#plenty of time for people to be talking about this

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Pathology Murders

Summary: When the reader and the boys stumble across a gruesome scene, they get the feeling that the monster they're hunting is of the human variety...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 5,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, lots of mentions of gore/death, trauma, accident, fluff

A/N: This fic was inspired by this imagine (which makes an appearance in this one shot) and also by the horror movie Pathology!

________

“What the hell…” Dean and Sam looked around the abandoned house, pausing like you had when they got to the kitchen. Your boys weren’t wimps by any means. They’d seen some serious crap. Done some serious crap. But that kitchen? 

It took Sam all of three seconds to step out of the room and upheave his greek salad from lunch.

Meanwhile Dean took it all in before his eyes landed on where you were trying to work the scene, fighting back another dry heave. 

“You alright?” he asked. You knew he was concerned. You weren’t one to puke up your guts either. But the poor soul on the kitchen table, or rather what was left of him…twisted wasn’t even the right word for it.

“Not particularly,” you said, pointing at a glass jar that housed a pair of kidneys on the stove. “Not all the organs made it into jars. Pretty sure the liver is in the sink.”

Dean cautiously took a step inside, swallowing thickly. Unlike you or Sam, who had your own experiences with hell, Dean’s had been far more…interactive. Sam’s soul was battered around by Lucifer but it’d been more psychological than physical. You’d spent an unpleasant night with a hellhound in the same cage and while it hadn’t been fun, you’d been able to stay in a corner and out of harms way. Dean though…Dean had been sliced and diced and hacked and every other possible horror, imaginable or not. And then he’d performed the acts himself. You never blamed him for giving in, for breaking. You’d told him time and time again he was, and always would be, a good man.

Some days, more often lately it seemed the older he got, he seemed to believe you.

“Whoever did this performed an autopsy on this guy. While he was alive,” said Dean, leaning over the body to get a closer look. “Huh. Anybody see a heart around here?”

You surveyed the bloody room, finding more than a few peculiar shaped body parts but nothing resembling a heart. Sam finally made his way in, taking a deep inhale as he got used to the gore before him. “I got nothing over here.”

“Could be a werewolf,” said Dean, cocking his head as he straightened, brow furrowing. “Or a witch.”

You knew he wasn’t buying that though, neither of you were. You tore your eyes away from the search to watch Sam’s expression flare up with a strange look of familiarity. “Sammy?”

“I think a person did this,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes.

“No shit Sherlock. Someone used a knife or-”

“No, jackass,” said Sam, shooting Dean a harsh look for a brief second. “I mean I think this was a human, like an actual human. They were just talking about a cold case like this on a podcast I listened to during my run last week.”

“You and your fucking serial killer obsession,” muttered Dean. Sam’s eye twitched, the tension rising in the room. “It’s fucking weird, Sammy.”

“We hunt monsters, dumbass. How is that any different?”

“That’s our job. You don’t see me watching murder documentaries like a certain someone in my free time.” Sam got closer to Dean, Dean taking one to match, both boy’s jaws clenching. 

“Hey,” you said with a snap of your fingers, the pair reluctantly turning towards you. “Dean, plenty of people are interested in cold cases and as long as Sam isn’t a serial killer himself, his hobby is fine. Sam, Dean just gets concerned that you don’t take enough of a break from hunting but he can’t come out and say that. So hug and make up. You’re on the same side.”

They both grumbled and gave each other a half-assed embraced but it made you smile regardless. 

“So what’d your murder podcast say?” asked Dean, walking around to the other side of the cut open body. Sam’s face soured. “That good, huh?”

“They called them the Pathology Murders. A string of five victims about ten years ago that went unsolved. The killer performed live autopsies like you said about this guy earlier. The only lead they ever had was that the killer must have medical training, like a doctor, based on what they did to the victims. Oh, and all the murders took place in the Seattle area.”

“Which downtown is only twenty minutes from here,” you said, crossing your arms. “Was the heart missing at the other scenes?”

“I’m not sure. They could have skimmed over that,” said Sam. Your gaze followed Dean’s, his green eyes laced with uncertainty. “I can do some research back at the motel. You guys could check in with Seattle PD, see if the case files have anything useful.”

“We should double check that it’s not our kind of monster and if it really is a person-”

“We’re not working this case,” said Dean. Your eyebrows shot up, Sam’s face already frowning. “We do not investigate serial killers. Save it for the police.”

“Uh, what the hell is going on? You would never let a killer, monster or human, stay on the loose,” said Sam.

Dean’s gaze shot to you and quickly away, his eyes turning sharp as they zeroed in on Sam. You scoffed, Sam cocking his head in question.

“It’s because my mom was murdered. By a serial killer. Isn’t it, Dean?” Dean’s lips pressed into a thin hard line and you shook your head. “They caught her killer which you know. What does that have anything to do with-”

“You caught the killer, you did that,” said Dean, Sam completely lost. He knew your mom had been killed but not the gory details like Dean.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing then?” he asked. “Y/N has experience with this sort of thing then.”

“Why don’t you explain to Sammy just exactly what you did to ‘catch’ her killer then, sweetheart. Go on. I’m sure he’d love to hear it.” You glared at Dean, feeling an unpleasant prickling in your eyes. Dean didn’t back down as you teared up though, instead focusing on Sam. “She let herself be bait. She let herself get caught by the son of a bitch. She almost died because she doesn’t see when she’s going too far with serial killers. The same thing happened on that Tulsa case five years ago.”

You could sense Sam had shifted very quickly to being on Dean’s side of this argument. You’d been young and reckless with your mom’s killer, barely a day over eighteen. That was years and years ago. You’d learned since then to use more sense. Tulsa…well your plan as being bait would have worked if your former hunting partner hadn’t been more focused on getting some ass that night than watching your back.

“Yeah, that’s how we met, Sam. Not working a case. No, Y/N was fucked and if I hadn’t been driving back from Jody’s that night and saw the fucking asshole grab her, she’d be dead. Wouldn’t you?” Dean snarled. You narrowed your misty eyes at him, Dean lifting his chin. “We will make sure this isn’t our kind of deal and if it is in fact a run of the mill serial killer, we are getting the fuck out of here, understand me?”

“I fucked up once. Once,” you breathed out. You swallowed thickly, wiping off your face with your jacket sleeve. “Just how many times have you been kidnapped Dean in the five years that I’ve known you? I’ve been taken once. You? How many times have I cut you loose? Taken out the monster with a knife to your throat? A gun to your head? How many times have you gotten lost in a case? Gone on a rampage? I never realized we were keeping score.”

Dean’s gaze fell to the floor, his hand running over his jaw, searching for the right words.

“Sam, go back to the motel and research. Dean and I’ll do the fed schitk and get the files we can. Whoever’s behind this, I’m going after them. You two can do whatever the hell you want,” you said, storming out of the room and out of the house.

“You look pretty,” said Dean softly a few hours later as you exited the motel bathroom in your fed suit, a light blue button down blouse with your charcoal gray suit jacket and pants. You ignored him as you dug through your duffel for your pointed black booties. Professional but also you knew for a fact you could run and fight in them. You growled in frustration when you couldn’t find them though, hearing Dean clear his throat behind your back. You glanced over your shoulder, following Dean’s gaze to where he’d set them down by the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you grumbled, slipping them on and pulling up the side zipper. Dean was sporting his navy suit today, the one he looked extra hot in. You ignored that fact as you tucked your gun into the back of your pants, fixing your suit jacket over it.

“Y/N.” You sighed, giving him a look that you really didn’t want to do this right now. He took a long breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Sam quietly slinked out of the room into his adjoining one. Most of the time the three of you shared but when you could swing it, Sam got his own next door to give you and Dean some privacy.

Privacy you didn’t necessarily want at this moment.

“You do good cop, I’ll be the hardass if it comes to it,” you said, shoving your phone in your pocket. You tried to walk past him for the door but he caught your hand, stopping you after a few feet. “Dean.”

“I do not, and have never, thought you were weak. But serial killers are a blindspot for you. Sam and I both have them. This is yours.” He lowered his head, like he was fighting the words that were coming out. 

To your surprise, he dropped your hand and stood. 

“Be careful on this one, sweetheart.” He walked past you to the motel door, cracking it open and pausing. “We should get going.”

“You sure I’m not going to lose it? Get too carried away and get myself captured?” you said, unable to stop from poking back after his earlier insinuations. Dean’s shoulders rose and fell, one hand going to the doorframe to grip it as you watched the back of his head lower.

“Y/N, don’t you know by now I’m an idiot that’d rather lose you because I’m a dick than find you in the hands of some monster like whoever did that to that poor guy? Don’t you know I know you’re stronger than me? Don’t you think I realize how hard it is to be with someone like me?”

“You don’t stop Sam from doing dangerous things,” you said. “You don’t bring up the past to him.”

“Yes I have,” he said quietly. “And convincing Sam to stay in a motel room where it’s safe to research has never been hard thankfully.”

“You don’t treat me with the same respect though,” you said softly. “It hurts to know you never will think of me as being as capable as he is all because I’m your girlfriend.”

Dean shook his head, straightening his back. “You are more than capable, sweetheart. But sometimes…I just want to be a man that protects his girl. I don’t want to be scared of failing you for once…because if that monster got anywhere near you…”

You took quiet steps over to him, staring at his broad shoulders as they sagged.

“Eventually everyone I love dies or has something awful happen to them. Maybe I don’t say it the right way but fucking hell, all I want is for those things to not happen to you.” He spun around, green eyes full of worry. You nodded, taking his hand and lacing your fingers together. He squeezed them gently, the warmth of it pleasant.

“Our job is dangerous, Dean. We hunt the monsters, supernatural or not. I love you but you don’t get to keep me locked away.” You ran your thumb over his scuffed up skin, still healing form last week’s hunt. “That said…I promise not to get so angry if you promise to just say you’re scared for me. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his face. “I just have a bad feeling about this one.”

“Then we’ll be smart, okay?” You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “And don’t call yourself an idiot. I don’t like it.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s go figure out what the hell is going on.”

Two Hours Later

“This guy’s a fucking psycho,” you said into your phone while Dean came outside with a bag of burgers and fries. “Apparently he sends the hearts to the victims families in a little box with a bow.”

“Sounds about right for a guy who cuts people open for fun,” said Sam on the other end. “I’m gonna pour through the records you just sent over.”

“Alright. Dean and I should be back in fifteen-”

“Why don’t you guys have a date night? I got this for a few hours.” You bit your bottom lip, Sam’s silence going on. “Come on, Y/N. You guys should talk about Dean’s protectiveness and your stubbornness.”

You wanted to argue that fact but sighed, closing your eyes.

“Any suggestions on how we find that line when our job is to hunt killers?” you asked.

“Maybe remember that he’s your boyfriend first, hunting partner second. Most boyfriends wouldn’t want their girlfriend near a serial killer either, no matter what their job.”

“Don’t have good points, Samuel,” you said as Dean took a seat next to you on Baby’s hood. “We’ll be back in two hours.”

You hung up and dove your hand into the bag of fries, smirking when Dean presented you with a chocolate milkshake. He grinned as you dipped the fry in it and tossed it back, giving him a big thumbs up.

“I love you,” you said, Dean smiling as he dug out his burger. “I always love you, even when we fight.”

He glanced at you, landing a gentle kiss on your lips in the next moment. He barely moved his lips, letting them linger instead. He moved back only an inch and nodded. “I was a dickhead earlier. All because I’m afraid of finding you with a serial killer standing over you with a giant ass knife again. I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say that shit in the moment.”

“Because you’re human,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “And you’re so much better at talking to me than five years ago. The old you wouldn’t have even been able to say that to me.”

“I try,” he said, letting you kiss him, your own a tad more forceful than his had been.

“That’s all I ask for,” you said, Dean’s phone going off at that exact moment. He sighed as he took it out, Sam’s name appearing. He tapped it onto speaker and took a bite of his burger. “What’s up Sammy?”

“Guys, I think I figured something out. All the victims were patients at Mercy West hospital back in the day and this latest guy? He was a patient there last week.” You and Dean shared a frown. “Yeah, I know. The cops investigated all of the hospital staff there back then but they never came up with anything. They thought maybe a doctor was behind it but he died in a car accident between the second and third vics.”

“It could have been him and he had a partner. Definitely is someone with access to records so they have to work there,” said Dean as you held up a finger. “What?”

“I could have sworn I’ve heard about this hospital in the news before. Something to do with a boat accident?” you asked. You heard Sam typing loudly before he hummed.

“Yup. They made national news about six months ago when seven of their medical students died in a boating accident. Explosion apparently when they got boozed up and had a bonfire on the boat. The bodies were so bad they couldn’t identify the remains,” said Sam. Dean took another bite of his burger and swallowed. “Already checking through the police files. Shit.”

“Shit what, Sam?” you asked, dunking a fry in your milkshake.

“Shit as in the boat accident wasn’t an accident at all. There was definitely an explosion but they found damage on the bodies indicating some injuries occurred before death. Like being carved up alive. They don’t want the public knowing the killer is still active in the area.”

“It’s gotta be someone linked to that hospital. Only question is why can’t the police figure out who?” asked Dean.

“Good question,” said Sam. “I’m going to keep digging, see if there’s a connection between the two we missed.”

“Thanks Sammy. We’ll be back in twenty to help,” said Dean, hanging up. He glanced at you, biting the inside of his cheek.

“This isn’t a monster,” you said quietly. “At least, it’s a human one.”

Dean polished off the rest of his meal quietly, the air still for a few beats. 

“When you get too worried about me on hunts, you put yourself in danger,” you said, slowly sipping from the shake. His heated gaze was on you as you handed him the drink. “You have to trust that I’m strong enough to do this. Careful and capable. We both need to work on that.”

“Alright. But do me a favor? Stick close to me or Sammy on this one. You’re just…” You waited, let him find his words. He took the drink and finished it off, shoving the trash in the bag. “You just got over that shoulder injury. Your punches don’t hit as hard as normal right now. I don’t mean that in a bad way, just-”

“Okay,” you said, finding his hand, slipping yours inside. “Now let’s figure out who this bastard is.”

He hummed, letting go of you for a brief moment so he could toss the garbage away. You slid inside the passenger seat, Dean back and behind the wheel after the blink of an eye. Approximately ten seconds later you were pulling out of the parking lot and on the road, headed down main street and for the motel.

“So I was thinking this guy does autopsies on victims right?” said Dean, turning the radio down low on a soft rock station. You glanced out the window on the dark night, a rumble of thunder overhead. “But the cops can’t find him. Well, isn’t there someone that sometimes works at hospitals and for the police that would be able to fuck with a body after the fact and hide traces of their involvement?”

“A pathologist. I was thinking that too but wouldn’t that have been their first look? I mean they literally call them the Pathology Murders,” you said, waiting for the the light to turn green. “It could be someone that knows someone at the department covering for them. Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe. I get the gist this guy works alone though. I only clocked one set of boots at the scene this morning,” he said, the bright green light illuminating the dark interior.

“Same. It’s absolutely someone associated with that damn hospital-” you said, Dean’s arm shooting in front of you in your peripheral. A millisecond later, something slammed into the right side of Baby, your side. Your lap belt tugged on you hard as your body lolled to the side, weightless for a moment before gravity reared it’s ugly head and slammed you down. Your head smacked something hard and it all went dark.

You could hear Dean asking a paramedic a million questions, not a single one concerned about himself. You opened your eyes to find yourself in the back of an ambulance, Dean lying on a stretcher beside you. He could tell you were awake and struggled to reach over to you but couldn’t. Instead he thrashed his head back against his pillow in defeat, straining against the straps that held him down.

“Sir, I need you to calm down,” said the paramedic as you blinked slowly at Dean. You knew something was wrong with you, with both of you, but you weren’t quite sure what that was yet. You struggled when you saw Dean upset. You wanted him to feel better. “You need to relax, she’s seeing you panic and that’s making her do the same.”

Dean stopped as he took in how your heart rate had skyrocketed, how scared you looked. He sighed and forced himself to stay calm. You saw him relax and heard him say it was okay. Neither of you enjoyed the feeling of being tied down, especially when the both of you were in plain view of one another and couldn’t reach each other. You tried to speak but couldn’t as you felt how raw your throat was. 

“We’ll be at Mercy West in just a few minutes,” said the paramedic to Dean as you half-listened. 

“No, take us somewhere else!” yelled Dean suddenly, fighting again. The paramedic sighed as you both started struggling once more. You didn’t have much of an idea of what was going on but if Dean didn’t want to go there, it wasn’t safe. 

“I’m going to give each of you a sedative and by the time you wake up, you’ll be in your hospital beds feeling a lot better,” he said gently. 

“No, don’t you touch her,” said Dean as you started to get very sleepy. The last thing you saw was Dean shutting his eyes as you finally remembered what had happened.

If Sam didn’t get to you soon, you were screwed.

Your eyes wearily opened under bright lights that made your head hurt. You winced and turned away from it, limbs heavy and still. Dean’s voice echoed somewhere, to your left maybe? You forced your eyes open again, Dean strapped down to a metal table with metal drawers behind him, the look on his face like he was screaming at you. You blinked, the ringing in your eyes loud and obnoxious, droning him out.

“Get up, fucking get up!” Dean shouted so loud you shook your head, a splitting headache cracking over you. “Y/N get out of here!” 

It took only a moment to discover that unlike Dean, you weren’t restrained in what was most likely the hospital morgue. Something was wrong though. A sedative? No. You were becoming more alert if anything but your arms were growing more tired, head becoming too heavy to lift.

