#because its like im hearing the very thing i told myself over and over but from someone else instead

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[nyanbinary-zack-foster]

"fiction doesn't effect reality!"

Me who was abused using fiction, the person refused to acknowledge how they hurt me for 7 fucking years, and only realized how bad it was this year because I kept telling myself it wasn't that bad because it didn't actually happen:

[be-good-to-bugs]

when i feel very lonely i get fizzled out of doing anything after less than an hour

[86espresso]

secrets i have held in my heart, are harder to hide than i thought ✯ jh86

sum: “I really like you.” *looks around* “are you sure-”

// jack x med student

warnings: 18+, oral (f & m receiving), mentions of familial neglect, cursing, kissing, stress, anxiety, doubt, pet tigers, jack thinking too hard, reader is insecure don’t know what for 💔, overuse of commas because im insane, happy ending, a lil too sappy (i say this with emphasis), i mean it there’s a whole lotta CHEESE, mostly fluff, very emotional and hearty pls im sorry im a lover. afab!reader w/ she/her pronouns :)

w/c; 7.6k

a/n: hey so yeah. wtf. the word count?? i had so much fun writing this. half scared that its boring. i love simp / munch jack. ps: as queen as y/n is, i gave reader a nickname, sorry. (a very … unique nickname. i myself am puzzled as to how my brain works) enjoy. or at least try to. under the cut !

THE library was unsurprisingly almost empty considering the fact that no sane person would want to step outside in this rainstorm, so you were content in studying organic chemistry in the very back, alone with your thoughts, your textbooks, folklore by Taylor Swift, and now a guy. Who decided that he will break the silence in the almost empty library.

You were in your world, as always, not really connecting or associating with things around you but the ruckus of the someone knocking over an umbrella stand and profusely apologizing to apparently no one made you lift your head up. You smile slightly before going back to your work, barely registering your surroundings. 

Sure, Jack was entirely focused on his friends, studies, and hockey back in high school, but he was an expert at faces and names and could jot down absolutely anyone that he knows he’s seen before. He knew exactly who the girl with dark circles and way-too-oversized hoodie in the back was. 

At least five minutes later, Jack started hovering near your spot, which was the romance aisle. You sneak a glance at him and take note of his athletic shorts and New York Giants hoodie and quickly denote that this man was definitely not the romance novel type (or maybe book type at all). After flipping mindlessly through another book he lets out a soft “fuck it” before turning to face you completely. 

You can’t help but crack a smile at his jump when he saw that you had already been staring at him with wide, voidfull eyes. 

A pause. You staring at him. Him staring at you. He cracks a dopey smile, blinding you with his paper white teeth, and pulls up a chair in front of you. 

“What’s up, Dee?” He asks holding his hand up for a dap. Bewildered at how this complete stranger knows your nickname amongst close friends (from when you gracefully told people that ‘the bags under your eyes are Dior’), you dap him back anyway and blurt, “I have never seen you before.”

“You went to my high school. We worked in a project in like, AP World I think? I dunno. But I remember you saved my grade that whole year.”

Your mind remains blank. You saved a lot of people’s grades. 

“My only high school memories are countless APs, pain, suffering, studying and depression.” 

Most people would blanch at your dreamy straightforwardness, but Jack just grinned again. 

“Yeah, I remember you were always tired but also really funny. And tired. Deja Vu, man, watching you sit here, laser focused on your books. I was on the hockey team, if that helps.”

I furrow my brows, thinking hard. 

“I do remember that our hockey guys were really good. They would announce their names like every day on the speakers because they won all the time.” 

Jack groans at the memory. He was well known but it was just uncomfortable having your last names called out where the whole school could hear. 

You laugh at his reaction. “They would call the same names over and over. I don’t know if it was you who used to hide your face every time they did it but yeah.”

Jack perked up. “Yeah that was me.” 

You take a moment to admire his boyish facial features and athletic build. He’s pretty. 

‘Don’t even think about it’ pretty. 

“Dang. You were like a superstar. Sorry I don’t remember much. I’m like, walking jet lag.” 

He laughs a typical frat boy laugh (if that makes sense) and you like it. You want to hear it again. 

“So, what are you doing out here? Never pegged you for a big city girl.” 

“I go to college here.”

“Damn, we should’ve met sooner. My name is Jack, by the way.” 

“My friends call me Dee, but I guess you knew that.”

You were left pondering as to why a hockey player from high school was even anticipating meeting you; people only approached you for notes and the occasional party invitation back then.

“So, uh- what about you? Make it big in the league thingy yet?” 

He breaths a laugh. “You could say that.”

“Who do you play for?” 

“New Jersey.”

“Prudential, isn’t it? That’s close by my apartment.” I say in thought. 

Jack grins. “Really? We might bump into each other often, then.” 

He looks genuinely excited. 

Why. 

What’s going on. 

You chat for a few more minutes but it’s mostly you saying out of pocket things and Jack laughing instead of side-eyeing you and walking away. You were surprised at his effortless kindness. 

“Phone.”

“Hm?”

“Or Snap? Whatever you feel like is best,” he says, pulling out his phone. It takes a second to register that he’s implying that you exchange contact information. 

“Don’t really use Snapchat. I kinda have too much on my plate right now.” You hand over your phone. 

“You always overwork yourself, you should be at the club. You’ll die on the inside.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle, I hope.”

You just need to push through and never ever have fun.

He checks the time and sighs. 

“I was just here to return a book but I gotta head back. Flight for a roadie takes off in a couple hours. I’ll be back in, like, four days? I hope to see you around then?” 

You match his soft smile and nod, whatever roadie means but okay. It was actually nice, wasting some valuable study time for a potential friend. He’s cool. 

“Yeah. See you.” You offer and huff a laugh as he reaches out to dap you up again. 

That night, after yet another long and winding day with the only highlight being meeting someone who was apparently a high school acquaintance, you decide to look him up. Surprised at the absolute famethat this man had loaded, your lips parting at every detail, you click on his instagram and officially unhinge your jaw. 

500k followers? 

You’re never on insta but that can’t be good. 

The shock of how you basically were bonding with someone who definitely downplayed how famous he was didn’t wear off a week later; he texted you quite often and you tried to text back without seeming dry. 

It was nearly a week later when he offered to meet up again. 

-> two questions

babies come from the baby store.

-> wtf 

sorry. ask away !

-> 1. are you at the library rn

do you still like the caramel frappe from dunkin

yes. and yes. what the hell are you doing. 

-> something nice. see u soon angel. 

angel is wild when I look like I snuck on this earth but thanks for that anyways. you’re very kind :))

-> kind enough to tell you to that you’re really pretty :))

*reacted with heart emoji*

You check your forehead temperature to make sure you hadn’t just imagined the whole conversation. 

It wasn’t long before Jack was strutting into the library with two dunkin’ shakes in his hands accompanied by his gorgeous smile when he spotted you in the back, once again. 

“You’re wearing glasses today.” He says when you look up at his outstretched hand. You reach forward with a grateful smile, and deja vu hits you hard. The same exact scene playing out in high school when he had asked everyone in some group project their favorite drinks and treated them when they all got an A. 

“I remember you,” you say as he flopped on the bean bag next to you with his own drink. 

“Yeah? I knew you would. You’re too smart.” He says, again dazzling you with his perfect smile as he lifts two fingers to tap your temple softly to emphasize his point. It’s a challenge to tear your eyes away from his baby blues. 

“Your eyes are so blue. It’s distracting.” 

Jack’s eyes widen at your unintentional rebuttal at his subtle flirting, and he smirks. He knew that you weren’t aware that you were being flirted with the past week; what you lacked in emotional and social intelligence was shadowed by your sharpness in academics. 

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were a really big deal around here? Everyone knows you and you have like a million followers.”

“Stalking me?” 

“Educating myself.”

Jack laughs and throws as arm around you to peer over your shoulder. 

“Well, I don’t just go around telling people how good I am. So, whatcha doing?” 

The contact makes you freeze up and once again the surreality of a man wanting to spend time with you disorients you a little bit.

“Watching porn.” 

Jack laughs again and earns a stern look from the clerk down the aisle. 

“I’m studying anatomy.”

“Yeah, didn’t suspect any less than med school for your smartass.” 

You turn to him to talk back but his face was inches away from you and that sets off alarm bells throughout your body. You’ve had your fair share of guys and girls but there was not a single string attached and the short flings were easy to forget. 

But having someone that pretty, that close to you, not showing exactly what intentions he had? That caused your anxiety to spike. Positively. 

“Your face is really close.” You simply state, pushing your large frames higher up your nose. 

“And yours is really red.” 

You immediately press your hands against your cheeks and groan at what you picture your face looks like. Jack just giggles again and pulls your hands away. 

“It’s cute.” 

His hands are still on your wrists. 

“It really isn’t, but thank you. You’re very kind.”

There’s a beat of silence where you can see the gears in his head turning. 

“Do you like aquariums?”

You surprise yourself and Jack when you pull him into a hug as a greeting outside the aquarium.

The feel of your chests touching with little fabric in between set Jack’s heart off racing and the way your curves dipped at your hips had him pulling at his collar. 

But most of all, when he pulled back from the hug, he noticed you were wearing shorts that had your legs all out for him to ogle over. 

“You hidin’ all that?” He scans your figure, noting the dark, low cut, full sleeve top. 

“What? All this?” You say as you push your tits together. “There’s not much to hide.”

Jack’s throat runs dry. Unfortunately for him, he’s still a guy and tits still make him drool. And the fact that you had no idea you were keeping him on his toes 

“Be for real.” He rolls his eyes. “How’d your day go?” 

“Nice, actually. I just took Nala for a walk and-“ you cut yourself off. 

“I didn’t know you had a pet? Can I see her? I love anim-“

“She’s a tiger.” 

You give him more and more reasons everyday as to why him hanging out with you was unethical and strange but he seemed to keep on staying. Studying you as if intrigued by your strangeness. 

“You- have a pet..tiger?” 

Yeah. I’ve done it.

“I- yeah.” 

It seems like all Jack ever does is grin because he’s doing it again and flinging an arm around your shoulder as he starts to walk with you. 

“Oh, Dee. There’s just so much to learn and love about you.” 

It takes you a second to react. 

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You serious?” 

“Yeah. Well, cause I was ugly growing up, and people always thought I was strange. It’s hard to imagine that people are genuinely interested in any sort of friendship with me.” 

Jacks fingertips on your bare collarbone, his cologne and aftershave, his figure pressed against your side; all of it was overtaking your senses.  

“Baby, why do you think I walked up to you that day in the first place? You may not remember much but I do. You were so kind and honest. And so intriguing. And hardworking. And pretty. I think your dark circles are hot.” 

You huff out a laugh and ignore the flutter in your chest at ‘baby’. 

Jack looks down at you with a gaze that he can’t pinpoint. You’re just very, very endearing to him. He needs to show you all kinds of fun so you laugh like that again. 

“You smell nice.” You say and hesitate before loosening yourself against him more. He hums at the increased contact and at your compliment, smiling against your hair. 

“Thank you.” 

To say you had the absolute time of your life at the aquarium was an understatement. Jack got to see a side of you that loved fun, that was carefree, and didn’t have that goddamn crease in your eyebrows. You were the one pulling him around, telling him you wanted to be a marine biologist as a kid and that you recognize most of the species. Jack made sure to snap a few pictures of you when you weren’t looking, the lightning shaped twinkle in your eyes a memory he wanted to keep forever. 

Later that day, Jack drove you back to your apartment, mentally noting that you were about a fifteen minute drive from his place. 

“Nala?” You coo out softly as you push open the door and drag Jack inside, not giving him the chance to protest. Jack looks around at your apartment. It’s small and messy, but organized in some places. He jumps and lets out a brief scream when a fucking tiger is bounding towards you at full speed and knocking you over with a hug. You laugh as your beloved Nala starts licking up your face and you both roll on the floor. 

Jack’s breathing calms a little as he remembers who owns the tiger. 

“I’ll put her away for now.” You say, reading Jack’s skepticism. He sighed in relief. 

“Oh good. Because as much as you reassured me and as man as I am, she’s still a tiger.” You giggle at his words and guide Nala towards her room. 

The sound makes Jack smile stupidly. His heart stutters and he wants to put your little laugh on replay. He can’t believe that a girl who stated random medical facts at any time, who lost sleep because ‘she just forgot that it’s important’, who barely remembered him from a while ago even though he remembered everything, who waves at planes as they fly overhead, who didn’t know shit about the sport he played, had him wrapped tightly around her finger. 

He takes a moment to observe your apartment. The stacks of medical related books that he doesn’t want to and never will understand, the old record player sitting in the corner of the kitchen, a huge jar of nutella on the coffee table, a questionable fluffy purple blanket on your sofa. Just little things that made you all the more real to him. 

And he still wants to know more. He wants to know your sleep schedule so he knows that you’re getting enough sleep and when to text or call, he wants to know what you dream of, he wants to know your passions besides studying, he wants to know what made you become so numb and detached, how you still managed to have a twinkle in your eye when you experienced emotion. 

But, as he leans to the counter for support at his racing mind and as you enter the room, still clad in your godforsaken low cut top and curve-hugging shorts, he most of all wants to know what you are like, what your lips would feel like molded against his, how you’d moan or whimper at his touch. He’s still leaning against the counter as he recalls when you unabashedly pushed your tits together just hours ago. 

“You alright?” You ask, but you yourself seemed to have distressed eyebrow lines. 

“Uh? Oh yeah. I was just.” He gestures around your apartment. “Observing.” 

You nod, still lost in thought. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, not liking the stress in your body language. 

“Yeah. It’s just, I have two projects due next week and I’ve been studying for something else so I completely forgot about them.” You frown, feeling tears pool in your eyes. You can’t cry in front of Jack. If everything else didn’t make him abandon you, then this would. 

“Woah. Hey, hey.” Jack is by your side immediately. He feels guilty for thinking of you sinfully while you were in distress but he really couldn’t help it. You blink back the tears and shrug it off. 

“It gets kind of a lot sometimes, y’know?” Jack follows you to the couch and sits next to you, immediately taking your hands in his and pulling your legs onto his lap. You gave up on keeping your cool when he does that and give him a bewildered expression. Being taken care of is so strange. 

“And? Go on, baby.” He smiles softly and encouragingly, dropping one of your hands to hold your chin for a moment before grabbing your hand again. 

You blink. 

“Well, It’s probably not as much as I’m stressing it out to be. I’m about to abuse substances.” 

“Now don’t do that. There’s lots of ways to destress yourself.” Jack’s hand wanders again, resting on your bare knee. His movements are soft and gentle, but they still cause a foreign spark through your body. You dryly cough before registering his words and looking at Jack’s hand that had inched higher by the slightest. 

