#THE POOKIE ENERGY IS THROUGH THE ROOF

[buckleyflower]

UNCLE BUCK AT HIS POOKIEST

[avocado-writing]

Omg i love your poly Deadpool and Wolverine fics !! I especially love that reader is totally a sunshine ! Could you do any fic with them and that trope ? 😍

vague sequel to this

Your bad day has been utterly forgotten. 

It’s not incredibly hard for them to cheer you up, Logan and Wade have learned. You’re so rarely sad that it’s hardly an issue anyway, but all they really need to do is redirect your energy into something else. A distraction to take your mind off of whatever’s gotten under your skin.  

There’s a little carnival that’s set up near the apartment. One of those ones which is constantly on the move, overcharges for everything, and is exactly the kind of place you love. So it was a no-brainer to take you there for the evening. 

Logan bought you a necklace made of hard candies, Wade took you on all the rollercoasters which were definitely not safe but you screamed with joy while riding. You’d insisted all three of you squeezed into a boat through the tunnel of love, and they’d come out the other side with your lipstick all over their faces, you smugly sandwiched between them. 

And through the evening you’ve been fucking jubilant. Your laughter rolls like thunder, but the kind which means a storm is going to clear out the oppressive atmosphere of a muggy day. A sweet, loud kind of laughter which peals from your very soul. Wade and Logan catch each other’s eye as you absolutely decimate a stick of neon blue cotton candy: they’ve done well. 

The three of you are preparing to go home when something catches your eye, slowing you to a stop as you stare. It’s a prize booth - the kind where you have to knock over a tower of tin cans to win. Hanging from the rafters are huge plushies of your favourite animal. 

“C’mon baby, you know these games are rigged,” Logan sighs, aware he’s marching into a losing battle. You lick the sugar off of your fingers and dump the wooden stick into a garbage bin, eyes wide in the fluorescent lights of the bumper cars nearby. 

“Aww… but they’re so cute…” you sigh, looking really disappointed. 

Well, neither of them are ones to let that happen, so Logan and Wade find themselves speaking in unison when they say: “I’ll win you one.”

They exchange a look and you grin. Oh. This has become a challenge, and both are too stubborn to back down. Together they step up to the counter, each slamming five dollars down and making the poor teenager manning the booth jump. 

“Uh, okay, you have two balls and need to knock the whole tower—”

The teen doesn’t even get a chance to finish their explanation before Logan has launched one of the pathetic beanbags at the cans with such force that it crumples a couple of them in half. They’re cleared off completely in one hit. The attendant can only gawp as he smugly points to one of the huge plushies which is dutifully fetched. You let out a little woop of joy as he passes it into your arms, giving Wade a look which says beat that. 

Wade hums, throwing the beanbag up and down in his hand, testing its weight. 

“Okay, well, not all of us are barbarians who need to use brute strength to compensate for our advanced age. It’s all about the finesse, pookie.”

Wade angles his throw so it bounces off the side wall, clearing all of the cans but one. Logan lets out a smug huff. Wade frowns. 

“Hey, look, is that Spiderman doing full-frontal nudity?” he says, pointing into the distance, distracting the teen with one hand while he whips out a knife with the other and skewers the can to the back of the booth. 

“Prize please!” he says when they turn back, turning pale at the sight of what’s been done to their game. They pass him another plushie from the roof with shaking hands, and Wade presents it to you with a flourish. 

“That was cheating,” Logan states as the three of you walk away.

“Uh, I cleared the cans, old man. No cheating about it.”

“You had a second ball to throw,” you point out, and Wade pauses. 

“Do you want the toy or not, sweetcheeks?”

