#but I've had a bit of a hard time focusing/working/getting into things

[noahl-art]

2025 is really out to get me I think 🙃 My cat got the feline flu right before the new year, and now it seems he is getting a mild eye infection, so I have to bring him to the vet again. My car is having issues and I have to bring it to the garage. We have someone who has to come take a look at our heating system because it's not counting how much energy we're using right. And now in bonus of good old seasonal depression kicking my ass (+my adhd and rejection sensitive dysphoria just getting so awfully fucking worst) .... I'm starting to have my periods again 🙃 January is really testing me...

[eufezco]

LOGAN AS A GIRL DAD°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

just pure fluff with pregnant!reader and logan <3

BEFORE PREGNANCY

being a dad at his age was something logan never imagined. starting a family seemed so out of reach, after everything he’d lived, he never thought that dad was a title he deserved. but then laura came into your life, and it was hard for him because you were a natural, effortlessly knowing how to care for her.

bit by bit, he began to follow your lead, picking up your habit of checking on her before bed and tucking her in, keeping an eye on her plate and making sure she finished her veggie, checking on her when she played outside and even sitting through her favorite cartoons.

and as you watched him, you’d catch yourself wondering what it would be like to bring another little life into this family you were building. the idea of getting pregnant crossed your mind more than once, and you could see it flicker in his eyes too, like an unspoken thought that made its way between you.

—you ever thought of having kids? —he asked, quiet but serious.

you took a few seconds to think about his question. not that you needed them, you'd always wanted to have his kids, and having laura had changed things, deepened the bond between you and logan, and brought your maternal instinct back. she wasn’t your biological child, but in every other way, she was yours.

the thought of bringing up the idea of getting pregnant to logan felt selfish, especially when you knew how much he had already given and how tired he was, you knew that, so you kept your hopes to yourself, not wanting to ask for more than the peace you had found with him and laura.

—we have laura —. you answered.

—yeah, we do. but… that’s not what i’m talking about.

there was a few seconds of silence while he waited for your answer.

—yes, i've thought about it but—

—have you thought about it recently?

you nodded to his question, feeling guilty.

he slowly nodded back to you. —i've been thinking about it too.

DURING PREGNANCY

logan started helping caliban in the kitchen, something that surprised you at first because he had never been much of a cook. but the two of them would work together, preparing meals that were good for you and the baby. logan would quietly chop vegetables or stir a pot, taking caliban’s instructions (also surprising because he had not followed anyone's instructions in a long time) as they worked to make sure you had everything you needed to stay healthy.

he’d help you with things like showering when it became difficult for you to balance or reach certain places. his touch was always gentle, his movements careful, making sure you felt safe. it became an intimate routine, his fingers massaged your scalp with care.

every night he'd gently rub lotion on your growing belly, helping to care for the stretch marks that had started to appear. he knew how self-conscious they made you feel. he could see it in the way you’d glance at your reflection, letting out a frustrated huff each time you noticed a new one, how you’d try to hide it from him, or how you’d wrap yourself in a towel quickly after a shower. so he took his time applying the lotion with steady hands, his eyes focused as if making sure he was doing it right.

—another one? —you muttered, feeling the weight of it.

—doesn’t change a thing —. logan just shook his head, kneeling beside you. —it’s just a mark. i'm covered in marks, and you never cared, right?

laura sat close to you, her eyes focused on your belly as logan gently massaged your skin. she was waiting, as she always did, hoping to see her future sister move. each time logan’s hand smoothed over your growing bump, laura’s gaze would sharpen, her small body leaning forward saying come on, little sis, just one kick. sometimes she’d place her hand beside logan’s, her touch gentle but curious.

—is she going to move soon? —she’d ask in a hushed voice.

logan glanced at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. —she’s already kickin' when you’re not looking —. he teased lightly as he rubbed the cream over your stretch marks, carefully. laura’s eyes never left your belly, waiting for that one special moment.

and he'd give you foot massages, his calloused hands rubbing away the soreness from carrying extra weight. you’d close your eyes, sighing in relief, and he’d smile.

when your clothes stopped fitting, it was he who offered up his own. he’d hand over his t-shirts and flannels, which hung loose on you and smelled like him, making you feel him close to you even when he was away at work.

logan was a bit reluctant at first but when the doctor told him how important prenatal yoga was to you, he didn't have to think about it twice. he wanted to be there and help you in every way he could even though he felt a bit out of place among the soft music, peaceful atmosphere, and expectant mothers, but he never let it show.

he'd help you find comfort in each of the poses the instructor guided everyone. he was often the only man in the class, which certainly caught the attention of the other moms. perhaps they noticed the age gap between you and logan, but more likely, their attention was drawn to your undeniably handsome partner. some of them whispered to each other, half-jokingly expressing their jealousy at how lucky you were to have such a dedicated partner. you both noticed the glances but you were too focused on each other.

as the weeks went by, the mothers would often smile at him, offering you two the kindest words as they saw how attentive he was to your needs.

at the end of the class, logan leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand resting on your back. —you did great —. he murmured, his voice full of pride. as you started to gather your things, one of the mothers nearby smiled and said, you're a lucky girl.

you couldn’t help but blush a little. he gave a small, almost shy smirk in response but didn’t say anything. instead, he focused on helping you with your bag.

the moment you found out you were pregnant, he quit smoking. it was almost instinctive, he wanted nothing but the best for you and the baby, and that included kicking the habit that had stuck with him for years.

and giving up cigarettes was one thing, but quitting drinking was way harder. there were nights he’d sit in the kitchen, staring at the bottle in the cabinet, knowing he could just reach for it. but he remembered you asleep in the other room, a hand resting protectively over your belly, and he’d push the thought away. he didn’t want his daughter growing up with memories of whiskey lingering on her father’s breath.

DURING LABOR

logan was more terrified than he'd ever let you know. he had faced, battles survived unimaginable pain, and lived through horrors but this was different. watching you in pain, knowing that your body was going through something so intense shook him to his core.

he stayed by your side, gripping your hand tightly and leaning in close, his voice encouraging you to push. he'd brush the damp strands of hair that were sticking to your face and press his forehead to yours.

when the baby’s first cry filled the room, logan sighed in relief, his grip on your hand softening as he finally allowed himself to breathe. once the doctors placed her on your chest, logan leaned in by your side, his eyes shining as he looked at you. you did so good, baby, thank you so much he murmured as he kissed your sweaty forehead and one of his fingers brushed across the baby’s little cheek.

AFTER PREGNANCY

at first, he was terrified every time he held her, his usually steady hands suddenly unsure. he was afraid that even his touch might be too much. she was so tiny, so soft and fragile, and her chest rose and fell so peacefully even though her small fingers wrapped around logan's thick ones with such strength. he found himself holding his breath whenever he picked her up.

in those first few days after labor, logan seemed to be everywhere at once. checking on the baby, bringing you food, making sure you were sleeping and laura wasn't trying to sneak into your room to see the baby. she was fascinated by her little sister, how could a human being be so small? laura often asked herself.

logan would catch her on her tiptoes, face with curiosity, and he’d stop her with a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder. laura would pout, glancing past him with wide eyes, eager to get closer, but logan wasn’t having it.

you surprised him when you caught him slipping into a soft, almost comical baby voice whenever he spoke to his daughter. but it was completely unintentional, just something that happened whenever he looked down at her tiny face, her big eyes blinking up at him. oh, what’s that little face all about, huh? you got somethin’ to say, little one? he’d murmur, his voice high and gentle as he rubbed one of her cheeks.

logan never thought he’d find joy in something as simple as dressing up his little girl, but there he was, surrounded by tiny clothes, immersed in a world of pastels and patterns. the laughter that escaped his lips as he put together the outfits was genuine. alright, sweetheart, what do you think of this one? he would ask her, holding the little one in front of the mirror. the baby had no idea what was going on, but logan nodded, approving the outfit. he’d try on multiple outfits, taking photos, and sending them to you for your opinion. how about this for school? he’d text you, proudly. this one’s a bold choice, but i think you can pull it off, he’d tease, pretending to be a fashion critic.

leaving for work each day became one of the hardest things logan had to do. he hated those hours he spent apart from the three of you. and every night when he came home, the baby was already sleeping but he'd tiptoe over to the crib, and he'd place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. then he’d make his way to bed, crawling next to you and pulling you close against his chest. he’d nuzzle his head close, murmuring softly, you okay, darlin’? and though you’d only mumble a half-coherent answer, he’d still give a small, satisfied nod.

and when he gets out of work earlier, he comes home exhausted, and you can see it in his face, the tired lines around his eyes, the slight droop of his shoulders, the way he rubs the back of his neck, but despite that, he is never too tired to play with his baby girl.

as the baby grew, logan took on new challenges, like driving her to school each morning, packing her tiny backpack with her favorite snacks, and doing her hair. with dark brown locks just like laura's and his own, he gathered them into two little ponytails, a bit clumsy at first, his fingers were used to fighting and rough work, not delicate hairstyles.

laura, after seeing how much fun logan had with the little girl’s hair, wanted no less. she’d approach him, eyes bright with excitement. —can you do my hair too, logan?

—your mom can do it for you. she's much better at it than i am —. he answered, not sure if his hairdressing skills would meet the older girl's expectations.