“Is this flirting?” Rushed out of your mouth and Jack chuckles, a normal sound but an octave lower. 

“Sure is, baby. You’re learning fast.” He’s staring your eyes down, and all of a sudden he’s consuming your senses again. His cologne is still there, his insane blues are glued to yours, his deep breathing is signifying his increasing heart rate. His hand inches higher as he moves closer. 

“Why don’t I just,” shrug, “eat you out? ‘S a better high than drugs-” His phone buzzes in his pocket. 

Jack huffs and pulls away, leaving your insides churning at the his lingering touch and words??? The implication alone, the images conjuring in your head were nothing short of filthy. 

He scowls as he takes the call, muttering something about how it’s his agent and he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t answer. His responses are curt and his expression neutral, but his hand is gripping your thigh with intensity. As he hangs up the call and tosses his phone aside, his hand is almost at your inner thigh and he maneuvers himself to be directly on his knees on the floor in front of you. 

The sudden movement and his face looking up at yours between your slightly parted legs has your pussy throbbing. It’s been weeks since you were.. in this particular position with someone and god did it feel nice that it was the finest man in world to unpause your sex life. 

He leans up to be face level with you. “Do you trust me, baby?” You never noticed how sultry his natural voice was. 

His eyes search yours for any kind of discomfort as his hand reaches forward to cup your cheek. You nod in conformation as he moves closer. 

Your breath hitches as he presses his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your mouth. It confuses you slightly as to why he didn’t just kiss you but both of his hands on your waistband distracts you. 

“Can I take these off?” He questions and you nod once again, not trusting your voice. 

He’s doing everything in slow motion and you think it alludes to your sensitivity earlier, but anticipation and his hands cloud everything in your mind. 

What kind of guy just? offers to eat you out? to help you destress? 

Your shorts are discarded and the exposure doesn’t bother you. Sure your heart would be thudding either way, but Jack made you feel different. No anxiety in the sense that he would judge you or harm you or hurt your feelings.

“Hm, these are cute.” Jack’s thumb fingers over the lining of your underwear. 

You feel yourself flush. 

“Thanks.” Is your quiet response. 

“Relax, baby. This is for you to unwind, not to get nervous. Focus on how you’re feeling,”   Jack instructs as his finger ghosted over your clothed cunt. Your teeth nibble on your bottom lip as you push your hips closer to his hand. 

He smirks at your eagerness and gives in, entirely pushing his thumb against your clit through your panties. 

His thumb moves slowly but firmly back and forth as he gauges your reaction. Finding the right spots where your stomach clenches or your eyebrows knit together. 

“More.” You muster as you open your eyes to look down at Jack who was already moving to take your damp panties off. Once again, slowly. He groans as he sees you glistening for him and starts kissing up your thigh. 

“You have a pretty face.” 

Jack grins up at your compliment while peppering feather light kisses on your inner thighs. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The anticipation pools in your lower stomach as Jack breaks eye contact with you to admire your delicacy in front of him. He uses the same thumb to rub through your folds and reach higher to circle your clit. The stimulation has you moaning softly and the sound has Jack’s cock twitching in his shorts. 

“I- hurry.” You huff in slight annoyance, wanting more besides the slow circles. Jack smirks against your thigh and removes his thumb so he could move forward lick a stripe through your folds. 

Your knuckles get white gripping the pillow,  itching to hold his hair instead as his eyes flicker between yours and your pussy. Jack notices your hand on the pillow and guide it to his hair while sucking and licking your cunt. He parts away for a second to catch his breath before making slow and languid motions with his tongue on your clit. 

You grip his hair, hard. Jack grunts against you and loses a shred of control as he pulls your legs apart further to dive further in. You let out a startled breath at the sudden movement and pull on his hair more as he shakes his head deeper while still staring up at you. 

“Jack..” you breathe out, but it comes out as more of a whimper that makes him hum against you and a spark run through his body. He pulls away and inserts his middle and ring finger through your slick and pumps shortly before curling his fingers. You heave a breath and moan at the feeling while Jack stares up at you in awe. 

“You’re everything.” He says more to himself than you, as he watches you writhe and whimper at his fingers while holding the eye contact. He connects his lips with your clit again and suctions in a way that has your back arching and your moans getting louder and more high pitched with each type of attention Jack gives to your pussy. 

He switched his fingers and mouth and rubs your clit as he laps up your arousal as he feels you getting close. He takes that moment to switch back and locks eyes with you as his dark pink, wet lips attach to your clit again, softly sucking you closer to your tipping point.

“Oh, f-fuck I’m-“  

Your eyebrows knit and your eyes roll back at the sensations of his mouth and tongue and fingers and gaze. 

You spasm around his fingers and moan louder while Jack’s fingers guide you through your release. He licks up whatever he can before sitting and wiping his face with the back of his hand as you stare at him with hooded and tired eyes. 

“Feel better?” He has the nerve to ask as he runs a wet wipe up and between your legs. 

When did he even get that?

Your leg twitches in sensitivity after he’s finished. 

“Mm better.” Was all you could muster. All you wanted was to sleep and dream for days. 

Jack laughs softly at your state and checks the time. 

“I’ll need to head out soon. Team dinner.” He says as he fits another pair of underwear on you. You feel a pang in your chest and anxiety creeps up your spine, but Jack immediately shuts your thoughts down. 

“Hey, this doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you or anything. I’m goin’ cause I have to and I would take you but you look like you could use a nap. We can hang tomorrow?” He’s so soft and caring with you, cupping your cheek and smoothing his thumb over it. 

“Yeah okay.” You say and watch as he gets up, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I won’t go anywhere, baby.” 

After the team dinner, when Jack got home and shut the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was call his older brother. Quinn was just the slightest, itty-bittiest bit more fortunate with girls, so Jack naturally went to him for tips here and there. 

A few minutes into the call, they exchanged formalities and talked about each others’ seasons before Quinn cut to the chase. 

“So? Is it a girl?”

Jack blanched. 

“I- well yes, but it’s different this time. Swear.”

“You say that every-time. But it does sound like it might be different.”

“Do you remember Dee from high school?”

“I don’t remember anything from high school.” Is it really that common to forget four years of your life?

“Yeah well. I met her again a few weeks ago. She was the one who used to take all the APs and she graduated early? She was like always tired and kinda funny. And she’s pretty. Like the natural kind of pretty. You’d look at her and want to give up the world for her kind of pretty. I don’t know.” Quinn listened quietly, detecting the hint of fear in Jack’s voice. 

“I might be, like obsessed with her. I think she knows.”

“Wait, wait, wait. She knows? That you like her? And you’re not together yet?” Jack didn’t deny it when he said that he liked her. 

“I-yes? I think so. She might be into me too and we did a thing earlier today and she flirts with me without even thinking about it? That’s gotta mean something right?”

“You did things with her?!She flirts with you?! Do something. But take it slow. She probably still wonders why you even give her the time of day. She likes you but she doesn’t know it yet.” Hearing his older brother say it untightened his chest. 

“I was going to kiss her but I really wanted to things slow with her. She’s been through a bit and, I don’t know, I want to treat her special.” He’s glad that he has a person he can say the cringiest shit to. If it was anyone else on the other line, he would get toasted for the rest of his life. Jack wore his heart on his sleeve and was smart at reading people and their emotions. But sometimes he was just clueless on what to do with that knowledge. 

We can hang tomorrow. 

Who the fuck says that after going down on someone. 

Jack didn’t text you that night.

Or the next morning. 

You started panicking slightly when you come home from classes. 

That had to have been the last straw for him. 

He’s a fucking superstar, he lives in the New York City area, where all the pretty models and blue eyed blondes live. Why the hell would he go for a tired med student from his home state who didn’t care about herself enough to care for him?

Your mind runs a marathon as the elevator doors open to your floor. But when you approach your apartment, Jack is sitting on the floor next to door, scrolling on his phone. 

You freeze and stare blankly as he realizes that you’re here.

He perks up and walks over to you pulling you into a light hug. 

“Hey, Dee. How were classes?”

“Good. Thanks for asking.” You reply, hesitantly wrapping your arms back around him. You weren’t hugged a lot as a kid or growing up. You’ve hugged more in the last two weeks than you have in your entire life. 

“I have a game later today. Wanna come? The other team…isn’t that good. We might win. Unless you have work to do. Or if you just don’t want to go that’s okay too. Or-“ he cuts off when you press a finger against his lips. 

“I’d love to go. I finished a lot of my work during classes.” You smile removing your fingers, relaxing in his arms. “When is it?” 

“At 7. I’ll pick you up, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

You both just stand there for a minute before you remember social cues. 

“So, come in? I’m hungry as fuck. We should eat.” You say pushing the door open, petting Nala as you walk in and Jack followed. He smiles at your awkwardness and accepts. 

Your look is acceptable. Hair clutched back, light makeup, hoodie and sweats is your go-to anyway. Plus, you’re always cold. 

You arrive at around quarter to seven and with the help of signs make your way to the lounge that Jack gave you a pass to. 

There’s a guard at the door that held his hand out for the pass and when you gave it to him he eyed you wearily. 

“You’re Hughes’ girl? Where did you get this?”

“Jack gave it to me.” 

“Uh huh.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “So can I go in?” 

“Sweetheart, Jack has only ever invited two other girls here and I can tell you right now, you’re not the third. Who gave you this pass?” 

The mention of Jack bringing other girls here makes you absolutely sick to your stomach. 

You might vomit. 

But anger bubbles up your throat and you’re about to press your finger into the guards chest and give him a piece of your mind, when there’s a patter of feet and an excited “Dee!” coming from your left. 

Jack has you in his arms already before you could register it. He tucks you into his shoulder, presses his lips against your temple, lingering, and faces the guard. 

“Was there a problem?” The guards mouth hangs open and flickers between the two of you. 

“None at all.” He opens the door and lets the two of you in. After he shuts the door and turns face you, you take a second to admire him. 

He’s dressed in his game jersey, shoulder pads and everything; except for his skates. 

He looks really good. 

“You look really good.” 

Silence. 

“Are you blushing?” 

Jack pulls you into his chest so you don’t see more of the pink adorning his cheeks. 

“Am not,” he mutters above your head and you giggle as you try to untangle from his grasp. 

You pull back and notice that he still has a tint on his cheeks. He holds your face for a moment, admiring every feature. Going from eye to eye, the slope of your nose, the dimple digging into your left cheek, a beauty mark on your chin, your lips. 

You feel your breath quickening when his thumb grazes your cheek and his eyes linger on your lips a little longer. 

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the two of you. 

“Warm ups in two!”

Jack sighed and looked back at you. 

“I need to go. You can watch from here.” He led you further into the room and you could hear the crowd getting louder as you got closer. He led you to a balcony where there were a few other people, and pecked your cheek before going back. 

The game starts and you’re more clueless that you thought you’d be. The puck was way too small and you didn’t bring your glasses, but you remember Jack telling you that he was ‘86’, so you tried to follow wherever he was. 

The girl next to you strikes up a conversation which you cautiously tread with, but you warm up soon. She tells you that she’s dating someone on the team. 

“Woah. That must be cool.” She looks confused. 

“Aren’t you Jack’s girl?”

“No? We’re friends. I think. He’s really nice to me.” Your new friend blinks before talking again. 

“He really likes you though, and you look like you really like him.” 

“Well of course I do. He treats me really well.” 

“Oh, babe. No. He like likes you. My boyfriend told me he talks about you all the time.” She holds your hand. You look down at it and back at her. You’re quiet for a moment. You’re not sure how to process that. 

“I’m not sure how to process that.”

“Well, do you like him? Love him even?” 

“I-“

You’re cut off by that awfully loud goal horn, and glance at the screen to see that Jack has scored. You felt a surge of pride in your chest and feel yourself smiling wide as Jack’s tiny figure skated around and fist bumped the players on the bench. He turns to your section for a moment, lingering for a sliver of a second and your heart stops. The game called for the face-off just a second later so he had to look away. 

You look over to the girl on your right and she’s already looking at you with a half smirk. 

Jack politely declined on drinks later in the locker room after the devils won. 

He leans against his car and thinks about you. He really wanted to see you, needed your affirmation. 

It’s all he seems to do now. Jack just wants reassurance and peace in knowing that you were there. He spent every waking moment thinking about you and how he got you to show sides of yourself that you don’t show to people. He tried to keep his personal life away from hockey but the way his instincts told him to look in your general direction after he scored made him sick to his stomach. 

He might actually be stupid obsessed with you. 

Trusting his gut on your body language and making a bold move the previous night may have been the best thing he’s ever done.

That means that he doesn’t need to be cautious with his flirting anymore. He knows exactly what he feels but he wants to wait til you come to that conclusion on your own. 

He didn’t notice your quiet footsteps in his direction and was mildly startled when you were standing in front of him. Almost at once, he felt a smile adorn his face. 

“That was so cool, I didn’t understand anything but I know you scored.” Your wide, twinkling eyes stared back up at him. “I’m proud of you.”

And that’s all it took for him to usher you into the back seat, strip off your sweatpants, and throw your legs over his shoulders. 

Not even ten minutes later, your lungs are dying for air and your body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. He was rougher this time, sucking a hickey on your neck before, getting the entire bottom half of his face messy, his own hooded eyes losing focus as he pleasured you.  

“You back to me yet, baby?”

“Hm?” 

You open your eyes and you’re in the front seat, cleaned up, pants back on, and Jack is fastening your seatbelt for you. 

“I lost you for like, three minutes there. You okay?”

His voice is gentle and quiet, his index and thumb holding your chin softly as his azure eyes bore into yours. 

“Chipotle?”

He laughs, pulling back and shifting the gear into drive, his hair falling slightly in his face and he pushes it back. 

“All the chipotle in the world for my Dee.”

Your mind briefly flashed to how he kissed the tip of your nose before he went down on you, and not your lips.

You’re in Jack’s apartment now (your heart dropping when you thought of Nala, but then you remembered that you fed her quite well and she had to be passed out by now. Jack handed you a Hershey’s kiss to calm you down), and it’s big. 

Like, huge. 

Massive for someone who lives alone.

His TV was playing ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’ and you were watching like a hawk. 

“I’ve never seen this one before.”

“Really? You don’t watch romcoms?” Jack looks at you surprised, sitting next to you with both of your chipotle orders and throwing a blanket over the two of you. 

“No. I don’t really get the time.” You furrow your brows and turn to him with a blank expression. “You’ve showed me so much fun in the last few weeks. Thank you.”

Jack could happily die in that moment. He flashes back to yesterday again, your childlike wonder, the new things he learnt about you. 

“‘S nothing yet. There’s so much more you deserve to feel happy about.” He kisses your temple before getting closer to you. 

