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pers1st · 1 month

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JUST A SPARK... PROLOGUE - leah williamson

it's never quite as it seems

warnings: death, grief, this is pretty angst tbh

master list / next chapter

It rained again. Ever since you had moved to England, the weather seemed to taunt you for leaving the country you actually considered to be your home. Your nonna, your mamma, and even your Dad stayed behind in Italy, and just like that, every dream of what England should’ve been was crushed between your tight fists. It rained. Every single day that you had lived in England, it rained. Today was the tiniest bit better than what yesterday’s clouds had provided. Instead of furious down-pouring that almost silenced your every thought and made the pitches impossible to train on, the water was splashing from the sky rhythmically, staining your windows as it peacefully dropped.

You were sitting on your couch, a mug of tea in your hand that you found oddly comically typically English, watching as the weather let you down once again. You missed Italy then, more than you usually did. Dreams of your summers spent in Tuscany, sitting on the terrace with your friends, sipping on a pearly white wine as the birds breezed past you cascaded in your mind as you stared out of the large, rain-stained window of your living room. Reaching for your phone, you huffed, realizing the closest you could come to being back home was a phone call. Although it wouldn’t be enough, it would certainly have to do.

The first sign that something was wrong was the way the ringing of your phone wouldn’t stop for far too long. There was very little time difference from England to Italy, and if it was an hour earlier, you would have believed your parents would’ve laid down for their daily nap, but it was almost six in the evening and there was no way they weren’t awake right now. When the call was finally picked up, the second sign hit you like a truck. Instead of your mamma’s sweet voice, you could hear a total mess unfolding, a sob ringing through the line, a dish being thrown to the floor.

“Mamma? Mamma, cosa non va?” (What’s wrong?), you asked, panic striking your tone as you sat up, gently disposing the mug of tea to the very edge 0f your couch table.

“Mamma?”, you repeated as any clue of what was going on was still withheld from you.

“Morto. É morto” (Dead. He’s dead), your mother cried, and at once, the oddly comically typically empty English mug fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

The flight back to Italy was painfully silent. You didn’t allow yourself to listen to music, too scared to listen to anything just in case you forgot your father’s voice. Your train of thoughts was absolute nonsense, to put it into harsher words, but it didn’t matter to you.

After speaking to both Emma Hayes and other officials of the club, most of whom you had never met, you had voiced the will of your mother to be buried in Italy rather than in London, where he had been born, and had taken the next flight out to your home country, ignoring the protests of men who had never truly known your father, claiming they wanted to come with you. You knew, however, that your father wished for more. The legacy he held at Chelsea wasn’t unknown, but you knew that none of the men in suits had ever mattered to him, and that none of them would have known him truly. It was quite ironic- the fact that you were defaming the very club that had raised not only you but your father as well, and that he had only left behind once you had been old enough to live on your own, and watched as your family moved back into the country you so desperately longed for.

Being back, now, felt like a slap to the face. Your mamma was still inconsolable, although your nonna tried her best to pick the broken pieces from the floor and hold them together just to take another weight off your shoulders. No twenty-three year old should watch as their father was buried, but life was not fair and you had no way to deal with it other than to just deal with it. Silent tears crept down your cheeks as you listened to Father Marcus tell anecdotes of your father’s life, and of his career, and you wondered whether he would’ve liked to be buried nearer to his own home. Italy had always been your mamma’s, but after witnessing the agonizing love between your parents for a time that felt far too short now, you figured that he would want to be wherever she was. The cemetery was only a five-minute walk from your parents’ casa, but it was a three hour flight from your flat.

Still, the walk felt painfully long as you followed most of your parents’ friends to your childhood home, and rain began to softly splatter from the sky as you trotted among the crowd. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t fight it, rather grateful that anyone was unable to tell whether your cheeks were wet with the rain or stained by your tears. You wondered whether this was your Dad telling you to get your act together. It certainly seemed like something he would do, and the thought put the faintest of smiles on your lips. Afraid to seem like a mad woman to the rest of the grieving crowd, you slipped past Father Marcus, away from the procession, as you fiddled your phone out of the pocket of your coat, watching as rain wet the screen.

Another smile crept up on your face at the multiple messages you had received over just the past few hours you had neglected your phone.

Most of your Chelsea teammates were sending you their wishes, along with Emma, but what interested you most was a missed call from an unknown number. An unknown English number.

Silently, you glanced towards the front of the procession, seeing they had almost reached their destination as you found your mamma at the very front, weeping in your nonna’s arms. You should be there, right now, with her, but you simply couldn’t.

Instead, you reached to call the number back. The other line picked up surprisingly fast.

“Hello, Y/N. I was hoping you would call me back. I hope it’s an okay time for you”, a woman on the other line spoke. Furrowing your eyebrows, you nodded, forgetting that whoever it was couldn’t see your movements.

“Oh, sí. Yes, it’s a perfect time, actually?”

“Really? Because I was informed by your club that you were… back in Italy. For…”, the woman trailed away, and you exhaled shakily.

“No, no, it’s okay. I just saw your call, so…”, you tapped your foot against the wet pavement rhythmically, eager to know who you were speaking to.

“Well, it’s Sarina Wiegman here, I’m sorry. I should’ve started with that. Anyways, I was wondering whether you would be interested to join the Lionesses for the Arnold Clark Cup, this year. I know of your circumstances right now, so I don’t need an answer right away.”

You let out a shaky exhale at her words. You had always thought about playing for England, as you had joined both their youth teams as well as Italy’s, while you had still played in the country. They had offered you a place in their senior team far earlier than England had, and although you couldn’t have been sure whether England would ever offer, you had always held out for something. For what, you didn’t know. Although now, it suddenly seemed to make sense.

Your father had played for England, had even captained his country for a short while, and although you had always dreamed of playing for Italy when you were younger, infatuated with their men’s team’s success, much to your father’s dismay, you had not agreed yet. The reason only came to you now. And suddenly, it was so painfully clear.

“Yes, yes. I would really like that”, you smiled to yourself, glancing up at the cloudy sky to clear your teary vision. It didn’t help in the slightest.

“Great! The call-up will be published tomorrow, we’ll send you all the details in an email. I look forward to seeing you in camp!”, your manager cheered, and although it tasted bitter-sweetly in your mouth, you voiced your excitement as well before hanging up the call.

You would play for your father’s country, if all went to plan. You would finally step into his footsteps. You would continue his legacy, whether you really wanted to or not.

#woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #leah williamson oneshot #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal #chelsea women #chelsea fc #chelsea wfc

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hotvintagepoll · 25 days

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Propaganda

Joan Crawford (Dancing Lady, Mildred Pierce, The Women)— God, where do I start!!! Her face is so UNIQUE and compelling and stands out so much. I love her thick brows and high cheekbones. She has a school-marmy hardness too her that makes her a little scary and therefore sexy. Her low thick voice also does it for me. Despite being an unusual looking woman with an unusual face, she never loses her glamour. Just a gorgeous talented actress, AND she was some sort of gay!!!

