#all this born from me getting 'kiss on top of the head' as a prompt and the only thing i immediately thought

[sollucets]

I kinda want to ask you to write all touch prompts for akk and aye but because that is unreasonable and way too greedy, how about 26, 27 and maybe 33? thank you so so much! And congratulations on your followers!!!!

you know, i'd write them all too if i had the fuckin Time [sobs] thank you very much nonny

26 (kissing the top of their head) + 27 (pulling them closer) + 33 (tasting their smile) from this list for my lil event; right around 1k of height difference & nickname shenanigans and talking around another bigger issue!!!! set in the summer after ourskyy, rated t for 'tall'

💜

“Hand me that plate, Shortstop.” 

Akk does, but not without making sure to splash Aye with the water running off of it. “We’ve been over this." They have, although it's been a while since Aye had first tried it in the tent. "That’s your name.” 

With a little yelp, Aye snatches the plate from his hand and sets to drying it with slightly more force than strictly necessary. The water drops stand out against the gray material of his t-shirt. “Why can’t we switch?” 

“Do you not have eyes?” Akk takes another bowl out of Aye’s mom’s sink and starts washing it with a little grin. “Grow a bit taller and we can talk.”

He expects Aye to fire back with a water attack of his own, or an insult, so when neither comes he turns to look at his boyfriend in faint surprise. Aye is giving the plate an undeservedly contemplative look, lips pursed. It’s very cute. Akk splashes him again. 

“Akk,” snaps Aye, his nose going all scrunched the way it does when he’s actually annoyed. 

“Aye,” Akk answers, grin reaching all the way up to his eyes. 

Aye stares for a long second, then softens all at once, mouth curving up in turn. He still elbows Akk in retribution before picking up his next dish, though. “So if I was taller than you, we could switch? I could be your Bigfoot.”

“If you were taller than me, I would’ve come up with a different nickname in the first place.”

“But I wouldn’t have,” Aye says decisively. “You’d have been Shortstop to me.”

Akk shoots him a sidelong look, dubious. “It's annoying, so yes, probably. In a hypothetical parallel universe where you’re taller. Why are you suddenly so obsessed with this? Don’t you call me enough things already?” 

“Do you not like it, darling?” asks Aye, all coy and playful, and it devolves from there. He doesn’t bring up the height thing again that day. 

But apparently he didn’t actually forget, because in the time following that initial conversation Aye starts taking every possible opportunity to be taller than Akk. 

It starts small, like Aye insisting Akk sit on the ground while he’s on the couch so he can reach his hair to dry it, calling him Shortstop in a tone of such overdone honeyed affection that all he can do is laugh. Or like Aye crawling into Akk’s lap so he has a height advantage when they kiss, and Akk making sure he doesn't get a chance to use any nickname at all.

Then it escalates, as things frequently do with them. Aye sits on top of the couch backrest at Akk’s house instead of on it, buys a pair of shoes with these ridiculous heel boosts, sits on Akk's desk while Akk writes his admission essays. At one point, very memorably, he gets on a table at a party they’d attended with Kan and refuses to come down until Akk has to drag him. 

Akk doesn’t mind as much as he’s pretending he does, which is something he’s found works for them with these things. It makes Aye happy to see him annoyed, so if he gets what he wants and the behavior isn’t actually that annoying, it’s a win for both of them. And it is funny, honestly, and frequently ends with Aye hanging off of him somehow. 

Still, though, after nearly two months of their summer together being intermittently marked by Aye’s new favorite running joke, something starts to nibble at the corner of Akk’s mind. It’s late summer now, and they’re running up closer to the thing they’ve barely managed to talk about: Aye’s impending departure, and his own entry into a northern university. And— well. He can’t manage that, but he might be able to manage this.

So the next time Aye makes a point of standing two stairs up in his own home to talk to Akk, he turns and looks up at him and asks, point-blank, “Does it bother you that I’m taller?” 

Aye blinks once, twice, then laughs a little. After a second, he seems to realize that Akk is honestly asking and tilts his head with an expression of mild bemusement. “No, baby. I like it, you give great hugs and have great legs. Why?”

Akk makes a sputtering noise and tries not to get derailed thinking about Aye’s feelings about his legs, which he did already know about for— various reasons. Instead, he pointedly jerks his chin at Aye, noticeably needing to tilt his head up to do so. 

“I'm just messing with you,” Aye says, reaching a hand out with a little smile. “I thought you knew.” 

“I do,” says Akk, and lets Aye take his hand and pull him one step up the stairs. It doesn’t equalize their heights; Aye’s still just a little taller like this. “But... it’s been going on a long time.”

“Yeah, I guess it has,” says Aye a little thoughtfully. “I just like seeing—” 

“—My angry face. I know.” 

Aye outright giggles at that, gently intertwining his fingers with Akk’s. “If you know, then why are you worrying about it?” 

Akk can feel his resolve failing already. He sighs. 

“I guess,” says Aye thoughtfully after a moment, “I do also like it when we… switch.” He wiggles his eyebrows and continues talking over Akk’s incoherent noise in response. “So it’s fun for me, to try and turn the little nickname thing on its head. Not that you’re cooperating.” 

“You wouldn’t like it if I cooperated,” Akk says, half-sure, and tries mostly unsuccessfully to glare up at Aye. 

“Oh, but I do,” Aye says, tugging him even closer by their twined hands and putting his other one on the back of Akk’s neck, pushing his head down enough to press a kiss to the top of it. “Just not right away. I like getting you to admit things."

There's an odd-- hesitation there, a long moment of silence. Akk looks back up, their faces close enough to kiss properly now, and sees Aye looking away from him, eyes big and preoccupied. 

“What?” Akk prompts, and when he doesn’t get an answer, adds, “Bigfoot?” 

Aye’s gaze snaps back to him, suddenly focused and intent and sparkling, and he grins. “Yeah,” he says, slowly like he’s savoring the confirmation, “That’s nice.” 

Akk leans up a little further and kisses that smile, gently and then less so when the fingers on the back of his neck tighten and pull him closer. He leans into it with a sigh and tries not to think about other things Aye might like him to admit, and instead thinks about how — it is nice, sometimes, to be the smaller one. 

#the eclipse #akkayan #my fic tag #arbitrary milestone prompts #re: the Something Else looming over their heads in this one: i am setting up for another prompt. i'm not gonna leave that unaddressed #(not like os2 fuckin did >>) #i'm fond of this haha #i think this is my first real attempt to get comfy with akkaye's os2 dynamic in writing #i write them teasing in oowu don't get me wrong. but mine are definitely a bit softer than canon #so.... i tried it out here #what is it like in an established relationship with a person whose primary love language is annoying? #what happens when so much of your communication habits are built on one person Dragging the truth out of the other one? #by waiting or by demanding but Still. #in any case. aye insecurity anons ........ your time will come no worries #all this born from me getting 'kiss on top of the head' as a prompt and the only thing i immediately thought #was that it HAD to be aye kissing the top of akk's head lmao #also on that note. [holds out ficlet] my akkaye switch agenda! here it is! it's hardly an agenda since it's very firmly canon but you know

[cloudybarnes]

Couples Costumes

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Summary: Draco promised he would dress up with you for Halloween, but when you see him without his costume, you get a little upset

(from the prompt list I reblogged. feel free to send in requests)

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

also gif not mine

✰  ✰  ✰

“Malfoy!” You shouted from down the hall.

Draco was leaning against the wall in the hallway near your potions class, laughing with Mattheo when you yelled. As he turned to look at you, his eyes widened in fear.

You stormed up to him, the heels of your barbie costume clacked down the hallway. When you finally got up to him, you gave his shoulder a little nudge. “You lied to me!”

You crossed your arms and angrily tapped your foot against the floor. Draco had agreed to dress up for Halloween this year. He knew it was your favorite holiday back in the muggle world, and as your boyfriend, he agreed to dress up with you.

Unfortunately for you, Draco did not hold up his end of the deal this morning. He was supposed to be wearing his Ken costume to match your Barbie.

“I thought we agreed we would both wear our costumes to celebrate!” You huffed. “Even ‘Mione is wearing her Halloween costume.” You sadly added.

Draco’s eyes softened as your anger turned to hurt. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot what day it was, I’m sorry baby.”

He grabbed onto you and pulled you into a hug. His arms wrapped around your shoulders as he held you.

Mattheo clapped Draco on the back. “I’ll talk to you later, mate. See ya, (Y/N).”

You mumbled a goodbye to Mattheo as you nuzzled your face against Draco’s chest. “You’re a butthead, you know that?”

Draco chuckled and started rubbing his hands through your hair. “I’m sorry, darling. Really I am. I completely forgot about my costume this morning.”

You pulled away from his hug and looked up at him. “Well, it’s still morning,” you offered with a small smile, “let’s go up to your room and get your costume!”

Draco rolled his eyes with a teasing smile. “Will that make you happy, baby?”

You nodded your head, gently biting on your lip to hold back your grin.

Draco sighed as a grin took over his face. “Alright! Alright,” he put his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll put it on for you, doll.”

You squealed and took his hand. “Yay! Let’s go, let’s go!” You pulled him behind you as you speed-walked down the hall towards the Slytherin common room.

Draco chuckled as he trailed behind you. The two of you half jogged all the way down the corridor where the Slytherin door was. You pushed through the door and pulled Draco up to his room.

“Okay! Let’s get you Ken-ified!” You giggled as you eagerly sat on his bed.

Draco smirked with a shake of his head. “You’re something else.”

He opened up his closet and pushed past all of the button up shirts and dress pants to get to the very end where his Ken costume hung. He pulled out the hanger and held up his costume for you to see.

You squealed as you clapped your hands. “Oh, you’re gonna look so cute dressed as Ken, Draco. You’ve got the most perfect hair for this costume.

Draco chuckled and brought his outfit to the bathroom with him. “Thanks, darling. Be right out.” He shut the door and started getting changed into his costume.

You couldn’t handle the anticipation. You loved Halloween, and you were so excited to finally get to celebrate with someone else. Most of the other wizards you knew, even some muggle born, didn’t even care about Halloween.

You’re just so thankful you’ve got a boyfriend who cares about you enough to do silly things like dress up with you.

Walking out of the bathroom, Draco did a little spin to show you his Ken costume.

“You look so cute!” You gushed. You stood up to walk towards him. Your fingers trailed over his shirt collar fixing things as you went.

“I’m not cute, I’m sexy.” Draco teased. He kissed the top of your head and laced his fingers in yours. “Come on, sweetheart, before we’re late to next class.”

You giggled and let him put you out of his room. “I think we’re already on the verge of being late, Dray.”

That didn’t stop him. He kept walking all the way out of the Slytherin room and out to the main hallways. “Yes, yes, I just want everyone to see our matching costumes.”

“You do?” You smiled. There weren’t very many people in the hallways, just a few stragglers who were slowly making their way to next period.

“Of course I do.” He reassured. As the two of you arrived at your shared next class, Draco took a minute to stand outside the door with you. “I am really sorry I forgot this morning. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to dress up with you. I’m not entirely sure how I forgot, to be honest, but I hope this can make up for it, darling.”

You smiled up at him. Draco was really sweet when he wanted to be. You giggled and reached up to ruffle his hair. “I’m not mad at you, Dray. Thank you for putting the costume on with me. I’m really happy to be celebrating with you.”

“Anything for you, darling. Now, let’s show everyone how kickass we are as Barbie and Kev.”

“It’s Ken, Draco.”

“I’m better than him anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

With a roll of your eyes, you let Draco pull you into the classroom.

He really was sassy, and a little full of himself, but no one could say he didn’t care for you. You felt really lucky to have a boyfriend like him.

#happy almost halloween <3 #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #ron weasley #george weasley #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #harry potter x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #cedric diggory #ron weasly x reader

[lulublack90]

Prompt 8 - Pepperup Potion

@wolfstarmicrofic March 8, word count 347

Sirius had been downing Pepperup potion like it was butterbeer. He felt terrible. His throat hurt, his nose kept running, he ached, and he couldn’t stop shivering. 

Remus stood over him, looking worried. He lit the heater in the centre of the room, hoping it would warm Sirius up. He had already given him all the baskets he could find and some he’d transfigured. But Sirius still couldn’t get warm. 

“Remus,” Sirius said through chattering teeth. “I’m so cold.” 

“I know, but apart from setting your bed alight, I really don’t know what else to do.”

“You’re always so warm, though.” Sirius shook violently. 

“Yeah, but that's a werewolf thing. It’s not a secret I can just give you.” He ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of a way to help Sirius. 

“Remus, will you just get in here with me and give me your warm.” Remus froze. He’d been very careful around Sirius since he’d realised he had a crush on him, and getting into bed with him would be disastrous. 

