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tonyspank · 1 year

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CHAPTER ONE | THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY

Warnings; Uhhhh idk?

A/N: I never had to actually make coffee at my job, I kinda jus put the filter then dump out the coffee bag so… my apologies if it sounds crazy. (For all my professional coffee makers.)

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

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"I have a medium lavender ice latte with oat milk for, Ana?" You call out to half full coffee shop. A blonde in about her twenties walks up to the counter, you smile before handing her her drink.

"Have a wonderful day," She grins, "Thank you so much, you too!" Your co-worker speaks up from behind you, "I still don't understand why you're not somewhere strumming your guitar."

You've been working at Hughes Coffee since you can remember, you just happened to be walking by the place and noticed the Now Hiring signs on the door, of course, you had to go through an interview process but you landed the job and became close with the owner and his daughter.

Once she had officially turned eighteen he changed the shop name in honour of her, and she absolutely loved it.

You playfully roll your eyes before turning around to fully face her, "Alora," You begin causing her to hum in response. "I literally have to stay here to keep you in check. Ever since Mr. Hughes changed the name to Alora's Coffee you've been acting a little bit stuck up." You joke, illustrating how much with your thumb and pointer finger.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," She points behind you, "Take care of that customer. I have to use the bathroom," You jump up in the straightest position ever, saluting to her. "Yes! General!"

She laughs, walking to the back. Turning around you're met with a familiar face, "Jack."

He smiles raising his arms, "Bestie!" You chuckle, smiling at your indeed best friend. "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, nothing. Just checking in on you—" Suddenly he slams his hands on the counter, you jump and eye the shop as some customers as staring at the two of you.

"YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH LEAVING WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE?" He practically yells, leaning into your face. You bite down on your lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you try and hold in your laugh.

"Uh? I thought I gave my goodbyes to my best messenger, did you not receive it?" Jack leans back, hands still on the counter. "Oh! You mean Jenna?" You nod your head, waving your pointer finger at him. "Yes, yes! Jenna, yup."

"And the same Jenna that couldn't stop talking about you." Your ears perk up at this, and your heart drops, but in a good way.

"Really?" You question, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, yeah!" He continues. "She was like, she has the cutest laugh ever. She's so funny where'd you meet her at? Y/N this, Y/N that! Oh, Y/N! Blah, bleh, blah." He mocks with a high-pitched voice.

"Really?" This time you can't hide it, and you're smiling like an absolute idiot. "Really. I was going to give her your Instagram but you know, you left early. So insteadddd," He drags out, and you listen in.

"I told her that you're already dating someone, but don't worry! I didn't be specific and tell her that it was me." You blink, and when Jack doesn't say anything else, you blink again.

"You're lying, right?"

He thins out his lips, shaking his head. "No, why?" You go back to being nonchalant, not wanting Jack to have this over you.

One time you had liked this girl freshman year and Jack would not stop talking about it. And every time he'd see her he'd tell her why won't she go out with you, or how she should give you her number. The girl would always laugh and shrug her shoulders.

Or Jack would come up with these fake stories about how you saved an entire family from a burning building, or how you had found the cure to cancer, the girl surprisingly played along, and would say stuff along the lines of, "Oh, I remember that." Or, "Oh yeah! I was there too."

"No reason," You say shrugging your shoulders, Jack nods staring at you a bit longer to see if he broke your shell of nonchalantness, if that was a thing.

Accepting defeat, but not fully he sighs out. "Welp, I have to go now. I promised Mason I'd stop by his place to try out his new sugar cookie recipe."

You send him a thumbs up, "Alright! Have fun!" You shout out, as he walks out the double glass doors.

You turned around grabbed a rag, and wiped down counters. It was rather late in the morning so it wasn't so busy, well, it wasn't as busy as it was earlier this morning, you were dead-ass sweating.

It comes back to you that Alora never came back out, so you decide to head to the back and go inside the employee break room. You're met with Alora laying across two chairs eating a bag of chips.

"Is this what you do every time you say you're going to the bathroom?" She jumps in surprise, sitting up she removes her left airpod. "Hello, friend." She grins cheekily. You send her a wave.

"Don't you think you should go back to the front?" She starts shooing you off with her hand, you back up, but remain looking at her. "What about you?" She shushes, continuing her shooing motions."

You sigh out, leaning against the counter as you watch the customers in the store talk to their friends or type away on their computers.

You're so into the view you didn't hear the door open nor see the customer walk up towards the counter. Until you hear a ding noise come from the bell sitting on top of the counter.

"Shit," You mutter to yourself, you reach behind you, tying your apron tighter before walking over to the woman. "Fucking Jack," You slightly hear from her and it finally hits you once she takes off her glasses.

"That fucking sneaky bastard." You mumble to yourself.

"Hey, Jenna." You smile, Jenna smiles back placing her glasses in her purse. "Hey," She looks into your eyes, hating to admit she missed them, and so suddenly.

