with a spatula in her hand

“So, Mom and Dad are gone for the night, so I thought I’d make you dinner!” My sister squealed excitedly. She was too cute for words when she came up with her brother/sister bonding ideas.

“That sounds really great. What are you going to make?” My eyes wandered her body as I waited for her answer. I could never get enough of my little sister.

“Chicken Stir Fry. One of your favorites!” She winked at me. I nodded, telling her how much I’d love her to cook me dinner, and she giggled and ran off to her room.

Twenty minutes later she returned. My eyes locked on her immediately. Her jeans were gone, but what remained were a very cute, very tight pair of panties. She wore a plain white t-shirt that clung to her skin. I could see how hard her nipples were underneath. And finally, thigh-high socks. She knows all my weaknesses by now. She walked by me towards the kitchen, giving me a sly glance and a wink.

She grabbed the small apron off the wall, tying it around herself. All it did was put more focus on her plump little ass. As she made her way through the kitchen, gathering ingredients and turning on the stove, all I could do was watch as her perfectly round bottom bounced with every step. I started to rub my cock through my jeans as I let my eyes wander. She glanced over to me occasionally, seeing the state she put me in, and smiling before returning her focus to the preparation of dinner.

I watched her as she cut the chicken, then placed the pieces in the hot frying pan. The sizzling chicken was enough to cover the sound of my footsteps as I snuck up behind her. I put my hand on her shoulder, startling her for a moment. “Hey! The kitchen is for chefs only! Get out of her” She mocked, but I didn’t leave. I brushed her hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck. I leaned down and pressed my lips against the sensitive skin. She moaned and closed her eyes, absentmindedly stirring the chicken. As I planted wet kisses all over her neck, one of her arms reached up, wrapping itself around my head. “Oh god that’s good…” she groaned as she ran her fingers through my hair. The hand holding the spatula slowed the more I kissed her, too distracted to keep stirring. And when my left hand crawled up her belly, under her shirt, and grasped one of her breasts, it fell from her hand, landing noisily on the floor. “Fuck…” she muttered as my hand groped her perky breast.

My right hand was rubbing her lower back, then slid it down, under the back of the panties. She gasped as my finger made its way down her crack, between her glorious cheeks. “Where do you want it…” I whispered into her ears. She bit her lower lip and moaned something under her breath. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” I teased my finger against her puckered little hole.

“In my ass. Please, fuck my ass.” I pushed inside, which made her slap her hand down on the counter, supporting herself up as my finger invaded her asshole. “Oh god, fuck me!” She breathed. I started pumping my finger in and out of her ass, still kissing her neck and groping her breast, pinching and twisting her nipple. I saw her hand slide under her panties, and she started furiously rubbing her clit as I fingered her ass. “Oh god, you couldn’t have waited till after dinner?”

“No.” I said simply. “Cum for me.” My little sisters body began to shutter, and legs shaking. I put my arm around her waist, holding her up but still pumping my finger in her ass as she rubbed her pussy. She moaned in my arms, drooling as her orgasm spread through her body like a wild fire. Her thighs quivered and her ass squeezed around my finger as filth slipped from her mouth. “Shit, fuck… Fuck my ass, please!”

When she finally came down and was able to stand up on her own again, she turned to me, legs still shaking and unsteady. She smiled weakly at me and hugged me.

As I held my little sister in my arms, my nose picked up something that, in our lust haze, we hadn’t noticed until now. We both looked at the frying pan at the same time, and sighed. “We burned the chicken…” I said apologetically. “Sorry, sis.”

She just smiled. “It’s OK. We can just order out tonight.” She grabbed the pan, and set it down in the sink, and turned off the stove top. Grabbing the phone off the wall and handing it to me, she said “Here, you call. I’m thinking pizza. And while we wait for them to get here…” she reached her hand to the bulge in my jeans, rubbing it and licking her lips.

I just hope he payed for it. It was his fault after all. ;)

lusterrdust masterpost

bughead fanfiction: 

Okay, so some of my earlier chapters to certain fics were not posted onto this blog, but on my old blog, which is now deleted. Because of this, I am going to link all my fics to AO3, which, truthfully, is where I prefer people to read them anyway. I apologize if you disapprove, but it’s just easier that way. 

So, just know, the links below will redirect you there. 

all of my bughead fics


blush:  “His hand gives an awkward pat to her shoulder as her fingers grip the lapels, a shy smile spreading across her face like the pretty pink flush on her cheeks. “Thank you, Jughead.” Betty says softly, pushing her arms through the sleeves and tugging the jacket tight around her.” [au]

resplendent:  “A bright light all her own, his shadows are drenched in her radiance.“ [nsfw, au]

i know: The words stare at her with mocking. They stare at her, yelling the truths she’s thought time and time again in her mind, “Those Coopers—they’re crazy.” [post 1x05]

three words: “Betty is an addiction Jughead never wants to be rid of.” [nsfw]

assumptions:  “Betty’s blue eyes move rapidly over his face, watching his lips spew words that shift the ground beneath her like a black hole. The surety he has in his assumptions make her furious, and she’s suddenly glaring at him with pursed lips.” [jealous!juggie, au]

breathe:  “What was happening? The panic inside her was heightening—webbing itself into the deepest part of her veins and seizing the very basic function of what Jughead was asking her to do. She can’t breathe.” [post 1x06]

love, uninterrupted:   “Almost like an epiphany, she saw him—really saw him. Like sunlight peeking out from foggy mist, he was clarity, pure and true. She opened her eyes and he was new before her, yet… the same.” [slight nsfw]

stars:  “Despite the gritty, gravelly exterior he presents to the world, Jughead is the epitome of sweet toward her. He’s tender and considerate and just the right amount of reticent to be endearing. And though she loves that about him, Betty’s not in the mood for slow and sweet.” [nsfw]

hunger pains: “Jughead,” Betty begins, startling him as he spins around, spatula in hand. She folds her arms over her chest and raises a brow. “It’s two in the morning.” Jughead grins before turning back to his food, clicking the volume from his phone down as he shrugs. “I’m hungry.” [au]

brick walls:  “He’s found home; and not in the age-worn bricked walls surrounding him, but in someone.” [future-fic]

good times:  “For a moment, the fleeting discovery that she’s actually quite stunning in her candid genuity breaches his thoughts before he quickly pushes that feeling down. ” [au]

drop in the ocean:  “She can feel the tickle and scrape of coarse sand against their bare legs, but pays it no mind. Her focus is consumed with her boyfriend’s touch and the trail of heat his fingers leave against her skin.” [nsfw]

drown:  “Loss… injustice…unfairness… it’s the ugly truth of life. There doesn’t have to be a reason or a person to blame. Sometimes, misfortune just is.” [miscarriage, angst]

red lipstick: "She pulls the passenger mirror down and wipes her red lipstick off, smudging the color across her skin and marking it in a way that reminds Jughead of bee stung lips after a kiss.” [comics-ish au]


lost and found:  “Maybe as a seventeen-year-old, sneaking kisses with the blonde he’d been in love with at the time—maybe he’d had a thought or two of her as a mother; a boy’s fantasy of the blissful domesticity he never had.” [future-fic, au]

red sunrise:  “Lifting her hand up, her thumb twirls the band on her ring finger until the diamond digs into her pinky. She pushes the jewel against the skin until it stings, redirecting her emotional pain into the physical.” [zombie au]

stranger than fiction:  "If he weren’t so perplexed and shaken by what was happening, he may have thought she was pretty. But, if she was a figment his imagination, then of course she’d be pretty. He’d imagined her—no! He wasn’t imagining her.“ [supernatural au]

SERIES: like home

persophone “She’d been devastated when Jughead suggested they take some time apart, of course she had—but… somewhere in her mind, she’d been so sure in believing this was nothing but a small hurdle for them.” [au, nsfw]

feels like home:  “Bringing his knuckles to his lips, Jughead stares out into the traffic with a content look. He was ready to go home.” [future-fic]

home, forgiven and loved...