And that is how you find yourself more stuffed animal than human, waddling out of the carnival with a huge smile and arms full of polyester. The whole thing is sort of ridiculous but, honestly, if you’re smiling? Logan and Wade can agree it’s totally worth it. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[itsallyscorner]

Coffee Talk | H.S

pairing: boyfriend!Harry x fem!reader

warnings: it’s supposed to be like a podcast episode so it’s a little long and has a lot of dialogue—just did some experimenting, lmk what you guys think :)

overview: Harry is a guest on your podcast.

a/n: Clearly, I’ve been listening/watching a lot of podcasts. I just like hearing people talk. Reader’s co-host, Mable, is inspired by Selena Gomez <3

Coffee Talk Ep. 96: (Y/n)‘s Boyfriend, Hobama, and Marriage

“Hello friends and welcome back to another episode of Coffee Talk! I’m your host, (Y/n), and I hope you are all doing well!” You waved at the camera doing your usual intro.

You did a drumroll with your hands on the table and continued, “Now, we have an exciting episode for you guys today. You have been asking—basically begging—for us to get this person on the pod and it’s finally happening today! So grab a blanket, get some snacks, and get comfortable, because this is gonna be a fun one!”

The video cuts to your co-host, Mable, who is sitting across from you on a loveseat.

“I feel like we should build the tension before we tell them who it is.” Mabel chimes in, stirring her Starbucks cup (whose label has been covered since you guys aren’t sponsored by Starbies).

“That was a really good segue for Roll Call, Mae.” You pointed out, calling her by her nickname.

“I gotchu, babe.” Mable assured you, throwing a wink in your direction. You laughed and adjusted your legs up on the couch you were on, “Right, so obviously, we have Mable across from me. How are ya, Mae? What’s the coffee order today?”

Mable smiled at you and crossed her legs, “Well since you asked so kindly. I’m doing very great this morning (y/n/n) and I have a caramel macchiato today.”

The video then cuts to Ryland who had a “bitch please” look on his face, “Mable’s only happy because she got laid last night.”

“RYLAND!” Mable screamed in shock, the video cutting to her reaction. The room erupted with laughter as she flipped him off and let empty threats stumble out of her lips at Ryland.

“YOU LITERALLY TEXTED IT IN THE GROUP CHAT!” Ryland stressed, leaning over the table to get closer to Mable. The video moved to you taking a long sip of your coffee while a familiar tattooed arm rested behind you on the couch.

“Clearly, the energy is through the roof today in the pod—we’ll probably get to Mable’s sex life in a bit.” You paused, smirking at your friend, “But back to roll call, we’ve got Ryland on cameras and sound. Ryland, how are you pookie?”

Ryland posed at the camera in front of him and waved wildly at it, “I’m doing swell stinkabutt.”

“What’s your coffee order today—actually Ryland doesn’t have coffee today, he has juice.” You explained to your listeners. Ryland held up his green juice, “Yeah, I’m on a juice cleanse everyone. Me and Sean are going to Aruba in a few weeks and I refuse to work out, so I’m drinking juice instead.”

“You look great Ry.” A voice off camera chimed in. The voice had a distinct accent that could only belong to a specific someone. Ryland smiled at the person, “Thanks Ha—wait I was just about to spoil who it was.” He immediately clasped his hand over his mouth with wide eyes.

“Y’know what, we’ve made you guys wait long enough.” You sighed before continuing, “Our guest is very special to me. He’s a recent Grammy winner, one of the biggest artists in the world, and he happens to be my boyfriend; please welcome to the pod mister Harry Styles!” You cheered, causing everyone in the room to clap. The video finally cut to Harry who was sat next you on a blush pink couch nursing a pastel yellow mug.

Harry adorable scrunched his nose and waved at you all bashfully, “Oh, stop it.”

“How does it feel to be on the pod, Harry?” You asked, turning your body towards him. Harry nodded and looked around the room, “I’m happy to be here, love, thanks f’having me. Also, I like what you’ve guys done to our shed, s’very comfy.”

“I totally forgot we were in your shed.” Ryland chuckled.

“Oh yeah, to everyone listening or watching, we’ve been filming this podcast in Harry and (Y/n)’s backyard.” Mable explained to the audience with a chuckle.

“It’s not a problem honestly, I’m glad you guys are getting some use out of it.” Harry assured you all as he glanced at the decorations around the room. There was an old school looking blush couch in the center of the room, which was across from a burnt mustard colored love seat. While the walls were painted a darker shade of matcha green with fairy lights strung along it.

