#100 fic celebration

[rainbow-nerdss]

I have officially posted ONE HUNDRED FICS on ao3!

I just hit the landmark and I was going to post a roundup of some of the fics I've had the most fun writing, but I figured I would turn it into a game!

Send me an ask with a tag, a song, or a single word, and I'll reply with the fic of mine which I think fits that theme best!

[courfee]

it's been exactly a year since the last chapter of Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule and I still miss it. This scene is probably one of my favourite things I've ever written and I've wanted to draw it for forever, so now seemed like an appropriate time

[ncis-nerd]

Hungry

100 follower celebration

fandom: marvel

ship: blackhill x fem!reader

about: dinner where our two lovely boss ladies cannot take their hands off you. you're all dressed up and so perfect for them.

warnings: smut, exhibitionism, public sex, very brief reference to politics, pet names, praise, degradation, fingering (r receiving, nat giving), dom blackhill, sub r, r has a uterus, r is referred to as she.

"A-and did you see his reaction!" Bucky exclaimed, taking a sip of his drink. "I KNOW!! It was so funny!" Tony chuckled. Their voices drowned out, as you suddenly became aware of Maria's hand sitting on your thigh. It was firm. Your eyes met her hungry gaze. Nat was also eyeing you, you found her staring at your chest.

The team went out to dinner at an expensive restaurant so you had to dress up. You decided to wear a dress that was very revealing, obviously your girlfriends could not take their eyes off of you when you were getting ready.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

They tried to touch you, but you swatted their hands away because you were trying to do your makeup. Also you guys literally had no time to mess around because the reservation was for 8pm and you had to leave in 10 minutes.

Natasha groaned when she realized you were serious. "Please detka, a quickie? I can make it fast." Nat pleated. You shook your head no. As appealing as that sounded, you needed to finish your eyeshadow.

Maria smirked when when entered the room, overhearing Nat's pleads to touch you. "Don't be so desperate dear. Our little slut will practically be begging us to fuck her by the end of the night" Maria spoke calmly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

And that brought you to this exact moment, you were starting to think that you should've taken Nat up on her offer. You were sandwiched between the two. Nat's fingers started to make it's way onto your thigh as well. Her hand patted your thigh to spread.

You looked at her, turning red. "Cmon detka, no one is paying attention. They're engrossed in the drunken conversation of politics." Nat whispered closely to your ear, her breath tickled you.

You obliged and Maria raised an eyebrow at you, not seeing the actions of the spy. Natasha looked at her with a smirk. Maria rolled her eyes.

Nat' hand snaked between your thighs, trailing up until she met your underwear. Oh, you were soaked. She smirked and traced painfully slow circles over your underwear.

You huffed and looked at Nat with puppy dog eyes. "Y/N! What do you think?" Maria smirked, inviting you to join the conversation. You jumped, obviously not expecting that. Your legs tried to close but Maria held them open. God you looked so flustered.

"Y/N, you're turning red. Are you feeling well?" Carol asked, an ounce of concern sounded in her voice. Valkyrie pinched Carol lightly, she realized what was happening and Valkyrie noticed Carol turning a little pink herself.

"M' fine" you mumbled. They went back to their own conversation, not nothing that you, Natasha and Maria have been fairly quiet. Your head started to feel a little fuzzy.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You looked at Maria and whined softly. "What is it bunny? Use your words." Maria said firmly. "Please, please, please" you mumbled into her ear. Her demeanor soften, "Please what honey? Can you tell me and daddy what you need?" Maria cooed. "Touch' please" you mumbled, hardly able to form sentences. "Good job at using your words, baby." Maria praised you. She wouldn't be too hard on you, knowing you're in a fuzzy headspace.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Fuck you looked so perfect, your glassy eyes was her final straw. She caved in and began to fuck you harder. Her fingers curled in you, picking up speed. You had to bite your lip to hide your moans. "You close, bunny?" Natasha whispered into your ear.

You nodded desperately. "Then come for me, be a good girl for me, angel." Natahsa gave you permission. You felt your high approaching. Maria's fingers found your clit and rub fast circles around it. Fuck, this is it. Your legs began to shake as you came down from your high.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"You okay bunny?" Maria whispered, as both their fingers left you. You whined softly, feeling empty. "Hey guys, Y/N's forehead feels hot so we're gonna go home. You guys enjoy the dinner." Natasha spoke, helping you to feet. You clung onto both of the women. They smiled softly at your clingness. "Hope you feel better y/n" a bunch of mumbles as you guys left.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

a/n: THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!! HOPE YOU ENOYED :)

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

Imagine Alpine waking up you and Bucky cause she’s hungry or she just wants attention from her mommy and daddy🥰🩵🩷

Just Like Her Dad

PAIRINGS: James "Bucky" Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

WARNINGS: Extreme fluffiness (pun intended)

WORD COUNT: 364

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

The afternoon sun shines brightly through the open blinds, indicating the day is nearly half done. Bucky and you sleep in after staying up all night to watch the entire Hobbit series.

You feel Bucky wrapping an arm around your back pulling you close, and you nudge your nose against his chest inhaling his woodsy scent. You just lay in each other's arms, wanting to soak in the presence of the other.

Suddenly, a mass jumps on the bed. Then jumps on your side, and you let out an 'oof'.

Turning around, you see Bucky's white cat, Alpine. She chews on your covers and you start to chuckle.

"Aw, hello there baby," you pick her up and cuddle her close your chest. She purrs and rubs her head against your collarbone.

Bucky clears his throat, and opens his eyes to see the view in front of him. "Mornin' Alps," he rubs her chin, and Alpine moves away from Bucky and closer to you.

You both are in shock.

"Someone has a favourite," he grumbles and rubs his eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. You laugh and coo and the little furball. "No she doesn't," you argue playfully, adjusting the little pink bow you tied on a small clump of her fur at the top of her head last night. Bucky looks at you with a look that just says 'are you kidding me?'.

"She doesn't!" You laugh harder and your grin windes, "Buck, I'm serious she doesn't like me more." Bucky turns and lies flat on the bed as he nods sarcastically, "sure."

Alpine purrs loudly and snuggles closer to your body, Bucky laughs and raises a brow at you, "see."

You shake your head and hug the cat closer, "Alpine, do you like me or you're Daddy more?" Alpine meows and licks at your jaw, pronoucing her choice.

You gasp while Bucky laughs, "I told you, she LOVES you more."

You shake your head as you laugh with Bucky, "well it just proves one thing." Bucky looks at you curiously, reaching over and starts to play with your hair lazily, "yeah?"

You hum and nod, "she's just like her dad." You wink at him.

💌💌💌

So fucking mad at Marvel, for not including Alpine in TFATWS.

Like besties, we were ROBBED.😩😩😩

LOVE THIS ASK, ALWAYS ON DECK FOR WRITING ALPINE.

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[shewroteaworld]

PCOS

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

100 Follower Celebration Request: "🤨 + 'You’re braver than you think and more beautiful than you know.' "

Premise: You've been keeping a secret from your boyfriend. At the most inopportune time, it thrusts itself into the light. He doesn't have the reaction you feared.

Warnings: mentions of Criminal Minds--typical violence, mentions of nausea, discussions of chronic illness, mentions of poor self-esteem

Word count: approx. 3,000

When the unsub impaled you with the knife, you gasped awake.

You blinked open your eyes to pitch black darkness, a pulse of 200 beats per minute, a stomach frothing with queasiness, and cold skin sticky with sweat. 

Something velvety constricted your body like cling wrap. The suffocation was akin to being buried six feet under. Fortunately, the feather pillow cushioning your head and the soft foam squashed beneath your fingertips broke through your sleep-addled mind. 

It was only a nightmare. You were still laying in bed next to Aaron Hotcher.

Your breath caught, and you went rigor mortis still. Once A’s soft snoring reached you, you relaxed.

 Tiredly, you smiled at a ceiling you couldn’t see. You didn’t wake him. The last thing A needed after a horrifying case was to not only be woken before dawn but also be woken by his girlfriend gasping in terror. 