You both watch in silence for a while, occasionally laughing and aw-ing, until you can’t hold it back anymore. 

“Do you think kissing is unhygienic?”

You look up to him, his unbuttoned shirt, messy hair and lingering smile making your heart skip a beat. 

Oh no. 

You have such a horrible, fat crush on him.

“Hm?”

“I-nothing.”

“M’kay.”

Sweet boy is not a multitasker and the movie was at a really good part, so he didn’t really get distracted and soon you were engrossed too. 

You were still in a cloud of feelings and it was getting a bit much for you. Your head was usually void of emotion, so the change was welcome. And you had Jack to thank for that. He’s done so much for you, taken care of you in ways that no one has and no one ever will. 

You realize that he could be your worst heartbreak or someone that’s going to be in your life forever. 

You feel slightly sick thinking about it and you need to get it out of your system. 

“Can I suck you off?” Your lips lightly brush his ear. 

Now that. 

That gets Jack’s attention. 

He nearly snaps his neck to turn to face you and your noses touch. 

“You- I- what?”

Your fingertips are feathery as you brush the hair out of his face. 

“I want to suck your dick.”

“You don’t- if this is to- to reciprocate or something-“

“I promise it’s not. I really just want to.”

Jack is already semi-hard and he can feel his dress pants tighten. His eyes briefly widen and he borderline gulps before he watches your hand run down his chest and toy with his belt buckle. As soon as he gives you the green light and pauses ‘How to lose a guy in 10 days’, you’re on your knees in front of him, just like how he was with you the previous night. 

Jack’s sanity is once again lost as he watches you on your knees for him. You make a quick work of his belt buckle and pull down his dress pants just enough. 

You can already see how loaded he is through his boxers and look back up at him with the same wide eyes that he goes crazy over. 

“Cool.” 

Jack barely has time to react over your concise approval of his length before you’re mouthing over his boxers, sucking softly, leaving Jack gasping for a breath. 

You pull down his boxers and start working immediately, pumping him and wetting your hands slightly so you have more friction. 

“Y’know, it’s crazy—I know what all of these veins are called.” You say, more to yourself but Jack’s half smile drops when you lay your tongue flat against his shaft and suck on his tip. He lets out an embarrassing sound between a staggered breath and a whimper as you make your way down. Your cheeks hollow out as you make eye contact with him, making sure you’re getting it right. You come off and continue with your hands and look up at him. 

“Good?”

“F- Christ- fuck, so good, baby. So good.” 

Happy with yourself, you continue to suck him clean while he chokes out moans and his stomach clenches. You can feel him getting heavier in your mouth and you start speeding up, using both of your hands. 

There’s a moment when he reaches forward to push your hair out of your face, so that you don’t get bothered and so that he sees you properly, which warms your heart. 

He taps one of yours hands that’s on him to indicate that he’s close and you pull back with a kitten lick to his tip before sticking your tongue out.

You have Jack seeing stars when his load pumps into your mouth, and your eyes dart over his shirt clinging to his chest, his hair falling into his screwed shut eyes, his lips parted and his hand gripping the sofa with such intensity that his veins pop out. 

You tuck him back into his clothing after cleaning him up, and he looks at you with tired eyes while making grabby hands. 

You chuckle, climbing into his arms and he slumps his body against you, both of you now lying down on the couch as he unpauses the movie. 

His head rests comfortably against your chest, one of your hands running through his hair, and the other intertwined with his. 

It’s sweet. 

Jack wakes up alone and panics at once. It’s embarrassing, really; like finding out your stuffed animal fell to the floor during your sleep as a toddler. But when he checks his messages, he finds a text from you. 

Hey, I had to leave. I have a project due tomorrow and also Nala :( We can meet up later. I had fun yesterday. Thank you :))

It’s hits Jack how gone he is when he finds himself clutching his phone to his heart. 

It takes a while. 

He comes home fresh from morning practice took a nice long nap to clear his head before waking up properly to see that it was raining outside. 

He was enjoying (not) the protein shake that he was required to drink and mindlessly scoring through plays from an old game, when it hits him like a sack of bricks. 

Do you think kissing is unhygienic? 

You think he doesn’t want to kiss you. 

You think he’s toying with your heart by showing you all kinds of affection besides the one thing that both of you wanted so fucking bad. 

You think he doesn’t like you enough to do that yet. 

The drive to yours was smooth despite the rain pouring down from every direction, and because you always reminded him of road safety. 

You were standing outside of the apartment building, looking like you were having an argument with.. your tiger. 

Your hands were on your hips, body soaked and hair wet as you tried to coax Nala into shelter. 

Jack laughed at both of your antics which got your attention. Your mind flashes back to the day that you met him, the pouring rain, and how awkward it was to meet someone you knew from a while back. You wave at him happily as he approached, but noticed a hint of  anxiety and embarrassment. 

“What’s wro-?“

“Are you into poetry?”

“Uh, sometimes? Why?”

“This- well, I can’t read it. Here.” 

He hands over his phone, stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at anything but you. Puzzled, you cover his phone from the pelting droplets so you could read. 

‘The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight. 

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and I knew

it was only a matter of time before 

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that I would question

if I had ever been in love before.’

Lyra Wren. 

You read it again. 

There’s no way he actually searched for a poem to depict how he felt. 

“Look, I didn’t understand half of it hit you get the-“

Jack was cut off by our lips against his. 

It was short, maybe a second long, closed mouth, but you pulled away breathless and were close enough to feel his heart racing underneath his clothes. 

How desperately he wanted your cold, soft lips against his again. 

“So, you like me? For who I am?”

He nods. 

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I-“ 

You were interrupted by Nala’s whine (to say: I change my mind, I want to go inside), and you give Jack his phone, grab his hand and pull him inside. 

“C’mon, we’ll get pneumonia.”

Your hands were still in each others, his engulfing yours, when you shut the door to your apartment, locked it, watched Nala bound to her room, and turned to face him again properly. 

He was so, so close. Your lips were parted, just inches apart, your foreheads touching. 

He closed the gap this time, almost groaning in relief when he felt your mouth properly against his, something you both yearned for without realizing. His lips move against yours gently, savoring as much of you as he can. He nips your bottom lip and it has you and Jack smiling into the kiss. And then it’s a mess, teeth clashing, giggling, tongues lolling over another, one of his hands cupping your face and the other wrapped around your waist, but it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted. 

You pull back. 

“I love you more.”

[leilanihours]

# SHE WAS CRYIN' ON MY SHOULDER, ALL I COULD DO WAS HOLD HER

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-gf!reader

word count: 851

warnings: arguing, crying, mentions of abandonment/past relationship

summary: you and paige both have things you need to get off your chests one year after you break up.

⭑ from lani: to that anon i told my next fic would be for kate im so sorry 😭 i was crying to this song earlier and i just needed to write paige to it - so heres my first ever angst fic i hope its not horrible 😛

masterlist !

"Y/N, YOU LEFT me, remember? you left!"

"you didn't even bother to stop me, to fight for me- for us!"

neither of you knew how this escalated so quickly. how a friendly reunion turned into a screaming match.

"it's not my job to pick up the pieces of the shit you broke! so i'm sorry if i didn't feel like working myself over for someone who had no issue leaving."

you know her apology is insincere, sarcastic. but for a split second when you hear her say "i'm sorry," your heart aches for the words you've spent the past year mourning.

"paige," you sigh, trying to calm down before you say something you don't mean, "i know it seems like it, but i did not want to leave the way i did. i didn't have a choice."

"bullshit-"

"can you just be quiet and let me talk?" you snap, immediately shutting her up, "last summer when i disappeared, it was because of my parents. they forced me to come home to them even after i told them i wanted to stay here in connecticut. i swear to you, paige, i fought for us. you didn't see it but i went through hell fighting. and i'm sorry for ending it the way i did but, paige...we were bound to end it at some point. we both knew that. i had to go home eventually."

you both had tears streaming down your faces at this point, chests heaving from not being able to breathe properly.

you stood in front of paige, slowly pacing back and forth as she sat with her arms crossed on the cold park bench absorbing your words.

the darkness of the night engulfed the atmosphere, contributing to the inevitable breaking of your once-intertwined hearts. the only light was dim from the far away lamp post, rusting away from its former beauty - similarly to how you and paige used to be a work of art together, but were now nothing more than a mess of spilled emotions and pent-up grudges.

"and i understand that, y/n, but i deserved an explanation- a goodbye, at the very least. or at least i thought i deserved that."

"don't do that," you challenge, referring to the way she degraded herself in front of you, "is that why you didn't try? to save us?"

"why else wouldn't i? i thought you hated me, i thought-" she pauses to catch her breath and wipe some of the tears that had fallen on her pink lips, "i thought you didn't care about us. as if that summer didn't mean shit to you."

"paige i-"

"no, now it's your turn to listen," she demands, pulling you to sit next to her on the bench, both of her cold hands holding yours, "i never felt so strongly about someone the way i felt about you. i couldn't imagine spending my time away from you, i mean, it literally hurt. so i took advantage of that summer, i took advantage of the little time we had together. and then when i found out you left without a word to me, it broke me. and i know you didn't see it but ask literally any of my friends. i didn't get out of bed for days in a row. i didn't eat, i didn't practice, nothing. it was like you stole the good parts of me, took it, and ran. i needed you, y/n, but you were on the other side of the country. what am i supposed to do with that?"

she's full on sobbing now, shoulders shaking as she doesn't even try to hold in her tears now. you swear you can hear cracks in your own heart and bones forming as she confesses what she went through.

you can't bear watching her suffer anymore, tightly wrapping your arms around her shaking frame. hugs like these were second nature, but this time was different. there was more meaning behind it.

your embrace acted as a shield against any future problems that were to be thrown onto your paths. your embrace acted as a glue repairing the broken pieces of your relationship that laid destroyed for the past how many days. your embrace acted as a genuine embrace.

"paige, i'm so sorry. i'm so sorry, baby, i never wanted to leave you, you have to know that. i'm so sorry," you whisper into her hair.

one of your hands stroke her head buried in your neck. you feel her tears drip onto your thin jacket, soaking you with guilt as it hits you how desperate you were to spend the rest of your life making it up to this girl.

it was clear to you that she actually did care, unlike how you thought last summer. and because of how she was crying on your shoulder, you needed to forget about that version of her you spent so long hating - the version that constantly haunted the back of your mind.

you needed to hold her. and hold her. and hold her. and never let go.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[huellitaa]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨ feeling uncomfy in ur own skin

ok so this is something ive been struggling with for years. like i wake up some days and just feel Eugh way more than id like to. SO i decided i'd make a little guide on this! for me and for you 🩷✨

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 reasons why we could be feeling uncomfortable with ourselves and who we are

♡ having a shitty mental diet and consuming media and things that make you feel bad abt urself

♡ being in an environment where we're constantly being judged or put down, even over the most basic things

♡ hanging around negative people or negative places

♡ not giving urself enough credit for ur own achievements and accomplishments

♡ changing urself constantly for others and not having a clear sense of self to hold on to

♡ not having boundaries on how you and others treat you

♡ staying stagnant in the same place in your life and not changing (🎀🗒️also read: get comfy being uncomfy ♡)

♡ not paying enough attention to yourself and avoiding your genuine thoughts, feelings and emotions

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 1. be gentle with yourself!

pleasepleaseplease its ok to have bad days its ok to not feel great every day. treat yourself as you would someone you love. if you just aren't feeling good today, then you aren't feeling good! honour that and respect that and deal with that accordingly. even if you are uncomfortable with yourself right now or you don't like yourself right now, please try and treat yourself with care regardless, because no matter what stage you are in in your life right now you are and always will be the most important person in ur life, so TREAT URSELF LIKE IT🫶💖

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 2. inspiration, not comparison!

i know its often told not to go looking at people who are ahead of you in these times but hear me out. i think looking at and observing people you admire who are further ahead of you is very motivating to build yourself up and *become more like them* in your own way. you look up to them because of ___? what can you do to become your own version of that? thinking like this gets me more inspired to just get out of bed because i want to be more like them.

two words for this one - NO. COMPARISON. gaining inspiration from others to better yourself and comparing yourself to others are two completely different things. 🫶 (shameless self promo, but i have a post on this here! 🩷✨)

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 3. analysis: detective work chapter!

journal and think and think to urself why u might feel like this or what caused this. when did it start? has anything happened lately that may have caused this? how does it feel, in depth? what can you do to combat this? how can you make it through the day & make it so you do even better tomorrow?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 4. channeling the mindset!

back to my point on our idols, thinking like them & thinking what they'd do in this situation helps me a lot. personally one of my idols is ada lovelace so whenever im really tired and unmotivated or insecure on my abilities or appearance or anything else i think to myself "what would she do?" and 9 times out of 10 im up at my desk in my cutest outfit hard at work. this is def one of my favourite points and something i use on the daily for like literally everything and 100% recommend 🩷✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 5. what would i do?

similarly, ask urself what the best version of yourself or the version of urself youre working towards would do in this situation. be your own inspiration. be ur own muse. would they stay in bed and rot all day? if the answer is no then ur up. out. immediately. ask urself what they would do. if ur feeling drained, would they take a day off to do some self care and recharge? if ur feeling sad, would they be gentle with themselves and let themselves feel sad for a little while & try to work to the root of the problem?

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 6. understanding yourself!

make a list of the things that make you the happiest and most comfortable & productive and the things that make you the unhappiest and the opposite of those things. i mentioned this in my recharge day post, but figuring out these will help you find out which negative behaviours or habits are lowering ur vibrations and making u feel like this, and help u to engage more in the things that make you happy with yourself and everything around you 💗✨

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 7. pay attention!

pay close attention to ur internal landscape and your self talk throughout the day. note down every little thing you notice, even if you think it won't be helpful; for example, do you find yourself indulging in negative talk abt urself, negative talk abt others, constantly being pessimistic and expecting the worst, indulging in judgement and criticism of urself and everyone around you, getting distracted easily, and so on.

