#maybe if i explain it in the fic? bc the way reader responds to it is also a bit sad but True to my vision of said reader in this universe

[gothsuguru]

sorry to anyone who reads this fic but this might be one of my most fucked up suguru’s . God Bless 🙏🏼

[wonuuism]

puppy love - 심재윤

in which jake makes the most if his (expensive) visit to the vet.

tags: fluff, vet!reader, layla’s not overweight irl but for the sake of the plot let’s say she’s been eating a little too well;;

author’s note: idk i wrote this in like an hour bc of a sudden burst of motivation. no proofreading bc it’s 3am LOL. first fic woo!! enjoy!!!

—

jake’s worried. panicking, even.

layla’s laying down next to him in the back of the taxi, her eyes shifting around nervously. jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as anxiety courses through his veins. layla had slipped and fallen down the stairs while he was home and her sharp whining whenever she walked afterwards made him uneasy. so, he was quick to call up the nearest vet clinic and book the soonest appointment for a consultation.

he’s really, really worried though. layla’s never had any bad scares like this one, so he’s not sure what to expect. what if it’s worse than he thinks? what if they tell him layla’s broken a bone? what if layla has to go through surgery? oh god - jake thinks he might throw up.

he’s interrupted from his thoughts as the taxi driver stops the car and announces they’ve arrived. thanking the driver, jake exits the car and gulps nervously as he surveys the exterior of the clinic. it feels ominous.

a bell rings as he pushes open the door, and the girl at the front desk looks up from the computer screen. “welcome in! how may i help you?”

“uh… i have an appointment at 11:30. for layla.” jake responds.

“awesome, i see you in our calendar. please hold tight while i let the vet know you’re here.” she smiles kindly, but it does little to ease jake’s nerves. still, he manages a tight-lipped smile and curt nod in response.

—

jake watches as someone emerge from the back, looking at a clipboard in their hands. “layla?”

he stands up right away, prompting layla who had been laying by his feet to do the same. “yes, that’s us.”

you look up at the source of the voice and send him a pleasant smile. walking towards him, you reach out your hand and he shakes it, but not before quickly swiping his palm on his jeans. “nice to meet you. i’m dr. l/n, and i’ll be taking a look at layla today. how about we head inside so i can take a better look at her?”

jake nods earnestly and gently tugs on layla’s leash to have her follow him into the consultation room in the back. once inside, you ask if he could kindly place layla on the table - a request he readily complies to. you’re impressed at how little he struggled given the fact that layla is a fairly big dog. clearly, he was strong. and maybe kind of cute, too.

“so,” you begin, “what seems to be the issue?”

“she had a bit of a bad fall and she’s been limping and whining a lot since then… i’m worried she might’ve broken a bone or something like that?” jake explains as he runs his hand comfortingly through layla’s fur.

you nod as he speaks, reaching over to assess any damage. after checking her heartbeat with your stethoscope, you flex her hips, gently press on her legs, and check on her paws.

as you do so, layla’s continuously making noises of discontent. initially, you had believed that her right front leg was causing her discomfort since she’d barked sharply when you touched it. however, she’d done the same thing for every other limb you’d touched as well. smiling, you turn your attention to her owner.

“i don’t see anything wrong with layla. her legs are fine, i’d say the shock of the fall is probably what made her respond like that. us people tend to coddle our pets a lot when they get injured, and dogs especially like that attention so they exaggerate it to make it seem worse than it is.”

jake is dumbfounded. “so you’re saying layla was just being dramatic?”

you smile apologetically. “yes… i know it’s not the news you were expecting, but that’s a good thing! means she’s not injured.”

you’re right, jake supposes. but that means i brought her all the way here because she’s a drama queen?!

you note the way jake sighs heavily, and it makes you want to try and console him by making his trip to the clinic seem somewhat worthwhile with basic medical advice.

“however, i would recommend putting her on a bit of a diet. she seems to be just a little bit over the ideal weight, and that can cause unnecessary strain on her joints.” you explain and jake nods, hanging on to every word coming out of your mouth. “after all, we want layla to live a long and healthy life, don’t we?” you coo, reaching out to ruffle her neck.

jake smiles. cute.

wait, what?

he takes this chance to finally look at you. he’d been too occupied previously with worry that he hadn’t been able to actually register what you looked like. now, he can see that you are, in fact, cute. you look around his age, and he’s impressed that you’re a vet this young. you suit the scrubs, but he wonders what you’d wear outside of work.

you pull away from layla and jake snaps back to reality. he’s glad layla’s okay. still, he sternly faces her and points his index finger toward her snout. “alright missy, you’re going on a diet starting today. consider it punishment for scaring me like that.”

chuckling, you turn to face him and he mirrors your action. there’s not much left to say, so he thanks you quickly and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. you stay since you have to log layla’s information in your computer. as you’re wrapping up, you add one more thing in layla’s “additional information” section.

additional information: super cute, looks exactly like owner

—

jake silently mourns on his way back home. again, he’s glad layla’s okay. he really is. but he had to pay an extraordinarily large amount of money just to be told that she’s fine. and a little fat.

he glares at layla, who looks back at him with sparkling eyes. his heart melts at the sight, and he sighs as he pets her. jake thinks of you and the fondness in your eyes as you petted the same fur moments prior. maybe something good did come out of his visit to the vet.

suddenly, he gets an idea. he paid a lot of money for this consultation, so he could be a little greedy. as a client, he could ask for your number, right? after all, what if something truly serious happened next time? he’d rather skip the formality of booking an appointment through the website and speak directly with you instead.

so, he pulls up the clinic’s information and calls the number on their website. a girl — likely the same one who welcomed him in — answers and asks what she could do for him.

“hey, i was just at the clinic for an appointment with my dog layla. i hope this doesn’t sound weird, but do you think it would be possible to get the number of the vet who saw layla today? just in case anything happens to layla again. you know?”

jake physically cringes as he speaks. way to not sound weird.

“uhm… one moment please.” the girl responds. jake hears whispering on the other side of the call.

what he didn’t know was that you were right next to the girl on call, sorting through some paperwork before you saw your next patient.

“doctor! layla’s owner is calling and asking if he can get your number..?” your secretary whispers.

you whip your head towards her, not believing what you heard. layla’s owner? the cute, fluffy hair guy?

she looks as giddy as you feel, giggling as she raises her eyebrows suggestively. laughing at her, you give her a thumbs up and she’s quick to bring the phone to her ear again.

“hello? yes, the doctor said there’s no problem. do you have something to write with? okay. her number is…”

you smile to yourself as she recites your personal number. a bell rings throughout the clinic, notifying you of your next patient’s arrival. you greet them and lead them to your consultation room and as you close the door your phone buzzes.

unknown number: hi, this is jake. layla’s dad. thanks again for the help today. if you don’t mind, i’d like to take you out sometime?

you bite your lip to suppress your grin. quickly, you reply.

you: i’d love that. date and time?

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i just read your sae fic and it was absolutely amazing, gorgeous, life-changjng! and when i went on to check your masterlist for bllk, i was shocked when you were the one who wrote the nagi x reader x kira fic bc I've been following it for a while and then i immediately tapped the follow button :x but if you can (only when you have the time and energy), can you write rin whose family is a host for exchange student! reader from another country? it could be hs or college, depending on whichever you're comfortable with. thank you <33

── CHERRY TREE

Synopsis: You are one hundred percent convinced that Rin Itoshi hates you — and he does, but not exactly in the way you think.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Rin x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.2k

Content Warnings: cheesy and cliched asf, otoya and KARASU <3 make brief appearances, rin is rude ngl but reader is as well, rin does not know what a “crush” is, he’s probably ooc as well atp i should just include that on all of my works jic

A/N: i can’t believe i started bllk because of a rin edit and yet i’ve never written for him��also i’m glad you liked seabird and peregrine anon!! thank you for following 💖 sorry it took me a min to respond to this

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

If you didn’t know that your parents would probably put you in an early grave for wasting their money, you would’ve caught the next flight back home from Japan in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, you were far too afraid of their ire, which meant you were stuck in this hostile environment until the end of the semester — assuming, of course, that you managed to survive for so long.

Over the summer, applying to your university’s special first-semester-abroad program had seemed like a good idea. You were already going to be traveling far from home to stay on campus regardless, so your reasoning was that you might as well experience a different culture while you were at it. Besides, the program claimed to pair participants with a host family that would be good fits for their personalities and needs — based on a survey, which in hindsight you really should’ve lied on — so you would be living in relative comfort, at least compared to the ancient dorms on the main campus that probably had thirty different species of mold growing on their walls.

Or, well, that had been the plan. Maybe it was even a reality for the rest of the people in the program, who had no doubt been placed in normal homes, with normal people, who had normal children and normal lives. For you, though, it could not be further from the truth — because you had had the great misfortune of being chosen to live in the same house as Rin Itoshi for the duration of your stay in Japan.

To put it simply, he hated you. He had started hating you from the moment you stepped foot into his house and put your things in his brother’s old room, and he had not stopped since. If you happened to cross paths with him, he’d scoff at you, and considering the fact that the two of you lived in the same house, this was a frequent occurrence. Whenever you tried speaking to him in Japanese, he’d wrinkle his nose and respond in English, telling you that you were so terrible at the language, you might as well give up now and move back to your country early. Once, his mother had suggested he take you to hang out with his friends, as you were all roughly the same age, and he had rolled his eyes so hard that it was a surprise they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head.

There was no doubt about it: your mere existence was a burden to Rin. You couldn’t explain it in any other way; after all, how could he have decided he disliked you before you had even spoken? So you did your best to be as helpful and kind as possible, keeping the house neat, cooking food whenever the elder Itoshis had to work late, staying silent if he happened to enter the same room as you, and offering nothing but slight smiles if you were forced into an interaction with him.