"Now I see why Jack told me to come here." You scratch your head, nodding. "He is a sneaky little bastard." She laughs at your words, "He actually called you the same thing when you left without saying goodbye, well technically you did, but.. I don't know." She catches herself rambling, making you smile.

"Did you want anything to drink?" You ask, drumming your fingers on the countertop. "It's on the house."

"Oh! Sure," Her eyes scan the menu, then you, specifically your name tag. You don't miss the smirk that slightly appears on her lips.

"Surprise me." Just as you're about to respond, Alora walks back out. "Good morning, how are you today?"

Jenna sends her a slight smile, "I'm great, thank you." She gives you one last look before going to sit down. Once it's clear that Jenna is no longer focused on you, Alora grabs your arm, her jaw-dropping. "Was that fucking Wednesday Addams?" You roll your eyes, moving to make Jenna's coffee."

You prepare one shot of Espresso Roast, and as you wait you pull out your phone, opening your messages with Jack.

i hate you

BESTIE

BESTIE DON'T SAY THAT?

i'm not the one who left w/o saying goodbye

I ASKED JENNA TO SAY GOODBYE?

whatever

don't you have to go like

impress her w your barista skills?

you're welcome by the way

goodbye jack

OH NOW U WANNA

SAY GOODBYE

You laugh before putting away your phone. And pouring your Espresso Roast into the mug.

"Her name is Jenna. But yes, she has played Wednesday Addams." Alora watches you, and her smile increases. "You know... I'm very happy that you work here."

You chuckle, preparing your froth milk. Using the Nespresso Aeroccino, you put the milk on the medium froth setting. And add in a bit of vanilla syrup, stirring it in the coffee. "You're only saying that because every now and then Jack will recommend your shop to one of his famous friends,"

She throws her hands up excitedly, "One of his very attractive famous friends!" You lean against the counter waiting for your milk. "Could you watch the counter while I talk to her?" Your voice is lower than usual.

"I fucking got you!" You can't help but laugh, taking your milk and gently pouring it inside the cup until it's almost full. Alora packages up a cookie before softly handing it to you.

"Go get her tiger," Rolling your eye playfully, you make your way toward Jenna, cookie and drink in hand. She sets down her phone and her face lights up seeing you make your way over to her booth.

"A blonde vanilla latte and a chocolate chip cookie for the one and only," You place her order in front of her, sitting down across the table.

She eyes you as she takes a sip, humming in joy. "Wow, this is good." She licks her lips, placing down the cup.

"So... Y/N," She begins. You fight back a smile, looking down at your name tag. "How long have you been addicted to cigarettes."

If you had something in your mouth you definitely would've spit it out. But instead, you're taken aback, "Uh? I don't know? A while,"

She hums, taking another sip of the drink you made her. "Not a lot of people know it but, I actually specialize in helping people with addictions."

You chuckle, "Really?"

"Of course, I'm a professional." You tap your fingers on the table. "So how do your services work exactly?"

"Usually I charge a hefty amount of money, but since we're such good friends. Money is not a problem, instead.." You raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Let's make a deal." You nod, telling her to go on. "You let me take you out on seven dates, if I don't manage to at least help you fight your addiction then you don't have to worry about seeing my face ever again. But if I do, then I get to take you out on more."

A huge smile has appeared on your face, "You're going to take me out? To help fight my addiction?" She nods, again sipping on her drink.

"Do we have a deal?" You hold out your hand, and she quickly shakes it.

"It's a deal Ortega," She smirks but doesn't hide it this time.

#reader insert #jenna x y/n #jenna ortega x reader #jenna x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #wattpad #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega

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bropunzeling · 6 months

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i would like to know how alpha leon's interactions with the rat fam go after he's forced his way into matthew's room and they realize why he did that 🥰

It's 9 AM in Florida, and Leon doesn't know what he's doing.

Or—

Here is what happened:

Leon woke up at 8 AM to a missed call, one he half-remembered dismissing in his sleep. It wasn't the first time someone has called him from the wrong time zone, but the first time that it was Matthew. There was a voicemail. He listened to the voicemail. Then he listened to it again. A third time. The fourth time he heard Matthew say I want you all the fucking time in a tired, cracked voice, he stopped listening and started pulling up flights on his phone. He bought plane tickets at an extortionate price. He took the three flights that would get him to Florida fastest—Köln to Frankfurt, Frankfurt to New York, New York to Fort Lauderdale. He made it to baggage claim before realizing he didn't actually know where Matthew's house was. He texted Matthew. After fifteen minutes with no response, he found Brady Tkachuk's Twitter and Instagram and sent messages in both places while crossing his fingers. After giving more of an explanation than he wanted, but less than he expected, he got an address to put into Uber.

By the time the car pulled up in front of Matthew's place, all he could think about was the clip he'd watched ten times of Matthew stumbling around the ice; about how it'd been six months since he'd had Matthew's skin under his hands; about how Matthew said he wanted him. How maybe this time Matthew would mean it.

Leon really, really hoped he meant it.