“Sirius, no, don’t be silly.”

“Remus, please.” Sirius almost cried. “I need you.” He looked so pitiful all wrapped up in bed, looking so sad that Remus’s resolve melted away and with a deep breath, he climbed under the covers with Sirius. 

Sirius greedily grabbed onto him, snuggling into his chest and sighed in relief. 

“You’re really hot,” Remus said worriedly as he put a hand on Sirius’s forehead. 

“Thanks, I was born this way.” Sirius snickered as he nuzzled his face further into Remus’s chest. Remus had to hold himself very still and stopped breathing for a second. 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He scolded Sirius. But the other boy had already fallen asleep. His shivering was all but gone, apart from the odd shudder. Remus slowly stroked the sweaty hair off Sirius’s brow and leaned his head down to kiss the top of Sirius’s head, imagining what it would be like if Sirius could ever feel about him the way he felt about Sirius.    

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fluff #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius orion black #remus john lupin #dead gay wizards #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #sirius and remus #remus and sirius #you're hot #i know #that is not what i meant #remus loves sirius #sirius doesnt know #Pepperup Potion

[heeliopheelia]

"i can't resist you, you know that" (niki x fem! reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.6k requested by nonnie ♡

a/n: hi hello babes i'm back from my short break!! i just realized i've been kinda neglecting our maknae line so sorry for that... btw i tried to mix up the two prompts like you wanted me to, love!! sorry that it came out so simple and maybe a bit borning but i'm still overcoming my writer's block <33

masterlist

The forest is quiet. The sweet chirping of a bird accompanies the shimmer of the thin stream running down to your right. The weather is as close to perfection as it can get – the sunshine pleasantly warms both of your faces but not strongly enough to make you hide underneath the roof of a cap. Riki smiles politely at the couple of elders that pass you by with energetic steps, engaged in a quiet conversation.

The forest is quiet for a very short while until you break it for the seventh time in the past five minutes. A loud whine echoes through the empty path as you slowly drag your feet on the ground, acting almost as if they weighted a tone. Riki's hand holds your tightly and practically drags your tired body behind him as he continues to walk up the small hill.

"I can't do it," you breathe out, mewling out the syllables for the dramatic effect. "If you don't stop walking right now, I'm seriously gonna die. I can feel it in my bones, Riki."

"It was literally your idea to go for a hike in the first place," he scoffs, turning over his shoulder to flick your sun-kissed nose. He giggles at the way it scrunches and you smack his hand away. "You don't get to complain now when you're the initiator of this plan."

You huff, a pout making its way on your lips slowly. "You're so mean. Good to know my boyfriend finds my misery amusing."

"C'mon, none of that now." He rolls his eyes, nodding his head to the paddled path ahead of you. "There's not that much left. Only ten minutes or so till we make it to the top."

A very predictable idea crosses your mind after his words and Riki sighs as he watches your eyes widening with a sparkle, already knowing you well enough to know what you're about to ask.

"No. No, no. Stop looking at me like that," he scowls, backing away from your slouched figure. You follow him immediately, stepping even closer as your hand traps his wrist in a grip. "You promised not to do that. I can't resist you, you know that. You're simply abusing your power now."

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. "Oh, c'mon. What's even the point of having a big, strong boyfriend if he can't even carry me for couple minutes?"

Riki scoffs at your pathetic attempt of stroking his ego. Another giggle leaves his lips as you keep pouting at him, eyes shining with the silent plead. A grown ass woman pulling a tantrum like a goddamn toddler.

His eyes drop down to your slightly puckered lips. And, Lord, you just look so cute to him right now. Irresistible, really, just like he predicted after seeing the look on your face before. You always do that whenever you're determined to get whatever it is you want. You have him wrapped around your little finger and he doesn't think you even realize how much power you actually hold over him.

Not able to help himself, he leans in and closes the gap parting the two of you, kissing you right on the mouth. The heat instantly rises to the tips of your ears and you'd squirm away out of fluster if not for his hands firmly holding you to his chest. With a sigh, you lift your hands to cup his cheeks and just when you're about to deepen the kiss, he's pulling away from you, leaving you all flushed and already breathless.

"Hop on then, you baby," he sighs as he turns around, motioning for you to jump on his back. "This time and this one time only, I give you the permission to make use of this big, strong boyfriend of yours that you're so clearly obsessed with."

"I am not!"

"Lying like that is not suitable for a lady, you know?"

You smack him in the shoulder, the sound of his chuckles instantly bringing warmth to your belly. Finally satisfied now that your legs have stopped feeling as if they were being set ablaze with each every step of yours, you cling to Riki's neck and rest your cheek against his shoulder blade, sighing in content.

"Yeah, you're right. He's the best."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

#enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen #carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა #1k event: requests ✎ #nishimura riki x reader #niki x reader #niki imagines #niki drabbles #enhypen fluff #niki fluff

[acewritesfics]

Baby Halstead | JAY HALSTEAD

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request: From Anon

Fic Type: Blurb

Prompt: “Baby, I don’t get down on my knees for anyone but you.” 

Warnings: Late stages of Pregnancy.

Word Count: 778

JAY HALSTEAD MASTERLIST || TAG LIST SIGN-UP

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

“Hey!” Y/N calls out to the bullpen as she reaches the top of the stairs, somewhat out of breath, both hands on her large pregnant belly.  

“Hi!” Kim greets her heavily pregnant partner with excitement. “You look like you’re going to pop.”  

“I feel like I’m about to, even though she’s got three more weeks in here,” she breathes, a faint smile on her face. As excited as she is for this baby and wanting nothing more than to be able hold her daughter in her arms, she is ready for this pregnancy and all of its aches and pains to be over. "And, before I forget, I want to thank you for the baby and mommy baskets.“ 

"Don’t worry about it,” Kim says with a smile.  

“Please tell me there’s not much longer to go,” Adam says as he walks out of the little kitchen area, his eyes pleading with her and he gives her a quick hug. Kim leads her to Jay’s desk and helps her sit in his chair; her desk is currently occupied by her stand-in until she returns to work in a few months.  

“We need you back as soon as possible. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep Jay in line,” he adds just as Jay walks up the stairs. 

Jay shoots him a glare before noticing Y/N seated at his desk. “What are you doing here? I thought the doctors told you to rest.”  

“They did, but I wanted to see everyone before the baby arrives and she gets all the attention,” she laughs as her husband walks over to her. “I wanted some fresh air as well. The apartment was starting to feel stuffy.”  

He looks at her with concern, “You feeling okay?  

"I promise, Jay, I’m okay,” she assures him.  

They went to the hospital last week, assuming she was going into labor early. But, once the doctor determined it was Braxton Hicks, she was sent home. She still experiences Braxton hicks contractions, but they are not as severe as when she went to the hospital. Both she and Jay were tense, waiting for the fake contractions to evolve into real ones. Because of the way their daughter has been moving constantly, as if she’s restless and eager to come out, Y/N believes she’ll be born before her due date. 

“Now, please calm your daughter down,” she pleads as she takes his hands and places them on her belly.  

Jay kneels in front of her, and as soon as his hands touch her, their daughter’s movements ease significantly, allowing Y/N to rest for a minute. Baby Halstead has always recognised her father’s touch. He was the only one who could get her to calm down, and if he wasn’t there, it was the silky smooth sounds of Jazz streaming through the headphones she’d drape over her belly. Y/N could tell right away that their first born is going to be a big time daddy’s girl. 

“You know, I haven’t seen you on your knees since you proposed to me,” she quips, placing her hands over his as his thumbs caress her large bump. “I enjoy seeing you like this.”  

“Baby, I don’t get down on my knees for anyone but you,” he scoffs, smiling up at her. “And maybe our daughter.”  

She smiles back and says, “She’s going to have you so tightly wrapped around her finger.” 

“Just like her mom,” he comments as he stands up and kisses her.  

“Could you kindly help her mom up so she can go get something to eat before heading home?” she asks.  

Jay helps her stand up and kisses her again before letting her go so she can say goodbye to everyone while he asks Hank if he can take an hour to get something to eat with her and make sure she gets home safely. Hank allows him. He helps her down the stairs and into the car before getting into the drivers seat.  

“You didn’t have to do this, baby,” she reminds him as he drives to the bakery she’s become a regular at since getting pregnant. 

“Yes, I did,” he responds, glancing at her quickly before looking back to the road. “I have to make sure my wife and child get home safely.”  

“And it is one of the many reasons why I love you,” she says with a smile.  

“I love you too,” he says, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it as they come to a halt at a stop sign. “And Baby Halstead.”  

“We really need to decide on a name for her,” she chuckles. “Before she’s forever known as Baby Halstead.” 

#acewritesfics repost #jay halstead x reader

[katelynnwrites]

All’s Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You) | Felicitas Rauch

warnings: a tiny bit of angst but it’s mostly fluff

word count: 2145

summary: your national teammates have a conversation about starting families and it prompts a conversation between you and feli

a/n: let me know what you think of this please? i got this idea from the born for this documentary and it’s been buzzing around my head for a while because i was kind of hesitant if i should write it…if it’s good i might write a bit more about feli and kids :)

You’re certain that this is the team that will go far in the Euros. Hell, the mood in camp is one so perfect that you are filled with the conviction that you might just win the whole damn thing. It is what every single member of your team is working towards.

The tournament might still be eight months away but things are just shaping up so well.

These people you’re with, they are more than just teammates. They’re good friends.

Good friends that you are happy to celebrate an early Christmas with.

The national team staff and some of your teammates have been kind enough to help set up a small Christmas get together, with food and drinks.

It might be the midst of international break and you might be only two metres away from the hotel entrance but it makes all the difference.

Everyone needs to get their minds off football and relax sometimes, especially when the last game of the year is just around the corner.

Curled into Feli’s side, you giggle at the story Sara is telling. You can feel Felicitas’ body vibrate with laughter and you press yourself closer to her.

Your wife easily slips her arm around your waist in response.

She drops an affectionate kiss onto the top of your head even as she continues listening to her fellow defender.

The smile on your face grows as the rest of your teammates pitch in, the alcohol helping everyone to loosen up.

Feli’s fingers gently running over your side and the pleasant buzz of the mulled wine distract you for a few minutes and when you focus back on the conversation, it’s to Kathy saying that it would be nice if men could get pregnant too.

A round of laughter rings out immediately and you grin at the very thought. It would certainly be helpful for some of your teammates, both national and club alike.

Lina jokes that she would get her boyfriend pregnant right away if she could and everyone chuckles a little harder.

When that dies down though, there is a moment of sobering silence.

‘You’d actually like to have kids though…right?’

Marina directs the question at anyone and everyone, her tone being an indicator of just how difficult this particular subject is. It’s unusual for the typically smiley woman to be so serious.

Both Kathy and Lina nod, Laura following after a moment.

A few of the youngest players like Jule and Obi simply shrug. That’s fair you think, because it’s not something that would be on the forefront of their mind at that age.

But for you, being a few years older, it has.

So you nod too and can’t help but slip your hand into your wife’s when she does the same, a tad shyly.

You’ve talked about it before you even started dating, wanting to be on the same page before starting a relationship that might turn out to be lasting.

You are incredibly happy that it did and are so thankful for having that conversation with Feli.

Being a mom has always been something you want and marrying someone who wants the same thing as you was always important.

It never occured to you while you were growing up that that person would come into your life, in the form of Felicitas Rauch.

Two months into calling her your girlfriend and you knew that she would be the only one you would ever want to start a family with.

It assures you the feeling must be mutual when the brunette squeezes your hand lightly, glancing at you adoringly.

‘I feel ready to start a family now but I guess with football, I will have to wait a couple more years.’ Kathy sighs.

You make a sympathetic noise and your fellow Wolfsburg player looks up.

‘I’m guessing that you can relate. I see how you are with the younger fans. Do you want a girl or a boy?’ She asks softly.

Shrugging, you murmur, ‘I don’t mind either. I just want them to be healthy, you know?’

Kathy gives you a tiny smile and nods her understanding.

Your heart warms just thinking about it and the hopeful smile you give the blonde in return makes you miss the one on Feli’s face dimming.

Felicitas keeps your hand in hers but doesn’t say much more for the rest of the night.

She does not meet the worried looks you give her and by the end of the little celebration, your anxiety is just about eating you whole.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this uncertain with your wife.

As everyone makes their way back to their respective rooms, you trail after her to the room you’re sharing.

‘Liebling?’ You softly prompt and the brunette defender frowns as she shuts the door.

‘What’s wrong?’

Felicitas stiffens and she sits down on her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest.

Her brown eyes are full of emotion when she quietly asks, ‘You want a baby now?’

‘Well not now now but maybe after the Euros…’ You admit.

