#i can't live with stacks of books on the floor personally

[aadmelioraa]

girl help i'm running out of bookshelf space again

[honeyhenry]

Apple Pie and You and I: A Very Happy Seresin

Ignore the fact it has been over a year since the last instalment...I would offer my life story but it has been HECTIC. Anyways, I have never ceased to think of Dad-to-be!Jake Seresin and since it is now the summer holidays, my gift to you is this lovely part 4 of the APAYAI series!

In the calm haze of what surely would be a sweet summer, you found rest in the peace held within the mid-June evening. Jake would return shortly from his quick job out by Mav's old place, helping Rooster refurbish the old skyline beauty Maverick hadn't had the time for lately. A whole stack of them had taken their turn, and while Jake remained a reliable friend now in the squad, he had really fought it internally, not wishing to leave your side.

Not when he could be snuggled up to his wife, on the porch or resting on the sofa, smelling the strawberry shampoo from your hair, or your shea butter moisturiser. Nor could he kiss you as and when he liked from 4.30pm, the second he got home from work, all the way to bedtime and then again in the morning before you both headed off - him to base, and you to your kindergarten class.

No, he wasn't going to be home until closer to 9 - almost 30 minutes away yet - and the worst part was, he was missing more than just you these days. The swell that continued to grow once you'd left Texas had become his new obsession - the slice of heaven that he already adored because they were going to be just like you, and make you look like the sweetest, hottest little thing this side of the States.

Resting quietly on the sofa, you await his return, knowing he'll ache and sweat and smell on his return - you can't wait to soak him all in and show him the newest development. You swear this baby grows dramatically overnight, a claim you state often whilst Jake just smirks because it's his big Seresin baby that he personally delivered, that grows and nestles inside you.

Your living area is lit by a chamomile candle and a yellow lamp that envelopes the room into a warm glow. The scattered pillows across the sofa and rug are perfect to relax on, and your most recent book "Parenting 101" swapped out for Cosmo magazine led to an idyllic evening. A small cup of tea and the night had gone perfectly.

Sooner than expected, you hear Jake's truck pull up into the driveway. Instead of standing to check and then unlock the door, you wait. Jake much prefers you to stay safely in the house, always alerting you if he has arrived - that you shouldnt be moving a muscle if you can help it. 8.36pm - he's early.

"Lovebug? It's me, I'm home!" he hollers into the foyer of the house, his deep voice carrying through to the living room. Pressing your soft bunny slippers to the floor, you call back.

"In the living room, honey!"

You hear footsteps and then a moment later, there he is, basking in the glow of the lamp above you. Or is it sweat? You can't decide for sure, taken aback by the mixed smells of oil and sweat.

"Hey baby," he finds your lips, leaning over the sofa to not get it marked, "and hey little baby." You smile as he extends a warm hand down to your stomach, smiling softly as he soaks in the moment.

"How was work? And Mav's?"

"Fine, fine. Got a bunch of stuff fixed in the back, Bradshaw got covered in grease and oil so if you see him with a black moustache, you'll know why."

You giggle as he stretches and then quirks a brow. "More importantly, how are you? How is peanut treating you? Being a good and upstanding citizen?"

"I think they grew again overnight. Or through the day, really since breakfast - although it might just be breakfast and my other meals.

"Yeah? Lemme see" he pulls you up carefully and you stand, moving past the plethora of pillows you had build a comfortable place to sit. He smooths his hand down his own shorts first, hoping it would be clean enough, before undoing a little clasp of your pyjama shirt to gain access to your stomach. His hand, warm and firm, rests atop your belly and you can't quite tell if its just butterflies, or that the baby is starting to move within you.

"Oh yeah, i feel it." he rubs softly still. "They're certainly growin'. Good job peanut" he speaks in high praise "and good job Momma...makin' us a baby..."

You have a quick kiss before you usher him upstairs to shower, and you turn the lights off, blow the candle out, and head upstairs to bed. You have your routine set - facial moisturiser, nightly stretches, a warm cup of tea, and belly rubs with your new balm.

You are finishing up your routine, rubbing small shapes into your belly as the smell of coconut fills the room. Jake adores watching you, from the doorway of the en suite. You sit back a little, scooping the balm onto your palm before ever so carefully applying it in small circles, then larger, deeper strokes while still taking tender care of your body. His favourite part has to be when you start whispering sweet words to your belly, realising you aren't alone in this routine. He's caught you a handle of times with; "We love you so much"; "Have you had a nice day in there, hm?" and tonight is no different.

"You're gonna be nice and relaxed in there hm? Me and daddy love you little baby pie. Could just eat you up..."

Moving from the door, he speaks up, hoping to not jolt or surprise you too much.

"Hey, don't go eating up my legacy now"

You giggle, a sound he knows will only ever be beaten by his child's first cry, before halting your laughter at the mere sight of him.

Leaning against the doorway, dripping wet, with a towel barely clinging around his waist. It would be a lie to say that your husband had never looked so good, because this was his standard. Anything he set his mind to, he would accomplish. It just so happened that having a body to die for was the collateral. And here he was, gazing into your soul, heart soaring while watching you treasure and love upon his biggest achievement yet.

"Don't you worry an inch Lieutenant. But I just know they are the cutest, I mean look!" you gesture to his side of the bed. All that sits there is his watch, his alarm clock, and a framed picture of the sweet blob sonogram. "You agree!"

"Yes honey, they're cute I know. Cause they're half you. The other half? Well they'll be the best Top Gun 2050 graduate if they get anything from their Pops."

"You know what, I want them to be all of you."

"Oh really?" Jake shucks off the towel before grabbing his pyjama shorts, grinning cockily as he stretches and flexes, much to your amusement. "I mean I get it, who wouldn't wanna go for a dip in this gene pool?"

"I'm serious, you goof! I have dreams, and the baby...they have your eyes, and that one little dimple like you have your cheek, and, and I don't know. I feel, when I feel the baby, that they're just like you. They feel like home. And-"

You're halted by his physique pressing up beside you, kissing you as if he'd been on an infinite deployment and that holding you was the only sure sign that he was really back home; alive, safe, loved.

"You make me the happiest man alive. You both do. Now, lemme check the house and I'll be right back to hear more about these dreams you're having about me." He winks and you groan, knowing your confession will fuel his ego that little bit more.

As he heads downstairs, you begin massaging your belly again before crying out;

"Oh, Jake!"

You hear the clatter of the teacup he'd taken downstairs, and 5 loud thumping footsteps before he reappears at the door.

"What?!"

With big doe eyes, you smile sheepishly.

"I forgot to tell you, the baby is the size of an apple today."

Jake's expression shifts from one of panic, to utter relief. His chest visibly drops and he runs a hand through his drying hair.

"Baby....don't do that...y'just scared me to death. I'll be right back and then y'can tell me all about it."

On his return from locking up, checking the lights and ensuring he had his uniform laid out for the next day, Jake quietly moved into the bedroom and clicked the door shut. In one hand, he had a glass of water - one you'd never ask for but he knows you'd need through the night. In the other, is a thick, wooden book covered in a multitude of colours and shapes.

You quirk an eyebrow, curious about whatever Jake was holding.

"No Aviator's Digest or Fatherhood 101 tonight?"

"Actually, Bradley gave me this, wanted us to have it at least for now. Something' bout reading to the baby. Then they know my voice... if I'm away." Jake looks down at the book as he shuffles into bed, doing his best not to disturb how comfortable you have made yourself during your nightly routine.

You know that being away now means a great deal more to Jake than before. The issue is sensitive, of course. He doesn't want to be an absent father in the way deployments and time on base can project. You haven't spoken about it too much, but you know it will bother him. Simultaneously, giving up the job he has worked so hard for to be more present is a big sacrifice. One that would also be financially risky to your growing family.

Instead of diving deeper, you keep it light. Jake has no plans to go anywhere anytime soon, or even for very long. It's best to focus on what you can control.

"Oh? What book is it?"

"Something about a hungry caterpillar. Looks a bit demonic on the front, but Bradshaw swore his cousin's kids loved it."

He rests up against the headboard, curling one arm around your shoulders, intertwining his hand with yours atop your belly. Certain that he has you safe and warm in his arms, he unpops your shirt again at your tummy "so they can hear" which has you rolling your eyes. He holds the book right by your belly, and begins.

"Good evening, baby Seresin. This is your father, your Pops. Now you gotta listen - there's a test at the end of this story and we don't tolerate anything but top marks here."

"Jacob Seresin!"

"All right, all right. Now, are we ready? Then let's begin. In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf. One Sunday morning..."

By the time he had turned to the middle page after his soft southern drawl had recounted a feast of apples, pears, and plums, you - and baby - were fast asleep. Closing the wooden book, he pops the button back into place carefully, sorts your pillows, and turns off your bedside lamp.

He'd finish the story tomorrow evening.

[whimsyraincoats]

boy meets girl; jess mariano

cute imagine with jess meeting a certain other gilmore daughter! not sure if it’s a series yet, we’ll see!

words: approx 1.6k

Walking through the doorway, the dark haired boy couldn't think of anywhere he'd want to be less. Just that morning, the woman who introduced herself as Lorelai, had told him that she had two daughters about his age. He can't be completely sure as he wasn't exactly 'actively listening' but by the time his brain had caught up to what his ears were hearing, the idea of twins living in such a town like Stars Hollow had him thinking everyone was cartoon characters. Jess Mariano couldn't picture anything other than identical twins in matching outfits, with the same comedic, animated personalities as the whole town.