Harry was seen glancing at the rug as he toed at it with his socked foot. “Where’d y’get the rug?” He asked you.

You peeked at said rug, “Your mom picked it out when she was helping me furniture shop here.” Harry’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape as he leaned back into the cushion, one of his legs crossed beneath him and the other hung off the couch.

“So Harold, what’s the coffee order today?” You motioned to his coffee. He proudly held the yellow mug up and smiled at the camera, “I’ve got my usual black coffee, courtesy of my lovely girlfriend.”

The camera panned to you hiding behind your Starbucks cup trying to hide your heated cheeks.

“And what do you have today, love?” Harry returned the question, naturally fitting into the conversation. You looked at the label on your cup, “I have my usual coffee order—H actually went out on a coffee run for me and Mable, so thank you bubs.” You answered, the corners of your mouth quirked up.

“They make me sick.” Ryland fake gagged.

“Aren’t you also in a relationship?” Mable narrowed her eyes at him. Ryland rolled his eyes at her, “Yeah, but they make me sick in a good way, like the wholesomeness is just too much.”

“What the fuck..”

Harry grinned at Ryland, “Y’gonna be fuckin’ puking by the time we’re done then.”

The camera cut to Mable smirking at you, “I find it so weird how you’re being so quiet.”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself amusingly. Harry glanced at you and visibly scooted closer to you. The sound of equipment being moved can be heard over the audio since Harry attempted to discreetly move his mic stand next to yours.

“Yes ma’am.” Mable nodded. You placed your cup on the round coffee table beside you.

“I don’t know why, but it just settled in that this is us, kind of like hard launching our relationship to the public.” You softly answered, hands fiddling with your (Harry’s) loose knitted sweater.

“But everyone knows you guys are together.” Ryland stated, confusion etched on his features. Harry rose his hand to answer. You giggled at him and nudged his arm, “You don’t need to raise your hand to speak, hun.”

“Sorry.” He shook his head.

“Don’t be.” You chuckled, allowing Harry to continue. “Everyone knows, but we haven’t been very public, y’know? We like keeping things between us. Like, this is the most public we’ve ever been.” He gestures to you guys sitting beside each other.

You chimed in jokingly, “Yeah, this is our first time sitting next to each other—like ever.”

Harry nodded along, “I’m shitting m’pants right now.” He stated, causing a few chuckles in the room.

“How much persuasion did it take for (Y/n) to get you on the pod?” Mable asked Harry, sipping her coffee. Harry’s brows furrowed as he stared at the ceiling.

“Not much. She asked and I was like—yeah, I’m down.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders for emphasis. You chuckled at him and added, “He’s forgetting the part when he admitted that he’s been waiting for me to ask him to guest star.”

“Have you really been waiting?” Ryland questioned your boyfriend. Harry’s brows raised as he exclaimed, “Yes! I bloody have! You guys literally had my sister on here before me!”

You all laughed at his slight frustration, “I swear it wasn’t on purpose!” The camera cuts to you and Harry, your hand squeezing his knee.

“Wait so did you guys meet through Harry’s sister?” Mable asked you both, she then was quick to add, “If you guys don’t mind me asking!”

You waved her off to assure her it was fine.

“We met through his stylist Harry Lambert.” You began before pointing to the camera, “Shout out to Lamby by the way!” Harry followed suit and instead waved at the camera with a lopsided grin.

“Anyway, Lamby and I know each other through work. We’re under the same company and we do similar things, etc. One day he invited me to come out to one of H’s shows, I didn’t have anything better to do, so I decided to go.”

“We met before the show though, remember?” Harry gently interjected, using his arm behind you to tap your shoulder. You nodded, “Yeah we did, I was fortunate enough to meet him before he went out on stage and we got on really well—“

You looked at Harry, “We probably spent about five minutes talking, right?”