“You know,” Mrs. Itoshi began one day, as you were eating the dinner she had made for all of you. Rin was on your right, and Mr. Itoshi was across from him, his jovial face such a contrast to his son’s dour look. “Rin’s on the Japanese soccer team.”

“Wow,” you said noncommittally. You hadn’t known that; you had assumed that Rin’s hobbies involved throwing stones at unsuspecting children and tripping old ladies as they crossed the street. Soccer had been the last thing you expected, though it did explain his admittedly splendid physique. “Very impressive.”

“Not really,” Rin said. 

“Why don’t you take her to watch your practice over the weekend?” Mrs. Itoshi pressed. 

“She’s not interested,” Rin said. Of course, you really weren’t — why would you want to watch Rin and his friends kick around a ball for a few hours? It would be a waste of time, time that you could spend working on homework or clearing your ‘to-be-read’ list. But you also weren’t fond of people speaking for you, especially not him. He was the last person who could claim to know anything about you, so by what right could he say that you weren’t interested?

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind going,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him innocently when he glared at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression one of utter disgust and incredulity.

“There you have it! Be sure to introduce her to your teammates. I’m sure they would love to show her around,” Mrs. Itoshi said. Rin snorted.

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” he said, though when he did, it sounded different than what Mrs. Itoshi had surely meant. But you were obviously the only one who picked up on it, and you didn’t want to make dinner unpleasant, so you could only ponder what he might’ve meant in your head instead of asking him outright, as you really wanted to.

Although it was the weekend, Rin’s practice was early in the morning, before the day could really heat up and make exercising unbearable. That meant it was before even the sun’s rise that you were following after him, your books clutched in your arms as you waited at the bus stop.

“Why’re you bringing all of that?” he said when the awkward silence grew to be too much for either of you to bear.

“I’m planning on getting some homework done while I’m there,” you said.

“Why didn’t you just stay home if you wanted to do homework?” he said as the bus pulled to a stop in front of you and the doors flew open. Due to the early hour, there was almost no one else on the bus, but given your unfamiliarity with the route, you still followed after Rin, sitting across the aisle from him and putting your things on the seat beside you.

“I dunno,” you said. “I guess I wanted to meet your teammates. Since they would just love to show me around.”

“Stay away from them,” he said. “They’re a bunch of NPCs. All of them are probably the worst people you could ask to show you anywhere.”

“NPCs?” you said. “That’s pretty harsh to say about your own peers.”

“It’s not like we’re friends or anything,” he muttered, crossing his arms petulantly. “I’ll call them what I want.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” you said, massaging circles into your forehead to ward off your impending migraine. Rin raised his eyebrows.

“Got a headache?” he said, in that same clinical, detached voice he always used.

“Yeah,” you said. And you’re making it worse. You wanted to add that, but you thought it probably wouldn’t be prudent, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Don’t stay up so late on your phone, then,” he said. 

“It’s the only time I can call my friends and family. They’re in a different time zone,” you explained before pausing. Why did you feel the need to justify yourself? It wasn’t like Rin particularly cared either way. He was just giving you that advice because he wanted to boss you around and be rude to you. It was a symptom of dislike, not worry.

You had imagined Rin to be an obsessively punctual person, but to your surprise, it seemed like you both were actually some of the later ones to show up. Perhaps the rest of the team was even more concerned with earliness than him, or maybe you had somehow caused him to be later than he typically was, but either way, by the time you walked onto the field, the others had already gathered, chatting amongst themselves while they waited for their coach to arrive and start the practice.

“There he is! We were beginning to think the world might’ve ended,” a boy with dark, styled hair and a beauty mark beneath his left eye said with a grin. “Nothing less could get you to miss practice, eh, Rin?”

“It still might have,” another boy said. His pale hair was streaked through with green, and he wore an inviting smirk as he pointed at you. “Yo, girl. What kind of blackmail does he have on you? Blink twice if you need help. We’ll get you out of there.”

“Um, he’s not blackmailing me or anything…” you said, glancing at Rin for aid before remembering that he would probably rather jump off of a cliff, backwards and into the jaws of a dozen waiting sharks, than help you out.

“So you’re hanging out with him willingly?” the pale-haired boy said. “Yikes. You can do much better.”

“I kind of have to hang out with him,” you said. “I’m staying with his family for the semester.”

“Oh, you’re the exchange student!” a third boy, this one with icy blue hair and wide, pretty eyes said. “We’ve heard a lot—”

“All of you, be quiet and leave her alone,” Rin said, finally, thankfully speaking up. “Otoya, don’t even look at her, or I’ll make sure you’re benched for the rest of the season.”

The pale-haired boy — Otoya? — held his hands up in the air and whistled innocently, shooting you a wink when Rin turned to address the rest of his team. You raised your eyebrows but suppressed your giggle, not wanting to condemn him to further rebuke from Rin.

“This is Y/N L/N. She’s the exchange student my family is hosting. She wanted to come watch our practice because…actually, I don’t really know why,” Rin said shortly. “But she’s just going to be doing homework on the bench, so if any of you were planning on showing off to impress her, then you can give up on that idea now.”

Otoya noticeably wilted at this, but the others didn’t seem to mind. The first boy, the one with the beauty mark and the strange hairstyle, gave Rin a thumbs up.

“Don’t worry, Rin, we’ll leave the showing off to you. It’s about time you—”

“Shut up!”

They must’ve begun practicing at some point, but you hardly took notice, too busy typing up the outline for an essay you had due in a couple of weeks to care much about what they were doing. Occasionally, someone would shout out a particularly creative insult, and you would have to pause your work to identify the trash talker in order to be able to congratulate them later, but for the most part, you were lost in your own world.

“Hey.” Just the sound of Rin’s cool voice was enough to send shivers of fear down your spine, and you hastily closed your laptop as you looked up at him. “Practice is over.”

“Okay,” you said. “Will you introduce your teammates to me now? I know you told them who I was, but I’d like to at least meet some people my own age.”

“Nope,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on, I only even came because I wanted to meet them!” you said. “Outside of school, you’re the only one I know. I get that you don’t want me infiltrating your friend group or whatever, but you literally said you don’t like these guys, so why’s it a problem if I become friends with them?”

“They’re so dull and half-baked that your opinion of this country will actually fall if you interact with them further,” he said. “This is just my national pride talking. Come on.”

You stomped after him. What was his problem? He didn’t want to be nice to you, but he also didn’t want anyone else to, either. Was he that determined to make you miserable? Why couldn’t you have been placed in a family with children who weren’t so weird and annoying? Which question had you answered incorrectly on the survey that had resulted in your match-up with the Itoshis? You wished you could retake that stupid quiz and end up somewhere else. You wished that Rin had been the one sent to Spain instead of his older brother, who was certainly more well-adjusted. You wished that you hadn’t chosen to study abroad at all, that you had instead stayed at home with your friends and had a typical first semester like everyone else.

After that day, you stopped even pretending to be polite to Rin. Both of you were cold, hissing insults whenever you passed in the hallways of the home, leaving the room if the other happened to enter, and generally doing what you could to make each other’s lives difficult. It was only in front of Rin’s parents that you maintained some semblance of civility; after all, making Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi choose sides in your silent war would be unethical and wrong.

“I really don’t get it,” you said to your best friend one night, the covers pulled up over your head, your phone screen dimmed so that you were not blinded by its light. “He’s such a jerk, and for what?”

“Boys suck,” she said, hunched over a calculus problem set. The time difference meant that sun streamed in through her window as she wrote, illuminating the shining graphite of her neatly penciled answers. “Did his teammates mention anything suspicious the one time you met them? They’d probably know better than you or I why he’s acting the way he is. Maybe this is just how he is with everyone — if that’s the case, then you can be reassured that it’s not something you’re doing wrong.”

“Not really,” you said. “He forbade all of them from talking to me. Which, by the way, is a real tragedy, because some of them were super cute.”

“Really?” she said.

“Want descriptions?” you said.

“As much as I would like to say yes, I need to focus on this problem set, and anyways, it’ll just make me jealous, so no,” she said.

“Jealous? Let’s trade places, because at the moment, I’m jealous of you. Maybe all of the guys at your school are ugly, but at least you don’t have to deal with Rin!” you said.

“Is Rin attractive?” she said. 

“No — actually, yeah, I can see why a person would think he is,” you said. Personal biases aside, Rin really was very handsome, and that combined with his aloof arrogance afforded him the aura of a YA novel’s male lead. There was no doubt in your mind that he was popular with girls; however, you doubted he himself was aware of this fact. “He’s such a dick that it cancels out, though.”

“Personality is important,” your best friend said. “Oh, fuck!”

“What?” you said.

“I’ve been forgetting to add the integration constant to my answers. Easy fix, no worries. You can keep talking,” she said.

“Thanks,” you said. “There isn’t really much else to say.”

“Well, if you couldn’t get anything out of his teammates, why don’t you try talking to him?” she suggested. “Ask him to his face why he doesn’t like you.”

“Isn’t that kind of uncomfortable?” you said.

“Not like things can get much worse than they already are,” she said.

“True,” you said. “But the thought of confronting him is actually sickening. I’ll pass. This is character building, isn’t it? I’m going to come back home as an entirely new woman. You won’t recognize my mental strength and fortitude.”

“Sure, looking forward to it. I miss you,” she said.

“Miss you more, but it’s pretty late here, so I’m going to have to hang up,” you said, yawning.

“Goodnight, Y/N, and sleep tight. Don’t let Rin Itoshi bite!” she said.

“Oh my god. Go do your homework,” you said, hanging up before she could respond and almost immediately passing out as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky.

