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havin-fun-imagining-twd · 3 years ago

Text

Ain’t nothing...

When - the morning after Too much thinking before bed, Parts 1 and 2. We’re still at the CDC, so still in episode TS-19. One more story after this and we outie, promise.

Relationships - you and the gang! But for real, why do you and Daryl keep squabbling?

Perspective - 2nd person

Genre - happy group stuff, some acknowledgment of trauma. There’s also a tiny wee Easter Egg.

Pronouns - none used, but you do play with Andrea’s hair some

TWs - other than the aforementioned acknowledgement of trauma, there’s some language.

Word Count - take a dive and see! And there are pics all over the place.

If you would like the Masterlist to read the other parts to the Slowpoke Series, here’s the Masterlist, friends.

“Hey man, I queued up Ramble On for you.” You’re being annoying on purpose.

Glenn just groans in response.

Holding up an earbud, you pretend to act confused. “Why you grumblin’? It’s your favorite song.”

He groans again, head down, eyes shut. “No more noise in my earballs.”

“‘Earballs?’ You still drunk?” you razz, wiping your hand with your napkin.

T-Dog (apologies, this morning he is The Breakfast King) then calls out from the stove “Alright, who wants more bacon?”

Among the treasures stored down there, he’d found canned bacon, powdered milk, powdered eggs, canned orange juice concentrate (plus a whole bunch of Sunny D), that ‘shelf-stable cheese stuff,’ oatmeal, grits, farina, wheat flour, corn four, raisins, canned fruit, and some little jello cups, too.

Plus a ton of condiments like ketchup, barbecue sauce, pancake syrup, and Old Bay seasoning. The rest you don’t quite remember (because it’s boring, like MREs and things like rice, pickled beets, and miscellaneous varieties of canned vegetables and beans), but you already knew that there were grits and corn flour – both of which can be used to make hush puppies!

A person can dream, can’t they?

Not to mention: Dr. Jenner also left some pills for everyone. Hangover pills. Interesting little things, they contained ginger, dandelion root, artichoke, milk thistle, naproxen sodium, and “What’s di-hydro-my-ricetin?”

“Hangover magic,” so T-Dog (sorry, Breakfast King) explained.

The King deigned to make eggs and bacon with spinach and baked beans for you all (yes, baked beans. For breakfast). “Our people need some protein, some iron, and some fiber – and the doc is gonna faint when he tastes how good I make these eggs,” he’d just about sang this morning when he was pulling out the ingredients.

You’d awoken early (and freezing! What a change), even after staying up way later last night than intended. That’s okay though, you’d gotten a self-defense refresher course and could just nap in a few hours if you got sleepy or got another migraine.

But that brother of yours barely slept a wink. He was definitely gonna need more rest, especially with that hangover. You’re surprised that Shane still found it in him to drag himself out of bed to do his morning exercises.

Bundling yourself up in your sweatshirt and shoving your music player in your pocket (still over ¾ charged), you first headed to the sink in one of the bathrooms to brush your teeth and carefully wash off Amy’s walkie-talkie.

Well, not... not “Amy’s” anymore, you realized – then cried. And that feeling of her blood still being on your hand from when you’d pressed your fingers to stop the bleeding had come back. Weird, right?

You scrubbed and scrubbed, but the feeling was so...real. And it just wouldn’t come off.

When your tears had dried, you splashed some water on your face, swallowed your guilt, washed your hands a final time to try and get rid of that feeling. Finally activating that heat pack for your bruise, you exited the bathroom and wandered around.

Upon entering the kitchen, you found T-Dog in seventh heaven as he mulled over the ingredients (“I love all y’all, but don’t offer to help cook. I’ll kick you right out.”), while Jacqui and Dale sat at the table doing the crossword together. Andrea sat quietly beside them with something hot to drink, so you joined them all and played with Andrea's hair, off and on pressing the heat pack to your jaw. It really was sore.

Andrea still looked empty. And after what Dale more or less revealed last night about her “struggles with going on,” you wanted to keep her engaged, at least a little. Especially considering it’s your fault she’s like this you swallow back. Anyways, by then you’d been useless at guessing the crossword clues for a good ten minutes.

“Your drink smells kinda chocolatey, Andrea.”

“Double caffeine mocha.”

Your eyes flit over to where T-Dog did a little dance as he tasted a sample of what was in the frying pan. “Teddy make that for you?”

A slight nod. “He used chocolate syrup and instant coffee. Have a sip.”

“My but that man is a catch,” you declared, absently wiping your hand again before you tried a taste and winked at Andrea. You were rewarded with a tiny smile, and that was enough.

And also, don’t worry, T-Dog wasn’t able to hear you at that moment; the pan was sizzling and he was singing a little as he cooked. You didn’t expect his song of choice to switch from Death Came A-Knocking to If I Were a Rich Man, but that just made you smile all the more.

Dale tapped his pencil on the table a few times. “‘H.S. diplomacy simulation?’ What do you think, Jacks, it has to be something to do with ‘debate club’, no? But only seven letters.”

“Try ‘model U.N.’” Jacqui smoothly guessed, eyes never leaving their spot as she filled in another answer. “Now, do you know anything about football, Dale?”

“Ah...I would say that I’m better aware of baseball or soccer...”

“If it ain’t basketball, I ain’t too interested neither,” she gently giggled, then asked him anyways. “Any idea who might the the ‘NFL signal caller?’ Only three letters, so it’s prolly an abbreviation...wait a minute. Say, Theodore!” she called to him loudly.

“Yes ma’am?” he calls back.

“‘NFL signal caller?’”

“Did you try ‘quarterback,’ sister?” he tutted, cracking up and shaking his head.

“Thank you, baby!” Jacqui called to him. “Abbreviated Q-B-S.”

Andrea then stood up and told you quietly that she was going to see if T-Dog needed any non-cooking help. “I don’t like feeling unproductive,” she mumbled as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

Andrea was right, best be productive. You got up and began to set the table for when everyone else joined, but were glad that you could still hear Jacqui and Dale work together.

“Which entails this letter here must be a u if it’s after a q. Alright, 58 across is: ‘Jackie Brown director’s given name.’ Oh, I saw that, I liked that movie! But cannot for the life of me...Alright, boy’s names what begin with QU...”

“Quintus?” Dale mused. “Wait a moment, I know the man’s surname, it’s ah, Duffy, is it not? The same man who made Boondock Saints?”

“No, different man,” Andrea answered simply, coming back to the table with a pitcher of what must have been milk and a small bowl filled with beans. You still can’t believe that Teddy genuinely decided to serve a can of beans with breakfast.

“I’m gonna work on the words around this one, I think...” Jacqui decided to herself.

“You’ve seen it, too Andrea?”

She tried to smile back at Dale, as much as it was obvious that she struggled to do so. “Did I ever.” She placed the bowl and pitcher down gently. “I thought both of the actors who played the brothers were cute. Must’ve seen in it the theater three times with my girlfriends.”

“Quite a wild ride in some instances and rather gratuitous,” he shared. “But I,” then his cheeks turned pink as he cracked up. “I found that I enjoyed the film so much, I went out and purchased it the same day it came out on VHS.”

“Hell yeah, that movie was the shit, old man,” came a raspy voice from the doorway. Only one person that could be.

On auto-pilot, you greeted him “G’morning Daryl,” as you finished laying out the forks.

“And that means you must know the answer, Andrea.”

“No hints out of me, Dale,” she said, seeming to have warmed up somewhat. “He did the Kill Bill series,” she whispers to him, who seems to have a light bulb moment that promptly turns back off.

So close!

Jacqui nodded to herself in recognition while closing her eyes trying to remember. “Wait, the last name is Terrance...Tarulino...Tarantello...oh, Lord, where is my brain this morning?” She shook her head and switched gears. “He, um, he’s the same man who made Inglorious Basterds last year. Strike any bells?”

“Y’all talking about that Pulp Fiction dude?”

“Yes, that’s it! Quentin Tarantino! Thank you, Daryl,” Jacqui shouted cordially, smiling with satisfaction at him before continuing with the next clue. Dale and yourself grinned at this, but Daryl seemed in between annoyed and confused, since he technically hadn’t given her the answer. Or knew what the context for any of it was.

Also, he appeared to be a little...shy, if that way he started to walk into the room with his head bent lower than usual was any indication.

Cool poncho, though.

“I can’t believe I forgot the man’s name!” Dale goes on. “Believe it or not, Kill Bill was one of Irma’s favorites. I’m not fond of how much language and blood are in his films, but they are an exciting experience.”

You glanced over at Daryl as he came closer – hey, he’d showered! His hair was damp. “Moment of truth, Daryl: hot or cold shower?”

“...Almost froze my damn balls off.” Ah, that explained the poncho, or whatever the right word for it was. And that’s what he used as a blanket last night, you’re fairly certain.

As you reined in your snort, he seemed to perk up. Sniffing the air and leaning closer to the table, he mumbled to no one in particular “Yo, them beans smell amazin’.”

As you wiped your hand again to try and get rid of that feeling, you felt a light tapping on your arm and saw that he had done so with the back of his hand. He begins to say “Hey, um –”

“– Good morning, everyone,” Carol softly announced, immediately joining you in setting the table. She smoothly murmured into your ear “What did you and Shane get up to? The last thing I heard was your footsteps going down the hall, but I could’ve sworn I’d heard shouts sometime before.”

“We went over self-defense lessons, believe it or not. You didn’t hear us too loud, right? We did get a little huffy.”

“Didn’t hear anything specific, I just sort of, um,” she bit her lip. “I guess I have an ear for that sort of thing, sometimes.”

In the middle of that sentence Sophia and Carl flurried into the kitchen, full of excitement because they smelled “Bacon?” closely followed by Lori who closed her eyes and inhaled upon smelling the coffee.

“Mr. Douglas, you have outdone yourself.”

“I’ve been telling y’all: Breakfast King,” T-Dog beamed back, walking over with a pan of scrambled eggs and a smaller pot of – no way, he made some grits, too? Holy Moses, were those cheesy grits?

“Little man, please carry over the plate of bacon,” he directed at Carl. And to Sophia “Little lady, you please grab the small pan there of sauteed spinach. All y’all are gonna eat your veggies this morning!”

Smiling and shaking her head, Lori then asked the room “And where’s our host? That doctor deserves all the thanks we can offer.”

She looked miles better than last night. It was so unlike her, how she’d behaved when you caught her crying; not meeting your eyes, flinching when you casually touched her arm.

It was a weird night. And it was weird that when she saw you this morning, she appeared to become almost alarmed and quickly looked around as if for someone else. Relaxing, she gave you a quick pat on the shoulder and said “Good morning, Y/N. Sleep okay? How’s that bruise treating you?”

“Didn’t wake up in a moth-covered tent,” you offer. “You?”

“Didn’t wake up to my son playing with grandaddies like they’re pets.”

You crack up (why Carl was so fascinated with daddy long legs, you’ll never know), and very quietly add “Sorry for interruptin’ a good cry last night.”

She repeats “It was nothing” before you even finish the sentence. That made you want to know even more about why she was acting so oddly about it, but you leave it at that.

Soon, almost everyone was eating around the table. “Almost” because T-Dog is still cooking and is, surprisingly, allowing Sophia and Carol to assist him, and Daryl apparently sees fit to pace around with his bowl of beans instead of taking a seat. He never did finish asking you whatever he was going to.

And yes, he chose to eat a bowl of baked beans for breakfast, by the way. He and T-Dog, as it turns out, both enjoy theirs sticky-sweet and barbecued. And at breakfast.

Whatever made them happy – you’d simply felt relief to watch little at that moment when they both saw that the other had drizzled pancake syrup, hot sauce, and crumbled bacon on top.

“Who’d have thought you and I would bond over beans, brother,” T-Dog had cracked, taking a big spoonful off his own plate with one hand as he whisked some more powdered eggs with the other.

Then Glenn at last slumped in, shuffling and groaning as he trudged to an open seat. If he wasn’t shielding his eyes from the lights and trying to mumble “Morning” to everyone, you’d almost think he was a walker.

Oof, you shook that thought from your head good and quick and prayed to God that that would never happen, before wiping your hand again because the sensation got really bad when you pictured that.

Carl nudged you while he held in his giggle. “He’s ‘hung-over,’ right?” he whispered.

“Very.” A nod at Lori. “Was it your mama who taught you what that meant?”

“Yeah. She said dad will be, too.”

“As will Uncle Shane.”

“She said they’re sort of like your migraines?”

“I hear they share some similarities, munchkin.”

“Munchkin?”

“Sorry, meant ‘punk.’”

You and he looked back across the table to where Jacqui was encouraging Glenn to sip some black coffee and swallow two of the hangover pills. “One of the similarities is that there can be sensitivity to light and sound,” you murmured to Carl, definitely not with a wicked little grin on your face and certainly not planning to demonstrate this or to annoy Glenn or anything…

“Hey man, I queued up Ramble On for you!” you called over to him. Who just groaned in response.

Holding up an earbud, you pretended to act confused. “Why you grumblin’? It’s your favorite song.”

Glenn groaned again, head down, eyes shut. “No more noise in my earballs.” Aw, poor guy.

But also: “‘Earballs?’ You still drunk?” you razzed, wiping your hand again with your napkin this time.

“Alright, who wants more bacon?” T-Dog called out from the stove.

And that’s when Rick finally walked in. Your brother was hopefully close behind.

“Mornin’,” he grunts to you all.

Impish expression on his face now, Carl immediately asks “Are you hungover? Mom said you’d be.”

And poor Lori hadn’t expected him to say that, if her dumbfounded stare was any indication.

Rick smiles, surrenders, and sinks into his chair. “Mom is right.”

Playfully, she mumbles back “Mom has that annoying habit.”

Then T-Dog, seeing the newest arrival to the breakfast table (ahem, to his royal court), announces the meal of “Eggs – powdered, but – but I do ’em good. I’ll bet you can’t tell,” as he marches over with a pan.

Glenn’s painful groans grow louder as his majesty drawls with just a hint of a smirk that “Protein helps the hangover” while he plops some piping hot scrambled eggs onto his plate. For a second, you worry that he’s gonna hurl, but to everyone’s relief, all Glenn does is groan more.

Everybody by now is making their way back to the table, minus Daryl. Wait, where did he run off to?

“Where’d all this come from?” Rick wants to know.

“Jenner.”

Aw, now he’s fumbling around with the cap for the hangover pills but can’t seem to open it. Oh, Rick. Sweet, hungover Rick. He sounds embarrassed (and slightly desperate) as he asks his wife “Could you help me please?”

Easily, she pops it open for him. “He thought we could use it. Some of us at least,” she mentions, sharing a pointed look with Jacqui who’s now massaging Glenn’s shoulders.

“Don’t ever, ever, ever let me drink again,” he moans.

Oh, and finally here’s your brother joining everybody.

“Hey,” is the best he can croak out by way of a greeting.

And yeah, he looks about as good as Glenn and Rick do right now. He’s got his collar popped somewhat to hide those scratches. It’s so strange that he didn’t realize he’d done that to himself.

“Good morning, sleepin’ beauty,” you tease.

“Hey. Feel as bad as I do?” Rick says to him.

“Worse.” Which is unusual. He and you tend to brush off or joke about discomfort.

And that’s when T-Dog notices the scratch marks. “The hell happened to you? Your neck?”

Carol frowns at you and leans over to whisper so only you could hear “Accident during the lesson?”

Just as silently, you shake your head and whisper back “Did it to himself without realizin’.”

“I must have done it in my sleep,” Shane answers, sipping his orange juice and not looking at anyone.

Rick has a curious expression on his face. “Never seen you do that before.”

“Me neither,” Shane replies, his gaze traveling up to you then to Rick – no, not to Rick, to – to Lori? “Not like me at all.”

...Now the mood in the room is tense.

Just like when this happened last night, the kids choose to engage in a silent kicking battle under the table.

You take a gulp of your water and roll the pill bottle to your brother. “Take two or three, Shane,” then you push the little saucepan with the rest of the grits and the tin of Old Bay towards him. “And Teddy made cheesy grits, too, if you want some.”

Oh, there’s Daryl, he’s over in the storeroom. You shake a little more of the Old Bay onto your breakfast and take your bowl and heat pack with you as you stroll over. With a little wave at the doorframe, you join him in the pantry and look around at all the stuff.

“Look at all this food, could feed an army for a month,” he mumbles to you. “We’d be set for a long-ass time if we ration it right.” He makes a psht sound. “If we last here that long.”

“Ah, what’s your doomsday scenario for us, then?”

“That big-ass countdown on the wall, for one.”

“Mm, I don’t like that neither.” You wipe your hand again before taking another small bite.

“How the doc don’t seem to make sense ever, for two.”

At that one, you remind him to “We might can chalk that up to trauma and him knowing a little too much about what’s goin’ on.”

“That’s what I’m sayin’: we all know he got some big secret about all this he ain’t sharing.”

You nod thoughtfully and take another bite of grits and chew slowly. “Least he’s sharing the Old Bay,” you comment with your mouth full. Unhelpful comment, you know.

He either scoffs, snorts, or coughs, you aren’t certain. Most likely a scoff.

“Hey, what was it you were gonna say to me earlier, Daryl?”

“Hm?”

“Back when Carol walked in.”

He opens his mouth then closes it. “Ain’t nothing.”

“You realize that doin’ that just makes a person wanna know what it was all the more, right?”

Rolling his eyes, he mutters that “I fell asleep in the rec room with a light on, but it was out when I woke up a while later. Was just wonderin’ who woulda turned it off.”

“That was me. I passed by and noticed the light but didn’t want to wake you.” You tilt your head and decide not to blab that seeing him fast asleep with that book humanized him greatly. “Was the couch real comfy? It looks real comfy.”

“Sure beats a blanket on the ground in a tent.”

“Or up a tree in a hunting chair durin’ a rainstorm,” you remind him, taking your last bite of grits. He’d been so hell-bent on bagging that deer to feed you all that he’d slept up there!

That was the same night that Rick had come back (and Daryl’s brother hadn’t), wasn’t it?

No wonder he’d crashed with a light on while reading last night; he must’ve been beyond exhausted. After that night, there hasn’t been much time for sleep, period, and that was days ago. And to top it off, a walker ended up gnawing the deer.

“Shit. Forgot all about that,” he said quietly. “That was what, four days ago?”

“I think so.” Felt like a month ago. You heave a sigh and press the heat pack on your jaw again as the two of you stare into space.

You see in your peripheral vision that he looks down at something near you. “Why d’you keep wipin’ your hand?”

He noticed? Shoot. You hadn’t considered that you were doing it often enough that anybody would notice.

Oh, what the hell, you were doing it right now. Somewhat uncomfortably, you say “Didn’t realize I was.”

“You got like a rash or somethin’?”

A rash? Really? “A rash? No, it’s nothin’.”

He looks over at you with one brow raised.

Oh. You know what he’s gonna say next. “You realize sayin’ that makes a person wanna know what it is even more, right?”

Which makes it your turn to roll your eyes while try to figure out how to explain it without explaining it. “I just feel like it ain’t, uh, clean,” you attempt.

“So, like a rash?”

“No!” You’ve got the workings of a smile on your face, but he just stares back. So, you hold up your palm to show him. “See? Fine.”

Why is he continuing to stare like that? “You just wiped it again, Y/N.”

Shit, you did, didn’t you? Fine, whatever.

Voice low, you make an effort to sound casual when you admit “Still feel like there’s blood on it. I-I used this hand on Amy’s neck, is all.”

“Hm?”

“After.”

“After what?”

What else would I be referring to other than when our camp got overrun and my best friend lay torn open and bleeding out on the ground the night before her birthday? you want to snap back at him.

But you keep your cool and repeat “After that night.” Then you can’t help but wipe your hand again, but you don’t care in the slightest, the sensation feels too real.

You then press the heat pack back onto your jaw to make the most of it before it turns cold.

“Why did ya try and do that?” he grunts, tone suggesting that he thought you were a dumbass. “She was bit.”

God save you and control your damned temper, because that was the worst possible way that he could have responded.

Your throat feels tight as you seethe “Was she? Hadn’t noticed.”

Turning your heel, you then swipe your empty bowl off the shelf with your free hand and see yourself out of the pantry to clean it at the sink. Dick. A heartless asshole of a dick.

“Let me grab that for you, kiddo.”

“I got it, Dale.”

“I’m doing the dishes here, silly. Besides, you ought to keep that heat pack on if you want that bruise to dissipate faster.”

You pause and remember yourself. “Sorry. Thank you, Mr. H.”

“Y/N, should I be worried?” he questions gently, looking from you to the storeroom where Daryl still was. “Bit of an argument?”

“Nah. It’s nothin’. Here, um, I’ll wash, you rinse,” you offer, nodding to the dishes.

“I won’t say no,” he smiles, stepping aside to let you stand at the faucet. “Though I did have to insist Carol not help. But I’m sure you understand why.”

“Oh, I do.”

Submerging your hands into the warm bubbles felt nice and dulled the sensation...even though the water was nasty with all the food bits. (Ew.)

“Got one more,” interrupts that signature, abrasive, gravelly voice. Ugh, and dropping off his bowl like some lazy ass in his stupid poncho with his stupid face.

“Trash,” you hiss under your breath. Hopefully no one heard.

Scratch that, Dale heard. You can tell.

“Young man,” he loudly calls to stop him. “You rinse and dry, I’ll put them away.”

“What?” And Daryl turns around to face you two again.

“More hands make lighter work, son,” he replies curtly, yet not unkindly. He did it in a fatherly way, along with a chiding glance at you. To which Daryl of course scoffs and turns away again.

But holy Moses, does it shock you when he doesn’t also walk away. Instead he stays, turns back around and steps next to you, then holds out his hand for one of the cleaned dishes.

Stifling your groan and pursing your lips, you hand it to him without looking over. Why does this feel like a parent making two kids work together because they’d squabbled?

In silence you all clean.

Lori comes over to help Dale put away the dishes until Carl calls through the door “Mom, can you help me?”

Halfway through the dishes, Daryl whips a cigarette out of his pocket and peels it open to pour the tobacco directly in his mouth like y’all are living in the colonial times or whatever.

And as you wash, you scrub the sponge along your palm and in between your fingers every so often, hoping to keep away that sensation that it’s still bloody.

“Gonna get it all raw if you keep doin’ that,” the heartless asshole murmurs to you while he chews the tobacco leaves.

“And you’re gonna get cancer from doin’ that.”

“What’s wrong?” Dale asks.

To which you both say “Ain’t nothing.”

By now, you should’ve guessed that Dale would remind you that “Nothing quite intrigues a person than hearing another say ‘it’s nothing.’ Especially when said in sync like that, that was quite entertaining,” he chuckles. “Y/N, did you injure your hand?”

