#which is a little comfort though not like… a lot right now

[umamaki]

HOW'S THE VIEW FROM UP THERE?

1/5 of my valentine's day event!

sylus x reader

CW reader with female anatomy, explicit smut, established relationship, kinda cutesy domestic imo, pet names, oral sex (f!receiving), oral slight teeth... wc. 0.9k

NOTE pls bear with me. drafting this was the hardest thing i’ve done and i think i genuinely forgot how to write.

You lean against the headboard, unmoving as Sylus lays on top of you. He’s on his stomach and his head rests just below your chin. You’d believe he’s asleep if not for his fingers absentmindedly tapping against your ribcage.

It’s out of the blue, but you can’t shake the urge to tell him the thought that just came to mind. A hand reaches down to play with his hair, lightly twirling his strands and scratching his scalp. He groans in contentment. The room’s silence had been broken and you take it as your chance. 

“Y’know, Sylus…”

You trail off, vaguely shy. He waits before prodding you on, “yes, what is it?”

“I… quite like this view of you.” He raises his head now, still confused. You continue, “I mean, seeing the top of your head like this. I like it. I like it a lot.”

There was truth in your words. Sylus is typically the one who towers over you, the one is used to seeing the top of your head. And so you’ve grown to cherish the moments in which he feels comfortable to be in a vulnerable position around you, offering his body to you, allowing you to touch him wherever you please. Though, the thought of not doing so had never once crossed his mind. 

So it intrigues him, what you had said. “Is that so?” You nod. He brings himself to hover face to face with you, “and what other times do you see the top of my head?”

You look up to think. He appreciates the way your lashes flutter against your cheeks and how your lips subconsciously pout when you’re lost in thought. 

“Well… When you carry me on your shoulders, when you tie my shoelaces, or right now when you lay on me, and um,” your voice lowers in saying the last part; you’re still a little embarrassed. 

But Sylus has never been a believer of shame. He’s smirks down at you now, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “Could you repeat that last part for me, sweetie?”

“You heard me.” You stand your ground.

“I did not,” he feigned innocence, eyebrows raised, “please?”

“I said, I like seeing the top of your head when you.. go down on me, too.” Your hands come up to cover your face in embarrassment as quickly as Sylus raises his to remove them from your face. 

“If you wanted me to eat you out, you could’ve just asked me to, dear.”

He laughs when you push his forehead back. The trail of kisses he leaves from your jaw to collarbone tickles and you give in, “fine, go on then,” your legs spread open for him, you sink back into the sheets, an invitation for him.

“Not feeling shy anymore, hm?” Of course he gives into your wishes, but it isn’t Sylus if he doesn’t at least ruffle you up beforehand. He licks a teasing stripe up through the fabric of your panties, eyes never breaking away from yours. “How’s the view now?”

His hot breath mingles with the wet patch on your underwear as he speaks directly into your cunt. You’re too pent up to entertain his teasing. An impatient hand pushes his face back down onto your heat, “view’s good, great. Please continue.”

You feel him smile into your cunt. He peels the fabric off, afterwards using his finger to separate the string of arousal that clung to your undergarment. The cold air of the room on your wet pussy makes you clench around nothing. “I can tell, you’re already drenched.”

He begins to lap at your slick folds before you can get a word back in. He eats you out like a man starved; never once coming up for air, but inhaling the scent of your heat so intensely that his back rises and falls with each deep breath. 

His hands are splayed out on each of your thighs, keeping your legs apart, allowing himself to relentlessly continue lapping up your leaking juices, savoring your taste on his tongue. Your legs shake under his grip as he switches between flattening and tensing his tongue, pushing the muscle up your cunt and through your folds. His nose bumps into your clit, sending a jolt up your body.

“Oh my god—Sylus—” the stimulation draws out breathless moans and whimpers from your lips and he’s enjoying every sound of it, “Sylus, m’close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come on my face baby?” His red eyes lock with your pleading ones before shifting his appreciative gaze down to the marks on your tits and the crease in your tummy, then back onto your eyes.

“Mhm—” 

“Now tell me,” his bruising grip on your legs pushes them up, knees reaching your ears, “you cumming because of the view? Or because of my tongue on your pussy?” He had always been so brazen with his words, never filtering his vulgar language. For some reason, the fact turns you on extraordinarily. 

“B-both!” You had to stutter it out in between moans, using up the last of your coherence to respond to him.

“Good.” You’re immediately taken to your climax when he catches your clit between his teeth; he does it lightly, but the unexpected sharpness of it immediately sends your orgasm crashing through you. His tongue guides you through your release, unwavering, despite your thrashing body beneath him. The orgasm is intense and overwhelming, blurring your vision before finally making your body go slack against the sheets. 

At last, he relieves you from the overstimulation. Your sheen covers the entirety of his chin, and he’s shameless in licking his lips clean when he catches you staring. 

“Darling, I just might have a new favorite view after this.”

taglist form

@jin-fei @isagistar @venussakura @syluriar @shoyosthighs

[spiderb00]

- FAM OUT #5

Sophia Laforteza x reader  fam/kids out masterlist

“on a quiet night, no one expected it, but something was wrong with Yoonchae. And now, you and Sophia will face it together” 

Genre – fluff, angst?        Warnings – no one knows who Evie is 

Now playing – Unstable, by Justin Bieber Ft. The Kid LAROI 

The moonlight coming through Yoonchae's window was the only thing that allowed her to see in the dark room, and even though it wasn't much, the maknae still didn't care. To tell the truth, Yoonchae wasn't even fully aware of where she really was. Was she at home? Was she at the Kats'? Was she at Yn and Sophia's? She had no idea. The pain and fever spoke louder than her thoughts.   

Getting out of bed with some difficulty, Yoonchae tried to walk to the bedroom door. Holding her stomach, the younger girl moaned in pain, stopping walking and leaning on the bedroom walls for a moment.  

“Mom...”   

It was the only thing that echoed off the walls of Yn's house, all the rooms extremely quiet except for the moans and complaints of pain coming from Yoonchae's room.   

“Mom, please...” Still without an answer, Yoonchae continued walking, opening the bedroom door and trying to walk down the dark hallway.   

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you were resting your back comfortably on the counter, drinking water. Thirst had caught you in your sleep, and as quiet as the whole house was, you could have sworn you saw someone muttering something. Deciding to see if everything was all right, you left the empty bottle on the counter, Scooby following you faithfully while Max stayed in bed with Sophia.  

Starting up the stairs, you heard another moan of pain, which sounded a lot like Yoonchae, and before you could even hurry, Max's bark echoed through the house, signaling that he had gotten up to investigate what was wrong, just like you.   

“Mom...”  

That was all you needed to hear to know it was Yoonchae's voice. Hurrying up the stairs, you found the girl at your bedroom door, slightly bent over as if in pain.   

“Yoonchae?” You said, coming close to the maknae, putting your hand on her shoulder.   

“Mom, please, my belly hurts.”   

Not even having time to think about what the girl had called you, you put your hand on Yoonchae's forehead, seeing how burning she was.   

“God, you're burning up with fever, Yoonchip.” As soon as you closed your mouth, the younger girl's body fell apart around you.   

“YOONCHAE!” 

Quickly taking the little girl into your arms, you opened the bedroom door, placing her in the empty space of the bed. Max and Scooby were barking, as if they knew exactly what was wrong in the room, and you quickly tried to wake Sophia without taking your eyes off Yoonchae.   

“Sophia!” You tried, shaking your girlfriend lightly, and trying to keep Yoonchae awake. “Come on baby! Yoonchae, don't close your eyes!”   

It was all too much, and you didn't want to panic. No, you had to stay calm.   

“Mom, please, my belly hurts a lot.” Yoonchae said, her voice hoarse, like you'd never heard it before.   

“I know baby, I'm waking Sophia up.” You said, trying to calm the girl down and trying to wake up the Filipina, who seemed to be very far from the real world in her sleep.   

“Sophia!” Calling out once more, you moved a little away from Yoonchae, walking over to your girlfriend's side of the bed and shaking her harder.   

“WAKE UP!” Stunned, Sophia woke up in a jump, seeing you standing next to her on the bed. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, Sophia narrowed her eyes, the digital clock reading 02:34 in the morning.  

“Baby, we have a problem.”  

Returning to the side of the bed where Yoonchae was, you grabbed the younger girl's forehead again, begging the heavens that her temperature was more normal.   

“ Damn, she's still burning.” You said, putting pillows under Yoonchae's head and looking at Sophia. “Baby, Yoonchae's burning up with fever, I've been calling you for a while. We've got to get to the hospital,” you said, barely having time to breathe.   

Quickly getting out of bed, Sophia finally understood what was going on. She took Yoonchae in her arms and felt her temperature with her hands.  

“Mom, no hospital, please.” Yoonchae said to Sophia, making the older woman look questioningly in your direction, seeing you shrug and go into the closet to put on clothes other than pajamas.   

“Stay down, baby. I'll be back in a minute.” Sophia said, leaving Yoonchae lying down and walking hurriedly towards you.   

“She called me 'mom'.” Sophia said, as she entered the closet you shared, watching you take off your old hoodie and put on a more presentable sweater.   

“I know, she called me that too, I think she's delirious with fever.” You said, finishing putting on your sweater. “We have to get her to hospital as soon as possible, baby.”   

“I know. Can you take her to the car while I pack a bag with our stuff?” Sophia asked, putting on one of your sweaters and exchanging the shorts she was wearing for pants.   

“I'll wait for you outside.” You said, giving Sophia a kiss and heading towards where Yoonchae was.   

Carrying Yoonchae bridal style to the car, you gently placed the girl in the back seat of the car, trying to remember if she had eaten something wrong, or done anything that had left her in this state. You were stressed, you knew the girls were working hard for their comeback, but you didn't want to think of it as exhaustion, you didn't want to have to shout at anyone for overworking a seventeen-year-old girl.  

“Mom?!”   

“I'm here baby, it's okay. Sophia will be down in a few minutes.” You said, running your hands through Yoonchae's hair as you tried to get her to be quiet.   

“Are we really going to the hospital?” The younger girl asked, her eyes downcast, and if you could, you would transfer everything she was feeling to you.   

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your fever is too high.” You saw a small tear run down Yoonchae's eye, and wiping it away, you kissed the maknae on the forehead. “Hey, don't cry, I'm here with you.”  

“Can I call Evie when I'm there?” Yoonchae asked, making you look confused. And before you could ask who 'Evie' is, Sophia was running to the car, telling you to drive. 

“Sophia is with her, I just wanted to let you guys know what's going on.” You said into the phone, Yoonchae's parents on the other side of the line. “The doctors have given her some medication, just enough to bring down her high fever and they're investigating where the stomach ache is coming from, but it looks like it's just something she ate.”   

Walking back and forth in the hospital hallway, you had your phone stuck to your right ear, Yoonchae's parents were calm on the other side of the line, a stark contrast to how you were a few minutes ago. Despite everything, their calmness made you start to calm down too, and thanks to the hospital, Yoonchae had stabilized and stopped “ delirious”.  

“I trust you and Sophia, Yn. Just keep sending me updates and if she doesn't get better we'll buy the first plane ticket to Los Angeles.” Yoonchae's mother said, hearing your tired sigh on the other end of the line.   

“I just... got scared. I try not to show it to Sophia, or to Yoonchae, but I was so scared.” You said, tears welling up in your eyes.   

“Honey, you didn't do anything wrong. I know, it's scary, but it just shows me how much you care about my daughter, and I wanted to say thank you, to you and Sophia. Thank you for taking such good care of my Yoonchae. You'll be great mothers one day.”   

