#calling of light

[aroaessidhe]

faves of 2024: books with no romance

Calling of Light

Fallen Thorns

The Stardust Grail

Edinburgh Nights series (so far in the series, anyway)

Pluralities

The Scarlet Throne

Moth To A Flame

The Hysterical Girls of St. Bernadette’s

Small Gods of Calamity

Lord of the Empty Isles

The Chronicles of Nerezia

Far Removed

[wondereads]

April YA Book Releases

The Reappearance of Rachel Price by Holly Jackson

YA Thriller

Author of A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

true crime, missing persons, memory loss

Fate Be Changed by Farrah Rochon

YA Fantasy

Twisted Tales series

princess, disney, curses

Your Blood, My Bones by Kelly Andrew

YA Fantasy

Author of The Whispering Dark

dark magic, gothic, lgbt

The Black Girl Survives in This One: Horror Stories by Desiree S. Evans and Saraceia J. Fennell

YA Horror

Author of Cool. Awkward. Black.

anthology, ghosts, zombies

Something Kindred by Ciera Burch

YA Contemporary

Author of Finch House

lgbt, coming of age, photography

Against the Darkness by Kendare Blake

YA Fantasy

Buffy: The Next Generation #3

vampires, witches, high school

The Final Curse of Ophelia Cray by Christine Calella

YA Historical

Debut author

pirates, identity theft, navy

Calling of Light by Lori M. Lee

YA Fantasy

Shamanborn Series #3

class differences, dark forest, sacrifice

We're Never Getting Home by Tracy Badua

YA Contemporary

Author of This Is Not a Personal Statement

aapi, religion, friendship breakup

The Kill Factor by Ben Oliver

YA Horror

Author of The Loop

dystopian, survival, social injustice

Song of the Six Realms by Judy I. Lin

YA Fantasy

Author of A Magic Steeped in Poison

aapi, royalty, music

Off With Their Heads by Zoe Hana Mikuta

YA Fantasy

Author of Gearbreakers

korean, retelling, sapphic

Harley Quinn: Redemption by Rachael Allen

YA Adventure

DC Icons Series #3

superheroes, lgbt, action

Powerful by Lauren Roberts

YA Fantasy

The Powerless Trilogy

forbidden romance, assassination, class difference

To a Darker Shore by Leanne Schwartz

YA Fantasy

Author of A Prayer for Vengeance

beauty standards, invention, monsters

Return of the Vengeful Queen by C. J. Redwine

YA Fantasy

Author of The Shadow Queen

pirates, political, revenge plot

The Notes by Catherine Con Morse

YA Contemporary

Debut author

boarding school, musical arts, aapi

The Lilies by Quinn Diacon-Furtado

YA Thriller

Debut author

detective, time loop, dark academia

[miss-anaa]

[bookcoversonly]

Title: Calling of Light | Author: Lori M. Lee | Publisher: Page Street (2024)

[softaestluv]

I've been thinking about this for a while, but could you write a drabble or something about Simon's reaction to you trying to sleep on the couch after a fight?

Would he be mad and fight with you more or drag you to bed or silently let you sleep on the couch??

lmk × ×

It’s rare the two of you fight.

Argue? Sure.

Purposefully annoy each other? Definitely. Simon loves crawling under your skin just so he can watch you ride your frustrations out on his cock. He can’t help it, you’re cute.

But fighting? Petty comments, growling harsh words at each other, suffocating tension, silent treatment, and stubborn avoidance? You and Simon don’t do that.

Simon admits, he’s not exactly the easiest person to date, but you’re incredibly patient with him, even when he’s not communicating the way you need him to.

He’s a work in progress.

So, when you walk out of the shower, tugging on one of his oversized shirts, he thinks you’ll crawl into bed next to him like always. Instead, you grab your pillow, an extra blanket, and leave the room. Riley follows behind you, his own dog betraying him.

You have to be teasing, trying to teach him some lesson, remind him what it feels like to sleep in an empty bed if he doesn’t straighten up. He should be the one out there, sleeping in the dog house.

He lets you lay out there for exactly 12 minutes.

When he scoops you up, you pretend you’re asleep. Even when he lays you down on your side of the bed and slides in, you keep up the act.

“Oy,” He grumbles, pinching your cheek lightly, “I know you’re awake, dove.”

A breath of a smile twitches at the corners of your lips, but you turn your face into the pillow. No problem, he hoists you in his lap easy enough, pressed against the bed frame, and rests his hands on your spread thighs.

“Why the bloody hell you sleepin’ out there?”

You scowl at him, “Don’t wanna sleep with you.”

