#even some kudos or a lil comment or something

[khaotunq]

hey hi i meant to do this ages ago, but if y'all wouldn't mind, go show some love to Shash, who podficced two of my Boston-centric stories? (their voice is so measured and soothing to listen to btw)

[Podfic] there's an end to my horizon by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash)

[Podfic] two parallel lines by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash)

#pls and thank u #even some kudos or a lil comment or something #it's gotta take a lot of effort to do this sort of thing and it'd be nice if a couple of you would let them know? #i know podfics aren't everyone's cup of tea but pls pls pls #i want them to get at least a bit of the feeling i experienced when they posted these #pls plsp pls #only friends the series #ofts fic #ficwit #because i'll keep these in my own fic tag too #i'm afraid to tag them in case nobody listens to me lmao but her tumblr is sunkitten-shash #you don't even have to listen if u don't wanna (but you should) #and u definitely don't need to read or kudos or whatever on my fic - just go show shash some love pls <333333

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

#uncouthspn #spn #supernatural #sam winchester #user uncouth #sam winchester x reader

[majestichyuk]

Sweet spot

Pairing :- Masseur!Jaemin x fem!reader

Summary :- After much convincing, maybe not at your own will, you finally agreed to get that much-needed massage, Thank you Seungkwan. 

Genre :- Smut (because I’m nice like that), fluff if you squint (you'll definitely see it), coworker Seungkwan, strangers to potential lovers. 

Wc :-  3.7K 

WARNING :- Reader has a nipple piercing (cause she, YOU are freaky like that.), teasing, dirty talk, Buff Jaemin, yes that is a warning, Jaemin loves the booty (you shouldn’t be surprised) so ass is being ATE just a lil lick is all, Jaemin is a pussy fiend. Female receiving, oral, cum eating, sexual tension. (I think that’s all ), sry for mistakes if there is any.

NOTES :- This here lady sluts and gentle whores is my first half smut that was in the making. I spent an hour and a half working on it, so I’ll check this off as the 4th story I’ve successfully completed 🎉 kudos to me. I hope you enjoy it and if you do comment and if you don't and think I could improve something still comment or message me anonymously, cause critique can lead to my improvement but being bitchy will get you nowhere, ANYWAYS, LIKE, REBLOG & FOLLOW. 

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“Why don’t you just come with me to the spa on Saturday, huh y/n?” Your best friend/coworker, begged you as he grabbed your arm, tugging you lightly.

“Do I look like I have time to go to a spa?” You licked the tip of your finger as you skimmed through the documents that your lazy boss rudely dropped on your desk, without uttering as much as a please.

“And plus, Saturdays are clean-up days, my cousin is a lazy fuck and I have to suffer from it,” You itch the crown of your head, slightly groaning realizing you might have to do an all-nighter once again on a Friday evening with the load of work in front of you. 

“Why don’t I take some of these with me,” Seungkwan lightly squeezed your hands as he took up about 60% of your work from your desk. 

“That way you can have a good night's sleep, while I plan our day out tomorrow,” Seungkwan squealed as he imagined finally getting to pamper you but you had to rain on his parade.

“No” You took the papers from him and placed them in your folder.

“No?” He looked at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t stutter, I won’t burden my work on you, it’s fine,” You reassured him.

“But you didn’t put your work on me, I volunteered,” He snatched your folder and took out the papers he had before, getting up from his seat and placing them in his briefcase.

“And I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about you doing all the work at the house when your cousin is a grown MAN,” Seungkwan picked up his suit jacket and swiftly put it on.

“Ah Kwannie, It’s really not a big deal– okay…” You stopped uttering a word when he hit you with that stare, a stare only a child of a strict and overprotective mother would understand, it was bone-chilling really.

“Good, I’ll text you the details so make sure you fix yourself up nice and be punctual,” Seungkwan placed his polyester scarf around his neck and ray-ban his glasses on (yes he wears ray-bans shut up). 

“Go home, finish off the work, do whatever you do at night, that ritual of yours whatever, and sleep well, sleep early,” Seungkwan pulled you up from your seat and pulled you into a hug.

“You sure you don’t like girls, I’m just saying if you’d allow me to slap on a strap I’d make a heck of a guy,” Seungkwan pushed you off and picked up his phone, giving you a side glance.

“Girl if you don’t go home, goodbye.” He laughed richly as he walked out, leaving the office. You followed the same routine minutes later and headed home. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Seungkwan ended up sending you the website for the Spa he had been rambling about for weeks on end as soon as you stepped into the door of your house. You decided to check it out after completing your office work and getting ready for bed.

After an hour and a half, you flopped into your bed, finally getting to relax. You checked the time, normally you’d finish work around late 11 but now it was around 8:35p.m, thanks to Seungkwan that was your earliest, EVER. You did a light prayer for him because he’s an angel.

You covered yourself with your sheet and opened your and Seungkwan's messages where he sent the link, you exchanged words with him before you clicked the link. 

He told you he already made the reservation on your behalf and because he was close friends with a guy named Wonwoo there, he was able to get a discount. He told you your first appointment would be a massage done by some woman named Na Jaemin, it should be an easy name to remember because before you started working in your current job you were a daycare teacher and there was the cute little girl whose name was IM Jaemin, oh was she a menace.

The website just showed all the available procedures, the cost, and the exaggerated descriptions of the long-lasting after-effects of the excellent experience. You turned your phone off, turned it over, and went to sleep.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Loud, obnoxious snores were coming from your room, your cousin slowly opened your door, peeping inside to check to see if you were okay, living, and not choking to death.

He walked up to your bed and pinched your lips shut. “You need to change your settings on that noise that you’re making,” He looked at you in disgust, shaking his head, and watched as you stopped breathing and shot up from your sleep in a sitting position, knocking him on his ass on the floor. 

“CHENLE WHAT THE FUCK?!” If looks could kill you’d have a red dot aimed at your forehead right now. Chenle got up and dusted himself off.

“You do know I could hear you snoring all the way across the hall?” He used his thumb and pointed outside your door, You rolled your eyes and checked your phone.

“Oh fuck!” You jumped out of bed, shoving Chenle out of the way, he landed on your bed and flopped on the floor as you grabbed your towel and rushed into the bathroom. 

“YOU’RE WELCOME YOU MIX-BREED ASSHOLE!” Chenle shouted as he stormed behind you.

“CLEAN MY HOUSE YOU OBNOXIOUS PIECE OF SHIT!,” You replied as you slammed the bathroom door, minutes later you heard his bedroom slam as well, and you rolled your eyes.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

“Don’t look at me like that,” You sulk as you look away from Seughkwan. So you woke up late and got there late and when you arrived you were met with a disappointed Boo Seughkwan, arms crossed, legs over one another as he sat outside of the Spa company in the few seats placed outside, looking at you blankly.

“I have every right to jump you in this very moment–..but I’m not going to because I have a reputation to obtain here,” He got up and walked inside, with you following behind.

“Just know I would never go down without a fight, there’s only one of us who actually took boxing classes,” You raised your brow at him as he flicked your forehead and told you to keep quiet as he spoke to the receptionist.

You purse your lips as you look around the establishment, It has a cozy feel. The decor is so homely with some pictures of the employees that work here placed up on the wall, warm colors decorated the place as it was spotless you could almost see yourself on the tiled floors. 

The receptionist lady asked you about your information and told you to wait in the available room on the second floor. 

“Enjoy your massage babe,” Seungkwan says as he quickly places your hair in a bun (If you imagined your hair up, unimagine it, 💀 boo put it up for you). 

“I heard he’s amazing at his job AND he was highly recommended when I filled out the server on your behalf,” You froze after registering his words.

“He’s?Him?He?” You side glanced at him. “Why didn’t you feel the need to mention a dude is gonna be feeling me up Mr. Boo?” You forced a smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Get me a masseuse Seungkwan,” 

“Y/N-”

“Get me a masseuse Seungkw-,” Seungkwan used his index and thumb to pinch your lips together. (Justice for y/n’s lips in the chat)

“I love you Y/N, I do, but last time I checked I paid for this shit, and you are going to enjoy every last minute of it, Okay?” Seungkwan asked.

“Fine,” You say with a smile that transforms into a dirty look. “This better be the most mind-blowing and toe-curling experience I’ve ever had.”

“And it would be the only and first experience you ever had,” Seungkwan mumbled as he walked to the elevator after signing some papers. 

“What’d you say,” You questioned.

“Nothing,” He laughed as he pinched your cheeks while calling you all sorts of baby names.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

You entered the designated room on the second floor, wiped your palm on your shirt, and nervously opened the door. You see a little walk-in closet on the right side of the room with a curtain placed to divide the areas.  You see there are a couple of hangers and a table with some towels placed beside it. You took off your shirt and placed it on one of the hangers, you quickly took off your bra and put on the towel provided. Thirdly it was your pants until you heard the door open. 