—but i want you to do it!

logan huffed, ruffling her hair with his free hand. he used the same care gathering laura's long hair as he did for her baby sister and he found it incredibly satisfying to see laura's face light up when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

after all, he was meant to be a girl's dad. every moment with you and your daughters reminded him that all those years of solitude and struggles, had led him here to a life filled with love. he might have thought being a dad was beyond his reach, but now, he knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[hxney-lemcn]

When You Nerd Out (Biology Edition) — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: the overblots find out you're more of a nerd than they realized...

tw: mentions of bugs (not really but I digress), mentions of arachnids (literally just the name of one lol), mentions of reptiles (idk maybe people are scared of them), mentions of snakes.

a/n: a reptile show is happening soon and I've been looking into so many reptiles/invertebrates/amphibians I had to get this out of my system somehow. What better way then to ramble to fictional characters? (Help me)

wc: 1.2k (~180 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Roseheart

When Riddle first met you, you were downtrodden, having just been thrown into a new world filled with magic and flair that yours didn’t. Your grades weren’t the best (but far from the worst), and you always seemed tired no matter what. So when your eyes lit up when he showed you the flamingo and hedgehog cages/pens he was surprised at the amount of facts that spilled from your lips. From how flamingos get their color to how hedgehogs are carnivores. Or how you could even ramble on about flowers and plants, like how tea garden roses are the most short lived species. From then on, Riddle would come to you for even the smallest of things. Did you want to feed the animals with him? This rose bush is wilting, are there any tips to bring it back? Do you know the meaning behind the colors of roses? No particular reason for that last question…just don’t question the bouquet of white and red roses mixed with baby’s breath that show up on your doorstep the next day.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

It was hard not to notice when you seemed to be on the brink of exploding. How you’d stare at awe in Leona’s presence, as you should. But your eyes would always wander to his ears, teeth, tail, nails. It got to a point that he felt like you were mentally dissecting him. It was his downfall to growl out a short “what”, as you started to pile on questions to the beastman prince. “Are your nails sharper than a humans?”, “How much better can you hear?”, “Does your tail help you balance?” All Leona could do was stare at you with boredom. Who knew his herbivore was a nerd? He supposes he could humor you for a little bit. Press his sharp nails lightly into your skin, a teasing smile as he asks if you’d like a test. Perhaps a nibble to show you how well his canines work? It all goes awry when you start taking interest in other beastmen, who cares about the cheetah or leopard bestmen when you have a lion prince right here?

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Azul never thought twice about where he’s come from. He’s seen many kinds of merpeople, many kinds of fish or crustaceans or sharks. But he knew land dwellers didn’t have that, which is why he has the giant aquarium in his lounge. He got used to the awed expressions as well, more focused on swindling the poor souls. So when your jaw dropped and how you clearly restrained yourself from running up to the giant aquarium, Azul felt giddy. He could offer you something most couldn’t. He’d watch as you’d point out a fish or ray that you saw and explain how much you loved the color or how magnificent it looked. When you brought up how smart you thought octopi are, it was over. His heart couldn’t take it. You know he was an octopus merperson right? You were basically complimenting him without realizing it. He couldn’t get over how you stared in wonder at the blue ringed octopus that was waving back at you. And oh sevens you were giggling at it? He wasn’t getting jealous over another octopus, no way…

❥ Jamil Viper

Jamil noticed the excited look in your eyes when you learned his last name was Viper, but nothing had happened at the time. It wasn’t until Kalim had you rambling about animals did Jamil realize just how much you seemed to love snakes. How you named your favorite in a heartbeat to how you scrutinized the ones you looked into as pets. It wasn’t until Kalim started to offer to buy you all those snakes and more did he have to step in. Yet Jamil felt flustered when your gaze landed on him, your eyes that had been filled with fondness while rambling about snakes had only seemed to get brighter when looking at him. Reluctantly, Jamil let you drag him to a reptile show, something Kalim had pushed him to do. For his own sanity, Jamil ignored the giant pouch of money Kalim tried to stealthily hand you, instead, focusing on your awed expression at the variety of animals. He couldn’t help but watch the snakes in awe with you, and when you asked him if he wanted to help you set up an enclosure for one…who was he to say no?

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil is a busy man. With photo and movie shoots to interviews to taking care of himself, there isn’t much time to stop and smell the roses. But with you, he tries to make time, and it's like a breath of fresh air every time. It was nice to sit outside and bask in the sun (with sunscreen of course) and talk with you. Something had clearly caught your eye when you dropped from the bench to scoop something off the ground. Vil thought he knew you well enough…apparently not. He hadn’t expected to see you shove a rolly polly, pill bug, potato bug, whatever you want to call them into his face…okay maybe he’s exaggerating. You held the little thing far enough away that it wasn’t all too startling. He swore he never saw you so excited about something, or how you rambled that they weren’t bugs, but crustaceans that live on land. The way you gently held the critter to how fondly you looked at the curled up thing made Vil’s heart flutter. You always seemed to find beauty in things most would shudder at. How odd.

❥ Idia Shroud

Idia had no idea how you managed, but you had convinced him to get a plant. You had called it a zz plant, and thought it would be perfect to liven his room up as it didn’t need direct sunlight. He watched the plant as it sat next to a grow light, it needed something since he didn’t have any windows. The dark purple leaves were pretty, you were right. As much as he tried to keep up with watering, he would forget, but Ortho seemed to have it covered. When little leaves started sprouting, Idia felt proud, a weird feeling he wasn’t used to. When you came over and saw how well it was doing you beamed. That stupid fluttery feeling filled him as you praised him, not to mention it mixing with feeling proud. Not a good combo, as now he was thinking of asking you if there’s any other plant you may recommend, just to get you rambling once more about different plants that could thrive in his little cave of a room.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Although Malleus loves to hear your voice, you always seem content to hear him ramble. The way your eyes watched intently, trying to find what he was pointing out on a gargoyle, or how you’d ask questions about the differences of a gargoyle and grotesque. At first, he was concerned when you gasped, had you gotten hurt somehow? Yet he found you excitedly pointing out a house gecko that stood near the gargoyle he was talking about. He watched you in awe as your eyes glittered, and how you were basically jumping up and down. Then you started going on about geckos, reptiles, and all sorts of odd things people keep as pets. The way you basically swooned at the thought of owning a crested gecko or a crocodile skink, Malleus was ready to hand you all the money you needed. He is the best and worst, as he’ll never tell you no and fund your hobby till your heart’s content. Just make sure to pay attention to him too, yeah? Unlike skinks or tarantula’s, he likes your affection. Plus, he’s the best reptile of them all, no? He’d gladly show you his dragon form.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Creations Dance

Danny likes to dance in the night sky while flying in his new ghostly form which is very ethereal holding glimpses of different parts of space and creations unknown, this continues even after he moves to Gotham.

The sky around him becomes his stage,

A stage that matches him and follows his lead.

Gotham has never had such clear skies, able to see each and every star shining brightly.

Twinkling in many colours almost seeming to dance alongside Danny,

Sharing his joy in their existence.

~

Duke had seen the new phenomenon that was Gotham's skies, who hadn't it was all he would hear people talking around him anytime he left the house, speaking of which were also discussing the same.

Bruce, Tim, and Barbara all researching to see what had caused the change, their bet so far was on magic but not sure who or what was causing it or the reason why.

He had seen the others also poking around seeing if they could find a lead.

But the most curious of all being Jason's new demeanor, ever since the night skies had changed he seemed to calm down almost seeming peaceful.

Which don't get him wrong was a great thing to happen but the timing of it all was too weird, honestly even Bruce was tense about the sudden turn around in demeanor.

So with everyone else occupied he decided he might as well go and enjoy the night sky, it was a very amazing view to miss out on.

He had discovered a new spot a bit far from home but it was quiet and private and would make the perfect spot to stargaze comfortably without being interrupted.

~

He had fallen asleep accidentally but something had woken him up.

He noticed that it was cold, cold enough that he could just barely see his breath in the air in front of him which should not be possible since it was almost summer, had Mr.Freeze escaped?

Looking around now alert he caught a flash of something up above his head.

Looking up he saw..light and darkness and so many things that his mind couldn't comprehend rather less describe.

His eyes shifted trying to make out what he was seeing, in the center was a being..dancing?

The being seemed to feel his eyes on them because in the next moment they turned to stare at him.

He could feel the weight of their eyes on him their entire presence focused around him radiating power and joy.

Continuing to stare at each other the only thing Duke could think of was,

"You're gorgeous.."

Duke snapped back realizing he had said that out loud his face warming, but the being in front of him seemed delighted.

"Thank you! I'm surprised you're able to see me."

"It's hard not to, you were dancing so happily I could feel it in my chest."

They-he? floated closer

"If you liked my dancing so much you could continue to visit me here to see."

" If you're okay with it then I would really like that, my name is Duke."

"It's a date then Duke! You can call me Danny."

~

God what was he going to tell the others? He found the cause for the change in Gotham but Danny seemed to be good, not a villain.

Well he'll keep it a secret for a while more right now he had to prepare for his date!

~

Duke sees Danny dancing around in the sky: "We'll have a winter wedding."

~

Duke seeing the Bats stressing and losing sleep trying to figure what's going on: "Should I say something? Hm nah."

~

Danny Dancing around in the sky while Duke is in the background being a supporting bf cheering him on with pom poms: "That's my boyfriend woo~!"

~

The bats for some reason arguing about each other's past relationships and crushes

Steph pointing at Dick: You're the one with the strangest taste seriously out of everyone in this family Duke and I are the only ones with normal taste! Right Duke!"

Duke " My Boyfriend is a Being/Ancient Ghost of Space That Most of the Time Doesn't Look Human/Humanoid" Thomas: * face sweating while he tries to sneak out of the room* "Umm..*voice crack* y-yeah."

