BFDI shipping and intercourse book lol

(Snowbell,1/3, fluff)That drunkard...

Btw all this is gonna be in object form.

Also, this chapter's not actually attractive at all, more of a traditional sitcom scene.

Anywho, first-time writer's self-deprecation swept under the rug, let's just get into it! :D

'twas a day like any other day. Bell was cooking ghoulash(Slovak soup, not Hungarian sauce) and was waiting at home for Snowball to come back from work. It was 7PM already, and she knew that his shift at the construction site ended at 6 PM and the commute was only half an hour or so. Still, she held out hope that her husband was merely experiencing a bit of unluck and indisposed, and not getting sloshed at the pub with Blocky, Pen, Eraser, and Spongy.

Actually, how was Spongy even working at a construction site? Did he carry bricks around on his head? Or was he somehow able to fit himself into the control cabin of a construction vehicle?

Displeased with the images produced by her imagination, she redirected it to more affable thoughts, such as all the ways her beloved Snowball could be slowed in his pilgrimage home by anything other than a set of alcoholic pals, keen to be joined by yet another in legion.

Her last new idea as to what could slow him had been a month ago. She herself was disappointed in it, as it had been very, very heavily inspired by the kaiju(Godzilla) movie she'd seen the night before.

After all, a monster attack was far more likely than such a caring man devoting himself to the bottle, wasn't it? Oh, so caring..... A sizzling sound awakened her from her daydream. Or was it an evening-dream? Either way, her meal was very certainly ready. And an hour later than he should've been, Snowball still wasn't home.

Having finished the latest episode of a sitcom she would've otherwise watched after dinner and in Snowballs lap, Bell began eating her warm dinner alone. The hot soup not having cooled much due to staying in the pot served better as a metaphor for her feelings than to ease her frustration, and having large bowls with bits poking out such that she could simply lean on and tilt them over to pour soup directly in her mouth was much more practical than using a straw, but still not as romantic or as free of burn hazards as being spoonfed by SB. Oh, what she'd do to have him here right now...

But he wasn't here, and she was getting increasingly frustrated about it.

And so she ate/drank her soup before settling down in an armchair to read the Old Testament.

She felt in the mood for divine judgement. She couldn't pinpoint whether she would've wished it aimed at her Snowball, at his foul company, her lonely self or at some general effigy of the current state of affairs. Either way, her frustration was growing by the minute, and reading Judith probably didn't help.

At around 10 PM, she heard someone clumsily stick a key into the door lock. Bell swung out of her armchair to the kitchen to grab the rolling pin, knowing it was time to vent her frustration with the drunkard. This was the second time in a row that Snowball was late this week, and she had no intention of letting him consider repeating tonight a third time.

A few seconds and swings around the house later she hung right beside the door, the key to which Snowball was still fumbling around for on his keyring. His difficulty with finding the proper key was a teltale sign of his drunkenness. She prepared herself for her maneuver.

Bell knew the door wouldn't creak upon opening, since she always made Snowball oil it when it got creaky. She was slightly regretting this now, as she waited for him to open it so she could quickly turn herself around and slam him in the face with the rolling pin. Luckily for her, Snowball let out a loud mixture of a sigh and a groan as he opened the door.

As he tried to step inside, he tripped on the doorstopper and-

THUD.

Snowball fell face first into the rolling pin.

Lumps of snow scattered all across the room, rapidly melting due to no longer being part of a sentient being. Bell made a mental note of the fact she'd have to mop the entrance later.

For now, she needed to do something about her unconcious, and now 20% smaller husband. She lowered herself down and gently gripped his foot with her lips before pulling him into the flat in a couple bursts.

Once he wasn't lying in the door, she rose back up and pushed the door closed. Then she pulled him into the living room and swung him onto the couch, before going to bed herself.

She wormed her way under the covers of her, and usually also Snowball's, bed, before remembering that she still had to mop up the inevitable puddles from Snowball's fallen off snow.

She got back out of bed with a groan and fetched a mop from the closet. Holding the mop handle clenched between her teeth, she managed to remove most of the water from the flat's entrance.

After cleaning up, she stole one last glance at Snowball before she went to sleep. He'd have a lot of explaining to do tommorow for all the hardship he'd put her through tonight.

As she wormed her way below the covers again, she was further angered by the fact that there wasn't a man with pair of strong arms there to tuck her in tonight, and that rather than a "Goodnight honey." from just a minute before, tonight she'd be sleeping with the last spoken sentence said near her being "Hey Bushy, how do you move around if you don't have feet?" several hours ago. And thinking about how upsetting a fact that was, she fell asleep.

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Author's notes:
Took 3 days with a couple pause days inbetween to write.
Next one will probably go through with the promise from the book title. ;)

And I might move to ao3 because I have heard some and read much praise of it and because I finished reading all the passable OSC fics here.

Give any constructive criticism I will love it! K THX BYEEEEE :)