Following the source of the noise and clatter into the kitchen, against his will, Jess shared a small greeting to the first of the matching set, Rory. Seemingly, the calmest and least annoying of the group yet, he noted. After being subjected to talk of lemons and being quizzed to no end about his dietary requirements, Jess slipped away from the chaos to what he believed was the living room. Taking in its state, he noticed the odd arrangement of the table and decided that it must not be its permeant place. He glanced down at his watch from beneath his dark grey hoodie sleeve, and looks at the time. Simultaneously, the boy's ears pricked up at the sound of David Bowie that came from up the stairs.

Curiosity and boredom getting the better of him, he climbed the stairs one at a time, planks creaking under each step. All aspects of politeness gone from Jess since he stepped off the bus earlier apparent, as he waltzed though the open bedroom door at the opposite end of the landing. His eyes surveyed the room as some excitement sparked there as he took in the posters, stacked CDs and endless amount books overflowing the shelves. The dark haired boy's gaze landing on where the music is coming from as it changes intro Big Exit by PJ Harvey.

Meanwhile, the brunette girl dragged a comb through her bangs one last time before placing it back onto the bathroom counter with a curse as she noticed the time. Happy with her final decision pertaining to her outfit, she hopped on one foot into the hallway as she pulls her knee high sock up her shin to its full length. Just as the dark haired boy turns to leave the bedroom he was currently standing in.

"Oh my-! Jesus Christ, way to give a girl a fright!" The girl heaves, with a hand placed on her chest. She eyed the boy as he opened his mouth to say something, not before a persistent sing song interrupts them.

"Reyaaa, Jess! Party's moved to the living room!" Lorelai enthusiastically announces up the stairs.

"Coming!" The girl yells over the banister before walking back over to the now-named mystery boy.

"Jess huh? Guessing you're Luke's nephew, right?"

"Nothing gets past you ay" Monotonal, Jess replied as he quirked his eyebrow.

"I'm Freya." Pair complete. "You know you're acting very nonchalant for a boy I just caught snooping in my room."

The boy in question scratches the back of his head slowly. "Wasn't snooping, just looking, admiring even. 'S a difference." His mind refused to believe his heart just skipped a beat as they both lined up in her bedroom doorway, only inches apart as Jess leans on the side of it. Her sparkly, brown eyes invoked a certain feeling in him when they made eye contact.

Freya gently pads across her floor to her CD player and speaker as she presses pause. "You like Bowie?" She questions.

"Yea, it's what made me come upstairs." The brunette turns to share a grin with the boy now hovering by her bookshelves. "Aren't we hooked on phonics?" Jess murmurs.

Letting out a chuckle she replies, "Do you read?"

"Not much." As he picks up a book to examine the cover.

"I could lend you that it's great!" She exclaims as she finally takes in the dark haired boy standing in her room. His grey hoodie nearly fully zipped, paired with dark jeans that rest loosely on his hips. His eyebrows furrowing as his dark brown eyes bore into a page in the book. She felt a blush creeping into her cheeks as she finds herself aware of how handsome he really is.

With a shrug, he put the book back, "No thanks."

Trying to hide her disappointment at the rejection, Freya tried to change the subject.

“Okay erm well I think we-”

“Do these open?” Jess cut her off as he gestured to the window.

“Oh.. yeah, just unlatch then push.” She said as she awkwardly stood by her bed,

“So shall we…?” The girl looked at him with confusion before what he’s referring to clicked.

“Oh, I promise you even if you could climb down, there’s nowhere to bail to.” Slightly bored at the interaction, Freya walked over to her door. “I get you have the need to do or say the opposite of whatever people, in this case Luke, wants you to do, but I’m so hungry. And Sookie, while borderline insane, is a really good cook, so as much as I hate to say it, you’re on your own.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” The boy replied dryly.

“I know!” Freya replied softly with an amused glint in her eyes, knowing his response proves her point. “Come downstairs and eat and you can tell me all about you.” She flirted as she looked over her shoulder while holding the door handle.

Jess let out a smirk while he looked down at his shoes and shaking his head.

Taking that and his silence as a no, the girl stepped through the doorway. “Well, close the door behind you, or the…window? Which ever one you end up using.” She said with a smile on her lips.

Descending down the stairs, Freya couldn’t help but notice the warm curiosity growing inside her at the thought of the boy.

౨ৎ

Checking her watch, the brunette decreased the pace of her steps back to a walk as she headed for Stars Hollow Books. In a miscommunication with her, not so happy, Mom, she had been told the time rounded up, hence the original hurrying, but alas the girl will make it before the store shuts for the evening.

While walking, her mind wandered back to the mismatched stories of the last 24 hours. After having met Jess, although not massive on the manners or socialising, considering he had just moved was perfectly reasonable. However all Freya had heard for the last day from her Mom was the verbal abuse of his character. Even Luke’s too due to their recent fight that even trumps Sid and Nancy, just to add to the confusion even more.

She heard Jess come down the stairs a moment after her while she was passing plates along, but didn’t see him after that. Further developing the mystery that’s been stuck in her mind.

Fiddling with the plastic handle between her fingers, the girl walks out of the Market with a textbook and a folder she desperately needed.

Lost in thought, she crossed the road with her house as her destination, when a familiar voice snapped her out of it.

“Hey.” Freya snaps her head round to look at the boy who she seemed to have summoned by thinking about him.

“Hey, yourself.”

“What’re you doing out here this time of night?” Jess questions with raised eyebrows.

“Just getting somethings I needed for school, how about you?”

“Oh yeah same.” He dismisses.

“You know, it was quite the disappearing act you pulled yesterday.” The brown eyed girl brought up, after a moment of almost awkward silence between them.

“Huh- yeah, as tempting as your offer was, tupperware parties and potlucks really aren’t my thing.” He replied as he untucked his hands from his pockets.

“Just too cool for school huh.” She said, amused as she took him in, his puffer vest, his watch resting on his wrist and a coin he’s moving in his hands. “What’re you doing?” The girl questions.

“Oh this-” Showing her the coin, answered “Just another little disappearing act.” As he revealed his hand as empty of said coin.

Suppressing a giggle, Freya shines him a smile with creased eyes.

“Jess, if you ever want to speak to me again, please don’t pull that out my ear.”

After cracking a smile that unlocked a sense of accomplishment in the girl, replied. “Understood.”

“Hey, I like your shirt.” Jess complimented.

Looking down at it to check which one she happened to throw on earlier, she grinned once more. “Thanks! How much Beatles stuff do you know?” She asked excitedly, her eyes illuminated.

“Oh, only the stuff that everyone does, I wouldn’t have been lined up to be one of their groupies that’s for sure.” He joked.

“Hey, speak for yourself, I adore them, I would’ve been pushing other girls out the way. I adore any British band to be completely honest.” Freya spoke with excitement.

“I know, your room isn’t exactly keeping that a secret you’know.” He referenced the multitude of Britpop, The Smiths and The Beatles posters spaced on her walls. Jess couldn’t help but marvel at the way her face flushed at the prolonged eye contact and his comment.

Snapping out of her trance, the girl glanced down at his arm and gently held his sleeve to check the time. The boy’s body grew alert at the touch. “Shit! I’ve got to go in a sec, I hadn’t realised the time.”

“Oh, well in that case, I’ll leave you with one last magic trick. He dramatically stated as he pulls a familiar book out of his pocket.

“You bought a copy? I told you I’d lend you mine!”

“It is yours.”

“You stole my book!” She accused, dumbfounded.

“Well, I just wanted to put some notes in the margins for you.” He handed the book over, as he tried not to let his mind linger on the way their hands touched.

The girls eyes furrowed in confusing as she flicked through the pages.

Looking up innocently, “I thought you said you didn’t read much?”

“Well what is much?” The boy replied with a drawn out shrug and smirk. “Goodbye, Reya.”

Desperate to hide her slight astonishment, smirked as she began to walk away.

“Goodbye, Dodger.”

After a few paces, she looks back to be met with a smug grin. “Oliver Twist.”

The brown haired girl couldn’t help but share the grin while she nodded. Despite all the things she had heard about him in the last day, she couldn’t help but feel giddy at their interactions. The twin secretly hoped there would be more in the future.

an; i’ve read this so many times i think i hate it. hahaha jk and hope the dialogue is okay i was doing it from memory!!! OH and yes i used my own name for the character hahahaha it’s better than y/n atleast!!!<3

[justporo]

Lost between the covers

When outside a blizzard is raging, there is nothing better than cuddling up with your vampire for a little reading date, right? Well, if you can pick a book to agree on...

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Written for the "Getting cozy" prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge. Shortly ago I wrote a little thing about Astarion and books - and then immediately knew I had to write more about it for the fluff challenge. The bad erotica short stories thing was inspired by another post (I'll link if I can find it, if someone has it, please halp, I can't find anything on this hellsite) and also ofc there have been several posts going around on how Astarion is a Drizzt fan.

