#t's book babble

[t-lostinworlds]

the whole fight between Gary and Percy was so intense and then Percy thinking about growing old with Annabeth and Grover and embracing it made me tear up and then this guy decided to do this:

and the way I cackled so loud I can't 😭 like he's on the verge of getting murdered and yet

[asexualbookbird]

CURRENTLY READING: MARCH 2025

A Sorceress Comes to Call by T Kingfisher

I'm always hyped for a T Kingfisher novel. Retellings are always hit or miss with me, but Kingfisher has never let me down before so I'm excited! Opting for physical reading over audio because who knows why my brain is the way it is.

[star--stones]

feeling very normal about holden caulfield after reading the catcher in the rye for the first time

[energydrink-pupz]

EUEUYEFGHH MY PARENTS BOUGHT ME SNUFKIN AND MOOMIN PLUSHIES FOR CHRISTMAS!!! :3

[popponn]

bllk sometimes genuinely reads like part shonen sports manga, part psychological manga, and part self-improvement book

[readingaway]

Danielle Babbles About Books - Nettle and Bone by T. Kingfisher

What made you want to read this book? - @ninja-muse read the arc and posted a rave review and I loved the title and cover and skimmed the blurb so I decided to read it. I actually had never read T. Kingfisher before so this was like a gateway drug, maybe.

What elements stuck out to you the most? - The narrative style. It's written in a classic fantasy fairy-tale style with a slow build-up, a detached narrative voice, and little explanation for the fantastical elements. Particularly with things like the goblin market. In regard to the plot starting towards the end of the impossible tasks was... a choice and one that is difficult to make work since starting in the middle of action and then going back and explaining more about the characters and the world is a well-worn and often poorly used method. But I think it does work for this book because the impossible tasks are not the end of Marra's journey or even the middle, so it's less like throwing the readers into an action sequence and then slowing things down, and while the tasks are relevant and important, it wasn't necessary for the audience to read along the entire thing.

It's also funny. Not all the way through and not at a high level but there's a lot of humor to go along with the sad, the macabre, and tension.

[windixie]

˗ˏˋ hey emo boy !´ˎ˗ emo!choso x reader

summary : what's so good about hot topic? I mean it's trending, it's legit in the name, but your style... is the opposite of that, so why visit all the time? it doesn't have to do with the emo boy that works there right?

warnings : filthy drabble full of smut, smut, smut, and maybe uh smut? p in v, creampie, breeding kink (sorry!), choso is a whimpering mess :( fingering, m!receiving, f!receiving. lmk if I missed any!

taglist : @elylyyy @mjsjshhd @officialholyagua @chiunpy @hi-hello-heyo @etsuniiru

if you wish to be added or removed from tag list pls comment <3

emo! choso who just scored a well paying job at a hot topic store in the mall near his college. hes thankful for the job because he is supporting all of his younger siblings and besides, he loves the store himself. but he starts to love it even more when you, the pretty girl, walks in for the third time this week.

emo! choso who asks if you need any help finding something only to get denied by you because you’re so shy and scared of the big muscular man who’s got a shit ton of piercings. you love them all and you especially love his tongue piercing. you wonder how it feels against your needy cunt as you tug at his hair. you can’t help but moan out his name when your needy fingers play with your soaking pussy after finding out his name.

emo! choso quickly develops a small crush on you after you both get more used to each other especially because of your daily visits.

emo! choso who feels guilty from checking you out all the time. it’s not his fault your pretty skirt barely covers that big ass of yours and it’s not his fault he can see your pretty Victoria’s Secret panties you bought from across his store.

emo! choso who is so excited when you invited him over to your house after you both bonded over your favorite book series.

emo! choso who soon finds himself fucking you sweetly and sloppy. “fuck.. fuck.. good fucking girl! baby fuck not gonna last long..!” he kept whining in your ear as he pounded his big fucking cock in you. you were seeing white as you came for the umpteenth time as you clutched onto your wet bedsheets.

emo! choso stills wants more out of you even after eating you out which was embarrassing for you because you squirted so much and all over his face but he didn’t care! he swallowed all of it as if he was dehydrated. “baby please let me cum in you! put a baby in ya yeah? gonna be a good mommy! such a good mommy!” he babbled as his strokes became even sloppier.

your headboard kept slamming hardly against your wall you didn’t even care if you got a noise complaint the next day. how could you care when you were literally getting filled up but the boy you’ve been gushing over for weeks!

emo! choso who actually whimpers! a lot! and hes not afraid to be vocal cuz he knows you love it. “mmf yeah take my cock baby.. no no.. s’ not big! it’ll fit just like every time! yeah such a good baby! oh shit.. ngh oh you’re tight!” he whimpered as big fat tears left your eyes.

emo! choso who has a thing for blood. yeah. period sex. mhm. he loves it so much he’s filthy but he read somewhere that cumming helps the cramps so what else can he do but help his pretty baby?

emo! choso definitely fucks you whenever you wear his band t-shirts. he gets such a painful boner and you always help him by putting it in your mouth. even tho you have a bad gagging reflex

emo! choso loves you so much he’s so happy to see that positive pregnancy test and he immediately starts thinking of names.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

if you could write something about matt murdock with

"My breath just made you quiver. Can you imagine what my tongue will do."

and/or

"Shh... just a little bit more."

i would eat that up :))

a/n: thank you, darling. i rarely get requests for matt, but it always lights up my life when i do

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“I–, u-uh…” you foggily blinked down at Matt’s head nestled betwixt your legs, “was that an actual question?” the tremble to your tone caused his grin to widen as he teasingly let the very tip of his nose ghost against the apex of your inner thigh, “I’ve never tried that before, you know having someone do that,” you timidly coughed, “but I mean, I do have a very vivid imagination, so I probably–, oh my god!” 

Your babbling was then cut off as Matt finally closed the last bit of distance, a groan slipping from his lungs as he let his tongue run through your glistening folds for the very first time. 