Your wife’s eyes widen and you reach for her hand hurriedly, saying, ‘Don’t you? We’ve been married for a few years and I think we’re in a good enough place in our careers.’

Feli shakes her head, stammering, ‘I-I love you but I’m not ready.’

As hard as you try to hide it, you can’t stop the hurt that flashes across your face from showing.

‘Liebling, I’m sorry.’ Feli pleads, squeezing your hand tightly and touching your wedding ring.

‘Don’t be. You aren’t at fault for the way you feel. I-I just thought you wanted to have children as badly as I do.’ You whisper, covering her hand with yours.

This, if possible, makes your wife feel even worse.

There are tears slipping down her face as she takes a deep breath, trying to explain herself.

‘I do. Believe me I do. That’s not what I’m not ready for. Liebling I want to have a baby with you, I’m ready to start a family with you. It’s been on my mind for a long time but what I’m not ready for is putting football on hold.’

‘Felicitas…’ You breathe.

‘I love you. I love you so incredibly much and I’ve dreamed of having a family with you but I can’t do it now. I’m twenty six and I know that’s not old but I’m terrified of not being able to get back my current form after I give birth.’

‘Feli I love you too but I don’t understand.’ You murmur.

Your wife makes a frustrated noise, ‘Don’t you see how hard Almuth is struggling? I know that I’m not as old as she was when she got pregnant but I don’t think I can go through it liebling.’

‘I know and I admire her for it but Feli…I’m not asking you to put yourself through that.’

The fullback simply stares at you with clear confusion.

There’s a smile on your face as you tease, ‘You know liebling, the good thing about being in a lesbian relationship is that both of us can get pregnant.’

‘What?’

‘I’m younger than you Feli. I’ll recover faster, and be able to get my fitness back faster.’

‘Y-You want to be the one to carry our baby?’

Your wife’s tone is one of complete disbelief.

‘Yes.’ You answer simply.

‘But why? You’re our star striker for club and country. You are at the top of your game liebling. Hell Barcelona wants you and while I know you turned them down, chances like that aren’t given to just anybody. As a player, you are far more valued than I am. For you to put your career on hold…’ Feli’s voice gets gradually quieter before it tails off.

The Wolfsburg defender swallows hard, her gaze never leaving yours.

It is barely audible when she mumbles, ‘If you get pregnant after the Euros, you might not be able to come back in time for the World Cup.’

‘Felicitas, my love, don’t you know that I will give up anything if it means being able to be a mother with you? Winning a world cup is a dream but being able to have a family with you is the biggest dream.’

If the brunette wasn’t crying before, she certainly is now.

Her hands are gentle as she cradles your face to kiss you. She tastes like the salt of her tears but the action still takes your breath away.

‘Do you really mean that?’ Feli whispers against your lips.

You nod, leaning your forehead against your wife’s.

She presses one more kiss onto your mouth, murmuring, ‘Let’s do it. I want to have a baby with you liebling. As soon as possible.’

‘Okay…okay that sounds like a plan.’ You tearfully agree.

******

You’re pregnant a month after Germany finishes runners up in the Euros.

******

Feli was right. You are far from being able to make it back in time for the World Cup but you never expected yourself to be anyway.

That doesn’t mean that you aren’t there to support your wife, fellow national teammates and country though.

You are in the friends and family section, with your newborn dressed in the tiniest Rauch, 17, jersey.

Where your wife found noise cancelling headphones small enough to fit on his head, you’ll never know but he looks adorable.

He peers curiously at his surroundings during the first half, never once crying but rather being content to be held by you.

Felicitas blows you and him a kiss each as she makes her way back down the tunnel at halftime.

Her bun is messy and it is getting colder as the sun sets but her eyes are shining with adoration.

She mimes catching the kiss you blow her in return and you giggle.

‘Your mama’s so silly.’ You tell your son as you rock him gently.

The newborn sucks determinedly on his fist in response and you giggle.

He has Feli’s eyes and you don’t know how you will ever be able to tell him no when he grows up. You certainly are not able to tell your wife no when she looks at you with her pretty eyes.

******

Your country puts two more into Morocco’s goal before Felicitas is subbed out in the 89th minute.

You cheer louder than anybody when she leaves the pitch because you are always going to be her biggest fan.

The brunette catches sight of you just before she sits down at the bench, her cheeks flushing a bright pink at the look of pride on your face.

You chuckle at that, pressing a light kiss onto your baby’s forehead. He’s fallen asleep, the cool Australian night air giving his cheeks a rosy hue, nearly identical to his mother’s.

The match is nearly over now and Lea fires one more into the opposition’s net to make it a six-nil win before the full time whistle blows.

There’s a tangible joy in the stadium, from the fans and your team.

Everyone is celebrating but you only have eyes for your wife.

She’s making directly for you, climbing over the barriers and pulling you into an excited kiss.

‘I love you.’ Feli declares.

‘Love you too.’ You grin.

The fullback kisses you once more, her hands cradling your face eagerly.

‘How’s our son?’ She asks, bending down to lightly press her lips onto his forehead. He remains fast asleep, not even stirring when you transfer him into the Wolfsburg player’s arms.

Your wife coos softly, adjusting the blanket you wrapped him in, to protect his tiny body from the cold.

Felicitas is entirely enamoured with him, just as she has been since she saw him on the initial ultrasound.

You always knew she would be down bad but when your son gripped Feli’s finger tight the moment she first held him, well she exceeded all your expectations.

The brunette holds him close, breathing in his baby smell before looking up hesitantly.

‘C-Can I take him down to the pitch? I know we talked about keeping him off social media but I want to share this moment with him.’

You don’t even have to think twice about your answer.

‘Felicitas of course you can. I might have carried him but he’s your son too.’

Your wife can’t resist kissing you once more before she leads you back down onto the pitch with her, despite your protests.

‘Liebling this is your special moment, your World Cup debut.’

‘Yes and I want to share it with my family.’ She matter of factly states.

There’s no arguing with her and so it is with a smile on your face that you let her slip her hand into yours.

Being there with Feli, as she holds the baby you had together against her chest…it’s everything you have ever dreamed of.

German Translation:

liebling - love

#feli rauch #felicitas rauch #feli rauch x reader #feli rauch imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #vfl wolfsburg frauen #vfl wolfsburg frauen x reader #vfl wolfsburg frauen imagine #dfb frauen #gerwnt #woso #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #katelynnwrites

[elvisabutler]

you know how kids are supposed to be good judges of character? i was wondering if you could do elvis x reader where their kids don't like mommy and daddy's manager?

children 'n dogs

summary: your children with elvis never have been a big fan of the colonel and neither have you even if elvis is. but as you and elvis like to say: "children 'n dogs, best judges of character." fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) | austin butler rating: t pairing: elvis presley x female reader ( or austin elvis x female reader ) word count: 1854 warnings: talk of children being absolute menaces. a married couple being very much a married couple. pregnancy. the colonel being the colonel. brief mentions of period typical and culturally typical opinions on child rearing re: discipline and spanking. calling elvis a backwater hick. brief brief mention of vomit. i think that should be everything. author’s note: so hi anon thank you for this prompt, this was actually a really sweet one and i kind of fell in love with it but wasn't too sure how to start it- plus the fun tired exhaustion i've been dealing with. i set this as a sort of continuation of my queen of graceland fic ( that i wrote for specifically austin elvis ), you don't have to read that one, just know it basically has elvis and the reader getting together right before he gets shipped off to germany, and they have a set of twin girls right about that time and i implied they were going to have plenty more kids after those two. read this with austin elvis or elvis in mind, i am not picky, since i left it faintly nebulous.

"Whaddya mean Jess spit on 'im? Damn boy is 6 years old, he knows better." Elvis asks as you start to take down your hair for the night, wincing at one of the pins digging deeper into your hair. "Christ, mama, let me get those ones in the back, ya know ya can't get at 'em."

You roll your eyes but remove your hands only to have your husband's warm hands replace them, finding the pins in your hair with an ease you envy. "I meant exactly what I said, sweetheart. Jesse spit on the Colonel in the five minutes I looked away while tryin' to make sure Loretta and Elizabeth were all ready to go. They all know I'm not movin' all that fast right now." Your hand moves to rub at your bump, an act that has Elvis letting out a heavy sigh above your head, one of his own hands following downward and pressing against it, earning a powerful kick.

"That's what I get for putting another set of 'em in ya, isn't it? My Queen of Graceland too big to be chasin' after my lil' hellion of a boy." He moves his hand off of your stomach, only to watch another kick happen with a chuckle as he busies himself with your hair. "Colonel seemed madder than just a lil spit. Gettin' the feelin' there's more."

There is a moment when you contemplate not telling him the rest, not telling him how your oldest daughters had lost their tempers once you got them over to where their siblings were and how the other two boys promptly followed their older brother and hit the Colonel and how your youngest daughter, your sweet 18 month old daughter had thrown up on the Colonel's shoes. You contemplate all of this only to look up at your husband and realize he's waiting, mid trying to take out a pin. "Everyone might have- well- everyone might have had their own things they wanted to do t'him."

Now you're no stranger to trying to smooth over things your children have done to Elvis, no stranger to making it seem as if your children are far more innocent than they actually are. But in being married to you and in knowing your children together from the day they were born he knows when you're doing it. He knows exactly when you're trying to gloss over things and make them look presentable. He leans down and places a kiss to the top of your forehead. "Darlin'. I ain't gonna be mad at 'em. Or maybe jus' a lil, but ya gotta tell me what they did so I can apologize."

You hum and purse your lips as you move to grab a brush to brush out your hair. "Oh, I don't think any of 'em want you to apologize for what they did. They know very well what they did was wrong." A pause and you shake your head. "Loretta and Elizabeth kicked him in the shin and stepped on his foot. While tellin' him to stop bein' angry at Jesse for spittin' and Anthony and Aaron for tryin' to bite and hit 'im."

The two warring emotions that filter across Elvis's face show just how much of a child he can be even as he's a parent to six kids- eight if he counted the ones inside you. He wants to laugh at the sheer chaos the scene brings to mind but at the same time he knows that he should frown upon everything, that you expect him to be able to discipline them a little but at the same time he looks in your eyes and doesn't see a hint of anger. At the children or him. He raises an eyebrow. "And the vomit on the shoe?"

"Rebecca's lunch." The most simple answer as he pulls out the final pins that you couldn't properly see to pull out. "That one i wasn't expectin' in the slightest. Don't know if it was her tryin' to follow her sibling's leads or jus' an upset stomach. But- she hasn't done it since then."

Meaning it likely was her trying to get in on the action. Elvis sighs, sitting on the chest at the bottom of the bed. "Goddamn, darlin'- Our kids did all o' that to him? Our well behaved kids? The ones who know their manners 'n-"

You hold up a hand waving it for him as a signal to stop talking. "Our kids who know their manners 'cause they know I'd have their hides if they didn't. Yes, those kids. Those kids also hate the Colonel 'bout as much as I do-"

It's Elvis's turn to cut you off, standing up only to kneel down in front of you, taking the brush out of your hands so that he can hold them in his own. So he can envelop them in his own and make you focus on his face as he talks. "I know- I know the two of ya haven't ever gotten along but he's why we have all o'this. Wouldn't have gotten so big and wouldn't be in these pictures if it wasn't for 'im."

There is a part of you, a tiny part that will admit he's right, that the Colonel is the reason he's as famous as he is and why he's able to keep up with paying for your ever growing family but at the same time the man hasn't ever truly liked you and he especially likes you less and less the more kids you bring into the world. "Elvis, if he had his way you wouldn't have me or our kids." You whisper, pulling up your hands in an effort to get him to pull up his own so that you can place a small kiss to them. "He never has liked any of us. Got mad when I was pregnant with Loretta and Elizabeth but liked how he could spin it. Same wit' Jesse. But our other three? And these ones? If he could leave us out in a ditch somewhere, I honestly think he would. He- This doesn't give you the all American, Hollywood star look, it makes you look like a backwater hick."

"A backwater hick." He repeats back slowly, knowing fully well it wasn't you saying that. Oh he'd expect that from your mama, but not you. Which had to have meant that was the Colonel's words, not your own. "He tell ya that? He tell my goddamn wife that?

When you had first gotten married you might have looked away due to how Elvis's voice deepens in pitch, a sure sign of how angry he is simmering under the surface. Nowadays? Now it just makes you shake your head for a moment before nodding. "He has- which might be why your children kinda like a dog know when someone is-"

"Not a good person? Has a bad character?" He finishes for you before muttering under his breath. "Children 'n dogs."

The puff of air that leaves your nose betrays just how aggravated you're getting to be with the entire conversation as does the rolling movement of your twins. "They've done this for years, Elvis, it's jus' today that they've all done it at once. We deal wit' it for ya. I know you won't leave 'im so I handle it."