A solitary tear fell from your eyes. Maybe life really was preparing you and Sophia for the future. Damn, you couldn't wait for the future.   

“Now go and get some rest, and don't forget to text me.”   

“I'll tell Yoonchae to call you when she gets better.” You said, starting to say goodbye to Mrs. Jeong.   

Hanging up the phone, you leaned back against the wall, your head falling back against the wall as you let out a big sigh. It was 4:23 AM and you had never driven so fast in your entire life. You were tired, sleepy, but you were so relieved, Yoonchae was safe, and you would do it all over again if you had to.   

Sitting in one of the chairs in the hallway, you waited. The doctor had said that it was best for only one person to go in with Yoonchae, and Sophia offered so quickly that you couldn't deny it. Just as your eyes were about to close, you heard the door in front of you open, and then close with a satisfying click.   

“Her fever has gone down considerably, and the pain is gone.” Sophia said, taking a seat next to you on the left. “She finally managed to sleep, so I came to see how you were.”  

Giving your girlfriend a slight smile, you grabbed her right hand, where the ring you gave her - when she was still at the Dream Academy - rested.   

“I've called her parents, and also the Kats, everything will be fine.” you said, leaving a kiss on Sophia's hand, on top of where the ring rested.   

“I know. When you're with me, everything works out. You give me strength, Yn.” Sophia said, lightly dragging the chair closer to you and resting her head on your shoulder. “I always manage to stay calm because you're always there to calm me down.”   

Looking at your hands together, you thought about how much you loved Sophia, and that you wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. You hated things like that happening, but when you had Sophia by your side, everything seemed to soften, and that despair disappeared, you simply became a thousand times stronger when you were with Sophia. And while she thought you were her strength, only you knew that your strength actually came from her. It was inevitable, you completed each other.   

“Do you want to see her?” Sophia asked, lifting her head from your shoulder before she fell asleep right there.   

Shaking your head, you both got up, going to the room Yoonchae was in. Opening the door, you both tried not to make a sound, but failed miserably when the door creaked open and woke the younger girl.   

“Sorry, baby. That was just the two of us trying to be discreet.” Sophia said, making Yoonchae laugh slightly.   

“Hey, are you feeling better?” You asked, coming close and smoothing Yoonchae's mussed hair.   

“Yeah, I don't know what that was about, but I hope I never have to go through that again.” The younger girl said, relaxing into your caresses on her head.  

“Yeah, you gave us quite a scare. Do you remember anything?” You asked.  

“I was very confused, but I know I called you both mom.” Yoonchae said, her cheeks immediately turning a shade of pink. “Sorry about that.”   

“Yoonchip, you don't have to apologize.” Sophia says, reaching over and taking the maknae's hand in hers.   

“It's just... I love you both very much, and you're always looking out for me. I just think I projected a bit...” Yoonchae said, putting her free hand on her face to cover her red cheeks.  

“We love you very much, Yoonchae.” You said, taking the hand that covered her face. “You'll always be our daughter.” You said, in a playful tone, making Sophia agree.  

“Thanks guys.” 

“All right, how about I see if there's anything for us to eat for breakfast, huh?” You said, moving away a little to go towards the bedroom door.   

“I'll be back soon, Fam.” You said, making a peace sign - which made Yoonchae laugh and Sophia sneer at you - before walking out the door.   

And for a minute, thoughts of a family took over your mind, maybe you should start planning your wedding to Sophia, maybe look at engagement rings, it doesn't matter if it's too soon, you wanted everything to be perfect.   

Taken by these thoughts and the whole situation, you forgot one important detail...  

Who the hell is Evie? 

Hi guys, how are you? I hope you're all well.

Evie is closer than you think!!!

I missed writing for Fam out so much, I wrote this chapter in two hours (I think). But I hope you all like it as much as I did.

Actually, the plot of this chapter came from one of my anons, <3 anon, here's the request, if you're interested in reading it.

<3 anon is a very frequent anon here on the blog and even helped me create Evie, so much love to this anon!

I feel like I've said too much, so I'll end here. I'm excited to write the next chapters, but for now I'm going to put off some other requests.

xoxo, spider.

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

First fight - Christmas With You

A/N: Alright here we go, another one from this universe. Let me know if y’all are tired of this series, okay? @ccbsrmsf1 thank you for discussing ideas with me, darling 🤍

Pairing: Tony Stark x Single Mom! Reader

Warning: Bit of angst. This is long-ish.

Christmas With You Masterlist

.

The bed felt cold.

Colder because you were lying alone in it. Tony had slipped out some time after you’d fallen asleep, clearly not wanting to disturb you. You missed waking up next to his warm body all wrapped around you, his soft snores against the back of your neck which he claimed were untrue, you simply missed the man. That was mostly because the man spent a lot of time down in his lab.

Which was an understatement.

You were practically living together now, though it wasn’t official yet; you and Noah spent almost every weekend over at the Tower, dinner and movie nights, picnics in the park, it had been a breezy few months.

But then you realised the more time you spent with Tony, just how much he’d dedicate himself to his work with the Avengers, moreover working on his suits. You tried to not let it get to you, knowing very well the different worlds you came from, but it did.

It was after eleven and you were in no mood to listen to Tony’s excuses, so you decided to go down to the lab and drag him out of there if it came to that. Your eyes fell on the partially open door where Noah should’ve ideally been sleeping after you tucked him in. Concerned, you pushed it open to reveal an empty bed.

Panic set in as you began frantically searching for your son. JARVIS - Tony’s virtual assistant informed you that he was down in the lab with Tony, however that did nothing to quell your anxieties. They weren’t supposed to be up this late, both your boys.

It was only a moment later that you heard a crash immediately followed by loud wail let out by Noah which made you sprint towards the lab. The lab door slid open and your heart dropped to your stomach at the sight.

Shattered glass and what looked like one of Tony’s repulsor’s in Noah’s hand as he lay on the ground, his right hand limp against his side while he bawled.

“Oh God! Noah! What happened?”

Sinking next to him, you didn’t know what to think as upon seeing you, Noah immediately moved to hug you. Tony was by your side, looking equally alarmed with a flash of guilt on his face as he asked JARVIS for an analysis.

It appears Master Noah Y/L/N’s wrist is fractured.

JARVIS’s voice sounded through the room, breaking your heart further. Noah shivered as sobs wracked through his little body, making Tony promptly retrieve a blanket and carefully wrap it around him.

“Tony!” Your voice trembled as you picked Noah up, trying to calm him down.

“We’ll take him to the emergency room, come on.” Tony gave your shoulder a squeeze before leading you out to the elevators.

Lucky that the Tower housed an infirmary and was only a few floors down, you whispered words of comfort to your son who was now whimpering, his little face tucked in your neck.

"How'd this even happen? Why was he in the lab?" you asked Tony, as the elevator doors opened, he'd kept a hand on your back, reassuring you the whole way but he hadn't said much.

"I um—I don't-"

Right as he was about to tell you the truth, a nurse beckoned you over to take a look at Noah. Hurrying in, you gently placed him on the bed before a friendly looking doctor entered. Tony stood beside you, mind in a turmoil about how to tell you the truth, knowing you'd probably hate him forever once you knew.

"Noah, the doctor's going to take a look at your arm now, okay?"

"No pointy needle!" Noah cried before tears gathered in his eyes once again at the possibility of an injection. Rubbing his back gently, you reassured there wouldn't be a needle anywhere near him. He insisted on sitting in your lap while the doctor examined his wrist, letting you know he'd need an x-ray.

"Noah, can you tell me how this happened please?" the doctor asked, smiling at your son who's eyes remained downcast, like he'd been caught.

"I went to Mr. Stark's lab and—and I found the Iron Man hand but it fly, Mama and I fell. I'm sorry." he murmured, looking up at you to gauge how upset you looked, but you were only worried for him.

"And where were you?" You turned to Tony, who similar to Noah had his head hung, staring at his feet that were tapping against the tiled floor.

"I didn't know he was in there. I'm sorry, Y/N." he said quietly, making your stomach twist as his words sunk in.

"You're sorry?" you repeated, right before the doctor awkwardly cleared his throat, suggesting an x-ray for Noah in the other room.

Without another glance at the man, you carried your son away to have his x-ray taken. Your mind swum with a mix of emotions, anger, disappointment and fear being at the forefront. Noah’s tears subsided as the doctor made conversation with him, clearly good with kids as he managed to distract him enough. He even brought out a few options for his cast that he’d have to wear until his wrist healed.

Noah being Noah obviously chose a superhero one, sitting still like a good boy while the doctor did his thing. The doctor reassured you he’d be fine in about six to eight week’s time, that kids heal faster because of their growth hormones. You even saw Noah crack a smile when he brought out a lollipop for him for being the best patient.

The elevator ride up to the penthouse was silent, Tony remained by your side, waiting for the inevitable but stayed quiet for Noah’s sake. You kissed Noah’s forehead after tucking him in your bed that you shared with Tony, letting a stray tear escape. For three years it had just been you and him, you couldn’t imagine what life was like before him. The thought of something terrible happening to him filled you with such dread.

“Noah, promise me you won’t sneak away like that again.”

“Promise, Mama.” He whispered, nodding his head earnestly.

“You know you really scared me. Mr. Stark’s lab is not safe for a kid, we’ve told you that, haven’t we?”

He nodded before turning into your body and making himself smaller, whispering a sorry which sounded heavy with a lisp, something that happened when he was upset or had been crying.

He was often well beyond his age some days but then days like these made you realise he was just three, a curious kid would eventually end up hurting himself if left unattended.

Tony watched you put Noah to bed, his guilty conscience eating away at him as you finally stood and closed the door behind you, leaving a crack open.

“Look, Y/N, I’m so—” he began, only for you to put your hand up to silence him.

“You didn’t hear him come in? Or you let him in and left him around your equipment all alone? Tell me, Tony. I need to know.”

Tony refused to meet your eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets as he took in a breath, ready to come clean.

“I—I didn’t know how he managed to sneak in, Y/N. I didn’t. By the time I found him he’d gotten hold of the repulsor already.”

You took in sharp breath, pacing around before him, trying to calm yourself.

“How do you not hear a three year old walk into your lab? You had that stupid music blasting, didn’t you? Tony, you weren’t supposed to be down there so late, neither was Noah, and yet somehow—”

“I couldn’t sleep, Y/N! I didn’t know he’d be awake. He’s not my son, he—I. I didn’t mean it like that. Shit.” Tony instantly regretted his words, rubbing a hand down his face watching those hurtful words take effect as your face fell.

“You’re right. He’s not your son, he’s mine. It’s just been me and him all this time. We’re just living here while you continue to live your life just the way you used to. Not caring about anybody else.”

There it was again. Silence.

Someone who’d usually keep his lab locked with a code, Tony had left it open thinking nobody at that hour would disturb him; even if they did, it would be you calling him back to bed. It was just a series of mishaps after that and he really was to be blamed here. He would never intentionally hurt you or your son. You two were a part of him now, a part he wanted to protect so fiercely. And yet somehow the exact opposite had happened.

“I think I should go home.” You spoke after a while, taking Tony by surprise at how defeated you sounded.

“What? Please Y/N, it’s late.” He tried but you shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“We wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience to you and your work.”

“You could never. Both of you. Sweetheart, please—”

“It could’ve been so much worse, Tony! What if he’d—” you couldn’t even bring yourself to finish the sentence. Tears streamed down your face at the thought of losing your son. Tony wanted to do nothing but gather you in his arms and say how sorry he was for fucking up, yet he couldn’t.

“Don’t fight.”

A little whisper came from behind you as Noah stood by the door of your bedroom, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his one good hand. Turning around, you knelt before your son, taking his hand and kissing the back of it.

