#my guy really coulda had a career

[one-cherry]

I’m just sayin’ what if he was a tattoo artist instead 😭

[muddyorbsblr]

reckless girl pt2

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @holdmytesseract

Summary: Magnus, along with the rest of the station, launches into an all-hands investigation to find you, desperately hoping that he's not too late

Pairing: Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: mentions of blood; sad bb Magnus hours; kidnapping; restrains (not the fun kind); non-consensual touching (not our bb Magnus he would never); more physical injuries; gun mentions and use; mention of painkillers (morphine) [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship

There were only ever a handful of times in Magnus' career so far where he felt he couldn't stomach a crime scene. Those few occasions involving the most gruesome of acts that a human being could have ever been subjected to.

However, despite how comparatively routine the scene looked when he arrived at your apartment, he found himself clutching his stomach, feet unable to move, upon laying eyes at the blood on the floor. Your furniture was all askew, signs of a struggle littered all over the now crime scene.

It was all he could do not to burst into tears when officers were placing crime scene tape over your front door.

Kurt clapped a hand down on his shoulder, trying to steady him. "Magnus, you sure you don't want to sit this one out? You're in no shape to work this case, this is your--"

"I have to find her, Kurt," he cut the senior detective off, doing his best to steel himself. "I have to know she's alright. Make sure she's safe again. She--" He choked on his own words, the lump in his throat making it near impossible to speak. "She's my whole world, I need her back."

Wallander sighed, knowing too well the feeling of helplessness that your boyfriend felt in every bone in his body at the moment. That he couldn't just do nothing and wait on a bunch of people that didn't care for you the way that he did to find you. "Very well, then. But you're not stepping foot in that scene. For your own sanity."

"Understood." He didn't want to be inside your apartment in the state it was in, either. That place was more a home to him than his own place; it felt so wrong having to process it like it was just another day at work. "I'll question her sister, see what she knows."

"The man that Y/N put in the hospital. The pick-up artist. Start there. If we know more about the people in the group he's in, it might give us a lead to where she coulda been taken."

Magnus blinked back his tears and made his way to your sister Stella, her eyes wide as saucers with worry and shock as she saw the detective. "I was really hoping we'd be meeting under happier circumstances. My sister speaks quite highly of you, I've never seen her so in love."

"We're going to find her," he said, trying to reassure himself as much as her. "What can you tell me about the man she fought two nights ago?"

She scrunched her face in an eerily similar way that you did whenever you were confused or trying to recall something. "Really not much to say about him, just a regular looking fella, but one of the guys he was with…he kept on talking about his father having connections and how he's gonna 'avenge his mate for what Y/N did to him'."

"Can you describe this friend of his?"

"I'll do you one better." She tapped away at her phone before handing it over to him, showing him a photo. "This is him. Marcus Ferguson. Menace to society touting around Daddy's money and power."

Magnus' blood ran cold. They'd been after Ferguson for the better part of a year, a prime suspect in the kidnapping and trafficking of women and girls from as young as 13. The heart-wrenching part was that they could never get their hands on the smoking gun that would put him away for good, and the victims that they'd managed to rescue were too afraid of retaliation from him and his family that they'd never bring themselves to testify.

And now he had you.

The details that Stella gave him led him to the restaurant you two were at the evening before last, and the owner more than happily volunteered the security footage from the time you two were in there and Ferguson's friend got into the altercation with you. He watched with a mix of fury and pride seeing how you held your own and ultimately brought the sleazy excuse for a human being down on the ground coughing and bleeding, curled into a ball.

Then Ferguson hung around close enough to the patrol car as you were getting arrested that he got your full name, and then he made a call, saying something to his friend before he was brought to the hospital to be treated. The words he mouthed on screen had the detective's pulse thundering in his ears, panic flooding his system.

"I'll have her by tomorrow night. She'll pay for what she did to you."

He was restless as he showed the station the footage from the restaurant, Kurt giving him the floor to address his fellow detectives and officers. "This is enough cause to believe that Y/N Y/L/N is in grave danger. We know what Ferguson is capable of. We know the damage he deals to his victims, and that's only the ones that we've found. It is imperative that we find her as soon as possible. Alive." His voice broke at the last word, the possibility of finding you anything other than that crushing him into pieces.

"Alright everyone, put all your cases on hold, this takes top priority," Wallander addressed the station. "I want eyes on Marcus Ferguson, someone find him and bring him in for questioning. We also know that his father Jeffrey owns over a dozen warehouses all throughout Ystad, more than enough for his so-called philanthropic efforts. Someone look into them, starting with the ones near the coast. Call them up, and tell me which ones don't answer the call. Get an officer to pay those warehouses a visit. Find Miss Y/L/N. Bring her back here alive. You have your orders."

It didn't take long before a more junior detective spoke up. "I have something. One of the warehouses didn't pick up the phone, and their registration documents show that they should be active and have a receptionist during office hours. And it's a five minute drive from there to Sandskog."

That was enough to get Magnus out of his seat and gearing up. He double checked to see that the magazine of his pistol was fully loaded.