Things between you and Rin continued on in that tense manner for the next few weeks, until you became convinced that your heart might give out from the stress. You couldn’t continue to live in this way. You were supposed to be enjoying your time abroad, not counting down the days until you could finally go home.

Rin was watching a horror movie on the computer when you barged into his room. A woman screamed in sync with your entrance, and you jumped at the jarring sound. Rin did not react, clicking on the mouse to pause the film and then turning in his chair to face you.

“What?” he said.

“What? What? What do you think?” you said.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I had the faintest clue why you were storming into my room in the middle of the night,” he said coolly, crossing his arms. “The movie was finally getting exciting, too. So, what do you want? Hurry up and say it.”

Your eye twitched. “I want to know what your problem is.”

“Huh?” he said. 

“Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you that’s made you so determined to ruin my life? I could even understand if you didn’t want to hang out with me, but you brought me to your practice and then refused to let me talk to just about anyone! What’s the big idea? I just want to enjoy my semester!” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s easy. You’re ruining my soccer career.”

“I’m ruining your soccer career,” you repeated dubiously.

“Yes,” he said.

“Care to elaborate on how I am accomplishing that, exactly?” you said, your hands on your hips. “I went to one practice, and I didn’t even speak the entire time. If your career can be ruined so easily, then it isn’t much of a career in the first place.”

He huffed in aggravation. “I keep thinking about you. It’s messing with my head. I need to focus on soccer and getting better, but for some reason, I can’t stop my thoughts from wandering to places they shouldn’t. It’s worse because I can’t escape you. If I could have just one day to clear my mind, I could forget about you and get back to considering more important things, but you’re always there, worming your way back in.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

“I don’t get it, either. You’re not that special, so why can I quit it? Even my teammates have begun to notice. The other day, Isagi told me to go home early because I was ‘bringing nothing to the team.’ Isagi said that! Yoichi Isagi said that I was useless!” he said.

“That would be a lot more impactful if I knew who that was,” you muttered.

“You’re only here for a few more months, right?” he said. “After that, I can get back to my earlier performance and things will return to usual. Just leave me alone until then.”

Confronting Rin had the opposite effect that it should have. Instead of making things better, they actually became worse. What did he mean by saying that you were ruining his soccer career because he couldn’t stop thinking about you? What a stupid excuse! You weren’t that tiresome, so for him to claim that you were taking over his mind because of that was an offense. 

“Y/N, Rin, will you be alright by yourselves for the week?” Mrs. Itoshi said when, once again, you all were gathered to eat dinner. The Itoshi parents had thankfully not yet noticed the enmity between you and their son, so family meals were a regular occurrence — meals in which you and Rin were made to sit by one another and act kindly, lest you make things awkward for Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi, too.

“It’ll be fine,” Rin said, answering for the both of you, the downturn of his mouth daring you to argue. “You guys should have fun in Spain.”

Apparently, Sae had invited his family to visit him in Madrid for the week that he had off from training, but unfortunately for the both of you, Rin was unable to go due to his practice schedule. It was unfortunate for Rin because it meant he couldn’t see his older brother, who he had the world’s most complicated relationship with, and it was unfortunate for you because it meant you couldn’t get a break from Rin’s dramatics.

The week started off normally enough, which meant that you and Rin did not speak, leading your lives with as much separation as was possible. It was actually easier than you were expecting, mainly because Mrs. Itoshi had left you both enough food to last the week, so you could eat when you wanted to instead of having to sit with one another. Gone were the days of turbulent coexistence at meals; now, you could finally enjoy eating without worrying about the boy beside you! You almost wished his parents would never come back, just because of that rare peace.

The fourth night was when it all went wrong. You were video calling your best friend as a storm raged outside, ranting to her about your professors and the heaps of homework you received every day, when the lights flickered.

“Is something wrong with your wifi?” she said. “You’re breaking up.

“It’s raining,” you said. “Pretty hard. The power’s kinda spotty, but I’m hoping it holds—”

The universe must’ve heard your words and decided to play a joke on you, because in that moment, the lights turned off and your call disconnected with a sad beeping sound, alerting you that your poor connection was what did you in. Pouting, you set your phone aside and stared up at the ceiling of the room, deciding you might as well try to fall asleep, given the late hour. Even if the power was out, you wouldn’t be able to tell with your eyes shut, so it was really the best option.

There was a scratching sound on your window, causing you to jolt into a sitting position once more. Rin had watched a horror movie just like this the other day. You remembered it clearly because you had turned on a rom-com once it had finished, and he had called it lukewarm, which made you so mad that you had turned the TV off and gone to take a shower instead.

What had been the plot, again? Oh, right. The power had gone out, and the victim thought that it had been because of a storm, but it had actually been a serial killer taking advantage of the weather to mess with her house’s fuse box. He had done it so that the cameras didn’t catch him as he climbed into her house through her unlocked window and stabbed her in her sleep. The resolution was that her neighbors saw him and called the police right before he killed them, too — yeah, it was a pretty gory film. Lots of blood and knife wounds. You weren’t sure what enjoyment Rin derived from watching it, but you figured it was another one of his irrational attributes that defied explanation.

Another scratching sound. Had you locked the window? What if the power outage wasn’t due to the storm at all? What if Rin had accidentally manifested the same ending for you as that stupid movie? And you were home alone, too, the scenario was just so similar…

This time, the scratching sound was more like an eerie drag of fingernails against the glass, and you couldn’t help yourself. Squealing, you turned the flashlight of your phone on to guide your way as you sprinted out of your room, racing towards the only other inhabited place in the entire lonely house.

“Rin!” you shrieked, convinced that the shadows were actually ghosts come to haunt you and strangle you and bury you alive. “Rin, wake up! We’re both going to die!”

The door to his bedroom banged open, and you pointed your phone at him, the harsh white glow sharpening the angles of his features, the awkward hang of his pajamas off his body, the way his normally neat hair stuck up in every direction. 

“What are you talking about?” he groaned, using his hand to shield his vision from the blinding radiance of your flashlight.

“Do you remember that movie you were watching the other day? The scary one, with the fuse box?” you said.

“Yeah?” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Point your flashlight at the ground, stupid, or you’ll blind me.”

You did as he directed, belatedly remembering that the two of you very much did not like each other. But beggars could not be choosers, and it remained that at the moment, Rin was your best chance at survival, so you had to stick close to him.

“It’s happening,” you whispered. “It’s literally happening to us right now, as we speak. The serial killer already cut our power, and now he’s trying to break in through my bedroom window, and then — and then he’s going to kill us!”

“I cannot believe you woke me up for this,” he said.

“I’m serious!” you said.

“Seriously dumb,” he said. “Why would somebody try to kill us?”

“Don’t you have any rivals that hate you? Maybe they’re taking advantage of the storm to do you in while they have the chance!” you said, creeping closer to him.

“I play soccer. I’m not in a gang,” he said dryly. “No one’s going to come murder me for being better than them, trust me. Or else I’d already be dead.”

“Go see for yourself, then!” you said. “Wait. But I’ll go with you. People who split up in horror movies always die. There’s real merit to the ‘safety-in-numbers’ theory.”

“How many horror movies have you watched, to make you such an expert on them?” he said.

“You always have them playing, so of course I’ve learnt by osmosis!” you said, inching along behind him as he trudged towards your room. He gave no response bar a click of his tongue as he yanked open the door you had slammed shut in your haste, striding in authoritatively, grabbing your phone and lighting his own way with it instead of relying on your shaky hands.

He pulled the curtains open with a flourish, and you cringed, using his broad back to hide yourself, expecting to see some grotesque face and keeping your eyes screwed shut so you didn’t have to be met with the visage that would spell your death.

“Hey. Y/N. Open your eyes, dumbass. You made me get up because of a damn tree,” Rin said, shaking you by the shoulder. 

“A what?” you said, opening your eyes against your will and then blinking properly when you saw there was nothing there but the boughs of the cherry tree planted in front of Sae’s room. The frenzied wind caused the branches to rub against the window, and this, you realized, was the source of the sound you had been so afraid of. “Oh. A tree.”

“I’m going back to bed,” he informed you. “Wake me up again and you really will be dead, but it’ll be at my hands, not some imaginary serial killer’s.”

You tried. You really tried to stay asleep — you were an independent woman, weren’t you? You had gotten full marks on all of your midterms. You had flown to a different country and learned to live there without much trouble. You had shared a house with Rin Itoshi for the past couple of months, and he was more like a creature out of a nightmare than anything else ever could be. Sleeping alone when the power was out was a piece of cake. You could do it. 

It was not, in fact, a piece of cake, and you could not, in fact, do it. Tip-toeing to Rin’s room, you knocked as lightly as you could, half-hoping that he did not hear. You doubted he had made his earlier threat lightly, after all, and there was a real chance that this action would be your last.

“What now?” Rin said, answering the door a few seconds later. You crossed your arms and stared at the floor obstinately, your pride not allowing you to say anything. He waited for a moment, and then he pinched your upper arm. “Are you sleepwalking? Hello? Wake up if you are, so that I can get to bed myself. I have practice tomorrow, and I need to be well-rested!”

“I’m not sleepwalking!” you said. “I can’t.”

“You can’t sleepwalk? Okay,” he said. “I didn’t really care either way, so there was no need for you to tell me.”

“I can’t sleep at all!” you said. “It’s because of those dumb movies you always watch and those creepy games you play. I keep thinking that something’s going to happen, even though I know that those things aren’t real.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were telling the truth, and then he ran a hand through his hair.

“You have problems,” he said. “They aren’t real, but whatever. Come in.”

“Uh, what?” you said.

“I’ll take the floor, and you can sleep in my bed,” he said, rolling his eyes like you were the ridiculous one for being taken aback by the offer. “That way you can be less nervous.”