“Yeh, it was pretty quick. I don’t know if you felt it at first, but like—Y’know that feeling when you kinda just know a person is gonna have some kind of impact on y’life?” Harry wondered aloud, hands waving around to try and get his point across. Mable and Ryland nodded, making sounds of agreement.

“It was like that and I thought about it the entire time I was on stage. After that everything seemed to fall into place and the rest was history.” Harry finished, smacking his hand on his leg. Ryland was the first to speak, “So after the concert did you try to always come up with an excuse to go to his shows or did you try to persuade Harry Lambert to invite (Y/n) more often?” Ryland pointed between the couple in front of him.

You and Harry stared at each other, his brow raised at you while your eyes squinted at his. Harry stuck his pointer finger out, “Well I got her number after, so I didn’t have to make any excuses for her to be at my shows. I’d invite her, she’d come and watch, then we would hang out after. Sometimes when we were in the same place, we would meet up too.”

“I’m assuming this went on for months?” Mable looked between you and Harry.

“Yeah, but the thing is, he was touring and I was working. So we had to be in different places all the time.” You clarified. Harry picked off where you left, “We managed to make it work though, I don’t think either of us were going to give up that easily.”

The video caught you and Harry gazing into each other’s eyes momentarily.

“Absolutely.” You agreed, scrunching your nose at him, similar to what he did earlier. Mable pouted at the two of you, “You guys are so cute.”

Harry quietly thanked her as he situated himself on the couch again. While Mable and Ryland gushed about how much you guys were “goals”, the famous singer got even more comfortable on the couch. He placed his mug down and leaned his body against your side, he softly took your arm and held it against his chest so you were holding him. He leaned the mic lower so it was closer to him and was mindful of where his feet was to avoid bumping his mug on the floor.

“I’m just curious, but what are like the weirdest rumors have you guys heard about yourselves?” Ryland asked, moving the conversation along.

“I don’t have any.” Mable shrugged.

“Maybe that guy last night can share some, should we call him?” You sang, jokingly pulling out your phone. Mable groaned and slapped her forehead with her palm, “I hate the both of you.”

“I’ve heard stuff about us, but I really think this rumor would be more fun to talk about.” You pondered. Harry shifted his head on your chest to look up at you, “Wha’ rumor?”

The corner of your lip turned into a smirk as you simply said, “Hobama.”

Harry suddenly threw his head back and bursted out laughing.

“Like President Obama?” Ryland screamed in shock, his brows raised to his forehead.

“I honestly don’t know how it started. It randomly popped up on the tabloids and followed me around for years—till this day, might I add!” Harry tried to clarify.

“I feel like it got even worse when Graham asked you about it.” You chuckled, fingers mindlessly playing with Harry’s brunette curls.

“What did Graham ask?” Mable leaned towards the couple.

“He asked if it was true that I had a sexual relationship or affair with Obama—I knew they were gonna ask me about it prior to the show being filmed. But at the time I was like fuck it and just went along w’it.” Harry started, “I didn’t know that it would become an actual thing.” He deadpanned, sending a look at the camera.

“Have there been any Hobama signs at any of your recent shows?” Ryland squinted his eyes at Harry.

“Not a one.” Harry paused, “But after this episode airs, I wouldn’t be surprised if I see a couple in the crowds.”

Mable crossed her arms, “Your shows are very interesting—in a good way—of course.”

“Thank you.” Harry grinned, “Yeh, we’ve got a lot of things going on. Every night it’s like a giant sleep over with a bunch of friends. We sing songs, we dance—“

“Trauma dumping!” Ryland interjected excitedly. Harry gestured to the man opposite him, “Right, we do therapy sessions.”

“Don’t forget the gender reveals, proposals, and helping them come out.” You continued to list, Harry nodding his head at every thing you said.

“Harry’s like a Swiss Army knife, he just does everything.” Mable joked. Ryland sighed and rested his chin in his palm, “You’re so talented.”

“You’re better at controlling cameras and all the sound equipment than me.” Harry acknowledged, raising a brow at him. Ryland snapped his finger at the Brit, “You’re so right, thank you, Harry.”

