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steinfellds · 1 year

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Picnic Date

Pairing: Wednesday x Fem!Reader

Summary: You drag Wednesday away from her typewriter to have a double date with Enid and Ajax in the forest.

1.1K Words

/ masterlist / / w.a masterlist /

The loud clicking of Wednesday’s typewriting was starting to bother you. She’s been writing for the past half hour, and you haven’t gotten a single second of sleep.

“Wednesday, can you please stop writing. It’s loud.” You whined out.

“I’m doing my one-hour writing time.” Her typing didn’t falter as she spoke.

“I can’t sleep.”

“You’re welcome to go back to your own room.”

“But I wanna hang out with my girlfriend.” You pouted, rolling dramatically onto your side so you could see Wednesday’s face.

Wednesday’s lip slipped up into a smile for a brief second before falling back to her emotionless face. “We hung out today.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

The dorm’s door flew open suddenly, showing a very excited looking Enid on the other side.

“Wednesday, Y/n! Ajax and I are going on a picnic date in the forest, like right now, and we would like to know if you want to have a cute double date.”

“No, we would- “

“Of course, we would. It wouldn’t hurt for Wednesday to go outside and sit in the sun for a little bit.” You smiled at Enid, not missing the sour look that was given to you by your girlfriend.

“Great! Thing has basically already set it up, but he forgot to bring pillows, so just grab some before leaving.” Enid quickly turned away with a smile plastered across her face.

“I have a strong dislike to you sometimes.” Wednesday sighed, standing up from her desk.

“Right, and that’s why you asked me out.” You grabbed two of Wednesday’s pillows off her bed. “Let’s go.”

“It’s really cute what Thing set up, I think you’ll love it.” Enid cheerfully told you as she took a big step over a tree root.

Sometimes you wonder if Enid has any other emotions than happiness. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her not cheerful.

You felt Wednesday slip her hand secretly into yours. You glanced over at her with a smile. Wednesday is never too keen on PDA, but she’s been growing more comfortable over time.

“Here we are!”

You gasped at how cute it looked. There was a red plaid picnic blanket and a massive picnic basket. The view in front of the blanket looked over a beautiful lake which had ducks flying in the air and swimming in the water.

“Wow, and Thing set this up?” You asked, placing down Wednesday’s pillow so she could sit on it.

“Yep, spent the whole morning on it.” Ajax said, smiling when Enid rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’d preferred a blanket with less colour but at least it isn’t pink or something blinding like that.”

You hit Wednesday’s stomach softly with the back of your hand, giving her a look

“But even with the colour, it does look good.” Wednesday gave you an annoyed glare.

Enid laughed and started to pull food out of the picnic basket. Sandwiches, fudges, lemonade, and other things were placed in front of you.

You grabbed a sandwich off the plate, “Eat this. It looks good.” You pressed it against Wednesday’s lips waiting for her to take a bite.

“I’m capable of feeding myself.”

“Last time you ate a sandwich, it went all over your school uniform so I don’t think I can trust you. Open.” She opened her mouth reluctantly and took a bite, her annoyed look didn’t go away until you kissed her forehead.

“Taste good?” Wednesday nodded, pushing the sandwich away from her mouth and towards yours.

You took a bite out of the sandwich, “Mhh, it does taste good.”

When you got distracted talking to Enid and Ajax about school things, Wednesday took this as a chance to subtlety rest her head in your lap. Your hand immediately went to her head, and you started scratching at the back of her neck.

“We should probably head back now; we’ve been out here for an hour.” Enid checked her phone for the time.

Everybody hummed in agreement.

“Is she asleep?” Ajax pointed to Wednesday, groaning as he stretched his limbs.

“Yeah, she fell asleep 45 minutes ago.” You watched the way her chest rose and fell peacefully.

“She’s going to be grumpy when you wake her up.” Enid muttered, the memories of how she once woke up Wednesday flashing through her mind. She would never make the mistake of waking her up again.

“I’ll probably stay out here for a bit, it’s peaceful.”

Ajax and Enid nodded, “We would stay but we have to get back to do some…things.”

Your face scrunched up in disgust, “Yeah, please go make out somewhere far, far away from us.”

They both laughed before running off towards the school.

You brushed your hand softly over Wednesday’s cheek, mumbling her name softly. She stirred slightly and batted your hand away.

“Don’t whack my hand away.” You scolded.

Wednesday couldn’t supress the giggle that escaped her mouth. She sat up and rested her head against your shoulder.

“How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour. You look pretty when you sleep by the way.”

Wednesday frowned and moved away from you, “Gross. Don’t ever say something like that again or I will throw up.”

“Wow, can’t even compliment my own girlfriend?” You rolled your eyes.

“No.”

Wednesday stood up and held her hand out, waiting for you to take it. You roughly grabbed it and pulled yourself to your feet.

“Hey!” Wednesday cried out in surprise. You almost pulled her to the ground.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly apologised.

Wednesday hummed, accepting your apology. She walked over to the lake and wrapped her arms around her chest. It was a chilly afternoon.

“It’s beautiful.” You replaced Wednesday’s arms with your own and pulled her closer to you.

“Not as beautiful as you are though.” Your flirting was hopeless and cringey, but it never failed to make a small smile appear on Wednesday’s lips.

“How romantic.”

You and Wednesday stood beside the lake for a while, enjoying each other’s presence. You never got to spend one-on-one time like this without the fear of somebody barging in on you.

“We better head back soon, it’s almost dinner.” You pulled your phone out to check the time.

“Then I can finally get back to my hour of writing time that you and Enid rudely stole me away from.”

“It’s okay to admit that you actually enjoyed socialising with your friends, Wednesday.”

She gave you a side-eye, “No comment.”

You laughed loudly. You found it hilarious how Wednesday would never admit to having enjoyed something, though she never has to admit it with you. You always know when she’s enjoying herself.

“Wanna race back to school?” You got in the stance to start running.

“Absolutely not.” Wednesday stared at you, unamused at the idea of running through a forest.

“I’ll meet you there!” You quickly sped off, weaving your way around trees and bushes.

Wednesday sighed softly before running after you with a massive smile on her face.

#wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday addams #wednesday

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2k] prompt: “Steve being insecure about being shirtless with his scars.” Summer, pool days, Steve needs a hype man. Soft shit.

“Babe, are you not too hot?”

Steve opened his eyes and peered over to where you were lying beside him, stretched out on your stomach in just a bikini, under the sun and the shadows of tree branches.

You were both aware that the Harrington’s had perfectly comfortable loungers that sat by the pool but you preferred the blanket that Steve let you steal, laid out in the back yard so you could push your feet into the coolness of the grass.

You raised yourself onto your elbows, mouth pushed into a pout as you watched the boy turn to you, lazy with the sun, his shirt still on despite his whispering to join you in the pool soon.

You’d dipped in and out all day, the Indiana summer making good on its promises of a late August heatwave, the temperatures soaring, the skies endless and blue. The whole town smelled like the peaches from Mr and Mrs Lovatt’s farm, extra chlorine from backyard pools, fresh flowers from every open window.

“M’fine,” Steve told you softly, eyes fond, the hand that smoothed over the small of your back affectionate.

But you could see the way his white shirt was sticking to the drips and ridges of his tummy, the way he kept pulling at the material as if it was annoying him.

You knew why.

You knew why he kept it on. It was the same reason he switched off the lights before he let you pull his clothes off, mouths hot on each other’s skin, hands frantic. It’s why he didn’t slip in the shower with you before work, both of you still sleep soft and lazy, kisses trailing over shoulders and backs.

But Steve was stubborn and prideful, and most of all, he didn’t want to worry you. So he didn’t say anything, he acted as if everything was okay, that everything was normal and he didn’t wake up in the night, eyes glass, clutching at you as he tried to make his breathing return to normal.

So instead, you moved into him, grinning when he smiled, loving the way you stretched yourself out alongside him.

“Baby, are you gonna think I’m ugly when I’m old and have wrinkles?”

Steve scrunched his nose, bewildered at your question. Where had that come from? Did you really think he was that shallow?

“What? No! Of course not,” he stuttered, and he was suddenly adamant to make you believe you were the prettiest girl in the whole fucking world. “Wrinkles aren’t ugly, you could never be anything less than perfect. Why would you say that?”

You shrugged, still keeping your voice casual, level. You dropped a hand to his covered chest, the skin below the cotton hot to touch. Small circles with the pad of your finger, lazy and trailing over the muscle there. You watched the boy swallow. You knew by now that if you tried to bring your touch lower, down his ribs, across his waist, he’d flinch.

It destroyed you every time.

“Vogue magazine and the societal norms pushed onto females would like me to think so.”

Steve paused, huffed and then pushed himself up to sit, seemingly frustrated with your answer. How could you possibly think you weren’t perfect? The boy couldn’t understand it.

“Well they’re wrong,” he told you, ducking down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, melting into you, leaving the taste of fresh lemonade and cherries behind. “Like, really fucking wrong.”

“Good.” You state. “So are you.”

You lean back up for another kiss to soften the blow of your words, smiling when you see confusion knit across your boyfriend's features. His lips part, his brows furrowed and you smile.

“They’re not ugly, Steve,” you tell him slowly, wondering if he’ll understand without you having to force the conversation.

You watch his eyes widen in understanding, a flush that has nothing to do with the summer creeping across his cheeks, painting the new freckles there with a shade of pink.

“They’re not exactly pretty, either,” he grumbled, shying away from your gaze as he lay back down on the blanket, a hand thrown over his eyes, hiding from the sun, hiding from you.

And that just wouldn’t fucking do.

“But they’re a part of you,” you said, sticky soft like the heat. You hated that tears brimmed at your eyes, hot, heavy drops that clung to your lashes because you couldn’t believe this boy, this man, saw himself as unworthy giving every piece of himself to you.

“And I love every part of you.”

It wasn’t a poem or a love song, it wasn’t a grand declaration and it wasn’t even all that cheesy coming from you, Steve realised. You said it so plainly, so simply, the way that day faded into night.

You said it so sincerely, that he didn’t have any choice but to believe you.

He glanced at you from underneath his arm, a soft sound escaping his chest when he saw the tears in your eyes, the upset there. You were picking at the blades of grass, bottom lip wobbling because you weren’t really sure what to do when your boyfriend shied away from your touch.

“Babe,” Steve murmured, all gentle coaxing, soft words, softer eyes. He sat up, pulling you into the space he made between his legs. Pushing his face into the crook of your neck, his mouth found a spot you both liked, lips pressing kisses there, his voice muffled on your skin. “Baby.”

You hummed, a sad sound that didn’t really answer him but Steve looked back up, chased your gaze with his own before giving up and catching your chin between finger and thumb, holding your face gently to his.

He kissed away the tear that had slipped out, trailing hot down your cheek.

“Baby,” he repeated, “don’t cry, not over this please.”

You gave in then, curling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, hands against your bare back, dripping under the strings of your swimsuit.

“I just want you to let me see you,” you told him, quiet and hushed as you hid your face in his chest. It was a difficult line to toe, you’d realised.

The last thing you wanted to do was make the boy feel uncomfortable, or pressured. But you knew you’d kiss every bump, every scratch, every scar the boy had, if he’d let you.

“I don’t want you to be…” you trailed off, unsure of the right word.

“Embarrassed?” Steve finished for you.

Your stomach fell into a pit, twisting horribly at the word. You lay your head on his shoulder, your cheek squished to him and your fingers played with his T-shirt collar.

“Is that how you feel?”

You breathed him in, cedar and spice and Steve, lemon and berries from lunch, coconut sunscreen and apple shampoo. You nosed at the bare skin of his neck, pushing yourself into him more as you felt him grasping for an answer. He felt tense against you, an odd sensation and you wanted to pull it away from him like a blanket in the night.

“I- I dunno,” he mumbled and he held onto you a little tighter when he felt you deflate against him. “Sometimes I just catch a glimpse of it, and I just- I just hate the way it looks.”

You closed your eyes in hope when you let your hand wander, dropping from where it had been curled at his chest, downwards, sinking into the side of him, palm flat as it ran over his ribs. You felt the muscles there clench, his breathing hitch. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t stop you.

You could hardly feel a difference in the pattern of his skin, not over the material of his t-shirt. Steve let you press your hand there, thumb running in soft, slow circles and you kept it up until he let go of the breath he had been holding, finally relaxing under you - if only just.

So you didn’t say anything else, you just let the boy feel; summer and you sinking over him, the sun shining through the oak tree that you both liked to lay under, its leaves and branches painting dappled stripes of light across your bare skin.