Your boyfriend of six months, Aaron, was an FBI supervisory special agent. As a civilian, there was plenty of work information to which you were not privy, especially if a case went south. Often, Aaron didn’t tell you where he flew for work. All you knew was, he’d be away for days. However, sometimes you’d know where Aaron was flying back from once the case was handled. Either, he could tell you once the target was apprehended or you found out via news report.

Based on the news reports from New Mexico that featured the BAU's media liaison, Jennifer Jareau, a cult leader ended his sadistic campaign with an AR-15 shootout and a murder-suicide that caught the state police completely off guard. The FBI caught the scent of his plan, but by the time they sniffed it out, they were 5 steps too far behind. Thankfully, Aaron nor any of his unit members died. 

Aaron returned to his DC brownstone to ceramic pans full of your best dishes— all piping hot— on his kitchen counter.  You made sure to prepare enough food to last him a couple weeks; emotionally trying work events and tons of paperwork were the perfect recipe for Aaron to not eat enough, and you weren’t going to make it easy for him. The past work weeks had been a whirlwind for you as well; you’d billed 15 plus hours every day for the past week to resuscitate a major merger on its deathbed. You set the last dirtied spoon on A’s drying rack two seconds before he unlocked his front door.   

Aaron left the details of his past case vague. He kept the details of his emotional state even vaguer. But you could tell in the extra tight grip of his hello hug that he was in need of grounding. You anchored him with a constant, comforting grip, on his calloused hands. You fed him your best mac and cheese; you even cut back on your beloved pepperjack for his spice sensitive taste buds. Later that evening, you took a soothing shower together and collapsed into bed. You broke your typical bedtime routine: instead of discussing the latest novel you’ve read or life realizations, you watched a so-bad-it's-good corporate soap and ripped it a part for its inaccuracies.  That’s when Aaron laughed for the first time since he came home. 

You were relieved you didn’t wake him. Even though food comas were “scientifically disproven,” a factoid Aaron passed on to you from his team's young genius, Doctor Spencer Reid, you hoped the welcome home dinner you made him helped sustain his deep sleep.

Your adrenal glands calmed. You closed your eyes, but, not a second later, you were rudely interrupted by a sharp pain three inches below your belly button--- right where the unsub stabbed you.

It was just a dream. With a quiet huff, you rolled onto your side and curled against Aaron’s back. 

That’s when you felt it— a tacky liquid sticking your satin pj pants to your thighs. A swell of nausea overtook you, and you feared it was not a byproduct of anxiety alone. 

Gingerly, you slid out of bed. With the nausea sliding up your esophagus and the sensation of the room spinning, it wouldn’t take Holmes to confirm the cause, but you refused to panic without irrefutable evidence.

Gently, you folded the covers back.  Not daring to turn on your phone flashlight, you tapped your home screen and raised the brightness. 

When you hovered the light over the bed sheet, deep red splotches of smeared period blood screamed against Aaron’s stark white sheets. 

Something deep and cold coiled in the pit of your stomach. You clicked your phone off. Carefully, you took a few steps back from the bed. 

Your stomach whirled. A shiver crawled up your spine. You hurriedly tiptoed across the carpet to Aaron’s ensuite. Even in your haste, you quietly shut the door behind you. As soon as the door was in its oak frame, you turned the lock.

You pulled the roots of your hair with an iron grip. Shit. Shit.

You collapsed onto the edge of Aaron’s bathtub. There was blood all over your pj bottoms. You stood in a panic. You looked back and, of course, in a matter of three seconds, you stained the white acrylic.

You went to his faucet and patted ice cold water on your cheeks. Get a grip. Stress would only make the inevitable worse. Why it was possible for your body to malfunction this severely, you’ll never understand. 

If you’d only been blessed with a normal body, one that menstruated on a timely schedule and didn’t come with a laundry list of ugly, graphic symptoms, tonight would be nothing more than a minor embarrassment.

The guilt for waking Aaron on tonight of all nights would be strong, but all you would have to do is tap him awake, apologize, and attack your blood splotches with a hydrogen peroxide–soaked cotton ball and the night would revert back to a typical night with your boyfriend.

You wished you were well enough to clean his sheets. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn't possible. You’d get even more nauseated. Or too lightheaded. You already felt sick when you woke up, which meant you were menstruating for a few hours. 

How did you not catch this? Your body at least has the decency of shooting some warning flares, and the new medication your OB/GYN prescribed three months ago was far from 100 percent effective at calming your PMS symptoms.

You ran a hand over your face and through your hair. You were two weeks early after billing unbelievable hours for that merger dispute. This was stress induced.

You forced a deep breath. You needed to find a way out of this.

Suddenly, your vision swam. With no other option, you sat on the stained portion of Aaron’s bathtub. You gripped your stomach as the pain twisted deeper into your abdomen. You hunched over yourself.

Tonight could not become Aaron’s baptism by fire into your PCOS. He was exhausted physically and emotionally. He shouldn’t have to deal with all the baggage that comes when you experience the most natural thing in the world for a woman. 

The nausea crawled up your throat, and you forcefully swallowed it back with a groan.

You put your head in your hands. You didn’t bring enough pads. Or tampons. You didn’t have any anti-emetics. What if you got a migraine? What if you fainted and A woke to what appeared to be your corpse lying on his bathroom tile? 

Your spiral was interrupted by the man in question. “Honey?” Aaron called, voice strung. 

Before you could respond, he yelled. “Honey?!” 

You stood, and Aaron’s bathroom tilted on an axis. You barely managed to stumble to the doorway.

Fumbling, you unlocked the door just as Aaron reached the it. 

His brown eyes were wide blown and wild. You'd never seen that expression on him before. “Are you okay?” He held your forearms as if he were afraid you’d crumple with too harsh a touch.

“I saw the blood and I…” He swallowed. He scanned you from head to toe repeatedly. “I thought the worst.” He whispered. Your heart fell through the pit of your stomach to the soles of your feet. 

He cupped your cheeks. “Baby, you’re really off color. I need you to talk to me. Where are you hurt?” The blood stains on the back of your pants were out of his view.

“I’m not hurt, A.” You said.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Your side of the bed is blood stained.” He said, his voice taking a sterner edge. 

“I’m on my monthly.” 

“Oh.” He released your arms. His cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, honey, I…” He ran his hands over his bedhead. “I should’ve…I jumped to conclusions.” He sounded shocked with himself.

“You’ve had a long day.” You whispered. “Give me a minute. I’ll clean.”

Suddenly, everything went blurry. Your muscles slacked, and your forehead dropped onto Aaron’s pectoral. 

A hand was back on your forearm, this time with a tighter grip. A calloused hand tapped your cheek. “Hey. Hey. Baby. Stay with me.”

Carefully, he walked you away from the door. “Sit.” Fully supporting your back, he sat you on the floor and leaned you against the bathtub. 

As soon as your back was fully supported, his ensuite regained color. You could take a deep breath again.

Aaron knelt in front of you. “Honey,” Aaron said, his stare piercing through yours. He stroked your hair out of your face. “I need you to be honest with me. What’s wrong?”

“I told you.” More accurately, you began to tell him. 

You shivered. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead and stroked down your cheekbone.

“I don’t have a fever.” You insisted. “It’s just my monthly.”

 He pecked your forehead. He didn’t believe you. “Is it always this bad?” He asked with a mix of concern and skepticism. 

“Yes.” You sighed. “I have polycystic ovarian syndrome.” 

“PCOS?” He asked. 

You were shocked. “You know what that is?” 

He nodded. “I’ve heard of it.” 

“It can make my time of the month super severe.” Stubborn tears leaked from your eyes. You wiped your cheeks with the cuff of your pajama shirt. 

You were supposed to be the woman who kicked ass in the boy’s club of corporate law by day and kicked ass as the perfect girlfriend by night.