“Something’s off,” you tried to say, the words caught in your throat, unable to be voiced. Your eyes flared wide, Dean’s drifting past you.

“Someone took a long time to wake up,” said a voice to your right. Suddenly a hand was under your head.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean snarled, your head set on a…stand? Something to keep it elevated and from rolling to the side. You tried to move but the message wasn’t getting to your body, your eyes glued on the handsome face with a just slightly off smile leaning over you.

“You were in a nasty accident, Agent Carlson. Unfortunately for you, your head trauma was too severe and you coded in the ER. Meanwhile Agent Manns in his grief unfortunately succumbed to his injuries. At least that’s what the autopsy report will say,” he said, inspecting what felt like a cut on your temple. “Such a shame. It won’t be my best work but you’re not the first law enforcement to cross me. Sadly no one will be able to discover your remains once you’re accidentally incinerated as John and Jane Doe but it’s good practice.”

“Let her go you fucking psycho,” growled Dean when the doctor moved out of view and returned with a pair of shears. 

“Psycho? I’m Dr. Thomas, ER Trauma physician and part-time pathologist. I’ve saved far more lives than I’ve taken, Agent Manns,” he said, snipping through your blouse. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Dr. Thomas bagged your shirt in a plastic bag nearby, doing the same with your pants and boots once they’d been removed.

“Paralyzing agent. Hard to come by but it has it’s advantages. No messy straps or ropes in the way,” he said, lifting your arm as you watched helplessly, cold metal against your skin as he cut through your bra straps.

“I swear to god I’m going to rip your spine out of your fucking face. If you touch her-”

“Not my style,” said Dr. Thomas, pulling away the fabric, sending a chill down your back. He gave you his focus again, a smirk on his face as he put two fingers to your neck. “Your heart is hammering away, isn’t it? Biology is fascinating that way. It’s so strange how an emotion such as fear can cause physical reactions in our bodies.”

“Get the fuck away from her!” shouted Dean. Dr. Thomas’ smile towards you dropped when he looked at Dean. He sighed and set the shears down, walking out of view.

“You’re really starting to irritate me,” he said, the distinct sound of tape being ripped from a roll filling the room and then Dean’s cries became muffled, only quiet thumping as he struggled coming from him now. Dr. Thomas appeared again wearing another smile. “Sorry about that. It’s always the men that get all squirmy. The women always live longer. Now, one could argue that’s because women have on average more blood in their bodies than men but I’ve gotten a fairly large sample size over the past decade to believe they’re psychologically stronger and therefore last longer.”

You tried hard to move your hand when he held up a scalpel near your face but nothing worked. 

Fuck if you could move anything you’d be shaking harder than a tree in a damn hurricane. Dean struggling right beside you with a front row seat was not helping.

“Now I like to explain all of my procedures to my patients beforehand. While you are paralyzed to a degree, you will still feel things. That’s perfectly normal.” You were wide eyed, Dr. Thomas chuckling. “The procedure typically takes me around thirty minutes. However, you’ll die from the blood loss or shock after roughly seven so don’t worry about that aspect. Considering you were in an accident less than an hour ago, I suspect it’s more like four or five for you which is unfortunate for me but it is what it is. Perhaps Agent Manns will give me more time.”

He lowered the scalpel to your shoulder and dug in hard to the skin, dragging it inward towards your chest. Your scream was caught in your throat as he did it on the other side to match.

Dean was shouting and thrashing on the table beside you but you couldn’t even turn your head to look. Dr. Thomas started talking about incisions and procedures and then you felt something completely unnatural against your arm, another shout trapped in your lungs. Forget the brave face. You would have been full on wailing if you were capable of it.

Crack. Snap. Shudder. Rip. It was around the time that Dr. Thomas held up something dark red and sticky looking that your body decided passing out was the best course of action. Unfortunately, it wasn’t doing that for some reason and you were stuck on the edge of consciousness, terrified and wishing something would come along and smash your head in to end this.

A loud bang shot out and something heavy smacked your leg, something else skirting against your side. 

“Dear god,” whispered Sam. Your eyes were locked open as you heard Sam rush over, staring down at you for only a split second before he moved to Dean. 

That was not good. You were far more injured that Dean, somewhere on the verge of death if you figured. Sam would have stopped to help you first.

Unless you were beyond saving.

“Sweetheart,” said Dean, grabbing one of your blood covered hands in both of his. Fuck he was crying. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were so totally fucked. He looked over to Sam, Sam staring back with an open mouth. They couldn’t fix this. Shit, shit. You were going to die cut open like a Thanksgiving turkey. “W-What about Cas?”

“Dean,” said Sam, an air of resignation in his voice. “He’s in Kansas.”

“Jack then.”

“He’s with Cas. He doesn’t know how to-”

“A spell, a cure, something! Take her upstairs to a fucking doctor!” shouted Dean. 

“De. Half of her organs are…” said Sam as you got light headed, Dean’s hand running over your head. Dean found your face, his chin wobbling. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Then we sit with our girl,” said Dean softly, tucking a hair behind your ear. “And you fall asleep, sweetheart and when you wake up again, you’ll feel all better. I’ll come find you someday. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to sleep for me.”

Dean lowered his head, kissing your forehead as he fought back the tears that wanted to spill over. Sam took your other hand, squeezing it gently as you tried to do what he asked.

“Bloody hell, of course a Winchester took out a nutter like that. I’d have thunk he deserved more than a bullet,” said a familiar voice. 

“Rowena?” both boys echoed. She didn’t respond though, Sam’s hand dropping yours as a flash of red hair moved in front of you. You stared up at her, her hands cradling your cheeks.

“Dean, let go.” He did and about two seconds later you were shot straight upright, body in one piece, full of feeling and horror as you wrapped your arms over your chest, looking all around. 

“What the hell was that?” asked Sam while Dean shrugged out of his fed jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, buttoning you up before he picked you up and was cradling you in his arms.

Rowena faced him with a hand on her hip, your own gaze falling down to where a dead Dr. Thomas lay on the floor, blood oozing from the back of his open head.

“Do you boys still not see me as a friend?” she asked, an undercurrent of hurt in her voice. You were shaking in Dean’s arms, clutching to his shirt with your too long sleeves. 

“You’re the queen of hell. Why would you stop a death?” asked Sam. She rolled her eyes and approached you, resting a hand on your arm.

“Because I’m the queen of hell and I do as I please, Samuel.” You wanted to say thank you but all you could manage was a few jumbled words as you buried yourself in Dean’s neck. “She’s in shock, quite bad. Best to take her home and let her rest.”

“Thank you Rowena,” said Dean, walking past her, stopping near the entrance to the room. “Next time you need something, just let us know and we’ll help.”

“Of course. I’ll take care of this mess. Oh and Y/N, dear?” You managed to lift your head, grateful to find Sam was right on Dean’s heels. “This lad is going to be spending a lot of time on the receiving end of what he gave out up here down in hell. I promise you that.”

You nodded, giving her a thumbs up. Dean kissed the top of your head, his hold on you tight.

“You’re going to be alright, sweetheart. Just give it some time.”

“How’s that feel?” asked Dean for what felt like the twentieth time back at the motel. You’d showered, took another another shower, took a bath, took another shower and currently were wrapped up in a mess of Dean’s pajamas on the bed with a big towel in your hair. 

“Better,” you said, your voice back with you once you’d gotten out of the hospital morgue. Sam was off relaying what he’d found to the local police. Apparently Dr. Thomas had worked on a few cases for the county but his sister it turned out was a hot shot detective who’d been covering for him for years. It was how he’d found out about you and Dean investigating.

Honestly that woman would be better off going out like her brother. She’d covered up a lot of murders for her brother. It’d be a miracle if someone didn’t take her out before then. Not that you particularly would mind that. 

You patted the bed beside you, Dean taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. He removed the damp towel and nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, strong arms wrapped all around your body.

“So we really nailed that whole careful thing, huh?” you said. Dean chuckled deeply, inhaling the scent of your damp hair, a pretty lilac and vanilla blend you knew he liked. 

“How do you do that? Make me laugh when I don’t feel like ever laughing again,” he said, tightening his hold.

“Because I’m hilarious,” you said, closing your eyes, wrapping your hands around his forearms. “You might not understand this but what you said when I thought…you made me feel safe even when I was scared that was it. You were a guy protecting his girl tonight, even if it’s not the way you meant it.”

“Meant every word,” he whispered, breathing slowly. 

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize for not stopping it. There’s no way we saw that coming.”

“Okay,” he said, draping his legs over yours, leaning back against the headboard with you. “How’s that feel? Comfy?”

You smiled as you rolled your eyes at him, tucking in closer. “I got you, Winchester. I’ll be alright. A chocolate milkshake and order of fries wouldn’t hurt though.”

“You’re hungry? After all that?” he chuckled. 

“Yup. Ask Sam to pick some up on his way back,” you said, tilting your head back, kissing under his jaw. “Our date got cut short after all.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You couldn’t talk earlier,” he said, taking your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’ll have nightmares, I’m sure, and all the other crap we get. But right now in this moment, with you, I’m okay.” He smiled, holding your body against his.

“I love you so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even if you do get kidnapped by serial killers.” You whacked his leg, Dean’s laugh rumbling against your back.

“Love you too, ya dork.”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn fanfic #dean spn #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot

[queenofcoquette]

how do you have unshakeable confidence?

hey loves! i know i've made plenty of posts talking about confidence, but after going through one of the worst mental health patches i've had, i've come back with a lot more to say. i've always been pretty thin skinned and after seeing the judgement that a lot of ppl were going thru, it made me feel like i needed to fit into an acceptable box, to please as many people as possible.

defining your beliefs. i think it's important to know what things for you are a non-negotiable. like find things that you believe in deeply and things that you wouldn't care being judged for.

setting your priorities. this really helps me- i think about what is really important to me and what is not. i'm not striving to be the smartest person on the planet, so if someone thinks im dumb then whatever.

having confident role models. some of my relatives from Massachusetts are like very stereotypical 'massholes' and they just all have so much confidence about everything, so i like to think about them. or chloe sevigny. honestly just anyone who is true to themselves and radiates that sort of vibe is good to look up to.

putting yourself in new situations. i've had so many instances where i worry about something, and then when it actually happens it's not even bad. and i think the more times this happens the more you realize how much we build up fear.

seeing the good in others. when you become a critic of everyone else, eventually you'll start doing the same thing to yourself. stop thinking that you would do better then someone in every situation.

i think of my faith in God. if your not religious then you can skip this, but personally i remind myself that in the end it won't matter how people judged me, but how God did. stop pandering to people.

of course there's all the other things i've talked about. consistently thinking positive thoughts, taking care of yourself physically and mentally. all that put together will improve the way you see yourself.

#also by the time ur seeing this im prob taking the ap chem test or driving to school to take it #self improvement #queenofcoquette #that girl 2024 #that girl #it girl #self care #pink pilates princess #coquette #healthy habits

[sftykth]

the bimbo maid ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ anakin skywalker.

★ summary: agreeing with your best friend to find a job over the summer, leads you the well known bimbo to work as Anakin Skywalker’s personal maid which takes an unexpected turn.

★ pairing: college student y/n x modern!ceo anakin skywalker.

★ genre: college au, ceo au, age gap (reader is 20, anakin is 40)

★ a/n: hi guys:) first part to the series let me know if you like another part. or if you have any requests drop them on my inbox! i love writing something on similar basis.

Summer had finally approached which meant that finals were over and you had plenty of time to yourself. Being a university student was easy for you, had the perfect grades, never too broke for nights out thanks to your rich father. You two had a fairly decent relationship, though he never really payed much attention to your whereabouts. Sometimes thoughts of a better connection with your father crossed your mind but there was little you could do.

You were shaken out of your thoughts when you felt a shove to your shoulder. "Earth to Y/n, what got you so caught up huh?" the voice of your best friend Irene took you out of trance.

You gave her a cheeky smile, "Oh nothing don't mind me. So what are the plans for the summer, now we are free from the hell hole?"

"Well I was hoping we could finally get some work experience, you know like I mentioned before" she responded with a hopeful look. You groaned at the mention of work, you didn't understand her obsession with doing manual labor when you two were perfectly fine for money. Actually more than fine. Growing up with a rich father had its perks but it did encourage for a naive behavior for you. You didn't really notice it, too busy making sure you looked your best and always too good enough for college boys.

"Irene we talked about this already, what use will it be for people like us to work. Like it is so pointless we have everything we want. We don't have to work to prove anything" You gave your honest opinion, not really bothering to think about reality of life, too busy in your own head daydreaming away.

She rolled her eyes before you saw a sly smirk pull at her lips. "Oh god what? Why are you looking at me like that? I told you I am not doing it."

"Oh but you are you remember how you said you owe me big time after you cock blocked me at Colby's party?" She says her arms folded with a proud grin on her face. Face palming yourself at the memory. "that was like months ago can't you let it go, cmon Irene." You gave her your best puppy eyes which always seemed to work on everyone, your big sparkly eyes which seems to make men fold in an instance.

However, your antics didn't work as your best friend just gave you the death stare. "Ugh fine I will do it even if I think this is the most stupid thing you could have come up with." You state after minutes of trying to persuade your friend, she squealed in joy a big smile spreading across her face "trust me Y/n this will help us in the long run and I'm just glad I won't be the only one suffering during summer" She said running away before you could say another word. Rolling your eyes you could only hope, God was on your side this time round.

-

A good few weeks had passed since the interaction, and you really had tried to find a job. You scanned every newspaper, every article online but nothing seemed to work. No callbacks, nothing. Somehow you convinced yourself that this is your fathers fault, carrying his surname obviously put you at a disadvantage from the rest as it carries intimidation. Or that you didn't see the fact that it wasn't the surname but the persona itself that made these employers turn you away. As your father was a very well known business man the media had taken its interest in calculating his every move, as a result it caused you to be dragged along. They captured you as the typical blonde bimbo who was only best at looking good.

Those media articles didn't bother you much, you knew deep inside that you were better than that. Yes you were very high maintenance and you needed everything to be as you liked but that didn't mean you were stupid. You always hear what people have to say behind your backs, that is why Irene was your only best friend. Though she was born in a similar family, she understood you and the reality behind such life.

"Honey?" You heard you fathers voice call out. You looked up from where you were brushing your hair at your vanity. "Hm what's up? You needed something?" Continuing to brush through your hair not minding much attention to him, though slightly intrigued what he wanted so late at night. Usually he is too busy locked away in his office late nights to have any time to come to say good nights.

He clears his throat before starting, "well I heard you were looking for a job but not having much luck. And I wanted to see if I could be any help?" Turning around as confusion clouded your brain, how did he know but then realization that probably one of the maids you were talking about it with had mentioned it to him.

"Oh yeah, not sure if you can be any help. I tried absolutely everywhere and nobody wants me." The topic brought tears to your eyes, it was stupid you didn't even want this. Only doing it for your best friend.

He approached you and patted your shoulder "Oh honey don't cry it's okay, I actually had something in mind. This work friend of mine had mentioned in passing he was looking for a new maid, his old one had moved away and the house is pretty massive so he needs the help."

You frowned at his words, "a maid? Do I look like like a maid to you dad? This is just bellow me, I- I can't" You couldn't believe your father's word right now, a maid? You never treated your maids any less of course, but the thoughts of actually working as a maid made you disgusted.

He looked at me knowingly, "I know honey, you don't have to take it but it is something worth considering. His family are also very well off so you would be in great hands I'm sure." His words slightly eased me, you really hated the idea of working as a maid not used to getting your hands dirty. "Who?" You gently asked playing with the ends of your skirt.

"The Skywalker's, honey." The name sounded familiar to your ears, you heard of the man that was in charge of one of the companies but there was never an opportunity to meet him.

"What do you say, hm? I will give him a call so he could arrange a meeting before you start. Would give you a chance to get a sense of the house and what it would be like." Your father really tried to encourage you, even though he was not the most present father out there he really tried to do everything for the better for his family. Even if that family was just you and him.

The idea still bothered you but you gave him a nod, too tired to fight. You figured it wouldn't hurt to at least meet the guy. You father gave you a big smile in return, proud of your choice. "Alright honey, I will let him know as soon as I can."

-

To say the fact you were nervous was an understatement, you where stood out the big dark gates that hid the Skywalker's residency. You adjusted your pastel pink skirt which ended just at mid thighs, as you waited for the gates to open after ringing the bell on your left. You made sure to pay extra attention to your appearance today, made sure your make up was just right, with the right amounts of blush and lipgloss. Wearing one of your favorite white crop top which had two animated bunnies on it, paired with white thigh highs.

The idea of dressing in a formal way didn't even cross your mind, as you believed you didn't have to do all the typical interview things you had heard Irene mention in passing.

Once the gates had opened you took a shaky breath, before approaching the large doors. You finally started to feel the reality of what was happening, you didn't know what to expect from this meeting. You could only hope he was nice, was he? Was a he strict boss? Or maybe he was kind and gentle? Many thoughts flooded your head, you didn't even notice the door being pulled open.

"And who are you?" A shrill voice caused you to jump, tighting your hold on your mini bag, you looked up to see an older woman. Probably around your fathers age, though she looked beautiful. The smile wrinkles having its mark didn't take away the youthful beauty she once held. She must be the wife, you thought.

"I'm Y/n, Mrs Skywalker. My father arranged an appointed with you for the new position as the maid." You shyly stated as you felt intimidated by the harsh look she continued to give you. She scoffed in response, "seriously? Aren't you too young to be working?" She shook her head at me, "I'm twenty, Mrs Skywalker."