“Good evening, Miss L/N, I’ll be your masseur for this session,” You froze as you peeped through the curtains to put a face to that alluring voice and you almost wished you had convinced your best friend a little more about switching. 

“Um Hi, I’ll be out in a minute,” You quickly responded as you disappeared behind the curtains again. 

“You can leave on your underwear if that would make you more comfortable,” Jaemin assured you as he went to set up the room. He started lighting some candles to set a relaxing mood. The whole room was filled with the soft scent of lavender and a hint of sweet orange that was rich in limonene. 

You folded your pants and kept on your panty as suggested by the masseur. You walked out of the room and set your eyes upon the gorgeous man in question. He was muscular-looking, even in the scrubs he wore. He looked up at you from his place on the floor when he was searching for the oil that happened to be at the bottom back part of the drawer.

“Well you requested a full body massage and I’ll try my best to fulfill your desired needs,” Jaemin softly grinned at you and motioned for you to take a seat on the massage table, you’ll remember to put salt in Seungkwan’s coffee on Monday. 

“Thank you,” You found it hard to really say anything, his stare was quite intimidating even though his smile gave you butterflies that just made your heart swell.

He turned his back to you so you took the opportunity to discard your towel and lay on the table. You laid on your back and placed the towel on top of you. Jaemin turned around with his oil in hand, smiling down at you.

“Well all you have to do for me is relax,” Jaemin said, the tone of his voice, giving you goosebumps.

“Okay,” You replied softly as you relaxed your body and closed your eyes, taking the aroma of the atmosphere and bringing your body to ease. 

Jaemin adjusted your towel to your mid-thigh, the tip of his fingers lightly brushing your skin, he then moved upwards and brought the top of your towel to the midsection of your breast. 

He began his work on your shoulders. He delicately kneaded the area, softly caressing all the knots you have in your neck, gently tracing under your jaw with his thumbs. It felt divine, no man had ever touched you with such thoughtfulness and you’re hoping he’s not the last.

Jaemin moved his hands slowly down your arms, gingerly squeezing the tight muscles as he steadily brought them back up, repeating the process as you felt sleep creeping up on you, Jaemin came back up to your cleavage.

“Would you mind if I removed the top of the towel?” Jaemin asked as he was still above you, looking up at him and seeing him upside down was a little odd but he still for some odd reason looked good.

“Is it mandatory for the massage?” You asked and that made Jaemin smile at you.

“Well, of course, I only deliver the best, and I may even give you a special massage,” Jaemin smiled down at you again, but the smile was different, his eyes seemed to be telling a whole other story, his hands brush the top of your chest, you mutter a quiet okay and closed your eyes once again, letting the cozy environment take over. 

“Good, it’s okay, I’ll take good care of you,” He said in such a deep tone, way different from the customer service one he used when he first greeted you, you wondered if it was because he was just comfortable as it’s his natural forte. 

He reached over you and moved the towel under your breast, now at the navel of your stomach, he placed it quite low but you didn’t mind. Jaemin released a slightly strained exhale as he pursed his lips and poured some of the oil into his brawny hands. His eyes fell on your nipples, customized in a barbell designed with a crystal, rhinestone, clear zircon, and a beautiful set of pink gems. 

He firmly positioned his hands at the side of your breast, gently caressing the fat. He cupped it and massaged under the flesh as he slowly brought his hand up and faintly grazed your nipple. You let out a surprised gasp not expecting to be so sensitive. Jaemin looked down at you, examining your face, and noticed your mouth was slightly ajar due to the sound you let out earlier. From this angle he had the perfect chance to just shove his twitching dick down your throat, he bet it’s warm like the way your body is heating up right now but he brushed it off and continued his work on your chest.

He squeezed the flesh and watched as you hurried to bite your bottom lip, Jaemin thought it was time he went to another part of your body. He made his way to your lower body, he noticed you had on your underwear.

“Would it be okay if I asked you to remove the towel completely? since you have on your undergarments,” Jaemin asked you as he clasped his hands behind his back, staring you down deeply with a sweet smile. You nodded your head, and you gazed down at yourself, seeing your nipples stand up tall and proud, you genuinely felt way more relaxed than when you first came here. 

“Wonderful, I enjoy giving pleasure to others who look like they haven’t had a good rest day,” Jaemin discarded the towel away from your body and placed it on the table beside him.

You smiled, you couldn’t conceal it, he was a sweet talker. You begin to shut your eyes and Jaemin starts to rub on your feet, you let out a soft groan, you are on your feet the majority of the time at work so this feels like heaven. He inches up your leg and starts kneading different areas, after some time he asks if you could turn over.

Jaemin has always been a man with excellent self-control but he guesses there’s a first for everything. You turned over on your stomach and Jaemin took that as a sign to take a breather, he looked down at himself and noticed his problem. At this point, he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to hold it. He gripped himself and let out a soft sigh as he looked down at you, he furrowed his brows as he approached the table once again, contemplating if he should start with the top or lower half first.

Jaemin made up his mind as he poured some oil on your smooth back, you had laid your head on your forearm. Jaemin tenderly massaged your back, working out all sorts of sounds from you, because he’s just that good with his hands. 

He finished off with your back and moved to your legs, caressing your soft thighs, eyes settling on the slight jiggle of your plump ass. He looked up at you and delicately spread your legs apart a little as he moved his way to your inner thighs. He observes the way your pussy lips struggle to stay concealed in your baby blue panties, Jaemin bites down on his tongue and took a deep exhale, swallowing down thick as he sees some wetness forming on your underwear, Jaemin continues his task as he boldly inches closer to your prized possession. 

You started to squirm, feeling slightly bothered, needy even. You innocently lifted your hips off the table, trying to get some friction and squeeze your thighs together but Jaemin kept them open. 

“I thought I told you to relax, If you behave I can easily give you what you want,” Somehow you can hear Jaemin like he was right by your ears and he was, he stood beside you, roughly rubbing the fat muscle of your ass, spreading your cheeks apart and watching them jiggle back in their place. 

“Will you look at that,” Jaemin whispers as he takes the bottle of oils and pours some of it over your ass. Jaemin went back to the foot of the table and climbed between your legs.

“What are you doing, Jaemin?” You softly questioned Jaemin as you felt the cushion on the massage table dip under you. 

“I’m just trying to get a better position so I can give you an amazing happy ending, love” That tone, he used again but this time it was more sultry and lust-filled, you could almost see the smirk on his face, you have a feeling you know where this is headed and you’re all on board with playing along, note to self buy Seungkwan dinner after you put salt in his coffee. 

“Okay, I hope this all was worth the hassle,” You replied knowing damn well it was.

Jaemin bit his lips as he kneaded your ass, he used his knees to spread your legs apart more. He laid on his stomach, inched closer, rubbed his nose on the line of your panty, bit the fat of your ass, and grazed his thumb over your asshole. He dipped his head and licked the outside of your underwear, softly biting your inner thigh.

Your moans began to increase the more he teased you, as if he could read minds he turned you over, wanting to see your face. 

“Would you like me to continue?” Jaemin lips started to rise on one side, giving you a teasing smile.

You blushed at his bluntness, “Eat me out Jaemin,”.

Jaemin leaned forward and pulled you by the back of your neck into a rough and sloppy kiss, honestly the best you’ve had. He gently sucked on your tongue and pulled at your hard nipple. 

“So fucking sexy,” Jaemin said as he gave you a once over before spreading your legs and giving them for you to hold, he run his hands on the back of your thigh as he examines every inch of you spread out in front of him. 

He hooked a finger under your panties and pulled them to the side. You let out a quiet moan as the cold air hit your wet pussy. He pushed your legs back even more so you hooked them behind your head.

“Look at this pretty pussy, so fucking wet,” Jaemin ran his finger around your lips and brought his finger to his mouth, humming about how sweet you tasted. He dipped his head and took a long swipe with his thick tongue.

“Oh fuck,” You let out a relief sign after finally getting some attention, you looked down at Jaemin sucking on your swollen clit that was painfully neglected in months. His head bobbed up and down as he took slow and sensual slurps, making your toes curl and breath hitch.

You started to rock your hip but Jaemin placed his heavy hands on your ass to hold you down, he dipped his head lower and poked his tongue on your asshole, fighting his way in. 

“Maybe I’ll have to prep you another time,” Jaemin smirks as makes his way to your gaping hole, sticking his long tongue, and forcing a strained moan out of you. He looked up at you, feeling himself grow even harder if that’s possible, absolutely falling in love with the way he has you a putty just from his tongue, the way you just look so sexy to him like this, pussy all red and angry, juices dripping from his chin, the way you bite your lips to conceal your sexy whimpers. 

He groped your breast and brought his attention back to your clit, switching between licking and sucking, completely abusing it. You reached your hand to his head to keep him in position.

