[godmotherberry]

Til It Happens to You// Puckleberry

[godfatherpuck]

Puck thought for one quiet, shallow moment that the tension would begin to dissipate with Rachel’s choked laugh, but as soon as he’d begun to relax into the odd circumstances, Rachel pulled away, stony and independent once more.

Thinking back on it, Puck could definitely see what Jesse saw in Rachel, that strong structure, the large heart she had, as the girl cried for her recently deceased friends. Admittedly, Puck was underreacting, if he thought about it honestly. His best friend of many years was now dead, her child left in the care of someone as incompetent as himself and his other dead best friends’ self-centered BFF. If it wasn’t happening to him, he was sure that he would find a large amount of irony in the situation.

“A little insane, yeah,” he murmured, rubbing a large palm over the heated skin of the back of his neck, his mohawk just a little longer than usual. Puck leaned back against one of the far walls. “I dunno, San doesn’t really think anything through–” he started, watching Rachel’s back as she paced, “–but it’s hard to imagine that Q didn’t but no thought in this.” Puck grimaced at his misuse of grammar, hoping that Berry wouldn’t catch it in her hysterics. He had sincerely begun to try and fix his horrible Lima accent and terrifyingly inaccurate grammar since they’d left Ohio, people only judging him more when he couldn’t speak professionally within the force. Puck was a trained fire-fighter for God’s sake, he should know how to avoid saying “ain’t” all of the time.

Trying not to overthink all of his actions, he punched out a quick, “Would’ya stop walkin’ around so much? Y’er makin’ me sea-sick.” The nausea wasn’t coming from Rachel’s pacing, he argued against himself, but Puck wasn’t willing to admit that he was starting to feel a little gross from the whole situation in general. The crescents on his arms burned.

“She doesn’t have anybody if we don’t do somethin’ for her, and I ain’t lettin’ my baby girl go into the hands of Judy. She’s a nice lady, really– even kind of hot if you put a bag over her head – but she really messed up Q, and I’m not lettin’ that happen to Sof.” Puck slowly took a few steps toward Rachel, genuinely feeling a bit weird at trying to comfort her, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “We’re what she’s got, and we’re gonna have to do, even if we don’t get along.”

Scrunching his nose, Puck tried to swallow down another bout of nausea. He was not ready to be a parent, not even a pretend one, he thought. And Berry? Yeah, she was hot, Puck had always known that, but she was Rachel Goddamn Berry, the most annoying woman he had ever met, and she knew every possible way to get under his skin. Where would they stay? “This is so fucked up,” he muttered, pulling away from Rachel again, palm sliding down over his face. 

[godmotherberry]

“Any thought into this.” The tiny brunette mumbled under her breath as she made her way into the guest bedroom. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t cut him some slack just this once? Rachel quickly reached into her hand into the tiny room to grab a tissue sitting on the sink, barely looking to see where she was reaching in hopes that her muscle memory would take it from there. There was no need to risk being sent into another another meltdown from the sight of Quinn’s favorite hand soap. “But you’re right. It’s just that they know how we are together, and they still thought this was a good idea?” She was talking to herself now, mostly just for the sake of doing anything other than sobbing.

Rachel had returned to wearing away at the carpets with her brisk pacing when she heard Puck’s snappy request and froze immediately. Under different circumstances she would’ve continued doing what she was doing, even more so just for good measure. But this was different. He was doing the strange kind of coping, and Rachel was worried that he could snap at any moment. And yet, he was still trying to comfort her. She couldn’t help but place her hand on top of his. “I agree. And she’s been drinking more and more... and who know’s what’ll happen now that...” She couldn’t say it. That meant that it was real. Rachel Berry would go her entire life without saying that Quinn and Santana died if that’s what it took to keep it from being real. 

Instead of suggesting he watch the language she just nodded in agreement, worried eyes scanned his face before he slid his hand over it. Out of some strange instinct she never had before Rachel reached out and placed her tiny hand on the back of his head in an attempt to comfort him, moving her thumb back and forth against his hair slowly. “Noah, are you...” She was about to ask if he was okay. That was moronic. Of course he wasn’t okay. Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupted Rachel’s shaky words, giving her an excuse to break contact again. “Rachel... Puck. Everyone’s still here.” Kurt paused, waiting to see which one would have another outburst first no doubt. “I’m so sorry. They just need to go over the will then they’re gone. I promise.”  