“Matthew!” your squiggly legs tried to tremble shut around his solid skull, “t-that’s–, oh fuck,” your body quivered as he slithered his burly arms up your frame, hooking your legs before he flipped them back open like a heart-racing page in a book he wasn’t quite done reading yet. 

“Shh,” his deep voice vibrated against your puffy clit, “just a little bit more…” as he greedily kept up his efforts even as you squirmed from the overwhelming sensation, “just one more taste and then I’ll fuck you,” you cast your gaze down past where his broad palms laid splayed across your abdomen, to where his lips, glossy from your want, barely lifted to make his murmur coherent, “promise…”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[clovermoters]

flights and family - lando norris x wife!reader

summary - after an eventful first half of the season, a trip home is just what you and your family need to reset

warnings - nothing! some mentions of lando being overwhelmed due to the 2024 season, but other than that just fluff & kisses

authors note - haiii heres a josie fic i wrote while i was on a plane a couple months ago, i hope u enjoy <33 im trying to get back into the swing of writing so gimme reqs and ill try and get to them as quick as possible!! lots of love, clove!

apart of the josephine elliot norris chronicals

“babe wake up..” kisses flutter across your face, pulling you out of your peaceful sleep. you open your eyes to see your husband's emerald eyes overtop of you. 

“we gots’ to go! its airport time in t-minus 1 hour“ he whispers, lightly pinching your bicep to spark your body awake. 

“uuuggh what time is it?” you groan, rolling over to grab your phone, 3:46am. your flight boards at 6. You fall back into the duvet, eyes slowly closing as sleep reaches out to pull you under again.

“baby! up! i’ll get josie”  he shouts through whisper, marching around your bedroom in his baby blue sweatpants and matching hoodie. You giggle, throwing the covers over, finally getting out of bed. 

lando speeds down the hall towards your daughter's room, he creaks the door open into the room. dimly lit from the flower nightlight hung on the wall next to the pretty pink letters spelling josephine above the small pink race car bed. his daughter, a recent graduate to the race car bed, was curled up under her blankets sleeping softly. 

lando lifts his daughter into his arms, the 3 year old stirring slightly, whining at the disturbance of her slumber. 

“it’s just daddy,” he shushes, pushing the curls out of her face so he can see his own eyes looking back at him “you ready for the plane baby?” rolling the bright pink suitcase down to the front door where yours and his await along with your carry ons. The quiet babbles of your daughter chatting with him about her dream fill the quiet of the early morning. 

monaco was rarely quiet, the city almost never sleeps. the peaceful blanket of calm reassurance, lando was sure today would go smoothly. 

you just needed to be ready on time. 

he loved you, his wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, number one supporter. 

but my god your punctuality needed some work. 

Just as if you heard his thoughts, you came bustling down the stairs with your bag in hand, sporting your light grey aritzia sweatsuit that Lando bought you as an early anniversary present. 

“okay, i’m ready” you huff, blowing your hair that fell in front of your eyes. lando chuckles at your disheveled-ness while your daughter rests her head on his shoulder, quickly falling back to sleep. 

you melt at the sight, smiling softly “she’ll be okay right?” you ask, it was josie’s first time flying, your husband rubbing her back before nodding 

“Of course she well, she's so zonked she won't even realize we're in the air-” you chuckle “and I booked a jet. we couldn’t be more safe.” he assures you while handing you some suitcases to take to the uber that’s arriving downstairs. 

“as long as we get to the airport on time” he jokes, giving your bum a light pat while you lock the door. You scoff at him playfully, even after being married for four years and having a child, Lando still has his ways to make you giggle like a teenager.  

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

making it through the airport was quick, josie had fallen asleep on lando in the car. Making the check in easy when you didn’t have a 3 year old asking every question imaginable. you and lando loved her imagination and curiosity, taking it as a small parenting win when you had the time and energy to answer those questions. 

4:45am, however, is not the time to answer those questions 

security was quiet, perks of flying early and in the middle of the week. the attendants recognized your little family letting you through the fast lane just for some entertainment, in the mist of the night. 

the sun was just making its appearance over the horizon when you took off. Josie was curled up in landos lap, completely passed out. 

“I can't wait to be home in London,” you say softly as you rest your head on your husband's shoulder, your gaze fixed on your little bundle of love whos sleeping in his lap  

Lando hums, eyes fixed on his daughter who’s been subconsciously squeezing his fingers in her rem. 

“yeah, i can’t wait to see my parents” he adds “i made max pick us up so we can surprise them at breakfast” 

one week ago, you and your husband made an impromptu decision to drop everything and take a trip home. You both have been overly stressed and it was taking a toll on the two of you. Lando has been at the fighting front of the championship for months while you have been juggling being a first time mother and handling your own responsibilities at work. 

it all came to a breaking point when lando had broken down after coming home from a tough race weekend. frustrated with the results, the pressure and overall the backlash from outsiders, had him sobbing in your arms the minute he walked through the door. soon after you both came to the realization that you needed some well deserved rest and relaxation during the summer break.  

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“ahh they’re they are!” Max shouts from the car when he spots you two, earning a glare from you, pointing to the girl still sleeping soundly in landos arms. 

“Whoops, sorry!” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. helping you load the bags into the boot while Lando secures Josie in her car seat. You always thought fatherhood was so beautiful on him, you fall in love with him all over again seeing the way he was with josie. only proving to you that this was something he was meant to do. 

The London streets were still quiet, the faded radio music providing a background as you and Lando chatted with Max, catching up while he navigated through the city towards landos childhood home. 

When you arrived, you took Josie in your arms trying to wake her so she could greet her grandparents properly. 

the girl stirred in your arms, mumbling incoherent words into your neck and lando giggling from behind you, watching the girl wake. you always loved watching him with josie, the man adored his daughter. from the moment she was born she had him wrapping around her finger the very second he saw his own eyes staring back at him. 

“hi baby girl wanna go say hi to nana and pop?” he asked, that perked Josie up. The toddler always got excited at the mention of her grandparents. 