He was not supposed to see you trembling before him, huddled in pain. He was not supposed to see you on the verge of throwing up from period cramps when he almost died in a hail of bullets less than twelve hours ago. He was never supposed to see how weak you truly were. 

He took over wiping your tears with his thumbs. “Scale of 1 to 10—how bad is the pain?”

“Maybe an 8?” You said. It was a 9. If you could’ve managed without your head aching, you would’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. The one thing about dating a profiler is they always know when you’re fibbing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. 

You sniffled. “About my condition or that I’m in pain?”

“I think those are a package deal.” He said gently.

You sighed. Your instinct was to lie, but you stopped yourself. Aaron could see right through you. He was one of the best behavioral analysts in the entire world. For the first leg of your relationship, you’d managed to avoid this confrontation which was a blessing in itself. 

“I didn’t want you to see how sick I get. How sick I am.” You toyed with the ends of your hair. “I didn’t want you to know how weak I am.” You whispered. 

His eyes softened. “Honey, you’re not weak because you have PCOS."

“There are months where I can’t even stand up.” You said, voice taught with tears.

“And that’s why I need to know." He smoothed your hair. "Have you been going through this every month by yourself?”

“Since I moved out of my mother’s place for undergrad, yeah.” You sniffled with a watery smirk. 

He wrapped an arm around your back, then hesitated. “Can I hug you?”

“Please.” You whispered

He pulled you into a hug. His hold was looser than normal, but his embrace still filled you with warmth from head to toe. 

“Darling, I love you so much.” Aaron said.  “I would never look down on you for this.”

“It’s just…I’m not used to….”

“Being this vulnerable.” Aaron finished sympathetically. 

You nod. “It’s just…I get so sick. It makes me so ugly.”

He shook his head. “Hey.” He made sure you were looking him in the eye. “You’re never ugly.”

You chuckled. “You’ll revisit that answer when you see me dry heaving at 3 in the morning.” You said, unpleasant nights resurfacing.

His lips don’t do so much as quirk upwards. Rather, he looked shattered. He squeezed your hands. “I won’t.”

“What can I do to help?” He pivoted.

“You can change the sheets.” You looked to the top corner of the ensuite door frame as more tears welled. “And go back to bed.”

“I won't ever leave you on the bathroom floor in pain, alone.”

“But you should.” You said. He cupped your cheeks with his homey hands. He gently pulled your chin back to level your gaze, but you resisted. 

“Why should I?” He asked.

“Because you’re tired. And I’m sick. And I’m broken. And there’s nothing you can do.” You make eye contact and immediately are wracked with full body sobs. 

Suddenly, every second of you’d spent building up your self-esteem went out the window as your deepest insecurities broke through. You were never supposed to be a burden to him. 

He pulled you into chest and wrapped you in his arms..“Helping you when you’re sick is never a burden. I love you so much.”

“What if you get tired of me?” What if this made him stop loving you?

“I won’t.” He promised. 

He pressed another kiss to your forehead. “We’ll return to this conversation when you’re feeling better.” He stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. “What helps? Do you have medication?”

“I have daily medication. I’m still working with my doctor to get a regimine that works.” You wiped your eyes. “Heat helps. I drink this peppermint tea to help my stomach when I’m at home.” You rambled.

“The one by that British brand?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“When I saw their tea in your apartment, I bought some to keep here. I might have some peppermint. I’ll be back, honey.” He left you with a kiss on the cheek.

The tailoring he did to his world to accommodate you would never cease to flutter your heart.

The pleasant moment was quickly halted by your stomach bubbling. 

As A’s slippers padded down the stairs, you crawled across the tile floor over to the toilet. You forced your head between your knees.

About ten minutes later, you heard the clack of his slippers against the bathroom floor. “Nauseous?” He asked.

You nodded. 

He sat the mug close to you. “Your tea to your left within arm's reach. I’m going to grab some blankets and pillows. I’ll be right back. Shout if you need something.”

You learned by “some blankets and pillows” Aaron meant an entire blanket set. 

As you leaned your head back against the wall, Aaron began prepping your makeshift bed. In your peripheral vision, you laid pillows as floor cushioning.

“I won’t judge you if you go to sleep in bed. This gets ugly.”

“Baby, I’m an FBI agent for the BAU. Even if you threw up on me, it wouldn’t make the list of the top fifty gross things I’ve experienced by miles.” 

You scooched onto a pillow. Aaron slipped the blankets around you.

Your head found the soft crook of his neck. He pressed his head onto yours, and the pressure instantly relaxed you. Unfortunately, your your uterine muscles corkscrewed. You squirmed in pain.

Aaron shushed you. “You need to breathe. This will pass, just breathe.”

You clasped his hand like a lifeline. What feels like hours later, when the pain begins to ebb away, you pant, “It’s alright if you need to go to sleep.” Aaron already relayed his plans to go into the office on Saturday morning to attack some dense paperwork. 

He placed his free hand overtop of yours. “You will always be a priority for me. I hope I’ve shown you by now that I will always take care of you.”

You smiled into his shoulder. 

“Also, the heating pad is charging in the bedroom, and, before you ask about the sheets, they’re already in the wash.”

You sighed in happiness. “I could kiss you right now.” 

“What’s stopping you?” Gently, he pressed his lips to the top of your forehead.

You smiled again. You could count on your hand the number of times you’d smiled when you’re like this: on the bathroom floor, nauseous and dizzy.

You squeezed his knee with your free hand. “You promise you’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you. I love you. And, just for the record…this may be tough, but you're not ugly and you're not weak. You're braver than you think and more beautiful than you know. I'm grateful to be the one holding you through this."

In the coming days, you’re certain you’ll have a laundry list of next steps from your boyfriend: call your doctor, check in with a dietitian, monitor stress, anything he could think of to lessen these symptoms. He’ll probably want to talk more about why you didn’t tell him sooner.

But, for now, you're both satisfied with sitting on the bathroom floor and riding this out. And in a moment where the pain could split you in pieces, you somehow felt whole. 

Author's Note: I'm happy to say the 100 follower celebration fics are finally going live!

I hope you're having a good day or night! Thanks for taking the time to read my work! And, to anyone struggling with a condition similar to the reader's: you, too, are braver than you think and more beautiful than you know!

xoxo,

shewroteaworld

[sailor-aviator]

Ok so I just saw a TikTok about a woman who found out she was pregnant with their first child a few weeks after her husband left for deployment and she’s like 8 months pregnant now and he’s coming home from deployment finally. I was wondering about Jake in that situation. Like how would he react? I know he’s be devastated to miss most of the pregnancy and not being able to give you a hug when you guys found out. He would have been so attentive and doting during the pregnancy normally, but now he would be SUPER doting to try to make up for lost time. What do you think?

(Feel free to ignore this💕)

Pffffft as if I'd ignore this gold mine.

But like, imagine though.

You waited anxiously in the parking lot, leaning up against your car in a futile effort to ease some of the comfort. It wasn't easy being eight months pregnant. And it wasn't easy having to go through it alone while your husband had been shipped off to god only knows where just before you had found out. And it certainly wasn't easy keeping it a secret from him for that entire time.

You still weren't sure you had done the right thing by not telling him. On one hand, you hadn't wanted him to worry while he was an ocean away, and you definitely didn't want him to worry about you when he was operating a multi-ton machine thousands of feet up in the air. No, the very thought made you sick with worry of your own.

On the other hand...

You opened up the passenger side door, carefully dipping down to grab your water bottle that you had flung in the seat and some Tums for your heartburn. You had just found the bottle of Tums when a pair of strong legs stopped in your peripheral.

"Well, hi there gorgeous."

You jumped, turning to face the man beside you.

"Jake!" you cried, smiling reflexively at the sight of your husband. He beamed down at you as you straightened, tummy still hidden by the car door. Jake leaned in to plant a long, slow kiss to your lips. One turned into two. Two turned into three. Finally, you pulled away from him with a hum, and a pout settled on his lips. "Missed you, baby."