“Oh don’t fuckin stop- oh my fucking– shit Jaemin..” You laid your head to the side, one eye clenching as your toe curled for dare life. Jaemin bore his face deeper into your soaking pussy, placing his tongue back inside as his nose rubbed your clit, sending you into cloud nine. He removed his face and quickly replaced it with his skilled hand, he placed his fingers on your clit and started swiping vigorously. 

You felt your stomach suck in as you started twitching, you felt like a bucket of water was thrown over you and you woke up from a dream you’d do anything to get back to. 

“Yes, look at that, wanna give me more,” Jaemin watched as you completely drenched his arm when you squirted, something you didn’t know you could do until today. He sucked up every last drop causing you overstimulation. 

You removed your legs and grabbed his face, bringing him into a passionate kiss. He placed his forehead on yours smiling embarrassingly.

“You definitely have to be my soulmate if you were able to make me come in my pants without touching me,” Jaemin said with a light chuckle. 

“I can do that, If you take me out on a date?, we can split the bill since I suggested,” You looked Jaemin deep into his eyes and he blushed slightly.

“I like that idea, but I’ll pay for the bill,” He kissed your lips before getting up from the table.

You both cleaned up and of course exchanged contacts, and it was history from there. 

Thank you Seungkwan.

#nct dream #kpop fanfic #nct #nct imagines #nct smut #nct x reader #jaemin na #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin smut #nct dream jeamin #nct dream smut #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #jaemin x y/n #jaemin x you #kpop smut #kpop ff #nct u jaemin #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin fluff #jaemin oneshot #jaemin drabbles #jaemin fanfic #kpop drabbles #jaemin au #nct dream au #na jaemin smut

[reveluving]

Simu!Ken thought— he beaches off for you after one of the Kens or Barbies makes a mean comment about you. And ofc he wins

a/n: HAHAAAAA anon, your mind!! 😭🤌🏻 I decided to make this with both (mean) Ken and Barbie, and did my own lil 'thing' here ;))) thanks, sweetie!! (open to be read as Ryan!Ken, as usual!)

warnings: fluff! (+ teaching meanies a lesson & strong language!)

» fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

It's one thing to genuinely get on Ken's bad side, but it's another if the rest of the Barbieland follow suit. 

Mean Barbie and Ken simultaneously arrived months after your Ken’s departure to find you, becoming the talk of the town in an instant. Though, 90% of the time, it was all for the wrong reasons. 

Mean Barbie was demeaning, having a keen interest in insulting others for their interests and even their appearances. Mean Ken was no better, laughing in the Kens' face and Alan for liking anything that was, in his words, 'too girlish'. 

Basically, they weren’t the best people to vibe with. 

While both Weird Barbie and President Barbie tried their best to be civil with the two, the former was more vocal about her distaste, always giving them the stink eye as though she knew their words only went in one ear and out the other. President Barbie was more subtle, though she made sure to drop reminders about their actions here and there.

So when the mean match overheard the cheers and excitement over the infamous Ken coming back for a visit with his sweetheart, oh, they were not having it. 

But soon, they were going to learn that their actions would, in fact, have consequences.

'Cause as the human saying goes; the more you fuck around, the more you find out.

President Barbie was there to greet you and Ken at the entrance, giving you a motherly hug before giving you a heads up and whispering in your ear about the notorious duo.

Though their behaviour wasn't nearly as bad as what you're used to in the real world, it didn't make them any less unpleasant to be around. Kudos to the Barbies and Kens (+ Midge & Allan!) for trying their best not to leave you alone with the two of them, though!

And it only took your Ken two days to do everyone a favour. 

"Hoo, boy, here we go." Mean Ken scoffed at the sight of your Ken excitedly telling you about the surfboard he oftentimes used back when his whole purpose was to be Ken, "That was the cool guy around here?" 

"Right? And I just don't see what's so special about her." His girl sneered.

"Tell me about it. Should've stayed where she came from like she was supposed to." 

The rest of the Barbies and Kens froze up. They gave Pompadour Ken a quick glance, who was now uncharacteristically quiet.

Oh no. 

Who were they to insult you for being you?  

You've also noticed the two literally talking crap about you, though you were more concerned about Ken.

"Ken," You gently stroked his face, hoping it'll ease the sudden tension in his jaw, "Hey, don't listen to them." 

"Hey, pal!" Mean Ken called out to him, "Wanna show us your lil' beach moves? Maybe tell us what's so special about your girl?" 

Ken didn't speak up. He has millions of reasons why you were extremely special to him, but he learnt from you that losing his cool would be a total win for his opposition. 

But the mean twins didn't take being ignored too kindly.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" He barked, pushing your Ken. He nearly lost his balance, almost hitting you with the surfboard he was holding. 

It wasn't long before Ken finally lost his cool, swinging the surfboard square in Mean Ken's face. He flew away at an immense height and questionable physics, falling on his back just by the sea. 

Some laughed, others cheered. By now, everyone was watching, even Mermaid Barbie and Ken showed up after hearing about a possible showdown on the Malibu Beach. They shook their heads the way disapproving parents would before waving at you, happy to see a nicer face in town.

"Oh my gosh, Ken!" Mean Barbie squawked, running to her man and shaking his unconscious body a little too aggressively, "What did you do?!" 

"I just gave him what he deserved." Your Ken shrugged, running his fingers through his hair that had messed up when he lost his cool.

"You didn't have to like, punch him!" 

"It was gonna happen eventually," Alan murmured to himself, only to earn sounds and nods of approval from the rest of the Kens and Barbies. Even if Pompadour Ken wasn't the one putting them in their place, someone would've. 

Sure, maybe a dance-off would've been sufficient.

Buuut, then again, it was probably the real-world air that he's been breathing in for so long, so it was only a matter of time before his patience snapped, and it did when they started running their mouths about you.

After all, Mean Ken preferred 'manlier' efforts.

"You're in huge trouble, weirdo!" She hissed, believing your Ken's (necessary) violence could easily banish you two from Barbieland. 

"And what're you gonna do about it?" It was your turn to challenge her, standing closer to her with your arms crossed. You weren't just going to stand there and let her spit venom at your boyfriend, much less at your new friends. 

Just a reminder that your hands were rated E for everyone.

"I'll… I'll…! I'll tell Psycho Barbie!" 

"That won't be necessary." Everyone's heads turned to the side to see Weird Barbie approaching, boots off as she walked on the sandy floor with a delighted smirk on her face, "And that's Weird Barbie to you, missy."

She turned to Pompadour Ken, patting him on the shoulder with a grin, "Good job, kid. Didn't think you had it in you but it's probably that wild human air," She then turned to you with a wink, "You got quite the keeper." 

Ken mirrored her proud smile.

"A little help, doc?" She nodded at Doctor Barbie, who immediately rushed to her side. Weird Barbie pointed behind her with her thumb, "Give that guy a quick scan before the President gets here, will ya?" 

Weird Barbie was no doubt beyond excited to report the two, and with tons of eyes as witnesses. 

"Hey," Your Ken placed his hand on the small of your back, "I'm sorry about that. You wanna head home or…?" 

Ken was less than pleased by the thought of the day being ruined but he'd understand if it had because of the mere presence of the two. Some may call him dramatic, but to you, he was just making sure of your comfort. 

"No, no," You shook your head, resting your head on his chest, "I'm okay." 

The groans and whines of Mean Ken and Barbie respectively as President Barbie berated their actions were just bonuses to the feeling of you against him. Softening him up from what had happened prior like kneading dough ever so gently.

"I recall a certain someone promising to play his guitar around a campfire for me?" You teased him, hoping to lift his spirits.

"I did, didn't I?" He hummed, grabbing his guitar bag that lay on the beach chair before wrapping his other arm around you, "C'mon, I know the perfect place."

He brought you to the spot furthest from the 'busy zone', though that didn't stop his friends from dropping stuff like a blanket, sausages and marshmallows to roast as a thank you for his service. 

All in all, the night ended on a much higher note, with your boyfriend serenading you with romantic and cheesy songs he learnt back in the real world and stuffing yourselves with some good campfire food.

» a/n: not me imagining the punch scene from the Friday movie for this piece 😭

» more simu!ken content here: 1 – 2

» gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#simu!ken teaching people a lesson <3 #ken x reader #ken x you #ken x fem reader #ken headcanon #ken drabble #simu liu ken x reader #simu liu!ken x reader #simu liu!ken #simu liu #pompadour ken x reader #pompadour ken #ryan gosling!ken x reader #ryan gosling!ken #ryan gosling #just ken #barbie #barbie 2023 #the barbie movie #greta gerwig #reve's asks #reveluving #reve's reverie

[ghuleh-recs]

It's @iamthecomet's birthday!!! Comet is easily one of my favorite ghoul writers and in honor of her birthday I threw together a list of some of my all-time favorites of hers. I am not exaggerating when I say that I have enjoyed every. single. thing. Comet has written. On top of being an incredible writer, she is a DELIGHTFUL human being. She is SO ridiculously kind and quick to offer advice or support to whichever anon might be dropping into her inbox that day. We are beyond lucky to have such a talented, beautiful soul in this fandom. So go forth, treat yourself to some Comet fics, and leave some comments and kudos as a lil' bday treat ♡

recs under the cut.