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

“Do you believe every guy that wants to get into your pants– excuse me, heart – has good intentions? Or is that saved just for Frankenstein? Chased them off with a shoe, actually. And it’s a paintball gun. How sheltered were you as a kid? I’ll make sure her first word is Puck.”

“Well, I also have never been sick a damn day in my life because I didn’t avoid the snot-nosed lipo babies. I only avoided the goody-two-shoes ones. Jealous because a 45 year old woman is getting more attention than you, actually. She’s gonna be a firefighter, and a break dancer, and a basketball star. Just like good ol’ Uncle Puck.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Noah, he does not want to get in my pants. Also, if we’re getting technical here, I rarely wear pants. Sheltered? I think you mean safe. Protected. Over my dead body. It’s gonna be Barbara. Like mine was.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense you imbecile! Why on earth would I be jealous of Judy? The more you talk to her the less I have to deal with you. I think you got some of your words mixed up, Noah. She’s going to be a ballet dancer, and a broadway star.”

[godmotherberry]

You Got It// Puckleberry

They had just gotten back from the funeral and the wake, and Rachel was now convincing her fathers that she was stable enough to handle the rest of the night alone. “Actually not alone. Noah’s here.” Which honestly? Could be worse than being alone but she’d be damned if she let her concerned parents know that. Hiram and Leroy Berry absolutely insisted on babysitting Sofia today, and they were a huge help to the both of them, but that didn’t make them unable to fry Rachel’s every last one nerves.

Finally, they had left and Rachel was able to appreciate to fully appreciate the clean kitchen. The rest of the house however, was still full of her and Puck’s moving boxes. She hated this. Making this house her own wasn’t right, and she sensed that Puck felt the same way, seeing as his boxes were collecting the same amount of dust as hers. She couldn’t remember the last time she was alone like this. Puck made some comment about changing and she made some comment about him being allergic to nice clothes and bottom line was that he was now upstairs changing.

It wouldn’t be long until Sofia woke up from her slumber and they were thrust back into chaos, but right now Rachel was soaking in the peace and quiet “IF YOU WANT BLOOD YOU GOT IT!” Her brown orbs shot open, full of fury and rage as the lead singer of AC/DC’s voice essentially tore through Rachel’s nerves. Puckerman. The roaring wasn’t at a volume high enough to wake Sofia up in her one-way soundproofed nursery, but it was definitely loud enough to tear Rachel out of whatever serenity she had managed to achieve. What was wrong with him? He didn’t cry, he drank. He didn’t weep, he played video games. He didn’t mourn, he played trash metal or whatever it was call. Rachel herself cried all she could today, also making a rule not to do so in front of Puck, and now she was ready for screaming.

The tiny brunette whizzed down the hall, grabbing onto the bannister and swinging her tiny body around to the first step of the stairs. Rachel sped up to Noah’s door, banging her tiny little fists against it. Giving up on that, she swung open only to come face to face with Puck.... in his boxers.

[pullmysoul-deactivated20230423]

“Well, I just wanted to say hi. Dianna is waiting..”

[lntru]

[godmotherberry]

Til It Happens to You// Puckleberry

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

Wincing, Puck let Rachel move freely from his arms. Maybe alright hadn’t been a good choice of words, he thought as he swallowed. His chest felt tight, the pressure on his rib cage reminding him of how he felt after a particularly difficult work out. “As alright as it’s gonna be, okay.” Puck sighed, running a hand through his mohawk, wanting nothing more than to grip and pull at the strands there, “We…we just gotta think about this for a minute.” Hoping that Rachel ignored the wetness to his own tone, gravel building in his throat with each passing moment, he continued, “They wouldn’t want you bein’ all upset.”

The words sounded false, even to his own ears, but before he could say much more, Rachel’s talented, warm hands reached for him again. Instead of shrugging her off or trying to cop a feel under her shirt like he would normally do, Puck slipped his own hand to Rachel’s arm, doing his best to be strong for them both. Rachel’s emotional state made him uncomfortable– he couldn’t lie about that – but there was no way he could be anything less than what he considered helpful. By that, he meant that he would not push Rachel away or grab her wrists as her fingernails made crescent slices into his bicep. A small hiss escaped him nonetheless.