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: none Wordcount: 1,4k ~~~

The burning logs crackled in the fireplace while the flames licked on them and flickering warm light filled your living room. Outside a snow storm had been raging the whole day and hadn't stopped even when night had fallen. Wind was howling around the house, and little specks of ice were thrown so hard by the gusts, they made clattering noises against the big living room window.

It didn't bother you at all. You didn’t even spare it any attention at all anymore. The rising and ebbing of the howling wind and the crackling of the fire had become nothing but pleasant background noise.

You were all cosily snuggled up on Astarion's lap, legs swung over his, head on the vampire's shoulder, a blanket wrapped thoroughly around you. The pale elf’s feet were comfortably crossed over each other at the ankles on the floor. His head slightly rested on the crown of yours and he had put his arms lightly around your frame while holding a small leatherbound book he was reading to you from.

The whole scene was just complete and utter bliss - you didn’t remember the last time you had felt such serene peace. Perhaps you never had.

And if you would have asked him, Astarion would have told you very much the same. The vampire might never get used to the feeling of having you close, feeling the warmth of your body slowly seeping into his own as you relaxed into him, fully trusting him. He’d never known or shared this kind of closeness with anyone before.

And he wouldn’t give it up anymore for anything in the world - not even for being able to walk in the sun again.

At first Astarion had made a fuss when you had started to climb on his lap like a cat. But you'd been feeling rather sick for a while now and felt you were entitled to some pampering from your partner. And of course Astarion actually loved that he was that to you: the person you came to because he was your safe haven - not to mention the love of your life. 

But the vampire still had wrestled you off his lap once more while you had pouted.

“Ah ah, patience, my darling. I'm only setting us up so we can stay all neatly cuddled up for the rest of the night,” he'd lectured you and had inclined his head towards you while doing a little bow.

“I don't know, Astarion, you being the one talking about having patience somehow feels cynic to me,” you'd replied and wrapped your arms around you to stay warm.

Astarion's eyes had narrowed dangerously at you, tongue in cheek, before he had turned on his heel and left without another word. You probably had only made him take his sweet time now. With a sigh you had sunk back onto the piece of furniture

He had returned some time later with a stack of different books under his arm, a cup of hot tea for you and some mulled wine for himself.

Astarion had scoffed at first at the premise of drinking “fine wine ruined with spices and fruit, my love - why not immediately make me drink juice with seasoning, ugh.” But then he had started to enjoy it quite quickly.

You scurried to make place for your vampire on the sofa. Then putting the mugs down on the small table beside the couch, the vampire sat down beside you again, balancing books of different size and condition on his legs.

“So, tell me my love, what shall we read?”, he asked cheerfully while you just eyed the stack of books on his lap - they were in your spot.

Astarion looked at you cockily, eyebrows raised, waiting for you to give a response. You just slowly blinked at him. Your brain was mushy and foggy from being sick - you weren't up to make important choices, but you tried to pull yourself together. Astarion was awful at downplaying how excited he seemed to just snuggle up with you on the couch with a book and you surely wanted to indulge him.

“Well, what's on offer?”, you finally asked in response.

Astarion jumped right back into action with a pleased grin: “I'm so glad you asked, my love.”

He lifted up the first one of the books: small, blue, golden lettering on the front and spine. “We have a nice small volume of poetry - the writing is a bit too sappy for my liking, personally, but this poet's been all the rave lately, so I had to form an opinion on that of course.”

“Of course,” you chimed in with a knowing little smile. It was insanely cute to you how much enthusiasm the vampire had for literature.

You had drawn your legs up to sit on them and were now leaning your elbow on your knees, chin in your hand, looking at Astarion who lifted up the next book - a huge, very old looking, leather-bound tome.

“We have one of the most holistic and elaborate accounts of history of our wondrous city of Baldur’s Gate”, the vampire went on, putting on some scholarly demeanour. Gods, he almost reminded you of Gale for a second. You blinked a few times to get that out of your head.

Then you eyed the dusty and crumbly book with a scrunched up nose: “You don’t really want to read that, do you?”

Astarion looked at you in confusion: “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nerd”, you simply said. “Next!”

The vampire’s red gaze narrowed at you in distaste. He still held up the huge leatherbound chronicles in his hands.

“One comment about how I grew up on the streets and am uncultured, Astarion, and I will bite you!”, you threatened and stuck a finger in his face.

Immediately the pale elf put on a smug grin. “Would be a nice change for once, don’t you think?”, he muttered in a sultry tone while you just rolled your eyes and groaned. “But alright, I understand that the audience may be a little… overwhelmed with this suggestion”, he continued in one of his insufferable ways and went to carefully place down the huge tome on the wooden floor.

You still felt like you had been made fun of but you let it slide for now.

“Alright, next up we have this titillating collection of obnoxiously bad erotica short stories,” Astarion continued and lifted up a much smaller book again - this one bound in linen in a deep red colour. The vampire was back at grinning lewdly at you, one eyebrow lifted high.

“Is this where you got all your lines from?”, you asked dryly.

Astarion’s expression immediately turned sour. “Alright, we’re not reading this one”, he said in a flat tone, glowering angrily at you. He threw the book over his shoulder and heard how it clattered to the ground - always so dramatic.

Meanwhile you had started cackling so much you had to bury your face in your hand for a moment. Under his breath you heard Astarion mutter something about why he hadn’t “just chosen about anyone else to manipulate and end up with”.

Quickly, you went to lean forward and grab his face to cherish it with a kiss. Despite his still disgusted face the pale elf welcomed the loving attention. When you pulled away you kept holding his face in your hands: “You’re stuck with me, love.”

“Good thing, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else then”, Astarion replied and leaned in again for another kiss.

Afterwards,sitting up straight again, Astarion sighed dreamily while his eyes lingered on you.

“What’s the last one?”, you asked after a while of the vampire seemingly just getting lost in your eyes.

“Hm?” he made, raising his eyebrows. Then he shook his head softly to focus again while you grinned to yourself knowingly.

Astarion lifted up the last pick in his stack of books he’d brought: “Well, the last one is another adventurous tale of Drizzt Do’Urden.”

Your head perked up when you heard that.

Astarion had introduced you to the legendary tales of Drizzt a while ago now and despite brushing it off at first you had gotten seriously into the stories. And another one of those stories sounded just about right for a stormy winter night and for cuddling up for the rest of the night.

Eagerly, you climbed on Astarion’s lap without any other responses. The vampire just laughed while he allowed you to cosy up to him and finally sealed the deal by putting an arm around you, with his other hand opening up the book already.

“Alright, looks like we have a winner”, he mused playfully and dragged you in a little closer on his lap so he could press another kiss to the top of your head.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon

[bon2bonn]

for your playlist prompts

39 with lando norris

and the reader is his little sister

Growing Pains Are Keeping Me Up at Night . L.N #4

Lando Norris X little sister!reader , Norris!reader

Synopsis : when you can't hide your growing pains lando is always there to chase their shadows away .

Words count : around 1.6k 🤷🏻‍♀️

Warnings : grammar , anxiety , growing pains , dismissed feelings , neglection .

*requests are open ✍️

*so quick question which pov would be more preferable ?second person , author pov? . And Feedback is always welcome so of you like it let me know 💮

  "Just five minutes more" that's what she told herself two hours ago, and here she is still hunched over the desk working on her assignments with books and papers scattered around . Tired eyes glued to the screen reading the last two pages she managed to fill over and over again as if in a hypnotic daze , three lines in and her mind wanders again so she starts all over again .

Finishing one assignment lead to another unfinished paper , and each never seemed to end  , the light of the screen burned her eyes  , pushing back her chair to pause for a moment rubbing her temples to release some of the pressure off her head , the ruckus around the house definitely didn't help . her cousins are running around up and down the hall slamming on her locked door every now and then just for the fun of it , but better outside than actually barging in wricking havoc and breaking things .

She adores them to pieces but her already hyperactive cousins consuming ungodly amount of candy that she suspects that lando snuck them  from the pantry before he miraculously got a last minute meeting and made a run for it  ,  plus the adults are leaving them unsupervised to do god knows what is a mix of disaster she refused to get herself involved in .

Looking around the usually tidy well organized room now in complete disarray with books scattered around , cans of energy drinks and coffee mugs littering the floor  "what a mess" . Her hoarse voice whispered "I need a break" . Stretching out caused her to groan as her bones popped from being locked in the chair she sat on since the early hours of the morning , first she collected the mugs aside to take down to the kitchen and threw away the cans then she stacked away her books and left her desk for later  .

Opening the door brought her cousins to a sudden stop as they peaked around the corner so she hurried to shut her door and make a run for the stairs , but they were faster so now she got one child on each leg one on her back and a one year old demanding to be held , sighing softly to herself  "so much for a break" . After some bribery they scattered away looking for their next victim , but not so much success with the youngest so he'll stay for now .

Stepping into the lively kitchen made her rethink that maybe leaving her room wasn't the best choice , the moment they saw her she was dragged right into it . Two minutes in and they got her running in and out doing chores , all her pleads going unheard  "you should help more!" , "Why can't you be helpful for a moment" , "oh stop overreacting , it's just a homework you'll do it later" ,  " miss perfect is worried about her grades , com'on one day won't kill ya" . And it went on and on and on. her work upstairs long forgotten.

............................

