#drafts really don't like when you add in a break

[microwave-core]

Yo, that Leon post was LEGENDARY, dude!!! If I kindly asked you to make the NSFW version of that, would you? 🥺🥺🥺

I can try, however I SUCK at writing smut. Dog-shit at it. We're talking my immortal levels of writing. I'm also very boring and don't have single dominant bone in my body. That being said, editing and refining goes a long way, so I'll try my best.

Starting off, he's a bit inexperienced, which I mentioned previously. He hasn't been in many relationships, much less been intimate, and he doesn't fuck without feelings. Prefers to take things slow and can get overwhelmed easily at first. That being said, he's a quick learner.

In general, I'd say Leon is a soft dom. He's caring and doting, if not a little shaky at first, but he learns quickly. He's kind of an unstoppable force in his regular everyday life, so being dominant comes naturally to him. Could totally be on the submissive side, though, especially if he's tired.

He's normally gentle, but he can also be rough. His touches aren't always feather light and experimental. If asked, or if he's just stressed out and/or pent up, he can be more aggressive. Normally, he lets off steam during a workout, but, hey, if it works it works.

Very attentive lover. He likes to take his time learning the ins and outs of what his partner does and doesn't like. From their big kinks down to which spots make them sigh in content when kissed. Willing to experiment, but has certain lines that he won't cross.

Big on praise. He wants to know he's doing a good job, that he's a good boy, and loves to return the favor. On the other hand, he hates being degraded. He's a bit insecure, honestly, so being insulted just kind of hurts. Kills his mood. If asked, he can try to degrade his partner, but he's not very good at it. He doesn't want to be mean to someone he loves so much, even if they're literally asking for it.

Speaking of things he isn't a fan of: pain. Leon has no real interest in being hurt, nor does he want to hurt anyone else. Boy is strong, so he's sure to be careful, even when he's being rough. At most, he could potentially be convinced to do some light choking, but even that might be a bit too much for him. He can leave marks, sure, but that doesn't mean he needs to inflict actual pain, right? Also, hates having his hair pulled, his scalp is very sensitive.

Okay, last "things I think Leon wouldn't be into", bare with me. He's not into anything remotely public. The rush he feels in public is not that of excitement, but that of pure dread and panic. He has a reputation, if anyone found out, he would die from sheer embarrassment, mainly because his family would find out. He'd never be able to look his mum in the eyes again out of pure shame.

He's much more lenient with nudes, even if leaks can happen. It would still give him a heart attack if anyone found out, but it's far more socially acceptable to be found exchanging steamy pics with your lover than fucking in public. Tends to lean more on the side of thirst trap then full on nudity. Wouldn't make a sex tape.

Doesn't usually jack off. Doesn't usually feel the need to. He has other outlets for stress relief that get the job done better. That being said, he is considerably needier when he's in a proper relationship, but, even then, it's still not often. He'd rather wait to get off with his partner then do it alone, at that point.

We're far enough in the post where I can just be honest. The first thing that I thought of when I read your ask, anon, is that Leon eats an insane amount of pussy. And he'd also suck an insane amount of dick. He's Mr. Bi King, after all. He just really likes giving head and is incredible at it to boot. Receiving isn't his favorite thing, though. It's not that he doesn't like it, of course he likes it, it just makes him feel a bit awkward.

Slight oral fixation.

The other thing that came to mind is that he has a breeding kink. I completely forgot to put it on the main post, but Leon really wants a big family one day. He loves kids, he's great with them, and is all around family oriented. And so, the thought of starting a family gets him off. Like, a lot. It's a little embarrassing for him to admit that, though. It doesn't even matter if he can get his partner pregnant or not, honestly. At the end of the day, it's about the sentiment.

Also, slight pregnancy kink. It just goes hand in hand with the above.

Aftercare king. At the end of the day, Leon is a very sweet and caring person, so it only makes sense to clean his lover up in the afterglow. He's all about gentle touches and massages for bruised marks and tender skin. Whether he runs a bath or settles for a wash cloth is entirely dependent on how tired he is. Cuddling and pillow talk is an absolute must.

In terms of stamina, he's pretty decent, and can usually push two or three rounds if he paces himself properly. He likes to edge himself, though, so he tends to last for awhile.

His dick is thick and so are his fingers. Do with this information as you will.

[freepassbound]

3, 8, 99

3: Do you like the person you feel like you’re becoming?

...I honestly don't even know anymore. Most of the time now I don't really feel I'm able to change at all. Which, since I'm not particularly happy with where I presently am as a person, I guess would mean the answer is no. 🤷‍♂️😑

8: Do you look up to anyone in your life?

Do you know, I don't think so, really. There are certainly people I admire, for various reasons - but I wouldn't say that I particularly want to emulate them, necessarily. Aspects, perhaps, but not all around.

99: Which people in your life do you wish knew you better?

There's a few people here (none of whom I'm going to tag, of course 😅); maybe one person in real life.

[little-hermit-crab56]

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 | 𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧 ♡

【Synopsis】 : The boys were going to teach you a simple game of pool. Nothing more, nothing less... right?

『Word count』 : 3.9k

-> Genre: Smut. Dark Romance. Supernatural.

Pairing: Vampire!WooSanSang x Human!Reader

[Warnings] : Flirting. Dirty talk. Slight innocent reader. Foursome. Lowkey free use. Dub-con ish, but the reader is into it. Everything is just new for her. Mxm. Manhandling. Blood drinking, biting. Wounds. Whimper kink? Swearing. Clit play. Yeosang fucks her without really asking but the reader is into it. Unprotected sex. Multiple orgasms. Pet names including [Doll, Baby, Pet, Sir, Darling. Pretty thing] Use of the word slut. I shit on religion for a second, so I’m sorry if anyone is religious.

Note: Fun fact I found out that pool tables were invented back in 1470, so I felt like I had to add it aha.

Also hi I'm uploaded two fic in one night. I know crazy right?! Well, I've been really wanting to just post all my work. i got in the drafts, but im pacing myself, hehe. So this is just a little ... gift? Idk ahah i just could help, but post two tonight. Enjoy ♡♡

"Oh, my body, I don't wanna stop until the break of dawn"

Masterlist | Nav | Chapter Three | Series List | Buy Me A Ko-fi

When you finally woke, you noticed Seonghwa had left the bed. There was a small note on the bedside table with a little heart next to your name written in black ink. You smiled sleepily, stretching slowly in the spacious bed. You’ve never had a better sleep in years, if not ever. Your small single bed that was tattered and moulding was all you’d ever known, and now you had a bed fit for a king. It was almost strange, bittersweet in a way. You felt like you were always supposed to end up here. With them. Like fate was etched in stone way before you were even of age. You had wondered if they felt the same way, as you made your way through the halls once again. It became quite easy to move around the manor now that you’ve explored a bit. You had slipped on a tunic and pants of various shades of purple and black that were sitting on the end of your bed.

“I see you’ve made yourself quite at home, pet.” You shivered at the sound of Yeosang's velvet voice. Glancing above, you see him leaning on the railing of the mezzanine, a sly smirk on his delicate features.

“She’s like a curious kitty isn’t she.” Another voice caught your attention looking towards the doorway of the billiard room you see a feline feature man. San... His dark hair and sharp yellow glowing eyes make your heart thump in anticipation. Strange? you thought. They were all vampires as far as you knew, so why were his eyes such a deep sunset yellow?

“We got to get that staring problem under control, Darling.” You jumped hearing the high-pitched man, Wooyoung right behind you, whispering in your ear. 

“I w-was not staring.” You shake your head, turning around to see all three men now standing around the pool table. San had picked up a pool stick, putting some blue chalk to dab on the end of the said stick. You watched as all three of them took a pool cue and chalked them up, curious at what they might be up to. You had never seen a pool table up close, let alone see anyone play before. You’ve only ever read about it in fancy books or heard it from the richer folk in the village. “A-are you going to play a game?”

Your words sounded flinching like you were some peasant girl asking the higher for a slice of knowledge. But in truth weren’t you just that? “We are most definitely going to be playing a game Darlin’ and you are going to be the price.”

Wooyoung’s words made you gulp, standing there awkwardly playing with the hem of your tunic. San walked over to you while Yeosang set up the balls in the triangle. San’s fingers grazed your chin before lifting your face to look at him. His smile was softer this time, unlike how it was border-lining lust prior. “Don’t worry, Pretty thing. We won’t go too hard on you. Well, Yeosang might, if you’re not too careful.”

You visibly gulp feeling a tingle in your tummy. What could he possibly be insinuating? Your mind was racing, thinking of all the possibilities, slightly thanking Jongho was not here to read your lusting thoughts. You were about to say something, but then Wooyoung came up behind San, pushing him aside so he could give you a pool cue. “I don’t know how to p-play.”

“It’s okay, darling. We will teach you.” Wooyoung’s chippy voice eased your heart slightly. And as you watched Wooyoung start to bicker with Yeosang, who would start the game. You couldn’t help but giggle. For Monsters, they sure act like teenagers. Immature and… youthful. 

“Okay okay, Woo, get over here. Let Sangie Break.” The feline yelled over all the bickering. The nicknames he gave the other males made your heart flutter. In the next few minutes, the three vampires took their turn, trying to get a ball in the hole. Until finally, San got a stripe in making Wooyoung whine. 

“How do you always manage to score first.” Wooyoung was disappointed about his lover winning, shifting his weight around as he stomped over to the bar that was sitting across a billiard table. He grabbed out four short glasses and began pouring an amber-coloured liquor in each one. You could hear mumbles around you, most likely San and Yeosang badgering about something again, but you couldn’t focus on them. Only looking straight at the shorter male, curiously watching him take a shot of the liquid before taking the other full glass and shotting it.

“Pet did you hear anything we said?” Yeosang's presence behind you caught your attention, noting the way his shoulder bumped into you lightly. You shook your head with a little sorry before taking a breath, suddenly blurting out.

“I didn’t think vampires could eat or drink human food.”

The situation reminded you about how you shared a meal with all of them a night ago. You were so out of it, and floating in your mind, you didn’t really take notice that they were, in fact, consuming food. Cooked cow, vegetables, rich sauces, and wines. It was always written in history books and the words of your church that no hellspawn beasts like night crawlers were able to consume and dine on earthy foods. Only craving and needing the taste of blood to sustain themselves. 

San had to try very hard not to laugh at your innocence. Wooyoung had a cheeky smirk on his face, placing the glass on the brim of the pool table, speaking up on your question. “Oh, we do not have to eat or drink to stay alive if that’s what you’re asking. And drinking does nothing for us unless we drink an entire Alehouse. But it does take the edge off for us a little bit.” He downed his drink like he did before, some of the alcohol dripping down his chin. San, within seconds, moved from one end of the table to where Wooyoung stood. His speed created a little wind pocket that blew against your face, making you shiver. San’s hand cupped Wooyoung’s chin, drawing his face upwards. San then opened his mouth, letting his freakishly long tongue slide out onto the younger's neck, licking up the liquor he had spilt.

You gulp, looking away to see Yeosang staring at you intensely with a smirk. He bit his lip before chuckling “God I wished I could read minds. I bet you’re thinking about the filthiest things right now.” He moved to stand in front of you, making you take a step back until you were trapped against the pool table and his broad body. “Such a cute little pet, with such a dirty little mind.”

“W-Wha...I…” You didn’t know what to say cause in truth you couldn’t help but think vulgarly around them. They were all so attractive, and it was like some kind of drug being near them. You looked back to San and Wooyoung, seeing San now had his tongue down the other man's throat, and you couldn’t help but whine. What you didn’t realize was that from looking away from Yeosang, you bared your neck to him, making him growl. “You should never show off your neck to vampires unless you want them to bite you, baby.”

Your eyes widened at his words. But you couldn’t react fast enough. It was like your body became a ragdoll as he moved you with the speed of light. Your back hit the table with a thud, legs spread with Yeosang’s body in between them and his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers squeezed his shoulders as you felt his sharp fangs run along your hot skin. “S-Sangie…”

“Hmm using my nickname is only gonna make me want to fuck you, pet.” his nose brushed down your main vein, letting him breathe in your scent sharply. You were the sweetest thing he had ever smelt. 

“Sangie.” You repeated suddenly, reaching tighter for Yeosang’s large shoulders, lacing the fabric of his dress shirt in your fingers. The vampire just chuckled, kissing along your hot skin. You wiggled against him, feeling his crotch twitch beneath the layers of cloth that separated you both. “Please.”

“Ooo, She begs. My favourite.” Yeosang’s fangs grazed your neck, making your heart thump harder. You felt like your whole body was on fire, and every nerve was being consumed with nothing but Yeosang. His scent, his dark deep chuckles. The way his fingers glide along your body. 

Him. 

While his hands played with the fabric on your clothing. You turned your head to look back at where Wooyoung and San were, but the in a blink of an eye, they vanished. 

“Don’t get this party started without us.” San’s voice frightened you as he was suddenly at the other end of the table, leaning over to give your forehead a light little kiss. Wooyoung, however, was now standing next to Yeosang, pushing your right leg opened wider so both men could stand in between them. “I can smell her from over there.”

“I know, our little slut is getting nice and wet from us teasing her.” Yeosang spat out such a foul name at you but it only made you whimper more. No way in your wildest dreams would you have ever suspected your life would end up with being sprawled out on a pool table with three Vampire, kiss and lick parts of your body that weren’t covered by your clothing.

Sinful. Hellborn. A daughter of Lilith. Words from your mother came flooding in your mind like little flashes of a candle flame blowing in the wind. Maybe she was right. Maybe she saw your future before you even knew it.

“F-fuck I need a taste,” Wooyoung whined, tugging at your pants, but what you didn’t expect was him to lift up the loose pant leg, exposing your right thigh. Yeosang pulled up your tunic, drawing his tongue out onto your hot skin. And finally, San, the last one, lifted your wrist to his nose, inhaling sharply before opening his mouth to suck on the soft flesh.

“I’d take a deep breath If I was you, pet,” Yeosang grunted with a sly smirk, making you let out a large gasp. You felt all three of them sink their teeth into you in a sudden snap, almost synchronised. The crunch of broken skin echoed in the room before ringing in your ears. You could feel their addictive vampiric venom pouring into your veins while they emptied you of blood. The euphoric feeling of being drained was indescribable. Like floating on a cloud, feeling the soft cotton tickle your body, leaving your toes and fingertips to tingle. 

“F-ffuck. Argh.” Was all you could mutter out before rolling your eyes back again. You could feel Yeosang’s deep chuckle against your tummy, feeling like the sound almost came from inside you. And without letting his fangs slip, he drew his hand to your covered core. Pressing sharply on your sensitive button through the loose fabric. This made you let out another gasp, calling for Yeosang. “S-Sangie pleasee.”

San retracted his fangs from your wrist before whining, “Hey, I want to hear you cry my name out. Can you do that for me, pretty?” The vampire kissed along your arm until he got to your neck. You nodded while he tilted your head to the side, exposing your jugular. “such a good little doll. Now I want you to scream.”

And with that, he sunk his teeth into the crease of your shoulder and neck, making you let out a loud, painfully lustful cry. “FUCK SAN!!!”

Wooyoung and Yeosang finally pulled away after a few more moments, licking their lips of your blood. Yeosang had a deep growl rumble in his chest as he ran his thumb over the puncture wound, smearing the crimson liquid on your red irritated flesh. Wooyoung did the same but drew a heart with it instead making himself giggle in approval. “Fuck if we didn’t want to keep you alive pet. We would have drunk you dry.”

Yeosang’s empty threat would have scared anyone, but for some reason, it only enticed you more. Pulling your shaky legs up, you placed your bare feet on the edge of the pool table before spreading your legs wide. The grumpy vampire seemed to get the hint, taking his long nail he ripped the fabric right in between your thighs, making a slit-like opening for him and Wooyoung to get a perfect view of your soaking cunt. “Now, why don’t you look at that.”

Yeosang growls, sliding a finger along your wet lips. Your whole body shivers, feeling yourself becoming overwhelmed with pleasure. This shock wave made San sit up suddenly, pulling away from your shoulder, gasping for air as he let out the deepest, most feral-like groan you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, She tastes so good when you do that. I need one of you to fuck her right now so I can taste that again” His blood-stained lips kissed along your shoulder smearing all the red crimson liquid over your soft skin. His kisses your feverish as if he had become drunk off you alone. The few buttons that were holding your shirt closed were now being opened by the feline male, slowly revealing your hidden flesh. 

“I volunteer as tribute.” 

Wooyoung protested, shaking his belt in a manner of desperation, but Yeosang quickly scoffed, snaking his belt out of the hoops of his pants in one swift motion before dropping it. “I’d like to see you fucking try. This pussy is mine.” Yeosang’s deep venomous growl made the younger vampire cower slightly, giving him a slight pout. 

“Why do you get to go first.” From your angle, you could have sworn you saw Wooyoung stomp his feet, making you giggle lightly, catching the attention of all three of the men around you. Yeosang kisses your tummy lightly, pulling your focus to him alone, his hands gripping your hips and body snuggling tightly against your hot core.