He wasn't thinking about Matthew's parents, staring at him with obvious bewilderment as he tried to come up with a reason for being there that wasn't being in love with their eldest son. Or Matthew's sister, poking her head around a corner and watching him with a suspicious expression that was bizarrely scary in the way that only teenage girls could be. Or even Brady, pulling him into a quick hug and muttering in his ear, "It's fine. I got this. Go upstairs. First door on the left."

Then he managed to make it upstairs, and his entire world narrowed to Matthew, too skinny and too pale and fast asleep and everything, everything. It had hit him like a fist to the chest, how fucking important it was to be here. To know that Matthew would be okay. To touch the thin skin of his wrist. To breathe in his scent until it was all Leon knew.

Now, it's morning again. Matthew fell back asleep after they talked, drifting off halfway through a sentence. His head is resting against Leon's; when Leon closes his eyes, he can hear the whistle of his breathing, almost but not quite a snore. If Leon could, he'd never get up.

However, Leon really needs to take a piss. And shower. And drink half a gallon of coffee.

And say something to everybody else that's in the house, who are almost certainly wondering what the hell he's doing here.

Leon's no coward. Still, he takes his time pulling himself out of bed, lingering when Matthew murmurs and pulls on his arm. Takes his time in the master bath, too, cleaning the plane off of him and assessing himself in the mirror. At least his hair isn't greasy, but the bags under his eyes and lingering skinniness still don't add up to the kind of impression he'd like to give to the parents of someone he wanted to court.

Especially not when those parents include an NHL legend.

In a stroke of luck, said legend is not in the kitchen when Leon finally makes it downstairs. The only person there is Matthew’s mother, sitting at the kitchen island, sipping a cup of coffee as she looks at her phone. As soon as Leon crosses the threshold, she glances up and smiles. It’s mostly friendly. Mostly.

“You must be Leon,” she says, setting down her phone. “Would you like some coffee?”

Leon blinks, startled. “Um—yes,” he says. Adds, quickly, “Thank you, Mrs. Tkachuk.”

Matthew’s mom stands up and walks over to a cabinet by the coffee maker. “Please. Call me Chantal,” she adds as she grabs another coffee cup. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Ah—no,” Leon says, watching her pour and accepting the cup with numb fingers. "Thank you."

They both sit down, leaving a few barstools between them. Leon takes a sip of coffee. It’s too acidic. He sets it down, breathes in the fumes. Catches a whiff of Matthew—it is his house, after all—but what's stronger is the scent of lilacs, coming from only a few meters away.

Leon turns his head. Chantal has her chin propped on her hand, a focused, serious expression on her face as she looks Leon over. Leon can't help feeling he’s being tested for something, and he’s not sure he's going to pass.

"So," Chantal says. "How long have you known Matthew?"

Technically, Leon has known Matthew—known of him—for years. Hard not to notice the new omega on the Flames, early draft pick and unusually high for his dynamic—North Americans are so weird about that shit—grinning with all his teeth bared, watching Leon like it was only a matter of time before he'd find a way to tick Leon off. Unafraid to throw his weight around, unafraid to be flashy, unafraid to get in Leon's face and push, push, push until all Leon wanted to do was push back. So fucking annoying, so fucking irritating, but—it was good, too. At least Matthew would push.

And then in St. Louis, Leon had walked back into the room and sucked in a breath and his world got tilted on its axis.

That's probably not the answer Matthew's mom would want. So Leon says, "A few years," and hopes he sounds truthful enough.

"Mmm." Chantal's scent twists, becoming more intense. The lilacs are rotting.

Leon can't even remember the last time he felt this nervous. First game in the show, maybe. He can't shake the feeling that he's fucking something up, and he doesn’t—he can’t fuck this up. Not when he finally has it.

"I'm going to court him," Leon blurts out. "Or, I mean—I asked him, if he wanted to, and he said he, um." His ears are burning.

Chantal's eyebrows lift. The rot dissipates. "Oh," she says.

Leon swallows, hard. Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have said that, either. "Please don't tell him that I told you," he adds.

Chantal laughs. It startles Leon, making him jump in his seat, but it’s not unkind, or cruel. When she smiles at Leon, Leon can see the similarities between her and Matthew. The same wrinkles at the corners of their eyes, the same tilt to their mouths.

"Don't worry," Chantal says. "It can be our secret." She takes a sip of coffee, then says, "You must be starving after your flights. Let's get you some breakfast."

Leon nods, unable to get any more words out.

After he’s eaten, Chantal refills his coffee and sends him back upstairs. Now that he’s more awake, Leon can pick out the other scents in the house—Chantal; a mild malty scent he remembers from drinks at last All-Star Game; another that might be Matthew’s sister, curled up on the sectional looking at her phone. At some point, he really is going to have to talk to Matthew’s dad; more to the point, Matthew’s dad is going to know exactly who Leon wants to be for his son. He can't say he's looking forward to it.