His eyes drift down to your stomach where he sees his children move a bit angrily and he frowns realizing that you've been stuck dealing with this alone while he sung the Colonel's praises all this time. He had to admit that as of late he was feeling a bit dissatisfied with the man and was beginning to wonder if maybe it was time for a change. A change that would make everyone happy. He pulls his hands away from yours and allows you to start to brush your hair again while he moves to touch and rub your stomach in an effort to calm the children. It works quicker than he'd have thought was possible judging by the way you lean back in the chair a little and sigh. Placing a kiss to your stomach he stands up. "I'll talk to 'im tomorrow, a'right? 'Bout a lot of things. Now come on, lets get your hair all brushed and my teeth all brushed and get ya into bed 'fore these lil ones wake back up and make a fuss."

You tilt your head up for a kiss before you nod. "Don't need to tell me twice. Go on, I got my hair sweetheart." You pause. "I love you. And I am sorry about what they did."

"Don't be, they're- our kids, mama. If they weren't like this- I'd be worried." He kisses you one more time before he pulls away to go to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Love ya too."

Elvis manages to finish brushing his teeth before you finish with your hair and murmurs something about checking on the kids. It's a quick walk to the bedrooms and when he opens the door he's bombarded by a flurry of hugs and overlapping voices.

"We know we shouldn't have but he's so mean to mama!"

"He was yelling at Jesse and Anthony and Aaron, you'd've been mad too daddy!"

"He spit on me first!"

"He what?" The last words uttered by Jesse are what finally have Elvis putting up his hands and telling everyone to be quiet. "Didya jus' say he spit on ya?"

Jesse looks away when he answers, knowing that he technically is lying but he knows Mr. Parker would have. He just knows. "He didn't but- Daddy we jus'. He's mean. He's never mean when you're here but he's mean."

Elvis frowns and pulls his children in for a group hug, noting how they try and burrow into him as best as they can almost as if they want his forgiveness and protection all in one. When he pulls away he places a kiss to each of their foreheads. "I- I'm hearin' all 'bout this tonight. Listen. You all go on 'n get into bed. Daddy's gonna deal wit' some things tomorrow. Some things wit' Colonel Parker. Don't you worry 'bout it."

The grins so much like his own crossing all of their faces make his heart so full of love he almost feels like crying before he shakes his head. Lights out once I leave. And be nice to your mama tomorrow mornin' ya know your siblings are a lil rough on her right now."

A chorus of "yes daddy" leaves everyone's lips in whatever way they can manage it before he shuts the door and moves back to your shared bedroom. You're already on the bed by the time he comes back, curled up with a pillow fast asleep as he slides in next to you and nuzzles at your neck. "Ya gotta tell me 'bout these sorta things, darlin'. Can't protect ya if ya don't. But I'll deal wit' it tomorrow mornin'. Have some words wit' 'im. Love all of ya too much to not."

taglist: @ab4eva, @eliseinmemphis, @powerofelvis, @headfullofpresley, @precious-little-scoundrel, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, one day i'm gonna keep track of who would want to be tagged with what. today is not that day.

#elvis presley x reader #austin elvis x reader #elvis presley fluff #austin elvis fluff #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x y/n #austin elvis x you #austin elvis x y/n #elvis presley #austin elvis #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #ally writes #austin elvis fanfic #austin elvis fanfiction #austin butler elvis x you #austin butler elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #austin butler elvis x y/n #austin butler elvis fanfic

[sunlightmurdock]

If you’re still doing the prompts, can you pls do ‘being carried/tucked into bed, after having fallen asleep on the couch waiting for your partner to come home’ with Parent Trap Bradley and Mama Bradshaw ?? 🥹 thank you! xx

Rooster’s home late, and for the first time in six years, it’s on purpose. He’s not proud of it — he didn’t ever think he would be this kind of husband. The kind of man who comes home late, hoping that his wife might have already gone to bed.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to see her. It’s not that he doesn’t want to sit down and have dinner with the kids. He does. He wants all of that, so badly. He just can’t stand seeing that look in her eye again today.

Sitting opposite her and knowing that she doesn’t love him anymore. That it hasn’t been the same for that little bit too long.

He swallows and kills the engine, sitting there in the drivers seat with his forearms braced against the wheel, solemn. She’s going to leave him, he knows it — and he’s trying to make his peace with it. He doesn’t know how he’s going to cope when he doesn’t have this anymore.

He hopes that she’s in their bed. It’s the only time that things feel remotely like they used to. When her eyes are closed and she’ll slip unconsciously closer, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his chest. When she closes her eyes, she still wants him, and that’s what he’s been holding on to.

He’s silent as he enters the house, locking up and setting his keys down, walking through into the living room. He barely even notices her, apart from the discontented sound she makes as she shifts to find comfort.

Bradley turns his head and looks down at her asleep on the couch. It’s made up, so she planned to sleep here. Her brows are knitted together, he knows that she’s having a bad dream. He knows just about everything there is to know about her.

Briefly, he considers leaving her there — unsure that the first thing she’ll want to see when she opens her eyes is the man that she’s planning to divorce. But he just can’t. She’s his wife. He sets his things down all together and shuffles around to the front of the couch, crouching down to her, peeling the blankets back.

She’s asleep in his shirt. He swallows softly, wondering to himself what she’s going to wear when he’s gone. He decides that he’ll leave her some, then sits forwards and kisses her forehead softly.

“It’s just me, baby.” He whispers, shifting her into his arms as smoothly as he can. Still, she stirs. She’s been a light sleeper since the twins were born. “‘M gonna take you to bed.”

She presses her cheek to his clavicle, knowing from the feel of it that he’s still in his flight suit, not bothering to open his eyes. It makes her heart ache to know that he stayed at work this late just to avoid her.

One arm under her knees and the other around her back, he holds her close and kisses the top of her head. Maybe he should say that he’s sorry. He isn’t sure she’s even awake to hear it. She considers saying sorry too.

Neither one of them do.

He carries her through into their room and sets her down in their bed, pulling the sheets up just to her chest — knowing she hates them near her face. Leaning down, he kisses her cheek softly again. He won’t dare kiss her mouth.

She swallows, eyes shut, tears brimming as she listens to him potter around the room, getting undressed and preparing to go and take her spot on the couch. As she prepares to open her mouth, she hears his footsteps drawing away. Only down the hall. He’s checking on the kids.

It takes a while, but she hears him come back and fiddle with taking his watch off. He always forgets that.

“Hey, Bradley?” She croaks out, blinking finally and hoping that she doesn’t finally burst into tears.

He turns towards her, wearing now just a loose pair of shorts, then raises his eyebrows expectantly. His cheeks are red. She knows he’s been crying.

“Could you come back to bed? — Please.” She whispers. He blinks, his lashes heavy and wet. There’s a beat of silence between them before he nods, then pads across the room towards her.

He slips into bed, lying on his back, closing his eyes in the hopes that it’ll soothe the headache he’s getting. She shifts across the bed slowly and rests her head on his shoulder, sprawling her hand across his bare chest.

“I love you.” She says quietly, like it’s a goodbye. Bradley swallows the lump in his throat and drapes his arm around her shoulder.

“I love you too.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #parent trap bradley

[thezombieprostitute]

Baby's First Christmas

A/N written for @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice Challenge. AFAB reader but no other descriptors used.

Prompt 19: “Every time you look at me, I melt a little.”

Christmas had always been your holiday. You loved the lights. You loved the music. You especially loved the cheer. Curtis had never really thought much of the holiday but happily supported you in everything you did to celebrate.

Last Christmas you ended up not doing much but that was likely because you were 4 months pregnant and the baby definitely made you re-prioritize your energy. Curtis helped you with everything you wanted done. He made sure you sat and directed him for anything that required a stepladder. No way was he going to let you overwork yourself or put yourself at risk of any kind of falling.

This Christmas, however, you actually had the energy to pull out all of the stops like in other years. Your daughter, Lily, was kept safe in your arms or a papoose and she was utterly fascinated with all the shiny lights. Curtis joked about you making sure she was as much a fan of Christmas as you.

"That's not a bad thing," you retort, sticking out your tongue. Lily giggled at the face you made and you smiled back at her, cooing as you did. Curtis came up from behind and wrapped his arms around his girls, kissing your cheek.

"You're right, of course," he agrees. "But just promise me you'll teach her to wait until December 1st to break out the Christmas stuff. I hate when my Halloween gets tainted by St Nick.'

You giggle, "don't worry. You'll give her your love of Halloween so that she'll want to respect the sanctity of October."

"I'm not sure she enjoys Halloween," he grumbled.

"She was only a few months old," you console. "It'll be her favorite when she's allowed candy. I also think it'll be her favorite because it's your favorite."

"What do you mean?"

"If I want Lily's attention I have to make faces or big motions or something. All you have to do is talk and she's focused on you." You point to your baby who is smiling big at her dad, eyes never leaving him. "It must be all the time you spent reading her stories before she was born."

Curtis only hums in response, noting how Lily tries to mimic the noise.

The baby monitor woke you up; Lily was fussing. You start to get out of bed but Curtis stops you. "I'll get her," he assures, giving you a kiss before getting out of bed. You let yourself fall back asleep.

You wake up again and check the time, it's been an hour and Curtis still isn't back in bed. Curious and worried you get up and go to Lily's room to check on him but they're not there. You quietly walk to the living room and find Curtis holding Lily in the rocking chair, facing away from you and looking at the Christmas tree, all lit up.

As you stood there, you heard Curtis whispering to the baby girl in his arms, "I really do hope this helps you. Your mama says her favorite parts of Christmas are the peaceful moments sitting in a dark room with only the lights from the Christmas tree. No other noises or anything. I'm hoping this'll help make it your favorite thing, too."

Lily quietly babbles.

"Yeah, I know. Your mama's right about you. Your eyes follow me whenever I talk and, I'll be honest, it scares me sometimes. I used to be, well not cold-hearted, but definitely indifferent. Then I met your mama and she warmed my life. I thought my heart was done warming when your mother agreed to marry me but, every time you look at me, I melt a little."

Lily babbles back at him and yawns.

"Yeah, I suppose it is time to get you back to your crib," he says as he stands. "But it is nice to get to just sit here and talk with you. I think your mama's on to something with how calming these lights can be."

He stops when he sees you but you can't read his expression through your teary eyes. You're smiling as bright as the lights on the tree as you hug him and Lily. Curtis kisses the top of your head and whispers, "let's all get to bed, okay?"

The two of you put Lily in her crib, sleeping soundly. When you get back to your bed you're immediately curling yourself up around Curtis, going for a full-body cuddle. He chuckles at your enthusiasm and gives the warmest smile you've ever seen from him. The two of you stay cuddled up together for the rest of the night.

#naughty or nice challenge #navy and roo's sleepover #curtis everett fluff #curtis everett x female reader #dad!curtis everett #curtis everett #curtis everett christmas

[bradshawsbaby]

snow angels

pairing: rhett abbott x girlfriend!reader

author’s note: based on this sweet prompt from @therebeccaw ❄️

i’ve been loving the rhett prompts you guys have been sending in! they’ve been making me feel super inspired, so thank you!

warnings: rhett being a little bit of a grump, but it turns to plenty of fluff

The snow had just stopped falling when you pulled up in front of the Abbott house, killing the engine of your truck and snatching up the tin of homemade biscuits you’d made before carefully sliding out into a pile of snow that came up past your ankles.

Cecilia had called earlier in the day to invite you over for dinner, an offer which you never refused. Ever since you were a kid, home cooked meals at the Abbotts’ were always a special treat. Though it was a secret you would take with you to your grave, you actually preferred Cecilia’s beef and vegetable stew to your own mama’s. Your mouth was already watering in anticipation as you slogged your way to the front door through a snow drift.

Having known the Abbotts pretty much your entire life, and now being Rhett’s girlfriend on top of it, you didn’t even need to knock to await entrance into their home. Pushing open the door, you stomped the snow off your boots and announced your arrival with a loud “Hello!” as you attempted to untangle the scarf from around your neck with one hand.

Amy came running towards the door with a bright smile, wrapping her arms around your waist in greeting and taking the tin of biscuits out of your hand.

“Hey, sweetie,” you beamed, giving Rhett’s niece a soft hug. You remembered the day she was born, and it boggled your mind to see how big she was getting.

“Grandma and Grandpa are in the kitchen,” she told you, taking your hand and tugging you in the direction of one of the most heavenly aromas you’d ever smelled.

Turning the corner, you immediately caught sight of Cecilia standing over the stove, stirring her famous stew, while Royal stood at the sink, scrubbing grease off his hands and forearms.

