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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Banner Ch11: A Turkey Called Marv

Summary: Nat, Clint, Evans, Lawson and the rest of her SHIELD team throw Katie a leaving party once news of her resignation spreads across the Triskellion before Katie and Steve head to New York to spend their first Thanksgiving as a couple with Tony, Pepper and Bruce.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: None for this chap, bar a bit of bad language and teeth rotting fluff

A/N: There is an accompanying One Shot to this called The Life Of Marv...

November 2013

News of Katie’s spectacular resignation spread like wildfire through the Triskellion. Evans, Lawson, Natasha and Clint had all been pretty upset but had understood when she had explained why she was doing it, even if Natasha didn’t necessarily agree. They had no intention of letting her go quietly, however, and the team took it upon themselves to organise a small Leaving do at Lori’s which was in full swing. Background music was playing, food had arrived and the drinks were flowing. Steve was talking to Lawson, Rumlow and Evans by the bar, leaning against it, an easy smile on his face as Katie stood with Clint and Natasha a bit further down the bar as Clint was talking to them about his latest home improvement plan.

“So I thought about putting in a pool…” Clint said, “Now the kids are bigger I thought it might be nice to have one. Maybe even a pool house round it for bad weather…”

"That's ambitious." Nat quirked an eyebrow.

Clint grinned. "That's my middle name."

"Really?" Katie asked. "I always thought it was Robert."

"What?" Clint looked at her as Nat snorted out a laugh. "Francis. Why would you think its Robert?"

Katie shrugged "You look like a Bob."

"Wait… so it's not Ambitious?" Nat asked, winking at Katie. "How boring…"

Katie nodded, draining her glass. "Bob would have been better,"

"Right," Clint started, pulling himself taller. "I hate both of you."

The girls laughed and Nat turned to Katie. “So what’s in the pipeline for you now Nova?” “I have no idea.” Katie said, and she didn’t. “I guess I’ll just get more involved in the family business.”

“You gonna move to New York?” Clint asked. She shook her head. “Probably spend a bit more time there but, I’m not moving back.”

“Nah, she can’t leave lover boy.” Natasha looked at Clint and Katie rolled her eyes. Truth is Nat had hit the nail on the head. No way was she leaving Steve in DC to move to the tower. Although they had only been together 7 months she had spent over a year of her life being 'with him' one way or another and the thought of not being terrified her.

“Nah to be fair Nat, they’ve been going out a while now. Things are probably starting to cool off.” Clint teased “Oh trust me, there’s no problems in that department.” Katie sniggered, looking at where Steve was stood.

“Oh would you look at that. I’m out of alcohol…” Nat said, suddenly “And so is Stark.”

"There's a bar over there," Clint pointed

“Cheers…”Natasha took Katie’s glass and handed it to him along with her own. Clint shook his head taking the glasses with a sigh.

“So… now he’s gone…” Nat glanced over at Steve then back to Katie “Gimme details…”

“Details on what?”

“Throw me a bone here Stark. I’m working on a few months dry spell.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my sex life?” Katie groaned “You’re constantly trying to get me to talk about it.”

“Hey, look, up until a few months ago I was convinced he was a virgin…”

“Well then you’re a dumbass.” Katie smirked “He’s Captain America, had girls throwing themselves at him back in the day.” "So he was until the serum?”

“I never said that…” she flushed.

“You’re such a shit liar.”

“Can we change the subject?” Katie groaned.

“Ok, answer me one question and then I’ll drop it.”

“What?” Katie said with an air of playful frustration. If she was honest, it was quite nice to have a girlfriend to chat to about these kind of secrets.

“Did the serum enhance…everything?” Nat wiggled her eyebrows.

Katie glanced over at Steve and smirked before she looked back at her. Fuck it.

“Well if it didn’t, I’ve no idea how he managed to stay upright before.” she smirked "I'm a lucky woman"

The red head threw back her head in a dirty laugh, a laugh that Katie had never heard from her before and it made her snigger at the sight of the normally composed assassin letting loose.

“What I miss?” Clint asked as he reappeared, handing them their drinks.

“I’ll explain when you’re older…” Nat said, patting his chest fondly.

The party went on well into the early hours of the morning and Steve had practically had to carry his girl home, not to mention holding her hair back whilst she puked up God knows how much tequila. She had a hangover to end all hangovers the day after and had hardly moved from her spot on his sofa bar to top up her glass of water and to find something crap to eat. They’d had a Chinese that night and she’d practically eaten everything on the menu before showering and crawling back into his bed, swearing she was never challenging Evans to a tequila drinking contest again which Steve had assured her was a pretty good idea.

Now, a fortnight later they were at the Tower in New York, and it was the night before Thanksgiving. Last year Katie and Steve had spent Thanksgiving as friends. This year they were spending it as lovers, and Katie was also excited to be spending it with Tony, although she would never admit that out loud.

Steve was also looking forward to it as well. Tony had mellowed to him somewhat over the past few months, especially when he had found out Steve was supporting Katie’s decision to quit SHIELD and not trying to stop her as he had original thought the Captain would. He was also looking forward to Katie’s damned fine cooking as well. Despite the fact that Tony had offered to cater in as Pepper was away until the very last minute, his girl had insisted on cooking it herself, especially now she had plenty of time on her hands.

As such, Steve and Tony had left her in the kitchen area of the main living quarters at midday to head down to the lab to discuss some further upgrades to the Tower. When they left Katie had been surrounded by bags of flour and ingredients, and when Steve returned he found her at just gone 5:30 surrounded by 3 pies (one apple, one pumpkin and one blackberry) pans of vegetables prepped ready for the and a turkey in the oven ready for JARVIS to turn on in the morning. She was stood at the sink, gently humming, the kitchen now clean and the smell of her baking making his mouth water.

"What are you doing Soldier?" Katie asked, jumping a little as Steve's arms came around her sides, reaching for the sink, effectively trapping her between the counter and his body.

He laid his chin on her shoulder. "The dishes,"

“I’m only leaving the pie dish to soak.” she said, turning in his arms. “The rest are going in the Dishwasher.”

“Oh because God forbid her majesty would actually wash a dish…” he teased as he rest his chin on her shoulder.

“You don’t wash them much either.” she said, rolling her eyes “How many brushes did you break last week?”

“The plastic is bad quality.” he said, pouting a little.

“Nothing to do with your ridiculously large hands being too rough.” “You weren’t complaining last night…” he said, lips warm against her cheek. Katie could hear the smile in his voice before she swatted him in the face with a dishtowel, and he laughed out loud.

“Seriously though Doll face, are you nearly done?” he said, “You’ve been in here all afternoon. You do know we’re not eating till 3 tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah but the more I do now, the less I have to do tomorrow, and let’s face it, it’s not like I have anything else to do, on account of being an unemployed bum.” she said making Steve laugh again. “Plus, I just want everything to be, you know…right.” she shrugged, and she did.

“It’s a dinner.” Steve said, chuckling slightly.

“It’s Thanksgiving” she pouted

“Yeah, and last years was pretty cool, remember?” he smiled

“Yeah but…” she trailed off, biting her lip. Steve knew that look well enough now to know there was more to this.

“What?” he probed gently.

“Nothing, just, well I never had a boyfriend over for Thanksgiving before. Or Christmas come to think of it.”

Steve smiled “I like being your first…” Katie grinned. The whole ‘I like being your first’ thing had started off by her saying it to Steve but they’d fast come to realise that they actually both had a world of inexperience between them when it came to relationships, and it was nice that they could be each other’s firsts in a lot of ways. “Honey, tomorrow is gonna be great.” he smiled at her, tipping her face up to look at his “Don’t sweat it.”

“Did you seriously just say don’t sweat it?” she sniggered.

Steve groaned “I told you I spent the afternoon with your brother…”

She giggled and leaned up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“Getting kinda tired of catching you two making out in a kitchen!” Tony chose that time to waltz in and open the fridge door “You got your own floor, go use it." ******

Katie woke the next morning to find Steve's side of the bed empty and cold. It wasn't unusual for him to be up earlier than her, she knew he would either be out running, in the gym or making coffee. She climbed out of bed and walked to the blinds of the bedroom, instructing JARVIS to open them, the AI being one of the many perks about being 'home'. The New York skyline stretched below her and as she glanced down she saw the people gathered on the sidewalks, attention turned to the streets, obviously waiting for the Thanksgiving Parade. She had asked Steve if he wanted to go and watch it in person but he had said he would prefer to stay in and watch from the tower as he didn't fancy getting mobbed in the street. Being recognised by one person every so often was fine but in those crowds if one person spotted him then it would spread like wildfire. Besides, as he had pointed out, her floor had an awesome view so they could watch out of the window with a drink. Katie frowned as suddenly a large brown turkey shaped balloon floated in front of her eyes. The parade wasn’t supposed to start until 9 and that meant by the time it made its way to the Avengers tower it would be... she turned and glanced at the click and gave a yelp. She had slept in until 10.

Steve heard her before he saw her, not that he needed super hearing to hear the loud yell of "how fucking late?" coming from the bedroom. Grinning to himself he turned back to the griddle on the island of the kitchen, flipping a pancake with one hand and drinking a coffee with the other. "Why didn't you wake me?" She grumbled to him as she leaned in the kitchen doorway, taking him in for a moment. He was freshly showered, dressed in a loose grey t-shirt and sweats, hair still a bit damp and spiked up in a way that made her smile. "Because you were up early yesterday and I thought I'd make you breakfast for a change." he said as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the back of his shoulder. The smell of his shower gel mixed with the smell of the pancake mix, made her nuzzle her nose into him to inhale deeply. "You smell good." she eventually spoke again. "Good to know." A grin tugged at the corners of his lips at the fact she was still clinging to him. "I just saw a giant inflatable Turkey." she said, hands going to rub at his stomach. "What?" "The parade" she smiled at him. Steve smiled. "You know when I was a kid, the parade was the best part of Thanksgiving." "Still is" she mumbled, cheek still pressed to his shoulder.

"Me and Bucky used to come into Manhattan with his family and my ma if she wasn't working and stuff ourselves on popcorn and warm mixed nuts" He smiled to himself at the memory. They always picked out their favourite balloons, ate until they thought they would burst, and made Rebecca, Bucky’s younger sister laugh till she cried by pretending they were in the marching bands. But once the war started, the parade had ended. He had never realized that they started it up again until Tony and Katie had mentioned it last night as they had sat eating takeout. Part of him had wanted to go to the street to watch it but after seeing that morning how crowded it had been on his run he was happy to watch it from the comfort of Katie's floor. He turned to face her for first time that day, her arms still round his waist. Her hair was pulled up into a pony tail, face fresh, eyes bright and she was, as ever, in one of his shirts and not a lot else. He leaned forward to give her a quick kiss and when he moved away, she quickly closed the space to give him another quick kiss, letting her lips linger on his for a second. "I'll burn the pancakes" he murmured and she grinned, pulling away. "I'll make fresh coffee." she said, patting his chest and turning to the machine. "Hey JAR..." she spoke, "hit me with some Christmas tunes buddy" "The usual Miss Stark?" "As long as it has the Pogues on..." "Wouldn't dream of not doing" the AI replied and then the apartment was flooded with the sounds of Fairy Tale of New York. "It’s November." Steve turned to look at her, but she simply grinned to herself and turned around, singing to him. He couldn't help but laugh, he knew from last year that Christmas for her started at Thanksgiving and ended on New Year’s Day. Plus the fact that the previous year she had spent Christmas day fighting a bunch of exploding super soldiers meant that she was going to enjoy this year as much as possible. He shook his head, a low chuckle escaping before he turned back to his pancakes. They dragged the cushions off the couch and ate breakfast sat by the huge floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, Katie sat between Steve's legs as they both watched the parade. Suddenly, a large green balloon floated by the window and Katie gave a loud squeal when she saw what it was. A Hulk float. An amused smile spread across her lips as she watched the balloon bob in front of the window, twisting to the sides in the air as it wrestled with the wind. "Oh my God!" Katie giggled again, gently tapping Steve's right calf but he had already spotted it. A massive shield was coming out, followed by Iron Man's mask, Thor's hammer, a bow and arrow, Natasha’s Red Widow symbol and her own Nova star. She turned to look at him, a little smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth and when he met her eyes the smile broke out across his features. Laughing in disbelief, he shook his head, turning his attention back look at the shield float bounce down the street. "That's pretty cool." he commented with an amazed sigh, and it was. If anyone had told him all those years ago that one day he would feature in the Macy's Thanksgiving parade he would have told them that they were mad. Yet there it was. He found himself smiling as he thought about how his ma and Bucky would have reacted. When they had finished eating, Katie leaned back into him a little more, slouching so that her knees were bent and her feet rested on the bottom of the window. His arms reached round her neck, and he kissed the back of her head as they continued to watch the floats, the gentle sound of Bing Crosby "White Christmas" now playing through the room, the two of them simply enjoying the closeness of one another. ***** Eventually it was time to head downstairs and join Tony, Bruce and Pepper for their dinner. Katie and Pepper left the men to it and finished off the prep before calling them all to the table. As was tradition, as ‘head of the house’ Tony carved the turkey with his usual, trademark drama and they took it in turns to give a few things they were thankful for. Tony was thankful for his friends, family and a decent brand of scotch he had in the cupboard for later, Pepper was thankful for being so fortunate and being surrounded by people she loved, Bruce was thankful for being welcomed into their family home, not just for today but since he had taken up residency just after the Chitauri Battle, and Katie was thankful for being in the presence of people she cared for, and for the last year being so much better than the previous 12 months. She shot a wink at Steve as she said that and he beamed before he realised they were waiting for him.

"err…” he cleared his throat “I guess I’m thankful for being given a second chance, being welcomed by you all…and for, err, you.” he grinned at Katie who gave him a playful roll of the eyes but the flush on her cheeks told him she had understood.

“Awww.” Pepper said, as Tony made a gagging noise which resulted in Katie throwing a carrot at him. He pointed at her, frowning.

“No food fights on my floor, Kiddo.” he said sternly and she simply raised an eyebrow at him, taking a sip of her wine.

The food was good, not that anyone expected anything else. Both Tony and Banner managed 2 servings whilst Steve made it through 3. And then there was the pie. Steve managed a piece of each, whilst everyone else could only face one, but no one cared. And he found himself secretly pleased that there was enough left for him to scoff later on.

“I’m so glad I wore leggings.” Pepper sighted, leaning back and massaging her stomach.

Katie nodded in agreement, also dressed in leggings and a long jersey dress. “Think I’m having a food baby.”

"Yeah, I gotta hand it to you Kiddo..." Tony said, leaning back in his chair, undoing the top button of his pants and massaging his stomach “That was absolutely awesome."