"Right whatever, just come in already and head straight to the dining room." She pointed straight, I quickly took my chance and rushed to the direction she pointed not wanting to anger her more. You weren't sure what her problem was, but you knew you wouldn't have much patience if she treated you as dirt. After all you were an Kenobi and nobody treated Kenobi's with disrespect.

"So kid, who was it that recommended you here?" She questioned as she towered over you, a dark look still in her eyes. You weren't too scared so you didn't back away, "Obi Wan, Mrs Skywalker. My father." You proudly stated, watching her gaze avert for a second. Got you.

"I see. I didn't actually hear from him though kid. Can you explain that to me." She once again glared at you, as you were ready to respond a deep voice had cut her off.

"That is because he spoke to me Padme, now leave. I will not ask again." A tall man entered the room, his aura surrounding the whole room in almost a suffocating way. She finally turned her glare from m you to her husband, "fine. But please for the love of god hire someone actually worthy." She spat before leaving the room, an obvious stab at you. You lowered your head trying to not let tears prickle your eyes, you couldn't appear weak now. Not in front of this man.

"Look up. Now." The harsh voice made my head instantly look up, met with such piercing blue eyes you nearly gasped. They seemed so full of emotion that you couldn't decipher what. However, the intimidation you felt was clear not only to you but him as well. Though your mind had it own idea of drifting away, as you thought about how good looking he was. You couldn't actually believe how hot he was for someone of his age, you were never attracted to such older guys before so it shocked you.

"Am I going to have to repeat myself? Or will you be a good girl and listen." The rough sound of his voice pulled you out of your thoughts about the man that stood right above you. You gulped, clearly missing what he had said but the mention of the nickname had made your thighs squeezing without you realizing.

"Sorry sir, I- I didn't hear you." You managed to whisper out, something about him made you cower away. Not really knowing what to do with yourself. "I asked. When can you start?" He says his cold stare never leaving me, my eyebrows shot up. Was he not going to ask any questions? Was getting a job really that easy?

"Oh um I can start whenever you want me to. I'm fully available." You hoped you didn't sound too desperate, but you were being honest with him. "Good. You can start tomorrow." He stresses before starting to walk away from me, not before turning around and pointing at me "and please come dressed in something more, appropriate. Though we do have an uniform you can get dressed in." Were his last words before quickly leaving the room.

Left stunned, you didn't even manage to ask what the uniform was. You really hoped you could survive this summer working for this man. He seemed to not like you by the cold stare he kept giving you, you could only hope he becomes nicer or else it will make this experience harder.

— thanks for reading:) if you like another part let me know. and if you like to be in my tag list for future stories let me know too!

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christiensen imagines #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker masterlist #ask me things

[pyschedtrickster]

TADC Ep 2 - Depression and the Meaning of Life

Well, I may or may not be a day late to release of the episode, but I've watched it three times so far and I have some thoughts. Let's get the gritty stuff outta the way.

First of all, The Amazing Digital Circus belongs to @gooseworx and therefore everything I say here is just my personal take on the episode. I could be wrong, talking out my ass, etc. But this episode really spoke to me, so good job Goose.

Secondly, spoilers <3

Third, I think I've written enough that people won't get jumpscared with spoilers. This is gonna be a long read, so bear with me. This post will contain ALL my thoughts on the episode, both meaningful and just silly things I liked.

BUBBLE

So anyone who knows me from Bunnydoll Burrow knows I love Bubble. They're my favorite so far and this episode only cemented that further. They're wonderful comedic relief and even if they don't have any character development (which I don't think they will), I will always love them.

Caine Cares Too Much

While watching this, I was immediately off-put by Caine's reactions, even beginning with him calling Zooble back. He sounds so... dire? I don't know if that was intended to mean something or if it was just to put emphasis on how much Caine cares about his creations. Caine is AI, so world-building is likely his ONLY goal, or his prompt if you will. It wouldn't surprise me if that was why he was so upset by everyone's reactions.

But I can't help but wonder if this will play into his character arc. We understand that Caine is ambiguous right now and there's no real explanation of what his intentions are in the Circus. Something about this just really set me off. It made me feel unsafe in a way as if staying behind would result in danger of some kind. Obviously, it couldn't be that bad, as Zooble did stay behind and turned out fine. Still, I can't shake the feeling that this is foreshadowing.

Zoobie

Hilarious. What a solid nickname, I've seen so many headcanons that Zooble would be a stoner in the real world. This only makes it better. They are now Zoobie in my mind.

Pomni's Child Comment

While I'm sure this was just a silly comment to be made, I kinda liked it. Just a little in-show reminder that through all of this, Pomni is a real, grown-ass woman stuck inside some digital Hell. The whole first episode, we see her wallowing and panicking, justifiably so. Finally, we get to see her grow more serious and stable.

Through the episode, we see more of her being a good character and becoming more at terms with her situation. I'll touch on this more soon.

Gangle

My girl CANNOT catch a break. Gangle is such a funny character and so, so sweet. She's level-headed in my opinion, even through her emotions. She seems to have a good grip on the shit happening around her but has a hard time communicating properly because she has a lot of feelings going on. Me too, honey, me too.

Even in the face of violence, danger, and overall shitfuckery, she doesn't shut down. Sure, she cries. But I've cried plenty of times while still holding the fort down. I think I just relate to her.

Lastly, I NEED to know what this means like I need oxygen.

Government Mandated Shipping

I dunno man, I just really liked this. I'm a shipper at heart. I've been writing fanfic since middle school. I saw pure fanfic material when I watched this scene.

Kinger and Raggs

This scene made me smile. It's a cute nod towards how Kinger is the longest-standing character and, according to some lost post of Goose's, Ragatha is the second. Plus, all of episodes one and two, we see her trying so hard to be a rock for Pomni. She tries to include everyone, keep everyone cheerful, and be a stable constant in a realm of chaos; Seeing Kinger recognize how far she's come and using that to bring her back to reason was just so refreshing. Ragatha deserves more appreciation like that: less about what she does for others, and more about what she's done for herself.

Jax's Disappointment

So we don't know much about Jax besides how Goose loves him and says he's an asshole who may or may not be irredeemable. When he started talking about violence and getting excited at the thought, I chalked it up to him being an ass. But it struck me just how much this mattered to Jax in this scene. I have questions, man. But I'm about to go on a wild tangent, so hear me out.

Jax is happy when being destructive. He gets immediately upset when things go well. And in the circus, we can assume that there have been a lot of traumatic, wild things that have occurred. I wonder if the chaos, the violence, is a comfort for Jax because of those traumatic experiences. As a person with trauma, I've learned that there's a funny cycle that I and other traumatized people experience.

We don't like the situations we're in, but when faced with normalcy, it's so much scarier than the damaging situation we come from. So, we run from 'normal' back into the suffocating arms of our traumatizing situations for comfort. Going back to the situation means more trauma, more trauma means a harder time finding peace in a safe, normal environment, which means more trauma... you get the picture.

So am I saying a fictional purple bunny is using violence in a digital realm to cope with the very real topic of trauma? Maybe. Yes. Yes, I am. This is how I cope.

Depression, Finding Your Place, and the Bigger Picture

Now you may be saying, "hey! You skipped over some major scenes to talk about silly stuff! What gives?"

Well, as the title of this post suggests, I had some heavier stuff to address in this episode and wanted to compile it all in one section. So that meant skipping over a scene to bunch it in with other ones. I'll break it down.

Depression

Let me begin with the fact that I have been diagnosed with depression for years now. I've been hospitalized for it and I've had family members struggle with it around me. This heavily influenced how I viewed this episode and specifically this scene.

Gummigoo had a perfectly reasonable reaction to seeing the perfect replica of him that is his model. Seeing something like that would shatter your world, and we see that happen to him immediately.

But when Gummigoo talked to Pomni and asked why anything matters, it gave me this really familiar feeling. Thoughts of being nothing, of feeling meaningless, the mere idea of being an obstacle--I've experienced all of these. I'm sure others have. Pomni was right when she said it's normal. Everyone has felt down from time to time.

But what Gummigoo is talking about really hit home with my depression. Thoughts like these, especially when they linger for long, change how you view the world. Everything is tinted blue and desaturated. You feel empty and eventually, so does the world around you. You feel like when the party is over and everyone leaves, you disappear--or you think you should, at least.

"Why are you trying to cheer me up? How does this benefit you at all?"

And it's so, so hard to accept help when feeling like this. Depression is a bitch in the way that it wants you to stay depressed. It feels like everyone around you wants you to feel better because it is a convenience for them. It almost feels transactional if you smile.

But Pomni says it so beautifully; "I guess I just don't want you to feel like you're nothing. I don't want anybody to feel like that."

The way she says it makes me feel like she knows the feeling too, and in reality, she says she does understand in a way how Gummigoo feels. But that? That made it real for me. I don't know why. This whole scene, the entrapment and loneliness despite not actually being alone, just embodied how I've felt for years. What amazing writing.

Finding Your Place

This scene was really the cherry on top of everything I just spoke about. We see that these two understand each other, at least as much as they can. They recognize all of this, it's ridiculous. They're hurtling through space into the unknown, hoping everything works out. They may feel empty, but they're not alone. They've got each other, for better or worse. Maybe they don't know where they belong in this liminal space, but they know where they stand in each other's minds.

And then we get this ending scene. God. Fuck.

I knew that there was obviously something to that dream Pomni had in the beginning, but somehow I didn't expect this to be the conclusion to it. I guess I was too distracted by everything else. So when I got to this shot, I got all warm and teary-eyed.

Pomni finally feels like she's got a pack, a place in this digital circus. When you don't feel mentally alone anymore, there seems to be a weight that's lifted off your shoulders. It doesn't cure the sadness, but at least you know that if you need to be picked up, someone will be there. Depression wants you to be alone, but it just lost that battle. The internet has said it best: A win is a win.

The Bigger Picture

We all know where the end of the road is. How we get there is the mystery. This thought can really make a person feel small, especially when depression comes in to tell you that you in fact are small, according to the chemicals in your brain. But the power of numbers and knowing your place in the world makes facing the unknown a little easier.

I'll be honest, the words are kinda lost on me at this point. Our demise is a really hard topic to broach. I've lost a lot of people, especially some major players in my life (shoutout to the Dead Dads club), and still, I don't understand it all. But the best way I can explain it is through my own experience and how I applied it to this episode.

I had for a long time gone through life trying to prepare and prepare. I played the role of the strong, unaffected individual after being hardened by trauma in childhood. I didn't want to be outwardly emotional, because if I was I would have to admit defeat.

It made me feel weak, especially when my depression would whisper nasty things to me about my self-worth. The bigger picture at that time didn't even exist in my mind. I lived to serve and die. It was no way to live.

Only recently, with time, a couple grippy sock vacays and therapy have I started to form my own, new big picture. At the center of this is my interactions with others. Family, friends, and strangers, all of them are affected by my actions. Even during the days when I feel worthless or alone, I remind myself that even the little things I do have a spiderweb effect. I have worth, more so than serving others or being some obstacle. I can simply walk down the street and perhaps I'll be the person who some kid looks at and hopes to look like when they're older. My existence is so much more than just a give-and-take situation with everyone around me.

It felt like Pomni found her purpose in the circus, and it was more than just playing along until the end. Rather, it was to befriend the people around her who have proved in one way or another way that they care. Abstraction wasn't in vain to them. Lives mattered, and therefore so did Pomni.

In a vast, digital world where chaos looms like a grey cloud, Pomni always mattered. She just had to realize how, and it was much more than being an obstacle or a pawn. And so do we, I think.

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #tadc ragatha #tadc jax #tadc kaufmo #tadc gangle #tadc pomni #tadc fandom #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #tadc bubble #tadc caine #tadc episode 2 #digital circus #tadc ep 2 #episode 2 #new episode #gummigoo #tadc gummigoo

[oswildin]

Loki x Autistic!Partner Headcannons

Please be aware these are based off my own experiences with autism as a late diagnosed, cis woman. No autistic person is the same. Don’t take this as advice.

You finally got the diagnosis, after years of feeling like there was something missing, something not clicking… And then finally, it made sense.

When you told Loki, well, he looked at you strangely. Confused. Sure, you were a little ‘quirky’ (what a classic descriptor used), had your… habits. Why did mortals have a word for everything?

“It doesn’t change anything.” Loki had told you. You knew he meant well, you knew how he meant it.

“But it does. In a way.” You’d told him. It meant you now had the chance to make changes, to adjust, set boundaries in your life.

You were getting ready for bed when you saw a book on the bedside table that you didn’t recognise. Loki had a habit of leaving his books lying around. But typically they were all old looking, massive ancient texts with the occasional modern novel. Moving towards the table, you picked it up, eyeing the title.

“I wanted to read up on it.” Loki spoke from the doorway, seeing you turn to look at it. “Understand. Help.” He said softly, slowly approaching. “Make sure that I can do everything that I can to make life easier.” He paused. “Which I know sounds ridiculous coming from the God of Mischief who is renown for doing the exact opposite.” He smirked, tone teasing.

You felt a warmth in your chest, seeing the genuine care in his actions, his words. Putting the book down, you closed the distance between you both, giving him a hug. Loki instantly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, a small soft smile on his lips.

“I know it’s not the same…” He began quietly. “But… I know how it feels to be… on the outside.” He paused. “To feel like… you are always trying to find a place to fit in. Wishing you could be understood.” His hand soothingly rubbed your back. “But…” His lips tugged upwards faintly. “Then I found you and you made me feel like I belonged.”

And of course, he did the same for you. It was amazing how one person could make you feel that way.

Loki was a man who was both impatient and patient, but with you, he was always the latter. Sure, there were time when he got frustrated - but never at you. It was at himself, at the fact he couldn’t simply magic any problems you faced away (literally and metaphorically).

When you go quiet, he doesn’t force you to try to speak, or try to engage you in conversation, knowing that you just need time and space and quiet. But he will sit with you. And of course, give you plenty of hugs if that’s what you needed.

He feels a warmth spread through him whenever he sees you happy stim, it never fails to bring a smile to his face. If you’re happy, he’s happy.

Loki always laughs with you, not at you.

The first time he see’s you having a meltdown tears at his heart. He does his absolute best to help calm you down, but knows there’s boundaries and is always conscious of what he says or does in those situations. He doesn’t crowd you, even if his first instinct is to wrap you in his arms and hug you, make you feel safe - but he knows that isn’t always what you need.

After a while, he began to pick up on the small things, the tiny details that told him you were becoming overwhelmed or frustrated, instantly allowing you to take the reins and tell him what you need and want to ensure you didn’t get to the point of a meltdown.

Loki never treats you like a child. He’d read about how common it is for people to do that, and the notion seemed utterly absurd to him.

Oh, he loved hearing you info-dump and talk about your interests. He loved seeing the way your eyes lit up, the way you spoke so passionately and enthusiastically about them.

“Sorry, I was rambling-“ You’d say sheepishly, making Loki furrow his brows. “No, no, continue. Please.” He’d encourage, nodding with a small smile. “I want to know.”

And of course, you could listen to him speak about magic for hours. You loved seeing him be passionate about such things too, his facial expressions, the quips he’d make about how people didn’t know the difference between ‘duplicate casting’ and ‘illusion projection’.

“Honestly, it’s not that hard to understand.” “They’re clearly completely two different things.” “It’s insulting.”

He’d cast illusions of the night sky on the ceiling, fluttering butterflies, small fireworks… anything that made your eyes light up. He’ll bring you some form of calm.

When you got snappy or agitated, he’d bite his tongue. His instinct was to quip back - he was still Loki after all. But he understood that it wasn’t personal, it wasn’t him. And so over time, the defensiveness would wane, and he’d simply give you space or whatever you need.

You understood each other. As Loki had said, it was different circumstances, but he knew how it felt to be seen as the ‘outsider’, not feeling like he quite fit in but didn’t understand why - until he, of course, found out his true heritage.

But there was a kinship there. He knew how lonely and isolating it could feel to be seen as ‘different’. And he never wanted you to feel that with him. And you never wanted him to feel that with you.

He found you comforting. Calming even. Like a solace to the soul. Through the good and the bad.

You’d told him about your childhood, how you never felt like you fit in, couldn’t work out why other children weren’t as nice to you or wouldn’t let you play with them at break time. Even when they did, it never was what you wanted to do or suggested. Always playing by their rules.

Loki could relate to that. Growing up with Thor and the others… He always preferred reading and learning magic over the more… boisterous activities they would prefer. And he always felt like he was just there because of Thor.

You told him about how you went through your teen years being confused about everything and anything. The turmoil of emotions you had no understanding of yet, why you felt so tired, sad, angry and alone. It broke his heart to know you had gone through such things, to know you had ‘changed’ yourself to try and fit in with others expectations and ideals.

Yes, he also understood that feeling rather well too.

“You know you never have to do that with me, right?” Loki had asked, never wanting you to feel that way with him.

“Am I too much?” You’d once asked him, and the look on your face - the fact you’d even asked him - tugged at his heartstrings.

“Maybe.” Loki said softly, noticing your face drop for a moment before he quickly added: “But-“ Making you look up at him, brows furrowing. “You’re my too much.” He told you, eyes crinkling faintly. “And I know I’m quite a handful, so I do hope I’m also your too much.” He’d add playfully, making you smile. “Seems like we’re each others ‘too much’ then.” You mused lightly.

(Last quote is from/based on Heartbreak High)

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki headcanons #Loki #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #marvel loki #loki odinson #loki x you

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Temptation and Need

Summary: Can Y/N tempt Dean into what he needs?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut - this is just all smut. Unprotected P in V sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving, very brief m receiving), face-sitting, cum shot, overstimulation, big age gap (21 and 43), dirty talk, dub-con (sort of - the reader not taking no for an answer), masturbation, voyeurism (very brief), use of a vibrator, spanking, (brief), pussy slapping (brief).