“No, m’good.” Well shoot, that wasn’t a convincing reply at all.

You hear him sigh, then request “Son, please enlighten me?”

To his credit, Daryl looks over at you before saying anything. He even gives a slight nod with his brows lowered just so as if he were asking permission.

You meet his eyes, roll your own, then put a hand on his wrist and mutter “I got it.” You look at Dale now. “It feels like I can’t get it clean is all.”

Dale frowns. “How so?”

Swallowing to keep at bay the tears that suddenly decide to make an appearance, you quickly face the sink again, shrug, and tell him “I dunno, just that it’s dirty. Weird, right?”

Daryl grabs the last dish from you and rinses, dries it, and takes it to the cupboard himself, leaving you and Dale in relative privacy. Dale picks up the dishcloth and begins to dry the faucet and the area around the sink.

“You know, it’s a very different scenario, but did you know that in the Scottish play, Lady Macbeth has a problem where she feels as if there is blood on her hands that won’t wash off? Hers has to do with guilt, of course, so she repeatedly wipes and rubs them in an attempt to get them to feel clean again.”

“It ain’t a big, um, it’s-it’s just the one hand,” you lamely insist. Embarrassingly lame. And it doesn’t fool Dale.

“The same hand you used to stanch the artery in Amy’s neck, is it not?”

You stiffen. And by now, you can’t reply or tears might spill out. So you simply nod and swallow again.

Softly, he hypothesizes “Do you blame yourself that she was killed?”

It could’ve easily been me if I’d gone into the RV first. And if I’d have stood closer, I might would’ve heard the walker coming and been able to stop it from biting her. But instead of all that, you utter “That’s silly.”

“I hope not, because in all reality, I should take the blame, since it was my RV she had gone into the use the restroom.”

“What? Dale, that’s ridiculous.”

“Or maybe Glenn, since he’d driven that sports car to camp with the alarm blaring the afternoon prior, which may have drawn them to us.”

What? That’s also ridic – oh. You see what he’s doing.

He goes on. “Or perhaps Morales should be blamed, since he cooked up all the fish, and it’s possible that the smell attracted the hoard to us. Or maybe even Andrea and Amy themselves are to blame, since they caught the fish in the first place.” He gestures to you. “What do you think? Do you agree that any of them are fault?”

You’re so close to tears you can’t even look at him. “...No.”

“Neither would we agree that you are. It’s survivor’s guilt, and it’s lying to you.”

Unable to respond other than with a nod, you rest your hands on the sink and just breathe. A few tears sneak out, so you wipe them. Dale calmly pats your back for a moment and gently reminds you that “You nearly got killed yourself trying to stop it from harming Amy further. I saw it, your brother saw it – the sound of horror came out of that man’s mouth was – ” he shook his head as if considering something.

After a minute or two, he kindly says “Alright kiddo, now I’m going to have to insist you take that hot pack and head back to your room to pack up. We all decided to, just in case.”

Huh? “How come?”

“Eh, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The corners of your mouth turn up even in spite of that uneasy dread you now felt; hadn’t you already concluded what the phrase “It’s nothing” does to a person?

Dale has to be thinking the same thing as he smiles slightly when he explains “The doctor is having us meet him in the, uh, in the ‘big room’ to describe some of what’s going on.” His smile lessens. “Something about his manner troubled us, so we didn’t half wonder if perhaps this place may not as permanent as we’d hoped.”

Nodding, your shoulders slump. “Fair enough.”

“And Y/N? Be sure to try and make nice with Daryl, okay? We’re all in this together, so we might as well not bite each other’s heads off – even though it can be very easy to bark back.” A grin. “Yes?”

You sigh and offer him a wry smile as you concede (more like whine) “Yes, Mr. Horvath.”

“Thank you. Troublemaker.”

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right-brain-of-froggy2 · 2 years ago

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Christmas in July Chapter 7

Day 7 is here! Prepare the milk, because today is all about cookies with Wonderful Christmastime.

A little author’s note: The Tracy cookie baking day is based on my (and Froggy One’s) own family's tradition of exactly this story. We get up really early, our grandparents, aunts/uncles, and some cousins come over and we bake cookies from dawn until night. Once everything is finished around 9PM, we distribute them amongst ourselves and make up plates multiple kinds for other family members. And all the ones listed are real ones we make too! Writing this today really made me crave some Christmas cookies...

Ao3 link here!

“I’m gonna die of hunger, Mama.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Really. You won’t see me ever again ‘cept in the ground. Dead. ‘Cause you won’t feed me.”

“I don’t want you dead, Scotty!”

“At least Virge cares…”

Lucy pats on a sulking Scott’s head as she whisks the eggs and sugar together for the next batch of cookies. Her oldest son does not appear amused.

“We just ate lunch an hour ago.”

“And an hour ago we didn’t have those!”

Scott points directly to the oven where the Andes Mint cookies are baking. Virgil immediately copies his older brother. Being only three means copying his brothers in the most entertaining thing in the entire world. Scott smacks down Virgil’s hand so he’s the only one pointing. Having a glass front oven is tantalizing thing for a little boy with an endless stomach.

“You’ve already had five cookies, Scott. Give your stomach a break.”

Her little boys pout and whine to no avail. She’s not breaking her stance on this one.

The Andes Mint cookies finish in the oven, and she has to nudge Scott and Virgil out of the way. Lucy places perfectly sized dollops of cocoa dough on a fresh baking sheet. Despite telling Scott no to more cookies, even she can’t resist those baby blue eyes staring up at her. She hands off the now empty bowl with bits of raw batter still stuck to the sides to Scott and Virgil.

Raw cookie dough is an even better treat than the cookies themselves. Virgil especially enjoys running his finger along the edge of the cool glass bowl to scoop up any leftover dough.

She waves a dirty spatula at Scott trying to sneak bites of the cooling cookies behind them. “That’s all you’re getting for a while, Scott Carpenter. Go find your Dad.”

Scott has lost interest with the definite answer of no more cookies and runs to find where Dad and John have gotten to. Virgil takes up his abandoned perch on a chair by the kitchen island.

Lucy peers into the oven as the cocoa cookies are halfway done baking. The Rolos in the center of each are melting down in perfect gooey blobs. Little bubbles of caramel pop as the chocolate of the Rolos melt further in the cookies’ dough.

“Well, Virgil, it’s just you and me now.”

“You ‘n me.”

“Which ones do you want to make up next?”

She flips through the homemade book of recipes, handwritten by her own grandmother, her mother, and now by Lucy herself with a few of the Tracy’s own recipes sprinkled into the book. There are certainly plenty to choose from. Some like the oatmeal cookies have to be refrigerated overnight (Jeff’s favorite: he already made up the batter late last night) while others like the Oreo balls have to sit in the freezer for a few hours. Sure, they aren’t all the typical Christmas cookies, but each one holds a special memory in the Tracy family hearts.

Virgil turns the pages intently as if he’s reading the cursive handwriting of each recipe. He stops at a recipe and points to it.

“This one.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes!”

“It’s a lemon cookie.”

“I like lemon.”

“No you don’t, Virgil. Lemons are the yellow fruits.”

“Icky. Only Daddy and John like those.”

Lucy pokes her nose into Virgil’s hair to earn a giggle. She turns the pages, finding a recipe better suited for Vigil. Making the cookies means sneaking bits of the batter with no repercussions. “How about these? New twist cookies?”

Virgil’s eyes light up like the kid he’s going to be on Christmas. He reaches for the nearest clean bowl to start mixing. Lucy takes that as a yes.

The timer for the Rolo cookies will go off in five minutes or so; and then, they still have two more trays of raw cookies to bake. That should give Lucy enough time to make the new twist cookies while corralling a toddler. The new twist cookies are her grandmother’s take on chocolate chip cookies: a cookie bar topped with a brown sugar meringue that’s to die for.

Lucy measures out each ingredient and hands it to Virgil to dump into the bowl. He mixes up the base of the bar, pausing only to pour in the ingredients his mom gives him. By the time Virgil’s chubby little hands are packing down the cookie bar base in a ceramic dish, the Rolo cookies are done. Lucy passes over the rationed amount of chocolate chips to sprinkle out over the dough while she gets the next batch in the oven. While the first batch is now cooling, Lucy throws the next set of pans in to bake.

“Look, Mama!”

Virgil is all smiles as he shows her the unevenly spread chocolate chips.

“That looks so yummy, Virge! Good job!”

Oh well. John’s not the biggest fan of chocolate anyways; maybe she can cut him one of those pieces devoid of any chocolate chips. They move on to the meringue topping to finish off the cookie bars before putting them in line to bake.

The Christmas music playing softly in the background is drowned out as she whips up the eggs in the bowl to a stiff peak. She carefully mixes in the brown sugar and a splash of vanilla once the eggs are able to stand on their own. Her finger swiped a dollop from the edge of the bowl. Virgil’s own are plugging his ears against the beater’s loud noise. A smile comes to her lips as the flavor is exactly what she’s looking for.

Yup, tastes just like Grandma’s.

The next step is to layer it carefully over the chocolate chips and base. With practiced flourish, Lucy smooths out the meringue with swirls. The timer dings and Lucy swaps the Rolo cocoa cookies and the bars.

She looks over to the second card table set up against the wall of the living room open to the dining room. All the extra ingredients are laid out in neat rows and groups. Extra bags of flour and sugar are here, some butter left out to soften next to the baking powder, molasses there. The odd ingredients like peppermint chips, apricot jam, and lemon cake mix are farther to the back of the table. John’s been put in charge of organizing every year and takes his job very seriously.

Virgil yawns. She helps him off the chair with instructions to find his dad to help him clean up for a nap. As Virgil leaves he passes by Scott. Her eldest son wanders back into the dining room to stand by her side. A mess of incriminating cookie crumbs line his lips.

He reaches for molasses and jar of freshly ground ginger to hand to her. Gingersnaps are one of Scott’s favorites, and always a classic.

“Just how many cookies did Daddy let you eat?”

Scott shrugs. “A few.”

At the sound of John Lennon’s “Wonderful Christmastime”, Lucy can’t even find herself to be mad. If anything, she’ll make Jeff deal with the sugar crashing children and clean the whole kitchen while she goes to bed early. Now that’s a pleasant thought. Lucy helps Scott get out the first scoop of molasses.

Baking cookies and singing along to Christmas music, who could ever be unhappy doing that?

. . .

“Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” is playing in the background as Lucy takes small amounts of the thickened pineapple mixture sweetened with sugar and plops them in the center of the shortbread dough. Armed with a plastic cutter, John trims the square pieces of dough so they could be folded up into star shapes. Lucy instructs her middle son on how to fold up the dough to resemble a pinwheel star.

Looking at the time, she realizes that it’s already nearing five in the evening. The whole family’s been helping bake, but she’s been in here all day for over ten hours after starting at six this morning. She deserves a breather. Lucy washes her hands at the sink overflowing with dirty dishes that are soaking with soap. While she had been washing the spatulas and bowls all through the day, it would only take minutes before they would be in use again for some other cookie recipe.

Jeff popped by in the kitchen around two to start his ‘world famous chili’ supper so she didn’t have to cook. (Read: Jeff and Scott dumped in cans of beans and tomatoes and mixed it with seasonings, peppers, and cooked ground beef from two nights ago). Either way, Lucy’s relieved to not have to make dinner tonight.

“I think this is the last batch, Johnny,” Lucy says, hands on her hips as she surveys the damage to the kitchen.

“I counted all the others. We made so many!”

“Did you count the tallies too?”

John nods. Each person is meant to keep track of how many cookies they eat to get an exact count in the end. He leans in lose to whisper to his mom. “Scotty ate eleven!”

“That child…” Lucy shakes her head and leans in close to John. “Well… how many total then?”

“Um…” John takes a moment to think. He then pulls out a piece of paper with crayon scribbled on it with a neater number written blow in pen. “Daddy helped me. We have seven hundred and two total cookies!”

Pineapple, Andes mint, snickerdoodles, pecan tassies, Oreo balls, fudge, jam thumbprint, gingersnap, lemon, snowcaps, plain chocolate chip, new twist chocolate chip- they made every type of cookie imaginable and more. So many more. Every year, Lucy forgets that one family is even capable of making that many cookies.

The oven dings. The last of the pineapple cookies are finally done baking. Lucy takes them out and allows herself to collapse down into the living room couch. John follows her straight to the couch. He climbs up and sits in his mom’s lap.

“Done already?”

Lucy shoots Jeff the stink eye as he trudges in from outside. He pulls down the mask from his face.

“You’re tracking snow everywhere.”

Jeff looks down at his coat wet with freshly melted snowflakes. Scott trapezes in with his own coat wet and nose red.

“It’s just water, Mama! We learned it in science class,” Scott clarifies. John nods seriously from her lap.

“Well, whatever it is, go hang your coats up and dry off. You and Daddy are on plating duties. We’ll eat supper and then drive these cookies out to people. We can even start with Grandma Sally and Grandpa Grant if you want.”

Scott and John whoop with excitement.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #lucille tracy #christmas in july #christmas #christmas cookies

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nat-20s · 3 years ago

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Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad.

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon: No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true. Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look.

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!!#also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

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cherriesradio · 4 years ago

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Valentines Day with Class 1-A

Monday

(Very long post, pure, tooth root, fluff)

(Divided by main groups)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, very much unedited

Dekusquad

Deku

He gently wakes you up by kissing your cheek and shaking you a bit, giggling.

“Wake up sleepyhead. I already made breakfast, your favorite.” He says, with a gentle smile as you turn over and get up for the day.

He takes you to the park. A place you two would take walks at almost every day, whenever Deku had free time from being the number one hero.

He picks flowers off the ground, pulling gently on your shirt to get your attention. When you turn around to him he puts the colorful flowers into your hair, giggling when you pull some out and put them in his.

Then the local boba shop, the one you two would save up for and get boba every week back in high school.

He laughed when you said you two should both get strawberry ones, “because, ya know, Valentines, pink, pink and valentine????”

You would share silly memories of whenever you two would invite others to go. Like when you invited the whole Bakusquad and Bakugo almost set the whole place on fire.

He would end the day by going to the very roof top he learned All Might’s secret. He knew the view wasn’t great, and that you didn’t have much sentimental value to it even though you knew, but it was similar to you.

How it was a part of changing his life for the better, how every time he walked by it he got a little bit happier, how it reminded him of a time he was weak and how much he has improved. It made him feel powerful and like he could do anything some how, and so did you.

He leans over while holding your hand and kisses you softly, a small satisfyed “hmp” coming form your throat

Asui Tsuyu

You woke her up. You wanted to make her breakfast, but also knew how much she loved making breakfast along with you.

Once you dragged her out of bed, she woke right up by you splashing down freezing water in her face. You quickly planted millions of kisses on her face, “to warm you back up! All the cold blood, and all!”

She much preferred to stay at home, but wanted to go out some place fancy for the special day.

About two days ago she reserved a spot at a restaurant that had a frog pond and a fountain, that was outside yet felt warm apart from the cold night air.

For most of the day you stayed inside, cuddling and watching movies. Most were romace comdeys that probably no ones else knew existed.

You two face times the rest of the Dekusquad, since everyone was in differing parts of Japan.

Luckily Deku and Ochako lived pretty close by, so you two figured it would be fun to go to the restaurant with them. A double date, which you had loved since the first one back in your UA days.

You two, begrudgingly, changed out of your pj’s and changed into fancy-jet, more appointments clothing.

It made you so happy seeing the large grin on her face and glow in her eyes as she saw you in your dress/ suit/ whatever fancy wear.

You two hopped out of the car, deciding to park a little far since you two hadn’t been out of the house all day, therefore didn’t get any exercise. So, why not get a few calories off from the whole pack of oreos you ate while watching Mean Girls?

Then when you are finally there, at your seats, waited for Deku and Ochako. Saying inside jokes, poking each other’s sides and holding in giggles among with the many other couples.

When they finally arrived, five minutes late because Deku had to remind his agency that he was having the day off, ordered.

You and a great time, sharing laughs and how your life’s have been lately.

When you got home around 10 o’clock, you slept the rest of the night trying to sleep.

But as normal, you made werid noises to make the otehr giggle, keeping them up, both of you being asleep by two in the morning after giving up and looking at YouTube for a hour before falling asleep.

Ochako

You had decided to spend Valentines with her parents. You hadn’t seen each other in a while and found that it would be nice, especially because of how much Ochako values family.

They are so kind when you two walk in the door with the biggest grins and with a warm, comforting arua seemingly circulating you.

They offer food and little gifts but you deny all of them, knowing they can barely afford giving gifts with how their company is still small.

You two use your hero money and go out and buy them furniture, and clothes, and food, and everything they could ever need for months.

They are so grateful and can’t believe their little Ochako grew up to be as amazing as she is, with a loving, responsible lover by her side at all times.

That night when you get back home, you share stories you and surely already told about your childhoods and how much you love your family’s, biological or not.

Iida

He wakes you up accidentally, he was doing all the paper work he had for the day in the morning so he could spend the majority of the day with you.

The speedy scratch of the pencil on his paper woke you up, whispering in a low morning voice “Tenya, dear? Your already awake?”

He turned in his office chair, a small smile on his face seeing your droopy eye lids and messy hair.

“Yes, love. I wanted to do all the work I had so I can spend time with you. Like how I did all my school work before you came to my dorm back in UA.” He smiled, you smiling right back.

“Alright, I’ll go make breakfast. Oatmeal or pancakes?” “Eh, it’s Valentine’s. Let’s go with pancakes for once.”

He put his head on your shoulder as he hugged you from behind, you flipping the pancakes messily, most landing folded in half.

When both of you were ready and had gotten out of your sleepy states, you went to walk around the city.

You brought your wallets. You visited a indoor petting zoo first. All the goats were weirdly fluffy and soft, and you brushed at the sheep’s fur in awe. He told you tons of facts that you wouldn’t ever normally learn, like how sheep actually need to have their wool taken off or else their overheat.

Then you went a few more blocks down and found a nice smaller library, with a cottage core aesthetic.

You walked in, quickly grated by the friendly old lady at the check out, and waved.

You two spent hours sitting, researching random things you never knew you needed to know.

You would occasionally tap the otehr shoulder to show them a good piece of writing, or something interesting.

After a few hours you went back how with him carrying you, both of you tired from walking all day.

You went home and spent the rest of the night watching documentaries, some that were funny and dumb but some that were smart and made you want to watch it again and again.

You went to bed, both facing each otehr with your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your chest.

Todoroki

Both of you accidentally wake up. He was being the big spoon, and in his sleep he accidentally used his quirk (due to his usual nightmares) and made you just a tab (WAY) to hot. You shrieked and woke him up.

You two giggled, finding that the other was awake. He quickly used his quirk and made the hot spot feel colder, but not to cold. And you told him that everything will be alright, that his nightmares aren’t real anymore. They will never be again.

You jokingly said you should do the thing where you cook on his left side like you did most mornings in UA, and he seriously said “sure”

Of course they tasted horrible because of his sweat and you two had to have an emergency trip to the grocery and got chocolate chip muffins

And of course got distracted and got a ton of other sweets as well

You spent pretty much the whole day in, goofing around, having hour long calls with friends, watching movies, cuddling, anything else you would do on a rainy Valentines Day

And of course, you had to go on Amazon and buy way to much with endeavors credit card that you went on a adventure to steal a few weeks ago and having been saving for a special occasion

As you were in the middle of a puzzle together, the rain calmed down a bit

“Hey, hey, love?” He gently grabbed your wrist in the middle of moving a corner piece

“Yes, darling?” You said, slightly surprised

“Can you and I go out for a second? I wanna try something.” You could resist and said yes, the glow in his eyes was to much to not say yes.

He grabbed an umbrella form the garage and pulled you under as you walked out, softly smiling as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

He brought you to the end of your driveway, righ next to the small garden you two had planted mostly out of boredom

He pulled you close and gently kissed your lips, softly. He let it last longer then his normal mere seconds long pecks, allowing it to last for what was probably half a minute, and pulled away

“Is that all we came out here for?” You titled your head to the side, cocking an eyebrow

“Yes.” He brightly smiled. “I read somewhere that kissing someone in the rain is romantic. And if it’s at night, or as it is right now late afternoon, it’s extra romantic.”

You giggle at his attempt of romance, which did work. How he got to doing it was odd, but that was how he found out about most romantic things.

Bakusquad

Bakugo

He definitely woke you up. He was ecstatic about the day, having big plans (*insert Kenny face*)

“SUKI WHAT THE HELL ITS FIVE IN THE MORNING WHY DO I NEED TO GET UP” “JUST GET UP I HAVE BIG PLANS OKAY GET UP OR ILL DRAG YOU” “JESUS”

He did drags you out, sadly (he drags real hard)

He then throws you on the couch while putting one of your favorite movies, and goes to make bacon eggs and pancakes

You eat, sitting inbetween his legs leaning onto him and watch the movie, maybe a few more until most normal people would be up

He occasionally title your head back so he can kiss your forehead, hair kisses feel werid on his lips

He gets the whole Bakusquad together, surprising everyone but they good

They all come to your house and Bakugo’s all “okay now we’re gonna go to the mall let’s go”

And he buys you literally everything

You can glance at it with the tinyest bit if interest and he’ll buy it

Then you all go for frozen yogurt and it’s good but you get a Brian freeze

And as probably the only in character thing he did all day, he made fun of you for it

Everyone goes home, thanking you two for the good Valentine’s Day

You two go to UA, right in front of the closed building (it’s a weekend, only the employees would be there)

You two remember how you first meet here, how you bumped into him while talking to a friend, and he was ready to yell at you, but he was to star struck by how beautiful you were to say a word.

He blushed

He asks you to turn around

You think it’s just something he secretly bought you back at the mall while you weren’t looking

It wasn’t

“Y/n, you can turn around now.”

You turn around back to him, and at first see how the sunset is perfectly on him, making him look better then ever

Then you notice his pose, his sweet yet needy expression, his hands… what he’s holding

“Will… will you marry me?”

You cover your mouth, quickly collapsing into a tight hug around his shoulders, kissing his cheek

“Yes, stupid! Of course, Jesus, I’ll gonna beat you up as soon as we get home! I love you so much!”

He laughs at how your words don’t match whatsoever

He kisses you passionately, glad that he asked Kirishima to secretly take a video ;)

Kirishima

He was so excited. He tried so hard not to wake you up, but the light sizzling woke you.

You woke up and walked into your kitchen. There stood Bakugo and Kirishima, Bakugo teaching Kirishima how to cook something. Bacon, maybe?

