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the-kr8tor · 5 months

Note

Hello!!! I have simple request if you don’t mind how about drunk Hobie with y/n…I wanna see how you would write their dynamic cause I love your writing <3

Thank you for requesting, lovely! 💛

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, drinking, cw vomit, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You wake up groggily to the telephone ringing loudly inside your shared bedroom. With one eye open, you blindly reach for the receiver, hand bumping all over the mess that is your bedside table. Bringing the phone to your ear, face squished on the pillow, sleep still clinging to your lashes.

“Hello?” Your voice cracks.

“Y/N? It's Ned” you wake up in a flash, mind already flashing to Hobie or his friends having some sort of emergency during their weekly get together. Is there a fire? Did someone get alcohol poisoning? Is he okay?

“Come get your man. He's gonna get kicked out with how loud the fucker is right now. The owner’s staring daggers at him”

Sure enough, there's a loud booming laughter in the background and what sounds to be glass shattering. Ned's swirling his words together but sober enough to put together a cohesive sentence. But definitely not drunk enough to handle his friends' shenanigans.

“Oh shit! Please hurry, he's telling everyone that he's Spider-Man, what a weirdo.” there's a rustling sound then the phone falls, banging on the wall briefly. There's fast footsteps and a muffled, “Hobie! Christ, that's your third fucking glass!”

There's roaring laughter, and an unmistakable voice. “Who you callin’? The coppers? You're no fun anymore, Neddy”

The dial tone ends and you're already putting on your trainers, taking your keys, wallet and coat. You don't even bother changing out of your pajamas, they look presentable enough, right?

The train ride was awkward. You in your pajamas, hair disheveled, and mismatched socks. Good thing there weren't a lot of commuters this late or the staring would actually get to you. There was an awkward silence when you stepped inside, but with you staring right back at them with your sleep deprived eyes, they looked away immediately.

You practically ran to the white horse pub, the party was in full swing, people with sloshing pints in hand and men drunkenly trying to walk straight. Hugging your coat closer, you tie them closed, scanning the pub for the familiar figure.

Spotting Hobie halfway up the table with Ned trying to drag him off, his laughs would make you giggle if not for him being so inebriated, chugging an entire pint while his other friends cheer him on, banging on tables and guffawing over the already loud pub. A friend you've recognized before joins him on the table, finishing his own pint. Hobie eggs him on with him tipping his friend's pint closer to the man's lips, while chanting: you can do it, mate!

The wood wobbles and you quickly make your way towards him. Ned sighs in relief, you smile apologetically before he changes course for the other friend on the table, almost tackling him off it.

You hold onto his leather jacket in an attempt to balance him. He usually has great balance but you don't completely trust his coordination.

“Hobie!” You yell through the loud chatter of the pub. The owner watches on in your peripheral, “Sorry, Joe! I'll get him home!”

“You better! Your boy's a menace, he's been inciting everyone on his little drinking game”

“Isn't that good? People are buying more booze?”

“Don't push it, love. That's the only reason why I'm not gonna make him pay for the broken glasses”

You wince, “sorry about those” He grunts, waving off.

Tugging at his jacket, you call his name again. Hobie finally looks down, eyes flicking from your hands to your face. You'd expect him to greet you with a smile or even drop down and hug you, instead, he swats your hands away from him, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance.

You blink in surprise, bewildered at his actions. “Hey! Hobie!”

“What?” he folds his knees to level with you, his eyes blinking a little too quickly, head tilted, hands on his knees for extra balance.

“What do you mean ‘what’? I'm here to take you home. You're too drunk” you hold his hand, tugging him down on the table.

“And you're too bloody handsy” he flings your hand away. “I'm–” he blinks slowly, trying to get his bearings. “I'm have a girl back home, yeah? Don't” Hobie pokes your forehead.

You get cross eyed, a minute ago you'd thought he was just a little too drunk, the kind of drunk where you're wobbly on your feet, now you know he definitely can't see straight. You decide to play along, just so you can tease him in the morning.

“Oh” you bring your hands on your chest in a mock surprise. “Didn't know that, so sorry”

“No harm, but she–she would…could throw hands if she saw you grope me like that”

Grope? “I wasn't– you know what, tell me more about her. She sounds nice”

Hobie beams at you, a resemblance of what he would usually look like once he sees you in a crowded room. He sits on the table like you just asked a child what his favourite dinosaur is.

“She– she's sooo good to me, y’know” you nod, biting your lip to stop a giddy laugh from escaping. “I told her that I was Spiderman and y’know what she did?!” He excitedly yells, good thing no one here actually believes his drunk ramblings or else the entire pub would know that they're currently drinking with spiderman himself.

“No, what did she do?” you smile, eyes twinkling under the dim lights of the pub.

“She said she loves me! And and” he gestures excitedly. “Supports me! Isn't that fuckin' amazing?!” Hobie sighs longingly. “I miss her, I wish she was here. She'd probably bonk me on the head with how much I've drunk though.” He trails off, his eyes glassy. “I should go home”

“Yeah, you should” you slowly inch closer to him. “Hey, babe?”

“Yes, lovie?” Hobie does a double take, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Lovie!” He tackles you in for a hug. His face snuggling closer to your neck. You rub his back, giggling.

Now you're the one struggling to balance. “I miss you too” you kiss his temple. “Let's go home before you let out anymore of your secrets”

You would have struggled more if you brought him to the tube, luckily enough, you found a cab within five minutes of waiting (and wrangling) with Hobie.

After a round of goodbyes from his equally drunk friends, you finally got him inside the taxi. The driver clicks his tongue at another drunk passenger.