Priscilla Lane (Arsenic and Old Lace, Saboteur, The Roaring Twenties)— I see Priscilla Lane in Arsenic and Old Lace every year during my Halloween rewatch, and I always love watching her. She had a rubber-face for comedy, while still looking adorable no matter what funny face she’s making. She seems to have had a slightly fuller mouth than was the thin-lipped vogue at the time, and every time she pouts at her forgetful new husband, she looks so gosh-darn kissable that you understand completely why Cary Grant is so wild to get her on the train to Niagra for crazy honeymoon sex. No wonder this movie nearly got Hayes coded for the newlyweds being too hot for each other.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Joan Crawford:

I just love women that are very mean.

she was a smoke show in every decade, from the 20s to the 60s.

The classic matronly beauty with amazing eyebrows

of course there's a space for MILF joan but i want to just take a second and say she was so cute in her early movies (like grand hotel and the women)! those parts often get forgotten but her stardom shines in them just as much as in her older #queen #icon roles

Misremembered for wire hanger hatred, this original screen queen mastered the art of the comeback and refused to let Hollywood toss her aside as she aged. The term “auteur” is usually revered for directors or writer-directors, but most critics have one actor they’ll give that title to as well: Crawford—anyone who knows classic movies already has a “Crawford picture” in their head. She knew how to style herself and promote herself. She made herself a star and kept herself fixated in the Hollywood firmament. What’s hotter than knowing just how hot you are?

(don’t think about Mommie Dearest right now) Joan was known for being super nice to all the like crew of the movies she worked on and she’d get everyone gifts. Joan would hold movie nights at her house and knit at the back of her home theater. Joan was sooo obsessed with other women including Greta Garbo, whos dressing room she would obsessively and purposefully walk by. She said that while working on Grand Hotel, Garbo grabbed her face and “if there ever was a time in my life where I would’ve been a lesbian, that was it.” But like Joan also probably did sleep with women including Barbara Stanwyck. Joan was so obsessed with Bette Davis, screening multiple movies of hers in a day at her watch party, constantly trying to spend time with her or do a movie together, insisting on the dressing room next to hers at Warners and sending her daily gifts… etc. Once Bette said that sex was gods joke to humanity and Joan said “I think the joke is on her.” Joan fucked a lot. Joan got caught publicly fucking a man and sent a letter to the woman who saw them basically saying “I bet it excited you” and the woman was like you know what. It did. Joan was best friends with a gay man. Joan was an actually genuinely good actress even though people mocked her a lot for being like cheap and stupid (partially because she never finished school because her family was broke). Joan was so insane and so cool that’s all.

Priscilla Lane:

#priscilla lane #joan crawford #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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phantomtrader19 · 1 month

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AUDIO GIFT - Chumisa’s 3rd show!

Cast - Jon Robyns, Chumisa Dornford-May (alt), Joe Griffiths-Brown, Lily De-La Haye (u/s), Matt Harrop, Adam Linstead, Francesca Ellis, David Kristopher-Brown, Maiya Hikasa

***Phantomtrader19’s master***

March 16, 2024 evening

Notes - Chumisa’s 3rd show after debuting the night before and then doing the 2 Saturday shows!

- audio is slightly quiet due to my scarf falling on top of my phone!

#phantomoftheopera #poto #poto london #phantom of the opera #poto west end revival #chumisa dornford may #christine alternate #poto audio #audio gift

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5eraphim · 1 year

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You mentioned in the past that you thought yandere medic would be okay with sharing y/n with another person. How do you think that would go? maybe with heavy, since they’re so close? (If you aren’t doing request rn feel free to ignore this <3 have a good day )

anon,, my sweet beloved and treasured above all loving sentiment, if only you knew how long I've awaited this very ask....

I teased this idea way back (here, the first part obvi.). I've gone back and forth about going for it and writing out the prompt in full, as I think it would be very, very... enticing, and another one of those things I would love to read which must unfortunately start with a blank word doc. I wound up writing this to be rather light-hearted, but if anyone wants to see this scenario played out a bit darker, I'm open to the request!

But additionally, I know myself well enough as a person, and didn't really want to go through all that effort unless if was for a request, or unless I knew it would be for me and at least one other reader, because it feels only natural a multiple character x reader one shot should be long enough to give each character a decent enough feature, thus will (safe to say) always be much longer, and take much longer to write, than a regular x character oneshot. (If that makes any sense?) Anyhow, that's all to say, thank you, thank you, thank you ever so kindly for the ask, I really hope you enjoy how this came out, it was a pleasure to write. <3

Characters: The Heavy 🐻 and The Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Summary: Drunkenness and tenderness between comrades lowers inhibitions, let's hope your ambitions will rise to compensate.

Rating: X (MINORS DNI, YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T FOR YOU)

Content Warnings: AFAB reader, smut, three way, oral (female receiving), first time, size difference, slight intoxication, dubcon (nothing too intense, but for the sake of intoxication/slight coercion), heavymedic sandwich.

Word Count: 4.5k

MASTER POST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo: Delicate Weapon- Grimes)

"when I say eat me, I mean suck the bones clean, leave nothing for the waiting, leave nothing for the vultures, or the travelers to come." “vivisection (you’re going to break my heart)” by Marty McConnell from The Best American Poetry 2014, edited by Terrance Hayes and David Lehman.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. So while the work bored you, the company would make it all worth it.

While the mission wasn't technically over yet, the work for the day was, and thank God for that. The job was simple enough, nothing more than a little errand run, fetching some supplies to bring back to home base, not necessarily requiring the combined efforts of you, Heavy and Medic. Still, when you were requested to accompany the two, you immediately agreed. The work bored you, but the company made it all worth it.

The road down was straightforward enough, and collecting the supplies was just as effortless, but the trip back was less so. A sudden and severe thunderstorm forced the lot of you to find a room for the night to accommodate all three of you and your cargo. Along with a few beers picked up along the way, a little treat to celebrate a hard day's work. While typically, you knew drinking on the job wasn't professional, this was a special occasion, and you knew it would be back to work once you returned home, so you might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Finding a suitable room big enough for all of you on such short notice was a miracle, but this place suited you well.

Two double-wide beds, a radio, an armchair, a couch, and a little kitchenette with an ice box to keep the beer nice and cold while you took turns changing in the bathroom out of work clothes and washing up a little. You took the initiative to contact Homebase regarding the delay.

A part of you was so tired you wanted to crawl into bed right away, but you weren't about to deny yourself a nice cold beer with friends. To your surprise, Medic sat in the armchair beside the couch while Heavy sat on the sofa, leaving the only open space to unwind next to Heavy, which you reclined comfortably into. Considering how they were practically glued to the hip most of the time, you didn't understand why they didn't sit together now. Also, you didn't like how Medic's eyes seemed to follow you across the room as you sat down next to Heavy, doing your best to keep a respectable distance between you and Heavy.

For some time, you relaxed, talking, listening to the radio, one beer turning into two, and two into two and a half as you settled more comfortably into the couch, no longer holding yourself so austerely, relaxing a little. Your head eventually resting on Heavy's shoulder, he looked at you, "Comfortable?"

You nodded, his body mass was so burly, and you could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, making you feel a little giddy. "You're too cozy- I wanna sleep right here."

"Still cold from storm? I warm you."

It wasn't a question. And without waiting for a yes, Heavy effortlessly pulled you onto his lap, sitting you sideways on top of his legs. With one arm slung over your shoulder and one under your knees, he pulled you into his lap, the overwhelming closeness feeling sudden, but he was still so temptingly warm and comfortable you didn't want to pull away.

"Feel better?"