“ya i’m gonna giv’ them a biiig hug” she mumbled still half asleep, lifting her head from your shoulder while showing a toothy smile to her father. You and your husband break out into a fit of giggles.  

The sweet smell of eggs, bacon and delicious pastries engulfed the inside of the Norris family home. you and lando feel yourself physically relax at the thought of ciscas home cooked brunch. 

soft music came from the kitchen as the distant voices of landos family traveled throughout the home. Providing a lighthouse to the kitchen, the light at the end of a tunnel that you and lando so desperately were waiting for. 

you place josie down, allowing her to walk ahead of you and lando, the girl running into the kitchen, turning to see the girl, cisca halts her movements, gasping at her granddaughter, who she knew lived in monaco. 

“well what are you doing here missy?” the woman asks, alerting the rest of the Norris family of their unexpected guest. you and lando take that as the signal to turn the corner, smiling ear to ear with your hands interlocked, the shocked faces of the norris family say enough that your surprise was a success 

“surprise!”

The room erupted into cheers from the Norris family, moving to give you all hugs. Josie giggling as her grandma picks her up, attacking her cheeks with kisses. 

You greet landos sisters and parents, squeezing your sister in-laws while Lando hugs his brother and his wife. 

“what brings your three here?” landos father, adam asks while giving his son a hug, flo begins setting three extra place mats on the dining table for you as josie is in a very in depth conversation with her grandma. 

“monaco was getting too much so we wanted to spend some time home before the break ends..” lando explained, simply. pressing a kiss to your temple before moving to hug his mum, you watch as he melts slightly into the embrace, tucking his head inside her neck the same way he does with you. 

Cisca places a kiss on your check when she hugs you “you go settle in upstairs, breakfast will be ready soon, you must be exhausted” 

You both sink into the mattress, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“I am so happy we came,” Lando breathes, rolling over to look at you with that loving smile on his face that gives you butterflies, the morning sun hitting his face just perfectly, casting a gentle glow over his gorgeous features. You smile softly up at him reaching out gently to scratch the light stubble he's grown. 

“I'm so happy we came too my love” 

He lightly pecks your lips before the door bursts open, in walks Josie with Mila hot on her heels. The two cousins hopping on the bed before josie lightly jumps on her fathers stomach, causing lando to let out a quiet “oomf-”

“Nana told us to come get you because brekkie is ready!” Mila said before hopping off the bed and running out the room, Josie tries to wiggle out of landos arms but he squeezes her tighter, placing kisses all over her face. The girl giggling at her father 

“Oh no you don't missy!” he says

 “dada let me go!” she shouts through a string of giggles and squeals. 

You three make your way downstairs, joining your family at the table. The conversation flows effortlessly as you fill your tummy with ciscas delicious spread of food. You and Lando make eye contact from the opposite sides of josie who sat between you two, landos eyes were filled with nothing but love as you smiled softly back at the love of your life, a silent agreement that this trip was just what your family needed. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

all doneee thank u so much for reading!!

[nanamiskentos]

♩ (mdni) abstract — semi-public sex, in a library, fwb, canon!gojo x afab!reader

fwb!gojo satoru who's the cockiest man that you've ever seen. sure he's the strongest sorcerer of the modern day and age. and he's a good teacher to his students. but he doesn't give a fuck about deadlines, or being a decent coworker, or being polite and quiet in the staffroom — and it's enough to send you up the wall.

he also doesn't give a fuck about being quiet when he's drilling his solid inches into you. gojo clearly doesn't care for noise when he's got bruising fingertips pressed into your hips. when he's got your staff uniform pulled to the side so the fat tip of his cock can slap thick wisps of pre against your clit.

"ya' can feel that right, sweets," gojo's chuckling, teasing and so full of himself as he sees you sink your teeth into your lower lip, trying to keep your whines quiet, huffing and snapping at the shell of his ear.

"y'know we hafta' be quiet, right, mmph — satoru!" you don't get to finish admonishing him because he swallows your concerns in a messy kiss, all clashing teeth and tongue as he slowly pushes his fat tip past your glossy, winking entrance.

and what a sight, to know that this is how you can undo the most powerful man to walk the earth, to see his pale-pink lips drop open as his blue eyes glaze over. to know that he's losing himself in the tight heat of your pretty cunt, and he's not even halfway in yet.

"s-sorry, what was that, sweets?" he's gasping into the crook of your neck, a large hand on your thigh, manoeuvring your leg wider so he can slot his frame in between your legs, "didn't quite catch t-that, woah. it's like she's got magical powers or something." all sleazy grins and bashful smirks as he pats at the mound of your groin, right where his own hips are now tacked to yours, glistening.

"charming, satoru," you breathe out, trying not to let on that you're just as affected as he is, "b-but the students, they're gonna — hnngh," your words are cut off as he bottoms out with a slick pop! but you're never one to give up, digging your nails into the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. you thread your fingers into the soft hairs of his undercut, letting satoru practically purr above you, "they could walk in any minute, don'tcha think?"

it's clear that it's not a pressing concern to gojo right now, because he just suddenly leans back, rolling his hips slowly into yours so each angry and thick vein must be swabbing your insides, "ya' think too much, sweets. there's, hah, none on campus right n-now," and he bestows a shiny, spit-slick kiss upon your waiting lips again, "it's just you and me, ohhh — and her 'course."

you respond with a strong clench of your gummy walls around his cock, and the hand that wasn't holding your thigh up ends up slamming down hard on the oaken desk, sending books and stray papers to the floor as he huffs, "w-whoops, yer' just takin' me in sooo good, fuck, i really needed this sweets, ya' got no idea. stupid higher ups got me run dry. and you looked s-so damn good in that meeting, couldn't focus," and he's babbling now, "couldn't focus and knew i had to sneak ya' back out here, get you on my cock."

you swipe a thumb over his candy lips, all mint and sugar, as you mewl in pleasure, having him batter your guts over and over so you're imprinted against his sculpted abdomen, "you gon' pull outta me if i make a stupid joke about me milking you dry?" and gojo snickers but it quickly turns into a breathy moan, "tch, ya' don't think that's w-what i want? always so good at doin' this. why don't ya' just let me take you out properly?"