"I'm coming to get you, sweetheart. Hold on for me," he whispered, hoping more than anything that when he wouldn't be bringing you out of the warehouse in a gurney and not a body bag.

The last thing you remembered was reaching to pick up a knife from your kitchen counter, hearing the distinct sound of another person breathing, along with another heartbeat, from within your apartment. You lived alone, and Stella was still at her hotel when you got off the phone with her just a few minutes ago. Right as you stepped into your apartment.

Then a rag went over your mouth, and a smell akin to ultra-concentrated alcohol flooded your nose. And everything went black.

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed was that you couldn't move. Your hands were bound behind your back with something twining and abrasive. Rope. You weren't gagged or blindfolded. Your legs were immobile as well, each ankle roped to a chair leg. "What the--"

"Oh goody you're awake," a male voice filled the vast space you were held in. It looked like a warehouse, fairly maintained but empty. The faint sound of waves outside told you that wherever you were, there was a beach nearby. "You're a strong one, aren't ya, little bitch? First you put one of my best mates out of commission for who the fuck knows how long, and then you put one helluva shiner on me."

Your kidnapper approached you and grabbed the bottom of your face, nails digging into your cheeks deep enough you could feel the skin breaking. It also gave you a good enough view of who had taken you hostage.

"You're Ferguson's boy, the brat," you spat at him. "Never had to work a day in his life. Spends his time being a nuisance to womankind."

"I prefer the term gift, poppet." Your stomach lurched at the name. "You're lucky that pretty lil face o' yers is enough to make me consider delaying killing you. Craig went for the wrong 'un--"

"Craig, huh?" you cut him off. "So that's the name of the wanker with the weak ass swing. Tell me, Little Ferguson, do you surround yourself with weak little boys to make yourself seem stronger? Make you seem more like a man?"

That seemed to have struck a nerve. Typical. "I'll show you a man, you little cocktease," he snarled at you, panic flooding your system when you felt his hand on your inner thigh, thick and inelegant fingers creeping higher. "Maybe I'll ruin you before killin' you…"

You squirmed in your seat, trying to throw him off as best you could, your efforts falling short from the rope binding you to the chair. He only snickered in response, his hand traveling up higher which made you throw your head back and butt him on the face as hard as you could.

He stumbled back and landed on his bum with a faint smack, groaning as he held his nose. A fleeting relief washed over you knowing at least you got him to stop from touching you.

That relief, however, was short lived, the entitled bratty excuse for a man stomping over to a golf bag by the exit and picking up a golf club, a heavy one from how he groaned and whined as he tried to lift it above his head, like he was practicing. "You fucking bitch, I just had that fixed!" he bawled, now stomping over to you.

"Please, from where I'm sitting it's an improvement," you sneered. "Gives you some much needed character."

He pointed his club at you. "You're on borrowed time."

"Well hey, do me a favor and run the timer down already because if I have to spend one more agonizing second lookin' at your ugly mug--Agh!"

Your words finally sent his fragile ego off the edge, swinging the golf club back to strike you across your forehead and making everything go black.

The last thing you remembered was the sound of the heavy door to the warehouse being slid open. A commotion.

Gunshots.

And then a voice. Probably the most angelic voice you'd ever hear in your life.

Magnus.

When Magnus and the rest of his team arrived outside the warehouse, Kurt had to physically hold the younger detective back from storming into the place without cause.

"She's in there, Kurt!" he shouted, his desperation ramping up with each passing second.

"And if you barge in there with your badge and your gun without any probable cause the next time she'll see you will be on the other side of a glass divider during visiting hours," Wallander tried to reason with him. "We don't have Jeffrey Ferguson's permission to search the area, we need a reason before we can--"

The loud smack of metal against something followed by a woman's howl of pain sounded out from the warehouse, launching Magnus into action once more. "There's my reason."

When they threw the door open he could feel his heart drop to the ground at sight before him. You on the ground, a new massive gash on your forehead with a bump the size of a golf ball on the same spot. Marcus Ferguson with golf club in his hand, raised above his head ready to strike again. Before he could lay another hand on you, Magnus raised his weapon and shot three times, the booming sound from his gun almost felt loud enough to shake the empty warehouse.

He didn't bother watching Ferguson go down to the ground, rushing over to you instead to work on freeing you from your restraints, his stomach lurching at the sight of the rope digging in and reddening your skin. "Sweetheart," he choked, taking out a pocket knife and cutting through the thick ropes.

"Mags…?" you mumbled as he cut you out of your restraints, trying to be as gentle as he could manage with you as he eased the rope away from your skin.

"I'm here, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe now." You instantly relaxed into his hold when he cradled you against his him, refusing to let you go until the paramedics got to you and loaded you onto the gurney. "I've got you."

You struggled to open your eyes when you felt yourself being laid down on a rather thin cushion, the sound of squeaking wheels and words that echoed your own arrest the other day filling your ears. You were wheeled into an ambulance, and you sighed in relief when your blurry vision caught sight of a head of blond curls.

"Mags," you breathed out, fingers twitching toward him. "Sorry I didn't show--" you said through slurred speech before he took your hand in both of his, pressing a kiss to your fingers.

