleep, you look at his picture, I know because I do the same thing. I'm walking down the street of Gabino Barreda listening to Elvis. Since April 2016, Born to be Cheap organized wild parties, the first was very close to here, in a space above Numantina, a cantina in the San Rafael neighborhood. Denep Velasco/Denepa Panky & Matt Watson live among thousands of vinyls, they not only collect them, they spin them to exist. The name of their parties comes from a Divine song called that way. And yes, it seems that this pair was not born to do what others tell them, they have been 8 years of intense trash rock'n'roll, they play killer albums, never fillers, garage, punk, rockabilly, surf, blues Denepa is from Azcapotzalco and Matt from London, from a town called Epsom. They are a luxury, the music of their parties has elegance, style, also the beautiful and original turntables made by their ally Dr Tornas, a mysterious character who gives a turntable made by him on each anniversary of the Born to the winners of their traditional annual dance competition.

To celebrate their 8th anniversary they organized several dates with the legendary Swiss band The Monsters. The first was last Thursday the 25th at Gato Calavera, yesterday in Cuautitlán Izcalli at Sham Rock, today they are playing at a venue in the Guerrero neighborhood, tomorrow they will be in Tijuana at the Black Box, from there they will head to Reno, LA, Seattle , Oslo, Amsterdam, Berlin, Greece, Madrid, will not stop dynamiting ears, souls and minds until July 6, accompanies them on the tour playing records with Pete Slovenly who plans to take The Monsters to the We're Loud Fest in 2025 which will be in Kenya. Pete years ago took them on tour in Vietnam. It was difficult to recover after seeing them live at the Gato Calavera, it was brutal. Devastating & precise power, they opened with Search, in seconds the shirts, boots and glasses flew through the air while The Love I never had played, then came Blow Um Mau Mau, their damn rock and roll trash exploded in our faces and hearts , the frantic faces chanted until they almost fainted in the little hell of sweat and screams of wild rockers.

The songs advanced mercilessly and deadly, while Voodoo Love played I saw Brent Amaker smile, yes the famous country singer from the Seattle scene was next to me. Carrion Kids, present. Chav, a rocker, came from San Francisco to see them. Peppers, drummer of Shifters, took the playlist. Too much rock: El Muertho from Tijuana played yesterday at El Kentucky, a rebel space they set up in what was a KFC on Av. Juárez, it was the party of the unique HeYo radio station. There are not many spaces for REAL rock, that which does not whine, nor hypocritically champions anarchy and accepts change from officials. I know you cry when you remember that James Dean is dead. You spin your records thinking there is no tomorrow. Nights like cars at high speed. Please: forever: Stay sick.

Artículo original en Español