Post-6X17 ficlet. I set out to write something longer, but liked the short, sweet and dialogue-free feel of this instead. 

He’s sure the water is pinking his skin from the heat, but it feels too good to cool the temperature, each hot droplet hitting his shoulders taking a bit of tension with it on its way down towards the drain. She’d already whisked the dirt and grime away with her magic, but after too many days in the same clothes and without a proper wash he knew he wouldn’t truly feel clean until he was able to do it himself.

He lets his fingers trace the bottles along the ledge, Emma’s shampoo, her body wash and his shampoo, all lined up together next to the bar of soap he still prefers over the liquid most use in this modern realm. There’s nothing truly earth shattering about the bottles, but the sight of them causes his breath to hitch and his eyes to glaze over with happy tears.

He’s home. He’s forgiven. He’s loved.

She can hear the water still running upstairs and has a thought to stop her current task of making grilled cheese sandwiches so she can strip off her clothes and join him. But he’d looked so tired…and hungry, a different kind of hunger than is currently swirling up a storm deep in her belly. There’s time for that later. Hopefully sooner, but she’ll settle for later.

Even though she’s alone, she mentally blames the heat from the burners for the flush of heat behind her cheeks as she flips the sandwich over with the spatula to brown the other side. Her ring catches the overhead light on the stove and she turns her hand this way and that, watching the prisms dance about as her lips curl into a joyous smile.

He’s home. She’s forgiven. She’s loved.

The smell of grilled cheese welcomes him as he pads into their bedroom with just his towel around his waist, seeing Emma waiting for him on the bed with a napkin and a smile. She jumps to her feet to meet him, halting him with her hands at his waist and a light kiss to his lips. Her hand slides between them on his chest and he breathes in deep, releasing the air from his lungs on a trembling sigh as her magic sparks with warmth against his skin. Unlike the quick rehab she’d done back in the loft, this is more thorough, her fingertips tracing along each and every rib, up, and over his rapidly pounding heart. Unable to resist, he takes her lips in a more urgent kiss, cupping her cheek as her hand moves to his forehead to trace where she’d already healed the gash left behind by a Lost Boy’s spear.

Her fingertips are still tingling as her hands wrap around his back, the front of her sweater dampening from the water from his chest as she pulls him in close. He knows he needs food…and rest…but he needs this, her, more than the air in his lungs and the blood in his veins. She doesn’t resist as he moves to lift the sweater over her head, looking almost relieved as she smiles and makes quick work of her jeans and the rest of her clothes. His towel gets tangled between their legs as he falls with her on the mattress, sighing against her mouth as she urges him without ceremony to settle between her thighs. They both cry out as he begins to move within her, her strong hands keeping him from lifting his head so every breath, every word spoken rumbles over their still joined lips. His release barrels down on him too soon, but she’s right there with him, her body rising to meet his, a soul rendering lovemaking he both wants to last forever and come to its glorious conclusion all at the same time.

Later, they sit naked together under the covers eating cold grilled cheese sandwiches and talk. They speak of everything that has happened while they apart, and more importantly, everything that lead to their separation in the first place. It’s hard, but necessary, for her to trust that he will never leave her and for him to believe that he can finally be done apologizing for his past.

When sleep eventually comes, it’s with her head on his chest, their legs tangled and the ring finger of her left hand sparkling atop his heart.

They’re home. They’re forgiven. They’re loved.


Happy birthday @snogfairy <3<3<3 Have a lovely rest of your day!

Lucy wakes up confused and warm, her head aching with what she already knows is a nasty hangover. Groaning, she rolls over, nearly falling off the couch. She catches herself at the last second, swearing under her breath before sitting up. She sniffs, squinting at the harsh light of the morning sun, and frowns when she hears something sizzling. Curious, Lucy wonders is Cana stayed the night, considering she always ends up on the couch when that happens. Lucy stands on wobbly legs, making her way to the kitchen slowly, grumbling to herself about never drinking again.

It’s not Cana in the kitchen.

Lucy freezes at the threshold, blinking rapidly when she notices a man standing in front of her stove. His back is to Lucy, and it’s a very nice, well-muscled back. Her eyes trace his form, a brow quirking when she sees pink hair something dark poking through the strands. He hums to himself and Lucy shakes her head, amused to see her supposed one-night-stand cooking breakfast.

She’s about to call out to him when she notices a weird, circular shape on her kitchen floor, chalk smeared across the tiles. Now that she’s looking, she can see that her kitchen is an absolute disaster. There’s a large crack in her table and one of the chairs is laying in a pile, completely splintered.

What the fuck?

Mystery man turns around, smiling when he sees her. “Mornin’, Sunshine!” he greets, grin revealing a row of wicked, sharp teeth. Lucy glances down at his toned chest, gaze following the outline of his stomach muscles. He clears his throat suddenly, and Lucy’s eyes snap back up. He quirks a brow and that’s when Lucy notices the spiraled horns poking out from his messy hair.

Is that some kind of roleplay thing? Did she bring home some guy with a fantasy kink?

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

soooo happy that FMM claire has a bun in the oven!!! would love to see a classic pregnancybrain moment that she gets to share with jamie. mine hit me worst at 5 or 6 weeks in!

Flood my Mornings: Eggs

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment:  The First Step (Misunderstanding over Claire’s application+ baby news)


Jamie came awake and jumped out of bed in one single second, stumbling toward the sound of her voice in the kitchen. Stumbling; not running.  He knew from her tone that there was no danger to hand: a ‘goddamnit’ of frustration only. Nonetheless, it was the middle of the night, and Claire—unpredictable and mad as she was, on the whole—didn’t usually take to screaming at random

She was standing over the stove, her hands in fists at her sides and her robe slipping off her shaking shoulders.

“Claire, love?” He put a hand on the small of her back. “Have ye burned yourself?” 

“NO, the—blasted stove is broken—" She was agitated and angry and looked as though she were going to lay a kick to the offending appliance. “I just wanted to scramble eggs but they’re not—not—cooking!

“No? What’s wrong, d'ye think?” he asked, glancing at the pan, which sure enough, held only wet, raw eggs.

“The damned—stove is broken—” she repeated, teeth gritted in frustration as she gestured wildly at the item in question. “I just don’t understand, it was working fine at dinner—but — ”

She gulped air. Then, she burst into tears. 

“Och, hey, shhhh it’s no matter, lass,” he said, half-laughing as he pulled her to him and hugged her tight. “Hey, now, it’s alright—we’ll get a repairman out, if we must—”

She sobbed into his shoulder. “I’ve been trying for ten minutes and I don’t—I don’t—I just wanted EGGS —

“Dinna fash, mo nighean donn,” He choked back a laugh and only rubbed her back, swaying her as though they were dancing cheek-to-cheek, like the song said. “Here, let me make ye something that doesna require heati ” He went mute, gobbled for a moment, then pursed his lips hard together, his wame now convulsing madly from the effort not to burst out laughing . 

“What?” she said sharply at his sudden silence. She pulled back enough to glare at him. “WHAT?” 

Without a word, but with his lips quivering, he released one hand from her waist, reached over….and turned on the Stovetop.

You willna laugh, James Fraser. 


But thank GOD his pregnant wife cackled first. 

She dropped her forehead against his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his neck, and positively SHOOK with laughter, bringing him right along with her . They slumped against each other, hooting like the wee fools they were.

“Oh Jesus H. CHRIST, what is WRONG with me??” she moaned as she stepped away from him a few minutes later, wiping away tears and still giggling.

“Dinna fash yourself,” he said, turning the Stove off again. “It’s common early in a woman’s carrying, no? To feel a bit daft from time to time?”

