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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

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hear me out! reader very pregnant with Ines laying in bed. Javi bringing Lucas to their bed for a good night cuddle with you. Javi encouraging Lucas to talk to the baby or to say hello. Just teaching him how to be big brother before she’s even born. Family sweetness. Wife getting emotional and Javi too haha.

Greet

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Absolutely love writing them slaying parenthood. Hope you like it!

Summary: You and your husband prepare Lucas for the arrival of his baby sister.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: Domestic, Javier loves his family, pregnancy and talk about feelings, fluff

Word count: 2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55035481

Greet

With a relieved sigh, you sit down on the edge of the bed and lean backward to be able to lift your legs onto the soft mattress. Your tank top strains against your protruding belly, crawling up slowly as you maneuver your pregnant body back to sit against a pillow that you have propped up against the frame of the bed. You get comfortable but you don’t really sleep lying down anymore, your pregnant belly weighing down on you to the point where it feels suffocating to be on your back. Any day now and it’ll be over. Thank God.

Today has been a particularly stressful day of growing another human being; you are at the end of the eighth month of your second pregnancy which means that your poor feet are swollen and aching, your lower back seems to want to give out on you, and you have already been to the bathroom three times during your routine for getting ready for bed because you settling down means that Inés is waking up and using your bladder as a trampoline.

Luckily, Javier had noticed your struggles before you had even voiced them in the kitchen, and with a kiss to your hair, he had sent you to bed with a promise of cleaning the kitchen and doing Lucas’ bedtime routine.

You try drifting off but to no avail; Inés has so much energy - already in her unborn state - that you can see your tummy jumping from how harshly she kicks you now that your steps around the house aren’t lulling her to sleep.

You settle for holding a hand over where she has kicked last, not sure what to gain from it other than feeling that she’s alive and well. You sigh with closed eyes, shaking your head with a soft smile as her little foot hits you right in the middle of your palm, “You’re giving your mamá a hard time, baby girl.”

“I bet she is but you’re doing such a good job, mamá,” Javier stands in the doorway with Lucas on his hip, both of them dressed in soft clothes for sleeping. Your husband crouches down to put Lucas’ squirming frame onto the floor, trapping him in his arms from behind and talking into his hair, “I know you’re excited but be gentle, mijo (my son).”

As soon as Javier lets go of Lucas’ tiny body, his son speeds across the room, small excited feet padding across the wooden floor, to crawl into bed with you. Javier follows to support him as he throws a leg onto the mattress during his climb, pushing gently to help him lift his weight so he doesn’t fall down.

“Mommy!” Lucas exclaims loudly when he can finally crawl towards you and he does so with haste. He looks like he might climb on top of you, so you manage to grab him, turn him onto his back, and pull him into the crook of your arm. You tickle him until he squeals with glee.

“I knew I was gonna get you,” you smile down at your squirming baby, and your whole chest aches with love and baby fever. Lucas eventually tells you to stop and you do, wrapping your arm around him so he can use your arm as a backrest. He talks about the horrors of getting his teeth brushed with enthusiasm and you hope it’ll make him tired to babble on about it.

You find Javier’s eyes as he stands at the end of the bed and you smile warmly. He looks so in love with you that you can feel the heat of his gaze creep up your neck with each movement he does as he joins you on the bed.

He ruffles the hair on Lucas’ head and kisses you, causing your son to stick out his tongue. He doesn’t look pleased, “Papá, I’m talking to mom!”

“Lo siento (sorry),” Javier smiles and rolls his eyes with a grin when Lucas doesn’t see. Lucas nods in approval of his apology and goes back to giving you all his attention, love in his eyes as he stares up at you.

With your free hand, you rub your swollen belly, “Lucas, you have to learn how to share me when Inés comes.”

Lucas’ eyes widen at the thought of that. He furrows his brow, not fully understanding what you mean but trying so hard to make sense of it. He looks down at your hand, trying to connect the dots but eventually just confesses instead, “But I don’t want to share you, Mommy.”

“I know, baby,” you reassure him, tone gentle as you explain, “But when Inés is born, she’ll need me and Daddy a lot so she can grow up to be your little sister, and that can only happen when we give her attention and love like we give you.”

Lucas looks skeptical, uncertain in his expression. He stares at your belly for a second, “No. I don’t like it.”

“But you get to be a big brother,” Javier joins in, squeezing his son’s leg, “And you get to teach Inés all sorts of things.”

“Like what?” Lucas asks, not taking his eyes off of your pregnant belly.

“Hmm,” your husband tries to think of something to spark interest and you fall in love with him a little more when he starts listing things for your impatient son, “Like how to play with your toys or draw with crayons. Maybe she’ll like your favorite books too. When she’s big like you, you can teach her how to kick a ball like you do.”

Lucas lights up at the topic of playing soccer, “She can play ball with me?”

“If you are patient and let her grow a little,” you tell him.

“But that can only happen if you share Mommy,” Javier says from beside you. Lucas’ excitement fades in a brief moment and he suddenly looks shy in the same way he does when he’s meeting strangers. It turns into sulking not a moment later, his eyes in his lap and you and Javier sharing a look.

“Mijo (My son),” Javier says eventually and runs a gentle hand over his son’s hair. He accepts the touch, crawling out of your embrace to cuddle up to his father. Javier caresses his back and Lucas gazes up at him when he starts talking, “Está bién sentirse un poco inseguro. ¿Quizás quieras decir hola (It’s okay to feel a little unsure. Maybe you would like to say hello)?”

“Go on, baby,” you smile as a way to reassure, arching your back a little in your position to push your belly further out.

Javier points to it, “She’s in there right now.”

Lucas stares for a moment before kneeling by you on the bed. Javier reaches out to place a hand just above your belly button and Lucas follows a second after, “Hi Inés. I’m your big brother and you are my little sister.”

“That’s good, Lucas,” both you and your husband praise. Javier pulls back his hand but only so he can wrap both arms around Lucas’ torso from behind. He talks softly, “Go on. Inés can hear you even if she’s inside mamá’s tummy.”

“Papá says you can play ball with me but I think he is lying. Eres una bebita (you are a little baby),” he says with a little more confidence.

Warmth surges through your body and tears well up in your eyes, hormones rushing through your system. Your heartbeat picks up at the sight of your boy being a true copy of his father’s gentleness, such a natural at welcoming his baby sister into his own world. You want to move and kiss his little face, lit up with anticipation, but you don’t want to pass up the opportunity to have Lucas bond with his sibling, so you ache silently to hold your son close.

Javier, as if he has read your mind, does it instead. He leans his head over Lucas’ shoulder and presses a tender kiss to his chubby cheek. Lucas crinkles his nose and squirms but suddenly cannot seem to stop talking. He tells Inés about his favorite teddy bear, about a book you read to him last night, and even about how she can borrow his toys sometimes if she asks.

And then it happens and you barely believe it. Inés kicks you at the sound of her older brother’s voice, causing your stomach to jump underneath his tiny hand. Your breath catches in your throat and an expression of wonder flashes on Lucas’ face. He pulls back in shock but giggles loudly from slight uncertainty. He looks up at you to make sure everything is okay and you blink a few happy tears away to keep him focused. You nod, “She’s saying hi to you, baby.”

“Hi, Inés!” Lucas says loudly and with a smile. He beams and rocks back and forth on his knees, patting your pregnant belly in the most gentle manner he can manage in his excitement, “When will she play with me?”

“She’ll be born any day now,” Javier answers and you can hear his voice wavering with emotion. He swallows thickly and tries to hide his tears as well, “And then you can get to know her.”

You close your eyes with a relieved sigh at how quickly Lucas’ attitude has changed at the idea of a forever playmate, content in the moment you are having with the two boys in your life. You get a flash of the new routine that you are about to experience and settle into, and in your mind, Lucas is the sweetest older brother, patient and kind in everything he does.

“Alright, mijo (my son), say goodnight to mamá y Inés, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” Javier says and begins to get out of bed when Lucas’ eyes have started to droop and he keeps reaching up to itch them.

“Goodnight, Inés!” Your son says loudly at your belly to which you laugh quietly. He then lowers his voice and crawls to hug you, “Goodnight, mamá.”

“Goodnight, sweetie, te quiero tanto (I love you so much),” you rub his back and hold him close for a long while, smiling up at Javier as you embrace. He smiles back at you, not needing to say anything because you know that he is telling you how much he loves all three of you.

When Lucas has gotten his goodnight kiss, he takes Javier’s hand and lets himself be led out of the room to his bed. You can hear him talk all the way down the hallway.

When Javier enters the bedroom again, he switches off the big light and crawls into bed with you. After giving you a kiss, he fluffs his pillow and lays down with his body facing yours, “You okay, baby?”

You reach for him and brush hair out of his face, “I think I made the right choice to make you my baby daddy. You’re so amazing with him.”

“I think my wife needs to sleep soon, she’s speaking nonsense,” he teases, taking your wrist in his hand to kiss it.

“Wish I could, but my feet are so sore,” you complain with a sigh and try to get comfortable in your sitting position, “And I miss sleeping lying down.”

Javier clicks his tongue in sympathy and moves to sit again, “I’m sorry, mi vida (my life), I wish I could remove your discomfort.”

“It’s fine,” you entwine your fingers and place them underneath your belly, “Not long now. I’m just warming up for sleepless nights.”

He chuckles softly, “Inés will be a Daddy’s girl. You’ll get plenty of sleep, I’ll make sure of it.”

“You are winning a whole lot of points right now, husband,” you say and accept a string of kisses to your lips.

“And if I ask you if you want me to give your feet a rub? What then, wife?” He raises his brows with a smirk.

“I think you might have hit the jackpot,” you grin and wiggle your toes.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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aclowntiny · 1 year

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Unstoppable Forces and Immovable Objects- Mingi x Female!Reader

Song Mingi is an incredibly special man & I hope he never forgets it 😤 I love he immensely. Pink Mingi is, frankly, a cornerstone of this year. An icon. A legend. The moment. Also shhhh I took some dorm layout liberties for this 🤫😂

Word Count: 2620 | Idiots to Lovers, Humor | Warnings: only if you're bothered by smooch talk hehe, but one note: 노래방 = noraebang aka what most of us English speakers think of as karaoke 😄

"(y/n)! (y/n)! Watch this!"

"What now?"

Completely ignoring Yeosang's interjection, Mingi continued to call for you, grin of whimsy widening when you made your way over as if he wasn't sure he'd actually see you.

Which he totally would, always, because you had the biggest, fattest crush on him, heart leaping up and hitting a big carnival bell every time Mingi sought your attention. He was the biggest ray of sunshine smiling through just about any cloud in your life.

Shuffling past Hongjoong and Seonghwa's conversation at the sidelines, you made your way back to the bouncy center of the trampoline park you'd gone with the boys to. There stood Mingi with a hand raised, waving as he bounced ever-so-slightly on his heels, the dark netting rippling beneath him.

"Let's see," you tell him with a smile, heart fluttering at his waves and jumps.

"Ok! Get ready!" Steadying himself, Mingi hunkered a bit from his upright stance, run-jumping across three squares of trampoline, hurtling himself up into the air on the fourth toward the giant obstacle pad set a little bit left of center. He did not clear it, sailing right into the side of the firm structure with a small oof.

Smacking his forehead, Yeosang took a few steps away. Yunho joined you in running toward the tall man and his unfortunate collision, asking his friend if he was ok. It looked like he almost nodded, but you met his eyes as he ended up shaking it no instead. Your eyes widened. Had it started hurting?

"Where does it hurt? Do you think you bruised something?"

"Just his ego," Yeosang muttered.

You, of course, did not want to make Mingi feel any worse, choosing not to respond to that. "Do you need help up?"

Mingi nodded, eyes still looking into yours as he held out his hand to you. Face warming, you grabbed it, unable to suppress a smile even as you pulled the big man to his feet again.

"That was really cool, though," you told him, just to see the smile return to his face, "you went really far. I bet the others couldn't get that far."

"No, they couldn't, could they?" Contagious joy indeed came back to Mingi's face. "I'm going to jump so high I finally hit the punching bag they hung! Watch me, (y/n)!"

"I will," you giggle, stepping back and bouncing in place as he goes long for a running start.

(POV: Mingi)

"This has to stop before you break anything. Don't you think there's any other way?" Yeosang cajoled, sitting down next to Mingi and handing him a freshly chilled water bottle.

Mingi, for his part, took some of the cool condensation on his hand, running it through his short pink hair to combat the sweat of exertion before frowning in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"These insane attempts to get (y/n)'s attention!"

"Insane attempts?"

"Last week, Mingi, you borrowed my skateboard and proceeded to skin your arm when you fell off the grind rail. You have never skateboarded in your life."

"I wanted her to think I'm cool," the pink-haired man responded with a pout, "she's so beautiful and awesome."

"And notice," Yeosang commented, shaking his head as black hair fell all over, "she has never fallen off a skateboard."

"Well, what do you think I should do?"

"Um, maybe consider confessing to her? Seeing if she likes you too?"

"No way! What if she doesn't even want to be friends anymore?"

"Well, I suppose that's a risk we all take," Yeosang responded, tone softening, "but if you're respectful about it, I'm sure you won't lose her completely."

"That's the last thing I want," Mingi said intensely.

"Yes, of course not, so why don't you just-"

Right then, you happened to saunter by, crossing the sidelines near the center to head to the foam pit, glancing over at the two of them with a faint smile. A gorgeous one. Mingi smiled back, tossing the water bottle his hyung gave him immediately aside and walking after you.

"Hey, (y/n), let's jump in at the same time and see who can climb back out faster!"

That's what you guys did, Mingi diving in facing the side so he could watch with a twinkle in his eye the way you flipped in. Amazing. He managed to get his footing on the way out, scrambling up not too clumsily for once, but when he turned around he saw your hands clutching at the side, floundering a bit.

His heart thudded. "Hey, you helped me earlier. Do you need me to return the favor?"

"Yes, please," you replied with a nod, loosening half your grip to take Mingi's proffered hand.

He yanked you free of the cubic foam menaces in no time, and soon you were standing right in front of him. "Guess you win," you remarked with an amused smirk.