“I understand,” you finally said and you kept your voice low, soft, blending in with the hum of the pool filter, the soft hiss of Mr Davison’s sprinkler from next door. “But I want you to know that I don’t look at it and see anything other than the reminder of how far you’re willing to go for your friends.”

You moved, turning so you could face Steve, watching his pretty features soften in realisation. You cupped his chin in your hand, the same way he’d done to you.

“For me,” you added, feeling warm as you leaned into him for another quick kiss.

But the boy chased you, eyes fluttering shut and hands on your waist, pulling you back into him until you tumbled into his lap, smiling against his kiss.

His fingers found the bare skin that your bikini bottoms didn’t cover, blunt nails scraping over the sides of your hips in a way that made you shiver, opening your mouth for him, as eager as the boy was.

“You really think that?”

Steve’s voice was a whisper, reverent against your mouth, kissing the question into you with a sweetness that made your heart ache. You nodded, nose pushing into his.

“I do,” you told him. Another kiss, pushed to the corner of his lips, sweet and sticky. “I think you’re brave and loyal.”

A kiss to his cheek, pushed to the stubble there, rough under your touch. Steve hummed in response; a happy, shy noise that you decided you adored.

“I think you’re amazing and smart and kind,” you trailed your mouth over the his jaw, open mouthed kisses pushed there, and Steve tilted his head back for you, giving you all the access you wanted, his neck taught.

You nosed at the spot under his ear, that little patch of skin that made him shiver when you brushed your lips across it. You mouthed over the shell of his ear, grinned when you heard his soft gasp, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

“And I think you’re hot as fuck.”

He barked out a laugh then, his smile blinding, that happy stretch of his lips that made a dimple appear in one cheek, the corner of his lashes kissing.

“Behave yourself.”

He gave your bum a swift tap, playful despite the way his eyes were gazing into with such complete adoration and affection, it took your breath away.

“It’s true,” you mused, voice sweet and sincere, your arms wrapping around the boy’s neck as you pulled him back into you.

Steve let you, grinning all soft as you wrapped him up in you, sunscreen and chlorine on your skin, mango body wash from the shower you had that morning.

“Love you,” he mumbled against your cheek, pressing a noisy smack there, “so much.”

“Love you too baby.”

A few minutes passed as you basked in the sun and each other, limbs tangled, mouths moving lazy over the others before Steve pulled back slightly, lifting his arms for you, brows raised expectantly.

You grinned, joyous, as you gripped the hem of his T-shirt, pulling the material over his head and throwing it as far across the yard as you possibly could.

“See?” You told him, unable to act smug at your win, your voice all sticky fondness instead, and you were elated when Steve let you run your hands over his chest, sun kissed skin and scars silver in the afternoon light.

“Hot as fuck, babe, told you.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #steve harrington fluff #Steve harrington imagine #Steve harrington oneshot #stranger things

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morallyinept · 8 months

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Further to my Pedro Boys & Cocktails Ramble, here are some signature Javier Peña cocktails, inspired by our favourite surly DEA agent.

Again, there are no measurements, so you can make them as strong or as weak as you'd like. 🍹

If you make any, tag me in the pics as I'd love to see your creations. Cocktail images are a guideline reference as to what I would imagine they would look like based on the ingredients, but are not vebatim. Go nuts.

Drink responsibly, folks 🥴

Check out my previous Pedro Boys Rambles.

I'll mention this might be slightly NSFW due to my filthy, potty mouth cussing.

We'll just ignore the fact I've been spelling Laredo as Loredo... 🙃

The drink that started it all. 'The Loredo Legspreader.'

Clear gin, lemongrass, lemongrass syrup, fresh lime juice, red Thai chilli to garnish. Serve with a cigarette and a sour resting bitch face. Sweaty pink shirt optional.

'The Loredo Legspreader - Pink Shirt Version.'

Clear gin, raspberry syrup, pomegranate grenadine, fresh lemon juice, egg white froth to top and a lemon peel twist. Replace egg froth with Javi's own froth, if desired. Sweaty pink shirt mandatory.

'The Resting Bitch Face.'

Vodka, splash of dry vermouth, sugar syrup, pureed strawberries, cracked black pepper, strawberry and mint sprigs to garnish. Pout to your hearts content. Give everyone the finger. Especially Steve. 🖕🏻

'This Cat Pussy Is DEA.'

Tequila Blanco, agave nectar, thyme simple syrup, freshly squeezed orange juice, low cal soda. Garnish with fresh thyme sprigs and an orange slice. Salty rim optional. Don't worry, your pussy will be tangy enough on Javier's tongue, cariño. Miaow.

'Colombian Cunt Licker.'

Red layer: Alizé red passion liqueur, or substitute for any dark red liqueur.

Blue layer: Blue curaçao and lemonade/Sprite.

Yellow layer: Vodka and pineapple juice.

Pour slowly over the back of a spoon for each layer in order of the Colombian flag colours. Top with a pineapple chunk. Cuss wildly when it doesn't fucking work. Say screw it and mix it all up and spread your legs ready for Javier's tongue instead.

'The Papi Chulo.'

Vodka, peach schnapps, raspberry liqueur, pureed raspberries, sugar syrup, fresh lemon juice, raspberries to top. Then go visit your favourite hooker in Bogotá. Take plenty of cash. Get better the more you practice. Aye Papi.

'The Sweaty Javi.'

Gin, splash of tequila, sage bitters, grapefruit juice, freshly squeezed lemon juice, rosemary simple syrup, pinch of salt. Screw up your face with how tart this will taste. Then proceed to lick some sweaty collarbone for a refreshing alkaline relief.

'The Hillbilly Duck Hunter.'

Bourbon Whiskey, stewed and cooled black tea (loose leaf or bagged), citrus oil or lime juice, lime to garnish. Serve over ice. Get your shotgun and go quackers. Fuckin' hillbilly...

'Smoky Leather Jacket.'

Bourbon Whiskey, agave syrup, splash of cherry brandy, black cherry juice, seltzer water, black cherries to garnish. Serve over ice. Smoky and rich, just like that leather jacket. Lapel nuzzling optional, but encouraged. As is thigh riding on Javier whilst you drink it.

'The Peña Tenderloin.'

Bourbon whiskey, dash of orange bitters, peach syrup, peach schnapps, maraschino cherries and a grilled peach slice to top. Drink, then take a bite out of that tight, pert DEA agent ass like a piece of rare meat.

'Downright Un-American.'

Cooled green mint tea, maple syrup, clear gin, splash of apple schnapps, cucumber slices, soda or tonic water, freshly squeezed lime juice, mint leaves to top. Sleep with all the communists you can find and then act appalled about it when questioned.

'Nicotine Kiss.'

Dark rum, simple syrup, fresh lemon juice. Garnish with lemon wedge or peel. Proceed to chain smoke at least forty cigarettes before enjoying.

🖤

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #javier peña #jett's pedro boys #javier peña cocktails #the loredo legspreader #jett has spoken #javier peña narcos #pedro pascal narcos #narcos #javier pena #javi p #javi pena

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stitchthesewords · 8 months

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I heard you were looking for an excuse to write drabbles/hj

uhhh just something with the mumscarian being soft

In exchange for a mumscarian vote I bring you fluffy s9 mumscarian! o7 keep em comin', our fight isnt over!

---

There was something in the air at the entity as the three of them sat on the bridge one warm afternoon, enjoying lunch. It was warm, drifting and weaving through the three of them like a ribbon as Scar leaned over Mumbo, feeding him bites of sandwiches. Grian leaned back, the warmth circling around his head as he sipped on lemonade from Scarland.

From their place on the bridge, they could see all 3 bases, plus a few more. The flag of the Perimeter was barely visible in the fog, for example. Grian smiled fondly in the direction of the buttercups camp before turning back to Mumbo and Scar, laughing as Scar toppled off Mumbo’s lap to land beside him on the bridge instead.

“Be careful. We’re up kinda high, ya know,” Mumbo said, sitting up a bit to make sure Scar was alright. Scar’s grin had not broken on his face, and he used Mumbo leaning over him as an opportunity for a kiss. Mumbo’s ties always made for an amazing handhold.

“Worried about lil old me, darling?” Scar teased, Mumbo’s cheeks flushed a lovely color of pink as he right himself and pulled Scar upright too. Not to be forgotten about, Grian leaned forward over his legs with a pout.

“Mumbo gets kisses, and I don’t now? What is this – some sort of grand Anti-Grian conspiracy?” he asked. His tone was light, and his tricolor wings were spread out to either side of him, just catching the edges of the bridge.

“I’ll have you know I was coming to give you a kiss, mister!” Scar said, leaning forward onto his hand to place a kiss on Grian’s nose. That wasn’t good enough for the avian, who moved his head until their lips slotted together. It was nice, the warm breeze wrapped around their little picnic again as Scar parted ways.

“Well, that didn’t feel very ‘Anti-Grian’ to me, personally,” Scar said. He pushed his short hair back, his own face flushed. Grian didn’t know if it was from the kiss or the sun.

“Well - I still think there’s something going here – maybe Scarland needs a few dozen chickens so it can sort itself out.”

“Grian you wouldn’t dare-”

“Who, me? No – no, I wouldn’t, that’s more of a poultry man thing anyway.” He wore a grin on his face as Scar reached out to tug him closer. He ducked out of the way, silently saluting Mumbo and Scar before diving off the edge of the bridge, his wings open to catch the wind under them. Mumbo’s noise of concern was almost covered entirely by Grian’s own joyous cackling.

#asks #Stitch's Writing #Mumscarian #Hermitshipping #theyre so soft and warm in this one

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a-strange-inkling · 7 months

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Does Olivia have tea parties with Eddie when she’s a toddler?

Yes 🥰 she plays all kinds of pretend with her Daddy. He loves it!

…

“So Melody told me that she thought my hair was messy and I said ‘no Melody, my hair is just curly, like Daddy’s’.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks attentively, sipping the lemonade out of the pink plastic cup as he sits cross legged on the patchwork quilt.

“Yeah, and then she…she saaidd ‘no it’s very messy and you need to brush it.” She goes on with a sigh, pouring some more ‘tea’ into Wadybug and Luna’s cups, stirring them with her spoon, careful not to spill.

“She clearly has no idea how curl maintenance works.” he says with a shake of his head as she serves him a few scoops of invisible sugar and pours him some invisible cream. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Go on.”

“Um, well, then I got sad.”

“You got sad?!” he cries softly in surprise.

“Yeah.” The little hostess finally sits down after serving her guests with another sigh. “…I cried a little.”

“Oh no, bug...”

“Is your tea too hot, Daddy?”

“…No, it’s just right.” Eddie replies. She’s just like her mother, changing the subject so she’s not a bother to anyone. “Tell me what happened next.”

“Oh, Mommy came over,” she says.

Eddie smiles. “Wonder Woman that Mommy.”

“She told me not to listen… M-my hair is pretty.”

“The prettiest.” He gives those gorgeous ringlets a ruffle. She smiles shyly. The Munson curls are all part of the charm. “Mommy should have told you to tell Melody to stick it where the—”

“Eddie.” Chrissy snaps quietly from where she’s grading papers on the kitchen counter. He bawks and ducks, casting her a sheepish smile over his shoulder. Wonder Woman apparently has super hearing too. He clears his throat and holds his teacup back up to Livvy’s teapot. “Can I get some more of that?”

#hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer fanfiction #hellcheer fanfic #old haunts #livvy munson

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inkinmyheartandonthepage · 7 months

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Tight T-shirt and Busted Pipes

Day 14 of flufftober: "I hate it." "No you don't." Read it here on Ao3

“I hate it,” Buck said, eyes narrowed into a glare.

Maddie, the traitor, just laughed. “No, you don’t”

Buck huffed, forcing himself to look away from the Grant-Nash backyard where Eddie Diaz was flaunting his new, very tight, t-shirt. It hugged every curve of his muscles, the seams straining against his biceps that flexed with every lift of his beer to his pink lips. Buck didn’t know whether to kill or kiss Karen for taking Eddie shopping with her the other day.

Buck does know that he regrets spilling his crush (and could he really call it a crush when he was hopelessly and pathetically in love with Eddie?) to his sister over dinner the other night. Ever since, Maddie had been trying to get Buck to confess his feelings.

He wanted too. It’s just, he was scared. His feelings for Eddie were so much deeper than what he had for Abby, for Ali, for Taylor. There was a lot more to lose if things didn’t work out and Buck wasn’t even sure if Eddie was inclined his way. No, he was happy to Eddie’s best friend and have Chris in his life in any way.

Except, Eddie made it extremely difficult when he was wearing tight t-shirts that made most of Buck’s blood pool south.

Buck tore his gaze away from Eddie, shifting his whole body so his back was to the man, so he wasn’t tempted to stare anymore. This just made Maddie giggle into her wine glass, and he stuck his tongue out her.