“No, shitty hair, you gotta flip it when the sizzlings a “ssss”, not a “zzzzzz” Bakugo stupidly said

“Kiri? Bakugo?” You said, rubbing your tried eyes, still in one of the large collection of stolen shirts, looking like a huge mess

“Hey dumba-“ “Mornin’, Pebble!”

Kirishima made Bakugo help him make you breakfast, like before, eggs bacon and pancakes. He added a large amount of butter to grease the pan, so they were extra good.

You smiled and waxed to Bakugo as he walked out, just barely seeing him have a small smile at how happy Kirishima and you, two of his best friends, were together

After breakfast you had one of your normal “concerts” where you scream-sing to recent songs you’ve taken a liking to, recently being more trendy songs like “driver’s license” “snowman” and some more odd ones like “Hadal Ahbek” and “good at loving you”

You then go to every dog cafe and cat cafe you can run/walk to, each of you loving the bright and happy look on the others face seeing all the cute animals

You run alariund town, seeing and talking to other couples who honestly kinda envy how helathy and great your relationship is

At late noon you two went back to your apartment

You took a shower together cause you were both sweaty and smelly from running so much and the dog smell wore off on you

He loves when you help wash his hair, wcshing it from the front and kissing his forehead every once and a while

You two get out and change, wearing a shark and dog onsie because your amazing people

You have the dinners night you could ever have

Having adventure time aka the show that you and rewtcahed a thousand time playing softly in the background, tickling each other, giggling at weither or not the neighbors could hear, prank calling the Bakusquad, trying to make a good looking cake, failing bust at least it tasted good?

Overall the best night in you could have after a dog and running filled day

Mina

She wakes you up, a happy grin on her face because she knows you planned something; because you always talk about how you want to pay her back for being so good to you

She’s clearly excited and you grin, some how bigger than her, happy to see her so excited already

You lift yourself from bed, quickly covering her face in kisses before getting up and ordering Uber eats for breakfast

You took her to her favorite shop, a small known one right on the corner of a safe street, only having a villain go through every couple of months, if at all

It was a nice shop, being something that. Colorful animal prints, pro hero merch, etc…

It somehow even played her favorite songs, which isn’t as surprising as it should be because she usually listened to normal, trendy songs

You two bought what felt like the whole store, then went back home to have a good old fashioned at home fashion show

You giggle and laugh, at some point falling on the floor because of how she tried to make you laugh.

You stayed inside and goofed around for the rest of the day, which honestly wasn’t to long.

Around eight you gently tugged in her wrist. “Yeah honeybun? What’s up?” She said, still having a large smile plastered on her face

“Come outside with me for a second, okay? And let me cover your eyes!” You grin, her quickly nodding a yes.

You walk outside of the house, stopping right in front of the fence lining your yard.

You take your hands off her eyes, smiling at her loud gasp.

All of class 1-A, together, for the first time since you graduated. Of course there had been many times you tried to get everyone together again. But with how almost all of the class was in the top 50 hero’s, having Todorki Bakugo and Deku being the top three, Mineta being the only one not in the top 100, it was difficult.

“Y/n! I can’t believe you! This is amazing!”

She turns and hugs you, quickly going back and running towards the others, giving them all giant hugs and chanting how much she missed having them all together.

The class played board and video games, tackled each other, and drew faces on whoever fell asleep for the rest of the night.

They all slept at yours, it was a lucky barrels everyone could fit.

Before you two, the last ones awake, went to bed she turned you to her and kissed you.

“Thank you. This is better then I could’ve imagined. I love you so much, and I’m so glad Im going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Denki

You both woke on your own pretty much at the same time, Deki accidentally hitting you with his forearm when he moved to sit up.

You laugh, making him make breakaways for punishment. He, knowing you were still in bed and would probably prefer it over his crappy cooking, went out and got donuts

You did like it more then his *unexperienced* cooking

You were still pretty sleepy during and after breakfast, so he gave you the usually little shook to wake you up.

He goes to work because he was unlucky enough to be stuck on duty on VALENTINES DAY

but, he still wanted fro show you how much he loved you even when he was gone, so the night before you left tons of silly love notes around the house.

As you cleaned the house because it had been drover since your last off day to, you found notes around the house

Stupid stuff like “Love, you make my knees weak arms spaghetti” and “Do you believe in love at first sight? If not I need to walk by you again”

It made you laugh and blush, then continue to your normal cleaning

Once he got home, he looked tired and annoyed

“Babe you wouldn’t believe how sucky the boss was today-“ He started, ready for one of his normal rants. You pull his face down, kissing his forehead.

You hugged him tightly, running your hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. ‘Bout this, I missed you all day. Those notes were funny, and sweet. Thank you.”

He instantly melted to you, burying his head in your neck and mumbling a quick “it’s okay, I really like it…”

His breath was hot on your skin, and… oh god he fell asleep

You carried him to the couch, took his shoes off, blanket… the shebang

You made dinner quickly, not wanting to wake him or make him anywhere he could get annoyed again

Once all of dinner was ready and just needed to cool a bit, you tapped his shoulder to wake him up. He’s such a light sleeper.

“Huh? Sparky? What… where am I? Wasn’t I… wasn’t I being all, ya know, in love with you?” He said, face squished up on a throw pillow.

You chuckle. “Yeah, you fell asleep so I put you on the couch. Dinners cooling off, so yeah.”

He smiled up at you and got up, full of energy from the good nap. He sprung up and kissed your cheek as he walk-ran to the counter, wanting to find what you made

“My favorite!” He cheered with a large smile. “You remember everything! You most love me so much.”

“I do. And you love me lots as well.” You said, sitting on the counter.

You ate dinner like that, you sitting on the counter and him standing, probably talking to you even with a mouth full.

You two decided to go out by night, since you spent the whole day at home or work.

You go to bar but everyone is extremely drunk, so figure it’s best not to

You then go to a all-times Walmart, deciding tonight was a time to be crackheads

They take some carts and ride around the parking lot, inviting Kirishima and Sero to come be weirdos

They come in like 2 seconds

“YOOOOO CARTS” “CARTS MAN”

That’s my Ted Talk

Sero

He wakes you up by hanging off the ceiling, and tapping your back

“Huh? Oh, spidey.” You laugh, hopping off the bed as he sways on his tape.

“Was that a good aka up call, sweetheart?” He said s with a cheeky grin

“Yes, stupid.” You ruffle up his hair and go to brush your teeth, now used to not eating breakfast because neither does Sero

( worry he didn’t make you stop, you just got out of the habit stemming from him)

He kissed your cheek as he went off to water your small flower garden handing on the apartment balcony.

Once he came back, you two watched a few romance comedies and tried to find out what in the world you neared to do that day.

“Maybe… oh, we havnt gonna roller shaking in a while?” (I headcanon that Sero likes roller skating lol)

“That’s sound great. Maybe invite the gang? Or would you rather it just be us?” You tutored your head, away from the characters you didn’t really care for because neither of them were that good. At least the bad people go together.

“No, going with the gang sounds great! I’ll go call them and see if they’re free!” He said, climbing out of the nest you had made around you two.

When you got there most of the group was already there, everyone else coming only minutes after you.

You have a great time exhausting yourselves, Sero pulling you around with his tape, you using your quirk to go faster, and generally goofing around.

Once you get back to your shared apartment, your both tired out and ready to cuddle while on the edge of sleep, watching random shows on Netflix.

And you did just that, Sero just barely staying awake enough to turn the tv off right before he fell asleep.

Extra’s (aka ones that a simp for that are rarer)

Aoyama

He ADORES valentine day

He goes all out, the most cliche thing you could imagine

Chocolate, overly expensive roses, cards, the whole shebang

Ojiro

It’s not the biggest thing for him

Like, he loves you everyday and wants to express that everyday, why reserve one day for doing it but being extra with it?

Kinda just takes the day off and does the normal, but the whole day sorta thing

Like, take a walk, cooking together, cuddle a bit, normal stuff

Kouda

He tries his best

He thinks that the classic “be publicly affect, give lots of gifts” kinda thing

But he doesn’t like (aka has a burning hate) for pda

They say it’s fine that he doenst want to go out, and that they can stay in all day

Fin.

#mha #bnha #mha valentines #mha x reader #deku x reader #ochako x reader #tenya x reader #bakugo x reader #todorki x reader #denki x reader #sero hanta

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storiesofsvu · 4 years ago

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Rita Calhoun HC’s #2

Who Is more likely to end up in jail and the other has to bail them out? Y/n’s in jail, even if she’s a detective, she ends up in the cell and OBVIOUSLY Rita’s her first and only call cause you know that woman’s getting her out of trouble instantly. Unless there’s someone coming for y/n, then Rita’s the one locked up to a very exasperated yn being all “seriously?? I expected better of you.”

Who is more likely to set the kitchen on fire while cooking? Rita. Absolutely. Woman can’t use the oven or stove to save her life. She’s good with small things, breakfast is usually an easy one for her, oatmeal, eggs, toast, she can do easy things like pasta or soup but hell if she’s gonna be able to roast up chicken breasts (or even Dino nuggets) without burning them or an open flame in the kitchen.

Push the other into a pool? It’s a mix. But you’ll have literally hell to pay if you push her in any sort of water when she’s in her designer duds or with her phone in her pocket. But if it’s a playful, she’s already in a bikini, you’re in the Hampton’s for the weekend then she’s more okay with it, though you’re definitely getting dragged in after her (whether you’re fully clothed or not)

Talk smack while playing video games You’re the one who gets Rita into video games. It’s nothing major or a lot of hardcore games, you have a wii, so most of your games are those ones. You’re not sure how, but she absolutely CRUSHES you at Mario kart, like, she’s the queen of rainbow road and you’re blown away at how, shocked even more when she says she’s never played it before (not to mention it’s not like she drives IRL). It makes you pout in the most adorable way but every time she beats you, she’ll definitely make it up to you….

Sings along to the radio while driving Usually you, but sometimes you jam out together when you’re driving out the the Hampton’s or further and one of your favourites comes on.

Has to be pulled out of a pet store because they get distracted by puppies? Puppies? Definitely you. Rita’s not a pet person, if she is, it’s gonna be a cat, a puppy especially is way too much work. She gets the appeal of them being cute, but you’re the one awweeing before vanishing from her side into the store, looking at her with puppy eyes that she vehemently says no about.

wakes the other up at 3am demanding pancakes Pancakes? It’s Rita. Usually if she wakes up in the middle of the night it’s with a thought for an awesome argument/cross and she’s out of the bed back in the office/kitchen working through it without a second thought. It’s at least an hour later that you wake up because the bed is cold. You’re not a stranger to this, she does have a tendency of working during the night, but you can smell the scent of burnt popcorn wafting from the kitchen and you know she’s hungry, rubbing your eyes as you pad out to the kitchen. The first time you try to convince her back to bed, but now you’re so used to it you just pull out the pan and pancake mix and start working while she finishes up her own. She loves you incredibly for it, and always makes sure that you know it, and she low key hates fucking up your sleep schedule but you assure her it’s fine, besides, you get midnight pancakes and bacon out of it, so you’re not complaining.

sends the other unsolicited nudes You. Definitely. Especially on days when Rita’s in court or buried with work, even more so when it’s a lingerie set she’s bought for you, because you KNOW she’s surprised you with more than a few, and she has a favourite colour on you that she loves so much. Tbh, a lot of what she buys you ends up destroyed so she has to buy more, but it’s worth it after a day of you being a brat so she can punish you.

brags about knowing karate even though they never made it past yellow belt

Rita. But it only ever comes up when she’s drunk, and like…messy drunk while you’re attempting to carry her out of the bar after Barba’s convinced her into doing shots of whiskey. You shoot him a glare while reminding him that the next time maybe you’ll delay the pick up and actually let her kick his ass.

comes to a complete halt outside bakeries/candy shops

Rita. She’s a *sucker* for baked goods, like, she MELTS every time you decide to bake something. It doesn’t matter if you’re on the way home from brunch she’s still stopping outside the bakery at the sight of a fucking amazing cupcake, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the way she literally drags you into the store.

blows sarcastic kisses after doing ridiculous shit Both of you. You tend to be a brat, especially when dropping things off at her office/bugging her during office hours, but she’s also full of sass, and not afraid to tease you (especially when you’re working, or when she’s about to leave for work)

killed the guy (also, which hid the body) Honestly, it could go either way. Both of you are very overprotective, especially of each other, and if anyone is going to fuck with either of you, you’re both beyond quick to jump to the other’s defence, no matter what that entails.

wears the least clothing around the house It’s usually you, clad in an old Harvard tee of Rita’s and her favourite pair of panties when you want to tease her, or pj shorts when you’re just looking to be comfy. Though she isn’t against pulling on a small amount of clothing when she knows things are just going to turn feisty later on anyways

has icky sentimental moments for no apparent reason

Rita. You love her so much, absolutely with your whole damn heart, but Rita’s the one who catches herself watching you when you’re distracted, whether it’s while you’re cooking, working, or simply curled up against her on the couch. Sometimes you catch it, sometimes you don’t, her little smile warming her heart, wondering how she got so fucking lucky to get you, because she doesn’t understand it. The days you do catch her she simply laughs, blushes and kisses your cheek, simply saying that she loves you, which in turn makes your cheeks heat at the knowledge that she was staring.

___________ taglist: @charabs @natasha-danvers @ineedafinghug @veteranwerewolf95 @billiedeannovak @laurenhope13 @randomthingssss @vivis-ghost-wife @beccabarba @imlike-so-gaydude @thatesqcrush @bisexual-dreamer02 @altsvu @svulife-rl @svushots @gay-ass-bitch @lesbianspacecowboy @mrspaulson-hargitay @whispered-tear-drops @wannabe-fic-reader @witchxaf @sarcasticmami @angelicdestieldemon @lawandorderimagines @gaylorrds @smuttty @infiniteoddball @delphineecormierr @gabby-mueller23 @venablemayfairgoode @solemnnova @whimsicallymad @mysticfalls01 @1000spices @oliviaswifey @thatgaygiraffesquirrelgirl @cloudymd

#Rita calhoun #Rita calhoun x reader #rita calhoun headcanons #rita calhoun imagine #law and order #svu #law and order svu

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themurphyzone · 3 years ago

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BatB AU: A Provincial Life

Summary: It’s an ordinary day in ACME Village for Pinky. Until it isn’t.

AN: This oneshot adapts the opening number ‘Belle’ and village scenes, up until Pinky sets off for the castle in search of his father, which leads into the entry Imprisoned.

AO3 Link

Pinky scooped a ladleful of oatmeal into a small, earthen bowl, humming dreamily as he added a dash of cinnamon and several apple slices into the mixture.

Today was a very special day for Papa, and Pinky wanted him to eat a healthy and nutritious meal before he went off to the fair with his invention. It would be a few days of travel, and Papa would need his strength for traveling there and back.

“Papa, I’m going out!” Pinky called as he carefully pushed a large woven basket of acorns outside. “Your breakfast is on the table, so make sure you eat it all!”

There was a sputter and cough of machinery and a trail of smoke from the small room that served as a makeshift workshop next to the kitchen, followed by a loud bang.

“Just getting ‘er warmed up for the final test!” Papa shouted. “C’mon, Madeleine! You may’ve fallen apart for the 264th time, but you can do it!”

Oh, Pinky had no doubt people were gonna love the woodcutting, ax-wielding, only occasionally threatening to take fingers off machine known as Madeleine. She was definitely gonna win that gorgeous blue ribbon at the fair! And even if she didn’t, they’d love her all the same anyway.

He opened the door and stepped into the beautiful autumn morning, taking in the cool, fresh air as he carefully maneuvered the basket of acorns into a red wagon. The leaves were varying hues of crimson and gold, dancing along a gentle breeze that ruffled Pinky’s fur. The sun was peeking over the horizon, slowly bathing the world in light as it rose.

Two songbirds flew merrily above him, their sweet morning song filling the air with beautiful music. Pinky reached up, and one of the songbirds briefly landed on his outstretched hand before flying after his partner, leaving a red feather behind.

“Thanks for the feather!” Pinky shouted to the sky as he tucked the feather behind his ear, where it fit perfectly.

He picked up the wagon handle and pulled it along, the wheels squeaking along behind him.

In the meadow beside their quaint little cottage, Pharfignewton chewed placidly on dew-covered grass. She neighed a greeting to Pinky, and Pinky cheerfully waved back. As much as he loved taking the beloved family horse into town for company, she needed her strength to lug Papa, Madeleine, and all their supplies later. So he had to let her rest.

Reeds and wildflowers of all sorts grew along the banks of the pond that separated the little cottage from the rest of ACME Village. A pair of ducks paddled along in the water, trailed by four adorable, fluffy yellow ducklings. Several tiny turtles sunbathed on an old log, while a large green frog sat on its lily pad and caught insects unlucky enough to stray in the path of a long, sticky tongue.

Pinky took his time crossing the cobblestone bridge over the pond, watching the wild animals go about their day without hustling, bustling, or rushing from place to place. Their lives were very different from their neighbors, despite living so close together.

Little animals, little pond, and little humans in their little town.

Or was everything just bigger than him? He was a mouse after all. It wasn’t hard to be bigger than a mouse, unless one happened to be an insect.

As Pinky crossed onto the other side, he spotted a smooth, pretty gray stone poking out of the reeds. He plucked it out of the damp soil, cleaning the dirt off with the inside of his apron.

It would be a perfect stone for his collection. And he didn’t have any that were this smooth. Most of the rocks he picked up were half-crushed or broken from city streets or well-worn paths. He tucked it into a pocket that he’d sewn on himself, because for some odd reason dresses never came with pockets.

Then he faced the little town, with all its timber and stone buildings lining a narrow cobbled street that quickly filled with half-asleep, half-awake people trying to get an early start on their sales and trades.

To think he and Papa had lived here for three years. While not the most exciting town in the world, Pinky was just happy they didn’t have to move again. He’d spent too much of his life being bustled from place to place since Mama died. The cottage was the loveliest place they’d ever owned.

And while the townsfolk had the same ol’ familiar routine every day, Pinky tried to vary his activities. From baking to horseback riding to volunteering for odd jobs around town, or just taking a day off to nap under a tree and roll down the hilly meadows while grass stains formed on his back.

Just a normal provincial life, yet Pinky often wondered what laid in the big blue yonder. Did the stars and sky look different elsewhere? Do the clouds form big, fluffy, and silly shapes in South America?

“Bonjour!” a man called out as he threw open his shutters.

“Good morning, Emile!” Pinky replied as he skipped past his window.

“Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!” The echoing chant swept across rooftops and streets alike as a new day dawned upon ACME Village.

Everyone from chimney sweepers to merchants to coachmen responded with vigor and cheer, all of them satisfied with their occupations in life.

Pinky greeted everyone he passed, though not all returned the gesture. Everyone was staring at the feather tucked behind his ear, the bulge of the stone in his pocket, or the red wagon with the basket he pulled along. He didn’t think he was that strange-looking.

Unless he had a bit of cabbage stuck in his teeth again. But he flossed really well last night, so he didn’t think that was the case.

“Marie, hurry up with the baguettes!” the baker shouted as he carried several loaves of bread outside.

Pinky inhaled deeply. There was nothing quite like the scent and sound of fresh bread.

“Narrrrrrf! Smells just like heaven, Mr. Baker!” Pinky exclaimed.

The baker set his tray of bread on a windowsill, tapping his foot as he impatiently waited for Marie. “Morning, Pinky. You off somewhere this morning?” he asked, though he didn’t turn around.

“Yup! I’m delivering this basket of acorns to Slappy!” Pinky said, pointing to his basket of acorns. “She really likes the acorns near our cottage but doesn’t wanna make the trip herself. She says it’s too far for her aching joints and she can’t take Skippy along because she’s still trying to convince him that we’re not gonna be shot like Bumbie’s mom if we venture into the meadow, and-”

“Yes, yes, that’s all very nice,” the baker said, half-leaning into the open window. “Marie, I said hurry up with the baguettes! The morning rush is coming soon!”

“Well, if you’d bought the ingredients from Francois instead of Vincent like I suggested then maybe we wouldn’t be running behind, Pierre! But no, you always act like you know best!” Marie snapped.

Not wanting to get embroiled in yet another argument between the baker and his wife, Pinky followed the cobblestone path further into town, where the usual market sprung up, full of local farmers, tradesmen, and merchants.

Villagers bartered and argued and traded like always, and as Pinky stopped to admire a small yellow daisy poking out from the cracks of the street, he could feel eyes follow him closely in that looking-at-you-but-pretending-we’re-not sort of way.

“There goes the funny mouse again.”

“Gets distracted by the littlest things, I swear.”

“Does he even have a useful skill?”

“Besides being the village idiot? Doubtful.”

They’d made those comments ever since he and Papa had moved in. Everywhere they went, people asked Pinky for his trade, and Pinky always told them he took care of Papa and worked various odd jobs around the area for money.

But that wasn’t considered a useful role in society.

He didn’t mind helping Papa though.

Oh well though. He couldn’t delay getting these acorns to Slappy, so he hauled his wagon alongside a horse-drawn carriage that steadily cut through the crowded streets, clearing Pinky’s path.

“Bonjour!” the coachman called to a young woman walking down the street. His eyes were trained on the girl rather than the road, and his horse plowed straight into a farmer’s cart, knocking his produce into the road.

“MY CABBAGES!” the farmer screamed, tearing out his hair as several pigs devoured his vegetables.

The coachman let out a nervous laugh and flicked the reins, spurring his horse forward and blithely ignoring the despairing farmer’s demands for compensation.

“I need six eggs!” a woman cried as she tried to hold several fussing babies at once.

“That’s too expensive!” a man complained to someone selling pottery. “Twenty coins for a pile of cheap clay? Bah!”

Pinky and the carriage parted ways as the cobblestone street changed to an unpaved dirt path. The gossip and chatter of ACME Village faded to background noise.

Slappy had made her home in a hollow tree on the outskirts of town, close enough to get supplies but far enough to deter most from knocking on her door.

Pinky passed by many warning and danger signs that kept most people from bothering the old squirrel. There was a new post up today, right next to Slappy’s front door.

LAST WARNING

NO SELLING, NO PREACHING, NO TAX COLLECTING

KNOCK AT YOUR OWN RISK

Well, what was life without a little risk? Pinky knocked on the door anyway.

He was trying to decide if one of the clouds overhead was shaped more like a monkey or a strawberry when a small brown squirrel in a blue nightgown and cap opened the door. Despite the early morning, he was wide awake and hopping in place, his excitement only growing as he spotted the basket of acorns behind Pinky.

“Morning, Skippy! Got the basket of acorns your aunt wanted!” Pinky exclaimed.

Skippy grinned as he took the basket from the wagon. “Thanks, Pinky! Aunt Slappy will love these!”