You giggled, nodding your head as he ruffled your hair playfully, keeping one arm around your shoulders as you settled against the arm of the couch. Your eyes were closed, your head feeling all floaty as you felt his hand move from the top of your head to the side of your cheek. His hands, no longer concealed under his gloves, felt calloused but so gentle against your cheek. He moved subtly, decisively. You didn't even realize he moved your face to meet his until you felt his lips connecting against your own.

Without warning, you pulled away sharply with the awkward rigidity of a stranger. Your actions caught Heavy by surprise, allowing you to detach yourself without restriction, though you could see his confusion through wide, frightened eyes. In a moment, you were made shockingly aware of everything the alcohol so effectively blinded you to before now. It was that awkward, sinking feeling of becoming all too aware of your own body all at once, aware of the space you were taking up, of how much of your body was pressed up against the massive Russian you shared the couch with, the clammy sweat coating your palms, the tension in your joints, yet most of all the butterflies in your belly which intensified into something less than pleasant. All of this awkwardness made you feel suddenly insecure about yourself, your form, and your relation to the men around you; how could you have been so blind to this before? For goodness sake, these were your coworkers; it was your responsibility to keep things professional between the lot of you, a task you could not more thoroughly have failed at. It was humiliating to realize you folded after just a couple of drinks, even if Heavy was playing along; it all felt so wrong and too pushy. Not to mention the fact Heavy was a taken man. The truth made all the more grievous, considering his partner was sitting right there facing the two of you. While the guilt for what you'd just done made you want to hide your face in shame, it was impossible to keep from looking at Medic. However, to your surprise, he merely sat there watching the two of you, cocking his head to the side slightly, with a confusion matching Heavy's as though you were the one acting strangely here.

"Something is wrong?" Heavy inquired, his hand on your waist tightening slightly, likely in reassurance, unfortunately having the opposite effect. It felt too awkward to look Heavy in the eye or face him at this point. So instead, you kept your gaze locked on the floor before the two of you as you nervously tried to squirm your way off the larger man's lap. All to no avail, however, as Heavy's grip on you was cast iron, and you resorted to clasping your hands together on your lap, speaking as levelly as you could, using all your willpower to keep the emotions and alcohol from causing your weak voice to crack, "I'm sorry, Heavy. I think I've, um-overstepped here; I shouldn't have, y-you know… Well, I mean, I think I'll turn in now- it's so late, already…."

Your voice trailed off, and you hated how wishy-washy you sounded, betraying your will to stay strong, to appear rational and firm as any reliable comrade should.

Heavy was not convinced. "You were fine when I pulled you on my lap. Why so tired so fast?"

Forcing a nervous laugh and uncomfortable forced smile, you tried to turn to Medic for reassurance, but he stared back, eyes squinting slightly, matching Heavy's suspicion. "Must be the alcohol's catching up with me then-'' It wasn't a total lie, as you could've sworn you could feel the alcohol churning in your gut, almost taunting you, forcing you to remember just how much you'd drunk in such a short amount of time.

"Explain." Heavy looked at you and deadpanned, waiting for you to tell the truth. You tried to swallow, but your mouth felt dry.

"I mean, aren't you two-" The awkwardness melded uncomfortably with the guilt; how were you supposed to explain yourself in a situation like this? "I mean- but you two are together, aren't you?"

"And?" Heavy spoke bluntly, putting you right back on the spot. You sighed nervously, nibbling at your lower lip and turning your head to face Medic.

"I just, I-I know it's not my business, but I mean- I can't imagine you're alright with any of this-'' You thought you knew your friends well, but you never would've imagined winding up in a situation like this with the two of them. To your surprise, a smile spread across Medic's face.

"Of course I am! This was my idea, after all!" You merely blinked at him, not at all following what he meant by that.

"Huh? What do you mean, it was your idea?"

"Well…" You could see his eyes flick from you to Heavy, silently asking for some backup. Heavy's fingers began to rub comforting little circles over your waist, his other hand covering your own hands on your lap in a reassuring gesture.

"You're pretty and kind but sp shy. We thought a little experience would help." His blunt words took you completely by surprise.

"Experience?" You managed. Heavy nodded, not at all registering the shock on your face.

"What he means is-" Medic chuckled slightly, interjecting, amused watching how flustered Heavy's words made you. "We thought if we helped you with a little, let's say, physical bonding-"

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what exactly he meant by this, but he pressed on.

"Nothing too intense now- just a little intimacy to get you more accustomed."

You hated how vague he was being, but also, you'd be lying if you said you'd never thought of being in a situation like this before. Only in your wildest, most unrealistic dreams, or so you thought. The two men were handsome in their own ways, you'd known before you got to know them, but you never liked to dwell on such lewd thoughts. You always felt so guilty afterward; they were your friends after all, even if just in your thoughts, you knew it was wrong to think so lustfully of friends.

Sure, there was always a little lighthearted play-flirting occasionally, but you would never have tried anything serious with either of them. Your friendship meant too much to risk losing like that.

You felt Heavy kiss the side of your head, murmuring in a low, uncharacteristically quiet voice into your ear, "You're shy but not sneaky. I see how you look at Doctor behind his back. He says you stare at me also. Is this true?"

Your breath hitched when he began to trail his beautiful, massive hand from over your hands, snaking it up your belly until it cupped the side of your face, forcing you to focus on him and meet his eye. Heavy drank in every detail of your face before settling his eyes on your lips, waiting for you to answer, and with a trembling exhale, you spoke, "It is." Before he could wait no longer, closing the space between your mouths once again, his lips curling into a smirk just seconds before his parted lips connected with yours.

While you were still awestruck at the surrealness of the situation, you felt your reservations evaporating by the second. Finally kissing back, you allowed Heavy to deepen the kiss as he used his hand to push your head closer against his. His thumb brushed over your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin as you felt almost uncomfortably overheated. He moved slowly but so lovingly, using his tongue to dip into your mouth and taste you, sucking against your lips as you broke the kiss with hesitation, asking,

"Are you sure you want to go through with all this?" He nodded with a mellow smile as you continued, still feeling traces of nervousness clinging to you stubbornly. "I'd never forgive myself if I ruined our friendship, and I, uh-" Despite your awkwardness and hesitation, Heavy smiled at you so resolutely, so affectionately. Watching you as though you were the most beautiful person he'd ever beheld.

"I don't want to let you down here. You guys were right; I've got no real experience here… I don't know if I'll be any good at this." It was almost shameful to say out loud, but Heavy didn't even blink, playfully kissing your cheek.

"Don't think of that. It's your time to learn, not lead."

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, the feeling almost ticklish, making you stifle a giggle. "Just lay back and look pretty. You'll do perfect." He pulled away a little, his hand on your waist, tugging at your shirt a little; only then did you see how blown out his pupils were, "Will you come to bed now?"

It was time to be decisive. The abruptness of the question caught you off-guard, but you had no idea if you would ever get a chance like this again. This was your moment; it was time to act or wish you had. You swallowed your uncertainty and nodded, finally removing your hands from your lap to help Heavy pull off your shirt before reaching out to touch his own top and about to do the same. But he gave you a look that made you pause.

"This one off too? It's not too much? We only go as far as you want." As praising as he was moments ago, his firmness and evident respect for your boundaries made you feel all the more loved. You took this as your chance to try and charm him, as he did so effortlessly to you.