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ 8. what would i do, part 2

like i mentioned earlier, you should be your own inspiration. you should be your own muse. as much as it's nice to have idols, when ur trying to change something about urself and adjust and improve ur own behaviours, you should be mainly focusing on what you want to achieve by changing said behaviours. do you know who you're working towards being? do you know how you want to feel? do you know what you are changing these things you feel into? think about whether or not the person you are now lines up with the person you want to be in all aspects of ur life. if you feel like you aren't even trying to meet these standards then of course ur gonna feel bad about urself. of course don't be too hard on urself, but keep this in mind. 💓✨

finally, remember that these things are temporary and it wont be like this forever. ur beautiful and perfect no matter what and in these times u gotta show up for yourself even more and never give up! i believe in u 🫶🩷

all my love 💗💬✨🎀

[king-crawler]

HEY HI HELLO

Sorry for the random message here In the asks, it's ok if you don't see this or answer it since you probably got a lot already and I understand if you don't see this!/gen

But first of all, I just wanna say

I CANT BELIEVE I HAVENT WATCHED YOUR ANALYSIS VIDEO SOONER IM SO FUCKING LATE MAN

It's so well done and so fucking funny, I was literally smiling and cackling through the whole thing, it's shocking how similar our humor is

NOT TO MENTION THE END SCENE AREE YOU KIDDING HOW DID YOU MATCH THE LYRICS SO PERFECTLY TO THE FUCKING LORE ITS INCREDIBLE 😭💜/GEN, POS

It's insane how much dedication is put into it, let alone singlehandedly feeding turbo fans as myself

Genuinely thought it's so nice seeing more content for a hyperfixation I've had since 2012, and the fandom coming back along with this video Genuinely brings me so much joy as someone who's loved this movie since I was a kid

Sorry for the ramble but genuinely thank you for making that video, I can't wait to see what other stuff you do, wreck it ralph or not I WILL be tuning in/gen, pos

Okay second of all

The main reason why I'm sending this is because of sometning I noticed while rewatching a scene in the movie

Now, this might be me over analyzing as I usually do but it feels TOO. OBVIOUS.

SO

IN the kart bakery scene where vanellope and ralph go to bake a kart, they obviously make their way into the building and into the main room

You see all the Karts of course, and It pans to the one vanellope chooses

Which, at first glance you wouldn't really pay too much attention, especially when watching it for the first time, she's just picking the model she likes

..but looking back at the scene

Vanellope's kart model, how it was supposed to look, looks very

Familiar

Because the kart she chose..

...is a red and white kart

With stripes down the middle, with a very similar shape to a..certain persons kart. Now this might just be nothing, it's probably just like I said, and over analysis on my part

But the kart the chose looks WAY too similar to turbo's, not to mention the stripe is down the middle, just like turbo's car on the cabinet art of him

And vanellope could've chosen ANY kart

But it was that specific kart she chose, out of any of the karts

Not to mention in some of vanellope's concept art...

(Art made by Lorelay Bove)

..Vanellope's concept design and turbos designs strike SCARILY uncanny resemblances to each others designs

From the helmet and colors

All the way down to her GOGGLES having the SAME. YELLOW. TINT. that candy's have in the movie, which have the same effect here. There's no way that this didn't have the intent to mirror turbo purposefully

So with that in mind, the kart vanellope chose in the kart bakery scene being turbo foreshadowing, wouldn't be too out of place, nor would it be too far off

Turbo's foreshadowing was always prominent, even in the smallest details you wouldn't focus on, just like he's infecting this world as a virus, little by little, everywhere. You. Turn.

Aaaand that's basically all I have to really say

Sorry for the long ramble, I've been thinking of submitting this for awhile now, especially after I told a friend about this and they mentioned that this should be submitted to you

So I decided to go ahead and just do it, no matter how wild my comparisons might sound-

Anyways, I hope you have a good day, night, or what time it may be, and keep being awesome! I can't wait to hear back if you see this! Bye-bye! ❤️🏎🏆

P.s

I've been quoting these since I watched the video and haven't stopped

Thanks for destroying my humor even more-/pos

Okay bye bye now-

-skitters away-

NO YOU'RE SO FUCKING RIGHT OH MY GOD VANELLOPE WAS ALWAYS A TURBO PARALLEL??? CHAT IS THIS TRUE. IVE NEVER SEEN THAT CONCEPT ART OF HER TEEHEE THANKS FOR SHARING

also God. This is 99% just a coincidence with zero merit because its such a common gesture- but Ralph and Vanellope doing their thumbs up.. maybe Turbo parallels ?? and like the EXACT same poses too:

Vanellope having one hand on the steering wheel and the other doing a thumbs up while facing the camera.

Ralph hunched over doing the double thumbs up with the visor tinting his face yellow. EXCUSE ME HMMM?? WHAT THE FUCK??

NOW COULD I BE CHERRY PICKING? PERHAPS. but when Turbo has barely a minute of screentime, there's not a lot i can pick from, and things SURE ARE LINING UP... (I'm cherry picking)

SO SHHHHHH... ❤️❤️❤️❤️ LET ME HAVE MY LITTLE CONSPIRASCY

[hobiespick]

Heya! I was wondering if you got any headcanons for Sam Winchester x werewolf! Reader, except, reader can actually turn whenever she (or gn if you want) wants, and the only real thing a full moon does is force her to be in her werewolf form (aka force her to keep the wolf teeth and claws out for no reason)

The thing that should not be

Pairings : Sam Winchester x reader

a/n : FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HI, HELLO, IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I SUCK SO BAD, IM SO SORRY. My requests aren't open (yet) but its not even your fault I should have 100% specified that, but this is my first ever ask and ur also one of my favourite moots and I didn't want to dissapoint so here are some fuckinf cute Sam x Werewolf!Reader. I felt the carnal need to write a metric fuckton of context before getting into the actual headcanons (which are very long I have no idea if they can be considered as hcs) so the reader gets beaten up by earth-shattering plot purposes :3. Sammy juicy headcanons start when you see the '🧿' emoji if you don't wanna read the context (melodramatic sigh). And yes the title of the fic is based on the metallica song :). as always, enjoy my shitty thoughts <3

Warnings: angst with comfort (no don't clap it's fine, omg ur makin me blush); guess who joined the cool kids club and uses "____." instead of "Y/n"; literally a flash of gore, shitty dad(s), fake death, mentions of suicide, Sam looks at you and goes DO YOU WANT M-; Dean being himself; reader is also a hunter and has been raised like that (fml); Dean makes a twillight refrence; reader is frankenstein coded in the most nuanced way, Mary Shelley please don't haunt me; Dean is very happy to have a bestfriend/sister :)

word count: 8,102

- Okay, so for starters, the fact that you aren't actually a monster (you don't get the urge to kill or wreak havoc) is actually a supernatural miracle.

Your parents haven't talked to you since you called them the night you were hunting a werewolf and told them, horror-struck between sniffles and voice cracks, that it bit you, and you’re going to turn, and you’re horrified, and you’re going to drive home to put a pistol in your father's hand and hopefully stop you from turning in the thing you shouldn't be.

Your father replied, after successfully not saying a word besides "Hey, kid-" before getting cut off by you and your hiccups. He sank his teeth into the inside of his cheek, enough to draw blood.

"You are not to come home; your mother won't bear to see you like this."

Your father objected before telling you you can finish the job by yourself; you always have.

He abruptly ended the phonecall like you weren't his daughter, more like an annoying salesman. You don't know what he'll say to your mother after that call; that was the hospital, and you tragically died? "Died a hero.." Your father would say when he described another hunter's tragic passing at the dinner table—paranormal tragic passing. So paranormal that your mother had knocked on wood and prayed it wouldn't get you or your family.

So you don't call, It's really me, dad. I'm fine, I figured it out by myself. How could you? after him suggesting it's better to kill yourself than take a shot at finding a solution together? You would rather have him believe you're dead. Or at least cry with you; it's okay, honey. come home; it'll be okay, spend the last days at home, please-

The last word you get from him is a text message you are too quick to open on your flip-phone to see the next day. When you rub at your eyebags after tracking down a witch, the witch. It was the second day when everything about you felt off; you were squemish, anxious, and haven't left your motel room all day. if you get this—the message read, "if you get this?!" if you get this, if you get this, if you get this—your brain repeats it over and over, taking the words apart and tattooing itself that phrase, because it held much more meaning to it than your father probably didn't intend; he would hear it if he read it before sending, you thought, that little 'if' haunting and tormenting like a damn demon. if you haven't already killed yourself; if you haven't already turned into something that took my daughter, my pride and joy, away from me; if you haven't already died–

- speaking to you like he's directly referring to the disease in your veins. Your brain moves on and reads the next ridiculous waste of your attention. I wanted you to know I told your mother that it was the hospital I was talking to yesterday, calling that you’re dead, house fire, so no remains to pick up—Damn, you know him or what? Even your fake death is stripped away from it's respect—"no remains to pick up"—like a toppled statue, a monument of what was once a hero (in dad's old-fashioned monster-hunting world), shattered and insignificant, no longer breathing or living, if you ever even had. Or a tree struck by lighting, again, "no remains to pick up" no meaningful remains or genuinely nothing, just a memory of another young hunter who died 'tragically'. You could imagine your tombstone with an even dumber epitaph to match it and an empty or nonexistent grave lying six feet underneath for closure. Your eyes move on, there will be a funeral with no grave, of course, I just wanted you to know that your mother and everyone else is devastated, we miss you, sugar. I love you, kid. Your father had overestimated your suicidal tendencies, and the way he didn't try to save his daughter in order to not go against the rules and possibilities of hunting only showed you how much he loves you.

So you track down the witch. You barely make it to her doorstep when she opens it with a too reassuring smile, saying your name and that she expected you, even going as far as offering you tea after opening the door and letting you in, to which you declined. You're not an idiot. But you do sit down, forced, when she, Willow Thorne, won't have you, a guest, standing up, a whole damn hunter being forced to sit down and accept being treated kindly like you deserve. When you walked in, the entire image of a satanic worshipper who sold her soul to demons and hexed everybody—that you betted all your life savings fitted the description of Willow shattered and laughed in your face.

Her home was filled with plants hanging and resting in every corner she could place; various crystals were sitting in cute porcelain plates like candy, candles of different colors on a bookshelf filled with books like The Language of Flowers, Astronomy for Beginners, and Sigils. Even more crystals, bigger and taller ones on a purple tablecloth. The house is adorned in shades of dark purple, violet, green, and warm colors. This home was a whimsigothic musem that would send your thirteen-year-old self into a shrieking, excited mess. Your parents never let you own crystals or a tarot deck; they were too afraid you'd turn darkside one way or another. well, mommy, daddy, if you could see me right now with lycanthrope blood pumping through my veins.

Willow Thorne is a wiccan type of witch; she does not receive her power from demons; she receives her magic from nature and probably practices her witchcraft the way she sees fit. This doesn't help build back the distrust you were trained to have in her. You flinch when you feel a tail curling around your bouncing leg; you glance down, and your eyes are met with a black cat's green ones—this must be her familiar—the little words on his purple collar reading 'Creek'. She gives you another flash of her warm smile and starts talking about her cat. This can't be real. Your every instinct screams that you should take her down or that she will take you down. Your options shrink the longer you stay. You keep a hand anxiously fiddling with your belt, thinking about the gun in your waistband. She's deceiving you with honeyed words and unassuming appearance; who the fuck knows, maybe the cat is manipulating you too. Throwing up would be the calmest reaction you could have right now, because the thoughts in your head started going at each other's throats and doubting in this situation could get you killed. Thoughts like, fuck her, her cozy house with purple witchy twitchy girl interior, and her affectionate black cat she mentioned she rescued when nobody would because of superstitions—you curse in your head, you're not actually upset at her although you do not let your guard down, you're upset at yourself for being so easily coaxed into trusting her, it's all too easy, and it is intimidating you.

You're pretty sure you're gonna rip your vocal cords out of frustration and an overall feeling of overwhelmingness; everything seems to piss you off today, even more than usual. How are you good?! All bright and beaming with nothing but positivity. You're not supposed to be good! I have believed all my life you aren't!..are you like me too? A thing that should not be? Before breaking down and crying about your situation, and if you did, she would make you that tea and rub your back with her hand that radiated ease and made you slump your shoulders with relief.

Before you get other fun thoughts like Am I on the wrong side of the war? You start discussing bussiness since you forgot that's what your here for. Even if your eyes water like a little kid after being scolded for something they didn't do, your voice is nowhere near close to sounding like one. You demand a cure, bargaining for a deal to stop the lycanthropy metamorphosis you feel taking over little by little and make you human again. If she can't, you have a gun with silver bullets in your trunk and your will written out, but by now it probably has no significance.

Much to your disappointment, she—Willow—insisted you called her, tells you she cannot take away your curse, but she can soothe it a little, keep it in a cage locked deep into your subconscious. In exchange, she could ask for fucking anything in the world, but she wants loyalty.

"Define, loyalty." You ask through gritted teeth, yeah, that will stop the tears, definitely, great intimidation skills, _____ .

"I'm talking about respect, mutual aid, when it all comes down for me, when I get threatened by a hunter, I want you to be there. I need you to have my back." She admitted, studying your eyes trying to reslove the conflict in them, anything that could give her hope. You couldn't explain this to anyone, ever, Yeah I almost turned into a werewolf once but my witch friend did a ritual on me, so i'm all good now.

Willow is now sitting on an ottoman facing her couch, where you're sitting. Her hands fidget with her bracelets until she clasps them together, and she is leaning towards you. Her gentle tone is imbued with gentle authority that commands her mutual respect without making her overbearing. Keeping steady eye contact, she is discussing serious matters with a serious tone like she should. You can't lie, it catches you off-guard, it herds you in the corner and softly shakes your shoulders, forcing you to listen.

You'd be every synonym in the dictionary for the word 'idiot' if you hadn't accepted this deal. You shake hands, and the warm smile she wears causes a domino effect, making you do the same, even if you had been crying.

It's a funky ritual. She makes you lay on the couch while she lights all sorts of candles; she closes the curtains even though it's already dark so light cannot come in. The only light present is the salt lamp in the far corner and the numeruous lighted candles. She even has to kick Creek out of the room, much to the cat's protests outside the door. They slowly come to a stop as he finds something that's more interesting than whatever ritual his owner is cooking up with a guest—that he feels drawn to for whatever reason. You feel nervous, and she feels nervous too, because you are. Willow reassures you and tells you that after it ends you will pass out for a while, but that's fine because she says you can spend the night if she isn't pushing it.