"01:45" read the bold neon light of clock glared right back at her as she sat once again after fleeing the war zone trying to salvage what's left of the night or  before the light of day break through , amidst her contemplating whether to just brave it and keep on working or to just give up , it's just grades right ? , It's not the end of the world , it's not like it determines more than half of the final mark right? So what if she failed the class all together , She could retake it next year right?  , "Oh no . No. No . No. Not now ! I can't panic over it now . I still got ....... No ! Com'on , please not now " rapidly breathing and Stressing over Got her to her feet , walking back and forth across the room  not paying mind to lando who just got back home and heard her pacing just before he missed her door heading to his room , and as he peaked his head in after knocking for a while only for her to not answer , his concerns of why is she still awake in the dead of night ? And why she seemed distracted the whole week amplifies as she kept on passing by still not aware of him standing at her door , so he took it into his own hand to step in trying to anchor her back knowing that once she fall into a hyperventilating daze it would only take a moment for panic to set in and that led to a state he promised to never let her get pulled into again .

"Blue" he called her softly as he stepped towards her but still not too close to make her feel cornered  " hey what's wrong ?"  He reached his hand out before he held her shaking hands in his , concerned about how cold they were , guiding her to try to breathe as her  frantic eyes zoomed back in to lock with his tearing up relieved by his presence alone , she finally let it out  "everything is wrong  , Lan ! , I'm failing school and I can't even do anything....... I still ......... I still got tons of unfinished work I won't be able to make it on time , maybe I should just drop out , no one would care , so why keep going " he sat her down still holding her hand squeezing every three beats to distract her trying to match her breathing with it " com'on blue , that's not gonna happen , I won't let that happen , now breathe with me " .

Looking at the now empty water bottles and coffee mugs and her shaking hands were not only due to anxiousness ,  he  knew without asking that she is once again skipping her meals and that won't do . coaxing her away from her room took a while but eventually he got her out , both sneaking into the kitchen .

She Sat down at the counter as he rummaged through the fridge looking for ingredients , he paused as she gave him a doubtful look " what!?" She bit back a smile as she pointed out " you know that you can't cook to save your life right ? , your skill set consists of burnt eggs and sand paper pancakes" , he gave her a sassy look with both hands on his hips " well good to know that your observational skill is intact , you should be grateful for my miraculous food " ,  she mumbled quietly  " more like last meal from hell " , he snapped his head "what was that!?" , " Oh nothing!" , "That's what I thought" as he went on putting what he deemed necessary to sit beside her on the counter after deciding on quick and easy sandwiches , she watched him assembling layers as she put her head down  atop her crossed arms and whispering out " I wish I hadn't grow " he hummed softly " why so ?" Then listened as she went on "everything was easier , lighter , all what's keeping me awake at night went over my head back then , I didn't have to worry about what I'm going to do for life , what everyone expects me to achieve, even you,  you were always there " she gave him a genuine smile as she kept going " I still remember how We used to complain about monsters in our closets just to stay awake for little while but we'd always end up sleeping right away , now everything turned into a living nightmare that I have to face everyday .  I'm getting older but I don't want that if it's just to hurt further " he pushed the first sandwich before her as he went on preparing another one but he paused , giving her a thoughtful nod " that's the hardest part of it , to grow out Of what we used to be . And believe me I know it cause i felt it , there's no guaranteed cure for that no bandaids for the growing pains as they say , but what I guarantee you is that as you go through it the bad would get better cause you learn from it , you won't always be right about everything you go through, the mistakes are to get you back on track ,  to take notice of what you've missed the first time around , you know " she nods her head taking in his words " yeah " He hummed as he went back to what he was doing " I know I'm not around as much as I wanted to " she immediately assured him " I know , and I'll never hold it against you , you've got work to do and places to be " he shook his head adamantly " yeah but that won't ever stop me from being there for you , whether you had a bad day or just wanted to vent I'm one call away from you alright?" She nods gratefully accepting his words , then he nudged her to finish her meal "now let get you fed and ready to sleep , tomorrow we've got assignments to finish and you young lady are in for an epic but relaxing weekend with yours truly" , and before she start protesting he declared " yeah , I'm not taking no for an answer, we're both ditching this weekend , I'm using my big brother authorities so I'll deal with them later " she poked him knowing how squirmish he'll be "lando , that's abuse of power , it that's the example you want me to follow !" " Yeah yeah com'on now eat up " before he add in exited smile " you won't believe what Carlos did last week . he ....... " .

[uriwoos2]

not why i love you .✧๋࣭⭑ (hunter)

pairing: bf!hunter x gn!reader overview: your boyfriend visits your room for the first time! <3 genre: fluff. requested: yes! word count: 1.3k warnings: none. ♡ note: hunter is such a gentle little soul, he's literally the sunlight shining through the window in the evening, orange and warm <3 have this (hopefully) cute but maybe a bit cringy lil scenario >< I hope you enjoy reading. likes & reblogs are v appreciated! — with love, cream <3

♪₊˚song: i love you – avril lavigne

you could feel your heart drumming in your chest, as you hesitantly opened the door, stepping in, making some room for the person behind you to come inside as well.

"well, this is where I live." you mumbled out sheepishly, as you waited for his reaction.

this was the first time you'd invited your boyfriend over, which took lots of convincing from his side, since he was just so eager to see your room. you duck your head, as blood rushed to your cheeks. you weren't sure why you were so nervous about this, considering you didn't have anything to hide, or anything to be embarrassed about.. but because of how excited he was to see your room, you didn't want to disappoint, thinking the actual thing might be underwhelming for him.

you try to battle with your nerves as you reluctantly bring your head back up to get a look at his face. for a second, you think hunter's bored out of his mind, since he's looking around with an almost blank expression, not hinting at much.

what you weren't aware of, however, was the overwhelming surge of feelings that were swirling in his mind at the moment, his senses overloaded with how much of everything there was. how much of you he saw in all the things before him. he can't help but notice fragments of you in the posters of your favorite movies on the walls, and the miniature plants in hand painted pots on the windowsill, the sheer pastel–colored curtains and the way your textbooks are stacked so neatly on the desk, how your jacket rests idly on the back of a chair, or how delicately you've arranged small miscellaneous objects on the shelves...

it's all you.

he takes a step forward, trying to take a closer look at the books and the pictures, as he feels warmth underneath his feet, chuckling to himself, thinking there's you even in how soft the carpet is. he feels a bit silly, really for thinking as such.

his eyes accidentally meet yours, melting at the sight of your bashful demeanor, how you're standing in a corner of a room that belongs to you so uncomfortably, almost as if it's your first time here. how cute. he thinks you're even cuter for worrying, I mean, how could he not like anything that has to do with you?..

he approaches you, catching you off guard with a sudden gentle peck on your cheek, the sides of his lips tugging upwards into a sickeningly cute smile once more. he has the chance to see your cheeks turn pink, feeling so giddy at the thought that he did that. so very cute.

"hey, I meant to say this earlier, but got kinda distracted by your lovely room... your new outfit looks so pretty on you, bumblebee." he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, his smile as bright as before.

he makes you blush so easily, always so generous with his compliments and praise. you thank him shyly, and he extends his hand for you to take. hunter wants to ease your anxiety even by a bit, so he guides you to sit with him on the floor, your back to the bed.

you take a moment to observe his face, and finally muster up the courage to ask what he thinks, albeit softly. he smiles, soft and gentle as he does, brushing his thumb absentmindedly over the back of your hand as he responds, "it's so nice. and very bright too. the windows are so big.. good to know you're getting all the sunshine, my bumblebee." he giggles, making you chuckle at his adorable words.

your heartbeat slows, as you feel your body relax, you had absolutely nothing to worry about. he really likes it here.

a comfortable silence settles between you two once again, as he continues studying the items around him, eyes lingering on certain details. and you keep scanning his face for the slightest changes in his expressions, never missing a twinkle in his eyes, or a tug in the corner of his lips. he doesn't even realize how immersed he is, doesn't even notice the weight of your head resting on his shoulder. he's so cute.

"hunter?" you whisper, knowing he'll hear, as you're sitting so close.

"hmm?" he answers a short moment later. he's so absorbed, that you think he's challenged himself to memorize the entire layout of your room.

you chuckle softly as you ask, "what do you like the most about my room?"

he thinks hard about it, but can't seem to find a simple answer. should he say that he likes how you've arranged all the furniture so cozily, or how beautiful the wall decorations look, or that the colors match so perfectly, creating such harmony all around?.. he doesn't know what to name, because he likes everything about it.

all stressed out from this seemingly difficult dilemma, he lays his head back, resting on the soft duvet of your bed. you follow suit, "I think you're taking this way too seriously.. don't think so much about it, love." you tell him as you take his hand to rest in your lap, playing with his fingers.

he makes a small sound of approval, but doesn't say anything else, still contemplating. so silly. you can't resist the urge to kiss him, leaning up so your lips can reach the height of his cheekbone.

he leans his head on yours as he takes notice of the tiny stickers messily scattered across your ceiling, "baby! why didn't you tell me you had these glowing stars up here? how did I not notice these were there?.." he exclaims enthusiastically, "these definitely have to be my favorite then, so you have your answer." he's beaming down at you now, so happy to have found his favorite thing about your room.

you're just content to be able to share different parts of you with the beautiful person in front of you, and so so grateful for the care he puts into taking his time to study and explore it all. he's always been so attentive of everything about you, constantly reminding you how interesting it all is to him. how interesting you are to him. you're just lucky to have him as your boyfriend. this wonderful, kind person who endlessly supplies you with warmth and care and love. the sweetest. you feel the same towards him, this immense urge to get to know him with all the layers and sides doesn't ever go away. no matter how much you find out about him, he seemingly never runs out of things to surprise you with.. he's just perfect like that.

you inch closer to him, if that's even possible, to hug his arm and bask in his presence. finally having him here in your room feels so so nice.

hunter looks down toward you as you shift, smiling instinctively, head full of soft, gentle thoughts about his beautiful lover.

he finally realizes what his actual favorite thing about your room is and rushes to tell, "you." only after uttering the word, he feels shy, cheeks warming up.

you tilt your head in confusion, "what?"