“Heya, bug,” Royal said as he turned his head and caught sight of you. “Bug” had been his affectionate nickname for you since you were a little girl, ever since the day you’d run screaming and crying to your mama about how Rhett Abbott had shoved a handful of bugs down the back of your dress after church on Sunday. Rhett had gotten in some serious trouble, but he never dared pull a stunt like that again, and the two of you had become fast friends after Cecilia dragged him by his ear to apologize to you.

“Hey, Royal,” you grinned, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting. “Hi, Cecilia,” you went on, moving to give Rhett’s mama a side hug as she continued to work on dinner.

“Hey there, sweet pea. Glad you could make it tonight,” Cecilia said, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she turned to smile at you. “Dinner’ll be ready in a few.”

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, already pushing up the sleeves of your sweater.

Cecilia shook her head immediately, shushing your attempts to be of assistance. “No, no, you’re fine. Amy, finish setting the table,” she called out to her granddaughter.

“I’ll help with that,” you laughed.

Just as you turned to assist Amy, Perry suddenly walked through the door, shaking the snow off his jacket and hat. He raised a tired hand to you in greeting, which you returned.

“Where’s Rhett?” Royal asked, drying his arms off and rolling down his sleeves.

“Still in the barn,” Perry replied, shooting his parents a pointed look.

Cecilia sighed, shaking her head. Leaning in closer to you, she lowered her voice and said, “He’s been in a mood all day. There was a big storm in Casper and they just cancelled the rodeo for this weekend.”

You knew immediately that Rhett must have been extremely disappointed. He’d been talking about riding in Casper for weeks, and you’d been looking forward to cheering him on.

“Maybe you can go cheer him up and convince him not to come to dinner like a grumpy, grunting caveman,” Cecilia went on, nudging you with a smile.

“I’ll try my best,” you chuckled, going to grab your coat, scarf, and boots before once more making your way out into the cold December evening.

Tucking your hands deep into the pockets of your coat, you shivered as you made the trek to the barn, seeing the light emanating from the cracks in the door that told you Rhett was still inside. By the time you pushed the thick barn doors open, your cheeks were like ice and your lungs felt frozen inside your chest.

“Rhett?” you called out, not spotting your boyfriend right away.

“Over here,” came his gruff voice from behind a massive pile of hay.

Oh, yeah. He was definitely in a mood.

Walking across the barn floor and turning next to the tall stack of hay, you finally caught sight of Rhett, hefting a rather large bale onto an already impressive pile.

“Your mama sent me to get you for dinner,” you told him, leaning against the beam near your shoulder.

“I’m almost done,” he muttered curtly, sweat beading on his forehead despite the frigid temperature outside.

“She also told me to make sure you don’t come inside acting like a grumpy, grunting caveman,” you added, using Cecilia’s words exactly.

Rhett frowned at that, dropping another bale of hay onto the pile and then turning to look at you, hands on his hips in obvious frustration.

“I’m sorry about the rodeo in Casper,” you told him softly. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he insisted, wiping his hands on the front of his jeans and shaking his head.

Pushing off from the beam, you made your way over to him and rested your hands on his shoulders. “Clearly it does,” you said, watching the way he avoided your gaze. “It’s okay to be disappointed, Rhett.”

His jaw twitched, but he didn’t say anything. Cecilia was right. He really was in a mood today.

“Someone’s grumpy today,” you murmured, voicing your thoughts aloud. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “And here I made homemade biscuits and everything for dinner tonight.”

Rhett’s body relaxed slightly under your touch, but he still didn’t smile the way you hoped he would. You knew his frustration wasn’t just about the Casper event being cancelled. His last ride had been a poor one, with him getting tossed off the back of a mean son of a bitch named Midnight after only four seconds, and you knew he was itching to get back in the saddle and make up for it, to prove he was better than that. You knew he was, but you also knew his confidence had been shaken and his pride had taken a serious blow.

“I’m just tired,” he mumbled in a low voice, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Just a bunch of backbreaking shit today.”

You just nodded in understanding, taking his hand and pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go inside then. Your mama’s stew smells really good, and then you can get some rest,” you promised him as the two of you stepped outside.

Rhett still seemed on edge as he turned to lock the barn doors, which bothered you. You hated seeing him like that. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glanced down and an idea suddenly struck you. You knew it was an idea that would either brighten your boyfriend’s sour mood, or put him in a worse one altogether, but it was a gamble you were willing to take.

Squatting down, you gathered up a huge handful of the soft, powdery snow, packing it into a tight ball before rising and launching it at Rhett, hitting him square in the back.

Turning slowly, Rhett looked at you with an arched eyebrow, his expression not giving anything away.

“Did you just—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, he was hit in the chest with another snowball as you giggled behind your hands.

“Babe, would you—”

Thwack. Another one hit him in the shoulder.

“Alright, that’s it!” he exclaimed, reaching down to make a snowball of his own.

Letting out a loud screech, you turned and tried to run, but felt the snowball pelt you right in the rear end as you began running in the direction of the house.

“You started this, honeybee!” Rhett called out, chasing after you and catching up to you within seconds. Gripping you tightly around the waist, he launched you both into a huge pile of snow.

Laughing hysterically, you lay back in the snow, not even minding the cold that was seeping into your bones. When you looked up at Rhett, resting on his elbow beside you with a huge grin splitting his face, your heart warmed immediately.

“Remember the snowball fights we used to have when we were kids?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair out of your face with cold fingers. “God, those were brutal.”

“Every man for himself,” you laughed, nodding in agreement at the memory.

“The hot chocolate afterwards always made it better,” he mused with a smile, his breath coming out in little puffs of white air. “Not to mention the bragging rights for the winner.”

“Mhm—king or queen of the snow pile,” you grinned, shifting your legs slightly to keep them from freezing. That suddenly unlocked another fond childhood memory. “Oh, and remember the snow angels? Gosh, I haven’t made a snow angel in forever.”

Giggling, you flung your arms out at your sides and winked over at Rhett. “What do you say, Abbott? Want to make a snow angel with me for old times’ sake?”

“Yours were always much prettier than mine, honeybee,” Rhett chuckled, laying down flat on his back beside you in the snow.

“So? It’s just for fun,” you smiled, beginning to move your arms up and down and swing your legs from side to side.

“How do you always manage to make it so I can’t say no to you?” Rhett smirked, sighing in an exaggerated manner as he, too, began moving his arms and legs to craft a snow angel of his own.

“It’s a gift. I’m very persuasive,” you laughed, turning your head to gaze at him and finding that his blue eyes were already locked on you.

“That you are, honeybee,” he nodded, his voice soft with tenderness.

A few minutes later, you sat up and carefully shifted, wiping snow from your pants as you stood up to admire your handiwork. Rhett followed suit, coming to stand beside you as you both looked down at your design efforts.

“Hmm, I think you were right about mine being prettier,” you teased, trying to maintain a straight face. “Mine is definitely a snow angel. Yours is more like a snow monster.”

“Why, you little—” Rhett grinned as he suddenly tackled you back down to the snow, his body resting on top of yours as he pinned your wrists on either side of your head. “Who’s the king of the snow pile now?” he smirked, winking down at you.

You laughed breathlessly in response, just beaming up at him. This was the Rhett you knew and loved.

His expression sobered slightly and he released your wrists so that he could cup your face in his frozen hands. “I’m sorry for being a dick before, baby. I was in a bad mood, but it wasn’t your fault,” he apologized, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“It’s okay,” you forgave him, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. “I know you were upset.”

“You’re too good to me, honeybee,” he said quietly, burying his face in your neck. “Better than I deserve.”

“Maybe not so good,” you teased, taking him by surprise when you suddenly shoved a fistful of snow down the back of his collar, causing him to yelp loudly. “That’s for the bugs when we were five!” you giggled hysterically as he frantically tried to shake the snow out of his clothes.

“Long memory, huh?” Rhett grinned, caging you between his arms once more. “If I recall correctly, I apologized for that,” he added, raising an eyebrow. Smirking wickedly, he leaned in close and whispered, “But maybe I oughta give you a spanking, just like the one I remember getting for the bug incident.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you gasped, eyes widening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your laughing lips.

“You never know, honeybee,” he winked.

“Come on inside, you two idiots, before you freeze to death out there!” Cecilia’s voice suddenly cut through the still winter air. She was standing on the front step, hands cupped around her mouth. “Dinner’s ready!”

“Another time then,” Rhett laughed, pulling you up out of the snow and into his arms. “I love you, y’know,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, too,” you told him, smiling as he wrapped his arms around you and led you towards the warmth of the house and his mama’s beef and vegetable stew.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett x reader #x reader #x female reader #outer range #lewis pullman

[kerryweaverlesbian]

for the prompts! 9&13 combined 👀👀

(From this post) (also here's the last one I did).

Castiel had escaped to the empty kitchen at the earliest opportunity as soon as the number of people in the map room had exceeded 8. He doesn't mind crowds, he quite likes them outside - the warm, hurried rush of humanity is quite endearing - but he'd become accustomed to there being a maximum of 4 in the Bunker, including him, so it feels almost claustrophobic to have more, even somewhere as large as this.

He's not surprised that Dean came to find him two hours in, though he is a little surprised that it took him so long.

"There's just so many of them," Dean complains, a little muffled against Cas's shirt, "I think the fuckers are multiplying. I turn around, there's two of them, I look again, there's five."

"The creation of a new prophet is a cosmic event. I certainly would have noticed," Cas says, mildly. He strokes soothingly down Dean's back with one hand, and takes a sip of coffee with the other. Dean grumbles and blindly pushes the coffee mug away from his head when it brushes against him, squeezing into Cas tighter with the strong arms around his waist.

"How many prophets does one god need? There's not that much interesting stuff that happens in the world. And more importantly, why the hell do they have to come here?"

"You invited them."

"Kevin invited them!"

"Because you told him to."

"Well, the kid needs more friends! He can't just hang out with you, me, Sam and Garth for the rest of his life. Anyway, it's definitely working out, I haven't even seen him for over an hour."

"I think he went to his room."

"What?" Dean pulls his head back from his embrace, appalled.

"He said he wasn't feeling up to it."

Actually, he'd muttered stupid Dean, stupid Bunker, stupid prophets, I wish none of them had ever been born, fuck my life, this is the Andover middle school dance all over again as he'd loaded his arms with chips and stormed out of the kitchen in the opposite direction to the gathering, but Castiel's powers of extrapolation had been improving over recent years.

"Then who the hell is this party for?" Dean complains, but he doesn't resist when Cas pulls him back to his nuzzled in position. He likes having Dean here, choosing his company as the antidote to others. Dean belongs in any place that brings him comfort, and Cas is lucky that in his arms is where Dean frequently finds it.

"It appears to be for 47 strangers who are better at getting along than we are." Then he tips his head. "48."

"What?" Dean squawks, pushing back from Cas's chest with alarm.

"They're multiplying."

Dean laughs, "You're an asshole."

Cas agrees with a hum. "You like that about me."

"Sure do. Get over here."

Dean's kiss is lingering, sweet and tender, and Cas's chest glows with it. It takes a second for Cas to open his eyes after, and he's treated to Dean's warm, relaxed grin.

"I guess I better go get rid of them so we can all stop hiding, huh?"

"That would be wise," Cas agrees, but tugs onto Dean's outer shirt when he starts to turn, "You've got..."

He smooths fixes the front of Dean's hair where it'd got smooshed in his impromptu snuggles with gentle fingers, then brushes his thumb over Dean's eye crinkles with affection on the way down from it, since he was in the area. The warmth in Dean's gaze when Cas meets his eyes again cannot be overstated, matched only by the feeling in Cas's own heart. He gets kissed again, and would've been happy to continue that way all through the party, but then there's a crashing noise from the direction of the war room, followed by laughter, which wrenches Dean's attention away.

"That's it," Dean says, untucking his gun from the back of his jeans, "I'm clearing house. Two minutes, tops, and we're free and clear."

Cas wishes him luck as he , and 30 seconds later there's the sound of a gunshot and Dean's voice authoritatively saying "Y'all better haul ass out of my house right now or the next one's hitting a body!", then the desperate scrambling of 47 people scrambling out of a single door.

In 30 seconds less than Dean's suggested timeframe, the place is empty but for its regular inhabitants again. Cas smiles into his coffee cup. They don't need anyone else to be happy.

@hauntedpearl hi Doe!!!! thank you for the prompts!! which were: Pressing their face into the other's neck, hiding from the world and brushing away an unruly lock of hair. I had been working on a Jo/Bela for this one but it wasn't working, and this one suddenly came to me in a vision this morning. So sappy. They love each otherrrrr. PS Sam's hiding in the armory lol. Not one of them likes big parties.