He popped a few acorns into his mouth and loudly crunched the shells.

“Skippy, what’d I say about answering the door at this godforsaken hour in the morning?” a cranky voice yelled from upstairs.

“It’s just Pinky with the acorns, Aunt Slappy! No door to door salespeople, preachers, or tax collectors in sight!” Skippy shouted. Then he turned back to Pinky and pointed to his ear. “I like your feather, by the way.”

“Thanks! I like your nightcap!” Pinky said, returning the compliment with his own.

A few moments later, Slappy joined Pinky and Skippy downstairs. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, her long gray tail dragging behind her.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Slappy asked. She tossed several acorns into her mouth and nodded her approval. “Crunchy with a pinch of salt. This is gonna be a good topping for my world-renowned creamed spinach later.”

“SPEEWWWWWWWWW!” Skippy cried, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

Pinky just smiled politely. Slappy took a lot of pride in her creamed spinach recipe, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings by saying it tasted like soggy socks.

“Hey, when I was your age, I ate lots of creamed spinach for dinner. And now I have enough muscles to wield a hundred ton mallet,” Slappy retorted.

“Wow! Was that when dinosaurs roamed the earth?” Skippy asked.

Slappy gave him a light smack on the back of his head. “Little brat. Go grab a few coins from the bureau in my room. Gotta pay the mouse for lugging this stuff across town.”

Skippy blew a raspberry at her and ran up the stairs.

“Your tongue is never gonna go back in your mouth if you keep doing that!” Slappy yelled.

Funny how the Squirrels were his best neighbors, even though they lived on the opposite side of town. They’d helped out so much when Pinky and Papa first moved into the countryside cottage, from showing them all the best places to buy from and all the best trees to climb. Everyone else usually stared at them strangely for not knowing how to find a shop and moved on with their day.

Still, Pinky didn’t want to impose on them or anything. Collecting the acorns was no trouble at all. And he knew money could be a little tight in the village at times.

“You don’t have to pay me,” Pinky said. “Poit. I don’t mind the morning exercise.”

“You’re walkin’ outta here with those coins whether you like it or not,” Slappy said in a tone that invited no room for argument. “Don’t be one of ‘em honor before reason types. That sorta mindset is nothing but trouble.”

Slappy’s long tail flicked in irritation, accidentally knocking a framed painting askew on the wall next to her. She sighed and fixed the crooked painting so that it hung straight. “Can never keep this darn thing straight,’ she muttered.

Pinky had been inside the hollow tree many times, but he’d never seen this painting before. It contained a colorful cast of characters, from a carrot-munching gray rabbit to a crazy black duck to a short gunslinger with an enormous bright red mustache.

In the painting, a youthful Slappy with a manic grin on her face and giant firecracker in her hand was chasing a bald hunter. Her smile was brighter, and her eyes didn’t seem so world-weary there.

“Like it? Old pals sent it to me two weeks ago,” Slappy asked, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “The Looney Tunes Troupe were a rascally bunch, that’s for sure. All the money for a detailed painting, and they can’t afford a better frame. Our shows were legendary back in the day, you know.”

“Never heard of them,” Pinky admitted.

“Course ya haven’t,” Slappy sighed. “Your generation doesn’t know good comedy when it hits them in the bum with a mallet. Troupe’s faded into obscurity now, but they’ve never stopped traveling and being annoying yet lovable nuisances to everyone from Albuquerque to Kalamazoo to Timbuktu.”

Pinky tilted his head. “But you don’t travel anymore.”

If the Squirrels needed something they couldn’t get in ACME Village, they usually asked Pinky to run the errand for them.

“Yeah, well, that’s life,” Slappy said. “Sometimes you’re a nomad with total freedom and other times you gotta flee with your nephew to a different country.”

Before Pinky could ask more questions, Skippy barreled downstairs with as many coins as he could carry. “I didn’t know how much to grab so I just took a handful,” Skippy said, dumping the currency onto a small side table.

Slappy picked up six coins from the pile and dropped them into a small drawstring bag, then tightened the strings and tossed the bag into Pinky’s wagon. “You can have these. I’ve got plenty more lying around,” she said.

“If you're sure then,” Pinky said, picking up his wagon handle and turning it around. “Love to stay, but Papa’s leaving for the fair soon and I gotta see him off!”

“Tell him we said hi!” Skippy shouted, and Pinky saluted back.

Slappy yawned, stretching her arms above her head. “And I’m hitting the hay again. It’s too damn early, and I’m too tired to censor my swearing in front of kids.”

o-o-o-o-o

After his visit to Slappy’s tree, Pinky decided to kill some time at ACME Village’s fountain, where he could enjoy the fine spray of water and run in circles along the stone rim. It was always fun seeing how fast he could go without tipping into the water.

“Sorry!” he shouted as he accidentally trod over freshly washed sheets that a woman had been folding next to the fountain. She made an indignant noise and carried her basket of laundry away, nose high in the air.

And the whispers started up again.

“That mouse may be a beauty, but he is way too peculiar for his own good.”

“You have to wonder if he’s feeling well.”

“Always a dreamy, far-off look on his face.”

On his tenth lap around the fountain, a flock of sheep strolled by, guided by a young shepherd from behind. Two fluffy ewes jumped onto the fountain rim next to Pinky and drank the water. Pinky smiled and stroked their soft wool, and the ewes bleated in contentment.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Pinky whispered into their ears. “Don’t go blabbing this to anyone now...but I believe Papa’s a shoo-in for that blue ribbon!”

One of the ewes turned and nibbled on his ear, and Pinky laughed as her blocky teeth tugged and tickled his fur. He gently pried her jaw open and his ear popped out of her mouth, dripping wet with sheep saliva.

As Pinky prepared to slide off the fountain rim and onto the small bag of money he’d gotten from Slappy, a regal fanfare went off in the distance, thundering hoofbeats growing ever closer.

A messenger in a white powdered wig blew his coronet and cleared his throat.

“HEAR YE! HEAR YE! MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, PRINCE SNOWBALL AND HIS HUNTING PARTY!”

The messenger’s declaration sent every man, woman, and child running towards the plaza, gathering in front of the entrance of the local tavern, the centerpoint of all social activities in ACME Village.

The hunting party rode in on their enormous horses, spearheaded by the ruler of the province, Prince Snowball. Though only a small hamster, he was famed by all for his keen mind and ability to get results on whatever he set out to accomplish.

Though dressed in only a simple red shirt and breeches for hunting, the only signs of his higher status being the golden crown upon his head and the expensive black horse he rode, his presence commanded respect and awe.

Behind him, a hunting party consisting of the best huntsmen and archers in the land dragged an enormous buck, two wild boars, and several pheasants into view.

“People of ACME Village, tonight we shall dine on these fine specimens of the animal kingdom!” Snowball announced as everyone bowed in fear of a noble’s anger. “Everyone’s presence is required, for I have a further declaration that shall lift this derelict province out of the ashes and into a glorious future!”

His pink eyes were sharp, but beneath that layer of intelligence, there was an undertone of something that didn’t feel right. Pinky couldn’t explain it, but he always just had this odd, icky feeling that crawled up his spine whenever he saw Snowball.

The crowd straightened up, cheering and clapping and praising Prince Snowball’s name for bringing them such good fortune with the promise of more to come.

Pinky’s ear twitched. There was a soft, desperate sound mixed in with the roars of the captivated audience.

And to the left side of the crowd, there was a tiny lamb whose back leg was tangled in a large fishing net. The mother ewe was both nuzzling the lamb in comfort and trying to pull the net off with her teeth, but to no avail.

The shepherd never noticed his sheep were in trouble, too caught up in hailing Prince Snowball to notice one of his charges was stuck.

Pinky hopped off the fountain and slowly walked over to the thrashing lamb and his mother, putting his hands up to show them he wasn’t a threat. The lamb bleated in panic, and the mother eyed Pinky warily.

“May I help? I’m good at untangling stuff,” Pinky asked. He’d gotten a lot of practice when Papa occasionally tangled himself up in threads and wires.

The ewe regarded him for a long moment, then nuzzled the back of her lamb’s head, letting him bury his head into her wool. The lamb’s trembling stopped, his back leg still.

It was a sweet gesture, one that seemed so familiar to him, even though his own mother had long passed. He remembered that feeling of warmth and safety from so long ago, the last time he felt like he was truly home.

Wiping a stray tear from his eye, Pinky untangled the mesh from the lamb’s leg, starting from the top and slowly moving down to the hoof.

“There you go, baby,” Pinky said once the leg was completely free. The lamb pulled his hoof out of the netting, gave it a good shake, then joyfully pranced and bleated around his mother and Pinky.

The mother gave Pinky a tiny nod, bleated to her little one, and together they rejoined their flock. The shepherd was still ignoring his flock in favor of Prince Snowball. Pinky couldn’t see him anymore from the ground.

Pinky picked up his wagon handle, ready to go home and help Papa hitch everything up to Pharfignewton.

Then he felt a pair of fingers pluck the feather he’d lovingly tucked behind his ear. Pinky turned to get his feather back, and jumped when Snowball was just inches from his face.

“Hello, Pinky,” Snowball said. He smiled, but it was more out of smugness than a real smile.

Pinky’s ears lowered, but then he remembered his manners. “Bonjour, Prince Snowball. May I have my feather please? A really nice bird gave that to me.”

Snowball frowned, holding the feather out of Pinky’s reach. The feather crinkled in his tight grip. “How could you possibly need this? It’s hardly good quality for even the cheapest quills.”

“Poit. It doesn’t need to be a quill to make me happy,” Pinky replied.

Snowball rolled his eyes, tossing the feather behind him. Pinky tried to grab it, but it was caught on a gust of wind and drifted to the ground. It landed in a mud puddle, soaking the barbs of the feather and staining it brown.

“Pinky, get your head out of the clouds and pay attention to important matters,” Snowball’s lip curled as he blocked Pinky from retrieving his feather. “Such as showing royals courtesy when they address a peasant like you.”

“Excuse me, Snowball,” Pinky said politely, going around the hamster to pick up his feather. The damage didn’t look too bad. Still, he tried to be careful when he cleaned it with his apron.

Snowball crossed his arms, and the town’s whispers started up again.

How dare he not show proper respect to Snowball, does he fancy himself higher than a prince, why would Snowball pay him any individual attention and not someone more deserving.

“That’s Prince Snowball to you.” Snowball’s fur bristled for a moment, but he took a deep breath and put his arms around Pinky’s shoulders instead. “The whole town's talking about you and your lack of...purpose. And we can’t have that, you realize. After all, a machine requires all of its cogs and gears to run smoothly, otherwise it won’t work.”

“Bet his crackpot father would know something about that!” one of Snowball’s men chortled.

Everyone laughed, even Snowball, who rarely did so. An unfamiliar feeling boiled in Pinky’s stomach.

“Don’t talk about my father that way!” Pinky snapped. His inventions were amazing and he was going to do well at the fair! They didn’t know how hard Papa worked on his inventions!

Snowball glared at his men. “Yes, don’t talk about his father that way, you fools!” he hissed like Pinky hadn’t heard him laughing just seconds ago.

“He’s not a crackpot! His invention’s gonna win the blue ribbon cause it was made with smarts and love, you’ll see!” Pinky declared, just as an explosion went off in the distance.

And he knew exactly where that explosion had come from.

“I have to go. Goodbye!” Pinky dragged his wagon behind him, setting off for the cottage he and Papa called home.

“It’s a pity and a sin,

He doesn’t quite fit in.

He really is a funny mouse,

A beauty but a funny mouse,

He really is a funny mouse,

THAT PIN-”

The sharp, high-pitched crack of a rifle interrupted the village’s song, and everyone ran for cover.

“WILL YA SHUT UP? SOME OF US ARE TRYIN’ TA SLEEP!” Slappy shouted from her tree, her screech blowing tiles and lumber from the roofs of buildings.

Just a provincial life in this little town. Pinky ran across the cobblestone bridge, wondering if he truly had the right to ask for something more than that.

o-o-o-o-o

He hurried over to the cellar, where smoke trailed from the gaps of the heavy wooden doors. Pinky opened the entrance, and a smoky cloud blew right in his face. He coughed and waved it away, hiding his nose in his dress as he hurried over to Papa, who’d been thrown onto his back. A pile of broken wooden planks covered him.

In the corner, Madeleine sputtered, her gears and dials spinning wildly before she finally quieted down, one loose spring sending a gear crashing into a wall.

“Dagnabbit, Madeleine!” Papa cursed, stumbling as he extracted himself from the pile of wooden planks. Pinky grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, checking him over for any injuries. Luckily, there were no bruises or splinters to be found. “Don’t you stall out on me now!”

Pinky smiled. Papa’s string of random gibberish and mutterings of smart inventor words he couldn’t understand was something he’d been familiar with from a young age. No matter where they lived, it was just one of those things that came with home.

Papa huffed, untying his apron with all his tools and tossing it to the ground. “She’ll never work in time for the fair! What was I thinking?” he lamented. “It’s not too late. Maybe I can cobble something else together quickly! Yes, I’ll just take the doowhatzit out of Madeleine, combine it with the kaleidomajiggy from the old washer, and-”

“You always say that, Papa,” Pinky said, hugging his father around the shoulders. Papa rested his hands over Pinky’s with a sigh. “Don’t worry. I believe Madeleine will work, and she’ll win you that blue ribbon and help you become an inventor for the history books! Narf! Just like Benjamin Franklin, ‘cept without all the kite-flying.”

“You really think so?” Papa asked, his frown turning to a hopeful smile.

“Course I do,” Pinky grinned.

A determined look crossed Papa’s face, and he tied his apron around his waist, nearly tripping over it in the process.

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s fix ‘er up!” Papa said, laying down on a flat, low cart and pushing himself under the broken stove that made up Madeleine’s main body. “So how was your morning in town?”

“A little birdie gave me a feather. I found a pretty stone by the pond. And I delivered the acorns to the Squirrels. Did you know Slappy used to be a part of a traveling troupe? I didn’t.” Pinky recanted his morning to Papa as tools clinked and scratched against metal. “Oh, and I guess you’ll be missing Prince Snowball’s feast tonight. They’ll have venison and wild boar there.”

“A feast? That sounds nice. Much better than inn food,” Papa mused. As usual, only part of what Pinky said ever registered with him. “Are you going?”

“I don’t know yet,” Pinky admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good party...but Prince Snowball is-um, what’s a good word for him?”

“Rich? Smart? Confident?” Papa suggested. “He’s been talkin’ to you a lot lately.”

So everyone’s noticed, even Papa who spent much of his time in the cellar that doubled as a workshop.

“He has,” Pinky agreed. “And he says he can give me a purpose. But...I don’t know. I don’t think he’s right for me. Maybe I’m just as odd as they say I am.”

It was the same everywhere they settled. No matter what Pinky tried to do, the whispers always followed him. He noticed strange things, he wore strange clothes, he and Papa were always strangers in towns where everyone knew each other from birth.

Papa slid out from under Madeleine, wearing a silly helmet on his head that gave him huge, bug-like eyes.

“My son is odd?” Papa asked in disbelief, and Pinky laughed. The helmet always made Papa look silly. “Don’t know where these folks get their ideas from…anyway, I think Madeleine’s all ready to go. Care to give her a whirl?”

“Zort! Am I!” Pinky clapped his hands together. Papa pointed to a lever, which Pinky pulled with all his might.

Madeleine’s bells and whistles sounded, water steadily pumping through her system while steam filled her stove. Pulleys and gears turned along her sides, reaching the front. Her dials quivered until they reached the red zone, and the ax at her front swung down, scoring a deep cut in a block of firewood. The ax swung faster and faster, until one final split the firewood in half and sent one chunk flying.

Pinky and Papa ducked, and the chunk flew over their heads and landed perfectly on a pile of firewood against the wall.

“She works!” Pinky shouted in joy, kissing one of Madeleine’s wooden wheels. “You did it, Papa!”

“I did?” Papa murmured. “I did! 265th time’s the charm, Pinky! Look out fair, I’m on my way!”

o-o-o-o-o

Within the hour, Madeleine was wheeled out from the workshop, covered and tied up with a tarp, and hitched to Pharfignewton.

“Bye, Fig,” Pinky said, hugging his beloved horse’s muzzle. “Keep Papa on track to the fair, okay? You know how he likes taking shortcuts.”

Pharfignewton whinnied gently, planting a sloppy kiss on top of Pinky’s head.

Then Pinky embraced Papa, who returned the hug with the same enthusiasm. And he was reminded of how the mouse and horse he considered his home would be leaving for some time. He wished he could go with them, but someone had to keep house and he was the best one for the job. It wouldn’t be for long, but he’d miss them all the same.

A stray tear dropped. Just another reason he was considered odd. He cried so easily.

“Chin up, Pinky,” Papa murmured, rubbing a soothing circle into Pinky’s back. “I’ll win that blue ribbon along with the prize money, and we’ll begin our lives anew within the week.”

Through his tears, Pinky gave him a wobbly smile. Then he helped Papa onto Pharfignewton’s back.

“Take care!” Pinky called as Papa flicked the reins, and Pharfignewton trotted off at a steady pace, dragging Madeleine behind her. He watched them from atop the highest hill in the meadow, as they went further down the well-worn trail that merchants used for their travels.

Then they were nothing but specks in the distance, swallowed by the thick, twisted branches of the forest. It was an unusual forest, one where the trees lost their leaves in early autumn, making the trees look scarier than they actually were for half the year.

With nothing else to do outside, Pinky went back into the empty cottage. He’d had three years to become familiar with this house, full of odds and ends from Papa’s inventions alongside their meager belongings.

Mama’s cloak hung from a place of honor on a coat rack by the door, one of the few belongings Pinky could take along no matter where they lived.

Hours passed, and Pinky already missed the banging and exploding and sputtering of Papa’s inventions. It was just too quiet without them.

He cleaned the red feather and pretty stone, then added them to his collection. Feathers and rocks didn’t take up a lot of room, and like Mama’s cloak, they could easily be taken to new places as well. He was just very careful not to lose them.

The wagon was tucked away by the door, and the small bag of money was tucked inside a flower pot. It was how Papa always stored money, and Pinky had picked up the habit.

There wasn’t much to do. He’d cleaned the cottage several days ago, cellar notwithstanding. That was Papa’s territory, and he always had trouble finding tools when Pinky put them away.

Suppertime approached.

He could either cook dinner or go to the feast.

Didn’t matter what he chose. He would be lonely either way.

A sharp rap on the door startled him out of his thoughts. How strange. People only knocked at this time when there was an emergency.

“Sorry for taking so long. I wasn’t expecting-” Pinky opened the door, and he immediately stood face-to-face with Prince Snowball. They were so close that their noses nearly touched. “-to see you here, Snowball. Um, this is a surprise. Poit.”

Snowball’s pink eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Pinky remembered that Snowball preferred to be addressed with his full title. “Yes, it’s not often that someone of my standing chooses to grace a peasant’s home with their presence.”

Behind Snowball, there was an entourage of townsfolk. Many wore their Sunday best, which was still quite cheap compared to the royal finery that Snowball bore. A fine red coat, a decorative golden cape slung over one shoulder, and white dress pants. A shiny crown embedded with rubies and emeralds sat atop his head.

“I thought you were all at the tavern for the feast,” Pinky admitted.

Snowball laughed, but it was a joyless laugh. He stepped across the threshold without being invited in.

“Why, Pinky. Your hovel is positively primeval,” Snowball said, wrinkling his nose in disdain. He tugged Mama’s cloak off its hook, stared at it for a moment, then carelessly tossed it behind him. “If this is how you live, then it’s a truly auspicious time for me to come and offer you an opportunity out of this squalor.”

Before Pinky could ask what auspicious was, though he figured it had something to do with Austria, Snowball harshly dug his fingers into Pinky’s shoulders. Pinky tried to pry them off, but the fingers just burrowed further into the fabric of his dress.

“Not to worry, dear Pinky,” Snowball said. “Today is the day all your dreams come true.”

“You mean my dream to find a home and a porpoise? Because I don’t know if we have enough money to live by the ocean. Beachside properties get very pricey, you know,” Pinky asked.

Snowball waved off that concern. “You forget that finances are of no consequence for me. But I digress. For now, allow me to plant the image of a wonderful future in your vacant mind.”

“Okay, but I don’t know how you’re gonna water it,” Pinky said.

“Picture this,” Snowball demanded, leading Pinky around the cottage. “A magnificent castle. Two golden thrones, mine higher than the queen’s of course. A few summer homes to expand my sphere of influence. A court of other royals, lesser nobles, while the servants do all the menial work around the fires and kitchen. We’ll have...oh, six or seven.”

“Servants?” Pinky grinned nervously as Snowball leaned in with a chuckle.

“Castles, Pinky. How else would I showcase my power?” Snowball corrected. “And the townsfolk shall become our servants. It will save me the trouble of setting up a hiring process anyway. Besides, you’d appreciate having familiar faces around. Less of an adjustment period.”

Pinky freed himself from Snowball’s grip. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Snowball shrugged. “But in simplest terms, I require a queen. One who is good at smiling, waving, and entertainment.”

Wouldn’t that person become a princess rather than a queen though?

Snowball must’ve seen the question coming. He paused in front of the mirror to adjust his crown.

“There is but one title higher than a prince, Pinky,” Snowball said once he was finished. “In order to qualify for the kingship, it’s required of me to marry first. And do you know who that queen will be?”

“Elizabeth? Victoria?” Pinky wilted under Snowball’s intense stare. “Um...Cleopatra, final answer?”

Snowball shook his head. “It will be you, Pinky.”

A queen? He’d always just been the inventor’s son. An outcast no matter where he lived. How could he possibly be a queen?

“That’s a very generous offer, Snowball,” Pinky said, once he finally found his words again.

“Isn’t it, though?” Snowball said smugly. “You and your father will live in an extravagant new home as you perform your queenly duties, and I will be forever hailed as King Snowball. Both of us shall benefit.”

Maybe he and Papa could live in better conditions. Maybe they didn’t have to move around anymore. Maybe they could afford shoes for Pharfignewton. But at the same time…it wouldn’t be right.

It wouldn’t be home.

Smiling, waving, entertaining. Was that all he was good for? Was that all Snowball thought he could do?

“I thought...marriage was for love,” Pinky said softly. “That’s what Papa always said.”

Snowball rolled his eyes. “It’s a political marriage. It doesn’t have to be built on love.”

Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.

It was one of the earliest morals Pinky had learned.

Wish for a home, only for it to be a castle. Wish for a purpose, and it’s to be married without love as a foundation.

“Snowball...I’m speechless,” Pinky said, backing out the front door. He nearly tripped over the welcome mat, but regained his footing. “I...I really don’t know what to say.”