“Awww,” Maddie cooed, reaching up to pinch Buck’s cheek. “You’re so cute when you have a crush.”

Buck rolled his eyes and gently slapped her away. “I’m not cute. I’m adorable. Get it right.”

“Of course, me bad,” Maddie sniggered, eyes sparkling with mirth.

And the sight made Buck’s heart tumble in his chest, his shoulder’s relaxing. It was nice to see her this happy, even if it meant her teasing him. He would let her do everyday for the rest of his life just to watch her smile.

Buck ducked his head when he heard Eddie laugh loudly from behind him and he took a swig from his beer. Even Eddie’s laugh had Buck’s stomach acting like it was tumbler in a circus act. It sparked along his veins, lighting up his blood and set the two braincells he had on a course of Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Being in love had never felt like this and Buck was beginning to go slightly insane with how much he wanted Eddie. How much he wanted them to be a couple, to be a family.

There was a loud squeak and a gasp and Buck turned just in time to see Eddie drenched in what had once been a pitcher of lemonade.

Denny held the pitcher in his slack hands, staring at Eddie with wide eyes.

“Oh no. I am so sorry!” Denny cried.

Eddie laughed, peeling the now drenched t-shirt from his body. It clung tighter to his skin; his abs now very visible through the shirt. “It’s okay. It was an accident.”

“It was,” Denny pleaded with a rush. “I’m so sorry!”

“Why don’t you go ask Athena for a towel,” Karen suggested, gently nudging Denny.

Denny nodded and sprinted towards Athena, calling out her name.

Buck could only stare at Eddie, his mouth suddenly dry. He could hear Maddie choking on her laughter, the others joining in teasing Eddie, but it was all drowned out by the rushing in Buck’s ears. Buck bit back the whine that was building in his throat as Eddie started working the drenched t-shirt off his body, revealing miles of tanned skin that Buck just wanted to drop to his knees and lick –

The sharp ring of his phone had Buck jolting out of his fantasy. He caught Eddie’s gaze then and he quickly dropped it, cheeks flushing hot. He answered the call, whirling around so his back was to Eddie again and brought the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he managed to choke out.

Maddie snorted and Buck didn’t even have the mental capacity to glare at her, his mind still firmly on all of Eddie’s skin that was behind him.

“Buck, its John, your neighbour.”

“John, uh, hey.” Buck blinked, trying to get his brain to focus. “What can I do for you?”

“Sorry to bother you, I’ve just come home but there’s water leaking from your front door, and I can hear water rushing,” John explained. “I think a pipe might have burst.”

Buck swore and shoved his beer into Maddie’s startled hand. “Thanks. I’ll be there in about fifteen.”

“I’ll call the landlord and get the water shut off,” John said.

“Thanks, I’ll be there soon,” Buck said and hung up the phone.

“Buck? What’s wrong?” Maddie’s teasing smile was gone, her eyes now shining with worry.

“I think a pipe burst in my apartment,” Buck said as he shoved his phone into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “I have to go. Can you apologise –“

“Go,” Maddie said. She lifted her cheek and Buck pressed a quick kiss to it before he ducked around her.

“Call me later!” Maddie’s voice carried after him as he jogged up the front steps and disappeared out the door.

All thoughts of Eddie were put on hold as he rushed to make his way back to the loft. He managed to make in the fifteen minutes he told John, and he skipped the elevator, running up the stairs instead.

John was hovering by his door, wet floor signs blocking off a section of the hallway. He spotted Buck, looking relieved to see him. John was around his age, handsome, and had moved into the building about three months ago. The two of them had slowly gotten to know one another and Buck was happy to have made another friend. "Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, thanks for calling,” Buck said. He took his key, inserting it into the lock and turned it. Pushing open the door, Buck was met with some resistance before water was cascading over his shoes.

“Oh shit,” John muttered behind him.

Ice spread through Buck’s veins as he stepped into the apartment, eyes widening as he took in the damage. Water was everywhere. It covered the downstairs area, enough that it lapped at the edges of his shoes. Lifting his gaze, Buck watched as water dripped down his staircase and over the edge of his loft. Tilting his head back, Buck looked to the ceiling where a thick pipe was now hanging out, dripping water over his bed.

Buck’s shoulder’s slumped and he could only stare at the mess that was his apartment. Of course, it had to be his apartment that a pipe burst. He blinked at the pipe, a shudder running through his body. What if he had been home and not at the Grant-Nash home? What if he had been still in bed?

“Buck?”

John voice snapped Buck out of those thoughts. He cleared his head, turning to face him. “Do you think something stayed dry?”

John let out a snort, giving Buck a hesitant smile. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Buck sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Man, what a mess. I don’t even know where to start.”

John clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll help you out. First, let’s get the landlord up here and see if he can answer some questions.”

~*~

A knock on the spare bedroom door had Eddie looking up. Karen leaned in the doorway, giving him a sympathetic smile. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not covered in lemonade anymore,” Eddie said, flashing a fake smile at his friend. Bobby had been kind enough to lend him a clean t-shirt and a washcloth to wipe up the stick lemonade from his skin.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Karen said softly.

Eddie sighed, shoulder’s slumping. He looked down at his lap, twisting the wet t-shirt in his hands. It had been Karen’s idea. One wine night, a little tipsy, Eddie had confessed to Karen that he was in love with Buck. She had immediately been giddy with excitement, begging Eddie to tell Buck how he felt.

“He doesn’t feel the same way,” Eddie had shaken his head.

Karen had scoffed loudly. “Eddie! Buck is head over heels for you! He couldn’t be more obvious.”

Eddie blinked. “Really?”

Karen had grinned, almost manically. “Yes! And we are going to prove it! Tomorrow, we’re going shopping and we’re going to get you your man.”

And Eddie hadn’t really been sure how that was going to help but that’s how he found himself at the Grant-Nash home in the tightest t-shirt he had ever owned. And, okay, seeing the heated look on Buck’s face when he first seen Eddie, he understood what Karen had been saying.

The look Buck had given him had set Eddie’s insides a light. Karen had given him a knowing, smug look, Eddie ducking his head bashfully. Okay, so Buck may have had the same feeling as Eddie did. And maybe Eddie had tried to draw Buck’s attention to him over the afternoon (and by glances Buck had given him, he had succeeded).

“See,” Karen had hissed. “I told you. Now, go and tell him.”

Nerves had struck Eddie, but there had been a linger excitement that maybe finally the two of them be together.

And Denny’s timing with the lemonade, while an accident, couldn’t have been more perfect. Eddie had seen the way Buck’s gaze had darkened, eyes firmly on the outline of his abs. But then, Buck had all but sprinted out of the Grant Nash home.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Eddie huffed, shaking his head.

“Don’t say that,” Karen admonished. “We both saw the looks he gave you; like he was about to devour you right then and there.”

“Then why did he run?” Eddie pouted.

“Let’s go find out,” Karen said.

“Wait,” Eddie hissed as Karen pushed off the doorway, whirling out of Eddie’s sight. He hurried after her, following her through the house until he caught up with her in the living room.

“Maddie,” Karen called.

“Karen,” Eddie hissed, cheeks flushing.

Maddie whirled around, flashing them a bright smile. “Hey Karen.” Her gaze shifted to Eddie, her smile becoming smug. “Eddie.”

“Where’s Buck?” Karen asked.

The smug smile vanished from Maddie face. “He had to run. His neighbour John called.”

A flash of jealously had Eddie clutching his wet t-shirt in his hand. John, Buck’s good-looking, friendly, neighbour who had just moved into the building. Who had wasted no time introducing himself to Buck and having him over for a drink.

“He said a pipe had burst in Buck’s apartment.”

“What?” Eddie started, nearly dropping the wet t-shirt from his hands.

Maddie nodded. “Oh, Eddie, do you think you could –“

“Already on it,” Eddie said. “Karen could you –“

“We’ll take Chris for a sleepover,” Karen promised. She gave Eddie a light push. “Go.”

Eddie flashed her a smile and then he was spinning, rushing towards Buck.

~*~

“Buck?”

Buck looked up at the sound of Eddie’s voice, a little frown pulling at his brows. “Eddie?” He dropped the garbage back he had been throwing his saturated clothes into. The bed was a loss, as were most of his things. He moved to the railing, peering down.

Eddie relieved face looked up at him. “Hey. Maddie said a pipe burst. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” Buck nodded. “Uh, stay there.”

Buck finished stuffing his wet clothes in the bag and then carefully made his way down the stairs. Eddie was waiting impatiently for him and when he reached the floor safely, Eddie was gripping his elbow tightly. His eyes roamed over Buck’s face, leaving a pleasant warmth in the pool of his stomach.

“Thank god you weren’t home when this happened,” Eddie said.

Buck huffed. “Yeah. It’s going to be a bitch to clean.”

“Well, you’ll be staying with me until it is,” Eddie stated.

“Ed’s-“ Buck tried to protest but Eddie cut him off.

“You’re staying, Buck. Come on. Do you want to grab anything, or can we get out of this before something else comes crashing through the ceiling?”

Buck gave a choked laugh. “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

Eddie grabbed the bag from Buck’s hand and released his elbow. Buck watched as Eddie hefted the bag over his shoulder, flashing him a grin.

“You changed your shirt,” Buck blurted out, finally noticing that Eddie was no longer wearing that tight t-shirt.

“Disappointed?” Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Buck blurted out and his cheeks immediately heated up. He blamed the shock of his apartment flooding for the way his mouth was speaking before his brain could tell him to abort.

Eddie’s grin widened, cheeks flushing pink. “I have more at home. If you want to see.”

Buck swallowed thickly and Eddie’s smile grew triumphant.

“Coming?” Eddie asked, heading for the door.

And Buck was hopeless but to follow after him. His apartment flooding; best thing that ever happened.

#flufftober2023 #flufftober 2023 #9-1-1 fanfiction #eddie diaz #evan buckley #9-1-1 #buddie #buddie 911 #9-1-1 fandom #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #a03 fanfic

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boysbellyrubs · 10 months

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Caine and Quinn! They are some of my favourite OCs ever, and I'd love another scenario with them. Maybe Quinn as the sickie?

ah i love you for this. i tried to do some onomatopoeia with the vomiting in this one, not much since I'm awkward with it but hopefully it's okay hehe.

Seeing a movie at 8pm was normally quite fun. They could hang out all day, get some food at the theatre and then watch a movie like they were having a night in. Why wouldn’t that be fun?

You see, after a day of being in public, of eating, of being on your feet, you tend to get a bit tired. This is what was happening to Quinn at this very moment. They were standing in line and he just couldn’t stop himself from swaying and leaning over like he was being suspended from the ceiling. He was exhausted.

“What’s up, Quinn?” Caine asked. He was upright, perfectly poised.

Quinn groaned, knocking his head into Caine’s elbow. “I’m so tired. I can’t wait to sit in this movie and just do nothing.”

Caine laughed, one of his hands coming up to ruffle Quinn’s hair. “Don’t fall asleep just yet, you’ve been looking forward to this movie for ages.”

They were actually out to see Oppenheimer, and Quinn had been excited for ages but as of right now he would rather be anywhere else. Preferably over a toilet. His stomach had been bothering him ever since they stopped to grab a snack at McDonalds. So far in life he had never been betrayed so badly by them but today was just not his day.

The line shifted and Caine spoke to the worker, ordering both of them popcorn and some fizzy drinks. Just what Quinn wanted. However, as Caine paid for their overpriced food, he straightened his back and followed Caine quietly through the theatre. Perhaps sitting down for three hours was going to do him some good. The theatre was packed with people wearing pink and loudly talking about the movie they had just watched.

“Next week we should see Barbie. I’ve got to see Ryan Gosling’s boobs.” Caine said, pointing at the poster in the hall. Quinn hummed.

They made it to their theatre and the search for their seats began. Caine ducked his head to read the numbers sideways and eventually found their row. Never in Quinn’s life had he thought movie theatre seats were this comfortable. He sank into the leather and quickly put his drink and popcorn down.

“Ugh, I’m actually going to pass away.”

“Please don’t.” Caine said. He looked at Quinn a bit closer as he said that. Quinn watched his eyes scrunch up a little. “Are you sure you’re alright? You look a bit pale.”

Quinn nodded sluggishly. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He was going for sarcasm, but perhaps he wasn’t so versed in that language as he thought he was because Caine just nodded and sat back in his seat. He munched on his popcorn as they waited and Quinn was only imagining the kernels landing in his own volatile stomach, imagining the taste and feel and the weight of them inside his belly. He groaned quietly as it gurgled.