It was the kindest thing he had ever done for you, and you almost called him out for it, but then there was another crack of lightning, so you opted not to argue, darting into the room after him and diving into his bed without a second thought.

“Hand me a pillow,” he said, settling on the ground with a blanket he pulled down from the top shelf of his closet. You were about to throw it at him before wavering, considering what he was truly doing for you. Rin Itoshi, who was so careful with his body, who was a pro athlete that required an exact amount of sleep and the perfect balance of nutrients, had woken up in the middle of the night twice and was now offering to sleep on the floor, all because you were afraid of a power outage. 

If only there was electricity! You needed to call your best friend and get her opinion on this. You had avoided telling her the results of your confrontation with him, believing that she would just make fun of you, but for some reason, you thought she might be interested in this development. You thought that she might be the only one who would understand it, because obviously, neither you nor Rin did.

“Um, you can have the bed, if you’d like,” you said, pushing the blankets away reluctantly, your neck protesting at the mere prospect of spending the night on the hardwood. “It’ll be bad for your back if you’re on the floor.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “At least, it won’t be, if you give me that pillow.”

You caved, giving him the pillow and rolling to the opposite side of his bed, which was even larger than the one you were used to. He grunted out a thank you, and then both of you were silent, but it was obvious that neither of you were asleep.

“Rin.”

“Yes?”

“We could share. Your bed is pretty big, so if we put pillows between us, it won’t be weird. Anyways, it’s only until the power comes back, and then I’ll go to my room, so it won’t even be for that long,” you said. The suggestion was met with sputtering from the ground.

“You — me — what — share? No way! No way, terrible idea, why would you suggest that?” he said.

“I just feel bad that you have to be on the floor, that’s all,” you said. “Especially because it’s your room and you’re doing me a favor.”

He didn’t say anything for so long that you were certain he must’ve fallen asleep. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor for you.”

“Really? I thought you hated me, though,” you said. The bed creaked from an unexpected weight dropping on it, and when you shifted, you saw that he had settled beside you, fluffing up a pillow to serve as a barrier, his face a light pink as he lay on his side to face you. You did the same, peering up at him over the pillow and swallowing when he did not avoid your gaze.

“I do,” he said. “A lot. But I also don’t.”

You furrowed your brow. “I don’t get it.”

“I’ve never been distracted by anyone or anything before,” he said. “That’s why I hate you. I hate things I don’t understand, and I don’t understand why you’re constantly on my mind.”

“Am I that annoying?” you said.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “You’re annoying every time you smile or laugh or say something — say anything, and you’re especially annoying when you act friendly towards my shitty teammates, especially that ninja bastard Otoya. You’re annoying whenever you talk to me, and you’re annoying when you do your homework instead of watching me at the practice you asked to go to. Your lukewarm movies are annoying, and so is your hatred of anything horror-related. It’s annoying that you’re nice to my parents, and it’s even more annoying that you’re better at coming up with insults than I am. You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

You didn’t need your best friend to translate this for you. Despite what Rin liked to say, you weren’t that stupid — you had been selected to study abroad out of hundreds of applicants, after all, and for the first time, you were so grateful for that fact. Because the thought of somebody else being here, in this bed, hearing these things from rude, haughty Rin Itoshi, was unbearable.

“Do you have a crush on me?” you said. He immediately stiffened, his eyebrows drawing together, low and heavy over his half-lidded eyes.

“No,” he said.

“Sure,” you said. “That’s good, because I’m going to leave soon. It would be problematic if either of us liked one another.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“You’re annoying, too, just to be clear,” you said. “The most annoying guy I’ve ever met in my life. Super annoying.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. 

“I’m telling the truth. Once I go back home, I’ll be incredibly bored. No one back there could ever hope to irritate me even half as much as you do,” you said.

“Good,” he said, and at that you smiled into the softness of his sheets, hiding the expression from him. “They’re not allowed to. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this, so the reverse should also be true.”

“I won’t be able to come here again for a while,” you said after a bit. “Likely years. I’ll be busy with school and work and my friends and family, so it’ll probably be goodbye forever when I go.”

Rin’s voice was sleepy when he spoke, reminding you of the late hour and how early he had to wake up daily.

“Then I can finally focus on soccer again,” he mumbled. “That’s a relief.”

You reached across the pillow to pat him on the cheek. “Yes, you can.”

“After I retire, I’ll come and find you,” he said. 

“That long?” you said. “What if I forget about you by then? Because I might.”

“Don’t,” he commanded. “Wait for me. Let me win the next World Cup, and then…and then…”

 His words trailed off into a soft exhale as he finally succumbed to sleep. You allowed your hand, which still lay against his face, to trace his jawline before retracting it and holding it close to your heart. 

He was definitely still a jerk, but maybe you did not hate him quite as much as you had thought You did. Actually, maybe he wasn’t that bad at all, and maybe you could not imagine what an existence without him, which you had craved so desperately only days earlier, might be like. 

You weren’t sure what would happen if that day he spoke of came, if he did fly across the world to find you after the next World Cup. Would he still be himself, or would he be some gentler version? And what of you? Would Rin Itoshi still be someone you paid any mind to, or, by then, would he just be a not-so-fond memory? The strange boy who may or may not have had a crush on you, who was obsessed with soccer and horror movies, who argued with you constantly and made you more infuriated than you had ever been…well, if you thought about it, then there really was no chance of you forgetting him at all. Not so quickly.

So you sighed, turned away from him and let your own eyes shut as well. The house was dark and still, the familiar hum of the refrigerator silenced, the crushing of the ice-maker temporarily halted. Only Rin’s steady inhales and exhales cut through the blackness, lulling you to sleep despite the atmosphere you had previously found sinister.

“I guess I have no choice, huh?” you said as you, too, drifted off. “Brainless, rude, pesky Rin Itoshi. Fine, then. If that’s how you want it…I’ll wait. Just until the next World Cup, I’ll wait for you.”

[shitsndgiggs]

can I have a fic about arda where he is mad bc of training ir smth and the reader is at home sick all day couldnt do any work at home and when he come's home he is mad that everything is a mess and arguing with her while she tries to tell him that she isnt feelinh well and he sees that she doesnt feel well and tries to comfort him

A/N: First Arda fic in a while🫢🤗

LISTEN - ARDA GÜLER

…idk what to write 🫠

Arda Güler x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The day had been long and exhausting for both of us. I could tell by the way Arda had left for training in the morning—his shoulders tense, frustration already etched into his face—that it was going to be one of those days.

The kind where nothing seemed to go right for him, and he would come home irritable, weighed down by the pressure of it all.

But my day hadn’t gone any better. I’d been sick all day—body aching, head pounding, and a relentless cough that left me too weak to get anything done.

I’d planned on tidying up, maybe making dinner, but even the thought of getting out of bed seemed impossible.

So I stayed wrapped in blankets on the couch, trying to rest but feeling guilty for not doing the things I usually did around the house.

The sun had already set when I heard the front door open and close with more force than usual. Arda was home. I sat up slowly, feeling a pang of nerves. I knew how his bad days went, and I wasn’t sure how he would react to coming home to a mess.

His footsteps echoed through the hall, and soon enough, he appeared in the living room, his eyes scanning the untidy space—the unwashed dishes, the laundry still piled up, and the blanket I had wrapped myself in all day.

He frowned deeply, his frustration from training spilling over immediately.

"Why is everything such a mess?" he muttered, kicking off his shoes harshly. "I thought you'd have at least done something today."

I opened my mouth to respond, to explain that I hadn’t been feeling well all day, but my throat felt raw, and the words struggled to come out. "Arda, I’m—" I started, but he cut me off, pacing the room angrily.

“I’ve had the worst day at training, and I come home to this?” His voice was sharp, his frustration clear. “Can’t you at least help out a little?”

I winced at the tone, feeling a knot form in my chest. I knew he didn’t mean to take it out on me, but it hurt all the same. I tried again, my voice raspy. “Arda, I’ve been sick…”

“Everyone’s tired! Everyone’s stressed!” He didn’t seem to hear me, his anger blinding him to the situation. “But we still have to get things done. You can’t just leave everything for me to deal with when I get back.”

The lump in my throat grew, and I could feel the frustration rising inside me. I wanted to explain, to make him see that I wasn’t being lazy, that I hadn’t been able to do anything because I was sick.

But my voice failed me, and instead, another coughing fit took over. I doubled over, clutching my chest as I tried to catch my breath.

That was when he finally stopped. His anger seemed to pause, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of me struggling to breathe.

“Wait, are you okay?” His voice was suddenly softer, but there was a tremble of guilt in it now. He moved closer, kneeling down beside me, his hand resting gently on my back as I coughed.

I nodded weakly, but I wasn’t okay. The fever, the aches, the relentless cough—I felt awful. But it wasn’t just the sickness that hurt. His words, his frustration—it all felt like too much.

“I didn’t realize…” Arda’s voice cracked slightly, and when I looked up at him, I saw it. The frustration had melted away, replaced by something deeper—regret, guilt, and an overwhelming sadness. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I tried,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “You were just too mad to hear me.”

His face fell completely, and he sank down beside me, his hands gently cradling my face as he wiped away a few stray tears I didn’t even realize had fallen. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know. I didn’t… I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

I could see the pain in his eyes, the way he was struggling with himself. He looked broken, like all the weight of the world had come crashing down on him, and I realized then that it wasn’t just me.

He had been carrying his own burdens all day—his frustration with training, the pressure, the exhaustion—and he had taken it out on me because he didn’t know how else to deal with it.

“It’s okay,” I said softly, reaching up to touch his cheek, my thumb brushing against the stubble there. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

But his eyes were glassy now, the tension in his body finally breaking. “No, it’s not okay. I shouldn’t have… I didn’t listen. I just…” His voice faltered, and I could see him blinking rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were starting to form.