Steve's hand dropped to his girl's leg under the table and he gave her knee a little squeeze as she reached for her wine glass, before moving his arm to drop it round the back of her chair. "I certainly prefer the Turkey dead and cooked anyway" Tony added and Katie groaned. "Are you ever gonna let me live that down?" she looked at him. "No" he shook his head. "What's this?" Steve asked, setting his glass down. "Did she not tell you about the time she brought home a live Turkey one year? Katie sighed as Steve sat up, turning to her, smirking "No..." "I was 17 and going through a meat is murder phase." She waved away the comment with her hands. "I was in the way home and saw him. He was the only one left in the farmyard so I liberated him" "By liberated she means stole." Tony quipped, standing up to retrieve 2 more bottled of Rijoca from the bar as laughs rang round the table. "No one came looking for him" She shrugged. "Marv lived a happy life for 5 years in our back garden" "Marv?" Bruce looked at her, a smile creeping across his face. "After the character from Home Alone." She said simply

“You had a turkey called Marv?” the scientist deadpanned and she nodded.

"He was a great pet. Used to chase Tony around" "The bird was a fucking menace" Tony frowned, topping everyone's glass up. Settling back into his chair, Katie noticed Pepper giving him a look and he started suddenly as if he was remembering something. He leaned forward and looked at Katie. "So I know we don’t do Thanksgiving gifts kiddo but I was thinking yesterday about something you said to me once, about having a vision for a publishing company."

Katie stole a look at Steve who simply shrugged. It was true, when she had first graduated she had thought about setting up a publishing company, but one that dealt with unknown writers. Her favourite books in the world were the Harry Potter series and during her degree she had been lucky enough to attend a small seminar held by JK Rowling, who had openly discussed her life before becoming a famous author. She had been a single mother, struggling to make ends meet, and even after she had written the books it took her years to get a deal, being rejected by 4 different publishers before Bloomsbury (a small, independent group) took a chance on her and it paid off for both of them. Katie loved the rags to riches story and since then had always harboured a desire to do the same thing for other authors but it had never really been much more than a pipe dream.

"It was an idea I once had." She shrugged, looking at Tony. "Then things went a bit crazy." "Well... how about we make it a bit more than an idea?" Pepper said. "What?" Katie frowned, looking at Pepper, then he brother who nodded. "I want you to put a proper proposal together, business plan, mood and story board that type of thing." He said, waving his hand in that Tony-esque manner "Then we're gonna look at what we need to set it up and take it to the board. Run it as a Ltd company under the Parent company of Stark Industries, but you'll be the Managing Director." "I..., I can't run a business!" She stammered. "Didn't you run the UK branch of SI for a while?" Bruce looked at her, smiling. Was everyone in on this bar her? "That was different." She pressed. "Why?" Steve asked. "Shut up Steven." She said without even looking at him.

There were a few chuckles round the table before Tony continued. "Look, you don't need to work." He shrugged "You have enough capitol behind you plus the revenue from the business as it to live your life out as an IT girl, but we both know you'll end up killing someone if you get bored, and that's likely to be Cap seeing as you see him most so this is for him as much as you." "Thanks Tony." Steve tipped his glass to the Inventor who winked. Katie pondered. It really had been a dream of hers since leaving Uni, putting her degree and passion into her work and she would be lying if she said the thought didn’t excite her but it was a hell of a big commitment, and what if it all failed?

“I'll help you." Pepper smiled at Katie who was biting her lip. "I'll proof read the proposal and I'll be there every step of the way whilst you set up.” she leaned back in her chair. "The week before Christmas there’s another board meeting. I suggest we use that to pitch the idea." she concluded and Tony nodded.

"I think this could be a great opportunity for you and Stark Industries." Tony looked at Katie "and you'll get full autonomy over it as you'll set up your own sub-board to feed up into the PLC" This was amazing. She looked at Steve who nodded encouragingly. “What is it you keep saying to me? You’ll never know until you try?” he smiled at her. She took a deep breath and looked around the table before throwing caution to the wind and letting out a huge grin. "Ok. Fuck it. Let's do it." **** After another half an hour or so of chatter, and a bottle of champagne to celebrate Katie's agreement to the business idea, everyone chipped in to clear the table before retiring to the plush living area of Tony and Pepper's floor for more drinks and chat. Then the alcohol really did start to flow, Steve and Tony moving onto the scotch, the soldier watching as everyone around him descended into that well recognised drunken haze. And then out came Drawing Without Dignity. A game he had never played before and frankly found vulgar, but couldn’t help but enjoy it. The game fast slid into chaos which was to be expected with an extremely competitive Super Soldier who had a natural advantage as he could actually draw, an equally competitive billionaire and a normally mild mannered scientist who also was quite cutthroat when it came to winning it turned out. Pepper and Katie spent most of the time sniggering at the bickering men, and at the point when they were laughing that much when it was their go, the 3 boys got so frustrated they banned them from playing. For that, the next time Steve asked her what one of the more risqué sayings meant (he had cringed at a fair few of them over the course of the evening) she lied to sabotage him earning her a full on Captain glare. "That was a pretty shitty thing to do." He grumbled at her as Tony and Bruce were both howling with laughter. "Not my fault Captain Sex Fiend doesn’t know what Rimming is!" Katie shot back, wiping away her tears. Steve had to bite back his own laugh at the ridiculous nickname instead he fixed her with another glare which she returned with a simple shrug of her shoulders. The game ended, and Steve and Tony called it a draw, which was probably the easiest thing to do since Pepper had stopped taking count and tallying towards the end. It was now well after 10pm and Steve looked around the room as Tony stood up, a little unsteady on his feet, teetering back over toe the bar.

“I think maybe we’ve had enough…” Pepper hiccupped slightly looked at Tony who had been reaching for another bottle of liquor, wheeled round slightly too fast causing him to stumble into the bar.

Katie cackled as Tony looked at Pepper “Shut up Mom.” he said, grabbing another bottle of scotch in one hand and the open bottle of Kristal the girls were drinking in the other. He walked carefully over towards the sofa, as he dropped down into it heavily, handing Katie who was on the floor in between Steve’s legs, her back resting against the sofa, the champagne. She took it and poured herself and Pepper a glass, quite pleased that she didn’t spill any.

“You know he… he can’t get drunk!” Tony handed Bruce a now full glass, pointing to Steve.

“That’s sad…” Bruce surmised, taking a sip of his drink before Tony sat bolt upright, and pointed at the scientist.

“Hey, I wonder if Hulk can get drunk?”

“That’s an…that’s an…ex…exper-expediment I don’t think we should do.” Bruce shook his head, hiccups punctuating his speech.

“Absolutely not.” Steve shook his head as Katie cackled.

“But it would be for science purposes…” Tony pressed

Bruce wrinkled his nose and shook his head “No Code Green.” “Spoil sport.” Tony said.

They stayed for another hour or so, until Pepper fell asleep and Katie’s cheeks were flushed pink and when she asked for a bottle of water Steve knew it was time to go. After asking Tony if he needed help getting to bed, and the man declining, Steve stood up, surprised to find he actually felt a little bit of a headrush. Ok, so maybe the 3 bottles of that scotch had had a little effect after all, but he felt the fizziness ebbing away as he pulled Katie to her feet and she grinned up at him.

“Wanna carry me Soldier?” she asked.

He arched an eyebrow and in one swoop had her over his shoulder, causing her to shriek with laughter.

“Night!” she waved from her upside down position. Tony and Bruce waved distractedly from where they were now trying to mix some form of cocktail at the bar.

“You can put me down now…” Katie patted Steve on his back as they boarded the elevator. “Steve…”

He smirked to himself, ignoring her giggles and protests and didn’t put her down until they reached the bedroom where he tossed her down on the bed and set about showing her exactly how thankful for her he was.

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igrublocal · 4 years

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The Takeout’s fantasy food draft: Best pumpkin spice items

Takeout DraftTakeout DraftFood. Fantasy sports. Debating over Slack. Welcome to The Takeout Draft.

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Every week, we will select a topic of conversation from the food and drink world. Takeout writers will then field a team via the snake draft format. After five rounds, The Takeout commenteriat will vote on who they believe was victorious in that week’s draft. At the end of 2020, the staffer with the most weekly victories will select a charity of his/her choice that The Takeout will make a donation toward. (The 2019 victor, Kate Bernot, selected the U.S. Bartenders’ Guild National Charity Foundation.)

The previous drew many passionate voters who were more than ready to reminisce about summers past. After a tight race throughout the first day of votes, Aimee Levitt pulled ahead and scored a well-earned victory with expert picks like garlic fries and lemon slushie (as well as an unexpected swerve toward lobster rolls in the final round). Congrats, Aimee!

This week’s draft is nothing if not seasonal, and it’s equally likely to delight and disgust you: Best pumpkin spice items. Is this a joke? Maybe. Are we about to take our Draft duties very, very seriously? Absolutely.

G/O Media may get a commission

Now let’s cozy up to fall’s coziest flavor.

Marnie: Okay, let’s kick it off with the acknowledgment that Aimee winning the Best Ballpark Food draft is appropriate, since she’s the biggest (only?) baseball fan of the three of us.

Allison: Everybody loves hot dogs.

Marnie: And garlic fries. This Draft will be tough to win people over with. But Allison’s got first crack at it.

Allison: Wait... I have the first pick? I can’t remember the last time this happened! I’m so overwhelmed!

Marnie: Use it wisely

Allison: Alright, so obviously my first pick has to be the iconic pumpkin spice latte. It’s the crossover item that made us a pumpkin-crazy nation.

Marnie: OF COURSE

Allison: Once upon a time, back in the Dark Ages, coffee and pie were two entirely separate things. No one had dreamed they could be together in one cup.

It changed the way we see everything. There would be no Cronut without pumpkin spice lattes. No sushi burritos. Why have one when you can have both?

Marnie: Do you think its popularity is deserved?

Allison: I am a devoted black coffee drinker, and I still get a PSL whenever the first crisp day of fall arrives, and one on Thanksgiving morning.

Allison: I don’t know how anyone could drink them regularly, but they’re a nice treat. And, nowadays, a good reason to get out of the house.

Going out to get a PSL is not an errand. It’s an event.

You need a special outfit that includes a soft sweater, and maybe a scarf. You need to inform everyone you know on social media before, during, and after.

Marnie: That would have been my first pick too. So now I’m in a lurch. But I’ll say Pumpkin Spice Tea. Because we always talk about how it’s really just spices like clove and nutmeg and cinnamon, and those are nice in a warm drink beyond coffee.

This photo of a cheese-stuffed pumpkin in Always Add Lemon is enough to make you kick yourself for…

Allison: You know, I don’t know if I’ve ever tried this. How does it differ from chai?

Marnie: It’s probably just like any number of other warm spiced teas, just with pumpkiny marketing. But Trader Joe’s “Pumpkin Spice Rooibos” tin is adorable, dammit!

Aimee: Of course it is.

Marnie: I fall for it every time. And it’s not as sweet as a PSL.

Aimee: Well, few things are. But maybe if you dumped in a few tablespoons of sugar?

Allison: Or actual pumpkin...

Aimee: That would spoil it! It’s about the SPICE!

Allison: What about blending pumpkin with maple syrup, and putting a spoonful of that in your tea?

Aimee: Huh. That could either be really good or amazingly terrible.

Marnie: TBD.... First pick, Aimee?

Aimee: Pumpkin bread!

Marnie: Oh damn, of course

Allison: There has never been a day where a pumpkin bread has been in front of me and I didn’t eat the whole thing.

Aimee: I especially love the recipe in Joy of Cooking. It’s sweet and spicy and perfect.

Marnie: The “spicy” makes all the difference. I think it should make your nose wrinkle a little.

Aimee: But I also love the pumpkin challah in . I made a couple last week and they make the best French toast.

Allison: I used to make a pumpkin brioche and use it to make bread pudding. It was pretty damn amazing.

Marnie: You were born for this draft

Aimee: I was actually torn between waffles and pancakes, but I love waffles more, so that’s what I’m going with.

Allison: I have not had these either, and am wondering how these particular waffles have been pumpkin spiced.

Is there pumpkin in the batter? Poured on top?

Aimee: In the batter, and mixed with the ginger, cinnamon, and cloves.

Marnie: Does it need cream cheese drizzle on top to really sing?

Aimee: Oooooh, yes, that’s genius!

Allison: I’m thinking of the recipe I did last year for butternut squash pavlova, but making the topping with pumpkin and putting it on a stack of Belgian waffles.

Marnie: Aimee’s double whammy of delicious pumpkin spice carbs has me reeling. How can my second pick compete?

Aimee: I believe in you!

Marnie: I will say pumpkin spice Cheerios. Getting to drink pumpkin spice cereal milk is a lovely way to start the day.

And it’s a nice contrast with all the hot pumpkin spice stuff we usually eat and drink

Allison: Oh GODDAMNIT that was my pick!

Marnie: HA!

Allison: I was apprehensive about buying that, but I had to because of the pumpkin spice bet I have with my husband. When we tried them, the Cheerios made the milk taste like pumpkin pie custard.

Allison: We bought like 20 boxes so we could enjoy them all winter. It was a fine decision.

Marnie: Allison, what’ll you choose now that I’ve swooped into the cereal space?

Allison: I’m going to take pumpkin spice ice cream, much for the reason you picked the Cheerios—it’s a nice cold option, in contrast to the PSL and so many other pumpkin spice’d foods.

Aimee: With caramel sauce and lots of whipped cream! Maybe pecans?

Marnie: Ooo, any particular brand?

Allison: Remember those Talenti layer things I love? They’ve got a pumpkin pie one now with pie crust and stuff.

Marnie: DAMN I want to try that

Allison: What’s also nice: we’re all so ready for fall the second Labor Day is over, but it’s still hot. And even though it’s hot, I’m STILL wearing a cute jacket outside, out of principle.

Marnie: True. We need pumpkiny items for the last legs of summer

Aimee: With the hot sun of summer but the cool breeze of fall...

Allison: I anticipate eating a LOT of ice cream over the next five weeks or so.

Next up: pumpkin pie toaster strudel. You can debate the need for pumpkin spice-anything all you want, but when you see pumpkin toaster strudel, it’s like “this makes perfect sense”

There’s nothing to quibble about. It’s a thing, and it should be a thing.

Aimee: This is true. It’s like a pie.

Allison: If anything, the pumpkin spice latte walked so that pumpkin spice toaster strudel could run.

Aimee: That’s beautiful. Brought a tear to my eye. (Pumpkin spiced tear, of course.)

Marnie: Only major downside of toaster strudel is that you absolutely have to warm it, whereas a Pop-Tart is flexible and can be eaten room temp. But a warm toaster strudel really is amazing

Allison: What I don’t like about pumpkin Pop Tarts is that they should be better. It’s like, if Pop Tarts respected us, it could be amazing. But they don’t. They phone it in.

Aimee: I feel that way about most Pop Tarts.

Marnie: Okay, my third pick might be....controversial. But hear me out: pumpkin pie

Aimee: Ha ha!