“He better not get sick all over my seats” the driver says gruffly.

“He won't, don't worry” you say with a fake smile.

“I think ‘m gonna be sick.” Hobie opens the car window, letting the cool air in.

“Please don't” you whisper to him, patting his back affectionately whilst you smile at the glaring driver so he doesn't kick you out.

After a car ride that seemed endless and one throw up outside the flat, you're both finally home. Getting him up the stairs was more of a struggle, he wobbled on his feet, almost tumbling off the staircase, if not for you clinging to him he would most definitely fall. Once inside the bedroom, he groans, leaning his entire body on you. Arms enclosed around your shoulders, head lolling to the side.

Hobie drops like a sack of potatoes on the mattress, bringing you down with him. You land on top as he traps you in his embrace.

“You're so good to me” he murmurs against the crown of your head.

“Mm-hmm, so I've been told” you cuddle closer, not minding the smell of alcohol.

“Because it's true” Hobie places a sticky kiss on your head then folding his neck just to reach your temple.

“You're gonna regret this in the morning” you help him in attacking your face by leaning over him, your elbows on the side of his head, fingers scratching his scalp. His hands skim over to your waist, holding you securely.

“I'll never” kiss “ever” kiss “regret” kiss “snogging you”

You laugh from the belly with every peck he leaves on your skin. “I know that, I’m talking about you drinking too much”

Hobie pauses, eyes narrowed from tiredness, lips still pursed together. “Ah that, sorry” he apologizes for his future self even though he would most definitely say it in the morning when you hand him some meds and lots of fluids.

“We'll talk about it once you're sober and without a banging headache. Rest, I'll take care of you” kissing his nose, you leave his side to grab fresh clothes for him to change into.

Before you completely leave, Hobie takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Love you, thank you” You let him bring your knuckles up to his lips, he sighs.

“Love you too, I think you're about to have the worst morning tomorrow” you chuckle, leaning closer to his touch like a planet orbiting its sun.

“With you, it won't be”

“You get cheesy when you're drunk” kissing the tip of his nose, you leave again, turning away, earning a grunt of disapproval from Hobie.

“I hate to see you go but I love watching you leave!” he says with gusto.

You should've brought a video camera with you when you were in the pub.

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rhaenyra-storms · 1 year

Note

for fluffy saturday, can i request daemon and wife!reader spending time in bed with their newborn?

Daemon is sure nothing can fill him with happiness like time with you and your baby boy does. The Prince has been there for every part of your pregnancy, protecting you and caring for you where he could.

It’s a reward of sorts, a manifestation of peace and comfort, when he finally gets to lay in bed with you, his beautiful wife, and your child that you both already love more than anything else in this world.

You’re in your night dress, Daemon in a thin shirt and loose pants, your baby laying between you on the soft mattress. The room is illuminated by burning candles and you can hear the crackling from the fireplace.

“He’s so beautiful, isn’t he?” You ask your husband, a smile on your lips as you gently brush over the little baby’s head. “He is. Just like his mother,” Daemon replies with a smile as well, letting your baby grab his thumb with his hand.

All the fighting, all the wars and the blood that has been shed doesn’t matter in this moment. Daemon is here with you, keeping you safe and seeing the joy in your eyes every time your little baby lets out a tiny laugh.

This is what peace feels like to him.

You watch as your son holds tighter onto his dad’s thumb and there’s another laugh coming from the little boy between you two. It’s the nicest sound in the world for you and simply warms yours and Daemon’s heart with ease.

“I think he has your nose. And will surely have your hair as well,” you grin at your husband who replies with a soft laugh and then uses his free hand to brush over his baby’s head. “He’ll have his dad’s hair, nose and a dragon like his father.” You can’t hold back a smile when you see the proud expression on Daemon’s face. Your husband’s eyes drift over to the dragon egg on the other side of the room.

“As long as you’re both home for dinner in time,” you joke, leaning over to press a kiss to Daemon’s forehead.

“We can’t leave you waiting for long, can we?”

#fluffy fridays #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen headcanons #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen blurb #hotd #hotd headcanons #q

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libraryofloveletters · 2 years

Note

Fluffy Friday, reader telling Alex Karev that she's pregnant

this is so soft omg but I was tempted to make it angsty LMAOOO

----

The peds floor was noisy, children playing and crying, monitors beeping and people hustling back and forth. It made your hear swell with joy, you loved children and you were excepting one of your own.

Your hand comes down to rest on your tummy, the finest of bump starting to show. Arizona smiles at you when she sees you, “come all this way to see me?” She teases, sitting at the desk.

“You know I did.” you smile leaning on the edge of the desk. Alex was in with a patient, you could see him from where you were and he could see you, giving you a little smile when he notices you.

“Stop ogling on your husband.” Arizona groans, pulling your attention back to her. “What bring you up to our floor of joy?”

“Just needed some cheering up.” you hum, smiling at Alex walks over to you. “Hey,” Alex wraps an arm around you, kissing your temple.

“Hi,” you lean into him.

Arizona reaches for the cup of coffee she had on the desk, taking the lid off. The smell of it alone made you nauseous. You rub your chest, letting out a breath. Alex’s brows furrow, “you alright?”

“Mhm, fine.” you let out a breath, watching as Arizona blew on her coffee to cool it down. The smell wafting over to you and it was making you gag. You had to step away for a moment, walking done the hall to catch your breath.

Alex glances at Arizona and then in the direction you went. “Is she?” Arizona asks and Alex shrugs, “I'm about to find out.” he tells her, walking off down the hallway.