[t-lostinworlds]

I forgot how down bad Poseidon is for Sally Jackson that i'm over here screaming at the fact that he called her a queen and is lowkey still daydreaming about her

[kenntoria]

synopsis ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ you and nanami babysit a friend’s baby for a day, get hit with baby fever a couple of times, and briefly imagine your future family — but by the end, you both agree you’re not ready yet, and that’s okay.

tori’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ did i mention that i am in love with him

you don’t know how it happened, exactly. one minute you were minding your business, eating grapes in bed and watching something trashy on tv, and the next your best friend was begging you to babysit her toddler for a day while she went on an impromptu out-of-town trip. some kind of family emergency, she said. just one day. she swore her baby girl was an angel.

you believed her. mostly.

“she just learned how to say ‘cookie,’” your friend had said, all proud over the phone. “it’s all she wants. you just have to tell her she’s already had three and she’ll believe you.”

which sounded suspicious. but nanami was standing in the kitchen, looking so devastatingly domestic as he stirred something on the stove, and when you said, “hey, what if we babysat a toddler tomorrow?” he just turned a little, blinked, and said, “i’ll need to pick up some groceries, then.”

and so now you’re here.

now you’re lying on the living room floor, on your stomach, with a two-year-old girl next to you who is currently… licking a book.

“no,” you say gently, reaching out to pull the hardcover away from her mouth. “we don’t eat books, baby. we read them.”

she looks at you like you’ve spoken ancient greek. then she sneezes on your arm.

“i think she’s wiped that book on her entire face,” you tell nanami, who’s seated cross-legged across from you. he’s wearing sweatpants, his hair slightly rumpled from when she kept grabbing it and saying “fuzzy!” over and over. he looks radiant. it’s honestly unfair.

“you said it was waterproof,” he reminds you calmly, reaching for a stuffed giraffe the toddler dropped. “she’s not doing anything to it that the publishing company didn’t anticipate.”

the toddler claps her hands. “cookie?”

you and nanami freeze.

you whisper, “did she already have three?”

he tilts his head. “depends if we’re counting the one she dropped in her lap and forgot about.”

you both look down at her. she’s smiling up at you like a baby who knows you’ll cave.

you melt.

—

a few hours in, you and nanami have entered a strange, fragile rhythm. it’s quiet when the toddler is entertained—she’s currently nesting in the pile of throw pillows on the couch—and tense when she’s quiet for too long, like the laws of physics are being violated. she doesn’t like loud noises or vegetables or when nanami isn’t within a three-foot radius of her. she does, however, love pressing her tiny hands to the window and saying “car!” every single time one passes, even if it’s the same one going in circles around the block.

she loves nanami.

and nanami—

he’s holding her on his hip while he makes lunch. a little piece of her hair is caught in the collar of his t-shirt and she’s babbling at him, unintelligible nonsense in the most passionate tone, like she’s giving a very important speech and nanami is the only one allowed to hear it.

he nods along, totally serious. “i see. yes. that’s a fair point.”

your chest squeezes.

“ken,” you call softly from the doorway, “you’re gonna make me ovulate.”

he gives you a flat look over the toddler’s head. “don’t say things like that with a child in the room.”

“but look at you,” you whisper, walking up and placing a hand on his back. “you’re like… ridiculously hot right now. if you don’t want me getting baby fever, don’t be all gentle and capable and handsome.”

he huffs. “you already have baby fever.”

you nod solemnly. “i know. i didn’t expect it to hit this hard. she called me ‘mama’ five minutes ago when she was sleepy and i almost burst into tears.”

nanami glances down at the little girl in his arms. she’s tugging on his collar with laser focus, her face slightly scrunched in concentration.

“she thinks i’m her dad,” he says.

you lean your head against his shoulder. “you’re giving off dad energy.”

“i’m stirring mac and cheese.”

“exactly.”

—

after lunch, you all go for a walk.

technically, it’s more of a march. she doesn’t want to stay in the stroller. she wants to walk. all by herself. she is, apparently, a big girl now.

she makes it halfway down the block before she’s reaching up with grabby hands for nanami again. and he—of course—scoops her up without a word, settling her against his chest like it’s second nature. like he’s been carrying her around her whole life.

you watch them with your hand tucked into his back pocket. your heart is swelling and swelling and swelling. your whole chest feels too small for it. your head spins a little with how easy this feels, how natural.

he catches your eye. lifts his eyebrows.

you mouth, baby fever.

he mouths back, severe case.

you grin.

—

back at home, while the toddler naps on nanami’s chest, you scroll through your phone and whisper plans to him.

“if we ever had a baby, i’d want them to have your eyebrows.”

“mm.”

“and your shoulders.”

“you want a very intimidating infant.”

you snort. “okay. i want your patience. your hair. your sense of calm.”

he’s quiet for a second.

“i want your laugh,” he murmurs.

you blink. “my laugh?”

he nods. “and your hands. and your sense of wonder. and the way you love people.”

you set your phone down and look at him for a long moment. the baby’s sprawled across his chest, one fist curled into the fabric of his shirt, her face completely peaceful. nanami’s got one arm gently supporting her, the other hand brushing her back in soothing little circles. and he’s looking at you like there’s nowhere else he wants to be.

and for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat of time, you really believe it. you see it all. a house. a child. late mornings in bed, loud laughter, tired evenings, shared looks over the heads of tiny humans. us.

but then—

the toddler stirs. she snuffles, snorts, then rolls off nanami’s chest and promptly bonks her head on his stomach, which startles her awake. and she wails.

nanami sits up instantly. you scramble to help. it takes ten minutes of rocking and bouncing and hunting down a mysterious lost bunny plushie before she’s calm again, tears drying on her cheeks, her face buried in your neck.

you and nanami sit down heavily on the couch. your eyes are wide. he looks pale.