“Well, yes, so they say, but—”

“Jen told me once that when she was newly wi’ child (I think it was wi’ Wee Jamie, come to think ) she lost her favorite book of French folktales and was near-distraught. Then the next planting season, she was turning the soil of the kailyard and up came Contes des Fées along with the rotted cabbage roots.”

“Oh, Jenny,” Claire hooted, leaning back against the counter. “Well, that does make me feel a bit less insane. It’s just so strange—I don’t remember anything of the sort with Faith or Brianna.” 

“No, indeed?”

“I should have thought that by my third pregnancy, I would have seen it all! Apparently not!”

He stepped into her arms and kissed her deeply. He didn’t want to voice the sad thoughts running through his mind. The still-raw grief from the loss of Faith. That at this phase of her last pregnancy, Claire had been close to starvation from months of war on the slow march toward Culloden. Much might have been missed, amid that bleak time; much had been missed, since. 

But those sorrows were of another life, and had no place in the foolish glee of this night. He said only, “No child of ours would make things easy for us, would they?”

“No indeed.” She rubbed her abdomen and made a stern face at it. “Just don’t make Mummy jump off a cliff or anything permanent, alright, little one?”  

Jamie grinned and added his hand, spanning them both. “Aye, young Fraser, be nice to your Mama, or you’ll have ME to answer to.”  They both sighed then, with twin, happy, humming sounds. 

Jamie did some quick calculation. “It’ll be August, aye?”

She smiled and nodded. “I think so—can’t say for sure precisely when we conceived, but yes, August approximately.” She suddenly groaned. “Oh, LORD, that means I’ll be carrying a 7-, 8-, and 9-month baby in SUMMER.” 

“Well, never you fear, Sassenach: I’ll be here with all the lemonade and cool cloths ye might desire.” 

“Well, that sounds much better than last time. God, this time next year, we’ll have him or her with us. Can you imagine?” She beamed. 

As did he, imagining. A new bairn. A wee brother or sister for Brianna. Getting to see Claire carry a child in peace and under the care of doctors. Getting to hold his child from the moment they would be born…. 

He kissed her temple. “Go sit yourself down, mo ghraidh, while I make ye some eggs.”

“Oh, no, I can do it!” She turned toward the Stovetop, catching up the Spatula. “Now that I know it’s just a matter of turning ON the bloody —”

He turned her firmly away and settled her into the chair. “I insist.” 

“You really don’t have to wait on me hand and foot, Jamie—I’m perfectly capable, and for all my teasing, I don’t expect royal treatment.” 

“Aye, I ken that. But it’s my joy to take care of ye, Sassenach. Always, but—particularly now that you’re carrying our child.” He took the Spatula from her hand in a manner that brokered no argument.

She sighed and then grinned up at him. “Well in that case, I’d feel much better cared for if you’d put cheese on the top.”

“Your wish is my command, your majesty.” He opened the Frigidaire, peering. “Sorry, I dinna think we have any.” 

“No, no, I know we do,” she said, furrowing her eyebrows and glancing confidently around the kitchen. “Just had it in my hand a few min—ohforfuck’ssake—

She walked with dignity to the counter, and oh-so-casually picked up the block of cheese.  

From the soap dish. 

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I Don’t Disappoint [M]

Originally posted by jayfatuasian

pls don’t hate me. i tried my best.

Jay was greeted by the scent of his girlfriend cooking as he entered his kitchen. He had promised you he would be home by 6 but Hyunjung’s had a few worries about her new album and so Sunghwa and Jay decided to stay back helping their newest member; more to calm her nerves than anything. Jay smiled once he saw you only clad in an oversize wife beater. He could see the side of your boobs from how low the curved of the sleeve fell. He bit his lower lips knowing you were not wearing a bra.

You glanced to look at him and returned back to cooking as if his return didn’t surprise you.

You had one hand on your hips and the other holding a spatula as you stirred the chicken in the pan. You were not the greatest cook but you could manage a few dishes without burning it and especially if its healthy food. You were never good with frying anything with oil and you have a scar just above your thumb to prove it. “Hello,” he called out from the doorway of his kitchen.

You only hummed out in reply and turned to flash him a quick smile.

“Is there a panty underneath that or have you discarded the idea of wearing anything underneath a shirt?” he continued on leaning against the doorway with a smirk beautifully carving his lips.

You tried to suppress a grin and managed to fake a small smile. “I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Are you complaining?” you turned your head, perking an eyebrow at him.

Your eyes followed his tongue as it moisturizes his pink lips. You could see his eyes tracing the outline of your figure and you purposely stood up straighter pushing your lower body outwards as you leaned to take a whiff of the scent of your cooking. “Does it smell good?” he asked and you inhaled in the familiar scent of your black paper grilled chicken.

“Uh-huh.” You answered seeing he walked towards you.

“It smell better than it looks at least.” He snickered as you pointed your spatula at him threateningly and he quickly held his hands up in surrender.

“You better be careful Park. You’re late.” You waved the spatula in front of his face and his eyes followed its movement making you smile accordingly. He puts down his hands once you returned back to cooking, throwing in a few cherry tomatoes into the pan. He leaned against the counter with his palms holding him up at his sides.

“You haven’t answer my questions.” He added once the only sound in the room was the sizzling sound of the chicken you’re cooking.

“I’m wearing underwear.” You answered nonchalantly and cursed when you accidentally knocked the packed of tomatoes when you reached for the bottle of herbs. Jay let out a small laugh at how clumsy you were and you sent him a glare before kneeling down to pick up the tomatoes, but of course you had to put the accident to your advantage. You took your time kneeling down making sure that Jay’s eyes were focused on your ass. You could feel the material of your wife beater moving upwards and Jay laughed knowing your intentions. “Wait, hold up let me take a picture.”

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Babysitter || Kim Taehyung

Originally posted by jinatetae

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: Fluff

Y/B/F - your best friend

The sound of your phone ringing was the first thing that you heard. Taehyung groaned beside you and rolled back over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. The sound of your ringtone going off that early made his ear drums ache.

In your sleepy haze, you managed to grab the phone, answering it and muttering a lazy hello into the microphone.

“Y/n!” Your best friends voice flooded over the line. There was a sense of panic in her voice that caused you to sit up straight in bed. Taehyung groaned even louder beside you, not wanting to be up this early but you had never heard y/b/f sound like this before.

She sounded incredibly worried and scared, and you thought that maybe something had happened. You weren’t sure exactly what, but it had to be important.

“My babysitter quit on me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t leave Bora at home, but I can’t bring her to work with me. And I can’t call in sick because then my boss will be angry at me.” Your friend continued to ramble on and on.

You knew how hard it had become for y/b/f ever since she had Bora. Bora’s father had disappeared one day and never returned, making y/b/f’s life more difficult then ever. It didn’t help that she didn’t make as much money as she needed to pay for everything they needed.

You had watched Bora a few times for her, taking the four year old for the day and treating her in ways that her mother couldn’t.

For a four year old, Bora understood that it was tough for her mom. She was possibly one of the smartest kids you had ever met, and it amazed how much she gave up to make her mom happy. She didn’t care about not being able to attend her first year of school, she didn’t care about having the newest toys and such.

It amazed you how mature she was. And you knew that y/b/f really was blessed to have a daughter like Bora.

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Mistletoe’s Overrated Anyway

I started writing this last Christmas. And then suddenly it was January so I decided to wait to do anything with it until this Christmas. I found it on Saturday night and forgot I hadn’t finished it. So here, have a Christmas fic! On… Boxing Day.

At least it’s not January?

Happy (belated) Christmas/Season’s Greetings, all!

Edit: Now on AO3!


Derek glances up when he hears the front door open and close, and frowns when Laura doesn’t immediately announce herself. He wipes his hands on the dish towel hanging from his belt loop and goes to investigate, finding his sister in the entryway with a stranger.

  Laura’s face lights up and she drops all of her bags, launching at him. “Derek!”

  Despite the surprise of an unannounced guest, Derek smiles and squeezes her, pressing his nose into her hair. “I didn’t think you were bringing anyone,” Derek says when they finally part.