Born Under a Troubled Sign - Aether x Dewdrop - 40.7k

Dewdrop goes from water to fire. It goes about as well as can be expected. *THE DEWDROP ANGST FIC OF ALL TIME. I will never stop recommending this and I am not sorry.

Dance With Me - Aeon x Swiss - 1.1k

“Dance?” Swiss rolls his eyes and curls his hand around Aeon’s forearm. He’s so warm. That’s the one thing about Swiss that stays constant even with the glamor. The heat of him. Aeon moves closer like a moth drawn to a flame, and Swiss abandons his grip on Aeon’s arm in favor of one around his waist. “Yeah,” Swiss whispers, leaning in to drag his nose up the side of Aeon’s neck. Inhaling sharply as he noses against his hairline. “That’s what I said.” “There’s no music?”

Tear Me Down - Dewdrop x Rain - 7.7k

Dew can't handle a bad day productively. Rain makes him handle it his way. They make some noise. They're probably never going to be allowed at this hotel again. “Yeah, yeah,” Dew says dismissively. Stroking from root to tip, watching the way Rain is leaking already. Like always. Wet from start to finish. “Can’t believe you’re still mouthing off.” Dew shrugs, watching Rain fill out in his hand, twisting his fist around the head, pressing his fingers to the underside. Rain’s flushed and shiny already. Each stroke makes his stomach clench. “You haven’t really given me a reason to stop.”

Comet's Ficlet Collection (Ch. 154) - Aeon x Dewdrop - 1k

Prompt: i will offer you my firstborn child for a new ghoul focused fic about him being praised about insecurities. i find comfort in my favs having the same issues as me, so the idea of him not really liking his body but being praised for it is just so good to me

Comet's Ficlet Collection (Ch. 16) - Aether x Cumulus x Dewdrop x Sunshine x Swiss - 1k

Could I request something with similar appreciation for a larger body for Cumulus? Any partner or multiple partners are fine. I crave some fat body appreciation and love on a soul level, I adore her so much and she deserves every inch of her beautiful plush figure to be lavished with attention and devotion.

Dewdrop & Sunshine are Chaos Incarnate - Dewdrop & Sunshine - &lt;;1k

Prompt: I neeeeeeed chaos twins Dew and Sunshine gettin in trouble with Mountain and Ifrit

Fill Your Lungs With Words - Aether x Dewdrop - 4.8k

He loves Dew when he’s two seconds away from self-immolation. Loves him when he’s badgering Mountain into letting him in the kitchen—which is always a bad decision. He loves him when he’s high and pliant, loves him when he falls asleep on Aether’s chest, a gentle purr rolling through his body. Aether’s fucking in love with him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Let Me Decide What You Need - Mountain x Swiss x Rain - 8.6k

Rain and Swiss take Mountain down to studs. It's surprisingly easy.

Perfect Fit - Aeon x Cumulus - 1.2k

Cumulus tries on her old uniform. Aeon gets an eyeful. Can't really blame him for what happens next.

Comet's Mushy May Collection (Ch. 10) - Aether x Everyone (kinda) - 1k

Unspoken I love you / First I love you Love is an easy thing with them. The pack is full of it. Casual I love yous thrown over shoulders. The press of thumbs over knuckles, the slide of fingers together. They all fit together. Bonded by experience, by undeniable kinship. Aether feels it. Feels the swell of love, the burn of it in his chest. And he thinks about saying it back when Cumulus calls it to him. Thinks about whispering it in Dew’s ear when they’re curled up together. Thinks about letting those words fall off of his tongue again. It’s been…he could pretend he doesn’t know. He could just say it’s been a while. It’s been almost a year. He can pretend that he doesn’t know this down to the day—the minute almost. *this one hurts. you have been warned.

It's No Fun 'Til Someone Dies (series) - murder ghouls - 10k

Dew doesn’t understand how they haven’t figured it out yet. Humanity's persistence, its blindness will be its downfall. He’s in awe of the way they continue to insist to themselves that it’s normal for multiple people a month to just—vanish. To “go home” without taking any of their stuff. To flee in the middle of the night. Or fall from balconies, or down the stairs, or drown. That they haven’t figured out that the unlucky few are fodder for the machine that is the Ghost Project. Food, literally, for the hell-spawn that drives it forward. They spend their days looking at the Ghouls like they are something to be attained. A prize to win. Dew is happy to encourage it. To let them walk right into the trap. He runs his teeth over his fangs. He can still taste the blood.

* Okay I need to stop myself because I could keep going indefinitely.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

#hbd comet!!!!!! #and a very happy comet day to those who observe #my fic recs #the band ghost fic recs #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #aeon ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #phantom ghoul #nameless ghouls fic #fic rec!! #birthday mixtape

[littlemisspascal]

2023 & Me

Been thinking a lot these past few days about everything that's happened with me in 2023. Hard to believe it's coming to end--time seriously does fly 😮

There's been some heavy losses this year. Several family members passed away to illnesses and old age, including my grandfather who I had a strained relationship with to say the least. I also had a shocking family drama bomb dropped on me earlier this month that has had a huge ripple effect I'm still navigating, but fingers crossed things will find a way of working out for the best.

I had some severe mental health depression episodes throughout the year, made me reevaluate priorities and also doubt pretty much every choice I've ever made in life, but I do truly believe I'm entering 2024 in a positive mindset so that's something to be happy about :) I'mma try this crazy concept called self-love and not think the worst about me, myself, and I.

My writing took a hit this year. Word count wise, kudos wise, engagement wise--but I also made progress on several wips and even finished a few which is a big accomplishment for a snail writer like me 😊 I want to enter 2024 not feeling guilty for being self-indulgent or trying new kinds of writing styles. I also want to shake off the belief a low note count equals it was a bad fic/waste of time -- I don't believe that for anyone else, yet my brain always uses it as a weapon of insecurity against myself and enough is enough brain 😠 no more I say!

On a more positive note, I was fortunate enough to attend several conventions this year and improve my cosplay skills (2024 Ahsoka is gonna be my best look yet I just know it 😁). I got to meet total sweethearts Jon Bernthal and Charlie Cox, Steve Burns my childhood hero, the dear Jodi Benson, the gorgeous Rosario Dawson and beautiful Ming-Na Wen, and of course I can't ever forget Andrew Garfield 😱💗 And most importantly of all I did each these cons with my sister and made some lifelong memories! (Also bought a heckin lot of stickers. A heckin lot 🥰)

And then of course the crown jewel of 2023 1000% hands down was attending the United States Formula 1 Grand Prix. Good lord y'all it was one of the best weekends of my entire life! If you had asked me a couple years ago if I'd care about a sport--any sport--I'd have laughed in your face but there's just something so addictive and captivating about the world of F1 and its cast of characters. And having the luck of getting Alex Albon and Daniel Ricciardo's autographs on my dumb lil frog bucket hat was just *muffled screaming* I literally was a shaking mess lemme tell ya--just ask @beecastle and @undercoverpena who were there with me on my phone every step of the way 💜 thanks for putting up with my addiction y'all! Much much love to you both!!

AND THE FRIGGIN FACT SOMEONE GOT A PHOTO OF ME AND DANNY TOGETHER 🥺😭😭 NEVER BE OVER IT NOPE

There are so many people on here that made 2023 a bright and kind and fun one for me---@oonajaeadira @something-tofightfor @wheresarizona @trinkets01 @kyberblade @sofasoap @grogusmum @writeforfandoms @psychedelic-ink @kteague @prolix-yuy @wildemaven @the-blind-assassin-12 @practicalghost @gnpwdrnwhiskey @bishtrouille @nothoughtsjustmeds @kirsteng42 @miraclesabound @radiowallet @harriedandharassed @hopeamarsu and dozens dozens dozens more!

Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented on my blog + sent me messages! I appreciate and love you all so much more than words can ever express 💜💗💙🧡

2024---let's bring it on! 🥳

#i have spoken

[holdmytesseract]

The Baby Fever Wedding...

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th

Baby Fever Crew and fellow readers... It's time to assemble, because I'm searching for some helpers, who are interested in becoming my fellow wedding planner!

Huge thanks to @muddyorbsblr ! She helps me coordinate all this a lil' bit and is my right-hand woman. 💖 Also, kudos to @lokisgoodgirl , who gave me the idea to do little tasks. (I know, it's been months ago since we talked about this, but nevertheless... Thank you, friend!) 🩵

And this is how it works...

How to participate...

If you are interested and want to sign up to this, just leave a comment on this post. That's all!

How do I choose my helpers?

