she's alive! -a few more w.i.p.-
Missed me? Hahaha,don’t think so. Anyway here are some new-ish drabbles of fics I hope to post pretty soon, together with the ones of my other w.i.p. post >__>”.
Do I have to be a cheerleader? - chapter 11
The alarm clock buzzes, Patrick groggily opens his eyes. Was it all a dream, or has he really turned into a girl?
There’s only a way to check: with a hand above his chest an the other above his crotch, he gulps before touching the presence or absence of some meaty parts.
Guess what? The brand new C cup breasts are there and his member isn’t back yet.
Patrick lets out a frustrated sigh while sitting on the bed. He isn’t sure whether being happy for having the chance to start a new life or miss the old one, though it isn’t like he’s actually lived so far, as a boy.
After dressing, Patrick heads downstairs in the kitchen, finding Kevin almost done with breakfast and their mother sipping her cup of coffee.
NEW STANDALONES
Nabokov who? (pedo!Pete x teen!Patrick)
The apartment is white, spacious, bright. Boxes are accumulating quickly on the wooden floor, thanks to two busy bees.
“Patrick, are we done with the boxes?” a young woman asks a teenage boy, who looks a lot like her.
“Nope, there’s one more in the truck, I’m gonna get it,” he replies, heading downstairs.
He’s just got down the two floors that divide the apartment from the main entrance, when a young man around his mother’s age enters the building and stops when he sees the boy; the younger male ducks his head, hiding under the brim of his trucker hat, muttering an embarrassed ‘Good morning’ before heading outside. The man looks after him, smiling while climbing upstairs for his apartment; once on his floor he sees the door opposite him wide open, a woman walking around fast between boxes and bags.
He knocks on the door, making her turn surprised, her reddish ponytail moving as well.
“Uh, hello? I’m Pete, I live in front of you,” he introduces himself, shaking hands with the woman.
“Hi! I’m Patricia, I just moved here with my son,” she replies, smiling easily.
Right then the boy arrives upstairs, a bit red in the face.
“Patrick, this is Pete, our new neighbor,” she beams, gesturing for the man.
“Hi,” he greets shyly.
“Hello to you too,” Pete says, hiding a smirk.
Untitled n°1 (birthday boy!Patrick x surprise present!Pete)
A schoolbag is flying in the living room, eventually landing on the couch, synchronized with the slamming door. All you can hear in the silent house is the stomping steps of a pretty pissed off person, who heads to the kitchen, grabs a Coke and hastily drinks it while making his way back to slouch on the couch and be emo for a while.
All his goddamned friends forgot his birthday, for fuck’s sake! And it’s even his 18th birthday, I mean, seriously? The guy, Patrick, hopes for them that they’re organizing a mega party in his honor, or they’ll suffer all the rage a tiny person like him can show. He’d have been happy if at least one person wished him happy birthday, regardless of the surprise party, but no, nobody opened their shit eating mouths to say that. Also, his mother won’t be back before 8pm, so he has to wait more than three hours before seeing something that resembles a birthday party, a lame one but better than nothing.
Patrick finds himself squishing the empty Coke can.
Sweet tangerine (director assistant!Greta x actress!Vicky-T)
The neighborhood and the building itself seem respectable enough with their homogenous colors, the park at the end of the street, the smiling and polite people passing by, the church right opposite the apartment building Greta is standing in front of. You’d never imagine what goes on in the attic of this six stores building…and Greta either.
Greta sighs and enters, nodding thankful at the man who left the main door open for her. Once in the old fashioned lift, she takes her time thinking back at how she ended there: sophomore at college, majoring in Cinema and Media Studies, she was desperately looking for a job to pay the rent to her heartless landlord. She has to blame her crush for Jon, an older student who is in her Photography class.
“Hey, Salpeter, am I wrong or you’re looking for a job?” he said.
“You’re studying cinematographic, right?” he said.
“I have a friend who’s an ‘indie’ director,” he said, including air quotes.
“He needs an assistant, and I thought it could be an experience for you about your studies,” he said.
Untitled n°3 (high school - Patrick has a reflex with some songs) [still a very rough drabble!]
Blah, this lesson is so fucking boring: I see no escape but listening to music. I sneak my earplugs under the hem of my hoodie, then hide the bit of visible wire with my arm and hand, staring at the blackboard to deceive the teacher and make her think I’m “paying attention”. I don’t dare to look down to see the titles of the songs, so I simply leave it on shuffle and listen to whatever, silently humming and moving my feet along with the music. After some Cobra Starship, Kings of Leon and Rise Against, it’s the turn of Mindless Self Indulgence: “…Never wanted to dance with nobody but you, wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer, YOU FUCKING BITCH!”.