"it's you. my favorite thing about the room, it has you in it." his hand comes up to take hold of one of your flushed cheeks, giggling at the adorable sight of your wide sparkling eyes.

"hunter! you can't just say such things out of nowhere!!" you protest as you hide your face into his shoulder, knowing your cheeks would be bright crimson by now. nevertheless, you can feel your heart tighten at his sweet words. so sickeningly sweet.

he just chuckles affectionately at that, wrapping both his arms around you, hugging you close. he finds himself needing to never ever let go of you. wants you to be warm and loved and cherished, in his safe arms. it's a good thing, that that's all you could ever dream about, too.

[knockoff-conlon]

writing prompt:

"Ooh I still have your lighter

ooh I still have your book

ooh, i still have everything you brought but never took"

-taking whats not yours, tv girl

"spot, we can help you with everything." spot shakes his head.

"i don't want your help." there's something heart-wrenching about watching the toughest person you know sitting on the floor of their living room and cracking at the edges.

"you aren't alone," jack tells him. jack is holding his shoulders, staring into his face. and he's right there. but spot feels so far away. "want to go eat? it's been a while since you ate."

"no." he pulls at the carpet underneath him. he feels hollow. everything in him pouring out through the cracks that race had patched. "not hungry."

"want to sleep at our place?" davey offers from the doorway. spot looks up at him. he looks totally gone, a step away from falling off a cliff.

"no." spot is still sitting on the ground. he looks small, curled in on himself like a child would be.

"you shouldn't be alone right now," jack tells him. spot blinks at him. he's so tired.

"i am alone."

"spot-"

"please leave."

"you can't be alone here right now."

"please, jack, just go home."

"okay. okay, but call me if you change your mind." he nods as the two others get their stuff. he just watches them go.

he gets up.

he doesn't touch anything.

race's side of the bed is still how he left it.

spot sits on his side. stares at the place where his boyfriend used to sleep. he always ended up on spot's side anyway, hugging him as he slept.

he gets back up. he can't sleep where race should be. he goes to the living room and lays on the couch. it's quiet. race used to binge watch his tv shows when he couldn't sleep. spot always ended up joining him for whatever episode of drag race he was watching.

the couch isn't good either. everything is how race left it.

he still has race's lighter on the window ledge by the balcony. he would smoke outside on the balcony cause spot didn't let him smoke inside.

it's just on the window ledge, waiting for race's next smoke. how funny.

he still has all of race's books. they're crammed into the bookshelf against the wall- every one of them is annotated and the spines are cracked and they're falling apart. there's more in the bedroom and a stack of them to be put away by the door.

race is never gonna get to break them in. he'll never get to write his thoughts, tell spot all about them until he falls asleep, or shriek when something good happens.

he still has everything race brought over from his old place. the mugs with chips in them, the knit blankets, the clothes.

he has all of it, he has everything but race.

it leaves him hollow. carved out.

life brought everything, death took anything.

[andy-15-07]

Since I met you { Chapter 3}

masterlist ! pairing: Sam Claflin x oc!reader

SUMMARY : When a student meets a famous actor, what can happen? They fall in love, they don't care what the world says about them, they swear their love and that they will be next to each other regardless of the situation.

The story follows the beginning and formation of the love story of Sam and Andrea.

GENRE: fluff, love at first sight

The road to his house is not silent, after I left where I live, it didn't take long for him to take me in his arms and kiss me on the forehead, he is the first to break the silence.

"I didn't think you had such a protective roommate, you behave like two sisters and this is really nice." he says and looks at me smiling

"I know, she is like a younger sister to me, she is what she is, but if you know her, she is a good person. " I tell him and get even closer to him.

"You're right, but let's stop talking about her or her boyfriend, now that we're both together we can talk about everything we want, get to know each other better. Don't worry, I'm not the kind of guy who sleeps with a girl on the first date. " He tells me and pulls me so close to him that I was on his chest.

We stopped in place, I turned to face him and put my hands around his neck and he puts one hand on my cheek and the other on my hip and when I look into his eyes, I see that a sparkle that illuminates his green eyes, the same sparkle that he had the first time we met.

"Sam, you should have known that I don't believe this about you, you are not like other people, you are special and I promised you that I trust you. Do you trust me?" I tell him and play with the hair on the back of my neck and continue to look into his eyes, waiting for the answer of the person who makes me smile from small things.

"It's normal that I trust you, you have a different personality from other people, I've never met someone so simple. Other girls would have realized who I am and would have used me, but you showed me that regardless of who I am and what I do, you will treat me like an ordinary person and I thank you for this ."

Upon hearing these words, I approach him and kiss him, as if our lips are two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.  I don't care that I'm in the middle of the street or that people are looking at us, the only thing I care about is that this man makes me feel the most special on the whole planet.  Sam breaks the kiss and when I open my eyes, I see him smiling and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"We don't have much to go, my apartment is right there."  he tells me and points to a building neither too big nor too small, I could say that it is suitable.

He takes my hand and intertwines our fingers with each other and we head towards his apartment, when we arrive in front of the building he opens the door and leads me to the floor where he lives.

When I reached the door of the apartment, before opening it, he smiled at me and opened it, motioning for me to go in first, which I did.  After I enter, I hear the door close and feel a pair of arms around my waist and feel Sam resting his head on my shoulder, the small gesture makes me smile, makes me feel safe.

"If you think it's something strange to say to me, excuse me but there's a little mess in the living room, I didn't have time to wipe everything that was there." he tells me and I return to his arms, smiling.

"It can't be that bad, you saw what I had on the bed and on the bedside table in my bedroom, they were full of books, magazines and my camera. Keep calm Sam, nothing will bother me."  I tell him and take him in my arms.

When we enter the living room, I realize that Sam was not right, on the coffee table there were 2 stacks of books and some sheets that were taken out of a file. The living room was neither big nor small, it was perfect for him, on one of the walls it has a very large library and it was full of books.

"Sam, I don't understand why you told me it was a little messy, when there is nothing and I didn't think you had so many books, but I was wrong." I tell him and return to his arms, looking into his beautiful green eyes. I don't realize what I did, but I'm very lucky to have met Sam.

"I also said that because, while I was waiting for the food to cook, I worked on something and read something. And I decided to say that because you shouldn't believe other things, whether I'm careless or other things." he says and puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer to him.

I feel his breath on my cheek and his eyes hold my gaze, as if the world remains still and the most important thing is only Sam, I watch him lean towards me and capture my lips in a passionate kiss and I feel him take me slowly towards the couch, Sam ends the kiss and sits down on the couch, reaches out for my hand and suddenly puts me in his lap.

"You are very beautiful Andrea, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." he tells me and suddenly I blush and look away.

"Thank you and you are very handsome  my dear Sam." I tell him and I decide to look into his eyes but after my gaze falls on his lips and I approach him and give him a small kiss, but he prolongs the kiss and we end up having a make out session.

[kentosdoll]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑁𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛 headcanons .ᐟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ mr autism feat. his antics

content: sfw wc: 623

a/n: look, i know there is a small minority of us in the jjk fandom that believes nanami kento is autistic, so this post won't appeal to the masses. if you don't like this, nor agree with it, that's fine (that's why fanon and au's are cool). just don't be a dickhead and leave mean comments. also, this was co-written by my beloved sibling @lesbian-choso. go check out his blog; they make lovely traditional art.

banner credits:⠀@/dollienini + @/chilumitos

Flat affect — no explanation needed.

Stims: jiggling his watch, cracking his knuckles and other joints, pacing around.

This man cannot stand loud noises, though controlled loud sounds, like listening to his screamo playlist, is totally fine.

I firmly believe he sleeps like a dead person at an open-casket funeral. His bed sheet is in a straight line across his chest, with his arms lying flat on either side of his torso — Back Sleeper™️. Best believe he can't sleep unless his room is 18°C, with his bedsheets and duvet even on each side of the bed, and a fresh bottle of water on his bedside table (in case he wakes up and feels parched).

Whilst he isn't a fan of journals and diaries, Kento makes sure to regularly update his calendar on his phone, as well as the one attached to Outlook.

Spreadsheets and to-do lists, he thrives off of these. How else is he to keep up with life?

He is very aware of the fabrics and textures that make contact with his skin. This is why his wardrobe is predominantly made up of soft materials like cotton and cashmere. If he has to wear anything woollen, a lightweight layer of clothing goes underneath; he can't stand the itchiness.