  “I wasn’t,” Laura says. “I was lucky to even get here. All of the flights out are cancelled for the foreseeable future because of the weather, and I ran into Stiles, of all people. You remember Stiles Stilinski, right? From Cora’s class?”

  Derek remembers a hyperactive eleven year old with a buzzcut and an irritating habit of getting underfoot - his memory doesn’t lend to the lean, doe eyed brunet in his hallway; he’s talking on his phone and scowling something fierce but Derek’s mouth goes dry at the way Stiles runs long fingers through his hair.

  “Coffee?” Derek asks abruptly, turning to look at Laura. “There’s a fresh pot. Cora’s gone out on a last minute supply run - is, uh, Stiles staying?”

  “I offered your wonderful hospitality until he can find a flight to take him home,” Laura says, following him back into the kitchen and leaving Stiles in the hall. “I know you have the space, and it seemed a shame to leave him stranded. Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”

  “It’s not Christmas yet,” Derek points out. “How did you even recognise him? We haven’t seen him in ten years.”

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Experiment #6 - Request

Requested by the sinners and anon: I have a suggestion for the next experiment- sherlock x reader. Its where sherlock points out that he’s not just using the reader’s body… And their relationship gets a label. (If this isnt where you want the story to go, i totally understand tho) <3
& anon: Experiment idea: they use various items from around the flat as sex toys (yknow, like carrots and cucumbers, wooden spoons, things like that) 

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 2.068

Warnings: Smut - spanking, ice play (Coldplay xD), food play, teasing, soft smut.

A/N: Thank you to the anon who mentioned this series ending, you did this. I’m not sure if you would consider this an ending but uh… Yeah, it’s up to you guys.


Originally posted by sherlockedimagines

“Why do people have the need to experiment?” She repeated, “That is what Lestrade asked after his phone call with Donovan… There is only one way to find out.”

“We’re not using cherries,” Sherlock stated.

“We don’t have cherries.” She winked and Sherlock grinned mischievously as he took the spoon off her hands.

“Turn around.”

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Heart to heart.

Pairing : Past!JaredxReader
Word count : 1,937
Author :Mel
A/N : More parts for @bigdaddymongoose.

Part 5 of ‘My son, Bringer of Storms.’

The next Friday, you were standing in front of your fridge, glaring at it. “How dare you.” You mumbled. “I’m starving, and you might as well be empty.” Nothing looked appetizing enough. Shutting the fridge with a sigh, you turned to the counter and opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out some take-out menus.

You were bent over the counter flipping through them when you heard a knock at your door. “Coming!” When you pulled it open, you were surprised to see Jared. “Hey. I thought you were heading home, like usual?”

He shook his head. “Gen’s..” He shrugged. “She’s still pretty pissed at me. It was strongly hinted at that I should probably stay away for a bit.” He licked his lips.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but you kinda deserve that.”

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hunger pains

bughead fanfiction - one-shot - pointless fluff piece - unbeta’d, forgive errors


“A soulmate is someone who
appreciates your level of weird.”
-Bill Murray

Betty wakes up to the smell of bacon, but upon glancing to the clock at her bedside, she realizes it’s far too early for breakfast. Reaching her hand out, her palm runs over cold sheets, prompting a groan from her lips before she pushes herself up and off the bed.

Rubbing the grit from her eyes, she follows the soft tune of Purple Haze from the kitchen and sees her husband at the stove, oblivious to her presence. Pushing herself up onto the counter, the bare skin of her legs break out in goosebumps at the chilled marble.

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All I Wanted; C.H. 29

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10**, part 11*, part 12*, part 13, part 14, part 15**, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 23, part 24, part 25, part 26, part 27**, part 28

“Dress or no dress?” I ask to no one present in my room as I hold multiple dresses in front of my frame as I make faces at myself in the mirror. “Oh, you can never go wrong with a dress!” I mimic Meredith’s voice before I chuckle dryly. I had felt horrible when I had merely been sleeping with Calum behind Meredith’s back, but right now all I wanted was to come clean with her and beg her to help me get ready – like she always would do.

I’m a hopeless mess when it comes to getting ready on my own and I am doubting every single choice I had already made tonight. It had taken me half an hour to choose my bra, and I think I was going on to an hour for deciding about my dress.

I throw the black dress onto my bed, it was a too safe choice for now, and decide to go with the fire red dress. It showed off my curves in just the right way and covered enough without me looking like a nun. I sigh and drop onto the chair in my room, glad I had finally decided on my outfit and all that was left now was my make-up and hair.

My phone vibrates against the wood and I lean over to see Calum’s name flash. I put down my foundation and pick up my phone.

Do you like fish? :) xx

I snicker while I shake my head, my fingers tapping away at the greasy screen. I feel the butterflies erupt in my stomach as I bite my lip, hitting send.

Yes, I do. Excited for tonight ;) xo

I apply my foundation and a fair share of my eye make-up before my screen lights up again.

Hurry your ass up then, I’m ready xx

It makes me speed up my preparations and I slide into my dress with ease. On my way downstairs I try to slide on my shoes – almost hopelessly failing – before I’m jogging out the door.


“Hi.” I grin as the front door slides open, revealing a devilishly handsome looking Calum with the brightest grin on his face. “Hello.” He leans in and presses his lips against my cheek, which I feel heat up at his gentle touch. “Come on in.”

“It smells great here, what are you making?” I take a whiff as I follow my nose through the hallway and to the opened kitchen door. I can’t help myself when I walk straight to the pan sizzling on the stove, completely discarding Calum.

“Spanish tortillas. I hope you like them?” Calum mumbles as he stops behind me, his hands gliding along my waist as he drops his chin on my shoulder. “I’ve never had them, actually.” I smile over my shoulder and Calum huffs, one of his hands letting go of me so he could poke the tortilla with his fork.

“Then prepare yourself, it’s one of the better things I make.” Calum laughs before he presses his lips against my neck and I let out an involuntary giggle. “Even though I have trouble believing it, I can’t wait.” I take a step back, leaning against the table as I watch Calum add spices and other ingredients to his one-pan-meal.

“I know you’re dying to do so, so I think maybe we should tell Meredith this weekend. But like – keep it PG13 for now until she gets used to the idea?” I mumble, my eyes scanning over everything scattered across the Hood kitchen. Calum stops his movements, his head slowly turning so he could glance at me over his shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. Shit scared as well. But I think it’s the most decent thing to do now that we’re giving this a proper go.” I shrug my shoulders with a small smile etched onto my lips. Calum’s features contort into something that displays a huge grin before he turns around, discarding his spatula. His hands grasp my face and he feverishly, passionately, presses his lips against mine.

I moan against his lips as I feel my smile creep and become brighter, my own hands fisting Calum’s shirt. One of his hands slides to the back of my neck, pressing me closer against him as he deepens the kiss.

“What the actual fuck?” Her voice is high-pitched, almost shrieking but you can hear it – filled with horror. Calum stills his movements and I freeze on the spot. He backs away from me and as soon as my eyes land on a seething Meredith, her bag dropped to the floor, my mouth starts sputtering words I know aren’t going to help me in any way.

“Mer, it isn’t what it looks like!” I swallow thickly as my widened eyes dart from Meredith’s defensive stance and Calum, who looks like he has seen a ghost – he has seen her furious way more times than I have, and I know I should be scared when you cross Meredith.

“It looks like you’re sucking my brother’s face. Why in fuck’s name would you do that?! How – how long has this been going on?!” Meredith starts to stutter, her accusing finger pointing between Calum and I. Her mouth opens a few times but no sound comes out. This is bad.

“I – uh,” I really don’t want to do this, “maybe two or three months?” I press my lips into a thin line as I awkwardly bounce on the balls of my feet. I feel like I’m being scolded by my dad for stealing his father’s day gift when I was six years old (what did you expect from a little kid with no money but an immense love for her dad? Yeah. I thought so). Not even a second has passed before her loud voice fills the silence – apart from our heavy breathing – once again.