That depends. I have 14 tasks. If just enough people sign up for this (not more or less than 14), you'll definitely be chosen. If more people want to participate, I'm going to put all names in a pot and randomly draw 14 names, so a bit of luck is needed.

What awaits you if you get chosen...

I'm going to give you a little task, in order to help me organize Y/N's and Loki's wedding. For example: Design the wedding rings or choose the flowers. You have enough time to think about it and tell me what you want. I am going to write it.

Rules & Other information...

Please only comment once. Makes things easier for me.

Please be patient. This is a huge project for me and I never did something like this before, so...

You are allowed to name two tasks in your comments, which you'd like to be assigned with. I can't promise that it's going to work out for you, but I'll try to have consideration for it!

Example: @ holdmytesseract Wedding rings & flowers

You have three days to sign up, so no pressure!

If you have questions, please send me an ask or a DM! Don't be shy!

And these are the tasks...

Design the wedding rings!

Choose Y/N's wedding dress, shoes and jewelry!

How should Loki's suit look like?

And how his armour?

Their hairstyle. (Do they need a new hairstyle or even a haircut?)

Y/N's bridesmaids (Natasha, Wanda, Pepper & Jane) are in need of dresses, too!

Loki's best man (Thor, of course.) needs a suit and armour, too.

Since the wedding takes place on Asgard, we need a few Midgardian pre-wedding/wedding traditions, too!

Flowers are a must have!

Create the invitations for the wedding!

A cake will be needed as well!

Where on Asgard takes the ceremony place and where the festives? We also need some decoration, right? (I feel like this is a two-man task!)

One of the most important things... Music! Do we have a DJ perhaps?

I'm in need of a entertainment department as well! Do they play party/wedding games? Karaoke? Are there Asgardian wedding games? Something entirely else? (I think this is a two-man task as well!)

I think that's it. I hope I didn't forget anything... Well, with that being said... Let's start this! I'm beyond excited!

Tagging the Crew: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @chennqingg @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @loz-3 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovingchoices14 @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @xthatpottahfanx @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @aagn360 @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @lokiforever @crimson25 @kimanne723 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @noideakitten @zombiesnips-blog @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @princess-ofthe-pages @coldnique @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokisrealpurpous

#the baby fever au wedding #the baby fever au #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki fanfiction #tom hiddleston x reader #loki fluff #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson x reader

[pbpsbff]

happy 1 year of r&r :)

i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u

soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long

ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year

i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???

like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r

but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account

AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to

@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)

& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile

there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess

but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys

#r&r tease #ough i cannot believe r&r is a year old #happy birthday r&r you are my favorite child #gonna go post that fic now #or in like 10 minutes #idk i haven't edited anything #stay tuned

[suspendingtime]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I've been tagged by @stars-of-kyber and @andthebubbles. 😁 So although I feel barely qualified, I guess I best do this...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

7. 🤗

I started about 2 months ago, so... and yes, they're all Kanthony. Initially just started as a way of contributing to Anthony Week 2023, and I didn't even expect that I'd actually do all 7 days.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

13,370.

Currently ranging at 661 to 3,779 per fic. Rookie numbers!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far, just my beloved Bridgerton.

But there have been a couple other shows that have tempted me...

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Astride  - 166

Nursery  - 118

Hunt - 105

Yours - 94

Temptation - 88

Having published a handful with various ratings, it's quite interesting to see the kudos, bookmarks (private vs public), and subs ratios! Much to think about.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes.

Why... I sort of have a need? Idk, when I see a comment it's hard to just leave it hanging there and not to reply. Like irl if someone looked at something I made and verbally commented on it... and I just stared back blankly not saying anything. 😐 This is how it feels to me on the receiving end at least haha. And my replies saying various forms of 'Thank you!' is probably quite repetitive, but hey ho.

Plus comments give you that lil hit of dopamine; from both povs as a writer or reader. Being on the reader side for most of my Ao3 activities I tend to comment on most of fics I read, I can't help it - I must tell you what I loved about it and why, and there's a pleasure in reciprocating that back too. Look, now I've written half an essay on the subject, gaaah. (I've not been on Ao3 as much as I'd like to recently, and because I opened it to scoop out the stats for some of the questions above I can now see that I have some unreads... and the need is happening.)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm *thinking really hard*, I don't think any of them have an ending that is all that angsty. If I had to choose, maybe Temptation?

The pattern I've shown so far in my posted works is that it's gonna be 90% fluff. Though that is liable to change. 😆

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Nursery?

I'm not sure, cause they've all ended on a pretty optimistic note so far. But that one has Kate and Anthony with a few of their kids, so it's the furthest on the Kanthony HEA timeline.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Ummm 👀 I may have dabbled in some smut.

What kind... hm, the kind where both people are panting for each other, and end up caving because they literally can't hold their horniness in anymore (this totally explains why I went feral for Bridgerton S2, ha). Another pattern I seem to have is making Anthony a submissive man puddle.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet, but I do have some crack ideas I may explore.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, I very much doubt it.

How often does this happen to people?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I'd certainly be all for it if anyone ever wanted to translate any works of mine. 😊

If I was proficient enough to write in other languages, then I would probably try publishing the different versions from the get go.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kinda?

Nothing formal, but there was a lengthy comment thread on Reddit some months ago where myself and another user went back and forth re-writing the script for that stormy library scene 😅 (not so much re-writing what was already there, bar the last few lines, more of a continuation in a universe where Kate hadn't fled).

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Must I even answer this? Kanthony, c'mon now.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's only 1 work that I have, where I've actually started a chapter 2. And I have all the faith that I will finish it. ✍️🤓

Other potential WIPs, that are currently just posted as one shots, only exist in my head... who knows if they will see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

This question feels illegal to be asked.

I have no idea, I'm very new to this whole writing thing. At least in terms of fiction, so I'm not sure what I'd consider my strengths to be. I feel like I need some more practice before I can get a real sense of this?

I would say that dialogue usually comes very quickly to me, and it's having to fill in the bits around it that takes more brain muscles. So that might indicate something.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything apart from the answer to the question above.

But really I think it's remembering that there is a world outside of the main couple happening, and trying to describe the details there. Also other general 'setting the scene' stuff like clothing, weather etc etc. I usually just want to jump straight in with some random dialogue.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

On writing it... no thoughts; not done it yet!

If I needed to for some unknown fic reason in the future, I'm sure I'll be apologising profusely in the author notes for trusting Google translate and probably butchering whatever language it is.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Still just the one so far, Bridgerton. 😌

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hunt 🥺🥹 I was a lot of feels, and just very indulgent tbh.

I also really enjoyed my shortest one, Obedient, which was in 2nd person (hadn't done that before). The writing of that one was just really fun and I idky but I've reread it quite a bit!

__________________________________________________

I'm woefully looking at my Ao3 bookmarks (which has grown exponentially since joining Tumblr), full of things that I've not got round to reading yet. So I'm tagging partly based on stuff hanging out on top of that pile: @islemeadow, @ladykettlechips, @hydriotaphia, @eleanor-bradstreet, and the smut aunties @colettebronte & @fayes-fics 😋 (if y'all wanna do it, ofc. I tried to find those who hadn't been tagged/done it yet, sorry if you've actually already done this and I've just not found it).

#20 questions for fic writers #tag game #fanfic writing #fan fiction

[blamemma]

what you said about maxiel fanfics with endgame lest4ppen, yes, I agree. someone mentioned this before, but maxiel is slowly dying on ao3 while it seems to be thriving more and more on tumblr.

for me it's 50/50 because I don't mind where I'm reading, but here we have more one-shots and pieces of WIPs (which is good because it means authors don't feel the pressure to turn everything into a 50k story, so they can just post their ideas even if it's incomplete), but I personally LOVE longer stories, so I would love to read more and more about every single one of them.

and personally I just don't like lest4ppen at all. I understand the need to tag maxiel because daniel is the bad guy and the "shitty boyfriend" or whatever, but I just don't like seeing those stories 😬

will always preface asks like this by saying people can like what they like and find joy in whatever, i ain't gunna turn my nose up at anyone or anything, lestappen just doesn't make sense to meeee personally, but honestly whatever butters ur bread!!!

as someone who has dabbled here and there in this writing lark, for me there is a distinct difference in ao3 posting and tumblr posting....ao3 to me is formal, ur presenting something perfect, a fully-fledged story, a beginning a middle and an end (not in all cases but i just mean in general). most stuff i read on ao3 is fully-fledged nuanced ideas that the author has obviously spent hours of time crafting and experimenting with.

tumblr fic is inherently fun and blase and easier to throw out there into the ether and forget about really. tumblr fic doesn't need to follow grammatical rules or structure etc etc....it can just be a fun prompt game response or a quick lil fic that you had fun writing and wanna share with ur people?? both have purposes and both are enjoyable to write imo, just depends on what ur feeling and how much u want to expand on said idea??