Harry placed his hand on his heart, “I gotcha man.” You then raised your hand, catching Harry’s attention, “Yes, m’love?”

“Can I just say how proud I am of you and like how insanely successful the tour has been?” You sat up, making Harry sit up as well. He remained close to you, wrapping his arm back around your shoulder. Though your statement made him pout at you, “Y’make my heart feel fuzzy.”

Mable and Ryland audibly awed at the both of you.

“No! Like seriously, it makes me so proud to see how much of a safe space your concert is to all you fans and anyone who steps foot into those shows.” You placed your hand on his tattooed arm and gave it a small squeeze. “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact you make on people’s lives, like we all appreciate you so much and I just wanted to remind you of that.” You shrugged, shrinking into your own shoulders.

“C’mere.” Harry said dragging out his words as he pulled you into a hug, this time he held you and your head was tucked into the crook of his neck. Instead of letting you go, Harry helped you get comfortable in his arms.

“While we’re at it, I just wanted to say how much fun I’m having right now. Thank you guys for having me” Harry gestured to Mable and Ryland across from him then turned to you, “And thank you to you for allowing me to be in your workspace and sharing it with me. You’ve always supported me throughout everything and now I finally get to support you and your craft, so thank you for trusting me to be here.”

Now it was your turn to pout, though there was a twinkle in you eye, “Thank you, H.” You hummed as Harry pecked your temple.

“I’m rooting so hard for you guys, you have no idea.” Mable said from her seat, the camera cut to Ryland who agreed.

“Yeh, I guess we like each other a lot.” Harry joked. You smiled softly at him.

“I don’t wanna intrude but is there a possible wedding in the future?” Ryland asked. It was silent between you and Harry, the both of you staring at each other before answering.

“I think so, I have some pretty high hopes.” You answered. Harry made a sound of agreement, “I think when everything calms down we’ll figure it out, but without a doubt it’s definitely in the cards.”

Harry let out a small chuckle and added, “Let me release the fourth album and then I’ll put a ring on it.”

The camera cut to you blushing with wide eyes, clearly taken off guard by your boyfriend’s comment. Mable and Ryland were quick to react, sending you teasing looks and screaming “oooo”.

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifted into a smirk, turning his head to look at you he asked, “How’s that sound?”

You scrunched your nose (adorably, Harry might add) and pretended to put some thought into it.

“Sounds like a plan, but on one condition.”

Harry’s brows raised as he waited for you to continue.

“You have to release Medicine.” You said, Harry caught on to your banter and feigned an annoyed sigh, “Babe, we’ve talked about this.”

“Fine, then can we get a puppy?”

“Of course we can, darling, we’ll have one by tomorrow morning.” Harry jested, sounding incredibly posh.

You turned to the camera apologetically and spoke directly to your boyfriend’s fans, “Sorry guys, I tried.”

Though in reality, you knew that Harry would release Medicine in a heartbeat if you asked him to.

[shimmershae]

"They're damn cute when they're asleep."  (a Walking Dead One Shot, Caryl).

Takes place in the same little universe first established in "Mm.  Your kid before five in the morning." 

 Some Christmas silliness and fluff--three months early, hahaha. 

  With the credits to A Christmas Story scrolling across the television screen for probably the fifth time that day, Daryl crept into the darkened living room, two steaming mugs of hot chocolate carefully cradled to his tee-shirt clad chest.  “You sure I shouldn’t…” 

  A low, muffled hiss coming from the pile of plush blankets on the couch cut him off.  “Shh.” 

  Clueless and unconcerned, he tried again, wincing as he stepped on one of the numerous toys scattered around the hardwood floor.  “Maybe ‘Phia would like…” 

  This time, a head of disheveled red curls appeared and two sleep hazy blue eyes, and the hiss was louder, more emphatic as it attempted to silence him.  “Shh.” 