Your heart stuttered. "I missed you too," you replied, cursing at the nerves that made their way into your tone. Jake's brow furrowed.

"You okay, darlin'?" he asked. You shifted your weight as you tried to figure out the best way to tell him. Before you could, Jake rounded the door, stopping when he finally took in your full form. His eyes widened, and his jaw nearly fell to the ground. "What?" he trailed off.

"I wanted to tell you," you rushed out, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. Damn hormones. "I just didn't know how, and it didn't seem like the kind of thing you say over the phone, and I didn't want to worry you, and it's not like you could just up and leave, and-"

Jake didn't seem to be paying attention to your rambling as he stared down your stomach, his gaze full of quiet awe. Slowly, he reached a hand out to place it on your stomach.

"We're having a baby?" he asked quietly. You felt the tears roll down your cheeks before you could stop them.

"Yes," you sobbed. "Oh, Jake. I'm so sorry."

That caught his attention. His eyes snapped up to meet yours. A confused frown tugging at his lips. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for, sweetheart?"

"I should have told you before now," you cried. Jake shook his head, reaching up to cradle your head to his chest as much as your stomach would allow.

"None of that, mama," he cooed, rocking you gently from side to side. "It's me who should be sorry for leaving you here to do this all by yourself."

"It's not like you had a choice," you muttered, nuzzling into his chest. Jake ran a soothing hand over your hair.

"Doesn't matter now," he hummed, pulling away just far enough to see you. "I'm here, and I plan on making up for lost time. Now, let's get home so I can pamper and spoil my beautiful wife that's carrying my baby."

Jake helped you into the passenger seat, making sure you were buckled in securely before jogging over to the other side.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked excitedly as he drove the speed limit home, something completely out of character for your husband.

"A boy," you smiled, rubbing your stomach affectionately.

Jake grinned. "A boy," he breathed with a shake of his head. You were sure his cheeks were sore from how hard he was smiling. "Have you decided on a name?"

You shook your head. "Wanted to wait until you came home so we could decide together."

"What about Jake Junior?"

"Absolutely not," you snort. Jake's smile never faltered as he let out a chuckle.

"That's okay, mama. I've still got a whole month to get you to come around."

[bcyhoods]

LOVEFOOL 💌 — ‘honey, i’m home’ with stevie please. no pressure at all and take ur time or feel free to skip it, idm at all. and congratulations again ml, ily xx

drew babyyyyy, i love u and i’m saur sorry this took so long!! i may have went overboard | 1.6k fem!reader

warnings: alcohol + one drunk steeb + undressing + shit ending

Robin is the first to insist that his party days are well behind him. It was supposed to be a lighthearted toast in some random corner of a vaguely familiar backyard. Keg King Steve has fallen from grace! Here’s to a sign of maturity!

The sentiment, much to Steve’s chagrin, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and it rivals whatever’s in his cup.

“So Harrington’s a lightweight, big deal! I still think you’re just as charming.” With a heavy hand and a tipsy grin, Eddie reassuringly slaps across Steve’s shoulders. The sheer force of it has his entire body jerking forward and his drink jumping over the plastic rim. It spills over his fingers, grossly sticking to his skin and foaming at the edge of his sleeve.

He’s not quite sure why it even affects his ego so much, but it’s feeling bruised and battered. Like something sour and unforgiving crept into his chest and delivered a hefty blow to his Pride.

It has him sputtering as he lamely pushes away the metal-head, “I can still—I mean, I'm not…a lightweight.”

Robin is usually pretty good at spotting his unease when she’s sober, but the cheap beer seems to make her hypersensitive to his changing mood. She shakes her head fervently and harshly swallows. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of!” She starts, “I’m just saying, you know…you’re not who you were in high school! Which is good! It’s a good thing. It’s just, like, your tolerance decreases as you get older and less athletic, everybody knows that. So it’s perfectly normal.”

He knows that she means well. It’s obvious in the way she attempts to soothingly rub his arm, the way she smiles at him as best she can. But he’s feeling like he just got all the air knocked out of lungs.

You’re not who you were in high school.

It’s loud. It echoes unkindly against his skull and penetrates the most vulnerable parts of his brain until the noise is smothered by something else. Something a lot less intelligible, almost barbaric.

The frenzied chanting over by the keg rings in his ears and grows louder with each weak breath he takes. Eddie’s trying to help now — says something about how Steve can still outsmoke half his regular customers. But his voice is static in the boy’s mind now as his attention is focused on a pair of ankles being held in the air in the midst of the growing crowd.

Just then, an old lightbulb flickers on in his head, his Pride is reanimated with a dizzying desire to prove himself. His chest increases in size, his shoulders are pushed back, his chin is held high, but the confidence doesn’t seem to reach his face. “I’m not a lightweight,” he mumbles before he’s striding across the grass and taking his place at the keg.

Steve is not a lightweight. He can certainly still hold his keg stand record. But he’s got enough alcohol in his system to fuel a garage full of cars.

It’s why he ends up hanging off your shoulders, humming some song by The Smiths, and making it entirely impossible to unlock your apartment door.

The warm skin of his forehead pushes into your cheek as he noses at the junction between your neck and your shoulder. Muscly arms are tightly wound against your middle, trapping your own arms underneath and pressing your keys into your thigh. His fluffy brown hair, uncharacteristically and boyishly disheveled, tickles the corner of your eye.

“Steve, I can’t…” You try to fight off his arms, but they only seem to tighten followed by a groan of protest from him. You huff before softly restarting, “I can’t open the door, Stevie.”

“Oh! Sorry,” he whispers. He readjusts himself so that one arm is around your back and the other lies limp at his side.

You’re finally able to unlock the door and push it open with the toe of your shoe before you’re helping Steve inside the darkness of your shared loft. As soon as he feels your hands leave his body, he frowns and slouches against the wall, mumbling something that you can’t quite make out. When you close the door and turn on the lamp, he’s abruptly jumping up and taking a harsh breath.

“Honey, I’m home!” His loud voice bursts into the empty apartment and reverberates against the walls.

He tries to stifle his giggle when he sees you flinch and consequently hit his chest. You press your index finger to your lips and glare at the boy, but he only snorts at the conspicuous smile you’re trying to suppress.

“Shh, Steve—”

“Shh! My girlfriend’s sleeping. Cool it,” he interjects lowly with his own finger wagging at you. Another snort and chuckle comes from him at his own joke before his shoulders slump again.

“Let’s go join her, then, yeah?” You coax him, gently pushing at his back so that he’s walking forward. His footsteps drag the entire journey to the bedroom until he lays eyes on the unmade bed that’s just screaming his name.

As soon as his hand reaches down to touch the mattress, his limbs turn to jelly and he gracelessly flops into the sheets. A groan of relief and exhaustion is pulled from his throat as he lets himself sink further into the pillows. Once you’ve turned on the light, you lean down to take his shoes off before you’re yanking him back up to you. He’s standing, but he’s slightly rocking back and forth on his ankles with his eyes closed.

You’re untucking his polo and pushing it up his torso, but his arms remain stuck at his sides. You sigh and pat against his chest to get him to look at you, which he does. “Steve, baby, I'm gonna need your help.”

Wordlessly, he throws his arms up and grabs at the hem of his shirt once you’ve pushed it up his arms. He flings it off and grabs at his undershirt to do the same, but freezes when he feels you unbuckle his belt. His face is burning up now as he watches you tug the leather out of the belt loops and reach for the button of his jeans.

“Woah, take me t’dinner first.”

A lazy smirk and glassy eyes are pointed your way and a laugh is pushed from your mouth before you can stop it. Every ounce of smugness is gone within a second and all he can do is stare at you with a big smile.

“If you behave, we’ll go to dinner tomorrow. Benny’s ‘cause they have your favorite burgers.”

He doesn’t even register what you say because he’s too focused on your laugh. The way your chest rumbles and the way these cute little wrinkles start to form by the corners of your eyes. Even when you dip your head away or cover your mouth to hide from him. The sound itself is enough to have him smiling, but you just look so pretty when you’re laughing, he’s practically starstruck.