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 3,895

A/N: A million years ago (okay, last December) I got a request from a lovely anon asking this:

hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap with dean winchester where the female!reader is like in her 20s and dean's is his 40s :) just some rough smut with like hair pulling where dean asks for her to sit on his face or something like that (if you're comfortable with it) and just dirty talks cause I absolutely love them haha :) I really love your writing btw!!!! thanks a lot <3

It took me about four and a half months to get to this, but it's finally here! Thank you so much for this request, hope you're happy with it Nonnie. And I hope everyone else who reads it enjoys it too. ❤️

Master List || Dean Winchester One Shots || Tag Lists

Y/N had known it would be good - no - amazing. Since the first time she’d laid eyes on Dean Winchester six months earlier, she’d wanted to feel him beneath her, above her, behind her, inside her. She’d wanted him any and every way she could have him.

She simply needed him with the heat of a raging fire that never cooled.

So she’d imagined this moment for more than a hundred nights, and she’d known it would be incredible. But her imagination had been woefully inadequate.

She’d been attempting to seduce Dean the entire time she’d known him. She knew that he knew how much she wanted him, but he’d been reluctant. Every time she sidled up close to him, he’d moved away. Any time she put her hands on him, his heart kicked up so she could feel it pound, and if she got close enough she could feel the hard evidence of his desire press against her. But inevitably he would gently lift her hands off of him and give her a look of warning.

“Stop this, Y/N.” He’d scold with heat pooling quick and fervid in his eyes.

One time he’d given her a look of exasperation and then scowled at her. “I’m too old for you dammit. I could be your father.”

She bit her lip and smiled, full of mischief, as she’d answered. “Well, I’m happy to call you Daddy, if that’s what you want.”

It was true that she was just barely twenty-one and Dean was forty-three, but she didn’t care. In fact, she’d always preferred older men. Men like Dean had experience and stamina, they knew just what to do to pleasure their partner. She’d never slept with anyone less than a decade older than her. Some people might say she had daddy issues (and maybe she did) but she didn’t care what other people thought - she pursued her own pleasure.

Yet in spite of plenty of sexual experiences with older men, despite all her fantasies about Dean, she’d never imagined this level of pleasure.

***

A few hours earlier:

Dean fell onto the library chair, closing his eyes with a groan and dropping his green duffel bag at his feet, just as Y/N walked into the room. 

“You’re back!” She called excitedly as she hurried towards him. “How was the hunt? Where’s Sam?”

Dean grunted as she hopped into his lap. His feet were planted on the ground, and he was slightly slouched in the chair creating the perfect seat for her. His long, muscular thighs rippled beneath her, and as she wiggled against him, she felt the telltale sign of his desire as the bulge at the front of his jeans hardened slightly against her thigh.

The muscle in his jaw jumped as he gave her a scolding look. “The hunt was long and bloody, but fine. It's finished anyway. And Sam is with Eileen."

She ran her finger across the small abrasion on his cheek. "Well, at least you're less beaten up than usual." She said with dubious cheer.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, it was a walk in the park. Now get off my lap so I can go take a shower.”

She nodded and slid off so he could stand, but when he moved off towards the showers, she followed. When he arrived at the shower room door, he turned to look at her standing close behind him. He gave a sideways nod towards the door.

“This is as far as you go, sweetheart.” He said with a raised brow; his gaze turned knowing as she pouted.

She tried for her most convincing tone. “But just think of how much more enjoyable it would be if I came in with you.” She could see in his eyes that he was thinking about exactly that scenario.

But he shook his head. “No. It’s late, you shouldn't have waited up for me. Go to sleep.”

She pouted some more and then sighed before giving him a winsome smile and a wink. “Yes, Daddy.”

Dean scowled at her but she just stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before slowly backing away. 

“Goodnight, Dean. I’m glad you’re home. I sleep so much better when you’re here.” She said truthfully.

He gave her a nod and then walked into the shower room. She heard the lock click and she sighed. Another night with nothing but her fantasies to sustain her. 

She went to her room and got ready for bed, slipping on the AC/DC t-shirt she’d stolen from Dean. He knew she had it, he’d seen her in it, but he’d never demanded it back. 

She crawled into bed and tried to go to sleep. But she was restless, her body aching in a way that wouldn’t end without Dean between her legs. 

Her skin was flushed and the soft wool blanket she was covered with irritated her overheated flesh until she threw it off of her. She brought her hands up to cover her face; she knew she wouldn’t get to sleep unless she did something about the longing that had overtaken her body.

So she rolled over and pulled open the bottom drawer of her bedside table, pulling out the modest-sized vibrator she kept hidden in there for nights just like tonight. Since moving into the bunker a few months ago, nights like tonight happened pretty much every night. 

She leaned back against her pillows and let her mind drift, allowing images to flash into her mind’s eye. Dean’s face, set in lines of intense desire; his hands, strong and hard, warm and rough, moving over her body. 

She slipped her hand past the waistband of her panties, letting her middle finger swirl around her clit, desperately trying to imagine it was Dean’s thick, blunt fingertip pressing against her.

After a few minutes of bringing forth endless hot and decadent images of Dean into her head, she turned on the vibrator and let it press against her clit a moment or two before sliding it through her dripping slick, and pushing it inside. 

As she fucked herself with the toy, she kept Dean’s body in mind - his powerful muscles and solid bulk - imagining him hovering above her. She worked at it for a long time, desperately seeking her release. 

But though she moved the vibrating silicone cock fast and hard in and out of her quivering cunt, she just couldn’t find it. After half an hour of coming so close, but constantly missing the mark, Y/N was whimpering and more frustrated than she could express. 

In desperation, she began to chant quietly, imagining that Dean was there with her and could hear her need. “Dean. Dean. Fuck me, please. Ugh, I need you so badly, I fucking need you.” Her voice crescendoed in a moan of disappointment as her orgasm stayed just beyond her reach. “Dean.” She whined as she bucked her hips desperately.

Suddenly she heard her door squeak open, making her squeal and rip the vibrator out of her body, shock coursing through her, making her heart pound. But then she fell completely silent as she saw Dean standing silhouetted against the hallway light.  

For a moment or two neither of them moved. Finally, Y/N turned off her vibrator and silence reigned. 

Dean finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “I heard you. Heard you calling my name.” 

He took a step inside her room; she could see now that he was dressed for sleep, sweats and no shirt - she gasped softly at the incredible view of his wide chest, his shoulder muscles flexing as his hands balled into fists. She could also make out more of his face; it was set in harsh lines, the muscle in his jaw flexing over and over. He licked his lips and her pussy clenched.

“Why were you calling me?” Dean asked, though he had to know the answer as she still gripped the vibrator, and the scent of her dripping sex perfumed the air. 

She could sense that the cord that bound them, that had been pulling them together and apart since the day they met, was about to snap - if she could just say the right words.

She went with the truth.

“I was calling out to you while I fucked myself. I was imagining it was your cock buried deep inside me, imagining your hands on my skin, your lips on my throat.” Dean’s eyes were blazing emeralds with dark onyx pupils spreading across them as she spoke.

“But this thing wasn’t cutting it.” She said, lifting the vibrator and then dropping it on the floor beside the bed. “I need the real thing.”

She pushed her feet into the mattress and opened her knees wide, pushing her hand into her panties once again as she stared at him. “I need you, Dean. Please.”

The cord snapped and Dean charged forward, stopping at the end of her bed and grabbing her ankles to yank her towards him. She gasped as he placed a knee between her legs and rested his weight on his palms as he leaned down to capture her mouth. 

His kiss was hard, desperate, almost violent, as he crushed her lips and stabbed his tongue into her mouth. She moaned at the weight of him pressed against her, lifting her hips slightly so she could press her aching cunt against his thick thigh. She groaned harshly into Dean’s mouth as the pressure caused an even hotter fever to rage across her body.

Dean pulled out of the kiss and stood up, taking hold of her hands to pull her into a sitting position. His chest was rising and falling with deep breaths as he grasped the hem of his stolen t-shirt.

His voice was all growl when he spoke. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt about ripping this fucking t-shirt from your body? How many mornings I had to sneak away to the shower to jack off like a fucking horny teenager, after seeing you parading around in it? It barely covers your ass, and every time you’d bend, even a little, I could see a glimpse of your little cotton panties, or sometimes, just your bare ass in a thong.”

His voice was slightly dark, a rebuke in his words. “I knew you were doing it on purpose, of course, knew it was your way of trying to tempt me into fucking ruining you.”

He yanked the t-shirt up over her head as a moan escaped her. Dean groaned too as he got his first look at her. “Fuck me.” He said quietly. 

He looked her in the eye as he reached out and roughly tugged on her puckered nipple. She cried out, her head dropping back, as she arched her chest forward.

“God damn, baby, you really do want it, don’t you? I thought it might be a game you were playing, but you really do want me to ruin this hot little pussy.” He reached his hand down to rub against her soaked panties. “You want that, baby? Huh? Want me to fuck you sensless? Till you can’t walk? Can’t think?”

Y/N nodded disjointedly. “God yes.” She whispered, grabbing his wrist to try and press his fingers harder against her cunt. “Please. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Dean knocked her hand away and grabbed both her wrists tightly as he used his body weight to push her back onto the mattress. He stared at her, making her feel like he could see straight through her. Finally he spoke, his voice softer.

“How much experience do you actually have, Y/N?”

She shook her head to dispel any worries. “Enough. I’m no virgin, and I know what I like.”

His mouth lifted slightly at the corner. “And what do you like, baby?”

“I like it rough and hard, but I’ll take some soft wooing too.” She said with a grin. She shrugged. “Basically, I like you - a lot - and whatever you have in mind, I’m down for.”

Dean nodded. “Okay, but give me a safe word, just in case.” He kissed her softly. “I won’t take any chances with you.”

His concern for her made Y/N’s stomach flip in a pleasant way. She smiled. “K, how about ‘shenanigans’?” 

Dean chuckled. “Perfect.”

His smile faded as he bent his head to kiss her again, slowly this time, thoroughly, as though he didn’t want to leave an inch of her mouth unexplored. When he pulled away, leaving her gasping for air, he slowly kissed a path down her body, between her breasts, stopping to nip and suck on her nipples, pinching one and then the other, before trailing his lips down over her belly.

When he reached the apex of her thighs, he got off the bed to kneel at the foot of it, pulling her panties down over her legs and tossing them aside. He reached forward to wrap his arms around her thighs, spreading her open and pulling her to his mouth. He made a deep, guttural noise as he sank into her cunt, immediately licking and sucking on her sensitive skin, so that she was writhing beneath him almost instantly. She called out his name in desperation as she sank her fingers into his short hair, tugging slightly when he speared her with his tongue.

He pulled away from her and licked his lips free of her juices. “Fuck, yeah baby, say my name again, just like that.” 

He let go of one of her thighs so he could bring his hand between her legs and slap it hard against her pussy. Y/N gasped and then her hips bucked as he did it again.

“You’ve been a naughty girl with this fucking pussy, haven’t you? Pushing this dripping mess against me every chance you got. Fuckin' rubbing on me, and constantly begging me to fuck you.”

He smacked her a third time and Y/N felt her cunt throb with a deep ache. “Fuck, Dean yes! I’ve wanted you to fuck me, wanted you to take me apart for so fucking long. Please, please! Bury yourself so deep in me.”

She screamed in pleasure as he rammed two fingers into her, knuckle deep. As he crooked them forward inside of her, he leaned down to flick his tongue against her clit, making her rear up off the bed. She was so close now. She could feel the tension in her body just on the verge of snapping, when he suddenly pulled back from her, removing his fingers and causing her to wail and plead.

“No, please, Dean. More.” She whimpered pathetically as he stood up.

But then he pushed down his sweats and she caught sight of his cock for the first time. It was long and thick, just as she’d known it would be - everything about Dean screamed, “Big Dick Energy”. It was absolutely beautiful, red-tipped and standing at attention.

She sat up and reached for him, wrapping her hand around the base and sliding her tongue through his slit, licking up the pre-cum that beaded there. Dean stood rigidly, letting her lick at him like a lollipop for a couple minutes more before he pulled her hand away. 

“That’s enough for now, sweetheart.”

She pouted at him, but he just leaned down to grasp her waist, lifting her slightly and tossing her further up the bed. She gasped at the pleasure of being manhandled like a rag doll. He was on his knees as he moved towards her. He grabbed hold of her calves and flipped her over onto her stomach before smacking her ass once and then twice.

She moaned and instinctively lifted her hips, pushing her ass towards him for more. 

He slapped her again, and then ordered her, “Get on your knees, and lean forward to hold on to the headboard.”

She did as he said, grabbing on to the rails of her headboard tightly. He pushed her thighs apart before turning to lay on his back underneath her, pushing her knees open even further with his wide shoulders. 

Y/N was surprised; she’d thought he was getting her into position so he could take her from behind; instead she looked down to see his beautiful face positioned directly below her dripping cunt. 

“Sit on my face, baby. Fuck yourself on my tongue. Ride me.”

Y/N moaned as he lifted his head slightly so he could lick up through her folds. He dropped his head back to the mattress, though, and his voice was hard when he spoke. 

“Now.”

Despite all of her experience, Y/N had never been ordered to sit on a man’s face, and had never had oral sex this way. At first she was worried that she could hurt him, so she just lightly gyrated her hips against his mouth. But after a minute or so Dean grabbed onto her thighs and spoke angrily.

“I said sit, not float.” His hands pulled her down, forcing her to rest heavily against his face, so that she was truly sitting on it. His nose rubbed against her clit and Y/N couldn’t help grinding down against his mouth. His tongue delved deeply into her cunt, stabbing in and out of her entrance. 

Very soon Y/N was truly fucking herself on his face, using the strength of his jaw and the slide of his lips to create otherworldly sensations. Every once in a while she’d lift herself slightly to check that Dean was okay, but he’d always growl and pull her back down. 

Finally she could feel her orgasm growing inside her, felt the coil low in her stomach tightening almost to the point of pain, but then it burst open and she screamed as she rocked her hips and slammed herself down against Dean’s eager mouth as he slurped up everything she gushed onto him.

Aftershocks of her climax along with Dean’s probing tongue and plump, sucking lips, brought on two more mind-blowing orgasms. It felt as though she’d been edging herself for months and was now finally free to let go; her whole body trembled as Dean finally pushed her back and then rolled her under him.

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked down into Y/N’s face; she knew she must look strung out, and she could feel unconsciousness creeping in. Dean must have seen it too because he shook his head and swiftly shoved three fingers into her cunt making her come alive again with a shout.

“No way, baby. You didn’t spend all these months begging me to fuck you, just to get off with coming a couple times and falling asleep. I want you fucked out completely. I want you stupid and useless beneath me. I want to fuck you so long that you’re just a boneless, lump of cock slut laid out on the bed.”

As he finished speaking he pressed his middle finger against her clit and that pressure, combined with his filthy words, was all it took to have her shouting out her ecstasy once again.

As she was coming down, Dean slammed himself into her, forcing her clenching walls open so her cunt could squeeze him tight as he sheathed himself inside. He pushed her knees wide open, keeping her feet in the air as he jackhammered into her. He slammed so hard and so deep, she knew he’d leave marks. 

And she knew she’d never experienced anything like it, nothing in her past, or even in her fantasies had prepared her for this level of raw passion and need.

She came two more times as he fucked up into her; he changed up his rhythm, going from hard and driving to slow and sensual as the mood suited him. By the time he flipped her onto her stomach Y/N did indeed feel boneless and stupid with pleasure.

“Please Dean.” She begged softly, not actually aware what she was asking for. 

“Come on baby, I didn’t say we were done, don’t give out on me now.” Dean said harshly as he lifted her hips. Her knees rubbed against the sheet, but really she was being held in place with Dean’s strength.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re seeing stars.” He told her before slamming her back onto his cock, drilling even deeper inside than he had before.

Y/N gasped, her pussy was so overly sensitive after being fucked for so long, but she couldn’t escape the intense rush of pleasure that came as Dean slammed his cock against her sweet spot deep inside her.

“Fuck, yes.” She mumbled into the pillow where her face was buried. 

“Yeah, that’s right baby.” Dean rammed into the spot again, making her scream, her throat raw from all her screams of pleasure. “Take every fucking inch. This is what you’ve wanted for months, isn’t it? Spent every minute I’ve known you trying to get us right here, haven’t you?”

He dropped one of her hips so he could spank her right cheek hard, watching it jiggle. “Answer me!” He demanded as he spanked her again before grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head up and back. “Tell me how much you’ve wanted this, little slut. Admit to prancing around this bunker, desperate for me to pin you down and fuck you just like this.”

“Yes!” Y/N gasped as he pounded into her over and over, never losing rhythm or strength. “Yes, fuck, yes.” It was all she could get out. She was truly exhausted, but she still chased the high he was raising within her with every thrust.

He spanked her again and then reached his hand around so that he could push against her throbbing clit. It took only a few circles with his finger, and a few more hammering thrusts before she shattered into a million pieces, seeming to shake and shiver forever.

As she came back to earth slightly, she could feel Dean pulling out of her. “I’m gonna come baby. Can I come on your ass?” She nodded and mumbled out a “yes.”

She heard him grunt obscenely, and despite her liquefied bones, her pussy still clenched at the sound, before she felt his sticky seed spurting across her ass, and lower back. He bucked forward, his thighs slapping against her ass as he shot another load, warm and wet, onto her skin.