"Yeah, I guess so, but your jump was way cooler."

"I can show you how to do it if you want, but only on one condition."

"What's that, (y/n)?"

"You keep helping me out when I get stuck."

"Of course."

(POV: You)

Jump time over, you made your way across the arena to the exit, taking the long way as you, San, and Jongho sprung across every single central trampoline. Giggling, you landed, shuffling over to the locker where the park had you lock up your shoes. When you got there, Yeosang had lowered himself onto the bench by your locker, so you dropped down next to him to lace yourself back up. Out of the peripheries of your vision, you saw him fixing you with a look.

"Really?"

You blinked. "What?"

"Fake falling into the foam pit?" He asked in response, one eyebrow raising.

"You mean the dive?" Pulling your right foot into your shoe, you fixed the dark-haired singer with a look of your own, this one conveying a lack of understanding.

Or so you thought. "No, I mean the way you obviously didn't even try to get out and the little drama performance as you feebly grabbed the sides."

"Hey, I'm not feeble!"

"No, you're just into Mingi, aren't you?"

"Because I had him help me out? In case you haven't noticed, he's pretty tall and strong, and he's so nice I really didn't think he would mind if I-"

"Yeah, you hear yourself, don't you?"

Busted. "Ok, please don't say anything, I mean there's no way he likes me back and I don't want to make things weird, so it's just something I get to live with as you guys' friend."

Yeosang just chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, man."

"What?"

"Nothing," he grabbed his bag, "just...look, I know Mingi very well, and let me just tell you he'd rather get hit by a bus than make the first move. If you're into him, the best thing you could do is tell him. Very, very directly."

Your mouth fell open. "What? Confess?" Heat bloomed across your face. "It's ok, I don't need to hear him reject me, I know we're just friends, it just...he's just...he's just so..." You trail off with a sigh.

Yeosang just elbows you, rolling his eyes lightly. "Handsome? Dreamy?"

"Shut up," you shoot back in a drawn-out giggle as you make your way to the rest of the group at the lobby, where you surreptitiously popped open the doors on one of the little ice cream coolers, sliding a bar out and taking it up to the desk to purchase. Giving people food, after all, was a flirtation method in your mind. Like hey, hello, please like me, I can feed you. You weren't sure if it worked on Mingi or not, but hey, worth a shot.

You strolled up to him, pulling the strawberry cream bar out from behind your back. "Look what I got you! It matches your hair!"

With that big, bright smile you loved, Mingi pulled an ice cream bar out from behind his back, too. "I got you an ice cream!" He exclaimed, though he trailed off as he glanced at his offering. "Though this one doesn't match your hair."

A smack sound at your back had Mingi starting and you turning around, only to see Yeosang with his face in his hand.

(POV: Yeosang)

"This is stupid."

"Oh, you think?" Yeosang, frankly, was over the moon to have someone who sympathized with him, that person being his longtime friend Wooyoung.

Wooyoung who stood at Yeosang's side taking in the very same scene that laid out before them: you and Mingi had jointly chosen a very particular 노래방 song, your favorite romantic movie duet to be exact. You two were gripping your microphones like lifelines, both absolutely belting the song at each other for the bit, key and perfect notes be darned. Your eyes never left each other's except to dart ever-so-slightly down every now and again as you grinningly deafened everyone else, whose rolling eyes you were blind to thanks to that focus on each other. Mingi let his jacket slide down his shoulders as he dropped down to really yell a note, revealing the tank top he was wearing underneath, and boy did your eye contact falter then.

"Uh, yeah," Wooyoung's eyes slid upward so hard they practically disappeared under their lids as he crossed his arms, "My God, I feel like a third wheel. Are they-"

"Deeply convinced they have torturous one-sided crushes? Yes, they are," Yeosang replied, mirroring his friend's posture.

The sputtering that followed was very satisfying to what little bit of Yeosang's sanity remained. "Wh- What? How? Can they not see themselves doing..." Wooyoung extended a black-sleeved arm, palm flat out and pointing incriminatingly at you two, who were now giggling over some dumb mic twirling contest. "That?"

"That's what friends do," Yeosang asked facetiously, falling back against the red plush bench the inactive singers sat on, "right?"

"I mean," Wooyoung commented, hands wringing, "I'd do that with you, but just with a drinking song or something, sheesh."

"And even then I'd contemplate slapping you."

"That's why I love you." Wooyoung slid a little closer to his friend with a teasing grin. "See? That's so easy, why don't Mingi and (y/n) do that?"

"Good luck, they're like an unstoppable force and an immovable object." Yeosang quickly motioned to the duo with a sweep of his open hand, directing Wooyoung's eyes off him and back to the antics, which this time consisted of Mingi trying to coolly toss his microphone and catch it, totally missing and sending it flying to the floor, making the two of you laugh.

"Is that why Mingi was practicing juggling in the dorms?"

"He what?"

"Yeah, one of Seonghwa's legos got knocked over...not a pretty afternoon."

Yeosang ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Yeah, we'd practically need to trick them into getting together to stop the carnage."

Suddenly he felt a slap to his shoulder. Starting, he swiveled his head from the Mingi-(y/n) train wreck to meet the devilish eyes of one Jung "Schemes" Wooyoung.

"Well, I think that can be arranged." Leaning in, he whispered a plan to Yeosang, who nodded and shook his hand in agreement. "Alright then! Celebratory song?"

"Sure, why not?" Yeosang replied, rising from the couch and coaxing the thrice-tossed microphones from (y/n) and Mingi. "Anything to stop the showtunes."

"Hey," you pouted, "that's a classic, you know!"

"Yeah!"

"Mingi, my friend, you've never even seen that movie," Wooyoung chuckled, wrapping an arm around his friend, who flushed.

"I can appreciate lyricism, you know."

(POV: You)

Yeosang was not letting you breathe. Ever since you admitted to liking his friend back in the trampoline park, he wouldn't stop wiggling his eyebrows at you after you brushed hands with Mingi, elbowing you and making jokes in the kitchen, and now just straight-up playing devil-on-your-shoulder telling you you needed to practice confessing.

"No, I don't," you griped back, "I've already ruined my life enough by even falling for a friend in the first place, I don't need to creep him out, too."

"Sheesh, what do you think you're going to say, that you've got names for all three of your kids or what?"

"Well for starters, how does Song Minseo sound to you?"

Yeosang looked like he was going to puke. "Oh, God."

"That was a joke!" You waved your hands back and forth wildly as if very inexperienced-ly directing a plan landing. "I was kidding!"

"You came up with that way too fast," he said, shaking his head, "but, see, it's hard to get the white picket fence if you never share how you see him, right?"

You crossed your arms. "I guess."

"You had no problem telling me how tall and strong and nice he was," Yeosang pointed out, leading you further down the dorm hall and shooting a brief look into Wooyoung's room before stopping you in his, "just say all that to him instead of me."

Your hands shot up to cover your reddening face. "That would be so embarrassing."

"I mean, he probably already knows he's tall, strong, and nice, so you should be pretty safe with that one."

"I'm not just going to say that, that's, like, basic stuff! I'd tell him how happy he makes me just by being happy himself, how he's pretty much a ray of pure sunshine and I love the way he calls my name and I can't imagine being half as comfortable with anyone else as I am with him. He has eyes, he can tell he's hot or whatever."

Yeosang got an absolutely catlike smile on his face. "And who are we talking about again?"

Glaring daggers into those pleased-looking eyes, you bit out "Mingi, you idiot! You were the one who made me admit I liked him in the first place, what do you mean who?"

Before your long-haired friend could answer, his silence starkened a not-so-subtle "Really?" from outside the door, through which Wooyoung and Mingi suddenly came barreling, the latter practically shoving the former aside to get next to you. Your eyes widened, heartbeat speeding up multiple times its normal pace.

"Yes!" Those dang sparkly eyes you wanted to stare into forever. That deep voice. Excitement in that deep voice. Mingi's gaze traveling all around your face as he reached clumsily for one of your hands, the other pumping like he'd just won a football game. "Yes!"

You couldn't take it; flushing and grinning a winning expression of your own, you felt your heart burst and soar as you stepped forward, carnival bell ringing over and over again. It rang so loud, in fact, it practically possessed you, Mingi's victorious shouts and even the way he started bouncing started to drain away in the swell of your heart, your eyes and brain only seeing him. More specifically... without a single forethought, as you did most things when you were around Mingi, your hands reached out to grab his collar, yanking him forward until he crashed into your lips, responding as soon as physically possible. Arms sliding around his neck, you picked up the pace, feeling Mingi smile and totally coming undone, knees almost buckling until you felt a hand steady you around your waist. When you pulled away, Mingi tightened his grip, keeping you in place as your foreheads connected, both of you giggling like schoolkids who got caught passing notes as you began whispering all the once-secret feelings you shared for each other.

"Hm, this might get annoying, too," Yeosang commented.

"Yeah, totally," Wooyoung agreed, leaning against the doorframe he'd just been pushed against, "but at least they'll break less stuff now."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi x female reader #female reader #idiots to lovers #humor

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blueiskewl · 5 months

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Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures

Tom Askjem is a time traveler. Every May to November, he disappears into the bowels of the earth, descends to depths of 13’-plus, and returns to the surface with treasure—bottles and glassware from farming’s past.

After 1,800 pits and hundreds of thousands of relics, Askjem is equal parts archeologist, thrill seeker, and mole. Muscle on dirt, the North Dakota farm boy has turned an addiction into a career, multiple books, and a captivating YouTube channel with millions of views. However, Askjem seeks more than glass.

“I’m digging for adventure, history, and love,” he says. The past is in these holes and there are countless numbers of them across farmland.”

Time to hunt with a master.

The Infection

On the flats of extreme eastern North Dakota’s Traill County, Askjem, 32, prepares for a dig trip. “No mountains and no hills in the Red River Valley,” he describes. “You can see your dog run away for days. The land is mostly featureless, other than a few big cottonwoods and shelter belts where farms used to be.”

A mop of blonde hair sits atop a 6’-tall, lanky frame as Askjem saddles his pony—a Honda Civic. At the current mileage rate, the Civic will be junkyard fodder before it has a scratch: 60,000 backroad miles added to the odometer in the past six months.

Askjem piles layers of gear into the trunk, including three of each tool for insurance: shovels, pronged garden forks, trampoline pads, probe rods, buckets, plastic scoopers, trowels, tents, sleeping bags, blankets, pillows, air mattresses, clothes, and waterproof, Redwing leather work boots.

“It never gets old,” he says, wearing a wide grin. “I caught the infection when I was a kid.”

Digging Bodies

Pushed from the Grand Forks area by the historic Red River flood of 1997, Askjem moved to a farm outside Buxton at six years young. The main property was an 1878 homestead—a progression from sod house to log cabin to the present standing 1898 farmhouse decked in Victorian-era woodwork and hardware.

Surrounded by history, including the skeletons of old wagons and rusting machinery, Askjem explored a 5-acre patch of woods on the property, and chanced on a garbage dump: pop bottles and trash.

Askjem dug.

“I went deep and found stuff going back to 1898. When you’re a kid living in the country, there’s no going down the street and there’s no hanging with friends to play video games—you make your own adventure. I started hitting up all the farmers I could find for leads.”

Behind the wheel of a rattling go-cart, Askjem sought Buxton old-timers and collected tips on abandoned houses. “They all helped me,” he says. “Nobody cared where I hunted because I was just a little kid exploring for all the right reasons.”

“I’ve still got an elementary school journal with an assignment describing my weekend,” he adds. “I wrote, ‘Me and Mom dug up old bodies.’ The teacher marked my paper out of concern,” Askjem describes, with an easy, deep chuckle. “I meant to spell bottles, not bodies. But it shows I was truly hooked.”

Indeed. Wonderfully hooked.

Soft Landing

Why are bottles buried under farmland and old house sites?

Prior to plastic and synthetics, glassware held everything: medicine, hygiene products, alcohol, soda, and beyond. Glass was it.

Additionally, prior to waste disposal services, homeowners discarded trash on-site—in back yard outhouses, trash depressions, burn pits, and wells or cisterns. In short time, the various ground receptacle spots were filled and forgotten.

“Let’s say, for example, a family moved in around 1880,” Askjem explains. “That site likely has two or three outhouse locations prior to World War l. The outhouse spots filled up at a rate according to family size. I dug one farmhouse site that had six outhouses in a 10-year span. Folks went into the outhouses and threw away bottles: medicine, opiates, beer, whiskey. It was convenient and private, and had a soft landing, and got covered quickly. Even now, the bottles often are still preserved.”

“Generally, these houses also had a burn pit and/or dump pit. In the early days, they burned all trash in the stove for heat. Also, homestead bucket wells were filled up with trash and bottles once they were replaced by pump wells. Cisterns also were eventually filled up, but most of those are associated with houses in town.”

And the sites remain, he emphasizes, hiding intact relics beyond the reach of farm machinery or tillage equipment.

X Marks the Spot

Location. Location. Location. Other than a tip or invitation, how does Askjem find dig sites?

X marks the spot, at least in the county courthouse or public library. He spends winters poring over early property transaction documents. “I look at lot sales. If several lots sold for $100 each in 1880, but one sold for $1,000 in 1885, the price climb tells the story and likely represents a building location.”

“I also read old newspaper archives, looking for hotel or business advertisements,” Askjem continues. “Then I can look up the proprietor’s name and keep tightening the scope, narrowing down the exact building location.”

“Every single house is different, but generally, in the countryside, outhouses were 30 paces out the back door. In the city, where most lots were 140’ long, outhouses could be as close as 5-10 paces.”

Confident of a site’s potential, Askjem first asks for permission to dig from the landowner. “Property owners are always so kind to me and I don’t hide anything I find. They’re curious about what is in the ground, just like anybody else.”

Second, he grids out the site. “I put down markers 2 paces apart, maybe 20 paces long. I push probe rods into ground and feel for compaction differences. Depending on the location, I’ll call in and have utility lines marked out for power and gas.”

Decked in Levi’s and a tank-top, it’s time to tunnel.