“No?” He tilts his head, smoothing his palms under your, his, shirt, “Why not, pretty girl?”

“Mad at you.”

He huffs a laugh, “Wearin’ my shirt, but don’t wan’ sleep with me?”

You start to peel the shirt off begrudgingly, but he swats your hands away, holding you in place with his thumb on your chin.

“ ‘nough of that. What kinda man d’ya think I am? Letting my bird sleep on a bloody sofa.” He says, “Send me out there.”

“But your feet hang off the edge.” You frown and it tightens his chest, even when you’re mad you’re thinking of his comfort.

He’d wake up with a hunched back and cramped legs if it made you happy.

“Exactly, ‘ts why we both belong right here.” He pats the mattress, scooting back down the bed to lay down, holding you against his chest. He presses his lips against the crown of your head, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

[lxvvie]

This isn't Simon's first time, but it sure as hell felt like it.

And intimacy is like navigating uncharted territory. Sure, he's had his fair share of bedmates, and they've seen and felt his body, but no one's ever seen and felt his body the way you have.

The way you are. Right now. Holding him. In your arms.

Fuck, he's in his head again, but it's second nature at this point. He knew he wasn't everyone's cup of tea, and while he was good at keeping a healthy opinion of his looks, there were moments where he... yeah. He wonders. Like right now. You fancied a shag, Simon fancied a shag, and everything was falling into place until you undressed him and looked—really looked—at your soldier and... bloody hell.

What? He looks like he feels (fuck this latest mission)? Doesn't look like he's gotten enough sleep? The latest cuts and burn marks too scary for you, sweetheart? Fuck if he knows, but you were staring a little to hard for comfort, and Simon was feeling a little self-conscious.

Scratch that, he was incredibly self-conscious.

So imagine Simon's surprise when you pushed him onto the bed, crawled to him, and then proceeded to lie on top of him like a bloody blanket. What the fuck? But no, you didn't stop there, sweetheart. You caressed his face, kissed his forehead, whispered reassurances and blessings against his skin, ran your eyes over him like he was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, and encouraged him—commanded him, really—to relax.

So much for that fuckin' shag then.

And it's not like Simon's complaining. Much. Not when those arms, so used to holding weapons, dead, or injured comrades, are wrapped around something so soft, so welcoming, so fuckin' loving, and goddamn, maybe this is what he needed after all.

You kiss Simon's temple this time, tell him it's alright, he's safe, and to just be in the moment, and never had intimacy felt so... good before.

This wasn't Simon's first time, but it bloody well should have been.

[palarien]

sketched this out at jury duty actually

[xx-r0t-dot-com-xx]

what if..... we were sworn rivals...... and we both somehow independently ended up adopting pets that bear a striking resemblance to each other......... and we are both completely oblivious to said resemblance.......... its never brought up.......... just a narrative device to indicate how obsessed we are with each other.......

[shadow0-1]

reunite

[machveil]

BestFriend!Simon Riley and his big, beautiful brown eyes. he doesn’t think they’re anything special, but he knows you like them. is it playing dirty when Simon looks at you through his eyelashes when he wants something? maybe, but can’t you just let him stay over for the night? he’ll be quiet - he always is. your couch is a little too small for him, you don’t mind him squeezing into bed with you, right?

BestFriend!Simon Riley that has such dark irises they could be mistaken for black. sometimes you can’t tell where his iris stops and his pupil starts. eyes half-lidded, pale eyelashes droopy - Simon’s resting face usually has his eyes looking tired, almost heavy with sleep even when he’s wide awake. if you ignore the way his eyebrows seem to furrow, knitting together for positive and negative emotions alike, his drowsy gaze is almost dreamy - especially when he’s looking at you

BestFriend!Simon Riley who stares at you until you notice. lounging on your couch as you talk to him, your gaze focused on the tv while his is on you. two episodes of your favorite show, that’s how long Simon was able to stare at you before you noticed - you spared him a few glances, but it never really struck you. he cracks a smile when you ask, “Do I have something on my face?”, a deep hum rumbling in his chest as he shifts his gaze to the tv, pale eyelashes catching the light, “Nah, just lookin’.”

BestFriend!Simon Riley that stares at his ceiling at night, legs crossed and arms behind his head. one of the now rare times he isn’t at your place, a rare instance he isn’t cozied up and surrounding you. deep, pitch black eyes in the dark room looking up, eyelids heavily with sleep as he dozes off waiting to march back to your place tomorrow, those big, beautiful brown eyes waiting to look at you as he asks to stay over again

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[miss-anaa]

[littlefankingdom]

This man (Bruce) is so abnormal about parenthood and so intense about his love for Dick. "He's not my son, he's more than that" Son is not a strong enough word for what Dick is to him. And the last panel being Oliver with Roy, which is later, implying that Oliver finally understood wtf was Bruce talking about when he got Roy, being like "wtf does his weird bs make sense?!?"