Marnie: The original pumpkin spice item

Aimee: It’s true! It’s so obvious, no one even thinks of it anymore. Someone should call it pumpkin spice pie.

Allison: Pumpkin pie is one of my favorite “bed pies.” Have I told you about that concept?

Marnie: Sounds self-explanatory

Allison: I wrote about it a few years ago. It’s essentially a family bonding experience where we all stay in bed and eat an entire pie together from the pan while watching old cartoons, like Garfield’s Halloween and Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. Pumpkin is ideal for this.

Allison: The filling isn’t going to plop out all over the sheets. And the crust isn’t ultra crumbly

Aimee: Ah, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have bits of fruit falling all over the sheets.

Allison: If made well, you can pick up a slice of pumpkin pie and eat it with your hands. Just like pizza (non-folded, of course). I very much encourage both of you to try this.

Aimee: And you can squirt the whipped cream directly into your mouth. No mess!

Allison: You understand me, Levitt!

Marnie: AIMEE

Aimee: Rolled in lots of cinnamon sugar.

Marnie: STOP TAKING THE GOOD THINGS WHILE I FAIL TO THINK OF THEM

THAT’S....CHEATING, SOMEHOW

Allison: I have not had a good doughnut in a while, and now it’s all I can think about.

Marnie: So just to be clear, we’re not talking about a filled doughnut

More like a cider doughnut, but pumpkinified?

Aimee: Well, I suppose you could... but yes, I was thinking of the cakey doughnuts. I love cider doughnuts so much.

Marnie: Yes please

Aimee: Oh, yes. With a variation for the stove!

Allison: Here’s your variation for the stove: fry it in hot oil just like any other doughnut. There ya go.

Aimee: My next pick is pumpkin spice oatmeal. With lots of brown sugar.

Marnie: Interesting—does it come in that flavor or do you add the spices to make it that way?

Aimee: Quaker does make that flavor, but I’ll bet you could just add the pumpkin spice if you want to do homemade.

My philosophy is that anything that tastes good with cinnamon would also taste good with pumpkin spice.

Marnie: Yes, I can’t imagine anyone being all in on cinnamon but out on nutmeg. Cloves? Mayyyyybe divisive. But it all seems to speak to the same palate

Aimee: Warming spices!

Allison: And it’s coldest in the morning! This is science.

Marnie: How does the pumpkin factor in if you make it yourself? Pumpkin puree right in there with the oats?

Aimee: The beauty of pumpkin spice is that there doesn’t have to be pumpkin. Only spice: the blend of cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, and cloves.

Allison: Yup! You can just stir it right in, with a bit of spice, and maybe some maple syrup to sweeten.

Marnie: I’m going to try to court the CPG crowd with a busy, on-the-go pumpkin spice item: the Spiced Pumpkin Pie CLIF Bar

Allison: Never eaten this! I had a Clif bar once in the early 2000s, and that was the end of that.

Marnie: Yeah, you either love them or hate them. I love that they actually feel substantial, like you just had breakfast. Regular granola bars never make me feel that way. And the Pumpkin Pie CLIF Bar comes with a drizzle of icing that, in my opinion, could stand to be paired with a lot more pumpkin spice items.

Pairs great with coffee! People are going to hate me for this but it’s my truth!

Aimee: That’s fine. You have every right to it.

Marnie: Aimee, do you have a firm stance on CLIF bars?

Aimee: I do not because I’ve never had one.

Marnie: I somehow think you’d despise them.

Aimee: I think so, too, which is why I’ve never had one.

Marnie: Last two picks, Allison!

Allison: Alright — my fourth pick is pumpkin butter. What makes this so great is it has the power to make anything into pumpkin spice.

Marnie: Here’s my question with pumpkin butter: what does it work best on? I can never figure out what to apply it to

Allison: You can stir a spoonful into your oatmeal, or put it on ice cream, or into your coffee or tea. Literally anything.

Warm milk! Pancakes! Toast!

Serve it with pork chops, smear it on cookies or graham crackers.

Marnie: Has an application ever failed spectacularly??

Aimee: This is like the shrimp scene in Forrest Gump.

Allison: ^^^and shrimp is a bad place to use apple butter.

But if you don’t know how to restrain yourself when feeding yourself pumpkin butter you should just stop cooking. Let other people do it for you. You can’t be trusted.

Allison: Very! I shared my super-easy apple butter recipe here last fall. You can do that with cubed pumpkin, or canned. As always, just keep an eye on things, because it’s all visual cues on that one. The line between apples and pumpkins in fall desserts is very thin.

I don’t believe that apple butter needs to be a fussy, complicated thing to make. You shouldn’t…

Marnie: That’s a good utility pick and I feel like the voters will reward you for it.

Unless you mess it all up on the last pick.....

Allison: Don’t think I am, because I’m reaching into my personal back catalog again and going with . You know me and pudding.

Marnie: Picking your OWN RECIPE on the final round is A POWER MOVE

Allison: Damn straight it is.

Marnie: I begrudgingly respect this decision

Please tell us what makes it a worthy pick, for those of us who haven’t tasted its majesty yet

Allison: Pumpkin pudding is much creamier and luxurious than pie! And easier to make, in a way. You don’t need to fuss with the oven, and don’t need to worry about making a pie crust. I make a pie crust better than anyone, and honestly do enjoy the process, but it adds a good amount of time to the process.

Sometimes you’re okay with waiting a few hours for pie. And sometimes you’re like “I want pumpkin something within the hour,” and this is what can get you there.

Marnie: A shortcut to immediate pumpkin spice intake is key

Allison: Exactly. There’s a ton of variables I consider when coming up with recipes.

One of them being “how long do I have to wait before I eat this dessert”

Aimee: That’s always an important one.

Marnie: Sometimes you don’t need to consider cook time at all. Because sometimes the thing you want is not edible in the least. Folks, my last pick is a pumpkin spice candle. To make EVERY room in the house smell delicious, not just the kitchen!

Aimee: Ha ha!

Marnie: It is a far-reaching, long-lasting pumpkin spice item. Perhaps the most cost-effective, too.

Aimee: AND if you don’t like pumpkin, it’s still mostly a pleasurable experience.

Marnie: A signal of the changing seasons! Coziness incarnate. People of all palates can agree on smells, can’t they?

Allison: I believe I have at least ten of these in my house right now.

Even if it’s not fall outside, it can be fall inside, whenever you damn well please. You guys need to try lighting up one of those bad boys in April and see how that changes you.

Aimee: As long as they’re not those cinnamon brooms. I don’t know why, but they annoy the crap out of me.

Allison: What are these cinnamon brooms? Another midwest thing?

Aimee: They sell them at Trader Joe’s. They’re in the front where you first walk in, with the pumpkins and the plants, so you can’t avoid them.

Marnie: They look sort of sinister

Aimee: Exactly. They’d be good for witches, but they smell like cinnamon which is somehow not exactly witchy.

Anyway, last pick goes to Aimee! What’s it gonna be?

Aimee: My last pick is... pumpkin spice cotton candy. Mostly because I would really like to find out if you can taste the spices.

Marnie: Does.....does it exist outside of your mind?

This is the first time I’ve really thought about cotton candy having a flavor. Isn’t it usually just sugar, in technicolor?

Allison: I do not like cotton candy, and yet I want to try this.

Aimee: Once I tried a rosé cotton candy and it tasted like rosé if you did the taste equivalent of squinting.

These people are geniuses!

Marnie: I’m excited to let this Takeout Draft loose upon the world.

Aimee: Because no one is tired of pumpkin spice yet!

Who won this week’s Takeout Draft? Vote in the comments.

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dontdietwd · 4 years

Text

Don’t Die, day 20

The sky had only just started to pale in the horizon when I left my tent. I had been asleep for many hours now, nearly passed out. I’d been feeling sick all those days, especially when night came – I surely had night sickness rather than morning sickness – and after throwing up alone in the woods, far from the camp, I’d stumble back to the tent and pass out until the next morning. Last night hadn’t been different. As I left the group that had been reunited around a small fire, not explaining to anyone what I’d do, I walked by Daryl, who was on watch duty just by the edge of the clearing. I gave him a small smile, which he didn’t give back. It was clear to me he knew something was wrong, and I am sure that if he weren’t on his post for a few more hours, he’d have gone after me. I was glad he didn’t. I didn’t want anyone thinking about what was happening to me; I wasn’t ready to tell anybody, to make it real, to admit it to myself. And maybe even more than that, I didn’t want to tell Daryl.

[MORE]

He and Merle were the only people I knew from the old life; the only people who had known me before, seen me young and growing up, who had some kind of history with me, even if a lame one. I didn’t worry about Merle knowing, because even though we could even be called friends now, I still didn’t forget the part he had always had in my life. What we had now didn’t erase the past. When he was present there, next door, he meant trouble. He meant offensive words when I didn’t deserve them – hell, when nobody deserved them! – so I didn’t actually give any a shit about what Merle thought of me. I knew I could deal with him; I had learned how to talk to him in those twenty days of this acquaintance-friendship.

But Daryl – Daryl was different, and I didn’t even know how. He’d never spoken offensive words at me – only eighteen years ago when his teenager version told me to fuck off, but that had been it – and he had always been a presence in my life, in the background, the boy from the other house, the one who’d disappear and resurge again on and on, a constant variable. Daryl was my only constant.

After the dead got up to eat the living, this frail and nearly inexistent relationship had shifted. He was there, I wouldn’t know how to explain it if I had to, but I knew he was there, in the amplest meaning of the word. In those little more than two weeks, Daryl was the one who’d talk quietly to me, look at me to confirm decisions, tell me things with his eyes when he didn’t talk much with words. He was comfortable and, yes I dared to admit, he felt safe. There was something blooming there, I knew it, there was no denying, but ever so slowly, like the way you have to approach a wounded animal because they are just so scared and defensive. That’s the image Daryl reminded me of. I didn’t know much about his life even having been there for so long, but I knew it hadn’t been good, it had made him be as closed up as he was. So whatever was going to happen, if it was going to happen, would have to be slowly, no rush.

So I didn’t want to tell him yet, just not yet, but I knew that when I was ready to tell anyone, it’d have to be him, even fearing he would judge me, look down at me, or worse: pamper me. I didn’t know him well enough yet to foresee which one it would be, but I dreaded any option. So I just kept throwing up out of sight in the woods, sleeping early only because I’d worked a lot all day, pretending nothing was happening.

The camp was quiet as I left the tent area to reach the clearing. Dale was on top of the RV, T-Dog walking around the edge of the clearing – he nodded at me with a little smile for a good-morning – Ed was ahead of the cars on the edge of the road, and Merle on the other side of the clearing, opposite T-Dog. I knew Jim was down on the quarry keeping watch there. This shift of watch was nearly over and the five men would be replaced and would have to eat something before going to sleep. Carol and Miranda were up and about, preparing food for breakfast – I had previously set shifts for that too, where the two were together for the first meal, Lori and Amy for lunch and Morales and I for dinner. He was the only man on these shifts because no other could cook in a satisfactory way.

In a way, slowly and discreetly, I had organized small jobs for everyone in camp. The cooking shifts, a person responsible for never letting the boiled water to run out – Jim – four to keep picking the best twigs and dry leaves they could find so the fire would never die out – the children – and even laundry duties. I had tried to make it fifty-fifty, men and women, but my feminist way of thinking hadn’t been much appreciated, for my dismay. I couldn’t understand the concept that men could to wash their own fucking clothes. The men had turned their noses at the idea, and the women had decided they’d only stand in their way and do it all wrong and they’d have to do it all over again anyway. Defeated, I also excused myself from this duty. I’d never done laundry by hand in my life, I’ve always just had to toss them inside my old washer and that was it. Everybody else who could shoot or use a knife and felt safe facing walkers were on watch duties, which meant almost all of them, but this had been Shane’s responsibility. He organized the weapons, the shifts, the points were each one would be, all the strategy around it. I was glad because this invisible line Shane and I had drawn made things more peaceful and had us knocking heads less every day.

“Morning,” I said quietly as I approached Merle.

“Hey, what’s up, baby face?” he smiled as he threw away the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking.

“All quiet here?”

“Yeah, heard twigs all over the night but was a raccoon or something like it. Gonna get it later.”

“Right, you guys gonna go huntin’ today?”

“Yeah, bring some protein for these assholes.”

“Not gonna rest a little before leaving?”

“Yeah, couple of hours be enough.”

“’Kay,” I nodded. “Hey, go on, I’ll take the watch now.”

“Ya gonna? Thought it was china-boy.”

“Glenn’ll take Dale’s spot.”

Merle handed me the rifle he’d been holding for the past three hours and left, crossing paths with his brother on his way. They just nodded at each other and Daryl approached me, an old metal bowl in hand. I looked at him just as he handed it over.

“Mornin’.”

“Morning… Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna eat,” I said refusing to take the bowl.

“Ya gotta,” he insisted. “Know you got sick last night. Canned meat balls didn’t agree with ya?”

“Uh, you saw that…” I moaned out instead of an answer.

“Not the first time. You ok?”

“Yeah, no, not sure…” I looked down, kicking the hard ground with the tip of my boot. “Didn’t know my stomach would bitch so much about all this fuckin’ change in eating habits.”

“Gotta get used to it, don’t see it turnin’ back to normal anytime soon,” and with that he tried to hand me the bowl again. I took it this time, reluctantly, still not looking at him. “Ya sure that’s what the problem is? Ya been getting’ sick since the road.”

I looked up then to find his eyes glued on mine, searching for something. He had asked that in a low voice, stepping a little bit closer, head a little lowered to get almost in level with mine. I felt my mouth go suddenly dry – or at least drier than it was before – and swallowed, looking down at the bow, escaping his gaze.

“Yeah. What else would it be?”

“You tell me.”

He didn’t move or say anything else. Daryl just stood there, waiting for me to say something, and I almost did. I felt like I wanted to tell him now, just say it and get it over with, but my throat seemed to be reminding me of the reasons why I didn’t want to voice it. I couldn’t admit it, not yet.

“I’m fine, Daryl,” I finally said and mustered courage to look up at him. “Really.”

For a moment he didn’t move, still fixing me a deep gaze, and finally nodded, really slowly, and straightened up. “Alright,” he said tightly before turning around and walking away without looking at me again, but saying “Eat. Ya sure as hell need it.”

I stood there looking at his retreating form for a long moment. Was it possible that he knew it? The way he asked, like he wanted me to be the one to tell him, as if he already knew but wanted me to trust him with the truth… Was that it? Was I not being discreet enough with my nightly episodes? I shook my head, looking down at the bowl – warmed up but already cooling brown beans and sweet corn stared back at me. No, he didn’t know. He didn’t even know me well; there was no way he had observed me that well. I looked up again, trying to see him one more time as if this would give me an answer, but didn’t find him. Was he observing the that closely? Did he care enough to do that?