Kento doesn't like mixing cold and warm food, and he tries his best to keep the food on his plate from touching each other (this doesn't apply to food like fried rice).

He irons his bedsheets and underwear — don’t ask. Kento also regularly washes his curtains and steams them once they’re dry (no creases, he hates them).

Exclusively purchases one type of deodorant; it has something to do with the smell and texture. He can’t stand aerosols because of the intensity of their smell (it gets into the back of his throat), and the gel deodorants feel uncomfortable on his underarms. Kento also isn’t a fan of perfume, though, there was one he liked that he stocked up on. Sadly, he hasn’t been able to find anything similar.

“Don’t come in the kitchen whilst I'm cooking.” — Kento to Satoru when he senses him about to step in. He can't share the space, it becomes claustrophobic.

Baking is his special interest; he has an absurd amount of information about this art form stored in his noggin. Dare I say he would own a bread encyclopaedia if it existed. Whilst bread is his favourite form of baked good, from time to time, he attempts to make confectionary, specifically those made of phyllo pastry. On the rare occasion, he might bake a pie or cake.

This man owns a lint roller because of his pet cats; he is not a first-time cat owner. Whilst his home is relatively clean, he can't help but feel the need to pick up those stray cat hairs. He doesn't want to accidentally get any in his mouth.

Speaking of his home, Kento's apartment is relatively minimalist, though the colour palette is warm and welcoming (lots of blues and browns). The only part of his home that is “messy” is one nook in his living room. The bookcase is overflowing with unread books, some sitting in neat stacks on the floor, whilst others are in cardboard boxes acting as surfaces for his potted plants. There are a few old newspapers and magazine recipes strewn on his desk, a cold cup of coffee, and two pen holders jam-packed with various dry markers and inkless pens. It's a sort of organised chaos.

He exclusively wears slippers and thongs/flip-flops indoors. He can’t stand walking around barefoot, it’s uncomfortable, and he doesn’t like his feet being cold or picking up any hair, lint, or crumbs that collect on the floor (despite his home being borderline sterile).

© 𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑠𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑙⠀ ─⠀ all rights reserved. seek inspiration, do not copy, translate, or redistribute my writing/content.⠀₊˚ෆ

[cypressmoons]

Okay, okay #6 flirting prompt, the get some rest one, with whoever you think it fits 😌💤

referring to this post! look if you say "whoever you think it fits" it's gotta be alhaitham <3 you know i'm down BAD for that man :D also let's just ignore this was asked on feb 5th ok,,,i got swept up in work & school again so here's my contribution before i disappear for the next 2 weeks i cry

contents: slightly nsfw, minor sumeru archon quest spoiler <3 word count: 0.7k

the days are long and nights are even longer when alhaitham is not here.

it's not like he's being sent on expedition to the furthest corner on teyvat, per se, but it feels just as lonely to you, if not more. his title as (Acting™) grand sage, as he always likes to correct you, seems to be eating up more of his time and energy than the day before. the yellowed parchment that posted his office hours is long forgotten as people stream in and out of his office nonstop, that he thinks it might be easier to just remove the entire door altogether rather than having someone knock on it every three seconds.

and he feels guilty, he does. before he met you, his office hours served as a warning against disturbing his solitude. he much preferred spending his time somewhere secluded, reading a good book and away from prying eyes. but ever since you entered his life, you had become the sole reason behind the click of the lock at exactly 5pm. he prefers to read his books in your presence instead, his tall frame somehow nestled perfectly into your disproportionately smaller one on the sofa, your steady breathing a calming reminder that you're here, with him.

you don't blame him for being away, but you miss him, dearly.

you miss the telltale footsteps out the door at the same time everyday, followed by open arms and sweet kisses the moment he enters the home. more than once kaveh's blueprints have been carelessly swept to the floor as you're lifted onto the counter, lips never leaving each other's as alhaitham mutters "i love you"s into your skin, completely unbothered by his roommate's angry protests of I WAS WORKING ON THAT when he storms in a few hours later.

now kaveh's blueprints sit neatly on the table - well, as neatly as an architect can put it, stacked underneath a half-finished model of popsicle sticks and rubber bands. the kitchen no longer smells of delicious sabz meat stew, and you find yourself starting to miss the small signs that another person is in fact living within these walls.

hell, you're even missing picking up his littered books and scolding him on not putting things back in their place.

as if on cue, your phone lights up and buzzes against the wooden table. you set down your teacup and glance at the screen, eyes immediately lighting up at the familiar name.

the sun has long set and at this point, you've started getting used to empty beds and empty homes. you weren't expecting him to text, or even come home tonight, for that matter, but part of you still selfishly hopes that today will be the day he can leave his work behind and be with you instead.

the excitement quickly dies down as you scan the words.

i might have to stay a little longer tonight again. i'm sorry, my love.

frowning slightly, your fingers dance across the screen in response to him.

you take care of yourself too, haitham.

you sigh and lay your phone face-down on the table, the adventures in your new novel long forgotten as you savour the memory of the last time you were with him.

how long has it been now?

it feels as if he became sumeru's hero overnight, and his already heavy workload somehow tripled after that. what a way to celebrate a saviour, you think bitterly.

and you know he's doing this for the akademiya, for sumeru, for the archon you all adore. you can't blame him, but maybe you can allow yourself the right to miss him.

your phone buzzes again, and the light in your eyes reignite.

i'll be home tomorrow, i promise. i miss you.

really?

i may or may not have something special planned for you.

what is it?

your curiosity is piqued by his purposefully open-ended comment. a long-overdue date at puspa cafe? a walk along the beautiful waterfalls on the outskirts of the city? or-

what you read next has your breath hitched in your throat and a violent blush spread across your cheeks.

tomorrow i'm fucking you so good for a few hours so get some rest.

masterlist

[aurorawest]

2023 Reading Wrap-Up

Is it February of 2024? Yes! Am I still going to post my favorite books that I read in 2023? Also yes!

Ginn Hale's Cadeleonian Series, the second half of which I read in 2023: Champion of the Scarlet Wolf, Book Two; Master of Restless Shadows, Book One; and Master of Restless Shadows, Book Two

This series begins with Lord of the White Hell and continues with Champion of the Scarlet Wolf, then concludes with Master of Restless Shadows. Each duology follows a different set of characters, but it's a true series so you need to read them in order. It's a toss-up for me whether I preferred Champion of the Scarlet Wolf or Master of Restless Shadows. Both are fantastic duologies. I particularly loved getting Atreau's story in Master because he's sort of an unlikable playboy-esque character in the preceding books...but wait! Turns out there's more to him after all.

After Francesco by Brian Malloy

Who would think a book about living through the AIDS epidemic in NYC in the 80s would be as funny as this book is? It will also tear your heart out and stomp on it. Also takes place partly in Minneapolis (and is by a Minnesotan author).

Silver in the Wood by Emily Tesh

Folklorist meets the Green Man and they fall in love. This is the first half of a duology, the second being Drowned Country, which I just finished today so can't included it on my 2023 wrap-up. All the dark and violent whimsy of the mythic past and the most brutal versions of fairy tales, plus a lovely romance.

Some Desperate Glory by Emily Tesh

Imagine the love child of Lost, Person of Interest, and Battlestar Galactica, but queer and with multiverse shenanigans thrown in (the author has cited Ender's Game as a huge influence). I don't want to say anything more than that, because I feel strongly that you need to go into this book knowing nothing. The twists and turns are so good, the main trio are wonderful, complicated characters, and the world is super cool.

The Bedlam Stacks by Natasha Pulley

In some ways the most heartbreaking of Pulley's novels. Also probably her most dreamy and magical. It's my least favorite of her books, but my least favorite Natasha Pulley book still ended up on my best of 2023 reading list.

The Half Life of Valery K by Natasha Pulley

This book awakened in me a latent love of Soviet queers. You'll see this book filed under sci-fi by booksellers, but it isn't really—it's historical fiction about a very real nuclear disaster in the USSR that was covered up for decades. Like all of Pulley's books, the characters are deeply complicated and flawed. The pleasure is really in reading the way she tells a story and her beautiful use of language, so even if you're not interested in Soviet nuclear disasters, I absolutely recommend you read this. Also, you'll probably be interested in Soviet nuclear disasters when you're done.

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow by Natasha Pulley

Haha, you thought The Watchmaker of Filigree Street punched you in the chest with feels? Get ready for the sequel, which will have you Curled Into A Sobbing Ball On The Floor™. Join Thaniel Steepleton, Keita Mori, and their adopted Waifish Victorian Orphan, Six, as they go to Japan, where things are weird, there are ghosts, and Thaniel and Mori still somehow don't understand what they mean to each other.

The Kingdoms by Natasha Pulley

"What if France won the Napoleonic Wars because of time travelers" shouldn't have shattered me the way this book did, but of course it's a Natasha Pulley novel so it absolutely did. Missouri Kite is the most Gay Little Man™. And Joe, poor Joe. The PINING. The YEARNING. When the reveal happens, I had to go back and read prior sections of the book and good god do they hit different. Different and SADDER. This book is my favorite of Natasha Pulley's novels.