“that was terrifying,” you whisper.

“horrible,” he agrees.

“i got elbowed in the throat.”

“she kicked me in the kidney.”

you stare at each other for a long moment.

then he says, “i love you.”

you smile, soft and wide and warm. “i love you, too.”

he looks down at the toddler sleeping again in your arms.

then, very gently, “i don’t think we’re ready for this.”

you let out a laugh, careful not to wake her. “god, no.”

he leans his head on your shoulder. “thank god.”

—

by the time your friend comes back, the toddler is freshly bathed, fed, and completely passed out in nanami’s arms again. he’s got a smear of applesauce on his sweatpants and your hoodie is covered in bunny stickers. your place looks like a tornado tore through it. your fridge is somehow entirely empty except for juice boxes and half a cucumber. your back is killing you and you’ve watched encanto twice.

but.

your friend gasps when she sees them—nanami gently tucking the baby into her carrier, brushing her hair back with such tenderness it makes you ache a little.

“you guys are naturals,” she says, beaming. “you’d make such good parents.”

you and nanami share a look.

you both smile.

and then, at the exact same time:

“maybe in a few years.”

(you fall asleep that night tangled together on the couch, surrounded by stuffed animals, with nanami’s hand over your belly like he’s guarding the future. it’s not now. but maybe one day. and that’s more than enough.)

[albenyx]

Romance with the Alchemist.

pairing: albedo x reader

warning: not proofread, rough draft, grammatical erroes (i think), wrote this like a year before and continued it on the spot so it's going to be a bit confusing but anw idc i js need to delete these drafts mehn HWIEHDJWJAH.

It began with a cup of tea.

Not yours—his. Albedo had brewed it, left it on the table, and forgotten about it amidst a string of calculations. You passed by, noticed the cup, and without a word, picked it up, warmed it again over the flame, and set it beside him with the gentlest clink.

That was the first data point. He didn’t write it down, but it stayed. He told himself it was curiosity at first.

You behaved unlike the others who visited Dragonspine. You didn’t press him with questions, didn’t ask for favors or boast about surviving the cold. You were…quiet, in your own way. Attentive without demanding. Present without pulling.

A quiet variable that returned, again and again. He found himself measuring time in your visits. Not in hours or days, but in the way the cave brightened when your boots left shallow prints by the door.

Noted. Unspoken.

Albedo’s affection bloomed not like fire, but like frost—slow, creeping, unnoticed until everything beneath was touched by it. He began adding a second chair beside his. “In case Timaeus visits,” he said. But he never offered it to Timaeus. Only to you.

He stored a second blanket in the corner—“for emergencies.” You used it once. After that, it was always folded neatly at arm’s reach from your favorite spot. These weren’t declarations. These were constants. Quiet insertions into his environment that proved your presence was not only expected, but accounted for.

The acceptance came not with a realization, but with a recalibration. One night, after you left with a soft wave and a promise to return “next week, maybe,” he found his mind drifting. Not to your face.

But to your voice, saying “next week.”

To your hand brushing his wrist as you passed something he needed.

To the warmth of your scarf still left behind on the hook.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then, without a word, he hung it next to his coat.

It was in the way he started pacing when your return was delayed. The way his brush hovered above the page, unsure whether to draw the tree outside… or the way he could see your breath on the cold air as you looked at something from the distance.

He never called this feeling to be something possibly like romance or affection, he does not believe he could feel such emotions.

But he stopped testing it. Stopped resisting the instinct to brew tea for two. To write notes in the margin for you to find. To reach for the scarf you gave him even when the cold didn’t bite.

One evening, you fell asleep near the campfire in his lab, book in hand, cheek resting against your arm. The silence was soft, comforting.

Albedo didn’t move you. He sat, watching the snow beyond the entrance, the curl of your fingers against the page. And for the first time, he allowed himself to speak aloud—not to wake you, not to be heard, but simply to let it exist:

“Stay as long as you’d like.”

It was not an invitation.

Not a request.

But it was a hypothesis proven true, quietly, patiently: In a world of shifting truths and elusive formulas, you had become the one constant he never needed to solve—only preserve.

To be honest, the snow never bothered Albedo.

Most avoided Dragonspine unless they had no choice, but not him—and not you, either, much to his quiet surprise the first time you trudged through the thick frost just to bring him a scarf. It was hand-knitted, a little uneven in stitching, dyed a blue that didn’t quite match his usual palette. You apologized for it, babbling that you weren’t sure he’d like it, but—

He took it from your hands, wore it immediately, and didn’t say a word. But he wore it again. And again. Every time you visited. You never noticed the way his gloved hand would linger over the fabric when you left. He made sure of that.

Albedo didn’t love like others did.

There were no grand proclamations. No impulsive touches or clumsy declarations. He didn’t stumble over his feelings or turn crimson at your smile. Instead, he observed you—like an unsolvable equation that he didn’t want to solve too fast.

He remembered the way you liked your tea: a dash of honey, not sugar. So when you visited the lab, a steaming cup always waited near the heat lamp. He noted the books you skimmed in the library, then borrowed them in secret, reading ahead so you could “coincidentally” discuss them together.

He never said the words. But he showed them in ways he knew how—through routines, through precision, through the silence between thoughts where your name lingered like an echo.

One afternoon, you arrived while snowflakes danced lazily outside, clinging to your cloak. “You’re not cold?” you asked, setting down a wrapped lunch you made for the both of you.

“I’m adjusted to this climate,” he answered without looking up, yet he slid a warmer chair closer to the heater for you. “But you should be careful. I noticed your gloves are worn. I’ve… made you a pair.”

You blinked. “You made them?” He nodded. “Woven from wool. Reinforced with wind crystal shards. A minor alchemical enhancement for warmth retention.”