I ate half of the food, only because I knew she needed it, but my stomach refused to eat more than that. I stood there on guard for nearly three hours as the rest of the people on camp started their days, until Jackie came to release me.

In the tent area, I found Merle waking up from the nap he had taken after his watch and breakfast, and Daryl handing him his share of guns.

“Any special request from the woods, pumpkin?” Merle said when he saw her approach.

“I would like veal, if you please.”

Behind him, Daryl snorted. “Did ya just do a British accent?”

“Shit, did I?” damn, I seemed to already be tired if I was cracking bad jokes.

I stayed with them until they had all they needed in backpacks to stay in the woods for a few days to hunt, and were ready to go.

“Hey, you realize it’s the first time in twenty days that I’ll be away from you guys?” I asked out of the blue before I could think of it, after being quiet for a moment when I just watched the Dixons organize their things and talk about the supplies they would need. As I said it, I felt my cheeks get a little pink. If I had stopped to think for just a moment, that was not something I would ever voice. Damn feelings.

“Ya countin’ days?” Merle laughed.

“Yeah, this is day twenty of the new fuckin’ world,” and I waved a hand, “Guess I’ll just stop doing it eventually.”

“Ya gonna miss us aren’t ya?” Merle said as he started to retreat. “Jus’ don’t fall in love, honey pie!”

I laughed and, when he looked back, gave him my middle finger, making him laugh more and send me one himself. Daryl was shaking his head at our interaction, not moving. Smiling, I looked at him and forced myself not to go all serious and keep smiling, but unconsciously my arms crossed over my stomach.

“I’ll see if I find your veal,” Daryl said quietly, a shy little smile playing on his lips, making the little pink in my cheeks grow a little warmer. My smile widened.

“Be careful out there, is all I ask,” I said and saw him frown slightly, he seemed surprised. “Ya know, there walkers in the woods…”

“I got it,” he answered dismissively.

“I know,” and I took a step closing most of the space between us, arms falling to my sides and a hand reaching out for his. I took a light hold of his wrist and saw him look down at my hand and back up at me quickly. “Just… Don’t die. Ok?”

He didn’t answer, instead started to bite on the skin of his lower lip, and after a moment he nodded slowly.

“I won’t.” he promised quietly.

“Good,” I answered in a whisper, only then letting go of his wrist. Daryl took a step back, eyes still on me, and then turned around to walk away, quick steps, towards where Merle had disappeared into the woods.

Ok, I was not kidding myself. There was a moment, right there. Wasn’t there? Damn, I wish I had a friend there right now, someone girl who’d look at me and say there really had been a moment there – but I had never had that friend in my life – just to let me know I was not seeing things, that this had not been my imagination.

Shit. I was definitely fucked. Because I really, really wished I had not imagined this.

* * *

“Ok, now, after taking these calming, deep breaths, you just have to relax and empty your mind,” Andrea tried saying in a quiet, calm voice while I sat by her side, Amy and Lori also around. She opened one eye then, looking at the others. “Or at least it’s what the instructor said. I was never able to do it.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit,” I uncrossed my legs and leaned back, resting on my hands over the rock we were sitting on, by the lake. “How can a person just think of nothing?”

“I did it once,” Amy said, also moving from her meditation position and standing up. “I spent nearly five minutes thinking of nothing, just relaxing, until I noticed I had been thinking about my breath and how long had it been and about my itching nose all the while.”

“I did yoga before Carl was born,” Lori told us. “But never really went into meditation. I don’t think it would be useful now, you know, these days.”

“Yeah, I really don’t wanna be sitting on the woods with my eyes closed and mind faraway when a walker comes over. These eyes are staying wide open,” I pointed briefly at my own eyes.

“Oh, by the way,” Amy called. “I’ve heard you calling them walkers this whole time. How did this name come about?”

I rolled her neck from side to side, listening to its pop before starting to explain. I told the other three women about how I’d been hiding in the Dixon’s house for a while when we saw a neighbor of said name wander around the street, dead, and after that started calling all of them walkers.

“Wow… It’s kinda weird imagining being stuck in a house with those two for as long as you did,” Andrea opined.

“Why’s that?” I asked with a frown.

“I don’t know. Nothing against them, it’s just… They are a little…” the blonde woman thought for a moment before finishing. “Strange.”

“Strange?” I asked for confirmation. “What’s strange about them?”

“Well –”

“It’s nothing personal,” Amy cut her older sister off, trying to help her. “It’s just that they don’t really talk to anybody else here. Just you.”

“Yes, they’re always on the edges of the group, you know?” Andrea kept talking. “I mean, Daryl barely speaks to anyone, and Merle, when he does, it’s to be… Well, snarky.”

“Snarky?” I asked permitting the frown to fade away and give place to an amused smile. “You mean ‘asshole’, right?”

“Well, you said it,” Lori commented.

“They ain’t that bad,” I started. “They’re rednecks, ya know, they got their own ways. Merle really is an asshole, and a racist… And misogynist. And a drug addict.”

“Wow, is there something good about him?” Andrea laughed, but sounded worried at the same time.

“Yes. He’s loyal. He’s been looking after me since the first day, and even though he’s always been a jerk to me all the years I’ve known him, he never crossed a line. Never touched me. I didn’t in the beginning, but I feel safe around him now,” I paused, impressed by my own words and how honest they had been.

“Alright. What about Daryl?” Amy asked seeming more interested her body turning a little more towards me.

“Uh, well… You girls might not believe it, but Daryl is actually really kind,” I smiled. “He’s got this hardened exterior, he’s always had, but he seems to be a good guy. I guess he is, you know.”

“You guess?” Lori asked. “Did you say you know them for a long time, how many years again?”

“Eighteen. I’ve been their neighbor for this long, but we’ve never been friends. Never talked before that day, actually. We just ended up together by chance.”

“Oh. Oh, so you mean…” Andrea started, paused to look at her sister and then again at me. You and Daryl, you’re not together?” she seemed to find this idea strange.

“Together? You mean, together, together?” I asked and at Andrea’s confirmation and Amy’s emphatic not, I continued. “No. We’re barely friends… I mean, I guess we are now, but it’s been less than a month.”

“But do you like him?” Amy questioned yet again.

“Like this? Oh, uh…” damn the questioning. I never saw this conversation taking this direction. “I care about him, of course, but there’s nothing happening in that way.”

There, it was not a lie. Nothing had ever happened, and this was true. Didn’t have to say I didn’t feel anything, because that would have been a lie. Andrea and Amy shared a look that didn’t pass unnoticed, both of them going quiet.

“What?” I asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” Amy answered a little too fast.

“Amy has a crush on him,” Andrea told them.

“Andrea!!”

“You have a crush on Daryl?” Lori asked seemingly holding in a laugh.

“It’s no big deal! I just… I think he’s cute.”

“Cute? Really?” Lori meddled in again. “Daryl, cute?”

“Alright, I mean hot!” Amy confessed, her cheeks going pink, hands moving up to cover her face.

“Well, that’s more like it.” Andrea agreed. “See, the guy’s single, isn’t that what you wanted to know?”

“It doesn’t matter, ok?” Amy uncovered her face. “It’s not like I’ll do anything about it. A guy like that would never look at a girl like me.”

“Well, you don’t know that…” I said quietly, a bit shocked at these confessions. “He might. That is, I mean... How old are you again?”

“Twenty-four.”

What?! “Oh. Alright, you look a lot younger... He’s not that much older, I think about fifteen years.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter, nothing is gonna happen!” Amy assured again. “I just think he’s hot, that’s all,” and then she pointed a finger sharply at her older sister, “Andrea thinks the same thing about Shane!”

“Amy!!”

* * *

As the sun started to set on the horizon, coloring it beautifully with pink and orange shades, the fire that centered the clearing roared high, crackling the twigs and dry leaves the children had collected earlier. Carol was around it, setting cookers ready for Morales and I to start preparing the group’s night meal. Silently and with her head down, she worked not paying people around any attention, not noticing the ones who were standing guard, or the children running around and giggling without a single worry in life, or the four women who approached the clearing carrying two buckets filled with water each. Carol only looked up at them when some of the men ran towards us to offer and take the heavy buckets from their hands. They gladly handed them out, happily being released from the weight; except for me.

“Now ya’ll offer?” I asked and kept walking, leaving Shane with his hands extended trying to take the containers. “Don’t touch the buckets, I got it!”

I carried them over to the fire, now along with the men, and placed them on the ground.

“Do you really have to do it by hand?” Carol asked me as the others moved away. “Can’t you just take a car down there?”

“I don’t wanna spend any more gas than we have to,” I explained rolling my shoulder muscles to relieve the tension. “Cars should all be ready to go if we have to.”

“Right. But next time at least get the men to do that. Those are pretty heavy,” Carol struggled with the last sentence as she lifted one metal bucket to place it over the grill that had already been placed over the fire.

I barely heard her last few words. My eyes were trained on Carol’s forearm; the long sleeved shirt she had been wearing unintentionally rolled up. There, over Carol’s pale and delicate skin, four angry purple marks shaped perfectly as fingers.

“Carol?” I reached out instinctively and took Carol’s hand on mine. “What’s this?”

Carol looked down and immediately flinched, understanding what I had been looking at. She took her hand away from me and lowered her sleeve quickly, blue, watery eyes darting around checking if anyone else had seen in.

“It’s nothing,” she urgently whispered. “Really, I just hurt myself –”

“When did he do this?” I ignored her tentative excuse. “Gotta been last night, right? They’re fresh.”

“Sam, really, it’s nothing. I was my fault.”

“Yeah, and what did you do? Didn’t iron his shirt right?” I also whispered, but anger was clear even then.

“No! Sam, just let it go, ok? I’m the one who annoyed him –”

“You annoyed him?” I repeated, outraged. “He must have done it pretty quietly, huh? So no one else would hear it?”

“Sam, please, listen to me,” Carol’s whisper now sounded like a plea. “Just let it go. Please. I don’t want a scene, I don’t want to make things worse.”

I took a moment to breath, my anger tightening my throat dangerously. I saw terror in Carol’s eyes, and knew that acting on my outrage would really only make things worse at the moment.

“This man is nothing without you, Carol,” I announced instead of running to Ed’s tent and beating the fuck out of him. “Not a fuckin’ thing. He made you think that you need him, but you don’t. He is the one who needs you. You’d be just fine without him. In the past, you could very well leave, find help, get a job. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing in life really is, right? And now, you need him even less. You have this whole group to look after you and Sofia. You got me, alright? You don’t need him,” I took a hard breath and an angry laugh came out of my lips. “He, on the other hand… What would this useless fucker be without you, Carol? If you left him, he’d starve. He’d stink, live out of a can of beer and cup noodles, and he would never, ever again, find another woman who’d even look at him twice. He’d die alone and miserable while you rebuilt your life.” I looked around and gestured around the camp, moving on to an astonished looking Carol. “And here? He’s only here because of you and your girl. Nobody here likes him. Shane didn’t want him to come. If it wasn’t for you, he’d be out on the road, alone, eaten by walkers. He owes you everything, Carol, every fuckin’ little thing, now and then. He made you believe that you need him so you wouldn’t leave, because he is a fucking useless piece of shit.” I smiled despite Carol’s wide eyes and opened mouth. “You have no idea of the power you got over him.”

At the end of my speech, Carol blinked and looked down, wordless. I took a step back, staring to move away, and Carol look at me again, still not saying anything.

“I can teach you self defense if you want. You and Sofia. You don’t have to go thought it anymore, girl. Just say the word.”

With that, I turned around and walked away from Carol. I hoped, for Ed’s sake, that he didn’t cross my path anytime soon.

#twd #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl twd fanfiction #daryl dixon twd fanfiction #original female character #daryl original female character

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sommerstessa · 4 years

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at the sommers family home ft. tessa and her emotions

─── thanksgiving day, 2019.

Thanksgiving was always one of Tessa’s favorite holidays growing up. Too much turkey, not enough pumpkin pie, and embarrassing stories told around the dinner table earning bouts of laughter from all. Suffice it to say, she was excited to get back to those traditions now that she was in Wilmington again. She’d woken earlier than usual that morning, eager to squeeze in her morning practice - one hour of yoga followed by meditation, as always - before heading to her parents’ house. Upon arrival, Tessa was pleasantly surprised to see that Freddie had beaten her to the home, already donning his matching pajamas which the Sommers insisted on wearing that particular year, now that they were all together again. She had to admit, the bright orange color was more forgiving than she’d imagined upon first hearing of the design her mom had chosen.

“Freddie, you look absolutely adorable now, don’t you?” Tessa teased, leaning down at his side to give a kiss to his cheek. She was happy to see that he was there - early, too - rather than staring down some bottle of alcohol alone in his bedroom like he had been doing much too often these last couple of months. Although Tessa knew the breakup was hard for him, she was not at all prepared to handle two Beaus in her life; one was heartbreaking enough. “Thank you for noticing, Tess,” Freddie joked back, appearing much more like himself than she had seen in months. It was good. It was a positive. Things were finally turning up for them, it seemed.

“Where’s mom?” she asked her brother, glancing over her shoulder. Her father answered instead, his voice carrying from the other room, growing louder as he came out of hiding. “She ran to the store. Last minute Thanksgiving shopping, you know how she is. Forgot her pecans for her pecan pie, can you believe it?” Tessa’s dad asked, his tone of voice mildly sarcastic, as if making fun of her mother with a warm fondness. She had to give it to him - she’d seen her mother stressed as can be and it was not an easy version of her to handle. Tessa couldn’t imagine the situation Alan had been in all morning. As he approached her, Tessa stretched out her arms for a hug and pressed her lips to his cheek with a kiss. “Good to see you, kid.” “Good to see you, dad.”

two hours later.

Susan had arrived home much later than anticipated and in desperate need of additional help in the kitchen. Although Tessa couldn’t fathom why her mother insisted on cooking so much food for five people, she couldn’t dare point out the illogical ways of her mother, instead offering assistance when necessary. At this point in time, she was making the very pecan pie her mother had been unable to earlier that day, all thanks to the missing bag of pecans. “I could have sworn I purchased them, too. Makes me wonder if I walked away and left a whole bag of items at the cash. Now, wouldn’t that be something?” Susan laughed, though it was more hysterical than entertained. Tessa’s eyes drifted across the kitchen island to meet those of her brother who sat at a barstool, picking at mashed potatoes, somehow without capturing the focus of Susan. Otherwise, there would have been much more chiding taking place.

“That’s alright, mom. Everything you’ve made looks - and smells - delicious.”

“-Sure does, Mrs. S.,” came the voice of none other than Beau Haywood, his smile lighting up the room as he waltzed into the kitchen, seemingly unannounced. Tessa had to guess that Alan had let him in; then again, none of them would have minded if Beau let himself in. He was practically family at this point, at least to her, and because of that, to her family, as well.