“You – WHAT?” I think her eyes might bulge out of her head if she keeps inciting herself like this I think she might pass out from a reduced blood flow. I sigh and rub my flattened hand along my face. Calum stays quiet again, which I think is a smart move. This is directed at me, I am her best friend and I betrayed her trust. Not to drag Calum down, but he hadn’t done much else in the past years.

“All I wanted was to be certain what this was before we told you, Mer. It isn’t that we’re purposely trying to hide everything from you.” I mumble towards the floor because I know this will infuriate her further, although it’s the truth.

“Well, Y/N, I wanted that my brother and my best friend were honest with me. Apparently that’s too much to ask.” Meredith drops the thick folder she had been holding onto the table with a rough smack. She sighs, shaking her head before she disappears in the same direction she came. “I have plans. Yeah, apparently to stab me in the back…” Meredith mumbles before the door slams closed behind her. My heart aches and I want to go after her, but Calum’s large hand on my lower arm stops me.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea, Y/n. Let her cool down, I’m sure she’ll call you in the morning to talk this through.” I groan as I drop onto one of the kitchen chairs. I rest my head on my knees, trying to keep my angry, frustrated tears at bay. Of course our do-over date would be a complete disaster, too. Everything is against us.

“Y/n, baby, it’ll all be alright. Don’t worry about it, you’re been friends since you were in diapers, I won’t let a guy come in between you two.” Calum starts massaging my tense shoulders, his tall frame standing in front of me. I eye his knees, letting out a humourless chuckle.

“Calum, you are that guy.” I breathe as I roll my eyes, Calum’s eyes widening before he steps closer towards me. His hands encircle my waist and he lifts me off of my feet, keeping me up and pressed against him. “I’m not letting myself come between you, but I’m not going to let you be, either.”

I smile and slowly close my eyes, hugging his frame close to mine. I hope he was right and kept his promise. I press my lips against Calum’s freshly shaven face before I retreat.

“So, how about this amazing tortilla you were going to try and feed me?” I redirect the conversation and attention back to our date, but in my head, all I could replay was Meredith coming in.

anonymous asked:


this got long. oops?

Before Robert fully comes awake, thoughts of geez, you’re old bounce around his skull, and he groans, burying his face back in the pillow. 

There’s a soft chuckle to his left, and a hand slides into his hair, massaging his scalp gently. He can’t stop the smile from curving his lips, or his head from pushing up against talented fingers. 

“Don’t want to turn forty, huh?” A soft kiss is pressed to his temple in apology for the amused tone. 

Robert grunts, fingers sliding out from under the duvet to find Aaron’s chest. “S’not my birthday.”

“Sorry,” Aaron tells him, nose brushing against Robert’s hairline. “Kinda is.”

Shuffling until he can press his face into Aaron’s neck, he lets out a huff and a whine. He knows he’s being immature and childish, but forty is a big number and he absolutely does not want to think about it. 

Aaron laughs, Robert can feel the rumble underneath his cheek, and wraps an arm around Robert’s shoulders as he presses a kiss to his head. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You won’t be saying that when you turn forty,” Robert points out, turning to kiss Aaron’s jaw. “I’ll have to make sure you don’t freak out.”

The words settle about them like a promise, and Robert can’t believe how far they’ve come, how comfortable he is to think about Aaron being in his life forever

“Come on,” Aaron says, brushing a hand through Robert’s hair. “Let’s get up and get you out of the house before Liv wakes up.”

Robert forgot she was even home; she’s been interning at a studio in Leeds while she studies for her Masters in Architecture. She shines every time she shows him her drawings, and he knows enough to be impressed, though it’s mostly just pride whenever he talks about her. She popped down for a couple of days for his birthday. “She’ll be too hungover to make comments.”

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Imagine announcing your engagement.

A/N: Hellooooo, I’m back with more of the Chris Evans Mini-Series Spin-off (I really need to find a title for it 😂) Chapter 3 is called ‘She Said Yes’ and this is Part 1. Oh my Lord, so much fluff. ❤️ Prepare your hearts. You can read the related mini-series and the previous parts here: (Mini-series - Masterlist; Mini-series Spin-off: ‘Unexpected Reader’ and 'Little Ways Away’ - Masterlist.)

It was needless to say that after getting engaged to Chris at 4:54AM, sleep was not had. You 'celebrated’ passionately and tenderly, waiting for the sun to rise and for the clock to tick to a more reasonable time so you could call your friends and family to announce the engagement they were all waiting for. 6:39AM was a reasonable time, right? You thought so, making the decision to call your best friend first as you knew she must have been worried about you and the state of your relationship. Chris had told you about his stop at your apartment first, and you suffered so much guilt you wanted to call her as soon as you’d heard. But Chris stopped and assured you Ava was much more relaxed when he left, telling him to get some sleep and she was going to do the same. Which brought his next rational point forward-

“I really don’t think you should call her, Y/N. She was up till two, the poor girl’s probably still asleep.” Chris took his eye off the bacon cooking on the stove to glance back at you, turning and wincing when the oil spit on his hand. “Why don’t we call those in Boston first,” he suggested. “They’re ahead so they’re definitely awake at this ungodly hour.”

“But it’s ringing already.” You told him with a cute pout and he chuckled with a shake of his head. “It’s fine, she’ll only be mad for a little while. Once she sees this,” you held up your left hand and waited for Chris to glance back at you to wiggle your occupied ring finger; he smiled. “She’ll be so happy for me that she won’t even care about her sleep deprivation.”

“I think she’d also appreciate being the first to know out of everyone,” he nodded in agreement. “But don’t blame me if she yells at you,” he pointed the spatula at you and you chuckled, sticking your tongue out at him. “Oh God,” he chuckled, trying not to smile. “I’m engaged to a kid.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You laughed and tossed a dishcloth at him, which he swiftly caught and draped over his shoulder while bellowing with laughter. “If anyone’s the kid here, it’s-” Ava picked up your FaceTime call before you could finish your sentence. “Ava!” You gasped excitedly when you saw her face pop up on your screen; you hid your left hand under the counter. “I’m so sorry I woke you up, but I have-”

“Shut up,” she cut you off. You pressed your lips together and tried not to throw something else at Chris, who was quietly laughing behind the iPad. “I don’t care about sleep, I care about you. Are you okay?” She asked and you nodded, smiling. “Did Chris find you?” Chris smiled at the thoughtfulness of your best friend and pulled the pan off the stove so he could join the conversation. “He’s here in Los Angeles, like- he came back for you, risked his job and- Chris!” She gasped when she saw him hug you from behind. “Oh, thank God.” She let out a sigh of relief. “You guys are okay then?”

“We’re better than okay,” you nodded, absentmindedly placing your left hand on his cheek as you leaned back into him. “We’re perfect.” You’d completely forgotten about your ring, until Ava jumped out of bed screaming. You and Chris both flinched, narrowing your eyes at her excitement until your left hand reached to pick Chris’ iPad out of the stand and you remembered your ring.

“You’re engaged!” Ava screamed, causing you and Chris to both wince then laugh. “Oh my God,” she pressed her face so closely to the camera, one would think she was trying to squeeze through to your side. “That is-” she let out a breathless chuckle. “I am so happy for the both of you. This is fucking amazing! Am I the first one? Does Tina know yet? Does Lisa- Oh my God, you are going to make the most beautiful bride and I am going to be the best maid of honor in the whole-” She cut herself off when she saw yours and Chris’ expressions; you were both trying to suppress laughter. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” You both nodded. “Gahhh! I’m just so excited!”