You laughed softly, slipping them on. “They’re perfect.” He turned away too quickly. “I’m glad.” He never said the three words. He didn’t need to. The way he watched you with steady, unwavering eyes—the way he noticed what even you didn’t—said it all.

It wasn’t until much later, when you found an old sketchbook half-buried under his pile of notes, that you truly saw it. Pages and pages of you. Not exact portraits, but impressions—the curve of your hand holding tea, the softness in your gaze when you looked at snow falling outside his window, the tilt of your head when you read aloud.

Each drawing carried a different kind of tenderness. And at the corner of one, written in his delicate script: “Hypothesis: In the presence of [Name], the concept of home shifts. It is no longer a place, but a person.”

When it came to everyone and their thoughts regarding the both of you, Lisa knew first. Of course she did.

You visited the library one afternoon looking for a book Albedo had once mentioned in passing—Floral Properties of Subzero Climates, Vol. II. You didn’t ask for it by name. You simply described the way his voice softened when he last spoke of it.

Lisa smiled, handed it over without a word, and watched you leave with a knowing hum. “That boy…” she murmured. “Head over heels in his own way.

Kaeya noticed when he caught Albedo adjusting his gloves one evening at the tavern. “You’re headed back to Dragonspine, aren’t you?” Kaeya asked. “Say hello to our favorite snow visitor for me.”

Albedo blinked once, the way he did when caught off-guard. “You mean Timaeus?” Kaeya chuckled. “Sure. Timaeus.” But Albedo didn’t argue. He just quietly picked up the satchel with two thermoses inside—one with his usual tea, the other with yours.

He wouldn’t call it affection. But he made sure the one labeled with your initials was sealed better, warmer.

Sucrose found one of your hairpins tucked into the corner of Albedo’s desk. She reached for it absentmindedly, only for Albedo to stop her gently. “That’s not… for use,” he said.

“Oh.” She blinked. “It’s the traveler’s, right?” Albedo didn’t answer. He just took it and placed it into the locked drawer where he kept his most fragile samples. Not because he wanted to hide it—but because things that mattered should be protected.

You never talked about what it meant. When you arrived, you simply sat beside him. Sometimes you read. Sometimes he painted. Sometimes you both just existed in quiet parallel.

But small things kept building up.

The sketchbook left open where he knew you’d peek.

The comment you’d drop about something he made—just enough to make him pause, the corners of his lips curling slightly.

Once, you brought lunch and forgot utensils. Without hesitation, Albedo offered his own.

Two hours later, he was still touching the spot where your fingers had grazed his.

Amber visited one time and caught the two of you mid-conversation—or rather, mid-silence. You were both just sitting, sipping tea, watching the snow fall outside. Nothing romantic, at first glance.

But then Albedo leaned closer, brushing a stray snowflake from your shoulder without breaking eye contact. You didn’t flinch. You smiled, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Amber blinked. “Wait,” she whispered under her breath. “Are they…already dating?”

You weren’t.

Neither of you said anything.

But everyone could see it and they had bet on it. In the way Albedo set aside a space for you in every part of his world. In the way your laugh softened his features in a way no potion or pigment ever could. Still, the words were never spoken.

Not when he adjusted your scarf before you left.

Not when you left him your gloves by mistake and found them cleaned and folded neatly in your bag the next morning.

Not even when he handed you a notebook one day—filled with formulas, sketches, pressed flowers, and on the last page: “Certain variables defy classification. I’ve stopped trying to define what you are to me. I’ve decided instead…to keep you.” There was no name on it. But you knew.

And when you returned the next day, you didn’t say anything either. Just sat beside him like always, eyes shining a little brighter.

And he, ever subtle, simply handed you your cup.

Still warm. Still waiting.

[sunni-stuff]

I have bad baby fever so take this.

—★! Tags: Established relationship, baby? Afab!!

Ghost never thought about having children before. He didn't understand them; they confused him. Worst of all, he envied them. How could someone willingly bring a child into a world filled with so much chaos that men like him and the task force had to clean it all up? How could a child smile so innocently while his childhood was nothing short of a nightmare?

He didn't want kids.

That was until he met your niece, Lola. She had to stay overnight, interrupting the plans he made with the team. Johnny wanted to sit down and play a game of drunk poker, but upon seeing chubby little Lola sitting on the rug playing with her blocks, his heart practically melted at the sight.

"Lt., you didn't tell us the missus gave birth," Soap teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Ghost snorted, shaking his head. "She's not mine, Johnny. That's my niece, Lola."

The men exchanged amused glances, but their attention quickly turned back to Lola, who looked up from her blocks with a bright, toothy grin. She babbled something unintelligible and held up a block as if showing off her masterpiece.

Ghost found himself smiling beneath his mask, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his chest. He wasn't used to this feeling—this softness. It was alien to him, yet he couldn't deny the tiny spark of joy Lola brought into the room.

The poker game was postponed as the men took turns entertaining Lola. She giggled at Gaz's funny faces, clapped along with Soap's silly songs, and stared wide-eyed at Price's stories. But it was Ghost who seemed to captivate her the most. She crawled over to him, tugging at his pant leg until he picked her up.

Simon held her awkwardly at first, unsure of what to do. But as Lola nestled into his arms, a sense of calm washed over him. She looked up at him with those big, innocent eyes, and for a moment, all the chaos and darkness in his life faded away.

He still didn't understand children, and they still confused him. But holding Lola, Simon began to see a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for a bit of light in his shadowed world.

Needless to say, after that eye-opening experience, Simon quickly became attached to the loveable child. He tells your sibling to call on their work days if they need a babysitter, claiming he's just trying to help lift the burden. Family helps family, after all.

Wrong!!

In reality, that man is completely smitten by Lola. Loves her to death. The moment he gets free time Simon is calling up your sibling, asking if they need any help, maybe needing a break from the child for a while and if Simon gets the okay, he's speeding to pick up Lola and whisking her away to your home.