“Beau! We’re so glad you could make it,” Susan glanced up from her candied yams, a wide grin spreading across her face. Tessa had a feeling that Beau was one of Susan’s favorites out of Tessa’s male friends. Partly because of his good looks, but mostly because of his ability to charm her like no other. Most of the time, Tessa had to remind her of her boundaries.

Following Susan’s lead, Tessa wiped off her hands and walked around to give Beau a proper greeting, reaching up on her tippy-toes as she wrapped her arms tightly around him. “I’m especially glad you’re here,” she insisted, giving him a final squeeze before pulling back, resting at his side. A small part of her continued to worry that he was mad at her, upset about what she’d said to him at her house the other night. It was her guilt, continuing to eat away at her despite everything being perfectly fine for them. Clearly, it was, otherwise he wouldn’t have been there that evening. So, Tessa took a deep breath and tried her hardest to let any negative feelings go, solely focused on enjoying a nice Thanksgiving dinner with her family and best friend.

three and a half hours later.

Time had passed, slowly but surely. Beau managed to get in his fair share of jokes regarding the Sommers’ matching pajamas and also managed to snap a few family portraits for them. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was consumed with intensely trained eyes and one too many ciders were shared among them (non-alcoholic, of course). It was nearing supper time now and Tessa wandered into the kitchen to check on the turkey. It was in the moment that she was bent at the waist, eyes watching rays of heat emanate from the bird, that her mother came up behind her, an envelope in her hand. “I almost forgot, Tessa,” she held the envelope up, and Tessa stood to take it from her.

“What’s this?” Tessa asked, clearly confused. Her eyebrows pulled together as she glanced down at the envelope, reading the name of the sender.

Lindsey Benz, M.D. 5546 E. 2nd St. Wilmington, NC 28402

Suddenly, the room began to move, throwing Tessa off-balance entirely. She was relieved by the fact that the envelope remained intact, clearly hadn’t been opened by either of her parents, but she was equally anxious to be the one to open the envelope herself. She was growing increasingly dizzy, her mind rushing with possibilities. Right on time, Tessa began to notice her body warming up, and she desperately wanted to fan herself. But if she did, it would tip off her mom. It would let her know that she wasn’t okay. That she was nervous about whatever was in that envelope. That she was keeping something from her.

Because she was. Susan had no idea that Tessa was considering undergoing genetic testing, least of all that she actually went through with it already. Nor did Tessa want Susan to know. Lord knew her mother wouldn’t be able to handle any of this. Plus, she’d be full of opinions, none of which Tessa wanted to hear until she’d made up her own mind about what she wanted to do depending on the results.

“Who’s Dr. Benz?” Susan asked, already looking worried.

Thinking quickly, Tessa responded, “my gynecologist. I was due for a yearly and they sent me to someone new this time. It’s probably just a bill.”

There. That seemed to do it. Susan appeared convinced and had walked away, leaving Tessa alone in the kitchen. Her fingers toyed with the edges of the envelope, her brain flipping back and forth as to whether to go forward with reading it now. She, of course, didn’t want to ruin the holiday, but she was desperate for closure, whatever that may have meant for her.

“Tess! How’s the turkey?”

Shaken by Freddie’s voice, Tessa quickly folded the envelope in half and tucked it into her back pocket. “It’s almost ready!”

twenty-eight minutes later.

“Alright, who’s hungry?” Alan said, carrying the turkey into the dining room and setting it down on the table. He began carving and doling out pieces to the empty plates on the table. Hands moved quickly, reaching for various food items and serving dishes to complete plates, turning them into a medley of various colors. Silence took over the room as the family chowed down, each one with their own ‘mmms’ coming together in a harmony resembling gratitude for a home-cooked holiday meal.

It wasn’t until the group was finished eating and Susan excused them for clearing of the table before dessert that Tessa took the opportunity to escape upstairs to her former bedroom, where she closed the door quietly behind her and tugged the envelope out from her back pocket. It had taken every ounce of strength in her body not to tear the damn thing open at the dinner table; she was too eager to find out her results, but she didn’t want to alarm anyone else. Somehow, she managed to make it through the meal acting completely normal, so that she didn’t tip anyone off. But now, well... now she wasn’t so sure about dessert.

Inhaling and exhaling a few times in a row, Tessa stared at the envelope, before slowly closing her eyes over. “Here goes nothing,” she breathed out in a whisper, eyes opening once more as she ripped off the side of the envelope. Sticking her fingers into the folds, she pulled out the thin piece of paper inside. That was it. A folded piece of paper was about to tell her her future. Whether she would be okay, have the same risk of developing breast cancer as the general population. Or whether she was a higher risk. Whether she’d wind up like her aunt Erin. Whether she’d have to make additional decisions after this, decisions that would alter her future forever. Decisions that would leave lasting effects, both physically and mentally. Somehow, she felt as though it should have been more than just a piece of paper. Like, somehow, the fact that her future was contained in writing on paper wasn’t enough.

She was already crying, despite having not unfolded the piece of paper yet. It was the anticipation, the simple thought of what would happen to her if the results were not in her favor. She wasn’t that strong. She wouldn’t know what to do. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, even if she did know what to do. Was there anyone who could handle it? If so, Tessa wanted to meet them. Maybe they’d be able to walk her through this.

Inhaling and exhaling again, Tessa’s fingers toyed with the edges of the paper, until she finally unfolded it. Of course, it took another long moment for her eyes to actually commit to reading the page, and when she finally did, she could barely make out the words thanks to the blurred vision her tears had caused. But there it was, spelled out for her in big, bold letters. Her future.

TESSA SOMMERS BRCA 1: abnormal results, see details below BRCA 2: abnormal results, see details below

“No. No...,” Tessa muttered helplessly, her eyes scanning the words she certainly didn’t understand. It was all beyond her, the science and medicine of it all. But it was there clear as day. Abnormal results. And not just for one of the genes, but for both. She was a carrier of both the BRCA 1 and BRCA 2 gene mutations. The chances of her developing breast cancer at some point in her life was much, much greater than before she’d opened the envelope.

She gripped the tear-stained paper in her hand and allowed her arm to fall to her side, suddenly feeling a loss of control and a mountain of emotions. The shock had set in, so much so that she barely recognized the sound of her own sobbing screams as they came from the back of her throat. Her back slid down the wall until she landed with a loud ‘plop’ on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest, all the while the sound of her cries carrying through the house. She wasn’t sure at what point she had truly began crying, but there was no finish line in sight. It was uncontrollable; she had completely let go, given in to her emotions. For someone like Tessa, someone who was typically so reserved and well put-together, it was easy to completely fall apart at the drop of a hat. She was so used to playing the role of the helpful friend, but it when it came to her own problems, her own wellbeing, she had come undone entirely.

In the background, she could barely make out the faint sound of Beau’s voice. “Tess?” He asked, knuckles sounding against the door. “Are you okay?” But she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to see him or anyone, for that matter, because then she’d have to explain. And right now, she just wanted to cry.

#tw breast cancer #i will be on tomorrow to do replies 100000%#but for now enjoy this sadness #byeeeee #tessa

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hazeinart · 6 years

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Peter’s mom (Single Dad AU)

this will be hard to understand if you haven’t read any of the #Single dad AU so please read them before reading this.

This event happened days before Peter confronted his dad and after the diaper incident... hopefully you guys won't get confused by it.

THANK YOU AND ENJOY!

**********

It was his idea to talk himself and Rhodey into the idea of deciding to confront the mother of his child. And yes, he had to talk himself into it, serious personal conversations isn’t one of his best skill especially with a person who was basically a stranger. To Rhodey it was more of Tony’s conversational argument with himself while Rhodey listens, or half listening while nodding every now and then.

“Are you even listening to me!?” Tony snapped at him.

Rhodey just shrugs at him. “Tones, I would comment on your dilemma if you weren’t already arguing with yourself. And if you really wanted my opinion and actually take it then I think its best that you talk to her. You could ask her about Peter, about his health situations or genes that you have to worry about and other stuff… plus it would be easier for you to transfer peter to fully be in your custody if you asked help from her” Tony opens his mouth as he tries to interject but was cut off before he even made a sound. “AND if ever she changes her mind it is her decision. She has her rights…She is the mother of your child. I know how it sounds Tones but it is the truth. I don’t want to give Peter to her as much as you do. So if we really wanted Peter to stay you can always open a court case against her”.

“So it’s a ‘we’ now” Rhodey rolled his eyes over the teasing Billionaire.

Tony had to think for a minute because it is a serious moment, a very serious moment concerning his child. He made a thin line with his lips as he scrunches his eyebrows together while fiddling with his long sleeves. Rhodey stared at him for a long time. He was quite anxious himself of the possibility of Peter’s mother wanting to claim him back was a 50/50 chance and it is pretty big chance. Tony took in a deep breath and let out a sigh.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

Rhodey promised to be up with him throughout the night but he couldn’t even last three hours before snoring in Tony’s couch. Tony snorted at his best friend before wrapping him in a blanket and giving him chaste kiss on his cheek.

It took even lesser than two hours before Tony started to get impatient and walked around the apartment. He couldn’t stop walking around and over thinking till it was quarter to 5 and it only made his over thinking even worse. He was now biting his nails and tugging his hair from his skull in frustration.

He checked the time again and saw that it was 5:53. He went straight to the door and peeped through the peeping hole and saw nothing so he waited. It took around 20 minutes before he a sees the beautiful golden hair and stunning emerald eyes that he thought he’d never see again. He immediately opened the door startling the woman who was bending down to leave a letter that she was holding in her hand.

Tony didn’t know what to say all he could let out was the name of his old flame. “Joanna…”

She stood up and gave a sad smile.

“Hi Tony” Her voice sounded hoarse and faint.

“W-Why?” Tony clenched his fist in frustration. “You w-were the girl that I-I slept with during that D-DAY YOU BROKE UP WITH ME!? Why do this to me!? Why break up with me and sleep with me the same night and then come back and leave me OUR CHILD without even showing your FACE!? I had loved you so much! I never loved anyone as I did with you and you just toyed with me in a sick weird way! And what’s upsetting about this is that I never stopped loving you even until now… no matter how much Rhodey told me to forget about you… how many girls I’ve slept with just to forget about you… so why…. I just don’t… I can’t understand why you did this to me…. How I deserve this from you… What I’ve done during our relationship to play me like some game…”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was afraid to see another woman had just toyed with him like Sunset did; another woman had just turned him into a great fool. Maybe he was a great fool for falling for women who likes to break his heart like it was made of glass.

His eyes flew open as he felt cold fingers grazing his cheek bones. His eyes met glossy emerald. He felt like he could melt in them at any moment with those eyes. The hair he curled with his fingers every time he woke up in her arms. Tony blinked. The palms of her hands were like ice and her lips where pale and quivering. Tears were flowing leaving those eyes that he loved. He couldn’t help bet wipe them from her cheeks like it was the natural thing to do.

“Oh, my sweet… *gasp* I-I never wanted to *gasp* wanted to leave you…. *gasp*” She hid her emeralds as he let out deep haggard breaths. “Can I c-come in? *gasp* I-I need to S-sit…”

He led her in his apartment and closed the door. He helped her sit down in the dining room. She gave short fast breaths but it slowed down and steadied. He noticed how frail her body was and how pale she looked and how she was shaking with her clenched fist. He wanted to sit down beside her and caress her arm as he whispers how everything is ok and how it’s fine but it’s not. So he stood there waiting for her to calm down. She looked up at him and he sees the dark circle under her eyes. She looked tired.

“Tony, I never wanted to leave you. I never… never stopped loving you. I-I didn’t intend to toy with you. That day I left you… I decided to leave you for good…because I… but I just… I wanted to remember how you felt… That’s why I tailed you and I saw you… you were drunk and flirting with…” Her eyes grew darker as she gritted her teeth. “Almost every man/woman who passes by… so I went to talk to you and with you so drunk… you couldn’t even realize it was me… so I took the chance to feel you for the last time… to treasure you for the last time… And I didn’t expect… didn’t expect that I’d get pregnant… I was confused when I knew about it… I was happy yet I was…. Tony I…” She gave out a heavy sigh and looked away. “I… I’ve been d-diagnosed with Secondary Lung Cancer… That’s the reason I broke up with you because I didn’t want to let you see me like this… And that’s the reason I was devastated when I had him… I thought… I thought I wouldn’t live to have him… I thought I wouldn’t live to get to that 9 months… The doctors told me the chances of me living to have him were slim…. But I somehow made it… although it doesn’t mean I’d live to see him grow up… I didn’t want him to live without a parent so I came here”

Tony sat down. It was too much to process and he needed to sit down. He looked at her. She was still staring at her hands, too ashamed to look up at him.

“So you came here and thought that my 18 year old ass… who parties like its god damn 1969 would take a child from a one night stand not knowing who the woman was… And treasure him and take care of him and try to be a better father than my dad ever was…”

She looked up. “And I was right”

He took her hand that was resting on the table and held onto her.

“And you were right”

************

Joanna died six days after. Tony spent those six days beside her and brought Peter every day with him. And Rhodey was there to support them. She never wanted to go to the hospital so his father had nurses and doctors visit her in her room. Tony spent those days calling her darling like he used to and making her smile like he used to. And now Peter was making her smile too. She smiled like she had never lived before whispering to them how happy she is with her boys but even with her eyes shining like a beautiful meadow or like the tales of the great emerald city turned real with her glimmering like that. Yet she refused to eat or drink. She had already refused days before and the toll of it was catching up with her. She swatted every any nurse or doctor that came to her to give her an IV bag or feeding tube. She would go wild and Tony had to step away from the room to cradle peter in his arms to stop him from crying. And she had begged the doctor, her father, her mother, and even Tony. She was already very tired and very weak. She wanted to rest. They stopped trying to administer any meds she’d go against and she started to slow down.

Tony brushed her hair from her face and kissed her lips.

“I promise to try and be great father”

“You already are” She smiled at him lazily.

“I love you so much, darling” He gave her another deep kiss then kissed her all over her face as tears flowed down.

“I love you too, sweetheart” He rested his forehead against hers as she caressed his cheeks.

When she had Peter in her arms, she held him close and stared at her beautiful baby. She pressed a long kiss on his forehead then whispered.

“Don’t torment your father so much and watch over him for me. I’ll be watching over you little one. I’ll always be by your side. I love you so much, pumpkin” She gently held his little hand and kissed it. She wanted to see her son grow up like any mother would be but she knew if she stayed any longer she would look much more worse than now. And Peter would have to see all that and she has to see Peter’s painful gaze as her lights flicker. She doesn’t want that. Nobody does.

It was the longest and yet also the shortest six days of Tony’s life.

Joanna died in her sleep. Tony woke her up the next day but her eyes remained closed and her body was cold as ice. Tony broke down. He had asked Rhodey to take care of Peter while he was gone. When he came back the next day, he decided to confront his father about Peter. And so Rhodey and Tony drove to the Stark mansion and promised to Joanna’s parents that they would come back for her burial.