“I’m so sorry I woke you, baby. Mama was just worried. Do you want to go home?” Lifting him up in your arms, you saw concern in his eyes as he looked between you and Tony.

“I okay, Mama. See? I don’t cry. Please don’t fight.” He repeated himself, holding his sling-clad arm up for you as if to show it didn’t hurt him anymore.

“I can drive you back tomorrow, if you want. But it's late, Y/N. please stay.” Tony murmured, keeping his distance. Merely nodding in agreement, you went back in the bedroom and lay back down with your son, hugging him close to your body for comfort. Comfort that you both needed.

“Good night.”

You heard Tony, he’d disappeared before you could ask where he was going. Shutting your eyes, you let out a sigh, wondering how this day had turned so sour.

.

Back home, Noah knew something was wrong with how silent you had been. And how Tony who would usually spend time with him, playing and chatting, had left without a word. He also noticed you had not kissed Tony before he left.

Days turned to weeks and you heard little to nothing from Tony. His actions had angered you and you were starting to question everything. It was your own mind against you and you thought of just calling Tony up and clearing things. You couldn't take the silence anymore.

That was the plan, apparently the same thing went through your boyfriend's mind too because one Sunday afternoon, your doorbell rang and there he was, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers and a look of apprehension.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"May I come in?" Tony shuffled on his feet, his heart jumping with hope as you nodded and opened the door for him. Noah sat on the couch watching the two of you warily, unsure if he should be happy to see his favourite superhero after a quiet few days.

"How are you, kid?" he smiled at Noah, a flash of regret in his eyes as Noah held up his cast-covered arm to show he was fine. He had healed fast, much to your relief.

"I am strong, Mr. Stark. Look! No hurt!” he shared enthusiastically before going back to his cartoons.

“You’re certainly stronger than I am, champ.”

You took Tony's hand and led him to the kitchen, feeling reassured with his presence already. You had missed him terribly. Not knowing what came over you, you wrapped your arms around him and hugged him tight, throwing him off for a second before he reciprocated and buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry. I just, I missed you, Tony.” You murmured, flushed at your own impulse.

“Please don’t be. I’ve missed you too, so much.”

Tony’s words made you smile, not giving you a chance of reply, he grabbed both your hands in his and stepped closer.

“Honey, I am so sorry for what happened, I won’t ever be able to forgive myself for it. I swear to you I’d do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Noah is precious to me, both of you are. Please forgive me?” His big brown eyes bore into yours as he held your hands against his chest.

“I’m sorry too, Tony. Can’t blame you entirely for what happened. Sometimes I forget I can’t control everything that boy does, he’s been such good kid to bring up, I wonder how he’s only three, but then incidents like these remind me, you know?”

“And to say I’m protective of him would be an understatement of the century. I would die before I let anything happen to him.” You chuckled, glancing back at your son who was now curiously listening to your conversation, cartoon abandoned.

Tony didn’t say it out loud but in his head he’d reciprocated those feelings for the two of you. He would do everything in his power to protect you both, and had reached a point in the relationship where he couldn’t picture his life without you in it.

“We okay?” Noah piped up, making you both laugh and assure your too-wise-for-his-age son that everything was fine.

Tony smiled with fondness and love in his eyes, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest thanks to how full it felt. He’d never realised how much he needed this until now, the beautiful world of yours, a family, his family.

“So I guess what I’m trying to say is, we’re okay. And please put a child lock on that goddamn door of your lab.” You laughed, closing your eyes when Tony reached out to press a soft kiss against your temple.

“I’ll give you the codes. You’re welcome to drag me out of there any time. I know I haven’t been around much. And I’m sorry about that. I promise I’ll be better.” Tony said earnestly. You eased his frown-lines by standing up on your toes to kiss his forehead.

“Guess you have a lot of make up for then, Mr. Stark.”

[laurentidal]

Catch

Easy prey for me, I'll admit. I enjoy a challenge more often than not, but I'm not so egotistical as to say I'll never eat low hanging fruit.

Lily struck me right away. Tattoos from neck to toe and dripping in Pokemon memorabilia. She was a sight. Not usually my type, to be sure. But the tits under that Squirtle. They were not to be ignored.

I introduced myself as the owner of the shop she'd wandered into. It wasn't legally true, but thanks to a little lady who was currently helplessly finger fucking herself in the back office, it would be by this time tomorrow.

She nodded politely to me and continued browsing. I followed behind a few paces. I didn't want to scare her off, thought I think that even the brief encounter would have been enough for her to stay nearby. I have a… way with people. They're drawn to me and naturally inclined to do as I ask. With a bit of concentration and the right prompting, I can get people to do almost anything.

"Which is your favorite?" I asked gesturing to her shirt as I pretended to cross her path again.

She looked down at her chest, breasts stretching the fabric wonderfully, and for a moment I thought she might have answered "left" or "right."

"Smeargol," she answered simply, and upon seeing my curious expression happily elaborated. "He's a painter."

"Ah so it's art-related. Makes sense with the tattoos. Mine is probably Hypno."

"Interesting choice," she said, taking a drink.

"I've always been obsessed with the mind. It's an incredible thing. It creates whole worlds for us to live in." I could feel her getting more and more comfortable with me. In a short time, she now considered us close friends.

"Yeah that's true. I like how something like a dumb cartoon can explore topics without getting boring."

"Pokemon has a lot of strange themes. One that always struck me was the relationship between trainer and pokemon. Are they friends? Pets? Slaves?"

She took a long pull from her drink as she thought about that.

"l mean you wouldn't make a pet fight someone else's pet. They seem a lot like slaves to me. Slaves that do whatever their owner wants."

Her lack of a bra was beginning to show more obviously as we spoke and she fell more and more into my field of influence.

"But," she stammered, "they can disobey if they aren't friends with their owners."

"Or if their owners are weak," I agreed. "But they often don't get a say on who their owner is. He just swoops in one day and uses his balls to trap them."

At the word balls, she audibly sighed, though I don't think she even noticed she'd done it.

"Are we friends?" I asked.

"Sure," she agreed a little too quickly.

"And I'm strong. I've steered this whole conversation. Leading you along on each point."

She nodded.

"And I've swooped in out of the blue and am trying to claim you. Are you going to let me? Or…,"

I pointed at her shirt again, "are you just a little wild pokemon who doesn't have a choice?"

"No choice," she whispered as she stared into my eyes.

"Now why don't you come into the back office and I can show you the thing that all captured pokemon need. And you can see the other specimen I've caught today. I think you're going to get along nicely."

She simply nodded, eyes lowering to look at the bulge in my jeans. Too easy.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[haytan]

FROST MELODY | G.A

I really enjoyed writing this, it's something simple and cute. I listened to tiwfl on loop and some vintage classics while writing, like the cranberries, in case you want something that matches the vibe...

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 2626

𓍼 SUMMARY: you and gracie spending time in the studio producing cedar

𓍼 WARNINGS: fluff

the sky is partly cloudy as you walk through crowded streets of new york. the ground is covered in dry leaves thanks to autumn, and you might even hear them crunching underfoot if it weren’t for the blaring car horns around you.

your destination is the a train line, which connects harlem to your neighborhood. you walk slowly, watching people come and go, soaking in the calm of a saturday afternoon. along the way, a few men in suits talk rapidly on their phones, looking rushed as they pass by— a typical east side sight.

the station isn’t far, and the distant sound of the subway blends with the city’s constant noise. you reach the entrance to the platform, glancing at the tracks that will soon fill up, but you don’t go in. the plan is simple: pick up your girlfriend and head back to the studio.

after the huge success of your last album, you managed to save up enough money to buy a space to produce your music somewhere other than your bedroom.

and to make things even better, recently, both you and gracie received an offer to compose music for screen projects. so, although the studio was mostly an excuse to spend more intimate time with gracie, today would be different.

you're pulled from your thoughts when you see a long-haired woman climbing the stairs, looking around in confusion.

"hey," you say as she approaches, not even noticing you there.

"you scared me," gracie says with a shy smile. "i didn’t even see you."

"i noticed," you smile softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. the taste of cherry lipstick mixed with her own never fails to be perfect.

"we need to talk about you walking around new york like this—it’s dangerous," you tease as you pull away, and she intertwines her fingers with yours.

"hm, no, we really don’t." her cheeks are slightly flushed, and you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or the kiss. the two of you start walking back the way you came—autumn leaves, car horns, hurried men. "i have you, i don’t need anything else."

your own cheeks warm slightly. even though your relationship isn’t new, gracie always manages to catch you off guard.

"a little too dependent, don’t you think?"

"i call it love."

a soft giggle escapes your lips, a melody only abrams gets to hear. "you’re impossible."

��

after almost eight minutes of walking, you arrive at the studio—or at least what you insist on calling a studio. in reality, it’s a small apartment on 59th street near central park, but it has everything you need: good equipment, a comfortable couch, and it's right next to the best donut shop on the east side.

gracie takes off her coat and hangs it on the rack by the door. she throws herself onto the large couch against the wall with a sigh of relief. the soft evening light filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. "so, i was thinking we could help each other," She says in her usual calm voice.

"hm?" you murmur, still focused on turning on the computer, adjusting the mixer, and setting the air conditioning.

"help each other," she crosses her legs on the couch, her expression light, almost playful

you slowly turn in your swivel chair, now paying attention to her. "i thought we were already going to do that."

"yeah, i mean, we are." she sits up, a little more serious now. "but i was thinking we could do more—like… you could do backing vocals for my song, and i could do the same for yours. if you want, of course."

your expression turns thoughtful for a moment, gaze softening as you weigh the idea. "I like it, but are you sure? That means a lot of paperwork, credits, and stuff."

gracie nods, her expression gentle and reassuring. she always has this way of calming you down with a simple gesture. "i'm ready to deal with that."

you smile, feeling lighter, and nod before turning back to the equipment. the space feels comfortable, like a secret garden, and her presence makes it even more welcoming.

later, daylight fades into shadows, making it necessary to turn on the led strip in the corner of the studio. gracie sits at the keyboard, playing the same notes repeatedly, experimenting with small variations.

she plays a progression, then hums softly, testing. her voice fills the space with a melancholic sweetness.

"it's impossible to acclimate every time we talk, we understate…”

a familiar shiver runs up your arms. it’s always like this when gracie sings—there’s something in her voice that cuts deep, like light rain on a cold day, mixed with the warmth of blankets.

she stops, frowning. "the chorus still doesn't fit. i want the melody to be different from the first one, something that builds up emotion for the second verse."

you lean back in your chair, reaching for the guitar beside you, letting your fingers glide over the strings slowly, repeating the intro melody. "how about this?" then, start a slightly faster rhythm, capturing the tension of the lyrics.

gracie watches you, then mirrors the melody on the keyboard, adjusting it to her tone. "this… this could work," she murmurs, focused. her eyes shine the way they always do when she finds something that musically makes sense. "can you do it again? but with the rest of the lyrics?"

a subtle smile forms on your lips, a quiet sense of pride settling in. "of course." you place her journal in front of the monitor, strumming the guitar again, this time accompanied by gracie on the keyboard.

"it's impossible to acclimate every time we talk, we understate how we know we both could die, we both could die but you told me that you felt the same when i told you how i needed space but i think it was a lie, it was a lie…”

as soon as you finish, you glance at her, feeling a little nervous about her reaction. You’ve spent countless nights on calls writing silly songs together, most of which end up discarded, but this is the first time you actually change something of hers.

"okay, that was good," she says, her smile widening.

you chuckle softly, tilting your head to the side out of habit. "i think we’ve got something."

"i love doing this with you." eyes warm, the kind that crinkle just slightly at the corners.