“Clearly,” you teased, “you just assigned yourself the role of 'Maid of Honor’.” You both chuckled as her eyes widened in utter horror. “Relax, babe.” You laughed. “Of course you’re going to be my maid of honor, there is no one else I’d rather have by my side.” She smiled, blowing you a quick kiss through the camera. “But the wedding’s not going to be for a while, we agreed to have a bit of a long engagement. We’re both-” you glanced at Chris, giving him a curious smile when you saw that he was smiling at you; you didn’t realize he was smiling because you had transformed from an 'I’ to a 'We’. “We’re both busy and we think it’s best if we wait a while.”

“That is very sensible,” Ava nodded. “I just hope it’s not too long, 'cause I’d love to see the both of you get married and have adorable babies. Oh my God, Y/N. Your story is coming to life. Jack and Lola are going to come to life!” She squealed again, making you and Chris laugh. But it was exciting and you were both incredibly excited; to get married, to have kids, to live out the life you wrote, and he read about, together. “I can’t breathe right now, you know that right?”

“We can tell,” you chuckled. “Okay, I’m going to hang up now.” Chris gave Ava a quick wave over your shoulder as he pulled away from you to return to making breakfast. “I’ll be home after I drop Chris off at the airport,” you told her and she nodded with a smirk. “What’s that smirk for?” You asked, but you already knew which was why you were laughing. “Get your head out of the gutter,” you bit playfully, which earned you an even more mischievous smirk. “Goodbye, Ava,” you laughed and ended the call.

“She’s not wrong,” Chris commented, smirking at you when you looked up at him; you chuckled with a shake of your head. “I’m not going to see you for a while, might as well make full use of the time I have with you now. Plus it’s my birthday on Tuesday, and we’re not going to be together for my birthday 'cause you don’t want to miss school.”

“Are you trying to guilt trip me?” You scoffed with a smile and Chris bit back his. “I think you’re forgetting that I’m planning to surprise you two weeks after. You’ll have me for the weekend and we’ll do whatever you want 'cause my visit will be your belated birthday celebration with me.” You reminded him, bringing him back to the conversation you had about how you had the money to get that last minute ticket to Atlanta. He was going to replace the ticket for you, which you had no problem with now that you’d decided to depend on him a little more- per his request as your fiancé.

“But birthday sex is different from 'I’m-leaving-on-a-plane’ sex,” he began suggestively and you laughed. “I suggest we fuel up,” he said as he plated breakfast for the both of you; bacon, eggs, and pancakes. He walked around to you, pulling out the bar stool next to you. “'Cause we’re definitely going to need the energy.” He winked, placing your plate down in front of you.

“I think you’re talking about yourself, old man,” you teased him and he laughed. “'Cause this kid,” you picked a slice of bacon off your plate. “She can do this all day,” you winked as you took a bite.

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Part 2

Cooking Shenanigans

A/N: (Y/S/N) = Your sister’s name. Also, the pun used in here was one I actually heard in real life.

Character: Harry

Warning(s): None

(I got the GIF from this post, but not sure if the person who uploaded it is the owner of it. If you know, please do let me know!)

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If you had to choose between faction loyalty and your family, which one would it be? Which one becomes your undoing?

Chapter 1

Originally posted by rihqnna

@tigpooh67 @pathybo @beautifulramblingbrains @jojuarez26 @bookwarm85 @carefultheyspit @scorpio2009 @iammarylastar @feminamortem @lets-play-truth-or-dare @deepfrz @jaiboomer11

                    He says, “Oh, baby girl, don’t get cut on my edges

                    I’m the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon

                   There’s a light in the crack that’s separating your thighs
                   And if you wanna go to heaven you should fuck me tonight.”

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He Was Found


I recommend reading He Was Lost before reading this.

Ethan Dolan forgot what it’s like to be annoyed at his brother. Not ‘dammit Grayson, why’d you have to go and drink all the milk’ kind of annoyed, but more like ‘dammit Grayson, why’d you have to bring up the love of my life who I stupidly let go of and miss more than anything’ type of annoyed. He is peeling oranges near the counter and Grayson’s mixing some pancake batter, tossing in handfuls of chocolate chips.

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anonymous asked:

If you're still taking prompts, will you do bughead 9 months of pregnancy and then them with the newborn?

Here you go, one fresh batch of pregnant!bughead all served up for you! I really hope you enjoy it <3

“Morning, Betts,” Jughead mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he shuffled into the kitchen, following the wafting scent of pancakes and bacon. She flicked a glance at him over her shoulder, warmth filling her chest at his dishevelled state - he never was a morning person. Ever since they’d moved into their first apartment together, gotten a permanent home, Jughead always made the most of having a warm bed to sleep in that he wasn’t worried about getting kicked out of at first light. The fact that it was Betty who was next to him, warming it, was the best added bonus he could have asked for.

“Hey, sleepy head,” she cooed affectionately, turning back to the pan to flip the breakfast before it burnt. Betty was already up and ready for her work day, fresh faced and bright eyed, pencil skirt perfectly smooth and put together. Jughead didn’t know how she did it - he would be forever grateful that his job allowed him to work from home. “Did you sleep okay?” she asked pleasantly. Jughead hummed in contentment, coming up behind her to rest his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his warm arms around her waist.

“All the better for having you next to me,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss against her temple. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t a picture a time when he wouldn’t be as in love with Betty as he always had been. She made everything easier, even breathing. It was a high he wasn’t willing to give up. A soft pink blush tinged her cheeks, apples prominent due to the bashful smile that played across her lips. He loved that he could make her respond to his words like that. She twisted in his arms, breakfast momentarily forgotten, to gaze up into his slightly hooded eyes, resting her palms on his chest.

“Say what you like about yourself but you’re a charmer, Jughead Jones. Always will be,” she whispered against his smirk, leaning up on her tiptoes, still bare of her heels for the time being, to place a gentle kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his cheeks. He sucked in a breath through his nose, tightening his arms around her frame and pulling her harder against his chest as he tilted his head to deepen the action.

“Ow!” Betty pulled back with an unexpected shriek, Jughead releasing her instantly, leaving his arms hovering just inches from her body. She moved her hands to cradle her chest gently, frown pinching at the space between her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” Jughead asked, concern lacing his tone as his eyes flicked over her every inch, checking for damages.

“Nothing, just… tender,” she said, gesturing to her boobs as she shook her head. “Guess it’s just coming up to that time of the month,” she shrugged dismissively. Jughead exhaled slightly in relief. She glanced up at him from beneath thick eyelashes, green eyes glinting with mirth. “So hands off, mister,” she teased. Jughead rolled his eyes, cupping the back of her neck as he dropped a chaste kiss to her forehead before moving to pick up her discarded spatula and continue making their breakfast.


Betty felt sick. And not just queasy sick, like ‘run to the bathroom puke your guts out’ sick. She tried to take deep breaths in through her mouth to quell the sudden, rising nausea that had settled in the pit of her stomach. All attempts were shot to hell when one of her coworkers walked past her desk, the smell of whatever lunch they were carrying drifting to her nose, making her throat constrict around a gag.

She flew out of her seat, dodging colleagues as she raced towards the bathroom, barely making it in front of the bowl before her pancakes and bacon made a repeat appearance.

Ugh, pancakes… she thought, the idea of any food causing her stomach to turn over once again. She sat back against the cubicle wall, wiping the damp sheen from her forehead with the back of her hand. She’d felt fine this morning. Actually… if she thought about it she really felt fine again now. She mentally prayed that she didn’t have some kind of weird stomach bug as she clambered to her feet, desperately in need of finding some gum.


She was absolutely starving. Seriously, her stomach was rumbling loud enough to inform the entire floor of her office about her current needs. Betty shifted in her seat, trying to find a way to stifle the next wave of gurgling that was brewing in her gut. It was entirely perplexing; one minute she was hunched over a porcelain bowl, the next she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could get her hands on to eat.