But when he gets upstairs, Matthew’s still there, fast asleep. His mouth is half open, hair sweaty and stuck to his skull. When Leon eases onto the bed next to him, he murmurs, rolling closer, then wincing and rolling away.

"Hey, hey," Leon says softly, reaching out and grabbing Matthew’s hand, rubbing his thumb over Matthew’s knuckles.

Matthew’s face eases. He sighs. Scent uncurls between them, sticky and gentle and warm.

Leon leans over, kisses Matthew's hairline. The way he’s allowed to, now. He'd sit through a hundred awkward conversations with Matthew's family if it means he'll get to do that today, tomorrow. As long as he can.

#ask meme #omega matthew #well this got away from me!#still might dump on ao3 later BUT whatever #anyway still welcoming prompts! distract me!

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quill-pen · 10 months

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Modern AU Scroogeverse: Starbucks orders

@rom-e-o and I joked around about it a little this morning, so I thought it might be fun to do.

Disclaimer: I, personally, am not a coffee drinker at all. I hate everything about coffee--the smell, the taste, the noise the coffee maker makes as it brews. And I never have dealings with Starbucks because I think they're a little overhyped and expensive.

Note: Americanized Bess has absolutely influenced these people's taste on things like iced and cold beverages. As she should. Cold drinks are lifeblood.

Ebenezer: First off, nobody makes coffee like his beloved Bess (she does it the old-fashioned way on the stove and adds just the right amount of heavy cream and cinnamon) so that's usually where Eb gets his coffee (she'll pour it in a thermos and send it out the door with him). But on the occasions Bess' coffee is unavailable for various reasons, Starbucks is an easy stop on the way to work. His drink of choice: the dark roast, tall, cinnamon powder, heavy cream, and two pumps of cinnamon syrup (if it's the holidays, he'll add a pump of the peppermint) to make up for the lack of Bess' TLC. It's good, but still not as good as Bess'; every sip of her coffee is like her love in liquid form and you bloody hell can't beat that. If he's had several late nights at the office, Ebenezer will also add a few shots of the signature espresso. If he has to attend a morning business meeting he's been dreading, the man has also been known to fill a flask with a little "feel-good" juice and spike his drink just enough to get through the meeting. He doesn't get anything else from Starbucks. He might try something Bess gets, but, as stated before, Starbucks is merely a handy substitute: He's not about to take time to explore their menu. Note: They never get his name right. Ebenezer is now simply known as 'Ed' at the local Starbucks.

Bess: For warm weather: a grande iced dark chocolate mocha with heavy cream and light ice. The number of espresso shots depends on how busy work has been. For cold weather: a tall caffè mocha, with warm heavy cream, light foam, and six mocha pumps. Again the number of espresso shots depends on work. If she's in the mood for something particularly sweet, Bess will usually go for one of their chocolate chocolatey frappucinos. She doesn't have a particular favorite--she likes them all--but always gets them in grande. Note: You think they'd be able to get Bess, easy enough, but no; she's been called "Bed", "Bless", "Beth", "Bet", "Bast", and "Bath". These people aren't even trying, are they?

Bob: Doesn't go to Starbucks--it's not on his way to work and it's too expensive (he's got lots of kids to take care of, even if now being partners with Mr. Scrooge makes life so much easier and comfy). He stops in at a local mom-and-pop place called 'The Grinds' and gets a large, cowboy coffee with a little milk and sugar. (He's also sweet-talked the barista into adding some espresso shots. The man has like a dozen kids, okay?! He needs it to get through the day!)

Ethel: Unlike Bob, will occasionally patronize Starbucks--mostly when she is out with the other girls. Because this is only an occasional thing, Ethel likes to treat herself (she deserves it!): a venti strawberry crème frappuccino with vanilla sweet cream, extra whipped cream, five syrup pumps, two espresso shots, toasted vanilla syrup, cookie crumble topping, mocha sauce, and extra strawberry puree. Leave her alone--she's affording herself a rare treat--it's fine. Note: Don't always get her name right either, but they get it right more often than with Bess.

Harry: Does not have a favorite. Man gets something different every time he goes and has liked everything equally. He does have a particular fondness for their frozen fruit beverages though, but only in summer. When the weather gets cold, he'll go for their hot apple drinks. The only customization he insists upon is extra cinnamon or peppermint during the holiday season. After all, he loves Christmas--it's his favorite time of year! He always gets the largest option. Note: Yes, his name always gets spelled right, usually accompanied by little Harry Potter flourishes. He finds them so charming and tries to keep them all. Hela eventually throws them out when he's clearly forgotten about them--usually after a week.

Hela: Usually goes for their teas. It's a toss-up between a short honey citrus mint with light lemonade and an extra pump of honey or a short, regular matcha tea latte. Note: Only gets her name spelled right if she's served by a fan of Marvel.