Simon drops everything for her. In the middle of a workout? Give him 5 minutes. He's a fresh man, ready to play dinosaurs. Hell, he doesn't even know what playing dinosaurs is besides the fact Lola loves t-rex and being chased in her green dinosaur onesie. He went as far as to buy countless toys and books for Lola to play with in his home office, no less! Her favorite story books are tucked away in his desk, burying the paperwork he was supposed to have done for Price.

If Lola throws a tantrum with you, he immediately gives you a side-eye. What did you do to make the princess unhappy?

The man absolutely adores that cute muffin, and you couldn't be more shocked. Simon "Ghost" Riley, your husband, who refused to think about children, was now wrapped around your tiny niece's finger! Heck, she's practically your kid now, especially since Lola sleeps in between the two of you, cuddling up to Simon contently.

Simon treats Lola like she is his own child, so imagine his heartbreak when your sibling gives you two the news that they're going to be visiting home for a while. He's distraught, already missing the tiny ball of life, moping about your shared home putting away Lola's toys when suddenly an idea rings in his head.

His beautiful, hardworking doll can give him a child.

♡! I have a lot of drafts, and this was one. My writing is all funky and all over the place bc it's written between being awake and having no sleep!! I have more stuff I want to post, and I might continue this.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Talk to Me, Baby

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!shy!wife!reader

Summary: Your son loves to talk to you. Unlike his dad, Tim, he doesn't try to make you shy.

Warnings: FLUFF! Angela and Tim act like siblings

Word Count: 1.0k+ words

A/N: Happy birthday @sweetheartlizzie07! I hope you enjoy!🤍

“Hi,” your baby boy says as you approach his crib.

“Hi,” you reply happily. “How are you?”

“Hi,” he repeats with a nod.

You shake your head in amusement and lift him from his crib. He’s only a few months old, but he enjoys talking to you as if he understands exactly what the conversation is about. As you carry him into the living room, he clings to the collar of your shirt and babbles quietly. Your phone rings, and you lower him onto a play mat to crawl around before you sit on the floor beside him and answer your phone.

“Hi, Angela,” you greet.

“Hey! The kids and I are in the neighbourhood, and I wanted to ask if we could drop by for a few minutes?” she asks.

“Of course, come on over.”

“Is everyone awake? I don’t want to interrupt naptime.”

“Yep,” you assure. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Perfect! Thank you so much!”

You end the call and look toward your son, who is on his hands and knees to press the buttons of a toy phone.

“Aunt Angela is coming over,” you tell him.

“Ange!” he cheers.

“Yeah, Ange. And she’s bringing your friends.”

“Hi!” he says, waving excitedly toward the door.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t get your people skills from me or your dad,” you mumble. “Where’d you learn to talk like that?” you ask him. “All those books we read?”

He nods and crawls toward you, so you pull him into your lap and kiss his plump cheeks. He giggles loudly at your attention, and you continue playing with him as you blow raspberries against his skin. You pull your knees up so he’s upright and kiss his forehead as he calms down from his giggle fit.

“Can I get one of those kisses?” Tim asks.

You look up quickly, surprised to see him. He smiles at you, and you look back at your baby, so he doesn’t see your shy smile.

“If you want,” you answer softly.

“You’re right,” Tim says as he walks toward you. “I don’t want one. I want more than that.”

He sits beside you and takes his son from your lap. You lean toward Tim and rest your head on his shoulder. After he kisses the top of your head, he gives his attention to his son.

“Hey, buddy,” he greets.

“Hi, dada!”

“Angela is coming over,” you tell Tim.

“Friends,” your baby says.

“You’ve got a better vocabulary than Lucy,” Tim praises, raising his voice to a higher pitch that makes your baby smile.

“Boot,” he says, sounding it out slowly, like ‘buh-oo-t.’

“And better word association,” Tim adds.

“He’s going to start calling people boot if you’re not careful,” you say against Tim’s shoulder.

Someone knocks on your door, and Tim raises one hand to help you stand. As you walk toward the door, he holds your son close to his chest and pushes himself up. Angela comes in with both of her kids, and you point her to the bathroom when Jack asks to go.

“It’s almost mama’s birthday, bud; let’s practice,” Tim says behind you. “Happy.”

“Hap,” your son says.

“Happy,” Tim repeats. “Birthday.”

“Hap birth-ay.”

“Good job, my little man.”

You walk to Tim’s side, and when he raises the arm not holding your baby, you wrap your arms around his waist and settle under his arm. Angela may want to talk while the kids play, but Tim just got home, and you’ve been missing him since he returned to work after paternity leave.

“We read Goodnight Moon earlier, and he finished some of the lines,” you tell Tim.

“Because he’s smart like his mom,” Tim replies.

You hide your face against Tim’s shirt as you say, “And his dad.”

“I think we should read him the rook book. Give him a head start.”

“And that’s why we wonder how you ever got married and had a baby,” Angela says as she returns.

“Don’t like the competition?” Tim taunts.

“How do you deal with him?” Angela asks you.

“I usually don’t,” you answer. “He’ll just make it worse if I try.”

“That makes me sound like a horrible husband,” Tim interrupts. “But I’m not. Ask this guy and he’ll say I’m the best dada.”

“Best dada!” he cheers, bouncing against Tim’s arm.

“See?”

Angela shakes her head as she pulls her phone from her pocket. She types something quickly before she looks at you.

“I have to go. Maybe we can schedule an actual play date soon so your genius son can teach Jack that crayons are for coloring and not sniffing,” she suggests.

“Nothing wrong with sniffing crayons,” Tim defends. “It builds character.”

“If you sniffed crayons and turned out like this, I need to make him stop before it’s too late.”

Angela rolls her eyes at Tim as she hugs you, and then she gets a high-five from your son before she leaves. Alone again, you return to Tim’s side and lay your hand on your son’s back.

“I got you something,” Tim says. “We arrested a counterfeiter today who had a ton of books that he used for ink matching, and evidence cleared the books. So, the backseat of my truck is filled with children’s books.”