~

I really enjoyed writing this one, I don't see a lot of Duke/Danny, but the works I've read are all so wonderful ♡

~

Just an Idea

[itneverendshere]

Bartender!reader reacting to rafes buzz cut for the first time.

made it extra fluffy and flirty bc i've been writing too much angst 😭thank you for the request, hope you like it💗

it's buzzcut season anyway - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

You were in the middle of counting your tips when the door creaked open again. You didn’t even look up this time. The lunch rush had finally slowed, and you were way too focused on making sure some old man’s cash hadn’t gotten stuck together. 

Your break started in two minutes. Your plan? Grab something to eat with Rafe and maybe—if you were lucky—convince him to give you one of those neck massages he was so good at. You’d earned it after dealing with the entitled club members all morning, and he always liked giving you a hard time about being stressed when he came to visit you at work.

If you could just survive until your break, you could—

“Hey, baby,” a voice drawled, warm and familiar.

Rafe.

Your heart did that stupid little thing it always did when you heard his voice, and you couldn’t help but smile even before you looked up.

“Hey, ba—” Your words caught in your throat the second you actually saw him.

Your hand stilled on the cash. He was standing in the doorway, all long toned limbs and that easy charm you’d fallen for over a year ago. But something was off. You squinted, your brain trying to catch up to what you were seeing. It wasn’t the way he was standing or the fact that he had on a backwards cap—he always did that. It was what wasn’t under the cap. Something was missing.

Your eyes went straight to the top of his head.

“Wait—what the—” You blinked, abandoning the tips on the counter as you stepped around it and walked toward him, your eyes locked on the top of his head, trying to figure out if you were seeing things. “Did you buzz your head?”

He just grinned, casually leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, totally unbothered. “Yeah. What d’ya think?”

You gawked at him. “You shaved your head. You literally shaved your head.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. His cap was covering most of it, but you could see enough—enough to know that his thick, messy hair, the hair you’d spent countless hours running your fingers through, was gone. 

Gone.

“Oh my God. You buzzed it? For real?”

Rafe straightened up, lifting his cap and running a hand over the buzzed length, showing it off like he was some kind of model. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. You don’t like it?”

Your fingers itched to touch it, but you hesitated. You were trying so hard not to freak out. He’d just gone and buzzed his head without even telling you.

“Like it? I—” You sputtered, waving your hand in the air. “Baby, your hair! You just... did this? No warning? No ‘hey, baby, I’m thinking about going full buzzcut, what do you think?’”

His grin turned cocky as he reached out to pull you into him by the waist. “I thought I’d surprise you. Didn’t expect you to get all worked up over it.”

You gave him a playful shove, but he didn’t budge. “I’m not worked up! I’m just... shocked. I thought I was gonna get to lunch with my boyfriend and his hair, not—” You gestured to his head, still half in disbelief. “—this.”

He chuckled, leaning down so his forehead almost touched yours. “So... you hate it?”

You gave him a look, trying to stay mad or at least a little indignant about the whole thing, but it was impossible with him looking at you like that.

“You thought I’d like you going from ‘beach boy’ to ‘buzzcut’ overnight with no warning?”

“Pretty much.” He leaned in, “You gonna tell me you don’t like it?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it.

Truth was, you were already starting to like it. You liked that it was new, that it was him, and that it made him look a little rougher, more rugged. But you weren’t gonna tell him that right away. You hadn’t expected to be into it, not at all. Rafe’s hair had always been one of your favorite things about him—the way it’d curl up when he got all sweaty in the summer or how it’d fall into his eyes when he was being serious.

But... the buzzcut? You weren’t expecting it to be hot. But it was. So hot.

“I didn’t say I hate it...” you said, letting your voice trail off as you finally gave in and ran your fingers over the buzzed hair. It was soft, like velvet, and you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning.

He chuckled, one hand coming up to cup your chin as he tilted your face up toward his. “Knew it.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“See? Told ya,” he teased, his hands still gripping your waist as he watched your reaction. “You can’t keep your hands off me now.”

“I never said I couldn’t,” you shot back, your cheeks heating up. “It’s just... I wasn’t expecting to like it this much.”

“Uh-huh.” His eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your cheek. “Admit it. You think I look hot. You’re lookin’ at me like you can’t wait to get me alone.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you playfully pushed at his chest, trying to cover up how much he was getting to you. “Shut up,” you laughed. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“I know you love it.”

You groaned, finally giving in to a full laugh. “Okay, okay. Fine. You look hot.”

Rafe grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a quick peck, unable to help yourself now. “You owe me lunch for this, though.”

“I brought you lunch,” he said, lifting the bag you hadn’t even noticed in his other hand.

“Oh, did you now?” You raised a brow. “You’re really tryin’ to get on my good side today, huh?”

“I’ll grow it back, don’t worry,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against your neck. “But for now, you’re stuck with this.”

As you both sat down at one of the tables near the back of the bar, you couldn’t stop sneaking glances at his head.

It wasn’t just the look of it that was getting to you—it was the fact that he’d done something so out of the blue, just like that. He always kept you on your toes, never predictable, and surprisingly, you loved that.

He caught you looking for the millionth time and shot you a smug smile. “I can tell you wanna say somethin’. Spill.”

You reached over and ran your fingers through the nonexistent hair again, giggling. 

“I just can’t get over it, baby. You look like a whole new person. A sexy, buzzed-head guy.”

His smile softened, his hand finding yours on the table. “Yeah?”

You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “I mean, I miss your old hair, but I’m into this. You look hot.” You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to his mouth.

His eyes darkened a little, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Careful or I’m not gonna let you finish your lunch before I drag you outta here.”

Your heart raced, “Rafe Cameron, if you ruin my lunch break, I swear—”

He cut you off with a low chuckle, leaning across the table to press his lips to yours again, not caring that you were still technically on the clock. You melted into him, all thoughts of food forgotten for a moment. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless.

“I can’t believe you buzzed your head,” you whispered, still grinning.

“I can’t believe you’re this obsessed with it.”

“…Fine.”

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[thatdisasterauthor]

I am not sure where my fascination with disasters came from, but I have had it for a long, long time. So much so that I very specifically remember being in Middle School and writing a short story about a tornado hitting our school and trapping all the students in the gym (but none of the teachers, of course, because what fun would it be if the teachers were around?). My poor teacher didn't quite know what to do with me when she tried to pair everyone up by genre to critique one another's stories, as no one else had written something remotely similar. It didn't matter though, I was hooked. That afternoon I was standing in my garage and thinking about how I wanted to grow up to be an author who wrote disaster stories, and I wanted to write one story about each kind of disaster.

After several years (and two agents) trying to get these books picked up traditionally with no luck, I've decided to just do it myself. And so, the Little Disaster Books collection has been born! When you pick up a Little Disaster Book, here's what you're going to get:

A short read. Each book is around 50,000-70,000 words. That's a bit longer than a novella, and shorter than most novels, because sometimes you just need a quick book, not a door-stopper.

Each book is a standalone. Because, again, sometimes you just need something quick that you don't have to invest in for a decade while you wait for each book to come out.

Lots of queer characters of all sorts. The disaster genre is, unfortunately, pretty notorious for either not having queer characters at all, or killing them off. Little Disaster Books will instead center them and their narratives. But, the stories won't be ABOUT queerness, they'll just have characters that are queer.

No quickie romance. There will be characters in relationships (I'm a sucker for books with couples that are already together at the start), and maybe the first blooms of a potential romance, but nobody is falling head over heels when they should be focused on survival.

No gore for gore's sake. Characters might get hurt, or even die, but these aren't horror books or slasher books or anything in that vein.

A realistic look at disaster. I'm not just obsessed with fictional disasters, I'm obsessed with the real ones too. I have spent a lot of time studying disasters, myths around disasters/disaster response, and the sociology of disasters. With Little Disaster Books I have worked very, very hard to make the books as realistic as possible when it comes to things like civilian responders, everyday heroes, and how disaster response tends to work. At the end of the day they are still fiction, but they're fiction heavily grounded in reality. No "everyone for themselves/we're all animals when the lights go out" nonsense here.

Full endings. There's a bit of a trend in survival thrillers for them to end right at the climax/moment of rescue, or within a few pages of it, even if things haven't been fully wrapped up. Little Disaster Books will all have more rounded endings that delve, at least a little bit, into the aftereffects of what the characters go through, because sometimes the after is the hardest part of all.

The first book in this collection, Lie Down in the Ashes, is launching on Kickstarter on Janaury 15th, 2025! Sign up to be notified on launch here. It is about a group of teens who get caught in the middle of a fast moving wildfire that one of them accidentally starts.

Sign up to be notified on launch here.

[skywalkerslvt]

Need a desperate sub Leon in public setting🙏🏻But please dont make us mean,I cant be mean to my baby but "No baby we're in public!"

a/n: tysm for the request! here's a very short fic i've been working on (it's a little bit rushed and not proofread so i might fix it up later). hope u like it!! <3

CW: 18+ smut, sub leon, teasing, semi public sex, pet names (reader calls leon baby and good boy), handjobs, 1.1k words

Leon Kennedy was always composed, always in control. At least, that's what everyone thought. But right now, at one of his coworker's dinner parties, he was anything but.

The evening had started off normally enough. You and Leon had arrived at the elegant townhouse, greeting his colleagues and their partners with polite smiles. The house was buzzing with conversation and laughter, the sound of clinking glasses and soft music creating a lively atmosphere.

You were both seated at a long dining table, surrounded by the chatter of his coworkers. But beneath the table, hidden from everyone else, your hand was slowly driving Leon to the brink of madness.