I’d never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so fragile. His usual strength, the confident way he carried himself, it was all gone. He was unraveling right in front of me, and it broke my heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I just… today was terrible. I’m so frustrated, and I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m so sorry…”

His shoulders slumped, and I could see the tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. The raw emotion, the way he looked at me—it was overwhelming.

Without thinking, I pulled him into my arms, holding him tightly. He clung to me like he was afraid to let go, his face buried in my shoulder as I gently rubbed his back.

He was trembling slightly, and I could feel the wetness of his tears against my skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice breaking.

“I know,” I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “It’s okay, Arda. It’s going to be okay.”

[yesimwriting]

For what i gathered from your style of writing (immaculate btw) i think reader would not responde to nates advances, because contrary to billy, stu and felix he doesnt hide his asshole ways.

So i think the main thrope would be groveling from his part

omg this ask feels like such a cross over!!

you're so right and i love the way you're thinking through this, but let's break down nate's character a little more (and reader's)

one of the major takeaways from that scene where everything that nate looks for in a girl is laid out and the scenes that explain what he liked about maddy is that there's this theme of being drawn to traditional feminity/someone that can play a traditionally feminine role

i think there are a lot of factors that play into him wanting that-- it reflects what he's familiar with, a more feminine partner will push back less/be easier to manipulate (in his head at least), and maybe a smidge of comphet depending on how you read his sexuality

one of his main fantasies is saving maddy from another man and when maddy was trying to win him over, she played into her femininity (and cassie kind of did the same)

and when you think about these reasons and the kind of girl he'd want to go for (and you look at the way he treats maddy when he apologizes and when they first started dating) it's natural for him to have some kinder qualities that come from the instinct to fill that traditionally masculine role in a relationship

so, when considering all of that,, i think nate can be really charming, maybe even a little chivalrous when he's really trying to win someone over

i also think nate's relatively good at reading people, and he can clock that the reader from that last blurb is trying to be a party girl more than actually being one, he knows that reader would never want to be around him if he's openly an asshole, so he manipulates subtly (telling reader to keep their interactions a secret from maddy for her own sake, all while knowing that the sooner he breaks that 'secret keeping' barrier, it'll only get easier to get reader to keep more and more from her friends)

i also see nate as someone who is very capable of being likeable when he wants to be, and reader being kind of sheltered/"innocent" and maddy's friend and being so determined to not like him makes him want to put in the work,,

so he's going to make a point of being soft spoken and nice when he has to see reader, and the harder she tries to dismiss him, the more he's going to commit bc it becomes less about getting maddy's attention and a little more about his ego,, and then finally, about reader

and if we're comparing this reader to final girl!reader or best friend! reader,, (you guys have no way of having known this, i barely referenced it in one sentence) i see this reader as being less looked out for

i picture her mom as one of those moms that wants to be "the cool mom" so bad so that she can pretend her daughter's friends are hers too, and she's so excited that reader is being more social/popular that she's a little lost in it

and i see reader's dad (not me finally giving readers a dad) as being almost the polar opposite, strict and traditional,, so reader still feels the need to hide going out and drinking bc it starts arguments with her parents and that makes her feel guilty

i'd really love to write a fic explaining all of these dynamics and how they overlap with the same style of narration that euphoria episodes that center a specific character's background story are,, i love mimicking niche voices like that it's so fun

anyways this was really long for no reason <3

[httpsdana]

can you do arda güler with prompt 1 and 2

where the reader is sad and just thought comforting herself with arda's shirt/sweater bc he was at training or some abd he was joking about that she shouldnt wear his clothes but she was actually so sad that she thought he's serious so she tries to take it off and he reaizes somethings not right and tries to comfort her

thank yuuu

Comforting Embrace~Arda Güler

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

first Arda fic. enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

1-“Is that my t-shirt?”

2-“Come here.”

The day had been one of those that left a heavy ache lingering in your chest. y/n had tried distracting herself with anything shr could—reading, tidying up, even watching some mindless show on TV. But all she really wanted was for Arda to be there with her. However, he was at training, and she knew it would be hours before he returned.

In a quiet moment, missing him more than usual, y/n made her way to his side of the closet, searching for something familiar.

Het fingers grazed over one of his oversized t-shirts, a soft, faded one he often wore around the house. Without much thought, shr slipped it on, sighing as his scent surrounded her. It was calming, comforting, a small reminder of him that somehow made things feel a little bit lighter.

She curled up on the couch, pulling the shirt closer around her as if his scent and the warmth of his shirt could fill the void left by his absence. Hours seemed to pass in a blur as she sat there, trying to find comfort in the feeling of his shirt against her skin.

Eventually, y/n heard the front door creak open, and soft footsteps made their way into the room. She looked up, catching sight of Arda, his hair slightly damp from a shower, a small, familiar smile playing on his lips as he walked over to her.

“Hey, love,” he greeted warmly. But as he got closer, he raised an eyebrow, a playful look in his eyes. “Is that my t-shirt?” he teased, chuckling as he watched her.

At any other time, she would’ve laughed it off, maybe even joked back. But today, the words hit differently, stirring an unexpected feeling of guilt.

Maybe he hadn’t wanted her to wear his clothes, and she'd overstepped somehow. y/n bit her lip, hesitating before reaching to take it off, feeling a weight in her chest she couldn’t quite explain. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” she stopped, swallowing hard as she tugged at the hem.

Arda’s smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of worry as he watched her, his eyes softening as he caught the hurt in her expression. He quickly stepped closer, reaching out to place a gentle hand over hers, stopping het from taking the shirt off. “Hey, no, don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Come here.”

Before she could respond, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. The warmth of his embrace was immediate, grounding, and she felt his steady heartbeat under her cheek as he held her close. y/n closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath as his hand stroked her back, slow and soothing.

“Why would you think you have to take it off?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern. His hand moved to gently tilt her chin up, his thumb grazing her cheek as he looked into her eyes. “I was only joking, love. You can wear anything of mine you want, whenever you want.”

A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and Arda’s expression softened even more. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he whispered, “I’m so sorry if that made you feel bad. I would never mean it.”

She managed a small nod, sniffling as he held her tighter, his arms steady around her. “its not that Arda, I just… missed you,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “And everything today felt like too much, and I… I just needed something that felt like you.”

He held her face gently in his hands, his eyes tender as he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “You should’ve called me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to one cheek, then the other, each touch soft and comforting. “I would’ve come right away.”

She shook her head, resting her forehead against his chest. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Hey, you could never bother me,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I’m here now. I’m always here when things get too hard, okay? You don’t have to go through any of it alone.” He pulled her into another hug, wrapping himself around her as if he could shield her from anything that weighed on her.

They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other in the quiet, his arms strong and reassuring. Eventually, he pulled back just enough to press his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss, a gentle reminder of his love and presence. He pulled away only slightly, his forehead still resting against hers as he whispered, “I love you so much. Never doubt that, alright?”

A small smile crept onto her face, her fingers tangling in his hair as he leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper, filled with all the comfort and affection he wanted to give her. His hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt the weight she'd been carrying start to lift.

As the kisses grew softer, he pulled back, his hands framing her face as he pressed his lips to her forehead, cheeks, and finally, back to her lips. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding her to curl up on the couch beside him. He wrapped his arm around her again, pulling her close against his chest as she nestled in.

With her head resting on his shoulder, his arms holding her securely, and his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back, y/n felt herself start to relax fully. Arda placed one last kiss on her head, murmuring, “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’ve got you.”

Wrapped in his arms, the world felt a little less heavy, and for the first time that day, she finally felt at peace.

[pygmi-cygni]

anon ask - "how do i write introductions?"

my inbox is being pissy so i am having a hard time responding but anon i hope you find this bc i rlly wanted to answer xox i'm sorry :(

yall can still send in requests but I might just have to tag you rather than do a direct response. maybe it'll fix itself soon? idk

introductory paragraphs are probably one of the most important paragraphs of your story. and really, I'd extend your introduction to the first 'chapter' or 'act' or however you've decided to divvy up the writing.

What does the introduction do?

It introduces the story. 'Holy fuck!' I know, crazy. bad jokes aside, the introduction does a lot more than introduce characters and setting. It also introduces the voice and style of your writing, which can make or break your writing just as much as a character.

This is more geared towards original 'published' work, but can absolutely be a tip for fic writers too. Most of my writing tips I've tried to make accessible to both, so take it with a grain of salt.

"Voice" "Style" and "Narration" are all used to describe the way the story feels. When you write the first couple of pages, it needs to grab the reader and shove them into your little world. There are good and bad examples of this.

I would say a good example of this would be Harry Potter (sorry i know but it's v accessible). The voice is introduced, we get a sense of the backstory without it being too overwhelming, and it gives enough mystery to keep you reading. (look up a pdf)

Here are some Dos and Don'ts

Do: describe setting. Don't: give us a verbal blueprint. Describe the setting subtly. Instead of, "The coastal town of Whalebone was frequently rainy, and it never got above a brisk 65F" try, 'the sky was grey and dreary. it had been raining the past week, and the air had a bite to it.'

both sentences describe the weather, but the second one does it in a way that is more relevant to the story rather than sounding like a weather report. The reader will pick up on the setting nuances as they read.

Drop descriptions in occasionally, try to create an ambience rather than an overwhelming situation. describe setting in context to the event. The reader doesn't care if it's sunny when they're more concerned about the fight scene. They might care about the weather if there's a traveling caravan that can't go through mud. (I'm using weather as an example but this can be applied for every setting)

the hobbit would be an example of overwrought setting.