#deancas ficlet #destiel #I lorve them #gun violence #(< just in case. Dean doesn't actually shoot anyone lol.) #cawis creates

[luvvyouforever]

Hi! I found ur writing recently and I just really love it. I was wondering if I could request a nymphadora tonks x reader fic where they hang out together in the order. Idc where it goes from there I trust you! If you decide to use this prompt then thank you sm!! 🫶🏻

pillows, sleep, and sirius black yelling - nymphadora tonks x reader <3

↳ she doesn't want to get out of bed. and neither do you. but the order calls and you have to answer.

↳ just some sweet fluff and cuddling! i hope you like this i made it nice and sweet <3

getting up seems like the most horrible thing that could ever happen to a person right about now. the pillows are at the perfect level of broken in, the blankets are far too warm to leave the comfort of, and your girlfriend looks too adorable while curled into your side. you're right. getting up is the most horrible thing that could ever happen to a person right now.

you want to do nothing more but cuddle closer into her and to kiss her cheeks and head but unfortunately, the order scheduled an early emergency meeting and you have to get up. you have to and there's no getting around it. in fact, you can feel the tell tale shifting of the house to allow the members to enter the house.

"dora, baby," you whisper. she makes no reaction to let you know that she's even conscious. "we gotta get up, sweet girl." you nudge her gently and suddenly, she starts coming to life. her limbs move slowly and like a baby being born, her eyes blink open. with a groan, she stretches impossibly long and then shrinks back to her normal size.

"don't wanna get up," she mumbles. her arms wrap tightly around your middle and she buries her head into your chest. it's an adorable sight, one that crushes your heart, but you know that if you're not up soon, then sirius would come and find you. angrily so.

"i don't either, baby, but we gotta. dumbledore doesn't remember that most of us don't rise earlier than ten."

"ughhhhh," she groans. her head falls back and her eyes meet yours. there's a sweetness to them that entirely contradicts the frustration in her voice. "a few more minutes?" it's a whisper that you barely heard but you nod your head and hold her back tightly.

of course, the world is entirely against you at every moment of every day and you and nymphadora slept right until the very moment the meeting was supposed to start.

loud banging on your guest bedroom door woke you up with the most sudden, violent start. "y/n! nymphadora! get up!" it was sirius. of course it was. the two of you jumped, dora yelling a string of swear words as throws on some clothes she found in the duffel bag she packed. they don't entirely match but with a quick burst of magic, her hair changes colors and somehow brings it all together.

you, on the other hand, are much less coordinated. you have on a patterned pair of pants that do not much the colors in your top but it doesn't matter. the order was waiting on you down below and you would already be embarrassed entering the dining room.

"you're too comfy," dora said as she poked your side in the bathroom where you tried to make yourself look more presentable.

"shall i ingest a stone skin potion every night so you don't feel tempted to curl into me like a little cat?" you joked.

she smiled and shook her head. "absolutely not. wouldn't change a thing about you, doll."

your cheeks flare red and you leave the bathroom, and then the bedroom with dora a step behind you. the members of the order chuckled when you entered the dining room, eyes still clearly full of sleep. you held your head down and took a seat across from remus with dora at your side.

"long night?" he whispered before taking a sip of the coffee he had made for everyone. silently, he poured you a mug and you sweetened it to dora's liking so you could share.

at the head of the table, dumbledore began speaking about some important matters regarding safely transporting harry to the home and updating everyone on the information he had about voldemort. his bleak words were a stark difference to dora's warm hand tracing shapes on your leg.

you turned your head to look at her and she smiled when your eyes met. the look between you to said something like "when this meeting is over, we're going back to bed and cuddling until night time." you couldn't wait.

#fanfic #fluff #harry potter #harry potter x reader #nymphadora tonks #nymphadora #nymphadora x reader #nymphadora tonks x reader #harry potter fluff

[evita-shelby]

I love all of your work. I keep trying to imagine dad tommy from fic where his little girl comes home declaring she's got a boyfriend, and him panicking because she's like 6 and he can't scare the little boy without having his wife (the reader) chewing his head for it.

Omg thank you 😊

Okay for context, Florence was born in 1929 and is reader and Tommy’s youngest child (and his favorite of all four).

And i felt the prompt went better by being from Tommy's pov to focus more on Tommy and Florence’s relationship.

Other shelby children: Charlie and Gabriel (the Shelby Boys) and Diane (Diane Elizabeth)

Six years old

Gif by @samcoving

"Who's your new friend, Flora?" Tommy asked his youngest as he kissed the top of her head and then took his place at the head of the dinner table.

Frankly, Tommy thought it wholly unnecessary that they were using the large dining room they use to host gatherings instead of the more private family dining room.

But Florence Eleanor Shelby had demanded a dinner party for tonight, so he dressed for dinner and promised his wife not to overreact when he learned why.

A promise his wife had bet three shillings he'd break before the first course.

"My boyfriend." She beamed at him.

It took everything in him not to spit the water he had been drinking. He was going to need a drink, but Y/N had a strict don't drink in front of the children or I'll have your guts for garters, or so help me God, Thomas Michael Shelby policy.

"Hello, sir, I'm Andrew Roberts, pleasure to meet you." The little boy said courteously and waited until Tommy acknowledged him to resume eating.

Because in the pantomime that is life, his little girl attached herself to the son of Billy Kimber’s accountant.

Can't scare the boy, can't be rude or else Roberts will see it as a provocation, so he acts like this is just another friend his favorite child has brought over.

"I'm gonna marry him, daddy." Six-year old Florence tells him and you make it worse by indulging her in this fantasy.

The last thing he wants is for one of his children to marry young like his parents and the John did.

"But the girl is six," his wife’s says, "you're worrying for nothing."

"You're wrong, love," he tells her later once the dinner is over.

Six turns to eleven and she and Andrew remain thick as thieves.

She was bold, bolder than her best friend, the Princess Margaret, and Andy Roberts is shy and cautious like Tommy can assume his father was.

Calls him her boyfriend still, and he reminds Y/N that its way past being a phase.

"They're children, Tom" she shakes her head even as she does some last minutes things on the children's matching costumes.

Eleven turns to sixteen and Andrew nervously asks him for permission to ask Florence to a dance.

He has a shotgun on his lap when he gives the teenage boy his answer.

Florence locks herself in her room in tears and his wife shakes her head. "There's no harm in a dance. If you don't let her go, she'll just escape through the window and steal the car again."

So he listens to his wife and the next morning he apologized to his daughter and made her promise she wouldn't do anything stupid.

Sixteen turns to twenty three and they've been featured in everything from Tabloids to Time Magazine as the United Kingdom's entrepreneurial power couple.

Florence had invited them to a dinner party at her place in Mayfair. She had news and she had made him swear on the lives of his five grandchildren (by his three older children) not to overreact.

"Mummy, Daddy, I invited you today because Andy and I have news." She's nervous, but doesn't show it. His little girl had taken over the family businesses (the legal ones)and blossomed into a strong, independent and beautiful woman like her mother.

He knew what was coming.

Thomas Shelby had cornered Andrew Roberts after he bought the engagement ring.

But Roberts had sworn him to secrecy until the tine was right.

"Out with it, girl, your mother's not getting any younger." He tries to lighten the mood at the cost of his wife subtlely kicking him ubder the table.

"We're getting married!" They try to say it in unison, but nervous Andrew had said it first.

"You knew, Tommy?" his wife asked him suprised.

"Known since she was six."

#tommy and florence #florence shelby #reader is a side character #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy is a good dad #dad!tommy #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x wife!reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader

[sequinsmile-x]

Hold On To You

It's New Year's Eve, Emily is overdue, and they are going to Dave's house for his annual party. What could possibly go wrong?

-x-

Hi friends!

Happy New Year!! This is a fic based on a prompt I got asking for something where Emily is overdue and goes into labour at Dave's house at New Year's.

As always, I got entirely carried away and this is just shy of 5k words.

I really hope you enjoy this and that you have a good New Year. I just wanted to take the chance to say thank you for all the comments, kudos, likes and reblogs this year - it truly means the world that my writing means something to people.

Here's to another year of me putting these idiots in just about every situation <3

For the last time in 2023, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: Pregnancy, Labour, cursing (but who can blame Emily, she's having a baby on her friend's couch)

Words: 4.8k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“We don’t have to go, sweetheart.” 

She rolls her eyes at her husband, something he misses entirely because he’s kneeling on the floor in front of her, dutifully tying her shoes with so much care and attention she doesn’t know whether to yell at him or kiss him. She rubs a circle on her belly, shifting on the couch in a failed attempt to get comfortable, something she’d been unable to do for months. 

“We should go,” she says, grunting at a particularly hard kick against her ribs, “Jack is excited to hang out with Henry, and he keeps saying he’ll make it to midnight this year.” 

It was Dave’s annual New Year's Eve party and whilst the idea of getting dressed up and spending her evening anywhere other than home was the last thing Emily wanted to do, she didn’t want to let Jack down. He was, at most, days away from being a big brother, and the last thing she wanted to do was make any potential resentment toward his new sibling start before they were even born. Jack’s initial reaction to finding out Emily was pregnant was less than ideal, his concerns that she would love the baby more than she loved him causing him to act out, to say things he immediately regretted and apologised for. Whilst that was months ago, it was something she still worried about, a seed in the back of her mind that had planted and bloomed, making her almost go out of her way to make sure Jack felt like a part of all of this. 

Aaron smiles up at her as he double loops the laces on her sneakers, “I think we both know he’ll be asleep in one of Dave’s spare rooms by 11 pm,” he stands up and sits next to her on the couch, looping one arm around her shoulders and resting his other hand on her bump, “You know he’d understand, Em.” 

She hums and rests her head on his shoulder, “I know, but we should still go,” she says, smiling when she feels the baby move, “Besides, if we stop going to things because I’m massively pregnant we’ll never go to anything again - I don’t think Pickle is ever coming out.” 

He can’t help but hide a smile in her hair at the use of the baby’s nickname, something that their actual name would soon replace. Whilst Aaron would have liked to have found out whether they were having a boy or a girl, Emily had insisted that they waited - wanting nothing more than to find out when her baby was passed to her, a well-earned surprise at the end of a long journey. He let her have the final call, knowing her opinion well outweighed his in matters like this, and instead, they’d settled on a nickname. 

Despite usually hating them, always pulling them out of burgers and handing them to him, she’d been craving pickles since the moment her nausea had stopped at the start of her second trimester. Their fridge was full of jars of them since she now had them with every meal, no matter how strange the combination, so naming their unborn child ‘Pickle’ made sense. 

“Only a couple more days to go until they induce you,” he says, kissing the top of her head, and she pulls back to look at him, her eyes narrowing. She was overdue by almost a week now and she was furious about it, her anger driving her to tears most nights as she struggled to get comfortable enough to sleep. Exhaustion and the almost primal need to hold her baby making her irritable. 

“No more ‘only a couple more days’ talk unless you’re the one with a baby pressing on your organs,” she says, and he nods, swallowing thickly, and she huffs out a short breath, “I don’t remember how it feels to breathe deeply.” 

“Of course,” he says, kissing her cheek, “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

She grimaces as pain washes over her, her belly briefly tight with it and she curses as she squeezes his hand, “Fucking practice contractions,” she grumbles, squeezing his hand tighter until the pain passes, “I’ve been having them all damn day,” she blows out a breath as it passes, “I swear to God if Spencer says something about them being ‘mild’ again I’m going to kill him.” 

Aaron clears his throat to cover a laugh, knowing it would do nothing short of getting him in trouble, and he rubs a soothing circle on her stomach as the tightness eases, “I don’t think he’ll ever say anything to you about pregnancy again after you made him cry last time.” 

She rolls her eyes, “I didn’t make him cry,” she denies, even though she knows she had, her cheeks burning with embarrassment as she remembers the conversation in question, “And anyway, he should never have called me a geriatric mother.” 

Jack comes bursting into the room before Aaron can say anything, the young boy's excitement palpable as he bounces on his feet in front of them. 

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, and Aaron nods, standing up and chuckling as he ruffles his son’s hair and he tries to dive out of the way. 

“We’re ready, Jack,” he says, digging his car keys out of his pocket and passing them over to him, “Why don’t you go wait in the car - we’ll be out in a minute.” 

Jack nods enthusiastically and runs out of the room, the sound of the front door being pulled open following shortly after. 

“You’re going to need to help me up,” Emily grumbles, smiling softly when she spots Aaron is already holding his hand out to her, “Thanks, honey.” 

She groans as she stands up, only letting go of Aaron’s hand when she’s up as straight as she can be there days. She winces as she presses her hands into her lower back, the ache more persistent than usual, and Aaron looks at her, his brows furrowed.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

She nods, her lips pressed together as she shifts back and forth on her feet to ease some of the pressure, “I’m fine,” she says, looking down at her outfit and sighing, plucking at the dark green material of her dress, “I look like a blimp in a dress, but I’m fine.” 