Finally he fell to the side, and Y/N let her knees give out beneath her as she fell onto her stomach in complete exhaustion and immediate unconsciousness. She woke some time later to feel Dean wiping her clean with a warm cloth and pressing kisses up her spine.

When he saw her eyes flutter open, he tossed away the cloth and laid down beside her, kissing her nose and her cheek before pressing his mouth gently to hers. 

“You were so fucking perfect, Y/N. Everything I’ve dreamed about night after night.” He shook his head. “No, you were even more perfect than I imagined, so much more.”

She smiled softly and raised an eyebrow. “So you agree? You were an idiot and we should have done this so much sooner?”

He scoffed. “N’ah, it was perfect this way, at this time. But it’s gonna be even more perfect next time.”

Y/N grinned at him and tried not to be too obvious about how thrilled she was that there was going to be a next time. 

“I don’t know.” She teased. “You’re gonna have to try hard to do better than this.”

Dean grinned wickedly. “Challenge accepted.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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Dean Fics Only:

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

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#dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fan fic

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝟱 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦, 𝗟𝗦𝟮 logan sargent x fem! reader (fluff) “. . . using his five senses, these are his favourite things about you.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests | taglist )

Sight

Logan absolutely loves seeing you danceing and having the time of your life

it makes him all giddy and happy inside

watching you forget yourself and follow the beat or jingle, he cant help but admire the sight

if youre dancing at a party or at home in a game of just dance, you know he's hyping you up

"that is . . . not-" Logan tried to hold in his laugh, sitting on the couch watching you play just dance (and recording for later). "SHH!! Let me concentrate!" you hushed back, trying to copy the moves only to gey a lot of errors snd red. Logan put his hand over his mouth, watching you you eventually trip and sit on your ass in surrender. "I dont like this routine." you grumbled, watching the blond get up to lift you back on your feet.

Touch

It's becoming a regular activity where the two of you are caught in a crowd,

wheather at a concert or in a street or even at circuits by fans or reporters.

His biggest worry with these things is losing you in the sea of people,

so when you grab onto him it eases his mind that you’re close and that he won't lose you.

“Y/n?” He called looking behind him in search of you. When he felt the little tug on his pinky finger he knew you were somewhere behind him in the crowd of people. The football match had ended and the halls to the exits and parking lot were packed. The only thing keeping him in his head was you holding his pinky and with him still.

Smell

Although not it’s something from you in particular, Logan associates incense with you.

He finds it a really calming part of you.

You usually light one up when studying. The scent fills the apartment if you forget to close the door or if you study in the living room.

His favourite part is that the smell sometimes sticks to you after an hour or three, which usually tells him how long you’ve been preparing for exams.

Sometimes, you light one jokingly, pretending to cast a spell.

“Calypso,” You pleaded, trying to hold in a smile as Logan sat on the chair, face in his hand, doing his best to hold in laughter as you circled the smoking stick around his head. He had his bags packed, ready to leave for the airport for the next race only for you to stop him and push him in a chair. “Give Logan a win, you bitch. This is the 7th time I've asked. please, thank you. Also, make Max crash out- actually, the whole grid. cradh them all out. cheers."

Hearing

Logan's favourite part of the day is hearing you talk.

It doesn't matter what about.

Whether it's work, or something you're passionate about, or even gossip or just vents.

You have all of his attention.

youre the onky thing he hears, 100% of his concentration is on you.

its also very evident on his face and reactions, he practically turns into emojis,

'guess what!! i got the job!' 'You got the job! Told you could do it🤩'

'logan!! Person A cheated on Person B!' 'WHATT?? 😨'

'i love this course!' 'which one the one with friend? the assignment you had fun doing? 😊'

"Wait, wait. start over because I'm very confused." Logan told you, moving to sit closer to you so he can hear over. "What are you confused about?" You'd ask, and just like that, Logan would repeat everything you said, his facial expressions contouring to show concentrated blondie confused about the gossip you just spilled.

Taste

chapsticks have flavours. And logan is lucky that you have plenty because it makes kisses more delicious.

he already feels like he melts every time you kiss him,

now imagine double the effect with flavoured kissies!! hes not pulling away

"oh, but baby, you're so sweet" he protects if you try to part

he pouts and chases your lips and licks them if he manages too, might even bite yoir lower lip to keep you close.

"hm!" he hums surprised by the new flavour, momentarily licking just a bit to familarize himself with the flavour before going back in deeper with the kiss, holding your waist to stop you when you try to pull away. "Logannn," you whine against his lips but a moan only left your throat feelinghim tilt his head a little. "No one's looking," he mumbled to assure you. "You're like my very own cherry tree." he chuckled before kissing you, more softly this time.

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾ #﹒your lovers and you ﹒𐙚 #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargent x reader #logan sargent fluff #formula one #formaula one logan sargeant #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #ls2 #ls2 x reader

[onlyhuis]

moments with jun

member — junhui x gn reader genre — fluff, bullet point headcanons, non-idol au word count — 1.9k (they're very long bullet points nskhdfj) warnings — mentions of food, that's really it this is super sfw. i don't think i included any details about reader but if this isn't actually gn please lmk i may have missed it. unedited bc i'm at work notes — requested by anon — idk if this was actually a request or not but i agree w you soooo much i love all the different versions of jun and this was so so cute to write 🥹 sorry this is so long literally i can talk about jun for hours and hours and if you get me started talking about him i will never stop like i will talk about him an infinite amount until the end of time. if anyone wants to hear more of my delusional rambling pls lmk bc i will never shut up i love him so much i was literally giggling and kicking my feet while writing. reblog if you love jun can i get an amen huihuis

i think the version of himself that he shows you is his most authentic one. like he just feels so comfortable and safe with you that he doesn't care what you see or what he does. it's his most secret personality, but it's his most honest, and he doesn't let a lot of people see it (at least not right away). of all his different personalities and worlds, the one with you is the closest to the one he saves for himself. there's subtle differences, things he keeps even more private, but it's not anything huge or significant.

he's clingy, but usually doesn't act on it physically. to others he shows his clinginess in other ways, like standing extra close to his friends when he doesn't have to or just sitting with someone while they eat. but what's different is for you, he's clingy in every way possible.

in the mornings he'll snuggle as close as possible, watching your eyelashes flutter as you sleep. he's almost afraid to touch you for fear of waking you up and disturbing your precious sleep, so he usually keeps his hands to himself other than gently pulling a piece of hair out of your mouth or carefully touching your cheek because he just can't believe you're real and you're so beautiful. but as soon as you start to wake up he's all over you, rolling over and wrapping his long arms around you and kissing you all over your beautiful face and basking in your warmth.

he texts you all throughout the day even if you don't reply, because he knows that it'll make you smile even just seeing his name on your phone. he'll send you dozens of pictures (of himself, of cats he's seen in real life, of cats he's seen on the internet, of himself photoshopped with cats… etc.) and he always has a cat gif for every occasion. it's just a little way to show his affection when you aren't together, reminding him that hopefully somewhere out there you're thinking about him, too.

he's all over you when you eat too, and he has to hold himself back from literally climbing onto your lap because he doesn't wanna be overbearing and give you space. but he'll still sit as close to you as possible, your chairs touching as he watches you with the cutest smile on his face. 

jun in public with you is similar to jun in private, but quieter and more reserved. he's not big on pda at all, unless it's with people he's very close to like minghao or the other members, but even then it's rare for them to see him doing anything more than holding your hand. so eating in public he's not quite as clingy as when you're alone at home, but it's definitely still there, just quietly.

at restaurants when you go on dates he'll sit next to you, even if there's space on both sides of the booth. he claims it's because it's easier for you to steal bites off his plate, but you both know that's not the reason why: he just likes to feel close to you, sitting shoulder to shoulder even when there's plenty of room to spread out. when he's forced to sit across from you for whatever reason, he'll hold your hand under the table or lightly kick your shoe because he still wants to be touching you.

jun's love language is food, so a big part of your relationship revolves around it. cooking together; him cooking and you sitting in a chair nearby keeping him company; you cooking and you have to whack him away with the spoon because he's standing too close but he just really likes being near you and watching you work. no matter who cooks the meal he always makes sure you're served first and he only starts filling his plate after you've insisted that you won't eat any more.

he's very giving and another one of his love languages is acts of service, so a lot of the time he'll cook for you even if he's dead tired because he wants to make sure you're fed and happy and healthy. he’s more independent and likes doing things for himself, even more so when it comes to you and he knows you depend on him. so while restaurant dates are pretty common, eating takeout at home doesn't happen very often unless you specifically ask for something or if he's so tired that neither of you want to cook.

but this is kind of contradictory because he actually loves quiet nights in eating takeout on the couch. he wants to hear all about your day while he shovels more fried rice onto your paper plate to make sure you get enough. there's a tv show playing in the background on low volume or even muted and neither of you are really paying attention because you're too caught up snuggling together with your feet across his lap.

when he's comfortable around someone he can be jumpy and kind of rambunctious, but he also knows when to tone it down. it may not be super obvious to others, but there's actually a huge difference between jun's silence when he's comfortable vs. when he's uncomfortable.

when he's in public or around people he doesn't know or even just around large groups in general he kind of fades into the background, preferring to watch and observe rather than participate. he's not shy, but he just doesn't say much. but when it's just the two of you, his silence is completely different. he's totally focused, tuned in to every word you're saying and committing it to his memory in case he needs it for later. hearing you talk is literally the best part of his day, so when he gets quiet it's not because he doesn't want to talk, but because he likes hearing you talk more.

but that's not to say he's quiet all the time. when he gets excited about something, it's like watching a kitten with the zoomies. his eyes go wide and he's smiling so hard, grinning from ear to ear, and he's speaking so fast you can barely keep up but you love to listen to him just as much as he loves to listen to you. when he's around other people he gets almost shy about his happiness, and even around people like minghao who he's completely comfortable with, he still doesn't show the full extent of how excited he is. but with you, he's overflowing with love and joy and excitement and he doesn't hide any of it. he has a childlike sort of wonder and happiness, but he's so open about it with you and it feels like a fresh breeze through an open window.

almost all of the moments he shares with you are secret from the rest of the world, in the comfort of your own home or in another place that the two of you can be alone together with no chance of being interrupted. but that doesn't mean he can't share those moments with you in other places, too. in any kind of public setting he doesn't show everything, but there's still tiny little pieces of that side of him that only you get to see; they aren't obvious to everyone, but he doesn't want them to be obvious because they're only for you.

when you go shopping together he gets excited about what to make for dinner, picking up ingredients and throwing you a grin as he puts them in the cart. or strolling through the mall together and he sees a shirt that he thinks will look so good on you, so he tugs you into the store and giddily asks you to try it on. 

or walking in public, like down the sidewalk or through the park or in a parking lot on the way to his car, he'll hold your hand. it may not seem like much, but it means everything to him to feel you in his grasp, a tiny reminder that you're there. one hand in yours, the other carrying your purse or bags or groceries or whatever. you don't have to ask and he doesn't even offer, he just holds everything quietly and doesn't complain, as long as he's next to you. 

like i said earlier he's very giving; he has sooo much love but he keeps it quiet a lot of the time until he really trusts you, because it's easy for people to take advantage of that. but once he's comfortable with you he doesn't hold back with showing you his love in any form. not necessarily spoiling you with gifts, but he does things that he knows will make you feel as happy and loved as you make him feel.

he showers you with compliments, even though it makes him just a little bit shy to admit how much he likes you and how incredible you are, but he needs to make sure you know exactly how he sees you. he makes you lunch and cleans things without saying anything and leaves little notes around the house in places you won't find right away so that it'll be a true surprise when you do find them. he doesn't always know how to express all the love he has to give, so he does it in the ways he knows best.

he does so much without you having to ask because he doesn't want to be praised for it; he just wants to do it, even if that means he doesn't get the recognition he deserves. he doesn't need recognition, because you're already the greatest achievement he could ever hope to have.

this is a silly thought but i think it's true so i have to say it. he has absolutely no shame around you, which is something he usually suppresses around other people. for the most part his image is the polite, sweet little guy who's a little bit silly, but that goes out the window once he's alone with you. he farts in the living room and starts giggling at you. he doesn't care if you walk in on him doing the weirdest thing in the world because he doesn't see a reason to hide any of it from you. it took a long time to build up to this level of comfortableness with you, but once he's been with you long enough he's a totally open book.

anyway just in general he is a lovely, kind, quietly caring person and people don't always see that about him, but i think he does that on purpose. he only wants to show that side of himself to people he knows will truly appreciate it, and you're the number one person in his life. above everyone else he knows that you'll see him and reciprocate with an equal amount of love in your own ways. he has so much love for his members and friends and family, and a lot of aspects of his personality overlap with those people, but yours is a different kind of love and he has special ways of showing it that only you will understand.

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

taglist | @noniestars @photographic-girl @wonderfulshinee @onlymingyus @just-here-to-read-01

@wonuziex @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @dkakapizzaboy @skzzooyaaa

@zozojella @rainyjeno @jwnghyuns @uwuheeseungie @synthetickitsune

@simeonswhore @junhour @foxdaisy @limesorbets @fairybinie

@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @mingminghao @jeanjacketjesus @luvwonyy @tinkerbell460

@novalpha @ronnie97b @miriamxsworld @98-0603 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @usari

@cloecard @valentxi @aaniag @k-drama-adict @hyneyedfiz

@saladgirl @crvs4vldtn @seungkw1 @sashaaahh @aaa-sia

@kokoiinuts @wondipity @isabellah29 @miujunhui @naajaeminsgf

@dokyeomkyeom @honglynights @sourkimchi @kyeomiis @skzooluvr

this is my fourth time trying to post this bc tumblr hates me so sorry for the funky format i couldnt get it to work :( however if you want to be notified when i post a new fic, you can join my taglist here!

#kvanity #kflixnet #k-labels #caratlibrary #[📌] — june.writes #jun fluff #junhui fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #junhui fanfic #junhui scenarios #junhui headcanons #jun headcanons #junhui x reader #jun imagines #jun fanfic #jun scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen jun #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios

[apricotmayonaise]

i wasn't sexually harassed by @/musashi, ya'll are just playing the telephone game.

hi, im slushy, i'm 15 and a half years old, i keep hearing these bullshit rumours about my friend wendy, or musashi, as is their tumblr url. i'm here to go on the record to say, that did not fucking happen. unfortunately, since i got banned in the server this went down in. (ha ha. how ironic.) might be tricky but i do have, like, 10 people who can back me up on this.

so, a rundown of events. me, wendy, and a few other people are in a vc. i post a poll about what i should go as for halloween. the options are pretty skimpy but hey, i'm fifteen, going on sixteen years old. i'm nearly an adult and by the time halloween rolls around i'll be old enough to work, drive, and fuck. i'm a teenager, not a toddler.

a couple server members, i think it was around five, voted on this poll. the mods, specifically the owner, got mad at wendy specifically. they said wendy was sexualising me. wendy was obviously like "no, when i look at a teenager in a halloween costume i see a teenager in a halloween costume. slushy's 13 years my junior, im not a weirdo."

the owner proceeded to get mad at wendy and then told me i should dress up as jesus? which is an odd thing to say. it was less of lingerie and more like a bikini. which gives me a feeling that the people getting mad are the type to sexualise teenagers at the beach.

anyway, wendy, with no warning, got banned for this. the mods said they gave plenty of warning but in those "warnings" they seemed to just be making friendly requests, not mod-ly orders.

the whole claim of wendy "offering to buy" me anything is also completely and utterly false. that didnt happen dawg

anyway, i was confused, angry, and upset about this. wendy was also very upset.

anyway, you know who i was groomed by?? someone else on the server who all the mods continue to reblog from and interact with. they know she's a groomer. i've told them. wendy's told them. at least five other people have expressed concern or disgust at this person's behaviour, and yet they continue to talk to the groomer.

i also want to add that i was completely and utterly spoken over. every time i said "wendy wasnt weird or creepy!" they didn't listen to me because i'm just a minorrrr. i'm just a little girl who obviously can't think for herselffffffff.

as for wendy being a "pedo apologist", i think this just refers to wendy...not being an antishipper? god forbid wendy, a grown ass 28 year old adult with adult responsibilities not get into internet discourse? also i find it pretty gross how we put "actual fucking child predators" and "people who don't care about online drama surrounding made up ships" on the same level of bad. one is something i can scroll past or block the tag of. the other caused me trauma, pain, and having grown up way too fast. fictional characters can't experience pain or tragedy in the same way real children and teenagers can.

this post is in regards to this anon message:

you are a bunch of sick people who don't care about real child abuse. you ignore groomers and let them fly under the radar to target people who you, personally, don't agree with. you're making a real victim into a false victim, and at the time of the incident it was sexual assault survivor's awareness month.

if you're going to call someone a victim, at least fucking listen to them. a real groomer is out there living her life while my friend lost a big amount of friends due to false allegations.

#ugh

[funnier-as-a-system]

So I have what I'm calling a psuedosystem, and just in general wanted to know if participating in Plural Spaces when I don't actually consider myself plural / I consider myself plural-adjacent is seen as acceptable or rude?

I have several imaginary friends who, for reasons, I'm sure are Not headmates (no autonomy/no consciousness/not sentient) but are important to me (I probably consider them veritbonds but I really don't relate to other immersive daydreamers)

but my experiences are kinda similar to polyconscious systems (I think? They're NPCs, not headmates, and there's no switching, but otherwise...?) as far as I've seen/heard.