A quick peek down at his middle, he noticed his shirt was a little tight and the pressure on his waistband. He ran a curious hand down it and felt the little give of his skin. He was in for a rough night. As his hand moved down, his eyes drifted over to his drink. A simple lemonade, but that was supposed to help upset stomachs right? Plus, it might get some of the air in his belly before the movie began.

He begrudgingly pulled himself up and grabbed his drink. Taking a small sip, he immediately felt the liquid join the spoiled food in his belly and it made a gross gurgling noise as it did. He winced.

“Was that your stomach?” Caine was staring at his profile, phone lighting up his face.

Quinn nodded. “It’s okay, just digesting.” He waved his boyfriend off and continued taking small sips of his drink. The carbonation was helping him feel a little better and he burped quietly into his fist. Thank god the theatre hadn’t filled up just yet. He continued with this strategy until the lights went down and there was a stranger sitting next to him. His popcorn lay untouched throughout.

With the movie beginning, Quinn let his mind drift away from his sore tummy and onto the movie. He managed about an hour before things took a turn for the worse. He had been drinking his lemonade slowly, and soon enough he needed to piss. There was a moment where it seemed like nothing was happening so he quickly whispered he was going to the bathroom to Caine and slipped out of his seat. His belly sloshed as he stood, full of fizzy and food, and he resisted putting his hand on it. The walk to the bathroom was tortuous, Quinn was holding back burps with every step and the steps weren’t helping.

Eventually, he made it and in the privacy of the bathroom he let himself burp louder. Belches sounded around the echoey walls of the bathroom and he rubbed his belly as he let them up. It was still extremely bloated, it seemed his scheme hadn’t worked out in his favour. The nausea wasn’t so bad anymore, but it was uncomfortable to deal with a stomach so swollen he looked like he was with child. His entire stomach was tight, top to bottom, whatever was inside him was wrecking carnage on his insides.

A rippling cramp shot through his middle. He bent over and let out a grunt. He didn’t know how he was going to continue for another two hours. However, having spent enough time in the bathroom he washed his hands and returned to the theatre. Quinn almost tripped over his own feet walking back in, and having to bend over to not get in the way of the film felt like he was going to explode.

He flopped down into his seat. A mistake. As he landed, it disrupted a pocket of gas and it rocketed up his throat and out his mouth. He clapped a hand over his mouth, mumbling a quick ‘excuse me’ and burrowed into his chair. His whole body was on fire.

Caine leaned over to him. “Are you alright?”

Quinn nodded, lips pressed tightly together. He wasn’t risking opening his mouth again. As both Caine and the strangers got back into the movie, Quinn sat suffering in his seat. His belly was full on gurgling now, bringing up burps that he kept in his mouth, and increasing the pain across his stomach. He needed to go home immediately.

Somehow, Quinn had managed to sit through more of the movie. When the 30 seconds of silence hit, it wasn’t anything but. Quinn’s stomach chose the perfect moment to whine and grumble at him the loudest then, and he put his hand over his stomach, sucking it in to try and muffle the sounds at least a little. It didn’t work, of course and Caine was immediately on to him.

“Is your stomach okay? It doesn’t sound like just digestion now, sweetheart.” Quinn was close to whimpering. It was so embarrassing, and the gurgles were only getting wetter. He sank down into his seat, almost horizontal.

“I…I really don’t feel good. My stomach won’t shut up.” He whispered as quietly as he could. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the loudest noise he had ever heard in his entire life sounded and the room lit up. The noise had finally began again.

Caine had jumped away from him but his attention went back to Quinn as soon as the scare died off. “Is it bad enough that we need to leave? Are you gonna puke?”

Quinn shook his head. It was a half-truth, it was bad but he didn’t need to puke. Yet. He knew he was probably going to eventually. Caine raised his eyebrow.

“Are you sure? You look unwell.” His hand softly came up to touch his forehead. “You’re not very warm.”

“I know. It’s something I ate.”

Caine’s eyes widened a little. He looked back at the screen and decided that there was no movie more important than his boyfriend’s health. He quickly packed up his things, picking up Quinn’s untouched popcorn along the way and ducked out of his seat. Quinn was hurt for a second until he saw Caine’s shadow return, holding his now empty hands out.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He waved to the people beside them and mouthed a ‘sorry’ before swiftly pulling Quinn out of the theatre.

Being upright again was not something Quinn was prepared for. He felt his tummy slosh and begin churning. He groaned as he wrapped his arm around his middle. Caine’s arm was tightly around his shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re not gonna puke? We can make a quick detour to the bathroom.”

“I’m sure. I just want to go home.” Quinn mumbled.

Unfortunately, the car was parked quite a while away. It was dark, cold and far too busy for a Wednesday night. They walked as quick as Quinn was able to.

They managed to make a fair bit before Quinn’s belly jumped into his throat. He stopped so suddenly Caine almost tripped over his feet. He turned around to stand in front of Quinn, bracing his hands on Quinn’s shoulders.

“Hey, are you about to throw up?”

Quinn nodded, hands covering his mouth tightly. He felt his throat lurch and a wet burp gurgled in his mouth. He moaned.

“Alright, alright, just hold it in for a minute, babe.” Caine frantically searched for a bin or a dark corner, but there was nothing. He grimaced and led Quinn to the wall of a closed shop. “Okay, I’m so sorry, Quinn but you’re just gonna have to puke right here. It’s okay I’ll hide you.”

He slipped his jacket off and opened it up, hunching over his already hunched boyfriend. Quinn was gagging into his hands as this was happening, feeling everything inside him splashing up and back down his oesophagus. He whined as he felt his mouth fill with saliva and he had no choice but to open his mouth and let it drip onto the footpath.

Caine’s chin was resting on his back. The contact was good, it kept Quinn from face planting into his own sick. He heard his stomach gurgle and he rolled forward with the force of his gag. His cheeks ballooned out and the first splash of vomit landed on the concrete. He wasn’t given a chance to breathe as another heave attacked him, bringing up more chunks of food and fizzy lemonade. His nose burned.

His mouth stayed open and his blood was rushing in his ears. He had his eyes squeezed shut unconsciously as another heavy gag pushed its way up his throat. Quinn coughed aggressively and another burp brought up more vomit.

He vaguely heard some dudes laughing, probably thought he was wasted. Quinn was so glad Caine was covering his face. He felt his stomach jump again, but he felt the relief that indicated he could stand up and leave. He needed a shower.

“Done for now?” Caine asked, his hand rubbing up and down Quinn’s back. Quinn himself wiped his mouth and nose, still hunched over his stomach. It hurt like fuck, and he was so excited for a hot shower and bed.

Caine kept his jacket off and wrapped it around Quinn’s shaking shoulders. “My prince.” Quinn joked, voice a hoarse whisper. Caine chuckled.

“Glad to see you still have a sense of humour. Let’s get you home, hmm?”

The view of their car was glorious and Quinn sank into his seat. He kept his right hand resting on his belly, feeling all the little gurgles and jumps that were happening inside of him.

“I’ll drive extra carefully, love. Just relax.” Caine’s low voice startled him a little, but he just shut his eyes and let the world drift away for a few minutes.

Caine kept up with his promise and drove extra carefully, however it didn’t do much for Quinn’s stomach. Throughout the entire trip his stomach was only swelling back up again with gas and he was constantly holding his hand over his mouth as a precaution for the particular wet burps. He moaned as his belly cramped. His pants were digging into his stomach. His head was spinning so much it felt like he was drunk. He just needed to be put down at this point.

“God, I feel awful, Caine. Mmhh.” He whined.

There was a little moment of silence from his boyfriend, no doubt he was trying to calm himself down from that, but he quickly snapped back into it and helped Quinn out of the car. Quinn was leaning all of his weight on Caine, stumbling over his feet and suppressing gurgling belches under his breath. Shit, he felt sick.

He beelined for the bathroom and all but fell to his knees. The motion caused a splash of puke to fall into the water and he wrapped his arms around his middle. It was hell inside him. Caine joined him soon after, kneeling gently beside him and touching his sweaty back.

“You’re okay, love, just take a deep breath.” He knew all the right words to say. Quinn was able to completely let go, AKA able to puke up everything that was plaguing his stomach.

“Cai-hmm-hLKK…fuckk.” He squeezed his middle. “Fuck, my stomach. Kill me-hURKK-mghh.”

Quinn sat there puking for probably ten minutes and then suddenly fell into Caine’s arms, sweaty limbs curling inwards onto Caine’s lap. He whined as he shoved his face into his boyfriend’s neck.

“God, I hate this. How could McDonalds betray me like this…urrp.”

Caine rubbed up and down his back. “I don’t know, babe. Are you feeling any more stable?”

Quinn shook his head, a hand resting on his lower belly. He burped again. “My belly is all messed up. It hurts but it feels so empty.” He whined, digging his fingers into the skin. Quinn decided to flip around and lay his head down on Caine’s legs, opening up his stomach to Caine’s hands.

“Yes?” He teased.

“Mghhm- Please rub.”

Caine laughed and began to rub his belly, starting at the highest point and venturing down to where Quinn’s hand was. He applied the perfect amount of pressure and Quinn was left a burping mess in his lap. His belly slowly got softer and the pain became more bearable. He would forever thank god he got Caine as his boyfriend.

“I can tell you feel better.” Caine said with laughter in his words.

Quinn nodded tiredly. “Urp-heaps better. Thank you.”

#haven't watched oppenheimer guys im a fraud #have watched barbie tho #caine #quinn #emeto #stomach ache #sickfic #emetophilia #vomiting #belly rubs #oc's #belly kink #puke kink #stomach kink #bloating #burping #eructo

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daemondaes · 13 days

Text

name: che

height: 5'3-ish. close enough to average. i can reach the top shelf, and at the end of the day, that's what matters.

nickname / s: chebureki, chechival, cheeble, chevalier, jam.

nationality: californian. 😎

favourite fruit: peach. 🥹🙏 strawberry is second. grape is third.

favourite season: spring? the benefits of summer hours with less of the summer heat. fall is nicer for layering tho

favourite scents: gasoline, bread, vanilla, citrus, books.

favourite animals: baby hippos (only baby), small dogs (esp chihuahuas), cows.

tea, coffee, hot cocoa: green tea, or else coffee with milk and, if i've been good, a sprinkle of cocoa powder.

average hours of sleep: uh. probably like 4-5 if i have to be somewhere in the morning, 8-10 if i don't.

when my blog was created: this incarnation? my earliest post was apparently 23 may 2020, so we're coming up on that 4 year anniversary 😏 but the first standalone cherry blog was from 2016? the oldest muse on here to originate on tumblr (ciel) emerged in late 2011. the oldest oldest muse on here originated off-tumblr in like 2008/9 on gaiaonline (talking abt u, naux).

# of followers: i normally wouldn't answer this, but i will tell u now that it is 365 just because that's such a satisfying number? got a buddy here for every day of the year 😎 that's a lie tho bc the number is broken and doesn't really fluctuate no matter how many people i gain or lose LOL i'm pretty sure like 4/5 people on the list are inactive tho, so please help me make more friends

random fact: my bedroom is ridiculously girly, soft pinks and pale greys and whites with gold accents, loads of pillows and plushes and decorative doodads, but i myself dress almost entirely in black. it's a little like putting wednesday in enid's room. not quite sure what that says about me.

favourite food: the humble tuna sandwich. i'm counting lemonade as a food here, just so i can add it in. i like lemonade even more than i like tuna.

favourite t.v. shows: flcl, dead boy detectives, good omens, i love lucy, king of the hill, the simpsons, lupin iii.

favourite movie: my letterboxd top 4 are some like it hot (1959), ghostbusters (1984), mad max: fury road (2015), and back to the future (1985)...but if i could have a fifth, it would be austin powers (1997).

sexuality: i like girls a lot more than i like guys, but i'm too busy and too broke to even think about that 😤

pronouns : she/they/any? idc abt labels and boxes, but it's weird that u're talking about me when i'm not there /:

favourite book series: howard the duck 😏 did you think i'd really make it to the end of this without mentioning him? this is also my chance to plug fly by night by frances hardinge, and its sequel, fly trap (or twilight robbery in the UK). there's also the monster blood tattoo trilogy by d.m. cornish that i desperately wish i'd held on to because it's apparently out of print now! my blood boils every time i remember. it would be remiss if i didn't mention a series of unfortunate events, just because i do think it was very influential for me. i'm about to reread the saga of darren shan/cirque du freak for the first time since middle school, so wish me luck 😤

favourite video game/s: god, fuckin...idk, tetris? roblox??? i'm not a gamer at all. i can't play anything unless i'm playing with a friend. that's a lie, i played baldgate3. the only thing i play is the sims 4. i'm trash

favourite subject: [scuttles around on all fours, twitching and foaming at the mouth] school bad! school BAD! (my three passions are history and fashion and film, but i don't love the academic system. Cs get degrees, etc. my own degree was in creative writing, and now i'm trapped in retail hell, so be smarter than me, kids! except also i hear even stem is useless these days? society is crumbling so bad, i—)

guys or girls: i prefer drawing guy faces and girl bodies. idk what u're getting at here

last time I cried: last night, conveniently

what I should be doing: taking out the trash, cooking up curry, cleaning the bathroom, polishing my spanish and diving into mandarin, writing, drawing, job hunting. continuing my goal of watching 365 movies this year. sweeping up the feathers of my cockatiel, galileo, because it's Moltin' Time. the usual 🤷‍♀️

favourite fandoms: i actually don't participate in fandom LOL i just lurk. chat about stuff in discord—DMs, not servers. i have so much art and music in my head, but i don't have the mobile dexterity and stamina for it anymore. maybe one day...

tagged by: @hatchetsfield (thanks, pidge!) tagging: anyone who learned a thing about me from this

#french robodog — che9:ooc.#i told myself i would do this for munday and by jove i actually did it

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alkaliineee-old · 2 months

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is that SABRINA CARPENTER? oh, no, that’s CLEMENTINE BEAUREGARD , a TWENTY-THREE year old BOTTLE SERVICE GIRL at CATCH ME IF YOU CAN who uses SHE/HER pronouns. they currently live in VIÑA DEL MAR, and the character they identify with most is PINKIE PIE from MY LITTLE PONY hopefully they find their own little paradise here in el país de los poetas!