“What’s so funny, pet? Finding enjoyment over us fighting over you?” Yeosang’s lips travelled up your navel as he kissed along your newly exposed skin since San had now successfully unbuttoned your top, revealing your perky, tight nipples on your plump and soft breasts.

“Yes sir…” you whispered, closing your eyes as you revelled in the feeling of his tongue sliding along your body.

“Fuck, she’s so good isn't she.” San covered his mouth with his hand, sighing at how obedient you had become. Reaching for your breast he squeezed your plump flesh together, pinching your nipples between his pointer and thumb. You choked out a whine as he rolled the pad of his finger over your sensitive bud, almost completely distracting you from the vampire between your legs. 

“Come on, Sangie, hurry up. I want to be inside her so badly.” Wooyoung has hopped up onto the end of the pool table leaning on his hand behind his soft frame. His hand palming his covered crotch, panting slightly as he watched San and Yeosang ravish you. Your hazy eyes looked back to see San standing straight and tall behind you. Giving you a sweet smile that was hiding a sinister lust underneath.

Before you could say anything about what Wooyoung had said, you felt Yeosang’s thick cock head breached your tight pussy. “Oh FUck!” You bucked your hips, helping him slide into you deeply inch by inch until he bottomed you out. He was definitely girthier than Seonghwa, making you feel like the wind was being knocked right out of you. 

“Shhit. This is the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt. Are you sure Seonghwa fucked you pet?” Yeosang began to ramble, pulling you down more so your ass was almost off the table. Sangie put his one hand under your thigh and hip, holding you still so he could slowly start thrusting into you, sharply and greatly. “So tight, so warm. Such a good little pet. You like being fucked baby? Bet you’d take all of us in one go if we’d asked.”

“Oh my god! Yes!!! please, Sangie.” You yelped at the top of your lungs just from the pure idea of having all eight of them. Pleasing them all. Dotting on them. You needed them just as much as they needed you. Yeosang gripped your shirt that hung open on the top and pulled you up until your face was inches from his and his lips, almost touching your own. 

“It’s master, my sweet little slut.” He yanked you off the pool table, pulling out for a moment so he could help you walk to the couch and even though his movements were rough, his grip was gentle, holding you closely in a way. Lovingly. “Come on baby, bend over the couch for me.”

He gave your ass a squeeze before letting you fall on your knees on the plush cushions. The couch was facing away from the pool table, so when you leaned over the top of it, you could get a perfect view of the other two vampires. “Okay, new game.” Yeosang knelt behind you, holding your hips, rubbing his palm against your skin. “Whoever gets a ball in first gets to take over and fuck our precious baby here. Deal?”

You had to laugh as San and Wooyoung scrambled around to grab their own pool stick. Your smile was bright as you were about to say some cheeky remark but you slowly felt Yeosang enter your soaked pussy from behind making you only let out a shaky whimper. His hands gripped tightly on your hips as your eyebrows knitted together and your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yeosang chuckled as he thrusted into your cunt in shallow motions. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up so your body was at an odd angle, but you couldn’t care less. “Last time I checked I’m not god’s pathetic son.”

Your fingers lased into the couch cushions, gripping onto it for dear life as you felt him slowly hammer into you faster. Your pussy would clench with each thrust making the most beautiful groans and whimpers fall from his lips. The hand that held the back of your neck, snaked around the front to clench tightly, blocking your airway just lightly, sending your brain into a fuzzy mess. 

“M-Master….” You cried, collapsing onto the edge of the couch. Your legs are shaking, and your arms are no longer able to hold yourself up anymore. San and Wooyoung were bickering, yelling at one another as they kept trying to get a ball in the hole. That was until San bent down and shot one of his stripes by hitting Wooyoung’s ball before getting it into the end left basket. 

Your glassy eyes could see San’s triumph, along with Woo’s high-pitched whine of defeat. The knot in your stomach was tightened with every thrust of Yeosang’s hips but before you could reach your climax he slipped out of your soaked cunt making you hiccup in a loud whine. “F-Ffuckk.”

“It’s okay, pet. Breathe…” You tried to take in a shaky breath as you felt your whole body being manhandled until you were sitting perfectly on someone’s lap. San’s naked lap, to be exact. His hazy smile got you blushing as he leaned forward to kiss your cheek so delicately.

“Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll take good care of you.” San’s cooe made you relax nicely against him as he lined his cock with your abused cunt. You were already so sensitive but somehow you were still craving more. The loud sound of pool balls whacking together got you startled but San stroked your cheek with his thumb slightly as he pulled your face towards his with his fingers. “Focus on me, baby. I want to see you come apart on my cock okay. No closing those pretty eyes."

You nodded with a short whimper followed by a simple yes that was so quiet you’re surprised San heard it. But then you remember that you weren’t fucking a normal man, but a beast in human form. A blood-sucking night-crawling beast that could kill you with his bare hands at any time. Your pussy clenched around his lengthy, and girthy cock making him groan. He slowly lifted your plump thighs up helping you gather a rhythm with your hips so you could ride him slowly. “S-sannie. Oh g-god please.”

“Such a good girl. Come on. Fuck you’re so tight...” You focused on his knitted brows and slightly parted mouth, seeing he was enjoying this just as much as you were. Your hips got faster as San started to buck upwards to match your movements. Your whole body was feeling like it was on fire, sensing you were close. He pushed your body up so he could help thrust deeper inside you. This left your tits to be right in his face, making him groan as he latched onto your plump flesh and sucked. Your breasts would be completely covered in hickeys by the time San was down them. And as his mouth traveled to the top of your breast you clenched around him, sucking him deeper into your tight cunt. He lost himself in your scent, the way you squeezed him and the sound of your pretty moans. He needed more, just another taste. He needed to taste the flavour of you when you came.

“S-San I’m gonna cum.” You gasped, tangling your fingers threw his hair.

“Come for me, baby. Be a good little human for me and cream on my cock.” He licked your skin before biting down, sinking his fangs into the top of your breast, jackhammering you at an inhuman pace. You screamed so loud that the whole manor would have heard, coming so much around Sans hard cock. You were it grew bigger inside you as your clenched harder, feeling him drink his fill of your red hot liquid. 

“San.” A male voice called out but your head was too dizzy, feeling San continue his assault on your cunt and teeth in your flesh. “SAN!!” The voice got loud but your eyes began to droop feeling a wave of sleep erode through your body. You heard San lewdly growl animalisticly against you, still drinking your blood as his cock stilled tightly in you, letting him come deep inside you.

The voice before screamed again, but your eyes closed, and darkness took over before you could see or hear anything else.

—

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[pjo-tvs-version]

I know that no one asked but I just wanted to add my two cents to the current pjo era we are having right now...

First off, I love Rick and the books he has written but honestly tsast and wottg aren't some of his best works. That's not the problem because yeah not all books can be amazing but the problem is that they are his most recent ones. Cotg was better than these 2 but it too had it's drawbacks. Now I have this thing where if I like something then however bad it it, I try to make myself enjoy it. It's like a coping mechanism- delusion. But with wottg, I actually sat back and thought. Since when did I take a week to finish a pjo book? I am the person who finished Hoo in like less than a week and I took a week to finish wottg which took me aback. The characters were very oc. Grover was perhaps the only character close to his actual well character. I don't usually nitpick but like I had said in a post earlier, continuity and callbacks in a book series are what make them extremely enjoyable and small textual errors are like pricking needles to me.

My main issue was Annabeth and then Percy. Look in know in this fandom there are many Annabeth antis and that's fine, I accept that. But now the worst part is that what they have said about Annabeth is to some extent true in this current Annabeth version we have. Look Leah is great and I love her with all my heart but Rick please don't mingle both of them together. Let show cannon be separate and book cannon to itself. Let Annabeth in wottg be her book character like please. She has friends? Great! The main thing we know about her friends are that they think Percy isn't GOOD ENOUGH for her? Awful! She is the mom friend? Okay(though I personally believe it should be Grover but fine if people are okay with it this is just a personal opinion guys)! BUT that should not make Percy 'alley boy.'

This brings me to the second part. We love Percy and love his humor. Well I recently reread the Battle of the Labyrinth (don't ask why I don't know I just had the sudden urge to read it). He isn't very confident and does underestimate himself often but it wasn't taken this FAR. Every single next line was describing how Percy sucks at everything while Annabeth is here in all her perfect glory and believe it or not this is coming from me, who loves Annabeth. I love Percabeth because it's a balance. They balance off each other soo well. They both comfort each other. They both know that they are smart. They both know that the other person has flaws. But in wottg it's just downright annoying because the dynamic is just "ooh look my gf is soo amazing, totally flawless with no error and here is me who sucks at any and every thing possible." This isn't the Percy we know nor Annabeth nor Percabeth.

LET ANNABETH BE IMPERFECT! AND PLEASE GIVE PERCY THERAPY because he needs it. For the next book Rick please just hire a better editor because I am not going into the MISTAKES in these books. You can hire me if you want because I swear I can do a better job than your editor. Seriously literally any pjo fan would do a better job. Wottg felt like maybe the second draft of the work which required maybe 3 more drafts to be published. It felt like an unchecked fanfiction and believe me that I have seen better fanfictions on AO3. The pjo fandom is an extremely loyal fanbase which is an extremely cool thing. But the problem here is that people like m even though I didn't really enjoy wottg, I would still hope for a better sequel because gaaahhhh optimism. I am actually wary of the sequel to tsast but that's for another post.

Whew! Talking so negatively about something was a new experience for me because I absolutely love pjo and will always keep it close to my heart. Rick please for the sake of advertisement please don't publish uncooked gibberish because it actually breaks my heart too see the hate and for once I understand it. Anyway, wottg wasn't all that bad. To balance out this post, I'll make one on the portions I liked because there were a few moments that were worth reading. Extremely sorry for the scattered thoughts and the rant but thank you and have a great day everyone !

[itsfairly]

Nighttime Care // Nanami Kento x gn!reader

word count: 5.5k (ops)

cw: fluff, gender neutral!reader, established couple, petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, darling, dear) not proofread (when is it?)

summary: work, work, and more work, it just seems like nanami can't catch a break from all this overtime. its exhausting, and you can see that and decide to give a helping hand.

notes: time to pass all the silly scenarios I've thought off instead of the outlines for the other fics i have on my drafts ❤

liked this? show it with a like, reblog, and/or comment. each is greatly appreciated and celebrated!

Tired.

Tired, tired, tired.

While it was a significantly better change when he quit his job as a salaryman and returned to his life as a sorcerer, Nanami hated how overtime seemed to follow him. But he hated how overtime not only meant coming home late and all tired. Now it meant coming late to you and being robbed of his time with his sweetheart.

It was way past midnight by the time he got through the front door, huffing almost too loudly as he kicked his shoes off and stepped into the quiet of your house.

No show playing on the TV with you on the couch all curled up waiting for him.

No smells coming from the kitchen with your back facing him as you hum to yourself with your attention on making tonight's dinner.

No running up to him to wrap your arms around him and pepper his face with your lips as you welcomed him home in a muffle.

No you to brighten such a shift at work.

Maybe it was better this way. It was late and you had work tomorrow, you had every right to be asleep right now. The slight disappointment from no sign of you awake quickly turns towards himself. How could he be selfish enough to expect you to wait for him at this hour? He had insisted that you should not wait for him so late, you had your own stuff outside of your relationship together and he rather that you would at least rest easy. Besides, you couldn't see him like this—dark eye bags, a deep frown, and barely standing. Nanami always wanted to be presentable before you, you deserved to see him at his best, not...not like this.

Yet, his heavy steps betrayed him. Despite his best attempts to keep you asleep, your light sleep triggered and caused you to groan awake. You turn on the bed, trying to find the source of the sound that interrupted your sleep only to see the bedroom door open as Nanami slipped between spaces. Silent mutters help you recognize Nanami's voice, your mind finally catching up to what your senses were telling you. With a squint of your eyes, you look at Nanami with your lips curling downwards. His voice sounded tired, his steps were dragging across the floor, and he simply seemed overworked to no surprise. Overtime simply wasn't anyone's choice of spending the night.

"Kento?" You called out in a groan, still feeling a bit drowsy from your interrupted sleep.

Your tired voice makes him sigh, giving him another reason to feel upset after a long shift. Not at you though, he didn't want to wake you up and he tried really hard to let you rest. With a heavy sigh, his shoulder slouched slightly as he turned to look at you, making his way to sit on the edge of the bed right in front of where you were laying down.

"Sorry, sweetie. Didn't want to wake you up." Nanami whispers, a tinge of jealousy in his voice. Seeing how cozy you looked on the bed made him want to be in your place and be able to rest as easily as you, he needed to lay down next to you and sleep. But he couldn't just yet. "I'm home..." He adds, a hand coming up his face to remove his goggles and holding him in a fist.

"Don't worry about that," You assured him, feeling the bed shift as he sat on the edge of it.

With a yawn, you sit up to try and wake yourself up now that he is back. Despite still being zoned out from sleep, it didn't take much to notice just how exhausted he was. It was a sad sight to your eyes, even sadder knowing that this wasn't new at all.

You wrap your arms around Nanami and pull him down to the bed right on top of you, feeling how he slightly jumped at this. Though he was surprised at the action, he felt himself relax when his head met your chest, realizing a groan out of how nice your body felt after such a long day.

"Welcome home, honey." You whispered, your hand rubbing circles on his back.

"S'tired, soo tired." He mumbled against you, using his hand to rub his eyes as if that would get rid of his fatigue.

However, it was hard considering how he felt like he might drift off at any moment. He couldn't fall asleep. Even if he was struggling to stay awake, he didn't want to sleep just yet when he was still in his work clothes.

It was awful how much this happened and every time you would react the same. How could you keep your lips from frowning when Nanami looked and sounded this tired? When his body practically flopped against yours so easily? Nanami was a hardworking person and you admired that. What you did not admire was how much he pulled over time despite hating it with his entire being, constantly doing it over and over again. But this time it looked like work was harsh on him. Sure, he had no injuries or anything like that. Regardless, it was later than the usual time he came back from overtime and he looked much weary than usual.

You sighed, wishing you could do more than just comfort him. For the time being, all you could do was offer soft caresses over his back. "I know, honey," you whispered.

His head peaks out of your chest, meeting your soft frown at him. Your concerned eyes, your hand on his back, your quiet whispers...you were worried for him, that much was obvious with how gentle you were rather than telling him off for coming home late yet again.

"Sorry. I had to work overtime to-" A yawn cuts him off, his hand muffling his lips while his mind tries to coax him into falling asleep by focusing on how he could rest just like this. Yet, he didn't want to seem rude by simply greeting you and falling asleep on you. You deserved more than just a tired man-

"Why are you apologizing?" You asked softly, cutting his line of thought before you even knew what he was thinking.

In your mind, you saw no reason for him to apologize. Work was work, he was providing just as much (definitely more) than you were and it was normal. What wasn't was how frequently his work would cut not only into their time together but also into his time to rest and relax. You could never hold something like this against him knowing that it wasn't his choice to stay longer at work. Stress, fatigue, soreness in his eyes alone, dark and sunken from how much this has happened as of late.

No. He had no reason to apologize.

But Nanami didn't see it that way. You deserved more than this...not eating alone or going to sleep alone. He wanted and needed to give you some time with him, he didn't want to be this exhausted, barely functioning person to you. Even if you didn't understand why he was apologizing, he still needed to apologize.

"I'm sorry for-"

Your hand took his hand, interrupting him as you wrapped your hand around his and sat up on the bed. With a sigh, you take his goggles from his hand and place them on the nightstand.

"Stop it. You have nothing to apologize for, got it?" You said gently, wanting to be as soft-spoken as you could to not disturb him, let alone let him think that you were angry at him. Why would you get angry over this? It wasn't his fault and you knew that tonight would be different had he had a say in whether he was going to pull overtime tonight.

Helping him sit up again, your hands slip underneath his blazer on his shoulders, rubbing down his arms to help him take it off and setting it on the other side of the bed. As the fabric left his arms, Nanami rested his head against your shoulder with a small groan, placing a hand on your arm to stop you. Sure, it felt nice to have you touch him like this, but he didn't feel like he deserved it. He left you alone for the evening and came home late. How could he let you do more for him than he deserved? His eyes might barely be open and he might be very, very tired, but he couldn't make you feel obligated to help him.

"Darling," he mumbled, sounding unconvincing of pushing your help away, "you don't need to. I..." He sighs, feeling that slight burn in his eyes with a blink, "...I don't want you to see me like this."

He felt very worn-out, slower than usual as if gravity weighed twice as much tonight. Even so, he didn't want you to think you had to help him. He didn't like this side of him where you couldn't lean on him, it made him feel like a burden to you when he had already interrupted your sleep.

But he was met with your head leaning against his, trying to comfort him further as you saw him frown.

If there was something everyone agreed about Nanami it's that he is a selfless person. Someone always wanting to help others, protect them, put them before himself. It was actually one of the many sides that made you fall for him. So it was easy to understand why he was so self-conscious at that moment. It was a juxtaposition of the man he usually is: capable, sufficient, and reliable. Qualities that his fatigue was preventing him from being, but that didn't mean he had to be ashamed of it.

"I wanna help you though."