I'm aware I could probably claim systemhood anyway, but I prefer "imagian pseudosystem"

Anyway yeah not asking "am I valid" or "is this okay", specifically asking "Do you& think it would be rude/invading/irrelevant to participate in Plural Spaces?" to blog and followers ^_^; Cheers

It's perfectly fine to participate in plural spaces if you consider yourself plural-adjacent! I see it like this – you go over to your cousin's house to hang out, you get along and bond over similar experiences and goals in your lives, and while you're there, they get out some snacks and some board games. Would it be rude to participate in those things just because you're not immediate family? No, it wouldn't be rude!

To me, part of the point of calling something plural-adjacent is to not just compare experiences, but to link our communities like an extended family. It's pointing out our similarities and going "Hey, we're like cousins! You can trust in me, okay? I might not understand everything about you, but I'll be here for you if you need it!" It's an alliance, of sorts, between many different communities, uniting through our similarities while respecting our differences. Visiting a community you're connected to in this way wouldn't be any weirder than going over to the house of a neighbor, or visiting a family member in the next town over.

There may be some things specifically meant for systems/plurals that you may want to leave alone, but the community is so vast and varied that I'm sure there are plenty more spaces, resources, and other things that you could find useful and open to you. Hell, I've seen people who have no connection to any plural or plural-adjacent experience enjoy time, creations, etc. in our community! There's no good reason, in my eyes, to discourage people to come explore our community, or to close ourselves off from others, especially when it comes to those who are likely to understand us best.

I guess you could also compare it to tourism and participating in foreign cultures. There might be some things that are only meant for those of that culture, but there are likely to be at least a few things that are open for all to participate in and learn about. And if you're from a very similar culture, then hey, more for us to talk about and bond over!

I don't see it as invading – you're basically a cousin. I don't see it as rude – you're not doing anything offensive or mean. And as for whether or not it's irrelevant – well, that's up to you, isn't it? I can't make that decision for you. I can't decide the relevance something has to someone else, or someone else's life.

In short, the answer is come on over, cousin, and I hope you enjoy this household's snacks and board games!

#thanks for the ask!

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/749333039047442432/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost74884185043?source=share

Sorry, long rant incoming.

Someone in the replies said it, but I think it needs to be said again where everyone can see it: I think a lot of the attitude that anon is somehow secretly pro-censorship because they think certain preferences are skeevy, and strenuously insisting that bad attitudes can NEVER be media's fault.... idk, maybe take it out of the context of debates about sexually explicit/pornographic media for a moment?

There are works of media that had pretty direct effects on activist and political movements, good and bad. Uncle Tom's Cabin inspired a lot of people to fight against slavery. The movie Birth of a Nation, which showed a history of the U.S. with the KKK as heroic, is considered by most historians to be a major contributor to the revival of the KKK in the 1920s. The Nazis used films, books, music, art, and so on in their propaganda, knowing it would help their ideas go down more easily. The Soviets did too. Every dictatorship did. Even democratic countries have done it as well, usually but not always in more subtle ways.

Do none of those count, because "oh, people who were going to be convinced by Birth of a Nation would be racist anyway"? "Good, non-racist people wouldn't be convinced by it"? I mean, the latter is true: there were plenty of people, especially black Americans but plenty of white allies too, who boycotted the film at the time. The NAACP led a boycott. But do you really think NO ONE was convinced? (What about people who previously didn't feel any way about it one way or the other? Were they just innately more evil, even if it might've just been that they weren't aware? Do supposedly progressive people in fandom realize how much this sounds like Christian original sin rhetoric...) And does it matter purely about media fully changing minds, or also how it galvanizes people who already think one way? If it gives them new talking points, new ways of thinking about it and convincing others? If it helps them believe their cause is more important and worth fighting for?

So why does this all suddenly change when we're talking about sex? Is porn really this special class of media where somehow all the rules about how we can both like things and also be critical of how media (fiction, news media, whatever) influences us - "be critical of the media you love," as a tote bag sold by Feminist Frequency said - just stop applying for some reason? Or maybe if something is bypassing your rational brain entirely and going directly for the pleasure centers, there's all the more reason to think critically about what it's saying? Propaganda is designed to bypass all that, too.

Also, if media really has NOTHING to do with it, that just wouldn't explain why it's disproportionately anime that feature these specific elements that seem to attract more people arguing for why it's wrong to be upset by rape or child exploitation in real life. I don't believe that everyone who watches slavery isekai or lolicon approves of those things irl - I think for the vast majority of people, it IS a fantasy and that's the point - but I have noticed that in places like the Anime News Network or Crunchyroll forums, the comments become a cesspool of creepy people arguing for why ages of consent should be lowered and mean feminists who don't like watching media with rape in it just need to get over themselves, in a way they just don't when you're talking about Attack on Titan or My Hero Academia or Shoujo Romance #4891 or whatever.

As another person in the notes said, abusers ARE opportunistic. They'll use something like Twilight as easily as they'll use the most uwu, soft, "non problematic" ship to argue for why they're allowed to abuse you. But I don't think that means we can't be critical (not calling for censorship, of course! but like, writing op-eds and stuff) of media that makes their arguments a little easier, maybe even directly makes their arguments for them.

You can believe both that everyone has the opportunity to read, watch, listen to, play what they want and make up their own minds about it, and that it's wrong for the government to ever decide what media is and isn't "acceptable," and also believe that media often is saying things that aren't apparent on the surface and that you should be critical of those messages, *especially* with the stuff you like.

The point is just that porn isn't like, fundamentally different from other fictional media in this way. (Or, hell, I would argue that fictional media isn't functionally different from other mass media in this way. If anything, fiction's politics are often more insidious in a way that makes it easier for them to reach people who might not otherwise be open to those messages in the form of, say, blatantly right-wing news media.)

It's particularly strange to me when people jump all over someone for expressing how something can be insidiously creepy in a more mundane way. The line people are upset about that used the word "unpack" was just making the point that even if we can agree lolicon isn't outright advocating pedophilia, even if we agree the point is that it's a fantasy and they're not like real children at all and that's what people like, it's still working within an idealization/fetishization of helplessness, innocence, and dependence, and that still has a lot that you can critique from a feminist perspective. It's still a thing that plays into some crappy societal ideas about who women are supposed to be, and is selling that to men as a romantic ideal. There's still a lot we can talk about there! And it's still totally fair for women to be wary of men where that seems to be all they're into - because for some (and I believe this was what anon was initially trying to say was their experience), it does impact how they treat real women. It doesn't have to be everyone for it to have an impact.

There's a lot of anime that presents women that way, even way outside of lolicon. A lot of it's anime I like! I'm still critical of that aspect of it. I still wish that particular part of it were different.

I still don't see how this makes me "pro censorship" unless I believe some kind of institution should mandate that that not be included. And whether that's the government, or the industry itself (people do kind of narrowly focus on "the government" in a way that would make a lot of industry-run censorship that was still very harmful, e.g. the Hollywood Hays Code, not "count"), or anyone, I very much disagree with that. Creators should be able to create what they want. A lot of what creators are doing with this is unconscious, is reflecting societal biases they learned but haven't thought deeply about.... which is precisely the point of critiquing how those show up in a work.

People love to talk about "secretly 'anti' attitudes" but at the end of the day, support or opposition to censorship is pretty straightforward. You believe someone should be stopped from making a particular kind of media, or you don't. If you don't, you're not pro-censorship, no matter how much you personally may not like that that media or a particular aspect of it exists. Most people who care about media have some media they wish didn't exist. It's about what they do about it that makes them pro or anti censorship. Talk to people who donate to or even work for the ACLU or other anti censorship groups; most of them don't like racist or sexist stuff, but they also don't believe it should be banned and that's the point.

Bringing it back to the discussion at hand, I think the point was just that you can't be blind to how power dynamics influence this stuff. I wouldn't even say specifically cishet men are at fault here, since some people who read this blog seem to think that anyone saying that is automatically talking about bioessentialism as opposed to like, societal stuff (don't ask me why, this has been explained on here enough times in enough different discourses over the years, I think). I'd just say anyone with power in that particular context. There's a reason why it's specifically mainstream media, aimed at groups in power, that tends to draw in creeps excusing the real thing... in a way that just similarly is not true of people in fanfiction fandom, who are usually a member of one or more oppressed categories, exploring that in their own marginal work. Fans of rape fanfiction just don't act the way that fans of slavery rape isekai do. It's because there is fundamentally a difference both when you're someone whom society tells you are entitled to everything you want in this particular arena, and also when a work is mainstream, broadening its reach, and speaking a particular message from the lens of people with economic and social power (who are making these mainstream works) and given approval by publishers/media studios/etc. in a way that is not the case with amateur work with tiny audiences. And, frankly, there's a difference between something that eroticizes rape from the point of view of the perpetrator vs. the victim.

Not a difference in terms of how legal it should be. Not a difference in whether every single person who watches it or likes it is bad. But a difference in terms of what it's saying, how it's saying that, and often the effects they have as a result. That, too, is true with every topic, not just sex.

I feel like a lot of people getting mad at these do fundamentally agree with this, but just have a weird blind spot when it's put in any sort of terminology that reminds them of certain bad arguments they've seen in fandom, uses any words that can be dismissed as "radfem" or "anti" or whatever, and so just refuse to engage with the actual meat of what is being said.

If you do actually believe though that it's wrong to EVER think media can have a negative effect on what people believe about irl issues, because there was always something "already there" that was going to "come out anyway" if it affects you that way (again, people: this is "original sin" rhetoric), and if you ever privately judge people for the media they like you're secretly pro-censorship. You do have to recognzie that both you personally come up short and also most peopel doing real concrete real world things to fight censorship would also come up short!

I think sometimes of an editorial that said "if you love Return of the Jedi but hated the Ewoks you understand feminist criticism" in terms of how you can be bothered by the sexism of a piece of media in a way you'd be bothered by any one individual element of it, and still overall like the whole. And also, you can be offended by something, even wish it didn't exist (don't we as nerds all have entries in some franchise we like or another that we wish didn't exist for fannish reasons?), without believing that it should be officially made to stop existing or have never existed in the first place. That last part does actaully matter as like, its own thing. It is in fact separable from just being able to have personal judgey feelings about media and about the people who liked it.

And opposing it does not mean in any way that we have to just stop thinking critically about the media we love, or that we have to act like media can never have any influence on people. We on the left tend to talk about sexism, racism, homophoia and so on as being influenced by culture and society. Well, guess what is part of society and culture? Fictional (and other kinds of) media. That's part of that societal programming we get. It's why you'll see some of it even from people whose parents very much tried to resist teaching them certain things, because they get it from media anyway. I was raised by strenuously feminist parents: it was the media that taught me what gender roles were and how I was expected to adhere to them.

--

Look, I realize it's a bit rich of me to say this, but people are not going to engage with your actual points if you cannot be more succinct.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Somebody asked: How would a report about hundreds of fake accounts be handled? It is known that using a VPN anyone can add kudos to their own stories, but fake accounts created that way by one person to make it appear that they have hundreds of readers? Could this be traced and could the fake accounts be removed?

This sounds a bit like you're talking about 2-3 things, so let's separate those out.

Sometimes people's works get a large bump in kudos. This can be natural, but when the guest kudos far exceeds the number of hits it's usually because a searchbot or other internet crawler has gotten ‘stuck’ on a page. These bots typically follow links from other sites and try to click buttons to see where they lead. Ones that are configured poorly get really confused about the kudos button because it doesn’t lead anywhere. So the kudos button gets clicked... a lot.

We see plenty of reports from stressed creators who want these "fake kudos" removed from their work because they only want the "real" stats, but we can’t remove kudos from a work. Even if we could, it's not possible to distinguish the bot's kudos from a real person's guest kudos that might have happened around the same time the bot was active. If you're experiencing weird amounts of kudos on your work, I can only recommend that you Archive-lock your work for a week or so, which will stop you from receiving guest hits/kudos. Hopefully by the time you unlock it again, the bot will have ‘moved on’ from your work.

If someone was making a lot of guest comments on their works or even making multiple accounts to comment, we probably wouldn't do much of anything. Neither commenting on your own works nor owning multiple accounts is against our rules. Unless they were doing things that break our TOS (for example posting non-fanworks or harassing comments), there's nothing for us to act on.

I get that this can be frustrating to witness. Your best option is to mute these people so their works and comments don't show up anymore.

Of course, if you have evidence that someone is breaking the rules under multiple accounts, you can report that. In situations like this we’d go after all of the person’s accounts, not just the “fake” ones. There's ways of tracking down people who ban-evade or create alt accounts. I'm not going to share what those methods are in a public post, though!

— guest mod tealight

If you have a question you’d like answered, you can ask here.

Disclaimer: I’m speaking for myself and not behalf of AO3 or PAC. I can only answer general questions. I cannot tell you if a specific work or user is breaking the rules. If you want to file a report or otherwise need an official PAC response, you can find PAC’s contact form by clicking on the “Policy Questions & Abuse Reports” link on any AO3 page.

#sk a pac volunteer #guest mod tealight #ask a pac volunteer #ao3

[hxnbi]

「 A FALLEN MIRACLE 」

ღ okkotsu yuta x gn. reader — wc. 2.5k

synopsis: never did he think that he would have to say goodbye so soon. not like this...

After losing Rika, Yuta felt his life crash down on him like a pile of bricks. And since then, he approached everything and anyone with a sense of caution. After all that he had been through his entire life, who could blame him?

Even so, Yuta still genuinely cared about people, and he especially found himself being increasingly attracted to you.

When Yuta was taken to Jujutsu Tech, you, also a first-year student, were initially asked by Gojo to mentor him and just generally help him get through life. You wondered why it was you, but when you looked back at it, and also at the rest of your classmates… it’s no wonder. There weren't exactly a plethora of options to begin with.

It was the option between a talking, horny panda, a boy who could hardly even communication, if you could even call it talking through the phrases of onigiri ingredients “communication,” and a girl with borderline anger issues. 

You never had a choice on the subject—not while Gojo was at the helm—but that was beside the point. Your friendship with Yuta started off rough. He was a timid young boy constantly struggling to find his voice, quite literally. There was nothing he would say no to, and even less if that order came from you.

But over time, that awkwardness slowly morphed into something of a true friendship. A sort of bond forged in the trust you built for him, with a connection that grew stronger with each passing day. Up until then, at nearly any point of the day, wherever and whatever you were doing, you would have another figure following you wherever you went. It was to the point where everybody knew of Yuta’s undeniable infatuation with you. It was indeed a surprise to even the likes of Gojo. Well, it wasn’t like Yuta was particularly known for hiding his feelings. 

Yuta admired you so much. You had nerves of complete steel. You were confident, resilient, and strong. And above all that, you were selfless. You would, without a second thought, put yourself at risk rather than allow any of your fellow sorcerers and friends to get hurt.

But that would be your biggest weakness.

What all of the first-years expected to be a simple mission to exorcize a single rouge cursed spirit that was terrorizing the townspeople, turned into a complete and utter nightmare. One that no one would’ve ever expected. 

And especially not to someone so young…

It all started off lighthearted. The first-years, you, Maki, Toge, Panda, and Yuta, walked along the path where the cursed spirit was said to be, or at the very least around the area.

“Maybe we should split up,” Maki ordered when, by that point, they had been walking around for 30 minutes, and yet there was no sight of any spirits.

“I agree,” you nodded.

Maki placed her hand over her hips, looking over the others as she unofficially took the handle of the leader. “So, as for who gets paired with who, how about—”

“Yuta and [Y/n] should be together!” Panda piped in with a ginormous grin, shoving Maki to the side with his body.

“Why, you…” Maki scowled. If looks could kill, Panda would be flying off the face of the earth.

Ignoring the fire that was burning from Maki, the panda then slung his arm around Yuta’s shoulders, musing, “Yuta and [Y/n] would make a good team, especially when paired with their techniques. Besides, they’ve gone on missions together plenty of times. It’s a no-brainer! Right, Yuta~?” 

It was painfully obvious what Panda was trying to get at. And unfortunately for Yuta, Panda hit the exact nail on the head.

The poor boy gaped, scampering with his words, only managing to find a couple that he could even say out loud. “I-I mean… I’m okay with it.”

Ignoring the blatant ear-piercing noise happening around you, you nodded your head. “Me too.”

And there it was, the two of you together, walking side by side. You had your hands clasped together behind your back, humming to a tune that Yuta was all too familiar with, having practically been attached to your hip since getting to know you.

Yuta clutched his katana tightly against his chest. It was embarrassing enough that Panda had brought up the topic, but now there was even more pressure to prove himself to you.

“…Argh!?” Yuta’s foot almost slipped as you suddenly paused right in front of him. “[Y/n]?!” he sputtered, taking a frantic step back to put some distance between you two. 

“Yuta~,” you mused. “I thought we were closer than that. Don’t tell me that I was the only one feeling this way?”

Yuta’s cheeks went red. “I, uh…”

“Haha, I’m just kidding around. I hoped that would lighten the mood. But I guess I was mistaken. Sorry about scaring you. Are you alright?” Your foot inched ever closer to his flushed face, pressing him into an undeniable blush.

His mouth was agape. “I-I-I!?”

“C’mon, let's go,” you hummed, already beginning to walk off, leaving Yuta speechless.

“Ah… r-right!”

And it didn’t take long, as just as you two were walking along a new set of pathways, and Yuta hesitated but quickly scurried beside you. 

Before long, your footsteps were opposed to the ground, suspiciously cranking your eyes to the alleyway next to your two and narrowing your eyes at the dark alleyway. Though it appeared barren without a soul in sight, what you were sensing was anything but. 

Yuta, now with his hand over the sheath of his katana, took a cautious step closer to wherever the obscurity was in that alleyway, feeling the chills.