Tony closes his eyes as they drove off. He tries to remember every beautiful memory he has of her only to remember the bittersweet memories he had made on those 6 days.

*********

I found Joanna Nivena was befitting for this role. Since She was Tony’s first fiance in 616

@jadepc @maddogkanine

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headlessendeavors · 3 years

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“ this small town life it has its virtue, has potential to divert you from the life you knew back home. . . ”

––– the mirrors surrounding you did as they were meant to, reflecting back a spitting image of ANDY MIENTUS - but it’s clear something is wrong from the moment that a vision of REALIZING YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND’S HUSBAND WHILE HE PRATTLES ON ABOUT FOOTBALL strikes you. perhaps it was a passing daydream in the frenzy of the funhouse. you reassure yourself - you’re ICHABOD CRANE, a TWENTY EIGHT YEAR OLD LOUNGE SINGER whose virtue lies in your + CREATIVITY & + ENTHUSIASM, although you’ve been told that you tend to be quite - ANXIOUS & - JUMPY, and you’re associated with WHITE CABLE KNIT SWEATERS, THE CRUNCH OF CRISP AUTUMN LEAVES, & THE LILT OF A PIANO PLAYING A ROOM AWAY by those around you. suddenly, however, you’ve found A THREE MONTH SOBRIETY CHIP on your person - was that always there? from the moment you leave the funhouse, memories from your life in TARRYTOWN have begun to return - leaving whoever you had been before in the mirror’s reflection behind you. you can almost hear WILDFLOWERS by ANDY MIENTUS following in your wake.

( ichabod’s canon life includes tws for drug abuse/drug mentions, talk of being high & withdrawal !! v v brief mention of the headless horseman near the end,, ))

CANON LIFE

–––Ichabod Crane moved to New York City for a better life. The glitz and glamor of it all! And it helped that he didn’t hate his job. He quickly fell in love with the lights and the bustle and the nightlife –– what’s not to love? Unfortunately, Ichabod quickly noticed that his lack of acquaintances wasn’t doing him any favors. He wasn’t very outgoing, either, and he was pretty sure that the fellas from work wouldn’t be interested in frequenting the places he did. Office suits didn’t tend to list Gay Bars among their favorite night spots.

So, Ichabod did what any reasonable young man in his position would do: he got smashed and hoped for the best. When a very handsome fellow asked if he’d like to go home with him, he agreed enthusiastically. Which is how he found himself back at said fellow’s house doing lines. It felt incredible, getting high like that. His nervousness faded away in the haze and he didn’t have to worry about stumbling over his words, they just came to him. His tongue knew what he wanted to say before he did.

He wished he could say it was only the one time, but alas. The elated feeling of not having to worry about socialization? Letting the drugs take care of it for him? It was all far too tempting. One night of drug-induced fun turned into two and three and “just a few more”s. It got to the point where he didn’t care what he took as long as he took something to keep the ache in his temples and the shake in his fingers from catching up with him. Just one more hit. Just one more line. Just one more pill. No matter how many one mores he took, he always felt significantly worse in the morning and one too many times calling out from work cost him his job.

Which seemed fine to him at first. Less time worrying about his supervisor bitching at him and more time to fool around as he pleased. The countless nights of blacked out memories and mornings waking up on grimy floors or in strange men’s beds should really have been the wake up call Ichabod needed. Unfortunately, it took getting evicted for everything to crash down on him. Where was he going to stay?

Ichabod decided then that he had to leave the city - it wasn’t doing him any good staying where he’d been tempted multiple times in the past. He needed to get out of the city and he needed to get clean. He started to go to NA meetings and spent days he was feeling less like shit working odd jobs to save up for a one way ticket out of there. After some debate, Ichabod settled on Tarrytown as his goal location, it was a small quiet town not too far from the city and there was a music teacher position available at the high school. If everything went well (and they didn’t ask for his credentials) Ichabod figured he could find an apartment there and be away from all of the temptations the city brought with it.

Ichabod was thrilled - more than thrilled! - when he got an interview and then a call telling him that the Tarrytown High School wanted him for their music teacher position. This was it. This was his chance for a new life and a new home and friends. He kept up with NA meetings while living there and exploring the town kept him busy until school started a week later.

On his first day, he met Katrina who quickly became Ichabod’s best friend. She was bubbly and sweet and talkative. Vibrant. She made Ichabod feel welcome and she invited him to dinner the day they met. Having nothing to lose, Ichabod accepted. It was nice to have someone who wanted him around, even if they hadn’t known each other very long at all. And that night he met Katrina’s husband, Brom. He wasn’t expecting Brom - Katrina hadn’t mentioned that she was married - but the man was a pleasant surprise and awfully easy on the eyes.

It was very easy to see the relationship between Katrina and Brom was Strained, even just hanging around for ten minutes. It was a lovely evening nonetheless and Ichabod suggested they do it again sometime. All good things come to an end sometime, though, from Ichabod’s personal experience, and this was no exception. Katrina left Brom and moved in with Ichabod and. Ichabod felt partially responsible, really. He didn’t tell her to leave Brom but he didn’t dissuade her from the idea, either.

Brom wasn’t happy when he found out that Ichabod had talked with Katrina about leaving and Ichabod, distressed over possibly losing his only other friend, tried convincing Brom that it was ultimately Katrina’s decision and he didn’t encourage her leaving him. It seemed to do the trick because Brom asked to stay friends, asked for Ichabod to come over to watch football sometime to which Ichabod ecstatically agreed. The time he didn’t spend on classes or at NA meetings, he spent with Katrina or Brom. the latter of the two seemed far more warm and welcoming and tactile now.

Brom asked about Katrina every now and then but mostly it was lighthearted joking and, if Ichabod wasn’t reading the situation wrong, some lighthearted flirting as well. which made his dumb gay heart pitter pat in the confines of his chest. He wondered, perhaps, if the attraction he felt was mutual. If perhaps Brom presented straight because it was all he’d ever known and perhaps he was suppressing himself because he was afraid. Ichabod knew that feeling all too well. And on Halloween night, after carving pumpkins with Katrina, Ichabod made a fool of himself and in the closeness of it all, in a lull in conversation, with a tipsy tongue, blurted that he loved Brom to the man himself. “Even I can’t get over the shock that I love you– Brom, I love you. I’m in love.” And kissed him.

Brom was quiet for a handful of ticks and Ichabod could hear his heart beating in his ears. He was half sure Brom might deck him and honestly he was pretty sure he deserved it for being so stupid. Until Brom told him that to go any further with him, he’d need to be high. He told Ichabod to take whatever drug was in the plastic baggie he’d shoved into his hands and meet him on the bridge in the old cemetery. Ichabod’s heart leapt and he agreed.

It was cold in the cemetery, October be damned. And it probably wasn’t the best idea for a skittish fellow like Ichabod to be high alone in a place drenched in bloody history. He kept repeating to himself that Brom Was Meeting Him There, He’d Be There Soon And He’d Kiss Him And Everything Would Be Okay. and that A Little Paranoia Is Normal, You’ve Been High Before. It’s Okay. But whether it was his imagination or the drugs causing hallucinations along with his paranoia - or maybe a mean-spirited Brom, attempting to scare Ichabod into leaving Tarrytown behind - but he swore he heard hooves and saw a black steed with a headless rider atop its back and––– that was the last anyone heard of him.

LIFE IN ALUCARD

ichabod is a city boy at heart. he loves the bustle of it all, the music of the city - buzzing chatter and shrill car horns, clicking heels against the sidewalk and jingling charms on the bags of passersby. it’s all so Comforting.

he lived in new york city for a stint before moving to alucard - needing a change of pace in his day to day life.

he’s very passionate about music and he’s just So Sure he’d make an incredible music teacher. he’d make the lessons so fun! the kids would love it! he just doesn’t have the money or drive right now to attend the classes to make it possible.

he’s very friendly but he can be awkward as hell despite his best efforts - especially around guys he finds attractive.

even though teaching doesn’t seem to be in the cards for him just yet, he’s very happy to make his living off of singing. his voice is sweet.

ichabod has a cat - a russian blue named Gunpowder.

he plays the piano, violin, guitar, and ukulele!!

he wants to teach himself to play the flute bc he thinks it seems like a fun instrument but he hasn’t had the time for it.

he has nervous tics - scratching at his inner arm or fidgeting with his hair/the hem of his shirt.

he’s skittish. a self-proclaimed scaredy cat! he hates that he is but he really Really is.

do not try to scare him pls he will have nightmares for literal days after his heart cannot handle a good scare!!

#;; still hoping that it never goes away | ichabod #(( god the canon life section is so long im so sorry ))#(( nobody cares abt the dirty deets of tarrytown but here i am tossin em out there for yall ))#drug tw #drug abuse tw #mentions of being high #mentions of withdrawal #duality.intro

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1800areyouslapping · 6 years

Text

Thicker Than Thieves: Pt. 2

Fic summary: You’re the darling daughter of a certain infamous cowboy, and boy does he love you. He loves you a lot. Part 2/2

First part / Ao3 Link

If there’s one thing you love the most about these office get-togethers, it’s that you get to cling to your daddy. Show everybody just who his undivided attention belongs to. It’s bratty, and you’re well aware. All the times his attention gets torn away from whatever conversation he’s immersed into to acknowledged his little girl. It’s only right. After all, you’re his sweetie pie. His moonshine. His darling angel. His pumpkin.

Out of all of the pet names, the one you love hearing the most is more of a statement. “You’re my number one, Darlin’”. Those words solidify that you’ve got your Pop wrapped around your finger. The luckiest girl in the world. Having a literal hero to call your Daddy. Not every girl get’s to have a man dedicate themselves to them so wholly. And very rarely a man as amazing as your Pop. You couldn’t be more enamored, more engulfed in making sure your Daddy gets to have everything he deserves when he’s home. Just a lovesick puppy dog, tryna get your master to make an honest woman outa you.

You may be cocky in your public affections, more so in the ones that you shower him within private. Knowing full well that you're driving him mad, within himself. But you’re not quite cocky enough yet to go the whole nine yards. You may dream about it. Think about it in every waking moment. Let it consume every free roaming thought you have. But fantasies don’t do much in the place of courage.

A familiar voice breaks through your inner monologue. “Hey there, Miss McCree! We on for some more lessons tomorrow?”

You perk up and peel away your Pop’s side. “Oh hey, Lucio! Sure thing, I’ll be there!” You say as you wave wildly at him. Returning the amount of enthusiasm that Lucio gave you with your own. It’s only polite.

“Looks like somebodies smitten,” Daddy teases, nudging your shoulder.

“Am not!”

He puts a dramatic hand on his chest. “I’m a man who knows when a little lady is smitten.”

You scoff, and roll your eyes per the usual. But then you size him up, and state a matter of factly, “you do not.”

“You know I could teach you a few moves right now if you want. There’s no music, but I think we can make do,” Lucio says.

That actually seems like fun so you agree with it. “Sure!” As you're moving away to take Lucio’s hand, your Pop snatches up your wrist. It startles you, but only because the grip is strong. Not harsh, but insistent. Quick. You look at him with wide eyes and an obvious question. "What, Daddy?"

“Ya leavin’ me?”

Jealous, he’s jealous! Being a sweet girl you refrain from stating the obvious. Even if you’re simmering with a gloat. “Y’know daddy if you don’t want me to dance with other boys then your gonna have’ta ask for my hand.” Swinging your hips from side to side, you grin coyly. Snatch his hat from atop of his head and place it on your own. “Cause I feel like dancin’.”

Jesse places one hand on the small of his back. Bends forward, extending his other hand. “May I have this dance, Little Darlin’?”

Placing your hand in his, you give him a similar little curtsy. “Of course, you may, Daddy.”

You look back to Lucio giving him a shrug that says, “What can ya do?” Pop pulls you in close, places one hand on the midsection of your back. Takes your other hand and extends it out to the side. Your cheeks may be bright red apples, but you’re loving every moment of this. So many people are staring, all of them thinking that this impromptu father-daughter dance is just so damn precious. Typical of the cowboy and his cowgirl.

Thicker than thieves the McCree’s. Never a moment when they’re not being darling to each other. Pictures have already been taken. Off-handed comments made about how they’ll send them your way. You’d like to think that if you were back in the privacy of your own little home with your Pop, that this would be the moment when you might gather the courage to kiss him. Long and passionately just as you’ve been longing to do.

“Eh, Daddy? Would’ja whistle for me?”

“Sure thing, hun,” he says starting up a familiar tune. You’re favorite whistle. It ain’t got much melody to it, especially not for dancing. But you adore it anyway.

Suddenly McCree dips you. You giggle delightfully, throwing your head back. Your leg lifting gracefully between his legs. Knee-grazing the crotch of his jeans. When he brings you back up he tries to hold you at a distance. Rethinking his decision, he opts to quickly bring you back in, flush his chest. Angling his hips away from you, chest heaving against your cheek.

You’re about to tease him about being winded. Are you just that heavy? Can't he dip his daughter without losing his breath? But then you feel it against your hip. The bulge in his jeans. You don’t mean to bring any attention to it. You’re just so shocked to feel this when you’re awake and alert. Not in your dreams, or in brief lucid moments when you wake up to feel it rutting between your thighs. Not daring to stay awake for long enough to allow your body to tense up and scare him off. You can’t help but glance at it for the briefest of moments.

No matter how brief it might have been, your Pop notices. McCree may look calm to others, but you can feel all of the tension seizing up his muscles. How badly he wants to bolt. You’re about to give him the sweetest of smiles, tell him that everything’s okay, when he states that he’s going to go out back to smoke a cigarillo. You’re only able to get out a strangled, “Wait—“ Before he’s already gone, and Lucio is garnering your attention.

Not wanting to make your Pop’s departure seem like a big deal you give him your attention. Instead of waving him away, and running after your Daddy like you had really wanted to. One conversation turns into another one. Then another one, as more people join in. Forming a little circle of co-workers, and trainers. Commanders and lieutenants, holding liquored drinks. Making lewd jokes and talking about the latest news. Eventually, you’re able to leave the fray without any suspicion, using a polite smile, and saying, “sorry folks, a girl can only hold it for so long.”

Leaving the room you are determined. Sure that you’re not gonna let this incident go to waste. You’re gonna march out there and plant one onto your daddy’s mouth. Take in whatever smoke he’s holding, into your own lungs. Take it outa him, all the stress and guilt. Give him the relief he needs, that he deserves to have.

McCree’s got a spot. A certain section just outside, near the facility track, that he likes to seclude himself into. Where he can go and smoke “in piece” without all the judgmental people who’d harp on how bad the habit is for him. Truthfully you’re one of those people. As you’d like to have your daddy around for as long as possible. But damn if you don’t love the smell of tobacco-- especially when it’s lingering on him.