when it comes to the maxiel of it all....idk how rude or pointed i can get here without getting into shit....so i'll try and word this gently....you have to keep the eco-system alive....i think comments and kudos are GREAT but honestly, if someone reblogs my fic with a fun few tags, i love that more, because in a selfish way, i might get 1 or 2 more readers from that because its going out to an even wider audience?? but its more than that!! engage with ur writers, message them on here and shout at them about their ideas, send them prompts, recommend their fic to ur friends...but i will stand by i think one of the best things you can do, if they make a fun lil post or graphic for their fic...reblog it...ur not only spreading the maxiel gospel, but ur also supporting that writer?? too many times on here i see people's fic graphics flop yet big blogs are leaving them comments on ao3 and look, EACH TO THEIR OWN and also i can sometimes be a bad reblogger dont get me wrong, but LIKE, there are some wildly talented authors on here who just need to be pushed into the limelight a little bit more??? idk if im wording this correctly, but sometimes there are fics that fall through the cracks because no one engages with them, and if ur an author who has put blood sweat and tears into that fic, ur not exactly going to be motivated to post another maxiel fic if u dont think ur going to get engagement from it (again, fic writing isn't necessarily about engagement or response, but let me tell u when i get a fun little comment or someone messages me about a fic i published, it inspires me to write more????)

maxiel is definitely alive and kicking, i follow some stunningly good maxiel authors, but at the same time, its about pushing forward those smaller writers as well and not thinking ur too cool for them???????????????

and so with that, this flufftober, kinktober, spooktober or whatever tober u are a part of, reblog the fic, talk about the fic and enjoy the fic

#if u can understand what i am trying to say here then well done cause i dont think i even do #mean thats a lie i do know what im trying to say but i know a lot of people would hate me if i said what i actually wanted to say :)) #anon #asks

[onthewaytosomewhere]

20 questions for fic writers

alright i've been tagged on this a few times so guess it's time to do it....i mean i do luv tag games :)

thanks for the tags @taste-thewaste @agostobuwan @tailsbeth-writes

How many works do you have on ao3?

13- one of which is 25 fics i posted as chapters for a holiday/seasonal themed december thing - most my early work is elsewhere and i didn't do any writing for a good chunk of years lolz

What's your total ao3 word count?

76,771 (most of this was written since nov '23)

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB currently may dip my toes into 911 at some point (my only non-rwrb fic on ao3 is marvel lol)

Top five fics by kudos:

Ring on His Finger, Putty in HIs Hands (firstprince)

Third Times a Charm? (Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton)

i've got you acting like you want more (firstprince)

- like the way you work it - (firstprince)

gotta sign 'em all (firstprince)

Do you respond to comments?

yes

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

the only thing i can think of that would be angsty towards the end would be Santa Tell Me from my Holiday Bits and Bobs - it was pretty much 1800 words of angst

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

probably the second hand unwinds - it was one of my hey sweetheart fics and is pretty much just shy of 3700 words of alex being a sap (and the boys being cute girl!dads)

Do you get hate on fics?

um not hate - but recently a weird 'that couldn't have happened cuz of yada yada' kind of comment

Do you write smut?

LOLZ - that's like most of what i write *gigglesnorts*

Craziest crossover:

don't have any of these

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not yet! but i'm super excited to work on the one with @agostobuwan💚

All time favorite ship?

omg - i don't know that's too hard - i can tell you current fave is firstprince but my all time fave might actually be HP/CharlieW - maybe? or if we're going off amount i've read for it hp/dm or kirk/mccoy oh or bagginshield

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i had always planned go back and do more for my darcy/clint fic and make it into a series, but those ideas that got written down lamented away in a doc and are gone now lol

What are your writing strengths?

um....i don't know do i have these - i can write smut fairly well

What are your writing weaknesses?

i usually hafta go back and make sure i didn't just get uber prose-y and included enough dialogue - unless i'm doing it on purpose

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

cool if it works for the character - i really like when there's a translation somewhere - unless it's obvious what it means

First fandom you wrote in?

wrote in and posted somewhere - HP - followed closely by Idol RPF - i dabbled in other things that never got posted tho b4 that (the usuals for any 'lil geeky girl - star wars, star trek, angel, buffy

Favorite fic you've written?

idk - maybe something in your mouth cuz it just came togther so quickly and was fun to write (even if i intially thought it was gonna be smuttier lolz) or maybe my silly lil fairytale baby just say yes that topped out over 20k it's my first RWRB actual AU posted that wasn't just a small ficlet

alright so few quick tags to: @typicalopposite @adreamareads @inexplicablymine @stellarm

@sophie1973 @suseagull04 @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @itsmaybitheway

#tag game #writer tag game #omg some parts of this were so hard #and sat open on my laptop for a bit as i forgot about it #ooops #oh well

[thirdeyeblue]

20 Questions Game

Thanks for tagging me, @bronzeagepizzeria & @quite-right-too 🤩

How many works do you have on AO3?

28

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

892,591

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Doctor Who

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Bloodstream (Ten x Rose multi-chap)

Tiny Lights Below (Ten x Rose - Tentoo x Rose OT3)

For All We're Worth (Ten x Rose multi-chap)

Mending (Ten x Rose multi-chap)

The Doctor's Brilliant Idea (Ten x Rose multi-chap)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always always always, but I have a horrible habit of getting behind on replying to them - usually because I'm busy when I get a comment and consistently forget to come back... Then suddenly there's a ton of them. This is a reminder to sit down and tackle my neglected comments, so thanks, thing.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ordinary Gifts for sure.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I meannnn, all of my fics have at least mostly happy endings, as I'm a baby. But I'd probably say Bloodstream - just considering the odds that have to be overcome to get there.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Never had until my goddamn Martha fic. But thankfully, the hate was on the latter pairing, not my writing. That's the only solace I took from that (along with some badass readers who defended me to a handful of lunatics).

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I write all of the smut! Lengthy, graphic, emotional 'first time' scenes, as well as all subsequent smut. I have a very, very difficult time skipping over sex (have only done it once to date, and intend to write a separate fic to cover the smut I skipped 💀) and will never skip the first time.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, never have.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope, thank god.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Somebody translated Bloodstream into Russian, which was fucking cool.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I'm doing it right now with @bronzeagepizzeria and my excitement knows no bounds.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

TenRose/TentooRose, of course.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Had an idea for a fic inspired by To Have and Not Hold by mtemplar, but have never opened the lil WIP again, and that was over a year ago.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Smut?

Also, not sure if this counts - but I'm a perfectionist about my writing. I'm constantly, obsessively rereading, which I do both as I go and when everything is finished. Making alterations, amending this or that, punching up, rewriting/removing whole scenes etc... But I still, of course, make some mistakes here and there.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I write way too goddamn much. Way too much positive reinforcement in the comments of my first fic gave me a weird perma-complex where I don't even feel like a chapter is complete until it's around 10k, which is insane. Somebody save me. This is a serious problem.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I personally don't do it - I'd rather allude to it. For example, from my fic Exposure, since I guess I'm just going all in with this goddamn questionnaire:

He murmurs something soft, something gorgeous, but Rose has got no idea what it is— only that it's far too structured to be sleepy gibberish. There's an almost-Italian-but-also-sort-of-Arabic resonance to it, yet entirely unique; something she can't even pretend to know how to accurately describe. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first actual fic I ever wrote was for the Russian girl group t.A.T.u in either 2003 or 2004, but I wrote it at school during 'reading time' in Language Arts. It never saw the light of day anywhere.

The first proper fic I actually wrote, finished, and posted completely was for my first feral fixation ship, Inu/Kag (Inuyasha) back in 2005.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I fucking hate this question, but probably For All We're Worth or The Purpose of Repose

Tagging: @demdifferentstories @badxwolfxrising @mulderscully @aintfraidanoghosts @deardiary17 @naaer No pressure!