Claustrophobic Comfort

Shovel in hand, Askjem descends into a layer cake of dirt: black topsoil to brown-colored clay to telltale ash to a use layer containing treasure.

“Generally, I go deep to find old items in quantity. The earliest bottles were used to the last drop by farmers and thrown out empty. Therefore, when they froze in brutal Dakota winters, the glass didn’t break from liquid expansion.”

As Askjem extracts glass vessels from the dirt and grime, his encyclopedic knowledge registers with each find. He recognizes the type, manufacturer, and age. Ink bottles, hygiene bottles, medicine bottles, beer bottles, soda bottles—and far more spill from the holes.

“I find patented medicine bottles across the country, but my favorite are soda bottles because they are unique to their locale and have character. The old soda bottles are usually marked with the bottler and town name because they were returnable.”

The outhouse pits are typically 6’-deep at home sites, with an average size of 6’-by-4’-by-3’. “I’ve dug ghost towns, dug saloons, train depots, and pool halls that were 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 8’ deep. I remember a hotel pit that was 20’-by-20’ and 8’ deep. There was a military fort with pits behind the barracks that was 12’ long, 4’ wide, and 13.5’ deep: That was a week’s worth of digging.”

Askjem’s subterranean realm provides no comfort to the claustrophobic. At 8’-9’, he braces the holes with woodwork. “I’m in a solid clay base that doesn’t cave, but I have a healthy respect for the ground’s limitation. Sometimes, it looks like I’m digging a rabbit hole.”

Preserved in nature’s freezer, the artifacts unearthed by Askjem often are in phenomenal condition.

“Pieces of newspaper can still be read; bottle labels are legible; white lime used in decomposition is visible; and undigested seeds are everywhere. Even 120-year-old human waste sometimes is perfectly preserved and still smells like hell. I wear a hydrogen sulfide respirator in those cases.”

“It’s all there; almost like it was dropped yesterday.”

Ghosts in the Ground

In 2022, Askjem began chronicling his digs via a YouTube channel, Below the Plains, and soon captured millions of views. At two posts per week, he gins footage at a steady rate to feed the algorithm, a tough task considering the ground in his geography is frozen from mid-November to mid-May.

Additionally, Askjem has written two in-depth books (Nebraska Soda Bottles 1865-1930 and A History of North Dakota Bottling Operations 1879-1930) and has more on the way. “I put the bottle prices in the books because they can sell for a whole lot and I always tell the landowners. Listing prices draw criticism, but that’s important to me because it helps preserve the item, and preservation of history is what drives me.”

Covered in dust or mud at the end of each day in digging season, Askjem is highly respectful of what he finds—almost reverent after 1,800 digs. “I appreciate everything I uncover because it represents a part of someone’s daily life and existence. There’s nothing wrong with coveting bottles, but I’m really in those holes for the moment of discovery.”

Even when not digging, Askjem is on the move, surfing on the coasts or river diving for lost cargo. In the decades to come, will he continue burrowing into the past? “Twenty years from now, I hope I’m still digging and there’s nothing I’d rather be doing right now.”

“There’s not an infinite amount of lost bottle sites, but there’s certainly an incredibly high number,” he continues. “There were 300,000 homestead farms in North Dakota with a minimum of one well, one outhouse, and one trash dump. And that doesn’t include towns where most of the population lived. There are millions of these sites in North Dakota and far more in other states.”

Respect to a freewheeling hunter like no other. Bottles draw the eye, but ghosts draw the heart: “The moment never gets old when you uncover a bottle and find that history,” Askjem adds. “Never.”

By CHRIS BENNETT.

#Lost and Found: Bottle Hunter Digs Extraordinary Farmland Treasures #Tom Askjem #glass #glass bottles #ancient glass #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #ancient history #history news #treasure #treasure hunter #antiques #bottle hunter #long post #long reads

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remnantdecay · 13 days

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Michael designed all 6 glamrocks (Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Monty, and Roxy) for henry as a gift.

He had specific plans for each of them:

Freddy ended up being closest to the original design. He was supposed to be representative of henry himself, a caring masculine adult figure, as well as the original fredbear, a doting and protective/giving friend. He was supposed to be the main face at parties, giving all the gifts and cake out to each kid, as well as have his own area called "fredbear's finders keepers" where prizes and trinkets would be scattered around a chaotic room and anything you find you could keep.

Bonnie was supposed to be a pair with Freddy, having the entire relationship blurred so no one could really tell if they were just best friends, or partners in multiple senses. He was also supposed to represent the William Michael remembered from his childhood, a safe space for kids who would be understanding of any behavior. He was supposed to have "Bonnie's bash and play", a room full of tall towers of foam blocks, paint filled water balloons and trampolines everywhere, allowing kids to just destroy the space and get out their feelings. Mike has no clue where they got bowling from Bonnie's design.

Chica was supposed to be in the kitchens actually, making the cakes and pizza, with a glass wall between the kids and her so they could all watch her work. She was also supposed to have a container inside her torso to catch anything she ate, keeping her insides clean so she could eat with the kids and get them to try new foods. Her area was supposed to be "Chica's cookout" where she taught kids how to make their own treats. It was almost supposed to be a subtle fire safety class.

Foxy and Roxy were supposed to be a duo. The sheriff and the bandit. Roxy was also supposed to be called Annie instead of Roxy. Their entire area would be called "the dog day's desert". It was supposed to have three sections, "the outlaw outpost", Foxy's hide out and camp where he'd tell cowboy stories, "the salon saloon" a snack bar where kids could get their hair styled and faces painted, and "high noon highway", a bumper car arena between the two where Foxy and Roxy would chase each other and cause small "crashes" before bailing out and heading back to their respective areas.

Monty was supposed to join the band, but not as a replacement bass player for Bonnie, but rather as a drummer. He wasn't supposed to have his own area, rather having free reign over the entire building. He was supposed to be by far the most friendly of the characters, giving kids rides on his back and letting them try his drums. He'd be in charge of most of the party games, letting kids throw things in his mouth, controlling the piñata, and even doing arts and crafts with the kids. He was also supposed to double as security, being much stronger and more durable then the others and even being the originator of the stomach hatch, where He'd have a padded area for a kid or two to hide during an emergency.

#fnaf #fnaf au #michael afton #fnaf security breach #glamrock freddy #glamrock bonnie #glamrock chica #glamrock foxy #montgomery gator #roxanne wolf #Remnant Decay

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hetalia-club · 1 year

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Enrichments Enclosures I Would Give The Countries. (No I won't elaborate just vibe with me on this one)

Italy: back to the purgatory island from season 1 Romano: a separate deserted Island away from Italy's Spain: a room with a never ending party but also a quiet area for naps. Germany: a kitchen will all his baking tools Prussia: I would give him a bible, a 20$ bill and turn him loose in a modern day NYC subway and just observe. Japan: zen garden that needs fixed up America: McDonalds Play Place but adult sized & never ending nuggies Canada: a Tim Horton's & they show all his favorite hockey highlights England: Buckingham Palace with his royal family France: wine cellar with every wine he's ever liked Russia: an undisclosed warm little cabin in Siberia China: a Shrine on a mountain top Latvia: his own personal home library Estonia: a toxic COD lobby Lithuania: an empty white room with a chair and a pack of saltines Belarus: padded room & straight jacket Ukraine: a sunny sunflower field that goes for miles. Poland: Claire's room from the movie Clueless Austria: music store where everything is free Hungary: a room with a little window so she can watch Austria in his enclosure also snacks. Finland: a Christmas themed bar with no cut off limit Norway: a sensory deprivation room Sweden: Just an Ikea but he has head phones so he can listen to ABBA whenever he so chooses. Denmark: an indoor trampoline park with people there to clap at his tricks.

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modernperplexity · 7 months

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Chapter Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI, mention of alcohol consumption and substance abuse.

Word Count: 3928

Pairing: Frankie x f!reader

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday Y'all!! Chapter 3 is here. Thank you for being so very patient with me as I learn how to navigate my new schedule, I know this chapter took foreverrr. As always, my inbox is always open to chat/ suggestions/ questions etc.. We'll see more soft and a bit of a cranky Frankie this time around that's all I'll say. I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 3: The Crush

The jingle of your keys echoed as they hit the console table tray. Your back ached for a hot bath and the events of the day called for a glass of wine. Summer was ending which meant most of your patients were transitioning back into their school schedules. This proved difficult for most typical kids and even more so for your neurodiverse patients. Some kids had meltdowns and needed extra sensory stimulation while others simply refused to engage, which meant many last-minute adjustments. You found yourself setting up swings, crash pads, and trampolines for many of the kids who needed them. Days like this made you second guess yourself and your skills as a therapist and left you wondering if you were doing enough– if you were enough. As much as you loved your job and your patients, your body and mind were exhausted. You made your way through your now fully decorated and equally solitary apartment. In these moments, you longed for someone to come home to, for strong arms to hold you.

A bath would have to do for now. The soothing warmth of the water enveloped your body as you settled in and grabbed your favorite book to read, only to be interrupted by the wandering thoughts of a brown-eyed pilot. How you felt his warm gaze linger longer than needed, how his fingers had brushed against yours when he helped you clean up Camila’s preferred toys last week. Brief as they were, these moments caused your cheeks to redden and your breath to catch. Frankie had recently gotten into the habit of bringing you coffee in the morning and on occasion a vibrant Bluey coloring page courtesy of Cami. It was out of gratitude- it had to be, at least, that was what you told yourself.

Cami had made so much progress in comparison to where her speech and language were just a few months ago. Her confidence was blooming and with it her Father’s happiness. Frankie had canceled the appointment today and you were scared to admit it but you were bummed. You wanted to see him, you missed them. And It suddenly dawned on you that you were crossing the line you had sworn to would never cross.

“Un momento... you’re moping as if it’s illegal to like him.” Your eyes met Michele’s just as she raised her hand, stopping your protest before you breathed it out, “...and yes! I said moping. You were so in your feelings you forgot about wine night!”

Her knocking startled you out of the bath, leading Michele to find you sad and wrapped up in your favorite periwinkle bathrobe when you greeted her at the door moments earlier.

“I know, I know… I’m sorry, Meesh. I was just so distracted today” you retorted as you brushed your wet hair and wrinkled your nose at her “...and I’m not moping!”

She met you with challenging eyes, giggling at your wasted efforts to brush off the truth. “The man obviously likes you, by the way,” she said as she grabbed her glass of wine and plopped on the couch “he’s hardly ever showing up empty-handed to your sessions, and I’m willing to bet he’s the only parent doing so.”

You clutched your throw pillow extra tight against your chest, “Even if he does or doesn’t…what’s the point?… I-I can't like him, it couldn’t lead to anything anyway, not to mention it's completely unethical.”’

“So it’s a crush, it's not a crime!... You are allowed to have them y’know.” You gave her a blank stare in response “What? It would be different if you were acting on it… My point is, if you like him, you like him. I doubt the crush patrol will be hunting you down asking you if you have a certain fondness for him.”

You took a sip of your wine, and rolled your eyes, struggling to conceal your true feelings. “I just don’t see the point in letting myself like this guy”

“Letting yourself? Oh honey, you are already there. Seems to me like you’re afraid to get hurt” She cocked her head in tandem with her change in intonation as she read you like a page of a book. “You can’t deny your emotions girl, you gotta own them.”

“Get out of my head!” you pushed her shoulder playfully “Ugh, he’s gorgeous Meesh! You should see how kind he is and how gentle he is with his daughter and how considerate he is and-”

“You’re fucking terrified”

“...I’m fucking terrified” you echoed.

“I don’t think anyone’s main goal is to ruin anyone in a relationship.. and if he’s as sweet as he seems to be, I doubt that’s what he’d intend for you... He’s not Sam.”

“So now what? You threw your head back against the headrest, hand dragging against your face.

“Now… at least you are being honest with yourself.” She squeezed your shoulder in that comforting way you loved, as you lay your head on her shoulder, “That in itself is a big feat, amiga”

The screen of your phone set light to your dark bedroom, just as the buzz of the alarm jolted you half awake. Mornings were hardly your favorite unless you had time to wake up slowly. Unfortunately, today would not be one of those days. You had an 8-hour day ahead of you and none of the energy to match. With one foot dragged in front of the other, your sleepy self made it to the kitchen aching for a cup of coffee, only to search an empty box of coffee filters. In all your moodiness you had forgotten to stop by the store on the way home last night. A splash of water did half the job but enough to get ready and rush out of your apartment.

There were several people lined up to order their drinks by the time you made it to Starbucks. Your attention was drawn to your phone as you waited in line until you looked up towards the register where a stunning 20-something barista was smiling and twirling her coquettishly hair as she took a man’s order. A man whose brown curls peeked out from under a very familiar blue hat. Suddenly your heart began to pound, hands growing more damp by the second. So much so that you couldn’t discern what emotion took over either jealousy or nervousness. There was no way you were mentally prepared to see him today, much less in the morning with your make-up half done.

Frankie ordered quickly and soon after made his way to you in the line. The air escaped your gasp for a breath just as his chocolate-brown eyes met yours, which so desperately tried to hide your internal struggle to regain composure.

“Mornin’, fancy seeing you here” He said with a warm smile that lit you up inside.

“Morning!” Your cheeks blushed pink at the sound of your overly eager greeting. He looked so effortlessly put together in a flannel and jeans. His aviators clinging to the collar of his undershirt, “Oh Frankie- you didn’t have to-”

“Saw you standing in line. Thought I’d make up for not bringing you coffee yesterday.” He handed you a cup of what was now your favorite, “I ordered your usual, but let me know if you want something else. I can ask the barista for...”

“Mmm…” You paused to savor the warm liquid, bringing you back to life in an instant, “no need, this is perfect.” You took in the taste of the coffee and noticed that the order details were not listed on the cup,“..what is this again?”

A playful grin appeared on Frankie’s face “Sorry to disappoint… but I can’t tell you.”

“And why is that?” You giggled, placing your hand on your hip, “I’ll have you know I take my coffee very seriously.”

“Seriously enough to spare a few minutes?” He nodded toward the table facing the busy street.