Sighing, she grabbed her phone, tapping on the message icon, Jughead’s name right at the top of her list. She knew he was supposed to be focused on writing today, but with the morning she’d had she just really felt like seeing her husband. A wave of unidentified emotions washed over her as she sat staring at the device in her hand. God, she just really missed him. Like, was it always this hard to spend the day away from him? Why hadn’t she noticed before?

Wanna meet me for lunch? x She typed quickly, already knowing his answer. The three little dots were gone as fast as they appeared.

On my way.


“Betty? Everything alright?” Jughead asked gingerly as he tapped on the panel of their bathroom door. There was a heavy pause. “Betts, you’ve been in there a while I just wanted to check-” He was cut off by the door swinging open suddenly, revealing a very dishevelled looking Betty. Her eyes were wide and glistening with tears that pooled along her waterline before following the already wet trails down her flushed cheeks. Loose tendrils of her golden hair fell about her face, some sticking up at amusing angles. Her lips were dark pink and full like she’d been chewing on them nervously. Jughead’s eyes went wide as he took in her state, hands instantly going to smooth her hair, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks. “What is it? What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he rushed out, eyes scanning her face for any indication of what had upset her.

She opened her mouth, no sound escaping, before just shaking her head, trembling hand pointing to the bathroom counter. His gaze followed her finger until it landed on the little white stick that was resting on the smooth granite. He walked towards it with numb legs, picking it up with hands that were now shaking just as much as hers. The word stared back at him, clear as day.


He turned to look at her, lips parted in silent shock. Her bottom lip with tucked between her teeth again, a nervous habit, fingers twisting with each other as she looked at him with apprehensive eyes. He could see something else simmering beneath the surface though, waiting for the right moment to burst free.

“Are you really…?” he trailed off, eyes shining, every inch of his body tingling with adrenaline, hope tinging his voice. Betty couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth tilting up slightly at his tone. She nodded, lips quivering as she took in a breath.

“Yeah,” she whispered, smile growing as a full blown grin spread across Jughead’s face. He rushed towards her, scooping her up in his arms and twirling her round as she giggled gleefully, arms coming up to wrap around his neck tightly. He placed her back on the ground, not moving to release her from his hold at all. She was positively glowing in his embrace. He couldn’t believe how lucky he had gotten. “You’re happy?” she asked timidly, fingers playing with the short hairs at the base of his neck. He let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“Betty, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life,” he gushed, slipping one hand round her waist to settle over her still flat abdomen. “You are the best gift that life has ever given me, and now you’re giving me another one. You’re incredible, this is incredible. I love you so much,” he whispered, leaning in to press a bruising kiss against her lips as a fresh wave of happy tears cascaded down her cheeks.


“Wait! Stop right there, the light is perfect,” he commanded, holding out a palm to pause her in her tracks. “I want to get a picture of the bump,” he smiled, raising the camera to his face as Betty rolled her eyes, complying with his wishes nonetheless. Once he’d actually had enough money to invest in the equipment, Jughead had discovered a newfound passion for photography. Just like with writing he could express himself through the images he captured, finding the extraordinary in the ordinary. And one of his favourite subjects of all time was definitely his beautiful wife.

“I’m barely showing still, Juggie. I just look like I’m bloated from eating a giant burrito!” she whined, bowing her back slightly to make the tiny swell stick out more in front of their bay window, resting her hands on her waist where she arched. She was only wearing some dark green shorts and a sports bra, makeupless, hair thrown up in a messy bun on top of her head. The countless fly-aways there caught the early evening sunset that was pouring into their living room, lighting her hair up in a halo of golds and pinks and oranges while leaving the rest of her frame in shadow, little bump popping against the overexposed sky as she stood side on to Jughead’s camera.

“I wanna capture all of it,” he said with a small smile, ignoring her protests as he took a couple of shots. He’d been obsessed with the bump ever since she’d popped about a week ago. He couldn’t keep himself from running his fingers over it while they laid in bed, resting his hands over it as they snuggled together on the couch watching a movie, placing gentle butterfly kisses on top of it first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He’d not told Betty yet but he’d already started talking to it, only after his wife had fallen asleep, tiny whispers into the darkness for his and the baby’s ears only. Promises of a wonderful life.

He lowered his camera to look at her, dazed smile still resting contentedly on his lips as he watched her watch something out on their street. It was never the life he would have written for himself, but he thanked whatever author that was out there who did.

“Are you done? I have to pee,” she said bluntly, pulling him abruptly from his romantic thoughts with a chuckle. He held up his palms in surrender, backing away, happy to go and upload them to his computer as soon as possible.


“Betts, what is it?” he asked in panic, quickly coming to her side as he saw the tears in her eyes. He rest one hand in her hair, fingers gripping the delicate silken strands, while the other went directly to her bump. Betty pressed her lips together, shaking her head where she stood in front of their kitchen sink.

“I’ve just gone to the store and we needed garbage bags and I forgot to get them and we’ve completely run out!” she wailed, gesturing viciously to the trash can like it was the enemy. Jughead blinked in shock, face like stone for a single moment, before he cracked. He burst out laughing, tears springing to his own eyes as he doubled over, clutching at the aching strain creeping into his sides. She glared at him disapprovingly.

“Is-is that all?” he wheezed, pretending to wipe away a drop of moisture from beneath his eye.

“It’s not funny, Forsythe Jones!” He sobered slightly at hearing her use his given name, amused smile still dancing around the edges of his mouth. “I’m so damn emotional all the time it’s driving me insane,” she moaned, eyes titled downwards at the corners in frustration. He pulled her close, planting a kiss to her forehead. She sighed, closing her eyes to enjoy the soothing sensation of having him close, sifting through every mixed feeling battling for attention in her head.

“I know, sunshine. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this is for you. You’re incredible,” he murmured against her skin. Her sniffles signified she’d calmed down somewhat. “Would you like me to go out and get garbage bags?” he asked, tone soft. She stiffened slightly against him,

“No…” she said tentatively. He pulled back to look at her in question, one eyebrow raised. “I can see them under the counter, they must’ve rolled out of the bag,” she admitted in a small voice, cheeks red at her hormone induced outburst.


“Jughead? Jug? Jug, are you awake? Juggie?” The chorus of his name pulled him from the depths of his slumber, groaning as he blinked groggily into the darkness.

“Hmm,” he managed to get out incoherently. He turned his head to look at Betty, finding her sitting cross-legged next to him on her side of the bed. He rolled over, hand coming out automatically to run over the ever-growing swell of her stomach. “You okay?” he asked, voice still thick and gravelly with sleep.

“Uh-huh,” she replied, placing her tiny palm on top of his hand. There was a pause as he waited for her to continue.

“Was that all?” he asked, amusement clear in his voice underneath the frustration at having been woken at some ungodly hour.

“You know what sounds good right now?” she asked, completely bypassing his question. He was more awake now, leaning up on an elbow to look at her with teasing eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

“What sounds good?” he questioned, indulging her. Betty bit her lip against an excited smile.

“Salt and vinegar chips covered in warm nutella,” she grinned, eyes sparkling even in the darkness. He huffed out a laugh, just about getting used to her cravings by now.

“Betty, would you like me to get you salt and vinegar chips covered in warm nutella?” he asked with a smirk. She looked away from his teasing eyes, shrugging gently.

“Well, if you’re up…” she replied cheekily. He laughed, throwing his head back slightly before rising up to capture her lips in a loving kiss, moving down to drop another to her stomach before throwing the covers off his legs and making his way downstairs.


Betty had her feet propped in Jughead’s lap, his magical hands rubbing her sore, swollen ankles. She tipped her head back, letting out an appreciative sigh, eyes sliding shut.

“Hey, Betts? What do you want for dinner later? I could make that pasta you like or-” His sentence was cut short as her hand flew out, grabbing his arm. “What?” he asked in confusion. Betty’s eyes were wide and unfocused.

“Say something?” she all but whispered, turning her gaze to focus on his face.