#Ignore my stupid formatting #I went to my laptop to copy/paste the whole post and its all kinds of jacked up #20 questions #Ao3 #fanfiction #fic #dw fic #tenrose #tentoorose

[alwaysxlarrie]

underrated fics of 2021 + 2022

ok so yes i did a masterlist of my fav fics of 2021/2022 but i wanted to end the year w some fics from 2021/2022 that, in my opinion, are underrated! as a smaller writer, i know how discouraging it can be to see lots of popular writers/fics on everyones’ lists all the time, but never see yours. & that’s no one’s fault! but i wanted to balance it all out a bit w this. just a friendly reminder that not getting many hits, kudos, comments, etc is not an indicator of your talent !!! write something because you want to & it makes you happy -- you’ll find your audience along the way!

i actually didn’t read a ton of fics that came out this year (i was surprised before i remembered that i work in retail & we’ve been short staffed the majority of the year & i pet sit on the side & am a student .... makes sense that i wasn’t able to read nearly as many fics as i wanted to lol.) so i’m incorporating some fics from 2021 as well, just like i did w my previous list & managed to compile a list of my top 15 underrated fics :)

as usual, the fics are in alphabetical order 

consequences of public breeding by @jaerie / jaerie

as someone who’s very passionate about social justice & inequalities, this fic spoke to me. i love the way jaerie writes harry’s internal monologues acknowledging the difficulties & bleak realities of the situation while still allowing himself to be/feel empowered however he can. we love to see it! & the tension & dynamic between harry & louis? top tier!

charm your pants off by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28

i know this was released super recently but i’m counting it anyway lol. from the banter to louis’ immediate flirting to harry’s clumsiness, everything packed into this short fic is so cute and is guaranteed to have you grinning the whole time. 

darling, can’t you see by @tommokat / tommokat

this fic is such a good combination of crack, humor, fluff, hurt/comfort & smut. it was on my ‘marked for later’ list for a while before i finally got to sit down & read it this past week & it was so worth the wait !! plus we love cat mom harry hehe

do you think the tides know by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

i betaed & helped out with this fic BUT would i still think the writing & story telling is phenomenal even if i hadn’t? yep! annika’s ability to write the raw emotions, navigation, dynamics, etc of this fic is incredible.

gotta get (me) outta my head by @parmahamlarrie / parmahamlarrie

as someone who has severe adhd, this fic made me feel super seen. i, unfortunately, do not have a lovely dom like harry does, but i am perfectly content with living through harry for this fic. the way bee describes harry’s feelings going from trying to navigate the scrambled mess that is her head to how louis’ praise makes her feel to how safe & protected she feels with louis? amazing. groundbreaking. we love to see it!!!

i need you right now, baby (won’t you come home?) by @non-binharry / enbyharry

this fic is a great representation of the fact that a fic does not need to be long to good!!! things happen fast but they don’t feel rushed. louis & harry’s dynamic right off the bat is cute & sexy. is sexy even an applicable word to describe a dynamic? idk either way i’m going with it lol

know you better. by @wabadabadaba / wabadabadaba

this fic always keeps you on your toes, wondering how the next interaction louis & marcel have will go. the pining, flirting, louis being protective & supportive, marcel opening up & letting louis in & their healthy communication is amazing. i’ve included this fic on some of my previous lists, so it’s a shocker to no one that i love it & would absolutely recommend.

little freak (aka: jezebel) by @homosociallyyours / homosociallyyours

if you know me, or read some of my fics, you know how pro adopt don’t shop i am (especially for older animals but i digress), so i’m obsessed w the lecture harry’s mom gave him. the whole fic is so cute, funny, cozy & just a lil bit steamy. my cat’s at the vet today, actually, so kind of ironic timing. regardless, if you’re looking for a feel good fic, i 10000% recommend this one !!! (also my house is an acab household so we love louis’ reaction to harry’s joke ab his occupation)

lazy days and pancakes for two by @cyantific / cyantific

i also betaed this fic & know first hand how much work, research & love was put into this. another wonderful feel good fic that will leave you grinning for hours after you read it. larry’s banter, love for the each other, respect for each other, etc. calling it wonderful is an understatement, to say the least, tbh.

making my way downtown by @disgruntledkittenface / disgruntledkittenface

i love how maggie describes louis & harry’s dynamic in any larry fic she writes, including this one. i’ve included this fic in my previous masterlists before & it’s for a good reason !! whenever harry’s internal monologue went into how louis acted with harry at the party, i just wanted to know more!!! and then when louis panic spam texted him?? ugh. so cute. my heart.

where’s the divide? by @2tiedships2 / 2tiedships2

melanie always writes the funniest internal monologue for louis, you will never get through one of her fics without laughing. this one is super short, sweet & lovely. niall & louis’ friendship dynamic is always top tier, too. there’s so many cute aspects about this one. shoutout to harry going along with louis’ fake chef abilities.

wanna play you like a game, boy (what’s the thrill of the same toy?) by @thebreadvansstuff / thebreadvan

ari already knows how obsessed i am with this fic, but let me tell all of you. i’m obsessed!!! i am normally very much a praise kink type of girl, but the way larry’s dynamic was written in combination w the humiliation kink? louis’ dirty talk? harry thinking he’s been nonchalantly getting louis to go along w his experiment, just to find out louis was -- & always is -- ten steps ahead of him? YUM. WONDERFUL. AMAZING. brb i’m manifesting that part 2 !!!!

when did i first know? i always knew by @panye / eynap

steph is literally carrying the weight of the shiall main pair fics fandom on her back & she deserves more recognition for that. the way she writes the foreshadowing build up to shawn’s realizations, zayn’s observant ass observing correctly & helpfully & niall’s reaction/response?? i absolutely think that even if shawn isn’t your otp, you’ll love this fic. it’s so cute & fluffy & hot & she’s even given everyone a nice dose of larry & ziam on the side.

your head in your hands as you colour me blue by @hershelsue / docklands

this is such a wonderful, cute, raw fic. greta is phenomenal at writing metaphors & bringing anything they write to life. it’s written in first person which i think, instead of putting readers off, it just makes you feel so much more immersed in the fic & the wonderful world greta created.

you make the world taste better by @loveislarryislove / livelaughlovelarry

ok so yes i also betaed this fic bc annika is wonderful to work w but i genuinely recommend this one as well. the psychology major in me is obsessed w the dark & twisted plot twists & the ending. i loathe miscommunication used as a plot device (in some fics, it’s understandable, in others it’s used an excuse to create unnecessary angst, but. i digress) & i cannot tell you how relieved i was when i saw that there was an opening to use miscommunication to create more angst & annika instead decided to throw in communication that was healthy yet understandably withdrawn. the bittersweet ending always gets me conflicted bc like i want a happy ending??? but it’s so good & absolutely makes sense for the fic??? i could go on forever.

-----

in a last second decision (i swear lol),i’m gonna use this as an opportunity to shout out my current wip bc it’s my first chaptered wip & i’m very proud of it so far & i’m excited to continue it (new chapter goes up every saturday! i’m not sure if i’m gonna post this saturday’s upcoming chapter on monday instead bc of new years eve. idk. we’ll see. but other than that, every saturday!):

you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe)

“Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it.

What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate. -- A Cinderella AU.”

-----

as always, if you read any of these fics, please remember to leave kudos & a comment for the talented authors!! i also have more masterlists planned for 2023 bc i have no self control so watch out for those lmao

#loveislarryislove #livelaughlovelarry #hershelsue #docklands #panye #eynap #thebreadvansstuff #thebreadvan #2tiedships2 #disgruntledkittenface #cyantific #homosociallyyours #wabadabadaba #non-binharry #enbyharry #parmahamlarrie #tommokat #jaerie #underrated fics #my fic recs #evilovesyou #4ureyesonly28

[lunarheslwt]

Hi! I'm back with the first 28th appreciation fic recs of the year! I wanted to put together all the fics I've read and loved over January for this month's 28th appreciation, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments!

🌿Is it a sign? by @greenblueish

(25k | E | deaf character au)

the one where Harry meets a certain handsome alpha at his sister's wedding and learns that speaking verbally doesn't have to be the only means of communication.

Thoughts: incredibly sweet, a perfect light and easy read, the way they connect in this story just feels so real and so wonderful!

🌿Stroke of twelve by @larry-hiatus

(2k | E | new years eve pwp)

He was close, he was so close, and he knew it was much too soon; the countdown to midnight hadn’t even begun yet.

Or the one where Louis wants Harry to hold off his orgasm so they can come together at the stroke of twelve on New Year’s Eve.

Thoughts: so bloody hot, top notch desperation, for some reason I was holding my breath till the countdown hit one which really says something

🌿Whoever, however by @brooklyn-babylon / @twopoppies

(8k | E | amateur porn filming au)

Louis could feel his heart rate pick up as he positioned the camera and Harry slowly stood up. They both knew what came next –– it had been clearly outlined in the advert Harry answered. The studio Louis worked for was filming a new series of camboy videos. Louis’ job was to make it look like amateur porn –– sweaty, sensual, dirty –– but well lit and edited. He was an artist, thank you very much.

—-

Or: Louis has a much better day at work than he’d expected.

Thoughts: incredibly hot, desperate Harry is so >>>> the descriptions in this are amazing, I just love the idea so much. The visuals!!

🌿Pretty miscalculations by @hellolovers13

(5k | E | Dom/sub pwp)

After rudely interrupting Louis’ Christmas shopping, Louis offers Harry a choice and an opportunity to try out his new purchases.

Thoughts: so hot, love how caring L is yet willing to push Harry a lil, how sweet and shy Harry is, I'd read more in this universe any day

🌿Take care by @sun-lt

(4k | M | service top L)

“What do you want, then, beautiful?” It’s a silly, cheesy pet name, but it feels so very true when Louis says it. He hopes Harry knows that he means it, that he means every pet name he’s ever called Harry. Doll, beautiful, love, baby.