BASIC STATS .

FULL NAME . clementine maisie beauregard

NICKNAME(S) . clem, lemmie, lemon, minnie, teeny

AGE/BIRTHDAY/ZODIAC . 23 / july 22 / cancer

SEXUALITY . bicurious

BIRTHPLACE . cleveland, georgia

HEIGHT . 4'11 ¾

EYES . blue

ILLNESSES/CONDITIONS . sweeet(anxie)teaaa

PIERCINGS . standard lobe.

FC . sabrina carpenter

FAMILY .

FIRST LAST ( relation, alive/deceased )

blake beauregard (father/alive)

grace beauregard abernathy (mother/alive)

(half sibling/alive)

OTHER CONNECTIONS .

TBA

EDUCATION .

secondary education completion certificate

tried university for a year but it was not for her

LANGUAGES .

english. spanish.

WORK .

Position

tearista at little leaves tea house (previous)

bottle service girl at catch me if you can (current)

FAVORITE .

ANIMALS. cats. horses. ducks. cows. BAKED GOODS. lemon rolls. peach cobbler. fried apple pies. berlines chilenos. COLOURS. yellow. pink. orange. DRINKS. sweet tea. lemonade. fanta peach. fresh orange juice. mango slush. FRUIT. peaches. mangos. oranges. pineapple. cherries. HOLIDAY. christmas. ICE CREAM. peach. mango sorbet. cherry garcia. MOVIE. spirit: stallion of the cimarron. MUSIC GENRES. country. pop. SCENTS. citrus. chamomile. vanilla. SEASON. summer. SNACKS. lays original. cotton candy. cuchuflí. fruit cups. WEATHER. sunny.

AESTHETIC .

what are words? here is her pinterest instead.

PERSONALITY .

+ affectionate

+ bubbly

+ optimistic

- emotional

- indecisive

- naive

BACKGROUND .

clementine was born in cleveland georgia to her adoring parents who were highschool sweethearts. her father was a rancher and her mother was a homemaker. they predominantly had cattle, alongside a handful of horses, and then somehow (lemmie's pleading) winded up with a flock of ducks and a few donkeys. she spent most of her time outside with the animals and truly couldn't have been happier.

tw: infidelity when she was thirteen, her parents separated, the reasoning unknown to her (coughherfatherhadanaffaircoughandgotanotherwomanpregnantcough) but that was when her mother decided to do something for herself and go back to school, though instead of choosing somewhere in the state or even the country, she decided on chile, starting off as a student, and then going on to later become a professor at the very same university. there started the years of travelling back and forth from one home to the other, during the school year clem would stay in chile with her mom, and during her breaks at school she would fly back to georgia to be with her dad, though christmas' were traded off each year. post school, it was really up to her to decide when and where she spent most of her time, and while she does still go back to visit her father (and all the animals) she decided to stay in chile full time.

HEADCANONS .

has a two year old orange persian cat named marigold that she loves with alllll her heart.

naps > normal sleep schedule. there's no less than five pillows on her bed at all times and at least one of her blankets has to be fuzzy.

spends a lot of her time outside. while not athletically inclined, aside from horseback riding, she does enjoy a good hike. and picnics. and the beach.

can be found singing into a hairbrush at any given time.

habitual wearer of cowboy boots and hats, you can take the girl off the ranch but you can't take the ranch out of the girl, or something like that.

a baker ! now she's not about to be on the great british bake off or anything of the sort, but she can manage to make a little sweet treat, bonus points if it turns out cute.

has been a bottle girl for around six months, and while she's not a partier, the tips at catch are so much better than what she was getting at little leaves.

has a little southern twang that’s definitely more prominent when she gets back from georgia.

mama mia is very very close second for her favourite movie

this will be added to as i think of things but yeah.

WANTED CONNECTIONS .

platonic soulmate: the #1 love of her life, duh. give me her person pls & thx. <3

bad influence: v much naive and always wanting to see the best in people, it wouldn't be hard at all for someone to lead her astray tbh. it's like shaking a bag of treats at a good doggo.

ex: boyfriend? situationship? fling? could have been messy, or could have ended amicably, the world is our oyster.

roommate: i haven't decided on anything in regards to her living situation other than it's somewhere in viña del mar, so this is totally open to just about anyone/anything.

other: literally open 2 just about anything and everything. friends. people that find her annoying. girly group. crushes. childhood friends. second parental figures. if you have an idea i am all ears.

#❀ — 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃. introduction #valpohqintro

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theguardianoftheangels · 2 months

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~BASIC INFO~

Full name:Lisa Igoravna Agafonovisch(Russian middle name uses their father name with suffix-avna for girls)

Nickname(s):Lis,Liz,Lizzy,Demon's Spawn,Armageddon

Creepypasta name:N/A

How Did They Get This Name and Why:N/A

Gender:female

Age:6(at the first story arc),17(at the second story arc),24(currently)

Date of birth:June 18th,1999

Place of birth:Kyzyl,Russia

Race/Species(nationality):Russian

Native language:Russian(but her first language is English)

Language spoken:Russian,English

Orientation/Sexual preference:Omnisexual

Zodiac sign:Gemini

Religion:N/A

Occupation(before becoming a Pasta):Highschool student,anonymous volunteer

Are they dead(if yes,how'd they die?Place and Date of Death?):N/A

~MEDICAL INFO~

Blood type:A

Mental disorder(s):slightly eating disorder

Phobia(s):autophobia

Allergies:mustard

Habits:draw something she cannot explain,imagining scenarios when faced with a situation she cannot solve

Power/Special Abilities:Soul-manipulate the death(that died atleast a decade back)for a minute approximately to restrain/confuse or mess with her target's mind.

-Her demon form(contains the changing of red eyes and dark demonic claws)only appears during uncontrolled emontions burst or unconsciousness and her strenght then increase the power of soul manipulation to living organism

~APPEARANCE~

Height:5'5"

Weight:127lbs

Hair color:light brown

Hairstyle:worn past shoulder,curtain bangs with slight messy hair

Eye color:carribean blue

Piercings/Tattoos:N/A

Scars/Weird Marking(s):three long scars on the middle back,two on the belly and one small in the left thing

Birthmark:N/A

Skin:beige color tone

Clothing/Style:black and white inside dress,yellow stripped green short sleeves knitted sweater,black socks and combat boots,black gloves

Jewelry/Accessories:weird relic symbol necklace

Scent:if you have a strong sense of smell,you can feel the scent of cigars and fresh citrus lemon coming from her

Weapon(s):N/A

Physical Disorder/Disability:doesn't have normal human ears but is replaced by feline ears,that also goes along with the tail

Never seen without:her relic necklace

~PERSONALITY~

Overall:an INFP-meaning she is thoughtful, loyal,honest, imaginative and tends to be quieter and less outgoing than others.Her reserved nature, however, should not be mistaken for a lack of concern or interest in her surroundings. Internally, she have a deep inner world, but tend to keep it to herself.When you get to know her better,she can suprise you with how pessimistic her point of view in life is and not to mention,her dark sense of humor

Likes:smoking,cinnamon bubblegum,lemonade, lime pie,the sound of rain/storm,drawing,dark jokes,wool balls,green and yellow color,collecting pond creatures(frogs,ducks-if can,dragonflies,.etc)

Dislikes:Mustard,cucumbers,scratching nails on chalkboard/balloons/gunshot or loud noises(since her cat ears are more sensitive that that of humans),pink color,sunny days,Zalgo,feeling useless/can't be helpful,swimming

Hobbies:drawing,humming tunes of the song she can't remember while doing chores,observing the forest activities,counting rain patterns

Most Prized Possession(s):the knitted sweater,even though she wore it for a long time,she wouldn't throw it away.That and the big shirt the girls give her that she used as pjm

Flaws:indecisive,prone to daydreaming and easy to be distracted,self-critical and overly sensitive sometimes

Pet Peeve:loud noises

Worst And Best Way To Kill:"I don't know much about the ways of killing so i am not one to judge"-Lisa

Targets To Killing:doesn't normally kill people but will do if pushed to edge

Crush/Love Interest: Hoodie

Love Song:"Backyard Boy" by Claire Rosinkranz

Theme Song:Sudno-Molchat Doma

#creepypasta oc #my oc #creepypasta #cpp #my art #my cpp oc #redesign art #traditional art #art #digital art #lis #lisa #full info #oc info #bad english

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eddiemunsonappreciationsociety · 1 year

Text

MY WORD IS MY BOND

Part Four: You appeal to a girl like me, told me every blessing has a scar

Can he call me?

I mean yeah, he can call me.

Do I want him to?

Yeah.

I mean no.

No.

I shake my head, trying to clear my brain of the brown-eyed fog.

Goddamned love spell.

I pick up my phone and tap away

Do you think that's a good idea?

The reply is instantaneous

Yes.

Can't argue with that.

My phone jumps to life almost as soon as I hit send.

"You do not know the meaning of playing it cool, huh?" I say into the phone and he chuckles in response.

"I don't need to play it cool, I invented cool." he teases, voice like gravel and honey all at the same time.

His voice makes my heart race a little, I feel myself briefly falter.

"You initiated a phonecall "

"What's your point?"

"I haven't had a willing conversation with my friends on the phone..." I think "maybe ever."

"I am older than you by a bit, I suppose, I'm being far too old-fashioned. Should I send you some memes first?" his tone is playful

"How old are you?" I blurt out. "Shit, sorry is that rude?"

"No, not rude." he finally says after his laughter dies. "But I'm not going to give you vampire chat without a date."

"What do you mean?" I squeak out. I switch over to watching New Girl to feel some sort of comfort. My heart is racing.

"We have to build trust, I get that. I want us to get to know each other but I'm not giving away the good stuff for free. If you go on a date with me, I'll answer any questions you have."

I pause and think about the offer he's presenting.

"We'll see."

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes," I warn him.

"But it's not a no." and I can hear the goofy smile in his voice.

"What are you doing?" I try and steer the conversation away.

"I'm just about to finish my bottle of whisky and my joint and probably watch TV until I fall asleep."

So vampires sleep? Interesting.

"Sounds a little like mine, but I'm waiting on Chinese. And swap the whisky for gin."

I can't keep the grin off my face as we speak. My cheeks hurt.

"What are you watching?" he asks, I hear a lighter and him inhale on the other side of the phone.

"New Girl, it's about my fiftieth watch through but it's funny every time. "

"Oh, I actually enjoy that one."

My door knocks, making me jump.

"Are you ok?" his voice is more alert.

"Shit, yeah, my food is here. Wait there." I put my phone on the table as I retrieve my food and tip the driver. I bring it to the living room to the awaiting plate. I top my glass up with my homemade gin and pink lemonade and pick up the phone.

"Back." I sigh, sitting down and tucking my feet under me, and the phone under my chin as I dish up my food.

"What did you get?"

"Salt and pepper tofu, mock duck in plum sauce, and veggie fried rice."

"You're a veggie?" I can hear teasing in his voice.

"Mostly. Are you laughing at me?"

"No, I think I just won a bet with myself."

"What are you watching?" I expertly divert the conversation once again.