Recovering, Puck pulled Rachel close once more, large hands cupping her smooth jaw. “Hey, hey– look at me – at me, okay? We’re…uh, we’re gonna figure this out,” he promised, knowing damn well that the little girl who was currently in their care needed them now that she no longer had two of the best women Puck had ever met in her life.

Despite his better judgement, Puck slid his arms around Rachel, not caring that her sticky, dark mascara would ruin his white v-neck and bleed through the cotton. Berry must have known that Puck wasn’t good with words– right? She knew that he couldn’t spit poetry like she could, make the situation better.

After the silence between them, heavy breathing and tears shed, managed to settle a little more, Puck added softly, “Who am I kidding– they would want us to cry for years over them. ‘Specially San,” he choked a laugh, the end curling into something warm, now tinged with bitterness he couldn’t help but feel. 

God. This was the second time today that she was too wrapped up in her own feelings to think of anyone but himself. Puck was hurting just as much as she was, but he was doing double the work trying to keep it together for the sake of them both. And Sofia. The mere thought of the beautiful, innocent, unassuming now parentless little baby could send her into another fit of hysterics. She managed effortlessly not to give him her signature “shut it, Puckerman” side glance when he tried to assure her their friends wouldn’t have wanted them to be upset, because god he was really trying here. 

Rachel did however, do a double take when she heard something of a hiss escape his mouth. Crap. She was literally digging her claws into him. She’d imagine doing just that on many, many occasions. Such as the time Puck thought it’d be funny to flip her over into an empty trash can him and the boys were throwing frisbees into, or the surplus occasions that he’d pinch her ass the second someone took a group photo. The brunette imagined there’d be venom behind her actions, and retaliation right after. However, she was subconsciously digging her nails into him for comfort, and Puck was actually letting her.

The actress instinctively scrunched her nose as Puck forced her too look at him, an action that brought into perspective how terrible she must’ve looked right now. She nodded in agreement, more for the sake of him than herself, as her smooth skin rubbed against his calloused hands. Suddenly, Rachel found herself in the familiar spot where his chest muscles met. “Well if I keep it up at this rate, she’ll be getting exactly what she wants.” She mumbled into his v-neck, a trace of laughter in her voice, as she instinctively traced comforting circles across Puck’s back with her tiny hands.

Rachel’s eyes widened as her hands froze. What was she doing? These were certainly exceptional circumstances, but this was the longest the two had made physical contact without it resulting in Quinn having to play the mediator. Her heart stung at the thought of the blonde as she pulled away again, suddenly very self-conscious about how effortlessly comfortable she had just become with Puck. “Okay? But this is insane right?” Rachel began, still choking back tears as she paced around the room. “But this is what they must’ve wanted when they made us godparents. There was no way Quinn and Santana would do this without thinking. I thought they just made me godmother because I threatened to Gone Girl myself if they didn’t. But they know how we are....” Like crying, once Rachel started talking she couldn’t stop. If she did that left room for thinking about Quinn. “It can’t possibly work. On the other hand who does Sofia have? Are we really her best bet?” She already know the answer to that question. They were. Poor Sofia.

[dailybrittgifs-blog]

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

“If Finn didn’t already think like that, you know damn well he wouldn’t agree with me for the sake of things– he likes boobs just as much as I do. I ain’t ever been a baby-sitter. Well, ‘cept for when my neighbors used to let their kids run ‘round the neighborhood and I had four little Latino kids at my doorstep; other than that, I wasn’t cut out for this. I wish they knew how to speak, y’know? I don’t know what it means when they just start cryin’ and crap.”

“Well, if she’s gonna fight off ninjas someday, she’s gotta be able to fight off germs too. Jealous, Berry? It’s a talent, really. Nah, she’s gonna play soccer, and football, and that one dumb European sport no one cares about with a net.”

“I refuse to believe that he’s as one track minded as you are. And if he is, at least he’s a Gentleman about it. Let me guess. You shot the poor kids with your paintbullet gun or whatever it’s called? But I do know what I mean for once, some of them are so immature. Daddies said that I started speaking at an especially early age. I was their little ingenue straight out of the womb. I have a feeling Sofia will be the same way as long as I’m involved.”

“That’s literally not how any of that works, Puckerman. I would know, I’ve never been sick a day in my life. Because I avoided snot-nosed lipo babies. Jealous? Of your affinity for older woman? Don’t make me laugh. That’s funny that you think that, because she’s going to be a broadway star just like her auntie. She won’t have time for sports, although it’s a nice thought.”