Not even a narf would help him out of this situation.

“Say that you’ll marry me, Pinky,” Snowball replied, and he stalked toward Pinky like a cunning predator, backing him against the edge of the porch. “And after you say yes, I will announce our engagement to the rest of ACME Village at the feast. Attendance is mandatory for a reason.”

“I’m really, really sorry, Snowball,” Pinky said. He’d backed up too far, and the heels of his feet dangled precariously over the edge. Instincts kicking in, Pinky grabbed Snowball’s shoulder to pull himself to safety, though he underestimated his strength. Snowball yelped as he was pulled over the edge, falling into the mud puddle by the staircase.

Oops.

“Sorry, Snowball! But I just don’t deserve you,” Pinky admitted.

The mud-covered crown slipped around Snowball’s head, covering his eyes until he took it off with an annoyed grunt.

Pinky slipped back into the house, grabbed a small towel, and handed it to one of Snowball’s men.

Claude, if he remembered right.

“He can have that one,” Pinky told Claude, who gingerly took the towel like it was a fragile item.

Snowball crawled out of the mud, his royal clothing covered in gunk and sticks. He stomped out of the mud, hands clenching against his sides.

Snowball’s brow lowered, his pink eyes hidden in humiliation and a quiet, seething fury.

Slowly, Pinky retreated into the cottage and hid behind the door. There was something about that look that terrified him. And it wasn’t the fun kind of fear, either.

“You will consider my offer, Pinky. Make no mistake about that,” Snowball spat, his scrutinizing gaze directly on Pinky, despite the door between them. “Claude, quit being daft and hand me that towel already!”

Pinky waited in the cottage until he could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. They must’ve gone back to the tavern for the feast.

He didn’t feel hungry though. Snowball’s proposal left a sour taste in his mouth, like he’d just sucked on a lemon.

“He asked me to marry him,” Pinky said to his mother’s cloak, which was still crumpled on the floor. He gently picked it up, brushed off the wrinkles, and put it on. The fabric was warm against his back, like being wrapped in a ginormous embrace. “But he doesn’t love me. Narf! You can’t have a marriage without love!”

He thought of all the married couples he knew in ACME Village. The baker couple, who were constantly at each other’s throats. Gerard the butcher was always making googly eyes at any woman who bought cuts of meat, much to his wife’s frustration. There was the stressed lady who had to drag her six kids around town while her husband played cards and darts at the tavern.

And Pinky thought of his parents. His mother had fallen in love with his father’s inventive streak when she was the daughter of a town official and Papa was just the crazy mouse whose inventions blew up a lot.

He tied the cloak tighter around himself. Unable to take the silence of the cottage and the stifling influence of the village much longer, he allowed his feet to carry him out of the cottage and to wherever they wanted to go.

He sprinted into the unknown. He wouldn’t be afraid of whatever he found there. The autumn wind blew golden, red, and brown leaves in whichever direction it wished as Pinky climbed the highest hill in the gorgeous flower-filled meadow.

The peak of the hill was his favorite spot, and he was surprised that nobody else came out here to enjoy the view with him. Trees lost their colorful leaves so they could sleep for the winter, the river splashed and babbled along its banks, and proud mountains with mysterious cloud-covered peaks rose high above the landscape.

What laid beyond villages and towns, he didn’t know.

There was something in that great wide somewhere for him. Just a feeling, an inkling, a hunch.

But could he truly go exploring it when his home was here?

Maybe he could convince Papa. Somehow. When Papa came back with the prize money, they could fit Pharfignewton with her shoes and they could all explore together!

Staring into the autumn landscape, Pinky sank to his knees, careful not to squish the daisies and dandelions around him.

Maybe that was home, but…

He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life. Would he ever figure that out?

He loved Papa, but he couldn’t really talk to him. And Slappy had her hands full with such an energetic nephew. Pinky didn’t want to impose. Everyone in the village gossiped about him, like he couldn’t understand.

But he did.

And it hurt.

“Would be nice to talk to someone. Anyone, really,” he whispered, and he blew on a cluster of dandelion puffs. His wish scattered along the wind.

Pinky picked up more dandelion puffs. If he blew more around, maybe his wish would come true. And dandelion flowers were very pretty.

Maybe they were considered weeds, but how could anyone call such a sunshine-y yellow flower a pest? He didn’t get it.

Then a distant, familiar neigh caught him off-guard.

Pinky thumped his hand against his ear. Maybe he was missing Pharfignewton so much that he heard her voice?

But he’d recognize her magnificent white coat and spirited blue eyes anywhere.

“Easy, Pharfignewton! It’s okay!” Pinky cried. He scrambled up Pharfignewton’s leg, avoided her flailing hoof, and held onto her muzzle as she bucked and reared in sheer panic. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay…”

Pharfignewton quieted down, her frantic neighs melting into soft, worried nickers as Pinky stroked her nose. She stopped kicking, though she was wide-eyed with fear.

Madeleine wasn’t hitched to Pharfignewton. Nor was she wasn’t the only one missing…

And Pinky suddenly understood his horse’s panic.

“Pharfignewton, where’s Papa?” Pinky asked. “Is he okay? How did you get separated? Did he try another shortcut when I told him not to do it?”

Pharfignewton’s hooves shuffled, and Pinky forced himself to take a deep breath. He was scaring her with all these questions, so he nuzzled her between the eyes in apology. Still, his heart raced with panic.

From the top of the hill, he saw thick, gray clouds rolling in from the mountains. The temperature was dropping fast.

An early winter would be upon them. They had to find Papa quickly.

“Please, Pharfignewton. We’ve gotta find him,” Pinky pleaded.

She whinnied in agreement, and galloped into the strange forest with all its dangerous, twisted branches before Pinky had a chance to settle in his usual spot at the base of her neck.

Don’t worry, Papa. I’m on my way.

End AN: Well, this is beast is complete (no pun intended).

Yeah, poor Pinky’s usual charm doesn’t really work here. Poor mouse.

Slappy is fun to write, not gonna lie. Love her cartoony antics. She’s also led quite the interesting life in this AU.

The reason Snowball didn’t show up sooner was because I wasn’t sure how to tweak the proposal scene to fit. Cause for one thing, Snowball is way smarter than Gaston, but just as arrogant to boot. So I changed Snowball’s motivation into marrying Pinky because it will help him gain a higher title than a prince. He doesn’t actually love Pinky in this AU, but he’s very annoyed at him for that stunt with the mud puddle (though it’s accidental on Pinky’s part rather than intentional like Belle’s).

The reason Snowball doesn’t go seeking a princess’s hand to gain the kingship is cause he tried that already. It was Billie of a nearby kingdom. It didn’t go well.

Also yes the village is named ACME Village because I’m lazy and can’t come up with anything better.

#pinky and the brain #patb snowball #beauty and the beast au #patb fanfiction

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horansqueen · 4 years ago

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Stuck With You - Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Naked

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5 🡪chapter 6 🡪chapter 7 🡪chapter 8 🡪chapter 9 🡪chapter 10 🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13 🡪chapter 14 🡪chapter 15 🡪chapter 16 🡪chapter 17 🡪chapter 18 🡪chapter 19 🡪chapter 20 🡪chapter 21 🡪chapter 22 🡪chapter 23 🡪chapter 24 🡪chapter 25

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

I wake up in the morning Put on my face The one that's gonna get me Through another day Doesn't really matter How I feel inside 'Cause life is like a game sometimes

But then you came around me The walls just disappeared Nothing to surround me And keep me from my fears I'm unprotected See how I've opened up Oh, you've made me trust

Because I've never felt like this before I'm naked Around you Does it show? You see right through me And I can't hide I'm naked Around you And it feels so right

I'm trying to remember Why I was afraid To be myself and let the Covers fall away I guess I never had someone like you To help me, to help me fit In my skin

click here to be on the update list

NIALL

I woke up and rubbed my eyes before a small snore came to my ears, making my lips curl immediately. I turned slowly to look at Devon, sleeping on her side facing me, her mouth half opened, and I brought my hand to pull a lock of her hair away from her face. I remembered what had happened the night before and licked my lips. It seemed like the taste of her pussy still lingered on them and it made my heart jump in my chest as I felt my cock swell slightly more. It reminded me that I hadn't cummed and that I would really need to take care of that soon, or it was going to become a problem.

I got out of my thoughts when she moaned slightly and shivered, squirming a bit next to me. I brought the covers over her shoulders and sighed low as my eyes roamed on her face. I had no idea what we were doing, and I knew she had mentioned us being only friends but I could have sworn she felt something more for me, too. Perhaps I was delusional. Perhaps I wanted her to have feelings for me so bad that I was imagining things, and I couldn't help the fear living inside me... I couldn't stop that little voice that kept repeating me that I was going to have my heart broken, no matter what her feelings for me were. It was scary and I had no idea what to do. Deep down, I knew it was too late. She would either tell me she didn't love me, or she'd end up hurting me by cheating on me or breaking up with me for someone else.

I nibbled on my bottom lip and brought my hand to her face, running my fingertips on her cheek gently.

"Please, Devie." I whispered before letting my hand fall on the mattress.

I don't know how long I stayed there just watching her sleep and snore but I eventually got up, dressed up and left to get some food. The grocery store was almost empty and I knew it was early but I didn't care. I started walking down the aisles, trying to think of what I could cook during our few escape days and didn't even have to wait in line to pay. I sat back behind my wheel and grabbed my phone just to check if she had sent me a message but she hadn't and I was not really surprised since she was a late sleeper. I thought about how it would feel to go grocery shopping with her if we were together and it reminded me of the times I did that with my ex girlfriend. It was painful to remember and at the same time, it made me angry. Why was I once again letting a woman get the best of me? Why was I letting someone have so much impact on my heart? Why did I end up falling so fast for a woman I barely knew?

I was slightly pissed when I got back inside but I realized she was not awake yet and I walked in the room, sitting next to her on the bed. When I looked at her, all my anger disappeared and all that was left was a sensation of lightness. I knew my pain and fear were still there, buried somewhere under that well-being feeling but for now, I didn't want to look for them.

I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture of her with her lips parted and deeply asleep, if only to always remember the feeling invading my insides at this exact moment, and let her sleep to prepare our breakfast. I put fruits, yogurt and oatmeal on the table and when she appeared, I was almost done with the eggs and toasts. My heart jumped in my chest when I saw the shirt she was wearing but I didn't know what to say.

"What is all this?" she asked, half a smile on her lips as her eyes roamed on the table.

"Three healthy meals a day." I explained with a smile. "This is the first one. You can sit down."

"I mostly thrive on coffee. Iced or warm." she admitted with a chuckle, glancing up at me.

"I know, I noticed." I pointed out. "It needs to change."

"I just hate cooking and I tend to just forget to eat."

"I noticed that too."

She leaned against the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee and then a second one for me as I put the eggs and toasts in a plate. She stared at me working until I raised my eyebrows and pointed out one of the chairs with my hand. Her lips curled a bit more and she sat in front of me, sliding towards me the cup of coffee she prepared for me.

"You notice a lot of things about me." she pointed out after a while.

"Perhaps, yes." I admitted with a shrug as if it meant nothing. "Like when you walked in, I noticed you were wearing my shirt."

She pressed her lips together and I could swear she was blushing but it took her a few seconds to look up in my eyes.

"It's a bit too small for me but, I don't know. It was there, and I wanted to try it on." she explained with a shrug but avoiding my eyes. "Do you want me to take it off?"

Slowly, a smirk appeared on my face and when she finally looked up at me, she let out a chuckle and rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

I chuckled too and started eating as she took a sip of coffee. "I know." I let out, still smiling. "I just thought it was an interesting choice of words." She remained silent but my smile fell and I became more serious. "Do you regret what happened last night?"

She sighed and stared at her place for a few seconds before finally looking up in my eyes. "I feel like I should, but I don't."

"D'you want to do it again?" I asked in a low and soft tone, raising my eyebrows. Her lips parted and I just shook my head. "Hey, no rush or anything, I was just asking."

I could feel my heart thump in my chest as her eyes traveled on me and I cleared my throat, taking a quick sip of my coffee, almost burning my lips.

"What's your plan for today?" I tried to changed the subject, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, and she blinked a few times before licking her lips.

"Uhm, I've felt the urge to paint, would you mind?"

"No, of course not. I wanted to work out anyway, I didn't have time this morning because I needed to buy some food." I nodded, grabbing the dishes and bringing everything to the sink. "I'll prepare the guest room and you can paint there?"

I turned around to lean my butt against the counter and she got up too, walking slowly to me. She stopped only when she was very close and tilted her chin up to look at me as my hands gripped the side of the counter tight, making an annoying squeaky sound.

"You really made me feel better last night, Niall." she whispered, licking her lips. "Thank you."

I looked down at her and brought one of my hands up to place a lock of her hair behind her ear. "T'was my pleasure."

Her lips curled and she chuckled. "No, it was definitely mine."

----

I worked out for an hour and a half and Devon was still locked in the guest room to paint. I decided to take a quick shower but I couldn't stop thinking about the way my shirt molded her chest and stomach when it was on her, and the face she made when she came the night before. I wanted to feel myself inside her so bad it was making me slightly dizzy and when I walked back in my room in sweatpants and a t-shirt, I could still feel my cock throb. I sat on my bed, leaning my elbows on my knees and sighed, closing my eyes. I knew I wouldn't be able to think about something else before I finally reached an orgasm but I was also aware that it was dangerous to do anything while I was not alone in the apartment. The truth was, I hadn't touched myself properly in so long, and quick shower masturbation sessions in the morning didn't really satisfy me. It made me realize that even when Devon was living with Lewis, I didn't do it and It surprised me.

I sat back, leaning myself with my hands a bit farther on the mattress and gripped the sheets with both hands. I really needed to do it but even more than that, I wanted to do it. I looked around my room and finally pushed myself further on the bed, laying down right in the middle. I let my hand run on my cock over my sweatpants and hissed through my teeth at the sensation before gripping myself harder. There was something exciting about the fact that Devon was not far and that I was actually thinking about her to get off but I couldn't help but wish I would do all of this with her instead. I took my cock and my balls out, wrapping my hand tight around my dick and squeezing it a bit before letting out a low 'fuck'.

I started thinking about Devon and how wet she had been the night before... how she squirmed and shook, and how she tasted. I could remember the way her pussy throbbed around my tongue and suddenly regretted not using my fingers or even better, my dick. If I had time, I would jerk off for a while but I was in a hurry since I had no idea when Devon would be done painting. I let my hand move up and down on my cock quickly, reaching for my balls with my other hand and I let out a low groan. My whole body was impatiently throbbing and I was extremely excited. That's why it took me a while to understand the noise I had heard.

I frowned and my pace slowled but when I opened my eyes, I saw Devon near the door, staring at me. I sat up quickly, my cock still in my hand, and my lips parted slowly.

"Wow, I just got caught." I chuckled while scratching the back of my head, slightly embarrassed as my heartbeats echoed all over my body.

"I'm... I'm sorry." she replied quickly, clearing her throat. "I just got here, I didn't.. I just..."

"No, Devie, it's alright." I replied, shaking my head and tugging my cock back in my pants. "I shouldn't have I mean you're here and-"

"You can keep going." she quickly let out, cutting me. "If you... If you want to."

My eyes opened wider in shock and my lips parted. I hadn't expected those words to come out of her lips but she started nibbling on her bottom lip with her head slightly tilted and I knew there was no way I would let go of this erection.

"You sure?" I breathed out as she nodded.

"Can I stay?"

I closed my eyes as my lips curled and I chuckled before looking back at her again. She had taken a few steps closer and glanced down at my pants.

"You're really something else, you know that, right?"

"Can I?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows and ignoring my comment.

My mind was racing when she sat next to me on the bed and I sighed, reaching for my cock in my pants and taking it out. I had no idea why it made me so nervous but lust overtook the stress and I leaned my back on the pillows before stroking myself slowly, my head falling back on my shoulder slightly. My eyes fluttered close and after a while, all that was left was the lust I felt for her. I kept touching myself slowly, not wanting this to be over too soon, but my heart jumped in my chest when I felt something on my legs. I opened my eyes quickly and my dick twitched in my hand when I saw her straddle me and sit on my legs. Slowly, she licked her lips and grabbed my hard cock in her hand, squeezing it and making me whimper low. I took my hand off and she started touching me, bringing inside me a feeling I couldn't describe. I didn't know how long I would last, but when she started nibbling on her bottom lip, staring down at the way her both her hands ran on my cock, one of my legs twitched and I cursed again.

"Come here, come closer."

She got back on her knees, getting closer to me and quickly, I slipped one of my hands in her pants, reaching between her legs. Her lips parted and her legs tensed as two of my fingers ran on her slit, brushing on her clit. I felt her drip, her wetness sticking to my fingers, and I looked up at her, panting low.

"You're so fucking wet, Devie." I pointed out uselessly, shaking my head. "Fuck."

I breathed out as I felt her thumb rub on the tip of my cock and slip between it and my skin. It made me stop moving for a second and I finally reached her breasts with my free hand. My fingertips slipped on her shirt, running on her nipples as they got hard under my touch. I knew I'd never have time to push myself inside her before cumming and from the moans she let out as I rubbed her swollen clit, I knew it was the same for her.

"Devie, fuck, talk to me." I whispered, sliding my hand under her shirt and grabbing one of her tits firmly. "How does that feel?" I ran my hand to the other one and she closed her eyes.

"It feels so fucking good Niall, please don't stop." she breathed out, opening her eyes to look into mine again. "Keep touching me."

I knew she liked it because from time to time, her hands stopped stroking my cock to focus on what I was doing to her but every time she'd start jerking me off again, it felt even better. She bent slightly to reach for my balls with her other hand and I groaned at how close she was. I could kiss her if I wanted, but I preferred to look at her while she stared right back at me. I didn't know why it turned me on so much, but watching her facial expression as I touched her brought me even closer to an orgasm.

"I'm so close Niall, so fucking close."

"Yea?" I asked, a small smirk appearing on my lips. "You're gonna cum for me, little one?"

Her grip around my cock tightened at the nickname I gave her and she nodded, her lips parting. I glanced at them and looked back in her eyes, my smirk getting bigger.

"Why don't you grind on my fingers?" i added low. "Show me how bad you want it."

She started doing what I wanted immediately and it made me feel dizzy to know she was so obedient. Her pussy rubbed on some of my fingers, coating them quickly, and I bit my bottom lip as I slipped two fingers inside her. She whimpered louder and I pressed my thumb on her clit as she let go of my cock to grab my arm tight, her finger sinking in my skin. She started shaking uncontrollably over me, her eyes shutting tight, and I moved my upper body closer.

"I want to hear my name." I breathed out near her ear, making her hold my arm even tighter.

"Niall, fuck." she let out low before moaning louder. "Niall!"

My cock twitched when I heard my name coming out of her lips and she came hard on my hand again. Her grip loosened and when I was sure her orgasm had passed, I took my hand off her pants and brought it back on my cock, spreading her wetness on it. She was panting as she looked down at my cock again and my heart jumped in my chest. Quickly, she reached for it and started jerking me off again, her hands traveling up and down from the base to the tip and sometimes caressing my balls and making me moan as I kept looking at her. Once again, her thumb reached between my skin and my tip and my hips jerked up at her touch.

"Darling you're gonna make me cum."

She moved her face closer and pressed her lips gently against mine as she kept stroking my dick faster. "I love your cock so much." she admitted in a whisper. "I've been trying to imagine it so often, and now I can't wait to feel it inside me."

It sent a rush to my brain and without thinking, I brought one of my hands in her hair and gripped it tightly. I heard her moan as I felt an orgasm coming. She kept jerking me off as I thrusted up despite myself, pulling on her hair a bit too hard. A groan escaped my lips again and my eyes closed as I reached my peak, my cum spurting on her hands and shirt.

"Jesus fucking Christ." I whispered as spasms made my body quiver. "I haven't cummed so hard in so long."

I remained sitting as I tried to catch my breath and let my hand in her hair fall on my thigh. She sat on my lap, cupping my face with both her hands and allowed her lips to gently brush against mine. It felt so good to feel her kiss me post-orgasm that I closed my eyes and made sure I remained motionless.

"Devie..." I breathed in-between two gentle kisses.

"Niall..."

"Devie, I-"

"Shh, no." she quickly cut me, kissing my lips softly again. "Don't talk."

"But I need to tell you-"

"No." she repeated a bit louder. "Please, Niall, don't ruin this."

I shut my eyes tighter as my heart broke. Sadness and happiness fought inside me to find out which one was stronger but it was a useless fight and I knew it. If telling her my feelings was a way to ruin this moment for her, I had no reason to tell her. There was no hope.

"I loved this so much." she admitted so low I barely heard it.

I swallowed hard and breathed in, trying to stop myself from tearing up. "Me too."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan story #niall horan au #niall horan enemies to lovers #niall horan college au #niall horan uni au #my fanfics #swy

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tickletastic · 4 years ago

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It’s For Science

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Ship: Thiam (Liam/Theo)

Summary: Liam has reasonable suspicion to believe that Theo is ticklish, so he recruits the help of his friends to confirm his theory.

“I have a theory!”

Mason rolled his eyes, pulling the front door closed behind him. “Hello to you too, Li.”

“Hey Mase! Hey Corey! Okay, I have a theory.”

Corey snickered when Mason just sighed in response.

Liam bounced around, both of his parents were at the hospital, and Theo’s shift at the bookstore-cafe hybrid that he worked at wouldn’t be finished for at least another hour, so he had the whole house to expel his energy in as loudly as he wanted to.

“Okay so this might sound crazy, but I think that Theo is ticklish.”

“Dude,” Mason’s eyes widened, looking up at his best friend after toeing off his shoes.

“No way!” Corey exclaimed, his eyebrows meeting his hairline, “where is this theory of yours coming from?”

“Okay, okay, so,” Liam slapped his hands together looking between his two friends, “Theo had wanted to do something nice for my mom, so he was baking her favourite brownies, he even got that weird milk that she likes and the egg substitute she uses in her cakes.”

Mason huffed out a laugh through his nose, “of course you’re already sidetracked as soon as you start your story.”

Corey rubbed Mason’s arm and gave him a look that asked for patience, and Liam continued.

“So he was trying to hide it from my mom, right? As like a surprise or something but you know my mom and surprises, I love her but she always has to know everything like that one time we tried to plan that dinner for her and-”

“Liam,” Corey’s voice was soft, and his tone was somehow both encouraging and warning all at once.

“Right, so every time my mom would try to come in the room, he would stand in the doorframe and block her view by moving around, but my mom was getting a little impatient, kind of like that look you’re giving me now, Mase.” Liam’s dazed look turned to the boy in question, his eyebrow slightly raising.