"The Mandalorian."

"Solid choice. Grogu is the best."

"Yeah, he's cute as fuck." Eddie agrees.

I take this opportunity to pop a piece of crispy tofu in my mouth and I can't stop the moan that comes from me as my mouth explodes with the salt and pepper seasoning.

"You cannot make noises like that when you're on the phone with me." his voice is tinged in something that makes my stomach squeeze.

"Sorry," I find myself blushing.

"No, it's..." he clears his throat. "You don't have to ever apologise to me."

His voice is steady now, sincere.

I wake up late Sunday, I don't feel any surprise as I see it's just gone one in the afternoon. Eddie and I had talked well into the early hours, it feels like we covered everything but barely scratched the surface. I stretch my arms and legs under the duvet, enjoying the comfort and rest that tingles throughout me. I try to stop the smile on my face because I've pulled my cheek muscles.

I didn't even know that was possible.

I roll over and retrieve my phone from the bedside table and I have two messages.

Eddie:

Good afternoon, I have just woken up, I had such a good time last night, and I hope we can continue talking today.

Stella:

Good morning my sugar lump, I will be over after 1 with brunch so have a joint rolled.

She'd sent that over an hour ago and I jump up, heading to the kitchen and switching on the coffee machine. I open my rolling box and wave my hand over it and a joint begins to roll itself as I continue to make coffee, knowing I'd woken up because I could sense Stella getting near.

I feel some of my energy leave me and I am now a little sleepy.

I don't usually like to use magick so frivolously, it takes more energy from me when I do lazy spells because it's using magick for an idle reason. But sometimes a little fatigue is better than the Sunday wrath of your best friend. Whilst the coffee is brewing I type a quick reply to Eddie.

I said we would get to know each other when we said goodbye, it wasn't just the homemade gin talking - pinky promise.

Seconds later my front door opens, it's Stella letting herself in with her key.

"Hey you little slut, where the fuck did you get to?" she demands, coming through to the kitchen and dumping her armfuls of food on the table. She has at least three different types of bags.

This is our ritual if we both have a day off together, a table full of food, a little smoke, a little drink, and something funny to watch.

"He left and I went home." I shrug, handing her the rolled joint and a lighter as I go about making our espresso martinis.

"Nuh-uh, I have been patient. Tell me everything."

I take a breath and spill the goods. I don't stop talking as we take the food (sushi, breakfast burritos, and freshly made cheesecake) and sit down, I don't stop talking as we switch on Jurassic Shark, I don't stop talking as we smoke, and I don't stop talking as we head back to the kitchen for more espresso martinis.

I tell her everything, but leave out the vampire stuff. Stella, my best friend of twenty-three years, knows I am a witch but I have never revealed any other supernatural goings-on to her. She just enjoys me making her spells and summoning things when we're too drunk to move.

"So, are you going to see him again?" Stella demands, putting her feet on my lap as she stretches out, Elphaba purring on her stomach, Chance curled up by my feet.

"I don't know." I sigh as the film finishes, I select Llamageddon from the suggestions and sip my drink.

"What do you mean you don't know?" she asks, incredulously.

I realise there's no proper way to explain a no.

"I just- I don't know."

"You weirdo, you just said you had a boss time talking to him, you literally just relayed an entire night of talking without taking a breath."

I shrug and she blows her fringe out of her eyes, exasperated.

"If you don't sit on that face, I will." Stella's tone is a warning. She laughs as she's my face. "I'm joking, please don't hex me."

#eddie #eddie fanfic #eddie smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie fluff #witch x vampire #vampire eddie #vampire eddie munson #witch and vampire #vampire romance #modern!eddie munson #modern! eddie #eddie munson au #my word is my bond #my writing

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brenpthetoonman · 1 year

Text

About me

Pronouns: He/him

Birthday: November 28, 1998

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Religion: Atheist

Zodiac sign: ♐

Gender: Male

Height: 5’7

Foot size: 10.5

Favorite animal: Cats, birds, sheep, turtles

Favorite food: Pizza, Chinese food, Mexican food, burgers, fries, mac and cheese, steak, chicken cutlets, swedish meatballs, goulash, pork chops, chicken fettuccine alfredo, waffles, pancakes, cornbread, poached eggs, sushi

Favorite fruit: Strawberries, apples, grapes, cherries, pineapples, kiwis, mangos, melons and bananas

Favorite drink: Coke, chocolate milk, lemonade, apple cider, tea, root beer and hot cocoa.

Favorite brand of cig: I despise cigarettes.

Favorite color: Purple

Favorite band: Queen, Pink Floyd, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Fleetwood Mac, Oasis, The Beatles, AC/DC, Green Day, Yes, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Metallica, Cheap Trick, The Who, Mother Love Bone, The Animals, Rage Against the Machine, Anthrax, Def Leppard, Iron Maiden, Megadeth, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, DMX, A Tribe Called Quest, The Beach Boys, The Velvet Underground, blink-182, The Doors, The Allman Brothers Band, Motley Crue.

Favorite cartoon: Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, The Simpsons, Looney Tunes, Tex Avery cartoons, Hilda, Classic Disney shorts, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Popeye, Walter Lantz cartoons, The Amazing World of Gumball, Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi, Batman: TAS, Ed Edd n Eddy, Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, OK KO, Powerpuff Girls '98, Samurai Jack, Megas XLR, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Futurama, Wander Over Yonder, King of the Hill, Amphibia, Beavis and Butt-Head, Dan vs, Gargoyles, Freakazoid, The Critic, Invader Zim, Teen Titans, Phineas and Ferb, Mission Hill, Time Squad, DuckTales/Darkwing Duck, Batman Beyond, Rocko's Modern Life, Angry Beavers, Kablam, Tiny Toon Adventures, Home Movies, ATHF, Animaniacs/Pinky and the Brain, Regular Show, Hey Arnold, Bojack Horseman, The Boondocks, The Ghost and Molly McGee, Clerks: TAS, Courage the Cowardly Dog, SWAT Kats, Top Cat, Superman: TAS, Celebrity Deathmatch, Kim Possible, Dave the Barbarian, South Park, Harvey Birdman, The Pink Panther, The Venture Bros.

Favorite movie: Gojira, Into the Spider-verse, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Aladdin '92, Hayao Miyazaki movies, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Batman '89, Ed Wood, Mel Brooks movies, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Big Lebowski, Akira, Quentin Tarantino movies, the classic Universal monster movies, Yellow Submarine, Dead Poet's Society, A Hard Day's Night, Monty Python movies, What's Eating Gilbert Grape, Laurel and Hardy movies, Marx Brothers movies, The Book of Life, The LEGO Movie, The Lord of the Rings trilogy, Edgar Wright's Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy, Die Hard 1-3, Guardians of the Galaxy, Robocop, Kevin Smith movies, Corpse Bride, Halloween '78, Alfred Hitchcock movies, Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal, An American Tail, The Simpsons Movie, Willy Wonka, The Crow, The Mask, Suspiria '77, The Monster Squad, Kung Fu Panda 1-3, The Room, David Lynch movies, Wes Craven movies, Coraline, Babe, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, Beetlejuice, Dazed and Confused, Inherit the Wind, Office Space, How to Train Your Dragon, Ernest and Celestine, Napoleon Dynamite, Liar Liar, Bruce Almighty, Kubo and the Two-Strings, ParaNorman, Coco, Frankenweenie, School of Rock, The Incredibles, Inside Out.

Favorite game: Banjo-Kazooie, Any Mario game, Animal Crossing, Legend of Zelda, Sonic 1-3, Any Kirby game, Pokemon Stadium 1&2, Spyro, Yooka-Laylee, Crash Bandicoot, Cuphead, the Kingdom Hearts series, The Simpsons: Hit & Run

Influence: Hayao Miyazaki, Wes Anderson, Matt Groening, Mike Judge, Dana Terrace, Tex Avery, Glen Keane, Eric Goldberg, Chuck Jones, Alfred Hitchcock, Edgar Wright, Wes Craven, Stephen Silver, Bruce W. Smith, Alex Hirsch, JG Quintel, Dan Povenmire, Jeff "Swampy" Marsh, Joe Murray, Craig Bartlett, Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Craig McCracken, Lauren Faust, Matt Braly, John R. Dilworth, Mo Willems, Bob Clamlett, Max Fleischer, Walter Lantz, Don Bluth, Henry Selick, Genndy Tartokovsky, Rob Renzetti, Loren Bouchard, Bill Oakley, Josh Weinstein

Motto: “If you can dream it, do it!”

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sergeant-spoons · 2 years

Text

20. Sap

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @chaosklutz @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @claire-bear-1218 @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain @actualtrashpanda @wtrpxrks

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Olympia knew mid-August in Iroquois Falls was one of the loveliest times of the year—and that was no inexperienced opinion. In the Bird heiress' well-traveled experience, summer was best spent sipping sweating beverages while the grass swayed and the sun warmed but did not blister her skin. She'd been to the Caribbean in the summertime; what a mistake. She'd spent half the trip fanning herself and mourning a terrible sunburn, not to mention the persistent heatstroke. Alaska was better but more bizarre; the sun never set until just before midnight and rose before five every morning. The whole summer, the evening was hardly an experiential time of day. France was beautiful in scenery and comfortable in climate; it was a close second in Olympia's ranking preferences. Nevertheless, home always took the cake.

Armed with wide-brimmed sunhats, picnic baskets, and unwieldy tour bags, clubs swinging back and forth with every stride, Olympia, Rose, David, and Antwon marched into the country and yacht club for an afternoon of golf. Rose was still a little sunburned on the arms from their trip to Lake Huron four days ago, and Olympia did not go without a pink shade to her cheeks, but David and Antwon had tanned some and were unafraid of the sun wrapped in thin, hazy clouds. The humidity would have made the air heavy were it not for a friendly, persistent breeze sweeping across the green. Olympia found it ever-so-faintly funny how the grass hardly moved, the breeze betraying just how artificial it truly was. As Antwon set up the tee at the first hole and David decided on a club, Olympia and Rose commandeered a table on the raised patio. They were able to spectate the entire green as they unpacked their lunches and soon traded their sunhats for a standing umbrella; the breeze, though relieving to the powdered sweat inching down the backs of their necks and collarbones, was not quite so patient with their floppily-fashioned hats.

"It's a lovely day for golf," Olympia remarked as she nibbled on a delectable finger sandwich prepared by Mrs. Withers that morning. "I hope the boys have fun."

Fifty yards out on the green, David stood and frowned at the little white ball sitting on its presumptuous and even littler perch.

"I don't like golf."

Antwon laughed. "A bit late to back out now, Web."

"I know," David groaned, passing the golf club from one hand to the other. "My regret is exponentially growing."

Olympia tittered lightly as she watched Antwon take David's golf club and step up the tee, apparently usurping the first stroke of their game. She leaned toward Rose, who was sipping lemonade from a tall fluted champagne glass, and tipped her head out toward the green, bearing an amused smile.

"Antwon has never been the most patient athlete."

"Nor a very patient man, to begin with," Rose agreed, and Olympia laughed.

"At least he's got you to keep him in check," the heiress assumed and looked back at the game just in time to see David hit a marvelous shot—straight into a pond.

"That's alright," Antwon tried to console through stifled snickering. "It's only a pond. The ducks will find it for you."

David grumbled something obscene under his breath, disparaging the game of golf, and squinted at Antwon.

"That's not how ducks work."

Antwon raised his hands, palms to the sky, and shrugged.

"Says who? It's a whole other world here, my friend, who's to say they haven't trained the ducks?"

"Who's to say they have?" David retorted skeptically.

Antwon faked a pout. "You can't tell me there's someplace you'd rather be right now."

A very explicit recollection concerning himself and Olympia flashed to the forefront of David's mind. Stretching his neck as casually as he could manage, he forced the memory away and shook his head. Taking care not to look at the balcony yonder, he instead gestured to the waves lapping at the foot of the course's verdant slopes.

"The lake?" Antwon snorted. "We were just at a lake less than a week ago. You really want to go swimming again that badly?"

"Not swimming," David started to explain, but Antwon had lingered upon his own statement and continued to speak.

"Though, I wouldn't mind seeing Rosie in that swimsuit again..." He licked his lower lip. "You know, maybe we could take the subset just once instead of twice. Half a game."

Thank God, David mouthed to himself and celebrated the small triumph by promptly hitting his second ball into a tree from whence it did not fall.

"Where are the macarons, Rose?" Olympia poked through the first of their three baskets to no avail. "I'm feeling peckish for something sweet."

"Right here, Miss Bird."

"Ah, thank you."