2. Do: introduce your character. Don't: overdo it.

The audience will be spending the entire book with this character. there is no rush to explain everything in the first chapter. Don't do the "She woke up at 8 am and rushed downstairs to eat breakfast. Her mother, Deborah, had made her favorite pancakes. The girl wolfed down a couple before running to her friend Emily's house." that's too much. I quickened the pace to provide examples but all of that can be found out subtly.

The readers should determine the relationships based on their interactions. Don't tell the reader. Show them. If 'Emily' (bff) and Girl are chatting together and making jokes, you can assume they're good friends. Flat-out telling the reader takes away an opportunity for building dynamic.

3. Do: set the tone. Don't: change it later.

pick the style and stick with it. If you flip between waxing poetic and writing like a sarcastic teenager, it'll give your readers whiplash. pick a style of storytelling that can accurately convey your writing to its full extent. If you write a scene and it's out of the theme, we'll notice. the introduction is a good place to mess around with this.

Hope this helps!

(sorry about the inbox thing, i'm gonna do some digging to fix it!)

keep sending requests ily guys xox

[bonecarversbestie]

I'm doing this tag bc i've never done one before. thx @zenkindoflove for always tagging me in these even tho i never do them pls don't stop.

Doing this tag feels a little funny since i'm so new to writing and i only have 2 fics, but here we go

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 23,375

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  whelp this is awkward bc i only have two 😅

The Scenic Route(Elucien multichapter WIP)

Reverie(Elucien week oneshot)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! I literally sit by my computer after i post waiting for them to come in bc i love attention.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? N/A. All my angst is in the beginning/middle. my endings are all happy so far.

(Although, I do have a bullet point in my fic ideas file that is a Haunting of Hill House rewrite but Autumn Court/Forest house, and if you've ever read the book, you know that calling the ending "angsty" would be an understatement)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? So Reverie is very short and is sorta set after Elucien have already had their happy ending(in more ways than one ;) The ending of the Scenic Route is also happy and it took way more work to get there, so I'd say that one.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I'm like the writing equivalent of a toddler right now--I'm still learning to write regular stuff haha. I want to write smut one day, but need to take my baby steps to get there. Even when i do, though i think it will not be as explicitly descriptive of the acts themselves, but more emotionally driven (I really like the style of the sex scenes in Song of Achilles if that gives you the vibe)

9. Do you write crossovers? I don't think i'm creative enough for that tbh

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. maybe one day.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not. I don't even know how that would work esp bc i am a control freak, but i'll never say never.

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? I have a handful of OTPs the primary one right now is obviously Elucien, but I have a special place in my heart for The Doctor and River Song(Doctor Who) and Dramione(who i never really shipped when reading the books, but this was the ship that got me into fanfiction and now i'm addicted)

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? So my Current WIP is already completely drafted, i just have to edit and post it, so i'm not worried. I do have an outline of a really long High King Lucien fic started that i worry i won't finish before their book comes out (and that once their book comes out i won't be motivated to write it any more, but we'll see)

14. What are your writing strengths? This is hard because i'm so new to writing, i feel like i don't have any strengths yet, but I'm gonna say dialogue, because it's what i enjoy writing the most. most of my first drafts are very dialogue driven and i fill in the story around the conversations

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  Internal monologues/explaining characters emotions. I tend to leave out details/explanations of a character's feelings because I know what they're feeling and i just expect the reader to inherently know everything that I know even though it's impossible.

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I love when people do this, but my spanish and french are both so rusty i don't feel confident enough to try. Maybe some latin in future works for spells and stuff, but in terms of dialogue, probably not.

17. First fandom you wrote for? Acotar! I only just started writing in June of this year, so i haven't had the chance to write for other fandoms yet, but i'd like to eventually.

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? The Scenic Route! i mean i only have two to choose from--and i have a soft spot for Reverie since it was the first fic i ever posted--but I've put a lot of time and love into The Scenic Route, and I'm excited to finish sharing it. ❤️

~*~

I'm not tagging anyone bc i don't know anyone(who wasn't already tagged). 😬

[stars-of-kyber]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

@dreamstone28737 tagged me on this fun thing <3 thank you love!

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

32! Holy shit that's a lot.

2- What's your total AO3 word count?

351,009 words and counting. Again, I'm shocked at how much I've got done lol

3- What fandoms do you write for?

Right now at this moment, Bridgerton.

4- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1st- You Belong With Me - 821

2nd -Falling For You - 451

3rd - You're The Only Thing I'll Ever Need - 423

4th - Lost, Drifting - 407

5th - Faithfully - 397

(The next one is Bad Habits which never stops to surprise me just how many Kudos it gets since it was one I thought I wouldn't get anything from.)

(God, I need to update my WIPs)

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

Honestly? Only when I feel I have something to add to the comment. Sometimes I see a comment with "Great Chapter/Episode" (which I really absolutely love, btw. Any comment makes me so damn happy I can't even explain) and I never know what to say to that and I don't want the person to feel I don't care about their comments when I just reply with "Thanks! I'm Glad you liked it <3" and I keep thinking about different things to read and I never can and when I see it, I have a bunch of unanswered comments which makes me overwhelmed to start.

So yeah, I usually only reply when I know what to say lol

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

Ending? (none? lol)

Posted, I'd say "The Way I Loved You", which I thought the ending might be kinda open? I don't usually do sad endings. I think "Faithuffy", "Of Noble Blood" and "You Belong With Me" have some rather angsty parts, along with "Lockdown" which touched a rather sensitive part of me. But all the endings were/will be (THEY WILL HAPPEN I PROMISE!) happy.

Unposted, it's probably "A Dead Man's Tale" which I'm writing right about now and I hope to start posting by Halloween on Tuesday (fingers crossed). The ending is... sentimental? Idk Kinda sad but happy too? I have no idea how to describe that. Either that or Raise a Little Hell, my Bonnie and Clyde, which will be my only NHEA story ever(if), when I get to write it.

(Feel free to tell me which of my fics you think it's the angstier. I'm curious!)

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

All of them? Lol

Walking The Wire because I finished it? sdakljfkdsgh I have no idea. Maybe Lockdown bc it's such a hard battle to end happily in the end.

(Which of my fics yall think is the happiest? Please tell me bc I have no idea.)

8- Do you get hate on fics?

Not on the Bridgerton ones, thankfully. Everyone that reads it is amazing which makes me really happy.

I had a pretty harsh time when I started on the Reylo Fandom in Star Wars. Not fun, I'll give you that.

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

I write hotter scenes, although I don't think I've ever finished an entire sex scene. That said, I have a one-shot called Stockings that is about 85% done which is porn/no plot that I might one day finish but I'm not that much of a fan of it, to be honest.

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

Unless you count crossover with Julia Quinn's own other series, no I don't.

11- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

12- Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, which is kinda sad because I am a translator and I could very well do it myself lol but Idk if there are too many Portuguese-speaking readers that would be interested in it, and although I speak pretty good Spanish, I'm a tad out of practice and I don't master the written language nearly enough to attempt to translate something to Spanish.

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

A long time ago in a Galaxy far far away. It was... nice. And not at the same time. I hold myself to very VERY high standards, so I'm extremely self-critical and working with someone with different styles and ideas can be really harsh without trying to dictate the way you want the story to go. Plus the three times I did, we ended up giving up halfway through the story lol

14- What's your all-time favorite ship?

This is a stupid question and I hate it. I'm not good at picking. I am deeply, truly in love with Kathony, and have been for the past couple of years, but if I had to say at the top of my head, the oldest OTPs that have been in my heart, the ones here for the longest time and never really left are Percabeth from Percy Jackson and Jily from Harry Potter. Reylo and Rebelcaptain in Star Wars were also a very big part of me for a long time and I love them.

Asking all-time faves is mean.

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

Sought you, Sang you, Dreamed you, my Reylo Kidfic. I love it so much and I am so sorry my baby, but I can't focus on Reylo anymore. I have complete faith I will finish all my Kathony fics one day, I really do.

16- What are your writing strengths?

I honestly have no idea. As I mentioned, I am very self-conscious about what I do and I have incredibly high standards about myself. It's not uncommon to see me saying I hate my story and I won't post it and it's absolutely shit, I have no idea why people read it. So pointing out a quality is really hard.

I guess I'm good at dialogues? I always felt they sounded nice, idk.

17- What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm running a risk of repeating myself too much if I mention standards and self-consciousness, don't I?

I am terribly wordy. Nothing I do is short because I need 1k words for something I could have done in 200. I always feel people will get bored by it.

I also sometimes feel I have issues representing the emotions I'm trying to put through in my story. Many times you'll find me going to a neutral third party saying "Please tell me what's missing here." bc I feel it lacks.

Let's not mention the lack of self-discipline and the amount of time it takes me to write a story/update something. And overthinking things. Also coming up with more ideas than I have time to write.

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

I do that all the time? I am a native Portuguese speaker and English is my second language.

19- First fandom you wrote for?

Lol that's going far back, isn't it? I have been writing originals since I was 10 (I have a lil notebook with the first story I've ever written, it's adorable, but as usual, incomplete), but in 2011 I was obsessed with a soap opera called Rebelde (the Brazilian version, when I liked the Mexican RBD one, I didn't really know what fandom was yet. BUT I'M GOING TO THE CONCERT ON THE 9TH I'M SO EXCITED) and my first fic was a Roberta x Diego one, which is complete and (unfortunately, -or not- not all of it) available in Nyah Fanfiction, although I wish it wasn't bc it's truly shit. Like very very very shit. It was crazy, she died of lung cancer in the end. I swear to God, I had no clue what was going on with me at 14.

20- Favorite fic you've written?

Okay, look, this is not fun lol

I truly, honestly can't pick. Each one is special for me for a different reason. The Way I Loved You was my first Kathony. You Belong With me my first WIP and I have such a special place for it. I could go on and on for hours. I love them all, even the ones which are not my faves (Bad Habits, Reading Project).