"me too, babe."

the next few hours pass in silence, filled with experiments, note adjustments, and timing tweaks. despite working together, both of you are used to creating alone—there’s no denying that.

when it’s no longer possible to stay inside your own head, the recording begins. gracie steps into the booth, separated from the production room by a large glass panel. from your side, among the equipment, you watch her position herself in front of the microphone.

gracie sings, you record. she sings again, you re-record. when she misses a note, she laughs, and you just throw your head back, laughing with her. adjustments are made—a section cut here, another repeated there. the cycle continues, unhurried, until you’re both satisfied.

"okay, just one more time," she says, snapping her fingers as if that might somehow improve her performance.

"love, i’m not saying this just because i’m your girlfriend, but you already sound incredible," you speak into the microphone, holding the button that activates it.

"y/n."

"you’re the boss."

when you can finally say the song is almost ready, you both pause. you stretch your arms above your head while gracie massages her face.

"want to come take a look?"

"definitely."

she steps out of the booth excited, and without hesitation sits on your lap. you wrap your arms around her and press a light kiss to her shoulder. when gracie hits play, the song named Cedar begins to play.

first the keyboard. something calm, classical. then, her voice emerges. the introduction is delicate, the chorus melancholic, and, as intended, the bridge brings tension and anxiety—an intense mix of instruments. her head moves subtly to the rhythm, and fingers mimicking the keys, as if the music is flowing through her.

"fuck," she whispers when the bridge falls perfectly into the third verse.

the song ends, leaving you both in silence. but it only lasts a few seconds before gracie lets out a long sigh.

"it’s good," she says, almost as if convincing herself.

"good?" you raise an eyebrow.

she shifts in your lap, still looking at the screen, analyzing every second of the song on the software’s timeline. "i don’t know… maybe the bridge needs something more. like, a soft choir in the background? something to build it up a bit?"

you press your lips together, thoughtful, and rewind a few seconds. the bridge plays again, and now you try to listen more carefully, searching for empty spaces.

"maybe some subtle vocals, just to add texture." she says, now looking at you, waiting for consent.

"that’s exactly what i was going to say."

gracie gives a satisfied smile and gets up from your lap, stretching her arms. "okay, last thing for the night, i promise."

"empty promises, abrams."

she giggles and heads back into the booth, adjusting her headphones. "i’ll do a few layers, and then you tell me which works best."

her voice fills the studio once again, now in soft fragments. melodic whispers, discreet harmonies layering until the sound gains more depth. you adjust the volumes, test combinations, and when you finally find the right balance, you look at gracie through the glass.

"now we got it," she says, satisfied.

you hit play once more. the bridge now has new depth, and the transition into the third verse feels more intense, almost cinematic.

gracie leans against the glass, resting her forehead on it, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

"now we got it," you repeat, this time with more conviction.

noticing how tired she is, you take off your headphones and stand up, crossing the room to where she is. "why don’t you sit on the couch for a bit? i’ll order something from that donut place, and we can listen a few more times to make sure it’s how we want it."

she sighs and moves away from the glass, but instead of heading straight for the couch, she walks toward you. gracie wraps her arms around you, burying her face in your neck. "i love you, you know?"

you chuckle softly, sliding your hands down her back. "i love you too, baby."

and that’s that. gracie throws herself onto the couch, resting her legs over your lap while you pick the flavors. in the end, you settle on a deal: two savory donuts, two sweet, matcha for her and black coffee for you.

when you return with the food, she’s listening to the song again—not a surprise. gracie always revisits everything a thousand times before considering it done.

"fresh food," you announce, balancing the bags in your hands.

she looks up intrigued, a small smile playing on her lips. "hmm, smells good." then, she gets comfortable on the couch, ready to eat.

you settle in together, gracie resting her head on your shoulder while you gaze out the window. from your building you can see the famous wollman rink among the trees of central park. however, it is not yet an ice rink, but rather a large space under assembly, covered in scaffolding and trolleys.

as you devour the donuts in silence, you remember something—a bit of news you’ve been meaning to share with your girlfriend. after all, whenever she had good gossip, you were always the first to know. "you know towa?"

"your guitarist friend? the one who looks like conan?"

you snicker, shaking your head. "yeah, her." your arm stretches to grab your coffee. "so, guess who she’s been involved with?"

gracie pauses, furrowing her brows in thought. "who?"

"reneé."

she pulls away from your shoulder, looking at you, confused. "reneé? our reneé?"

you nod, confirming, and take a sip of your coffee. "yep, reneé herself told me."

"you’re serious? them?"

"uh-huh."

abrams’ eyes widen as she stares at you for a few seconds, processing the information. "omg… they have been kinda glued together lately, huh?" she says with a mischievous little laugh.

"right? that’s what i said, but she just kept denying it."

"now that you mention it, it makes sense. they were always together, but i just thought it was a friend thing, you know?"

"like us?" you tease with a smirk.

gracie shoots you a glare and lightly smacks your thigh. "don’t be ridiculous."

"ouch, i was just kidding."

after the food break, gracie stays on the couch but gets even more comfortable. you drape a light blanket over her and turn up the heat a little to help her relax.

meanwhile, you stay at the computer, listening to the song over and over, adjusting parts, removing noise, fixing small mistakes… and when it’s already two in the morning, you glance back and find gracie sleeping like a baby.

seeing her so peaceful, you allow yourself to relax too, taking off your headphones and stretching. after saving everything, you kneel in front of her, your thumb brushing through her soft hair. "hey, baby," you whisper.

she doesn’t respond, as always, so you press a light kiss to her forehead, your hand trailing to the nape of her neck. gracie usually sleeps deeply, but luckily, you already know how to wake her up.

you’ve learned that whispering in her ear never works—it just startles her and sometimes even annoys her. so instead, you keep running your fingers gently through her hair, leaving soft kisses on her forehead, waiting for her to stir.

"hm…" she mumbles, eyes slowly fluttering open. "what time is it?"

"two twenty-seven."

gracie’s eyes widen in the most adorably startled way. "oh my god."

you chuckle. "i already packed everything and called a cab. we just need to head down."

she sighs, still groggy, but gets up. another session wrapped up.

…

back home, after a warm shower, you and gracie lay together under the blankets. her fingers draw circles on your bare chest, head resting on your arm. "thank you for today, for everything, really. you weren’t just a great friend and girlfriend, but also a producer."

one of your arms is under your neck, the other on her waist beneath her shirt. "you're welcome, my love. you know you can always count on me, for anything."

"i know," she murmurs, running her fingers up your neck, making makes you shiver. "but you put up with me being such a annoying coworker."

you let out a chuckle, then lean in to give her a small kiss on the nose. "i think being your girlfriend helped a lot."

"hey!" she scolds playfully, but you both giggle.

"i love you, like, really love you. love, love."

"hmm, seriously?" gracie moves closer, rubbing her nose against yours in an eskimo kiss. "i love you too, babe. like, love, love."

with a goofy smile, you close the distance between you, your lips meeting hers in a slow, warm kiss. the taste of mint and something citrusy blends with the soft touch, while gracie's fingers slide to your neck, gently tugging at your hair.

when you pull apart, you exchange a knowing look, and in a silent agreement to rest, she snuggles into your neck. your legs intertwine out of habit, and you plant a soft kiss on her forehead before closing your eyes to drift off to sleep.

definitely my favorite writing of all, loves that vibe of doing daily things together, showing affection with acts of service and stuff. I can write a part two recording y/n's song, so let me know if you're interested. I plan on posting more stuff this weekend so dw...

thanks for reading <3

back to nav

[98onlyboo]

mine now - h.js

>> part 2 of: regret - l.jh

genre: fluff; wc: 1,2k

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

..Jihoon watched you drive off, already knowing this will be the biggest regret of his whole life.

-

It's been quite alot of time now since you last saw Jihoon. You've been avoiding him at all cost, trying not to hurt more than you already are. Ever since Joshua picked you up, he was there for you 24/7. He helped you move out of your shared apartment with Jihoon and let you live in his for a while.

Every now and then you had days were everything was just too much. You always thought it's your fault that you got cheated on. I mean, if there wasn't something wrong with you he wouldn't have cheated right? That's what you thought at least.

You thought you were doing better when all of a sudden, everyday felt like a burden. You just wanted to rot in bed, having no motivation to do anything. Sometimes you didn't even want to wake up. Joshua tried his best to comfort you, but you could sense that after some time it was too much for him too.

You felt even worse now, knowing you're the reason he feels that way. You decided to show him how grateful you were to have him, even though words couldn't be enough to describe it. As people say, actions speak louder than words so that's exactly what you planned to do.

After you got home from work you started deep cleaning his apartment, knowing by the time he got home from practicing with seventeen he would be too tired to do it himself. Also it was a really good distraction so you didn't mind. After you were done with that, you went out restocking his fridge and also buying some things you were going to cook for him later.

That done, you also got him a little gift. A teddy bear holding a heart and some candy he liked. On the way home you noticed a familiar car in the street just passing by Joshua's apartment complex every now and then. Weird you thought, looks exactly like Jihoons'...

When you got home you unpacked the groceries and started cooking, forgetting about the car. Joshua should be home in around an hour from now so I better get started. You started preparing a five-star meal, just like he deserved. As if he could sense it, he entered the apartment the moment you took the food out of the oven.

You ran up to the door to hug him and obviously he hugged you back, burying his head in your hair, taking in your sweet scent. "I have something for you" you grinned at him. He raised an eyebrow. "Should I be scared..?" he chuckled. "No silly", you laughed and flicked his forehead, "it's something good I'd say." He just nodded and followed you into the kitchen.

"What's that?" he said as he looked at the food. "I made it just for you. I hope you're hungry" you smiled at him. "I sure am" he laughed and sat down at the dining table. You gave him a plate and he ate it like he hasn't seen any food in a year. You just smiled at how cute he is. Wait a minute...

"So how was work?" you asked him, trying to shake off these thoughts. "It was great!! We practiced some of the new choreos and recorded some stuff. Only weird thing is Jihoon wasn't there.." he said while finishing his food. "That's good" you smiled him, remembering the car you saw earlier. "Actually, you said he wasn't with you guys today?" you asked to which he just nodded.

"Weird. I saw a car today driving around the building a few times and to be honest, it looked a lot like you know...Jihoons car" you said looking out the window. "That is indeed weird. But I don't think we should think too much of it. Let's just relax tonight" he said and hugged you from behind.

You didn't know what to do so you just stayed there until he left to go to the living room. "Did you clean in here??" he shouted. "Uh yeah I did, I cleaned the whole apartment for you" you shouted back. You went into the living room and sat down on the couch next to Joshua.

He put an arm around you and pulled you close. "Thank you" he said while giving you a quick peck on your head. "No, I need to thank you. You have been there for me through everything that has happened recently. You always made sure I'm somewhat happy, no matter how tired or stressed you were. You literally let me live here with you, without you I would be homeless. I don't think I've shown you enough appreciation so that's why I cleaned and cooked for you. I know it's not much but I figured it's the least I could do. I wish I could tell you how grateful I am to have you by my side but I just can't put it into words." you said, your eyes starting to water.

He was speechless to say the least. "I-uh I-" he stuttered. "I don't even know what to say right now" he whispered. "Don't worry you don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know that" you smiled at him. There was silence between you two, only the tv delivering some background noise. Then it happened.

Your faces slowly moving towards each other. The tension grew with every passing second and before you knew it, you felt his lips on yours. It felt magical. All your thoughts, your pain and your sorrows were blown away the second your lips touched. It was like the world stopped spinning. Like everything stood still.