His question was light but there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite read. The thought quickly interrupted by the present scenario. You knew this encounter danced over the boundaries of ethics but everything inside you begged you to stay. Bumping into him was in no way intentional and you knew that even though he bought you coffee you’d be at liberty to leave if you wanted to, it wouldn’t change a thing. There was no harm in a casual run-in, you reckoned. This morning you’d just be the girl he met at that bar months ago without the complexities of your job title.

You watch read 8:32 am, “You’ve got 5 minutes”

Frankie smiled a little bigger at your response and pulled the counter stool for you before taking his seat “We missed you yesterday…”

You felt him looking at you, his soft eyes tracing carefully over your features, “About that…everything okay?”

He took a sip of his coffee “Oh yeah, we’re great…I have a big aviation exam comin’ up at the end of the week. So, Cami’s at her grandma’s while I study.” He took a sip of his coffee, bringing your attention to the hands that engulfed the paper cup. They were a working man’s hands, rough and strong. Suddenly you were taken with thoughts of his hands- his thumb running over the plump of your lips, his hands touching your neck.

“She was really upset we had to miss speech though” his comment interrupted your racing thoughts, prompting you to still your quickened heartbeat.

“Awe Cami, I missed her too! I’ll see you guys next week right?”, you said as you nervously picked at the corner of the coffee cup sleeve, attempting to disguise the amount of interest in your question.

“She won’t let me miss it again. She’s been going on and on about her favorite Peech.”

“Peach?”, Your nervous picking came to a halt as you looked up at his brown eyes with a smirk.

Your puzzled expression made Frankie grin, “She started calling you Peech a few days ago… I guess it stuck after our weekly sessions”

A slight chuckle left your lips “God, that’s so sweet! I feel so special” you beamed.

“Pope and my other friend, Ben, have been bending over backward trying to get her to give them a nickname. Think they’re a little jealous, to be honest”

“Ben… Oh, that BEN!”

“The one and only.”

“I could see that..” you chuckled “well, too bad. I’m a favorite of Cami’s now and they just gotta deal”

“Is that so?” He laughed, his gaze catching yours off guard before you savored another sip of coffee.

“So.. this exam is it for an extra certification or license? I’m sorry, I- um, don’t really know much about aviation”

“Well, not exactly” Frankie took a deep breath, his heart pounded and he couldn’t believe what he was about to disclose, “It’s to reinstate it” He paused as to read your expression for permission to continue, “I-I was suspended for some time. After being in the service for so long- I didn’t realize how unprepared I’d be to adapt to regular everyday life. Y’know, when you’re out on a mission, you are trained to be hypervigilant. Every fiber of your being is focused on your team and your targets. To get in, and get out in one piece as a team. And you’ll see things you never wish you had, lose people you’d never thought you’d lose. So, coming back to this- to everyday life, was too much on my own. I eventually fell in with the wrong crowd and got into things that I am ashamed of. Cost me my, license, my relationship.. could’ve cost me Cam.”

“Jesus, Frankie, I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you” Your hand instinctively but gently grasped his, “but I’m really glad you are okay, and have a second shot at this” Your phone quietly pinged next to you, it’s notification effectively catching neither of your attention.

“Thank you. The boys were a huge support. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Santiago and Will got me in touch with the right people to get me clean and I can’t count how many times Ben pulled me out of some really dark places.” He paused- taking in everything he had just told you, amazed once again at how much he was confiding you- your hand still touching his. “God, I’m sorry I should’ve told you that night, but I-”

“Don’t be, we were strangers then. I mean, I feel honored that you shared this with me, but this is your story to tell. You have the right to share it with whomever you choose, whenever you choose” Your smile was reassuring, the storm of his past didn’t shake you, didn’t evoke a tinge of disgust or rejection that he once believed he deserved.

“Thank you for listening”

“Of course” Your grin quickly faded as you glanced at your watch “Crap, my time’s up.. and I still have no answer as to what I’ve been drinking” you teased.

Frankie adjusted his hat with a smirk, “Well, I wouldn’t be able to surprise you with a cup of coffee in the mornin’ If I told you, now would I?”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine” Frankie looked so amused with your playful frustration, stirring up something inside you enough to admit defeat. “You win…thanks for the mystery coffee” you breathed as you gathered your things.

“You’re welcome and I’ll see you soon then.” He said, a quiet confidence about it lingering in the look he gave you. What you didn’t realize in that moment, was that this was the first time he felt like someone outside of his circle could see him clearly without the muck and mire of his past decisions clouding their view.

“See you then” You took a few steps when you heard a familiar voice calling your name from the entrance of the coffee shop..

“OMG!, I didn’t know this was your Starbs too!? Your co-worker, Heather, sauntered over to you, “Did you get my text? My 9 a.m. canceled so I offered to order for everyone before heading to the clinic but-” she glanced at your busy hands gripping your cup, keys, and phone, “it seems you already got your daily dose”

Shit, shit, shit!

She flashed a cheeky smile as she peeked around to see where you had been sitting, “Wait, Who’s that!? He kinda looks familiar.”

You hid Frankie’s name on the coffee cup against your chest, your heart now pounding for a very different reason, “Hmm?” you feigned a response of confusion and glanced at your watch once more, this time noticing the date at the top, “Oh crap! Today is thursday right?”

“Um yeah”

“Shoot... I’m sorry, I gotta go have to set up for my 9 a.m, see ya later, bye!”

“Que dices pendejo…you ready for tomorrow?” Santiago leaned against the kitchen sink drinking the crisp beer he had just opened.

Frankie had spent the last eight hours studying and the several books and coffee cups sprawled over the dining table were there to show for it. “It’s only been two years but a lot of stuff has changed” The worry lines displayed the growing tension between his furrowed brows, “The practical test is no problem. Once I’m in the cockpit- it’s second nature. It’s just this damn written exam that’s got me second guessin’ myself.”

“Fish, if there’s one thing I know is that you were born to fly. It’ll come to you.” he said patting Frankie’s shoulder “but you might wanna take 5 soon? or a shower?” he chided, evoking a sidelong glance from Frankie. “What? Just sayin’, you’ve been at this for…quite a while” he said examining the handwritten numbers peeking out from under a brown coffee sleeve.

Frankie almost jumped out of the chair when he saw Pope’s eye twinkle with curiousity, “I should clean up-..”

“Woah-ha-ho!” Santiago snatched the cup away from Frankie’s grasp with a devilish grin on full display, “keepin’ secrets Fish?”

“What kind of secrets?” Will interrupted, a smile evident in his voice and a bag of burgers in hand “Thought we’d bring y’all some grub” He said, placing the bags on the kitchen counter.

“Seems like Frank here has finally gone fishin’“ Santiago continued.

“Jesus, Pope, you’re worse than my mother!” Frankie rolled his eyes,“And that’s not.. I wasn’t-”

“Is it Peech?! Please tell me it's Peech!” Ben’s voice echoed out from the foyer, as he made his way to join the rest of the group in the small kitchen.

“He’s right, Pope, take it down a notch will ya?” Will examined the cup, carefully removing the sleeve, “well shit..seem’s like Peech might have some competition” his eyebrow raised towards Frankie.

Ben stole a glance “-says Danielle on the cup..damn, Fish, that’s a hot girl name!”

“I appreciate the food and sudden interest in my lovel life, but can we please fucking eat!? I’m starving!”

You took a bite of the sandwich you had ordered with sunchips to go along. Unlike your first month here you were not eating luch alone. You and Lindsay had become quite close over the last couple months. She had been so easy to talk to and you found yourself spending your lunch time in her company more often than not. It was so nice to finally feel like you were creating new friendships. This time was different thought. Lindsay being her sweet self had invited two other co-workers, Heather and Bree to join you at the local cafe down the street from the clinic.

“How’ve you been feeling at work? Feeling more comfortable with your caseload?” Lindsay asked with a sweetness and genuine concern in her voice.

“Definitely, I feel like I’ve finally caught on to a rhythm. The families and patients I’ve been working with have been great too” you smiled, careful to hide your excitement to see one Francisco Morales every Monday, “I bet your kiddo’s parents love you, you’ve been working here for a while right?”

Lindsay smiled “I’ve got no complaints, honestly I-”

“Of course you don’t. You have Sarah Miller’s dad coming in every Friday-” Joy interrupted “Ugh, I love a man in workboots” she swooned into her sandwich.

“He is handsome, but Sarah’s uncle Tommy… now that man oof” Lindsay added.

You bit your lip subconsciously, as the thud in your chest became faster. Hoping you didn’t soon become the topic of conversation. The straw of your smoothie offering you an easy out from speaking.

“Speaking of,” Heather’s eyes now on you, your throat now suddenly dry, “your Monday 9am’s dad.. is just.. wow, I walked past him in the hall last week. Ugh, soo fine.

You weren’t a praying person but in this very moment you prayed whatever god there is for Heather to suddenly acquire some sort of amnesia where she could forget who she saw you with that morning at the coffee shop, or at least that she would be kind enough to keep that interaction to herself.

“I think It’s so sweet how he actually goes in to each session.” A smug look took shape across her face, the kind that left you shifting in your seat a little.

“Yeah.. I mean, he’s very involved in his daughter’s well being and it’s great.. it’s paying off.” You managed to breathe out in defense.

“No, I mean, like he totally has a thing for you hun…and it makes sense, he’s got no ring on”

Heather’s comment prompted Lindsay to look over at you, noticing how you kept your shaking hands moving in attempt to keep them from giving you away.

“By the way, his hands are soo big...” Heather continued, rolling her eyes and bit her bottom lip.

“Jesus, Heather!” Lindsay giggled uncomfortably.

“What!? I have eyes, I just happened to notice one day”

“Wait, no, I doubt that. I’m sure he’s just happy about his daughter’s progress.” You responded.

“Ugh, you’re so lucky. I need a hot single dad on my caseload!” Joy whined.

“Y’all need a cold ass bath is what you need” Lindsay remarked, the group breaking out into laughter.

The girls finished their meals and rushed back to the clinic to set up for thier 1pm appointments. Yours and Lindsay’s 1pm patients who were siblings cancelled, sparing you both an extra hour.

“So.. I didn’t want to say anything infront of Heather, but I don’t think she is wrong, I mean Mr. Morales is always bringing you something now that I think of it and the way he looks at you…well, it’s definitely different.”

You breathed in sharply, not sure if you could handle any more anxiety for the day “Thanks for not confirming Heather’s suspicions. I got the feeling she wanted me to gush about him to her”

“I got that feeling too. I really think you need to be careful what you say around her. Heather is sweet and all but she’s set to be a lead therapist soon and... I just wouldn’t share anything too personal with her, if you know what I mean.”

The air was sticky outside. The were roads damp with Florida rain when Frankie’s green jeep pulled in to the testing center parking lot. Exactly one hour before his exam time. A grumpy but supportive Santiago volunteered to drive with him to the flight center in Tampa. Frankie rolled down the window and lit a cigarette.

“You have some time.. is there anything else you want to go over?”

Frankie sat in silence for a minute before answering, the weight of this exam bearing down on him, “I can’t fuck this up Pope, and I’m terrified about what this will do to me if I don’t pass. I-I can’t go there again”

“Hey.. look at me, the boys and I got you. We won’t let you get wrapped up in that shit again. But you have to take this chance, it’s all I’ve heard you talk about these past few years. It’s part of the reason you’ve stayed sober right?” Frankie nodded, “Just think of what this will mean for your future..for Cami’s future.”

Frankie took a long drag on his cigarette. He rarely smoked now, save for particularly exasperating instances such as these. A determined look on his face began to slowly emerge. His shoulders a little less tight.

You know your shit…your the best fucking pilot I know. Now get in there and pass this damn exam. I’m tired of seeing you being so cranky all the damn time!”

“Alright, alright. Here..,” Frankie fished his phone out of his back pocket and placed in on the cup holder, “can you please answer if you get a call from my mom? In case Cami needs anything?” He stepped out of the car and crossed himself as he made his way to the entrance.

It had not been two minutes since Frankie had left when two pings and a six letter name displayed on Frankie’s cracked screen caught Santiago’s immediate attention, “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

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toweroftickles · 2 months

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❤️ Valentine's Day Morsels ❤️

(A Whole Month Late 😅)

These were all supposed to be done for the holiday itself, but obviously that didn't happen. The problem is that I care way too much about my writing and try too hard to make it actually good. That's not why anybody reads this crap. Anywho, I've been in an anomalously sappy, romantic mood lately and whipped up some sugary, snack-sized tickle drabbles involving a few of my all-time-favorite (canon) fictional couples. :) Hope these are sweet enough! Disclaimer: this is all obviously just meant to be cute, silly fun.

Link/Zelda (utilizing "Wilds" era)

Whenever Purah developed a revolutionary new piece of tech for the Hylian Royal Family, she of course needed a volunteer to test it out. At those times, Princess Zelda was always on-hand to make sure she had one. And it was usually Link.

The Sheikah techie was putting the finishing touches on a new observation platform propulsion system...she called it a "Skyview Tower." The Hero of Hyrule stood in the center of the device, bracing for the upcoming vertical rush. It was somewhat against his will that he was being held in place by six clinking, clanking Guardian arms. He felt like a prisoner in the teeth of a hungry beast as they hooked him to the machine, but Purah just clicked away happily on her control Pad.

“How ya doin, Link? You comfy?” she asked him. He nodded reluctantly. "Ok, I'm gonna launch you in 10...9..."

Suddenly, at the sight of Link ensnared in the repurposed robot arms, Zelda bounced up and down and excitedly tapped her compatriot on the shoulder. “Oh! Oh! Purah, wait!”

Everything paused. The princess knelt and whispered excitedly into the inventor’s ear.

What they were talking about, Link couldn’t decipher, but he saw that in the midst of Zelda’s sentence, Purah’s smile stretched bigger and bigger. After a breathy exchange, both ladies were giggling to themselves. Uh-oh. He recognized that energetic sparkle in Purah’s eye…that only happened when she knew her tests were going to have “funny” results.