He smiles and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her in place for a moment before he pulls back, “You look beautiful.” 

She hums and shakes her head at him, “You’re a liar, Aaron Hotchner,” she says, stamping her lips against his to stop him from arguing with her, “But I love you for it.” 

She groans quietly as she follows him out of the house, her waddle slowing her down in a way she hadn’t known was possible, the ache in her back not diminishing at all. She runs her hand up and down her bump. 

“Come on Pickle,” she mutters to her baby, unable to stop herself from smiling when she feels a kick that feels like a response, “Let’s go sit on a couch in Uncle Dave’s house for a change of scenery.” 

___

She smiles and listens and laughs at the right moments, but she can’t say she’s enjoying herself. She’s uncomfortable in a way she didn’t know was possible, unable to find any relief at all as she consistently shifts back and forth on the couch. Aaron, whose endless patience for her only seems to irritate her more in a way she knows he doesn’t deserve, goes out of his way to make her as comfortable as possible. He brings her pillows from one of Dave’s bedrooms, positioning them behind her back because he knows it’s better than the cushions from the couch itself, and he gets her whatever food she can stomach. 

She grimaces as another practice contraction starts to build, her grip on Aaron’s knee night as she places her hand there, and the only thing she can think is that she’s incredibly grateful Jack and Henry are in another room playing. 

“Are you okay, Em?” JJ asks, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at her. Emily grits her teeth and nods, blowing out a slow breath as the pain reaches its peak. 

“I’m fine,” she says, smiling tightly as Aaron places his hand over hers on her knee, “It’s just Braxton Hicks,” she says, her body relaxing as the contraction passes, “I’ve been having them all day.”

“Are…are you sure they are Braxton Hicks?” Spencer asks, looking slightly nervous as everyone looks over at him. He clears his throat before continuing, “Only, they aren’t usually in a pattern. And when you got here they were 12 minutes apart and now they are closer to 7.”

“You’ve been timing her contractions?” Derek asks, frowning at Spencer, “That’s a little weird, Reid. Even for you.”

“It’s a pattern,” Spencer says, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m good at recognising patterns,” he looks back at Emily and cowers slightly under her glare, “I’m just saying, are you sure you’re not in labour?”

She scoffs and shakes her head, pressing her hand into her bump, “I’m not in labour,” she says, the denial sounding weak even to her own ears, and she turns to look at Aaron, “I’d know if I was in labour or not, right?” 

Aaron links his fingers through hers and squeezes her hand reassuringly. As worried as he was, especially because he had a feeling Spencer could be right, he knew this was not the time for him to freak out. He had to be there for his wife. 

“Do you think you could be?” He asks, ignoring the presence of their friends, all of his focus on her, on the way he could see her already frayed nerves coming even more unravelled. 

“I…don’t think I am-” she says, cutting herself off as she looks down at her lap, grimacing at the wet feeling between her legs, “Okay, I definitely am in labour,” she says, sounding much calmer than she feels as she looks back up at Aaron, “My water just broke.” 

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking her up and down. He’s aware of how their friends spring into action, how all of them stand up, but his focus is still on her. 

“Well, either that or I just peed myself on Dave’s couch.” 

“That couch is made of Italian leather,” Dave complains, taking a step back as Emily looks sharply at him, her glare followed by everyone else's, and he nods to himself, “It’s fine, it can be wipe cleaned.” 

Aaron makes sure his stern gaze is fixed on his friend for a beat longer than necessary before he looks back at his wife, “We’ll get you to the hospital, okay?” 

She nods, but her response is cut off as another contraction rolls through her, making her yell out as she grasps his hand, her nails digging into his skin, “Holy shit this one hurts.” 

“That wasn’t seven minutes,” Penelope says, wide-eyed as she looks back at Spencer, “I thought you said you were timing them.”

“I was,” he says, close to stuttering, “But maybe she’s having a precipitous labour,” he says, rolling his eyes when everyone except Aaron looks at him like he’s insane, “A fast labour. It comes on quickly. There are risk factors, including giving birth in an unsterilised environment-” 

“God I regret letting you read my pregnancy books on the jet,” Emily breathes out, cutting him off before he can carry on, her teeth clenched as the contraction barely lets up before she starts to have another one, “Fuck I’m having another one.” 

She rests her head against Aaron’s shoulder, her hands in tight fists around his shirt, and she desperately tries to breathe through it. Everything around her except the pain and him disappears. She’s vaguely aware of Aaron telling Dave to call an ambulance and asking JJ to go get some towels. He then turns his attention back to her, soft words of reassurance against her ear as she grunts. She pulls back to look at him and she’s grateful for how calm he seems, some of her panic eased by the way he looks at her. A sense of serenity that briefly makes her forget she was in what felt like advanced labour on their friend's couch. 

“We need to go,” she chokes out, shaking her head as he holds her steady where she’s sitting, stopping her from standing up, “We need to get to the hospital.” 

“Dave is calling for an ambulance, sweetheart,” Aaron says, cupping her cheek, wiping away tears she hadn’t realised had fallen, “I don’t want to risk getting stuck in traffic with you in this much pain, okay?” 

She hears what he hasn’t said, that this is happening too quickly. That if he was able to get her up, something she wasn’t entirely sure was possible even though she’d tried to stand, it was unlikely he’d get her all the way to the car. Even if he did, there was every chance she wouldn’t make it to the hospital. 

She whimpers, a sound she hates, as she shakes her head at him again, the pain rolling through her unrelenting, “I can’t have a baby here,” she says, “This wasn’t the birth plan. I was meant to be in the hospital, with painkillers and an epidural,” she groans in pain, looking past Aaron to see their friends still just standing there, “And it was meant to just be us.” 

Aaron’s heart fractures in his chest at how vulnerable she sounds. It was something he knew she’d hate, especially in front of their friends, so he knows he has to do something - that he has to give her back some semblance of control of a situation that had rapidly gotten out of their hands. He turns to look at his friends, his expression stern, hoping he leaves no room for argument.

“All of you need to get out of here now,” he says, watching how Derek and Penelope frown, the latter already stepping closer to them, “She doesn’t need an audience for this, so please go keep the kids company, make sure Jack isn’t worried, but get out of here.” They nod and start to leave but he stops them, “Reid, don’t go too far, just stay on the other side of the door, in case we need your help.” 

Spencer nods and follows the others out, pulling the door behind him until it was mostly closed, leaving just a small gap he could talk through if necessary. 

Aaron turns back to Emily and smiles in a way he hopes is encouraging, “See, it’s just us now, okay, baby?” He says and she nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to stop herself from yelling out in pain again, tears streaming down her cheeks with the effort. 

“The ambulance is on the way but they said it might take some time,” Dave says through the crack in the door, “They said to examine her and if the baby does come to clear its airways and leave the-”

Aaron can see how every word Dave is saying is making Emily feel worse, the shock setting in on top of the pain she was in, so he cuts him off, even though he knows he’s just trying to help. 

“Thanks, Dave,” he says, his tone of voice making his feelings clear, “Go wait with the others, keep an eye out for the ambulance.” 

There’s a brief pause before Dave replies, JJ’s voice quiet in the background as she talks to him, “The towels are just inside the door for you.” 

Emily looks over at the soft, white, towels that JJ had placed on the floor for them and she groans, “God, we’re going to spend a fortune replacing those towels for Dave.”

“I think he can afford to replace them himself,” Aaron chuckles, his relief at a small flash of his wife peeking through from underneath her fear nothing short of palpable. He kisses her forehead, “I’ll get them, I’ll be right back.” 

She nods, unable to say anything as the relentless pain makes her feel nauseous. She places her hands on her stomach and tries to breathe, “I know I kept saying you needed to get out of there, kid,” she says, choking on a laugh, “But this isn’t what I meant.” 

Aaron walks over to the door and picks up the towels and he looks through the crack in the door. He’s grateful that the only person outside the room is Spencer, who is sitting on the floor, his back to the door, patiently waiting to help if he is needed. 

Aaron turns back to look at his wife, frowning when he sees she’s trying to lean down, her fingers grasping for the laces on her shoes that he’d tied so neatly earlier. 

“What are you doing, Em?” He asks, rushing back over and placing the towels on the arm of the chair. He puts his hand on her leg and stops her, taking over undoing her shoes for her. 

“I didn’t want to get my shoes on Dave’s couch,” she says, reaching out and grasping the sleeve of Aaron’s shirt as the pain gets worse, “Fuck,” she closes her eyes, shaking her head as she feels a lot of pressure, “I think I need to push.” 

“I think this couch is about to have a lot worse than your shoes on it,” Aaron replies, making quick work of taking her other shoe off too, letting them fall to the floor without worrying about tidying them up. He helps her so she’s lying on the couch and he’s sitting between her legs. He shifts so his hand is on her knee, squeezing it so she looks at him, “We need to get your underwear off, okay?” 

She wants to say no, wants to refuse, but she knows she can’t. She knew this baby was coming here and now, the urge to push making her entire body so tense she thought she could shatter into a million pieces. She nods and lifts her hips, letting him pull the material down her legs. 

He stuffs her underwear into his pocket, not wanting her to feel any more exposed than she already would if their friends were to walk in and see her underwear on the floor. He looks up at her when he hears her laugh, a curious look on his face as he tilts his head. 

“I think you did that the night we ended up in this mess,” she says, her hand on her stomach as she nods towards his pocket, “Although I seem to remember that underwear being sexy and not big enough to cover the Potomac.” 

He shakes his head at her and squeezes her knee again, “You look sexy in anything,” he winks at her and she tries to glare at him but it’s lost as a sound that he can only describe as animalistic comes out of her. He remembers that sound, and it briefly pulls him back to when Haley was having Jack. It feels like it happened to a different person, like he was no longer the man who had stood next to Haley’s side and held her hand as she gave birth to their son. He guessed on some level he wasn’t the same man he was different, and he liked to think he was better, “I’m just going to have a look, okay.” 

She nods, stopping him for a moment with a hand on his arm, “Promise me whatever you see down there you’re still going to want to have sex with me after this.” 

He leans in and stamps a kiss against her lips, “Nothing is ever going to stop me wanting to have sex with you, Em.” 

“You guys know I’m still out here, right?” Spencer asks, his voice breaking through the unlikely sanctuary they’d built in Dave’s living room, and they both look at the door sharply. 

“Reid.”

“Spencer.” 

They chastise simultaneously, their only answer silence, and then they look back at each other, and Emily nods, giving Aaron the go-ahead. He pushes her dress up to her hips and pushes her knees apart, blowing out a steady breath before he looks back up at her, hoping he’s been able to cover his own turbulent emotions to his already terrified wife. 

“I can see the head.” 

Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head, her trembling lips pressed together, “No it can’t be…” she drifts off, her head falling back against the couch cushions behind her and she screams, unable to keep it in any longer, “Fuck I think I need to push.” 

“Then you should push, sweetheart,” he says, “The baby is already on the way.” 

She swears that she feels her body take over, the immense pressure and pain forcing her to push even if she didn’t want to. She groans as she falls back, Spencer’s instructions from the other side of the door to slow down when the head comes out just about registering. 

“This sucks,” she says, her breath catching in her chest, her entire body on fire, “This sucks so fucking much.”

“You’re so close, Em,” Aaron says, his eyes fixed on the dark hair on their baby’s head, “So close.”

“That’s easy for you to say you asshole,” she says, outright calling him a name for the first time since this had all started, “You’re not the one giving birth in our friend's living room.” Instead of replying, Aaron takes her hand and places it on the baby’s head, watching as any anger or frustration melts away, her fingers shaking as she touches the baby’s hair, “Oh my God, that’s our baby’s head,” she says, looking up at him, her eyes shining, “That’s Pickle’s head.” 

Aaron nods, leaning in and pressing his forehead against hers, gladly passing her some of his strength, knowing he’d give her all of it if she asked. 

“You’re so close, Em,” he says again, the words actually encouraging this time, and he pulls away, taking his position back in between her legs, “Just one more push.”

She nods and sucks in a breath, bearing down with more strength than she thought she had as she lets out one final scream. She feels her baby slip into the world and Aaron’s waiting hands, and she gasps, the sensation followed by the longest moment of silence in her life. Then the baby cries, loud and squawking and totally furious to be born. Aaron clears the baby’s airways and he lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he looks up at his wife. 

“It’s a boy,” he says, looking back down at his son as he passes him over to Emily, her hands shaking as she takes the baby. 