It had begun with a casual touch on his knee, a simple gesture that wouldn't raise any suspicion. But then your hand began to wander, tracing patterns on his thigh, inching closer and closer to the bulge straining against his slacks.

Leon tried to focus on the conversation, tried to keep his responses coherent, but it was getting harder with every passing second. He shifted in his seat, his breathing becoming shallow as he felt your fingers brush against him.

"Are you okay, Leon?" you asked innocently, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you pretended to be concerned.

He swallowed hard, nodding. "J-just a little distracted."

You bit back a smile, knowing full well what you were doing to him. Your fingers pressed a bit harder, rubbing him through the fabric, and Leon had to bite his lip to keep from making any noise.

"Are you sure?" you asked, leaning forward slightly, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. "You seem really tense."

Leon managed a weak smile. "Y-yeah, just... trying to keep it together."

You chuckled softly, your fingers giving him a teasing squeeze before leaving his aching cock, returning to tracing teasing circles up and down his thigh.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to compose himself, but it was no use.

He was too far gone, too desperate for your touch. His hand reached under the table, gripping your wrist in a silent plea for mercy. His hand guided yours up higher, where his cock was straining painfully against his pants. “Please,” he whined quietly, “I need it.”

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered back, "No, baby, we're in public. You can be a good boy and wait for me, can't you?"

Leon shuddered, his grip tightening. "I don't know if I can."

"You will" you said confidently, giving him one last squeeze before finally pulling your hand away. "Because you know I'll make it worth your while."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The promise of relief, of finally being able to let go, gave him the strength to endure the rest of the meal.

But it wasn't easy. Every look, every casual touch, was a reminder of what was waiting for him, just out of reach.

By the time the dinner was over and you made your way to a quiet corner of the house, Leon was practically trembling with need. He followed you silently, his mind focused on only one thing: getting to a place where he could finally let go, where he could give in to the overwhelming desire that had been building up inside him.

As soon as you were alone, his restraint crumbled. He pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate kiss, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that had been held back for far too long.

You smiled against his lips, knowing that you had him exactly where you wanted him. "Good boy," you whispered, your words sending a shiver down his spine, and Leon's eyes darkened with desire, his breath hitching as he prepared to show you just how much he needed you.

His eyes met yours, filled with a desperate need that made your heart race.

"Please," he whispered, his voice shaky. "Please, I need you."

You leaned into his neck, biting and sucking marks at his pulse point as your hand slid down his stomach, teasingly close to where he ached the most. You could feel his heart pounding, his breath quickening in anticipation as he let out a soft whimper.

You pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth before reminding him to keep quiet.

Leon whimpered, but he nodded again, his body trembling with the effort to remain still. You rewarded him with a soft kiss, your lips barely brushing his as your hand finally reached the waistband of his pants.

Your hand slipped inside his pants to wrap around his throbbing cock. His eyes rolled back in his head as he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out. "Just focus on me, Leon. I'll take care of you."

You stroked him slowly, your thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smearing the pre-cum that had gathered there. Leon's hips bucked involuntarily, a strangled moan escaping his lips before he could stop it. You tightened your grip slightly, reminding him to stay quiet.

"Shh," you soothed, kissing him deeply to muffle any further sounds. He kissed you back with a desperation that only fueled your desire, his hands gripping your hips as if to ground himself.

Your pace quickened, your hand moving faster over his length as his breathing became more erratic. You could feel him getting close, his body tensing as he struggled to hold back.

"That's it," you whispered against his lips. "Let go for me, Leon. Be a good boy and cum."

With a muffled cry, Leon obeyed, his body shaking as he came hard into your hand. You continued to stroke him through his orgasm, your other hand gently caressing his face as tears of relief and pleasure spilled from his eyes.

"Good boy," you murmured, kissing away his tears. "You did so well."

Leon slumped against you, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he basked in the afterglow. You held him close, your heart swelling with affection for the man in your arms.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with gratitude. "I love you."

"I love you too, Leon," you replied, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Now, let's get back to the party before anyone notices we're gone."

He nodded, reluctantly pulling away to adjust his clothes. You did the same, both of you sharing a secret smile as you stepped out of the closet, ready to face Leon's coworkers once more.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ 12 3 days of christmas

-----------------••✩🎅🏻❄️🎄✩••----------------

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐱

✩ : just a (not so) chill post-christmas competition with your boyfriend

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : oscar piastri

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff, mature

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,3k

✍︎ : couldn’t stop thinking about that one mclaren video so i just wrote it down.

last one-shot of the christmas series! i'm sorry it was so short but i've been super busy with my family and relatives, so this is all i could give you guys (for the same reason, i don't have anything ready for new year's either...)

anyways, i hope you enjoyed it and had an amazing time with your loved ones too 🩷

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow on the torn wrapping paper scattered across the living room, untouched since you left it there the day before, warming the room as you passed by. When you walked into the kitchen, lazily stretching your arms over your head with a loud yawn, you were welcomed with a rather unique sight.

Oscar, hair ruffled and still in his pajamas, was quietly humming to a Christmas song coming from Alexa, so focused on whatever he was doing that he didn’t even look up when you made your entrance. You bit back the smirk tugging at your lips: he was far too cute like that, all festive and productive, to take it personally.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice still rough and low as he flashed you a sleepy grin; so he had seen you.

“Morning,” you replied, reaching out to peck him gently on the cheek, the way his arm immediately sneaked around your waist making you smile against his skin.

“So,” you pulled back and turned towards the counter behind you, “what’s all this?”

To be fair, now that you looked at them, the chaotic selection of candies, including gummy bears, M&Ms and marshmallows, and the two icing bags lying beside them spoke for themselves, making the answer pretty obvious.

Therefore, you weren’t really surprised when Oscar answered: “We’re making gingerbread houses.”

“And you decided to do this now of all times because…?”

“It’s my revenge for how you played yesterday,” he stated, hands firmly placed on his hips as he eyed you with a knowing glance, though he looked like he was trying his best not to laugh.

You clutched at your chest, mouth hung open in an outraged and mockingly shocked expression. “Excuse me, you mean how I clearly destroyed you at Monopoly?” Your tone was now teasing as an amused smirk played on your lips.

“No, I mean how you destroyed the board when you yeeted it across the room halfway through.”

“It was a strategic retreat,” you waved a hand in the air, absently shrugging off his accusation before grabbing one of the decorating bags and pointing it at his chest. “Ready to lose again?”

“First of all, let’s put this down,” he said while guiding your hands down on the kitchen island with his own. “The icing should go on the houses, not us.”

“Wow, zero faith in me,” you shot back, your unimpressed tone dripping with sarcasm as if being babied by Oscar didn’t affect you in the least — although it, in fact, affected you a lot. “Besides, I know how these things work. How hard can it be?”

“Famous last words,” he sighed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin as he finally let go of you.

“Alright,” you ignored him, bubbling over with the same excitement of a child on Christmas morning. “Rules are simple: best gingerbread house wins. No cheating, no crying when you lose.”

“Why are you the one making the rules? I’m pretty sure this was my idea.” He quirked a brow, the playful glint in his eyes matching the now full-blown smile on his face.

“Gingerbread house competition rules are universally known,” you stated matter-of-factly. “So, should I get tissues for you now or later?”

He didn’t say anything, just gave you a warning look before shaking his head, laughing at himself in disbelief as he, too, prepared for your little battle.

It took exactly ten minutes for things to start going sideways.

“Oscar!” Your voice echoed through the room once again, a laugh unwillingly breaking through the annoyance in it. “Stop eating all my decorations!” you scolded him, every word a slap on his arm.

“I’m quality testing,” he explained, mouth full of your candies as he popped yet another one in it.

“You’re sabotaging.” You snatched the package from his hands, sticking out your tongue at his disappointed face.

“Uncalled for,” he muttered under his breath, to which you quickly responded with a sharp ‘Deserved,’ before you both focused back on your work, the kitchen falling into a comfortable silence.

Until.

“Stop staring at me,” you said, not looking up from the counter after you felt his gaze linger on you for the hundredth time.

“I’m not staring.” The amusement in his tone immediately gave him away.

“You so are,” you chuckled, stealing a glance at him from the corner of your eye. “What?” you then asked, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink when you found him already looking at you, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

He nodded toward your house. “Your wall’s sliding.”

“Mother–” You cursed between your teeth, scrambling to fix it, your fingers sticky with icing as you pressed it back into place.

That’s when you felt it — him.

“What are you doing?” you basically hissed, tensing up as he stepped right behind you, his arms sliding onto the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He just stood still for a moment, his chest warm against your back and his breath hot on your neck as he hovered over you, every nerve in your body suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

“Helping.” His tone was casual, innocent even, but the way it immediately dropped as he took your smaller hands in his made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I don’t need help,” you replied sharply — and yet you didn’t pull away, your skin tingling under his touch.

“Mhm,” he hummed in your ear, mock obvious in his voice.

You tried to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at that simple sound, keeping your eyes stubbornly fixed on the gingerbread house in front of you as you mumbled a weak ‘I’ve got it’ you didn’t even believe yourself.

“Sure you do.” Oscar didn’t miss a beat, his mouth ghosting over your cheek as he spoke, the last bits of self-control you had left finally leaving your body.

Since you didn’t have any smart remark to make this time — not a single thought was actually going through your head — he just kept going, only worsening your already desperate situation.

“You’ve got a little…” His whisper trailed off as he brought a hand up to your flushed face, gently taking your chin between his fingers and turning your head toward him, his thumb moving to brush away a dribble of icing that had ended up on the corner of your mouth.