The celling becomes your newest fascination, and you study every small bump and gray spot in order to distract your mind from... well, thinking. Not for the ritual, but for reassurance, she lies and says you have to hold her hand. Her warm hand against yours seems to punch out of your lungs every doubt whether this will work or not and the sadness your father produced with an unfatherly amount of bluntness and cold parenting that was the verbal equivalent of stabbing your spine and twisting the knife, but you can't pull out the knife, well, you can try, but it will hurt even worse and it will infect spreading yellow or purple marks around it–. She—her hand—has the ability to make you breathe again without feeling like you have leg irons around your neck dragging it down and hands squashing your lungs to bits. She speaks incantations in what you know is latin and instructs you to close your eyes. You swear you hear a candle stop burning in the process—something you can't physically hear, but you had. You can make out a few words (your ears keep ringing and something is happening because you hear her voice; it's distorted and weird, but she told you, strictly, not to open your eyes, so you don't). Words like: lupus-wolf, tollere-take away? You're not sure on that one; that's what three straight days of crying might do to one, mutare- which means change. Okay, that was a nice distraction now what el–

You feel the imprint of a huge dog-like paw pressing into your Adam's apple and cutting off your breath. She obviously takes notice by the way you're writhing and choking and swatting away at nothing—something you're trying to fight even with closed eyes, but there is nothing there. Your palm doesn't make contact with anything. Quickly, Willow chants something you're too busy choking to catch. The pressure on your throat dissolves, and you can breathe again. She calms her own breath and squeezes your hand. When she doesn't feel you squeeze back, she remembers that you're supposed to pass out after the spell. Willow drapes a blanket on you and goes off to order something to eat. When she opens the living room door, Creek doesn't hesitate to run in and settle on your chest. The cat purrs as he patiently waits for you to wake up.

You wake up fifteen minutes later with the smell of food flooding your nostrils, stronger than it has ever been before. It's almost like it's sitting right under your nose. You open your eyes, and the smell has a color, and you can clearly see how it snakes its way in from the kitchen into the half-open door. Your nails feel heavier than usual. This is hopefully a fever dream. But the food isn't here, nor is Willow; you can hear her humming a song in the kitchen, Voodoo Chile by Jimi Hendrix.

The weight of the shadow on your chest brings you back to earth, and you run your hands through his black fur with closed eyes as your head falls back onto the couch. The feeling of fur on your fingertips feeding to your serotonin levels rising. Creek seems to know what it's like to be disowned by your own father and forced to have a fake death in order to 'die' in a way that won't make your mother think you were cursed, or worse, that the whole family is now. Creek notices you're awake and gets off you, but not before making biscuits.

"Thanks, Creek." You mumble before pushing yourself up in a sitting position with a groan.

You can feel the rich, velvety, dark green rug beneath your socks; you would have appreciated it properly if you could actually see the details woven into it. Your eyes keep focusing and unfocusing like they're getting adjusted, and the room doesn't seem so dark anymore. God, how long did you pass out? As you tried to gather your thoughts (if the spell was easy on you enough to actually leave some), memories of the ritual came flooding back—the chanting in latin, the flickering candle(s), the punching smell of herbs, the murder attempt from a wolf spirit/ghost?! who the hell knows anymore? Now you were wide awake, and everything felt different. If it weren't for the fucking ritual that was just performed on you, you would've blamed the faint ringing in your years, shitty eyesight, and banging headache on a terrible hangover or a cold so bad it would make your throat ache for the tea your mom would make you when your immune system failed you. She promised she would teach me how to make it. Your grief echoed to you.

You rub at your temples at thats when you notice why did your nails feel heavier than usual. You had fucking claws, well, not animal claws, but they are honorably elongated and sharper than they had ever been. As you looked up from your lap, your eyes fell on a mirror.

A tall mirror leaning on its back legs, with black edges and details on the rim, you would again appreciate if you had the ability to see a single thing in the distance.

Your eyes widened, mortified, seeing yourself. It looked like one of your parents's worst nightmares. Something out of a dream your mom would have—a nightmare so nasty and vivid she would be forced by her paranoia to get up and check that you're still in bed sleeping soundly.

Your eyes were no longer the familiar color you have seen in the mirror or in old photos of your family members you've grown to love. The shade wasn't even close to yours; crazy how one small change made such a big difference in your appearance. Your pupils were slitted vertically, shrinking only to dilate a little once again, getting adjusted. You slowly got up on foal legs and fell on your knees in front of the mirror. Even if you didn't think it was night because you weren't seeing darkness, the light of the moon shone down on the mirror and floor thanks to the now open curtains. That's when your vision stopped unfocusing and finally cleared.

You were now looking at yourself. It felt incredibly alien and familiar at the same time; you looked at yourself every day, whether it was the mirror in your bathroom at home, a crappy motel one that faced the bed (which you cover up with a scoff each time), or a reflection in the car of your vanity mirror checking yourself before going in a precinct, pretending to be a reporter (the things middle-aged pigs would confess to a doe-eyed girl from the press..).

You gently pulled the corner of your upper lip only to reveal your enlarged and sharpened front canines. Your hand fell and instead went to cover your mouth in order to muffle your sobs. You must have done a horrible job because the second you slapped the hand over your mouth, you heard Willlow gasp as if she felt it too.

She drops the food she was unpacking and runs in, taking a moment to calm her heaving chest in the doorway; her hands were holding it like an earthquake had shaked her up; even her round glasses had slipped and rested on the tip of her nose.

"_______, you woke up!" she exclaims cheerfully. "I was just—how do you fee-?"

She kept stuttering and cutting herself off. Willow didn't need to say anything else; she saw the tears welling up in your eyes and felt the same shock you did from the kitchen.

🧿🧿🧿- later on, you have to bump into the Winchesters one way or another

- and it's exactly on a full moon when this time the ball isn't in your court and you don't get to decide whether you turn or not.

- your claws are sharp, your eyes have changed their original color completely with your pupils vertically slit, and your teeth (conveniently) remain the same; only a few of your front canines are enlarged and sharpened.

- as for senses, it's downright spectacular.

- you can hear deer stepping on tree branches, foxes running, and owls hooting when you're driving by the forest

- you smell how many people are in a room

- you have night vision (yes, your eyes to the flashy thingamajiggy when someone blinds you with their flashlight).

- as a hunter, you already know that your claws and fangs can rip out a human heart.

- ironically, as this whole situation is, you hunt alone on the principle that you don't long for companionship as some lycanthropes do.

- you've turned into a literal killing machine with no instinct to kill, so hunting with others is off the table since at the first sign of a threat (they think you are one, but you really aren't), a hunter exterminates.

- you meet the Winchesters on a ghoul hunt

- you have taken the case before them, but when you couldn't get anywhere with identifying whatever evil being was tormenting the locals with their mere presence, you thought about ditching it since it doesn't look like your type of thing and took the consideration that maybe humans were fucking around this time.

- so when you heard the FBI are in town investigating the case (detective Page and Plant), you placed that town in your rear view mirror; they got it covered..right?

- but something didn't feel right- it wasn't the shame of leaving a case with your tail between your legs (pun intended) with the weak motive, 'Maybe humans are really fucking around this time.'

- something wasn't right, so even if you were tired, you abruptly stopped the car and went over your research spread out on the flat of your closed trunk

- the slits of your eyes dance over the words on your laptop, your papers, and an old lore book you fought tooth and nail for. When you realized it's a ghoul you're dealing with, you turned the car around and went over every speed limit like hellhounds were scratching at your tires. It was your job to not let anybody else get hurt or someone else's grave be violated

- as the light of the moon shined down on you and your wild eyes looked back at you from the rear view mirror, you knew you couldn't have anyone see you, you had to be invisible

- *time skip* (as much as it pains me 'cause i am a sucker for details :))- you swoop in time to save the Winchesters

- and if they weren't tied up, they would've started fighting you too, because why was there a whole ass werewolf fist fighting a ghoul?? John trained them like Spartan warriors, but nothing prepared them for something like this.

- so they sit there like:??????

- they watch you take out a fucking ghoul all by yourself

- the head of the ghoul's person they're impersonating rolls onto the floor. You have to remind yourself it's not a real person; it's an evil spirit who kills to feed

- by the time you wipe the blood off your face, smearing it a bit in the process, and cut the ties holding the hunters loose, Sam is unnable to look away from your slit eyes adorned by a strange color that strangely suits you

- literally hearts in his fawn brown eyes like you still don't have blood on your face and you aren't trying to catch your breath; also, you took a nasty punch to your cheek, and he's pretty sure it's gonna leave a bruise, but he totally doesn't care, why? why do you ask?

- by the way Sam is scrunitizing you, and oh yeah, Sam is scrunitizing you, you're sure you're gonna have to ditch since you've been in this situation before and you know how it always ends

- there was no 'explaining yourself' to hunters when they saw you under the full moon or when they saw you change because you had to.

Before you can even open your mouth they have their methaphorical pitchforks sharpened and torches lit up, prepared to slaughter you, and if you're honest, you can't even blame them for it because you would've done the same.

- Dean rubs his wrist with his right hand; the imprint of the rope is still fresh on his skin like a tattoo. Sam focuses on not choking when you catch him staring.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean thinks out loud. You take a big lungs-exploding sigh and give a shot at introducing yourself since they seem more civilized than most hunters are

- Sam geeks out about you

He doesn't question you because he is suspicious (he has the right to be but surprisingly isn't). He has to feed his noisy, information-hungry brain or he will spontaneously combust

- "Are your senses even more enhanced during the full moon, or are they the same?"

- "Can you smell when somebody is afraid? Like the hormones from their pores?"

- "Is it annoying to always have super hearing? Like has it ever caused you to be..I don't know.. Anxious? It did?" He mourns over you, trying to imagine himself in your situation but possibly can't.

- "I'm really sorry you had to go through a whole..change all by yourself, but it just shows how strong you are, some don't even make it 'til the end."

- After you were done explaining to Sam (to which he gladly sat himself down and listened) how sometimes you genuinely consider you're inevitably going to become what you hunt and how in the beginning you and your senses have butted heads, how you had no idea how to go through it without having panic attacks because the click of a doorknob was sensitive to your hearing like a veteran was scared of fireworks, how you accidentally ripped a motel door off its hinges, a result of you being slightly irritated, still getting acoustumed to your abilities. Dean would go.

"..Do dog whistles work on y–" Before getting an elbow in the ribs by a glaring Sam.

- more shit Dean would ask you for the sake of his own little curiosity

- "Is 'bitch' even more offensive now?"

- "Who do you think would win in a fight? You or Jacob Black?"

- "What do I smell like? Y'know, since you can pick up on scents and alldat."

- Dean calls you Cujo

- It's the one nickname you can get behind, asking him what he thought about the book, and he's like, "Oh, I watched the movie, but i know a little. Sammy used to rattle on and on about his books when he was younger."

- if you think about it, an alais doesn't sound so bad in theory or practice while hunting.

- it's secretive, the boys don't need to divulge your real name, and it's actually high-key kickass (I literally watched Cujo just so I know what I'm talking about, a.k.a. the second reason why it took a millenium and a half for me to post these; the first reason is that i suck)

- Dean is thrilled to get to call you that- he gets this fucking smirk, like a dad about to drop the worst joke ever made on everyone, you and Sam brace yourselves for what's coming with matching eyerolls-

"Let's fuck em' up, Cujo."

- "Cujo, dude, you're just itching to raise a little hell right now, aren't you?"

- "Uh- a bacon cheeseburger, soda, yo, Cujo whaddya want? My treat >:]."

- "Cujo, put on that song you were listening to; I had it in my head the entire hunt." (I didn't mention the genre or artist bc I like to imagine Dean listening to everyone's fav category; ex. I imagine Dean screaming bikini kill lyrics whenever i'm sad)

- if you thought the 'canine/wolf' teasing stopped here, you're so painfully wrong

- Dean made you a mixtape, because that's his love language apparently, with only songs that are about werewolves

- I feel like it took him a longer time to find a suitable title than the songs themselves

- he has all of the possible picks on a piece of paper that stays in the pocket of his fifty pound leather jacket.

- the titles are: Songs to transform into; The howlin' hits; Songs that will make you wag your tail—that one is crossed out because he knows you will make him eat the tape if he does settle on it; Love at first bite; and finally the one he settled for is Songs you can sink your teeth into. Dean smiled at his work, it didn't feel like a prank anymore it was more like a gift and he didn't feel any ugly emotion or insecurity try to pull him back into not getting attached to you.

The final touch was a note saying

"Hey, Cujo, thought you might want these howlin' hits whenever you need to tune the world out.

P.S. : Sam told me to add one of the songs, it's that punk stuff you like - Dean"

- The songs he prudently picked out are these : Of Wolf and Man by Metallica; Bark at the Moon by Ozzy Osbourne; I Was A Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps; Wolf Moon by Type O Negative; Witch Wolf by STYX; Run with the Wolf by Rainbow; Lycanthropy by G.B.H and others.

- you accidentally made a kid cry once- a ball was literally flying towards you and you caught it just in time, thanks to your reflexes

- instinctively, you turned around in time and caught the ball as your claws grew and sank into the inanimate object

- it's all "Nice relfexes, _____" praise from Dean and proud and shy smiles from Sam until the owner of the ball starts sobbing in front of you

- it's a kid, a boy with red hair, no older than six years of age

- but we all know Dean's charm is basically made for this

- so he handles both the kid and his mom (flirting with a milf all day, poor Dean)

- you keep apologizing to the kid and the mom, but Dean just waves you off; you don't understand his generosity until Sam tells you that you accidentally secured Dean's hookup for tonight.

- Since Dean is not coming, not until early morning, nor is he there to call you and Sam 'dorks', you and his younger brother take advantage of it.

- you guys have a movie night with the most random movies ever

- it is chaotic

- from rom-coms you switch to a world war II documentary, then you watch re-runs of House MD on tv.

- Dean stumbles in at like five something a.m. and takes a picture of you and Sam snuggling under a blanket while the tv light casts shadows of orange and cold colors on your defenseless expressions.

- but can somebody actually blame you? Or Sam, for that matter?

- honorably want to mention your body heat is also enhanced

- You and Sam were sitting with your sides pressed into each other

- you were radiating pure furnace body heat, how could he not be sleepy??

- but that's not the only reason Sam knocks out so heavily

- it's you he's sitting down with (relaxing for once in his life) watching a ridiculous episode of House with thirteen ads rolling every ten minutes accompanied by lazy talking as if you're not debating books only you and morally grey forty-year-olds read (where that Kansas drawl of his is much more audible and pretty), after a marathon of fatally random movies

- younger Sam who had trouble going to sleep/getting some shut-eye because Dean and John are out late on a hunt.

- Sam especially couldn't fall asleep because Dean wasn't there

- it was a different story when Dean was at the age where he couldn't hunt but he could use a pistol and take care of his little brother

- both of them in a relatively warm motel room, alone (since John fucked off to god-knows-where, to hunt a monster they are never to breathe in the direction of as a conversation subject.)

- little Sammy (age where he believed nothing could beat his older brother) could peacefully fall asleep knowing Dean stays up and watches over him like a hawke, reading comic books by the tv light

- where little Dean keeps chanting in his head what Sammy is supposed to do after eating his dinner.

- Watch tv or look at the comic with me (Sammy can't read yet), brush his teeth, then tuck him in bed.

- now pre-teen Sam can hardly sleep

- he is plagued/tormented by flashing images his overthinking big brain mades of a thousand situations where his family got hurt, if not even killed

- Sam's grip on the shotgun is shaking; it shakes even harder when John's bark booms over his shoulder, right into his ear.