"You're already doing more than enough by welcoming me home. You should be telling me off for coming so late, not comforting me like this." He explained, his eyelids heavy from the way your warm cheeks touched his temple.

You shook your head, hands coming to his neck and tracing over his tie for her fingers to quickly undo it.

"I've told you already, you have nothing to feel bad for and I have nothing to be angry about." You pulled on his tie, wrapping it around your hand until it was rolled up and then placing it close to his blazer on the bed. "You're tired and overworked. I can't let you do things on your own when I can help you, especially when I want to help my love."

Nanami lifts his head out of your shoulder, trying to straighten up in his seat as you stripped him of the many layers that weighed him down. As much as he tried to make it seem otherwise, you were right—he was tired and overworked, far more than what he could handle. With you so set on helping him, the least he could do was stop his nagging and let you help. It was a bit embarrassing that work has rendered him this weak, not from some kind of injuries but simply because of how body felt ready to shut down at any moment.

Here he was—a grown man of his age acting like a helpless child. He would've protested again had it not been for how devoted towards helping him, towards him. You might be doing what any caring spouse would do, but to him it felt like giving him a small break he didn't deserve.

His lips still find it in them to curl in the slightest as he says tiredly, "thank you, love."

"Happy to help," you answered.

And there it was, that beautiful smile that melted away your frown once he gave in to your aid.

It was silent for a few moments in the room except from the click-click sound after you unclasped his suspenders from his trousers, setting them on the side. There was little to no light, only the nightstand lamp and whatever else managed to slip in from the window, with him tired and you undressing him as your hands slid to his shirt.

Careful to not startle him, your fingers undo his buttons and reveal more and more of his skin with each. Once they were all undone, you slipped your hands underneath his shirt, feeling a few bumps in the way that made you pinch your brows together confused. It wasn't until you started to slide the shirt off his arms that the bumps made sense—they were actually dents that ran front to back on his torso. Though they didn't seem serious, it makes your lips pout.

"I didn't know you had these."

Nanami's eyes look away from you and down to his own chest where your eyes focused on. In all honesty, he rarely acknowledged these—they were just marks left by his suspenders, a small price to pay from his daily attire. Sure, they were tight enough, restrictive enough to leave a mark on his body, but he didn't see any reason to mention them.

"It's nothing, love. They don't hurt at all."

Despite his assurance, your eyes seemed glued to his body. They were just a result of constantly wearing suspenders to a pretty physical job, no pain would come from them. Yet, seeing these marks meant more than just that. It was about the amount of time for these marks to set in the first place, making you realize just how long and much his workday was. Hours that, if they left this kind of mark in his body, were enough to lead to this exhaustion you could see in him.

That's when your fingers begin to think on their own. Your hand comes back up to his shoulder, but rather than resting your palm over it, your fingers graze over the marks and delicately follow down the path on his chest.

As your mind lets your hands do as you wish, Nanami could feel how worried you were from your touch alone. It was gentle but it had that hint of caution, as if too much pressure would make it uncomfortable for him. It made him feel vulnerable. He could see your mind running with all these thoughts from his marks alone. You knew he hated overtime, you knew he was stubborn to work despite his better judgment, and you both knew he needed to rest.

These marks reminded him how much he worked on a day alone.

These marks showed you how hard he worked alone for the two of you.

Underneath your fingertips, Nanami allowed himself to savor your touch further by closing his eyes for a second, unable to prevent the sigh that escapes his lips that makes you snap from your trance and look up at him. Though you knew it was best to hurry up and help him get ready for bed, something within her sparked at his marks. Your free hand decides to follow the other’s steps and comes up to the other side of Nanami’s body, roaming gently down the marks his suspenders have left behind. Soft, delicate, and gentle touches, but most importantly, loving touches.

Nanami stays still, letting you graze all over his body as he swallows down his self-conscious thoughts. It tickled a little to have your hands go so slow and so lightly over his skin, making his muscles tense underneath them. Despite that, he didn’t want your hands to stop, so he doesn't make any effort to as his eyes follow how your hands move down his body and earn a ghost of a moan from him. He couldn’t help himself when his exhaustion made it hard to think much, but you were just being so patient and caring and loving and…and so many other things that made him thank whatever deity that allowed him to be with you, that allowed him to have you as his everything.

Your hands come to a halt at his moan, your heart picking up a pace. At first, you worried the touch was actually hurting or unsettling to him when his body tensed, interpreting his moan as a groan. But when you looked up and saw how his eyes were glued on you and your hands moving across his body as if he wanted to take it all in rather than push you away, you let your hands rest on him and slide back up to his shoulders. You got a little carried away and you didn’t want to tire him any more.

“You do so much for us…for me.” You start with a whisper, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Kento.”

And see, hearing you say that makes absolute nonsense to him. It catches him off guard.

Your eyes meet, him shaking off his exhaustion for a second to open his a bit more, to actually be able to look at you. Despite how your hands and eyes roam up and down his body, Nanami feels no lust or desire under your touch. It was careful, sweet, just as he has come to expect from you whenever you caught him in this state.

This was just his spouse’s stare, you were his spouse. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not you deserved it (you did, that’s simply out of the question). He wanted to do all this, whatever he could for you. He would sacrifice so much just so you wouldn’t have to worry or work hard. As he stares back at you, eyes looking up and down at his beautiful darling before him, he smiled softly. Though your words made no sense to him, they were a reminder of how thankful he was that you worried, that you were thankful for him like he was for you. A reminder of how much he loved you and hoped that, though he didn’t say it out loud enough, you would still know that without a doubt in between the lines…

“You deserved it.” He answers back.

You chuckled. Of course he would think that and smile like this was nothing. Yet, there was something about his smile. You hated how tired it looked, how tired he looked. But when he smiled right now, softly telling her one thing to mean another…You shook your head, shifting your hands on his bare shoulders to rub circles over his skin and soothe whatever tension you could feel there.

“You’re the one working to the point of exhaustion while I fall asleep before you come home. You do much more for me than I do for you.”

“You do a lot for me,” Nanami started, his brows pinching slightly when you kept discrediting yourself, “you work around the house, keep the place nice…you’re taking care of me even right now after I woke you up. You do plenty for me. This is not up for debate.” He chuckles, not even letting you argue about how little you did for him because that wasn’t the case.

Your gaze softness as your hands come up to his jaw before running your fingers down to his chin. Even through that tension and obvious lack of energy, he still found it in him to appreciate her, to be adamant about her contributions and have her see them. Silently, your eyes flash that gratitude of him to him, admiring each feature on his face.

It was a soft touch, the kind of touch that makes you wonder if it was skin to skin or a feather to skin. It was a quiet but loud way of letting him know how much you appreciate him back. The kind of love and fondness that he needed after another shift.

“I’ll always see it that way, you know?” Nanami adds, “It’s for us, so we can be comfortable. But most of all, so I can spoil you like you deserve it.”

You smile at him, unable to keep it in yourself to kiss him so you do. You lean in to press a quick and soft peck on his lips, taking a step further to remind him of how much he meant to you. You lean back, careful to not over do your kiss when he is this tired. But rest assured, that a small kiss such as that one was enough for Nanami to feel the weight of it, making him feel loved.

“Let’s get you off of these, yeah?” You whispered, your hands sliding off the marks from his suspenders, though you made a mental note to show them some extra love when he was much more in the mood.

You kissed his cheek and readjusted how you were sitting on the bed, going back to the reality that it was quite late, he was exhausted, and you both could use the rest. Shaking off those thoughts, you were set back on your original mission to help him get ready for bed. Your hands go down to his belt, carefully undoing it and pulling it off the loops of his trousers.

But it proved to be much harder to shake off those thoughts from earlier when his body was on display like this, especially as you helped him slide off said trousers after putting his belt aside with the rest of his garments. It wasn’t just the suspenders’ marks, but also his muscles coupled with the feeling of his skin and hair against her hands that made Nanami shake his head with a chuckle as he called out your name.

“You’re doing it again, love.” He wasn’t oblivious to the effect he was having on you, how he was getting you going, as he softly mumbled your name softly.

“Doing what?” You asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, trying to play innocent. After all, it was merely a split second you were staring, right?

“Staring at me.” Nanami smiled wider, leaning forward now that this reaction from you gave him a small boost of energy, all just to tease you. “Are you admiring your husband, dear?”

You knew he was just teasing, especially when he was pulling such a pet name by the end of it and leaned forward towards you. You weren’t blind either, apparently you weren’t the only one enjoying a show with your spouse as the star of it, not when his eyes followed your hand and slowly drifted to other parts of you.

“If I was, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, am I?” You teased right back, looking at him with that smirk still on your face without moving an inch away from him and in fact, deciding to double it down by resting a hand on his thighs.

“A man can’t love the person he married anymore?” Nanami chuckled, silently taking everything in. Your body, your face, your voice…nothing from you was not appealing, you were truly perfect in his eyes.

His answer makes you laugh. You took a small breath, hand sliding off his thigh and across the bed until it finds his own hand, resting yours on top of his as your gaze returns to his. A smile comes to your lips, your heart starting to feel lighter and faster with every beat. Tease or not, Nanami was a natural at making you feel like this.

“A husband can definitely love their spouse.” You replied, your voice having a slight tease in it as well.

“Especially when they are so beautiful.” Nanami adds, his smile growing soft as he leaned against your forehead and closed his eyes. He still felt tired, but he really liked this moment with you right now, feeling as if it was making up for the time he’s been away from you. So he wanted to stay in it a little longer.

“I see, so that’s why you were starting too.” You whispered, though there is the hint of a giggle in your voice that Nanami is able to pick on, going as far as being able to hear your smile.

“Yeah, that is why.” Nanami sighs, laying back on the bed and resting his head on your thighs, groaning softly once he feels his back meet the bed. He could feel how your hands immediately found his hair, gently combing his blond locks with your fingers.

It was comfortable, he didn’t want to move. He wanted to fall asleep just like this. Not yet though. He still wanted to be with you, feel you like this. Even if the two of you weren’t talking much and he was tired out of his mind, you being here and letting him be like this on your lap was enough to calm him further. You being here made him calm.

“I’ve been so busy.” Nanami mumbles, taking a deep breath as his eyes closed for a second.

“It’s okay.” You assured him. “It’s work.”

But there was something in your voice that didn’t match your words. Nanami knew what it was—how much you wanted him to cut back on overtime for his sake. But your words felt as if you were trying to let him know that you wouldn’t hold it against him how his work cuts into his time with you, that he didn’t need to feel that kind of guilt from you. He knew he needed to set a firmer boundary with work so he could put you first like he wanted to, rather than making you worry like this.

Just imagining you falling asleep, waiting for him to come back only for him to come long after, was painful. He didn’t want that for you anymore.

He shakes his head, his hand coming up to yours that was losing its fingers across his hair, stopping your movements. No matter how many times you assured him, how much you tried to be understanding, he didn’t want this to drag on. Work was work, true. But it shouldn’t be overtaking his life, be more important than you were to him. You came before that, and anything for that matter, it wasn’t up to debate. Especially when you were so patient and caring to him despite how neglectful he can be.

“I shouldn’t…” He sighed, taking some time to form over his words. He didn’t want, let alone deserve, so many passes and he wanted to own up to all those times he had to come home late. “Don’t worry so much about me, please,” it’s what he ends up saying.

His words are met with a soft squeeze of your hand after you turn your hand around to be holding his, your free hand coming down to rest around his chest. You could see what he meant with that.

Don’t wait for me.

I can handle myself.

You don’t have to forgive me so easily.

Truth be told, you knew other people would grow irritated at their husbands coming home late, scolding them for the time they finally arrive and leading to distrust. But being married to a jujutsu sorcerer like him…it was a different case. You trusted him with this job, knowing how much more fulfilling it was than working corporate; trusted him to be careful and learned the kind of things he had to deal with. It was a dangerous job, it was exhausting, and you wonder how he can even ask you to not worry. To not worry about Nanami was simply against your marriage vows. You couldn’t do that.

“You’re my husband. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“Just trust that I’ll be fine.” Nanami said softly, a small sigh leaving his lips as he looked up at you.

He could see that concern in your eyes. Though it is nice to have someone who worries about him, there’s still that annoying part in him that makes him feel guilty for making you worry in the first place. Yet, he knew that he couldn’t blame you. No matter how many times he insisted on you not waiting up for him or on tending his wounds, he knew you would still worry about him. In a way, you both just wanted to do more for the other—you felt like he did a lot for you and he felt like he didn’t do enough for you.

“I’m tired, love,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand, “let’s not fight…not tonight.”

“It’s not fighting,” you let go of his hand, letting it slip to his cheek. You knew better than to try and argue when he was this tired, let alone when you knew he had the best intentions even if he dismissed himself so often. “I do trust you, but I still need to care for the person I love so much..”

Nanami chuckled, looking up at you with a tired smile. As he took a deep breath, he could feel how lucky and thankful he was at this moment. Even if a part of him tried to weigh him down with this guilt over how things seemed to be in his mind, you somehow knew how to show him the reality of things. He wasn’t neglectful like his mind was telling him, not when he was trying to peel his eyes open just to spend more time with you. You weren’t forgiving because he was your husband, but because you trusted him enough with your heart. You weren’t worried over him because he came late, you worried because you loved him.

Before he can even answer, you gently pull him off your lap and lay his head back down on the bed. You stand up, patting his shoulder.

“I’ll get your pajamas.” You smile at him, the kind of smile that says don’t worry about a thing, before you turn to his dresser.

Nanami thanks you, sitting up on the bed and stretching his arms and back. The room quiets down, neither of you saying a word as you come back with his night garments and placing them by his side to let him put them on. Not yet done, you take all of his work clothes and turn back to the dresser to put his clothes away while he changes. Some are set aside for the laundry basket, others are hung back up, and others tucked away in the drawers.

Once done with that task, you turn back to head to the bed, laying down underneath the sheets like you were long before he came back for work. He was a bit slow in putting his pajamas on to no one’s surprise since he might as well fall asleep right then and there, but eventually he lays down next to you after turning off the lights, his body facing yours. You wrap an arm around him, pulling yourself closer, sighing when he does the same by rolling on his back and letting you rest your head on his chest to which you happily do.

“I’m surprised you lasted so long without dropping unconscious onto the bed.” You said softly, a tinge of a tease in your voice.

Nanami chuckles, a yawn following soon after as fatigue starts to get to him after god knows how many hours of working.

“So am I. I’ve been like that for hours, honestly.” He pulls you a bit closer, his hand gently grazing up and down your arm. A touch that made your body melt into his body. “But it was worth it. I got to spend more time with you, even if I only had half a brain to see you.”

You hummed, your head turning up to look at him before pressing a kiss on his shoulder. You decided to not say anything, wanting him to get that rest he not only needed but also deserved. That doesn’t mean his words don’t make your heart flutter, even as he says them in that hoarse voice from how tired he was, it made them feel much more softer that he pushed himself to let her know that.

You lift up the covers and let yourself get comfortable with him as your pillow and you in his arms, the two of you cuddling in the quiet and silent room. A few seconds pass, then minutes, and you were sure he had already fallen asleep as evident by his deep breath that made your head rise and fall with his chest, his heart serving as your personal lullaby. Knowing that you had done everything you could for him in this moment, you let yourself close your eyes and begin to return to your sleep from earlier.

Though before you could truly fall into slumber, you feel his head lean against yours, a soft kiss placed on the top of your head that makes your heart beat for him, feeling safe in his arms as he manages to finally answer back to you from earlier:

“I love you too, dear. Thank you…for everything you do.”

Nanami would’ve said more, he probably wanted to have it not been from how his words slurred as his body was finally claimed over by that sleep he pushed off for far too long. After all, now that he finally got his fill of you, he could now rest properly.

[acotarxreader]

Timing

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Timing works against you and Azriel as a series of unfortunate events lands the two of you alone for the night with a broken down car and a breaking down friendship

Warnings: Angst, Modern, I don't know how cars work, rough draft writing

A/N: My first modern fic for these guys, hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of a more modern setting!

Requests Open!

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“We're going to die”

“We're not going to die Cassian, calm down”

“We're going to die”

“We're not going to...GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY JACKASS!!!”

“I agree, we're definitely going to die” Rhysand chimes in from the backseat.

“Would you babies calm down for fucksake I know what I'm doi...OI PEABRAIN! YEAH YOU! YOUR BRAIN IS THE SIZE OF THAT GAP YOU LEFT! SHARE THE FUCKING ROAD!.... Bastard” 

“Yup, we're dead” you heard Feyre whine from behind you before launching into a prayer. You swerve the car tightly around the corner, the only way you know how, sending your friends in the backseat skewed.

“Fucking hell YNN!” Cassian grabbed the overhead handle whispering his own prayers. 

“If you cook like you drive then Gods help us” A now slightly green Rhysand adds, helping Feyre to sit back upright and tighten her safety belt further.

“If we even live that long” you hear Feyre whisper.

“The utter lack of faith that my friends have in me is really quite disheartening….who wants to bet I can make all these green lights before they change?”

“No!” They all scream in unison as you laugh and accept the challenge.

