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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

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Can we have moren of Owin and itty bitty please? I feel like your gonna keep us in suspense like blade and lo

I LOVE these two! And yes, I'm gonna make you wait, and the reason why, is Owin is a soft player. Typically he gets that blueberry muffin, he has a few weeks, maybe a month or two with them, and he's done. BB knows this, she finds him extremely attractive, why wouldn't she? 6'9" thick, tatted, respectful, and he has a things with the kids. But what happens when she somewhat caves?

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Strawberry Muffin, and a Mini Blueberry Muffin

Summary: Owin missed you

Pairings: Owin X Bitty Bean

Rating: cuteness

Warnings: Owin, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 600

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Owin Everett-Levinson Masterlist

You give a small smirk when you hear Owin’s walk in laughing. The small package tucked away and ready for him. He goes and does his quick little flirting with Mrs. Drysdale, before that big body is leaned over the counter, “You didn’t come back yesterday.”

You give him a shrug, “I figured if you were really needing a muffin and coffee you could walk down the steps.”

“Aw, shot right to the heart,” his eyes scan over the display case before he looks at you with a sigh. “I guess just surprise me with your favorite. Where’s Vanessa, she always makes sure to have the right muffins.

“Yesterday we had some amazing blueberry muffins,” his mouth drops open a bit, as you grab a strawberry shortcake muffin. Taking the cup you had set aside just for him, you pour his coffee.

“I guess I should have walked down the stairs. It’s not weird me living up there. Mrs. D, she’s good to me. We usually have a lunch hour on my days off. She’s a second mom. We talk about important things,” he gives you a wink taking his bag and coffee. “You don’t usually put my muffin in a bag.”

“There’s usually only one muffin,” he rips open that bag so quickly. Seeing only but a tiny little blueberry muffin. “I always make mini muffins with leftover batter. Ellie calls them the baby muffins. Usually Aster comes by and collects them.”

“This is a...you finally got it,” he takes a quick drink of his coffee, and then those eyes go to look at you oddly. “You know I always get blonde roast right?” you nod your head. He takes another drink, his tongue clicking in his mouth. “Why does this taste...okay, you win this time Itty Bitty Bean. Next time don’t put sugar in my coffee,” popping the entire mini muffin in his mouth he exaggerates a moan, “I bet this is even better full size, but imagine it giant sized. The bigger the better. I’ll let you know about this inferior berry muffin tomorrow.”

Turning to leave, you can’t help but smile at the giant man. Even more so knowing that he has a fluffy kitty cat. “How about tomorrow you give him a blueberry muffin.”

“But, Mrs. Drysdale, you said...”

“Trust me on this one. Owie is a good kid. But, don’t hurt him. Be honest with him. You don’t always have to be so guarded either,” she knows all about your hesitations. You have to be careful. Have to be choosy. Have to fully think things through. “I saw you melt when you saw him with Ellie.”

“It’s just cause him and Aster are good friends,” you turn to grab a rag, and start wiping things down.

“They are close, but he’s good with kids. I have a few grandchildren to spare. While yes, Ellie is his girl, that is her godfather, poor girl she has two godfathers,” she rolls her eyes but looks back at you. “I told you to be careful because of how he is. I’m telling you now to give him a muffin.”

“Mrs. Drysdale, what do you know?”

“I know that my Owie loves blueberry muffins. Make him one with extra crumbles on top. If you really want to make an impression, heat it up for him. And this time no sugar in the coffee, don’t change his roast. But I need you to be completely honest with my boy. Talk about your expectations, your needs, and your wants. Even if they’re not all for you. Just trust me when I tell you, he’s fully invested.”

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #da au #da au request #dau #owin everett levinson #owin x bitty bean #owin everett levinson x reader

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notexactlyrocketscience · 5 years

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~ on social media and blogging ~

Basically the only thing I've done in my last 24 posts (yes, I counted) is vent about my first semester at UTSA. Often repetitively.