His hands found their way to the side of your face pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. Yours made their way into his hair, occasionally playing with some strands. After what felt like an eternity, you pulled apart. Out of breath and cheeks flushed bright pink. "Wow.." he whispered, "you don't know how long I've been waiting to do this."

You grinned at him, pulling him close. You guys continued watching whatever tv show was playing until you both got tired. You got ready for bed and were ready to go to sleep when Joshua asked you something.

"Can I ask you something?" "Sure what is it?" you said turning towards him. "What are we after this? Like, what did that earlier mean to you?" You were taken aback by that question. You didn't really know how to react at first.

"You know.. I really enjoyed that kiss, and your presence in general. I could get used to living with you. Not just as your roommate but you know.. maybe more than that" you said and scooted closer to him.

"Well lucky for you I don't feel any different. I like having you around and... I definitely don't mind kissing you more often..." he whispered that last part before pulling you in again. "You're mine now.."

[lottiesnotebook]

Happy DADWC day!

Ok so this is weirdly specific, but feel free to be open in the interpretation. So I want more Cara, because of course I do 😅 and I saw this prompt in one of your lists : your OC’s description of their game’s events.

But I'd like to alter that slightly... So you said she was born after an ill-advised post deep roads encounter (I forget your exact words) so... Therefore she saw a lot of the DA2 narrative... As a kid... So I would like to see her interpretation of any of the DA2 events 😝

Ask for more Cara Hawke-Laidir and you shall receive! I don't know if this counts as exactly what you asked for, but the end of Dragon Age 2 is possibly the most formative moment in her whole life (pre-Veilguard, at least) so this is what you get! Apologies in advance, this turned out WAY longer than I expected...

Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Orana, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Anders, Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir & Rhiannon Hawke, Justice/Rhiannon Hawke/Anders (mentioned), angst, tragedy, canonical terrorism

@teine-mallaichte | @dadrunkwriting

when hell bares its teeth

Cara was curled up in her favourite window-seat when the world ended. She felt the explosion rather than heard it - a low reverberation that shook the house to its foundations and cracked the panes of the window she was snuggled against. She flinched away from it in shock and rolled onto her knees, peering out through the broken panes, her book cradled against her chest. The street outside was empty, peaceful, even - but as she glanced up, she could see the climbing column of smoke cutting the bright blue sky in two.

"Orana?" she called out, her voice trembling. There was no immediate reply. She forced herself to her feet. Orana was the grown-up, and on days when her parents were busy, she was in charge, but Orana got scared, sometimes, when people shouted or magic flared, and then Cara was meant to leave her alone or make sure she was safe and comfortable.

She took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, where she found more broken glass and embers knocked from the fireplace scattering the stone floor.

"Orana!" she tried again, fingers beginning to flicker in the familiar pattern of a seeking spell. A soft, sobbing sound crept from under the table. Orana was down there, curled into a ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, like her father after a bad dream.

Cara tried to make her voice low and calm and commanding, like Mama's: "Orana, don't be scared. Are you hurt?"

She didn't know what to do if a grown-up was hurt, though she knew where the elfroot potions and the bandages were stored in case of emergencies. She'd figure it out. Daddy always explained what he was doing when he patched up her cuts and bruises, and she wasn't a baby to burst into tears at the sight of blood.

She felt a little like crying when Orana looked up at her, pale and glassy-eyed, but they couldn't both sit here and cry. Well, they could - they had three years ago, when the Qunari revolted, but they had kind Master Bodahn then to take care of them: he'd hurried them into the cellar and told them all stories to keep them quiet, and Cara had tried to make rabbits out of light for Sandal until Orana flinched away from them. She'd only been six, then, though. She was nine now, and practically a grownup.

"Miss- Mistress Cara!" she said, which wasn't right - Orana wasn't supposed to call anyone Master or Mistress any more, but sometimes she got scared and forgot. "I'm sorry, I'll clean up the mess-"

"We can clean it up later," she managed to say, though there was a wobble in her voice she didn't like. "Something is wrong. We should go somewhere safe."

That was the first rule when things got scary, Master Bodahn had told her - find a safe place, or safe people, and stay with them as long as you can. Safe people would be Mama and Daddy and Justice, or maybe her uncles and aunts, but none of them were here, so she and Orana would have to find a safe place, and be safe people for each other.

She took Orana's hand and slowly pulled her out from under the table. They were almost the same height now, but when she was stood up, Orana blinked and came back to herself, and squeezed Cara's hands.

"Very sensible, Carissima," she said, smiling, and Cara relaxed a little, just for a second. Then there was an urgent banging on the front door, and they both flinched.

"Cellar?" Cara suggested, and Orana nodded.

"Cellar indeed."

She leaned into the fireplace and grabbed something from the far side of the hearth, and chivvied Cara down the stairs as the sound of splintering wood shattered the air behind them.

Cara felt a chill go through her as she remembered her father's warnings: If you hear the Templars coming, you run, Cara-hase. You don't look back, and you don't stop. Who else would dare to knock down her mother's door, but the monsters that still haunted her father's dreams?

"Orana," she whispered, into the dark. "Did I ever teach you the Rabbit Game?"

The Rabbit Game was one of Daddy's inventions. They'd played it ever since she could remember, ever since she was small enough to toddle after him, clutching the hem of his robes. The rules were simple - you had to make it through the passage from the cellar to the clinic, as quick as you could, making no noise, leaving no footprints. When she'd been very small, he'd given her a handful of veilfire to light the way, but grownup girls and clever little rabbits had to play the game in the dark. Foxes and wolves could smell smoke or magic on the wind, and if they caught you, they would eat you all up.

When she was a baby, being eaten all up wasn't scary. It was being scooped up in her father's arms and tickled and kissed and fussed over until she squealed. But then she got older, and realised he wasn't trying to teach her to hide from foxes and wolves, and that there were worse things that could happen to a girl than to be eaten.

Still, as she crept along the narrow passage between cellars, Orana's hand gripped tight in hers, she pretended she was playing the Rabbit Game again, that the footsteps she could hear distantly were her father's, that the worst that would happen if they were caught was that she wouldn't be taken out to the market for sweets. Panicking wasn't how you won the Rabbit Game. If you froze, or you made too much noise, they'd catch you easy as anything.

Run, Cara-hase. She ran, as light on her feet as they'd practiced, making cushions of air beneath the soles of their shoes to catch them before they could clatter. She heard, distantly, a shout that sounded a little less muffled, and felt Orana squeeze her hand and try to muffle a sob. She tightened her grip, and kept running until she felt her outstretched hands catch on the false panel that led to the clinic. She closed her eyes, remembered her father's voice in her ear: Just above your head, there are three nails to press on. The second, then the third, then the first, got that, little rabbit?

She was taller now - they were on a level with her breastbone - and she pressed down on them until she heard the reassuring click of the door opening. She pulled Orana through and closed it softly, collapsing against it. The passage continued round a corner, and hopefully the- whoever was chasing them would follow it rather than them. She'd done it. She'd won the Rabbit Game, and they were in the clinic, and Daddy would be here and tell her everything was alright-

Orana was staring at her, and she realised she'd said her names three times, and she hadn't heard. Why hadn't she heard? She was meant to be listening, meant to be calm and grown up, but she felt suddenly small and shivery and scared.

"Cara," Orana said, crouching to take hold of her shoulders, as if she was a very little girl. "Do you know where your father is? He seems to have- stepped out, for a moment."

That didn't make sense. Mama had gone to the Gallows, she said, to make sure the mages were safe, but Daddy had said he'd be at the clinic. He was supposed to be at the clinic-

Cara's breath was quickening in her throat, and now she really wanted to cry, which was stupid, because nothing bad had actually happened, and at any minute her father would be back and would explain everything. Nothing was actually wrong. Nothing was actually wrong, because if something was actually wrong-

She could hear the sound of people rushing around outside, of crying and screams, of wood cracking, and she knew in her bones that something was Actually Wrong, which made no sense. If something were that badly wrong, Daddy would be at the clinic, making sure people had a safe place to go, that anyone who was hurt was taken care of. And yet, the clinic was empty, holding nothing but a silence more horrible than the noise outside when it should have held warmth, comfort, safety.

"I don't-" She swallowed, tried to make her voice less shaky, because she had to be brave, because Orana was probably more frightened, "I don't know where he is. I- he'll be back soon."

It didn't feel like he'd be back soon. The surgery was too tidy. Daddy's desk was usually piled high with papers she wasn't supposed to look at or (when she was too little to understand) draw on. Now it was swept clean, his healer's kit sat neatly on the chair, as if waiting for him to return with far more patience than Cara. It felt wrong in a way she would not have the words for for years. It felt like he was already gone, and fear sank into the hollow between her ribs and made her heart flutter like a caged bird.

"I- I'm sure he will," Orana echoed her, and squeezed her shoulder. Cara wished she hadn't. Orana was not a very good liar.

A fist slammed into the door to Darktown, and they both flinched at the sound. Orana shoved her down under the desk, so hard and so sudden she slammed her head against it and cried out.

"Ow, Orana-!"

The rapping came again, more urgent this time. Orana's hand clapped down over her mouth, her grip on her shoulder painfully tight.

"Please!" A rough voice called from outside, "For pity's sake, if we ever needed a healer, it's now!"

Cara was not a healer, was barely even a mage, but when the banging came again, she knew what her parents would have done. She wrenched herself from Orana's grip and ran to the door, yanking it open. Outside there was a small crowd of people, pressed tight against the clinic's wall to hide from the chaos outside.

She looked up at them, feeling suddenly very young and very out of place in her pretty embroidered dress with its fine ruffled petticoats. Even of the smallest of the children looked older and more tired than she'd ever felt. She swallowed, looked up at the nearest grown-up (a man, heavily scarred, bleeding from a deep cut on his scalp, and said: "He isn't here, but- I can help you, or try."

He stared down at her through his one remaining eye, and she felt a little sick. "You're just a kid," he said, with something like disgust, and she almost wanted to cry. Then she felt Orana's hand on her shoulder again, and realised that if she could be brave for Cara, when she was so much more scared of so many things, Cara would have to keep being brave for everyone else. She wondered if her mother had ever felt like this - too small and too frightened and having to do the brave thing anyway, because there was nobody else to do it. She hoped not. Being a hero shouldn't feel like this.

She swallowed down the sick she could taste at the back of her throat. "Maybe, but- I'm all there is right now."

He made a scoffing noise, moved to wheel away, but another man, shorter, face badly bruised, caught his shoulder and gave him a glare. "D'you know anything about healing?" he demanded, and she wanted to say No, she wanted to say Go away, she wanted to say I tried to be nice and you're being rude, because nobody had ever spoken harshly to her before, but that isn't what a hero would do. That isn't what her parents would do.

So she put her hands on her hips and said, in her mother's voice: "I know everything my father taught me, and Orana knows some too. And- and if I can't help you, you can wait here until he comes back."

He would come back. He always came back. It was the promise he made every time he had to leave unexpectedly, and couldn't tell her when he'd be home. He'd kiss her forehead and say: I'll be back soon, Cara-hase, and I'll bring your mama with me. He hadn't said it this morning, but then, they'd argued this morning. He'd been in one of his black moods where only Mama could reach him, and she'd pestered him for attention rather than leaving well alone. Maybe that was why she couldn't find him now.

She shook that thought off and stood aside, letting the people flood in. Some of them were limping, supported by friends or family, or favouring arms that were clearly broken. Cuts and scrapes she'd seen plenty of - she knew from memory how to clean a wound out with elfroot, and Orana, steeling herself, could close up the longer or deeper ones with neat, careful stitches. She'd never seen bruises so dark or so big, but she spread spindleweed balm across them nonetheless and said calming things like There, all better, and It'll be fine if you're careful, even if she wasn't sure it was true.