“Babe,” Alex rests his hand on your back, rubbing it softly. “Are you okay?”

You exhale, “fine.” you smile. “Y/n, c’mon. Don’t lie to me.” His hand cupping your cheek. “You’re pregnant ?”

“Yeah.” you hum, studying his face. Alex smiles, wrapping his arms around you. “We’re having a baby!” he smiles, carrying you down the hallway.

“Alex!” you laughed, he puts you down next to Arizona, “we’re having a baby!” he tells her, smiling proudly.

#alex karev #alex karev x reader #arizona robbins #arizona robbins x reader #fluffy fridays

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 1 year

Text

Self-Promotion Thursday: The Surprise Party

CS genre: Canon divergence

Notes: hi everyone! This story was originally posted as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but I decided today, Colin's birthday, was the perfect time for a repost.

Emma got the idea while she and Killian were cleaning up after Henry’s 14th birthday party.

Killian reached up and pulled at a streamer they’d hung above their front door. He tugged gently and then peered down at the thin paper in his hand. Emma saw the wistful look in his eyes as his ringed fingers traced the cursive letters spelling out “Happy Birthday Henry!”.

“It would seem your party was a smashing success, love,” he said, smiling down at her as she threw a couple of paper plates into the large trash bag she was lugging around their living room.

“Yeah,” she said. “Henry certainly seemed to like it, although at this point he’d probably be happy with anything we did. He’s been so happy since we all got back from the Underworld, I doubt anything could bring him down.”

Killian, stepped up behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist, and nuzzled her neck, placing a small, chaste kiss on her shoulder. “I know precisely how he feels.”

She turned her head to meet his blue eyes. “So…you’re happy, now?”

He smiled tenderly. “I’m once again in the land of the living, I’ve married my true love, we live together in a magnificent house with a view of the sea, Storybrooke has been peaceful for well-nigh six months and our lad has opted to spend the night with his other mother, leaving us free to indulge uninterrupted in whatever enjoyable activities we wish. What’s not to be happy about?”

His smile turned to a mischievous grin as he raised one eyebrow suggestively.

Emma laughed and then thrust the trash bag at him. “I might be able to be persuaded about those enjoyable activities, but first we need to clean this place up. I am not waking up tomorrow to a trashed house.”

“As my lady wishes,” he said with a bow and another grin.

Emma watched her husband out of the corner of her eye as he slowly walked around the room, disposing of the accumulated mess produced by a big, boisterous family birthday party. He muttered under his breath, his tone awed, full of wonder, and suddenly it hit Emma.

She’d known him for several years now, but she didn’t remember him ever celebrating a birthday. She’d never even asked him when the big day was. The pain hit her then. This wonderful man who’d always been there for her still didn’t believe he mattered enough to celebrate.

“Killian,” she said, clearing her throat when she heard how wobbly her voice sounded.

“Aye, Swan?” he asked, looking up with concern at the obvious tears in her voice.

“When’s your birthday?”

His brow furrowed as he thought for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Sometime near the end of January. It’s been years—centuries even—since I thought of such things. I lived in such darkness for so many years that something as joyful as a birthday fell by the wayside.”

Emma felt the tears rush to her eyes, and felt one slip down her cheek. He looked up quickly, always so attuned to her and her emotions—even more so now that they shared a heart. He came to her then, catching the tear with his thumb, and smiling tenderly at her. Leaning down, he kissed her gently. “It’s no matter Swan,” he said softly. “My joy now is so great that those dark days feel like nothing but a nightmare, banished by the morning light.”

She smiled at him as she cupped his face in one hand, love filling her, overflowing once more. “Good,” she said. She took his hand and tugged. “How about we go get started on those enjoyable activities.”

His grin turned teasing. “What about not wanting to wake up to the mess in the morning?”

She shrugged. “A clean house is overrated. Besides, I can magic it all away later. Much, much later, if I have any say about it.”

Emma got no more complaints from her pirate husband—teasing or not—as she led him up to their luxurious king-sized bed.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The next morning Emma woke with a renewed purpose. She was going to throw Killian a birthday party spectacular enough to make up for all those missed years. She pushed aside the heavy comforter and sat up, running a hand through her messy hair.

Killian reached an arm around her waist, eyes remaining resolutely closed. “Come back to bed, love. Nice and warm here. Too early to rise,” he muttered.

She giggled, kissing him softly. “Sorry Killian. I’ve got way too much to do today. No time to laze around in bed.”

He cracked one eyelid and peered up at her. “Everything alright, Swan?”

She caressed his cheek. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’ve just got to…do some investigating. You know, the work of a sheriff around here is never done.”

He hummed sleepily. She kissed him once more. “I love you.”

He mumbled a sleepy “love you too” in return, and then sailed back into dreamland.

Emma had a long and busy day of planning. First order of business was picking up Henry from Regina’s and recruiting him as she walked him to school. Unsurprisingly, her son was on board—and incredibly excited—from the moment he realized what she was planning.

“Yeah!” he’d said. “I can’t believe we didn’t think of this sooner! We should have a big surprise party for him. You know, get the whole town in on it. We should call it something he’d never suspect. Like ‘Operation Giraffe’.”

She laughed. “Why giraffe, kid?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It doesn’t sound anything like ‘surprise birthday party’. He’ll never know what hit him. Besides, he really liked the giraffes that one time we took Roland and Neal to the zoo.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said. “I’ll start setting things up. When you’re done with school we can start in on some serious Operation Giraffe planning!”