“Sorry, Liam. Continue.”

“So my mom did that thing she does with me where she gives her whole ‘we can do this the easy way, or the hard way’ spiel,” Liam’s voice had raised comically in an attempt to nail his impression of his mother. “Except Theo’s new so he didn’t know what the ‘hard way’ would be so he just told her again that she would have to wait for a few more minutes. My mom took that as him asking for the hard way and she tickled his sides, he jumped like he had been electrocuted or something! I think he might’ve even giggled too.”

Corey was smiling, nodding along to Liam’s recounting of the tale. “Alright, sounds like a sound theory to me.”

Liam grinned wide at the validation from Corey, since he and Mason had started dating it felt like a breath of fresh air that finally there was someone patient who would at least listen before teasing him.

Not that he didn’t love Mason, but sometimes he just didn’t want to be kept on his toes.

“How do you want to go about this?” Mason questioned, his fist under his chin as if deep in thought.

Liam couldn’t help it when his mind blanked momentarily, “go about what?”

“Proving your theory?”

“Okay, okay, I was hoping you guys would help me. I have a plan.” The dangerous glint in Liam’s eye was one that Mason had seen far too many times over their lives, and it gave him a clue that Liam’s plan would probably be theatrical and crazy… But it would definitely get the job done.

---

By the time Liam had finished explaining his plan, Mason and Corey had witnessed thirty minutes of hand gestures, shouting, and sound effects. The three of them stood there, dazed, looking back and forth at one another until the opening of the front door snapped them out of it.

All three heads rapidly shot towards the door, and that was when Liam realized just how strange the three of them probably looked. They still had yet to sit down since Mason and Corey had arrived, and Corey was still wearing his coat despite the fact that they had been inside for nearly an hour.

“Hey Theo!”

“Uh- hey- hi Theo!”

As usual, Liam and Mason stumbled over their words as a team, Corey just sent his former alpha a shy smile accompanied by a small wave.

Theo’s brow furrowed, his mouth pulling into the small pout that Liam figured Theo didn’t even know that he did, and yet it still made the younger boy’s insides turn to mush.

“Uh- hi?”

Liam tried to make a smooth recovery, but he never really was an expert in smooth. “Why are you back?”

“I- uh- I live here. I think. I mean unless you-”

“No, no! I mean what are you doing back so early? I thought your shift ended at six today, I was going to surprise you with food when you got home.” Liam made sure to take note of Theo’s previous demeanour. Theo didn’t usually jump to conclusions anymore, and the Dunbar-Geyers had tried to make it as obvious as possible that this was his home, they would never kick him out. Liam figured the older boy hadn’t slept the night before, and he made a mental note to sneak into Theo’s room that night under the pretense that he had another berserker nightmare.

“Rhiannon let me off early,” He looked up at Liam from where he had previously been looking at the floor, and continued to anxiously scratch at the back of his neck. “I- uh, I brought you those lemon tarts that you like so much, Rhiannon let me make a fresh batch to take before I left. And there’s some cookies and croissants that I brought back if either of you two are hungry before dinner.”

Liam smiled wide, in the contagious, goofy way that he always did, and Theo found himself mirroring Liam’s expression. Corey let out a ‘thank you’ before Mason raided the box of treats, giving his boyfriend an oatmeal cookie while eating a sugar cookie himself.

Theo awkwardly scratched his neck. “You can handle dinner? If not I could probably cook up some of that cheesy pasta or something.”

Liam didn’t think his smile could get any wider. Since after the war, Theo had been trying desperately to receive forgiveness from Scott’s pack. Surprisingly, it was easier than he thought it would be, but that didn’t stop him from trying harder and harder with each new day. Theo was trying particularly hard with Corey, whose favourite food happened to be Theo’s homemade pasta. Corey looked down, but Liam could see that his cheeks held a soft smile.

“It’s cool, T, I was gonna order some food,” Liam reassured him, moving his hands in a dismissive manner.

“Alright, I can make it the next time you guys are over if you want,” Theo offered, a barely-there blush held on his cheeks. Corey nodded eagerly, and Mason mumbled something through a mouthful of icing. “Alright, well, I’m gonna head up, I have a little bit of a headache.” As if to further solidify his words, the chimera rubbed the heels on his palms over his eyelids.

Liam frowned slightly, trying to neutralize his expression. He had a sneaking suspicion that Theo was going to take a nap so that he could stay awake throughout the night, but he would find a way to coax Theo to sleep later on. Before Theo could scent his confusion, Liam smiled again, sending a thumbs-up Theo’s way, “let me know if you need anything.”

Theo climbed the stairs, and Liam finally turned around to look at his two best friends, who were both wide-eyed, with varying degrees of crumbs on their faces.

“We’re getting Greek.”

“What happened to Chinese-?”

“Shh! We’re getting Greek.” Liam figured that Theo wasn’t listening to them, considering how tired he seemed to be, but the younger boy wanted to spare himself from embarrassment nonetheless. After all, he did say they were ordering dinner, he never specified what it would be. So what if that dinner just happened to be Theo’s favourite after he had a particularly bad day?

---

Today, Scott was expecting them over for a pack meeting. As usual, despite the fact that Theo had been welcomed into the pack and had been personally texted regarding the meeting, Liam could smell the anxiety wafting off of Theo.

“It’s alright, you know?” Liam asked, sitting on the bed opposite from Theo, who now had a scowl on his face.

“What’s alright?” Theo questioned, feigning naivete.

“They accept you now, you’re free, you’re never going to have to go back there. So, it’s alright. You can calm down.”

Theo sighed, shaking his head and reaching under the bed for his shoes. Liam felt the sudden urge to push the hair out of Theo's eyes, and before he could stop himself he was reaching out, carding soft fingers through even softer hair.

Theo froze completely, looking straight up at Liam in shock. Liam finally realized what he had done and felt his face go bright red.

“I-uh. I,” Liam moved his hand like he had touched a flame. “I’ll wait in the car.”

Liam dashes out of the room and Theo is stuck to wonder what the hell just happened.

Five minutes later Theo is walking down the porch steps, his hair brushed back in a way that implies that he had been running his hands through it. Liam knows that now is the absolute worst time to be staring, but Theo just looks so soft in his jeans and his thick, orange knit sweater.

Theo notices the staring, and his cheeks go pink. He clears his throat, “ready to go Puppy?”

Liam nods, sending the older boy a smile and jumping into the passenger seat.

---

Operation: Confirmation had been in the works for about a week. Corey, Mason, and Liam thought the pack meeting would be a great opportunity, even though Theo would probably be embarrassed beyond compare. Liam thought it might even show Malia and Stiles that Theo can be soft around the edges.

Pack meetings always start with food, and today they were having tacos and nachos courtesy of one Melissa McCall. Liam doesn’t know if he believes in God, but he does believe that Melissa must be an Angel.

The Puppy Pack scarfs down their food, as usual, while the older members of the pack take their time. Scott and Stiles are standing by the dining table, talking to each other about how Stiles’ training has been going. Everyone else is sitting on various pieces of furniture in the living room, talking amongst themselves. Except Theo.

Theo is kind of awkwardly hovering around Liam, Mason, and Corey, looking sort of lost. Liam smiles to himself. Their plan was pretty detailed, but this could probably help get it going.

Liam looks at the armchair, Mason is grinning up at Corey, who’s sitting in his lap. Then Liam catches Theo’s eye, a glint in them that causes Theo to squint at him. Liam develops a shit-eating grin before patting his lap as an invitation.

Theo looks absolutely horrified, shaking his head. “No fucking way.”

“C’mon, T. Aren’t you uncomfortable standing?”

Theo shakes his head again, “I don’t think I’ll ever be that uncomfortable.”

Liam pulls a pout, putting his hand over his heart. “How dare you? You’ve wounded me so.”

Theo shakes his head and goes to turn around, but suddenly he’s tripping over something that wasn’t there before.

Appropriately, or inappropriately, as Theo would probably describe it, Theo lands right into Liam’s lap with an “oof”.

Theo whips his head around to see that Malia had overheard their bickering, and she’s laughing to herself with a mischievous smile on her face. She tries to fake sympathetic, but she can’t hold back her laughter long enough, “don’t hurt Liam’s feelings.”

Liam snickers, giving Malia a high-five. He lets Theo struggle in his lap until he’s sitting upright before tightening his grip. Theo wiggles in Liam’s tight grasp until Liam dances his fingers over Theo’s side, and he suddenly goes pin straight.

Liam smiles to himself, but he doesn’t give Mason and Corey the signal just yet. Mason does shoot him a thumbs up though, most likely due to the compromising position that Liam has managed to get Theo into.

Theo tries to keep his cool, but he knows that his face is bright red whenever anybody strikes a conversation with him.

Stiles and Scott move a little closer to the rest of the pack, leaning against a wall as they continue their conversation.

“Yeah, Theo had mentioned that he could smell Monroe’s scent in the preserve last week.” Scott told Stiles.

“Really?” Stiles asks, looking at Theo. He quirks an eyebrow when he sees who Theo is using as a chair. Theo didn’t think it was possible to get redder, but it happens nonetheless.

“Yeah, I was full-shifted. I thought she might have been around so I went to the coyote den, but she never showed.”

Stiles nods along as he listens. “Well, we had managed to triangulate a possible location of her new base. We think she’s moved to Washington, but we’ve heard sighting from a bunch of different cities that suggest that-”

Theo’s eyes go wide and he quickly clamps both of his hands over his mouth. He moves his elbows like he’s trying to protect himself from something. Despite the desperate attempt at muting himself, it is pretty obvious that the muffled sounds are broken giggles.

Stiles quirks his head to the side, “Are you laughing at me? Dude, can you be serious with me just for once?”

“Uh, Stiles? I think Theo’s distraction has something to do with that.” Scott pointed at Theo’s side, where it appeared like Theo’s shirt was moving on its own.

Theo was doubling over as much as he could in Liam’s grasp, hasty laughter pouring out of him that he was very obviously trying to conceal. Everyone else in the room had pretty much clued in on the fact that Mason and Corey appeared to be ‘missing’, so they were taking in the sight in front of them since there seemed to be no threat of danger.

“Is he?” Stiles stopped himself with a dumbfounded look, “is he giggling? Is Theo giggling? This is priceless.”

Theo’s face and ears heat up, his eyes opening just enough to glare. “I’m not a child, Stiles. I don’t giggle.”

“Ya’know, that would’ve been way more convincing if you weren’t giggling when you said it.”

Scott had a fond smile on his face, watching as his beta and the other founding members of the Puppy Pack reduced one of their former rivals to a puddle of giggles.

“You know, I was starting to wonder if Theo was anything like we had remembered him,” Scott looked to Stiles, whose mouth was still open in shock, “some things never change.”

Liam’s eyes brightened at that revelation, “So which spot used to be Theo’s worst?”

Scott gave Stiles a look of warning, shaking his head and letting out a sigh when he realized that the freckled boy would reveal it anyways.

“Under his arms and behind his knees. Our pal, Theo here, once gave Scotty a bloody nose because Scott jabbed him in class when he had his hand up.” Stiles had a sinister smirk on his features, one that Scott made a mental note to fix later by embarrassing his best friend in front of the pack.

“Stop, don’t! Liam, let me go. Guys, stop!” Theo tried to sound threatening, he tried his very best to school his features and control his chemosignals, but he had been taken so off-guard. All of his defenses were down and he absolutely did not know how to get them back online. “Liam, if you don’t stop I’ll break your nose.”

Theo’s eyes went wide and shiny before shutting completely, and he shrieked as nimble fingers that he could only assume were Corey’s slipped under his arm. At this point Liam barely had to put in effort to contain Theo, who had surrendered himself to the attack knowing that he was trapped on all sides by Liam and the other two invisible boys.

“Aww, does that tickle? Is somebody’s armpits ticklish? What about your knees, Theo? Does this tickle?” Mason teased Theo ruthlessly, the same way that he would tease Liam in similar situations. It always drove Liam absolutely crazy, and it seemed like Theo wasn’t doing any better. Mason’s fingers had made their way down to Theo’s knees, spidering over them. When his fingers slipped behind the older boy’s knees they got the real reaction.

Theo screeched and snorted before falling limp against Liam, his head down as he laughed silently and a few tears streamed down his rosy cheeks. Liam figured that Theo wasn’t aware enough to smell his own chemosignals, so while he probably would have to do some damage control on Theo’s embarrassment, the older boy wouldn’t know enough to be embarrassed about the stark smell of happiness floating through the room. Liam didn’t get to smell Theo’s chemosignals very often at all, since the older boy couldn’t shake the habit of masking them, but Liam found that he really, really adored the smell of Theo’s own forest-y, cinnamony scent mixed with joy.

“Alright, alright guys, that’s enough,” Liam shooed away his two best friends. Mason and Corey became visible to the rest of the room, Mason, with a wide, menacing grin on his face like some Disney villain, and Corey, a much smaller, more fond smile on his own. As soon as they stopped tickling, Theo slumped back, bringing his hands up to his face, still shaking from the residual laughter. Liam once again wrapped Theo up tight in his arms, giving the older boy a bearhug from behind while nuzzling his chin into the crook of Theo’s neck. Theo had flinched at first, but Liam had rubbed his hand soothingly over Theo’s bicep.

Scott smiled softly at Liam and Theo, only Liam catching it, and winked. “Alright, so, as we were saying, we have a pretty good idea as to where we think Monroe’s head hunters might be.”

Stiles looked dumbfounded, “Wait are we just going to ignore that whole thing? We’re just gonna let Theo pretend that-”

“Where do we think they are?” Corey piped up, never usually one to ask questions during pack meetings.

“Really, guys? We’re brushing over th-”

“So we believe that Monroe has left her head hunters at the Nevada base, but she herself is in Washington overseeing some of her amateur hunters there.” Scott continued, completely ignoring Stiles.

Theo had recovered mostly, he was no longer laughing silently or shaking. Liam had taken to rubbing small circles on his back. Theo finally uncovered his face, still blushing to the tips of his ears. Liam had to stop himself from laughing at the adorableness of it all, knowing that it would just make things worse.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Liam soothed in a whispered voice, Scott still giving the pack a rundown. “You’re pack now, sometimes pack messes with each other. We give each other affection and stuff.”

Theo somehow turned even redder, fighting a small smile that threatened the way to his face. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.”

Theo shook his head, but he shifted so he could lean his head back on Liam’s shoulder, his head in the crook of the younger teen’s neck as he looked over at Scott to gage what everyone was talking about.

Liam just smiled, wrapping his arms around Theo’s waist and leaning his head against Theo’s.

Liam zoned out until he heard Mason’s voice and looked over. Mason whispered loud enough for Liam to hear but not loud enough to interrupt. “Two for one!”

Liam furrowed his brow before moving his head so he could look down at Theo, whose breathing and heart rate had slowed. He smiled wide, nodding eagerly in Mason’s direction as Theo snored softly.

Now Liam has a better, much cuter method to get Theo to sleep.

#Teen wolf #thiam #liam dunbar #theo raeken #ticklish!theo #mason hewitt #corey bryant #stiles stilinski #Scott McCall #malia tate #puppy pack

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too-gay-for-marvel · 5 years ago

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i want to come home pt.6

a/n: aight yall, this is the end, the grand finale, the end of the line. this was the start of this blog and yall stuck with me through it and i love yall so much. yall have really been amazing and make writing worth it. i hope in the future i can continue to write things yall enjoy. now lets finish this thing

a/n pt 2: i also wasnt gonna post this till thursday but i just remembered today is my bday so this is my gift to yall because i would die for yall. dont @ me for forgetting my bday

Word Count: 2738

Warnings: Mason being an adorable little asshole

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6)

I can do this, you think as you decide to take the stairs up to your 9th floor apartment. She’s just a kid.

My kid.

It shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. You’ve co-parented Mason for five years. You literally grew her and pushed her out of your body. So why were you so nervous to have to parent her alone for a few days?

Because you’re not okay, your mind tells you, but you ignore it. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

You want to run away, but it’s fine.

And as you open the door to your apartment and see Mason drawing, you don’t want to run away anymore. You haven’t gotten to spend alone time with her since- well, it doesn’t matter. You missed hanging out with her and having some alone time.

So you make the best of it.

It’s not as bad as you thought it would be. She helps you make meals. Well, she bosses you around (like her mother, you think) while you do the work. You play, you watch movies, you have sleepovers. One night you even made a fort.

“What’s the password?” Mason questions you from her spot in the fort.

The very same fort you built and she kicked you out of.

“I love you,” you offer.

“No! Try again,” she giggles. “I love you, too,” she quickly whispers after only a moment’s hesitation. Much better.

“I have pizza,” you offer again. She sticks her head out just enough to catch you in your lie before hiding once again.

“Mommy is a better liar.”

Well, she’s got you there.

“Is it…” you look around, hoping to find some clue as to what the password could be. In truth, you think she’s just making it up as she goes. She spends enough time with Nat that it wouldn’t surprise you.

“Hurry hurry!”

“I need a hint,” you practically beg, really trying to ham it up. “Pretty please?” Mason may be just like Nat, but she has a few of your qualities.

One of which is that she’s a sucker.

“I’ll make a deal,” Mason says as she sticks her little hand out of the fort. “Pay the entrance fee.”

Where did she even learn this shit?

“Name your price.”

“10 pieces of chocolate,” she says while wiggling tiny, always sticky fingers.

“That’s too high, three,” you counter.

“Nine.”

“Two.”

“You’re going the wrong way!” Mason giggles and finally sticks her head out of the fort.

“I’ll give you five,” you tease as you lean forward and touch your forehead to hers, scrunching your nose when she laughs even harder. “Take it or leave it.”

“No deal!” She practically screams, and you flinch back from the noise.

The scream of metal twisting in ways it shouldn’t. The team in your ears, your own screams deafening as you-

“-Momma?”

Your eyes shoot open and you look into Mason’s green ones, and you’re home again. Not on the mission, not trapped, just home. Your daughter is right there, looking at you, and you just have to reach out and touch her.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. It’s not enough. You know it’s not enough.

“It’s okay,” she says softly before leaning forward and giving you a sticky kiss on the forehead. It’s gross. You love it.

You’re okay. You’re fine. You have to be fine.

Natasha is set to return on a Sunday. Mason had woken up early, far too early for anyone to wake up on a Sunday, but she wanted to get started on breakfast. We can’t let mommy come home to no breakfast, can we? Yes. Yes you can.

But you get up anyway and let your daughter boss you around about what breakfast should be made: eggs, toast, pancakes, waffles, bacon, oatmeal, coffee, tea, chocolate milk, the list goes on. It’s as if she thinks Nat has never had breakfast in her life. You both know Nat only ever just eats fruit.

Hell, Mason even put the leftover Thai food out.

She was definitely Nat’s child.

You’re desperately trying to listen to Mason talk about her dreams while also not getting distracted and burning the bacon when someone knocks at the door. Who would be knocking so early?

Nat had a key.

Before you can stop her, Mason runs to the door calling for Nat. You don’t think she’s old enough to understand your wife can get in if she wants. It’s a rush to move the bacon and turn the stove off so you can stop Mason from opening the door for a possible stranger.

“Uncle Nick!” Mason cries, and you can hear her giggling.

And you hear your heart stop.

Nick doesn’t come over unannounced.

You aren’t sure if you want to go greet him at the door. Nothing good comes from unannounced visits, especially not from Nick. Who does he think he is to show up when he knows Nat is away on a mission.

She’s on a mission. She’s fine. You’re fine.

“Don’t say it,” you whisper when you make it to the kitchen entry and see Nick holding Mason.

“Say what?” He asks, looking straight at you.

“Don’t,” you say even quieter, if it was even possible.

“Is mommy home?” Mason asks, and you give Nick a look. A look that says you’ll kill him if he tells your daughter that something happened to Nat.

Nothing happened to Nat. She’s fine. You’re fine.

“It’ll be a little longer, kid,” Nick says. “But she sent you a gift.”

He puts her down and hands her a small box of chocolates that he got from his pocket. Mason cheers and runs off to the kitchen to open the box. Her sweet tooth was too big for her to ask if they wanted a piece.

“Y/N-”

“I said don’t, Nick,” you say, more forceful now that Mason is slightly out of earshot.

“She’s fine,” Nick says. He reaches out to you but you step back. “It’s safer to extend the mission than to pull her out now.”

She’s fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

“You would tell me,” you shoot back. “Right?”

“I would tell you,” he confirms, and you nod and invite him to breakfast.

He wouldn’t lie. He couldn’t lie.

What was supposed to be a short, few day mission ends up going past two months. In that time you have to manage taking care of Mason, getting her to school, doing your work, training agents. You worry about Nat the whole time and feel on edge every time someone comes up to you at work.

Maybe that’s how Nat felt when you died. But you were fine.

Maybe throughout the time, when Mason can’t see, you break down. Maybe you cry in the shower because you’re scared and the water agitates your cybernetics that Tony says are flawless. And maybe you can’t sleep because you have nightmares, about dying, about Nat, about Mason.

But you’re okay. You’re fine.

And you’re absolutely fine when Mason says she doesn’t feel good and asks if she can go to work with you.

That’s fine, too.

You know she’s lying. She always bites her lip when she lies. But she’s your daughter; if she asked you to steal the moon, you would do it. So you help her pack a day bag and get her in the car.

When you look in the rear view mirror, you can see her practically bouncing in her seat. At least she’s happy.

Her purple Hawkeye backpack is bigger than she is when she puts it on. You have to fake a cough to hide the laughter as you reach out for her to hold your hand. She grabs it eagerly and you both walk into the Compound and head to your office.

It’s nothing fancy, just a small office. As a “higher up,” you at least get a semi-private office, but it still made you claustrophobic. Not that it mattered because you were fine. And you were even more fine when Mason sat at the little desk you had against a wall.

A desk just for her.

You know she’s going to cause trouble. You can feel it in your bones. She’s too quiet while you fill out paperwork, and every now and then you hear her giggle. But when you look over at her, she’s just colouring.

Why was she so suspicious?

“Hey boss,” you hear, and you look over to see Luke standing in the doorway. “Hey Little Boss,” he says soon after with a wink at Mason.

“Hi, Uncle Luke!” Mason calls and tries to wink back, but she used both eyes. Well. It’s the thought that counts.

“Need something?” You asked as you leaned back in your chair, trying not to groan as your skin stretched over the augmentations.

You were fine.

“Mind if I take Little Boss with me on a few errands?” He asks. The way Mason practically jumps up leads to more suspicion.

But you see her smile, and how can you tell her “no?”

“Please don’t teach my daughter bad things,” you plead, but you know it’s useless. She was raised around the Avengers, after all.