"The shirt off is better; I mean, I've always wanted to get a look under these clothes." The sound of Medic chuckling beside you made you realize you'd almost forgotten he was there in the first place. It felt odd knowing he was so close, though if this was all his idea all along, you wondered where he factored into all this. Pushing that thought aside, you helped Heavy remove his shirt as you curled a little closer, your head resting against his chest, your hand on his shoulder as you softly kissed his skin, nuzzling to feel the delightful feeling of skin-to-skin contact as much as you could. "Heavy, your body is so warm. You feel amazing." Your words were mumbled, quiet, and practically smothered as you spoke without moving your head much from his chest. You could feel his chest rumbling with a low laugh, and when you felt his hips gently press a little closer against your body, but you didn't shy away. You could feel he was aroused and didn't doubt he knew you were too. You felt the warmth between your legs intensifying the longer you felt Heavy's bare skin against yours, your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter, and you swore you could feel a bit of wetness from the kiss alone.

"Will you take me to bed now? Please?" The neediness gave you a bit of confidence as you looked up at Heavy, who needed no further incentive. You leaned against him for support as you both rose, your hand finding his as you two walked to the bed, laying down. At the same time, Heavy lingered for a moment overhead, distracted by the curves of your body now spread out like a banquet before him, eyes looking everywhere but your face. Then, for a second, you felt a twinge of insecurity, "I won't lie; I'm still a little scared this is gonna hurt."

Instantly, this snapped Heavy's attention back to your face as he sat beside you on the side of the bed, his hand finding yours again as he spoke, "We only go as far as you want… We can stop now if-" You didn't talk, just shook your head no, moving Heavy's hand with your own to the waist of your pants. He looked at you one last time for assurance. However, you could practically feel his hand trembling in yours with anticipation before you guided him to unbutton your pants, helping pull them off you. At the same time, you slinked out of them and your underwear, kicking them to the floor.

Even against your thigh, his hand loomed intimidatingly, the size difference so beautiful, making you shudder, wanting this man more than ever. You were so distracted by his hands you didn't even hear Medic sneaking up behind Heavy until you heard him speak. "How precious you two look~" You jolted a little in surprise, seeing Medic peering down at you from behind Heavy with narrowed eyes glazed over with lust, shamelessly checking out your nude figure, now stripped perfectly naked in front of him.

"You didn't forget about me so soon, did you?" He asked in a faux-hurt voice, "You're doing so well. Are you ready to go a little further now?"

"I am." You spoke without hesitation, the burning between your legs intensifying almost painfully as you shyly parted your thighs, feeling cool air ticking your sweaty skin as Medic walked to the foot of the bed to get a better view before you sat up a little, pushing away from the headboard as Heavy got into bed behind you.

"Heavy is here, right behind. You will be safe."

Before now, you remembered how painfully tense you felt, but at this moment, you were put at ease, comforted at last by the presence behind you, no longer so overwhelmed. How foolish you were to think your relationship with the two men had to be strictly business, how blind you were to the pleasure the two men had to offer.

"We will stop at any time-"

You cut him off with a kiss as he settled at the head of the bed, "I know I'm no good at showing it, but. I want this. I've wanted this for so long. You two mean so much to me, and I trust you."

You were about to say, 'I love you,' but you held back. You didn't have the guts to say something so bold. But you hoped Heavy, as well as Medic, understood, despite your shy quietness. There was a minute or two of moving around, Heavy moving from his spot at your bedside to get behind you; he spread his thick legs to give you space to settle between. Finally, you were lying down, your upper back and head resting on his belly, noticing the bulge in his pants as it pressed not-so-subtly into your back. Despite the lewdness of it all, you let your head fall back a little; Heavy's body felt so solid and warm behind you, it almost made you want to skip everything and just cuddle up and fall asleep already, but you knew Medic wouldn't allow such a thing.

"I'll start nice and slow, just for you." Medic's words were deceptively sweet, almost enough to hide his lustful intent. Your throat felt too dry to speak, so you merely nodded, feeling the heat in the pit of your stomach intensify at this new position. He was condescending to you, and yet you didn't even have the inner strength left to respond. Medic moved over you, his hands resting on Heavy's thighs around your head to keep you nice and caged, right where he wanted you. He could see it written all across your face; you were getting turned on being obedient like this, submitting and letting them take the lead. He leaned his body down further, enough for you to feel the rub of his pants over your naked flesh, the odd sensation making you wince as he slotted his knee between your legs, the gentle contact alone enough to make you jolt a little, startled.

"Aww, I'm sorry. Did I scare you? You must be pretty needy down there, aren't you? Did Heavy do a good job getting you warmed up?" Medic could feel your chest rising and falling rapidly as you breathe deeper. He continued, "You've masturbated before, haven't you?" The question caught you off guard. You looked at Medic with wide eyes, feeling another throb of arousal, seeing his predatory grin, one you'd seen countless times in battle but appearing like never before, given the current position. He pressed his knee a little harder against you.

"Y-yeah, I've- a lot, I guess…."

"Did you ever think of it like this? Your pussy leaking all over me while you grind against me as hard as you can?" You keened, your hips rolling against his clothed thigh, the muscle bulging distractingly beneath the thin covering. It was humiliating to have him mocking you while you were powerless to defend yourself, yet still, you wanted even more. He laughed, amused by your lack of a response, as though your brain was already succumbing so quickly to your own lust you forgot how to form whole sentences.

"Does it turn you on when I dirty-talk you like this? I bet behind that pretty face, you're even more perverted than either of us." You grit your teeth, biting back a moan.

"Medic, w-why are you keeping your pants on?" He paused momentarily at the abrupt question, looking at you with an eyebrow raised as you rushed to explain yourself. "I mean, doesn't it feel- like, weird?"

"You want to see me undressed that bad, huh?" Medic responded. Of course, he wasn't wrong, but the self-satisfied look on his face stopped you from admitting he was right.

You shook your head, "W-well, I mean, aren't you uncomfortable under all that?" He grinned, seeing right through your bluff. But, even though he knew you were lying, Medic wasn't about to press you too hard on the matter.

"You'll understand once you get more experience. But, you know, it can be just as rewarding to stay dressed, to keep control-" He paused to trail a finger from between your breasts down, just below your navel, the light sensation causing you to throb with want against his thigh. Continuing in a low, almost antagonistic tone, "While your partner is a wet, needy, naked little mess beneath you." He could not more clearly be mocking you, but something about it had quite the effect on you. Medic knew just how to push your buttons, and it was driving you crazy.

He was about to say something when Heavy's voice from behind interrupted.

"Medic, be nice. This is first time. You're embarrassing her. Don't overdo it." Thank God there was a literal angel over your shoulder to watch over you and reign in his partner.

"Perhaps, but it looks like someone's enjoying it." He was about to move his hand lower when you interrupted,

"Medic?"

He stopped his hand immediately, eyes meeting yours as you continued, "Can I get a kiss first?" You felt awkward, making such a bashful request compared to how confidently he spoke. His face softened at this, nodding before leaning closer, your hands cupping his cheeks. It felt good to be the first to deepen the kiss, your tongue flicking over his lip as his mouth parted, allowing you to get a better taste. Then, without breaking the kiss, his hand began to move down again, his thumb finding your clit quickly, causing you to moan into the kiss.

Your mind went blank with pleasure at the stimulation, his thumb rolling softly over your clit as his other fingers deftly traced the exterior of your sex, collecting the abundant moisture and spreading it over the entrance while you throbbed beneath his fingertips. You felt an almost painful burning feeling as his fingers moved faster, lips working in rhythm against your mouth; far better than any fantasy you'd felt before.