[miilkoviched-blog-deactivated20]

[godmotherberry]

GIRLS RULE! – Favorite Female Characters (Of All Time)

Katerina “Kat” Stratford (10 Things I Hate About You) “Likes: thai food, feminist prose, & angry girl music of the indie rock persuasion.”

[thedeathlyfashion]

Visit Original Link

[kimsojeong]

[godmotherberry]

chrispratti:

We’re not gonna be those crazy obsessive parents, all right?

[godmotherberry]

Til It Happens to You// Puckleberry

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

Puck stood frozen as everyone and everything moved quickly around him. For once, he had no sarcastic response, no joke to lighten the mood in an inappropriate way, no words at all, it seemed. Seeing Mrs. Fabray clutch at Rachel like the world was crashing down on her shoulders made him want to turn and leave the room, but he found he couldn’t do much of anything. 

Santana was dead.

The words sounded still, nearly as lifeless as his best friend apparently was. Chest heavy, he opened his mouth to talk when the twiggy officer in front of him began talking again, “We are making arrangements, at the moment, and if we can do anything, anything at all, please–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Puck seethed, jaw tight. Knowing full well that there were too many cops in the room to actually show the aggression he wanted to without getting arrested himself, he clutched his hands tightly at his side. “Unless you can– can fix this, shut the fuck up.” Seeing the usually well-composed Rachel Berry crash and crumble underneath the weight of the news herself, Puck felt the urge to protect and comfort her as well. Despite being in front of Kurt and Finn, even Quinn’s family and a few detectives, Puck took the few short steps he needed to in order to press Rachel against the wall, covering her with his chest. He would later deny the affection if the Hudson-Hummel duo brought it up, but Puck knew how devastated Rachel must have felt in that moment– she was always so much more emotional that Puck was. The odd thought made Puck wanted to smile through the anger and sadness he felt. Those darker feelings seemed to be numb at the moment though, the need to protect much more prominent in his mind. 

Turning his head, Puck glared daggers at the officer trying to come closer to Rachel– P…Pete? Patrick? He sneered, clutching Rachel tighter to him. A quiet thought whispered through him despite his mood, “What…what about Sofia?” Swallowing thickly, Puck searched Mrs. Fabray’s face, then the detective and officers. Kurt was giving him that, ‘Uhm, Noah, you’re an idiot’ look, so he must have been missing something fairly important. “She’s alright isn’t she–” he tensed, but the twiggy man held up a palm.

“The Fabray-Lopez daughter is perfectly fine,” he was quick to assure. Puck hated this guy, hated him. In another time, he was sure he would have thrown the man into a dumpster, maybe punched him in the face for his ‘I’m too good for you’ looks he’d been casting toward their group the entire time they’d been here. “As…as her godfather, and you, Miss Berry, her godmother, you are…” he paused to grimace, “technically her guardians at this moment.”

Inhaling deeply, Puck tried to stay calm. At least for the girl in his arms, he promised himself. He wanted to punch a wall– he wanted to drive his old ford off of a cliff like he’d thought about when he was 17– he wanted to cry. But, he thought, biting his tongue, he knew that if he started crying now, he was not likely to stop. Puck swallowed thickly. “I…” 

He didn’t want to discuss this in front of these people. Kurt and Finn gave him pitied looks, and Puck knew that after this, he was going to have so many video game sessions with Finn in order to get his mind off of…of his best friends death. The weight of the words didn’t seem to register in his mind quite yet. “C’mon, Rach.” Closing his arms around Rachel like a protective sheath, he dragged her into the spare bedroom that he’d stayed in so many times before, the atmosphere instantly calmer now that there were no longer crying moms, police officers, and blaring red and blue lights streaming in through the windows. 

“It’s uh…” a deep breath, “it’s gonna be alright, okay?” Puck knew he wasn’t great at comforting anyone, but it was almost natural to keep Rachel pressed close against his chest. Long fingers, made to play piano, ran through beautiful dark hair, the softness of it no longer surprising him. He buried his nose there, deeply inhaling at the only person who could possibly know how he felt.