“Oscar–”

“Hold still,” he murmured, “I missed a spot.”

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned in, his lips burning on your skin as he darted his tongue out and swiped it over the dirty spot in a lingering kitty lick. But it was when he traced the line of your bottom lip with it that you gave in, an unintentional sigh escaping your mouth as you faced him completely.

Your hands moved in sync, yours sliding under his shirt and trailing to his back, nails scratching their way up, while his left your jaw to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter, sending half of the items on it tumbling to the floor. Needless to say, neither of you cared about the mess.

His fingers moved down to your thighs, digging into the plush skin there and forcing them apart so that he could sneak between your knees, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to pull him flush against you, the sudden contact making your back arch as he grunted softly.

Oscar’s mouth left yours for a moment, only to start attacking your neck right after, your head tilting back to give him a better access as he nipped at the sensitive spot just above your collarbone.

A mischievous smile stretched on his lips as he licked clean a sprinkle of powdered sugar you hadn’t even noticed, mumbling ‘Sweet’ at the taste of it.

“Was this your plan all along?” You let out a breathless laugh in between your gasps, skin on fire under his every little touch.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. His kisses did all the talking.

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©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[destinationtoast]

Hello! I keep hearing that fandom culture has changed, and there are less comments now than there were years ago. Have you noticed this in your analysis? Is the percentage of comments being left today lower than before?

Hey! Thanks for the question -- it prompted me to start collecting data about comments (after procrastinating on it for a while, because I had to write new code to gather comment data). I've also seen other discussions from folks also thinking about how to do this kind of analysis (like in the fandom data projects community) -- hopefully we'll end up with multiple people attacking this from different angles and getting a variety of data about comments!

I'll give a sneak preview that partially addresses your question and contains some good news. If we look at the fraction of AO3 works that get at least one comment (focusing just on one-shots for now), I think things have gotten better over the past decade on AO3*:

In other words, it tentatively looks like more works were getting at least one comment in 2024 than in 2014 (for a variety of time periods). One caveat, though -- if a bunch of works with no comments got deleted in the interim, there will be survivor bias here. I'll try to look into that possibility later. Another caveat: this is based on only like ~100 randomly selected works from each year -- this may all change with more data!

Another interesting tidbit: I still see some of the 2014 works getting comments. In fact, ~30% of works have gotten new comments over 5 years after they were posted, and it looks like ~10% of one-shots posted back in Mar 2014 got a new comment in 10 years later, in 2024.

I'm still doing other analyses; there may be other factors that better match with the discourse around how comment culture has changed. It could be that comment activity peters out faster now than it did back then, for instance. Or the total number of comments left on the popular works is less now than it was back then (though my current methods may not be able to capture that). Edit thanks to quick eagle-eyed readers: it's likely that some of what people are thinking about is ratio of comments to hits -- that is hard to compare in 2014 to 2024, because we don't know which hits came from which years. But I am working on some analyses along those lines. :)

If you have other hypotheses about what's changed in commenting culture, feel free to share! I'll look into what I can.

Some methodology notes:

*I've been tackling this by comparing AO3 one-shots posted in early 2014 to one-shots posted in 2024, and comparing activity in the days/weeks/months immediately after the works were posted. (To start with, I'm only scraping the first page of comments for each work -- meaning the first 20 comment threads -- so there are lots of comments I'm potentially missing for the really popular works. But for many works, this captures all the comments, and I think it may be sufficient for a lot of the analyses I am interested in.)

I'm choosing to focus on 2014 vs. 2024 because 2024 is close to now (but it's been long enough for comments to have settled down a bit), and 2014 was well after AO3 was established (thus it was already a pretty lively time on AO3). I don't want to collect data about every single year because it's too time intensive/too hard on AO3's servers. But if people think that I should be looking at different years, I'm interested in feedback.

Because it's only been ~10 months since March 2024, I am limiting a lot of my analyses to only look at commenting activity the first ~10 months after works were posted in both cases.

[scorpioriesling]

Hii, hope you are having a good week! I saw your prompt list and that your requests are open👉👈🥹 I was wondering if I could request number 4.Make up sex with Tamlin x reader where they are mates??? I love himmm

Discussions in … Strategy

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Pairing(s): Tamlin x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, nsfw, p in v, oral, semi-public sex, slight angst

Summary: While in the Winter Court for a meeting with your mate, a simple discussion of strategy gets out of hand. After a heated argument, and words said out of anger -- your husband knows just how to make it up to you.

SR’s Note: This one has been in my inbox / WIPs for SO LONG, and I'm so excited to finally finish it and share it with all of you lovely people. (: This uses prompt #4 from my prompt masterlist -- please feel free to send me an ask/idea/request at any time! There are a few unused prompts from the list that I would still love to incorporate.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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The wind was cold as it whipped against your face -- you hadn't enjoyed the Winter Court much for that. It was rarely warm in this court, no sun, no humidity... it almost made you miss the Summer Court.

Perhaps I'll just go back there, you thought.

Shaking your head, you let the angry feelings recede a bit. As you closed the open window and made to look in the mirror instead, you let out a long sigh.

Is the Spring Court High Lady supposed to look so... blue?

You reached for the jewelry you'd laid out for today's meeting; a pair of pearl earrings your mother had once given you, and a golden necklace with a heart-shaped pearl hanging from it.

That one was from your mate.

Your mate. Your husband. Your Tamlin. Your brows furrowed as the sinking feeling in your heart returned, one that made its debut the night prior. The night prior, when, being so stubborn as usual, you and your mate got into a tiff. More of an argument, really. It was the worst one you'd ever had.

You glance at yourself in the mirror again, frustration reddening your face as you try to clasp the jewelry around your neck. Usually, your husband would be there to help you out with that -- but, he had left early this morning, after a long night with not so much as a cuddle from you.

Maybe he was rethinking his original proclaimation to make you his High Lady...

Last night's argument was rough, sure. But the Tamlin you knew, one so changed after his falling out with Feyre, wouldn't think twice about you being his equal. You knew that -- but the feeling still lingered.

He was so upset last night, so worked up by the things you were saying. You'd never so much as heard him raise his voice before, let alone gripe at you so loudly during the disagreement. But, last night was different.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying, Y/N," he started.

"I don't need to! I already told you, the best course of action was to ally with Kallias, and-"

"Is that much not already clear? By the Cauldron, Y/N, we've travelled all this way to meet with him in his palace-"

"Exactly!" Your voice rose one octave, the knitting of your brows only making him frown.

"So why aren't we focusing more on our alliances with-"

"I swear to the Cauldron, Tamlin, you don't listen to a word I say." You huffed, tossing your worn gown into the closet and slamming the door. You pulled your sleeping top over your head, continuing on.

"We already have the Autumn Court on our side. The only other party here right now, for this meeting tomorrow, is the Night Court-"

"Right, the Night Court that we still need to forge an alliance with."

You glared at him hard.

"You really think Rhysand is going to hear a word either of us have to say? After all this time, how blinded are you-"

"For the record, I've been doing this a lot longer than you have, High Lady. I think I know what I'm doing." He glared back at you.

That's when your heart sunk, and a few beats of silence passed between you.

"That was low, even for you."

His face softened at your words, his eyes downcast as you slid into the cozy, winter-white sheets.

He let out a small, saddened sigh as he changed, and slid in behind you.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Don't." Even with your back turned, you could still hear every word he said, and sense he had reached out to embrace you.

You didn't care. Your feelings had been hurt -- and your heart felt as cold as the snow gathering on the windowsill.

Standing before the closet once more, you ruffled through the gowns you'd packed, not quite sure which one was best fit for the meeting. Originally, you thought the pale blue would be best, as you were in the Winter Court after all -- but, you were the High Lady of the Spring Court. You didn't want your potential allies for this upcoming battle to feel as though you were trying to be somebody that you weren't.

You bent at the waist, picking up the discarded gossimer from last night and hanging it straight on a hanger. That one was a rather expensive one, one your mate had bought you for your anniversary; you'd have to consult with Alis about the wrinkles.

Thumbing through the dresses once more, your eye caught on the moss green gown, one you hadn't worn often, but one that surely got other's attention. The last time you'd worn it, you took your honeymoon with Tamlin in the Dawn Court... oh, what a lovely trip that had been.

You tried to ignore the growing pulse between your legs at the memory.

Snatching it from the closet, you put it on, fixing your hair once before giving yourself a confident smile in the mirror.

You'd make things right today, you thought. Just after you got through this meeting.

✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"My Gods Y/N -- you're ravishing as ever!"

Vivianne greets you with a warm embrace, and you chuckle as some of the fur on her long, white coat tickled your nose.

"It's good to see you again, Viv."

You pulled away, smiling politely before she pulled you close conspiratorally.

"Hey -- we really need girl's weekend again, don't you think?"

You smiled, the memory of the last weekend spent in the Summer Court a happy one.

"Oh, I most certainly agree. Tamlin's been..." you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe, but not insult your husband.

"...Tamlin?" She finishes, and the two of you chuckle. Your stomach drops a little as you see the familiar head of blonde hair waltzing over to the two of you, one that didn't particularly like you or your husband.

"Morrigan!" Vivianne cheered, embracing her long-time friend as she'd just done to you. "I missed you so much!"

Morrigan flashed her a beaming smile, her attention solely focused on her friend. Your cheeks heated in that moment. Of course they were closer than you and Vivianne were -- they'd both been doing this for a lot longer.

Maybe, you should've trusted your husband's judgement, instead of snapping at him like you did.