“I’ll keep him out of trouble,” Mason says with a serious look on her face. You gesture for her to come closer and give her a quick kiss on the head before shooing the both of them out of your office.

And once they’re gone, all hell breaks loose and everyone knows it’s your fault.

It starts when Tony stops by your office only half an hour after Mason and Luke ran off. You didn’t have to ask what happened when you see Tony with damp, pink hair.

“I’m sorry,” you say even though you want to laugh until you can’t breathe.

“She’s evil,” is all he says before walking back out. You can’t argue with him.

The next disaster happens 15 minutes later. You were trying to brew some more coffee to try and fight your nightmare-induced fatigue when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. You have to bite your cheek to keep from smiling.

“New friendship bracelets?” You ask as your eyes land on Bucky’s and Clint’s hands.

“Who gave her handcuffs?” Bucky asks as he holds his wrist up, forcing Clint’s hand to follow.

“Did you ask her?” You shoot back.

“She was too busy running away laughing,” Clint grumbles, but you can see the blush creep up his neck when Bucky’s hand grazes his own.

“You’re handcuffed to an assassin, Clint,” you say softly, “have him pick the lock.”

“We’re not done talking about this,” Clint says as he pulls Bucky away to take care of their problem. Maybe while Bucky picks the lock, they’ll take care of all that sexual tension between them.

It only gets worse as the morning goes on. Two of your agents come up to you with tears in their eyes and donuts in their hands. Apparently the donuts had been filled with mayonnaise.

Bruce comes to your office with his hands stuck to a hand sanitizer bottle. One that was now filled with clear glue instead of sanitizer.

Nick came to you with half an oreo in his hand. An oreo that smelled suspiciously of mint toothpaste.

Your personal favourite was the screams of agents that was soon followed by the overwhelming smell of Febreze. When you looked out your door, four empty, zip-tied Febreze cans were piled outside.

When Mason walked back into your office with a guiltless grin, you wanted to have her explain. You knew you should tell her that she can’t just prank everyone at work just because she wanted to.

But it made the day… interesting.

What harm was there in a few little pranks, right?

“Don’t tell me about it,” you say as you hand her the sandwich you had made for lunch. “I need to be able to claim plausible deniability.”

“What’s that?” Mason asks as she scrunches her nose and takes a bite of her sandwich.

“It means I can keep you out of trouble,” you tease before kissing her scrunched nose and eating your own sandwich.

You teased each other as you munched on your small lunch. Sometimes you would steal a chip from her pile, other times she would reach over and “steal” a bite of your sandwich. At one point she ended up tossing grapes at you and laughing when you couldn’t catch them.

It was just… mundane. You were okay.

“Busy?”

Both you and Mason turn to the door to see Maria standing there, arms crossed over her chest. As usual. She looks as professional as always and you can definitely see why Nat used to have a crush on her.

“Hi, Auntie M,” Mason says around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Hi, Little M,” Maria shoots back with a small smile.

“Whatcha need?” You ask as you set the last few bites of your sandwich down and wipe your hands off on a napkin. Normally you would use your pants, but Mason doesn’t need to learn that habit.

“Nat’s jet is landing soon,” Maria says. She keeps eye contact with you. It’s comforting.

“Mommy’s home?” Mason asks. She drops her sandwich when she stands up and rushes out the door as your heart races.

“Mason wait!” You call and run after her, but she’s got a good start.

You hate when she runs off.

“Mason stop!” You shout after skidding around a corner and seeing Mason still heading toward the hangar. She doesn’t answer you, and she definitely doesn’t stop.

How was she faster than you?

How was she in better shape than you??

You jumped off the stairs to the hangar to try and land in front of Mason, but the landing jars you too much and you groan and fall to your knees. Good as new, you think cynically to yourself, what a load of bullshit. Tony was going to get an earful later.

The jet had already landed and Steve walked out as you managed to push yourself back up to your feet. You’re almost desperate to see Nat, but you feel a million times better when you see Mason jump into your wife’s arms.

She’s okay. You’re okay.

You walk the rest of the way, stopping just far enough away that Nat can’t touch you. It makes you want to cry that you’re worried about touching your own wife. But you’ve hurt her, you died, you can’t just pretend like everything is fine.

Even though it is fine. You’re fine.

Instead you stand there and cross your arms defensively over your chest. At least Mason is happy, and Nat looks happy to be home. They’re both chatting and laughing and smiling and that’s all you want. And you wait patiently until Nat looks up and locks eyes with you.

And it’s like everything around you disappears. You get the same feeling you had when you first saw her, and your palms get sweaty and your mouth is dry. It’s like nothing ever happened, nothing had gone wrong, you were just the happy family you used to be.

But you see that pain in her eyes. There’s a desperation that you only recognise because you’ve seen it in the mirror. And you know you’re going to have to talk about it, and you’re going to have a lot of talks about it. But you can see that she knows it, too.

Maybe that’s a start. But that’s okay. That’s fine.

So you step forward and wrap your arms around the both of them. Nat doesn’t stiffen like she has since you came back. No, this time she melts into you and you swear you hear her whimper, almost inaudibly. So you squeeze them tighter because you won’t hurt them again.

You pull back just enough to look at her, and only then are you so bold. Leaning down enough to kiss her, sighing into the feeling that you had missed more than life itself. That feeling of home.

“Gross,” Mason teases, and you feel Nat smile against your lips before pulling back and giving Mason a kiss on the nose.

“Any after-mission-requests?” You ask, and Nat just looks at you for a moment with teary eyes that she blinks back.

“I want to go home.”

And you both smile.

“Home sounds good.”

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

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spine-buster · 5 years ago

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Alone Together | Epilogue 4: The Sweetest Eyes I’ve Ever Seen | Morgan Rielly

January 13th, 2028

Bee heard the doorbell ring as she finished loading Andy’s bowl in the dishwasher. After a nice and calm breakfast of Dino Eggs oatmeal with fruit (Andy’s favourite), he was already playing with his see and spell puzzle toys on the carpet in the family room quietly, Maggie laying down beside him, his trusty little red fox plush toy he aptly named Pip watching him. He was still in his comfy onesie pyjamas, and Bee knew he wouldn’t want to change out of them. Hopefully their guest at the door would make him want to change his mind.

Andy perked up once he heard the doorbell ring. “Who’s at my house?”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh at his question – something he’d started to say recently whenever the doorbell rang. She thought it was the cutest thing in the world. “I don’t know! Let’s go see!” she extended her had out to him so he could follow her to the front door. He grabbed Pip and held him in his hands as he scurried towards Bee, Maggie following close behind.

When she opened it for the big reveal, Andy started hopping up and down excitedly. “Tyler!!!” he screamed before running out and jumping to avoid the snow.

Tyler caught him perfectly and scooped him up in his arms. “Heeeeyyyyyy little man!” he smiled from ear to ear as he balanced Andy on his hip as he walked into the house. “How’s my godson doing?”

“G…G…Good,” Andy stuttered out, smiling from ear to ear.

“Are you excited to see me?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “W…What are you doing at my house?”

“Well, mommy called me because she said you went to the library yesterday and got some new books,” Tyler explained. “And you know how much I love reading books to you.”

Andy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. He looked at Bee. “Mommy, Tyler can read my b…b…books to me?”

“Yes he can,” she smiled. “How about you go up to your room and get them.”

Andy wiggled out of Tyler grasp and climbed the stairs one step at a time, trying to go as quickly as his little feet would let him. Tyler and Bee hugged in the foyer before he began to take off his boots and unzip his jacket. “The stuttering’s gotten better,” Tyler commented.

Bee nodded her head. When Andy started to talk and develop words and sentences, she and Morgan noticed right away that he was stuttering. They thought it was maybe just a kid thing, because a lot of kids stutter when they’re first learning words or developing sentences to speak, but Andy’s problem persisted. Now that he was able to string words together to create sentences, the issue was more pronounced. It was definitely noticeable to everyone – the rude ones pointed it out; the good ones were patient with him like everyone should be. “A little, yeah. We started him in speech therapy once a week.”

“It’s working.”

“We’re hoping,” she said. “We’re trying to get him to talk more to other kids too. We can tell he sometimes avoids it. Even if it persists…we just want him to feel that it’s okay.”

“Well, of course,” Tyler said. “He’s a smart kid, sweetcheeks. He’s three and he can already read some words better than I can.”

Bee snorted, shoving Tyler playfully. “You want some coffee or what? Morgan should be home in ten minutes and then we’ll leave you to it.”

***

“Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Rielly, I can confirm you’re pregnant again,” Dr. Greenblatt smiled at Morgan and Bee.

“Oh, perfect!” Bee smiled from ear to ear as Morgan squeezed her hand. “We…I mean, we’ve been trying for a couple of months. It’s nice for it to be official!”

“You’re eleven weeks according to the schedule you provided, and your blood work, which means you’re due in late July,” he looked over the documents in his file. “But everything looks good. I know there were some difficulties at the beginning. You mentioned there were no symptoms from when you had your two early miscarriages.”

“Right.”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Rielly, everything looks good on my end. I can book you in with the ultrasound technician we have if you’d like your sonogram,” Dr. Greenblatt offered.

“That would be perfect,” Morgan said.

***

When Morgan and Bee walked into their house, they saw Tyler and Andy – holding Pip – cuddled on the couch. Tyler was reading Robert Munsch’s Andrew’s Loose Tooth, and Bee could see Moose, Thomas’ Snowsuit, David’s Father, and Just One Goal! on the coffee table in front of them. Andy was still wearing his pyjamas. There was a blanket draped over Tyler’s legs. It was all very cute.

“How are my boys doing?” Bee announced as she walked into the family room, leaning over the couch. Andy barely moved from his spot, too comfortable against Tyler’s chest and too entranced in Andrew’s Loose Tooth (though it was probably the 50th time he’d read the book) to even look up.

“Hi mama, hi dada,” Andy said absent-mindedly. He wiggled a bit in Tyler’s arms to get his attention. “Keep reading.”

Tyler wiggled his eyebrows at Bee and Morgan before turning the page and continuing to read. Bee laughed as she walked around the corner of the sectional couch, bent over, and kissed the top of Andy’s head before messing up his hair slightly.

***

After a homemade lunch, more playtime with Tyler (read: playing ministicks with Tyler, who was on his knees, and “bodychecking” him so he would fall over dramatically), his regular afternoon nap, and dinner, Andy was tired and ready for his 8pm bedtime. He had already changed himself into his pyjamas, and Morgan helped him brush his teeth before carrying him to his bed where Bee was waiting.

“I b…b…brush my teeth mama,” Andy said as he emerged from the washroom, Pip securely in his arm as he climbed into bed.

“Good job,” she smiled, pulling the covers back. Andy wiggled underneath the covers and Morgan sat on the opposite side of the bed, looking at him lovingly. Once he was underneath and lying down, his head on the pillow, Pip tucked into him, and the comforter stuffed around him, just how he liked it (“Make me a burrito!” he’d yell on more boisterous nights), Bee took a deep breath. “Andy…daddy and I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

Morgan looked at Bee quickly before looking back at Andy. “Boobear, you know how Jace has a little sister, Isabella?”

“Yes,” Andy nodded his head. “J…Jace and Isabella are my f…f…friends.”

“And you know how Henry has a little sister, Greta?” Bee continued.

Andy nodded his head again. “Henry and G…Greta are my friends too. But they live f…far away.”

“Well Andy, you’re going to be a big brother too now,” Morgan smiled at his son. Andy’s eyes went wide as he realized what his dad was telling him. “Mommy has a baby in her belly and in July or August you’re going to have a new brother or sister.”

Andy looked towards his mom. “Mommy…there b…baby in your belly?”

“Mhm,” Bee nodded her head. She put her hand over her stomach and, although there was barely anything there yet, she tried to cup something so Andy could get the visual.

“Boy or girl?”

“We don’t know. We’ll find out when the baby comes,” she said.

“When baby comes I…I going to be a b…b…big boy,” Andy said matter-of-factly. Morgan and Bee laughed. “I going to be good big b…brother.”

“Yes you will be, boobear,” Morgan said, leaning down to kiss his son. “You can teach baby how to read, how to build Lego--”

“I teach b…baby all the animals,” Andy interjected.

“Exactly! See! You’re going to be a great big brother,” Morgan smiled. “Think about all the things you’re gonna teach baby when they’re here, okay?”

“Okay,” Andy smiled contently as his eyelids started to droop from drowsiness.

“Goodnight boobear. Daddy loves you,” Morgan cooed.

“I love you daddy.”

“Goodnight Andy. Mommy loves you.”

“I love you mommy.”

***

April 16th 2028

Bee woke up on a Sunday morning to kisses on her neck and shoulder. Since being with Morgan, it was her favourite way to wake up, and truthfully, she never got sick of it. He almost over-indulged her with it. It has been ten years since it started, and it was still the best; the most comforting feeling; the thing she looked forward to the most.

Bee smiled to herself as she felt his tongue graze her skin, his breath hot as he moved up her neck and towards her ear. She took a deep breath in. At that moment, he knew she was awake. “G’morning,” his voice was coarse and full of sleep, but he continued to kiss her.

“Morning, you big moose,” she mumbled. She felt the arm wrapped around her move down slightly the cup her growing bump. At twenty-six weeks now, she was just slightly smaller than she was at twenty-six weeks with Andy (judging by pictures), but was experiencing much of the same symptoms of pregnancy. The back pain, the swelled ankles, the dramatic girth.

Morgan continued his kisses. “How you feelin’?”

“Good.”

“You think we can--”

“Please Morgan. Please.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice. He helped her wiggle out of her pyjama pants and top, and began kissing his way down her body, paying particular attention to her breasts. “I wanna taste you,” he mumbled.

Bee nodded her head. “Go. Go.”

He dove in. She was sensitive these days, and her senses all the more heightened, so when he began lapping at her, there was an automatic reaction. He hadn’t tired of this, either – eating her out like she was the last meal on earth. He hadn’t tired of much, really. He was still obsessed with her; still obsessed with her taste and how she felt wrapped around him; how warm her walls were and how they clenched around his cock whenever he helped her reach her climax. Every time was still special. The quick ones, the long ones, the ones where she dressed up, the ones where they used only their hands and mouths, the ones that made them scream, the ones that kept them quiet, the ones that were frantic, the ones that were nice and slow, the ones that led them to orgasm over and over again. Every time was still the best time.

After making her orgasm twice with his tongue, she began to tug on his hair. Her breathing was hot and heavy as she kissed him sloppily, tasting her juices on him, before she bit his bottom lip playfully. “Lay on your back,” she said.

In return, he bit her bottom lip too. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I wanna ride you,” she said. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Morgan groaned, flipping over onto his back. “Get up here.”

Bee took her time, taking off her pyjama shirt first before making sure she was comfortable as she lowered herself onto him slowly. Morgan’s hands were on her hips, helping to guide her. “Does it feel okay?”

She looked down at him. His mouth was still glistening with her juices. She nodded her head and closed her eyes. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“Never. Never,” he shook his head, propping himself up so he could kiss her. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You don’t even know. You’re so sexy and beautiful.”

“Even as a big ol’ pregnant lady?” she giggled slightly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady herself now that she was riding him in his lap rather than with him lying down.

“Especially as a big ol’ pregnant lady,” he kissed her. “You have no idea Briony. You’ve given me my children, my family. You’ve given me my world. The gifts you’ve given me…there are no words to describe how much I love you.”

“And you’ve given me my world,” she whispered, kissing him one last time before pushing him back down onto his back. She continued to ride him slowly, trying to make the intimacy of the moment last as long as possible. Today, their house would be full of people, and while she loved hosting, she loved every minute of alone time she got with Morgan even more.

“Y’okay, baby?” she asked. “I’m close.”

“Make yourself cum on my cock, Briony.”

That was what she loved to hear. After over ten years and countless amounts of dirty talk, it still got her off. She moaned loudly as she began shaking on top of him, her orgasm coursing through her. “Fuuuuuuuck, Morgan,” she mewled out.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed.

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words as she came down from her orgasm. Eventually, she lay down at Morgan’s side, cuddling up to him. One of Morgan’s arms wrapped around her, while another rested between her legs, feeling her wetness. Morgan kissed her. “I love you so much,” she mumbled against his lips.

“I love you too.”

There was a few minutes of silence as they both caught their breaths, Morgan kissing her a few more times. Before Bee could get too comfortable, she looked at Morgan. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before Andy wakes up.”

Morgan smiled. “Wish I could join you.”

After about half an hour, Bee emerged from the bathroom, he hair wet but brushed through, a new pair of pyjamas on her. “You think Andy’s awake yet?” she asked as she made her way back towards the bed.

As if on cue, they heard the door from Andy’s room burst open. “Here comes the earthquake,” Morgan mumbled into his pillow as the heavy footsteps of Andy were heard running down the hallway. Bee chuckled at all the noise his little feet made; she couldn’t believe someone so small could make so much noise.

The door burst open. “Mommy! Daddy!” he scurried over, immediately climbing into the bed. “I have B…B…Brucey with me!” he screamed. A loud, happy meow from Bruce followed. “Brucey slept in my b…bed last night.”

“Is that a little bear I hear sneaking into my bed?” Morgan asked. The second he saw Andy let go of Bruce, Morgan growled like a bear and wrapped his arms around his son dramatically, pulling him into the bed and against his chest. Andy began to laugh uncontrollably as Morgan began kissing him all over. Andy tried to get away but Morgan was too strong, squeezing him even tighter as he peppered him with kisses. Bee took the opportunity to slip her hand into the drawer of her bedside table and pull out a single small chocolate egg, placing it on top of the table for Andy to find.

When Morgan stopped peppering his son with kisses, he turned over onto his back and lifted Andy up on his legs like an airplane. Andy couldn’t stop laughing as Morgan held his hands. “You remember what today is, big man?”

Andy nodded his head. “T…Today is Easter.”

“Are you excited for everybody to be at our house?” Bee finally piped up after looking on adoringly at her two boys. “Aunt Angie, Uncle Mason, and Leon, Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Andy and--”

“Mama, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to something behind her.

Bee smiled. She turned around dramatically to look at what he was pointing to: the little chocolate egg she had put on the bedside table. “Where?”

“There,” he pointed again. Morgan lowered him. “Mama, is that…d…did the Easter b…b…bunny come to our house?!”

“I think so!”

Andy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. He looked down at his dad. “Dada, we need to f…find all the eggs!”

“Let’s go!”

***

Saturday, July 1st, 2028

“Mommyyyyyy! I see f…f…fishies!” Andy screamed excitedly as he bent over the boat to look in the water. Morgan held Andy in his arms, leaning him over the boat to see the water and look at whatever fish Andy saw (or didn’t really see).

“Be careful!” she yelled out to him. “Don’t go too far over!”

“Mommy come see the fishies!”

“Mommy can’t come right now,” she said, resting her hand on her large bump. “You need to tell mommy what you see.”

Andy looked back dramatically at his mom. Clearly he did not like her answer. “Is it because of b…baby?” he asked.

“No, boobear.”

Andy wiggled out of Morgan’s arms and walked over the Bee resting on the back bench of the boat. He placed his hands on the sides of her bump and put his face right next to it. “Baby…we’re in V…V…Vancouver and we’re on a b…boat,” Andy said into Bee’s bump. “You have to be s…safe on a boat. You have to wear a lifejacket so you don’t f…f…fall into the water. Stop moving so mommy can see the f…fishies!”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s not because of the baby, Andy.”

“Then why c…can’t you come?”

“Mommy is very tired because I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said.

“Because of the baby!”

“No!” she couldn’t help but giggle. “You silly boy. It’s not because of the baby.”

Andy turned back and made his way back towards Morgan with his hands up, signalling that he wanted to be picked up again. As Morgan did so, he bent Andy over the edge of the boat again. “W…Where did the fishes go?” he asked.

“I think they swam away,” Morgan said.

“We have to go f…find them!” Andy exclaimed, looking at his dad. “Did they go to their h…h…home?”

“I think so.”

“Dada…do the f…fishies live like where Nemo lives?”

Morgan chuckled to himself. “No boobear. These fish live here in Vancouver. Nemo lives all the way on the other side of the Pacific Ocean in a place called Australia, in the Great Barrier Reef.”

“C…Can we go there?”

“Maybe one day,” Morgan kissed Andy’s cheek. “You wanna go find Nemo?”

Andy nodded his head. “I wanna find Nemo and D…D…Dory and the sea turtles!” he exclaimed. “We go with m…mamma and my new b…brother or sister.”

“That sounds like an amazing family trip,” Morgan commented. “Can Grandma Shirley and Grandpa Andy come too?”

“Yup!”

“What about Aunt Angie and Uncle Mason?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed like it was the most obvious thing in the world, causing Morgan to chuckle again. “My best friend Leon has to come with us!”

“Then it’s set!” he pulled Andy from over the boat to walk back towards where Bee was sitting. “Guess what mama! Pack your bags! We’re going to Australia!”

***

Monday, July 31st, 2028

Morgan could see the eyes and hair of Andy looking over the ledge of the skating rink at Hollyburn Country Club as he skated around the ice, doing a few warm-up laps with the other skaters so Andy could see him skate before trying to skate himself. Morgan waved at his son, and began to make his way over to where he was.

Andy didn’t move from standing on his tiptoes, looking past the ledge onto the ice, even as Morgan skated towards him, opening the gate and walking onto the soft ground. “Did you see me wave, Andy?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you see Grandma and Grandpa out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready to skate just like daddy?”

Andy didn’t respond. He looked out onto the ice for a few more seconds before slowly making his way over to the bench, sitting in front of Morgan who was already ready with the skates in his hand. As Morgan shoved them on and began tightening them, Andy became nervous. He tried to look over his shoulder to see if he could see the ice again, but he couldn’t. That made him all the more nervous. He looked back at his dad, shoving the other lace onto his left foot now.

“Dada…” Andy said uneasily, looking down at the skate Morgan was already tying up on his feet.

“Yeah, boobear?”

“I’m s…s…scared.”

The second the words escaped from Andy’s mouth, Morgan stopped his movements. He set down his foot gently as he looked at Andy worriedly. “Why are you scared?”

The small pout that formed on his face said enough. “What if I’m not g…good at skating like the other kids like I’m not good at t…t…talking like the other kids?”

Morgan’s heart broke into a million pieces. “Oh, Andy…” he said as Andy shed a tear. “Andy, that doesn’t matter at all.”

“I want to t…t…talk like all th…th…the other k…k…kids but I c…c…can’t, no matter how h…hard I t…t…try.”