Thankfully, for the sake of Rachel’s pride, Puck was apparently having the same exact instinctual reaction that she did. The tiny brunette allowed Puck to help in keeping her body from going limp, her mind too completely consumed with wrenching pain that it couldn’t bother to think of focusing energy anywhere other than her heartbreak. She couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that the firefighter was now acting as a shield, protecting her from the burning gaze of everyone in the room as she watched her breakdown completely in his arms.

Rachel was positive that her temporary protector’s shift was becoming more and more covered in mascara and salty tears, but such casualties no longer mattered now that her best friend was no longer in the world. The Broadway star’s entire hierarchy of living was destroyed with the loss of Quinn and Santana. She felt a surprising ping of satisfaction as she listened to Puck cuss out one of the men in the room, an action that would normally warrant some sort of side remark from her. Rachel had a feeling no one hated those officers more than she and Puck did.

All movement of oxygen in her body halted the second she heard Puck mention their goddaughter. Sofia. How could she be so caught up in Quinn that she forgot about the most important little girl in the world. She began shaking at the thought of loosing her baby girl too, thankful as all hell for the tight grip Puck was holding her in. Her face was buried in Puck’s chest, so she couldn’t see what was going on, which was probably for the best. The pained looks on everyone’s face were enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. The actress heard the man’s words as if they were a foreign language. There had to be some mistake.

Before she could protest, or even respond, Rachel was guided into the spare bedroom by Puck. It was clearly a good move on his part, because any sort of sentence she tried to form would more than likely come out as a blubbering mess. “Alright?!” Rachel sobbed into his chest incredulously, preparing to list off all of the reasons everything was far from alright, before deciding against it and wrapping her arms around him even tighter. She stayed like that for a few moments, struggling immensely before pulling away, standing on her own for the first time since she heard the news, and taking in her surroundings.

Bad move. Rachel was now hyper aware of her surroundings, and of the fact that everything about them ‘Quinn and Santana’ to her. The color scheme was obviously Quinn’s doing, while the lounge-like feel could be attributed to Santana’s taste. The room even managed to smell like them. It was like they were in there with her, except they weren’t. And never would be again. Reeling from the thought, Rachel grabbed Puck’s upper forearm, physical separation from him proved to be unsuccessful at the moment. Her other hand went up to her hip as she leaned forward, to prevent her from completely doubling over. “Oh my god….” She gasped as she fought for air. “I can’t do this. I think I’m going to be sick.” Rachel clearly wasn’t, only because the pain she felt surpassed the feeling of sickness by miles. “We can’t do this. I don’t know the…..” More tears. Miniature hyperventilations. “I don’t know the… first thing about raising…” Rachel cut herself off, bringing her hand to her forehead as she looked to the ceiling to push back the momentum of her tears. She was unaware that she was now digging her nails into Puck’s arm.

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

“Her left boob is bigger than her right boob. Not that you care or nothin’, but that’s how Finn and I know ‘er. I could go on for days about how much crazy you hold up in that pretty little head of yours, but that’s not what I came in here for. You got any aspirin? You’re a girl, so I’m assumin’ you’ve got somethin’ in that suitcase of yours that you’re always carryin’ around.”

“A little bit’a both, I think. She’s the redheaded girl that looks like she should be Jewish but she ain’t. You think Judy’s carrying a flask under her dress– like in her garter belt or somethin’? Oh no, she’s gonna be a badass. She’s gonna go on the firetruck, become a black belt, and eat steak for every meal. She ain’t kosher, she can eat whatever.”

“You’re utterly and completely asinine, you know that Noah Puckerman? ‘Finn and I’ oh sure, poor Finn doesn’t have the capacity to think in such crass terms without being provoked by you first. Yeah, hold on, Quinn has some in the medicine cabinet. What’s wrong? Fighting off screaming one year olds is harder than fighting off fires?”

“Fantastic. You know you’re supposed to remove Sofia away from germ infested babies, right? I’m not sure, but if anyone can get it off her, we all know it’s you. She can learn karate for self defense, but that’s the only suggestion I will even entertain.” 

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

“…who? There’s a woman crazy enough to name ‘er kid after a stupid piece of fruit? You can say what you want, but if ‘yer modelin’ your life after someone like that, you’re gonna be crazy too.”