"Mor, I'm sure you've met-"

"Yes, I have. The, High Lady, of... the Spring Court." Her words are punctuated, but she extends a hand to you nonetheless. You take it, plastering the most confident smile on your face as possible. "Your name was...?"

"Y/N," you fill the silence, Vivianne's eyes switching between the two of you. "It's Y/N." She only nods, dropping your hand as she subtly glances at your necklace.

"Yes, Y/N and I were actually just talking about another ladie's weekend!" Vivianne chirps excitedly. "Do you think you'll be able to come this time?" Morrigan's gaze returns to her friend.

"It depends -- Rhys always has something for me to do, we have more of an army than we know what to do with, and..." she glances sidelong at you. "I suppose it depends on how this meeting goes today, doesn't it?"

Vivianne bites her lip, trying to feign nonchalance as she offers a simple shrug. "I... I suppose, so."

Morrigan takes in a breath, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "It'd be so much easier if the men here could get off their high horses; if we started working together years ago, we would already be prepared for something like this." She lets out a short laugh, and you can't help but crack a smile.

You definitely should have heard Tamlin out. An alliance with the Night Court? That was absolutely the move.

Vivianne and Morrigan shatter on as you reflect on how wrong you were, shouting at your mate like that last night, what were you thinking? You were already friends with Vivianne, which meant Kallias was willing to work with your court-

"Hello, everyone! So glad you could all make it." Kallias' voice rang out through the room, his voice bouncing off the ice-walls. "Please -- join me at the table, everyone, as we discuss this upcoming war."

Morrigan tutted, and Viv muttered a "men, right?", which caused you to chuckle as you made your way to your seat. Your heart caught in your chest as you observed Tamlin in the chair beside yours, his chosen outfit for the day was green, fitting, and... attractive.

You began to pull out your chair, only stopping when his large palm covered yours atop the wood.

"Allow me."

The quiet offer was all you needed, as you moved to sit, allowing your husband to push you closer to the table. He sat quietly next to you, and it took everything in you to not lean over and kiss his cheek.

"Alright -- at our last meeting, I believe we were discussing the matter of battle origin," Kallias begins. He droned on, and on, and on, discussing various maps of each court as he earned input from the other two High Lords in attendance. Beron, though he was your ally, didn't know how to say anything respectful; you opted to sneak a glance at your husband instead of listening to his opinion.

Boy, what a mistake that was.

You felt silly, foolish for the thoughts running through your head. Your mate's jawline was clean shaven, his silky golden hair flowing to his shoulders. The way his cream-colored pants fit him... Gods, you only could imagine the way his strong thigh muscle would feel against your aching clit, his strong hands guiding your waist back and forth as you made a mess on his-

"And, what do you have to say about this?"

You were so wrapped up in your dizzying thoughts that the question came as a shock to you. While you were trying to come up with an answer, something to say to that -- Tamlin spoke up.

"I believe we will have to agree with Kallias on this one."

His answer washed over you like a bucket of ice water. Kallias? The Winter Court? Examining the maps laid upon the table, one thing was clear -- the decision of where to camp for battle was very divided.

All it took was one look to the High Lady of the Night Court's face to realize the grave mistake your husband just made -- they'd never align properly with you, given that you'd taken the side of the court in the minority over their plan that made much more sense.

Even Beron frowned.

"I... I think, what Tamlin meant," you spoke up. "Was that while the Winter Court would be ideal..." you could feel the nerves creeping in. Everyone's eye was on you. Public speaking wasn't a comfortable skill you'd taken on, usually opting for your husband to do most of the talking -- after all, he was much better at it than he had been.

"I think that, while your Court is ideal," you repeated, looking to Kallias and then to Rhysand. "The weather for said activity, is not. From my understanding, the Night Court is much better suited-"

"We think the Night Court is a good idea, but it may be better to lie in wait here where invading armies are less likely to look." Tamlin interrupts, trying to steer the conversation in favor of the Winter Court. You huff, only trying to show your change of heart from the night before.

Kallias' satisfied expression changes when Rhysand opens his mouth.

"Let the lady speak, Tamlin... she is your High Lady, after all." He offers you a polite smile, and you clear your throat once more.

"I think... we have to agree with the Night Court, on this one." Tamlin shakes his head beside you, his knuckles white as he clasps his hands together atop the table.

"No no, we are aligning our judgement with the Winter Court." He half-smiles at Kallias. Beron raises an eyebrow.

You look at him, brows knit. "I think my husband is... confused, as we already talked about our allegiance with the Night Court," you punctuate, hoping to get the memo across that yes, he was right, and yes, aligning with the Night Court would be best.

He stares blankly. "I'm not confused. About any of it." The two of you stare eachother down, only interrupted when Beron claps his hands loudly.

"Well, as it seems the two of you don't have your court's beliefs in order quite yet," he looks to Kallias. "How about an intermission?"

The High Lord of Winter nods. "An intermission -- meet back here after dinner?" Many attendees nod, moving to stand from their chairs. You catch a small wink from Morrigan, clearly pleased with your interest in her native court. But before you can make to stand, your husband's hand braces your thigh.

"You're not going, anywhere." He growls. You sit still, watching as every other member filters out, and Kallias closes the door behind him. Turning to Tamlin, you take a steadying breath as his eyes meet yours.

"Tamlin, I-"

He rushes toward you, his free hand bracing the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours. His other hand squeezes your leg, feeling up and down as he rumples your dress. Lips moving against one another, you let out a soft groan at the feeling of his tongue slipping between your lips, tasting you and fighting for control against yours.

You pull back breathless, your eyes meeting his once more. The dark green irises are filled with pure hunger.

"What are you playing at, Y/N?" He growls, and you have squeeze your legs together.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, already longing to be on his again. "I... I realized, you were right, last night, and um-"

"And, you thought leaving your mind open to me, during this crucial meeting was a good idea?" His brows lower, while yours furrow in confusion.

"What? I..." Oh.

"You think I can't hear what you're thinking? See what you're fantasizing about, while I'm trying to focus on the plan you suggested-"

"Woah woah woah," you held your hands up, chuckling humorlessly. "How did you miss that I was trying to follow your plan?" He glowered at you. "Tamlin, I know what was said last night was in anger, but you were right-"

"Do not apologize to me." He says lowly. "I had no right to speak to you that way. Speak to my mate that way." Your heart aches at his wors, his mouth mere inches from yours as he maintains eye contact. "And I don't want you ever, thinking I'd want you in any court than mine. With me. Leading, with me."

Your bottom lip quivers. He must have heard your negativity this morning, too.

Before the tears well up too much in your eyes, you pull him in, kissing him again. Your fingers grip his emerald jacket collar, holding on as his mouth devoured yours at once. His hands, Gods his hands... he hoised you out of your chair, placing you on his lap to straddle him instead. You moaned into the kiss, his cock throbbing beneath the restraints of his pants and sending waves of desire straight to your core.

His hands roved all over you, sliding down your back and across your covered thighs before settling on your hips, moving you back and forth across his hardening length. You only break the kiss to gasp when he leans you back, splaying you flat on the table while he pushes up your dress.

"T-Tamlin, we're..." you suck in a breath, his eyes meeting yours as he slides his tongue flat against your clothed pussy. "We could... someone could..."

He reaches out a hand, the small click of the door locking behind him all the assurance you need. His gaze returns to the masterpiece before him, his mouth practically watering as he slides your panties down your legs, tossing them to the side.

"Oh... OH Gods," you groan, his tongue returning to your quivering hole at once. You write beneath him, every lick and soft bite around your pussy pure torture. He lays one hand on your lower stomach, pressing down as he inserts two of his fingers inside, curling them deep inside of you.

"T-Tamlin, oh Gods...yes, yes," you chant, feeling the tightening in your lower stomach as his mouth continues eating you out deliciously. At once, the lewd sounds stop -- and you lift your head off the table for only an instant before his hand wraps around your throat, pushing you down to lay flat again.

"You want to tease me during an important meeting, hm?" He smirks, shoving down the waistpant of those well-fitting pants at once. His shoulder muscles flex, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gazes into your eyes while jerking himself off. "This dress? Your attitude?" He tuts, and you clench around nothing as he presses the head against your awaiting hole.

"You're getting what you wanted, my love -- I'll always, give you exactly what you want."

A gasp breaks free as he pushes into you, his girthy length stretching you in the best way. His hand grips your ass, pulling you to the edge of the table. Your hair lays splayed beneath you, your beauty only more captivating to him as he squeezes your throat slightly.

Breathy pants escape with every thrust he gives you, every vein and ridge felt against your sensitive walls. He groans in pleasure, licking his lips as he speeds up, pounding mercilessly into you.

"I... oh, Tamlin, oh... fuck," you moan, and he chuckles slyly at you.

"What a dirty mouth you've got for a High Lady," you suck in a gasp as his hand leaves your throat, opting to slide along your jawline as his thumb runs over your bottom lip. You open your mouth, sticking out your tongue as he slips his finger inside.

"Mmm... good girl," he grunts, watching as you squeak in pleasure beneath him. His hips slap against your thighs, the angle at which his dick is thrusting into you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

You open your mouth, gasping for a single breath. "Tamlin, I'm gonna... oh Gods!" You squeeze your eyes shut as you cry out in pleasure, the pressure in your belly finally releasing as your orgasm rolls through you. He continues fucking you, only slowing when he drains himself inside of you. Pulling out, he offers a small laugh as you make eye contact.

"I think... we need to clean up, before the others return." You giggle, taking his offerring hand and hopping off the table. The both of you work to re-arrange the maps as they'd been before your activities, and you smooth your dress down once you're satisfied with the room's presentation.