"The tunnels keep collapsing," the man with the bruised face told her while she smeared gooey spindleweed across it, as his husband swore loudly through Orana's stitching. "Whatever happened up in Hightown, it's shaken the foundations, and the Templars… they're looking for- someone."

He cut himself off as he seemed to focus on her face for the first time. "You said your daddy would be back soon?"

She nodded. "He always comes back."

He sighed, looked past and through her. "They always do, kid. Until they don't."

She shook her head, tried to remind herself that he didn't know her parents, that they always came back to her. That they were heroes, and that meant they always came home. She told herself that over and over again as the hours passed, as more people flooded through the door - some she could help, most she couldn't, even as she rationed and diluted the few elfroot potions kept aside for emergencies, and she didn't feel like a hero at all. She felt like she was a little girl again, and school had finished, and nobody had come to collect her - the cold, uncomfortable feeling of being forgotten, mingled with the fear of something Very Wrong having kept her parents away. At least now she was busy - now she was helping people, if only a little. Then she'd had to sit in the Chantry while the sisters did evening prayers, the stench of incense making her feel sick and sleepy and even more forgotten than she felt now.

Like the last time, when her mother finally came, she burst into angry, relieved tears like a baby, and flung herself into her arms. She'd been trying to be a hero, or at least a grown-up, for far too long, and suddenly she was hot and tired and hungry and scared but her mother was here and those were no longer her problem to fix.

"Where's the healer?" someone demanded over her head, and she relaxed, waiting for the reassuring answer.

Instead, her mother said: "Gone," and that was when she realised that this was nothing like the Qunari attack, that her life would never be the same again. That the world could be cut into two neat halves by a single syllable.

[shayberri789]

Mmm this will be a long list, prepare yourself

titles in blue are the ones that are like. Equal to AFTG in terms of obsession for me. The others are either ones I find myself returning to, are comfort novels, or were once obsessions for me that I still think fondly of and are worth recommending.

This is so long I spent 2 hours writing this. Mostly scifi/fantasy bc those are my favourite genres.

Beginning with the Series:

In no particular order....

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen Genre: YA Fantasy, slice of romance

Summary: Vanja is the god daughter of Fortune and Death, and one of the most imfamous thief in Boern. Except one day she steals the wrong thing and pisses off ANOTHER little god who curses her for her greed to turn into pearls and rubies. Now she has to fix things with her ex-best friend, avoid a junior detective, maybe save a kingdom, and not die.

Why I am recommending it: Vanja is a gremlin. This has slowburn enemies to friends to lovers. Both of the main characters are demisexual :D and its important to their arc. There's sapphic background romance. A feral shapeshifter with a queer understanding and preference for gender, saying Fuck You to your abusers, and lots of found family. The narration caught me by the throat from the first page - its interesting, and its funny, and the world building is interesting. The story is great. a REALLY good retelling of the Goose Girl fairy tale. This is a series, with the third book releasing soon if it hasn't been already, though I have only read the first book so far (waiting to get my hands on the other ones)

Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree Genre: Cozy fantasy YA Summary: It's about a retired half-orc adventurer who sets up shop in a new city in order to open teh first ever coffee shop in the country, and the trials it takes to set that up and run. Why I am recommending it: Firstly, Travis is my favourite VA and a good author on top of that. It's SUCH a cozy story, with a sapphic slowburn and found family. It's fun, the worldbuilding is awesome, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. This is a duology, with Bookshops and Bonedust as a prequel that I recommend reading second. It's sapphic and delightful.

Tortall Chronicles by tamora pierce (in chronological order) Genre/summary: Fantasy children's series. if you want harry potter written by an actual feminist minus the bigotry of JKR, try this. Also better written, and enjoyable regardless of age. Do remember most of these were written in the 80s.

Beka Cooper/Provosts Dogs: beka is a member of the Provost's Dogs, the early established police force in Corus City in the kingdom of tortall. She works in the slums of the city, the Lower City, where she was born and raised, and which she loves with all her heart. In teh first book, told through her journal entries, we follow her during the first year of her internship as she learns the ropes and tries to solve a mystery string of robberies, murders and disappearances. Even tho its cops (acab and all that), this handles well the compromises between morality and doing what's right and the law, with a heavy emphasis of 'fuck teh law if it's hurting the people'. Beka is shy, determined, kind, and gifted. It's just a REALLY good story, with a Fun cast, magic, and a sarcastic magical cat

Song of the Lioness (couple hundred years after beka) Alanna wants to be the first lady knight in centuries. Her brother, Thom, wants to be a great sorcerer. unfortunately for them, Alanna is the one being sent to the City of the Gods for finishing school, and Thom to Corus to become a knight. Except Alanna and Thom switch places. Thom goes to the CotG to study magic, and Alanna disguises herself as the boy, Alan, to train to be a knight. The first book follows her years as a page as she keeps up the ruse, trains hard, deals with bullies, and tries to stop a plot to kill one of her best friends, the crown prince Johnathon. Book 2 is her as John's squire, working by his side during war and again, trying not to get caught and also not let John die. Third book is her first years as a knight where she comes to terms with her role as a Paladin of the mother goddess, and she has to train a group of Gifted children to become a shaman after she accidentally kills the tribes last shaman. Its fine tho, because he was a PoS and corrupt. Book4, she heads off on a quest to find a magical gem, prevent a civil war, and fix things between herself and her friends. Note: Weird age gaps/underage, but it's treated with respect and she doesn't do anything w the age gap until she's an adult.

Tempest and Slaughter Concurrent with Alanna I think, only one book out atm Follows Arram Draper, a gifted young mage in at the Carthaki university (in the kingdom across the tea from Tortall). Follows him growing up to be an exceptionally talented mage, surgeon and healer, with an interest in wild magic.

Immortals Quartet (couple decades after Alanna) Not a fan of this one because there's a whole 15-30 year age gap that really only shows up in the last half of the series but wtf. Otherwise, very good! About a girl with a special magical connection to animals. Immortals, ancient immortal beings and monsters who'd been sealed away a millennia ago, are returning to the realm of tortall and Carthak is threatening war, and everything is in chaos. Daine works with famous mage Numair, legendary hero Alanna, and more to unlock the secrets of the Immortals return and end the war

protector of the small (couple years after immortals) Favourite series. Follows kel, the first girl to try to become a knight since King Johnathon made it legal. Except the old training master is a sexist bastard and won't let her in without a trial period. But kel is determined, kind and will not be turned away by her prejudiced classmates, nobles or teachers. This follows her as she trains to become a knight, proving herself and making unshakable friendships and becoming a respected leader and protector of all those the powerful would step on. She's an underdog advocate. Gods I love her

Also by Pierce, but set in a different world, we have the Emelan Chronicles, which is 3 series following the same 4 young mages as they grow up:

circle of magic series follows a group of four, orphaned children with unusual magic. They're taken to the Circle Temple, a temple of priests and mages as they learn to harness their unusual magic and recover from their respective traumas. They become family and survive multiple disasters and threats to their homes. SO good!!

The circle opens set a couple years after CoM, the children have grown up and spread across the world to continue their apprentice-hoods. Along the way, they pick up apprentices of their own and get a first hand understanding of what a headache they were for their mentors

The will of the empress The children reunite as adults, having grown apart. Haven't read this one yet but I trust it to be good. Pierce is a fantastic author

Memoirs of Lady Trent by Marie Brennan Genre: Speculative/biological historical fantasy (Basically victorian england but with dragons) Summary: I made a separate tumblr post about this, I recommend it here! (PLEASE at least check this out, I need more people to read cradle). It's delightful.

Cradle by Will Wight Genre: YA-adult epic/progression fantasy.

Summary: I give a better rec in the post I linked above. Self described by the author as a 'novelisation of a westernised anime/manga' shounen (I think?), but it does not suffer what someone once called "Dragonball Z syndrome", aka its really well balanced and has a solid foundation, and no undermining of its own plot/progression/character powerups/achievements

The Raven Cycle by maggie stiefvater Genre: YA Urban fantasy Summary: If you're in the AFTG fandom, likely you have heard of this as being a "trilogy" series with AFTG and SoC. And there's a reason for that. If you haven't already read it, I cannot recommend it enough. It's my favourite series ever and VERY much character driven, and the plot is beautiful and nonlinear. I cannot give a concise summary. Needless to say this has found family, devoution and all the different kinds of love up the Wazzoo. on the surface, its about a group of kids in rural west virginia trying to find magic, leylines and a dead welsh kind said to be sleeping somewhere on them, who promises a wish if you wake him up. Each person has a different reason to embark on this quest, and each have different, deeply personal journeys and character development. Below the surface, it's about growing up, and healing, and it's about life and death and wonder and magic and whimsy. The narration is SO witty and SO funny and i have read this series LITERALLY over 20 times and I still find new things. I've never seen an official summary for this series that actually gives a good idea of the vibe. Trust me on this you HAVE to read it

(this one is more like 6 recommendations in one lol. I'll be shocked if you haven't heard of at least one of these)

Cosmere by Brandon Sanderson Genre: Adult Fantasy Summary: I'll give individual ones for each book/series. I am obsessed with all of these (but stormlight especially)

Elantris: Standalone Princess Sarene arrives in a new kingdom for her wedding to the Crown Prince Raoden, only to discover her fiance has died, and per a legal loophole in the contract, she is now married to him and the kingdom. Sarene is thrust into a political war zone as she buts head with the warrior ambassador of the religious empire Fjorden who has been tasked with converting the kingdom to shu-something I forget the name, ready for the kingdom to be annexed by the empire. Sarene refuses to let the kingdom fall, for her homeland would be left alone and without allies otherwise

Meanwhile, her fiancé isn't actually dead. He woke up cursed one day to essentially be a zombie with chronic pain and was tossed into a cursed city (Elantris) with other cursed elantrians. now, he's made it his (new) life's purpose to improve the quality of life for the other elantrians, and build a community where they can all be happy again. He has no idea his wife is in town, nor what she's up to

Mistborn: 2 trilogies, one set in regular fantasy era, the other 300 years later in a mmm i wanna say early 1900s euro style fantasy world. Both epic fantasy. First trilogy follows Kelsier - thief extraordinaire, rebellion leader, charismatic asshole and a Mistborn (mistings are ppl who can ingest particular kinds of metals and gain a magical ability from them. Mistborns can eat all 8 and have all 8 abilities. they're rare) - and vin, street urchin, fellow mistborn, and their crew of thieves and rebels as they plot to overthrow God. They don't really consider the consequences

Warbreaker: Another standalone Siri is the youngest, most unimportant princess in her kingdom. She was MEANT to live a pleasant, unimportant life. Except, one day, she's shipped off to the neighboring kingdom Halladren to marry the god-emperor, per the treaty, in place of her older sister Vivenna. Now, she's thrust into a world of colour, politics and gods, and she has to scramble to find a way to stop a war that would threaten to destroy all she loves

Meanwhile, her sister Vivenna, who had grown up resigned to marry the 'evil' zombie emperor, is furious her younger sister was thrown into it instead. She's much prefer NEITHER had to, but if one must it should be the princess raised to do it. So she goes to the kingdom to save her sister. There, she works with a pair of mercenaries to incite a rebellion and other-throw the court of gods. She also has a LOT of growing up to do, and a lot of prejudice to unlearn.

Branderson also has this up free on his website!

The stormlight archive The first era (5 books) has been completed, with the next era expected to start in 2030ish. MONSTER books. I'm talking 300-500k words/1000+ page for each book, plus two novellas. literally the best series I've ever read it's everything you want. It's slow to start but it pays itself off. I cannot describe it you just have to trust me on this one and take a chance. Also there's relationships that could be read as QPRs. I usually recommend it after Warbreaker and/or mistborn, when you'll have faith in branderson as an author, and not just on the word of some random internet stranger.