Beep. Four of the Guardian arms remained holding Link's wrists and ankles still, but the other two raised up and took on new purpose. The octopoid metal tendrils zipped around his torso, snapping their claws like hungry snakes. Their laser sights booped to life and swam their little red eyes all over him...targeting certain areas...and once Purah pressed that button again, they dove right in for the attack.

The little pincer claws skittered and tap-danced under his arms, across his stomach, between his ribs. At first he panicked. Then he grinned. Squirming and struggling, Link began to laugh.

“HHHHeh…Heheh…Heh-Heh Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Z-Zeld…Heh! Haha!”

"See, I told you he was ticklish," the princess chuckled.

"Oooo, and you were right! This is fun! Look at him dance!"

"Heh-Heh, Heh-Heh Ha...Haha-Heh! Nn-Heh!" Bolts of Gerudo lightning didn't make Link jump around this much. It wasn’t until Zelda sauntered over and tickled him herself that the machine finally wound down.

And just like that, being shot out of an untested military-grade cannon didn't seem so bad.

******

Parzival/Art3mis (Ready Player One)

Spring Center Fortress was always a fun place in the OASIS for testosterone-soaked one-v-one games. Each arena in the cubist coliseum was a giant trampoline, regardless of size or layout, and combat was fast and frantic when no one could stand still. Only true acrobats thrived in the chaos there. Entering one of the battle boxes, Parzival and Art3mis removed their shoes and jackets and stepped barefoot onto the bouncy black floor.

"Choose your weapon, sir." Arty's declaration of war was cheekier than usual. She smirked, already sure of her victory, and make a flashy show of unveiling a fully-2D Airbender staff. Rare gear.

Parzival eagerly cycled through the digital blue pockets of his inventory...lots of options to choose from. Neither he nor Arty were pulling admin privileges and just dropping rare junk into their accounts; this loot had to be earned like everyone else’s. Oh, there was a good one...

"Toymaker Energy Bo," he finally announced. The glowing green stick popped from hammerspace and into his hands, extending four frog-like fingers from its tip that snapped and pinched at their target.

Art3mis nodded. She looked impressed. "Spy Kids 3D. Nice."

At the sound of the buzzer, a blade of cartoony wind sliced through the room and nearly split Parzival's staff in two. Their weapons clacked together as the couple danced and dodged on the springy terrain...the fight was a wild flurry of flips, leg sweeps, slides and parries. Dodging a strike at her knees, Art3mis bounced into a full backwards aerial somersault, a mere hair's breadth away from the Game Over bo's snapping claws. Just as she landed and stumbled back, the very tips of metal fingers pulled at her body, grazing against four particular spots along her torso that they couldn't quite snare.

One, on the right side of her neck. One deep in the hollow of her left armpit. One just above her hipbone. And one smack in the center of her right side, under the ribcage.

“BAH!!” Art3mis nearly slipped on the undulating floor, swiveling on her heel and pointing her finger at Wade, and had to catch her balance against the back wall. Her staff zipped off on an air current and glided away across the stadium. Disarmed. In her most stern, commanding voice, the Goddess of the Hunt blurted “Hey! No. ...Z. No tickling."

"Hey, come on, it was an accident," Parzival laughed.

For a moment everything was still, both anticipating the other's next move. But he'd seen the flash of panic on her face...blood was in the water now. Her eyes darted to her glider. Slowly, Parzival raised his staff again. Its four-pronged hand spun around and wiggled in Arty's direction, closer and closer, and the sight made her jaw clench.

“...God, sometimes I love these Boot Suits.”

“Wade, no. N...HHHA-Ha Ha-Ha! …Ng-Heh! Nuh...nonono, God n-HNN!!"

Art3mis' arms contracted, trying to block the ravenous mechanical fingers, but that only pinned them even more snugly to where they could feast on her ticklish ribs. Her trembling knees buckled. Soon she was wrestled flat onto her back and rolling around atop the rubbery floor, her leg weakly kicking at the air. The Spy Kids staff no longer attacked her...it was Parzival's own fingers that she felt clawing beneath her loose crop-top, squeezing her belly until the cackles burst out of her. The two were bouncing and wrestling and laughing until the floor squeaked. Streaks of charcoal soot blackened her soles…the trampoline's worn surface had almost-literally painted a target on her bare feet, a target which Parzival didn't ignore for long. Arty was surprised by how hard she was cracking up...and, despite the soreness in her cheeks, by how much fun she was having.

“What, what’s the matter? Ya n00b. Stop laughing.”

"Ha-Ha Ha-Ha! Uncle! Uncl-hle!"

The dull fingernails that had been scribbling beneath her toes retreated. Arty was free again. Up and down, the trampoline reverberated to the rhythm of her diaphragm's spasmodic wobbles. Even after all this time, it was still an out-of-body experience, to catch one's raspy breath as a digital avatar...when she was worn out inside the OASIS, her real-world meat puppet followed suit. Slowly she and the trampoline both calmed. She sat up, folding her arms across bent knees, and her middle finger dabbed at her eyelash.

"Ha......Ahhhhhhh Ha Ha....Huheh...Okay, okay, you got me," she chuckled. Her toes clenched up against the rubbery ground. She tried to affect a serious expression, but that wide-eyed grin of hers just wouldn't dissolve. “But don’t do that again!”

"Eh, can't make any promises," Z taunted, helping her stand. For that, he received a playful punch in the shoulder.

Like most of the OASIS, there were no real rules in Spring Center Fortress. The important thing was how you won.

******

Aang/Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Waterbender training was going...as Sokka would put it...swimmingly. Aang and Katara stood ankle-deep in the waters of Chameleon Bay, practicing their stances. Liquid swirled around them, rising and falling like tides at their command.

"How's your octopus form?" Aang's teacher asked him.

Quickly, Aang struck the proper pose and focused. A stream of ocean foam snaked upward into the air and corkscrewed multiple arcs around his body. With a twist of his arm, the water coalesced into a near-solid tentacle, its rippling surface smoothed out, and he made it sway back and forth in a friendly wave. Katara giggled. She, meanwhile, was focused on maintaining six hovering spheres of water that orbited around a rock in front of her. Gesturing with her palm, she relaxed into a simple Single Whip posture, her right knee bent and arms outstretched, and the water balls merged into a lash. She was focused and precise...and totally oblivious to what her pupil was doing.

Guided by Aang's slow dance, a water tendril slithered across the bay and breached the surface. As soon as Katara wasn't looking, its tip rose up and wiggled against her tummy - right next to her belly button.

"Ah! Haha…Aang, stop it!" Laughing, she jumped in place and covered her ticklish spot with her hand. Instantly the Avatar’s octopus construct fizzled into droplets and splashed the flowing sea below. He stood there all sheepish and rubbed the back of his tattooed head, grinning like a buffoon.

"Heh...sorry. You were wide open." Aang couldn't escape his own mischievous nature. He was 12, after all.

There was a brief and fearful pang in his stomach...is Katara mad at me? But her smile was the brightest he'd seen on the waterbender's face all week. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he could've sworn she was starting to blush. Both benders just laughed shyly and turned to face the sandbank once more.

"Alright, let's keep going."

******

Gwen/Miles (Spider-Verse)

The multiversal headquarters of the Spiders didn't just have a lockup, a science lab, and a cafeteria (no bagels allowed). There was also quite a museum of trophies and mementos gathered from past battles, defeated villains, and fallen heroes from all across the cosmic web. It was like Batman's basement on the scale of the MoMA. And Gwen couldn't wait to show Miles all she'd learned there.

Clasping one another's hands they dashed through the halls, often pulling eagerly in opposite directions. Miles was a kid in a candy store, and every time his eyes lit up, it reminded Gwen of a thousand reasons why she liked him. After passing the wrecked granite namesake of one "Big Wheel 5000 BC," the two skidded to a stop, lured by an exhibit that stood out from the rest: a single hand, perched atop a pedestal.

An Infinity Gauntlet, this was not. It was a cheap canary opera glove, with long, fluffy white feathers glued to its digits in lieu of fingernails. The plastic plaque beneath declared in full voice to the pair:

“‘The Tickler?!’" Frog-mouthed in shock, Gwen doubled over, laughing wildly. “No. Freaking. Way."***

"Are you serious right now? Ha…Wow, they just get lamer…”

"Heheh-Heh! Ok, ok; you’ve gotta hear this: 'Crude homemade weapon retrieved from Whedon Winslow, Earth-57780.' Some name... 'Failed stand-up comedian who turned to larceny. Distracted victims and pursuant Spider Society with...'"

But Miles wasn’t paying attention to Gwen's narration. He was busy cracking his knuckles and reaching toward his distracted girlfriend from behind, trying to project confidence from a playful smile that was actually quite shy. He was gonna get her so good, he encouraged himself.

In the midst of Gwen's sentence, kneading fingertips hooked right into her sensitive, squishy waistline.

Her gasp was loud and shrill. The girl almost popped like a chocolatey toaster pastry, but a right forearm encircled her collarbone and held her firmly in place. Before she knew it, Gwen was immobilized in a tickle hug and fell straight into Miles' lap as the two collapsed to the floor.

"AH!! *gasp* Huhuh-Huhuh Heheh! *gasp* Ah Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha! St-HOP ihit! We're supposed to be quiet!!"

She screamed and elbowed Miles in the stomach, but he maintained his hold. Then she tried pulling on his wrists. No good. Gwen was the most squirmy, wiggly human being Miles had ever seen; champion swimmers didn't kick their legs as hard as she did. He might as well have been trying to hold onto a hagfish in an oil spill…even with sticky fingers, it was a challenge! But watching her smile and laugh like this was so worth it.

“Wait, hold up a minute!” Miles laughed as if Gwen would actually obey him (not that she had much choice). One THWIP! of spider-silk from his wrist, and The Tickler’s glove was yanked right off its perch and into his hand. Miles didn't put it on...all he needed to do was hold one of the fingers and wield the feather like a wand.

The quills prickled like thousands of tiny needles against the nape of Gwen's goosebumpy neck...right at the signal source from whence her Spider-Sense was screeching. Any measure of defiance left in her crumbled to dust. Both of her palms slapped over her face...anything to hide it from Miles. She could have fried an egg on her cheeks for how they sizzled.

“VVVVVVVFF-EEEE!!! *Yeek!* OmigodNO - N-no feath-hers, oh my GAWWD, no feahehther-her-hers…*SNORT* AHHHMilesstoppit!” she whined and cried. The feather stroked down across her collarbone, her shoulder blade, under her armpit...

It wasn't long before one of the nigh-innumerable Spider Society horde noticed the sound of embarrassed squeals echoing throughout the gallery and swooped in to investigate. But when this particular Peter Parker entered the hall, it was found vacant. Nothing but various museum exhibits, all undisturbed in their places. And so he left.

Miles, as it turns out, had been practicing a new technique. He wasn't the only person that he could turn invisible.

"Shhh!" he whispered. Gwen was absolutely trembling in his lap, even though the tickling had stopped - it took two hands to stifle her uncontrollable belly laughs. There, with his arms around her and feeling her heartbeat against his, a warmth washed over Miles. There were a million worries flapping around inside his brain...his future with the Spiders, his parents, and he & Gwen...was it right, how they felt about each other, what they were doing? But for a few quiet moments, where nobody could see them, none of that mattered.

He almost kissed the top of her head, but got too antsy.

Maybe next time.

******

*Note: Actual Spider-Man villain. Seriously. I did not make this up.

Victoria/Misto (Cats 2019)

The Egyptian Theater was warm and sleepy that evening. The old sun-shaped stage prop created the perfect napping spot for a young Jellicle, and the white cat lolled blissfully in its hollowed-out cradle. Her left leg dangled down off the side, pendulous and swaying like a metronome, right next to her boyfriend’s nearby head. Mr. Mistoffelees was kneeling there on the floorboards directly beneath, fumbling with a deck of cards.

Victoria peered over the side of her perch and smiled, unnoticed. Just laying beside her magician (well, a bit higher and to the right of him, anyway) carried her off in a cozy bubble of comfort. She just felt content around him. Her hands couldn’t reach to pet him…not from this angle…so instead, she held her slender leg out and, with her big toe, traced gentle crescents behind his ear.

His ear twitched. At first Misto instinctively ducked away from the impromptu scalp scratch, inquisitive chuckle aside ("Heh...what are you doing?"), but he soon came around to her affection and began to purr. His head rolled around across his shoulders, his back arched, and his ears flopped and wagged. Tori could tell the scritches were making him happy. Tufts of black fur shot up like grass between her marble toes, bristling the ball of her foot back and forth, until out of nowhere it made her shiver and pull away.

"Hmhm! Hmf..." she giggled sweetly through her nose. "Your fur tickles."

The tuxedo cat grinned and looked up at her. There was his opening. "Oh, it does?" he taunted. "It does?" With one quick yank, Victoria’s foot was down near his chest, and she was laughing and gripping the sunbeams with all her might. In her meek struggle for balance, that varnished wooden nest fought back with bumpy scrapes against her stomach and her thighs. Taking hold of his tail in his left hand, Misto started painting broad brushstrokes across Victoria’s foot with its fuzzy black tip, and she immediately began to fidget. “What about this?” Misto asked her.

"Heehee-Hih! *gasp* Hn-Hih! Th-hat's not fair, I'm stuck...Hee! It tihickles," the snow-white kitten’s jubilant squeaks bubbled up from inside her. Her ears flattened shyly. Why did this kind of thing happen to her so much? She didn’t hate being tickled, but lately it felt like she’d become something of a Jellicle magnet. If this kept up, she’d have to start wearing her ballet flats 24/7.

Almost as soon as it started, Misto let her go, and Victoria scurried her legs back up inside that little hovel, before turning around and facing him once more. She loved the chalky pink way his nose blushed, and that awkward, crooked smile of his, the one that popped up whenever he finally let himself be playful. He loved how her persimmon lips stood out against her face, and the way her head dropped timidly down to her shoulders when she giggled.

Soon the two were snuggling in each other's arms inside the heart of the sun, just waiting for the Jellicle Moon to rise again.

******

Vi/Caitlyn (Arcane)

The papery bandages around her forearms chafed against Vi's chin. Her elaborate clockwork tattoos peeked out through the rips on her sleeveless blue-hooded top. Pink-and-orange sunset streaked through the glass. She still wasn’t used to laying on a bed as big and comfy as Caitlyn’s.