Medic broke the kiss, "Do you want me to use my mouth? Are you ready for that?"

Without waiting, you nodded, "Please! It feels so good- please, please don't stop!"

"Just wait another moment- need to make sure you're ready," Medic spoke in a sweet, gentle voice, so sickeningly sweet you could practically feel your heartthrob. He pushed two fingers inside, and you couldn't help but buck forwards at the contact. Making Medic hum in satisfaction at your reaction. You could vaguely hear him chiding you for your impatience, but you were beyond caring at this point, and when you felt him tracing painfully slow little circles around your entrance, you whined out loud in annoyance.

"Will you stop teasing already and get on with it- Fuck!"

Medic looked genuinely shocked momentarily at how bold you were, but it didn't deter him. Instead, without waiting for another moment, he dove his face between your legs as you unconsciously spread your legs further for him, leaning back against Heavy for support, arching your back, feeling his hands on your shoulders to keep you steady; it wasn't long until you felt Medic's hands just above your knees, his breath fanning against your pussy.

But far be it from Medic to let you off so quickly, and you groaned out loud as you felt his tongue moving, intentionally moving up and around your clit, but refusing to make contact. You were dangerously close to digging your fingernails directly into Heavy's thighs. But you forced yourself to move one hand to the top of Medic's head, your fingers clutching his hair, trying to guide him into place while you ground against his face. When you finally felt his lips connecting with your clit you were practically sobbing with bliss, the feeling intensifying as he began to suckle against the swollen bundle of nerves.

"More, more- Oh God, please- More!" You were getting louder than you intended, but fortunately, the radio likely kept anyone from overhearing any of this, but you only got louder as he began to suck harder. His tongue lapped upwards, swirling against your clit, as he moaned into you, swallowing as much as he could. You felt feral. Like you were burning hot on the inside, but Medic kept tempo without issue. Finally, you could feel your climax coming on, rolling your hips even harder, unintentionally pulling his hair just as fiercely. Still, if he was bothered by this, he didn't say anything, slurping contently as you finally felt the end coming on. And you trembled, feeling your body awash in ecstasy as you succumbed to the blinding pleasure between your legs.

It was an embarrassingly long time until you managed to catch your breath, the gap in experience between you and them becoming painfully obvious once again. Your throat felt so dry and scratchy from your heavy breathing and moaning, much like a scorched throat from pushing yourself in physical training. Though other than that, you were in a situation unlike any you'd known before. Naked, slick with your own sweat, your mind still tipsy and unstable from your orgasm.

You could feel Heavy's hand petting at your hair from behind, and you couldn't help but swoon, feeling so supported and intimate with him after such a perverse moment. "You look so pretty when you come." There was an edge in his voice, and you thought he was indirectly asking if you wanted to go again, but you were too tired, too used up to think about doing this all over again. You didn't know how to respond; thankfully, Medic spoke first.

"It would be a shame if we kept this a 'one-time-thing,' wouldn't you agree?" And you felt your headrush, this evening felt too good to be true, nothing less than a dream come to life, but the promise of more was all the better. Nodding, you focused your gaze on Medic as he moved from between your legs; you responded, "So long as it's ok with you, I'd never want to come between things-"

You felt like a rag doll, limp and being pulled lifelessly by the other two, Medic facing you, arms around your back, pulling you into his chest. "Don't worry about it; you're the one with much more to learn here." You felt Heavy's enormous arm pull the both of you tighter into his chest. And at this moment, sandwiched between the warm bodies of two men you cared more about than anyone else in the world, you prayed the night would never end.

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suzannahnatters · 1 year

Text

Subplot Romance

Over the years I've created some twitter threads on writing and history and I've decided it's a good time to start compiling and sharing them on this Tumblr. I'm going to tag them "writing".

Here's what I've learned about writing subplot romance. (People who write genre romance probably already know this stuff. It's those of us who are mainly leavening romantic subplots into fantasy novels that need this info).

1. Romance = fundamentally character-driven. All internal conflict & internal growth. (Can these two trust each other? Will their character flaws drive them apart?) The more study you put into creating characters and building character arcs, the better your romantic writing.

A romance arc is not the SAME as a character arc, but it 100% NEEDS solid character work undergirding it.

2. Romance needs two ingredients: a compelling reason for the characters to be TOGETHER, & a compelling reason for them to be APART. This forms the conflict in the romance so do not skimp on either.

Eg, a common mistake in male-penned stories: female lead has no compelling reason to want male lead. "He's a good-looking warrior dedicated to winning her throne!" Yeah nah, she's literally surrounded by good-looking warriors dedicated to winning her throne, why's he different?

3. Romance needs chemistry = a believable spark of attraction. Something that blew my mind when I realised it: romantic chemistry =/= sexual chemistry. Sexual chemistry (purely physical attraction) is simply PART of romantic chemistry.

Romantic chemistry is a good deal broader. (Read/watch some good romances to see how chemistry is built by different storytellers. One fave of mine is the Romola Garai EMMA. Peerless friends-to-lovers chemistry. Watch the actors' body language; the way they gravitate to each other; the way their faces light up)

Chemistry tip A: if the driver behind sexual chemistry is lust, the driver behind romantic chemistry is trust. Protag needs/wants someone to trust. It's the way you play with trust/distrust that will create romantic tension.

eg: love interest holds protag's hand. With sexual chemistry, protag simply feels a jolt at the contact. With romantic chemistry, protag feels comforted and trustful - then betrayed when it turns out LI is tracking her pulse to see if she's lying to him (see: MISS SHARP 😇)

Chemistry tip B: if protag is falling for someone, that person should occupy their mind. LI should be mentioned/thought of each scene, even when absent. When present: LI consistently provokes unaccustomed emotion - either positive or negative, depending.

Chemistry tip C: make the characters their best/most lovable/most iconic selves when with each other. Quirkiness, smarts, hilarity. Make these the most fun character scenes in the book & the audience will ship them. Passionately.

4. Build romantic chemistry/attraction through escalating moments of trust and tension. If aiming for happily-ever-after(HEA)/for-now(HFN), then the overall arc is towards greater trust, but you need those moments of tension to give the big payoff scenes appropriate catharsis.

OTOH, if you're writing a tragic/backstabby romance, you need the trust/comfort moments in order to sell the big tragedy/betrayal.

5. Trust, comfort, & happiness are POWERFUL. This is what genre romance thrives upon. Even in dark/spiky stories, the most surprising thing in the story can be the moment when the LI DOESN'T betray the protag. That too can be wildly cathartic. Use it.

6. Just as character-driven skills help you with romance, so if you master romantic writing, you'll be better able to write ALL types of relationship - platonic, friendly, hostile.

OK that's all so far. Two book recs: ROMANCING THE BEAT by Gwen Hayes & THE HEROINE'S JOURNEY by Gail Carriger teach you the rules/expectations of genre romance so you'll know what the rules are for a happy romance subplot & how to break them for a tragic version.

#Writing #writing romance #Miss Sharp's Monsters #Romancing the beat #Gwen Hayes #The heroine's journey #Gail Carriger #romance tropes #writing tip

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bravo4iscool · 4 months

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Hey hey, I'd like to give an idea!!