From there, she’d headed to the docks, found Smee and determined Killian’s actual birthday—January 26. (She’d freaked out for a minute or two, realizing they only had a few days to pull this off, but then she’d pulled it together. This town had gone to the freaking Underworld to save his life; planning a birthday party in two days was going to be child’s play.)

As the day went on, Emma met with nearly everyone in the town, and everyone eagerly offered their assistance as soon as they knew what she was planning. Her parents had set out to pick a location; Granny offered to cater the event; Belle headed to the books, researching typical birthday practices in the Enchanted Forest three centuries ago; Smee and the rest of Killian’s remaining crew offered whatever help she needed; and Leroy offered to spread the word stealthily. (She’d been a bit hesitant about that last one. Stealth wasn’t exactly Leroy’s strong suit when it came to telling the news, his preferred method being yelling at the top of his lungs. If they pulled this off without Killian figuring it out, it would be a minor miracle.)

By the time she and Henry got home later that night, decorations had been decided upon, food had been ordered, a venue had been chosen, gifts had been purchased, and the whole town had been invited.

Emma had to say; it had been quite the productive day.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Something was going on. Something was definitely going on.

Killian walked down the sidewalk of Storybrooke’s main street, only half aware of what Henry excitedly prattled on about at his side. He and the lad had taken advantage of the unusually temperate January weather for a sail on the Jolly, and now they planned to dine at Granny’s.

It had been a lovely day—the sun shining brightly, the salt breeze rifling through their hair, Henry’s excitement and enthusiasm contagious as he asked question after question about the ship. The lad was going to make quite the sailor one day.

Still…Killian frowned in concern as they continued their walk. Over the course of the past few days, Emma, Henry, the Charmings, the entire town, really had been acting quite peculiarly. Emma and the lad spent long hours secluded together, and when he asked what they’d been about, both had become resolutely mute. To make matters worse, more than once, Killian had come upon a gathering of townsfolk who had been talking animatedly—only to fall suddenly silent at his approach.

He’d heard murmurs about “the big event”, and “make sure not to tell him”, and what sounded like an odd dispute about “the color of the streamers”.

It was as though the entirety of Storybrooke was involved in something big and important that they resolutely wished to keep secret from him. Killian found the feeling of being excluded quite unpleasant indeed.

“Pardon lad?” he asked when he realized Henry was awaiting his response to a question he’d asked.

“I asked what you think of giraffes,” Henry said.

“Giraffes?” Killian asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “When did the conversation take that turn? I thought we were discussing our planned night sail to learn the winter constellations.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Killian, have you been paying attention at all? We got done talking about that like ten minutes ago.”

“My apologies,” Killian muttered. “Must have been woolgathering.”

Henry looked at him closely. “What’s up with you lately?” he asked. “You’ve been, I don’t know, moody or something the last few days.”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Nothing at all is the matter with me, mate. I might however, ask you the same question. It has seemed that something is a foot in this town, and no one has seen fit to make me privy to it. Have I…have I done something to offend? I’m well aware that I was a villain for many, many years, and it’s likely difficult for some to trust me, but…”

“What?!” Henry interrupted, stopping stalk still on the sidewalk. Killian came to an abrupt halt, only narrowly avoiding running into the lad. “It’s…it’s. Okay, I can’t tell you what it is, but you’ll find out really, really soon. But it’s nothing like that! Of course we trust you, Killian! The whole town trusts you! You may have done bad stuff before, but we all know you’re not a villain anymore. You died to save us all; what more could someone do to show they’re a real hero?”

Killian felt the relief flood him at Henry’s words—and particularly at his passion in speaking them. He’d tried so very, very hard to reform his life—to become a hero worthy of Swan, worthy of his brother, worthy of the man he, himself wished to be—and he believed he’d been successful. But there was always, always that niggling doubt that perhaps he’d been too far gone with his villainy, that he’d reached the point of no return. To hear the lad he thought of as a son reassure him so heartily—he had no words to describe how much it pleased him.

“That’s a relief to hear,” he finally murmured.

Henry smiled. “You’re going to like it; I promise.”

“I…I’m sure I shall,” Killian mumbled, having no idea how to respond.

“Come on!” Henry said after a moment. “Let’s get to Granny’s before the lunch crowd takes all the good booths.”

Killian hesitated for a moment. He trusted Henry, truly he did, but suddenly he was weary well-nigh to death of the whispers and the glances and the secrecy. “I don’t know lad,” he said after a moment. “I know we discussed dining together, but I’m suddenly quite fatigued. Perhaps…perhaps you might pick up an order to go and we could dine with your mother at home?”

Henry looked startled at the idea. “But…but Killian! That won’t work. We’ve planned this forever. Come on, you have to come to Granny’s with me.”

Startled by the lad’s insistence, Killian started walking again. “Very well,” he said, bemused, “if it’s of that much importance to you…”

“It is, Killian,” Henry insisted. “It really, really is.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

“He’s coming!” Leroy whisper shouted. “Everyone, HIDE!!”

Emma rolled her eyes as she crouched next to her parents behind the counter at Granny’s. “Is everything an emergency to that man?”

“Give him a break, Emma,” Mary Margaret said with a chuckle. “He’s excited. I don’t know if this town has ever come together to throw a surprise party before.”

Emma peered around the edge of the counter and watched the door. The doorknob turned, the bell above the door rang, and Killian and Henry stepped inside. She grinned as she saw the perplexed look on her husband’s face as he stepped into an apparently completely empty restaurant.

Suddenly Leroy popped up like a grumpy, bearded jack-in-the-box and shouted “Surprise!”