"I haven't had a back rub in...probably forever," she mused, still a little apprehensive about this kind of intimate contact.

"It's really relaxing, I promise.”

Warm palms kneaded into the Trencher girl's scapula. Spindly fingers performed slow, smooth taffy-machine pulls on the muscles between her shoulders and neck. At first she resisted, but slowly surrendered to the touching and let herself sink deep into the soft mattress.

“Wow, your…you’re rock solid,” Caitlyn murmured, impressed. Under that jacket, Vi’s physique felt even buffer than it looked. And that intricate body art…Caitlyn was so busy admiring that she neglected to notice how her hands were moving faster, stroking in tandem with a nervous pulse.

Vi froze. Her fingers skittishly drummed against the bedsheet. Everything about Caitlyn's technique was wrong in precisely the right ways: the thumbs were rubbing a little too gently down her lats, the fingernails squeezing a smidge too firm between her ribs. It was clumsy, inelegant...ticklish. All it took was one especially-wrong nerve hit, and when she could no longer keep her mouth shut, Vi’s whole body shuddered.

“DAH, Huhuh-Heheh! Hey…watch it,” she laughed. "Careful back there."

“Sorry,” Cait replied, smirking. Her hands plunged back down.

Oh come on…not again. Vi felt like a grape in a wine press when twisting thumbs pushed down hard on her obliques. Her lumbars. Her hipbones. Every knot in her lower back. Her eyes widened, and all the air in her chest squeezed out from between her lips like a squished football deflating.

“Mmff…PFFFFTHnhn!” More wriggles. The bed whined from the kicking lower legs that thumped against it. Caitlyn was at a befuddled junction halfway between offense and joy, between pouting and grinning. Vi always made things difficult for her.

“I am trying to do something nice for you; could you just hold still?”

“GRRRR, stop tickling me!” Vi snapped.

No apology this time. Only a playful tsk, and then the massage resumed.

The fluttery rubbing sensation drilled down through Vi’s back until it scorched the inner wall of her stomach. Her frustrated, reddening facial features scrunched themselves tightly together. She repeatedly slapped the nearby pillow with the ferocity of a grunge drummer. If her bared teeth had ground any harder together, her gums would’ve bled.

“NGK! Nooo-hoho; Hng-Hn! Gkkkk…Sss-sss-st-hop i-hih-hit…! Kkkkk!!” The redhead choked on desperate glass-shard sniggers that scraped against the roof of her mouth. She couldn’t stop her angry tough-girl giggling, and it drove her nuts.

"C-hut it ouuut, I'm gonna punch you!!!"

That one wasn't a threat; it was a genuine, heartfelt warning. Caitlyn couldn’t help but flash a buck-toothed grin...that was probably enough, for both their sakes. She drew back her hands and watched Vi's quivering shoulders slow down, listened to her breath steady itself.

"Ugh...What the hell, Cait?"

“Sorry, it wasn't on purpose. You’re just…I think it’s very…*ahem* …" Now it was the cop's turn to be flustered and rosy-cheeked. "...adorable. How frustrated you get when you’re feeling ticklish.”

Caitlyn was expecting a tease, a playful slap, a snarky reprimand...some kind of retaliation...especially when she saw that smirk in the corner of Vi's mouth. But instead of payback, she got a pleasant surprise: Vi sat up, turned around, and shoved her lips into Caitlyn’s so hard and fast that the blue-haired Enforcer almost fell backward.

...Perhaps she'd have to try this again soon.

******

Kiki/Tombo (Kiki's Delivery Service)

“Hey, Kiki, I was wondering…can witches call their broomsticks to them like a magnet?” Tombo asked studiously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He and Kiki were relaxing on Ursula’s front porch with glasses of fizzy lemonade, the sticky kind that makes your spit hurt when you drink it. It was a foggy spring morning and the crows were flapping in the damp emerald lawn.

“Hm…I don’t know; I’ve never tried,” she observed. Spying her broom across the clearing, rested against a tree stump, the young courier witch reached out her right hand, poked her tongue out, and concentrated. Unfortunately, Star Wars hadn't been invented yet, so it didn't occur to her to make an Empire Strikes Back reference.

At first her flying stick merely turned. It rocked in the crook of the tree’s roots, but nothing more. Maybe she wasn’t concentrating hard enough? But no sooner had the idea entered her mind than the crude vehicle hoisted itself horizontally, hovered a few feet off the grass, and charged. An invisible hand threw the broom at Kiki like a chucked javelin, and it was soaring straight for her face.

"Whoa! Look out!" Tombo immediately sprung into action, and his quick dive shoved Kiki out of the way just in time for him to take the blow. The broom's handle shot into one sleeve and out the other, dragging the junior aviator off the porch and tossing him headlong to the ground before it finally twitched its last.

“Oh my gosh, Tombo! Are you ok?!” Panicking, Kiki rushed to pull her friend up out of the grass. The broom handle was caught against his neck, parallel to the red-and-white stripes on his chest. He wobbled a bit when he stood...a few green stains on his knees...but was otherwise unscraped.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little crooked here," he reassured her, swinging his arms around like a weathervane.

“Oh, thank goodness...Heh...you know, you kind of look like a scarecrow that way."

She was right...he did...but the boy’s gangly T-pose did nothing to deter Ursula’s avian buddies. In fact, right on cue, several of them flocked to his outstretched forearms. One even pecked at his ear.

“Heh-Heh! Guess I’m not a very good one!” The two shared a chuckle, before Kiki helpfully flapped her arm and shooed the birds away. "Hey, thanks. Can you help me get this out? My arms are kinda stuck."

But Kiki wasn't interested in helping right away...his pose had given her other ideas. Before Tombo knew it, Kiki's fingers were strumming up and down his sides with gleeful abandon. She kept pinching his belly and in between his ribs and affectionately watched him wiggle.

"Heh! Heheh-Haha! Hey, cut it ou-howt! Heh! You know I'm ticklish!" Tombo's smile was wide and sunny and dorky as he jumped around in place. Kiki, meanwhile, was positively giddy. She only tickled for a few more seconds...any longer and she would've gotten much too embarrassed...before carefully extricating the misbehaving broom from Tombo's sleeves and throwing it out into the field. Crisis averted.

"Heehee-Hee! I'm sorry, I couldn't help it!"

The boy brushed his sandy hair back and grinned broadly as the two sat again. "Well, you know I can't just let you do that!"

Kiki glanced down. Slowly...making sure to stretch out each moment of tension to its unbearable limits...Tombo was reaching his hands towards her, performing a spidery midair dance with his fingers.

The teen witch was already in a fit of helpless giggles and starting to blush. “Hmhm! Oho no, please don’t do it…” But instead of fleeing or curling up like an armadillo, as Tombo expected, Kiki bent over and quickly slipped her shoes off…first left, then right…and then lifted her arms skyward. “Heehee! Oh my gohosh, no, please…please don't...”

Suddenly, an old door hinge groaned. Bare feet creaked on the cold grey porch step. When Kiki & Tombo turned to look at the source of the noise, there stood Ursula, grinning and tapping her fingers on a steaming blue coffee mug.

"Hey, what are you two doing out here?"

*******A Few Seconds Later*******

"AHHH, Ha-HAAAAA Haha! *gasp* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!" Kiki screamed.

"Heheh...Heh! Hng…Heheh-Haha Haha...Hng! Heh! Stop!" Tombo's turn.

Ursula was pinning both of her young friends down to the floorboards, aggressively wiggling her nimble fingers across their bellies and watching them squirm & kick in sync together. “Uh-ohhh; look out! I'm the world's most evil tummy tickler!” She laughed, they laughed; Ursula was clearly relishing her position.

That is, until Kiki and Tombo managed to grab the artist’s ankles amid their struggle, tripped her up, and tickled her feet with her own paintbrushes until she was completely out of breath from laughing.

Kiki often wound up in tickle fights with her friends back home. But she couldn't remember one that was this much fun.

******

Robin/Maid Marian (Robin Hood)

Cops and robbers, such as they were, didn't exist in 12th-century Britannia. So "Robin Hood vs. Prince John" was the game of choice for the rabbit brood. Skippy was playing Robin Hood, of course, which meant Sis & Tagalong were his cohorts. Maid Marian volunteered to be Prince John, so Lady Kluck had to be the Sheriff. That left Robin himself to portray the benevolent King Richard, and Toby Turtle as Sir Hiss.

“A pox on the phony king of England!” Robin cheered. At his command, his noble servants were chasing the “Prince” all over the castle courtyard. They all ran in wild circles over and over, laughing merrily, until Skippy and Tagalong managed to hop up and grab Marian by the wrists. The bunny siblings dangled off of her like bracelets swaying in the breeze, and she bent at the waist as she tried to keep walking.

"We've gotchu now, Prince John!" crowed Skippy. "Give up?"

"Oh no, what-EVER shall I do?" Marian giggled in her most over-dramatic performance yet. "Sir Hiss, seize these scoundrels!"

Toby's head - SHLUNK - sucked back into his shell. He certainly wasn't going to help. Eager to catch their dastardly villain, Sis took matters into her own hands. Jumping in front of the pack, the bunny girl reached up and pawed at the struggling Maid Marian's belly, and Skippy joined the fun by grabbing her side. Immediately, the vixen broke into breathy peals of soft, melodious laughter.

"Ohoho no...Oh no-ho-ho-ho! *gasp* Noooo; anything but tickling, Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!"

She knew full well that a plea like that would only goad the rambunctious tykes on, but if she were being honest, she was having far too much fun to care. This was as close as she'd get to playing with kids of her own, at least for a little while. Letting loose an enthusiastic yip, Marian fell into the dandelions, and the wrath of the rabbit swarm rained down upon her.

A sextet of bunny hands and paws were grabbing and squeezing and scratching at her tummy. Their little fingers pulled through creases in the silky dress she wore; their feet slid and stomped along her sides and made her wiggle. The kids' squeaky machine-gun giggles were very contagious, and the already-helpless fox couldn't stop laughing herself silly. She jostled and squirmed and had to push Tagalong off of her stomach.

“Ah-Ha Ha-Ha! *gasp* Help! K-Klucky-Hee…Ro...Robin, Heh-Heh-Help!”

"Bawk! Milady! Yer noicest drrrrress!" Klucky honked.

Robin himself was busy chuckling at Marian’s misfortune. Quite clever of them, he thought. They'd make Merry Men yet. His yellow bycocket cap shifted atop his vulpine ears - and suddenly, his thoughts turned to the feather that adorned it. He removed the hat, pulled the long scarlet plume from its sheathe, and twisted it between his fingers, amused. "Ah, there we are..." the outlaw remarked to no one in particular, as if he'd made some unexpected discovery.

Kneeling down, Robin grasped Marian's right ankle and gingerly lifted her leg up out of the weeds. With that roguish, wry smile and an absentminded hum, he stared right into her eyes and swooshed the feather back and forth across the bottom of her foot.

"Oh!! *gasp* Ha-Ha Ha-Ha Ha!! *gasp*hic* Haha-Ha! Oh dohon't, please, I...I d-hon't think I can stand any more, Ha-Ha Ha!” she cried. Pools of pink stained her cheeks. Her long eyelashes were dripping wet.

"Hmm, I think the prisoner has learned their lesson, don't you, kids?" Robin declared. Despite a few protests and "awwww"s, everyone backed off, leaving the exhausted Marian alone in the grass to catch her breath. "The Prince has been vanquished!!"

"Long live Robin Hood!" Skippy cried, holding his wooden sword triumphantly aloft, cheered on by his adulating sisters. While the kids danced in a circle singing "Prince John the Worst" off-key, Robin traipsed through the flowerbed over to his lady fair and tenderly offered her his palm.

"Oh, my hero; you've come to rescue me," Marian sighed, still all atwitter and breathless and fanning herself.

But instead of taking his hand, Marian pulled Robin down into the sunny spring field with her. Robin sent her his most disarmingly handsome smolder, and when she shied away, he slowly kissed her cheek. Their embrace was perfectly accompanied by the sounds of Sis and Tagalong giggling at them in the background...and of Skippy pretending to vomit.

"Blech!" he mumbled. "...Sissy stuff."

******

Neytiri/Jake (Avatar)

Neytiri sat up and slowly pulled her feet from beneath the powdery white sand. Infinitesimal shards of salt and earth and coral and glass sifted through the gaps between her toes with a quiet hiss. Pandoran beaches were very soft.

Jake emerged from the water and strode over to her resting spot. The sand was so smooth that he didn't even leave footprints; the pale flecks of dust simply clung to his body. "You think we should get back?" he asked her. "Mo'at's probably gonna be pissed."

"Mmmm..." Neytiri sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. "Not yet. I am too relaxed to move."

“Well here…lemme help you.” Not waiting for a rebuttal, Jake immediately stepped over her reclining legs, turned his back, and plopped down right on her ankles, straddling them. Neytiri looked bemused by his antics.

"What? What are you...AHH!!!! HN...Huheh-HEEE Heehee-Hee! NO! No PLEASE; HA-HA HA-HA!!"

The Omatikaya princess’ loud shriek scattered the nearby flock of tetrapteron into the salty air. Her grin threatened to split her cheeks open. Jake's fingertips were mercilessly prodding and caressing underneath her toes, and every single touch made her want to scream.

"Not that! G-get AWAY from MEE-HEE!!!" But her mate said nothing. Grinning, Jake bent all ten of his fingers...those damn Sky People with their extra digits...and scratched them up and down on her massive sky-blue soles.

“J-Jake!! My JAHAY-HA-HA-HA!!!” Neytiri tried to beg, but couldn't get the words out. Her voice leapfrogged through the entire octave scale, from bird chirps all the way down to breathy hyucks erupting from deep in her belly. She thrashed around frantically, her butt bouncing against the sand, and left a flurry of stinging open-palm slaps across her husband's back; even he could barely wrestle her down. Braids and beads tangled themselves like seaweed across her screaming face...how undignified it was, to constantly spit out strands of dreadlocked hair in between her bouts of tearful hysteria.