I know that a lot of people actually focus on ghost x reader stuff, AND THAT'S OK, but I've been thinking about some content of reader actually being Simon's kid or something. Because I only find content similar to it in very weird accounts that somehow turn those into incest fanfics, and it gives me the ick.

I'll understand if you just ignore this or not feel like writing it, I just felt like I wanted to bring this idea up because, well, why not.

I LOVE THIS!!! thank you so much for trusting me with this! i’ll try my best hahaha.

i love simon’s!kid fanfics and all those incest fics really are the bane of my existence😭. how tf do you come up with stuff like that lmao?

anyways, since you weren’t specific with the type of fic you want i’m gonna turn this into a (toxic!)singledad!simon!AU🫣

for this i’m taking inspiration from my favourite series ‘seal team’ and its main character the navy seal master chief jason hayes.

he (jason) has two children (one daughter and one son) and is anything but a perfect father. he tried to be better after his ex wive’s death but, well…

but i don’t wanna talk too much, let’s go🫣

readers nickname is nugget btw and they have a younger brother named jacob :)

(i hope you like this, i tried my best😭)

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

You sigh and shrug off your jacket. You’re drenched in water, a little puddle forming where you stand. You shiver and pull off your shoes with a grunt, hoping that you didn’t alert your dad.

“Hey Nugget.” You grimace when you hear your dad’s voice. You didn’t want him to notice you.

“Hi dad,” you quickly greet him, trying to squish past him but he grabs your arm, holding you back. You take a deep breath before you look at him. The sooner this was over the better.

“Why are your clothes wet?” he wants to know, looking you up and down, frowning at you.

“It’s raining outside,” you drily remark, clearing your throat when he hits you with a sharp gaze. You sigh, “You were meant to pick me up but you didn’t show up, okay? All my friends were gone and I needed to walk home.”

His grip around your arm weakens and he frowns at you again. “What do you mean, I was supposed to pick you up?”

“The way I said it. You told me you’d pick me up but you didn’t show.” You shrug. “It’s nothing new, no? Now, can I please go to my room? I’d like to change.” You wait for his answer but you get none. He only lets go of your arm, watching after you when you leave.

You peek into your brothers room before you walk into your bathroom and check after him. “Hey Josy. Have you eaten already?” you want to know, leaning against his doorframe.

He looks up from his game, smiling and shaking his head. “Nah. He came home like two hours ago. He hasn’t talked to me.”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the door frame. “Okay. I’ll quickly shower and then I’ll see what I can make. You good with that?”

“Jup,” your little brother answers, already too distracted by his video game again. You shake your head with a smile, heading towards your bathroom.

“You want something to eat?” you ask Simon when you start to rummage around in the kitchen. “Josy said he didn’t have anything so I thought about making some,” you tell him, barely waiting for your dad’s response.

But when you really don’t get one you turn around and and walk a couple steps into the living room. There you see him, peacefully sleeping on the couch, one arms dangling off the side and his mouth slightly agape.

You smile to yourself and carefully walk towards him to drape a blanket over him. You look at him for a second before you lift his head to put a pillow under it. Then you leave as quietly as you arrived.

When you call your brother for dinner you motion him to be quiet as he enters. “Dad’s asleep, I don’t want to wake him up,” you explain, setting Jacob’s plate down in front of him.

“Thanks,” he smiles, immediately digging into the food. “Y’know, you should become a chef with your cooking skills,” he smacks after some moments, nodding along to his statement.

You chuckle and shake your head. “You know that there’s no culinary school around here… Besides I can’t leave you or dad alone.”

Jacob only rolls his eyes at that, stuffing another fork of food into his mouth. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t even care about us.”

You immediately frown at your brother, holding yourself back from hardly scolding him. “Josy, don’t say that! Of course he cares about us! He’s just…” you try to find the right words to discribe your dad but, well… there was only one that came to mind. You sigh, “He’s just a bit difficult. You know his job…” You try to find excuses for his behaviour, knowing that it actually wasn’t but you didn’t want to hit your brother with the stone cold reality.

“He tries his best,” is the way you end the topic not knowing that Simon listened from the living room, his eyes filling with tears. Was he really that bad? Was he really failing that hard? Was he really so…unavailable to his children?

The next day you wake up your dad’s gone. No note, no information; he’s just gone. At first you didn’t think anything of it, he surely would be home in the evening but when he didn’t show you start to get worried.

You don’t tell Joseph about it, you keep to yourself and dial the Captains phone number. He surely could tell you where your dad was.

“Price,” he answers the phone and you let out a deep breath.

“Hi John! Is my dad with you?” you immediately ask, pacing up and down in your kitchen. “He hasn’t been home and doesn’t answer my texts or calls. I’m worried about him…” you tell the Captain, your eyes nervously darting around.

John listens to you and then tell you, “He’s not with me. We’re not due for deployment until almost two months,” he further informs you and your heart sinks.

“What do you mean, he’s not with you? Do you know where he is?” Your voice wavers and you feel your eyes starting to burn.

“I’m sorry Nugget but… I don’t know where he is…” You can hear him walking around, then he talks again. “I’ll keep my eyes out for him, okay? I’ll send someone over to you as soon as I’m finished here.”

“Oh, no no no, it’s fine. I- we don’t need someone, it’s alright,” you immediately deny, not wanting anyone else to know your dad was gone. “I’m gonna call Johnny, maybe he knows where he is. You don’t need to send someone,” you explain, chewing your nails—a habit you actually wanted to get rid of.

You can practically feel the hesitance of the Captain but after a couple seconds he agrees. “Okay. But I’ll look after you as soon as I can. I don’t want you and Joseph to be alone,” is his compromise and you can’t help but agree.

“I’ll talk to you again later, okay?” Price sighs. “Some recruit did shit and I need to fix it now.”

“Okay, yes.” You end the call, your hand wiping over your face in a state of panic. You didn’t know where your dad was, if he was okay or if he’d come back. You didn’t know how to look after yourself and Joseph, you probably needed to quit school to keep track of all the bills and-

“Where’s dad?” Joseph walks into the kitchen, headphones around his neck, munching on chips or something like that.

“He’s…at work,” you quickly lie, trying to hide you glassy eyes. “I don’t know when he’ll be back.” Jacob’s happy with that answer and opens the fridge.

“We gonna take the bus to school?” he wants to know, glancing at you.

“You’ll go alone today,” you tell him, handing him his lunch box. “I have an important appointment.”

“If you say so,” he shrugs, grabbing his backpack and leaves before you can properly say goodbye. As soon as you’re sure he left you grab your phone again and dial Johnny’s phone number.

As expected he also doesn’t know where your dad was but promises to to keep an eye out for him. Fucking hell, why did he just leave? Did someone shit in his brain or what? He’s never pulled something like that before…

Simon returns almost four months later. He didn’t know why he left. He didn’t know anything but one thing he did know was that he probably lost his children for good now…

His hands almost shake when he opens the door and he’s prepared for screaming and crying and breakdowns but when you see him your eyes widen and the mug in your hand falls to the ground.

“Dad,” you whisper and before he can even process everything you’re crashing into his arms, crying your eyes out.

“I’m sorry Nugget, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into your hair, holding you close and never wanting to let you go again.

And you’re so close to forgiving him already; almost forgetting how you needed to quit school and take a job in the sketchy diner down the road. Almost forgetting how you cried yourself to sleep every night, trying to hide the disappearance of your dad from Joseph.