Tom: He is a very simple man. In the cold, he beelines for their hot chocolate: grande, steamed whole milk, doubled mocha pumps with extra whipped cream, and extra caramel drizzle with caramel sauce lining the cup. In the heat, it's a regular mango dragonfruit lemonade with extra ice. Note: Once got named "Dom" at Starbucks. The barista winked at him as she passed him his drink. Addie was with him and did not appreciate it; she absolutely took a cue from her cousin and groped his ass on the way out. The ride home was very long after that, but the events that played out at home were a blast.

Addie: In the cold, she loves the white hot chocolate. She'll usually get a tall with oat milk, extra foam brown sugar syrup with a mocha cause lining, and chocolate mint cookie sprinkles with light whipped cream. In the heat, her go-to is a grande iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso with salted caramel foam, mocha drizzle, whipped cream, and caramel crunch topping. Note: Often gets called "Abbie", but one time, somehow, she got called "Baddie". She rode that high for a week.

Ernie: Isn't really a coffee man, so he mostly sticks to the teas. He goes for the classic Earl Grey with a little lemonade, honey, and a pinch of cinnamon. If he's looking for something cooler, he just goes for the lemonade. Nothing very complicated. Note: Absolutely gets "Bert" added in with his name like 80% of the time. The joke is getting old now, folks.

Ella: Honestly, she doesn't do Starbucks. She had one drink once--a huge chocolate java mint frap, loaded up with all the best goodies. It was so good. But the stomach flu was going through the Cratchit household at the time and she got hit with it right after she had that heavenly delight and... yeah. Ruined the entire chain for her. Just the mention of Starbucks makes her stomach roll. Ernie doesn't drink Starbucks around her and does his best to shield the very logo from her view.

Granny: Simple and surprising--a doppio of espresso macchiato. regular except for eight shots of espresso instead of the standard two. She's in her 80s and surrounded by young folks, okay? How else do you expect her to keep up with them all?

Josie: Doesn't do Starbucks either. She thinks it's overrated and too trendy, and will go out of her way to find small, independent establishments to patronize. She enjoys hazelnut lattes with a little touch of cinnamon and mocha sauce. Will always ask the barista to make the most unique design they can with the cream and asks if she can watch.

Mickey: Just like his love, he doesn't do Starbucks. For one he could never afford it; for two, he tried some once and he didn't find it all that great. Certainly wasn't worth the hype everyone seemed to have about it. He chooses to support the independent coffee houses as well, often taking Josie out on dates to them. He likes the cowboy coffee with only a little milk; he enjoys the rusticness and simplicity of it. Josie isn't a fan of the flavor but she loves the smell of it on Mickey's breath afterward and she doesn't mind the taste coming off his tongue and lips when he kisses her either.

Jules: He can't drink coffee as it makes him sick, but he enjoys the iced teas. His favorite is a blended grande black tea lemonade with some apple juice and strawberries. And definitely extra ice. Always extra ice. In the winter, he gets a regular caramel apple spice. Note: Often gets his name spelled as "Jewels". Once he had an older barista that was a big fan of Jules Verne though, and he got that written on his cup--that was fun.

Martha: The chocolate java mint frap, tall, with coconut milk, double-blended with frap chips, hazelnut syrup, two extra pumps of the mint sauce, mocha sauce lining, toasted cookie crumble, light cinnamon powder, and whipped cream--that's this girl's game. She only needs to have one once in a while, as it's so very rich. Note: Once got called "Martyr". So... that was different.

Kathy: Girl is a fiend for the espresso shots! That's what happens when you're studying to be an L&D nurse, I suppose. She gets a quad of the blonde roast loads it up on six shots and hammers it. But after she's had a couple of those, she'll get a short, dark chocolate mocha with heavy cream and honey to sip on. Note: Has been called "Catty" more than once. She does not appreciate it.

Millie: VENTI. PUMPKIN. SPICE. LATTES. With extra cream and cinnamon and caramel sauce lining. She lives for this stuff and literally has an emotional breakdown whenever it goes out of season. After that, she falls back on the vanilla bean crème frap, venti size, with almond milk, extra whipped cream, frap chips, macadamia syrup, caramel lining, white chocolate mint sauce, honey blend, cinnamon, mocha drizzle, and caramel crunch topping. And, ya know what? It's still nowhere near as good as the pumpkin spice. Why don't they just sell it all year?! It would be their number-one seller! They could just start a whole other Starbucks offshoot just for the pumpkin spice and rake in the money! Note: Absolutely tells the barista how to spell her name and double-checks to make sure they got it right.

Gil: Decaf roast, tall, black--plain, simple, easy. He likes the bitterness; reminds him of the earth and nature. If he's craving a little sweetness, he might add some honey. Note: Usually gets called "Dill". Does not complain--he gets his coffee either way. And he kinda like the name "Dill" actually.

Tim: He's not allowed to drink coffee, as he gets way too hyper. But he does like their frozen fruit drinks. The pineapple passion fruit is his favorite; he always gets extra pineapple in it. He gets the largest size and sticks it in the freezer whenever he's had enough to snack on for a few days. The stuff tastes even better when it's frozen enough to eat like ice cream! Note: Tim is so cute, most of the time the baristas don't even hear him say his name because they're so focused on his cherubic smile or sparkling blue eyes, so they just write "Angel boy" on the cup. Tim just blushes and beams.