“Want you to take care of me,” Harry repeats.

_

Or, Harry’s exhausted and needy and Louis loves him entirely too much to ever say no.

Thoughts: the softest thing I've ever read, incredibly comforting, tender and so so lovely pls go read!

🌿in the pub that we met he’s got his arms around you by @onlythebravest

(13k | T | best friends to lovers au)

Harry's best friend Louis comes to visit him where he attends uni, meets Harry's friends, who point out that they don't know what platonic means.

Thoughts: comfort read!! Incredibly soft, realistic friendship dynamics, 10/10 read if you're touch deprived tbh these are very soft boys and a very soft story

🌿Sweaty palms and racing hearts by @onlythebravest

(1k | G | first date au)

A short story of two shy, nervous and blushing boys on a date at the cinema

Thoughts: so pure, so sweet, these shy boys have my heart, the author writes fluff in the softest ways

🌿Printed against the sky by @larrysballetslippers

(4k | M | non sexual age play, canon compliant)

after some intense weeks of promo, Harry really wants his daddy. Louis happily fulfils his needs, but it wasn't the best day to do so.

Thoughts: everything she writes is gold, this is so pure, and so very sweet

🌿Lust for life by @maroonmoonlouis

(32k | E | 1970s Hollywood starlet au)

or the 1970s au where the pressure of being an aging starlet begins to weigh heavy on Harry's heart before he meets Louis

Thoughts: a gem!! Very much sucks you into the era and story, so much preciousness in this little beauty!

🌿Bless you! by @neondiamond

(2k | G | kid fic au)

Harry and Louis’ young daughter, Ava, really enjoys when Harry says ‘bless you’ after she sneezes.

Thoughts: the most precious little fic ever, so so so sweet and it made me smile bless

🌿All the lights are sparkling for you, it seems by @thebreadvansstuff

(3k | T | disaster birthday au)

Harry is determined to make Louis' birthday count, but his plans turn into a fiasco.

Thoughts: so fucking precious, I could hug Harry in this, sweet and funny

🌿the prettiest customer (and the cutest barista) by @onlythebravest

(1k | G | awkward coffee shop flirting)

Louis is the pretty customer that comes in and orders hot chocolate while Harry is the cute barista that takes his order.

Thoughts: so very precious, awkward shy Harry has my whole heart, the cutest lil thing you'll ever read

🌿Leather over lace by @larry-hiatus

(4k | E | pwp)

Harry wasn’t planning for his trousers to rip on stage. He also wasn’t planning for everyone to see his lace knickers when it happened. But what he really wasn’t planning on was his boyfriend punishing him for it.

Thoughts: so fucking hot. Begging y'all to go read it. Em deserves so much credit for how quick this was and how unbelievably good it was.

I probably would've read way more too but the second half of that month had me using all my free time to finish up my own fic. But anyways if you check these out please show the writers some love. @ writers: kisses for y'all bc I appreciate you and your work sm 💗

#28th appreciation #January reads #larry fic recs #fic rec list #hlfics #hlficlibrary #larry fics #monthly fic recs #so many of these are from friends and they're all lovely

[moonmanatee]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

sweet @saintgarbanzo tagged me even though he knows I’ve got but the one lil fic! then it got lost in my drafts. this might be a bit silly but cool to see where I’m starting, maybe. thank you, chickpea! you can find his lovely answers here 🥰

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

just one: Sun Shower!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

5950

3. What fandoms do you write for?

so far just HP, but I’ve got some drafts of other stuff (some SOC, AML, etc) that I may or may not keep working on. I did just cannibalize my favorite line from a wesper wip for a drarry one sooo we shall see

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

haha! sun shower

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do - commenting is probably my most favorite part of being a fic reader, so the comments section is important to me. there’s so much to love out there, and the comments are my favorite place to express it

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

none! don’t think I’m angst guy, really. I have some wips with pining, with complicated family feelings, with hurt, but it doesn’t quite feel like angst. and certainly won’t end that way!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

well, surprise: sun shower has a pretty sweet ending. it feels like a beginning more than an ending, though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven’t! does it count if my partner is like ‘noooo, abandoning me for the laptop again’

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

hmm, I think my smut is overwhelming and reverent and enthusiastic and honest and probably a little excessive. and WANT. and kinky. once I share some you’ll have to let me know if this is accurate

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

my mind is always thinking in connections, but that usually comes out in AU form (drarry: grace & frankie! parent trap!! the beckhams!! wesper princess diaries 2 AU!!!), rather than like everyone showing up in the same scene. so no, i guess.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

not yet, but I think I would really love this. I feel so much love about other people’s writing and so excited to share in ideas, so I feel like this format would be such a delight for me.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I don’t think I have one all-time, because once I love something I love it forever. so I just keep collecting more all-time favorites. but drarry I feel the most immense about and committed to, which is saying something because there’s very little I love that I don’t love immensely. and to be honest, my commitment to drarry is certainly because I love them as characters, but it is also about the community being so wonderful. so thank you, y’all, it’s really special here.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably never will?

so I had this completely bonkers idea that I call “avada banana tag” which is when someone dies everyone they avada-ed comes back to life, like banana tag. i.e. when Molly kills Bellatrix, we get Sirius back, etc (yes I know that only happens in the movie but bear with me for goofy concept reasons). like, the spell only holds as long as they do? makes it a pretty short-sighted way of killing someone. but that’s as far as the idea goes because it’s so absurd and messy, and I don’t think canon rewrites are something I’d know how to do justice. but I think it’s so funny and fascinating, so if anyone wants to run with it please feel free

16. What are your biggest writing strengths?

100% it’s coming up with ideas. you should see my idea dump document, it’s abundant in there. and maybe description, I hope, and sensory experiences

17. What are your biggest writing weaknesses?

I won’t call it a weakness but I have less experience with plotty things, and get really stuck in dialogue that feels off.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I’m not fluent enough in anything else that I think I could do this myself, but as a reader I really love it, both when I do and don’t understand what’s going on. and I like communicating that they’re speaking in another language without just translating. I think I’d love to incorporate my other languages (spanish and ASL) into fic, and I also love when Draco speaks french. when it’s well done I think it’s so impactful!

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I think it was actually someone else’s OCs, what feels like forever ago

20. What is your favorite fic you’ve written?

the one that’s still in my brain that I think about most days… it’s so very beautiful. I hope one day it makes it out of there!

though I love sun shower too. my first real guy, feels like a big deal, I’m proud of myself for doing it and actually sharing it!

I will tag @elskanellis, @getawayfox, @saintlupin, @rockingrobin69 if you want and haven’t already!!

#tag games #so many ideas so little time

[ghuleh-recs]

do you have any sickfic recs? ive been sick and miserable and it would make me feel better. i would prefer ghoul focused fics if possible. thank you 🖤

i hope you're feeling better!! you are speaking my language--i love a good sickfic. let me see my faves suffer and then be lovingly cared for.

side note: uh hey authors? why's it always dewdrop? hmm?

recs under the cut.

Uiscefhuarithe - @coffeeghoulie - polyghouls

A Gaeilge word that translates to water-cooled. Or: Dewdrop hasn't left his room in three days. A newly summoned Rain takes matters into his own hands.

Comet's Ficlet Collection (ch. 58) - @iamthecomet - dew, ifrit, mountain

Comet im sick and if your doing the lil ficlets can I get sick!whoever (dew) getting taken care of by mountain and ifrit and being whiny and bratty but still liking that he's being taken care of.

in sickness and in health - @belle--ofthebrawl - aether x dew

Something nasty is going around the pack but luckily for Aether and the rest of them, they have a great caretaker. Even if he hates admitting it.

keeping your head up - @dwritesit - dew x rain

dew is sick and rain loves him a lot maybe - a classic sick ficlet

Here for You - @papaslittlesunshine - dew x rain

Dew hurts himself during a performance. Rain takes care of him. (Mount gets some credit too)

Miasma's Ficlet Collection (ch. 9) - @miasmaghoul - dew x rain

Prompt - my uterus is trying to kill meeeeeee. Any chance you have anything related to Dew taking care of a fellow ghoul to cheer me up??

cry for absolution - @everybodyshusband - dew, cumulus, rain, aether

The rest of that day had been spent curled up under his sheets, a blanket and pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the small sliver of light his curtains let through. He’d thought about getting up for food at one point, but the moment he tried to stand up, he felt himself flopping back down onto the bed again, his headache spiking and the pain increasing tenfold. He let it happen. The idea of food turned his stomach anyway, despite it having been hours since the entire thing had been emptied into his toilet. - - - OR - - - dewdrop has a headache, and his packmates decide he needs to be taken care of

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

#make dew suffer 2k23 #slowly making my way through these! #thanks for your patience ♡ #my fic recs #the band ghost fic recs #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fic #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #cumulus ghoulette #ifrit ghoul #nameless ghouls fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fic #fic rec!! #liss answers