Simon feels how his hands start to shake and his eyes start to burn while he’s holding you; you’re crying in his arms and he’s so close to breaking down but then Joseph walks in.

“What do you want here?” His voice is cold, his gaze hard. He doesn’t flinch when your dad let’s go of you and straightens his back to his full height.

Your dad says nothing, only looks at his son, waiting for him to continue talking. “You left,” Joseph grits out, purposefully walking towards Simon. “You left and you didn’t even have the balls to tell us why!”

He was now screaming, his face red and his voice shaking. “How dare you come back now! How dare you!”

“Josy-“ you try to calm him down but he slaps your hand away, smacking his finger into his father’s chest.

“You think it’s okay to just leave? Nugget quit school to keep us above water while you were gone!” Joseph was now throwing pathetic punches at Simon’s chest, tears brimming him his eyes. “We needed you and you just decided to be a weak fuck and quit!”

Tears were running down your little brothers cheeks as he was hitting your dad chest and you wanted to pull him into your arms arms and comfort him but you yourself were shaking, your vision blurry from already shed tears.

“I’m sorry Josy,” Simon whispered, ignoring the punches his son was throwing at him, only pulling him into his arms and holding him close. “I don’t-“ his voice breaks. “I don’t know why I left. I’m sorry…”

Joseph shakes and cries and your heart breaks again. Carefully you walk towards them both, placing your arms around your brother. “We’ll be fine Josy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his head. “We’ll be fine…”

When you were alone with your dad, once Joseph went to sleep you place a cup of tea in front of him and sit down opposite of him.

“You’ve got a lot to fix,” you tell him, your expression neutral, besides your shaking hands beneath the table. “You just…disappeared and that left its scars. Don’t think that they’ll be healed just because you came home again.”

He listens to you, nodding along and staring at his tea. “I know. And i’m keen on fixing it.” He looks up and you see his red eyes. “I’m sorry I led Nugget. I’ll make it up, okay? I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” you try to believe him but in the back of your head you’re reminded of all the times he didn’t keep his promises…

pt.2 lol?

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #call of duty #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon ghost riley #kid!reader #simon riley brainrot lol #father-child-relationship #simon’s a kinda shitty dad #but he tried his best #i promise

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theladyragnell · 4 months

Note

Hi! Happy new year 😊 It just struck me you're a voracious reader with (I think) quite a few romance novels under your belt and a talent for writing romance yourself, so I come begging a favour for the beginning of the year: if I wanted to read the most fun and indulgent and giggle-inducing romance in 2024, what would you you recommend? I'm hoping for something not only well-written, but triumphantly and unapologetically in its genre, if that makes sense. Thank you so much for taking the time to read (let alone answer!) this ask!

Oh friend, I love reading romance novels, please, buckle in, let's have some fun! You seem to be looking for the flavor that I tend to refer to as romps, as opposed to the more serious and dramatic or erotica-flavored romances, so let me give you a bit of a selection of those.

Contemporaries: Jennifer Crusie is the absolute master of banter, for all her best works are pretty old at this point! Bet Me and Faking It have aged the best in my opinion. I read Alexandria Bellefleur's The Fiancee Farce last year, and if you've ever read and enjoyed a "whoops, we have to get married for this clause in my relative's will" fanfic this one's for you. The Neighbor Favor by Kristina Forest was one of my favorite romances from last year, though it's a bit less bantery than these others. Oh! Talia Hibbert! Her Brown sisters books are a thing of beauty and a joy forever (Ravenswood is also good, but a bit more serious in tone and we're going for romps here). Jasmine Guillory is also worth a try, lots of fun if maybe a little less banter-focused. Oh! And a shoutout for two action romcoms I read this year, Partners in Crime by Alisha Rai and To Have and to Heist by Sara Desai.

Historicals: Tessa Dare loves a bantery romance, give The Duchess Deal a try on for size! Last year I read The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian, which was a joy, and I hear a lot of good about Sebastian's m/m books too, though I haven't been able to dive into them yet. Away from the romps, Mary Balogh is one of my all-time favorites (but start with her newer work, particularly the Survivors' Club series), I've been enjoying Christina Britton a lot lately, and Eva Ibbotson's books for older readers have my heart forever and always. (I feel like this section is reading less enthusiastic than the contemporaries, but it's just that I read so many historicals that it's hard to remember which book with Duke in the title stands out!) Oh! Ravishing the Heiress by Sherry Thomas somehow hits my loves perfectly, though again not a romp, I've got a rather graver taste in historicals. And Olivia Waite's sapphic historicals! The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics is the first one. And everyone recommends Courtney Milan, but The Duke Who Didn't is a true joy.

Fantasy: Fantasy romance is my genre crossover of the 2020s! It's my two favorite escapist genres mixed together, and when it hits the sweet spot it REALLY does. And my friend, I am looking you in the eyes and I am telling you to read T. Kingfisher's paladin books, starting with Paladin's Grace, if you have any interest at all in fantasy as a genre. (Fair warning: Kingfisher also writes horror, and takes great pleasure at least once per fantasy book of reminding you of that.) And now that I've given you the gateways, I'm also going to recommend you The Devotion of Delflenor by R. Cooper (it's not bantery, but I keep telling people, if you fall into my very specific sweet spot of having been in E/R fandom in 2013-2014 and having loved the Tortall books in your youth you NEED to read this, and even one or the other means you should, the pining is exquisite), The Sorceress Transcendent by Casey Blair, Olivia Atwater's Regency Faerie Tales series, and Troubled Waters by Sharon Shinn.

... Okay, you asked for one book and I gave you SO many. That is because romance has so many tones and moods and subgenres, and only you know which one is going to put the biggest smile on your face! Hopefully I have given you enough information to make the choice that is best and happiest for you.

#anonymous #answered asks #if anyone else wants some book recs for your 2024 lay your questions on me

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letsgetrowdy43 · 3 months

Text

Meet the Littlest Hughes—

I don’t know why I made this… but I got the urge to make a little intro for the babies

Au Masterlist!!

Warren Hayes Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born August 31st, 2022 in Michigan

The oldest of the three

The mature and always composed child, very much like Quinn with his competitive nature and drive, but is empathetic and kind like his mother

Follows in his father’s footsteps and plays professional hockey after playing for two years at Umich

Is like the Crosby/Bedard of his generation, his talent plus his family’s legacy put a large magnifying glass on him

He is drafted first overall in the year 2040 to the Vancouver Canucks

Becomes their Captain after three seasons with the club

Hayden James Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born April 14th, 2024 in Vancouver

Middle child, who much like Jack did not suffer with middle child syndrome

She is their wild child, think Jack but with an obsession for princess crowns

Resident daddy’s girl, she adores Quinn

She played hockey for a whole month before begging her parents to let her become a figure skater because the dresses were sparkly.

She also attends Umich, in hopes of graduating with a degree in Women and Genders studies, and then furthering her education and getting a doctorate and Masters degree so she can become a professor

Her focal of study is Women in sports, and later on in her career she becomes a spokesperson for the PWHL

Maeve Wren Hughes ೃ⁀➷

Born May 20th, 2030 in Vancouver

She and her siblings have a bigger age gap, but they adore their baby sister.

Maeve is Quinn and Honey's most unusual baby, she is their theatre baby.

They tried dance, but she because obsessed with acting and singing so they put her in some classes and watched her sing her little heart out on stage

She ends up taking a different path from her siblings and going to art school.