When he comes to, you’re tapping at his calves to step out of his jeans. As soon as you’re upright again, he points out, “I’m making you laugh. Am I funny?”

“Oh, yeah,” you say it like it’s obvious, “This is supposed to be a secret, but…you make me laugh a lot actually.” The admission prompts a happy puff of air from him as he sits back down on the bed. He’s looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Good. I like when you laugh. When you’re laughing at me.”

You tug at his tank top to signal for him to lift his arms, and he happily obliges.

Scars run across his abdomen and glisten with each movement he makes. When he feels your fingertips gently kiss at the edges of the marred skin, a sobering feeling of vulnerability washes over him. A feeling that he’d tried so hard to get rid of tonight, hoping to drown it with a wave of something, anything else. And you seemed to bring it right back without even trying. Only it doesn’t feel suffocating like it did earlier. It feels safe.

“You’re so good t’me…” His voice is much softer now. He leans into your touch, shivering as you drag your hands up to his face, but his eyes are unmoving as they gaze into your own. “I love you.”

You beam down at him and push his wild hair back to leave a kiss on his forehead. “I love you, too, Steve.” And though you’ve said it a million times before, always teeming with warmth and fondness, his brows still pinch together.

“Really? You love me? You’re not lyin’?”

Your expression mimics his. But you only get closer to him, reassuring him, “‘Course I love you.”

“But…even though I get like this? Even though I can’t—hicc—though I’m not Steve from high school?” He grimaces. The words from earlier in the night faintly resurface in the back of his mind and he’s feeling bitter all over again. But as quickly as they came, you’re just as quick to snap him out of it.

“Mhm, I love every version of you. I love you, now.” You drop a kiss to his cheek. “I love drunk Steve.” A kiss to his other cheek. “And tomorrow, I’m gonna love hungover Steve.” A small peck on his lips.

His eyes are slow to open when you pull away, and he reaches for your hips like he’s going to fall over. But he doesn’t. He gives you a gooey smile and juts his chin forward in a silent request for you to kiss him again. Even though he still has the faint taste of liquor lingering in his breath, you do it anyway.

“That’s good. Because I’m definitely gonna be that guy tomorrow.”

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #144

Peter Parker sounds just like Spider-Man. This is something that the students of Midtown find hilarious

Soon, Peter's getting comments in the halls like, "Hey are you that kid who sounds like Spider-Man?" "Uhhh I mean -" "Holy shit it's truuue" and, "Hey Parker, say, 'Hiya Mister Criminal'' "(sigh) Hiya Mister criminal-"

It becomes a daily bit on the school news: they put Peter in the cheapest, most ridiculous Spider-Man mask imaginable and get him to say wild stuff, whatever Midtown students can think of. Like that bit at the end of Honest Trailers.

(Peter may or may not go slightly viral saying some Stuff about the Rogue Avengers in his "Spider-Man voice." Tony may or may not nearly piss himself laughing about it when he finds out.

Spider-Man himself has yet to comment.)

[fluentmoviequoter]

if i can make more than one request could you pls do dalton and 13

I will never limit your requests (and you're anonymous so I wouldn't even know lol)! Thank you so much for requesting this combo, it was incredibly fun to write! Hope you enjoy! :)

Warnings: canon typical violence and discussions of the Further, super duper fluffy, Dalton momentarily forgets how to function when you kiss him. 0.8k+ words

Join the 100 Follower Celebration!

Prompt 13: "I left a lipstick mark on your face." "I need proof you actually kissed me."

“Excuse me. Sorry," you repeat as you push through the students on the sidewalk, headed for Dalton’s dorm.

Since Dalton told you about his ability to astral project and the battle in the Further, you have worried about him. That worry increased tenfold when Chris called and asked you to bring any lights you have to Dalton’s dorm. Every step you take feels like a mile, and you can’t get to Dalton fast enough. Finally barging into his room, you see Chris plugging in a string of lights while Dalton is lying on the floor.

“I brought these. What else do you need?” you ask as you pass Chris the lights you carried from your dorm.

“Perfect. Just keep him in the light and I’ll work on keeping them on,” she answers, adding your lights to the aurora borealis of tangled strings on the floor.

“C’mon, Dalton,” you whisper as you sit beside him and pull his head into your lap.

Combing your fingers through Dalton’s hair, you and Chris flinch when all of the lights go out. Chris leans under one of the beds to check the outlet but screams and backs out quickly.

“I think they’re coming to get him,” she pants as she moves closer to you and Dalton.

You don’t have time to question why she screamed before the first soul becomes visible, slithering out from the shadows in the corner of the room. Pulling Dalton closer to you and cradling his head by your neck, you and Chris yell and try to kick yourselves away from the creatures. A hand lands on your ankle and pulls you toward the darkness.

Chris swings a bundle of lights, but they pass through the creature without harming it. With one firm tug, you slide forward, and your back hits the floor, unintentionally pulling Dalton with you.

“Dalton, wake up!” Chris yells as she grabs your shoulders to keep you in what little light remains.

Several more hands land on you and Dalton, and when you begin to accept that there is no hope, Dalton gasps and opens his eyes.

“Chris, hit the light!” he commands.

Chris flips the switch on the floodlight in the corner, watching as the soul creatures retreat to the shadows. Dalton looks from Chris to you, just noticing that he’s lying on top of you.

“I’m going to go,” Chris says as she walks toward the door. “I’ll be back for my lights. Or not.”

The door closes, and Dalton opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. You place your hands on either side of his neck, leaning up to kiss him. You press your lips to his cheek as you feel his heartbeat under your thumb and against your chest.

“You’re alright?” you ask after you lay back down.

“Yeah,” he answers. He pushes off the floor to stand up then pulls you up with him. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I mean, that was really creepy and I may not want to be in the dark for a while, but I’m good.”

You lean against his desk, sending him a small smile. Dalton nods and pulls his phone from his pocket, standing beside you as he dials a number and raises the phone to his ear.

“Mom,” he interjects quickly when the line connects. “Is Dad back?”

You hear the muffled sounds of his mom responding, and he turns to nod at you, smiling as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Dalton says before ending the call.

“We?” you ask.

“Will you go with me? I really need to see them.”

“Of course.”

He turns to hug you properly, and you press your hand against his chest to stop him.

“I left a lipstick mark on your face,” you say as you lift your hand from his chest to wipe it off.

Dalton wraps his hand around your wrist, holding it in the air as he shakes his head. “I need proof you actually kissed me.”

You smile at him as you counter, “Your memory isn’t enough?”

“I had just come out of the Further, maybe I imagined it.”

“Fine,” you concede with a laugh.

Dalton lowers your hand and moves his fingers to interlace with yours.

“How long are you planning to keep the proof?”

Dalton shrugs and raises his phone, open to the camera, to get a better look at the stain. “I think it suits me. Maybe forever.”

You roll your eyes at his antics. “Or I could just replace it whenever you want it.”

“You’d do that?” he asks excitedly.

“As soon as you wipe that one off.”

“But Foster won’t believe me.”

“You’re weird.”

“Yet you kissed me.”

“Maybe I like weird. Now let’s go, I’ll drive.”

Dalton puts his phone in his pocket as he follows you out of his dorm. “Hey, do you think you could kiss the other cheek to make it symmetric?”

You stop walking and turn around, placing your hand on his clean cheek as you reach up and kiss his lips quickly. “You’re an art major, Dalton, you should understand the beauty of an accent.”

Dalton is speechless as he continues following you. “So, that was a no to the other cheek?”

[winterrrnight]

hi baby!! congrats you so deserve it!💘💘💘💘

can i request for rafe 6 or 29? whichever you like more💘

hey cami!! thank you sooo much darling 🥹🥹 i really have no words on how much your support means to me; you've been there since almost the beginning and you've never failed to shower love on my fics 🫶🏻 it really means so much to me <3 i hope you like this!! I used both the prompts :)

cherry flavoured

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: you and Rafe have your first kiss, and he tastes just like cherries.