The car hit the curb outside of Azriel’s house, it hardly reaching its stop before Rhysand tumbled out onto the grass practically kissing the ground leaving you rolling your eyes from the driver's seat. Cassian lay across the grass alongside Rhysand shortly after, both thanking the Gods to be in one piece. Azriel laughed from the porch of his home, slogging his rucksack over his shoulder before locking the front door and strutting down to his friends. 

“Let me guess, YNN is driving?” You replied with a small wave of your fingertips as you leaned against your car door. 

“Nope no definitely not, I'm driving the rest of the way, I refuse to arrive at the camp in a casket” Cassian rights himself again before standing to remove the keys from the ignition, receiving a dirty look from you. 

“You’re all such cry babies” you laughed, pulling your bag out from the trunk of the car as the rest of your friends tried to fight off the seasickness your driving provided. 

“Shit!”

“What’s wrong YNN?” Feyre rested her head along the headrest of the back seat to meet your eyes on the other side of the car boot. You had begun to pull out the contents of your bag, Rhysand now joining your side. 

“I forgot my medication, I have to go back” the group groaned, causing a guilty feeling in your stomach to form. You were all already behind schedule, with a lot of other college students already well on their way to blackout drunk at the campsite for spring break. 

“I’ll drive you back in my truck for it, let all the others go ahead so we don’t lose our spot?” Azriel offered

“How unusually kind of you Az” You scoffed

“Fine, die, suits me, I’m on music” Azriel shrugged, throwing his bag on top of the contents of yours in the trunk. The two of you locked eyes, a standoff beginning to take shape. The both of you had a rocky relationship at best, it being amplified when Azriel slept with your cousin when she visited last year. 

“Okay but I drive”

“Suits me, I hate driving” Rhysand looked between the two of you, almost certain someone would be arriving at the campsite in a casket. 

—-------------

“YN, if you crash my truck we're going to have some serious issues”

“I paid for gas so therefore it's my truck” you chewed out, the wheel spinning through your hands as you went along the mountain trail, a good two or three hours behind the rest of your friends. 

“That wouldn’t hold in a court of law” You accelerated into the turn, sending Azriel crashing into the car door with a thud. You had been driving for almost an hour, taking one of Azriel's shortcuts that had taken you well and truly off the beaten path through a wooded area.

“Seriously! Was that necessary!?”

“I don’t want to miss out on any more of the fun”

“It’s not my fault we had a leak in the tyre, I never drive this thing, it was bad timing!” he folded his arms tightly into his chest, regretting his act of kindness. The engine screeched at your harsh handling, Azriel clenching his fists until they drained of colour, his leg bouncing off the floor. 

“Stop shaking your leg it's distracting me”

“You’re making me nervous!”

“And you’re making me insane!” Your hand found the knob of the radio, twisting it to release 80’s pop music at deafening volumes to drown out your singing.

“YN! SERIOUSLY! YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE” He moved to turn it down, you batting away his hand as the car ploughed up the steep incline of the hillside before barreling down the open road. 

“Driver controls the music!”

“It’s my truck!” Azriel shouted back, you drowning him out with George Micheal. Azriel huffed, reaching for the two-litre bottle of Coke at his feet. 

“WAIT A-” It was too late, the bottle practically exploded as Azriel opened it, the speed of your driving shaking every ounce of the liquid sugar. 

“HOLY SHIT!”

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!” You finally slammed down on the brakes, skirting the truck off the side of the road into the dirt, the vehicle screaming out to you. 

“ME?! IT'S YOU WHO'S DRIVING LIKE WE'RE IN A RALLY!"

“OH MY GOODNESS IT'S FUCKING EVERYWHERE!” You ran your hands across your soaked face, the cabin of the truck now tinged caramel brown forevermore. 

“NO SHIT SHERLOCK” He snapped at you

“YOU’RE GOING TO DRIVE ME INSANE!” You shouted down at your ruined clothes. Azriel cautiously lifted the bottle to his mouth as you watched him out of the corner of your eye, infuriating you further and causing you to bat the bottle out of his hands back to his feet. 

“Fucking idiot” You scrunched your eyes together. 

“We’ll sort it out at the camp, it's only another…three hours” he groaned as you rested your head on the sticky steering wheel before exhaling deeply. 

“Its fine, this is fine” You readjusted yourself before turning the keys in the ignition, the truck huffing back at you.

“NO NO NO NO” you banged the steering wheel as the bonnet began to flood with smoke. 

“FUCK!” You threw yourself back against the soaked chair in frustration before leaping out and banging open the hood, followed by a string of colourful language as smoke filled the road. 

“How bad is it?” Azriel cautiously stuck his head out of the window as you attempted to look past the smoke. You stomped to his window, a piece of hot rubber in your hands.

“Oh...that looks like it's important…”

“Yeah it is...was, it's your timing belt...it was the timing belt. We're fucked! All because you don't do car maintenance!” 

“If you didn’t drive like a fucking lunatic it would have been fine!” You gave an exasperated shriek in reply, tossing the rubber to the floor and storming back to the hood of the car, hands on your hips. Azriel texted Cassian before sliding out of his truck to join your side, the smoke clearing. 

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?” You replied to him with a glare. 

“Okay okay, they’re already all way too drunk to get behind the wheel and Rhysand called his dad’s mechanic, I sent him our location and he can’t get up here until the morning, it's his kid's birthday” he said almost timidly. 

“Fuck” You cleared your lungs of oxygen, your hands lacing together on the top of your head. 

“And we can’t fix it? I thought you were good with cars”

“I’m not fucking magic, I can’t just pull a new belt out of thin air” You slammed down the hood before whipping the driver-side door back open, the sweet liquid now drying into a pure sticky mess.

“What the fuck are we going to do Azriel?”

“I guess we’re staying here for the night” He left the rusting hood to circle to the back of the truck, extremely thankful he had put your things in the back of it before splitting the group up. 

“We can’t sleep in here, it's disgusting” You huffed, slamming the door. 

“No need to break the door as well-” he regretted the joke once he became the recipient of your famous death stare “-we can sleep in the back” 

“Maybe you can take a look under the bonnet and think of something, you’re the engineering student” You were becoming desperate, the thought of being stuck in the middle of the woods with your best frenemy as night closed in becoming too much to process. 

“I’m doing civil engineering YN” he scoffed, throwing a leg over the back of the truck and spreading his sleeping bag across the freezing metal. 

“Oh great so if it was the road we were driving on that exploded you’d be of some use” you laughed, standing up on the tow bar to aid the swing of your leg into the back. 

“Precisely” He grinned, offering you his hand to help pull you in. 

The two of you exchanged your coke-covered clothing for the spare thicker layers you both had thankfully packed, settling into the small nest you had built in the back of the truck as the stars began to show you their faces in the sky. Azriel dug through his rucksack, fishing out two cans of beer chilled from the night air and offering you it with a smile. 

“We don’t have to miss out on all the fun” he tipped the top of his can off of yours as you both leaned on the cabin of the truck, watching the stars twinkle, hoping it would be enough to distract you from the growing cold. 

“This day has been crazy”

“Sorry I added to your stress YNN” You rolled your head along the metal of the cabin to smile softly up to him. 

“Sorry I drive like a maniac”

“I'm sorry you drive like a maniac too” You swung your hand out from under the sleeping bag to hit him into the chest with a thud as he chuckled.

“Sorry I called you impossible and a bitch YNN”

“You didn't call me a bitch?”

“Maybe not out loud” You laughed to him, finishing off your beer and sinking down further beneath your covers. The night sky was beautiful but the accompanying bite in the air was undeniable. 

“We’re going to die out here” you chattered out, the warmth the beer had provided to your system leaking out as Azriel discarded the two empty cans in his bag. 

“Probably, but at least it's a nice night” his shivering rattled against the metal mattress. 

“Maybe bears will eat us before we freeze to death”

“No bear is gonna catch me”

“Azriel there’s no way you could outrun a bear”

“Who says I had to outrun the bear? I just need to outrun you” his laugh carried through the woods to match yours until the strangely comfortable silence swaddled the two of you until the stress of the day took its full toll, lulling you both to sleep. 

-

The bright sun shone through the slots in the tall evergreen trees, heating the metal of the truck to a cosy temperature until those very rays crossed the path of your eyes, waking you from your deep and surprisingly comfortable sleep. 

“OH MY GOD!” You shot upright, the world blotting into focus, your sudden movement causing Azriel’s breath to hitch as he dragged an arm across his face, your legs still slightly tangled in one another. 

“For fucksake, its like living with a Chihuahua, what the fuck is wrong with you now Lassie?” His hand crossed his chest in an attempt to slow down his heart rate again. 

“Nothing, nothing happened, we were just cold, that's all” you collapsed back down beside him, breath returning to you. 

“Would it really have been that bad if something were to happen?” Azriel laughed through his stretch, the metal mattress a cruel mistress for his back muscles. 

“If you ever tell anyone about this I'll remove your kneecaps” you threaten.

“What? That you tried to make advances and planned this whole thing to get in my pants? No, I would never YNN” His laugh echoed across the hills again as you thought about his previous comment. You groaned again, running your hands through your hair.

“We were just cold, why are you acting like this is the worst thing to ever happen ever”

“Because it is the worst thing” You sat up again and Azriel followed suit, covering the part of him that showed all his cards. 

“Why?”

“WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO-TO INTERACT LIKE THIS! I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO LIKE YOU! ” Your hand gestured between the two of you.

“WELL WHAT IF I LIKE YOU?!” his raising voice only matched yours as frustration grew.

“WELL I DON'T LIKE YOU!”

“REALLY!?”

“NO!” In the heat of the moment, you lunged slightly forward, colliding your lips with Azriel’s. His warm hand cupped your face gently as your hands ran across his thighs. You pulled back almost as fast as you lunged forward. 

“Oh my Gods oh my Gods oh my Gods” You leapt out of the truck, pulling your sweatshirt tighter across yourself and began pacing while Azriel stared at you, mouth slightly agape.

���Did you just kiss me?” His voice was low as though trying to speak to a spooked horse. 

“I-” The slam of a car door caused you both to jump as the mechanic rounded the truck with a smile and perfect timing. 

“Right let's get you two love birds back on the road”

“We're just friends!” You quickly shot back, the mechanic giving you a weird look before heading back to the bonnet of the car alongside you. What the hell just happened was all Azriel could think.

-----------------------------------------

Whatcha think?!

[gallaghersgal]

hi hi hi today i’m thinking about carmy (as usual oopsie) and his girl who loves him more than anything. she loves him so much she always supports him with the restaurant, she listens to his ideas, tastes his meals and gives her honest opinion, she makes sure to take care of him because he often forgets about that. she’s just that girl <3

and maybe for his birthday or their anniversary (or the bear’s opening day’s anniversary?) she spends months preparing a book similar to the dozens they have in their living room or in the office at the bear. you know those professional cook books? with the impeccable meal pictures and the chef in deep concentration and explanations about each piece? she spends months snapping pictures of carmy while he’s working at the bear (when the restaurant is closed and he’s trying stuff out), him and the rest of the team, she’ll snap pictures of the meals he makes and take notes when he explains the idea behind it to put it in the book. she asks to take pictures of his notes too and he says yes, she doesn’t tell him what she’ll do with them though (but it’s okay because he trusts her <3) and just compiles everything so she can offer it to him. she adds her own notes and maybe at the end a longer note where she tells him what she thinks of him and his work and how much she loves him.

carmy gets too into his own head and it keeps him from seeing all the good he does, the positive side of things, the fact that he’s loved and he has people who care about him. and this book just has it all <3

-🧸

sobbing bc i started writing this and then accidentally closed it and the draft didn't save so anyways. this is very sweet so here is a mini blurb. sorry for the wait my lovely 🧸

carmen can't believe how lucky he is, to have someone like you as his wife. sweet, thoughtful, smart, and caring. he isn't an emotional man by any means, burying his feelings in nicotine and the rhythm of the kitchen. you've realized that even those closest to him don't know his intricacies, not in the way that you do. it's hard to break the surface of him but you've done it.

a lone tear trails down his cheek while trembling fingers flip the pages of your meticulously crafted anniversary gift. a cookbook, full of the most significant recipes in his repertoire. the pages were adorned with scans from his sketchbook. there were pages upon pages of old draft menus, sketches of unperfected dishes, and his handwritten recipes. each item included a 'professional' photo of the dish—courtesy of sugar and the fancy camera she bought before the baby's arrival—recreated by the bear staff and others you'd tracked down.

but the part that really gets him comes at the end. a faded photograph of mikey, sugar, and himself at the beef, holding up sandwiches and grinning. his childhood order is written in your handwriting, his choices annotated in a way that teases him even through the page.

"bear?" you ask quietly, poking your head into the office. you knew he was opening your gift, you'd been pretending to care about something on the hostess stand. too nervous. your heart is a little too bare on the pages.

carmen looks up with blue eyes sparkling and lays the book down on his desk. "you. c'mere, right now," he mumbles, extending one strong arm to hook around your waist and grapple you into his lap. his soft lips flutter against your neck, jaw, and cheek, and your giggles keep him from kissing your lips effectively.

"happy anniversary carmen," you whisper. his head falls to the crook of your neck, almost like he's hiding. and maybe he is, with what he tells you next.

"you, are the best wife, a man could ever ask for," he mumbles against your skin, each pause is punctuated with a kiss. he sounds choked up, and you pretend not to notice. "an' i thank whatever powers-that-be ev'ry day that i get to call you mine."

[insipid-drivel]

Warhorses: Which horses are actually good candidates, anyway?

This post is in honor of @warrioreowynofrohan, who asked the question in the comments under my guide, "Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap". Their question, "Given what you said about too much weight breaking a horse’s spine, how did that work with knights in plate armour?" is one I'm going to try to answer here, since the answer can be very nuanced depending on where and when you're talking about.

Also, while I was a stable hand for years as well as a rider, I never had the opportunity to directly learn more ancient styles of tacking, horse training, and combat, so I don't have any direct experience to draw from with regard to horses used for military purposes. I'm still gonna do my best here with what I know, and research what I don't.

As I've covered in the past, large horses (draft horses) make less-than-ideal warhorses, and so do carriage horses like the elegant and dramatic Friesians.

Let's begin by addressing this from the perspective of creative writing. For you writers and content creators out there, an essential part to the continuity of any historically-themed work you do involving horses will be depicting breeds of horses that didn't exist before a certain time in history. I'm going to approach this question from the stance of, "Medieval-type era warhorses". Horses were used in warfare as late was World War II, but actual horses you ride into battle with knights and archers and bannermen? We actually have to drop the subject of specific modern breeds altogether aside from using them for comparisons.

When discussing warhorses, various cultures have approached them differently. Some cultures will value a specific type of horse above all others, such as the Mongolian Steppe Horse or the American Mustang. Other cultures, which may be from biomes and territories where multiple types of horses are needed for different forms of warfare and tactics, value whichever horses can get their jobs done without their riders getting killed.

Carrying vs. Pulling:

Horses have been used in warfare since as far back as 4000 BC, but their first applications were more as chariot horses. Humans have been riding and working with horses since before we even had stirrups to more easily ride them with! As archaeologists and anthropologists make more discoveries, the more we learn that we humans have been working closely with horses since before we had specialized tools to ride them with. The very first warhorses pulled chariots or carts, which is much easier for a horse's anatomy to handle compared to carrying a heavy weight like an armored rider on their backs, which puts stress directly on their spines where they have very little supporting muscle for supporting a lot of heavy downward weight.

Warhorse Size Categories:

Really, any breed of horse can apply to a niche in warfare if it's needed enough. Even very small, delicate horses have had their place in the history of human combat! Before I continue, it's important to know that there's a unique unit of measuring a horse's height. Rather than measuring a horse's height in centimeters or inches, they're measured in units called "hands". A single "hand" = ~4 inches/10.16cm, and a horse's height is measured based upon the distance between the bottom of their hoof to the tallest part of their shoulders, just at the base of the back of their necks. We don't actually include neck length/head height in a horse's measurements with traditional measuring.

Another rule of thumb: The average horse cannot safely carry anything heavier than about 30% of their total body weight. This is a serious factor to take into mind when deciding on a type of or breed of horse for a mounted warrior of any kind: You need to factor in the OC's starting body weight, and then add on the weight of armor, weapons, and any armor the horse itself may wear along with the weight of its tack.

Light-Weight Horses:

A few examples of lightweight horse breeds whose ancestors have historically been used in combat are Arabians, Barber Horses, and the magnificent Akhal-Teke. Lightweight and delicately-boned horses like those are best applied for military maneuvers that require precision, speed, and endurance, and the rider themselves should specialize in some form of combat or reconnaissance that doesn't require them to wear heavy metal or laminated armors. Archers are good candidates for riding smaller horses, or lightly-armored swordsmen like an Ottoman Janissary.

Central-Asian and North African horses also benefit from having a higher tolerance for hot climates. They can absolutely suffer from heatstroke and cardiac arrest from being forced to run and work in extreme temperatures and should always be provided with the same protective measures in a heatwave as any other horse, but they have a little bit of an edge over horses descended from freezing and temperate climates.