“It’s a boy?” She asks in disbelief, her eyes fixed on her little boy, her son as she holds him to her, “We have a son,” she looks at Aaron, laughing through the tears that fall onto her cheeks, “Holy shit we have another little boy.”

“No cursing in front of him,” Aaron says, laying a towel over the still crying baby before he shifts to sit behind his wife, enjoying a moment with her and their newborn son before he has to worry about the next stage of all of this. 

“He’s literally two minutes old, honey,” she says resting on Aaron as he sits behind her, “He doesn’t even know where he is, let alone what a curse word is,” she stares at her little boy. He was bright red, his dark hair was glued down to his skin by god knows what, but he was beautiful, “He’s perfect.” 

Aaron kisses the side of her head, “Just like his Mommy,” he says, “I love you.”

She turns to look at him, her eyes shining with love and joy, “I love you too.”

There’s a soft knock on the door, drawing their attention away from each other, Dave’s voice breaking through the little bubble they’d created even though he remains on the other side of the door, “The ambulance is here, JJ is just showing them in now.” 

Aaron squeezes Emily closer, the way she tenses at the mention of other people, her eyes still fixed on the baby on her chest, and he runs his hand up and down her arm, “Thanks, Dave. Can you make sure-”

“Everyone is on the other side of the house with a strict instruction not to come over here until you’re gone.” 

Emily hums, almost talking to herself when she speaks, “I wonder what he had to bribe Pen with to agree to that.” 

“A case of my finest French wine, Bella,” he says, and they both know exactly what smile he has on his face even though they can’t see, “So it’s the couch, the towels and the wine that you owe me now.” 

She knows he’s joking, knows that he’d have given anything to help them through this, so all she does is lean in further to her husband's side as the door is pushed open and the EMTs walk in alone. 

“You can have anything you want, Dave,” she says, stroking her finger up and down her son’s soft cheek, “I have everything I need.” 

___

She’d never experienced peace at a hospital. 

It was always a place of trauma, of grief, but as she looked down at her son’s face as he slept against her, tucked in under her hospital gown, peace was the only word that seemed right. 

“How are you two doing?”

She smiles as she looks up at her husband, who was standing in the doorway having popped out in the hallway to make a couple of calls, the unrelenting joy on his face something she knew was reflected in her own. 

“We’re okay,” she says quietly as Aaron walks over, carefully joining her on the bed. She secures the baby against her as she shifts to allow her husband to sneak in behind her. She winces as she settles against him, offering him a smile as worry flashes across his face, “I’m okay, just very sore,” she scrunches her nose up as she tries to get comfortable, “Getting those stitches was not fun.” 

Once the EMTs had cut the chord and helped Emily deliver the placenta they’d brought them all to the hospital. JJ had agreed to take Jack home for the night, the little boy thankfully very agreeable despite his excitement at his sibling being born. Emily knew she’d be here for a couple of days, the quick labour and delivery meant the doctors wanted to keep an eye on her and the baby, and she was grateful for it - the residual fear that something was wrong even though her son had passed all of his tests with flying colours not quite leaving her alone. 

“Jack is already asleep,” Aaron says, “He and Henry are having a sleepover and the team is raising a glass to us all at midnight.” 

She hums contentedly, “As much as today was not what I wanted,” she says, tearing her eyes away from her son to look at Aaron, “I’m grateful for them,” she smiles softly, “And for the fact they respected our wishes.” 

“I would have barricaded the door if that’s what it took,” he says seriously and she kisses his jaw, pressing her love for him into his skin. The baby cries out and they both turn to look at him, Emily’s soft shushing and her lips against the top of his head enough to quieten him down, “We need a name for this little guy, I don’t think he’d thank us for calling him Pickle in about 15 years,” Aaron says, placing his hand on his son’s back, linking his fingers through Emily’s, “I think the boy name we had picked out works perfectly, don’t you?”

She studies her son’s face, desperate to log every little bit of it to her memory, well aware that these early days that felt long as they were happening would go far too quickly. She smiles and nods, trailing her knuckle softly down the baby’s cheek. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, shifting to kiss her son’s forehead, “Hi Hugo,” she says softly, tears she couldn’t explain if she wanted to gathering in her eyes, “Welcome to the world.” 

A cheer from the nurse's station, muffled by the closed door, draws their attention away from Hugo, and Aaron smiles as he checks his watch. 

“Happy New Year, sweetheart.” 

She smiles and leans in to kiss him, well aware this would be her favourite year yet, “Happy New Year, honey.” 

-x-

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#emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #aaron x emily #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss

[archieimagines]

Imagine Cassian’s kisses before work.

so, this didn’t go the way i expected. he came out a bit fiery, but we love to see it. warnings: sexual themes, but no smut! written by: archie

this is inspired by @yournewwriter​‘s gentle prompts: saying i love you before leaving to work.

It kind of broke your heart. Watching him from your shared bed as he hovered around the dorm, getting dressed for work. Knowing that in just a few short moments, he’ll be out that door, his work-head firmly on his shoulders.

You know him well. He won’t let any thoughts of last night into his head during the day. Not how warm your bodies were when pressed together, an intimate warmth that could only be borne of the two of you. The way you clasped at his back, nails leaving pretty little crescents in his skin, highlighted with spots of crimson.

He buckled his belt, broad back facing you. If you squinted, you could just see the tiny dents you’d left on his skin in the dim light of the window… until the fabric of his shirt fell over them.

He turned to glance over his shoulder, a shining grin lifting his eyes at the sight of you watching him, still bundled up in the sheets. “You’re awake. Did I disturb you?”

“Mn,” you reached a sleepy hand out to him and he didn’t waste a moment to step in close and lean down, taking your hand in both of his with a squeeze. He nuzzled his nose into your hair, inhaling the homely scent of slumber and shampoo that he adored. He was just about to tell you to roll over, to go back to sleep, but your husked morning voice and needy fingers kept him close, clinging to the front of his shirt. “Don’t go today.”

“I have to, my darling,” his smooth accent twirled through the air on a murmur. “I have to work.”

But his reasoning was no use. “Stay,” you implored, eyes sweet and desperate.

Something about it was so cute, and he couldn’t help the soft laugh as he was tugged in closer. He let his lips meet your forehead over and over, and it soothed your eyes closed once more. The delicate sounds of his repeated affection, easing you further into the pillow on which you lay.

It appeared to soothe you at least a little, and he made to lean back once again, aware of every minute that ticked by, bringing him closer to his mission briefing. But of course- your fingers stayed laced in the front of his shirt.

“Stay?”

It was so hard not to melt. Half his mind was tempted to take off his shirt and climb right on top of you once more, trap your body in his to enjoy a lazy morning of slumber. It’d be luscious, the warm sheets on his back, your soft skin against his front. Slow kisses, soft words, adoring promises.

But he couldn’t.

He heaved a low groan, taking your jaw in the palms of his hands, and pressed a long, deep kiss to those lips.

It stunned you, not expecting such fervour this early, your eyes relaxing closed. You settled backwards into the bed as he pressed you into it with the power of his kiss, and your hands raised to touch his gorgeous dark locks instead--

But he pulled away.

“I’ll be back as soon as I’m done,” he comforted, a heat underlying his words. “Sleep more.”

And with that, he was gone. Pulling his coat on by the door, gaze still fixed on you, drinking in the sight as if the warmth of the scene would stay with him all day if he just tried hard enough.

“I love you,” he called, willing his feet out the door. “Miss me.”

#cassian andor imagine #cassian andor x reader #andor imagine #diego luna imagine #diego luna x reader #rogue one imagine #star wars imagine #cassian andor #andor #diego luna #rogue one #star wars #written by archie #gentle prompts

[k4g3hika]

Mrs girl, your Eddie x reader fanfic are so Good, they made got through to much emotion, that it really life changing. Well, I can request Eddie x Reader, but it's with Eddie helping out in inside yk like bringing out ingredients or chopping the vegetables for you and kinda being klutz, I feel like Eddie wouldn't be the best cook but would love to be there with you especially your cooking.

NOT PERFECT ━ imagine!

eddie munson x fem! reader

summary: eddie isn’t a chef. he knew that. but he helps out when you ask him and tries his best…even though he’s a insecure of his skills.

genre: comfort/ a bit of angst?

wc: 928

note/warning: sorry this took me so long! also, there’s a mention of blood, so if you’re uncomfy with that, feel free to skip past:)

“Eds, can you get me some green onion from outside please?”

“Sure thing babe.” He smiles at you, grabbing the knife from the drawer. Luckily, you catch him before he goes, handing him a pair of scissors with a teasing smile on your face.

“Remember, not with a knife,” you take the knife by the handle and put the scissors in his palm, “but with scissors my love.”

“O-Oh…right. Sorry.” He kisses the top of your head before scurrying outside. Laughing to yourself, you continue to cook the curry in the pot, putting various spices inside. You remember not to put too many spices, or else Eddie wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Eddie wasn’t kitchen-savvy. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, prompting him and his uncle to eat a vast amount of microwave dinners or canned food. It wasn’t like he didn’t want cooked food. It’s just that he wasn’t exactly born with the talent to make any. 

If Eddie could burn boiling water, he probably would’ve by now.

However, despite his faults, you still require his help. Eddie didn't understand why you would ask him. It’s not like he was confident in whatever he was doing. But to you, cooking in pairs or groups rather than cooking alone, was something you preferred. You often saw cooking as a way to bond with others, so to cook with Eddie was something you enjoyed.

And he wouldn’t tell you this of course, but it was probably apparent, he loved to cook with you too. It’s just that he made more mistakes than he hoped to make.

“I have the green onion!” Eddie came back inside waving the stocks around, coming back to your side and slapping them onto the chopping board. “I hope they’re nice.”

Taking one good look at it, you noticed that they weren’t perfect. One was way longer than the other, whilst others had holes in it because of those rotten snails. 

You wouldn’t say that to Eddie though.

“They’re amazing. Thank you so much.” You kiss him on his cheek. “Can you slice them now? You don’t need a knife, all you need to do is cut them with the scissors into small pieces.”

“Okay, that seems easy enough.” Eddie picked up one stock, wanting to do it perfectly. He knew how much pride you took to your cooking, and he didn’t want to ruin it all with his mistakes. 

Eddie thought your food was perfect and he didn’t want to taint that.

You listen in on him, trying to hear the funny curses under his breath, or when he usually pleads, begs, the utensils to work with him-

“Shit!” Eddie frantically dropped the scissors, catching your attention immediately when he put his finger to his mouth. “Fuck,” 

“Eds-”

“Babe, it’s fine. I-I’ll just clean it up. Oh no, I got my blood all over the onions, shit!” He ran to the bathroom, obviously shy because of his injury. 

It hurt you a bit. That Eddie was a bit insecure whenever he would cook with you. 

Yes, you noticed. You knew Eddie’s insecure aura through and through. You felt it every time you asked him to do something. But he always denied feeling that way.

You just wished he wouldn’t lie to you for the sake of your happiness. 

Turning the oven to low heat, you make your way to the bathroom, hearing Eddie’s cursing. You sigh and push the door a bit, seeing him attempt to put a bandage on himself but failing tremendously. Finally, Eddie notices you standing around and immediately begins to get nervous.

“Y/N-”

“Let me help you.” You gently grab his finger, throwing the band aid that was previously there into the garbage. Opening the box and getting a new one, you rip open the packaging and make sure there are no air bubbles. You hear Eddie sigh.

“I’m sorry baby. I ruined whatever you were cooking.” Your lips press into a fine line, putting his finger down and reaching to his face. You hold it with both hands, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks.

“Eddie, you didn’t ruin anything. The green onions weren’t really that important anyway. Plus, there is always more growing outside. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“But it was going to be perfect…if I didn’t just-”

“Eds. Stop. Anyone could’ve made that mistake. Fuck, I could’ve made that mistake. Just because you think I’m an expert at cooking doesn’t mean I could slice or chop off my finger.” You giggle, Eddie following suit and placing his hands on your waist. “And Eddie, I know you were thinking about not helping me in the kitchen anymore.”

His eyes drop.

“And it’s completely your choice. I’m not gonna force you. But babe,” you push yourself closer, “I love when you help me in the kitchen. Even though you're a total klutz, don’t know the difference between a ladle and a spatula, and don’t know what you’re doing…I still prefer you there than to be alone.”

Eddie smiles at you, pulling you close into a hug. You sigh at his touch and step back from him. Leaning in, you kiss him on the corner of his lips and watch his smile grow wider.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suddenly, the smell of burning powder radiates through the trailer. This prompts you to move slowly towards the bathroom’s doorway, and see the smoking rising from the pot. Your eyebrows raise and Eddie starts to wonder what was going on.

“Oh shit!”

“What?!”

“The fucking food!” 

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fanfiction #stranger things 4 #netflix