Jake didn't quit torturing her until she managed to lurch herself forward...the crunch burned her elongated stomach...and threw both of her hands at his armpits. He laughed and jumped aside at the unexpected tickle, before spinning around and scooping Neytiri into his arms. In a moment she was flat on her back once again, with Jake hovering over her and blotting out the sun, a toruk in his own right. The tremors in her chest slowed down, but her anger only boiled hotter. The smug, dopey jarhead smile of his...why didn't she hate it?

"I...*huff*...will...make you suffer for this...*wheeze*...Jake Sully," she hissed at her mate, flashing jagged fangs.

Rather than fear her, or even apologize, Jake simply tweaked her nose and pecked her on the forehead. What an asshole.

Maybe she could let him off the hook. Just this once.

******

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blacktiger666 · 10 months

Text

@dpadstudio :)

I created this photo-edit of Vikings On Trampolines to see what it would look like if it were released on Nintendo Switch.

Both the English and French covers are European, I made them like that because I am used to and comfortable with this type of game cover and it's very simple ^^

Even if the text is not good, it remains a proposal for a photo-editing on a game cover.

Everything is there, icons, prevention messages, etc. up to the barcode which is NOT commercial!

I'm not that crazy but I like to make things look more real than life as long as it's fun (I created it on the UPC Code site in the fun part : https://www.upccode.net/codemyname.php) There's a name hidden in that barcode, I'll let you guess who it is 😏But if you don't know, there are the numbers below, it helps as a clue ^^ A to Z, 1 to 26. Yes, it's a kind of puzzle game x)

And for the letters with number 11, that too is a hidden code for fun :)

And as there was still space on the back of the game's cover on the white part, I put the mention of necessity of reading to enjoy the game. ^^

#Vikings On Trampolines #VOT #photo edit #Nintendo Switch game cover #D-Pad Studio #French #English #Europe #european

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habbadax · 2 years

Text

After reading about it, I’ve decide the Twitch Intel Foam Pit has dethroned the dashcon ballpit.

The dashcon ballpit was just kinda awkward. But still a fun little nerd idea.

The Twitch Intel Foam Pit is seriously injuring people. A back broken in two places. And a host of damaged ankles, knees, wrists, and shoulders.

The Twitch Intel Foam Pit was borne entirely of marketers chasing twitter trends, and was guaranteed to hurt someone the second they decided loose foam cuboids were a viable replacement for all other forms of padding.

For reference, those cuboid pits you see in the big gymnasiums are actually built to code. And that code says you have sixty inches minimum between the floor and the top of the trampoline frame before you add a single cuboid. Because the cuboids aren’t actually padding. They’re just fun.

Intel just got some interns to dump a buncha cuboids in an enclosure and called it good.

I'd call it a clown show, but clowns actually have extremely rigorous safety standards and are highly trained professionals.

#Someone said they dislocated their knee #I realized I didn't actually know how severe an injury that is #So I went researching #Bad #It's bad

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justanamesstuff · 11 months

Note

Can I request a blurb where the reader has autism and finds a trampoline and just has a bunch of happy stims while boncing and giggling and matty just watching for afar lovingly, and encouraging her, and she asks him if they can have a trampoline in thier backgarden?

(you don't have to if you don't want to)

A/N: my dear anon, i've made some research before writing this but please if you hate it, if you want me to delete it or if there's one single error please tell me!! I don't want to disrespect or even offend anyone. Thanks for requesting this, had fan writing it :)) I really hope you like it ♥

The band and their respective partners, Jamie, Polly, Patricia, John, and Gabrielle were invited to a barbecue at Ross's house the first Sunday all of them had free.

They had a nice meal, even though the guys teased Ross about it. He brushed them with just a 'fuck off'. All of them were laughing and having a pleasant time. Thanks to Y/n, they didn't make her feel out of place or nothing closer. Matty kept his hand attached to hers, even when they were properly eating. She tried to assure him she was alright, but he felt the urge to touch his girlfriend, letting her know he was there all the time. Matty wanted and needed Y/n, as much as her craved him.

Adam, Carly, and George were cleaning the table, meanwhile Charli and the girls entertained Hann's kid with papers and colourful pencils. The rest of the boys still seated with Y/n at the big table were engrossed in a conversation about a topic she couldn't concentrate on.

Y/n's sight moved outwards, to the big patio surrounding the back of the house. Her sight fell on the pool, thinking about how nice it must be having it during the hot summer days. Quickly after, her eyes fell on something far to the right side of the house. She couldn't stop her body from moving.

Matty's sight instantly followed her.

Y/n opened a door, finally out. The singer followed her, watching his girlfriend ran towards a trampoline Ross had for when Hann's kid or his nieces and nephews visit him. Y/n was bubbling with excitement, and Matty couldn't help to smile.

He took a cig out of his pack, lightening, meanwhile Y/n checked if the pad was dry enough for her to jump. Once she was satisfied enough and her shoes were off, she didn't hesitate to get it.

Matty walked until his face was perfectly visible from the opening in the net around the trampoline.

"Having fun, baby?" he asked.

Y/n jumped around in circles, feeling a little tired from the activity but enjoying it too much to just stop.

She jumped up and landed a few centimetres before her boyfriend.

"Yes! Get in, get in!" Y/n insisted.

Matty dropped the rest of his cig to the grass and trampled on it. She watched him left his own shoes beside hers.

After the first jump up, Matty started laughing. He couldn't contain it.

"I forgot how fun this was!" he exclaimed.

"Right?"

"Come here, baby." he jumped closer.

"No!" Y/n yelped, moving as far as she could from him.

Matty chuckled loud trying to get her, they moved in circles until he was close enough to pinned her down. He was above her, both of them breathing hard.

Y/n felt his fingers brushing her hair out of her face.

"Got ya." he pinched her cheek.

"Stop!" she whined, moving her face to a side. Matty took the chance and kissed her cheek with a big sound. "Matty!"

"What?" he moved upwards, looking down at her with such love in his eyes.

"Can we get one?"

"A trampoline?"

"Yes, please!" she begged.

"Whatever you want, princess. I just want to see you this happy always..." he moved so the tip of his nose contact hers.

"Thank you." Y/n answered shyly.

"I love you." Matty let her know. Y/n struggled to say it back, so he added, "Hey, it's alright...I know." he reassured her, looking directly at her eyes.

"Can we join you guys?" Polly interrupted the moment, pointing with her head towards the little kid --Hann's son-- waiting to get in too.

The singer and her girlfriend looked at them. He replied, "Of course!" Matty moved to rest beside Y/n.

Hann's kid screamed and Polly helped him to jump. Y/n sensed Matty kissed the side of her face, feeling fantastic about her next purchase.

#matty healy #matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy imagine #matty x reader

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l-tothe-og · 1 year

Text

random thoughts for a modern!au where the targaryens still have dragons... like idk there’s something about Aemond having Vhagar and also an iphone.

i need there to be a rule that dragons cannot be ridden to high school in kings landing because of the one time almost twenty years ago rhaenyra was running late and landed syrax on the roof of the gym and it ended up needing to be replaced.

and jace being grounded for like two weeks because he takes vermax through a drive thru as a joke and then he ends up taking out the order speaker. the video luke took of it goes viral on tiktok tho

i need aemond making an ‘am i the asshole’ post for literally everything that happened the night he claimed vhagar like ten years after the fact. ‘aita for claiming my cousins dead moms dragon?’ ‘aita for lying to cover up for my mom by throwing my older brother under the bus?’ ‘aita for hating the person that permanently disfigured me? (my nephew who was five and i had just threatened his life)’ and then rhaena, baela, jace, and luke commenting under each one ‘you’re the asshole’

i want real genuine discourse around whether daemon can legally get a dui for driving under the influence if he’s drunk while flying and has caraxes dracarys tf out of some random patch of road.

luke having friends over when he’s young and making baby dragon arrax make them a fire for s’mores. he makes the marshmallows all melty and luke feeds him the extra burnt ones as a treat.

and loveeee the idea of baela trying to run away once bc shes like steaming mad but she gets found in like twelve minutes bc all daemon has to do is look at his ‘find my dragon’ app bc they have them chipped like dogs.

baby viserys and aegon carrying their eggs with them to preschool and back home to warm them at night.

older aegon doing trampoline flips onto sunfyre bc ok sure you can do a mctwist on your fucking skateboard but can you do a frontflip onto a fucking dragon? no? ok then shut the fuck up

need every single targaryen kid using the ‘dragons ate my homework’ excuse at least twice a year

random ass people having arguments over dragon stats and weird loyalties like they’re sports players. ‘meleys would beat caraxes any goddamn day’ vs ‘caraxes would whoop granny vhagar rn with one wing and a blindfold’. ‘idc idc balerion the black dread is the goat frfr’

dragon pits in suburbia, or landing places built onto high rises like helicopter pads in manhattan and so many civil arguments with neighbors because no, tyraxes didn’t eat your goddamn labrador... that was morning you dumb fuck

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #aemond targaryen #Daemon Targaryen #jacerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #aegon targaryen #Rhaena Targaryen #idkkk lichral stream of consciousness

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slafkovskys · 8 months

Note

stop johnny being there for her the whole time and making sure she doesn’t feel alone I love them sm

when/how does he bring up that he maybe would want kids with her some day??

so we know that it took forever for her to realize that johnny actually likes her likes her, but once again, it’s when they’re looking at houses. the first one was a hit, but it was a little too far of a commute to the rink and to school for her, and “just a little too big for us, johnny.”

and that’s how they wind up looking at a second house, closer to both locations and a smidge smaller. they’re touring one of the five bedrooms when he clears his throat, “it’s not just gonna be us forever, though. keep that in mind.”

and she’s shocked because until two days ago, she didn’t even know he wanted to live outside of the bachelor pad with her. now they’re touring suburbs and looking at backyards and bedrooms and, “johnny-”

“not now. i know you want to graduate, you still don’t know if you want to go and get a masters yet. you want to be established and have your life figured out before you start a family and i respect that,” he looks out of the window into the backyard before sending her a lopsided grin, “stop looking at me like i don’t listen. you want at least two kids, maybe a third. i want whatever you want.”

“you want kids with me?”

“i really thought we were past this, honey,” he leans over and presses a kiss to the crown of her head, “i’ll walk out of the front door and let the whole neighborhood know. we’re building this life together now.”

we’re building this life together. if you would’ve told her two years before that the man who bought her that drink, that the man who she spent so much time in his apartment in the middle of boston uttered those words to her, she would’ve laughed.

she points, “you can fit a decent sized swing set back there. a trampoline maybe?”

“go big or go home.”

#johnny beecher #the inbox purge #beechxyounger!reader

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 years

Text

Andy's POV: Regarding the Curious Case of the Chicken McNuggets

Summary: When Andy's pregnant little wife sneaks out of bed in the middle of the night to satisfy a particular craving, it doesn't go so well. Andy Barber x Black Reader

Original version of the story can be found HERE.

*Warnings: Frantic Andy, Angry/Protective Andy, Pregnant Reader, Naughty Reader, Daddy Kink, Spanking (mentioned, plus a few swats), Chicken Nuggets, Smut, Vibrators, Anal (mentioned), Minors DNI

A/N: For my friend @birdie-girl who requested another version of my previous fic, but written from Andy's point of view. Let me know what you think! Part of my Growing Pains Series. Semi-proofread. Not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

___

Andy rolls over when he feels the bed dip. Without thinking, he instinctively reaches out a hand, frowning when he finds his wife’s side of the bed empty. He had been so tired lately. Things at work had been rough. Tough cases, long hours. But no matter how exhausted he was, he still had a hard time sleeping if his baby girl wasn’t next to him.

“Mmm.” He cracks an eye open. “Where you going, baby?”

“Bathroom, honey. And then to get some water. I’ll be right back. Go on back to sleep.” His sweet little wife tells him. Made sense. She complained all the time that their baby treated her bladder like her own personal trampoline. He had vowed that he and his Bippity Boop would be having a talk about that sooner rather than later.

But right now he was tired.

“Okay, see you in a min…” Is all he can muster before he drifts off again.

___

Fifteen Minutes Later…

Andy wakes up once again, only to frown when he realizes that his wife had yet to return. Hadn’t she said something about the bathroom and getting a glass of water?

He looks at the clock. Yeah, she’d been gone for a while. Something wasn’t right.

Lifting the covers, he rises from the bed and pads into the master bath. Flipping the light switch, he notes that it’s completely empty. Okay, maybe she was still in the kitchen.

He scratches his side as he tiredly ambles down the stairs. But why were all of the lights off?

Immediately, he starts flipping every switch he can find. “Y/N?” He calls out. “Y/N, baby, where are you, honey?”

No response.

Trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest, he quickly makes his way over to his wife’s study. Nothing.

“Goddamnit! Y/N, sweetheart, I’m gonna need you to answer me!” He bellows. Fuck! His lady was more than six months pregnant. What if she had a fall or something? What if she had gone into early labor and had tried to call out for him? Not like he would have heard her from all the way down here…

Barely holding it together, he drags himself from room to room calling out his wife’s name. He checks his home office, the living room, the dining room, the den. At this point, he’s looking for anything, any sign of distress.

Andy even checks the basement, taking the steps two at a time. And still, there was no sign of his beautiful girl. Fuck. Him. Sideways!

He races back up the stairs and into the kitchen. And that’s when he notices that his wife’s purse is gone, which also meant that her keys were most likely gone too.

Please don’t let me find her passed out in the garage. He prays. Please no.

His heart pounding in his ears, he opens the door leading to the garage only to see that her black Lexus was gone.

What in the ever-loving fuck?! Where in the hell could she have gone at this hour? It was well past fucking midnight!

Pulling his cell out of his pocket, he calls her number. Only to curse when he hears her phone ringing from somewhere in the dining room. If she left the house, why wouldn’t she have taken her phone? She always had her phone. Jesus H. Christ!

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he decides to wait another few minutes. If she wasn’t back soon, then he’d jump in his own car and go looking for her himself. Hell, he could have the entire Boston PD looking for her within the hour. Fuck the whole forty-eight hour missing persons protocool.