The rest of the town followed suit, and Emma grinned again as Killian jumped and instinctively pushed Henry behind him, his hook raised and ready to attack.

Slowly, Emma saw the truth dawn on her husband’s face, as he looked around at the streamers, the cake (with 35 rather than 335 candles) on the counter, the brightly wrapped gifts on a table in the corner, the banner proclaiming “Happy Birthday Killian!”, and the wide smiles of everyone around him.

The concern, fear, desire to protect faded to wonder and awe. As Emma made her way over to Killian, slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss, she saw the tears in his eyes.

“Happy birthday, Killian,” she whispered, just before her lips touched his.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Later that night, Emma lay in bed, happy and content within the shelter of Killian’s arms. She smiled into his chest as she felt him draw soft patterns against her back. Giving him a quick kiss, she raised up on one elbow and grinned down at him.

“Did you like your surprise party?”

He grinned. “Aye, although I fear you frightened a good ten years off of my life.”

She laughed. “You should have seen your face! Someone should have taken a picture. You looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin.”

He laughed with her, and then sobered. “Thank you, Emma,” he said seriously, “it was the greatest birthday party of my long life. To think everyone was there to celebrate me…it boggles the mind.”

Emma reached down and caressed his face. “Don’t you understand Killian?” she asked softly. “You’re an important part of this town. We all care about you. We all want to show you how much you mean to us.”

He looked unconvinced. “Truly?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “You have no idea how quickly everyone jumped to help as soon as I told them I wanted to throw you a party. You have so many friends here, Killian. Henry adores you, and I love you so much I wouldn’t even be able to go on without you. It’s about time we did something to show you how much you mean to us.”

“What did I ever do to deserve a wife like you?” Killian smiled softly, his eyes suspiciously moist. He brought his hand to the back of her head and brought her down for a long, slow kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Emma rested her forehead against his. “How about you show me just how grateful you are, pirate?”

He grinned. “It will be my great pleasure.”

#cs ff #my fanfiction #killian jones #fluffy fridays #cs fluff #captain swan fanfiction

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fluffy-fridays · 2 years

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Fluffy Friday (4/29/22)

Happy Fluffy Friday! It’s time to talk about those nice and fluffy aspects of your WIPs! This is a very general theme and can encompass things such as family relations, friendships, platonic relationships, found family, pets, romantic couples, etc. We’re talking about those warm, fuzzy feels. Although the comfort aspect of hurt/comfort could potentially apply as well, if you’re more of an angst-fluff sort.

This is an all-inclusive ask event; all colors of the rainbow is acceptable. However, no NSWF questions unless someone specifically says they’re open to them.

This Friday’s Question:

Share one of your favorite fluffy moments you’ve written!

Feel free to tag me in your answer and tag @fluffy-fridays for any open questions!

Tag to use: #Fluffy Friday, #fluff friday

@oblolongue , @papercutsunset

Only tagged those that specifically mentioned tagging them. If you’d like added/removed at anytime please let me know!

#fluffy friday #writblr #fluff friday #fluffy fridays #open question #writerblr

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ashen-crest · 2 years

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fluffy friday snippet

Only because @fluffy-fridays enabled me, have something cute from A Rival Most Vial, Step 24: Blend:

(213 words, tw: hand-holding/romance)

Ambrose tried to recall Dawn’s maps as they ventured deeper into the cave, mist swirling around their steps. If her research was correct, the moss would grow not far from the cool air of the sinkhole, in the precise temperature and environment it needed to thrive. He knew they needed to travel left, then right, then left again…

As he drew a mental map in his head, Eli took his hand, and the map was promptly erased.

“What—?” He looked down at their intertwining fingers, and realized he could barely see them through the thick mist.

“So I don’t lose you,” Eli said, his voice muffled. “Is that all right?”

It was more all right than Ambrose cared to admit. “Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat and pressed forward. “We shouldn’t be too far from it now…”

His thoughts maintained two paths as they walked. As he re-drew the map, he also focused on the gentle pressure of Eli’s hand in his. Was Eli…touching him more than usual? The hands on his face, the carrying, the hand-holding. It was all lovely, of course. More than he had hoped for, even. But it didn’t…mean anything, did it?

Ambrose sighed and resolved to ask Dawn about it once she had forgiven him.

#a rival most vial #fluffy fridays #fluff friday #writeblr #fantasy romance #my wip

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infisonicosm · 2 years

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Yeah I got some fluff thoughts for you:

Josh trying to learn to braid hair because you always ask Jake to help you braid it, but he wants to be the one to do it for you. So he asks Danny to help teach him and lovely Danny sits through Josh pulling and tangling his hair so he can braid yours one day, and in his opinion, better than Jake can.

Sam, although he swore he never would, says he hates every moment of it, learns how to play your favorite pop ballad on the piano, and during breaks at the studio, softly plunks it out in the keys while his brothers are arguing about something. He smiles to himself, remembering your watery, shining with love and surprise eyes from the night he played it for you.

Danny being Danny. That’s the fluff.

and none for jacob ejkghseghf

Danny for real would be such a saint sitting through that bc curly hair is such a pain in the ass to braid. At least mine is heh. I just imagine Josh getting all pouty when you ask Jake. In turn Jake will tease him about it.

I can totally see Sam doing this. He acts like an ass but ik he's a softy for his partner behind closed doors. He would do whatever to make you smile!

Danny being Danny is valid and I'm so glad you said it.