- "Sammy, dammit, what are you going to do when a demon breaks through the door and me and your brother aren't there to protect you?!"

- but Sam isn't twelve anymore

- he's a responsible adult

- snuggled beside you and denying any eepy allegations you decide to accuse him of

- so, the heat you contribute, the soft speaking on the tv, the darkness of the room, you being there is enough to lull Sam to sleep

- studies show you feel sleepy around the people you trust ;)

- the position you two fell asleep in cannot be described in any other word than childish

- somehow you would catch two kids, sleeping over at one of the other's houses, knocked out, and snoring in the same bed after watching a horror movie

- on one of the two queens the motel room contributes (the one closest to the tv) you and Sam have made this fluffy nest full of pillows, a huge blanket, plus a random quilt Bobby pulled out of thin air and gave it to you when he heard you complaining about the petal-thin blankets motels have during cold ass weather.

- When you both lied down on the bed with your legs greedily streched out, backs pressed against the headboard, and your head is resting on the wall while Sam, magically, was still able to hold his up after the very long day all of you endured. You predicted one of you wouldn't survive being in each other's presence and make it out not asleep, and god, you hoped it was you.

- Sam's breathing slows down after a while of comfortable silence, and you’re sure he's dying until you spare one quick glance and see him, downright snoozing with his lips parted without a care in the world, ghosts and eerie phenomenons weren't bothering or needing him now.

- during all of the movies and documentary and fuckin lazy intellectual commentary nobody else would have the patience to discuss with you or Sam, he somehow migrated on the bed/nest with his side flush against yours, like a magnet to another; it was inevitable not to stick together, literally.

- your shoulder was now pressed into his forearm, your head no longer resting uncomfortably, and his temple is resting on the top of your head.

- but (unfortunately) you weren't hugging or anything- like a mirror or a copycat, Sam has his arms crossed, just like you, so maybe that's why you didn't wake up full on cuddling, that does sound good though your brain mourns

- When you do wake up, the only slight change you notice is that you're sleeping on your side..so is Sam. You're facing Sam's neck and chin, and up close and personal, you can actually count the too-sexy amount of moles he modestly posesses. His arm serves the role of a pillow underneath his head, and the other is resting with his palm down facing the mattress.

- with Sam taking up the entire attention of your senses, it takes an emmbarassing while for you to hear the shower running, Dean; did he see you both like this? Was he going to mention it? Your gut fills with a small dose of embarrassement, preparing you for what's yet to come, and it protests at that.

- much displeasure from your senses to your brain and your heart that wanted to breathe Sam in more as he (hopefully) breathes you out, you turn on your other side, unconsciously careful not to disturb Clifford over here, and you try to determine what time it is from your surroundings alone.

- the light blue sneaking its way through the dark closed curtains and the slight chill in the air points all arrows to seven or eight in the morning, you could go back to sleep.

- Dean wasn't just feeling gracious; he didn't and wasn't even planning on sparing you or Sam

- that day, when he separately gets the both of you alone, he has the exact same conversation with different but not so different people.

-"You should've seen the two of you this morning when I came in, two kittens snoring together, it was fuckin' adorable." Dean teased–

—Monday, 13:34 p.m. — as he tossed his clothes into one of the laundromat's washing machines, making Sam paralyze in his seat as his fingers started fidgeting with the edges of his hoodie.

"You did?.." He inquires, not knowing what exactly Dean saw just this morning. Sam only woke up a little after you went back to sleep. He swore his cheek must have burned a hole through the pillow with how hard he was blushing. You were so close. There was a good distance between the edge of the bed and you. So your back was flush against his chest. If you're wondering where his arm went, it was around your waist. Sam—your own personal seatbelt. He probably thinks it's his fault too. Dean never ceased to describe Sam as a 'cuddlebug'.

"Uh-huh" Dean hums a confirmation, acting casual, scarily casual. Sam feels the teasing in Dean's tone; it's there, but Dean is not fully teasing yet, like he wants Sam to confess something first after boiling in his embarrassement for long enough.

—Monday, 20:02 p.m. — as he pulled the Impala into the driveway of a fast-food place you were so invested in you even forgot the name of; you froze and looked at him, searching for any emotion that might give him away, but Dean was a brick wall, a slight very Dean siginificant parted lips smirk paired with squinted eyes over the wheel, carefully driving into the driveway. Even the car seemed to betray you in your moment of weakness because you swear the volume is lower than it was a few seconds ago. Ozzy Osbourne's laugh can still be heard from the speakers, even if it's barely audible over your racing thoughts or your hearing trying its hardest to pick up on Dean's thoughts. The rythym of the drums seems to sync up with your heartbeat, or the other way around, you're not sure. Over every little sound, there still seems to be a little silence to fit in. You swallow a lump in your throat.

"..We had a movie night, we just fell asleep like that, that's all." You mumble, and Dean starts to feel a little bad for letting you be a victim to his spotlight-teasing and giving you no shade to reprieve to or show his undying approval.

Somehow, you still worry if Dean believes you have ruined the dynamic, and now he's cornering you to tell you to stop it or something (overthinking anxiety worms are eating away at your critical thinking skills). You just worry about what he thinks of this. You still worry about the Dean who doesn't correct random people on cases who mistake you and Sam for a couple; the Dean who just has to leave some arsenal or luggage in the front, just so you are forced to share the backseat with Sam; the Dean who always has to group you and Sam in a category when he teases you both (Geeks, nerds, smartasses, etc.). Cupid works hard, but Dean Winchester works harder.

"Hey-, Cuj- Doll." Dean sputters, switching glances between you and the wheel.

This didn't go as he planned it would, and now he is facing the consequences. The way you shrink in your seat and the way you avoid catching his eye makes Dean feel like a douchebag. If he didn't know any better he would thinks he is, but then you would actually be able to read him like a book and tell him otherwise. You hear the desperation in his voice; your candle of hope comes back to life and lights up. Your head turns to look at him with pleading eyes. Please don't be angry, please don't kick me to the curb, let me stay in the backseat a little more. Dean lets out a shaky exhale that turns into a laugh; he runs a hand down his face. You've watched him do that every time he got jumpscared by the monthly spirit with unfinished business. It was something you imagined Dean picked up from John, the picture in your head so clear (at least from the pictures you saw)— a tired dad in an old squeaky motel chair with a whiskey glass in his hand doing the same motion Dean was doing right now. Dean would mimic his father's gestures to try to look more like him; he didn't have his brunette curly hair, his dark brown eyes, Sam did.

Dean never had his voice either; he only perfected his bark to match his dad's. Sam hated the way his reflection resembled his father, Dean was either jealous of him for it or couldn't wrap his head around as to why his brother hated being their dad, probably the latter. Dad, at least in Dean's eyes, was a hero, a figure to be admired and emulated. But Sam? He didn't even have to try. Sam and John were so alike that they clashed constantly like two stubborn stags locking antlers in a duel.

"..Dean?" You call him out; you had no idea what was going on in his head; it would be pretty damn nice if you could know. Dean shots his head up at the mention of his name.

"Yeah?—sorry, I just, you and Sam are just so—" He sighs. "it's about time you two crazy kids broke that touch barrier." He guffaws, slowly pulling up to the ordering kiosk.

A new song starts playing on Dean's "hot summa' nights driving" mixtape, Emmit Remmus by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, he added it when Sam said that's one of his favorites.

- do I need to talk about how much of an immense help you have been on hunts?

- you don't need to help out on every hunt despite Sam's disappointment and Dean's kid-like joy to have their friend help them out who is a professional/werewolf/hunter/geek, who kind of gets his references?? But you are geniunely so good it's funny to have the boys call you up and be like "..so we need help". They're happy you'll show up but there is still that lick of shame that taunts the Winchesters whenever they are forced to call for aid.

- this one time, you wanted to hug them after not seeing them for two weeks, and when you went to attack Sam, you heard his bones crack.

- your strength still surprises you and knocks other people off their feet

- it was so loud (atleast for you), you were sure you broke something

- Sam did nothing but give you his (killer) dimply smile and reassure you didn't do anything (even if he slightly grunted); while Dean whined like a kid saying (lying) he doesn't want a hug (you coaxed him into it eventually)

- Sam feels like he's not allowed to call you by your nickname, like he fears it's Dean's thing and not his

- so when he finally puts on his big boy pants, he's like, "Uhh–Cujo- 🧍‍♂️so get this.."

- all red and shy, trying to act casual, as if he doesn't wonder about the reaction you might have if he calls you other nicknames, like honey, sweetheart, even baby, or if he had the excuse to hold your hand, how would you hold it? Fingers interlocked or palms flat?

- Sam would also love to just marvel at your slit eyes; if he could he would take a picture and put it in his wallet; don't get me wrong if he had one where you were normal, he would cherish it just as much.

- Sam thinks your nickname is actually really cool (probably because it's a Stephen King reference, nerd), and you take that as a compliment. Sam is hard to entertain or please by his brother's antics.

- But he prefers saying your name

- there's something so intimate about the syllables rolling off his tongue so easily

- "_____, Are you okay? What is it? The soundproof earmuffs? I'll go get them." When everything, and I mean when every sound is just too much.

- Sam got them for you; he couldn't handle seeing you wince one more time whenever a car with a bad engine would pass by the motel (during a stressful hunt); its tires squealing under the concrete, making a faint sound for the boys, but for you so much louder.

- you know how pathethic it is to be affected by such small things when you're blessed with such powers? How can you call yourself a hunter when decibels, frequencies, and fucking tire squeals make you their bitch? You wish you could train yourself in a way that would make you less sensitive to certain sounds. It just adds to the reasons why hunters have the excuse or classify you as "the frail one" not only because you're a girl. When you used to hunt with your dad and sometimes mom, the amount of dog-shit comments from other hunters who had sons, were nothing but mysogynistic, curlish, and ruthless. "Are you sure the riffle isn't too heavy?", "Does she even know how to kill this thing?", "She's going to drag us down, do you want us to die?"— the type of comments that would make your dad shoot daggers into them, defend you "She's a goddamn ______, what do you think?", and whisper into your ear "Show em' what you're made of." and you would (stubbornly) listen to his advice to the damn letter after you almost mouthed them off.

Your dad believed in "Actions are sometimes louder than words." and all that adult crap, you were not as zen.

Your mom actually encouraged the sarcasm you have replied with in the past. The funniest memory your mother can recall is a story she tells at every gathering and every chance she gets to everyone, she praised you like crazy. When another hunter's son had the nerve to fuck with a twelve-year-old you. "Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail out there?" The boy sneered, puffing out his chest like a peacock. You stared at him with pure disbelief. "The only way I'm breaking a nail tonight is by kicking your ass, you cocky brainless jerk." You spat back, your mother and father were there and so was the boy's father; the gravity of the situation was on your shoulders, and their stares felt even heavier in comparison; intimidating him was 100% on the table. You felt like everyone had the same exact thought occuring them, an unspoken demand passed everyone there, even you: Do something. And you did. Your mother's jaw went slack; she doubled over, gripping whatever surface was near her and she started to chortle, with her shoulders shaking like never before. Your father was holding in a chuckle while massaging the bridge of his nose.

- Sam has to disagree with you whenever you complain about how your senses make you look or about the way you underestimate yourself. "What?! You can't be serious. _____, It doesn't mean you're weak. In fact, it makes you even more interesting. Everyone has an Achilles heel; yours is stronger because you're an amazing hunter who figured a way out. It makes you even stronger, I have no idea how you deal with this crap! Dean and I would've gone insane if we were in your shoes for more than a day."

- he is also forcing back his infamous (spectacular) bitchface

- he doesn't 'hold back' actually

- he geniunely cannot glare at you, not when you're like this. He can make a few exceptions, like when you join in Dean's teasing/joking (the silly rambunctious energy Dean carries around had, unfortunately, contiminated you or awakened yours)

- or when you start teasing Sam yourself, he shoots you a glare that classifies as nothing but hot (in your book at least), the kind of Sam glare that makes you flush knowing he doesn't mean it at all.

- Dean making you those fake ass I.D's like "Joan Jett", "Stevie Nicks", "Kathleen Hanna" and when you asked him to make more subtle ones he was like, bet. "Kelly Hammer", "Diana Bowie", "Laura Ulrich".

a/n: I wanted to apologize again for taking so long and for the unnecessary amount of context that literally nobody asked for. Uhh yeah and feedback would be very much appreciated<3, sava out *mic drop*

[partyanimal167]

A Win-Win Situation- Rayleigh x F!Reader

I had to drop a bag at the mechanic two days ago, and to literally keep myself from not crying, I was coming up with a fic idea to make the situation sexier and not depressing 😅 This popped up, and I was just like, 'At least I can finally write for Rayleigh.' I also told my friend, and he supported doing what you needed to do because damn do autoshops scare me.

CW: modern au, black fem reader, age gap, very light dubcon, smut, praise kink, daddy kink, MDNI

You only expected to get the tires rotated. So when the man started talking about parts and labor costs, you were ready for the earth to swallow you up whole.

You were confident about a lot of things. You could do most adulting tasks like clean, organize your bills, plan a trip, etc. But cars...weren't your area of expertise. But you managed for awhile, so you didn't worry too much! You watched videos and knew that there were things you needed to get done to maintain the vehicle.

So you went to get your tires rotated. Easy. Nothing to worry about....until, the guy pointed out that your check engine light was on. He must have seen the way you stiffened and tried to keep your expression calm.

The man gave you a sweet, flirty smile and waved his hand. "Don't worry too much, sweetheart. I'm actually a bit packed today, but an old friend owns a shop on the next street over. He should be able to check it out. Shouldn't cost you much either."

You bit your lip nervously as you rocked a little. "Really?"