Medium-Weight Horses:

Medium-weight horses started showing up in the archaeological record around about the Iron Age, where chariot warfare was becoming an increasingly utilized form of mobile combat, and people needed bigger, stronger horses capable of pulling heavier loads - such as a chariot with two passengers rather than just one. As cultures began to develop heavier-duty armors made of metals and laminated materials, it also became important to breed horses that were tall and stocky (muscular and with relatively short spines compared to their height), and therefore more capable of carrying riders in increasingly heavy armor. Medium-weight horses were also essential at the dawn of the gunpowder age when the cannon came into use in siege warfare for pulling the heavy, iron cannons into position.

Medium-weight horses are really where we see the beginnings of knights and other warrior classes on horseback come into the forefront of warfare. When you have a horse that's big and strong enough to carry heavier armor and heavier weapons along with a rider wielding them, you have a much deadlier force at your disposal. Strikes from a sword or spear from the back of a galloping horse basically results in a sword capable of cutting through enemy soldiers like a hot knife through butter.

Important Note: Traditionally, cavalrymen wield blunt swords when attacking from a charging horse's back. When a horse is charging at full speed, the sharpness of a blade becomes less important than the blade's ability to stay in one piece when it impacts hard armor and bone. A blunted edge basically turns a cavalryman's sword into a thin club that's better at holding up against smashing through multiple layers of armor and bone compared to a thinner, more delicate sharpened edge that can shatter from a high-speed impact.

Heavy-Weight Horses:

The direct ancestors of modern draft horses, such as the Shire Horse, only began to appear around about the beginning of the European Medieval Era, and were far and away not even close to the enormous sizes of the draft horses we have today. Any horse counts as a "Heavy-weight" classed horse if its weight exceeds 1500lbs/680kgs.

Heavy-weight horses were really more bred for pulling enormous weights rather than carrying knights. While yeah, there is some evidence that suggests that heavy-weight horses were used by heavily-armored knights, historians argue a lot about whether it was a rule or an exception (such as with Henry VIII, who continued to ride well after he had begun to weigh more than 350lbs/158kgs, and even went to war in France in his final years on horseback). Generally speaking, medium-weight horses tend to be the right balance of agile and strong for carrying someone that's going to actively be fighting. Heavy-weight horses were bred to be a lot more tolerant to the chaos and frightening stimulation of the sounds of battle, but medium-weighted horses generally tended to be more suited to moving efficiently through dense packs of soldiers and weaving around other horses.

Ponies:

While actually being the smallest class of warhorse, ponies were essential when it came to carrying cargo and working as pack-horses. In certain forms of terrain, such as mountains, large horses pulling big carts full of supplies or soldiers could often be extremely impractical. In situations where an army needed to move on foot and form a narrow line in order to travel, ponies were able to traverse much narrower and rougher terrain while carrying smaller loads to their destination, when heavier horses would struggle more under their own weight and dexterity.

Europe-Specific Terminologies:

If you're a writer reading this and writing a piece set in the European Medieval age, there are specific terms used for the different classes I listed of warhorses above that I'm gonna list:

Destriers: The Destrier was a universal term for the iconic knight-carrying, jousting horse. They were also sometimes referred to as "Great Horses" due to their reputations in combat settings. Destriers could have just about any appearance, but were rarely taller than 15.2 hands, or 62inches/157cm. They were capable of carrying heavily-armored knights (although knights in full plate mail rarely rode into battle and stayed on the horse the entire time - they tended to specialize at grouping up and killing a lot of footsoldiers swarming them at once and preventing breaks in defenses from being overwhelmed by an oncoming army; in the case of Edward the Black Prince, we have substantial evidence in the form of his surviving brigandine that a mounted soldier or knight was more likely to wear chainmail and brigandine with a tabard on their body with their arms, feet, and heads the most heavily armored in plate when they intended to fight on horseback, making them a little lighter and more maneuverable, but I may be waaay off base there because I'm thinking of more of Italian soldiers who used full plate and how they applied it in battle more than any other example) and wearing armor themselves.

Interestingly, the sex of a destrier was often chosen strategically. Stallions (horses that haven't been neutered) are more aggressive, and could both act as combatants on their own if their knight was dismounted or killed, but could give away an army's location if they were attempting to move stealthily. Stallions whinny and shriek a lot when they're horny or arguing with each other, which is most of the time.

Mares were often chosen by Muslim armies for being much less vocal, and therefore much more capable of stealth. Geldings (neutered males) were the preferred mounts of the Teutonic Knights, a Catholic military group, since they couldn't be stolen and used to breed more horses for the enemy army.

Coursers:

Coursers were the most common Medieval European warhorse. It's important to remember that in Medieval Europe, most armies were almost entirely comprised of common men - serfs subject to the will of their landlords, not far removed from slaves in many ways - who couldn't afford the highly-prized and expensive Destriers. Coursers were usually a bit lighter than Destriers, but were still strong enough to carry someone wearing armor. Coursers were also a little more utilitarian, because they were also sometimes used in hunting as well as warfare, so they had a valuable use outside of warfare that the owner could benefit from.

Rouncey:

A rouncey was an all-purpose horse that could be used for leisure and travel-riding as well as be trained for war. They were a lot more likely to be found on the farm of a serf or independent farmer of some kind, as they could fill a lot of different roles depending on what they were needed for. Their sizes weren't really important as much as their ability to get the job done.

It's also critical to remember that, when talking about warhorses, we're usually talking about eras long past. In general, thanks to resource availability and incredible advances in medicine, modern humans are significantly taller, and therefore heavier, than people from the European Medieval era and prior. While fatness was valued in many cultures for its suggestion of wealth, most working-class and serf-class people worked intensely physically-demanding daily lives just to maintain their own homes. They were a few inches shorter on average than we are today, had greater fluctuations in body fat distribution depending on how harsh or bountiful the harvest season had been and the season in which a war was taking place (the average person's weight would swing by 30lbs or more on average every year prior to the industrial era), and cavalry were usually chosen based upon skill in the saddle as well as physical size when considering the application of medium or heavy armor being placed on the horse's back and body.

[copperbadge]

Lately, it's felt like every time I've started to work on writing, I'll just be getting into the rhythm of it when I get interrupted, either by work or the cats or because the time I'd booked in the library study room is up (you can only do two hours at a time, and only four hours a week total). It was getting to the point where I kept re-reading the same chapter or so of previous work but never managing to add to it.

So I tried an experiment this past weekend -- I found a really cheap rate on a local hotel room, and on Friday I took an overnight bag and a very old laptop with limited processing power and checked into a room about a mile from home for a quasi "staycation". I unpacked and had a quiet night on Friday, as prelude to working Saturday-Sunday. The idea was to write uninterrupted by other people, pets, the presence of all my Stuff around me at home, et cetera.

I had snacks but I also bought meals out, which was nice; I don't often order in or buy out when I'm at home. The way I set up was that I would do fifty minutes of writing with do-not-disturb engaged on my phone and then ten minutes of checking email, texts, etc. since often what pulls me out of writing is a text or an email that needs answering, or the anxiety that I'm missing one that would. If I set it so that every hour I check, well, nobody's going to die if something doesn't get answered in an hour, so the anxiety isn't there, and neither is the distraction. (I found a nice app for this, review later depending on how functional it continues to be for me, but it's a like $4 app called Forest.)

It worked pretty well -- writing for an uninterrupted hour, as long as I know what I'm working on, is very functional for me. I average about two thousand words, that way, though there is a limit to the number of hours I can put in. I ended up doing two hours in the morning and one hour in the afternoon, then switched from fiction writing to clearing out my tumblr drafts and some correspondence for the fourth hour. So it went something like

Go out and get breakfast, bring back and eat in room

Change into lounging clothes and do two one-hour sessions

Go out and get lunch, eat lunch out

Bit of a rest break back in the room

Two one-hour sessions, one of writing; when tired, switch to something that requires less creativity

Go out and get dinner, bring back and eat in room

And then in the evening the plan was to watch movies or catch up on reading, but I ended up being mentally weary, so instead I did some simple tarot reading. It was less divination or even meditation than just messing around, keeping the creativity stimulated; I did a couple of Creative Writing spreads, some very brief divination spreads (I nicked a nice three-card spread here that I mentally call He To Hecuba, and just used it in general rather than for a specific question) and then invented a spread when I was starting to get irritated that the same like, five cards kept coming up, more on this in its own post.

Sunday I did one more writing session but it was less successful, I think partly because what I was writing required a lot of research and partly because the previous day I'd dumped eight thousand words into the file. (Research took longer because I brought the most garbage laptop known to man, and the browsers crash if you try to open Google Maps, but in other ways it was ideal since there wasn't much I could do on it other than write.) But I had a good breakfast, got some rest, packed up easily enough, and headed home just ahead of the rain storm.

I don't think it's something I'll be able to do in that format especially often, since the deal I got on the hotel was an anomaly and Chicago lodging, even just AirBNB stuff, is stupid expensive. But in addition to helping get some work done it was a nice break, so I'm going to look into ways I could swing it on a perhaps monthly basis, or some other way to cheaply spend an entire day alone with decent access to a bathroom/snacks and a way to come and go easily. I've looked into coworking spaces before but they tend to be prohibitively expensive and don't really have the setup I'd prefer; there's a hostel on the north side with private rooms that I might try out but it doesn't seem significantly cheaper than a hotel. I might just have to pick one weekend a month and watch last-minute hotel price cuts where they simply want to fill a room for a day or two.

Anyway, functionally I wrote almost a fifth of a novel this weekend, and one that I wasn't feeling super on fire about; I'm feeling much better about it now that I've got some established plot going and I feel like I "know" the newer characters a bit better. (Also I'm enjoying writing Simon as someone who is absolutely entranced by his love interest and clueless that what he's feeling isn't mild antipathy because they met while fighting over ricotta.) So it was a big help, although if I were to put a budget line item in the Extribulum Press ledger for "writing staycation" it would wipe out my royalties surplus very quickly.

[jcollinswrites]

How the fudge are you writting so fast??? I sit down to write and end up with nothing or reworking plot instead of writing 😭Have any tips you want to share? Perhaps the ingredients to the dark ritual you perform to get the motivation and remain focused 👀👀👀

So, first of all, you'll need half a newborn, shaken, not stirred…

lol jk (don't shake babies)

Believe it or not I'm the same as you, so here are some stuff that helped me tremendously, especially with my squirrel ADHD brain:

NUMBER ONE that I needed 20 years to learn, is that… forget editing, man. You can't edit if there is nothing to edit, so first you have to sit ya ass down and just fuckin' do it. It doesn't matter if it's shit at first. It's called work in progress for a reason. Who cares if it's shit? You can edit it LATER when the whole thing is already done. What you're reading in my game is literally my first draft. Lots of scenes might change later. In fact, I'm already changing scenes in the background, I'm just not always telling you. It doesn't matter. If anyone gives you shit for it, tell them to kindly fuck right off.

Have a plan for the book (written down. Not just in your head). Don't even start writing until you have a plan for the entire book. It doesn't have to be detailed. Mine is just bulletpoints, but you should know which chapter will contain what, including plot points, character development, relationship progress etc, otherwise you'll get lost, especially in a big IF. And then as you get closer to the next chapter, you can work out more details in the plan to help the actual writing.

If you don't feel like writing a scene, then don't write it. Leave a placeholder word there (I use 'mandarin' because that word likely won't come up anywhere else in the text), and instantly move on to another scene that you have inspiration for. Later, you can just search for 'mandarin' and add the scene when you feel like it. If you accidentally come across any MANDARINs in my game, that's the reason lol.

If you are writing an IF, it helps to start simple. Write the story until a choice comes up, then write the title of the choices, and continue ONLY with the route you feel the most inspired for atm (use mandarin for the rest). Don't let your momentum die by getting bogged down in choices. That's why I have so many greyed out choices when I start a new origin or chapter. I just write write write until the end of the chapter, THEN I go back to whatever choice is the simplest to add, and put the variations in the already-existing text if needed. Repeat until all the choices are written and coded in. This way, the text might feel more organic too, because you already have a pre-written skeleton that you can just add variations in.

Keep notes. It helps to have them on paper, next to you, so f.ex. when you make 9 different deities to choose from, you don't have to go back to the beginning of the chapter every single time to look up which deities those were and what they mean, you can simply turn your head to the side lol.

Take regular breaks. Exercise, stretch. Keep a daily schedule. Eat and drink enough. Try to keep a good health. Your brain won't work if it's starved.

Know yourself and your habits, and be honest with yourself. I know of myself that once I start working on the big plot points, I won't have any motivation to come back to the beginning again. That's why I'm writing all the origin stories first, because I know that if I start going into chapter 2, I definitely won't feel like coming back to start yet another route from the very beginning. So if you don't feel like doing something, then just… don't do it. Or do it simpler. Do it smarter. Trick that asshole brain into cooperating.

Last but not least, guys, 90% of my motivation COMES FROM YOU! Your engagement, your messages, your feedback, every little interaction is what keeps me going! So write me! I will answer! (if you aren't a dick). Literally, about anything. Even if it's just "hey I really liked this small detail here", that will already make my day, seriously. I LOVE talking about my work, and I'm pretty sure every author is like that, so keep engaging with writers, because that's 90% of the reason when a novel gets finished! I'm writing for YOU! Your enjoyment, your fun, because I love telling stories, but those stories don't mean anything if no one is reading them.

[topazadine]

Writing Research Notes: Horses

I have complained before about fantasy writers (and others) using horses without really knowing anything about them, so I'd like to share some basic Horse Facts. These aren't things about horse physiology, because you probably don't need that for your specific story, but things that you can add into your story for verisimilitude.

I'm not a horse trainer or Horse Expert, just someone who loves horses and rides on a regular basis. This is a casual guide to help give you some inspiration (and know what to look up for more information.)

So, what will we discuss in this embarrassingly long post? This.

General horse knowledge

Approaching and sanitizing Horse

Tack, the Horse Accessory Kit

Putting the tack on Horse

Getting on Horse (second best part!)

Riding Horse (best part!)

Being nice to Horse (most important!!)

General Horse Knowledge

Horses are generally classified as hotblood, warmblood or coldblood.

Of course, being mammals, they are all actually warm-blooded. This is more about temperament and size.

Hotblooded horses are lighter, bred for speed and maneuverability. Thoroughbreds and Arabian horses are hotbloods. They're known for being a bit more temperamental, but they are also very fast and responsive.

Coldblood horses are larger, stockier, and more even-tempered. This includes draft horses like Percherons, Gypsy Vanners, and Clydesdales.

Note that a big horse doesn't necessarily mean they're a good war horse, because war horses need to be fast and light. Draft horses are meant to pull, not carry. In a military series, you can use them as cannon horses or cart horses.

Warmblood are crossbreeds of hotblood and coldblood, giving them a good temperament but also relatively good speed. They're often used for hunting, dressage, and showjumping: disciplines that require both maneuverability and a strong working relationship between horse and rider. Quarter Horses, Tennessee Walking Horses, and Irish Sport Horses are warmbloods.

Horses are herd animals and need friends.

Having a singular horse all by themselves is going to cause them distress and lead to mental problems. This is why people who only own one horse often stable them so that they can get social stimulation and professional care.

Like humans, horses have buddies, acquaintances, and enemies.

There is often a pecking order in a herd, with a leader and followers. Horses may make friends, break up with them, reconcile, etc, just like people do.

And horses, of course, have people they like more than others. To get a horse to like you, be gentle and mindful of their boundaries, pay attention to their feelings, groom them, and speak in a soft friendly voice.

Horses aren't mindless animals: they think, feel, and strategize.

They're actually very sensitive and empathetic animals who can get jealous, have their feelings hurt, or need a little bit of TLC on a hard day. And yes, they can scheme.

Similar to dogs, horses are a bit like toddlers: they need firm but compassionate guidance.

This is why you need to think both for yourself and the horse when riding, keeping your mind clear and focused on your goals. Horses can notice when you're not paying attention and they will do their own thing.

Therapy horses are chosen for both their good nature and their sensitivity to human emotions. They will notice when the rider is getting upset or losing focus, and they will stop what they are doing until the rider is back in the right mindset.

They should get as much outside time as possible.

Horses will come to accept and even like their stalls because it's a safe, quiet space for them, but they should be allowed free time outside as much as possible.

It's important to make sure that their pasture is clean, free of dangerous plants or pesticides, and safe from tripping hazards (horse legs are very delicate).

Make sure they are not gorging themselves on grass, though, as this can cause colic. Horses cannot throw up: they've got a one-way digestive system. Intestinal blockages are a medical emergency.

Horses do like working with nice humans.

This isn't cope, I promise. Just like dogs, they have been bred over thousands of years to look to humans for guidance and to see us as caretakers.

Horses who are treated well like having a job, just like dogs who are treated well will like training sessions. Jobs offer them mental stimulation, offer them praise and rewards, and keep them busy so they're not bored.

You can see this in happy horses. The therapy horse I use, Truly, used to be a jumper and hunter before she came to the therapeutic stable, and she gets really excited if she sees vaults because she loves doing that! She gears up for the trot; you can feel it in her stride. She's ready and wants to go.

But, this implies that you're treating your horses well, praising them regularly, and bonding with them outside of sessions.