#fluffy fridays #greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #joshua kiszka #jake kiszka #danny wagner #jake gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka

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crypitd · 9 months

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Handling a Fledgling Turkey Vulture for Fat Bird Friday

(Ref used)

» Etsy • Various Links «

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aquatic-batt · 9 months

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happy fluffy friend Friday to the tanuki!! :3

#raccoon doggies :3 #tanukis #animals #fluffy friend friday

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the-kr8tor · 7 months

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hiii, i've been thinking for Fluffy Friday - Hobie walking gn!reader to their bus stop after a concert and giving them his jacket

like it's late, and they're both tired from all the jumping in the pit and he's making sure they won't freeze on their way home. just Hobie being both punk and a gentleman <3

hope you're having a good day!!

Thank you for requesting! Hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, love struck Hobie, FLUFF

It's fluffy Friday!

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You're freezing your ass off waiting for the bus, you try to hide it from Hobie though; slyly rubbing your arms, trying to get rid of the goosebumps. You absolutely regret not bringing a thicker jacket with you. Your tired body doesn't help, legs tired from jumping up and down, cursing the government for taking out benches on bus stops.

Hobie stops mid sentence, too engrossed in the conversation, he just noticed how your lips slightly quiver in the cold, arms crossed on your chest, trying to act nonchalant.

"—You want my jacket?" Hobie's already taking off his leather jacket.

"No, you'll get cold" you try to stop him, hands on the leather, pushing it back towards him.

"I run warm, love. You need it more" He says softly as he drapes it over your shoulder, helping you put your arms inside the jacket. You don't protest more, savoring the warmth provided. Already giddy when you realize you smell like him now. "Better?" Hobie rubs your arms, adding extra warmth.

"Yeah, better. Thank you" you sigh into his touch, smile soft, eyes staring at him with so much fondness, you take his breath away. A lopsided smile appears on his lips, he's sure you're doing it on purpose just to see him all flustered.

He lets you win, chuckling as he hides his face on the crook of your neck, using the excuse that he's hugging you goodbye. You embrace him back, warming him up instantly.

"You're cold already" You whisper it to him like a secret, kneading the tired muscles on his back.

The bus arrives, saving Hobie from your horrid (affectionate) acts. The doors hisses open, you reluctantly let him go, Hobie holds you at arms length, cupping your face in his hand, admiring how the fluorescent lights from the bus highlights your face. He etches the memory deep inside his mind, memorizing how clouds puff out of your slightly parted lips, eyebrows relaxed, doe eyes gazing at him with longing.

You're not the only one who has that expression. Hobie mirrors yours, except for the content smile on his lips. The bus honks, ruining the moment.

"I've gotta go" you don't want to leave though, but your eyes are already protesting, lids growing heavy every minute.

Hobie scans the bus for any creeps that might cause you trouble. He finds none, only you and the bus driver will be inside.

"You sure you don't want me to come with you?" He asks with concern, it is really late for you to travel alone.

You slowly walk towards the bus, fingers laced with Hobie's. "You live on the other side of town" laughing, finally letting him go. You feel cold already. "I'll call you when I get home, okay?" Trying to reassure him.

"Yeah," he nods, watching you get on the bus. "Drive safely, mate" Hobie addresses the driver. The driver wordlessly gives him a nod.

Sitting down on the plastic seats, you watch as Hobie gets smaller and smaller as the bus drives away. Laying your head on the window, you smile at how much you had fun today, especially spending it with Hobie. Giddily wrapping his leather jacket closer to your torso. You've been dating him for a couple of months now, and you're loving every second of it. You probably look like a maniac to the bus driver, all smiley and giggling at nothing.

Distracted, your face almost hits the seat in front of you when the bus suddenly lurches to a stop. You look out of the window in confusion.

"Sorry 'bout that" Hobie's familiar voice talks to the driver. Are you that tired that you're suddenly hearing his voice? Or do you just fancy him that much?

Peeking down the aisle, sure enough you see Hobie sauntering over to you, a goofy smile on his face.

Your mouth agape, you fumble with your words. "What–how? You're–"

"I ran" He doesn't look like he ran to catch up with the bus, a running bus mind you. How in the world?–

Hobie gestures for the seat next to you, without warning, the bus suddenly moves again, you reach for his arms so he doesn't get thrown about. Guiding him down the seat, he gives you an appreciative smile.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, voice lowering so you don't anger the driver with the noise.

"I don't know, actually" he looked serious when he said those words.

You laugh from the belly, head thumping on his chest. He laughs a few seconds after you, finding your giggling contagious. His hands on the back of your neck, you feel how cold his palms are. "Oh I think I know" you say with a smirk, a hint of shyness peeking in.

"I'm not trying to sleep over at your place–"

"And here I thought you wanted me to make you a cup of tea" you warm his cold arms. "So this isn't a ruse to stay the night?"

"I think i just wanted to make sure you got home" he clears his throat, trying to sound nonchalant.

"All these spikes and you're actually a softie, huh?" You fix his windblown eyebrow. "How are you gonna get home now?"

"That's for me to figure out later" Hobie tilts his head, leaning to your touch.

"Okay," you lay your head on his shoulder. "Thank you for staying with me" holding his cold hand, you place a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"It's nothin'" He loops his arm over your shoulder. Cheek right next to your temple, Hobie practically melts. Comfortable in your arms, you feel the same, resting your eyes, squeezing his hand lightly.

You mentally scoff at the idea of letting Hobie walk in the dark especially in this temperature. You're already planning what tea to brew for him when you get home.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it ❤️

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rhaenyra-storms · 1 year

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female reader wants to braid Daemon or Aemond's hair.