"Of course! Tell 'im Shanks sent you. He'll take really good care of you."

~~~

You shyly stepped out of your car in front of the older shop where a radio played throwbacks and a fan blew strongly.

You walked quietly through the open garage door where a person stood under a lifted car with a welder's mask on. "Uh, excuse me" you raised your voice a little since you weren't sure if they'd be able to hear.

The body looked up at you before stepping from under the car and turning to take off the welding hood.

You weren't ready for the kind, sweet older man to beam at you. His glasses were somehow spotless despite the hood. After he wiped his hands on a rag, he pulled his long, gray hair out of its ponytail. "Hi dear, how can I help you today?"

You fidgeted with your hands a little. "Huh, I was just trying to get my tires rotated, but my check engine light is on. The guy, Shanks, said I should come see you." you explained.

The man nodded. "Ah the boy. Yes of course I can help you." he wiped his hairline and sipped his water. "Shame you're out here in this heat. That boyfriend of yours shouldn't be having you out running car errands either."

Your cheeks warmed up, and you scratched one nervously. "I don't have a boyfriend." you softly corrected.

The man handed you a water bottle. "Well that can be fixed--easily." he chuckled. Before you could ask what he met, he held out his hand, and you gave him his keys. "I'm Rayleigh by the way." You nodded and with your own. "Beautiful, what a pleasure."

You stepped to the side as the man drove your car in and took out a little gadget to hook up to your car. You watched a bit confused as he pressed some buttons and frowned at the screen.

The sun continued to beam down, so you were glad you were wearing your short shorts and cropped hoodie, but you weren't expecting to be out alone with just you and the older man. The other shop had a lot of people coming in and out. You wiped your brow and chugged some of your water as you eyed the older man. You didn't feel too nervous though. Rayleigh seemed nice. He was all gentle smiles and had a calm demeanor. Plus, he looked good for his age. You bet he was a real lady killer in his day.

"I'm going to be honest, love. I think one of your catalytic converter is shot. We're going to need to replace it." the man sighed as he closed the door and looked over to you.

You blinked twice. "That's the expensive part, right?"

The man chuckled at your wording and nodded. "I'm afraid so. But don't worry. I won't charge you an arm and a leg." he assured you. You rocked the on your heels a little as you nibbled a little on your lip. "That's what Shanks said..."

"Let's get you out this heat." you entered a small office and sat at the desk. Rayleigh handed you another water bottle before taking off his denim jacket. You nearly choked. This man is jacked. He had on a white tee, but you weren't expecting the way his muscles filled it in. "You okay there?"

You cleared your throat and met a mischievous look. Hopefully, he didn't notice your stares. You nodded. He grinned as he typed away at his computer. "So I need to order the part, but I think including labor we're looking at this amount." he filled out an invoice and circled the total. Rayleigh watched as your body went rigid and he sighed. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I wish it could be less. I-,"

"Oh no, it's fine! You have a business to run of course," you gave a little nervous smile. Rayleigh gave you a once over before that innocent smile was back.

"Come here, princess."

You whipped your head up. "Excuse me?"

Rayleigh pushed away from the desk a little and patted a spot in front of him. "Come sit."

You stood and walked around the desk and sat. You gasped as your hand was taken and a soft kiss was placed on it. "You can't go giving an old man ideas especially with the way you're looking at me." you gasped in response. "We can do a little trade. What do you say? Let's see how many rounds you can last, and I'll make some adjustments." You were surprised by the challenge, but it excited you all the same. The old man seemed experienced. Plus, there was no way he was going to out last you either. It was an easy win-win.

~~~

"Fuck daddy, daddy!" your legs were shaking as the man continued to pump his fingers inside as you sat in his lap. You gripped tightly on his shoulders as you bounced up and down.

Rayleigh grinned meanly at you. "What's wrong, dear? It's only been two so far. I'm trying to be nice here. Can't you give me some more?" The man went back to licking and sucking on your nipples as you moaned and sobbed. Your walls started clenching on his fingers once more and you whined as he put more pressure on your clit with the heel of his palm. "Ah there we go. Good girl, I knew you could do it." He sucked a hickey right below your ear. "You flatter this old man with how you sound. Is it good?"

"Yes!" you groaned as you tipped over that mountain again.

It took you a couple moments to catch your breath, and when you were present again, you realized you were on the desk looking up at the man who didn't even have a hair out of place. That sweet smile was there, but with the three orgasms he just gave you, it was so deceiving. Your face was burning, and you let your eyes trail down to see his member out and proud. It was girthy and hard. You could see the veins that ran down and the streams of precum that had been leaking. You whimpered.

"I wanna suck it, daddy." your eyes glossed over, and your cheeks were shiny with tears.

The man groaned at the sight. He'd have to thank Shanks for sending you over. He shook his head. "Ah ah, no sweetheart. You can do that next time. This is your reward for being so good for me, princess." He lifted your hood and spread some of juices around. "Deep breath now," and he sunk in.

You cried out deliriously. He filled you so well and stretched you more than you expected even with prep. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him even closer. Rayleigh chuckled before pushing in further. "Fuck, you feel so good, love. Such a naughty girl just for carrying around this good pussy, shit." the man huffed as he started up a slow but strong rhythm.

Skin slapped against another loudly, and you were drowning it. It was too much yet not enough at the same time. Rayleigh grunted deliciously near your ear and cooed about how pretty you were, how good you felt, how he wanted to keep you around and fill you up. You clenched around him more and more, and he sped up. "I'll give it to you, baby. Good girl wants to get pumped full?"

"Yes, yes! Please, let me- uh uh, let me have it please." You cried out. You moaned as you were kissed deeply and felt your tongues twirled around. "Fuck, fuck! I'm gonna cum, daddy. I'm gonna cum. Fuck, yes!" Your orgasm hit you hard; you saw pure white in your eyes as you crashed and rode that wave into pleasure.

"So good. So good! I'll give it to you princess. Just take it," Rayleigh continued on and huffed loudly, glasses finally falling off. He gripped the back of your thighs as he finished and milked himself.

The two of stay silent for a moment before you squeaked as you felt fingers stuff you full. "Can't waste a drop." Rayleigh winked.

You looked at him completely stunned.