His wife was not the average fucking person.

___

Five Minutes Later…

Andrew is waiting by the front door when he sees a pair of headlights pulling up the driveway and into the garage.

She was home. Oh, thank Christ.

He allows his forehead to rest against a pane of cool glass as he hears a door open and shut. Wait. Was his wife…giggling?

Andy had just spent well over the last twenty minutes terrified out of his mind, imagining the worst, and his wife was…giggling. Oh. Hell. No.

The laughter stops when, he assumes, she takes notice of all the lights. “Wait. I didn’t do this.” He hears her mumble, just in time for him to stride into the kitchen. And to say he was pissed, well, that would be a serious fucking understatement.

“Um, hi honey!” His pretty lady chirps. “What are you doing up?”

“I don’t know.” He growls, his muscles flexing. And then he sees that she’s holding what seems to be a McDonald’s bag in her arms. “What were you doing out?” Andy was in no mood to play right now.

He watches in disbelief as his Y/N opens a box of what looked to be chicken nuggets before popping one into her mouth.

“I…I got hungry.” Is all she says through a mouthful of chicken. He forces himself to take several deep breaths before responding.

Leaning his big body against the counter with his hands in the pockets of his maroon sleep pants so that she didn’t see them tensing, he forces himself to speak.. “See, I know I was half asleep at the time, but my hearing is pretty damn excellent. Did you or did you not tell me that you were going to the bathroom and then to grab a glass of water? Isn’t that what you said?”

His wife winces at his tone. That’s right baby. Attorney mode engaged.

“Would you like a nugget?” She tries, pasting a sweet smile on her gorgeous face. “I’ll share. Oh, and they’re fresh! Plus, I have honey mustard.”

Oh, baby girl. It’s going to take more than a little honey mustard to get yourself out of this shit.

“Answer my goddamned question, baby.”

“Yes, that may have been what I said. And, in my defense, I did go to the bathroom.” Was his wife really going to try to talk her way out of this? Knowing her, of course she was. “But see, I had been up for a good hour or so craving some McDonald’s and I didn’t want to wake you -”

“So you lie to me and sneak out of the house.” He can’t help but interject. There was no judge here to object, therefore motion sustained.

“I wanted to let you sleep.” She mumbles softly before ripping open a packet of sauce and dunking a chunk of crispy chicken into it. “Are you sure you don’t want one, baby? Or some fries, maybe?”

Andy could feel his temper threatening to choke him.

“Do you realize that I had no idea where you were, Y/N? I searched this whole house for you. And then I saw that your keys and purse were gone. And the whole time, I’m thinking to myself, where the fuck could my wife have gone at this hour?”

“Andy, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I really just wanted you to rest. And I was really hungry. Please don’t be mad.”

“Too goddamned late.” He hisses, unable to keep the heat out of his voice. See, this was the problem with being unable to spank his baby when necessary. She just let her little brat run wild, uncaring if she gave him a heart attack or not. Needing to get his hands on her, to feel her, make sure she was okay, he begins circling around the table. Only to growl she moves away.

“You get hungry at night? Then you wake me up and have me go get it, you stubborn little brat.” He snarls.

“Hey! I wasn’t being a brat.” His wife protests. “I was trying to take care of you and myself and -”

“You know how I feel about your safety!” He yells. Yeah, he knew he was yelling. But did he give a fuck? Not likely. “You want something to eat this late, then you wake me the fuck up, little girl. What you do not do is sneak out of our house after midnight without letting me know where you’re going!” Was his girl out of her mind?

Andy continues to circle around the table, growling once again when Y/N pops yet another bite of chicken into her waiting mouth.

“Baby, if you weren’t six months pregnant, I would have you bent over my knee right now.” His voice is rough with emotion. “And I would blister your ass. Swear to God, you would not be able to sit. For a long fucking time.”

And he meant every goddamned word. Clearly his baby had forgotten what it felt like to have to sit on a sore bottom.

She stiffens at that. Good. Things were finally starting to click. It was about damned time.

“Andy, I said I was sorry. And I am. Next time, I’ll wake you and we’ll ride together. I promise. Please just let this pregnant woman enjoy her chicken nuggets before they get cold.” His little wife gifts him with an adorable pout. And any other time, it would have been enough to get him to calm down and back off. But not today.

He lunges when he finally gets close enough to grab her, only to have her shove a nugget into his mouth. Unsure of what else to do, he chews and swallows. So she does the same with some of her fries, and then her sprite.

“Wash it down?” She whispers. “I really am sorry, Andy. I won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t.” Grabbing her around the middle, he gives in to his baser urges and quickly delivers several solid blows to her curvy backside. After all, it was the least she deserved. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” She screeches after each smack.

“Do not do this again, young lady. Do you hear me?” His wife lets out a delicate little whimper. “I made a promise to you the night you told me you were pregnant, did I not?”

She nods.

“Whatever you want, you get. But what you do, not ever, is sneak out of this house in the middle of the night and leave me to wonder about where you are. I’m too young yet to be having heart palpitations. Are we clear?”

She nods again, but he needed more.. “I need the words. More specifically, I need to hear a “yes, Daddy.”

“Ye-yes, Daddy.” She whimpers again.

Andy smiles and strokes his thumb across her jaw. “Finish your food, Y/N, so I can take you back upstairs. And then you’re going to lay back and offer your sweet little body to me by way of apology. You owe me at least four orgasms for your misbehavior, and that is non negotiable. And let me be clear, I don’t care how long it takes, because apparently I need to teach you that no matter how tired I am, you always come first.”

He can practically feel eyes glaze over, his voice hoarse with lust. “You’re going to cum on my mouth, on my fingers, on my cock…baby I’m going to wreck you.”

Y/N glances at him, and then at her chicken nuggets. And then back at him again.

“Now eat. You’re going to need your strength, honey.” He leans forward to kiss your nose. “Also, I’m taking the day off tomorrow. So if you don’t give me what I want tonight, I’ll make sure you give it to me tomorrow. And trust me when I say…”

“If that happens, I plan to add to the tally.”

___

Thirty Minutes Later…

“Oh, fuck! Daddy, please!” His baby girl cries out as he roughly fingers her pussy. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

Not even bothering to hide his lethal grin, Andy grabs the control for the bullet nestled deep in her ass and increases the speed of the vibrations.

“You don’t have to keep saying that word, honey. All you have to do is give me three more orgasms.” His thumb goes back to playing with her swollen little clit. “And then maybe one more after that. Consider it reparations for emotional trauma.”

He leans down to take her lips again, his tongue tasting and exploring every inch of her mouth as if it were the first time. Growling when she moans into the kiss, he increases the pace of his fingers, enjoying how her tight, wet pussy eagerly latched onto his thick fingers.

Andy toys with the small bundle of nerves, that special spot inside his wife reserved for him and him alone, which made his baby girl buck and writhe beneath him. He leans down to llave at a nipple, sucking as much of her sweet breast into his mouth as possible.

“Cum for me, baby. Because next I think I’m gonna hook up your favorite little rabbit vibe to your wet cunt while I fuck your ass.”

His wife wails, her body beginning to tremble. Smiling, Andy wipes a few strands of damp hair from her face.

“Aww, sweetheart. You can always tap out if you want to. Remember, you’ve got all day to make it up to me. As long as you don’t mind starting over…” He purrs.

END

#chris evans #andy barber #chris evans black!reader #andy barber black!reader #chris evans woc!reader #andy barber x woc!reader #chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans fanfic #andy barber fanfic #cevansbrat0007 asks #cevansbrat0007 fics #cevansbrat0007growing pains series

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noodyl-blasstal · 6 months

Text

Sick Trick Fic

It's @taznovembercelebration day 19 and today's card pull for the prompt was "sick"

TW for blood, injury, and allusion to death, but injuries are minor and everyone's okay.

Read below or on Ao3. Missed yesterday? Catch up here.

Kravitz hates Sloane more than he’s ever hated Sloane before.

He hates her more than the time she dared him to lick the snail, more than the water balloon sneak attack, even more than the time she convinced him to jump off the roof onto the trampoline - that last one was probably going to hurt less than this.

“Krav! Stop!” Sloane yells.

As if that’s a thing he can just do, as if he hasn’t thought of that excellent and really difficult to conceive of plan already. He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s fairly sure it’s just yelling coming out. He’s going so fast and he doesn’t know if words can mean anything at this speed.

“Kravitz! The rail!” Sloane sounds about as panicked as Kravitz feels. Which is many. Much of panic. A wealth of panic! Here’s the field where he harvests his panic crops and they’re positively overflowing.

At least ‘skateboard accident’ means he’ll sound cool when people ask how he died. Better than ‘died alone and not brave enough to ask out the guy he was probably in love with.’ In fact, maybe Taako’ll be impressed by it! Not that it’ll do Kravitz much good once he’s been violently thrown from this mortal coil, but it’s nice to think that Taako might briefly consider what could have been. Shit. Maybe he can try to throw himself clear?

Kravitz’s body finally comes back online and starts responding to his brain’s panicky instructions to do literally anything to try and stop this happening. Terrible timing as he’s about to smash into the fucking railing, but better than nothing. It’s too late to try and turn, he’s going to have to try and jump. Kravitz forces his back leg down to try and get some leverage, it’s going to hurt, but he’s had road rash before, he’ll get over it, maybe he’ll even get a day off work?

For a glorious second he’s convinced he managed to jump free, he’s in the air, he’s not smashing into the railing! He’s not being smashed in the balls by unforgiving steel! What he wasn’t expecting though, was that the board might come with him, or his inability to move as far sideways as he planned... Fine. So maybe he just delayed the inevitable and he’s just going to smash into the railing from a fun new angle instead because he’s plummeting down down down towards it and there’s nothing else he can do.

The board catches the railing sideways and jolts his back heel, this is definitely going to fuck up his plantar fascitis, if he survives his physio’s going to be disappointed and shake their head solemnly and ask if he really thought that skateboarding was <i>helpful to his recovery?</i>. But even bitter disappointment and a bad grade in being a patient from a healthcare provider is preferable to death. Probably.

Someone’s yelling behind him, but he’s too busy trying not to fall to process the shape their words are making.

When Sloane decided that skateboarding was going to become her entire life (because she was gay for Hurley) he did some reading. He got her a helmet and knee pads and read some WikiHow pages, he just needs to remember literally anything from them.

“Balance!” Screams what’s almost definitely Sloane.

Yeah, that’s fair. That’s a thing he can try to do.

He fights the urge to windmill his arms desperately, and instead focuses on leaning in a way which doesn’t feel terrible, and he’s doing it? He’s doing it! He’s sliding down the rail and he isn’t dead and he might even look cool maybe? Hopefully Sloane gets a picture so he can show Taako… or she can show Taako? That was a normal and natural thing to come up in conversation.

The high was good, great even, but he didn’t consider that he couldn’t just hang out here. What grinds up must grind down? Fuck, no, that sounds like a double entendre he doesn’t have time to laugh at. There’s open sky ahead of him and a whole lot of ground waiting to meet him and beat him up in exchange for the looking cool hubris . He doesn’t remember anything that the WikiHow said about this bit and the ground’s approach rudely isn’t slowing down to give him a moment to think about how to not die. Maybe if he just jumps again? Double jump? It works on Mario kind of probably?

The ground doesn’t agree.

“Hurg.” Says Kravitz. He opens his eyes tentatively, one at a time, just to be safe, just to make sure they hadn’t been jangled right out of their bone houses.

There’s a familiar pair of beaten up trainers in front of him. Maybe he <i>was</i> dead.

“Akko?”

“Sick grind, hot stuff. Taako didn’t know you could skate.” Kravitz didn’t either, but he can take praise from Taako any day of the week. Twice on Tuesdays. It wasn’t Tuesday he didn’t think, unless it was?

Maybe if he just leans up on his arm he can look alluring and Taako will want to lie down on top of him.

“Ow.” He says, and collapses back down onto his side.

Or maybe he could lie very still and not think too loudly because even that made his brain feel spiky.

“You’re really pretty.” He says instead. Because when you’re dead you can say whatever you want.

“Uh huh.” Taako says.

“Your hair’s really nice and you’re clever and funny and you smell good and you’re so handsome.” His teeth are going to fall out of his face because he can feel every single one of them and that’s probably bad, but Taako deserves to know how good he is.

“Are you okay, Krav?” Taako’s much closer than he was before. It’s wonderful, Kravitz can see his freckles and his tooth gap and maybe he can count all the freckles there’s at least seven… nine… eight… maybe he should start over. One… one… five…

“Did you hit your head?” Taako’s voice is higher than usual. Kravitz doesn’t mind.

“Krav, answer me. Are you okay?” Taako’s face is right next to his, if Kravitz just leans forward slightly…

“KRAV!” Sloane yells just as his lips connect with Taako’s.

Taako’s face gets further away and is replaced by Sloane’s.

“Are you dead too?”

“Kravitz?

“Did you die?”

Sloane just looks down at him, brow crinkled.

Okay, so she wasn’t going to answer him. Fine. He looks around for Taako, maybe they can kiss more instead?

“I’ll call an ambulance.” Says someone in the distance.

Kravitz hopes whoever it’s for is okay.

–

“Well well well, look who the cat dragged back to consciousness.” Says Sloane, as if she doesn’t know he’s been pretending to be asleep since the doctors left and said she was on her way to visit him.

“It was a dream, right?”

“Nope.” Sloane sounds positively delighted.

“I didn’t?”

“You did.” She nods. “Right on the mouth.”

“Did he…?”

“I mean, you were bleeding quite heavily at the time.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, probably not quite how you were planning to seduce him?”

“No.” Says Kravitz stiffly.

“But he did give me his number to pass on.”

“What?” Kravitz tries to sit up again and swiftly flops back down when it feels like everything is tipping slowly sideways.

“He said it was pretty metal.”

“I’m pretty metal?”

“You sure are, bud.” Sloane pets him reassuringly on the arm. “You sure are.”

I hope you enjoyed! Want to see more? Find the next prompt here.

#TAZNC #taz november celebration #Taakitz #TW blood #TW injury #Noodyl Writes

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