Beryl: She doesn't like coffee, but she is also a serious businesswoman, and serious businesswomen drink coffee. Beryl gets the espresso con panna in the smallest size with extra whipped cream and three espresso shots. The whipped cream is the only way she can stand the taste of the stuff. Sometimes she needs a little mocha drizzle to get it down too, even while she's holding her nose and trying to swallow it down without letting it touch her tongue. Ebenezer has pointed out to her time and again that it's okay if she doesn't like coffee--she can drink something else if she wants to--but Beryl refuses. "Businesswomen drink coffee! It's a staple!" And no one is going to convince her otherwise. Note: Never gets her name spelled right, so she has taken to telling them at her name is "Bear". That always gets spelled right and she gets comments on how "cool her name is". Beryl might be considering changing her name to "Bear".

#scrooge 2022 #netflix scrooge #scrooge a christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #scrooge #fanfiction #modern day scrooge #modern au scrooge #starbucks scrooge #scrooge ocs #a christmas carol ocs #bess scrooge

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sansebastinae · 1 year

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zero sanity copium idea moment

local Spanish racing man, in a moment of True Brilliance and Feels(tm) of a certain fear that Seb will practically fall off the face of the earth 5 seconds after Abu Dhabi, decides to sign up for Snow ROC despite hating the snow very very very much, and also a good excuse for racing. Also he really hates the cold like anything lower than 8C is "Oviedo has frozen over" for him. Bahrain 04 and 05's extremes are piss compared to the snow hell

He regrets it the moment he touches down in "middle of bumfuck nowhere" Pite Havsbad -10C kinda vibe. Bottas is chief coffee maker of the entire place despite looking like an utter Australian. Nando gets greeted by the two most un-German German drivers ever who basically put him through snow hell before the races. For example getting into a goddamn ice pool shirtless that they dug out because this is a normal thing to do, + wearing just fkn shorts in the snow fk you you little shit!!!

no number of kimoa beanies can save him

anyway it's pretty obvious and adorable to mr sebu over there that this man is trying to impress him and gives nando three things :

a finely penned letter with his number and address so that nando doesnt have to go to freeze hell again and message him like a normal person. when did he have the time to write this what the fuck

his helmet to go put in his museum

a little cheek kiss that makes nando redder than any ferrari suit ever lmao bro we get it you kinda really miss and like the guy

oh of course he loses the ROC to seb loeb over there like what are you thinking son the rally god is literally right there sorry man

btw he still hates the snow but he sure hopes the 2024 race is in snow again

#writing #LMAO take this garbo!!! woo #idle thoughts #vettonso

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blazethemodel · 29 days

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BASIC INFORMATION.

Full Name: Nico Valdez

Nickname(s): Nic and Coco

Age: 24

Date of Birth: Feb. 14th, 2000

Hometown: St. Augustin, Florida

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Romantic Orientation: Biromantic

Occupation: Professional Makeup Artist and Travel Host.

Language(s) Spoken: English and Spanish.

Accent: Un poquito.

PLOTS WANTED.

Gym Buddy

Twin Flame

Sneaky Link

Study Partner

Frenemy/Rival

(honestly anything you can think of)

FAMILY INFORMATION.

Father: Ernesto Valdez

Mother: Deceased; Rachel Valdez

Sibling(s): 2 younger brothers

Pet(s): 1 teacup poodle, Rex

Family’s Financial Status: Working lower-class

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE.

Hair Colour: Black, but constantly changing it

Eye Colour: Brown

Height: 5'3

Weight: 155

Build: Curvy, thick

Tattoos: 27 and counting

Piercings: 4

Clothing Style: Modern street style/urban trending

PERSONALITY MAKERS.

Label: The Siren

Positive Traits: Hardworking, strong-willed, ambitious, opinionated, soft spoken, and considerate.

Negative Traits: Superstitious, calculating, temperamental, perfectionist, impulsive, and impatient.

Goals/Desires: Taking my current makeup artistry business beyond six figures. To operate a luxury travel hosting company with trained travel experts that tour different exotic destinations for large groups.

Hobbies: Exercise/gym, makeup artistry, trying new restaurants, and swimming.

FAVORITES.

Weather: Rain

Colour: Eclectic yellow and golden yellow

Artist(s): Meek Mill, Lil Durk, Future, Lil Baby, Flo Milli, H.E.R. , Tems, Tyla, and Burna Boy.

Movies(s): Boyz n the Hood, Mrs. Doubtfire, Friday, Liar Liar, and Poetic Justice.

Sport: Basketball

Beverage: Iced french vanilla coffee and rum and coke.