This was certainly not how you thought the day would go...

~~~

*rereads and blushes* God damn....

I hope I did justice to my mans Rayleigh! I'm just gonna indulge in this fantasy to pretend that I didnt have to drop cash on this damn car...

Thanks for reading!

Part Two

[dollcherray]

۶♡ৎ OBLIVION ˚﹕⋆⊹

۶ৎ Lambert/The lamb x ambivert cat reader with social anxiety ۶ৎ

♡ Notes : Cult mentions, death mentions, Lambert is head over heels for u, i really love this floofy friend shaped lamb, just a writing to feed y'all something until my summer break starts 😸🫶🏼 ill post some cotl in my other blog tomorrow (probably), i use they/them pronouns for the lamb, i did the social anxiety part based more on myself so im sorry if something's inaccurate.

ᶻz Type: Headcanons, romantic, fluff

✮⋆˙ Music: Dove (doll version)

۶ৎ I headcanon Lambert to be aroace, so, whenever they get a crush on someone, i think it would be a down hard crush, making them fall head over heels for the person.

۶ৎ They noticed your lack of talking since the first time they bumped into you, they expected for you to somewhat dramatically apologize to them like the other followers.

۶ৎ But you just stood there, silently, as you just made a little gesture with your head as if minimally apologizing to them before continuing your way, they couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity light inside of them.

۶ৎ Lambert probably fell for you because of how you act, you were always quiet and somehow collected, of course your habit of trying to distance yourself from social interaction mildly worried them at first, but you looked okay with being alone so they didn't really bother you much.

۶ৎ you talked only when necessary, you never got into any fights, always did what you were told and were always the first to go to your tents when it was time to, sometimes even before that, they found your way to act very odd but somehow mature? they knew cats do have a strange nature but not a very silent one, more of a grumpy one (Ahem, Narinder) so you were one strange cat.

۶ৎ Lambert started to slowly attempt to form a relationship with you, it wasn't anything lousy or something like that, just quiet hangouts like drinking diverse drinks together, quiet walks around the cult's territory, Lambert babbling somethings about the cult not expecting you to answer, and things like that, they knew you weren't one to talk much so he started off slow to not scare you.

۶ৎ Lambert would be surprised if you start to open up one day to them, even if its just bit by bit, they will be over cloud 9, Lambert could appear calm in the outside but in the inside they were exploding in happiness that you started to trust them enough to try and be more outgoing with them.

۶ৎ After you started warming up to them, your hangouts would get more interactive and agitated, like dancing together in one of the cults celebrations and events, some late night gossip and stuff like that, Lambert would be more than happy to interact with you and hear more of your soothing voice.

۶ৎ Now when you started dating, Lambert had to stay more with you, because people would start be all over you since you are now partners with the cult leader, since you have social anxiety they know how overwhelmed you can get in crowded places, especially in a crowded place where all the attention is on you, so Lambert will make sure to be by your side in moments like these.

۶ৎ Lambert makes sure you are always comfortable whenever you are in a situation that requires social interaction and with large crowds, such as events, rituals and etc.

۶ৎ If you ever get too overwhelmed in a situation like this, Lambert will excuse you and them, immediately running off to find you an empty or at least a significantly less crowded place.

۶ৎ Would hold you in their arms until you feel better, reassuring you and comforting you the best they can, which might not be the best but hey, it's pretty decent.

۶ৎ They will 100% pet you, sorry not sorry.

۶ৎ Lambert likes petting between your ears and play with your tail sometimes, its like a fucking stim toy for them.

۶ৎ Lambert honestly thinks its cute how you can be very shy whenever theres a stranger near you and then suddenly switch to a very charismatic and happy person whenever your alone with them.

۶ৎ But it also worries Lambert, that can heavily prejudice you and your social life and they really don't want that for you, they just want what's best for you.

۶ৎ They would probably try to make you socialize more, of course, always talking to you about it before doing that, they would try to make you interact to others with them by your side and slowly starting to let you interact with others by yourself.

۶ৎ Would be so proud of you if you ever mention to them you got to make a new friend without feeling anxious and awkward.

۶ৎ They really love you<3

“I would praise you forever if i could. ♡”

[austinsastrology8991]

* DEGREE THEORY * and more...

this is just a theory, I love all degree theories and this is just my spin on the degree interpretations

Okay so I love the connotations towards Aries being 1°13°25° and that making the planet/point being aggressive and brash, and Taurus 2°14°26° making them more stable and growing into their power as time goes on, and so on with the rest of the signs; it makes good sense and I love reading the interpretations assigned to the signs inherent values. But I got a theory so Ive been connotating these degrees to the Tarot Card meanings, and well let me just go ahead and explain myself: 1° = The Magician - Represents creation, willpower, skills, but also negatively; cunning, vanity, or latent talents. > Now in comparison to the normal aries degrees - to me there are lots of similarities, aries is the starter - alike the magician - and they are both very aggressive in the attainment of their goals, which leads to vanity and well 'latent talents' from the lack of foresight. But on the positive they have plentyful amounts of willpower and are able to create things out of thin air since they have little foresight of potential consequences. 2° = the High Priestess - Represents Intuition, subconscious mind, spirituality, secret knowledge. but negatively; lack of self control, withdrawal, lack of self trust. These once again to me at least coincide with a lot of the taurus qualities > self control, self trust, withdrawal... Now i know you def could say its a lot like Pisces but I have a good counter. Look at the hanged man > Surrender, new perspectives, letting go... this is more in line with Pisces than the high priestess actually. Because the high priestess wants you to connect with YOUR higher power, the hanged man would rather you let go of your ego and connect the dots of the world around. But i digress. Also the connection between Taurus and Pisces is undeniable. Now im gonna switch what im sayin a bit but hear me out. > If you have a Pisces ascendant > aries is in your 2nd house (taurus) and we all know aries is something your constantly pursuing and are aggressive in the pursuit. Now if you have a Taurus ascendant > aries in the 12th house (pisces) you are aggresively trying to understand others because you have such a good understanding of yourself maybe learning from others would teach you even more (not to mention gemini in the 2nd... but i digress) okay so i understand this is a lot of information and maybe a little hard to digest so im not going to make it too long. But i have so many other theories and im just testing this post out to see how it is received. I could have gone on about each of the tarot card meanings, but i dont want to waste my time if it isnt going to be received well. However I do in my own spare time constnatly evaluate certain degrees with the connotated tarot cards... Like for example 8° is scorpio - power, mystery, intrigue, and well thats paired with the strength card... I mean im just saying i truly do believe there to be a strong connection between, tarot, astrology and well numerology also, i just wish we treated all the occults as the same subject - the occult because we are all just trying to discover secrets given from higher powers, so why we gotta act like they all cannot be correlated? also we've gone so backwards with our understanding of the occult > those witches back in the day just imagine what they all knew about the occult. and we are just over here trying to tell each other how sexy we are because we have leo and roar loudly or because you have scorpio you are sexy because you have a stinger.... like honestly sometimes i want yall to grow up.... ANYWAY i jumped around too much to be coherent, but well im just speaking my mind and yeah you let me know if this did something to your brain or if you fell asleep and want to be told that your a sexy demon seductress again...

[earlymorningfoxhunt]

Hello, we're a system/collective who started listening to Malevolent on June 7th, 2024, and boy did it hit close to home! not only because of the jarthur body sharing blues, but also johns individual experience with his identity made us feel seen in a way we haven't felt before.

the way john has to figure out what differentiates himself from both arthur and hastur, despite feeling trapped behind arthurs eyes and chained to hastur heart, aligns with our experiences... a lot. so we've been making a compilation for the past month that includes all of the moments that made us go OOORRG as well as different folks commentaries (mostly consisting of us going OOORRG). this is going to be long as shit because this entire show is this.

also if your a system/collective who likes malevolent: PLEASE put ur favorite moments/ur thoughts

and if you haven't listened to malevolent: hey, you should give it a try and then come cry to me about it :D

A Compilation Of Malevolent Moments That Hit Differently As A System:

The Caves: (34:59-35:20)

during their argument john laughs while arthur trips over things

hehehe ya

The Path: (43:06-44:05)

johns questioning if he's feeding off of arthurs emotions or if hes learning them for himself, new split type beat, trying to figure out where each other start and end.

"we are of two minds, and more and more im realizing two souls as well. there's a bleed over effect but you are something entirely your own, john."

The Fall:

oh my god this episode. this man got so fucking pissed, not at john for rubbing the death of arthurs child in his face, but at arthur pulling host rank???? i was like ya buddy you can rot in a pit for a few months, mf you cant do that!! we we're listening to this at work and we were so pissed

The King: (35:00-36:25)(45:18-48:57)

its the first time arthur talks for him and its the first time he feels johns tears.

arthurs confrontation with the king and the feeling of no matter how much you hate each other, you're going to have each others back. for us personally it feels like a sucker punch to the gut every time he says "because i cant lose another person!"

The Unconquerable:

when we wrote down the title we didnt know why the episode resonated with us, but now I come back to it a month later as a yellow introject. we have horrid memory issues on top of memory issues, so it hurts something familiar to see the state yellow is in when he gets thrown into arthur. not knowing who or where he is but still trying to hold the cards, arthurs disappointment that hes not who he wanted him to be. its a new kind of painful. its the odd solace that comes from a shattered mirror.

we see arthurs frustration but its almost nice to be able to hate him for not giving yellow more grace.

The Train: (4:19-8:10)

I have literally told this guy he looks 80lbs sopping wet before, this entire episode is perfect. the bickering, the team work, the having to navigate socializing, it feels so nice

The Tear: (12:14-22:48)

ya...

The Detective: [(3:50-7:05) (10:40-14:58)] (28:09-28:18)

we made the mistake of listening to this on the way to getting tacos and we just had to sit in the parking lot, crying as john got to be seen for the first time by an ally. I've never had the experience myself(others in our system are out tho) but seeing it go well for him sparked something in me, enough that it pulled us to front for the past few weeks. that, w. it was a very important moment to us

and on a completely different vibe, "have you ever... before?" fuckin "well with out my excellent call outs" silly guy

The Order II: (23:26-24:00)

huh? oh hes not talking to us

The Witch: [(16:11-17:24) (25:30-26:56) (29:00-33:17)]

the whole episode honestly, start to finish.

no, im not including the ending speech it makes me physically ill

WITCH: This woman cared for you?

JOHN: Yes. 

WITCH: Lies! She cared for your mortal!

JOHN: He couldn’t hear her! I was the one who received her care, her kindness, her –

WITCH: Intended for another!

JOHN: What does that matter!? She knew no difference between me or him! She knew nothing of the soul that heard her, whether it was… (He sighs in frustration.) It was the same care. The same… compassion. 

UUUUUUUUUGGGGG

Honorary Mentions:

all of johns memory issues in season 4:

how every time he came back he would be defensive saying "right, i knew that!" even when he didn't remember, that's a classic.

Intermezzo: (5:00-5:46)

kayne and his many many voices/me not me/ its not about the names were given its about the names we choose

every time jarthur says we/our

The King:

"well at least thats what the loudest voice in my head says" ya? and how many voices are in there?

[sillymoonboi]

⚠️WARNING:VENT⚠️

⚠️:Whipping, insulting, and hurting

I don’t normally post things like this regarding my life or household but i needed to cry on somebody’s shoulder or talk to someone about this, and my parents aren’t really a good choice for me… let me explain, So i was in my room scrolling through the discord chats and i got called by my mom to come try a new dish she made, i politely saying im sorry but im full , and then i got called by my dad this time and i said fuck it and went to see what they wanted , my dad was pressuring me to at least try but i again declined saying i already eaten or im already full and I can’t eat no more, My dad kept and kept pressing my limits saying to just try it or he’ll get mad, and i said my answer is “NO” he didn’t really take a liking to that word, and i feel very scared to say what he did next…. Even i was scared…. So he grabbed a towel near by him and i think you guys know what happened next…twice… and i was crying in pain and i finally took a small bite out of the food, i felt sick… even my mom was there to witness it… and instead of defending me….she blamed me and my dad saying we were crazy and embarrassing herself because the neighbors could hear us… she was more focused on her getting embarrassed than me getting hit… my dad let me go to the bathroom so i can calm down and i was sitting down on the toilet when my mom came in also crying she said “why you crying? This is your fault” and I couldn’t believe the words that came out of her mouth .. after i came back i wanted to go to sleep but my dad said No your staying here with me until you calm down and he made he sat with for like idk how long, he kept saying i was spoiled like my cousin who thinks they can do anything they want, and i asked him so you think hitting your child is normal ? He knew it wasn’t but he said it was the only way i can teach my lesson, my mom took my phone away, and i kept telling him to let me go back into my room, and he kept denying, he saw my mom cry and said look what you did to your mother, idk if they were guilt tripping me into thinking this was my fault over a fucking dish… he kept trying to hug me afterwards while i was with my mom talking to my brother on the phone, i told him what happened and what he did, and my brother said you know how dad is, your a good kid , saying that maybe if i just tasted it and just said its bad it wouldn’t have happened…., and he also kept blaming my behavior on my phone, like what the fuck the phone have to do with any of this???? Anyways he kept trying to hug me and i kept looking away feeling uncomfortable until i finally snapped i said i was going to my room and he kept mocking me on the way , i went to my room and putting a chair to block the door, i went through the covers and started sobbing… i’ve been crying all night and haven’t managed to get any sleep, i kept getting headaches everytime i cried, and cried….. i wanted this to end, i kept wishing it to be a dream but it wasn’t…. I managed to get my phone back today and i decided to talk about this…. This really effected me and made me realize what kind of people my parents are…it effected on how i seem them.. how i see myself…. I can’t believe all of this over some fucking peppers….. I can’t even look at my male ocs the same again.

I’ve decided im gonna take a break so i can heal … so there won’t be a lot of updates here …. I appreciate a lot of you and your support throughout this blog…..but im tired and i need a mental health break….❤️

[marvel-and-chicago-fan]

Wishing

Matilda Age: (15 years old)

Warnings: dont remember them since this is a old imagine

Summary: Jay wishes for something horrible now she ends up in the hospital

Never say, I wish

Me and Matilda were in a fight over her grades. She had gotten a C- after i told repeatedly to study instead she was on her phone talking with friends and watching Disney+. Things had gotten to the point where Will tried to interfere but I ended up snapping at him. 

“Do you ever listen to my instructions?” 

“I do, oh my gosh Jay you never give me a break. It's always Mattie  study, Matilda this Matilda that.” She argued 

“Because you don't listen whenever you need to. This always happens. You don't study, you don't do your homework.”

“That was one time Jay” She said with an attitude “and everytime you say" Mom wouldn't be happy with what you're doing”. I wish you would just stop bringing her up”

“I wish you were never in my life” I snapped

As soon as I said that, I immediately regretted it and wanted to take it back. Matilda just stood there looking like she was about to cry.

“Mattie i'm sorry” i said

She just ran up to her room and slammed the door shut. Will gave a death glare and I knew I was so screwed not only with will but because I knew he would tell Hailey and Hailey would give me the worst lecturer of my life.

“Man why the hell would you say that”Will yelled

“I don’t know it just slipped”

“It just SLIPPED?”He yelled “Are you insane did you not think about what you said before you said it”

“I'm sorry I didn't think, I'll go say sorry to her now.” I said walking 

“No, let her calm down first because what you said was so wrong”. 

And just like that i had put myself in the worst situation

***

Matties POV

Why would he say that? Does he actually mean that? Maybe he is right, mom wouldn't be proud of me. I'm just a burden to both of them.

Walking around I felt a familiar feeling. The feeling of fainting. “Ugh of course this has to happen now” I yell in my head. I go to sit down on my desk chair but I don't make it very far when I can already feel myself falling.

Everything hurts so much.

All I can see is black.

***

Wills POV

Im sitting scrolling on my phone glancing at jay everyone once and a while who looks antsy to go see Matilda. I look back down at my phone and I hear a loud thud. Hoping its matilda releasing her anger by throwing things i yell to make sure she's ok. “Mattie you good up there?”

I don't hear an answer from her and I yell aging. “Mattie!” Me and Jay both exchange a worried look before running up to her room and barging in.

“Matt why aren't you- Shoot Mattie can you hear me? '' Will said, slightly slapping Mattie's face. 

“Jay go get the car ready we can't wait for an ambulance” Will immediately checked to make sure she had a pulse and was relieved she did.

Jay nodded and ran out to the car so he could pull it out to the front.

I picked Matilda realizing how light she is. I ran out to the car and jay opened the door for us and we sped off to med

“This is 50-21 gorge. I'm headed to Chicago med. 15 year old female was found unconscious in her room.” I could hear jay radio in

***

“See Jay, this is why we don't say things like that. I had a co-worker in New York who wished that she didn't have a sister. the next day her sister died on the way to her house.” 

“I'm not gonna say anything until I see Matilda. I could never forgive myself if something happened to her and that was the last thing I ever said to her.” Jay said, i could hear his voice. He was on the verge of tears but Jay doesn't like to cry in front of people because he thinks it's embarrassing. 

Just then connor came and me and jay stood up hoping for good news 

“So she's stable and it was just another episode. She does have a concussion. I assume she fell on her head because she didnt get down fast enough. “

“Can we see her now?’ I asked already knowing the answer.

“Of course, good luck with her. She's delirious from the meds.’ He chuckled and left to continue his work. 

“Matilda, stop. How many times do I have to tell you to stop playing with your IV”. Making her jump because she didn't see us walk in. 

“Ok Jay, you can say whatever you want to say now.”

“I'm so sorry I said that Mattie, I never meant to say that. I just had a bad day and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. 

“I forgive you, and i'm sorry to i should start to listen to you guys more often” She admitted

I just let out a small laugh and we all broke out in laughter on how stupid the argument was.

“I love you guys” Mattie said

“We love you too Mattie” Jay replied

I hate this one but i just wanted to post something while im working on a new imagine, even though i could've picked from many of my imagines i never posted

[aibouart]

I hope this isn't a weird ask to send but:

I related really heavily to your post about what vent art has done for your psyche. Less specifically with vent art and more a vent blog where I privated the whole thing and would make unrebloggable vent posts (unrebloggable just in case if anything broke and slipped out of confinement)

I've had two of those kinds of blogs. Both ended up just being a negative confirmation bias zone for me to spiral out of control just if I looked at a post.

I'd see the timestamps and remember what made me make those posts and it'd make me lose myself all over again.

The second time I made the blog I told myself I wouldn't read back on the posts but 1) I cannot hold myself accountable to not do that so I did it and 2) the frequency of the vents ended up just achieving the same end result

Vent art for me is so much more work that it's rare, and I usually do end up very pleased with the end result and art typically helps more bc I can't just make art as quickly as I can make text posts. There's still some vent art that hurts like hell to look back on ofc but I understand that feeling of like...this art coming from someplace real.

I think learning to realize that drawing stuff without meaning can hold a meaning of its own (sharing joy, whimsy, etc etc with the world to remind ppl it's not all bad, or give them a safe place to indulge in something bright and colorful instead of the horrors of whatever reality they've currently got) can help ease into accepting the non-vent art as just as important and meaningful

It's tricky, but all of us who suffer more from our own vent posts/vent art can heal and move forward and find meaning in other expressions of other feelings.

Vent stuff can be such a powerful tool, so I'm glad you're learning how to be more careful with it. I wish you nothing but upward momentum from here!

thank you for the message, it does mean a lot to me to find others who went through something as similar that i did--even though it fuckin SUUUCKS

for me, ig my speedy art backfires with vent art. i have done pieces that i took (more) time with:

but for the most part it looked like this:

and they'd get posted within like 10 mins of each other (sometimes less)

i definitely think art doesn't need meaning to exist, but you spend so long hearing "what do you think the meaning behind this is" or making art like i had been doing that DID hold some meaning and i started to just feel like my own work was exempt.

it's hard to move past vent art and accept my work as worthy of existing even if it's just some pink furry staring at the camera doing nothing, instead of my sona ripping itself apart because of some deeper meaning. cuz like i do like my vent art, i think the limited colours i would use is cool and the compositions or expressions are intriguing, but getting into the headspace to draw all that just isn't worth the price anymore. but it sort of makes my current art feel shallow or empty.... like im not "trying", for sure.

and granted majority of people on this blog haven't even seen my vent art either it's not like anyone else's perception is skewed. it's just like a personal issue i've had as i recover from vent art/blogs WUURGG

but despite all that i draw what i want anyways, nothing can really stop me from doing that. i just kind of ruminate the whole time JKBSDBFBSD

thank you again for reaching out, i forgot i made the post when i woke up this morning and immediately panicked but nothing bad happened so i am feeling ok about sharing..!!

[polyamorouspunk]

Fully agree with you on the trans thing. It’s something I struggled with for a LONG time that I didnt *want* to be fully 100% trans. Like I fit in with trans people, I was transmasc, but I never felt *trans*. If that makes any sense??

People used to tell me all the time that I had to be trans if I checked xyz boxes. And I hated it. Now, years later, I’ve made it to a point that I just *am*. And it took me SO LONG to realize that was even an option. To just be myself without putting a label on it. I dont need to be fully cis or fully trans. Im just a little bit of everything and fully me.

It still confuses my queer friends. That I just *do not* care and dont put any importance on it. So its nice to see someone else with that opinion. Thank you

Yes!

Listen like I do not care if people reblog my posts and disagree with me. Like that’s you’re right as an individual. But what I don’t like is when I make a post talking about my identity and someone “corrects” me on it.

The problem with the push to be super inclusive, sometimes, is that people stop making it about who *wants* to be a part and who doesn’t.

I know people who are gay men who have 0 interest in being part of the LGBTQ+ community. Gay men who are like I’m not queer I’m not part of the community I’m just gay but I’m not identifying with the community in any way.

I know people who have described their “gender” to me almost verbatim the way that trans people have described to me their gender and have told me they do not consider themselves trans in any way, and it kind of sucks because I’m like… I know that if I were someone else they might put that label on that person even if that person doesn’t want it?

I’ve had people ON THIS BLOG send me asks telling me I am not trans and other people send me asks saying I’m not cis. Like lmao it’s so fucking funny pick one you guys. I gotta be one or the other- SIKE no I don’t. I’ve had people dump me over saying “I’m both cis and trans” which in hindsight seems kinda ableist because that was actually when I started IDing as plural so like. The idea you can’t be both is like. You know there are people with different experiences than you right. Like some common enough to be in textbooks. Not like some “out there” concepts like if you can grasp the concept of DID you can understand how perhaps to some degree a person can be different than their literal AGAB without being trans. Just for one example.

Sometimes I also fail to realize this but. When you reblog someone’s post, or comment on it, or send them an ask, etc… you are coming into THEIR space. I mean it very much went through my mind to be like “just ignore it” but I was like someone is coming onto MY post where I try and validate MY gender experiences and telling me people like ME are quite literally exactly what I’m talking about where I’m like actually I’m valid if I’m a little trans and outright saying “YOU AREN’T A LITTLE TRANS UWU” like. Hi it’s you you’re the problem you’re the people I’m validating myself to. Like I don’t care how politely and nicely you try and dress it up with inclusive language do not put me into a box I do not want to be put in because you think “that I have to be trans because I check xyz boxes” yeah literally. I know fully cis people who check “xyz boxes” and I ain’t out here telling them that actually they’re trans and valid for it. Like bro if you tell me you’re cis who am I to disagree.

In the near future you’ll never hear the words “I’m transgender” come out of my mouth directly. I might post it on here or say irl that I “dabble in transgenderism” but I do not outright say irl in person that I am transgender not because I’m “dealing with internalized transphobia” and “not ready to fully accept myself to be transgender in the real world instead of just offline” like no I just don’t ID as “transgender” period. Or you know what maybe I am but also who are you to say that’s what I am? How are you helping exactly? How is acting like I can’t “really accept myself for who I truly am” helping me any? Idk. Just because you have good intentions doesn’t make it better than the people who have bad intentions. Both are issues. Both are problematic.

Learn to go “actually it’s not my fucking business if someone is trans or cis or neither” and “they can call themselves whatever they want” and that includes NOT wanting to be included.