“Hey, guess today is our lucky day, huh?” you grinned, readying your weapons. 

He meekly nodded. “Yeah.” Yuta tightened the grip on the handle of his katana. Looking upward, something was floating in the air—a second-grade cursed spirit—and just as lucky, it was precisely the one they had been looking for. Though the darkness of the alleyway hindered his sight, its size and presence were easily distinguishable.

“Let's bring this one down together.”

But just as those words left your mouth, another strong presence came from right behind you.

You clicked your tongue. “Another one? That wasn’t what they mentioned to us earlier.”

Yuta looked side to side, and then back at you, but you weren’t panicked at all. In fact, far from it. “Yuta, you handle that one over there. I’ve got this one.”

“R-Right!”

He trusted you. 

Side by side, you both covered each other's backs. And it didn’t take long for blood to be shed. Nasty welts and bruises spread across the cursed spirit's body, and with a swift swipe, you finished it off with your cursed technique with ease. Horrifying screams of agony blasted through the sound barriers of both the student's eardrums from the curse as it flopped onto the bloodied ground, dead in its state.

“Phew.”

You turned your head, seeing that the cursed spirit was also just as still, lying lifeless beside Yuta as he speechlessly sent you a grimace.

“Good work,” you nodded. You wiped away the blood that was on your cheek. “Hah… well, guess that's it.”

Yuta meekly nodded his head, wiping down the blood from his katana.

“Yuta, how's it going over ther—” your head turned.

A shadow had appeared from below to loom over right over him.

 “Y-Yuta!”

It wasn’t dead.

“Yuta! Get out of the way!”

“H-Huh?” Just as everything was cooling down, he thought, Yuta heard a voice coming from his right, and then another. 

With one glance thrown the other way, he was shoved to the ground, giving him full access to the horror he would see next.

In just a second, blood poured from your throat and splattered to the ground. A cursed spirit had gotten after him, and yet it was you who was now collapsed onto the ground, holding onto dear life.

Yuta’s eyes went bloodshot red, and with his katana, immediately went for it, stabbing it. He looked on in terror as he saw your entire body slashed and crimson fluid dripping from all ends. Your trembling mouth was trying to say something. 

“Huh? W-What is it…?” he shook, stumbling over his words. Yuta knelt and tried to place his ear close by. 

But instead, you puked blood, and Yuta was forced to watch as the light in your eyes slowly dipped and your heartbeat fell.

“I-I can’t stop the bleeding…!”

Yuta was on the verge of tears as he embraced you in his arms, fearing for your life. You could feel the warmth of your blood leaving you and dipping onto the cold, concrete ground. The sticky consistency of the crimson liquid became thicker. Your body grew colder by the second. 

“Yuta…”

“…!”

“Are you... all right?” you managed to cough up.

His face paled. “Why… Of all the times to worry about me!?” His grip tightened, making you gasp.

“...”

You could feel his embrace around you tighten with desperation. His body shook from fear, possibly despair. It was all just a dream, right…? 

“...Why would you try and save me like that…?!” “I told you! I’m fine getting hurt! But…! But why did you—?!”

Unable to utter a word, you replied to his question with the voice in your heart, and, just barely, with a smile. And perhaps, your final one. ‘My feelings for you will always be the same. Even if we were to turn back the clock. Even if you told me not to save you. I still would have done it…’

“...”

“What…? I can’t hear.”

“I’m glad… you’re safe.”

His lungs filled with air, his voice trembling with anguish, heartache far worse than just emotion, pure sorrow, knowing that the time you left remaining would be taken away at any point. “How can you be glad!? You promised! Y-You promised that—” he broke the flow of his words, knowing that it wasn’t the right time.

You slowly let out a breath of relief. You didn’t feel any pain now.

“No… please… Please don't leave me,” he choked.

You had never loved him as much as you did in this very moment as he held onto you, pressing deeply onto your wound, hoping that it would do something, anything. Because if it hurt, it meant that you were still reactive. But even he knew. There was no chance. 

You wanted to dry the tears that spilled down his cheeks, but you couldn't move your hand. It was like your body was no longer your own. The body that you once operated was no longer in your control. 

Instead of words, your mouth involuntarily vomited more blood. Your trembling hand cupped Yuta’s soft, youthful cheeks—the same youth you wanted to keep alive, all so that you could see him smile.

You were just a mere friend to him. Someone who was acquainted to care for him in a world that was so unforgiving. So why—why was he looking at you with such sad eyes? Eyes filled with terror that you’d leave at any moment.

And perhaps you would.

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but you couldn't move your lips, nor could you find the strength to.

“Save your energy, please!!” he pleaded with you, begging for you to just wait. Just a bit longer...

“I’ll—” 

Abruptly, he felt a tug on his sleeve.

‘I want to live, and… I want you to live, too…’

You whispered your last wish inside your heart, knowingly, that he would never be able to hear it. But maybe, just maybe, understood it.

Tears trickled down from one face to the other, dribbling onto the increasingly pale and bloody face of the only person who ever took care of him. 

Yuta cried. Just like he would always do. Whenever he cried, he would ball his eyes out, but the one who always calmed the storm was you. His eyes caught sight of tears falling down your face. It was the first time he had ever seen you cry. It was so foreign. It was beautiful, and it was dying.

You were his miracle. But that miracle of his was dying, and there was nothing he could do.

With everything that your throat could muster, you whispered one last time, “Everything is going to be okay…”

And then those pupils were closed forever.

And just as slowly, light reflections from Yuta’s irises disappeared. Yuta stood back up, still. He eyed the cursed spirit. That thing.

The pain that thing did to you, he would avenge that, tenfold. 

“...Rika,” he muttered. “Kill it.”

Rage engulfed him. Alive or not, he wanted to make it suffer, along with everything else in his vicinity. Why should they deserve mercy when you didn't receive any?

That one mistake from him cost him everything. It was all his fault. 

Again. Again. Again.

“.....”

“Okkotsu!”

“.....”

‘Die, die. Die die die die die—’

“Oi! Okkotsu Yuta! Snap out of it!” 

Only when he felt the grip of Maki grabbing onto his collar and lifting him in the air with an expression of fury did he finally snap out of it.

And he regretted it.

“...What—” he scampered, finally turning his head to face what happened. What he did. “What is this?”

Maki clicked her tongue. “What do you think?”

He knew what he did… Whether he wanted to or not, he did exactly the thing you despised… using his power for harm—not good.

Shit…

Regret flooded him. You would hate him. You wouldn’t want this. This wasn’t what you stood for. But, at that moment, all he could think about was the pain he caused you.

He wasn’t a good person. Hell, he shouldn’t even be considered a person if he couldn’t even save the one person who brought such joy in his life—even if that was just a couple of months. Yuta, in his mind of delusion, had unintentionally called out her name and, with it, killed the cursed spirit in that instant.

But that didn’t bring you back. Nothing could ever bring you back.

Within moments, he ran up to your body, collapsing to his feet and gathering you in his arms. Your head rested on his chest, and he kept on shaking you back and forth. 

“[Y/n]... [Y/n], please.”

But that didn’t work. Everything felt cold. Nothing—not even his words would ever work.

His hand pressed on the gash with all his might—anything that his shaky, now bloody hands could do. Yuta peered back and forth, from the wound back to your pale face, hoping that, somehow, his efforts would arouse a reaction from you. If it hurt, it meant you were still conscious. It told him you were still alive.

But Maki, who had just seen the aftermath, clenched her fists as everything unfolded before her very eyes. She already knew, and perhaps, even Yuta himself already knew, but refused to admit it. It was too late to save you.

“You promised…”

That promise was desolate. 

“You promised that you would be by my side…”

The only fulfilled promise would be to follow the coffin with you in it.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fanfiction #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen angst #gn reader #angst #scenarios #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuta angst #death #headcanons #jjk angst #jjk x you #y/n #x reader #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #okkotsu yuta #yuta okkotsu #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #okkotsu yuta death #yuta okkotsu angst #yuta angst

[my-current-obsession]

Something I both love AND hate about FF7 (the original game and everything after, including the Remake trilogy) is that it is just ambiguous and/or player-driven enough that no matter which side of the love triangle you fall on (assuming you do in fact ship Cloud with one of the girls), the majority of fans for that ship are 100% CONVINCED it's the correct/canon option.

Like, certain scenes are definitely up to interpretation, and people are going to thus have varying reads on those scenes and the characters/relationships the scenes are about. It doesn't help that several scenes change depending on the player's choices, which acts as a confirmation bias as you naturally get more time and romantic moments with the girl of your preference. It really seems to me that MOST people who ship Cloud and Aerith have one solid interpretation with a plethora of supporting evidence of the series and the romance, while most people who ship Cloud and Tifa have their own solid interpretation with plenty of evidence that is VASTLY DIFFERENT from the Clerith reading of the game.

This is not a case of "one ship is clearly, explicitly canon and fans of the opposition just like their pick better and/or think it made more sense narratively and WISH it was canon" - for an example of that, look to the Avatar the Last Airbender shipping wars. This is a case where both sides literally interpret the story just differently enough that they come to entirely different conclusions about which girl is Cloud's true love. And if either side reaches out to try and explain their viewpoint to the other, they're just met with "uh, no. You're wrong." Try and explain what Cloud might be thinking in a given scene with one of the girls, why he acts a certain way... "That's not it at all, where are you getting this? Are you delusional?"

Like, I am a Clerith shipper. I have played all the games in the compilation and watched Advent Children. I tried to be as completionist as possible, even. And I came out on the other side of really digging into the story of this game loving Cloud and Aerith's dynamic and pretty firmly convinced they were canon. Or as canon as possible in the timeline where she died. Even in that timeline it seemed clear to ME that Cloud was still heavily mourning her two years later, preferring to live in her church instead of with Tifa and ignoring Tifa's calls. But that's MY interpretation.

As any of us here in the trenches would know, if you try and explain your interpretation of these characters and the romance to a diehard Cloti supporter... you're met with a lot of "you're misinterpreting! Cloud and Aerith were just friends! She loved Zack to the end and Cloud loved Tifa since childhood and never stopped! Also Aerith is actually BAD for Cloud because she's too pushy/abrasive. She's not helping him open up, she's just forcing him to go along with her and making him uncomfortable!"

All of this is of course infuriating, but I'd like to think I'm self-aware enough to know we are kind of guilty of the same thing. The majority of Tifa fans are SO happy about the kiss in Rebirth, while we're over here dismissing it because, one it's optional, and two Cloud is "obviously" using Tifa as a rebound or settling for her since Aerith is seemingly unavailable. And to us, yeah, it IS obvious. But that's not how Cloti fans see it at all.

We can talk until we're blue in the face about how TIFA deserves better than Cloud because she shouldn't be the second choice - the one he settles for. But I think most people who really love Cloti genuinely don't see it that way. In their eyes, she's NOT second-best. Cloud loved her all along and this kiss is finally confirming that. And nothing we say will dissuade them, just as nothing they say will actually change OUR minds about Clerith.

It is honestly really difficult for me to try and see the story and romance the way Cloti fans do, but I know the reverse is also true. Both groups of fans interpret the characters and relationships differently. The compilation ALLOWS us to interpret them differently. And this is why the ship war for a game from 1997 is still raging on.

Because both camps are certain they're right, they defend their position viciously. Sometimes that means invading the "other side" to tell them how wrong they are. This discussion/rant was prompted by a Cloti fan on a Clerith vid who wanted to debate MY comment about how wonderful the ship was and how good they were for each other. He was "confused" and "concerned" because Clerith fans were reading the story wrong or warping it to suit our ship.

I wanted to tell him, "buddy that's what YOU'RE doing". I wanted to write a goddamn essay explaining why Clerith is canon actually. But considering in my INITIAL comment that he first responded to I'd already brought up why I thought Clerith was great, and he was IGNORING that... I knew it would be pointless. There is nothing I could possibly say that would change his mind. There is nothing he could possibly say that would change my mind.

As long as both sides of this war are fully convinced they're right, this war is going to be endless and brutal. And that's why my absolute biggest fear for part 3 is an open, ambiguous ending regarding the ships. Maybe it will canonize nothing. Maybe it will canonize BOTH by having the actual ending change depending on which girl the player favors.

Either route will offer no relief to this eternal battle. I would honestly prefer for Cloti to explicitly and unambiguously win than an ending where neither girl does. Because I can accept a loss. I can accept being told that actually I WAS interpreting the story wrong, but I'll only accept it from the text itself. If anything, a Cloti ending might encourage me to go through the entire compilation again trying to view it with that canon couple in mind. I'm sure I'd see things differently, even if I'd always have a place in my heart for Clerith. And I sincerely hope that if Clerith were to win that Cloti fans could do the same.

All I know is that I'm sick and tired of this ship war. I personally have never gone after Cloti fans or engaged in Cloti content with the intent to debate or hate on the ship. But I don't speak for all Cleriths. I'm sure at least a few fans of my ship are guilty too. I have seen many obnoxious Cloti fans invading our spaces to disparage us - mostly on YouTube and Twitch, less here on Tumblr - but I KNOW there are plenty of kind Cloti fans who just happily enjoy their ship and leave us to ours as well.

At the end of the day, regardless of how part 3 ends things, I just wish we could live in peace. Please enjoy your ship. Your interpretation of the text and romance is valid. But so is mine. If neither side can agree, then the best thing to do is leave each other alone.

#clerith #cloti #ship and let ship #final fantasy vii #i tried to be as neutral as possible about this topic so i think it's only fair is fans of the other ship are can see & chime in too #but please. PLEASE. literally the point of this is that i'm sick of arguing #hardcore fans of one of these ships WILL NOT be persuaded to the other side. don't even try. #i don't want to debate about this. i just want everyone to live in peace #final fantasy #shout out to fans who primarily ship cloud with dudes btw. i've never seen y'all cause any drama. non-problematic kings/queens right there!

[cowgirleddiediaz]

“buck/tommy posts are all about them fucking and how hot tommy is” WOW, now they are simply blatantly lying. The audacity. The amount of posts that are not about that is MASSIVE AND RIGHT HERE.

right? my post about tommy showing up after fighting a fire for 18 hours straight has 750+ notes, my silly little hc about how buck and tommy are saved in each others phones has nearly 200, so it's not like sfw hc/posts aren't getting any engagement either.

and yeah people are talking about their physical relationship, because they actually have one.

plus, plenty of those posts are about tommy taking care of buck and making sure his first time with a guy is a positive experience. or it's stuff like "wow buck is going to love being cuddled by his big strong firefighter boyfriend." or it's ya know, jokes...

sex and intimacy are normal! there's nothing inherently pornographic about discussing them! there's an emotional aspect to sex that's worth talking about!

#911 abc #obv it's fine to have not/not want to but #i wonder how many of these people have actually had sex #because the way they talk about it is v strange #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #dia answers stuff #911 discourse

[monalogs]

uhhh I dunno really but — maybe a fic of reader just walking in the forest because they r lost then getting caught in a bear trap nyen set up and uh he does something fucked up to reader, like fucks them then kills them or something? Or something heavy gore related while he fucks them.. sorryyy ahhh (I’m a damn masochist.)

The Lost Camper | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, unsafe sex, fear play, knife play, blood kink, stabbing, sadism, fingering, violence, degradation, dacryphilla, READER DEATH

a/n - this came out to 4k words :') i know anon described a bear trap/hunting-esque situation but i felt making the reader a more cryptic-like being of the woods made a bit more sense (and easier to fit in) either way, reminder that this is DARK. there isn't a happy ending and the reader does freakin' die. (though rebirth is implied. see it how ya' do) i apologize for any mistakes as this is my longest work to date (whoop whoop) thank you for your comments and requests on both ao3 and tumblr. keeps me motivated ^^ currently working on a Randal fic and some Luther headcannons :3 inbox open as always. ANYWAYS ENOUGH

You aren't sure why you decided to hop over the Ivory household's security measures and rummage through their things while they slept. You’ve seen campers before in these woods plenty of times. Hundreds, if you kept count… but you don't.

You also don't ever interact with campers these days either. They didn’t tend to be special and they didn’t ever really get in the way. Maybe you’ll spook them by hovering around behind the greenery, sticks cracking underneath rugged boots. They don't interest you anymore beyond listening to them talk about their boring, human lives. 

It doesn't make them completely irrelevant to you though, as you’ve gained a habit of sneaking onto their campsites. You steal – quite often. Well, as often as people come this deep into the woods. It's how you justify it, how else are you supposed to get canned food and new clothes? And so what if you also take a couple of books you can't read and stuffed animals whose furs mat under dirty hands. The mossy den you reside in could always use new things, even if you have no use for them.

For as long as you remember, it has been like this. A being of the woods, you’ve become a cryptic-like legend. “The Lost Camper”, you’re called. Whatever that means. You aren't sure what life is like past bark and muddy soil, clothes messy and hands rough. You were never lost, this is all you know.

Is it all so bad? So bad that humans go out of their way to tell campfire stories about your existence? The grass gives you more comfort than any sleeping bag can. 

So there really wasn't any need for you to be past that fence they set up. The truth was that they were… interesting. More interesting than any other family who ventured out here. You saw as they gathered around and talked, well, two were doing most of the talking. Brothers, apparently. (despite not looking much alike) 

They tagged along a couple more… characters. Notably, these two catmen that hovered around the older one of the brothers. They looked more alike, cat ears dawning their similar haircuts. You could tell them apart by their clothes – easier, their demeanors. 