WARNINGS: fluff, kissing, the reader is a little shy and nervous, rafe is a massive softie + ignore any little grammatical/spelling mistakes!

EDITH SPEAKS: I think this came out pretty cute! This girl here hasn't had her first kiss yet (spare me please, I've had zero luck with guys or girls also I want it to be w someone special, not just anyone) so I think when I'll have it this is literally how I'll react :')

PROMPTS REQUESTED: "quit smiling at me. I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that." & "should we like, talk about it?" "aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelyhaha-" "let me see if I can jog your memory."

100 followers celebration || navigation

He looks at you, a softer look taking over his eyes as he gazes over the warmth in your cheeks and your slightly swollen lips. You find your mind going in a haze as you think about how you just kissed Rafe for the first time.

You both met each other at one of his parties, you being new to the island, had no idea about anyone at the party except your friend who dragged you there. You had just taken a cup full of your drink and were desperately trying to navigate your way all alone throughout the crowd of people, your friend long gone with some guy.

Even though you were extremely careful, it was not enough, because the exact thing you were dreading happened. You bumped into someone, and you mentally cursed yourself for wearing a white cardigan, because it seeped through the material and stained it, and not to mention how it started to stick to your skin in an ungodly manner.

The guy in front of you, which you learnt is the one who's party you're at, was totally embarrassed with what he did; apologised nothing less than a 100 times, and when his attempt of trying to wipe it off with some paper towels failed, he took you to his room upstairs to give you some of his clothes. Not to forget he kept on apologising to you, and at one point, you forgave him, because you knew it was just an honest mistake (and also because you can only hear the word 'sorry' so many times).

Oh and you were so glad you did forgive him, because his clothes were some of the most comfortable you've ever worn. He let you take any one of his crewneck, and you chose one in your favorite color. It encased you in warmth and his scent of fresh detergent, which provided you immediate comfort.

But instead of going down back, you both sat on the floor next to each other and talked. He made you laugh a lot, but also, made sure to not make you super uncomfortable with questions you may not want to answer. At the end, you had to leave, but he didn't let you go without asking you out on a date and with your number in his phone.

And now here you are, right after one of your dates, where he kisses you with all the courage he has. You knew you've been wanting this for too long now, so when he started leaning back, you pressed your lips back onto his, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeper, and harder.

When you pull back, he looks at you, and you find your cheeks heating up, red coating you everywhere. After a few moments of silence, Rafe decides to speak up.

"Should we like, talk about it?" He says, you knowing fully well he means the kiss.

A giggle escapes your lips as you start to speak. Well, speak is the wrong choice of word. You ramble.

"Aboutwhatnothingweirdhashappenedlatelyhaha-" you say in one breath, as you feel your hands getting sweaty. Rafe only looks at you with a grin; you getting nervous around him and jumbling up all your words is one of the first things he found cute about you.

"Let me see if I can jog your memory," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss you again. And you don't pull back. Why would you? He tastes so addictive, reminding you of cherries, and you only crave more with each passing second.

When he pulls back again, he's giggling at your expression, your face even more red than before (is that even possible?), your lips shiny and your eyes gleaming with the light of the lamp post you're both standing under.

He absolutely cannot stop smiling at you. You've made him so happy, he cannot fathom it. It's so easy for him to cheer up just the moment he spots you; you're the ray of sunshine falling onto the dark side of his moon.

You want to say something, anything, but your mind is all fuzzy and only random words leave your mouth. Rafe giggles harder as he wraps his arms around you and hugs you close to him.

You look at him, his lips still pulled in a smile, you think he hasn't stopped smiling since the date started.

"Quit smiling at me. I can't stop messing up my sentences with you looking at me like that." Finally, finally a proper sentence leaves your mouth, one which isn't spoken in a single breathe or isn't just necessarily a stack of words.

Rafe presses his lips to your forehead, his laughs slowly dying and your heart rate calming down as you stand hugging under the warm light of the lamp post.

You've never felt so serene.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @vianwrites

[readychilledwine]

Early Mornings

A/N - Happy Surprise Saturday, my loves ❤️ I've had Azriel pieces, an Eris piece, a Rhys piece, and a little love for our baby bat, and it only felt right to ensure our favorite General had sometime to shine. Enjoy this grumpy/sunshine or orange cat bf/Doberman gf piece.

Cassian and his mate are well matched in almost every sense. He's a powerful Illyrian general, she is the last of the Valkyries. He loves their family, she is devoted to them. The only thing they never seem to agree on is mornings.

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of alcoholism and mental health struggles, mentions of trauma, alludes to interesting behaviors between Nesta and our unnamed female oc, unedited by an outside source

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Cassian stood in front of the coffee maker. His arms were crossed as he watched each drop of liquid fall into the pot he was brewing for his mate, himself, and the two other fae living in the house. His mate finally entered the kitchen, flipping him off as he offered her a smile before sitting down.

Cassian adored mornings. He loved watching the sun as it began its ascend over the mountains. He loved the crisp chilled air. He loved breakfast. The sound of the birds greeting each other at first light. His mate, however, adored their nightlife. She was the last to rise out of bed. The last to leave the table at Rita's with Mor. The last to head to bed. She loved dinners, the stars reflecting on the Sindra. She loved the way music felt in her bones as she danced into the early morning. She loved quiet walks home with her heels in her hand after Cassian would inevitably show back up to retrieve her. She worshiped the moon, and he, the sun.

The one thing the two truly shared in common though, was their love and need for coffee. Cass was approachable before his first cup, chipper even. He glanced over his shoulder where his mate sat, her wings wrapped tight around her. Her hands held her head. Her long dark hair was falling over her shoulders. "Almost done, babe."

"Fuck. Off." His mate? Not so much. He chuckled lightly at her response before grabbing their matching coffee mugs. "Why the fuck did you wake me up?"

"You promised me you would go on a morning run with me. Remember? Setting an example for the females? Helping them by seeing one of their own training? Helping Nesta see-" She groaned loudly, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry baby, I'll be quiet until coffee is done." He leaned across the counter, kissing her forehead.

His heart melted at her smile, it didn't reach her hazel eyes yet, but he knew it would only take a few more kisses and some coffee to change that. "Why are we being quiet?" Cassian laughed as his mate turned, grabbing the nearest object to her before throwing it at a laughing Azriel. "Awe sis! Are you grumpy this morning?"

"Go shovel pig shit, Azriel." His brother moved behind her, kissing the top of her head with a soft "good morning" while rubbing her back lightly. "Why the fuck are you two always so happy in the morning?"

Azriel shrugged. "We go to bed at a decent time."

Cassian nodded. "We are used to early morning routines."

Azriel continued. "We don't drink until we black out. Anymore."

"Training in the morning starts the day right."

"Training in the morning is eas-"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Cassian and Azriel laughed quietly. "Where is my coffee?"

"Just finished, beautiful." Cassian was pouring the hot liquid into the third cup a shadow had handed him, giving it to Azriel. Then he filled his mate's and his own. "Sugar or cream, sweetheart?"

"Both, please?" Cassian nodded, fixing her coffee to her liking, before moving to sit next to her. "I love you," she whispered to him before kissing his jawline. "How long is the run?"

"Only 5 miles," Azriel said softly. "We cut in half after you decided to drink half the camp under the table last night. Wonderful job stealing Devlon's most expensive whiskey, by the way." A smirk graced his face as he peeked at her. "Has anyone dragged Nesta out of bed yet? Is she getting ready?"

The illyrian female rolled her eyes before looking at the pot with 4 cups of the morning magic still resting for the oldest sister. Her head leaned to rest on Cassian's shoulder. "I haven't tried yet, and we'd know if Cassian did. If you think I'm grumpy in the morning, Azriel, have you tried speaking to her in the mornings? She puts me to shame. You should go try. She likes your pretty face after all." She was sniffing her coffee, waiting for it to cool down with a small smile on her face.