I think both Daemon and Aemond would love to have their hair braided. They often enough do it by themselves, even though it’s usually just small braids or something that’s convenient for a fight.

It’s a love language for them to let you braid their hair. They like the attention and the intimacy of this and I can definitely see Aemond being all flustered at some point as well.

He isn’t used to this kind of attention, so it’s really special for him. And it shows him that you really aren’t scared of him in any way – willing to get close to him and perform these small acts of service for him.

Both Daemon and Aemond end up admiring the braids you’ve given them and will keep looking at them in the mirror more than once. They’ll wear them proudly wherever they go.

#fluffy fridays #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen headcanons #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen headcanons #hotd #hotd headcanons #q

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libraryofloveletters · 2 years

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SFW dilf Anthony Bridgerton fluffy friday + where he sees you braiding Hyacinth’s hair and realizing he wants kids with you

love me some dad!Anthony (he is a dilf tho)

----

“My love!” Anthony shouts as he comes up the stairs, it was half past 9 and you were fixing Hyacinth’s hair for her. Anthony had stepped out to handle some sort of business, he was always very cryptic.

“In Hyacinth’s room!” you shout back, your focus on brushing the knot out of her hair. Anthony stops in the doorway, watching as you helped his little sister with her hair. Hyacinth’s pink dress standing out against your teal and it made him smile.

He could spend hours watching you spend time with his siblings, it wasn't just he little ones that you cared about, you were there for all of them.

You’d spend time playing chess with Gregory or discussing novels with Eloise.

You’d listen to Colin ramble about his world tour or sit in the same spot for hours when Benedict wanted someone to paint.

You especially loved when Daphne and Simon needed someone to watch Auggie, you were the first one in line to lead a helping hand - and as much as Anthony would deny it to his brothers, seeing you with a baby on your hip did things to him.

You had slipped into your role as woman of the house as easily as you did with your role as Viscountess.

You did spend quite a bit of time with violet as she would always be the woman of the house, any decision that needed to be made would come to you and then you’d ask for her opinion and go from there. Anthony appreciated how you kept his mother in the loop, it meant a lot to him.

He watched as you split her hair into 3 pieces, crossing each over the other. You glanced at him in the mirror, flashing him a smile. It didn’t take very long for you to finish her hair and pin it.

Hyacinth smiled, hugging you before turning to her brother. “How does it look brother ?” she asks, spinning around to show him. Anthony smiles at his sister, “beautiful. May I speak to my wife, in private?” he asks her, hint enough that she needs to leave the room for the time being.

She skips out, off to show her mother her hair when Anthony shuts the door. He makes his way over, pulling you in for a kiss. “What's gotten into you?” you press one more kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“I’ve been thinking.” he says

“About?” you look at your husband.

“Starting a family.” he admits and you smile. “It has been almost a year since we've wed, I do think it’s time to start trying, no?”

You nod, hiding the smile on your face. “If that is what you think is best, my lord.”

Anthony laughs, hoisting you up, his arms resting under your butt. “I do,” he smiles before setting you back down.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #fluffy fridays

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 years

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Fluffy Fridays—Chapter 173: Capitaine Crochet

Pairing: Captain Swan

Summary: A series of unrelated, fluffy one shots featuring Killian Jones and Emma Swan and the relationship that makes us all swoon. Will contain both canon and AU stories. My contribution to Operation Rainbow Kisses and Unicorn Stickers (aka, my attempt to drown out the season 4 finale angst with ridiculous levels of fluff.)

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31) (32) (33) (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39) (40) (41) (42) (43) (44) (45) (46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53) (54) (55) (56) (57) (58) (59) (60) (61) (62) (63) (64) (65) (66) (67) (68) (69) (70) (71) (72) (73) (74) (75) (76) (77) (78) (79) (80) (81) (82) (83) (84) (85) (86) (87) (88) (89) (90) (91) (92) (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98) (99) (100) (101) (102) (103) (104) (105) (106) (107) (108) (109) (110) (111) (112) (113) (114) (115) (116) (117) (118) (119) (120) (121) (122) (123) (124) (125) (126) (127) (128) (129) (130) (131) (132) (133) (134) (135) (136) (137) (138) (139) (140) (141) (142) (143) (144) (145) (146) (147) (148) (149) (150) (151) (152) (153) (154) (155) (156) (157) (158) (159) (160) (161) (162) (163) (164) (165) (166) (167) (168) (170) (171) (172) (174)

(ao3) (ff.net)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And then she told me to get a hobby and stormed out of the house,” Killian said, sinking back into the plush sofa.

From across the office, Dr. Hopper leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “And how do you feel about…well…all of that?”

Today marked the five year anniversary of the Final Battle. They’d had five years of peace. Five years of prosperity. Five years of domestic tranquility, where the worst crisis any of them faced was Grumpy’s wrath when Granny ran out of bacon.

It had been wonderful…and surprisingly far more emotional than Killian would have supposed Happily Ever After could be.

As it happened, when there was no longer a crisis to be faced every other day, one had the time and opportunity to deal with the stress and trauma that years of constant crisis had accumulated–and given his two centuries of painful existence, he’d had plenty accumulated.

Swan had made the suggestion that they start seeing Dr. Hopper to deal with it all, and so he’d agreed. The former cricket had, after all, been an invaluable listening ear back when Killian was considering proposing to Emma. The two of them had, accordingly, been to Hopper many times, sometimes alone, sometimes together, and though the psychiatrist had earned his degree from the curse, he seemed to have a genuine heart for his patients. More than once, Killian had left his office feeling far lighter than when he’d entered.