The blue haired one stood hunched, staring at his… ”master” talk. Immediately, you could tell he was the more timid of the two. You observed the other pinkish haired one smoke a cigarette a few steps away from the group. His eyes – eye, actually – looked low and dark. The patch on one of them leaves you to wonder what might've happened for it to be left in such a state. Catching his name from his master, “Nyen”, which made sense considering his appearance.

You must have been staring too long, because suddenly Nyen lifts his head and his sunless eye meets yours for a second. Ducking quickly behind the trees, it should have been your sign to leave, to go on your merry way of collecting berries and getting high off of mushrooms for entertainment. 

But of course – you didn't. Instead, you retreated to the comfort of the conifer and stood idly. The sun set faster than you expected, any thoughts of simply leaving long gone hours ago. An eager smile spread across your face, these unique campers were asleep and you were going to rein free on their grounds. This was going to be the most fun you’ve had in ages!

As you tiptoe to their spot, you point out the odd set up. They had a truck and two tents, but only one tent actually seemed to be occupied. They also left a plethora of things outside unattended. Great for you. 

Nimbly, you start pocketing random things into your large well-loved leather crossbody bag. You’ve rummaged through many people’s unattended things before, but they definitely take it to a different level. This place was filled with bizarre stuff, stuff you’ve never seen before. 

Why the fuck were they carrying several wooden carvings of beavers and… birthday cake flavored “lube”... unsure what the latter was. Either way, you found it all the more entertaining to stuff these random things into your bag, giggling slightly when you pulled out a photorealistic framed drawing of a blue pony with a rainbow mane. 

You were so intrigued by all these things that you didn't realize masked, narrow eyes staring at your figure past the of the darkness camp. 

-

Nyen had been waiting for this. How stupid can you be? He saw you past the trees when the sun was still up, staring with a stable gaze – observing. Your face was shaded by the leaves, but he could see the grip you had on the tree trunk you stood behind. You looked rugged, you weren't just another camper or hitchhiker. He huffs his cigarette, more freaks. Nyen moves his eyes towards his master, clearly already stressed with the hitchhiker they had picked up hours before. Another huff.

His eyes meet yours when he decides to look up again and just as quickly – you're gone. 

Once Luther hears about this, his brows furrow slightly at the idea of another thing to deal with. “Oh dear, I just can't catch a break.” Nyen waits for his master to continue.

Randal (who totally wasn't eavesdropping) perks up once he recognizes who they were talking about, “Oh! Oh! You mean the…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “The Lost Camper…” Luther twists his head to stare at his brother, “Is that the name?” 

Randal nods excitedly, “I’ve read all about her! Apparently, she’s a ghost. Or like a cavewoman. Or an animal-hybrid. I actually didn't read that much.” He shrugs, “She doesn't hurt people, I think. Just swipes a few things and wonders around. Which is a little boring, would love it if something tried to kill us! AGAIN!”

Luther shakes his head and looks back at Nyen, “Hm, it’s too late now to move everything back inside…” He places a finger on his chin, “If that's true, then deal with her if she becomes a problem, alright?” 

Nyen nods, “Yes sir.”

From what Randal said, he knew you would most likely lurk in the incognito of the night. So he took his stance outside the tent everyone else slept in. 

He almost giddily twirls the handle of the knife, waiting and waiting. Hours pass, he doesn't have a watch but his internal clock tells him it’s around 3 am when he finally spots you. Look at you, being a problem.

Your back is faced away from him. Through the darkness, (and thanks to his skill of seeing well in the dark) he witnesses the silhouette of your thievery. Nyen can't point out exactly what you are taking but all he can imagine is his master’s upset face if he sees things are missing. The grip on his knife tightens.

He needs to wait again, wait for the perfect moment, wait to pounce . Nyen hears giggles escape your mouth – small, but he hears it. His jaw clenches. How dare you tee-hee while taking his family's very important stuff? He almost wants to lunge at you straight away, but he decides against it. Nyen wants to stab you in the throat and watch the blood splurt once you turn around. He just needs to get a bit closer…

SNAP

How irritating. Nyen just had to step on a twig. 

Your reaction time is just as fast as his, darting into the dark woods with him quickly trailing behind you.

Nyen huffs to himself. He wanted to make this quick, but he certainly doesn’t mind a chase.

-

Holy shit, shit, shit. Thoughts race a thousand miles per hour, with your legs following right behind. You admittedly got too into it that you weren’t focusing, now you have to make a great escape. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to run away from a camper, there was a time where a woman got spooked by you on her way to take a piss. Her scream was so loud that you immediately dashed past her, dropping the clothes you had stolen. Her husband (presumably an experienced outdoorsman) actually trekked through the woods with a shotgun for a while as you held your breath in the branches above. Ultimately, her family was gone before the sun was down. 

But you aren't sure you can just avoid this one. You allow yourself to turn peek behind you and see him . The smoking catman, Nyen. The shade of the night is heavy, but you’ve adapted to see well in the dark. You’re sure he has that skill too with the way his gaze is steady, hard, and right on yo u through terrifying masked eyes. Where did his eyepatch go?

Shaky hands clutch the filled crossbody bag that jumps with your every movement. If you had to go through this, you at least want to keep the stuff. 

Just tire him out, you think. It's reassuring that you know these woods like the back of your hand. You’ve tread several miles, exploring and wondering, though never finding a road. (Odd.)

Agilely weaving him past trees and fallen logs, your boots try to find leaf covered ground in an attempt to not leave visible tracks, but that would cause you to move slower – and you can't afford that. You assume with enough loops and turns, he will lose your trail.

A loud, gravelly yell can be heard behind you, “You can't run forever!” It makes your heart hammer because it's true. You aren't sure how long you’ve been running now but it feels like hours .

Periodically, you pause to catch your breath, but it isn't long before you hear his heavy steps get closer and closer, forcing the chase to start again.

It’s terrifying. You have amazing stamina. It's part of being in these woods, moving a lot. Nyen is different though, you don't think he’s stopped once. He’s a hunter, a bit slower than his prey but always behind. 

Huffing, you duck under branches and jump over uneven ground with aching legs, barely catching yourself a few times. It’s strenuous to carry on like this, so close to giving out. It’s impossible to focus with this adrenaline pumping through your veins, are you going in circles? Herbage you’re so used to begin to feel like a labyrinth of ever consuming moss and vines. 

Managing to keep your distance, you start to believe that maybe you’ve lost him when the echo of rushed footsteps begin to fade. There’s a wave of relief when all that can be heard is the sound of heavy panting and earth stirring underneath sore feet. 

You close your eyes as you continue to move forward, wind flowing through your hair with momentum. It’s just for a second, for a moment of clarity. It's a terrible second. Your right ankle rolls horribly on a rock, making you tumble down with shriek. It reverberates past trees and you’re sure he's heard it. 

He’s already closing the gap, leaves shuffling behind you. Regaining composure with gritted teeth, you come to the conclusion that he can have his damn things. It’s not worth running forever. Peeking at your quickly growing swollen ankle, you aren't sure you even could.

Finding an area where the trees thin out with patches of soft grass, you use the last of your excretion to exclaim, “Wait, wait!” Facing him finally, he stops feet away from you. 

You finally get a closer look at him. His stance is still aggressive, as if you are about to take off at any moment. You see his glare filled with pure disdain, thin lips curling in a snarl. His eyes go beyond his bizarre mask, it feels like he's piercing you with them.

“Say it.” It's a husky voice that makes the anxiety in your stomach swirl. You realize you haven't been face to face with someone in… a while.

Croaking out with a strained voice, “Look, here. Have it back, I don't want it anymore.” With shaking hands, you tug the worn leather over your body and drop it onto the ground in between you two. Gulping, you scan his figure for any type of reaction.

That's when you notice a glint in his hand – a knife. Maybe it was foolish to assume he wouldn't have a weapon on him, he was chasing you after all. But it dawns on you that you don't have one. 

Nyen seems to pick up on your sudden stiffening, taking a step forward. It takes everything in you to not take off, but you know it would be fruitless with a sore ankle. 

“I know who you are.” You shake, “You do?” He nods slowly, “Randal told me about you. ‘The Lost Camper’, a habitual thief and urban legend. A fucking pussy too.” 

A low laugh escapes his lips, he’s getting closer. “So, you think you can just get away with this?” Sweat builds even heavier on your brow and you shake your head, “No, no. I’m – I’m sorry. I didn't mean to–” He cuts you off, “You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing. You need to be dealt with. ”

Your flight instinct kicks in and despite the light injury you sustained, your feet begin to move on their own. It's not fast enough though, he lunges at you and the sudden weight causes you to fall down with a pained hiss.

There's a tackle, he's grabbing at you while you try to force yourself up under him. It’s incredibly rough, there isn't enough room to struggle around with how his weight presses you down.

You watch terribly as Nyen brings his knife up in the air. The pale moon shines on the blade, and for a second, you see the reflection of your terrified face before it stains red. 

A guttural scream forces out of your mouth, making you throw your head back before it crooks back down to see crimson blood seep through your jeans down the side of your thigh. 

Nyen doesn't waste time in pulling the blade back, watching how you writhe in pain. Through teary eyes, you see pure excitement spread across his shaded face. He’s enjoying this. 

You can barely resist when he's forcing your thick jacket off your body – not satisfied with how the material lessens the cuts he’s adorning your body. “Don't do this…” It’s meek and pathetic, you know but you can't help it. He stands above, blood staining his hands. 

“It's already happening.” It's deep and low, and you feel every drip of venom that laces his words. 

You witness Nyen begin to rub the growing bulge in his tan jeans, causing your stomach to twist in a way that you're scared you may vomit out of the fear and pain. The catman groans, “Fuck… I’m going to make a mess out of you.”

Soon enough, he strips you of your worn shirt and jeans clothes. It's scary how Nyen handles you like a ragdoll, no concern for the twists and gashes your injured body has to endure. 

“So this is what you were hiding under all that? Lucky me.” It’s so condescending that you grit your teeth. For any chance of keeping your dignity, an attempt of covering yourself and moving is made – but it’s met with a swift kick to your ribs that results in burning heaving.

A cold hand slips under your bra, lifting it over and groping at your chest. Whimpering, you attempt to shy away from his touch but he draws you back with an even colder tip of a blade that swipes across your skin. 

Red drapes over your body like a warm blanket in contrast to the cool chill of the forest air. You can almost stare off into the starry night you are so used to while you try to regain bated breath, just for an escape.

Nyen doesn't allow this though. He flips you over roughly onto your stomach, ripping away the comforting sky from your vision. Again, you want to at least protest when he greedily spreads your legs open, hand prodding at your sensitive heat.

Shit. You don't remember the last time you ventured into anything sexual. Maybe you’d rub one out when the idea popped up, but it never really did. You’ve seen a… er– dildo (if you remember correctly what it was called) once or twice when snooping around camps. It gave you a good laugh then, but you would ultimately leave it. 

Now you can feel how his hard length presses up against you. It’s an uncommon sensation, and fuck – why does it have to be big? 

Cutting your underwear off, his long fingers soon dip into the heat of your pussy, pushing in and out. You gasp and tremble underneath his touch. He doesn't wait for you, curling his digits up as growing wetness coats his knuckles. It's disgustingly good, making your traitorous body clench around his fingers. 

Nyen looms over you, wiping the soaked knife onto dark long sleeves, helping him keep his grip on the handle. Then, he pulls his fingers out of you, tauntingly slow to hear how you whimper pathetically. “Look at you, bitch. You're fucking dripping.” He mixes the juices with your blood, “Heh, in more ways than one.”

With unbuckled jeans, he moves fully on top of you, knees pining the sides of you down as he grunts against your soft ass. Nyen then grips your hair and pulls your head back, curving your spine into an uncomfortable position. His knife finds its way to your exposed neck. 

Shaking, it nips at your skin as shallow breaths escape you. He brings himself closer . “Should I just kill you now? What do you think, slut?” Adrenaline rushes through your body, a shameful cry escapes you, “No, no! Don't– don't!” 

He grinds against you, “Then beg.” Shaking your head, you respond – “Please. Please let me go, I’m sorry.” A deep sinister chuckle responds, “No, bitch.” He yanks your head back even farther. Feeling his hot breath against your face, he spits, “Beg for me to fuck you.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, shutting tightly when his blade grazes hurt skin once more. His hard length prods at your entrance – waiting. With a deep breath, you whisper oh-so pathetically. “Please fuck me.” You pray it's enough.

“Better than that. C'mon, or I’ll slit your pretty little fucking throat.” He yanks your hair, pushing into your skin. You panic, fat tears streaming down your face. “No! Don't kill me! Please, please just fuck me. Please.”  

Your screams turn into loud cries, echoing onto the tall trees that surround the scene. Nyen relishes in your wails, nails digging into the back of your scalp before his cock sinks into you roughly. You squirm with a loud pained gasp, you weren't close to ready for him. 

His knife (thankfully) removes itself from your neck, grip on the handle still iron strong. It doesn't give you anything to distract from as he stretches you out incredibly painfully. Inch by inch, your muscles contract and try to adjust to his size – but it's not nearly enough when he begins to start to move. 

“You're so fucking tight.” He lets out a sharp grunt, skin slapping against yours. “You've never fucked, haven’t you?” All you can do is cry. “Perfect.”

Forgetting the threat of his knife, he reminds you with a deep slash across your back. Pain vibrates through you, hands grip at soil and blades of grass in an attempt to stiffen the burning sensation that consumes you. Nausea festers and chokes at the back of your throat, certain that if you had eaten this morning it’d be spilling out your mouth by now.

It's an entrancing sight for Nyen, the large gash displays the crimson beautiful blood dripping down your arched back and onto your asscheeks as he slams into you. It’s a lot of blood. So much so that he feels how you physically weaken under him, fully incapacitated.

He decides to flip you back onto your back once again like the ragdoll you are. There, he can see how the light in your eyes start to dim. Red, and swollen, and tear rimmed – they stare back at him, wordlessly pleading for any type of mercy.

Nyen ignores it, choosing to grab your injured thighs and hike them over his broad shoulders, angling even deeper inside of you. Tight muscles draw him closer, grunting at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. “Shit, you're a greedy fucking thing, aren't you?” He spits at you, grabbing your face to make sure your eyes stay on him, inches separating your faces. 

You don't respond, hoarse cries and moans are all the sounds you can make. Nyen’s mask taunts you, wide eyes never leaving yours as his nails scratch at your chest and waist, marking and trailing. Nyen’s nails even have the nerve to dig into your open wounds, forcing the blood to escape even faster. 

Any pleas you can muster out fall on deaf ears, and you almost wish he killed you before all this. But then it clicks that this is all just a game to him – you're simply a toy. The evil grin on his face is evident of this, he's truly enjoying watching this horrible scene come undone by his hands. The chase, the torture, your cries . It only makes his heavy cock harder and his thrusts sloppier. 

Your head is woozy and your vision is getting blurry. Numbness circuits through your body, the only thing you can feel is the sensation of his cock ramming into you over and over again. 

Nyen lets go of your face and chooses to grab at your bouncing tits, squeezing hard enough to create bruises. His twitching cock then rubs inside of you perfectly . A loud whine follows that causes Nyen’s jaw clench at the sudden extra pressure around his length, “Ah, hgh,– take my cum like the pathetic bitch you are,”

Stars in your vision soon mix with the stars in the night sky, you can't feel your legs anymore, neither your arms. Blood loss is getting to you – and quickly.

His body drives into yours, the sensation of gore under you squelches around against skin and dirt. Then, the knot building inside your numbing abdomen finally snaps, your breath hitches and you keen loudly – writhing around him.

Nyen soon follows, basically growling at how your pulsating pussy feverishly sucks him in and empties his balls. He rides the orgasm, fucking his cum deep inside you, and basking in the gripping release.

When he pulls out and off of you, your body limps on the ground. Overlooking, he can see how your lungs shallowly take in much needed air. Blood glistens off your cut adorned skin, and god is it a fucking beautiful sight.

He tucks his cock back into his blood soaked jeans, and he can already hear about how it's extra laundry to do now. But frankly, he doesn't care. Nyen gives you a once over, just to make sure the image of you really seeps into his brain. After well enough, he pockets his knife and walks over to the criminal leather bag that started this all. 

Suddenly, a weak grip holds onto his ankle. You.

You look at him with big, lidded eyes and croak out, “Wait… wait– am I… am I going to die?” He stares back at your frightened face with his reactionless one. It's quick before he gives you a sinister smile, then he yanks his ankle out from your grasp and grabs the bag that lays beside you. 

“Yeah, probably.” He then pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket and lights it, flicking hot ash onto your chest. 

“You were a good fuck though, I’ll give you that.” It’s patronizing. A final tear streams down your cheek as you watch him walk into the fog of the trees without another word.

You stare at the sky once again, leaves sway above and let moonlight peek through. Your inhales seem to be getting shorter and shorter, but you don't realize. You just pay attention to the movement of the leaves and the formation of stars. 

Grass picks at the back of your head, it’s soft – one of the only things you can feel besides excruciating pain. You let it be your pillow, the comfort that is ever fleeting from your grasp. 

This wasn't a fate you ever expected to have, it wasn't even proper death. It all makes you want to get up and fight for yourself. To live. He wasn't going to win. 

But reality sinks in when your vision fills with black spots, and you remember you're actively bleeding out, abused and hurt. Dying. It hurts to move, and the lone thought of welcoming it reverberates in your mind. It’s okay… It’s okay… 

With a final breath and ringing ears, darkness finally mercifully consumes you. 

To the dirt you were born, to the dirt you return to. 

And to the dirt you will rise up from again. 

#nyen x reader #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #ranfren #x reader #dark blog #dark content #tw noncon #tw pain #dead dove do not eat #reader death