“What? What do you mean, Betts, what do you want me to say?” he asked, still entirely bewildered. Tears shone in her eyes, a look of complete wonderment lighting up her face. She grabbed his hand, placing it on her lower belly.

“Talk,” she commanded. Jughead finally understood her meaning, features rearranging themselves into one of apprehension, suddenly nervous at what to say.

“Are they moving because of-” He felt it. One swift quick beneath his palm. His throat closed up as he dropped lower, resting his cheek against the bump, Betty’s hands instantly going to his hair.

“They can hear you, Jug, they like your voice,” Betty whispered, glowing as she stared down at her husband. Jughead took a steadying breath.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “How’s it going in there? I’m your daddy…”


“I’m home!” Jughead called out into the house as he kicked off his shoes, throwing his jacket onto the rack. “Betts?” he asked when there’s no reply, wandering into the living room in search of her. Suddenly she was flying at him out of nowhere, his arms filling with a strawberry scented goddess. There was no preamble as she pulled his mouth to hers, running her tongue over the seam of his lips, begging him to open them for her. She used his resulting groan to gain access, swirling her tongue with his, pushing every curve of her body roughly against him. Her hands were in his hair, tugging gently at the roots, or gripping his bicep, or running over his back, everywhere all at once, surrounding him. He pulled back when they were breathless and panting, eyes slightly glazed and pupils blown. “Well, hello to you, too,” he gets out between pants. “What did I do to receive such a gracious welcome from my wonderful wife?”

“New pregnancy symptom,” she heaves, slightly exposed chest dancing enticingly before him from where her already low cut top had fallen askew. “I’ve been so ridiculously turned on all day and you haven’t been here,” she admitted almost accusingly, eyes trailing shamelessly over his body. All the blood rushed from his head, moving directly south as she bit her kiss-swollen lower lip, eyes darkening by the second.

“Well,” he began, throat thick. “We should definitely do something about this,” he said, nodding, face serious. “As husband and father of your unborn child it is my job, nay, my duty to take care of your every need during this pregnancy,” he finished formally. She giggled prettily, flush moving down to spread over her neck and chest. The next minute she let out a surprised squeal as he scooped her up into his arms, heading for the stairs.


“Okay… if we just… yep. There, do you see? It’s a girl,” the technician announced, offering the couple a small, pleased smile.

“A girl!” Betty murmured excitedly, gripping at Jughead’s hand tighter. He felt as if all the air had left the room, chest tightening.

“A girl,” he repeated, tears forming in his eyes.

Betty could tell there wasn’t something right on the way home, not voicing her concerns but still throwing him worried glances every so often during the drive, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel.

She found him later in his office, folded in on himself, back against the wall, hands pulling at his dark, mussed waves.

“Juggie? What is it?” she whispered softly, trying to join him in his spot on the floor as slowly and gracefully as possible. He looked up at her, eyes rimmed red.

“We’re having a girl, Betts. A little girl, and she’s all ours. What if I mess her up? What if she ends up…” he choked on his own tears, pushing back the memories of his own youth. Betty pulled his head to rest against her chest, cradling it gently as she rubbed soothing circles against his back.

“Shh, Jug, it’s going to be okay. We’re not our parents,” she reminded him, repeating his famous words to her. It had become almost like a mantra for them over the years of their relationship. “You’re going to be the best dad ever, this little girl isn’t going to know what darkness looks like with you in her life. She’ll be safe, and loved, and it’ll be all thanks to you. To us,” she whispered into the top of his head. His shuddering shoulders began to calm as he sucked in large gulps of air, evening out his breathing until he could pull back to look her in the eyes.

“You’re right,” he mumbled. He knew she always was. “We can do this,” he affirmed, more to himself than to Betty. She reached up to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

“We can do this.”


“Ugh, why did Veronica have to set a dress code? Who wears smart-casual to a barbecue?!” Betty shouted as she tried to pull the zipper up her back, the fabric of her dress pulling tight over her giant, swollen belly. She’d certainly grown during her pregnancy. Jughead told her daily that he’d never seen her more beautiful. She didn’t believe him, usually telling him so as she wiped yet more sweat off her forehead, or relieved herself of more bodily gasses. She felt utterly gross. “I’m so huge!” she sulked, throwing herself onto the edge of their bed as quickly as she could manage.

“Beautiful, Betts, you’re beautiful!” Jughead reminded yet again, shouting from their bathroom.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, rubbing a motherly hand over their daughter. “Oh!” she called suddenly as she felt a clenching sensation in her lower abdomen. “Juggie?” she called tentatively, waiting for the sensation to hit again.

“It really doesn’t matter what you wear, Betts, it’s just Veronica and Archie’s barbecue, no one will mind,” he replied back, misinterpreting her call.

“Jughead, come in here,” she said, more firm this time. His head appeared in the doorway, brows raised at her sharp tone.


“I think I’m going into labour,” she told him, raising her eyebrows in return. She could see the moment the panic switch flicked on in his eyes. He dashed about the room, throwing things all over the place. “Juggie, calm down, we have time!” she tried to soothe, unable to stop herself from laughing at her overly concerned husband.

“Bag! Where’s the bag? Have you seen my keys? Babe, are you okay, you’re not gonna have her right now are you?” he fired off in a fluster. Betty just rolled her eyes, waddling slowly towards the front door, knowing he’d be close behind.

“Come on, Juggie,” she laughs, “Let’s go have a baby.”


He was in awe. Even a week later he couldn’t believe he’d made something so wonderful, so beautiful, so small. She was perfect. He ran a finger over her tiny, soft fist, other arm wrapped tightly around Betty’s shoulders as they both stared down at their daughter. Theirs. The life they made together.

“She has your eyes,” she mumbled as Juliet blinked up at them with her big blue gaze. Jughead smiled, happy to be any part of her. He could see Betty in her entirely, though, something he was sure he’d be eternally grateful for.

“She has your wisdom,” he whispered, grinning as her tiny flower petal lips opened in a perfect O while she yawned. “Thank you,” he whispered against Betty’s temple some time later, both of them still watching their daughter soundly sleeping in Betty’s arms now, releasing the occasional snuffle as she dreamed.

“Thank you, too,” Betty replied, turning her head to barely brush her lips against his. They had made a new life, not just in their daughter, but for each other, and that was something he’d never be able to stop saying thank you for.

Crack Our Broken Records

I, an artist, wrote something for the 13th Dannyversary, and by wrote something I mean I’ve had this sitting in my docs for half a year and decided it was time to finish it

The alternate title is “Family Takes Four Thousand Words to Start a Conversation and They Don’t Even Finish it by the end” but that’s a little too long

Also there’s some really vague and small headcanons thrown in here but just a heads up.

read it on FFN l AO3


The man in question hummed noncommittally at his wife, much more focused on the mess of wires and metal seated on the table beneath his hands.


His fingers slipped on the slick metal, the wires falling from his hands and connecting in a shower of sparks. Dropping his head into his hands, Jack groaned. Maddie shifted her frying pan between her hands, allowing her to reach over to her husband.

“Jack, honey, give it a rest. You need to take a break.”

Keep reading

do you think, when Harry gets a serious girlfriend and they move in together, he’ll play Fleetwood Mac on a Sunday morning when he’s making breakfast for the two of them?

when she walks down the stairs to see where he’s gotten too that morning, he’ll be found in the kitchen making egg on toast for them both to eat in bed and swinging his hips to the melody of a specific song that is playing from his phone. and he’s dressed in a pair of white boxer briefs, that cling to his body, and an apron, to shield his exposed skin. and she’d stand there and be so in awe of him as he sings into the spatula in his hands.

and when she hears the familiar song of “Go Your Own Way”, she’ll hear his voice begin to get louder when he sings along to the song as he dishes up the food.

when he gets ready to bolt up the stairs to collect her and wake her up for breakfast, he’ll see her in the doorway and blush profusely and very pinkly when she giggles and claps at his little rendition. xx