“Her resting bitch-face is the most interesting thing happenin’ right now. That one mom with the lipo has her snot-nosed little kid around Sofia and I don’t want any of their weird overly-Christian vibes rubbin’ off on her. Yeah, good luck with that– Mrs. Fabray is puttin’ on the show of ‘host’ at the moment, and her resting bitch-face is even worse than San’s is. Hey, I’ll have you know, my baby girl loved that firetruck ride and she’s gonna go again when they ain’t lookin’.”

“The actress in those plotless Iron Man movies you and Finn love so much? Are you calling me crazy, Noah? Because I have a whole itinerary planned to salvage this party and I don’t need to be distracted by your ‘Rachel Berry Is Crazy’ agenda right now, thanks though.”

“Is lipo daughter normal snot-nosed or like sinus infection snot nosed? Because it would be worse if actual germs rubbed off on our goddaughter. Fantastic, I think she’d been drinking because she’d been uncharacteristically involved in this entire thing. Over my dead body Puckerman. She can go her entire life without going on a firetruck for that matter.”

[godmotherberry]

Til It Happens to You// Puckleberry

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

Hazily, Puck knew that it must have been late in the evening, the darkness surrounding his bedroom, the open curtains not shedding any light on his four walls. Still, that did not stop his head from pounding– did not stop the soreness of his throat after being around smoke for the last few days. The phone ringing, which Puck realized had been the source of his awakening in the first place, did not cease for long after it went silent. The obnoxious sound started again and Puck fished underneath his pillow to find it. When his fingers finally closed around the metal-plastic mold, he thumbed for the “answer” button on the glass panel before him, his bleary eyes unable to read who was calling him this late on his day off. “’Ello?” 

The person on the other line seemed to pause at the rough tone to his voice, but the quiet did not continue long before Finn’s voice filtered through the speakers. “Puck– you need to get to Santana’s– right now– please, I–.” For a few long moments, Puck tried to be patient with his friend who was repeatedly moving into and out of static, proving further that Finn was just leaning in and away from the microphone. “Something’s wrong–”

Dread filled the pit of his stomach, the wetness in Finn’s tone making his muscles clench in trepidation. “What’s wrong? What happened–” Finding an unknown strength within him, Puck rolled out of his messy bed, teeth grinding in a way that made his jaw sore. Finn was not one to get emotional over nothing, the big goof never really understanding when something was truly upsetting. “–is Santana okay?”

Puck dressed himself as Finn continued to fidget and talk to others across the line distractedly. In a burst of anger, he growled out, “Finn.” Mumbling apologies, Puck could hear Kurt talking in similar tones in the background. Kurt was involved. The dread worsened, his rib cage almost painfully tight. “I’m on my way.”

Shoving his phone into his jean pockets, his discarded the belt, shoving on his old running shoes and darted out into the hallway and down the stairs to the parking lot. Puck considered for a minute that it would be faster to take his bike, being able to weave in and out of traffic, but he decided against it, knowing damn well how dangerous it was to ride when he was ‘emotionally compromised’ as Berry would say. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the thought of her, turning the key in his ignition; if Kurt was there, then Rachel was already notified, he was sure. Traffic did nothing to calm his nerves, and when Puck pressed play on his Guns N’ Roses, he found it just made him more agitated. A tired rage trembled through him, fingers gripping the steering wheel in a way that he was sure was cutting off the blood to his long fingers.

When the house he spent so much time in finally came into view, his anxiety dropped out into full-on fear, the large quantity of cop cars and multiple ambulances making his legs shake as he threw the car into park. The one day he wasn’t on-duty, he thought. Jogging to the scene, Puck saw Rachel’s back, tight and perfect posture, just outside of the door. Anger split him when he saw a cop put his hands on her. They might not have gotten along, but she was still his girl, and nobody touched his girls. “Berry?” He questioned, putting a worried hand on her shoulder, her eyes wildfire, which he was sure reflected in his own dark eyes. “What the fuck is going on? Let us in–” 

Puck assumed that the “Mr. Puckerman,” from the guys’ mouth was supposed to calming in some way, but it only enraged him further. With a harsh, well-tuned shoulder check, the man moved to the side in a blind surprise, and Puck pushed Rachel forward and through the doorway as the police officer righted himself. “Do you know what’s happening?” He croaked, dragging them toward Mrs. Fabray, that beautiful head of blonde hair noticeable from any distance. He almost wished it was Quinn instead. His stomach tightened. 