Horses that are being mistreated will balk at work because they associate it with pain and fear. Horses that are treated well will happily come out of their stall, ears forward and eyes bright, because they associate work with fun and stimulation.

Approaching and Sanitizing Horse

Horses have a blind spot in front of them and directly behind them.

Unlike humans, their eyes are on the sides of their head because they are prey animals. This means approaching a horse directly from the front or directly behind them may make them spook - and, if you are by their butt, kick you.

Generally, younger riders are taught never to pass behind a horse for safety reasons, so you go around them in a wide circle or duck under their neck. You can also walk behind them if you are out of kicking distance (about 3-4 feet) or right up against them so they can't get their leg up to kick you.

When tacking up or grooming, you should keep a hand on the horse as you move.

This lets the horse know where you are if you are in their blind spot and is especially important if you are around their butt so they don't spook and wonder where you went.

With grooming, you go with the curry comb and hold the bristle brush where you intend to go next so they know what to expect.

Grooming improves circulation and is a good bonding activity.

You use a curry comb, which is a rubber comb with little nubs, and then a brush. The curry comb is moved around in a circular motion to lift dirt and shedding hair, then the brush is angled with the grain of the hair to sweep it away.

Don't use a curry comb on a horse's face, legs, or stomach, which are sensitive areas. If you do want to use a curry comb in these areas because they are super dirty, be VERY gentle and light.

Horses generally like to be groomed because they do this to each other in the wild. It's a good way to make a horse like you.

Picking a horse's hooves, and having regular farrier checks, are crucial for their health.

Like human fingernails, horse hooves grow continuously; they're made from the same material as our hair and nails, keratin. They have a V-shaped "frog" in the middle of the underside of their hoof that is sensitive, but the rest of it isn't very sensitive unless you, like, stab it.

Farriers will file down a horse's feet so they are even, and they will also apply horseshoes if necessary (not all horses wear shoes). You can't just put any old horseshoe on a horse: it has to be fitted to their particular foot. This is a specialized job that not everyone can do, so if your character is not a farrier, they're not going to apply horseshoes themselves.

Cleaning a horse's hoof involves a hoof pick.

When picking a horse's hooves, you take an angled piece of metal called a hoof pick and dig out any dirt or manure or whatever has gotten stuck around the frog, then brush it out with a small brush. If they wear horseshoes, you also need to make sure you get the crevices underneath the shoe.

Generally, we pick feet both before and after riding.

Horses need to be trained to give you their leg. This usually means leaning your body weight into their shoulder, sliding your hand down their leg, and squeezing at the soft indent right above the hoof. You might also need to say "pick it up" or whatever command they've been taught to use.

It's a little scary for a horse to be off-balance like that; how would you feel if someone made you stand on one leg while they clipped your toenails? Be mindful that they may get nervous or put their foot down before you're ready. If this happens, just try again until their feet are clean.

Keep your feet and hands out of the way of the horse's hoof!

Pay attention to where your feet are in conjunction with the horse's hoof so they don't slam their hoof down on your toes. Horses may not even realize they stepped on you because they don't have a lot of sensitivity down there.

Never curl your fingers around the horse's hoof; that's a surefire way to break your hand. Hold it like you're cradling a baby's head.

Do not wear steel-toed shoes in a stable.

It's a common misconception that you should wear work boots or steel-toed shoes; after all, big horse very strong very heavy smash on foot!

Yeah, but a furry hydraulic press will crunch that steel right into your damn foot, and then you have guillotined all your toes.

Wear special riding boots instead. These don't have the ridges that hiking shoes or tennis shoes have, so they won't get caught on the stirrup. Cheap short ones cost like $40 and will last you a few good years. No need to go whole-hog on the long dressage boots if you're a casual rider.

Horses are usually taught to be groomed, tacked up, and mounted from one side.

This may not apply to therapy horses, who are trained to accept whatever way is easiest for the rider.

For dressage horses, they are taught to be groomed, tacked up, and mounted from the left. You should stand on the horse's left side when leading them. You'll dismount from the right.

Tack: The Stuff That Goes on Horse

No matter your discipline, you'll have these general things:

Halter. This is for leading the horse around before you tack them up. Generally, you will tie up the horse to cross-ties while you're grooming and tacking them. It is removed right before you put on the bridle.

Saddle blanket/pad. Western uses saddle blankets, but with English, you'll use a pad. Sometimes, with older horses or those that need a bit more comfort, you will have a blanket and a pad. This goes on before the saddle.

Saddle. Western saddles are very big, made for riding long distances. They are made mostly of leather, including the stirrups, which are attached directly to the saddle. English saddles are much smaller and lighter, and they have more removable parts. I won't get into all the specifics of them because it's probably irrelevant to your story.

There are also more specialized saddles, like jockey saddles.

Girth. Old-school Western saddles have cinches that you tie with the same knot you use for a necktie, but modern ones that detachable girths just like English saddles. They have buckles on both sides. One side will have leather straps; this is the one you put on first, from the left. The other side has elastic so it's a bit stretchier. This goes on the right side.

Bridle. How you control horse. Goes over the face and you hold onto the reins. This is put on last, right after you remove the halter. Put the reins over the horse's neck so you have something to hold onto after you remove the halter!

Bit. This is a metal bar that goes in the horse's mouth, over the tongue. Snaffle bits are the most common; they are made of two parts that meet in the middle. They aren't as uncomfortable for horses as other types. Some people are moving away from bits entirely and using bitless bridles.

Putting Tack on Horse

English stirrups are "run up" when tacking up and leading a horse.

The metal stirrups can bang against things and hurt the horse if they are not pulled up against the saddle by running them up the leather strap they hung from. You'll then tuck the excess strap into the stirrup to hold them in place.

Stirrups can be adjusted with a buckle hidden under the saddle seat. You'll run them up, pull the buckle down to a comfortable height, and then adjust as necessary. Then pull the stirrup down to the bottom, put your hand against the seat, and lift the stirrup up to run along your arm. It should brush against your armpit for most people.

Most dressage stirrups have numbered holes so you can remember what your height is.

Western saddles have leather stirrups that may or may not be detachable or adjustable.

Never tie a horse's reins to anything.

Don't listen to old Western movies that show this. If the horse spooks and they are tied up, they could rip the bit out of their mouth and really hurt themselves.

Horses have bars in their mouth - a blank space with no teeth. This is where the bit sits.

To get a horse to accept a bit, you can stick your thumb into this blank spot to make them open their mouth, just as you can do with dogs.

You then pull the bit up over their front teeth and settle it in there so it's comfortable.

There should be a small bit of pull you can see from the wrinkles around their mouth, but it shouldn't be squeezing them to death. Gentle pressure, happy horse.

Tighten the girth (the strap around their tummy) right before you get on.

Horses like to "bloat," meaning they suck in a bunch of air when you're putting the girth on, then relax so that the girth is loose. You don't want this, because then you can slide off. So put it on loosely at first, then put it up a few slots once you're about to get on.

Don't rachet it up to the highest possible setting you can reach, and don't yank on it, because this hurts the horse. Gently pull it up until it's tight enough to hold on, but not so much that it becomes a corset. You should be able to slide three fingers between the girth and the horse's stomach.

Getting On Horse

Lead the horse to where you want to go by bringing the reins over their head and holding them under the chin.

Do not use a death grip! You don't need to. Loose and happy. Keep the excess in your other hand so it's not a tripping hazard.

Then, of course, put the reins back over their head when you're ready to get on.

Mounting blocks are convenient and safer for the horse.

These are kind of like step stools, and they get you closer to the horse's back. Mounting from the ground puts a lot of pressure on the horse's back and should only be used sparingly.

The procedure is like so for English:

Gather the reins in your left hand, which should be placed near the front of the saddle.

Put your right hand near the back of the saddle for balance.

Put your left foot in the stirrup.

Swing your right leg over.

Settle your right foot in the stirrup.

Don't jump up; you might fall the hell over, lmao. Gentle easy swing.

The stirrup sits on the ball of your feet, with the heel pointing down.

This is true for both Western and dressage. You want it on the balls of your feet so you have leverage and can pivot your ankle to lightly tap the horse on the side, and you want your heel down to help maintain your balance.

A lot of riding boots, including cowboy boots, will have stitching that runs across the top of the foot. You can align this with the stirrup so you know that you don't have your foot too far back in the stirrup.

Your leg is slightly bent when in the saddle.

You do not have your legs straight out, because then you don't have leverage and can't maintain balance.

My instructor says it should feel like you're kneeling, and then when you post (rise out of the saddle during the trot or canter), you should feel like you're coming out of a squat. You're not springing all the way out of the saddle and standing up, because then you will fall over.

Your leg should stay as still as possible, with your heels pointing down to the ground. You shouldn't move them up or forward when you're trotting, a common beginner mistake.

When training in a ring, you don't have a right leg and left leg: you have an "outside" leg and "inside" leg.

Outside leg is the one closest to the wall (or fence), and inside leg is the leg closest to the middle of the ring. This keeps you from getting confused when you change directions.

Horses also have an outside leg and inside leg that you use to determine when to post or perform other maneuvers.

Horses need to be trained to go both clockwise and counterclockwise.

This helps them maintain balanced muscle tone on both sides of the body; otherwise, it's like doing leg exercises with only one leg. When getting a lesson, your instructor will ask you to change directions once you've done a certain exercise so that you can try it the other way, too.

Actually Riding Horse

You shouldn't yank on the reins like you're in a tug-of-war.

This can really hurt the horse and, paradoxically, make them more disobedient. It's like someone put their fingers in your mouth and then stretched your lips as far back as possible.

Keep your body loose.

Your horse is listening to your body language and will feel when you're tense. Every little movement means something to the horse. If you're tight, they think they should be nervous too.

Stay calm, upright, and loose. Legs slightly bent, elbows flexible, hands in line with the sides of the horse's neck and a bit above the front of the saddle.

Squeezing or tapping the horse is called impulsion.

It should be used lightly and with just enough pressure to get their attention. Don't kick the horse with all your might. The more movement you need from the horse, the more intense your impulsion will be.

Don't squeeze with your knees.

Pressure on the horse comes from the thighs and calves, not the knees. Your knees are there to bend.

Yes, your inner thighs will be super duper sore when you're done. It gets better though, prommie.

In dressage, you post at the trot in rhythm with the horse.

This reduces pressure on their back so you're not banging on their spine with each hootbeat. You post when their outside shoulder comes forward and lightly land back in the saddle when their inside shoulder rises: not sitting all the way down, just crouching a bit lower.

When you want the horse to walk again, you will sit down and pull (gently!!) back on the reins. The added pressure makes them not want to trot anymore because it would hurt them when you bump around on their back.

Being Nice to Horse (so Horse Is Nice to You)

Respect a horse's personal space and power.

They are big strong animals that can break your spine if they buck you, or crush your foot, or give you brain damage if they kick you in the head. Healthy respect (not fear) is crucial.

If a horse is pissed off, leave them alone. If they're scared, treat them kindly and speak soothingly. If they're not doing what you want, find a way to redirect them instead of screaming at them and making them more anxious.

And remember that they are prey animals despite their size and power! They may get nervous about things that you wouldn't even consider. Truly, the horse I ride on the regular, gets freaked out by jackets hanging over fence posts and barking dogs.

That's okay and natural; I just have to reassure her that she's going to be alright. You are the leader and caretaker of the horse, making them feel confident.

Training tools like whips, crops, or spurs should be used sparingly.

Any trainer who tells a beginner to use spurs as soon as possible is an asshole who doesn't actually know how to train horses. They don't know how to teach riders to control their body pressure, so they go right to the aversives.

I left a stable because the trainer demanded I buy spurs after like two lessons; my current stable doesn't use these at all, ever.

You should be able to control the horse with your hands and feet without these tools before adding them, and they should always be used as gently as possible: a slight tap with the spurs or crop, not beating the horse with a crop or digging your spurs into their sides. Horses are very sensitive animals and will respond well to a light kick with your heels if they are properly trained.

I've developed such a good rapport with the therapy horse I use (and she's such a good girl) that she can tell when I want to her trot. I start working her up to her "party walk" as my instructor calls it, and then click my tongue, and she's off. No kicking necessary.

Reward, Don't Punish

Same as when training dogs. Don't yell at them and say "no!! bad horse!!" Instead, offer a small correction, like checking the reins, or redirect them.

Do not hit or kick horses when they don't do what you want. They are trained that tap means go; you're going to make them gallop instead of stop.

Give them a pat on the neck and say "good horse!" when they do a good job. You can also talk to the horse while you're grooming and riding, offering them compliments and assurance.

Again, horses look to riders as leaders. They want to know the're performing correctly; if you've built up a good relationship, they want to make you happy and perform well.

Most of the time, horses are not trying to make you mad. You're just miscommunicating with them and need to figure out how to make your commands clearer.

Abusive training tactics are counterintuitive in the long run.

This makes for a nervous, flighty, disobedient, and anxious horse who may become dangerous. They're 1,200 pound animals, and if they don't like what you're doing, they will kick, buck, or bite.

Kicking, hitting, excessive use of spurs or crops, and screaming at horses doesn't make your horse respect you: it makes them fear you. You want your horse to be excited to work with you, to look forward to your training sessions, and to have fun.

I've created a masterlist of writing resources that you can peruse at your leisure, all for free.

The posts I write can sometimes take me hours - they're always intricate, always thoughtful. This one took me about three hours to complete.

I do this as a labor of love for the writing community, sharing what I have learned from almost 15 years of creative writing.

However, if you'd like to support me, maybe you'll consider buying my book for $1.99?

9 Years Yearning is a gay coming-of-age romance set in a fantasy world. It follows Uileac Korviridi, a young soldier training at the War Academy. His primary motivations are honoring the memory of his late parents, protecting his little sister Cerie, and becoming a top-notch soldier.

However, there's a problem: Orrinir Relickim, a rough and tough fellow pupil who just can't seem to leave Uileac alone.

The book features poetry, descriptions of a beautiful country inspired by Mongolia, and a whole lot of tsundere vibes.

Oh, and horse!!! Horse love!! SO MUCH HORSE LOVE.

You can also check it out on Goodreads for a list of expanded distribution.

If you do purchase my book, don't forget to leave a review!

Reviews are vital for visibility on Amazon and help to support indie authors like me. Whenever you love a book, be sure to let the author know! It's much appreciated.

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.14

More memories

I'm sorry this is a little short I have more and wanted to post more but whenever I tried to add it to my draft Tumblr said no - they'll have to be in a new chapt ? - it was really vexing me last night and has continued to this morning

<<Part 13 Part 15>> Masterlist

Storm's eyes scanned you, she was waiting for you to break. Waiting to pick up the pieces. But you wouldn't falter.

You gave her an honest smile. “How's your plants?”

It was minute but her eyebrows rose. “They're coming along beautifully.”

“My Storm always found it peaceful in her garden.” You picked at a mark on the door. “Always brought me amazing flowers.”

The inner dilemma was plain to see. She was trying to conceal it but you knew her, knew her tells and expressions.

“I don't need a tour.” You put her out of her misery. “It's just a little surreal to be here but not be.”

She was quiet a moment longer before, “You might not need a tour but do you want one?” She gestured behind her. “I can show you my flowers. I hope they're just as nice.”

You took her in then. Her striking hair and glamorous clothes, her kind eyes. She was every bit the Storm you knew. Of course you wanted her tour and of course you wanted her company, whatever she'd offer you'd take.

She was your friend.

You missed her.

“Please.” The word was small.

Storm turned on her heels, her hair flowing as she did, and led you away.

//

Storm led the group into the Professor's study.

You were all pissed.

You'd been on a failed mission and each of you had suffered.

There was a cocky girl, she wore red leather and a cynical smirk.

“My father won't let me kill you.” Her accent was thick as she rolled her eyes. “But I can mess with you.”

With a snap of her fingers you were all flung backwards and out of Genosha.

“Guys?!” Rogue shrieked as she looked down at her skin. It was blue and hairy.

Your head snapped to Hank who was… he was human! He looked startled and as he got upset the clouds above him darkened.

“The fuck is going on?” Logan's eyes snapped to you, you felt fine, didn't feel any different.

“Check your power, try and-” You balled a fist as you spoke - in a gesture to him to use his claws - but as you did three bones sprung out of your knuckles. You shrieked in pain but it eased as quickly as it formed.

Logan's hands were on you in an instant, his capturing your own, but when he touched you you felt awful. Sick, weak, drained. Big purple veins appeared on your skin as he sucked the power out of you.

“Get off her!” Rouge ordered and Logan dropped you.

Storm was the first to stand, her hands were on her hips and she was pacing. “We need to get back. We need the professor.”

“We need to work out what she did to us!” Logan argued.

“And who she is.” Beast added. “And her father. It couldn't be Magneto, could it?”

You heard the following conversation but we're too preoccupied with trying to squeeze your bones back into your arm. They were nauseating to look at. They had weird bumps but not knuckles and they were glistening!

“Why are they wet?” You asked no one in particular, after failing again to sheath them.

“It's okay, they'll go back in.” Logan wanted to pat your back but didn't. “Just try to relax.”

“There's bones sticking out of me.” How wasn't he understanding? This was fucking mental! “I think I'm at the appropriate level of calm.”