Olympia took three treats for herself, then turned the box toward Rose. The macarons came from her favorite bakery in town, a place she ordered from so much she'd given it her official Bird family endorsement. She liked to think her approval influenced a significant number of the Iroquois Falls bakery patron population. Whether or not she was correct—well, she didn't care to find out, lest she was proven wrong.

"How are they doing?" Olympia beckoned for her binoculars, and Rose passed them to her across the table. "Ah, there they are."

A beat.

"Why is David in a tree?"

Antwon swatted twigs and other small debris off his face, spitting out a nugget of bark that had fallen right into his mouth. He put his hands on his hips and made a face as he squinted to see his friend beyond the sun right behind him.

"Find it yet?"

"No, not- wait-"

A golf ball appeared out of the glare and nearly took out Antwon's left eye in its downward journey. He ducked and it bounced off his shoulder instead.

"Found it."

"Yes," Antwon sighed as he stooped to pick up the ball, "I noticed."

David jumped off the last branch and to the ground, brushing his hands together, then frowning at them to realize he'd been ensnared by sap.

"What hole are we on again?"

Antwon clicked his tongue and tossed the golf ball up and down in one hand.

"The first one."

The lemonade was getting too warm for pleasurable consumption, so Olympia took the pitcher inside and sought ice cubes from the kitchen. She would have sent Rose if she had not possessed the key quality of a familiar face. She walked right through the batwing doors and the cooks and servers hardly spared her a second glance. Her father was an esteemed member of the club, mostly due to the many hours he spent here every week before his wife relocated them both to Manhatten. Growing up, Olympia often came with her father to sit in the sunshine beneath the trees and read while he golfed. Once she was old enough to handle a full-sized club, she joined him on the course. So the staff knew her well and when she asked for ice, ice she was given.

"Well, hello there."

Olympia bit back a smile. "Funny seeing you here."

"What a coincidence, that we should cross paths like this."

Stifling laughter, Olympia pretended to turn aside to sneeze, and David stepped closer after a quick glance around.

"I'm absolutely horrible at golf."

"You're not that bad," she giggled. "Everyone feeds the ball to the fish at some point."

He squinted at her but that only made her laugh harder. She clutched the pitcher closer to her chest and rolled her eyes, coy. He leaned toward her ear and her heart flipped in her chest at his daring closeness.

"If my hands weren't covered in sap," he whispered, "I would hold no qualms about sneaking into that room behind you and taking you right on that fancy pool table."

Olympia gasped and stepped back, nodding toward the restrooms, but David had flustered her and he grinned to see it.

"Go wash up!" she insisted, and he winked.

"Wait for me?"

Her smile flickered. "I can't, David."

"Oh?"

"People here know my parents. They're bound to gossip even seeing us talk like this."

He looked aside, turning his head so far he gave the impression of the statue of David turned to face his vast enemy. Olympia knew she should not study his gaze so well; nevertheless, she did and saw the cares rushing through his mind. The desire to kiss her, to bring it all into the open and show everyone she was his and he, hers, was his opposition. His Goliath. For a moment, Olympia forgot what it was like to breathe air not tainted by desperate love.

"Right."

David tipped his head, polite, and stepped back.

"It was nice to catch up with you, Miss Bird," he said, louder.

Olympia nodded, returning his mannerly smile. "Enjoy your day, Mister Webster."

They parted, Olympia directed toward the balcony and David to the restrooms. Scrubbing at his hands, staring into the sink, he nearly cut himself with his own fingernail in his agitation. He snapped a curse under his breath and paused to glare at himself in the mirror. What right did he have, what goddamn right, to put her at that risk? He adored her, treasured her more highly than he valued himself, loved her beyond his own comprehension. She was too important for him to be so selfish. This was her world. He was only passing through.

"Damn it all," he muttered, bereft, and returned to washing the sap off his stricken hands.

He came back outside through the patio and saw the balcony occupied by only one figure, not two. Approaching the picnic table where Rose sat reading a horticulture magazine, he looked out over the green and saw Olympia had usurped his place on the course. She eyed a shot he could not picture, raised the club, and with a neat swing sent the golf ball soaring in the exact direction she'd wanted it to go. Antwon raised his hand over his eyes to watch the ball soar and Olympia covered her mouth as if she was trying not to laugh. With a sigh so fond it made Rose look up from her magazine, David dropped onto the side of the bench Olympia had vacated.

"God bless her," he said, and to his surprise, Rose laughed.

"She took pity on you, I think."

David's chuckling slowed when he saw something beige flapping on the edge of the lounge chair beside him.

"She left her hat up here." He looked down at his beloved, then back at the sunhat. "I don't want her getting sunburned..."

"I'll take it down," Rose offered, trading her magazine for the hat. "There's a page in there all about dogwood trees."

Immediately catching the meaning of her tease, David started to laugh—mostly at himself—and Rose smiled, pleased. As she proceeded down the long curved staircase to the footpath accompanying the green, David flipped open the magazine and found the page she'd mentioned, still chuckling. There it was, sketched, the spitting image of the white-flowered tree he'd climbed that first morning at the Bird Estate. Absentmindedly, he read a bit of the article until the words meant nothing before his eyes and he looked up to find Rose halfway up the steps, returning. A glance down at the course revealed Olympia had received the sunhat, for she now pinched the brim with one hand against the breeze as she watched Antwon line up his swing and subsequent shot.

"She says 'thank you'," Rose informed, passing behind David to resume her earlier perch, "and she wants you to know you can help yourself to any of the food."

"That's kind of her."

"She recommends the macarons, on one condition."

"Let me guess: I have to leave a few for her."

They shared a soft laugh.

"Rose-" David readily returned the magazine to her. "-you know about us, don't you."

Rose's nose and cheeks turned pink, too quick for the sun to have conjured the hue, and she folded the magazine over her lap.

"I do," she admitted. "I haven't said anything, though. Not to the staff or to her parents—not that I ever speak to them—not even to Tony."

David relaxed. "Thank you."

Rose looked surprised. "Of course. You would have done the same if Tony and I were in that sort of position."

"Aren't you?" David reconsidered the question. "I mean, Olympia's the heiress and all, but aren't the McCrees well-off, too? And, uh..?"

Rose turned a bit pinker but also began to smile.

"Tony's parents are more... progressive than Miss Bird's. They married for love. They want their son to do the same and-"

Rose cut herself off and tugged at her skirt. A smile crept onto David's face.

"You'd marry him."

"Yes," Rose blurted out, not quite so timid as David had expected. "Yes, in a heartbeat."

"Awww."

Rose swatted his arm with the folded magazine, but David only laughed.

"Have you met them? His parents?"

"Not yet, but he wants me to—Tony does—before he leaves for the fall semester."

David's smile flickered. For all the joys this August had brought, it yet remained the antecedent to September.

"I'm sure they'll like you."

As Rose flushed a third time, her gaze caught on something past David. He turned over his shoulder to see Olympia and Antwon coming up the steps, the former moving more animatedly than the latter. The winner—her designation made clear by the look on Antwon's face—scampered ahead and came upon the picnic table with seconds to spare. Leaning over David's shoulder, she snatched up a yellow macaron as her prize and took a hearty yet somehow still delicate bite. Satisfied, she joined him on the bench, sitting opposite David but turned with one elbow leaning on the table so she could still face him and Rose. As Antwon crossed around to sit with his girlfriend, Olympia reached under the table with her non-lounging arm and squeezed David's knee. He glanced at Antwon and, spying Rose offering a distraction, risked an inquiring smile at Olympia.

"Such a nice, sunny day," she said, taking his hand to hold under the table, "I think I'd like to keep it forever."

As Rose and Antwon voiced their concurrence, David settled on the bench and nodded, resettled.

Yeah, he thought as he let Olympia playfully feed him a pink macaron, I really would like to keep you forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #david webster #prose's passion #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #fanfiction

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

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I posted 8,794 times in 2022

That's 1,864 more posts than 2021!

1,286 posts created (15%)

7,508 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@insomniamamma

@grogusmum

@writeforfandoms

@inthetags

@ithinkwehitametaphor

I tagged 6,498 of my posts in 2022

Only 26% of my posts had no tags

#<3 <3 <3 - 1,795 posts

#beautiful reader - 397 posts

#this broke me - 259 posts

#din djarin - 205 posts

#mandalorian fanart - 162 posts

#ask games - 143 posts

#tag games - 97 posts

#maia draws - 94 posts

#grogu - 87 posts

#i love him - 86 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#how terribly sad it is that people are made in such a way that they get used to something as extraordinary as living. --jostein gaarder

My Top Posts in 2022:

(spoiler, it's all PATS and Sweets)

The Tolerant Devotion of Extracurricular Caretaking

(BANANA BREAD WITH BAKING CHIPS- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Javi is...not at his best. Whiny!Javi.

Summary: The hardest part of your job is taking care of a sick Javi. But in many ways, it’s also the best part.

A/N: I hadn’t planned this installment but for an ask that came through asking what Javi’s like when he’s sick. My answer got longer and longer until I thought it might be a nice moment to illustrate a time that Javi isn’t the sweetest–yet still cute AF–so here we are. Also, I started thinking about some of the other employees in the house. I imagine they’re something like a little found family all hand-picked by Javi. You’ll get to meet a couple of them here.

Lo siento = Sorry

Me corto los cojones = here it’s akin to saying “I swear to God” or “sure as shit.” (Literally “I’ll cut my balls.”)

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

“Oh, lo siento, Néstor! That’s mine. Isn’t it your day off?” You’d come into the kitchen to find the cook lifting the pot cover and getting a good whiff of the steamy concoction.

“Sí. But I will be doing a market run tomorrow and forgot to count how many lemons we have. You keep using them for the lemonade. What is this?”

Néstor is a good-looking man in his early fifties, bald, thick-rimmed glasses, tall and sturdy, rarely smiles on the outside. He’s prone to wearing tight-fitting black clothes, a very imposing figure…unless you scan all the way down to his pink kitchen crocs, festooned with Disney pop charms. He’s a big fan of Coco and Baby Yoda.

“It’s my grandmother’s chicken noodle soup.”

His stare is long. Impassible. “It smells fucking amazing. I want this recipe.”

“Of course. It should be ready. You want some?”

“Sí.” Dry as a bone, he collects two bowls from the cabinet and starts ladling up the soup like a bricklayer scooping mortar for a wall, all business, passing the first bowl to you and cradling the second in one square hand, blowing on it a little before taking a sip. “It’s good. Good spices. Chicken is tender. Mm. Chives?”

“Thanks. Yes. Gran used to make it for me when I was sick.”

“You make this for El Jefe, no?” When you duck your head in a nod on your way to the drawer for a spoon, he barks a laugh. “Me corto los cojones you two are like an old married couple.”

Deflecting the blunt jab with a little smile and a sidelong glance, you begin your retreat out of the kitchen

“Eh, Sunday.” Without relinquishing his soup, Néstor moves to the freezer and cupboards, pulling out a couple of items and tossing them on the counter. “Be warned, he is a terrible patient. It will soothe him you make him something sweet. But not too sweet. Not good for sickness. I know he likes your banana bread.” Two black and frozen bananas clatter onto a plate near the hot soup to thaw.

“Oh,” you stammer. “But I don’t have–”

“Yes you do.” Reaching up to a high cupboard and moving a couple of flour packets, he pulls out two bags of baking chips, one chocolate, one cinnamon. “If I don’t hide them, he will eat them.”

“That sounds about right.” Again you turn to go. Again you stop. “He told you about my banana bread?”

Taking a long sip of the soup and stopping to chew a noodle, he nods, stoic, a warm glint in his eye. “He tells me a lot of things.” He tips his chin at the bowl in your hands. “That is going to get cold.”

“Right. See you tomorrow, Néstor. Thanks.”

________________

A knock on the door earns you a pitiful “nnnnnnnnn” from inside Javi’s bedroom and you take that to mean “yes, come in, but oh my god I’m miserable and you should know it.”

Half of Javi’s face is lost in his pillow when you peek in, but the eye you can see squints at you in defiance, his chin curling up in a pout, his voice a low croak. “I feel like shit.” A couple of pathetic coughs wrack his body and he turns his face fully into the pillow to spare you.

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592 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

Good. Things. Take. Time. 3: Leap of Faith

Fandom: Calls (THIS IS AN APPLE TV SERIES. PATS is a character. This is not RPF.)

Pairing: Pedro Across the Street x f!reader

Rating: ***Explicit.*** Those under 18 please do not enter.

Warnings: Wall-to-wall angst. Sex. Sex work. Sexual massage. Painful yearning.

A/N: Breathe. I promise that the sun does shine again.

Summary: This is it, isn’t it. This is happening.