Food: Baked ziti

Animal: Red panda

#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ࿐ྂ #⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ࿐ྂ #⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐆 ࿐ྂ #⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐇𝐌𝐋 ࿐ྂ #⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 ࿐ྂ #⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 ࿐ྂ #⇢ ˗ˏˋ 𝗡𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗧╰┈➤ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍 ࿐ྂ

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anasraza25 · 4 months

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10 Best Christmas Gift For Grand-Parents

Most grandparents are most joyful with the endowment of your presence however a little something unique would be gladly received, as well.

Whether your grandparent is a nature darling or a shut-in, a cinephile or a cook, we've scoured our aides and surveyed our partners to track down the absolute best things to stun them.

A Worm Welcome To My Grand-Parents

Brooklinen Pure Wool Throw

This luxury fleece toss is simply very good quality enough that your grandparents probably won't go overboard on it for themselves which is precisely why you ought to get it for them.

One of our 1 toss covers, the Brooklinen is accessible in dim or beige to supplement any home style without any problem. Regardless of being 100 percent fleece, it is inconceivably delicate and not by any stretch of the imagination scratchy. However this toss is comfortable and warm, it felt lighter and fluffier than other fleece tosses we tried.

Fresh Breakfast Utopia Bagels And Shmear

We loved fresh breakfast because it’s healthier rather than other things, except if the grandparents you're looking for live in New York City, odds are good that they hate the most ideal bagels (it's the main East Coast grandiosity I stand behind!).

Fix that with a conveyance of Utopia Bagels and Shmear. Sent through Gold belly, the bagels are made new to arrange and stowed by flavor (so the cinnamon-raisin bagels won't resemble the onion bagels).

Wire cutter essayist Greg Han requested these to his home in Los Angeles (which, despite the tales, is as yet getting up to speed to New York in bagel esteem), and he reports that they showed up still chewy and very much pressed, with the dry ice appropriately situated.

Become crazy with it Fizzi SodaStream OneTouch

In the event that pops can't survive without pop, the grandparent you're looking for can't survive without Pellegrino, or has worn out on the flavors presented by La Croix; the SodaStream Fizzi OneTouch will make an ideal gift.

It's our top pick for making seltzer at home, because of its not difficult to-control carbonation settings (which produce bubbles going from marginally bubbly to dangerously elate), For the really fixated seltzer consumer, toss in a couple of jugs of flavor drops for them to explore different avenues regarding.

Eli Zabar’s Dozen NY Bagels

Assuming that they love staying with you in the Big Apple, or simply its splendid lights as a general rule, one method for giving them their fix until they can visit again is send some certifiable New York bagels from Upper West Side foundation Zabar's.

5-Cup One-Touch Bonavita Connoisseur Coffee Maker

This espresso producer has the double allure of being similarly as easy to use as their dearest Mr. Coffee and coming energetically suggested by espresso upstarts.

Blender, Vitamix Professional Series 750

However they could never grumble about their ten-year-old blender, wellbeing focused grandparents will be excited for this Vitamix. Whether they use it to make soup, frozen yogurt, or different recipes, this self-cleaning Vitamix will turn into their new most loved apparatus.

Gaby Dalkin, cookbook writer and blogger at what’s Gaby Cooking, enjoys that it has an assigned smoothie setting "so you can toss every one of your fixings in, turn it on, and leave."

Sacred Great Jones Sheet Pan

This sheet dish from Strategist's most loved Great Jones is the ideal mix of practical and giftable, because of its special, Kindercore-esque plan.

Knife Storage Tray, Knife Dock

In the event that they invest all their energy in the kitchen, this clever (and reasonable) coordinator fills in as a "protected spot to store blades without harming their sharp edges," as per way of life master Tenille Murphy. Since it's intended to fit inside a cabinet, the plate likewise assists with keeping ledges mess free.

Custom Painterly Pet Portraits

Ensure this is their stylistic layout style prior to focusing on it, yet a representation of their pet is presumably one of the best and most acts of kindness. It's one of a kind, handcrafted, and gives proper respect to the little fur-mop that loves relaxing in a nearby sun fix on the lounge chair consistently.

Gravity Blankets For Your Grand-Parents

Give your grandparent’s better rest for these special seasons with a clique most loved weighted cover with a removable cover.

By impersonating DPTS (profound tension touch excitement), weighted covers assist us with quieting down, nod off quicker, stay unconscious better and for longer, and feel more refreshed when we awaken.

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americankitchen · 4 months

Video

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Mr. Coffee Single-Serve Frappe, Iced, and Hot Coffee Maker : Your All-in...

#youtube

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rewritingkel · 5 months

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Coffee

I never was a big coffee person. I mean I drank it but I wasn’t a “I have to have my coffee” type person. There were days I drank it and days I didn’t but I never felt like it was a must. For a short while, I only drank iced coffee, regardless of the weather. My oldest bought me a Mr. Coffee Iced Coffee Maker for Christmas a few years back with some ground coffee and syrups. This machine became…

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#2023 #coffee #Day 12 #Iced Coffee #Mr. Coffee #NaBloPoMo #NanoPoblano2023 #National Blog Posting Month #The Ones About Me

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ariweather · 9 months

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Chapter 3: Concussed Detective (part 3/4)

Granny Hudson and Watson watched in calm horror as Sherlock's bony face contorted with shock and his curly head SMASHED into the bookcase. His vintage designer shoelaces slithered about in the air as if to say "he deserved this." Books exploded off the shelved and hit the floor with the intensity of thunder. Next thing they knew, Sherlock groaned out, "Uuehaghhhhhhhh... I believe I am concussed."