Azriel took a long drink of his coffee, nose scrunching from the bitter taste. "No. That's your job. She actually likes you more."

He took her mug, a very quiet "oh fuck," came from Cassian's direction. He backed away from his brother and mate. "Fight fire with fire. Get at it." He forced her out of the chair, smacking her on the ass as he pointed up the stairs. "Go on. Earn your coffee by doing something other than my brother."

"Fuck. You. Cassian, get my coffee back." The General looked between his mate and brother. "Babe!" Cassian just shook his head and inclined it towards the stairs.

"Get Nesta up and I will get you your coffee back." He knew deep down his mate would be the perfect weapon against Nesta. He and his high Lady's sister had butted heads since she had been made and even before then. Az cared for Nesta, but his patience with the female only went so far. His mate's no bullshit, no prisoners attitude seemed to be one Nesta respected. The two got along really well.

Almost too well at times.

He'd find her and Nesta cuddled on the couches in the House, Nesta between her legs with her back against her chest, a blanket thrown over both of them as Nesta read romances and his love read thrillers or reports.

He would find them giggling in the library, his mate holding Nesta's face in her hands. She'd be whispering to Ness, whose face would be flushed, while she smirked at her. Their bodies would be close together. Nesta's hands would stay locked on his mate's hips.

He even found Nesta in their room once, waiting on their bed, staring at his wife's body while she was finishing her makeup. Just to tease Nesta, he had walked behind his mate, slowly lifting the hem of her short dress while staring at the oldest sister. His mate had stopped him quickly, but not before he watched Nesta pull her lower lip between her teeth.

The final sign that his hound of a mate liked the Archeron happened just yesterday morning. She had made Nesta coffee and breakfast, something she only did for him and his brothers. They were speaking to each other quietly, not realizing he and Az were watching. She had pulled out her special mug, the one Rhys had paid good money to have made for her, and given it to Nesta so she could tuck one of her cold hands into the little nook built into the stoneware while his mate held the other one.

He knew something was brewing between the two of them, and Cassian was more than happy to just watch through the bond, or in person, when it finally happened. He sighed softly. "You might be the only one able to get her down here and on that trail."

"You are joking, right? Nesta is a grown female. She is allowed to make her own choices and heal at her pace. You-" he cut her off with a kiss. She leaned into him with a soft hum. He couldn't tell if it was due to the bond or just due to the lingering taste of coffee on his lips.

"Go." He kissed her gently again. "We just have to get her training babe. Rhys is-"

"I know. I know how he is. This isn't his first go round with a female who is… like that." Cassian flinched at the reminder. His mind flashed back to the screaming matches between his mate and Rhysand after the first war. The journey she had undergone to heal was ugly, rough, and long. But the 4 of them had gotten through it together after she had overdrafted an account by close to 1000 gold marks.

Rhys had wanted to kill her, but what she had overdraft the account on was the ultimate sign she needed help and was silently crying out for it. The only way she knew how. Her pride ran deep due to her independence as an Illyrian and a female. The only daughter and first grand daughter of a long line of camp Lords who were forward enough to see value in their girls and ban clipping.

The oldest sister of 5 brothers who looked up to her and followed her guidance. An oldest sister who felt she failed those brothers as she found them dead one by one on the battlefield.

Leader of the valkyries. All of whom she also felt she failed as she watched them all slaughtered. She was the last of her kind, at least for now, and that had ate at her. It spun itself into guilt, addiction, rage.

Cassian and Azriel both remembered Rhys sitting her down in his office as they blocked the doorways. They remember her just silently nodding as Rhysand lectured her, having calmed down significantly when he realized she was so impaired that she wouldn't remember a single thing. They remembered her crying and Rhysand moving to hold her.

Azriel finally broke the trace the three had fallen into. "The only difference is you accepted help. You let all of us help you heal, get you new hobbies, and teach you how to safely partake in activities with us. The only sign of your issues you still have is how big of a bitch you are in the mornings and how you are literally Mor's "scary dog privilege," whatever the fuck that means, when she wants to stay out too late," Azriel mumbled. "I think Nesta wants help deep down. I just think she is too scared to face what getting help means and what she will have to face."

Cassian watched as his mate sighed and nodded. "There's a lot of trauma there. I was over 200 years old, Az. She's barely in her 20s."

"I know."

"Then be kinder." The two had a stare off, beginning a silent fight between the spymaster and the last Valkyrie.

Cassian grabbed her chin to refocus her, chuckling at the glare and sleepiness still in her eyes. "Get her out of bed and on the training field, and I will reward you later."

Azriel rolled his eyes as her wings fluttered, attitude suddenly leaving her body, and she leaned into Cassian, their noses touching. "What kind of reward?"

Cassian smirked down at her. "Whatever my sweetheart would want."

His mate smirked, shutting her eyes softly as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Even if it's just coffee?"

He nodded, kissing her forehead. "Even if it's just coffee."

[quirkle2]

various scenes from my fic recondite <3 they're vague enough to where i don't think they're super spoilery or anything, just fun teasers

[bradshawed]

sweets 🍓 — mr. jj maybank and kook!reader sneaking out to see other at the docks bc forbidden lovers 🤞

join the party!

It somehow turned angstier than I was expecting and damn I really took the whole forbidden lovers/romeo and juliet thing to town so this might not be exactly what you requested, but I hope you like it xx

You had a system with rules that were made to be followed. Your family didn’t have the stability that the Cameron’s did nor the wealth and power to control the outcome of a situation so risking your family’s reputation for a boy, nonetheless for a boy like JJ, was simply out of the question. That didn’t mean you didn’t do it anyway though…

The first time you tried to sneak out, your mum caught you..or more so she caught JJ and his infamous bike (that boy lacked any form of subtlety). It was more of a surprise that she willingly let you go, something about how she was much like you when she was younger and if you thought it was worth it, then he must be worth everything. But she didn’t let you both go without the talk and to be careful to not wake up your father. You both stumbled out of the house giggling to yourselves at JJ’s near heart attack.

As the days went on, you were both getting much better at sneaking out and following your system. It all worked perfectly until he decided he wanted you to meet his friends, that’s when the system damn near fell apart.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet them, you did, but you were also increasingly aware at the risk it would bring. You wouldn’t be able to hide that you knew them, none of you could, and that in itself brought its own set of problems. So you did what any normal teenager would do and said fuck it and met them anyway. (There was a reason JJ liked you and trust me, he was well aware of your hidden rebellious streak.)

The third time is when it all fell apart. You snuck out of your window and onto JJ’s bike, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. It was ridiculous how perfectly your body fit his.

You reached your spot by the docks where you lay next to each other, a mess of limbs, sweet kisses shared between “look at the stars” and “that looks like the Chateau, there..right there, you see it?”

You’d both decided to stay to watch the sunrise before heading back and that was your first mistake.

Driving back, cheesy smiles on your faces, you departed with loving “I’ll see you later’s” and “just one more kiss, please baby” as you finally climbing into your room where your father stood with a disappointed look on his face. It was never meant to be.

You both fought for each other and you tried to get him to see reason but some things you just can’t control, and tears sliding down your face as you departed the island for the last time was one of those.

[maricoolerthanme]

𝐆𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐖 ; 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

⊹ navigation | main masterlist | george masterlist | source ⊹

None of them are my work! These are my favorite George Weasley fics written by other amazing writers, so all credits go to them! If you want your work removed from this list, please send me a message :)

THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS !!! I was supposed to do this celebration a month ago – so sorry btw! – but I couldn’t find time to do it, but now it’s here! I love you all, thank you again for this and I hope you enjoy it <3

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬 ༉‧₊˚✧

Vanilla & Charcoal by @starlightweasley

Temptations by @ickle-ronniekins

Just the Girl by @ickle-ronniekins

Space Girl by @lottiebagley

Caramel Kiss by @bleufrost

The Store Next Door by @w1segirl

Put Your Head on My Shoulder by @weelittleweasley

𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 +𝟏𝟖 ༉‧₊˚✧

First Time by @pinkandblueblurbs

Trick or Treat by @pearlsofme

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ༉‧₊˚✧

Potions and Constellations by @iliveiloveiwrite

Mute by @thoseofgreatambition

Family Reunions by @lottiebagley

Time to Spend by @lord-multifandom-murder

Summer Breezes by @ginnyweasleymybeloved

Pinning for You by @wandsandwheezes

X of Swords by @free-pool-trash

Wonder part. 1 | part. 2 by @george-fabian-weasley

Spinnet? by @eddiethebanishedhq

As usual, this post will be constantly updated if I found any other fics I like!