“Little guy will be thrilled when he wakes up.”

You point to your son, asleep against Tim’s shoulder, and smile. He loves reading with you and Tim, which you accredit to all the time you spent reading aloud while you were pregnant. Tim thinks that’s also the reason he can talk so well already.

Tim walks to the couch with you and sits beside you. Seeing him with your son on his chest makes you fall more in love with him each day, even if he does tease you for watching them. Sitting at Tim’s side, you have a clear view of his profile. When you tip your chin up and kiss his cheek, Tim smiles and turns his face toward you. You kiss him and sigh against his lips.

“I love you,” you say as you pull back.

“I love you,” Tim replies.

“Love you,” your baby says against Tim’s shoulder.

“Has he said that before?” Tim asks, wide-eyed as he looks at you.

You shake your head and quietly scold Tim for trying to wake him up to hear it again. When you kiss Tim’s jaw, your baby boy gets another shot at peaceful sleep, while you fight not to shy away from your husband’s affection.

[kquil]

DA'ING (DARLING)

GIRL DAD REMUS LUPIN X DAUGHTER READER | imagine

ଳ. tags : fluff ; domestic fluff ; girl dad remus lupin ; toddler reader ; terms of endearment ; baby language ; remus lupin as dad cures all disease

ଳ. length : 0.9k

ଳ. sum. : you grow up to call your dad by the endearment his wife calls him

navi. | series m.list

Remus loved reading to you before bed and often tried to coax you into repeating the words written in large, bold letters with him. You had a slew of books in the mini library beside your bed, there was one on shapes, one on numbers, one on colours, textures, weather, times, the list went on. Naturally, this meant that you were often found babbling away in front of books, mimicking your darling father, the very same one who wraps you up tight and makes sure you’re warm and snug against him as he reads your favourite stories. Therefore, it shouldn’t come as a surprise either, when Remus sees you take several of your books and waddle to your stuffed animals to be able to read to them, dropping the excess books one by one on your way as the pile you had sought to bring with you was far too heavy to carry than first anticipated. By the time you got to your stuffed animals, you had only one book left, but that was good enough for you, it seemed. 

Sitting yourself down comfortably, you pull a stuffed animal to your lap before opening your book and reading the words out loud. “Ahw-ah! Bum uhh goo!” You prattled on and on, flipping a page after ‘reading’ what had been written on that particular spread, somehow going on for longer than the small amount of words Remus knew was limited to the pages — it was a children’s book after all. 

It was an adorable sight, and Remus did his best not to disturb you. He did, however, make sure to sit down and listen as he worked on his laptop close by, answering emails as he watched you in his peripheral vision, the amused smile never leaving his face as his chest ached with mounting fondness. You were too cute. Sometimes, you would switch the stuffed animal you were reading to, sometimes, you would switch the book you were reading them, managing to get through three books that you turned the pages of flippantly, retelling your own story, it seemed, with the book as a mere prop. 

With the progress you were making, you very quickly picked up on the language and soon got to speaking in your small, adorable baby voice, calling him and his wife by the exact endearments they openly referred to each other around you. 

“Swee’haa-t!” you would call, reaching for your mother. 

“Da’ing!” you would coo, making grabby hands at Remus, who immediately swept you up into his arms and settled you onto his lap without a second thought. His work was no longer important when his baby was asking something of him. 

“Yes, my honey?~” Remus coos in return, nuzzling his big nose against your tiny button one. He watches in amusement as you look at the half-eaten chocolate bar he keeps beside him on the table before turning a twinkling pair of adorable eyes at him. He never grew out of his reliance on chocolate to keep him motivated to work.

“Pooh wan’s choc, peas.” you say, pointing towards your Winnie the Pooh teddy bear. 

“Winnie the Pooh wants some chocolate?” 

“Uh-hm!” you nod a yes and immediately smile when he breaks off a square of chocolate and places it in the tiny cushion of your small palm.

“Alright, he gets to have one because you said please.” After delivering a soft kiss onto your even softer cheek, Remus sets you down and watches adoringly as you waddle back to your teddy bear and pretend to feed him the chocolate square before stuffing the chocolate into your mouth. He snorts in amusement, his heart warming with fondness when he realises he’s spread his chocolate addiction to you. A few more minutes pass before you’re calling to him again, already patting gently at his thigh as you peer up at him, only to look past his eyes and stare at his chocolate. 

“Mo’ choc peas.” 

“More chocolate for whom?” Remus asks, fixing you with a smirk as he blocks the view of his chocolate by resting his elbow on the table and holding his chin up on his palm.

“Mo’ fo…fo honey,” you say, pressing your small pointer finger to your chest and referring to yourself by the specific term of endearment he saves just for you. 

“More for honey, hmm?” he looks pensive for a while, thinking it over, even though he knows his answer already. Before he gives you a verbal response, he picks you up again and plops you onto his lap. He kisses the crown of your head and hums affirmatively. “Of course,” he smiles and breaks off another square of chocolate for you as you clap happily. “Anything, for my honey.” When he places the chocolate on your tiny, outstretched palm once again, you immediately draw it to your mouth and indulge in the generously given treat. 

From the top-down view, Remus internally coos over the way your soft cheek puffs out to chew on the chocolate. Before you were fully done with eating your piece, however, you were reaching for the big bar of chocolate yourself and breaking off a piece with some effort. Were you going to have another piece for yourself? That was what Remus thought you were going to do, but no, instead, you pick up the broken-off piece and hold it up to his lips. 

“Fo mah da’ing~” You coo adorably as Remus accepts with a melted heart and a gooey smile, kissing your tiny tiny tiny fingertips just before he pulls away, taking the chocolate square with him. 

“Thank you, my honey~”

navi. | series m.list

a/n : this is remus' installment of the endearment imagine haha! i hope you darlings enjoy~ these are so fun to write omg! i can't believe it took me so long to get this done oh well~