“C’mon, let's get back to t’ jet.” Rogue managed to sober up quicker than you for someone who was blue. She looked like a furby.

The flight was fucking awkward.

Beast couldn't control the weather so there was an obscene amount of turbulence which made your claws extend which made Logan go to touch you before Rogue threw her shoe at him.

The cycle repeated until she was throwing pieces from the medkit.

Storm was the level headed pilot but even she was having trouble with your forcefields. The jet locked in one with a particularly bad cumulonimbus.

You covered your mouth with your shoulder, “I might throw up if I have to look at my bones any longer.”

“I'm trying.” Storm raised her hand to stop the field. “I can't get rid of it.”

“You need to f-” You gagged. “Feel the field. Hold it.”

The face she gave you filled the whole team with hope. “How do I 'feel' the field?” It was an inanimate object. It didn't technically exist until she made it. It was unlike her clouds, they had life. She merely contorted them.

“I don't know! How do you feel the clouds?”

“That'd be helpful to know.” Hank jolted as thunder rumbled.

None of you were much help to the other but you did eventually find ourselves back at the mansion.

Charles was ready, waiting for you. “What happened? You're all dif-”

“We don't know her name.” Storm informed him. “Look into my mind, see her.”

Charles' eyes flickered between hers and he frowned. “I haven't come across her in Cerebro.”

“She's next level.” Rogue gestures to her body. She was taller and her suit had ripped due to the wider build.

Hank brushed his brown hair out of his eyes. “She mentioned her father. I believe she meant Magneto.”

That struck a chord with Charles. He tried to pretend it didn't but you caught the twitch of his eye. “I'll have to seek her out.”

~~

It was two weeks later and you still hadn't been fixed.

And to make matters worse Charles’ annual fundraiser was next week. You were all meant to make an appearance, a united front, to show the world that mutants weren't chaotic animals. You were as sophisticated as the yuppies who made the bills and funded places like HYDRA and AIM.

But more importantly than that you were fucking embarrassed. Every time Logan entered your line of sight you got excited or your heart rate increased causing the claws to pop out.

It was mortifying to have everyone see. Yeah everyone knew you were together and you were attracted to him but it was so stupid for you to essentially get a boner when he was just sitting in the kitchen eating toast.

“I hate you.” You smacked your head against the counter, taking the seat next to his, the claws seemed to retreat if you hurt yourself; something Logan loathed but it was a working system so he could fuck himself.

“Claws say otherwise.” He winked at you, itching to kiss your lips. He hadn't been able to touch you for weeks, he was wound so tight and extremely fucking horny.

“You're literally having breakfast and they just appear.” You spoke against the marble, your nose flattened on it. Smell was also something you had to get used to. Everyone smelt vastly different and Logan was ludicrously scrumptious. You could smell him everywhere and hear him. Late at night when he had to relieve himself, cumming into his han- You forced the thoughts from your mind, shoving them anywhere they couldn't hurt you.

“It takes years of practice, kitten.” The claws shot straight back out and you groaned. “You're not the only one that struggles with them.” He admitted, whispering into your ear. “I find it hard sometimes.”

You rolled your head to the side to look at him. Logan gifted you a sweet smile and you groaned again. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Can't help it.”

The two of you had to separate to sleep at night because A) you could kill him with the claws and B) he could kill you with the power absorption.

“Miss you.” You rubbed your covered knee against his.

“You too, gorgeous.”

~~

Dressing for the gala was daunting. Your dress was exquisite and you really, really, didn't want to ruin it.

Logan was able to wear his suit but added an expensive looking turtleneck under the jacket and gloves for obvious reasons.

Rogue flat out refused to attend.

Hank enjoyed blending in with the crowd, wearing a blue suit and slicking his hair back.

Storm did go, she had to as the to be Queen of Wakanda and a high profile mutant. She was wearing a sleek mermaid dress which matched her betrothed’s suit.

Charles was sweating.

He was very worried that this would go to shit.

And it definitely could.

But not only because of you.

He had invited Erik and his children.

Yup.

ChildREN.

Wanda, Pietro and Lorna.

The girls were witches, powerful, scary witches. Pietro was a mutant also, his power was superspeed which could be equally as dangerous but you wanted to take extra care around the girls.

Across the room Erik and Charles were speaking in hushed tones, the former rolling his eyes as the latter spoke.

“Hello.” You forced yourself to approach the children. Wanda - the one in red - raised a brow. “I’m Y/N.”

“Wanda.”

“I'm Pietro, that's Lorna.” Pietro had paper white hair and the same smile as his father. Lorna had Wanda’s nose - it must run in the family - but looked different. Her hair was darker and she was paler.

“That was an impressive move.” You compliment.

Wanda again gives you nothing more than a subtle change in expression.

“She wants her powers back.” Lorna cut to the chase, she didn't have the russian accent, merely an American one.

Wanda smirked. “I know.” Pietro chuckled.

Logan stepped up behind you, you could feel his presence more than see or hear him. “Everything alright here?”

“It's great," You supplied. "I just wanted to introduce myself to the heirs of Genosha.” You gave an awkward nod and blasted finger guns - I don't know why either - before retreating.

Logan led you to one of the food tables and handed you a plate.

You accepted it and shovelled food into your mouth. “I have no idea why that happened.” You admitted with your cheeks full.

“Me neither, I go to the toilet and you're talking to the enemy.”

You scoffed over a cream puff. “They're just kids.”

Logan eyed them, folding his arms. “Dangerous kids.”

"I thought if I spoke to them normally they'd realise we're just like them. We're all in the same boat or some shit." You sighed and swatted the crumbs off your lips and cheeks. “Okay, I'm alright now.”

“You eaten enough feelings?”

“Shut up.” You shoved his shoulder. “But you were right to bring me here, I haven't eaten today.”

“I know.” He glanced at you. “You were too nervous.”

“This is a big responsibility.” The claws were being very good. They hadn't come out at all tonight and you didn't want to be too optimistic but you were very proud. “I don't want to fuck up.”

“If you fuck up, I'll fuck up right next to you.” He promised.

You chuckled, wishing you could kiss him. “Good, my ride or die.”

“Speaking of… you-” He took a deep breath, “-wanna dance?”

You stared at him with wide eyes. Yeah, he'd taken you to the cinema and he'd taken you for dinners and he even splurged for the opera but at somewhere official like this he was always business.

You wore his earrings and matched your dress to his pocket square or tie but neither of you had actually danced before! Not publicly. Not when the world was watching. He didn't want people to know you were his in case they exploited that. What happened if you were harmed to get to him?

There were paparazzi here.

What if you stabbed him?!

“Don't overthink it. Yes or no.” He asked you but his eyes were glued to the crowd.

“Okay.” You breathed before you could say no. Fuck it.

If you go down he goes down.

You had the feeling neither of you cared as long as you were together.

Logan offered you his gloved palm and you accepted it, letting him lead you into the crowd of people. He kept you by the edge but you weren't on the outside.

Shit, you probably should have mentioned, “I don't know how to dance.” You whispered as he arranged your arms in the correct positions, one on his shoulder and one on his forearm.

“I do.” He didn't elaborate but led you in an expert waltz. Twirling you around the dancefloor in sync with the other couples. You followed his lead with ease, melting into the warm feeling it brought.

Logan's eyes were trained on you as you glanced around the room. He wanted to kiss you so badly. Wanted to claim you as his in front of all these important hot shots. Wanted the world to know. He was ready for that. Ready to accept the risk and forever be your protector as long as everyone knew you were his.

But he couldn't.

He could barely hold your hand.

So he dipped you as low as possible, making your breath stutter - your hands pointing away from him in case the wretched claws sprung to action.

“You're getting good at controlling them.” Logan commented as he straightened the two of you.

“Years of practice, kitten.” You echoed his words. “It's easier in the evening, don't ask me, I don't know why. But it is.”

Logan laughed and released you to bow as the band finished the song.

“May I have this dance?” Magneto spoke behind you. You hadn't even risen from your courtesy as he asked.

You turned to see if he was speaking to anyone else but nope. You were the only one in the surrounding area. The only one he was interested in.

“Uh, yeah suuure.” You nodded. It would look rude if you didn't. The mutants couldn't be divided. That was the whole reason he was here in the first place!

“I'll have her back in one piece.” Erik winked to Logan before sweeping you away.

Your eyes were on Logan, as Erik positioned you in the centre of the dance floor, your chin touching your shoulder before you had to turn to your partner.

Logan was angry but he didn't show it, and he was suspiciously quiet when Mangeto spoke to you. Erik must've clamped his jaw shut.

You were amazed that Logan could still operate with an Adamantium skeleton but he did and you were not going to question it because if you did it would give you a headache.

“I hear my Wanda has inconvenienced you and your team.” Erik spoke diplomatically.

You fought the scoff, keeping the pleasant mask on. “Just a tad.”

“I do apologise, I'll speak with her.” The tempo was faster with this song so he spun you out and back in.

“Thanks..?” You were confused. Why had he brought you to the centre? Why was he dancing with you? And why were your friends watching you with bated breath? Did they know something you didn't?!

Erik nodded but didn't speak, merely leading the dance. You wish you knew the name of this one, it was a fast waltz?

“Okay, why are we dancing?” You blurted out.

“Well, I couldn't ask Chuck could I?” He sassed, bringing your hips closer to his and he walked you backwards.

“Would you like to ask him?” He gave you a suspicious glare. “Couldn't your kid make his legs work?”

Erik considered that. “Possibly, but I won't ask.”

You let that settle, trying to catch Charles’ eyes. ‘READ MY MIND. READ HIS MIND. WHAT IS HAPPENING CHARLES?’

‘I wouldn't do that if I were you.’ Wanda’s voice taunted.

You accused. “Your daughter’s spying on us.”

He looked over and quirked his head. “Is she? Which one?”

“Wanda.” You grumbled. “Who's the mother?” You would've bet money that Erik and Charles were messy exs. Yeah, he could be bi but you had always assumed...

“Natalya was the twins' mother. Suzanne was Lorna's.”

You repeated the word: “Was.”

“What else happens to us mutants but humans?” He gave you an aloof shrug. “To get to me they were murdered.”

What do you say to that? Was he planning something? He couldn't show Charles up like that. The two had history, yeah, but you knew Erik. You'd worked with him. He was brash and angry but when something like this was happening, something important, he played the game. He let it unfold.

Then again… the two of you were still dancing surrounded by humans, in the centre of Charles' fundraiser. Perhaps this wasn't an innocent chat.

Maybe he wanted you to fuck up.

If anyone would, it was you.

“What's happening Erik? Why are we dancing?” You repeated, slightly defeated.

“I wanted to talk to you, away from your guard dog.” Your eyes found Logan again. He was still frowning animatedly at the two of you. Jean was at his side trying to talk to him but it was no use.

You met Erik's gaze again. “Go on then.”

“Your powers-” A sarcastic laugh escaped you. “Your original powers are wasted. You have the potential to control your own energy. I don't think you quite grasp how powerful one could be.”

You were confused. “They're force fields.”

“They could be more.” He twirled the two of you, just narrowly avoiding another couple. “Try to build something other than a bubble.”

“Gee, I'd love to.”

He wasn't phased by your sarcasm. “What power do you currently possess, then?”

“Logan's.” You tightened your grip on his hand.

“And your animal?”

“He's our rogue.” There was nothing to lose telling Erik, his daughter would tell him if you didn't.

“And that firecracker? Where is she?” His brows met in genuine curiosity.

“That man over by Charles is Hank McCoy. Rogue happens to have hi-”

Magneto burst out laughing, faltering in his expert steps, hundreds of eyes flew to you both as the music had begun quieting down. “I would pay to see that.”

You roll your eyes, still in his hold.

“I'll get your powers fixed and I want you to consider my words. Consider joining us in Genosha.”

He knew you wouldn't. Why would he even ask?

What had given him the impression that you would?

Copying the couples around you, the two of you bowed at eachother.

\\

Storm opened the door to her garden and you were swamped in heat.

From the floor to the ceiling there was greenery, an array of floral arrangements and confusing smells.

She led you to a small wooden table where there were little sproutlings. “These are the newest, Hank and I have been trying to genetically modify plants.”

“Why?” The question was genuine.

“To release more oxygen, to get better herbal remedies. Aspirin came for a willow tree, think of what else we could do. The illnesses we could help.”

She was so inherently good. A prime example of a caregiver. That's why she and T’Challa were an exceptional couple. They helped so many people in your world. Mutant and Human alike.

“Do-” Should you ask? Was it allowed? “Do you know T’Challa?”

Her eyes betrayed nothing. “I do know him, we've met briefly.”

“Oh.”

Met briefly?

They weren't a couple?

Storm wasn't a queen?

“Why's that?”

No, you really shouldn't have asked. Committing rookie mistake after rookie mistake. You couldn't tell her in case she sought out or avoided her life.

“No reason.” Your head shook and you took a step back, making a hasty exit. “I'm going to go, I’ll see you around.”

//

You were laying on the grass again. It had been a fucking terrible day.

You hadn't been able to save them.

Your fields hadn't stretched fast enough. Fifty students were dead. And the remainder had taken Erik up on his offer and joined Genosha.

All because you thought it would be fun to go on a school trip.

You should've known better.

Should've known despite the galas and love when you saved the day, the humans wouldn't accept you.

At least the Sentinels made it quick.

“Y/N.” Logan spoke next to you, he was sitting. When did he get there? “It isn't your fault baby.”

Those words caused your tears to reappear, face contorting in sorrow.

“Come here.” He pulled you upwards and into his lap, stroking your hair.

He and Scott had taken the Sentinels out whilst you failed at your one job.

“It isn't your fault.” He spoke slower. “You are not to blame.”

“Bu-but I couldn't.” You hiccuped. “They're dead.”

“You saved more than I could've.” He smoothed your hair. “I'm serious, what could my claws do? Your fields saved people.”

You let him shush and run his fingers through your hair. You didn't deserve this but loved him. Loved that he still cared. He didn't push you to the side because of what happened.

The two of you just sat there, you nestled in-between his legs, your temple on his collar.

“I wanna ask you something.”

You tensed up. Here it comes. Just rip the bandaid off, just break up quick please.

“Will you-” He chuckled. “Calm down.” Placing a kiss on your forehead, you relaxed slightly. “Y/N, I want you to be my wife.”

That was nowhere near what you had thought he wanted to say. You pulled back to stare at his face. “What?”

“Be my bride?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled sweetly down at you. “I wanted to wait, to take you out, spoil you but today proved we might not have a tomorrow. Showed me I should just ask.”

You had no words.

Hell yeah, you wanted to be his wife!

But you'd killed people.

You weren't worth the loving gaze he was giving you.

You couldn't. Shouldn't.

“Y/N. Talk to me, what's happening?”

He knew you too well.

When you had your hysterectomy you'd vowed to be honest with him. That you'd get through anything together. “I don't deserve your love.”

Logan let out a scoff that turned into a disbelieving laugh. “Yes. Yes, you do. I'm the one that doesn't deserve yours.” He wiped your fresh tears and kissed your nose. “I've done horrible things but being with you-I love you so much. You make me better."

You sunk back into him. What he had done didn't matter. You didn't care. He was Logan. And you were Y/N. It was always Logan and Y/N. You two vs the world.

Maybe he felt the way you did.

He didn't care that you made mistakes, like you didn't care he had.

“Okay.” You nodded. “Yeah. Let's get married.”

Logan grinned maniacally and kissed you. His thumbs wiped your tears as he deepened the kiss.

It was wet and you both were both still fairly shellshocked but it was perfect.

Logan produced a small box - black velvet - and you knew what would be in there. “Had this a while.” He opened the box and placed the ring on your finger.

It was a simple band with a small diamond. A man of practicality, if you were to wear this daily it couldn't be too flashy, not when you suited up as an X-Man.

@littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @ravenmedows @electricreader @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05

“It's beautiful.” You admired your hand in his. He kissed your temple again and pulled you in tighter.

.

.

Part 15

[bamsara]

Good evening, Bam! I actually have an inquiry that pertains to writing. Im sure you heard this a thousand times, but i love your fics. Y/N feels very much like a real person and the ideas are stellar. But, the question is: How do you get your word count up? I aspire to be a writer but always seem stuck at around 2k words. Any general tips would be much appreciated! Lots of love your way :)

To be honest I struggle with writing until something possesses my mortal form and makes me forget all earthly needs and desires so I sit down and not move for about 14 hours while I write 10k-15k in one sitting so I don't have any legitimate advice-

However! I did learn one trick that helps me when I'm stuck. Write the dialogue first, and then the actions and words in between after, on your second run through. So your draft looks like this:

"I really don't think you should be messing with that. What if someone catches you?"

"Relax! I've got connections. And no one is gonna notice anyway."

Then go back in, break up dialogue and add in your actions and possessive nouns:

His eyes flit between her and the computer, then to the door down the hallway where the last employee disappeared behind moments prior. "I really don't think you should be messing with that " Ryan whispers, hushed low enough and shoulders hunched up to his ears like there were cameras sticking out of the walls. "What if someone catches you?"