But I will be absolutely thrilled if you guys tell me your fave of my fics. I would love a lot to know.

I'll tag @mimix007 @waterlilyrose, @harnitbee, @bellascarousel, @ladystanbury, @searching4paradiso, @alihightowers and her dragon people and @suspendingtime

[wonusite]

feeling really :/ today. there’s a kmg centric account on here that uses very intense themes of ddlg in their work and i just.. i’ve sent them a few asks to explain why it’s harmful and they ignore them all. i don’t know what to do…. i think the arguments i made were valid. i understand it’s all in preference. a daddy kink here and a ‘my cute little princess’ there is all fine. but having phrases like ‘kid’ and ‘dad’ and ‘im ur real dad’ is just so.. especially using svt’s name to do that? even saying MDNI will not ensure minors don’t make priv accounts or lie about their ages or ghost read. and romanticizing tropes that are harmful could lead to young readers never realizing the dangers around them if they are in situations where someone is taking advantage of them.

this obviously isn’t about u nalani!! i just thought to come to u bc u seem to have good judgment. maybe i’m being dramatic and it really is just a kink in not sure. it just scares me that something with pedophilic undertones and definitely incestual undertones is being promoted on caratblr using the names of svt members.

u don’t have to publicly reply to this if u don’t want to!! i’m just a little let down by the caratblr community for not caring enough to not only not promote harmful tropes but also not having more care for svt members

i can only reply publicly since it’s an anonymous ask lol. anyway, i’ll answer below the cut.

first of all your feelings are valid, and i hope you know that. idk what blog you’re referring to so i can’t say whether or not the content is outright pedophilic or incestual. (but yeah those phrases are a little… 😬)

tbh ddlg isn’t for everyone since (from what i understand) it’s more of an intense type of role play/lifestyle that involves age regression and being entirely submissive to the dom. that type of content isn’t for a lot of people, and that’s okay.

regarding to the asks you sent being ignored, every content creator has the right not to respond to asks no matter it’s contents whether polite or rude. in a way i understand where this person’s coming from. when i wrote spoiled, i got some not so nice asks because of the content of the fic which i ignored. some of the asks weren’t rude but still not something i wanted on my blog. even now a lot of people won’t read my content because of that series, and that’s fine.

of course saying/writing minors do not interact on any smut post is not a guarantee that they won’t read it. BUT as content creators, we can only do so much. we’re not parents to the people who read our stuff, and it’s not our responsibility to teach people wrong from right. i’m not for romanticizing harmful content, and i can’t say whether or not that’s what this person is doing. even so, we can’t expect content creators to be responsible for a reader’s perception of reality or making them aware of the dangers of this world. it’s just not realistic or fair.

and i don’t think you’re overreacting. as i said before, your feelings and thoughts are valid. as a carat, i understand that you feel upset about svt being used for this type of content.

finally, i don’t think it’s fair to say that about caratblr as a whole. we can’t police or kink shame someone just for using a group they love as a creative outlet. there’s nothing wrong with writing about certain kinks or even darker content as long as it’s about adults. fanfiction is just that: fiction. it’s part of what we (cc) do because we love our idols and we love writing. caratblr is meant to be a fun and safe space for all carats, and having everyone go after someone would just destroy that purpose.

and this is not meant to shame or scold you because im glad you felt like you could come to me with this. your feelings are valid.

[away-ward]

hello! I wasn’t the anon who sent the last question however I do want to respond to some of the things you pointed. I think your characterization of emmy is way better than mine bc I always want the best for her but that doesn’t mean that the emmy in nf would make the choices I would make if I were in her shoes. I feel like my anger towards will definitely clouds my judgement of what is best for emmy if that makes sense. However, I wanted to point out a quote you said.

“If you love someone, you don't just throw that in their face.”

I agree with this statement, however, will has gone so low to the point where he throws his escapades with alex back at her face. I applaud em for being a better person but in my opinion if will goes low em should go LOWER. I know that that is a petty way of thinking but in em’s case she has to be around alex (around the woman that will has slept with multiple times). I just think it would be unfair for em to have to live with constant reminder’s of will’s past but will never has to live with any reminders of em’s life in san francisco. I just feel like em gets the shorter end of the stick… so if em wants to be petty one day she should have the right to do so.

Also I never know if I come across as harsh or argumentative over anon but I promise you that i’m not trying to be 😭

No worries. I never take it as harsh, unless there's clear hostility. I honestly thought they were new and didn't know what had gone on with No Apologies, which is fine. I just figured I take the opportunity to explain.

I get the desire for Emory to be petty. I've had my daydreams and fantasies too. But the "if they go low, you go lower" is such a horsemen way of looking at things. Who knows, maybe they'll influence her and drag her to that level. As always, Will is the source of his own undoing😂

And about Will throwing Alex in Emory's face being proof of his lack of love doesn't hit the same with me. He was actively denying his feelings and trying to hurt her. I meant if you're in a relationship with someone and you are claiming to love them, you don't say things designed to hurt them, which would be the situation if I were to write a fic where they're married.

People also keep saying that Emory has to keep company with Alex, as if she hasn't also slept with Alex. As if sleeping with Alex is something that's hard to do. As if Alex doesn't roll on her back, legs wide open for just about any character in this series. Pithom crew, Lev, Banks, Rika, Michael, Damon...

Will's not unique.

Emory got the short end of the stick? Everyone in this crew knows exactly how good Alex is, good enough to pay for her college education and a luxury apartment, and they still picked someone else to commit to and love.

Emory knew that Alex wasn't going anywhere when she asked Will to marry her. She's clearly not threatened in the least. Can you imagine? Will sleeps with this girl for the nearly five years and yet the second you appear in the scene and give him a second chance, he never thinks about going back to her? The power trip Emory should feel in Alex's presence?

But I know that most of the readers doubt Will's loyalty and commitment (I don't). And I know PD didn't write the Emory and Alex to have a competition, but if they did, Emory won that round and every round after.

Emory showing up everyday with a satisfied smile on her face, still warm from Will's bed, is petty enough for me.

Thanks for responding! I probably won't ever jump on this train, but I understand it's appeal.

--

Edit: coming back to say that I don't think my characterization of Em is better than any one's. I see her in a certain light, but it's not the correct one. It's just the one I enjoy. PD's proven that I can be so very wrong about these characters. If you see Em being petty and using her past to make Will realize he has a lot to make up for whatever her motive is, that's just as likely as her not doing it.

Sorry, i thought that when I read the ask, but then I never said it and I thought I really needed to😅

[ofjunemoment]

WORK IT WAS SUCH AN AMAZING STORY YOU DONT GET IT??? the story build up was literally PERFECT it didn’t feel rushed by making the reader fall in love with jaemin quickly but ALSO didn’t feel too long bc them working together would’ve definitely made them grow closer quick so the add unnecessary filler scenes to try and extend their relationship wouldn’t have made sense, but the scenes felt very in place. jaemin is so down bad it’s crazy.

and I WAS HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE reading him being shit at his jobs and getting fired immediately. EVERYTIME HE FUCKED UP AND JAEHYUN WAS ABOUT TO CATCH HIM Y/N WOULD BE THERE TO SAVE HIM LIKE WHAT WOULD HE DO WITHOUT HER 😭 idk how to explain it but he is such a dumbass but like in still some smart way? maybe it’s cos he is attractive WHATEVER

the side characters fit the story so nicely and they really played a huge part on making the story amazing. mark and shotaro being jaemin’s friends and roommate while being there always waiting for his story times about his job with mark nagging him every now and then, jaehyun and kun being the shop owners while jaehyun is more strict and a busy man kun is a bit nicer i liked the contrast in character 😭

i actually didn’t expect jaemin to WILLINGLY want to quit the job i thought he would like it because they didn’t fire him yet but i loved how he decided to stay until he got y/n and then dip. jaehyun telling him that he is fired was so funny i could literally imagine jaemin cheering and walking out SKIPPING even, after he kissed y/n

anyways great story, you did the strangers to lovers-with that one down bad character-trope so much justice this might be one of my fave fics ever. i never expected to enjoy a restaurant au honestly but i was surpringly pleased and actually was laughing so much while reading about his experience while working there, you did AMAZING THANK YOU FOR PUTTING TIME AND EFFORT INTO CREATING THIS WORK!!! idek if you’ll respond to this but i loved this fic so much 😭💔😭💔😭😞😞☹️😭😢💔💔

also this is random but i could’ve sworn i saw you post a snippet once and how it was going to be a chenle fic originally? maybe i’m tripping idk

ANON I LOVE YOUUUUU thank you so much for sending this omg 😭 i’m sosososo thrilled you liked it!!

i had so much fun creating the characters hehe and you’re exactly right jaemin isn’t like dumb or anything he just makes silly little mistakes and that’s okay !! because the reader is there to help >:)

AND I CANR BELIEVE YOU CAUGHT ME i swear i didn’t have the preview up for long BUT yes when i was planning out the fic i really wanted it to be a chenle fic because i love him 🥲 and also because i thought it’d be nice to have a long fic of him but then i actually started writing and i just couldn’t really characterise it like him if that makes sense? chenle (to me) is a very laid back and straight to the point type of character and so when i started writing i figured that it doesn’t really bode well with the mistakes he would make because would he really blink twice if he spilt a drink on the customer? i think he would be the one telling the poor lady off for scraping her chair back so suddenly and .. yeah (´∀｀*)

again thank you loads for reading the story and for sending this in! asks like these truly truly make my day and motivate me to write even more for you guys!! thank you for paying attention to me hehe i’m gonna give you a little spoiler but i’m planning a haechan fic now (😱) so hopefully you guys would come to like that too <3 sending lots of love!