Tress of the emerald sea standalone if you liked princess diaries, you'll like this. It's about a respectable girl, Tress, who sets out on an adventure to rescue her damsel of a best friend/boy friend from an evil witch. Along the way she befriends eccentric pirates, a magic rat, BECOMES a pirate, and sails on seas of deadly spores that can kill a man with the slightest contact of water. It's also got one really weird guy who's cursed. VERY whimsical and fun fairytale vibe story, with a hilarious narrator to boot. You don't need to read the rest of the cosmere first to understand or enjoy this story, either! But its stuffed with easter-eggs and references, so if you do read it first, I recommend reading it again later after the rest.

Yumi and the nightmare painter Standalone, epic fantasy mixed with urban fantasy Yumi is a Yoki-hijo, a priestess of the spirits. She has a sacred duty as the bridge between humanity and the spirits of the world. Painter is a Nightmare painter. His job is to paint the form of shadowy creatures known as Nightmares to banish them, and keep his city safe. He's also a depressed emo teenager who reminds me of my little brother.

One day, inexplicably, the pair wake up in each other's places, with the other a spectating ghost. They have to carry out each other's lives, and figure out why they've been swapped. And meeting each other is probably the best thing to ever happen to them

has Your Name/Final Fantasy vibes. Also has a fun narrator, and the same cosmere hints as above, but even more accessible to new readers!

The Sunlit Man Standalone (technically) and a lot more scifi/dystopian than the other novels, though I'd call it Science Fantasy (like a mix between skyward (see below) and tlt). Follows Nomad, who lives up to his name by Skipping from planet to planet in the cosmere as he attempts to flee the Night Brigade, a mercenary group determined to torture and kill him for something he once held. He lands on the tiny planet Canicle, with a sun so hot it literally scorches the earth to lava when it hits. The people and flora here survive by constantly running from the sun, existing in perpetual twilight and nightl. The cinderking rules by power and violence, and a small Beacon of rebellion hides in the darkness of a constant storm. Nomad has a history of resisting oppression and helping those who've been put down, but it's been many years since he was that man, he has depression, and worst of all he's cursed and cannot commit an act of violence against another living being. This makes it very difficult to fight the many people trying to kill him.

This is tonally different to many of the other cosmere novels, but is equally epic. I highly recommend reading it between Rhythm of War and Wind and Truth, because Nomad is from roshar and this is the best way imo to get the full impact of Nomad's story, since it has a parallel relationship to the stormlight archive.

Why: Branderson is the best author I've ever read. All the series above are SO unique with AMAZING worldbuilding, plot, characters, themes, ugh EVERYTHING is so good. And they're also connected. 10/10 recommend, but I understand that it is a HUGE investment. Give it a chance, no one has ever regretted it.

Continuing on from branderson, we have the Cytoverse, which is made of the Skyward series and Skyward Flight Novellas.

Skyward Genre: Science fiction, YA with a dash of fantastical elements Summary: The first book follows the strange and silly/dramatic daughter of Chaser, the imfamous coward, who fled the final battle of Alta. Humanity is trapped on a strange, armored planet, constantly underseige by an alien enemy known only as "the krell". For generations, they had to live in small nomadic bands and clans in deep underground caverns, but with the establishment and success of the Defiant Defense Force, humanity has been able to settle down into ancient cities and caverns and put their resources and skill into fighting back the krell, in humanity's last stand for survival.

Spensa faces endless criticism, condesention and assholery from her fellow humans, but she is firm in her insistance that the histories were wrong - he was not a coward, he was teh greatest DDF pilot ever and she will prove them all wrong when she becomes the greatest pilot herself… if people would just give her a chance.

And then she finds the strange, incredible, talking ship. Pity its broken.

Why: It feels like a mix between how to train your dragon, Ender's Game, and those old 'shoot the alien' video/arcade games. The cast are so delightful, the worldbuilding excellent, and the story fun.

Skyward Flight Novellas by Janci Patterson and Brandon Sanderson Genre: Same as above Summary: Written by Patterson, with oversight by branderson, and set during books 2 and 3 of the main skyward series, each novella follows a different important character from the Skyward Flight, giving us insight on what was happening on the human side of teh war while Spensa is out on her adventures in the later series. It's greatly enjoyable, and Janci is better at writing romance imo.

If you enjoyed tlt, you'll enjoy Stormlight and Skyward.

The Locked Tomb Genre: Adult sci-fi fantasy. Has some horror elements technically, along with mystery Summary: each book is tonally, and narratively, quite different, so I will recommend you the first book trusting it will hook you in well enough to finish. The first book follows the PoV of Gideon Nav, an orphan serf of the 9th House of the Undying Emperor, Necrolord supreme's empire. The 9th house is basically a death cult, with all of the skeletons, decaying dark fabric, catholic goth aesthetic you'd expect. Except gideon fucking hates it there and has been trying to get out for YEARS. She's a simple girl who likes swords, girls (titties), jokes, and sunglasses. Her arch nemesis is Harrowhark Nonagesimus, the 17 year old reverent daughter and scion of the 9th house. She is a 5'0 wet rat of a girl and gideon daydreams about drop kidding her off the 9th house planet. They have been in a trauma bonded rivalry since they were children, as the only remaining living children in the 9th house. After another failed escape attempt, Harrow promises Gideon that she will free her from service, with full recommendations to the 2nd house (where Gideon wants to go), if Gideon will pretend to be her cavalier on a voyage to the first house, the once home of the god emperor himself, to answer a call for talented necromancers (and their cavaliers) to undergo training and research to become his right hands: immortal and powerful Lyctors. It starts out great! We're immediately reminded that the 9th house are death cult weirdos, the girls are terribly out of their depths, and Gideon gets adopted by no less than 4 extroverts and both girls get their first friend that wasn't each other in YEARS. Then the first body appears, and its not one anyone intended to be there.

Why: I honestly think it should be included with the soc/aftg/trc trio. Tone and content-wise its like an expert blend of all of them. It's batshit insane, you WILL be screaming "WHAT" for most of the series and the second book is confusing until you finish it/reread it, because it actively gaslights you. But its really fucking good. The storycrafting is DEEPLY intentional and well done, like some of the best writing I've ever read. The writing/narration is SO funny and amusing, there are jokes, memes, pop-culture references stuffed EVERYWHERE and only half of them make you want to scream into a pillow. The foreshadowing is brilliant, the worldbuilding SO interesting, and it does throw you in the deep end with a lot of characters (dw: there's a list at the beginning so you won't get lost!) but they're all SO different and interesting. One of my friends is literally writing his undergrad english lit thesis studying this series. Its like aftg in the sense that reading it will grip you by your brain and never let go. The fandom is fantastic. Highly recommend.

Further notes: I have a personal theory that if you enjoyed aftg/trc/soc/stormlight archive,you'll enjoy tlt. Also, its also about all the different kinds of love. More specifically, its about the horrors of love, what it does to you, how it changes you, and what you'll do and change for it.

Continuing on with scifi!

Murderbot Diaries by martha wells Genre: science fiction, YA, cyber/hopepunk and dystopian (post-late-late-late stage capitalism in space!) Summary: in a complete spin around from the previous series, this is a 12 book long series of novellas following murderbot. Murderbot is a secunit - a machine/human hybrid created to serve as a security guards. Secunits have no agency due to a gov module in their brains that punish them for disobeying company or SecSys orders.

Thing is, murderbot hacked its GovMod 4 years ago. It's rogue, and no one even knows. This is because it found access to the entertainment feed and has been enjoying media in all its free-time since it freed itself, and it REALLY wishes it's human clients - who are actually NICE this time wtf. Stop treating me like a person - would stop making stupid decisions for FIVE MINUTES so it can rewatch episode 259 of the Rise and Fall of Sanctuary moon instead of saving their dumbasses.

The rest of the series follows Murderbot going Rogue and going on a journey of self discovery, with themes of humanity, found family, QPRs, fuck capitalism, fuck Aliens, etc.

Why: It's touching, it's fun, its interesting,its HILARIOUS. Mbot is a yell; A 6A a threat (AAAAAA): an Agender, Aromantic, Asexual Amnesiac Autistic with Anxiety (and depression). Featuring fun world building, SO much queer, qprs, rep and respect towards disabilities and identities, and UGH ITS SO GOOD. Also there are QPRS, and great importance placed on platonic bonds over romance

Now I will recommend some Drew Hayes novels. Highly recommend starting with SP, despite its faults

Super Powereds by Drew Hayes Genre: Superhero science fiction Summary: This is the final rec in the post I linked above (link has more info!). It's about a group of college kids who are enrolled in a secret university program to train heroes. But the main trio had a greater secret even than that: they were once Powereds, people with incredible power and no ability to control it at all, and underwent a shady procedure which miraculously bestowed upon them the ability to control their powers, turning them into Supers, like the rest of their classmates.

Why: this is a lot more grounded than other stories in the genre, I think. It's like bnha if it was good/Horikoshi had coherent worldbuilding and characterisation. It is one of hayes' earlier works, so writing quality wise its not up to the same standards as most of what I've recommended so far, with some… weird terminology around gender (it was originally written in the late oughts/published early 2010s, so uh. to be expected) but is very respectful of gays imo? I can think of one instance that could be classified as homophobia. Its interesting. That said, the plot is really fun and the action and interactions engaging and often funny. Its kinda chunky (a little longer than tlt or mistborn, but not as big as stormlight), but you'll greatly enjoy it. It also as a spinoff novel called corpies which follows one of the more infamous characters from the main series, who got caught up in a scandal when his family-man heroic image was destroyed after he got caught fucking a guy. He's long since accepted himself and developed a strong confidence with his gay identity, but now he needs to restore the public's faith and trust in him after a decade long hiatus from heroism. He accidentally becomes a dad to four heroic rescue young adults, even while his own kids want nothing to do with him for basically abandoning them.

Some other series by Hayes I read which were written later and therefore a massive leap in quality:

Spells, Swords and Stealth Genre: TTRPG/DND esque fantasy Summary: For the people who sit down together with character sheets, minifigs and dice, SSS is just a tabletop RPG game. Its fun, but has no consequence on real life, and it ends when the session does.

For the NPCS, the background characters who live in the world, this is very much real life. it's well known that adventurers play by different rules, because the world interacts differently with them and they have a strange interaction with the world and people around them. But when a band of adventurers fail their CON-save and die in a tavern, the poor NPC's they croaked in front of know that the murderhobo king will have the heads of everyone in the village if these adventurers don't answer his summons. So, they don the adventurers gear and weapons, and prepare to answer those summons themselves and save their village, even though they have no idea what they're doing and its very important no one learns they're not real adventurers.

it's all fun and games until the world starts treating them like real adventurers, and they find a magical artifact that makes things very fucking weird for the poor SSS party's players as they try to follow a similar module.

Why: This is a fun novel which plays well with typical tropes and stereotypes in TTRPGs and flips them on their head. Surprisingly sincere, a refreshing and fun take on these kinds of stories. Its got a cool dual narrative between the NPCS, for whom this is real life, and actual players for whom this is just a game. it pokes fun at the pet peeves in TTRPG (incl: bad players) and is touching and fun. it's got found family, answering the call, and stepping up to responsibility. All the character arcs as well are beautiful.