Tommy Cabot Was Here and Peter Cabot Gets Lost by Cat Sebastian

The first two books in Cat Sebastian's The Cabots series. The books are historical fiction that follow various queer men in the Cabot family. The Cabots are one of those old money, liberal New England families—think Kennedys. Both books are about Sad Gay Men™ finding love in soft, tiptoeing Cat Sebastian fashion. Peter Cabot is a road trip romance and a bit longer, so the characters have some time to breathe.

Something Wild & Wonderful by Anita Kelly

This was probably a Stucky fic at one point, right? I mean. No shade though, truly! This was my favorite romcom that I read in 2023. It was also a comp for Strangers to Husbands, haha. I love the setting—hiking the Pacific Crest Trail—and I love the main characters, Alexei and Ben. Alexei came out to his family recently and got rejected, while Ben is from a big, accepting Portuguese family. Funny, touching, and an excellent love story.

Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver

Looks like a romcom but will stab you in the heart repeatedly. Kit Oliver has a gorgeous way with words and captures the dynamic between two people who have no idea how to talk to each other so well. I'm also a sucker for farm settings.

The Sugared Game and Subtle Blood by KJ Charles (The Will Darling Adventures)

I've read almost all of KJ Charles's books at this point, but the Will Darling Adventures are my favorites (I read the first book in the series in 2022). I love the combination of romance and action/adventure. I've never met a m/m book set in the interwar period that I haven't loved. Will and Kim are wonderful characters, and sometimes I think about what other adventures they had after book three ended.

Honeytrap by Aster Glenn Gray

An FBI agent and a GRU agent get assigned to work a case together in 1959 and they fall in looooove. There's a road trip, a family dinner, and FEELS. I'm not sure I've ever had a time skip hit me in the gut so hard. Remember how I said I love Soviet queers? Here's another example.

Wranglestone and Timberdark by Darren Charlton

What if the real dystopia isn't the zombie apocalypse, but "normal" life? I don't know if I've ever read a YA series that sucker-punched me as hard as this one. I know I've never read a zombie book that sucker-punched me as hard as this one. I don't think these books have even been published in the US (only in the UK), but if you can get your hands on them, they're worth it. Really beautifully written in a style that evokes the emptiness of the great national parks of the American west.

Honorable mentions:

The Charioteer by Mary Renault

The Scottish Boy by Alex de Campi

A Power Unbound by Freya Marske

[queeenpersephone]

Feeling very ironwidow starved, feel free to ignore but would you write a drabble on maybe Tony and Nat waking up to each other in the morning? Domestic, Fluff, I will take anything 😩🤞🏻

dude i feel you i've been in my feels about them today too! okay, super short, but have a small extended/alternate scene from endgame the morning of the day natasha figures out there were 3 stones in nyc in 2012.

-

Tony wakes with the irritating feeling of a textbook digging into his spleen.

His eyes blink open slowly, not a little surprised that he even fell asleep. He's always been a light sleeper, even in a king bed with six-hundred thread count sheets, but his brain has been overactive the past few days as they've attempted to make a plan to time travel. Or maybe he's just gone soft, used to hanging with Morgan in the cabin on alternating weeks with frequent visits from his fiance.

Speaking of his fiance...

With a groan, he shifts from his side to his back, tilting his head until he sees Natasha's stomach, gently rising with each inhale and exhale. They're laying head to foot, necessitated by the stacks of books and hardware and assorted snacks. Beyond her, he sees Bruce on the floor, snoring loudly. Wow. Really surprising he was able to sleep.

He props himself up on his elbow, always soothed by the familiar sight of Natasha's sleeping face. But when he gets high enough to look at her closed eyes, he realizes that they're open.

"Honey?" He tries. She merely blinks; he knows that she knows that he's awake. "Nat, our relationship's at least thirty years from your hearing going," he teases, trying to hide his underlying worry.

She sighs, turning her bright green eyes on him. They curve awkwardly toward each other, almost in a lopsided huddle. "Are we doing the right thing?" She murmurs, her voice laden with doubt that she will never show the others. "What if the consequences are worse than the world we're living in? What if we lose Morgan?"

Despite Tony's own corresponding fears, his heart warms at her personal acknowledgement of Morgan. His little girl loves her so much; the divorce could have been catastrophic, but Pepper and he are in a good place, and now Morgan has three parents. He never planned for his daughter to be able to escape handcuffs, trunks, and pilot a helicopter, but he can't deny that it eases his mind every time Natasha teaches Morgan another life skill when Pepper's and his first instinct had been to shield her from the world. Pepper even frequently takes part in lessons after Natasha had stressed the world's instability.

He snaps back to attention when Natasha tucks her messy hair behind her ear. He studies her watery eyes and deep, dark circles and well-bitten lips. She looks exhausted. He bets he looks the same.

"I remember when Barton came to stay with us," he says instead of answering. Natasha doesn't seem to mind. She just watches him, hanging on his every word like they'll damn or absolve her. He truly believes that if he told her they had to leave now, she would go. It's terrifying, the power they have over each other. "He said that when you talked after Loki escaped, all those years ago, he didn't think you sounded like you."

Natasha mouth twitches into a smile, reminiscing. "He told me I wasn't a soldier," she remembers. "That we weren't the kind of people to wade into a war."

"But then, with hindsight, he changed his mind," Tony replies. "And you were right to wade into that war. It was hard, harder than anything, and though you know I'd be the first to fight with our teammates about goals and ethics, you were still right to fight." He takes a deep breath. "You were right then, and you are right now."

Natasha isn't crying or carrying on, but he can tell from the struck look in her eyes that what he's said has touched something deep inside her. "I love you," she says, the emotion and history between them clear in every word.

"You mean everything to me," he says, low and earnest. Shockingly, he feels no desire to reach around the space between them, to hold her kiss her. Instead, they just look at each other across their curled bodies, keeping the bubble of air between them just for them. The sun rises in the window behind Tony's back. He feels the heat on his skin, but he's truly kept warm by the light in Natasha's eyes.

They lay there until Bruce wakes up with a hiccuped snore. They lay there until they're ready to take on any threat that comes their way, even if that threat is time itself.

[armoursoul]

“ al? alphonse? hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter? are you okay? what’s wrong? c'mere- “

when it was just alphonse and the moon, secret feelings would creep out, things that are normally tucked away, hidden behind upbeat optimism and relentless warmth. things slip out, monsters in the shadows that are only kept at bay by a busy mind and the company of others finally sinking their claws into al, whispering wretched things to him when there is no noise to drown them out.

usually, it is easy enough to keep himself busy during those long, solitary hours: a book here, a hobby there, things to keep an ever-awake mind busy and chase away the beasts.

however: things that are buried rise to the surface, secrets and fears blossoming into thorn bushes that claw and push and burrow into the empty crevices of his false body.

especially when it is inconvenient.

it was almost a physical feeling, the emotions that struck al when left alone today. the day was beautiful, a breeze coming in through and open window and making the curtains dance; the sound of people living is brought with the fresh air, and al wants to scream.

al wishes he could cry, staring at his hands, curling and uncurling the gauntlets that are his palms, are his fingers, but today the disconnect is too much. he clenches them as tightly as he can, imagining that the knuckles turn white, imagining the feeling of nails digging into skin, and he wishes -- wants -- yearns for the sensation, for any sensation other than dull pressure.

" it's not fair, " al whispers to himself, raising a hand to touch his ' face ', imagining that he can feel the dampness of the tears that will never fall, even as slumped shoulders shake.

in the solitude of the inn room, golden sunlight pouring through open curtains, al is swallowed whole as an unread book sits before him, words blurring together as he loses the ever-raging battle that consumes his quiet hours. what-ifs / should-haves / but-maybes that swirl around, digging their cruel claws into his very being, for what else does he have? no marrow, no bones, no muscle: only cold steel and emptiness.

( he doesn't hear the door open, doesn't hear footsteps or what greeting may have been called. )

" ah-- brother! " al jumps, armour clanking and voice hitching as ed's words reach him. ed was supposed to be busy, supposed to be hunting down a lead while al remains behind, conducting his own research -- research that sat incomplete, an open book before him, an untouched stack of more on the floor beside him.

( what if-what if-what if it is all for naught, what if a body is too much to ask, what if! )

a brave face must be put on, when ed is around ( what an ironic statement! he has no face, no mouth, no lungs or tongue or vocal chords! ).

" i'm sorry, " al reflexively says, voice thick with the impossible need to cry. he feels the phantom sensation of his throat closing up, and it is enough to make al want to shout, to yell, to rage--

( i can't even take deep breaths to calm down, it isn't FAIR! )

" i'm fine, really! " he tries to force himself to sound up-beat, to mimic the tone of a smile, but it seems to fall flat, even to himself.

( god, it's enough to make him feel crazy. is he just playing at being a person? are his emotions just memories of feelings? no, he shouldn't be ungrateful, shouldn't think like that! )

" i, um... " al has always been a terrible liar, at least when it comes to his older brother. " i... " al has not met ed's gaze once since he returned, has not been able to bring himself to. " it's just been... a hard day. " the words are not enough, and al finally turns his head ( hating the noise, the clanking ) to look at ed.

al wants a hug, craves it, even, and so he accepts ed's proffered embrace, and it is not enough. there is some comfort, certainly, but it is pressure, everything is just pressure, and al is quiet as he is held.