~ updated on June 3rd, 2023 ~

[sailor-aviator]

Dad Jake when he finds out his oldest daughter eloped with Rooster's son.

Oh my god, STOP 😩 A follow up to this.

Warnings: None

"I'm gonna kill'em."

You rolled your eyes as your husband paced back and forth in the living room.

"You are being entirely too calm about this whole situation," he scowled, pausing just long enough to point an accusatory finger at you. You shrugged your shoulders, letting out a heavy sigh.

"What's done is done. It's not like we can change it now."

"Darlin'," he grounded out. "She ran off and got married."

"I'm well aware, Jake," you gritted. "But, again, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

You heard the sound of a car pull into the driveway, and you fixed your husband with a glare. "Well, you don't. Now play nice, or so help me Seresin, you won't like what I'm going to do."

Jake held his hands up in surrender as you heard the front door open. Moments later, your daughter walks into the living room with a nervous look on his face, pulling a handsome man behind her. He looked just like his father.

"Mama, Daddy," your daughter began.

"You got married?" Jake all but shrieked, cutting your daughter off. "Are you pregnant?"

"What? No!" your daughter cried out, the young man behind her paling at the accusation. "Why would you think that?"

"Well, sweetheart, I can't think of any other reason as to why you would run off and get hitched with a Bradshaw," he snapped.

"Jake," you sighed as your daughter held back tears. You looked at the two before you. "Do you love each other?"

"Yes," your daughter choked out.

"More than anything," the young Bradshaw said, looking at your daughter adoringly. You nodded.

"Then that's that."

Jake spluttered, face turning red. "You can't be serious?"

"Honey, your blood pressure," you began, but Jake ignored you, turning back to look at the younger man. "How does your father feel about all of this?"

The young man rubbed the back of his neck nervously, seeming to choose his next words carefully. "Said I could do a lot worse as far as Seresins go."

"That sonofa-"

"Jake."

[bcyhoods]

lovefool — “you’re welcome to stay, if you want” w eddie!!

librarian!reader is always calling my name so i needed to do something before i combusted | 1.1k fem!reader

Eddie’s got his feet propped up on the study table and his chair teetering on its hind legs. The dull sound of his rings tapping the hardcover in his hands fills the immediate space. Despite the fact that he’s actually read this particular horror novel at least thrice before, today it only serves as bookworm-ish guise.

The boy aimlessly flicks through the pages, eyes reflexively leaping over entire paragraphs to peak over at the reception desk. With each glance, he feels his heart start racing, his stomach starts flipping. And it has nothing to do with Stephen King, everything to do with you.

You’re sitting behind the polished wood with a pair of deep auburn-colored reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. Every so often, they slide down and prompt you to scrunch the muscles in your face and wiggle them back up. Whenever you ultimately give up and push them back into place with your finger, Eddie smiles to himself.

The pair of you have spoken quite a handful of times, but it only took Eddie seconds within that first interaction to be smitten. You’d worn a pretty color on your lips, an even prettier smile behind it. Your eyes lit up upon seeing the tower of Tolkien novels he’d placed in front of you to check out, then you’d complimented his taste, then his hair. Then as if to seal the deal, you reached underneath the desk to retrieve a flimsy bookmark with a map of Middle Earth and placed it on top of the stack.

Now, he’s proud to be a frequent library-goer. Admittedly he feels a little silly about it, at first. But the flash of recognition that crosses your face before you wave at him makes him forget.

You float through the building, burning hot under his watchful eye, shutting off yellow desk lamps and bidding farewell to patrons with a sweet smile. The closer you get to him, the more the familiar aroma of cigarettes and his cologne seem to engulf you. It’s your turn now to have your heart beat erratically in your chest.

“Hi, Eddie.” Your saccharine voice cuts through the silence and has him immediately closing his book. He gazes up at you, big brown eyes boring right into yours. Like he knows you’re about to swat his feet, he grins and kicks his legs down onto the floor.

“Hey,” he sighs out.

“Carrie’s that good, huh? ”

Eddie’s head twists in confusion. It’s like your presence sent him face first into a stupor, and now he’s racking his brain trying to figure out what you were asking. Only when you smirk and point at him does he realize you’re talking about the book. The book that’s in his hand, that he was meant to be reading this whole time.

“Oh! Yeah, Carrie,” he confirms with a gummy smile as he waves the novel up, “What can I say? The lady calls to me. You finished it yet?”

You wince at the question. A few weeks ago you’d each recommended each other a book, per Eddie’s suggestion. He’d read your recommendation within the week, returning it with a broad smile that made you feel giddy. It’s taken you a little longer. He sees it all over your face and gasps.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t read it, yet? You’re really hurting my feelings here, sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your heart catch in your throat and stumble on your words for a second. “It’s—I just…I started it! I promise. I just haven’t had time to read the whole thing,” you explain through a shy smile.

Eddie chuckles at your suddenly bashful demeanor before an idea pops into his mind. Even thinking about it makes him blush. He doesn’t give himself much time to dwell on the idea of your rejection before he’s blurting it out.

“I can read it to you.”

You watch him, surveying his expression to find any hint that he’s joking. But he’s got a doe-eyed look on his face. He’s dragging one of his rings across the curve of his lips with uncertainty.

“You’d…? You’re kidding,” you decide matter-of-factly.

He vigorously shakes his head, hair flying in every direction as he throws his hand over his chest. A bright smile shines across his face. “Cross my heart. I’ve been told I got a shot in the audiobook industry. Might even hear me on one of those little cassettes in the future.”

The boy is lying through his teeth. It’s rare that someone indulged in a positive conversation with him, let alone complimented his voice. Though, it makes you huff out a laugh, maybe a little too loud for a library setting and he swears his heart is about to break out of his rib cage.

You nod at him rather emphatically and agree, “Must be your charisma.” Your hand drops to pick at the chipped wood of the table and your gaze drops with it to hide from him.

“Hey, your words.” He tosses his hands up in the air, smugness tugging at the corners of his mouth. He clears his throat before asking, “What do you say? Think it’d be good practice for me to have a live audience.”

He looks so genuine, a soft expression taking over rough features. His leg bounces under the table with anticipation. His fingers move to where yours are, and he hesitantly reaches his pinky to your own. It’s just a tap, but it sends a tingle up your entire arm and has you reciprocating the touch.

He’s making it so hard for you to say no. You glance up at the clock on the nearby wall and frown. “Well, right now I’m kinda supposed to tell you that the library closes in a few minutes.”

Eddie spares a glance behind you and realizes that he’s the last person on this floor, maybe the entire building.

“Oh. Yeah, well…some other time.” His shoulders sink just slightly before he’s standing upright and smiling at you. “I’ll get out of your hair, m’lady.” He bends at the waist to bow at you, waving his arms theatrically.

You’re smiling at him again, something warm and entirely too sweet. As he turns to the exit, you feel something tug at your chest. Like he’s taking a piece of you with him. It has you calling out before you’re able to stop yourself.

“Eddie?”

He twists back and hums.

“You’re welcome to stay, if you want. I mean I’d love to take you up on the offer, if you don’t mind following me around while I reshelve some returns?” A nervous laugh falls from your mouth as you hitch your thumb towards the non-fiction shelves. Eddie spots your other hand still picking at the chipped wood.

He beams at you with flushed cheeks and a puffed chest.

“I thought you’d never ask.”