She ends up in New York at Columbia University School of the Arts studying for a theatre degree.

Maeve pursues her dream and ends up working on Broadway as a costume designer, and ends up marrying a New York Ranger (Jack feels very betrayed by this, but also loves her niece's husband, so he looks past it)

#thelittlesthughesau!!#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #dad!quinn hughes

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theemptyartdeco · 8 months

Text

Twin Tides (Nate Jacobs)

Summary:

Kaitlyn Arundel, a former prep school princess from New York City, was a pawn in her parents' war of a divorce, had a fire in her that was concealed by a facade of naivety and perfection.

Nate Jacobs is the king of the monsters that once haunted him, a master of control born from his own nightmares.

When their worlds collide, lines blur and reflections emerge, hinting that perhaps, they're not as different as they seem.

Materlist

Chapter 2 Calmness amidst the Storm | Kaitlyn

Warning: This chapter contains prejudice, strong pejorative language and internalized misogyny. (Both of them are deeply flawed characters, read at your own discretion.)

Kaitlyn Arundel belonged to everywhere but nowhere.

To the glamorous New York, to the exotic Beijing, to melancholic Vancouver, Kaitlyn came, breathed and lived. She didn’t mind the habitual change of scenery. Why would she ever? She adored the privilege of flying above the world, rainy wooden scent of the northwestern coast, the foreign and mysterious capital of an ancient civilization and the vibrancy and grandeur of the city where dreams were made of.

But finding herself in a Californian suburban town was something that had almost sent her over the edge of anger and despair.

“Sweet daughter, it doesn’t matter whether you are in New York or anywhere else. Diamond shines everywhere it travels to.”

“Don’t you blame it on me. It’s your father’s fault that I can’t afford your private tuitions and ballet training anymore.”

“I will be sending allowance on your card. Don’t you ever worry. It’s your mother I am punishing, not you.”

“Kaitlyn, I’ve looked into your profile, 4.2 GPA, outstanding volunteering experience. Keep your academic records as it is, you will get into college in no time.”

Getting to a college? Is the man fucking serious? I do not belong to some low life community college. I belong to an Ivy.

“Kaitlyn.”

“Ms. Arundel.”

“I’m sorry,” She adjusted her skirt, forcing the anger and tears down her throat by smiling gracefully, “Please go on.”

“As I was saying, I know transferring across half the country in the middle of your senior year may unsettling,” the principal continued, the appreciation in his voice now laced with a hint of impatience, “But I assure you, there is no need to be.”

“Thank you, Principal Hayes,” Kaitlyn nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the discreetly ostensible round pearl earring, “To hear this from you offers me great relief.”

Relief my ass.

Every step Kaitlyn took toward the AP Calculus classroom, she felt as if she were Cersei Lannister in Games of Thrones, walking down atonement among stinking peasants of King’s Landing.

Some guys with their poorly arranged shirts smirked at her way, their lustful eyes gazing under her black skirt, while a group of girls whose laughter sounded like those horrendous traffic honking in downtown New York bumped the side of her shoulder, misplacing her expensive shirt.

She peeked back at the the group of girls. Fluorescent pants, their full breasts bouncing blatantly in their tops that served to enhance their youthful sexuality.

They would’ve been sent home, she scoffed, with a slight tilt of her brows, if only this was at the Trinity.

She sat herself in the corner of the first row instead of the centre where she wished to be. She liked attention. Especially the type of attention she receives effortlessly simply by dressing, walking and smiling they way she did. But something about placing in front of twenty ish hormonal teenagers unsettled her. Most importantly, the spot offered her opportunity to observe.

The teacher went on and on about the limit of a function, a notion she had leant in junior year, Kaitlyn’s gaze wandered subtly unnoticeably. One girl was the first of her subject of observation. The makeup on her face was smoky and bold, her winged eyeliner almost reached her brows. She, like almost other girl in East Highland High, wore a short tank top revealing her belly button and petite waist. Then, at least, her eyes finally landed on her breasts, again. They were plump, her round skin rubbed against each other and the rough texture of her top. They captured her attention uncontrollably.

She felt the sensation of her tight, black, push-up bra constraining her flesh like a 19th century corset.

But she loved Victorian corsets.

But it burnt, it hurt.

She returned her mind on the paper, but the image of their horrendous laughter and rude demeanour, the way their breasts bouncing freely and shamelessly played again and again.

Just as she breathed soothingly, preparing to drown herself in the world of mathematics once more, her eyes landed on Nate Jacobs.

Wearing a large blue hoodie, it was obvious in his eyes that his mind was filled with calculations beyond the math.

That night at the carnival, he touched her.

He dared to touch her.

“A lot of men would try to het their hands on a beautiful girl like you. You don’t want to find yourself in that kind of situation.”

Was that a threat?

Nate Jacobs was the image of an archetype she disdained: the arrogant jock, stupid and practically illiterate, actions dictated by sex hormones instead of the brain. Yet the way he spoke to her with the calm and charming mask he had worn , even later that night, the threatening way his gaze locked to that his girlfriend and the way he grabbed her for messing his pride…

For the first time in this dreadful school, Kaitlyn was excited. Among the hormonal driven teenagers, there was a wrestler.

An embodiment of physical strength and strategy.

To be frank, Nate Jacobs had occupied a portion of her mind. A disgust boiled in her stomach as Kaitlyn is recalled the unabashedly greedy look the faces of those pathletic and arrogant high school boys, but Nate Jacobs was everything she liked about men.

Kaitlyn Arundel had made a long mental checklist of the things she liked and disliked about men.

She liked white shirts, crisp and clean, but not the ones that hadn’t seen an iron in weeks.

She liked tall boys, but didn't mind the shorter ones as long as their bodies were in shape.

She hated unkempt appearances, but there was nothing on planet Earth she hated more than fat arms and a round belly.

She liked jeans, snug but not too tight.

She liked sweaters.

She liked confidence, but despised misplaced arrogance, the bluster without the backbone.

She never understood boys who wore makeup, felt it hid more than it showed.

It was one of the things she first noticed about Nate. His confidence didn't just show, it roared.

“Mr. Jacobs, please come with us.”

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Principal Hayes’ voice.

“Maddy fainted, and they found bruises on her neck,” a girl whispered to the person next to her.

“And they think that Nate did it!”

Kaitlyn immediately recalled the image of him dragging Maddy furiously away from the booth after she had called his mom the c word.

To Kaitlyn, the idea of Nate leaving those marks on Maddy wasn’t unsettling. If someone had humiliated her that publicly, she might not have drawn blood, but she'd certainly have sought revenge — maybe by obliterating her future.

An hour later.

“Ms. Arundel, do you consider Nate Jacobs to you a violent individual?”

“No, officer. Nate Jacobs is one of the few who had shown me kindness since my transition to a completely new environment. He is an honest, generous and kind person . I truly believe he wouldn’t do such a thing. He's just not that kind of person.”

Author’s note: after writing this chapter, I realized that her pov, perhaps, is more and disturbing and Nate pov chapters. Even I, the author, got a little disturbed while writing. I know there aren’t as much dramas in the these first two chapters, but I believe it’s essential to take the time to establish their worldviews and give a glimpse of their internal battles. Like Nate, there is a reason why Kaitlyn is the way she is. Her backstory will be explored. Thank you for reading!

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