Villain's Code Genre: Superhero Fiction Summary: Tori Rivas is a villain and a crook. Sure, she can turn into living fire, but she's really dangerous because she's damn clever and innovative. But when a job to break into a billionaire's secret vault goes awry and she's caught, she's suddenly thrown into the pond where big fishes swim, and learning she's just a rookie. if Tori is to survive, she must learn teh ways of the Villain's Guild, how to be a real villain and not just a criminal, and how to abide by the Code and make heroes dance to her tune. By day, she lives with her boring 'uncle' and works a corporate deskjob, trying to build the most boring uninteresting life to anyone who may look two seconds her way. by night, she's the apprentice to one of the most imfamous and deadly villains who ever lived, and undergoes trials with her fellow apprentices to prove they have what it takes. They either come out the other end heroes, cunning and skilled, or they come out in a casket. There's no in between.

And behind the scenes, greater evil stirs to shake up the relationship between heroism and villainy forever.

Why: NOT set in the SP world, this takes on the dynamic and place of heroism in a very different way. It also makes the relationship between heroism and villainy symbiotic and sustainable in its worldbuilding, and makes it easy to root for both sides. Tori is delightful, aroace coded, and resourceful. She's also willful, antagonistic, and hurting deep inside. the cast is delightful, as always. Hayes does a much better job of playing with tropes and characterisations here than he did in SP. There's little I can say that won't have me sounding like a broken record, but this is a very well crafted and fun story, that puts a lot of thought into the worldbuilding and people it would take for sueprhero fiction to actually like. Work. Its great

Renegades by Marissa Meyer Genre: Superhero fiction, YA Summary: Nova Artino is a villain, niece of the supervillain Ace Anarchy, who imfamously brought about the age of anarchy that destroyed society as we once knew it and freed progedies from the discrimination, censure and oppression they had faced from 'normal' people for centuries; but more importantly, he was Nova's hero. He saved her when the Renegade vigilante-heroes didnt. He gave her a home and a new family when the Renegades let thugs kill her parents and her sister. But he died, when the renegades killed him and destroyed the freedom he once sought.

Now, years later, the remaining anarchists/villains live in hiding and squalor underground, while the Renegades have 'restored' society to a new pristine age. A superhero police force known maintains order and justice in Gatlan city, headed by a counsel of the original vigilante-heros/Renegades, and Nova is going to bring them down from the inside.

Why: Same author as the Lunar Chronicles, it's YA but from what I remember, surprisingly well written! I remember enjoying this a lot. I mostly bring it up because it's similar to VC in that the main character is a villain. The romance is really sweet, with a lot of rep, iirc. I haven't been obsessed with it for a while now, but there were a good few years where it (and TLC) were all I could think about.

Now for the standalones:

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir Genre: Science Fiction Summery: Ryland Grace is your average guy; a middle school science teacher who says shit like "holy moly" and "crap" unironically, is a dork, and a nerd. He's not especially talented in any area outside of science, and he is certainly not qualified to be an astronaut on a last-ditch mission to save humanity from an apocalypse.

But that's what he's doing, because he's one of the few people who can. There's an alien algae eating the sun and its heat, and if he does not find a way to stop it and get that info back to earth soon, then the world is doomed to an enduring ice age that will kill like. Everyone.

And he's the only one who survived the trip, and he does not remember who he is, or why he's there (at first). He's far, far away from home, his mission seems impossible, and there may be more alien life out there.

his mission is impossible, suicidal, and now he has to do it alone.

or does he/it is?

Why: okay despite the summary this story is INCREDIBLY light hearted and has platonic soulmates (my beloved). I would fucking die for Ryland and his deuteragonist. One of my friends (a bio major) recently read it and had a blast. the science holds, but it's super accessible to my dumb ass who barely passed physics and always hated biology. Both of us keep quoting most of the book to each other. its do fun and delightful.

Martian by Andy Weir Genre: science fiction Summary, straight from goodreads: Six days ago, astronaut Mark Watney became one of the first people to walk on Mars.

Now, he’s sure he’ll be the first person to die there.

After a dust storm nearly kills him and forces his crew to evacuate while thinking him dead, Mark finds himself stranded and completely alone with no way to even signal Earth that he’s alive—and even if he could get word out, his supplies would be gone long before a rescue could arrive.

Chances are, though, he won’t have time to starve to death. The damaged machinery, unforgiving environment, or plain-old “human error” are much more likely to kill him first.

But Mark isn’t ready to give up yet. Drawing on his ingenuity, his engineering skills — and a relentless, dogged refusal to quit — he steadfastly confronts one seemingly insurmountable obstacle after the next. Will his resourcefulness be enough to overcome the impossible odds against him?

Why: Like the last Weir Novel above, this is just so much fun. rather than golden retriever energy, Mark has a sense of fatalistic humor that is so in line with our generations humor. He's brilliant and funny, and also a fucking dumbass. Again, the science is really accessible (featuring quotes such as: "Problem is (follow me closely here, the science is pretty complicated), if I cut a hole in the Hab, the air won't stay inside anymore."). Mark is a relatable mood from page one until the very freaking last.

Technically you started it by Lana Wood Johnson Genre: idk, contemporary fiction? Queer YA Summary: Classic mistaken identity story. It's told through the text history between Haley Hancock and Martin Nathaniel Munroe II, except inexplicably there are two martins who share the same damn name (down to the "II") and are cousins, and Haley thinks she's talking to the one she doesn't hate. What starts as a question about a class project rapidly evolves into a dear friendship between the two teenagers, but by the time Martin realizes Haley thinks he's his cousin, it's too late to back out of the rouse now. Haley is the first person to really see Martin for who he is, to understand and offer him kindness for all the 'uncool' parts of himself, and Martin is the first person to really listen to Haley, the first friend who actually puts their money where their mouth is when they say they care about her. But their friendship remains a secret and online, because Haley is too awkward to be friends in real life and Martin doesn't want to ruin what they have, because Drama and rumors swirl around their social circle, and an online friendship feels more real and is just easier. until they can't keep it online anymore.

Why: I've read this so many times I know it almost by heart. It's not high fiction, its a true YA in its simplicity, but its comforting and easy to read. I love Haley and martin's relationship, he's so sweet and she's relatable and neither of them are annoying (to read). Haley is demisexual, and Martin is bi, and their slowburn romance is wonderful.

The Floating Islands by Rachel Neumeier Genre: Fantasy Summery: It's about Trei, a newly orphaned boy from the mainland empire. When his family dies in a tragic disaster, he must search out his distant relatives in more distant lands: The Floating Islands, kept a loft by dragon-magic, and defended by the kajurai - islanders who've taken dragon magic into themselves and soar the skies with wings. Trei is instantly sky-mad, and desperate to be kajurai himself. His fellow acolytes are rightfully weary of him, as the Empire creeps ever closer to their island and the threat of invasion is imminent, but trei is determined to prove himself to the Kajurai.

His cousin, Araene, is the only person who understands his passion. She too is denied her dream because of who she is, but she is determined to seek it out no matter the cost. But when tragedy strikes and she's left adrift in the world, she don's boys clothes and a boy's idenity and throws herself into a world of magic more immediate than that of the dragons, and makes a discovery which may save the islands after all.

The cousins' lives are more intertwined than they know, and the fate of the islands rests upon their shoulders

Why: This is a novel I read several times several years ago, and one which I hold a permanent fondness for. I really enjoyed the magic system and found the worldbuilding interesting. Plus, I am a sucker for people who can fly/have wings and dragon. Sue me.

Hunted by Megan Spooner Genre: Fantasy YA Summary: fairytale retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Not half bad honestly. Yeva's the daughter of a hunter; the only one who hears the call for the world in her veins. When her father goes mad and rushes to the forest to hunt a beast, and goes missing, Yeva ignores her sisters protests and sets out to find him, and finds the Beast instead. Kept captive by the beast in an enchanted forest, she's determined to kill him for revenge.

Except, there seems to be something more going on, beneath the surface.

Why: Most of the YA recs I'm giving do not fall into the typical booktop trappings. They're all well written and not just a tropes with no substance or depth, nor are they vehicles for smut. Hunted is the most 'typically' YA of my recs, but its surprisingly good. It's a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, and well done too. It's actually compelling, and I didn't get annoyed with it at all! Always worth a shot imo. Not an obsession, but I do return to it for a bit of light reading

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik Genre: Historical Fantasy, Fairytale fantasy Summary: it's about three young women who spend most of the book either trying to escape marriage, or kill their husbands, and you root for them all the way.

to copy the Goodreads summary: Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her father’s inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty—until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk—grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh—Miryem’s fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love.

Why: I actually really enjoyed this one, more than I enjoyed Novik's other novel uprooted. It is technically YA, but doesn't feel like it. It has an enthralling narration style, and I love the different storylines and characters. There was not a single POV I dreaded reading. All the characters are treated with respect by the narrative/author, in regards to their education, religion, ethnicity and place in society. It's great

Okay I have been here for ages and my hands are cold. Hope one of these are of interest to you! They're more generic/taken from another rec post I made for someone else, because I don't know what about AFTG caught your interest.

Also, as an honourable mention: The Heaven's Vault game by Inkle on steam is great. It's a story-focused game, and you explore a (beautiful) nebula and visit once-inhabited moons/astroids to collect artifacts and piece together the story of the ancient past. The puzzle system is based around translating the Ancient language, and its so fun. I'm a linguistics major so this has me in a death grip. I also bought the books (same title, subtitled The Loop and the Vault by Jon Ingold) which is a novellisation of the game, and really good! I recommend it :)

please tell me about yalls hyperfixations aside from aftg pls ramble to me i need more media to obsess over and something new to get into i'm so bored and will check anything out

[1-ufo]

,

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

went to mexico yesterday to visit my grandpa's tomb for day of the dead. only the second time I've visited him since he died in may. not really used to having a dead™ to visit but now I'm home and I got mexican hot chocolate and I'm cuddled up with a mug and life is good. for now life is good 🥹

[cherry-shipping]

oh also i didnt specify but while that last post is true for all versions of papyrus i was especially thinking about horrortale. because of their past making and sharing food and making sure the people you love are well fed is such a huge huge huge important thing 4 them so it matters even more that i eat regularly

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo likes when you trace and touch his scars

For a guy that constantly hates when people touch him ,he sure as hell doesn’t mind when you touch and rub around his marks on his right arm.

He’s not even left handed but he takes the sacrifice and struggles to use his left to text or write whenever you come beside him and poke and rub against his bicep. He’s sensitive on some areas even 8 years later, but he loves the warm comfort you bring when you do so.

Sometimes you don’t even realize you’re doing it, your chubby cheek mashed against his arm, cuddled up by him like a cat and rubbing it up and down as you watch a show, he glances down at you and can’t help but feel his cheeks warm. You give this man cute aggression.

Some days you sneak in a few kisses on his hand. Though it’s scarred it’s never calloused, still soft and warm, it took some time for Bakugo to even get used to your clingyness, and you respected it. In the beginning, Every once in a while you’d ask “May I touch you?” Which, he’d never admit to but he appreciated your asking heavily, not a lot of people respect his boundaries to NOT touching him, but you always did.

Eventually he just told you ,”touch me whereever you want.” In his aggressive way, but you took heed and did so.

After finally getting comfortable you couldn’t stop touching and kissing him.

His skin was soft, he smelled amazing, and he always made you feel so safe. Just like he is now;

The snow is falling, the fire is burning, and it’s his day off, you’re laying beside him on the cozy big couch not even paying attention to the show but his arm and face, giving it little kisses and gentle touches, Bakugo humming every once in a while when you touch a soft spot on him. He doesn’t mind it all, he’s watching you through his phone, recording you lost in your own world of fascination with his skin—-because of course he has a staring problem just like how you have a touching problem.

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I’m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. vaginal penetration. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”