When you round the corner, you're stopped dead in your tracks by the scene that you find there. Your daddy’s got that woman’s lips wrapped around his cock. Her head bobbing up and down, Jesse's eyes shut tight. The lit cigarillo clutched between pointer and middle finger, down at his side. His head looking so devoid without his hat, eyes shut tightly in concentration.

You dip back around the corner quickly. Slamming your head back into the concrete so hard that you see stars. You’ve never been so pissed, so jealous that your chest hurts. It feels like your ribs are contracting in on themselves, heart thumping so hard you can feel it in your ears. Your entire torso turning into a giant expanse of heat. You should leave, most definitely go, and pout about it in your room. Peeking your head back around that corner is only going to make it worse. Going to make the tears welling up in your eyes flow down your flaming cheeks.

You do it anyway, despite knowing what’s good for you. Just in time to see the woman pull her mouth away, trailing long clear strands of saliva. Revealing your Pop’s soft cock. Did she already make him cum? Has she swallowed down his load?

“A-am I doing something wrong?” She asks. Her hand still gripped around his base, lazily stroking up and down. Trying to coax the blood into his dick. Having no more luck than she was when she had it engulfed in her mouth.

McCree shakes his head. “Naw, it ain’t you.” Shoos her hand away from his member and shoves it back into his pants. She seems to want to be understanding, but can’t help but look dejected, cause she is. The cowboy she’s been clambering after don’t want her. They’re both looking ashamed, the woman, and your Pop. While you're practically glowing with pride. You can forgive him for this. After all, he doesn't know any better. You take your leave, with newfound confidence. Hell-bent on making it back to your apartment before your Daddy does.

Tonight’s the night you break the dam. Open the floods gates and let it all flow freely. Give your daddy what he deserves, and get what’s been coming to you.

McCree's bedroom is dark save for the low light of his bedside lamp. Jesse's head cradled in his own hands. Dejected, defeated. He had that pretty woman down on her knees. His soft cock, filling up the space of her mouth, as she was trying so hard to beckon the blood to flush into it.

The woman knew what she was doing too. Had a technic that would drive any normal man inside of himself, but not him. No, cause that woman couldn’t even compare to the simple contours of your body. Even when he found himself shutting his eyes to try and imagine your face down there, plush chap-stick lips, wrapped around his shaft, it still wasn’t enough.

He’d lost it as soon as he left you in that room. Knowing, good and well that you felt his shame that time. He’s gonna have to man up, apologize. Face his chagrin head on and—

“Daddy?” No, no. He can’t. Not right now, he’s not ready. He keeps his face buried in his hands. “Daddy? Are you alright?”

“Fine-- I’m fine. Just-- let daddy have his bed to himself tonight, alright?” He sighs out a shaky breath. “We’ll talk in the mornin’.”

Slowly you pad your way over to him. Each step deliberately placed. Stop just short of your knees touching his own. His eyes catch the sight of your bare feet first. Inching up the beautiful curves of your ankles. Up and up, over to your bare knees, and the wide expanse of bare thigh. Your crotch just barely covered by two fists holding down the bottom of one of his shirts. His cowboy hat atop your pretty little head.

Thump, thump, thump. Faster than a hummingbirds heart in his ears. “Oh, sugar. Why’re you wearin’ that?” It’s been nearly a year since he’s seen that thing. He thought it had been lost to the void of the communal laundry room.

“Cause it reminds me’a you.” The corners of your lips pulling softly with a timid smile. “I wear it all the time when you're gone.”

“That’s real sweet, Pumpkin.” His hearts about to beat right out of his chest. So is yours, keeping your eye trained on every little nuance of his face. You’ve got that shirt pulled so tightly that the fabrics accentuating your tits. Nipples hard, and they’re the only thing he can focus on. How badly he wants to latch on. Suckle and nuzzle his face into those fleshy pillows.

Jesse’s so lost in the fog, that your knees sliding into place on either side of his hips startles him. When he looks up your leaning forward, cupping his face in your little hands, you kiss him. Humming, musically; leaning into him wantonly. Pressing your body deeply into his own.

You pause, just to get a look at him. Remove his hat dramatically, plopping it down onto the bed. Before you plant your lips back onto his own. Dragging your nails down his sideburns, sliding them back onto this scalp, all the way to the nape of his neck. Giving him wild goosebumps that run rapid down the length of his spine. He groans, a man tortured. Asks, as you between fevered kisses, “what the hell are we doin’?” You don’t have an answer for him. Just a wet open mouth, and a persistent tongue.

Lord, he’s swimming in it. All of the flowers, all those curls. The warmth, your fevered breath against his mouth. So damn in the deep that he’s nearly drowning. Drowning in how damn good your hands feel, as you shove them up underneath his shirt. Caressing his the small of his back, tracing the lines of his spine. His cock straining against the tightness of his jeans; the hardest he’s been in years. But his gut continues to fight him, tooth and nail.

McCree snatches up both of your arms. Pulls his face away from yours. His chest is heaving, head spinning. You’ve got to go. He keeps his eyes shut tight as he begs, “Darlin’, baby, I’m so sorry, but you gotta go. Go back to your bed, now. Just—“

“Dad,” you say in a commanding tone.

No ‘Y’, just Dad. “Dad’s” reserved for moments when you especially need him to listen to you. So he does. Jesse opens up his eyes, releases his hold on your arms. Very slowly you bring a hand back up to his face. Like you're tryna pet a skittish animal. Pet the sweat stuck hair back away from his face. Give him that saccharine smile and say, “It’s, okay.”

Bobbing your chin up and down, you weave your fingers into his hair and say it again, “It’s okay.” Place two flat palms on his chest, one on each pec, and push him back onto the bed. Plop right down on his swollen cock, still hidden away behind his jeans. Undulate your hips, close your eyes and moan. You’re not wearing a thing under that shirt of his. The bulge of his cock feeling like heaven for an engorged clit.

Jesse's chest seizes up again. His breath freezing up in his lungs. Laying down you press your forehead against his own. “Daddy s’okay, I want you,” you say with another roll of your hips. “I want you,” a whisper, accompanied by a tiny whine against his mouth.

Sitting back up, you're still rolling your hips back and forth. Slip your fingers under the front of his shirt. Use his happy trail as a guide, following it all the way up to his chest. Lift your hips briefly so he can get a gander at your bare pussy. “You’ve got every right to it, Daddy.” For a moment you pause your undulation. Dig your fingers into his pecs. Say, in complete earnest, “nobodies ever gonna love me like you do.”

McCree wholly agrees. Show it by finishing the removal his shirt. Tosses it off to the side of the bed. “That’s right, Darlin’… that’s exactly right.” Suddenly all of his floodgates fall. Setting forth all of the ministrations he’s been holding back for ages. Reaches out his arms and holds your hips flush against his crotch. “You’re my little girl aren’t’cha?”

Your breath shudders from your chest as your resume your gyrations. “I always will be, Daddy.”

Jesse uses his grip on your hips to roll you over onto your side. Slips a leg between your own, to press his knee up against your cunt as he tugs the shirt up your body, holding it just under your chin. His eager lips finding one of your perky nipples quickly. His hot, wide expanse of a mouth engulfing it entirely. You arch your back, allowing him to have better leverage. Even if he’s suckling so eagerly. Tugging at your virgin tit so hard that it stings. It seems to soothe him, the rest of the tension melting away from his broad shoulder blades. Relaxing into your body. Moaning and groaning over your erect little nub. Laps and flicks his tongue, kisses the darker space around it. His beard tickles and scratches so much that you can help but giggle a little.

When he’s had his fill, he rolls you over onto your back. Slips the shirt over your head, so that you’re now butt naked. Suddenly you lose some of the confidence you had waltzed into this room with. Pulling your arms up against the chest that your daddy was just lavishing with his mouth.

“What’s the matter, sugar, you feelin’ embarrassed?”

You giggle, your chest heaving underneath your forearms. “A little.”

Jesse takes your wrists and plants them down firmly on either side of your head. “You don’t gotta thing to be embarrassed about, Angel.” He steadily releases your wrists, careful to make sure that you’re gonna keep them there.

He presses his lips deeply against your own, “there’s no,” moves down into your neck, “hidin’,” down over your clavicles, “this perfect,” between your breasts, “pretty,” litters your tummy with wet kisses, “little body,” he says as he stops at your navel.

“Not from me, Honey.”

He continues his way down, licking his lips every so often to make sure his trail stays glistening. Makes a home between your legs, face pressed lazily against your inner thigh. Enamoured by your plump, juicy cunt. Looking like he’s about to feast on the best meal he’s ever gonna have. Pop wraps one arm around your leg. Brings his metal one up, middle finger extended to insert it inside of you.

It’s only one, but it still causes your back to arch. Your hands to grasp at the sheets underneath you. “Oh. Is that sensitive, Pumpkin?” He teases as he pulls the digit back out and sinks it back in all over again. And over again, and again...

It’s when his mouth latches onto your pulsating clit, just the way he did to your tit, that you think you just might lose your mind. It almost feels like it might be too much for you. Like you might start begging him to stop, it feels so damn good. His tongue lapping between your folds. Wet mouths sounds, and heavy breathing as he kisses your nub. It may have been years since the last time your daddy did anything like this, but he certainly hasn’t lost his touch.

McCree slips another finger in, focuses in all his effort on flicking his tongue quickly against your sensitive little spot. Your body continuously writhing, hips lifting and falling back down to the bed.

No matter how much your back arches, or how much you may keen, he keeps at it. Staying latched on, ‘til your hands have found their way into his hair. Gripping so tightly it burns, whimpering “daddy” over and over. Thighs shaking, moaning so loud that surely someone must hear you. “Oh-- oh my god, please-- daddy, have mercy.”

Jesse grants you mercy. Pulls away after one more hard suck and a quick flick of his tongue. Sits up on his knees so he can slink his belt out from the loops that harbor it. Drinks in your body, with the flick of his wrist that undoes his zipper. Shakes his head from side to side. “Baby girl, you’re unreal.”

You’d be a fucking liar if you said you’ve never seen a dick before. Well, at least not one in person. But the point is your daddy’s cock is the most beautiful one you’ve ever seen. Intimidating as it’s here in the flesh, bobbing and jerking with every intake and exhale of his breath. Knowing that he’s getting ready to lay down on top of you and sink it into your virgin flower.

You spread your legs for him. McCree leaning in to run his meaty head along your folds. Pressing gently into your entrance, just to tease. Leaning forward you grab his hips. Whine and beg, “Come on, Daddy, stop teasing, break me open.”

The pupils of his eyes widen, as he slowly crawls on top of you. Placing elbows on either side of your head, careful not to plant any pressure onto the hair splayed out, framing your flushed face. Reaches down between your bodies to line up and thrust into you. Only enough to sink the tip in, but it’s still enough to take your breath away. He whispers, “Where the hell’d you learn to talk like that.”

Not really a question, more of an observation. As he doesn’t allow you enough time to grant him an answer. He mashes his mouth against yours, lowers himself down. The bulk of his body pinning you down onto the bed. His cock sinking further into your chaste, velvet. Throwing your legs up you lock them around his waist. Wrap your arms around his neck, placing a hand on the back of his head.

It doesn't hurt, not much at least. It more like an immense pressure like your never felt before. He rocks into you slowly at first, gentle strokes. Not quite giving you all that he’s got. Sinking into you a little bit further with every little whimper of “more” that’s breathed against his lips. Until, eventually you slide your hands down the slope of his back, to press your fingers into dimples of his cheeks, encouraging him to settle in all the way to the hilt.

The groan your daddy lets off in your ear sounds so nice it seems like music. “Fuck, darlin’ you’re just the softest thing--” Another groan, boarding on a growl. McCree’s hips picking up pace, your nails digging into the small of his back. Whimpering with every rut, every long drag that ends with a snap of his hips. Throw your head back and cry out, as a particularly deep thrust jabs against your limit.

It feels so good, and you’re just feeling your daddy so much, your hips gather a mind of their own. Rolling in tandem with the timing of his thrusts. “Oh-- damn sugar, that’s good-- oh, you’re so good for me.” Even faster now, skin to skin slapping and shared moaning filling the void of silence.

You’ve never felt so full, so warm. All the pressure, that feels like fuzzy ecstasy in your core. Just a few more quick, deep thrusts away from releasing. Jesse’s chest shake’s against your own with each labored breath. Mouth agape against your cheek. Hot, bellows of air wafting your hair about. You're so lost inside of yourself, that you barely hear him say, “baby, I love you so damn much.”

“L--love-- you too, Daddy.”

You’re both so, very close. Just on the brink of releasing together. “Ah! Daddy-- I can’t wait to have your baby--” A harsh thrust cuts you off. “Cum in me, please,” you beg. Suddenly his body seizes up, hips remaining flushed with yours. A string of curses flowing from his lips to your ear. You cum together as he’s draining his hot, load inside of you. Rope after pent-up, milky-white rope. Your heels digging into his spine, nails raking across his shoulder blades. As your hips continue to roll underneath him, chasing after every last bit of him that you can get.

Jesse collapses on top of you. A big mass of sweaty muscle, and hair blanketing over your body. “Am I crushin’ you, Sweet Pea?”

You shake your head. Let your legs fall limp down next to his, but keep your arms hugged around his body. “Na, daddy, I’m good.” You didn’t think it was possible to feel even more loved by your daddy, but here you are absolutely surrounded by it, filled with it. Both of you comfortable, glowing after getting exactly what you’ve wanted, each other.

#mccree x reader #father/daughter incest #pussy eatin/loss of virginity/a lil dick suckin >_>/praise kink/i feel like that should just be a givin w daddycree/#daughter!reader #mystuff #fic #3.9K

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constantfluxx · 7 years

Note

malec + pumpkin carving

👻The Spook Cruise👻

Port of Call: MALEC!Itinerary: Pumpkin Carving! 🔪🎃🔪Captain: @celestialbane ✨

[-submit a prompt-]

Magnus frowned as he heard the door open, looking up from the charm he was crafting for a client. “Alexander?” he called, leaning over to get a better look the foyer. “I thought you were going to be late?”

“Me too. Ended up blowing through those reports.” He set whatever he’d been carrying down on their table with a loud thud, then walked over to Magnus’s desk to greet his boyfriend with a small but no less meaningful kiss. “Is that okay… ?”

The worried look curling Alec’s features brought Magnus to lightly chuckle. “Of course it is. I was just surprised, is all.” He put down the ingredients he’d been holding - a few strands of werewolf fur and a vial of demon ichor - then stood up to properly greet Alec with a tight hug. As he did, his eyes wandered over to their table, and his brow peaked at the object he found sitting there, large and bulging and aggressively orange with a stout muddy-green stalk curling maybe three inches long off the top.

“A pumpkin?” Magnus inquired, though he obviously needed no confirmation of what the object was. He stepped around Alec to walk towards it, one arm crossed low over his open, silk shirt to support his other by its elbow. Inquisitive eyes flickered over the seasonal squash, swiftly deeming the fruit to be a prime specimen of its kind, and he turned a wide grin to his partner. “What’ll it be, then? Pie? Soup? Cookies?”