Morgan moved closer to his son so he could hug him tightly. He hugged him for such a long time, but Andy didn’t pull away as he cried on Morgan’s shoulder. Morgan snaked his hand underneath the Rielly jersey his son wore to rub his back soothingly. “It’s okay, Andy. It’s okay,” he cooed over and over. “Andy, I want you to listen to me, okay? Look at me,” he said, finally pulling away. He wiped the tears away from Andy’s eyes and cheeks before he could continue. “It doesn’t matter that you stutter and the other kids don’t. It doesn’t matter at all. Remember how mommy and I say that what you say is more important than how you say it?” Morgan asked. Andy nodded his head. “That’s what matters, boobear. You’re still such a smart boy. You’re so smart and you’re so nice to all the other boys and girls. And you have so many friends who love you. You have your best friend Leon and you have Jace, and Isabella, and Henry and Jacob and Naylah and – Andy, listen. You’re always good enough, okay? You’re always good enough.”

“Okay…” he said, his voice still a bit uneasy. “But dada, wh…what if I can’t s…s…skate like you can? Or like J…Jace? Jace is good at s…s…skating.”

“Then that’s okay, boobear,” Morgan said. “You just have to try. If you never try then you never know if you can do it, right?”

“Right.”

“You wanna know a secret?”

Andy’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“One day, Grandpa Andy counted how many times I fell on my bum when I learned how to skate,” he said. “Guess what the number was.”

“F…Five?”

“One hundred and seventy two,” Morgan said dramatically, causing Andy’s jaw to drop. “One hundred and seventy two! But guess what? Daddy got up one hundred and seventy three times. Daddy kept trying and trying and trying and eventually, daddy learned how to skate.”

“And now daddy is a hockey player,” Andy said matter-of-factly.

“That’s right,” Morgan smiled. “So it doesn’t matter if you fall, Andy. It doesn’t even matter if you don’t like hockey. That’s okay too. But you have to try.” Morgan could feel a new sense of confidence emanating from Andy as he finished his story. Andy looked determined and ready. “Are you ready to try skating, Andy?”

“Yes dada. I’m ready.”

***

Tuesday, August 1st, 2028

“Take a deep breath in…and push for one…two…three…”

“AAAAAOOOOOWWWWW!!!!!”

“Five…six…seven…”

“You’re doing amazing, Bumblebee. Amazing.”

“Push again for one…two…three…four…four…four--”

Blood-curdling cries filled the room. Bee opened her eyes to see a baby being held in front of her – a beautiful, healthy baby screaming at the top of it’s lungs. From beside her, Morgan smiled.

“It’s a girl!” one of the nurses announced, laying their baby girl down on Bee’s chest, facing Morgan. She wailed and wailed and wailed, and Bee cried and cried and cried. Morgan looked into the eyes of his daughter and started crying too.

He had a daughter. A daughter.

“Hey dad – one more time,” the doctor said as she held out a pair of surgical scissors for Morgan to snip the umbilical cord. He did so while the other nurses tended to Bee and the baby, sucking the mucus out of her mouth and nose and wiping her down just like they did Andy when he was born.

Despite the actions of everyone working around him, Morgan couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter. He knew they’d have to take her away soon to weigh and measure her, but he became entranced with her, and the fact that he now had a daughter – he was the father to a son and a daughter – to call his own.

“Mrs. Rielly, we’ll just take her to measure and weigh, then bring her back wrapped for you,” one of the nurses said.

When the baby was gone, Bee looked to Morgan. He leaned down and gave her a big kiss. “I’m a mom to a daughter,” she whispered. “Morgan I…I have a daughter.”

“You’re a mom to a daughter, Bumblebee,” he kissed her again quickly. “You’re going to be amazing.”

***

“Okay, we have to be quiet as we go inside. Baby might be sleeping,” Shirley said as she walked behind little Andy and big Andy. She could tell Andy was trying to maintain his composure and not do his little excited hops as they walked into the room. When they turned the corner, they saw Morgan holding the baby in his arms, lying in bed next to Bee who was looking on lovingly. When the couple noticed everybody enter the room, they smiled.

“Hey boobear,” Bee smiled from ear to ear, her voice still a little strained. “Do you want to come meet your baby sister?”

“I have b…b…baby sister?”

“Yes boobear. Come here. Come sit on mommy’s lap,” Bee patted.

Shirley lifted him up onto the bed as Morgan gave the baby to Bee to show Andy. Andy looked on wide-eyed at the little baby in his mommy’s hands. “She’s g…girl like Isabella?”

Bee couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Mhm. This is your sister Maia. Maia Claire Rielly.”

“M…M��Maia,” Andy repeated. “Mama, I be good b…big brother to Maia.”

“I know you will,” Bee kissed the top of his head.

“You wanna give Maia a kiss?” Morgan asked.

Andy bent down and placed a light kiss on her forehead. “Hi M…Maia. I’m your brother Andy. You’re in V…V…Vancouver right now. But we live in T…T…Toronto.” He stopped suddenly, realizing something very, very important. “Dada, we t…take Maia home or she have to st…st…stay here?!”

Everybody laughed at Andy’s question. “Maia is coming home with us to Toronto, boobear. Don’t worry.”

***

Monday, September 18, 2028

“…and, you know, we’re just ready to get started, get going out there, making sure we get things done the way we want,” Morgan answered the latest reporter’s question in the media scrum following the opening day of training camp.

“Morgan --” a new reporter interrupted Paul Hendrick, “we saw that your family grew this summer with the arrival of your baby girl.”

Morgan couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face as the words left the reporter’s mouth. He knew it would be brought up because, unfortunately, a picture had leaked. An “extended family portrait”, so to speak: a picture of John, Aryne, Jace, and Isabella; Angie, Mason, and Leon; Morgan, Bee, Andy, and Maia; and Tyler, all hanging out in Aryne and John’s backyard at Jace’s birthday party last week. “Ah, thanks. We did have a baby girl. It feels great.”

“Mom and baby are doing well?”

“Sure are,” he kept smiling, looking at the reporters to change the subject.

“Do you want to speak a bit about it so--”

“No. We’re not going to talk about that. But mom and baby are healthy. Big brother is happy he’s got a sibling. We’ll leave it at that.”

***

It’s a girl!

Morgan and Briony Rielly, along with big brother Andrew John, are delighted to announce the birth of their daughter, Maia Claire Rielly, born August 1st, 2028 at 3:42 pm, weighing 8lbs, 12oz, in Vancouver, British Columbia at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre.

Maia is welcomed into the Rielly family by her loving grandparents Andrew and Shirley Rielly. She is also welcomed into the extended Toronto Maple Leafs and MLSE family. Morgan and Briony would like to thank the staff at the B.C. Women’s Hospital and Health Centre for their hard work and dedication to the medial profession.

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gourmade4u · 5 years ago

Text

Start at the basics

Kitchen Essentials

If you’re just starting out, what are some essential tools and tips to keep in mind while you’re working away at your best Gordon Ramsey duplicate?

Well, for starters, you need to make sure that your kitchen has the necessary base in which to build from.

TL;DR- Chef’s knife, rubber spatula, whisk, pans (all types are neatly listed below the picture with the whisk and rubber spatulas), glass mixing bowls, kevlar or other cut-resistant gloves, metal spatula, cutting boards, electric thermometer, colander, box grater, and a timer (if you don’t have a microwave or oven that has one).

First thing’s first:

A Chef’s knife. I purchased mine from Ergo Chef (not an affiliate, I’m just a huge fan). From the moment my hand touched this knife, I cried literal happy tears from the depths of my soul. If you have arthritis issues, or issues that cause your hands to swell or lock up from consistent use, an ergonomically designed knife is incredibly important. For those of you just starting, my first knife set was a Farberware set with a wooden block from Walmart. It was a 20 piece knife set with steak knives and it was less than 90 dollars. But take the time to invest in your knives, you’ll be grateful that you did.

I’ll post in a separate article how to sharpen your knife, but do keep in mind to NEVER, hold on, let me bold this, NEVER: run your knives or single knife through the dishwasher, and/or leave them in the sink. After you finish using your knife, it is best if you wash and dry it immediately to keep it from rusting. Your knives will thank you, and so will your wallet.

A rubber spatula.

So, this little guy is the absolute best. He will help you toast rice for your risotto, spoon out that perfect pan sauce that took you way too many tries to get it exactly the way you wanted, AND he'll make sure that all your batter makes it into the pan, or your mouth, whichever you prefer.

A whisk. So yes, a whisk is incredibly versatile. You can use it to scramble eggs, make meringue, mayo, vinaigrette, and bake that cake you’re gonna regret in a week.

PANsexuality is important. But it has nothing to do with this next list of pans.

Non-stick pan

10 in. stainless steal or ceramic pan

Cast iron pan (or 3)

Sauce pot (if you're like me, you have 6)

Griddle pan (not pictured... yet)

Sheet pan

Casserole

Each and every one of these serves a unique purpose.

A non-stick is great for eggs, bacon, frittatas (which are fancy eggs), and so many other items that I promise aren't just breakfast food.

A ceramic pan is wonderful, but in my personal opinion, a stainless steel is better if you're a novice. A ceramic pan requires a lot of spoons (energy) and maintenance. They scratch easily if you look at them the wrong way. But they are great for more even cooking than a stainless, and make the best pork chops. Stainless steel isn’t as hard to work with, isn’t as high maintenance (though, like knives, NEVER put them in your dishwasher), is ideal for crusting your steak, and making a pan sauce with the remaining bits.

A cast iron pan evenly distributes heat and you can put it in the oven at 500 degrees without worrying about warping or damage to your pan. Cast iron is also fantastic if you don’t want to use as much fat in your pan to keep your items from sticking. Also, you can’t get a crust on a steak in any other pan, the way you do in a cast iron. Also, don’t put this in the dishwasher.

A sauce pot sounds like an unnecessary necessity. I’ll explain, when most people hear “sauce” pot, they get very confused because there are like, 30 types. This is an exaggeration, but there are a lot of types. A large saucepot can hold from 1 qt. to 5 qts. I always recommend getting a 5 qt. pot because you can use it for small amounts and large amounts. But the best advice I can give would be to get one that can hold at least 2 c of liquid, and also one that can hold 5 qts so you’re not making oatmeal for yourself in a pot that’s too big.

A Griddle pan is more of a luxury item, but I always recommend having one in your kitchen. You can make your best pancakes, arepas, bacon, grilled cheese, tuna melt, etc. It’s honestly a great tool to have on hand if you want to whip something up quickly.

A sheet pan is important for so many reasons. You can make cookies, cake, bacon (I know I’ve said about 2 of the others already), roasted veggies, etc. I definitely recommend having at least one on hand. You’ll find that you’ve allowed yourself to enjoy brussel sprouts smothered in parmesan cheese, and roasted cauliflower with garam masala and ginger for the first time ever. Just trust me, your oven is made for a varying amount of possibilities, and the right tools can get you started.

A baking dish/pan/casserole, whatever you want to call it, it’s a huge piece of either: cast iron, ceramic, glass, or clay that can be covered and it will, much like your sheet pan, allow for new ideas in the kitchen. Casserole is a very common word used by mostly older women from the south, but they aren’t just a dish your grandma cooked in the 50′s. French toast casserole is so impossibly custardy and delicious, you will thank the Gods that there has ever been something so wonderful in existence. You have stews, roasts, lasagna (uncovered, don’t be rude to your lasagna), and so many others. Just please, okay? Okay.

Glass mixing bowls are a MUST. Okay, so some really important things about these bad boys: DON’T leave them on a hot stove because the heat will make them shatter and explode all over your kitchen. If you have pets or kids, I don’t have to tell you why this would be bad for potentially weeks on end. You can, however, makeshift a glass bowl and a boiling pot of water into a double boiler to melt your favorite chocolate chips to make fudge. Glass bowls are also non-absorbent, so they won’t retain bad odors or flavors when you use them in the kitchen. They’re also incredibly sanitary for the same reason.

A pair of Kevlar or other gloves meant for slicing and dicing in the kitchen. I recommend this no matter what level of experience you have. Professional chefs cut and burn themselves all the time, it is best you do what you can to protect your fingertips and nails.

A metal spatula will help you scrape any bits and pieces that have stuck onto your stainless or ceramic pan. Please be sure to use carefully, the metal spatula itself is very temperamental and can ruin your pans forever.

Cutting boards. There are, a whole litany of reasons you need a cutting board or 10 in your kitchen. I myself have 4 and I use all of them. Cutting boards are made of several different kinds of material. Ultimately, for me, I use a wooden one and an eco-friendly material cutting board set I got from Bed Bath and Beyond. Cutting board maintenance is, arguably, the most important thing when it comes to purchasing one. Best way to clean a cutting board is to make sure you’re passing your sponge over the slits in the board left behind by your knife, in the same direction. In other words, don’t scrub your board in a circle, but trace over the cuts in the board to ensure proper sanitation of it.

An electric thermometer. Okay, so show of hands, how many people have deep fried chicken, burned the outside and undercooked the inside? I don’t know of any single person who is just beginning, who hasn’t done it. An electric thermometer is your best friend. You can get a regular thermometer, that will require constant calibration, or you can get an electric thermometer and not have to worry about calibrating it as often. Perfectly juicy, succulent, and properly cooked chicken will measure at 165 degrees Farenheit. Anything beyond 180, expect it to be dry, but at least it was cooked properly! To calibrate a thermometer: bring water to a boil, and then place your thermometer in the water, allow it to come to 212 degrees Fahrenheit, then place your thermometer into an ice bath until it gets to 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Celsius would be 100 degrees boiling, and 0 degrees in ice.

A colander is meant to strain out pasta water, and you’ve probably not seen it used for much else. But a fine mesh colander can be used to filter out your frying oil so you can reuse it instead of wasting it. This little thing is good for anything that requires draining: meat, starch from rice and potatoes before cooking them, washing all of your vegetables at once before getting started, and also, it can help with steaming your broccoli or shrimp when you don’t have a basket steamer.

A box grater in general, is a fantastic tool. They have different sides that allow you to do different things. From shredding cheese, potatoes, carrots, or zuccini. But the question a lot of people ask: what is that side with all the really tiny spaces in it? It’s a zester, and it goes so unnoticed for so long because most folx don’t know the best way to use it. The zester is great for adding a little elegance or pop of flavor into a dish. For example, if you use lemon pepper often, adding a zested lemon rind to your dish would bring out all that delicious acidity that you won’t get from just using the regular seasoning from a bottle. A little fresh lemon zest here, some grated nutmeg there, a little orange zest in your tea, these all pack a mean right hook. Try them out.

Last, but not least: a timer, gentlefolx. I can not stress the utter importance of learning how long it actually takes you, the reader to complete a task from start to finish. Not everyone works at the same pace, so a recipe that says “prep time: 5 minutes”, might actually take you an hour, and that’s okay. Keeping a timer on hand so you can keep track of how long each task is taking to complete, or making sure you’re pacing yourself as things are bubbling away in the kitchen, is a great way to figure yourself out in the kitchen. I recommend listening to music, writing your ingredients on a white board that sits at eye level in your kitchen so you can refer to your recipe as you’re going without having to constantly look at your phone.

I hope this helps every single one of you learn a bit more about what it means to begin your journey with food.

#Gourmade4u #kitchen essentials #cooking for beginners #Food blog #kitchen tools #getting started #cooking #food #foodporn #amateur chef #chef #food article #trans pride #lgbtq support

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justjessame · 5 years ago

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A Little Ass and A Lotta Sass Chapter 17: Gobsmacked... Spelled C-A-L-L-I-E

I might not like mornings, but you know what I do like? Hearing a knock on the door signifying that Negan’s about to be interrupted while attempting to coax out a new noise out of me. Not the interruption itself, trust me, I’d MUCH rather not be left dangling over the precipice, but that look in his eyes that says ‘I am about to go on a fucking tear the likes of these assholes have never seen.”

Guess I’m going to have to add the absolute terror that he can put in to the hearts and minds of others as a kink too, because fuck if it isn’t extremely hot to see. It was our breakfast of course. And hearing him growl at the poor sucker who pulled delivery duty was pretty fucking sexy. I got out of bed reluctantly, and threw on Negan’s discarded t-shirt and pulled on a pair of panties from my drawer.

I walked barefoot to where he was setting up the table, and leaned against the wall to observe the way he moved. Languid, like a cat, I thought. Completely at ease in his domain, which was how the man was in EVERY domain. His jeans were hanging low on his hips, having tugged them on sans belt, and I was wearing his t-shirt, so he was once again shirtless. And he was barefooted, like me. His toned chest, dusted with matching salt and pepper hair that I’d found he enjoyed me tugging on at any point in our intimacy, made me bite my lip. Fuck, was he really all mine?

“You gonna keep starin’ or come over here and fucking eat, like a good girl?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the food. Studying it, probably making sure nothing was amiss, or maybe hoping they fucked up so he could take out some pent up aggression that sex didn’t fix.

Shaking my head, I walked over and wound my arms around his back. Kissing his spine, I felt his hands cover mine. I pressed my cheek against his back, feeling him relax into my touch. “What’s for breakfast?” My words are quiet, but my contentment with this new normal of mine clear, I hoped.

Negan turned, kissing the top of my head. “Take a look, baby girl.” But his arms wrapped around me, naturally and easily. I leaned around his tall frame and took in scrambled eggs, fresh baked bread, some type of meat, and a dish of oatmeal at both of our seats. Dear Lord, there was no way I could fucking eat all that.

I groaned, and felt him chuckle. “I get that I’m ‘eating for two’ and all, but these fucking portions are going to kill me.”

One of his hands cupped my chin to force my eyes to meet his. “Just eat, princess.” And with a kiss that made my knees go weak, he released me and held out my chair. Such a fucking gentleman, I swear.

Rolling my eyes, I sat, but I waited until he took his own seat before picking up my fork. As we ate, we got back to our ‘getting to know you’ chatter. “Tell me what your life was like before all this.” I wanted to know who the man was before he became this version of himself.

Negan studied his food. He didn’t answer, and for a moment I wondered if he would brush it off. Not every survivor liked to talk about their life before. As though talking about it made it less real, or more real depending on the person. He surprised me, however, and finally looked up and told me. The entire story. His wife. Her sickness. His infidelity. The ups and downs of his career. And most of all, how he felt he’d failed the woman he’d married as the world truly turned to shit.

“She turned.” His voice was as quiet as mine had been when I walked in this room earlier. “And I knew I should-” He stopped, eyes pinched with a pain that I hated to see. “I couldn’t. Not her. Not after every shitty thing I’d done.” His eyes landed on that damn bat and I realized, I knew that it carried her name. Lucille. His true wife. A woman he felt he’d never done right by, not even when she died and came back.

I listened, eating absently, and wondered what he really saw in me. Why he picked me. What he wanted from me truly. When he was finished telling me his history, I looked down at my food and was shocked to see it was almost completely gone. Who knew? Who knew that hearing a man who was larger than life explain that he was fucking human would make me ravenous? Or at the very least distract me enough to overeat.

“Thank you for telling me.” I offered, putting my fork down, feeling more than full. “I, maybe I shouldn’t have asked-” I stopped and tried to collect my thoughts. “I’m sorry if sharing it was painful.” It was lame, to my own ears, to try to offer- what? Sympathy? Comfort? It was too little, but I wanted to take his pain away.

He shook his head, glancing where my food used to be. “If sharing painful things with you gets you to fucking eat? Then I’ll tell you any damn thing you want to know.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I sat with him, no longer asking for more information, while he ate his own breakfast. “Is that my shirt, Callie?” His eyes, no longer pinched, turned dark.

I beamed at him. “Yep.” I watched him eat while studying me, in his shirt, sitting across from him.

I learned something during breakfast. Negan can keep me eating absently by just telling me his story. A combination of his voice and the fact that he was baring his soul to me. I could keep Negan shoveling his in, just by sitting there wearing his clothes.

I also learned that Negan is always hungry. For me at least.

Another shared shower, and Negan left after we both got dressed, promising me that he’d be bringing a few Saviors up for me to pick and choose from for my own “security detail”. I seriously didn’t know if I felt more like a First Lady, or the fucking Queen. I was just opening my mouth to ask if I’d be left to my own devices for the interim when he answered me.

“Dwight is gonna be right outside the door, Callie, if you want something he has a walkie. I forgot to tell them to get you one.” He was pulling on his leather jacket and picking up Lucille as he told me this. Then, lest I forget that he’s insatiable, he yanked me to him with his free arm and kissed me long and hard. “I’ll try to keep this shit brief, but who knows what the place has gotten into while I’ve been up here with you. And fuck if I wouldn’t rather stay.” He pulled away after brushing my nose with his. “Damn, this is fucking hard.” He groaned, and in case I forget which part of him was particularly affected, he adjusted himself. And then, he was gone.

I spent the time exploring my new living space. Negan had kept me pretty fucking occupied, not that I was complaining, but I wanted to know where everything was, and what everything consisted of.

I found a linen closet of sorts, stocked with spare bedding and throws. The small fridge that he’d grabbed my water from was stocked full of snacks and more bottles of water. I hadn’t noticed the bookshelf when I first walked in, but looking at the offerings I smiled. There was variety, which meant I wouldn’t get bored yet. I went through my closet, my shoes, my lingerie.

There was a knock on the door as I was looking through Negan’s side of the closet. It was my lunch, and the delivery person wouldn’t make eye contact, not until I thanked him. Then he shot me a look of utter fucking confusion. What the hell? Did manners not exist here? Dwight was looking at me over the tray-bearer's shoulder, and I shrugged, but asked him to wait while I gathered the dirty dishes from breakfast. Leaving the door open, I rushed to where Negan had piled them back on the tray, and grabbed it. I gave it to the poor kitchen guy and smiled, offering another bit of gratitude. Another fucking look of utter bafflement crossed his face. Shit. Seriously?

Before I could close the door on Dwight and the retreating back of the delivery guy, my temporary guard grinned. “You’re his queen, girl, get used to these assholes lookin’ at you like you’re some kind of fuckin’ goddess.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, and it definitely didn’t make him look more believable. I glared at him, and shut the door.

Lunch went quickly, mostly because Negan wasn’t here to make demands on my stomach contents. I chose a book and plopped down on the sofa to read, grabbing the blanket I’d left there when we were interrupted the day before. I stopped reading and considered that. I’d only been in the Sanctuary for one full day. Holy shit. One day and my entire life was changed.

I’m Negan’s main squeeze. I’m carrying a tiny being inside of me that may or may not be related to the devil. My family was who knew how far away. And I was learning that the entire fucking population of this community considered me a fucking queen. Dear God. That’s more unbelievable than when I first heard that dead people were coming back to fucking life.

Gobsmacked. That’s the word that completely described my emotional situation. I was fucking gobsmacked.

#negan x ofc #the walking dead #Smut

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