"I'll keep these," Tamlin reaches for your undies, pocketing them for later. You blush as the two of you approach the door, unlocking and opening it to reveal a shocking scene.

Kallias stands before you, a brow raised in amusement.

No words are exchanged, until your husband clears his throat.

"We were just discussing-"

"Oh, don't worry. I heard your discussing." He chuckles, and your face reddens. How long had he been waiting there?

Tamlin coughs, opening his mouth again to speak. Kallias only raises a hand.

"No need to explain, friend -- I've already called off the meeting for tonight." Tamlin's brow furrows, and you exchange a look of confusion.

"But, we haven't even discussed our final decision yet-"

"You both... discussed, rather loudly. Assuming you'll give your wife exactly what she wants..."

Your face deepens more in color.

"...you'll be in favor of the Night Court's plan. That's 3 votes to 1." He glances to you, smirking as he turns on his heel. "Seems as though the High Lady of Spring is going to get exactly what she wants."

He begins ascending the stairs, and Tamlin takes your hand in his. The rosiness on his cheeks is cute, but you can tell he's embarassed too as he calls after his ally.

"Kallias, wait-"

The white-haired male turns, looking at you two with an amused grin.

"Maybe, next time, don't use my round table for your...discussions."

✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt.1

The second part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

Author's Note: I've decided to split this into 2 parts just to give myself a chance to work on the ending but I was eager to get something written. This is the first fanfiction I've wrote, or at least posted on this account so I hope it's not too bad.

Summary: You're newly wed to Lord Stark after having only been courted for barely a month. Although the anxieties of having to perform as a 'royal' wife start to eat at you, Cregan proves to be a decent husband.

You must have done it, how else would you be alone in his chambers. Blocking out all the noise and going through the motions would only get you so far. You couldn’t even remember the vows. Lord Stark had arranged for there to be no bedding ceremony, perhaps an act of mercy. You’ve heard some lords complain they simply want their lady wives all to themselves, untouched and unspoiled. You were neither. You weren’t sure if your Lord husband was either. 

You hadn’t learned much about him during your courting, not that it lasted long. Your father practically jumped at the opportunity for a stronger alliance to the most powerful house in the North. It must have appeased Lord Stark as well, seeing how quickly he’d agreed to the marriage, it had barely taken place a fortnight after you’d met. Now though, you were in his room, none to accompany you but your ladies in waiting. A few had come with you from your own keep, or rather your fathers. And one or two had been appointed to you since coming to Winterfell to stay. You could hardly form the words to tell them you could undress yourself. Maybe it was the cloak weighing you down, making it harder to breath the harsh winter air. You let it slip off your shoulders and yet you still feel heavy, a weight in your chest and a hard lump in your throat. 

Hearing the thick wooden door swing open and shut after heavy footfalls and quick scurrying of feet made the pit in your stomach sink even lower. “Are you well?” He asked, definitely due to your silent stewing. The whole night you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. 

“Yes, I am well, thank you.” You force a courteous smile to you face, although more brief and sour than you’d intended. You figure you’ll have to do a lot more of that in the coming years. “You do not look well.” Your not sure he says so in a demeaning way, more so that he’s seen through your flimsy facade. Or maybe he’s focused on the way your hands desperately seek purchase on your gown as your eyes start to brim with tears. You can’t control it when they start to spill. 

“There is no need for us to,” He gestures between you with a sigh, trying to supplement actions for words. “Consummate the marriage tonight, if you do not wish it.” He tries to search your eyes for any sort of answer but you avoid his gaze. “Did you hear-” 

“Let’s just get it over with.” You say, voice low and wavering with all it’s strength to keep it from cracking. Another stray tear falls down your cheek as you reach behind yourself for the laces of your gown but two large hands hold your arms still. 

“You truly think so little of me? That I would– Like I said, there is no need to consummate the marriage tonight.” He brings your arms out from behind your back, holding your chilled hands in his. His fingers and palms are calloused, yet his grip gentle. “I barely had a chance to court you before we wed, perhaps we might come to know each other before; that.” Your eyes flicker down to where his hands encompass yours, and he quickly recedes after catching on but strangely, you find yourself missing his warmth. 

As your eyes find his once more he continues. “I shall have a few ladies in your service prepare a chamber for you. I know you’ve not had space for your things but I assure you they’ve been taken care of. In the mean time though you’ll need to take your rest here.” He turns to make for the door and surprisingly a part of you longs for him to stay. The brief bit of kindness he’s shown to you is more than you can say for those that attended your wedding. Your father truly had not exaggerated the icy attitude of those in the North. Lord Stark however, to see his wintry exterior slowly melt away has made it almost impossible to detest him. “I will see you on the morrow, my lady.” He opens the door and a cold breeze comes over you, yet you don’t shiver, the cold only emboldens you. “Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kindness.” your voice is somewhat steady now, no longer fighting an imminent sob. He nods at your words, “Cregan will do just fine, my lady.” You’re alone now and the chill is gone. All the warmth radiating from the hearth is slowly becoming too much to bear even as it smolders to embers. The absence of your Lord husband leaves you feeling alone now, more than you’ve ever been.

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Gun Woo (Bloodhounds) x Reader ...a kiss on a scar

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open

...a kiss on a scar for Gun Woo

You could never get used to seeing Gun Woo around the house of the older gentleman you worked for. It was like seeing an angel in your own home, a statuesque Greek god walking past you on the street, like the most beautiful idol you could imagine saying good morning to you day after day. And he was so sweet about it too, so unassuming, so timid. You almost had a hard time believing this was the same man who could take out whole gangs of criminals with just his fists.

Maybe the most difficult part about seeing Gun Woo every day was that it slowly became clear that he couldn't see his own beauty for himself. Despite being as close to perfection, inside and out, as a man can be, you could tell he averted his gaze every time he passed a mirror, so fixated with the one recent blemish on his otherwise boyish face. It was hard to watch him flinch away from your gaze when you found yourself staring his way for a little too long, Gun Woo naturally assuming the lingering looks were for completely the wrong reason. Where you saw a sweet, brave, handsome man, he could only see a disfigured scar he was sure would haunt him for all his days. There was only so long you could let him think like that for.

It was a normal morning of him arriving at your philanthropic boss's home, waiting for an audience with the older man and standing in the hall by the time you arrived for the day. As you stepped through the door he didn't sense your presence, letting himself stare deeply into the small mirror opposite and running a finger firmly over the jagged scar that ran down his cheek and along his jaw. You couldn't tell if his slight flinch was from the feel of it under his fingertip, or from you appearing in the mirror, stepping behind him so your reflection could offer him the gentle smile you thought he might need today.

"When I've settled all my family's debts, and my mother's cafe is fixed again, I'm going to save up for the surgery to fix this scar." Gun Woo mumbled the words quickly, speaking to your reflection rather than turning to face you, sure he knew what you were thinking and that you didn't need a closer look at him. Without breaking your concentrated gaze you stepped a bit closer to him until you stood shoulder to shoulder, really taking in his reflection despite how it seemed to make him squirm.

"Why do you want the surgery?" You asked softly to his mirrored form, hoping he wouldn't find it offensive that you wanted to understand a little more.

"I think this scar will stop me from getting some of the things I want in life." He shook his head before adding in a nervous chuckle, "I don't think I will be able to get a nice, pretty girlfriend if I look like this." In the small silver screen you saw him raise his hand slightly, as if gesturing towards you as the definition of pretty, enough encouragement for you to say what needed to be said.

"For what it's worth, I think it suits you." Gun Woo's head jerked to the side, no longer looking in the mirror and instead focusing solely on you, "It shows who you are, you know? That you're brave, and strong, and loyal, and fearless." As you let each compliment spill from your lips, Gun Woo edged closer to you, leaning forward slightly to be closer to your eye level, scanning your soft expression for any sign of deceit and coming up empty. He looked at you so adoring as you spoke, so awestruck by your kindness, that you couldn't help but edge a little bit closer yourself. "I think the world would be a much better place if everyone carried their scars the way you do." And with that final sweet sentiment you placed a soft kiss on the marked cheek, one hand gently holding the opposite side of his face to keep him from moving out of reach before you could.

Body frozen and mind racing Gun Woo just blinked at you in disbelief, mouth hanging open slightly as you quickly pecked the scarred edge of his jaw for good measure and then skipped off into the home to start your day, letting him stew on your words and affections in his own time.

Turning back to the mirror Gun Woo ghosted his fingertips over the slightly glistening places your lips had touched, finally processing what had happened enough to let out a beaming smile at his own reflection. Maybe he didn't need to worry about saving money to cover his scars, he thought, watching the blood flush his cheeks a rosy pink. Maybe he should use that money to take you out to dinner instead.

***

If you enjoyed this, check out my bloodhounds master list for more Gun Woo!

[wandasboy]

A Well-Deserved Break

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Older!Detective!Agnes x Younger!GN!Reader

Summary: You are a college student in Westview who somehow keeps running into Chief Detective Agnes. She knows about the little crush you have on her, but you don’t need to know that… yet.

Warnings: Age gap, gn!reader, no use of y/n, Agnes calling reader pet names, fluff, pining.

Word count: 950

A/N: This is my first fic I've written in years, so I hope it's alright. Beta read. Would love to know your thoughts!

The atmosphere of the cafe was cozy enough, with its pale yellow lights, worn-in booths and a faint scent of burnt coffee. You refused to study in the library on campus as there were too many people and had found you work better outside of your room. These two factors are what brought you to the cafe you currently sat in. It had just enough noise for you to be able to focus. 