I distractedly see my classmates staring at me, and the teacher too.
“Mr Stump…Anything to say?”
Untitled n°4 (Pete x housewife!Patrick)
“I’m home!” a cheerful Pete announces opening the door, welcomed by a barking Hemingway and an unsteady Bronx. Pete scratches the dog’s head and scoops his baby up, tickling his belly.
“Welcome back!” Patrick’s gleeful voice comes from the kitchen, together with the rattling noise of dishes and cookware.
“How is my handsome ‘ama de casa’?” the older man asks with a grin while entering the kitchen, Bronx secured on his hip.
Patrick playfully pouts, straining the pasta, “You know I don’t know spanish…”
“No te preocupas, cariño,” Pete says with an evil smirk, kissing the soft temple of his fiancée.
Patrick now glares at him, “Quit it, Pete”
“Vale, vale, perdo--” Pete starts apologizing with a giggle, not wanting to drop the foreign language, but the other man’s look makes him stop, “Sorry, sorry,” he finally states.
“How come you’re talking in Spanish, anyway?” Patrick asks while putting the full dishes on the table, “Oh, yeah, you had a meeting with Gabe today.”
Pete simply nods while settling Bronx in his high chair.
“All good today at work, then?” the shorter male asks.
“Yup. And what did you do today?” Pete asks with a wide smile, looking forward to the delicious pasta in front of him -Patrick is a very good cook.
The nightingale and the rose (Pete,Patrick,Ashlee - prom)
“Duuuude, I invited Ashlee at prom!” Pete shouts, opening the door to Patrick’s room, “But she said she’d come only if I brought her red roses.”
Patrick tears his eyes off the comic he was reading, sighing heavily for his mother always letting Pete upstairs unannounced. Joe and Andy are at the feet of his bed, playing videogames, barely acknowledging Pete’s presence with a wave of their hands.
“And?” Patrick urges with a rather bored tone.
“And I can’t find red roses to save my life!” Pete cries (crocodile tears, in Patrick’s opinion), “All the florists I went to are momentarily out of red roses, they have the whole rainbow but not red! What a crappy city is this that has only two florists with poor range of flowers?! And red roses are a fucking must during whatever season!
Do I have to be a cheerleader? - chapter 11
The alarm clock buzzes, Patrick groggily opens his eyes. Was it all a dream, or has he really turned into a girl?
There’s only a way to check: with a hand above his chest an the other above his crotch, he gulps before touching the presence or absence of some meaty parts.
Guess what? The brand new C cup breasts are there and his member isn’t back yet.
Patrick lets out a frustrated sigh while sitting on the bed. He isn’t sure whether being happy for having the chance to start a new life or miss the old one, though it isn’t like he’s actually lived so far, as a boy.
After dressing, Patrick heads downstairs in the kitchen, finding Kevin almost done with breakfast and their mother sipping her cup of coffee.
NEW STANDALONES
Nabokov who? (pedo!Pete x teen!Patrick)
The apartment is white, spacious, bright. Boxes are accumulating quickly on the wooden floor, thanks to two busy bees.
“Patrick, are we done with the boxes?” a young woman asks a teenage boy, who looks a lot like her.
“Nope, there’s one more in the truck, I’m gonna get it,” he replies, heading downstairs.
He’s just got down the two floors that divide the apartment from the main entrance, when a young man around his mother’s age enters the building and stops when he sees the boy; the younger male ducks his head, hiding under the brim of his trucker hat, muttering an embarrassed ‘Good morning’ before heading outside. The man looks after him, smiling while climbing upstairs for his apartment; once on his floor he sees the door opposite him wide open, a woman walking around fast between boxes and bags.
He knocks on the door, making her turn surprised, her reddish ponytail moving as well.
“Uh, hello? I’m Pete, I live in front of you,” he introduces himself, shaking hands with the woman.
“Hi! I’m Patricia, I just moved here with my son,” she replies, smiling easily.
Right then the boy arrives upstairs, a bit red in the face.
“Patrick, this is Pete, our new neighbor,” she beams, gesturing for the man.
“Hi,” he greets shyly.
“Hello to you too,” Pete says, hiding a smirk.
Untitled n°1 (birthday boy!Patrick x surprise present!Pete)
A schoolbag is flying in the living room, eventually landing on the couch, synchronized with the slamming door. All you can hear in the silent house is the stomping steps of a pretty pissed off person, who heads to the kitchen, grabs a Coke and hastily drinks it while making his way back to slouch on the couch and be emo for a while.