The newest crisis, and the reason Killian was currently sitting on Dr. Hopper’s sofa was not, strictly speaking, a crisis at all. It was a very, very good thing. As soon as the dust had settled from the Final Battle, Killian had whisked Emma away on an idyllic and well earned honeymoon. One night, as they lay snuggled together, they’d discussed the future.

One thing stood out to both of them: they wanted to give Henry a little brother or sister. And so they’d tried. For nearly five years they’d tried with no success, and as each month passed with no little one coming to them, they gradually began to lose hope.

That is until that morning a month ago.

Swan had come to him with one of the small wands that Killian had come to learn was a pregnancy test in her hand and joyful tears in her eyes. It had finally happened. Swan was with child.

They were overjoyed, of course, but Killian was also terrified. After all, he’d lived in a time when childbirth was not only intensely painful, but also quite dangerous. He couldn’t lose Swan again. He couldn’t.

She’d been patient with him, assuring him that medical technology in the Land Without Magic took away a lot of that risk–and could also take away a lot of the pain. She assured him that she was fine.

And yet his worry persisted. He’d fretted and fussed over her, hardly letting her do anything on her own.

This morning her patience had run out, and she’d snapped–thus her comment about a hobby.

“How do you think it makes me feel?” Killian asked with a roll of his eyes and a cross of his arms. “I’m powerless to stop…whatever dangers my wife and unborn child face.”

Hopper was silent for a moment, sitting back up and steepling his fingers under his chin. Finally he spoke. “It’s natural for you to fear for Emma and be extra protective of her at this time given the history of crises the two of you have faced,” he said, “but is that all it is? You’ve yet to tell me how you feel about your impending fatherhood.”

“I’m overjoyed, of course,” Killian said quickly, and perhaps a bit more forcefully than he’d intended.

“But–” Hopper prompted.

Killian blew out a long breath. “But I’m also bloody terrified. What do I know of being a father? I hardly had a stellar example of my own from which to learn. What if I’m incapable of providing the little lad or lass what is needed? What if I am incapable of protecting my child?”

“You love your child already,” Hopper stated.

“Aye, more than anything, save Swan herself,” Killian replied with a quick nod.

“And that is the most important thing,” Dr. Hopper said. “Killian, you’ll make mistakes as a father. All parents do, but as long as you love your child and do your best to do right by them, it will all turn out in the end.”

Killian sat back, sighing again. “That’s all well and good, but how precisely do I make the fear recede?”

Dr. Hopper was silent for another long moment. “Maybe, Emma has a point. I know she spoke in frustration, given what she sees as your overprotective instinct, but maybe it would be helpful to find a hobby.”

“I hardly think taking up woodworking or the like is going to allay my fears about fatherhood,” Killian scoffed.

“Maybe not,” Hopper said, “but one of the best ways to deal with anxiety is to busy yourself with something that might help the one you’re worried about. Look for a hobby you can use to help provide for Emma or your new child.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian had initially been skeptical about the cricket’s suggestion, but the more he thought about it, the more sense it truly made. What was something he could do to keep his mind and his hand occupied, something that would provide help and comfort to his little family?

It was one bright, sunny Saturday morning when he and Swan were sitting in the room that would become their nursery, that inspiration struck.

Opening a box she’d had him bring down from the attic, Emma had pulled out her delicate white and purple baby afghan, lovingly knitted for her by Granny herself.

“It’s the only thing I had from my parents growing up, Killian,” she’d said, running a hand lovingly over the soft fabric, “and it got me through, you know? It reminded me that no matter what I was going through, at one point someone did give enough of a damn about me to knit me a blanket.”

Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps he could create a similar blanket for their own little cygnet.

The next Monday, after Emma had left for work, he’d wandered over to Granny’s after the breakfast rush and inquired of her whether she’d be willing to teach him to knit.

Granny peered at him over her glasses. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” she’d said bluntly.

His hackles had risen. “Whyever not?”

“Now don’t get your leathers in a twist,” she’d said, pulling off her apron and leading him back to the sitting room of the bed and breakfast. “I meant no offense. It’s just–”

“It’s just what?”

She eyed his hook. “It’s just–I’m not sure it’s possible to knit with only one hand.”

His heart had sunk, and she’d clearly noticed.

“Hang on a second,” she said, getting up and moving to a small box in the corner of the room and rummaging around. “Knitting may not be possible, but something else might.” She came back to him holding a ball of yarn and a small, thin hook. “Killian, how would you like to learn to crochet?”

Note:

–I’m back! Did you miss me?

–This story came about through personal experience. Two things some of you may not know about me: 1. Aside from OUAT/writing, my biggest hobby is crocheting (knitting too, to a lesser extent, but crochet is my medium of choice). It’s rare to find me without a crochet project in my hands during my downtime. 2. I minored in French in college. Though I haven’t used it much since then, I’ve started reviewing and trying to learn more–hopefully to one day become fluent. Anyway, one day when I was working on an extremely boring project at work, a thought occurred to me–a thought that actually combined all my major hobbies and pursuits. The word for “hook” in French is “crochet”, so Killian’s title in French is actually “Capitaine Crochet”. Naturally my next thought was that there had to be a fic in there somewhere.

Thus this story was born.

–This little fic should have one more chapter. Up next: Emma feels bad for snapping at Killian–especially when she realizes he’s spending a lot more time away from her. One day she learns his secret–his brand new hobby–and it makes her fall in love with him all over again.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#cs friday fluff #cs ff #fluffy fridays #cs future fic #well...more missing scene during season 7 #my fanfiction

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