A little backstory: You wouldn't know it from looking at me, my room, or my closet (especially not my closet) but I like to put things into boxes, arrange them in the most efficient way possible. Even when my room or notes are messy, I know exactly where my red scarf is (at the bottom of my closet where it fell from the hanger the other day while I was hurrying for school), where my flier for tomorrow's event is (somewhere in the middle of the pile of papers on my desk where I put it last week) and which emails I need to re-check tonight (the weekly newsletter, the extra-credit intructions, and the mid-semester meeting notice).

I despise any and all class-notes that aren't done exactly the way I like them—which is using as little repetition and words as possible. Whenever I write, I Google, copy and paste em dashes and make sure there are no spaces on either side. For a 600 word limit, my work will more often than not have exactly 600 words because I don't want to waste any. I use Google Calender to stay on schedule. Planners intimidate me because there's no limit to what can be done with them, and although I want to start a bullet journal, I'm not going to until I find a uniform format that feels right to me.

I don't get to doing it everyday, but at least around once a week or two I get my room, closet and school stuff together again (my person is a lost cause). Delaying this process is something that stresses me out quite a bit ... and is something I do regularly. Especially since the year before last, I feel like I'm in a constant state of burnout (which doesn't make any sense because I'm completely responsibility-free right now compared to other kids my age) and I procrastinate towards everything. EVERYTHING.

So yes, I've technically been spiralling slow-mo (and have been bewildered at myself) for the last couple (going on three) years now ... But back to my point.

I used to write a lot of journal entries. Extremely detailed ones. I spent hours on them every day. I have entire years of my life documented minute-to-minute—I am not even kidding. Once I fell out of that habit (cough the last two years happened) I was never able to pick it back up again (trust me, I tried).

Remember how I like to put things into boxes? The same goes for my feelings. The worst I could ever feel isn't angry or sad or desperate. No, the worst I could ever feel is not knowing what I feel. That's the only feeling that really scares me, dries out my soul. Everything is a mess and can't be put into their places anymore: I'm distracted, unsettled. Behind my eyes is a rainstorm gone wrong, a broken window, a gale whistling in and whipping every piece of paper in my workshop out of place, no end in sight.

When Instagram came into the picture a few years ago, that was in many ways my first step from hiding to bravery. For the first time, I had this space to express myself that was totally under my control, and it was empty. Devoid of prior expectations. For the first time, I was stepping forward and being myself in public, and in that way finding myself too. I'd be lying if I said that I'd be the very same person that I am right now if this hadn't been part of my life.

It gives me peace to be able to neatly document moments of my life here. It's not as time-consuming and as big a commitment as journaling, and somehow the pictures I take randomly gives me motivation to write something they make me feel, which is huge, since at this point this is the only form of creative expression I still indulge in, and one of the only things that make me feel like I have control anymore.

Gasp. I know it's social media, so this might sound superficial and naive to some. Believe me, I constantly battle the same feelings, internalized. Do I do it for attention? For the mini serotonin rush every time those little heart notifications appear? For human connection that I'm missing? Maybe. It's hard to know.

What I do know is that it's empowering to be able to write all this and let it loose for the public to see, ignore, read, dismiss, judge, and then to still be able to hold onto my paranoid sanity. I'm still not as brave as I'd like to be. Sometimes a wave of instinct to delete half my posts will engulf me to near-suffocation. But every single one of my silly, weird, random too-much-information, and borderline innapropriate posts are still out there. Because every time I feel that way, I clench my jaw and tell myself it's temporary and I'll regret it if I act on it. And it's true. Every day I succeed is another day that I choose not to run and hide like I've done too many times in the past. It's one step forward into caring less and understanding other people care less, and just breathing freely without worrying. It's a step towards freedom, confidence.

... I'm this bad behind a screen just talking about everyday things that don't even matter, that only a handful of people will read (s/o if you do. Thank you—means a lot!)—imagine what I'm like in actual social contexts, at the centre of attention in a crowded room.

Well ... I'll let you guys know when I finally stop running and find out for myself. Till then, I guess y'all are just stuck with me, as I am, right now.

[end]

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