She's already tried the first few passwords, failed, and succeeded by the 4th try by the time he's done whining. So she waves her hand nonchalant."Relax! I've got connections. And no one is gonna notice anyway."

May not work in all spots and cases since sometimes less action speaks more and leaves more up to the imagination of the reader to fill in the gaps for the expression the characters have, or the tone, and the setting. But just a small trick I learned that I use when drafting.

[yun-fangz]

HI UM can I hear your hcs for sub!Jongho please 😵‍💫

Oh boy, CAN YOU.

This has been the easiest ask response of my life…. I am very passionate about sub!jongho yup yup. i also have more versions but this is the softer more tame ver. he's really so versatile i can't just pinpoint him as one kind of sub

warnings: mentions of spanking, pegging lol

(A/n) I could’ve swore i answered this (maybe in my head) or i just never saved the draft/posted… whoops!

18+ mdni, hcs are under the cut !

The cutest most adorable baby ever

very obedient and shy

He flushes so easily, his ears and chest turning a bright red at just a couple of words/actions

He seems so confident in himself but it's so easy to break him down into a puddle.

Super sensitive! both emotionally and physically

especially his nipples, he can nearly cum just from them being toyed with

It's not easy to manhandle him, considering how big he is compared to you, but he loves it when you just have your way with him

did i mention pillow PRINCE!

loves to lay back or be in whatever position, as long as he's feeling good

he's super bashful at first, hiding his reddened cheeks and muffling his whines and moans

it doesn't take long for your praises to coax him out of his shell though, soon he has no shame letting out noises or asking for what he wants

don't spoil him too much though, he can be a greedy and bratty little thing

not big on choking on anything of that sort

however if you give a couple spanks (read; a lot) he'll be a crying and babbling mess

he just has such a nice ass i just want to knead it and play with it all day like a sensory toy

a dirty secret of his..... hmmmm

pegging 🤫

he used to think it was so dirty and demeaning but fuck, after the first time he couldn't get enough

he's never came so hard in his life

even when he's not getting fucked, put a little something there (plug/vibe) and he's a GONER.

he likes it especially when you're fucking him and playing with the soft flesh of his ass

LOVES praise

tell him how good he's taking you and see how fast he can shoot one

he's satiated pretty easily, only needing one or two rounds before tapping out

it is however very easy for him to get riled up, he gets off almost daily

overall he's just a dream boy

be careful though not to spoil him too much, let him get comfortable enough and he can be a bratty and teasing baby

(a/n): sorry if i went a lil overboard or put some stuff you didn't like, a lot of this stuff is me projecting. lmk what you think and please send more sub!jongho, he's my favorite. i also have twt links that i might add into my main jongho twt link post so lmk if you're interested in that too 😪

[thetriumphantpanda]

Howdy Charlie 🤠 l have been enjoying these new fic releases from you. You’re amazing and I love reading your work at the end of the day to unwind.

I’m not in a hurry as I’ve read you’re taking a break but if you do get inspired to write again, can I please request

❛ you are losing my interest, and that’s very dangerous. ❜ & ❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up. ❜

Pre-outbreak where reader does something that causes a huge fight with Joel and they ignore each other for days then reader thinks it’s the end of their relationship so she packs her bag to leave without a word but Joel comes home earlier than expected and stops her and they get into another fight before reconciling and he shows his sweeter side to make up to her . Can you make it EXTREMELY angsty and a lil fluffy in the end.

Thank you! 😘

Anon, when I say that I've had this fic sitting in my drafts FOR WEEKS I'm not even lying. I absolutely loved this prompt but idk I couldn't make it seem right... I've done my best, I really hope you enjoy it! I'm just on my Joel Miller bullshit atm, don't judge me.

Pairing | Pre-Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Word Count | 3k

Warnings | Some angst, some fluff, mentions of alcohol, mean!Joel at one point, SMUT - oral (f receiving) no use of y/n and I think that's it.

Main Masterlist

There was something about Joel Miller that had you smitten from the start. Maybe it was the fact that he was so different to the stupid college boys you’d been wasting your time with, or maybe it was the fact that he was devastatingly handsome, or the fact that whenever you were together, he would make it his mission to make you come enough times that you forgot your name before he even thought about taking pleasure for himself. Whatever it was he was different, and you were pretty sure you loved him. 

He'd barreled into your life headfirst a few months ago. Your car had given up the ghost on a small country road and you had no cell service to call a recovery. There had been a moment of dread when his truck had pulled up behind yours, this is how so many girls died in those documentaries you’d watched, but when he stepped out of his truck and that Southern drawl had hit your ears, you thought that even if he was going to murder you and leave you in a ditch, you wouldn’t mind all that much. Got you out of finishing your thesis if nothing else. 

“You stranded, sugar?” He’d called out, keeping his distance enough to reassure you he wasn’t going to try anything stupid. 

“Yeah,” You called back, “I have no idea what’s wrong with it and there’s no cell service.”

“You want me to take a look?” 

“You a mechanic?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Not exactly, but I’m good with my hands.” 

The innuendo isn’t lost on either of you, you smirk but give him a signal to look at your car. He pops the hood and takes a few minutes to look around, “Was it steaming when you pulled over?” He asks. 

“Yeah.” You admit. 

“Looks like it’s just overheated, sugar,” He muses, “Not much to do but sit and wait for it to cool down a little,” You pull a face at the thought of having to sit in your car without the air con, “I don’t got anywhere to be so you can sit in my truck with me for a bit?” He offers, “The air-con is on.” He adds, sweetening the deal. 

So you do. You sit with him for an hour, talking about your master’s programme and how stressed you are with your thesis. He talks about his work, bailing his brother out of jail for the second time that week and his daughter Sarah. When the sun starts to set, he jumps out of his truck to inspect your engine again, deeming it safe to drive. 

“Well, thanks,” You say as you sit in the driver’s seat and start the engine up, “Literally don’t know what I’d have done if it weren’t for you.” 

“You’d have let it sit, tried turning the key a little while later and been fine,” He chuckles, “But you’re welcome, it was nice meetin’ you.” 

“Joel-” You call as he tries to walk away, “Can I maybe buy you a drink to say thank you?” 

He turns around and smirks at you, “You askin’ me on a date?” 

“Would you say yes if I was?” You arch an eyebrow at him. 

“I’d be a fool not to, sugar.” 

It’s cliché for you to say but the rest really was history. You’d bought him a drink to say thank you a few days later, he’d bought you more because he liked your company. You’d snuck him into your room a few hours after that, managing to dash past the kitchen where your housemates were having dinner, where he’d spent an hour knelt between your legs, lapping at your pussy and then fucked you better than anyone had ever done in your life. 

It was summer break now. Sarah was away at camp for a few weeks, your thesis finally done and submitted. Joel had suggested that you stay with him, he’d mumbled something about it being nice not having to sneak around to see each other and you had to admit he was right. Waking up next to him with streams of sunlight illuminating his face, that was priceless. Making him breakfast before he went to work, domesticated but you loved it. 

It had been two weeks of that, with another one still to come before Sarah came home and you had to go back to the small room in your shared apartment. One of your friends had invited you out on Saturday night – a way for you all to celebrate being done with studies. You’d planned to go back to Joel’s that night, he’d even given you money for the cab ride home – but one too many tequila shots and a dead cell phone later, you’d been led back to your apartment by your friends, plugged your phone in to charge and promptly fallen asleep. 

When you’d woken up the next morning there was dread in your stomach, reading through the texts from Joel last night. Ten missed calls and texts that read where r u and please let me know ur safe. 

You dressed as quickly as you could, grabbing your phone and keys before you called a cab to pick you up. You knew you’d fucked up. You wanted to call him, let him know you were okay, but this was something you’d have to do face to face. It took far longer to get to Joel’s, Sunday morning traffic proving a challenge as you left the city and headed for the suburbs. You took a deep breath as you fit his spare key into the door and opened it. 

“Where the fucking hell have you been?” He asks when you shut the door and put your keys on the side table, “I’ve been worried sick about you all night.” 

“I’m sorry Joel,” You mumble, you really were, “We got carried away and then my phone died, and my housemates just dragged me back to my apartment, I was just going to charge my phone a little and then come back here but I must have fallen asleep.” 

“You didn’t think to use that landline’a yours?” He was sat on the couch, but he’d turned his body towards you in the doorway, he was pissed. 

“I’m sorry Joel, okay, it was a stupid mistake, what more do you want me to say?” 

“I gave you money to get home, told you to tell someone to remind you that’s where you were going, what were you thinking goin’ out and gettin’ so drunk you couldn’t remember where you were going home?!” 

“Don’t you dare make this out like I was outta control!” You counter, “I was safe Joel, I was with my friends, I’m not fucking stupid.” 

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.” He’s standing now, taking steps towards you. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Should’a fuckin’ known,” He says, mostly to himself, “Don’t think about anyone but yourself, silly little girl.” 

His words cut through you like a knife. He’d never once made you feel like this. Despite the ten-year age gap you’d always seemed like his equal. Not now, now you felt small and insignificant. 

“You are losing my interest and that’s very dangerous.” Is all he says next.

“Fuck you Joel Miller,” You spit at him, reaching for your keys, “You think you’re doing me a favour? Letting me stay in your nice big house playing families? All you wanted was a fucking maid the way you’ve been behaving.” 

You’re out of the door, slamming it behind you and pulling your car out of his driveway in record time. You make it to the end of the round and a little way around the corner before you have to pull over and sob into your hands. 

*

Four days. Four miserable fucking days and he hadn’t even bothered to text you. You’d moped around in your room for the first twenty-four hours. Then your housemate had practically forced herself in because she thought you’d died. You’d cried to her about how unfair it was, then she’d made you sit on the couch, drink too much wine and watch shitty reruns. 

If it had been four days and he hadn't bothered to message, then it really must be over, right? You led in bed that morning running through all the things you’d left at his house that you really did need back. You still had the spare key, and you knew he’d be at work until later this evening, so you push yourself out of the tangle of sheets, get dressed and make the drive over. 

Thankfully when you arrive his truck is nowhere to be seen. Definitely at work then. You open the front door, closing it behind you softly. You take a moment when you step in to remember all the times you’d been happy here. The time you’d helped him make Sarah’s birthday cake, or the time you’d snuggled up under the blanket together on the sofa and fallen asleep watching a movie. The time he’d hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter and eaten you out like it was his last meal. Or the time you’d not made it up the stairs and he’d fucked you from behind halfway up the steps. Tears pricked at your eyes. Foolish. Silly Little Girl, thinking he might be the one, just like he’d said. 

You wiped angrily at your eyes and made your way up the stairs to his room, trying to block out the shiver down your spine as you thought of the long nights and lazy mornings you’d spent wrapped up in his bed. You find your duffle bag in the bottom of his wardrobe, you set it on the bed and start pulling clothes from his drawers, shoving them as quickly as you can into the bag. 

You’re setting a bottle of perfume into it when you hear a key in the door. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Of all the days he could come home for lunch, it had to be this one. 

“Sugar?” You hear him tentatively call from downstairs. 

He won’t get the satisfaction, you think, you won't talk to him, just get your things and leave. You hurry to gather the last of your belongings, hoping you can just leave, when you hear his work boots on the stairs.

You’re fighting with the zip on the bag when the door creaks behind you, “Hey, I was calling you.” 

“I heard.” You reply. 

“What are you doing?” He asks. 

You groan in frustration when the zip catches and refuses to move, “What does it look like, Joel?” You hiss, “I’m packing my stuff so I can be outta your hair like you want.” 

“I don’t want that.” Is all he says. 

“Well you’re doing a fucking good impression of it,” You turn to him, “You don’t call me, you don’t message me, you call me a silly little girl, but you want to keep me around?!” 

“Sugar, listen to me,” He’s walking forward, gripping your arms in his hands, “I was angry, and I handled it badly, I’m just-” He falters, “I’m not used to any of this, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I didn’t mean what I said.” 

You look at him and you don’t think you’ve ever seen his eyes plead with you like they are now. It breaks your heart a little. 

“But you called me a silly little girl Joel,” You whimper, trying hard not to cry, “Everything you said to me hurt.” 

“I know sugar, I know.” He breaths, pulling you into his chest, “I thought if I gave you some time, we’d be able to talk, but I don’t want you to leave,” His lips brush the top of your head in a kiss, “Never want you to leave.” 

You tilt your head and press a kiss to his jawline; it had always felt like home when you were wrapped in his arms. 

“Let me make it up t’ya, sugar.” His hands are roaming down your spine and you can’t resist him anymore. 

You soften into his body, and he takes it as a yes, he tilts your chin up with one of his hands and presses a kiss to your lips. It’s soft and you let out a sigh as you wrap your arms around his neck to mold yourself closer to him. His hands are gripping at the meat of your ass as he’s walking you back towards the bed. Before he lets you fall, he grabs the forgotten bag of your belongings and tosses it to the floor, settling you to sit on the edge of the bed whilst he drops to his knees. 

His hands are pushing the skirt of your dress up to gather at your hips, his mouth leaving trails of hot kisses up one thigh and down the other. Your head drops back, and you let out a sigh when his big hands come to rest on your hips, “Can I take them off, sugar?” He asks, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. 

You look down at him and smirk, “If you want to make it up to me, I’d say it’s pretty essential.” 

He copies your smirk, “Lift up then.” 

You push down on your hands to lift your ass off the bed just enough for him to pull the lace off your skin and down your legs. You set yourself back down on the sheets but opt to stay in your sitting position, shifting your backside as close to the edge as you can without risking falling off, widening your open legs for Joel to see you. 

“God, you have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, sugar.” He groans, leaning down to press kisses over your mound, but never once dipping low enough to give you relief. 

He knows what you want, your hips are chasing his mouth as they move around to press kisses to everywhere but your pussy. You grumble in frustration when he moves away from you, “You want my mouth on your pussy, sugar?” He asked, looking up at you like the cat that got the cream. 

“I’d have thought that was pretty obvious by now.” 

“I gotta hear you say it, sugar.” 

“Joel-” You moan, reaching out to grab a fistful of his hair, “Please put your mouth on me.”

He responds with a grin from between your legs before he licks one long stripe up the seam of your pussy, tongue dipping ever so slightly through your folds to tease your clit before he’s pulling away, “See what happens when you ask nicely?” 

You’re about to respond with something smart when he uses his fingers to spread your lips to reveal your clit, and then he’s running soft circles on it with the tip of his tongue. A guttural moan drops from your lips and your hips are bucking into his face as he continues his teasing touches with his tongue. His hands are gripping the meat of your thighs and God you want more. 

“Joel-” You moan, gripping his hair again, “Fuck, God alive I need more.” 

He pulls away from your pussy just enough to say, “What do you need, sugar?” Before he’s back to work. 

“Fu-fuck, Joel,” You’re grinding your hips into his mouth, “Fingers, please, I need your fingers.” 

You swear you can feel him smile against you, but one of his hands moves from your thighs and you feel him slip one inside of you. You’re so wet that it’s easy for him, he pulls out and when he’s pushing his fingers back into you, there’s a second, “Oh my god yes just like that.” Is all you can managed to get out. 

He’s being more forceful with his tongue now, switching between the soft teases from the tip of his tongue to full licks with the flat of it and it’s got you on the edge already. When you look down at him it’s like heaven. You can see his tongue teasing your clit and the movement of his shoulder as he pumps his fingers into you. It’s a depraved sight but one that you never want to forget. 

“Can feel you gettin’ tight around my fingers sugar,” He mumbles into your pussy, “You gonna come for me like a good girl?” 

“Yes!” You’re crying out as his fingers curl inside you into just the right spot to have spots clouding your vision, “ohmygod Joel, I’m so fucking close.” 

He knows exactly what to do from here. He’s learnt how to play your body like a fucking fiddle, and he knows it. He’s pressing his fingers so deep into your pussy, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside of you. Then he wraps his lips over your clit and sucks whilst his tongue is still flicking tight little circles over you, and you’re gone. 

Your head is thrown back and you’re screaming his name. Your pussy is clenching around his fingers and your whole body is convulsing as it washes over you. Joel pulls his fingers from you, and you look down to watch him lick your slick off them before he’s dipping his tongue lower and literally drinking from you. Wide stripes from his tongue from your aching entrance as he cleans up what you’ve given him. 

He pressed kisses to the inside of your thigh, and you can feel your slick on the scratch of his beard, “I really am sorry, sugar.” He says and you laugh. 

“Get up here.” You say, pulling at the neck of his t-shirt. 

He obliges, standing up briefly to kick off his work boots, before he’s gathering you up and placing your head against the pillows. He’s kissing you; you can taste yourself on his tongue as it molds into your own. 

He flops down on the bed next to you and you curl into his side, running your hands down his chest to rest on the bulge of his jeans before a yawn falls from your mouth, “Tired, sugar?” 

You nod, burying your face into his chest, “Not been sleeping.” Is all you offer in explanation. 

He presses a kiss to your temple, “Take a nap.” Is what he says, taking hold of your hand on his groin, wrapping your fingers together to rest on his stomach, “I can wait.” 

“Promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up?” You ask, looking up to meet his eyes. 

“I got nowhere else on earth I’d rather be, sugar.”