  Finally catching on to his wife’s game, Daryl couldn’t help the slow smirk that spread over his scruffy face as he teased her.  “Well, well.  Didn’t know I was sharin’ a bed with the Grinch.”  He nudged her over with his knee before joining her, almost immediately finding himself minus one mug of marshmallow topped cocoa.  Not another second ticked by before two fuzzy socked feet landed in his lap, and he grunted out a warning, one dark blond brow arched in amusement as he held her in place.  “Careful there, Sweetheart.  It’s hot.”     

  “And I’m cold,” she reminded him with a pout.  A lift of his arm was all the encouragement she needed before she was cuddling against his side and resting her cheek contentedly over his heart.   

  Stretching his other arm out, he deposited his own mug on a coaster for the time being and nuzzled her sweet-smelling hair, allowing himself to enjoy and indulge in a moment he never dreamed of growing up Dixon.  The twinkling Christmas lights and the dog snoozing beneath the tree, the miles of wrapping paper and the two tuckered out little angels snuggled up all sweet, her—he never, in a million and one years, expected any of it.  “They’re damn cute when they’re asleep.” 

  She hummed softly, drowsily.  “Quiet, you mean?” 

  He hid his grin in her hair.  “Didn’t say that.” 

  “Didn’t have to,” she murmured.  “You’re just as tired as me.  Don’t even try to deny it, Pookie.” 

  Damn right, he was.  No sooner than their heads had hit their pillows, the stars just beginning to fade from the night sky,  had Sophia tiptoed into their bedroom and announced that Santa had made his much anticipated annual visit.  Still, he wasn’t about to admit defeat.  “Think you’re cute, huh?”

  She lifted her cheek from his chest and gazed up at him with dancing, tender eyes, her pretty pink lips twitching.  “You do, too.” 

  Giving in pretty quickly, he curled his arm around her slender shoulders and pulled her in for a sweet, lingering kiss.  “Got me there.  Fuck, if I don’t love you, Woman.” 

  “Bad Santa,” she laughed into his mouth. 

  Daryl groaned and nipped playfully at her retreating lips, relieving her of her mug and setting it aside so he could haul her properly into his lap.  “I’m just sayin’,” he smirked once she was astride him, her full sweet weight bearing down deliciously in all the right places.  “It’s a wonderful life.  I could go on all night, Sweetheart.  You’re not gonna win this war.  Not when I’m holdin’ me a Christmas Carol.” 

  “Are you saying you’d rather be home alone?” 

  He snorted and slid his hands down her hips to her ass.  “What?  You takin’ the kids and checkin’ into the Holiday Inn?”

   Muffling her laughter against the warm crook of his neck, she wrapped her arms loosely around his shoulders and combed gentle fingers through the ends of his mussed hair.  “You look like an elf in those ridiculous pajamas.”

  “’Phia hears you, it’ll break her heart and you know it.” 

  His gruff admonishment had her sitting up and looking at him with her heart in her eyes, cupping his face between trembling hands.  “Fuck, if I don’t love you, too.” 

  That particular word falling from her lips was a rarity, something he could quite literally count on one hand, but every time, every damn time, it affected him the same way and he growled as he surged forward and kissed her until she was breathless and beaming.  “Next year we should take us a Christmas vacation.  Maybe have a white Christmas.” 

  “Daryl Dixon, you rat, you.” 

  She shoved at his shoulders, but her blue eyes were twinkling just as pretty and bright as the strings of lights surrounding them and he stared at her in wonder. 

  “What?” she stopped long enough to murmur when one of his rough hands slid beneath her shirt and up the expanse of her silky back. 

  “Nothin’,” he answered her with a shrug.  “Just thinkin’.”   

  Stroking her own hand down his other forearm, she claimed his hand and wove their fingers together, bringing it around her front to palm her belly.  She rest her forehead against his and lightly nuzzled his nose.  “You sure you’re happy about your gift?  I know it was a surprise, and it’s not like you can go stand in line at the mall to return it.”  Her pearly teeth bit into her lip as she offered him a sheepish smile.  “Not any vacations in the near future, I’m afraid.  Just more diapers and sleepless nights and Daryl,” she finally paused to take a shaky breath.  “Please say something.  You haven’t said much of anything at all.  I know this isn’t what we planned.” 