" thank you, " al says: and there is much in those two words. ( thank you for the comfort / thank you for never treating me differently / thank you for the relentless dedication. )

the not-ache, the phantom pain, begins to ease and al feels a tension in his chest cavity ease, a knot undone that leaves space for him amidst his emotions -- a hollowness that is not painful, that is not an open grave.

" ...i didn't get much done, " al finally admits, and his voice is a touch lighter.

[crwn-nrth]

Word tag game!

Thank you thank you @sentfromwolves for the tag! I've always wanted to do the find the word tag game.

I'm doing this for VH wip and my words are: rust, ember, damp, breath, teeth

(sadly i did not have the words rust or damp)

Ember --- Chapter: Dream log #256

The world comes back into focus slowly, in drips of color and sound. It’s like swimming in molasses or floating through space as I wrestle with my subconscious. I try to cling to the warm fuzzy feeling enveloping me on all sides but then a loud click breaks through the haze, and my eyes flutter open again. It's late outside, or that's what I assume. My legs dangle off the armchair and the glowing embers of the dying fireplace are the only source of light bathing the dark wooden floor panels in a dull orange hue, emphasizing the warmth and forcing my eyes shut. 

Seconds, hours, years later, a hand running through my hair guides me back to the land of the living. It's large and callous and gentle as it passes through my locks and I let myself drift further, tethered only by the soothing motions. 

A rumble. "You left your porch light on." The deep vibrato tone has my mind settling in bliss. Safe, home. A light tug at the end of my hair informs me that the voice is waiting for a response. 

"Left it on for you." I mumble, prying my eyes open. Kind blue eyes smile down at me.

 "You don't have to do that." There is a hint of laughter in his words, some subtle joke that my hazy brain can't catch on to. 

"How else would you find your way home?" 

The rumbling laughter that follows starts low and soft, bringing a smile to my face. Then it sharpens and fades, ebbing and flowing like the reeling of the tide, surrounding me from all sides. It's everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

It's a sharp slap of icy water to the face.

Breath --- Chapter 4: The Universe Loves Meddling

The kid was naively unaware what hopelessness does to a soul.

My gaze caught onto the puddle at my feet. The water shimmered in the streetlight as my reflection stared at me with disdain. A droplet of water from a pipe above disturbed the surface and by the time the ripples died down, my reflection had been replaced by a familiar sight. The cold blue eyes that bore into my soul and the distinctive square jaw stirred an aching within me. Time slowed and a voice echoed within my mind, "but you know?"

Yes. it forces man to do the unthinkable; it chips away and corrupts the soul as it pushes away all morals. It forces man to do what he would never have done otherwise. The actions that a man makes under this despondent spell, he regrets till his dying breath.

The ghost said no more and time resumed. The sounds of bustling market swelled up around me, pulling me from the reflection and away from its icy hold.

Teeth --- Chapter 8: This is not a Library

I let the knock ring through the place, hopelessly hoping that the kid would simply leave. Unfortunately, i had horrible luck and the kid was horribly stubborn. I slowly made my way through the the maze of stacked books, inching closer to the door as the knocks refused to cease. As I finally found the way out of the fragile labyrinth, the kid's muffled voice reached out, "Hello! Mr. Ryder! I know you're home!"

I let in a deep breath. Murder is wrong.

Before the kid could begin his incessant knocking once again, I threw open the front door.

The kid tumbled a little at the sudden opening but righted himself quick enough, flashing his blinding smile. I entertained the thought of knocking all his teeth out for just a single moment.

“Good morning Mr. Ryder!” he chirped.

“You have already said that to me, kid hero.” I muttered, thinking about those nuisance messages.

His smile only brightened, “yep i did! But I can finally say it in person! And you can finally say it back cause you never reply to the messages.”

“No.”

------

I don't have anyone specific to tag so whoever sees it please feel free to give this a go.

your words are: sunshine, shadow, ghost, and hero!

[inun4ki]

i was thinking a bit about kaede's cleaning habits and his bedroom and what you might find inside it. he's never been the type to live in a messy environment willfully, but in this verse, he's allowed to cope poorly. so his room at his estate is messy.

blankets strewn about a bed that hasn't been made in months. stacks of old books with some seemingly permanently half-open or damaged by tea and coffee stains, others with unattended, fraying binding. sheafs of parchment and calligraphy brushes splayed across his desk, inky pawprint in trailing and erratic patterns going every whichway - also stained by spilt tea and coffee. some haphazard bundles of ancient bloody bandages hanging out of the waste bin, long forgotten and deliberately ignored. empty prescription bottles, a broken mug on the shelf, a collection of classic horror and romance movies beside strange and bizarre trinkets and knick-knacks. instructional diagrams on the shikabane clan's techniques that were hastily plastered to the wall when he was a teenager.

a collage of old photos secured to corkboard with broken thumbtacks, one of the pictures torn irreparably. his hamper, overflowing with forgotten laundry. all manners of weapons he sifts through before a mission either racked or sheathed, or resting in hazardous places around the room. boxes upon boxes of old reports, files, information. kimono and hakama thrown over the back of a chair, another he's been attempting to mend for months. dark blue curtains bunched over the windowsill, an open first-aid kit lying in the middle of the floor with bandages, gauze, antiseptic, and a needle and thread thrown on the lid. the tv remote is lost somewhere and there are more inky pawprints on the hardwood. his only mirror is broken and hidden under a sheet he once used as a ghost costume. a freshly emptied ash tray on his nightstand next to two packs of cigarettes, one with a smudge of blood on its film where the other is untouched, and no lighter to be found (likely borrowed by aoi).

he has a rather large bedroom. in fact, he has too much space, so he subconsciously dumps all of his crap into it to make it seem less empty. he doesn't know how to use the space as anything but a place to hide and nest in - but not comfortably. it's why so much of his room is in disarray verus simply being a room that's lived-in, why he can't bring himself to clean up and put things away. the mess becomes overwhelming, too much to bear, and he largely ignores it for as long as he can. his room is just as big a mess as his head, sort of serving as another tangible manifestation of his mental health and how he's been treated by his family - depressed and utterly, completely neglected.

with all of that said, kaede is an almost obsessively cleanly person when not in a poor state of mind. most times he's home, he prefers to keep his room in that sort of ' no one lives here ' condition, so he'll usually clean up and organize during his down time. it has to look and feel as if he hadn't been there at all, ever. his room is just a fancy guest room with some personal knick-knacks included to make it seem homey. a glorified showroom, like the estate will be sold off tomorrow. which means his collection of books is where it ought to be, all neatly settled in alphabetical order on his bookshelf, that all his laundry is done and put away, his tools and weapons are categorized and racked, and the list goes on. clean, with everything in its proper place.

in the event he stays elsewhere, like a hotel or a friend/ally's home, he is meticulous and tries to minimize his presence to the utmost so as not to be a bad guest. he will not leave anything behind, not even a hair. blankets will be neatly folded and set aside, any wrinkles smoothed, dust and dirt swept away... real ' no one was here ' about it in the same way he is about the estate.

[the-golden-ghost]

8, 9, 22, 23 :0? Personally I believe in ghosts but more as a Spector than vengeful spirit way.

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

I actually swear I've written a story with almost no dialogue and it went fine, surprisingly! When I get dialogue I tend to lean really heavily on it to the omission of everything else, but I don't end up needing it that much. (Well, okay, it depends. If the characters need to talk to each other then there's gotta be dialogue unless they're beaming Thoughts into each other's heads fghgdjhfgd)

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I'm not sure? I don't really think they're real cause there's a lot of stuff about staying alive after you're dead that doesn't make sense and has kind of Bad Implications (like what you said about the Vengeful Spirits that's just... such a bleak, horrible worldview? Like that someone who experienced trauma and pain in their life instead of getting to rest instead gets forced to spend the rest of eternity chained the the place of their trauma and treated like a spectacle by the living, with NO chance of respite or escape? It's just such an awful concept I can't even wrap my head around it, it's fun for Scary Story nights but to genuinely believe in such a cruel universe...? Yikes. I mean if it's true it's true but WHY you would want to believe in that without good proof of it...? I have no clue.)

I do think it's possible there's some kind of... Resonance, but I think that's likely more Time Fuckery than ghosts. Like that time gets warped in spots and you'll see things over and over. I can't explain very well or prove that though.

And, of course, I do think a lot of reports of ghosts are just made up or people seeing what they want to see. Like they're told there's Ghosts There so then they feel cold and assume it's Ghosts and not faulty pipes or something.

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

Throw everything in a Word Doc pretty much hsdshgdjshdg

Organization? Don't know her

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

I am on the floor because sitting for too long hurts my back in a way that laying down does not, and my bed is a loft bed so I can't reach a cord up there to actually plug a laptop in.

So, the floor it is.

It is nighttime. The lights may be off or on. I do not have anything around except my phone, a stack of sketchbooks and crossword books, and a thesaurus that I don't usually use because there's a website for it.

I have my red blanket with white snowflakes over me to keep me warm. It's around a decade old now but it's my favorite blanket and I'll never get another one.

I may or may not have a cup of tea somewhere but if I do it'll likely get cold because I will get distracted by the writing and forget to drink it.