But also, a part of it may come from how Dick wasn't comfortable with becoming Bruce's son, so Bruce got used to immediately correcting people when they called him his father or Dick his son because he doesn't want Dick to overhear it and be hurt (a lot of people in the fandom seems to forget that it was Dick who did not want to be adopted and who was against Bruce being his father. Of course, that changed with time, but Bruce respecting that is great and not "bad parenting". A foster parent should never force a kid to accept them as their father/mother)

[technically-human]

The ultimate seduction.

@sevi007 this one was your idea! When in doubt, ask for marriage, Eggman!

[eefaevie]

parce qu'on s'est crié des mots qui ont sali tous nos plus beaux dessins, on a hurlé des chaudières d'encre noire sur le bonheur

j'expose ma tête, mes yeux, mon cœur et mes mains

si tu reviens

something quiet, gentle, and romantic for today. I’ve been assured it’s suggestive enough for @goodomensafterdark ‘s smut war, so enjoy this soft interlude with suggestive tummy ❤️

[shinoko-oshi]

Just Because’s - Simon Riley

It started small.

You brought him new socks.

That’s it — socks. Nothing fancy, just a twenty pack of black ones from the store because you noticed his were wearing thin.

That night, he went down on you without a word. No buildup, nor teasing, just dropped to his knees while you were brushing your teeth, pulling your shorts down like it was his next mission.

You didn’t even have time to ask.

When you tried to stop him, said something like, “Babe, you don’t have to—” he just looked up at you with that dead serious stare he got at times and said, “You got me something.”

Like that explained it.

The next time, it was a bottle of his cologne. He was running low. You ordered it before he even mentioned it, leaving it on the bathroom sink.

He kissed you that night, slow and sweet, like it was the last thing he’d ever do. And then he fucked you like it was the only way he knew how to say thank you.

But that wasn’t the part that made your chest ache.

It was later, when you sat on the couch beside him, wrapping up in a warm blanket, your head resting on his shoulder and he stiffened slightly, then turned to ask, with a almost cautious tone:

“What do you need?”

And you blinked, confused “From what?”

“Well your coming to me, what do you want me to do?”

You laughed softly at first, thought maybe he was joking.

But he wasn’t.

His shoulders were tense. Jaw locked. He looked ready to stand, like if you told him to go scrub the entire kitchen with a toothbrush, he’d already be halfway to the sink.

That’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t just gratitude. It wasn’t about being a good partner.

To him, love had a price tag.

Every nice thing came with invisible strings he thought he owed you for. If you cooked, he cleaned like it was owed. If you rubbed his shoulders, he wouldn’t rest until you were trembling from something he did to your body. You left a note in his lunchbox once, just a simple “hope you have a good day”, and when he came home, he barely let you make it to the bed before he had you gasping his name in the dark.

Not out of desire. Not always.

Sometimes it was out of obligation.

You saw it in the way he watched you afterward, waiting and tense, like he was checking to see if you were satisfied enough to let him breathe again.

One night, it broke your heart wide open.

You had made him tea. That was it. He looked tired so you put on the kettle.

And when you handed it to him, he didn’t smile. Just took it and stared into the mug like it had insulted him.

“I didn’t ask for this” he muttered

“I know,” you said gently. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I didn’t do anything to earn it.”

The words shattered your heart.

You sat beside him, slowly, and reached for his hand. He let you take it. He always did. But he didn’t relax or soften.

So you said it as plainly as you could:

“You don’t have to earn it, Simon, that’s not how this works. I’m not keeping a score. I’m not waiting for you to pay me back.”

His eyes flicked to yours.

“I love you,” you said, “and sometimes love looks like tea or clean socks or maybe a new cologne and that doesn’t mean you owe me your body, or your time, or anything.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands.

“No one’s ever done that for me before.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.

“Well, they should’ve”

And maybe he didn’t say anything else that night. Maybe he didn’t know how.

But he let you hold him.

And for once, he didn’t try to earn it.

Sorry for not posting, im finally back and out of the slump I was in lol

anywayyy what we thinkkk?

This idea was in my head for over three weeks now and I think I like it better now that I’ve written it, bit of angst and comfort, that I think fit Simon yk?

Master list

look at my cat