  “You really are cute, you know that?  ‘Specially when you’re gettin’ yourself worked up over nothin’.” 

  “Nothing?  We’re going to have three children six and younger beneath this roof next year, and you’re not even the least bit overwhelmed?  Because I’m more than a little bit overwhelmed.  You realize, don’t you, that we’re probably never going to get a full night’s rest again?  Not just on Christmas Eve but any night?” 

  Relinquishing her hand, Daryl hooked a finger beneath her chin.  “You finished?” 

  “Am I finished?” she scoffed.  “Am I…I’m being serious.” 

    “Me, too,” he told her, reaching out to grab her hot chocolate and offering it up to her as a measure of comfort.  “Here.  Drink.  Count to ten.  Shit.  Just breathe, Sweetheart.  Breathe.”  His eyes roved over her flushed face as she did as he instructed and sipped at the drink.  Fingering one of her red curls, he waited for her to come back to herself and calm down, one corner of his mouth threatening to lift into a smile.  “That’s it,” he encouraged as she took a deep breath. 

  “You’re really not worried?” 

  “Oh, no doubt about it.  We’re scrooged.”  He gathered her closer with a little grin and dropped a kiss into her unruly hair.  “Know what that means, though, Sweetheart?” 

  “I’m afraid to ask,” she muttered dryly. 

  “Just means we’re gonna have to get more elves.  And some better locks.”

  “Better locks?  Daryl Dixon, if you think we’re going to have enough energy to do that,” she censored herself with a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure the two babies they already had were still sound asleep.  They were, curled up beneath blankets of tinsel and torn wrapping paper, and her heart gave a funny little flutter at the sweet sight, taking much of the bite out of her ensuing warning.  “You have another thing coming.” 

  “Better get it out of our systems then,” he teased.  “Practice bein’ quiet.  Know it’s gonna be a real challenge for you.” 

  “One more word.  One more.  And I’m going to show you how the Grinch stole Christmas.” 

  “Damn.  You win, Sweetheart.  You win.”   

[thesinglesjukebox]

AYA NAKAMURA - POOKIE

[6.57]

Has she ever pouted her lips and called you...

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: "Pookie" sounds like a made up word for children, but Nakamura imbues it with so much lust and longing you might not even notice. The rest is mesmerising, trance-like music for sweaty, tipsy late nights when you've already found a partner and are ready to dance until you forget what daylight looks like. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: Aya Nakamura slowly, cautiously builds a smooth, circling track of bass trains with little cargo of drippy drums and slivers of synths and percussion dropped back on each carriage roof. [7]

Alfred Soto: The bass, cookie jar lid percussion, and Aya Nakamura's faint reggaeton vocal melody combine into a dance track of serious groove proportions. You want a late summer jam? Go for it. [8]

Josh Buck: Having Aya Nakumara's hypnotically gorgeous voice grace this disappointingly generic hip-hop track is like hanging custom gold embroidered velour curtains in the living room of a frat house. [5]

Iain Mew: "Blah blah blah" comes with not so much venom as total lack of consideration -- "Pookie" is the attitude of "Djadja" caught and rattling around in a small dark room. [7]

Edward Okulicz: The beat is fantastic, minimal but never boring, and on headphones you really feel like it surrounds you, like someone's bashing on a small receptacle that you're inside, because you're suddenly somehow three inches tall. But despite the plush imperiousness of Nakamura's voice, it doesn't move me and I ran out of interest about a third of the way through. Her hair in the video is very nice though. [5]

Katherine St Asaph: Bursts with so much imperial-period Rihanna energy, specifically circa "Bitch Better Have My Money," that I suspect even someone who'd never heard of Nakamura before this would correctly identify this as a hit. I imagine there's even more of that lost in translation -- it took an embarrassingly long time to find out that "pookie," in French, means a snitch -- but what does come across is more than potent enough. (The less said about the Lil Pump remix that is the reason we're only covering this now, the better.) [7]

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