"You were right about the shoes," Mrs. Hudson remarked to John.

"Yes, perhaps we should buy him a pair of Crocs," John replied, turning to look at his dumbass roommate. "Eh... should we call an ambulance? Sherlock, how do you feel-"

"John, do NOT call the authorities under any circumstances. There are some things in that fridge I'd rather not risk being seen by well-meaning EMTs looking for cold packs. And if Lestrade finds out, that'll just be an annoyance for me. I'll be fine with some home remedies. Just get me some ice, or something. I really must see what cases there are for me to solve-"

Granny Hudson glared at him. "No, Sherlock. You must rest. No more cases for now. You have a concussion, dear! And now you have a lovely flatmate to nurse you back to health! I'll make you a cup of tea, just this once." She departed for the kitchen. Once again, John did not appreciate how Mrs. Hudson seemed to think that he and Sherlock were an item, even though they literally were.

"Thanks." Sherlock stumbled over the mound of literature and onto the soft pleather couch where he laid down, slender legs propped up over the side. John Watson, A Broken Man, carefully sat down in the homely brown armchair in the corner near the couch. He thought to himself, "mmmmmm sandwich."

John watched the snowy dust float silently in the golden sunlight which shone through the yellowed windows. He inhaled. The flat smelled like violin rosin and old books. It sounded like creaky old wooden floorboards and coffee makers. John *almost* felt as though he'd lived in this place for a decade, except that was broken by the presence of the concussed man on the couch. The concussed... person. What did this guy do for a living again?

"Sherlock, who are you? What do you do?"

"What do you think?"

John hesitated for a moment. "I'd say private detective..." He guessed unsurely.

"But?"

"I dunno... maybe you're a forensic scientist actually. What with all the test tubes and whatnot earlier."

Sherlock looked at John like he was a bit stupid. "I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job."

"What does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me."

"The police don't consult amateurs."

Sherlock glared at John, offended that his soulmate would think even for a second that he, the great Sherlock Holmes, was an AMATEUR. He had to show poor, mistaken Watson what a real consulting detective was. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' You looked surprised."

"Yes, how did you know?" John's traumatized blue orbs were intently glued to Sherlock.

"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But your conversation as you entered the room..."

"No, hold on Sherlock. No flashbacks right now. I mean, I am curious, but I feel bad making you explain everything to me after you've been concussed."

Mrs. Hudson returned with a mug of british-smelling tea for Sherlock. "Here, darling. Drink up while it's warm!" She smiled, grandmotherly, and handed it to him.

"Thanks mum."

"What."

"Must be the concussion..."

John thought to himself, "mmmmm sandwich." Perhaps his freshly concussed flatmate was hungry. When Watson remembered the sandwich shop they passed on the way in, he offered to Sherlock, "how 'bout I run down to the sandwich shop and pick up some lunch?"

"Ah, thank you. That would be lovely."

"Anything specific you had in mind?"

Sherlock was nicely surprised by his new flatmate's kindness. He was, in fact, hungry, so he gave Watson his go-to sandwich order. "I'll have a black forest ham sandwich, rye bread, topped with tomato slices. If the tomato slices don't have a diameter 6cm, it ruins the whole thing. Also have them layer some extra thin slices of Winnimere cheese in between the ham. Make sure it's spread out evenly. Texture is important. If they have their pickles in stock, ask them to lightly saturate the innards with the pickle juice. And then have them sprinkle a blend of oregano and beetroot flakes onto all of that. And make sure they toast it until it's almost crispy, but not quite all the way crispy. After it's been toasted, I want them to insert 7 evenly spaced slices of fresh iceberg lettuce into the topmost layer of the sandwich above the ham. These must be very thin and spaced at minimum 3cm apart. Finally, dress the top of the bread with freshly squeezed lemon juice from imported Italian lemons. I will be able to taste if they're from, God forbid, Florida before the sandwich even enters my mouth. Oh, and mayo on the side. No less than 16 of those little individual packets."

Lord. Did the God hate John Watson? What did he do to deserve this? What kind of FUCKING PSYCHO orders that. christ. with each new topping listed, a piece of John's remaining mental stability was chipped away. john wanted to boil alive. fucking hellllllllll

"Sherlock...... what?"

"or just ask them for Sherlock's usual order. They'll know."

And then john watson went off to the sandwich shop.

----

Link to previous chapter (chapter 2) Link to next chapter (chapter 4)

#sherlock #The point of this fic is to make the readers lose braincells lmk if it worked

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