“What? No,” Alec replied, face screwed in confusion. As he crossed the room to join Magnus by the table, his deft fingers plucked a small blade from his thigh holster, flourishing in an expert and practice motion. The glint of his blade in the day’s waning light was echoed in the gleam of his eyes. “We’re going to carve it. For Halloween.”

“With that?” Magnus laughed, nodding towards Alec’s dagger. “There’s hardly any need.” As he turned back to the pumpkin, already his fingers began to coil in the air beside his face. “What do you want it to look like? We could do a skull, or perhaps a ghost… I could try one of those fancier designs, the ones where they only half-carve the—”

“Magnus,” Alec interrupted, his free hand catching Magnus’s by the wrist. To his boyfriend’s befuddlement, he pressed the hilt of his dagger into Magnus’s hand, then curled his fingers around it and held his hand within the cup of his own. “No magic. I thought… I thought it’d be nice to do something…”

Magnus watched Alec curiously as the Shadowhunter sought the right word. Slowly, a smile curled his lips, and he offered, “…mundane?”

Alec blinked, dark eyes snapping over to him, and then slowly he smiled in return. “Yeah. Something simple, tactile… Something to pass the time together.”

Of all the requests he’d ever received, this one was certainly towards the top of Magnus’s list so far as quaintness was concerned. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the top ten slots were all taken up by one thing or another from Alec - his precious Alexander Lightwood, endlessly surprising in his refreshing and pure simplicity. He imagined Alec still didn’t quite understand the full breadth of it. For him, it was enough just knowing that these kinds of things brought handsome smiles to Magnus’s face. But for Magnus, these simpler things were a breath of fresh life in a world filled with angels, demons, immortality, and war, the kind of steadying sigh that reminded you why you wanted to live in the first place.

“That sounds lovely, Alexander,” he at last replied, knowing saying anything more than that would likely only serve to confuse Alec. He drew out a chair for Alec, then settled into another, placing the dagger down upon the table so he could idly tap his goatee’d chin. “We do still need to decide on what to carve, however.”

“Any particular inspirations?” Alec asked, spinning around his chair so he could sit in it backwards, his arms folded upon the chair’s back. “I’ve never really done this before.”

“You haven’t?” There was something like pity in Magnus’s voice. His own childhood had been rather turbulent to say the very least, and anyway had taken place in both the wrong century and the wrong country to partake in the custom, but he’d long ago come to understand the unique joy it brought to many Mundane children across the world.

Alec shook his head, not in the least bit disappointed or sad about it. How could he be, not knowing what it was he’d apparently missed out on? “Too busy protecting the Mundies from real vampires, werewolves, witches…” He shared a smirk with Magnus, then turned to the pumpkin and reached over to turn it around a bit. “I grabbed the biggest one I could find, so we’d have enough room.”

“For what, the entire Sistine Chapel?” Magnus mused, eyes widening as he actually took in just how massive the pumpkin was. “Well, if you’re going to do something, best to go all-out, I suppose.”

Alec grinned at Magnus, already enjoying the activity even though they really hadn’t done much yet. His eyes sliding back to the pumpkin, he reached out to curiously draw a finger along its swells and crevices. “I don’t want to do the typical Jack-o-Lantern thing. And I don’t especially want to do anything horrific or scary. Something fun and… and simple, but still a little… not spooky, necessarily. Halloween-y? I mean, it should fit with the holiday, after all.”

As he listened to Alec ramble on, Magnus couldn’t suppress a light chuckle, a fanciful gleam sparkling amid his eyes. With all the burdens that typically weighed on the Head of the New York Institute, it was a nice reprieve to see Alec fussing over something so inconsequential. The Shadowhunter’s mind could puzzle over the problem freely, without any worry for the consequences. It reminded him much of the way a child might consider what crayon to draw with, and it held a certain precious innocence that made Alec seem more like a precious cherub than a glorious angel. Something fragile and vulnerable that needed to be protected and cherished, rather than a holy force to be reckoned with.

This really was turning out to be one of Alec’s best ideas, for reasons he would likely never come to understand.

“I think I have an idea,” Magnus replied at last.

As he explained what he had in mind, he watched Alec’s excitement swell, pulling his every feature big and wide into a beaming grin. Just a hint of wickedness touched Alec’s eyes, the spark of a mischievous sprite, and soon he was eagerly nodding. “Yeah, yeah!” he exclaimed. “That’d be perfect!”

“Very well, then!” Magnus chuckled, rising from his chair with a smooth and elegant motion, the same ethereal grace that seemed to embody his every movement.

Alec turned to watch his boyfriend drift swiftly and soundlessly through the room towards his desk, his brow wrinkling in intrigue. “Where are you going? My daggers will work well enough, won’t they?”

“For the carving, sure,” Magnus replied lightly. Delicate fingertips plucked a black marker from the long, shallow dish stationed at the head of his desk. “But first you have to draw out our design. It’ll be the guide for our carving.”

“Why do I have to draw it?” Alec scowled, taking the pen from Magnus. “It was your idea!”

“That’s precisely why, my dear!” Looking perhaps a bit too smug for Alec’s liking, Magnus dropped back into his chair, one leg draping over the other and his fingers curling beside his devilish smirk. “I never get to see your more creative side.”

“Because I don’t have one,” Alec muttered, uncapping the marker and rolling it awkwardly in his fingertips. He glanced between it and the pumpkin, then scooted his chair closer to the table so he could get to work drawing out their design.

“Of course you do, Alexander. Everyone does! It’s just not as prominent or physical for some compared to others.”

Alec cast a raised brow over his shoulder. “Oh, so you don’t like my nightly experimentation?”

Magnus only wasn’t scowling because his face was too busy blushing. “That’s not fair. You know that’s not what I meant!”

His boyfriend snickered before returning to the pumpkin. “I know. I just like seeing you flustered. It doesn’t happen very often!”

At that, Magnus couldn’t help but laugh, leaning forward to fondly draw his fingers through Alec’s messy hair. “And yet, you always manage to somehow do it. You’ve grown quite devious in recent months!”

Alec’s eyes flickered towards Magnus briefly before he suddenly turned his face to steal a quick kiss. “I’ve had a good teacher,” he whispered against Magnus’s lips as they parted.

A shudder rippled through Magnus, much to Alec’s delight, and with a mild scoff Magnus tapped the tip of Alec’s nose. “Focus on the damn pumpkin, or I’m going to take matters - and you - into my own hands.”

Alec bit his lip, goosebumps of his own sweeping across his skin. “Such a hard decision,” he chuckled lowly, then capped the marker and leaned away from the pumpkin. He gave it a satisfied nod, his hand idly laying upon Magnus’s back. “Luckily, I’ve already finished this part. What do you think?”

“Mmm,” Magnus murmured, turning his head to regard Alec’s drawing. He made a show of carefully studying the crude linework, then finally replied, “…It’s awful.”

It earned him a playful shove. “Oh, shut up,” Alec laughed, trading his marker for his dagger. He made to pass it to Magnus, but again his boyfriend was departing the table, and so again Alec released an exasperated sigh. “Now what? We aren’t ready to carve it yet?”

“You really haven’t done this before, have you?” Magnus fondly chuckled. “Go ahead and start cutting around the stem,” he instructed, indicating the top of the pumpkin with a circling gesture. “We need to remove the top so we can clear out the insides.” His voice grew distant as he disappeared into the kitchen, but nonetheless he continued to explain things, even as Alec already sank his dagger into the top of the fruit. “You’ll want to make a smooth, contiguous cut all around the top, so we can replace it once we hollow out the pumpkin. And make sure it’s wide enough to fit an arm!”

Alec followed the instructions as best he could, silently hoping the entire time he wasn’t screwing anything up. It seemed simple enough a task, at least, and his dagger proved plenty adequate for this particular task. Still, as he eyed the bits of fruit caught in the blade’s sunken grooves and intricate patterns, he distantly began to regret using it over a common kitchen knife. Approaching the end of his circular cut, he stood up and leaned over the pumpkin, tip of his tongue caught between his teeth as he carefully completed his round. As soon as he did, the top of the pumpkin wiggled slightly, fully loosed from the rest of the fruit. A victorious gleam bright across his face, Alec extracted his dagger and set it down upon the table.

“Careful!” Magnus cried.

Alec started slightly as a burst of blue smoke plumed across the table’s surface, leaving a newspaper in its wake. “Sorry,” he bashfully replied, laying his soiled blade upon the protective surface.

Magnus offered a kindly smile, setting the large bowl he’d taken from the kitchen upon the newspaper. “It’s fine. Go ahead and lift the top off!” he encouraged, already rolling up his sleeves. “Set it down on the paper - there will probably be some...” He grimaced as Alec lifted the pumpkin’s cap, long and pulpy strands of seeds hanging from the inch or so of fruit. “...Yes, that,” he eventually finished, gesturing towards the stringy mess.

“Should I... uh... do something with it... ?” Alec asked, moving aside so Magnus had room to approach the pumpkin.

“Yes,” he replied, attacking the pumpkin’s innards with a metal spoon so harshly it made Alec jump. He scraped his implement along one side of the fruit, pulling out a pile of pulp and dumping it into the bowl. “Shave it off and add it to the bowl with the rest of it.”

“You going to do something with it?” Alec curiously asked as he obliged. “Is there enough here to cook or something?”

“Absolutely!” Magnus chirped, pulling out another spoonful. Tiny bits of pumpkin flecked his muscular arm, and Alec had to swallow down a stray thought of licking it clean. “I’ll clean and toast the seeds for our party Friday evening. A nice blend of cinnamon, sugar, and cayenne will make the perfect glaze for them! Of course, I’ll also store a handful for personal use - there are a number of brews which call for pumpkin seeds, and they’re difficult to come by out-of-season. Depending on how much pulp we carve out, I may be able to make a pie, or some cookies at the very least. I’m not sure about the strands... Some kind of puree, I imagine. Catarina’s surely got some kind of salve or other we can make from them.”

As Magnus rambled on and on, a chuckle played at Alec’s lips. He loved when Magnus got excited about something, especially when it was something he’d brought about. Usually, Magnus’s talents were used at someone else’s beck-and-call, done more out of a need than a desire. Moments like these, where Magnus could simply enjoy his vast knowledge of magic, could invoke any number of spells, charms, and crafts for his own use rather than someone else’s, were a treat in and of themselves. Alec was pleased, and more than a little relieved, Magnus could still find joy in this massive and ofttimes double-edged part of himself.

“Alexander? Earth to Alexander?”

Alec shook out of his reverie. “Sorry, got distracted.”

Magnus smirked. “I can see that.” He nodded to the pumpkin before turning to retreat back to the kitchen. “You can start carving, if you like. I just need to wash up.”

“Aww,” Alec exaggeratedly whined, eyeing Magnus’s arms.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes, then turned and swept back to the kitchen. “I’ll just be a moment.”

As Magnus washed his hands, Alec set back to work cutting along the edges of their design. For now, he kept his cuts shallow, per Magnus’s advice when the warlock had first described the idea. By the time Magnus rejoined him beside the pumpkin, he’d finished tracing the marker lines, and they could now go about deciding which areas to cut out completely and which ones to only half-shed, leaving behind thinned areas that would glow before the candlelight. With the both of them working at it, they finished in little over an hour, at last stepping back to admire their handiwork.

A rampant grin consumed Alec’s face. “It’s perfect.”

Magnus smirked at his boyfriend. “You think it’ll work?”

“Definitely,” Alec asserted with a firm nod.

A couple days later, it was at last time for the party. True to his word, Magnus had prepared a shallow bowl filled to the brim with toasted pumpkin seeds, their kick sending Alec’s eyes rolling in delight. “These are amazing!” he groaned around a mouthful of seeds.

Magnus gently batted at his hand as he made to grab for more. “Leave some for our guests, Alexander!” he laughed. “How are the cookies doing?”

Alec twisted around to eye the oven, squinting through the translucent, protective glass. “They’ve got about a couple minutes left, I think.” He checked the clock, then darted out of the kitchen towards Magnus’s cabinet. “The candles are in here, right? People are going to arrive soon!”

“Yes,” Magnus called as he set the bowl of seeds upon a console table by the entrance. “Right side, second drawer from the bottom.” He eyed the display, tweaking some of the decorations a bit so the whole thing looked just right, then turned around to find Alec standing beside him, brow raised.

“Some of those candles looked awfully thing,” Alec remarked with a suspicious look.

Magnus’s eyes sparkled wickedly. “Perhaps one day you’ll be ‘experimental’ enough to find out what they’re for,” he chided, placing a kiss upon Alec’s cheek and plucking the stout candle from his hand.

“I think I already know,” Alec replied, a gentle blush coloring his cheeks. He retrieved their pumpkin and removed the top, holding out the cavity in the hug of a single, strong arm. “When do you think he’ll show?”

“Clary said they were already on their way,” Magnus murmured, most of his focus directly to carefully placing the candle inside the pumpkin. When he was certain it was stable, he backed away and let Alec place the whole thing down upon a nearby table. With a snap of his fingers, the candle flickered to life, and Alec replaced the gap with excited glee.

They anxiously occupied their waning moments with various last-minute preparations, making sure everything was in place. Their costumes were donned, the food was prepared in elegant arrangements, the decorations covered every inch of their loft, and with the lights dimmed their carved pumpkin cast an eerie glow upon the foyer.

Finally, their first guests arrived. Alec ran to the door, knowing it’d be Clary and Jace. He peered through the peep hole just to be sure, discovering their friends hand-in-hand as a pirate and sailor. Clary wove her hook before them, Jace still fussing with his navy-blue neckerchief. “Helloooo?” she called. “Anybody home?”

Alec looked over his shoulder to share an excited wink with Magnus, then swiftly gathered himself, took a steadying breath, and pulled the door open. “Clary, Jace!” he cried, greeting them both with a hug. After, and only after, did he finally step aside to let them in, one right after the other. “Welcome, come on it!”

Clary’s eyes found the pumpkin, and her hands slapped to her mouth to stifle her giggle.

Jace stepped in after her. “Hey, budd—AAHHH!!!” Clary, Magnus, and Alec all burst into rampant laughter as Jace jerked back, colliding wide-eyed against the threshold to the loft. A moment later, he glared at Alec and threw a punch to his parabatai’s arm. “A fucking vampire ducky? Are you serious?!”

Alec snickered. “It was Magnus’s idea!”

Magnus defensively threw up his hands. “Alec had a very specific list of criteria!”

Ultimately, Jace rolled his eyes at the both of them and swiftly stalked beyond the ominously-glowing ducky carving. “You’re filthy traitors, the both of you!”

Through their dying laughter, Alec and Magnus shared a triumphant smirk. “Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Magnus remarked.

Alec agreed with a victory kiss. “Nope. Not bad at all!”

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