RESIGNATION (1.2k)

DISCERNMENT (967 words)

THE FIRST LEAP (843 words)

THE SECOND LEAP (349 words)

THE THIRD LEAP (653 words)

THE FINAL ASSESSMENT (1.5k)

MOVING ON (492 words)

(gif by pascalsky)

RESIGNATION

The black Subaru hatchback you’re parked behind has a “I brake for animals” bumper sticker. It’s been on there a while; sun faded, shredding at the edges. The other cars on the street you know, the regular Thursday crowd. Most people in this neighborhood park in their garages or in their driveways. Someone must have a guest. You doubt it’s his car.

You realize you have no idea what kind of car Patricio drives.

You’ve done more sexual acts with the man than you can count, have pressed moments of his painful past out of him like a fruit in a juicer, he’s bought you breakfast pastries–twice–and you have no idea if he’s a Ford man or a Fiat boy.

He’s in I.T… Probably a BMW. Or an Audi. Maybe even a Tesla.

Doesn’t matter. Perhaps you’ll never know. Not unless you take a leap of faith. And even then…if you fail, you’ll really never know.

Your car engine clicks through the silence as it cools down, as you watch the clock, preferring as always to arrive just a little early and walk up to the door right on time.

A little too early this time. You’ve given yourself too much time to think.

It’s like he’s put himself behind glass. He’s right there, the same lover you’ve known since that first blissful session, but you just…can’t…get at him. There’s a strange energy in the room now. Hard to pinpoint the exact metaphor. The way he looks at you. Like a monk recognizing the temptation in front of him and denying himself the pleasure in order to save his own soul and stay free to save others. You can see him back there behind those eyes, but you can’t really grab hold. He prefers to remain back there with his pain–the hurt he caused his former girlfriend–a deep, deep wound.

And if you tried to…tried to push through and possess…what would he do?

There’s a good chance that it could be your last session.

You’re not ready. You need some other logic, some other–

A double-tap on the passenger window yanks your focus into the present. A look to the window yanks your heart along with it.

“Hey, sorry,” he laughs nervously once you unlock the door and he ducks his head in. “I saw you out the front window. Would you mind coming in a little early?”

A glance at the clock shows you have eight more minutes.

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598 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

The Blatant Presentation of Glowing Adoration

(DIPPED MADELEINES- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Sappy, y’all. I just pile on the sap. This cupcake is just a vehicle for the frosting.

Summary: There’s a party going on at the Gutierrez mansion and Javi has a gift for you.

A/N: This was originally going to be a two-parter to control the sap, but I thought maybe drawing it out would make it worse, so here we are. Sunday’s dress is based on this one and holy balls I want it.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

“No, no Giorgio, they need to stay here! Um…las plantas…aquí…shit.” You pull out your phone, desperate for the translation app.

The old Italian gardener rasps out a dry laugh and pats your face with a calloused hand, and gives you his own brand of sunshine with his weathered smile. He says something about it being alright, that he’ll make it pretty, but you can only guess at so much. Spanish you can do, but your Italian is limited, and since Javi is fluent in both, the old man never bothers to translate.

You’d had the big potted palms brought into the courtyard and arranged just so, creating a kind of pathway for the guests of the evening’s party to walk through, and here was Giorgio and his wheeled cart, loading them up, thinking perhaps they were a delivery and he needs to take them out to the garden.

“Giorgio, they’re for the party. The fiesta. Uh…fest..uh, festa!!”

“Festa!” he chuckles. “Sí, sí, festa delle piante!”

“No, Giorgio–”

“Sunday?” Javi arrives from the archway, your benevolent savior, his curls still damp from his shower, the drawstring linen lounge pants and mostly open shirt just a temporary wardrobe for padding around his house before the formal main event this evening. “You are here! I have been looking for you, I have–”

“Oh, thank god, Javi, could you help me? I know Giorgio wants to help but I can’t get him to understand the arrangement and I don’t have time to explain–”

“Yes, yes, of course I can do this.” It isn’t until Javi gently lays his hands on your shoulders that you realize how high you’ve been holding them, and they melt downward with a stroke of his palms. He smiles through his minor concern. “It will be alright. Everything will be perfect. Please do not be upset. Okay? You work too hard.”

You relax a little as Javi enters into lyric conversation with the gardener, trusting him to do the explaining. But the ice sculptures will be delivered any moment and you’ve left the gratuity envelope on your desk, so you leave him to it, calling out a thanks over your shoulder.

“Sunday? Wait?”

But you’re already moving down the hallway.

When Javi suggested you hire a PR agent for this party, you should have taken him up on it. After a recent sickness, both of you were still playing catch up. But this party was for family. His cousin Niko–a young up-and-coming fashion designer–had just landed a commission with Loewe. It was a big deal and everyone was proud of him. Javi never overlooked an excuse for a party, and it was usually your job to coordinate them. It got to be a bit more extravagant than you originally planned and you’d lost track of time and–

As you pass the kitchen, a different voice booms–

“Sunday. Your assistance por favor.”

“Sorry, Néstor. Can it wait? I have to–”

“No, it cannot, get your bum bum in here.”

Puffing up your cheeks, you give a frustrated blow entering his arena, Néstor’s immaculate baking counter lined beautifully with golden, fluffy madeleines, half of them dipped in white, the other in dark.

“This is what you want?” He gestures flippantly, walking away to gather mixing bowls and bringing them to the sink.

“Oh, they’re perfect. Niko will be so happy!”

“I know they are perfect. But you must taste them. I think maybe your opinion is wrong and I will make some that are plain with dusted sugar. These two? Profiles too similar. Taste.”

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634 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

The Superfluous Meeting of Utmost Importance

(ORANGE VANILLA POPSICLES - Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Please schedule an appointment with your dentist before reading this fic.

Summary: It’s the day of the meeting.

A/N: Okay, y’all. You asked for the meeting where Javi confesses the love everyone here and everyone in the household knows he has for Sunday, so here it is. However. It’s not the only meeting Javi’s concerned with.

This one’s from Javi’s POV and I hope you enjoy that. I loved getting into his curly little head.

Audemars Piguet = a very expensive watch. Believe me.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

The way the sunlight kisses your hair, how you move your jaw when you’re thinking–a way of not clenching it in stress–the way your fingers skip over your keyboard. You’re determined to get your work done by his 2pm meeting today.

A meeting you’d set the date and time for per his request–he smirks–to “confess.”

Javi is completely in love with you. Has been for a while now. He’s never felt the need to hide it. It’s not a revelation, it’s just an everyday truth.

You’re wearing one of the tops you brought with you when you took the job months ago. It’s cute on you. It’s the second time you’ve worn it this week. He could buy you a whole closet of clothes, enough to never wear the same thing twice, but you wouldn’t ask for that and he’d never insist.

You don’t care about his money. You’re happy to have a room in the house, but you eschewed the down comforter for your grandmother’s afghan and he even had to push you to choose your office furniture or you would have gone without. The only time he can give you extravagant things and get a reaction out of you is with high end meals…but even then, it can’t just be expensive, it has to be good and prepared well before you lose yourself in a blissful sigh. You appreciate his gifts but value his attention and trust more than anything else, he can see that, see the shine in your eyes when he asks for your opinion or tells you something he’s never admitted to anyone else.

He loves this about you. He loves that he could buy you a Monet and you’d still rather look at the moon.

He knows he doesn’t have to tell you. But he wants to say the words and leave you no doubt. Grins broadly when he thinks about it, feels comfort all the way through to the marrow.

But which words? How to say it? He isn’t sure yet.

Leaning pigeon-toed against the doorway to your office, he watches you for a moment, your back to the door. Even though you’ve positioned your desk to look out at the ocean, you spend much less time staring out the window than he does. He wishes you wouldn’t work so hard–your dedication creates a beautiful, taut ping in his chest–but he knows you enjoy it and he’d be lost without you and your devotion. It is good that you’re different than him in this regard.

A glance down at his Audemars Piguet shows it’s just turning 11. Three hours then. Maybe he’ll go for a swim.

But instead of taking the stairs and heading for the pool, he suddenly has the spark of an idea and heads past them to the kitchen.

“Ah. Néstor, hi.”

“Buenos dias, jefeeeeeee.” The garlic he’s mincing holds the cook’s attention, but he sings off a dry greeting.

The kitchen counter is covered in bowls and plates full of freshly chopped and grated ingredients for tonight’s dinner–a special meal for a special night–they both know how much you like Néstor’s homemade wood fired pizza. A margherita, a pugliese, a prosciutto crudo e rucola… he will keep creating and firing them until you’re both full and then he will keep going so that there will be leftovers for the cook’s day off.

Javi rocks on his feet as he watches Néstor stir the simmering sauce on the stovetop, waiting for a moment when he won’t be too much of a bother, but his patience runs out. He asks the cook for his help. To help Javi make something himself. Something sweet. He doesn’t know what though. He just came up with the idea a minute ago.

Néstor swirls the wooden spoon through the steaming tomatoes, silently, expertly, taking his time and assessing the texture. “Para Sunday?” He asks, frowning, not looking up from his gentle mixing.

“Sí.”

“Hoy es el dia de la confesion, eh.”

“Ah, sí.” That’s right. He told Néstor about the meeting last night at the party, hoping for advice from the confidante but only receiving a thoughtful stare and the assurance that he would plan something special for dinner.

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658 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Good. Things. Take. Time. 2: One Bed

Fandom: Calls (THIS IS AN APPLE TV SERIES. PATS is a character. This is not RPF.)

Pairing: Pedro Across the Street x f!reader

Rating: ***Explicit.*** Those under 18 please do not enter.

Warnings: Masturbation (f and implied m), hand job, oral (m receiving), feather light dom/sub/switch, P & V (unprotected but with prior safety agreements), kissing, praise in droves, instruction compliance, the usual implication of nefarious massage practices / something like sex work. PLOT. Boring shit about database programming, characters you’ve come to know outside their element, a drop of angst, yearning across a crowded room, character shock and name swap (wait...what?), and, as always, PATS* is his own warning. *Now with more soft.

A/N: I was getting ready to write a one-bed fic and asked y’all to vote on a character. Another boy won, but at one point, PATS was in the lead and I panicked. How do you write a one-bed fic with characters whose whole playing ground IS a bedroom? My brain wouldn’t shake the challenge and this is what happened. I will also say: this is not a direct sequel to the first fic. It continues the entire series that’s been building through the sessions.

I have more notes, mostly thank yous to y’all. You can find them at the end.

Anti-Summary: “This can be a pause. Pause of treatment-client relations. What happens in this room isn’t what happens in your room. That space is sacred and I don't want to compromise that in any way. And if it’s a pause, it’s a complete pause. No touching, just sleep.” (Adira’s note: hahahhAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH GOOD TRY.)

As with the original fic, this will be broken into sections if you need to take a breath.

REGISTRATION (1.4K)

DISORIENTATION (1.8K)

THE FIRST CONUNDRUM (512 words)

THE SECOND CONUNDRUM (784 words)

THE THIRD CONUNDRUM (958 words)

THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED (3.8K)

ASSESSMENT (1K)

REGISTRATION

“I want you to repeat as necessary this week. The key is to enjoy yourself, Preciosa. Feel free to log in and make a note about how you felt when you started, how many times you came, and how you feel at the end. I’d like to hear about it. See you next week.”

You tap your phone on its dash mount to wake it up and press the replay button.

“Hey. So…I’ve never actually done this with a client, so thanks for being my guinea pig. I know you like to try new things. Again, sorry I had to bail on our session, but maybe this will be fun so… Take off your clothes and get yourself comfortable. I’m gonna talk you through a few things. And I want you to imagine I’m there with you, okay? Your hands are my hands–”

It’s the third time you’ve listened to the half-hour recording. After the first go through, you had to find a rest stop and pull over. When you’d finally emerged out of the single-stall restroom, you had to apologize to three angry women waiting in line. You couldn’t–and wouldn’t–do what he told you to do in a public stall, no matter how cleanly it was kept, but it was easy enough to just get a quick fix and clean yourself up so you could keep driving. Sure, listening to Pedro’s mellow tones guide you through the most intense self-satisfaction scenario you could possibly imagine while going 70 on the highway wasn’t the best idea. But as long as you keep your hands on the wheel it should be okay.

__________________

–I’m sorry about this, Preciosa, but I won’t be able to keep our appointment on Thursday. Life is getting in the way. If you don’t mind though, I’d like to make it up to you.

The chat had been waiting for you on Sunday morning when you logged into the portal and he was still active.

–Make it up to me? I’m the one who’s getting weekly sessions at a bi-weekly rate.

–Plus tip.

Oh yeah. That.

–Hey. You deserve it.

The chat sits for a full minute.

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675 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

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