All his goddamned friends forgot his birthday, for fuck’s sake! And it’s even his 18th birthday, I mean, seriously? The guy, Patrick, hopes for them that they’re organizing a mega party in his honor, or they’ll suffer all the rage a tiny person like him can show. He’d have been happy if at least one person wished him happy birthday, regardless of the surprise party, but no, nobody opened their shit eating mouths to say that. Also, his mother won’t be back before 8pm, so he has to wait more than three hours before seeing something that resembles a birthday party, a lame one but better than nothing.
Patrick finds himself squishing the empty Coke can.
Sweet tangerine (director assistant!Greta x actress!Vicky-T)
The neighborhood and the building itself seem respectable enough with their homogenous colors, the park at the end of the street, the smiling and polite people passing by, the church right opposite the apartment building Greta is standing in front of. You’d never imagine what goes on in the attic of this six stores building…and Greta either.
Greta sighs and enters, nodding thankful at the man who left the main door open for her. Once in the old fashioned lift, she takes her time thinking back at how she ended there: sophomore at college, majoring in Cinema and Media Studies, she was desperately looking for a job to pay the rent to her heartless landlord. She has to blame her crush for Jon, an older student who is in her Photography class.
“Hey, Salpeter, am I wrong or you’re looking for a job?” he said.
“You’re studying cinematographic, right?” he said.
“I have a friend who’s an ‘indie’ director,” he said, including air quotes.
“He needs an assistant, and I thought it could be an experience for you about your studies,” he said.
Untitled n°3 (high school - Patrick has a reflex with some songs) [still a very rough drabble!]
Blah, this lesson is so fucking boring: I see no escape but listening to music. I sneak my earplugs under the hem of my hoodie, then hide the bit of visible wire with my arm and hand, staring at the blackboard to deceive the teacher and make her think I’m “paying attention”. I don’t dare to look down to see the titles of the songs, so I simply leave it on shuffle and listen to whatever, silently humming and moving my feet along with the music. After some Cobra Starship, Kings of Leon and Rise Against, it’s the turn of Mindless Self Indulgence: “…Never wanted to dance with nobody but you, wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer, YOU FUCKING BITCH!”.
I distractedly see my classmates staring at me, and the teacher too.
“Mr Stump…Anything to say?”
Untitled n°4 (Pete x housewife!Patrick)
“I’m home!” a cheerful Pete announces opening the door, welcomed by a barking Hemingway and an unsteady Bronx. Pete scratches the dog’s head and scoops his baby up, tickling his belly.
“Welcome back!” Patrick’s gleeful voice comes from the kitchen, together with the rattling noise of dishes and cookware.
“How is my handsome ‘ama de casa’?” the older man asks with a grin while entering the kitchen, Bronx secured on his hip.
Patrick playfully pouts, straining the pasta, “You know I don’t know spanish…”
“No te preocupas, cariño,” Pete says with an evil smirk, kissing the soft temple of his fiancée.
Patrick now glares at him, “Quit it, Pete”
“Vale, vale, perdo--” Pete starts apologizing with a giggle, not wanting to drop the foreign language, but the other man’s look makes him stop, “Sorry, sorry,” he finally states.
“How come you’re talking in Spanish, anyway?” Patrick asks while putting the full dishes on the table, “Oh, yeah, you had a meeting with Gabe today.”
Pete simply nods while settling Bronx in his high chair.
“All good today at work, then?” the shorter male asks.
“Yup. And what did you do today?” Pete asks with a wide smile, looking forward to the delicious pasta in front of him -Patrick is a very good cook.
The nightingale and the rose (Pete,Patrick,Ashlee - prom)
“Duuuude, I invited Ashlee at prom!” Pete shouts, opening the door to Patrick’s room, “But she said she’d come only if I brought her red roses.”
Patrick tears his eyes off the comic he was reading, sighing heavily for his mother always letting Pete upstairs unannounced. Joe and Andy are at the feet of his bed, playing videogames, barely acknowledging Pete’s presence with a wave of their hands.
“And?” Patrick urges with a rather bored tone.
“And I can’t find red roses to save my life!” Pete cries (crocodile tears, in Patrick’s opinion), “All the florists I went to are momentarily out of red roses, they have the whole rainbow but not red! What a crappy city is this that has only two florists with poor range of flowers?! And red roses are a fucking must during whatever season!