You had been sipping on a latte and writing a paper for the past two hours when you heard the bell above the doors jingle. Normally you would have kept working, but this time something made you turn and look. You watched as Chief Detective Agnes O’Connor walks in, paying far too much attention to the way her jeans fit her hips and ass and partially unbuttoned blue flannel. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a bit of a crush on her. She was bossy, irritable, and stern and damn it was hot. 

“Coffee, black.” You heard her say in her raspy voice. She set a few bucks down on the counter and leaned against it, waiting. As she waited, she scanned the place, noting the occupants. When she glanced over to you, you realize she caught you and quickly look away. 

She smirked, grabbing the fresh coffee that was just brought up, and walked over to your booth. “Third night in a row you’ve been here, must be working on something important.” 

You pretended to be typing, not looking at her when you respond, “Uh, yeah, a big paper due Friday.” 

“A pretty doll like you should be enjoying themselves, doing something fun. When was the last time you took a break?” You could practically hear the smirk on her face as she spoke. You blushed at the pet name she used, finally looking up at her. “How about you come for a little ride with me?” 

She leaned over your table now, staring at you, waiting for a response. You have a hard time focusing when her opened shirt was in such close proximity to your wandering eyes. You stumbled over your words at her offer trying to brush off the hint in her words, “I- uh, sure, but aren’t you on duty?” 

She chuckled and reached her hand out to you and winked, “Nobody has to know sweetheart.” 

You had only just recovered from the first name she called you, and there she was calling you sweetheart. Your knees would have probably given out if you weren’t sitting. You shyly smiled at her, closing your laptop and taking her hand. “Oh, what about my stuff, nobody will take it right?” With how flustered you were, you hadn’t even thought about packing up your things. 

“Not while I’m around babydoll,” she grinned, pulling you up and through the door. 

She walked you to her patrol car, taking you to the passenger side and opening the door. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you blushed, stepping into the car. 

She stayed outside the car watching you, “Oh hush, let me take care of you.” She closed the door and walked over to her side, getting in. 

It is silent for the first few minutes when Agnes glanced over to you, “So, you dating anyone?” 

You were completely caught off guard at her question. Your face flushed and you looked down to your hands fidgeting in your lap. “N-no” you said quietly. 

Seconds tick by when she shifts her hands on the steering wheel, “Any reason why? You can’t tell me people aren’t tripping over themselves to get to you.” 

You couldn't tell if she’s being genuine or just teasing. You thought about her question. To be honest, you hadn’t even given anyone in your classes a second glance. There was a short period where you had a crush on a pretty redhead professor whose green eyes haunted your waking thoughts, but that was a few semesters ago. Now that you thought about it, you realized you may truly have a thing for older women. Agnes didn't need to know that information though. 

Given your lack of response, Agnes spoke up again, “Didn’t mean to pry, doll, just figured I’d ask.” She now had one hand on the wheel and the other arm leaning on the center console. You could feel warmth radiating off of her. 

“No it’s okay, sorry I didn’t respond. I guess I just don’t find myself interested in anyone in my classes.” You thought that was a good enough answer. 

As she rounded the corner leading back to the cafe, she turned to you, her interest piqued. “So you’ve got an interest in someone outside of school then?” 

You felt her eyes on you as she pulled into the parking lot. You glanced in her direction, “I–, uh–.” You felt the heat rush to your face and heard her quietly laugh to herself. 

“Well, we’re here. Don’t overwork yourself now, understand?” She said with a stern look. 

Taking this as your cue to leave, you opened the door and stepped out. “Yes, Chief. Thank you… for this.” 

“Of course! Goodnight sweetheart.” She watched you walk back to the entrance of the cafe, turning around and waving goodbye to her. She smirked, knowing she just found herself a new pet. 

[nhlclover]

𝖥𝖠𝖪𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖨𝖳 𝖲𝖤𝖳𝖧 𝖩𝖠𝖱𝖵𝖨𝖲

summary seth always visits the training room in hopes of getting your attention until one day it backfires. warnings flirting + teasing, simply fluff! word count 1.26k notes first seth piece!! i literally love this man so much so i hope y'all enjoy. i've also had this plot for ages and i finally decided to write it.

Seth entered the team’s training room for what felt like the hundredth time since the start of the season, and his eyes immediately searched for you. He carried the same easygoing grin that he always did, the one that made it seem like nothing could bother him. It was one that was starting to become all too familiar to the other Hurricanes players and staff — a grin that usually meant Seth was up to something.

He spotted you by the cabinets, organizing boxes of splints and unrolling new lengths of tape with a focused intensity that made him pause. He couldn't help but admire how dedicated you were, how you seemed to move effortlessly despite the chaos that usually surrounded you. The first time he saw you, he thought it was just a fleeting attraction—something he’d forget about by the next practice. But as the days passed, he kept noticing more about you: the way you bit your lip when you were deep in concentration, the soft hum of a tune you’d sing under your breath when you thought no one was listening, and the bright way you laughed, like you weren’t weighed down by anything.

The training room started to feel a little brighter when you were there, and he found himself coming up with excuses to swing by more often. A slight tweak of his ankle, a vague soreness in his leg—any reason to have you check him out, even if he didn’t need it.

Over time, his visits became less about any actual injuries and more about getting to see you and getting to talk to you. He tried to be subtle, but his teammates noticed, throwing teasing comments his way when you weren’t looking. They’d tease him, elbowing him in the ribs, telling him to “stop pretending to be hurt just because he liked the company.” Seth would laugh it off, but he knew they were right. Every time he walked through those doors, it was just another chance to see you.

“Hey, y/n,” Seth greeted, a playful tone dancing in his voice. “Got a minute? I think something's up with my shoulder today.”

You turned, eyes meeting his with an amused glimmer that always seemed to make his pulse quicken. “Your shoulder this time, huh?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, Seth, you might just set a record for the most visits to the training room,” you said.

“What can I say?” he shrugged, still grinning. “I’m a delicate guy.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” you replied, but the corner of your mouth twitched like you were fighting back a smile. You pointed to the table. “Sit. Let’s take a look at this ‘injury’ of yours.”

Seth hopped up on the table, swinging his legs like a kid. “I don’t know,” he said, voice dripping with dramatic flair. “It’s feeling pretty tight today. Might be serious.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping over to him. “Shirt off.”

He didn’t hesitate, stripping off his shirt in one smooth motion, revealing the lean, athletic muscles that came from years of hard work on the ice. You tried to keep your expression neutral, tried not to react to the way his skin gleamed under the fluorescent lights. But Seth saw the flicker of your eyes, the quick dart to his chest before you composed yourself. It sent a thrill through him—he liked that he could get a reaction out of you, even if you tried to hide it.

You stepped closer, fingers already tingling with the familiar sensation of checking injuries, but this time, you felt something different. Maybe it was the way he was watching you, eyes locked on your face like you were the most interesting thing in the room. Or maybe it was the way his skin felt warm beneath your touch, the slow rise and fall of his breathing under your fingertips.

“Any pain here?” you asked, pressing lightly on his shoulder.

“Maybe a little,” he said, though the slight smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “I think you should keep checking, just to be sure.”

You sighed, a little exasperated, but you kept your focus. There was clearly nothing wrong with his shoulder, the lack of wincing or tension in his movements betraying his lie.

“Well,” you said, pulling your hands away from his shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “I think you’ll live. But just to be sure, maybe I should recommend you take a game off. Can’t be too careful, right?”

Seth’s eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “Whoa, whoa, hold on—no need to get drastic here!”

“Why not? You keep showing up here all the time. It seems like you need the rest.”

He swallowed, trying to keep his cool, but you were so close now, and it was making his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with nerves. “Because,” he said, a bit too quickly, “I’m not actually hurt.”

You blinked, tilting your head. “You’re not?”

He let out a long, exasperated sigh, pulling his compression shirt back over his head. “No. I just… I just wanted an excuse to see you, okay? The shoulder’s fine. I’ve always been fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I know it’s stupid, but I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

You bit back a smile, trying to keep your composure. “You mean to tell me, all these times you’ve come to see me claiming your knee hurt, or you twinged your back… all those times you were faking it just to talk to me?”

Seth groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s pathetic. But you make it really hard to think straight, okay? And I’m not great with this stuff. I figured if I came in here enough, maybe you’d notice me.”

“I did notice you,” you said, and there was something softer in your tone now. “I noticed you every time you limped in here, pretending to be all tough. And believe me, I knew you were faking it.”

Seth’s head shot up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You did?”

You nodded, biting back a smile. “Yep. Since, like, the second time you came in saying your elbow felt ‘off.’ You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Well, that’s… that’s just great,” Seth muttered, feeling heat flood his face. “So I’ve been making a complete idiot of myself this whole time?”

“A little bit, yeah,” you admitted, stepping closer, “but it was kind of cute.” You reached out, gently tapping his shoulder. “You know, you could’ve just asked me out, Seth. It would’ve saved you a lot of time and fake injuries.”

“So… does that mean you might be interested?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Yes, Seth. It means I’m interested. Now, are you finally going to ask me out, or do you need to pretend to break a leg first?”

Seth’s grin spread across his face, genuine and full of relief. “Alright, alright. Would you… maybe want to go out with me sometime? For real, this time?”

You smiled back, nodding. “I’d like that.”

His heart soared, and he couldn't help the goofy grin that spread across his face. “Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, stepping back and giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Now, go stretch that ‘injured’ shoulder of yours before I change my mind.”

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve got it.” And as he left the training room, Seth couldn’t help but feel like he was walking on air.