[myfictionaldreams]

hi! i’m that asshole anon :/

at the time i really was just very upset about the fics! theres so many people who don't care to grow and change, or dont care if it “glamourizes” that behavior. it was for sure a knee jerk reaction. i definitely should have chosen my words better and could've for sure been kinder. I do want to say that while the dynamics weren't good your writing is FANTASTIC!!! ive seen you on ao3 and your work is sincerely really good.

i'm sorry that my (rude) message made you feel bad, i think you are an amazing writer and I appreciate you coming back with a nicer response than I would've. I really do feel bad.

your smut is done really well, and i’m hiding behind the anon wall because at first it was just bc i have a *tiny* following. but now its because i’m so very ashamed at my behavior. i do agree that that was shitty and I don’t deserve any kindness or good will.

i can see that you’re a growing writer and I do understand how much those kind of comments can be. again you are a good writer. i think maybe reading those felt like such a shock and I should’ve handled it better, maybe come to you in private with respect and after cooling down. i only wrote that to you because I wasn’t seeing disclaimers for the ones that i was talking about (on ao3)

i sincerely apologize, I hope that I didn’t make you feel bad or discourage you in any way. I was far too harsh and I understand that we are all human and none of us are perfect. I wanted to explain my feelings, but not excuse my actions. i wish i had a time machine. and i appreciate you as a writer, and when the time comes I hope you can forgive me <3

Hi! firstly sorry for taking a few days to respond my personal life has been very hectic & also needed to think about what/how to say my response.

Right, firstly i really really appreciate you returning and apologising and understanding that way that you worded the message was wrong etc and it’s clear from this message you do feel bad and understand that it was wrong so I do want to thank you for that.

However, I really do want to emphasis how difficult these negative/hateful messages make writers feel. This message or any other hate messages I will always remember, particularly when its feedback for things that aren’t intentinal (such as the bdsm dynamic you referred too). Sometimes writing doesn’t always come across how I wanted to in my mind and doesnt mean that it is written with malicious intent. Furthermore, there are ALWAYS warnings on my writing that I do feel like people just half read and don’t fully take into account. Yes, I could have labelled it further to specify that the reader enjoyed to be punished therefore there was pre-agreed consent but as I said, it was one of my very first fanfics so had a lot to learn still.

Again, I really do appreciate your response because every time I reply to a hateful anon, they never come back and I feel like it wasn’t worth the response in the first place so I’m very happy that you’ve actually read my explanation etc and giving me another chance.

Just for future though, for you or ANYONE going to send a message, always do it with kindness and education in mind. It’s hard to see that you have mentioned that you have enjoyed my other work so you know my writing style and still felt that one fic was glamourising something so negative you felt the need to send me a hurtful and patronising message instead of taking a moment to think ‘oh i like the other fics, this one is a bit different maybe i should message just to clarify’ - instead of what was sent in the first place and just assuming that I’m willing to write abusive fics.

But anyway, all is forgiven because I really hate negativity, I hope you are also doing ok, I do believe you are sorry and regret sending the message so everything is absolutely fine, lessons are learnt on both end of this interaction. Sending peace and love ღღ

[koqabear]

Hello, I am here to excitedly rave about Only You Darling and shower you in well-deserved compliments. Anybody else reading this, stop if you haven't read Only You Darling as there will be SPOILERS.

First of all, your writing is brilliant, I wish I could come up with plots like you do. I have so many fics that I start writing and then I don't know how to get from A to B or what should happen next and just give up.

I have read Only You Darling (and also What The Body Wants, the whole concept of that fic >>>) twice now, and I'm sure I'll read it again in the future. My first read was a wild ride, I was so invested, I thought what if it's Yeonjun and Beomgyu but nah, then I when Soobin came into the picture I was sure it was Soobin and then it was Beomjun! Every time I thought i had it figured out, you had me doubting myself. I loved all the twists and turns and the way I was so stressed after everything went down and the reader was living in that house, the imagery that you created was amazing. I have to say that it's the best fic I've read on this site. Hands down. I don't think I've read such a well planned and fleshed out fic in maybe a decade (not to show my age haha), after I was done reading I felt as if I'd just watched a movie. I don't even get through thriller novels, I always get bored with the pacing or the writing, but you had me in the palm of your hand.

I'm sure I have more thoughts, but right now they're just a blurred mess of excitement and awe. Thank you for sharing your work and making me excited about reading fics again. I am slowly making my way through the rest of your stuff, I'm sure I will be back to word-vomit on you about other stories in the future!

HAIIIIII HIHIHI OMG IM SOOOO SORRY I TOOK LITERAL MONTHS TO ANSWER THIS 😭😭😭🙁 i saw it and wanted to make sure that i had time to answer all your points but then i KEPT FORGETTING ABOUT IT 😭😭 but please know that i really appreciate feedback like 🫶🫶🫶 getting a review on oyd always makes me so happy and you really delivered with this 

full response under the cut :]

AHHHHSJDBSKDB BUT THANK U OMG 💔💔 when i first started writing on here i’d neverrrr thought i’d be writing long fics so consistently… even 10k was a huge rare accomplishment to me akzbwkdjs,,, it takes time to really figure out what works and what doesn’t with writing methods but… i wish you the best of luck with all your wips and i’m sure you’ll be able to have a breakthrough someday with any you might be struggling on !!! i believe in you !!!

YOU’VE READ OYD TWICE. Oh… my heart T_T idk but like,, i’ve never really been able to grasp the concept that people actually.. reread my stories. That’s genuinely one of the most flattering things to hear in my opinion bc 😭😭 to hear that i’ve managed to write a fic that’s worth being read again is mind blowing to me algskldgh (also thank you !!! WTBW is forever near and dear to my heart <3)

It’s always so satisfying to hear that my attempts on tricking the readers were successful hehe :3 it was one of the major things i was worried about tbh,,, it took a lot of thinking on how i would introduce soobin’s character and how he would be involved, so im happy to hear that my work paid off ! and imagery was something that i learned was very important while writing oyd; it really makes or breaks a scene, imo. Especially in those final cabin scenes,,, AGH idk im so giddy to have it pointed out tho bc i do put a little extra love and effort into my imagery :3

AWWWWSLDKGHH UGH YOU’RE JUST. im gonna sob. The best fic.. dont say that to me im crazy 😭😭 but aggggh it makes me feel so appreciated and seen to read that you think it’s well planned like :(( i remember how much effort i put into that fic omg… that story is my baby im afraid 

Again, thank you so much for taking the time to write such a sweet review, and im sorry i couldn’t respond to it sooner 😭 comments like these are sooo motivating and validating, i seriously can’t explain how happy it makes me <333

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

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TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

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[hella1975]

Whats the most 'wtf' threat-message-comment thing you remember getting?

Maybe not a mean comment, but the most like 'why do you feel comfortable saying this to me' thing?

oh to be honest ive never received any actual AWFUL asks/comments but i have received a lot that toe a very fine line to the point i cant even remember all of them. like it's clear there was never any malicious intent but some people just reallyyyyy do not understand boundaries. most of the time i just wont answer but if im in a bad mood i tend to tell you guys off for it lmao so you've actually probably seen the worst ones.

i guess not threatening or mean, but one comment that has always stuck with me just bc of how 'wtf?!' i was about it is this one commenter i had on ao3. they were a reallyyy loyal commenter for MONTHS like every single chapter they'd leave at least a paragraph, and two thirds of the para would always be pure praise for my writing, which was why it was kinda complicated bc i KNEW the rest of the comment wasn't intended to be criticism, they were just the kind of person that clearly didn't have a filter. so what they'd do is they'd say all these compliments, but then they'd say what they DIDNT like about my writing. and my attitude with fanfiction is that unless the work is actively problematic, you just do not tell the author their shortcomings. idc if this isn't a widely held opinion; it's my opinion. ao3 authors are giving us this shit for FREE out of their own time more often than not while balancing jobs and a social life - it is their HOBBY and it's not your place to tell them you dont like their plot or the way they wrote something. write it yourself if it bothers you so much. and so for ages i just didnt respond to this person's comments even though MOST of the comment they'd leave would always be positive, bc the tagged on parts always felt passive aggressive. like they were clearly part of the Annoying atla fandom bc they'd always get annoyed when any of the characters held zuko accountable for anything. they openly admitted that they just wanted zuko to be babied and didn't like it when people were mean to him, a sentiment that REALLY pisses me off, and they were also SUCH a katara anti which, yk, red flag. but it was fine. it wasn't a big deal, i could handle the comments and i genuinely just forgot about them as soon as i read them.

BUT THEN one day they left me a comment being like 'im going to stop reading this fic' which that alone is such an odd thing to alert the author about, but then they proceeded to explain to me why they weren't going to read anymore. like they spent an entire para being like 'this is why i dont really like this fic anymore' LMAO?? and i distinctly remember them saying something about zi se and how they hated him partially because they hate kids but mostly because he was an OC which i just thought was such a fucking funny thing to say like the cheek?? i was flabbergasted and i was kind of sick of their shit at that point, so my response was (para-phrased): 'not to be rude but in future i think you should consider when commenting on fics if your comment is actually necessary.  it can be very discouraging as a writer to be told directly by a reader that they don't enjoy your story and don't like the direction you're taking it. i'm confident enough in taob and my own abilities that i can brush it off very easily, but i'm just worried that if you said this to a newer or smaller fic writer it could really impact their confidence. the decision to stop reading isn't the issue here, it's just that you felt the need to explicitly tell me about it' which i thought was very hot and mature of me. like i very rarely pull out the 'taob is one of the biggest fics in a very big fandom' card but when dealing with rude people i have no shame in being like 'i will not miss a single reader like you realise that right i will not notice if you stop reading' so yeah as an experience it was all just very odd JSKDGHKJDSH