On my day off, Puck repeated to himself.

For the first time in her high strung life, Rachel actually felt something other than disgust upon being touched by Noah Puckerman. Relief. The unsettling sense of comfort crashed over the tiny brunette the second his hand touched her shoulder. He wasn’t messing around with her, preparing to pick her up and toss her somewhere he and Santana found hilarious, he was sharing in same hysterical confusion that was plaguing her. In another first, Rachel was bit her tongue while Puck used brute force on the other man, because this time it was to their advantage. “I- I have no clue.” Rachel stammered as she took his queue in rushing towards the house, her breath and words collaborating in an unnerving waver. Rachel rushed across the front steps she was so used to bouncing up, some would say overly excited to see her best friend tell her so she could tell her just about every detail of her day. Today the short trudge up the walkway seemed to take years, as it did when you were traveling towards the grave unknown. Shaky hands met the doorknob but Rachel pushed on it with such might that she practically stumbled into the house.

“Hello! Mrs. Fabray! Kurt!” Rachel’s anguished voice rang through the large home, bordering on mansion. As the normally composed Mrs. Fabray came even more into focus, mascara streaked across usually rosy cheeks, Rachel’s stomach dropped lower than she had previously believed possible. Without a word being exchanged between Rachel and her best friend’s mother, the other woman rushed her way to Rachel, all but collapsing in her arms. “My Quinn…. oh….. Rachel… my Quinn.” Bile rose in the back of the actress’s throat as her worst fear began to come to fruition. Weakly atting a manicured hand on the back Mrs. Fabray’s blonde head her knees instinctively bent to accommodate the woman who was now sitting on the ground and weeping. Brown orbs snapped up to meet Finn’s gaze, her words temporarily caught in her throat, stuck between fury and sorrow. “Someone tell me what’s going on!” She snapped at her friend, unaware to the fact that she was now fisting Mrs. Fabray’s shirt material. The room watched as Finn opened his mouth and began to hesitantly speak, before he was cut off by the man in the suit. What was the meaning of this imbecile? “We- we were supposed to isolate you and Mr. Puckerman until you were formally briefed but….” After gathering that he was not dealing with your run of the mill “loved ones” the lawyer was now a ball of nerves. No one in the foyer looked like they were moving without some sort of explanation

While the man was appearing to choke on his own tongue, Rachel brought Mrs. Fabray’s head to her chest and turned around to made eye contact with Puck. She was pleading with him, but for what she did not know. “There’s been an accident involving Ms. Fabray and Ms. Lopez. They were driving home this morning, and I deeply regret to inform you that they did not make it.” The words sent the grieving mother in Rachel’s embrace into another fit of hysterics. Make it? Make what?! The Broadway star began to hyperventilate at the mere thought that this man was suggesting her best friends had died. Fortunately Kurt had been tearfully watching the scene unfold and came over to take the grieving woman into his own arms. Physically crumbling as much as she was emotionally, Rachel was now completely on the floor too. “No…. no…. no….” she gasped, searching around the room for some sort of glitch in this reality, any sort of sign that she was just in a terrible nightmare. It had to be a dream, there was no other explanation Rachel would accept. She’d wake up, blow the producers away at her auditions, and then celebrate tonight with Quinn and Santana. Paul had been waiting in the doorway, and was now making his way over to Rachel to comfort her. That was not what she needed right now. Paul didn’t know how she was, how could he? She backed up against the wall as sobs tore through her chest. Tiny hands reached towards Puck as if he were her only lifeline.

[kpfun]

[godmotherberry]

godfatherpuck:

“You still bitchin’ about the baby food? Y’know, not everybody is into all that ‘can’t eat or drink nothin’ from an animal’ thing–”

“…San has mostly moved completely into Spanish and Quinn’s puttin’ on that weird cramped smile she gets when she doesn’t wanna talk to somebody. I think they’re over the baby food.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Some people actually care about the hard work they put into things, Noah. Gwyneth Paltrow is. And I’ll have you know Apple is growing up to be an amazing young woman.”

“The other moms hate when Santana does that. Which makes it kind of awesome, because I can’t stand them. But that’s probably making Quinn even more on edge, so tell her to try and tone it down. It’s the face she made when you and Santana thought it would be cute to take Sofia for a ride on the Firetruck, right?  Come to think of it, you probably know the look well.”