"Shh don't you worry about that even for a second, darling," he spoke into your skin. "All I care about is that you're alive." You felt your skin get wet with hot tears as he kept kissing your hand. "I nearly lost you today."

"Still here," you mumbled, doing your best to squeeze back at his massive hand. "Not getting rid of me that easy, Martinsson."

Before you slipped back into unconsciousness, you heard him tell you, "I never want to be rid of you, my precious reckless girl. I love you so much."

The next time you opened your eyes, there was as rhythmic beeping coming from your side, your wounds had been cleaned, and Magnus was by your side. Hand wrapped around yours, slouched over on an uncomfortable chair, with his cheek resting on the mattress.

You tried to reach over, and run your hands through his curls to gently rouse him awake, but your other arm had a rather thick line in it administering what you could only guess was a pretty effective painkiller considering you weren't feeling the effects of the younger Ferguson's blows that much. You opted instead to squeeze his hand, your boyfriend letting out a tiny groan before looking up, his ocean blue eyes meeting yours and his free hand reaching up to stroke your hair.

"I'm going to need you to promise me something, sweetheart," he mumbled, trying to give you a reassuring smile despite the puffiness in his eyes.

"I'll promise you just about anything as long as you don't let them take away the painkillers."

"Promise me you'll try not to get into any fights until you have a license to carry a gun. I don't think danger will ever stop finding you, but at least I can make sure you're better equipped -- legally equipped -- to handle the next fucker that tries to harm you." He leaned over and looked at your face carefully before pressing the lightest kiss to a part of your face that wasn't cut or bruised. "Promise me, Y/N."

"I promise, Mags," you mumbled, your speech quite slurred. "What happened to Ferguson?"

"Intensive care," he answered, his jaw clenching before releasing his next sentiment. "Wish I'd gone for the head."

"No you don't," you shot back. "Too much paperwork."

He let out a hoarse laugh, his voice scratchy with the telltale sign of yelling and sobbing. "I'll make sure he spends the rest of his life behind bars for what he did to you."

"Hmph…self-proclaimed pretty boy like him surrounded by lonely men who haven't known the touch of a lover," you thought out loud, letting out a mirthless laugh before you echoed your assailant's words to you at the warehouse. "Maybe they'll ruin him before they kill him."

"Careful there," a voice spoke from the door way. Kurt. "Sounds like something he and his troop of deviants would say."

"Something he did say," you confirmed, wincing at the memory. "Right before he reached for the club."

"I'll kill him," Magnus seethed, his fury radiating off of him. "Kurt, please tell me we finally have enough to nail him. And his pathetic posse."

"We might," the older detective nodded. "But we need someone willing to testify against him--"

"I will," you volunteered, not taking another second to mull it over. "I'll testify. From how he talked I'm sure there'll be more just waiting to come outta the wood works. If what I have to say can give them the strength to want to speak up, perhaps we'll have the upper hand. No matter how much he tries to get out with Daddy's money."

Wallander gave you a singular nod. "You're a brave one, Y/N Y/L/N. Got the blood of a fighter, you do." He pointed a finger at Magnus. "You got yourself one of the good ones. Don't screw it up."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he answered back, thumb stroking gently across the back of your hand. "It better not come as a surprise to you that I'll want to take some time off. See to Y/N's recovery and all."

"I'd have twisted your arm myself if you didn't." He left the room, giving the nurse a curt nod as they passed each other.

"The doctor should be by in a little bit to check on you, Mrs. Martinsson," she informed you, giving you a warm smile.

Before you could protest from the name she'd called you, Magnus spoke up with a simple sentiment. "Thank you, Nurse." When she walked away, he looked at you with a sheepish expression in his eyes. "I might have fibbed a tiny bit so they'd let me stay in the room with you."

Your thoughts began to swirl more as the lightheadedness you felt from the painkillers mixed with how your heart swelled at his confession. "My gorgeous angel-faced golden retriever baby," you mumbled, making him give you a much wider smile. "Never took you for such a bad boy," you teased him. "What a pair we make…" You adjusted yourself in your bed, shuffling as far off to the side without disturbing the line in your arm and motioning your head to the empty space.

"What're you…?"

"Hop up, Mags," you tried to order him with a sleepy chuckle. "That's no way to sleep, and also I want my husband to hold me."

He climbed on to the bed, holding you gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sleep, sweet reckless girl," he whispered, finally feeling like he could breathe easier now that he had you safe in his arms.

"Y/N Martinsson," you mumbled with a yawn, snuggling against his chest, so sleepy you didn't hear how his heart began to sprint in his chest. "I quite like the sound of that."

Magnus found it near impossible to breathe, his mind immediately bombarded with a vision of you in a myriad  of white dresses, walking down the aisle to him. Exchanging vows. Becoming his wife. "Careful, sweetheart. Any more talk like that and I'll go to the jeweler's the second you're discharged." He struggled to keep his tone light, doing his best not to wake you up.

"Hmph, don't," you grumbled. "Too expensive."

"What?" he breathed out, in complete disbelief at what he was hearing. "You would marry--No. Not right now. We'll talk about this when they take you off the morphine, darling."

"No need," you murmured as you snuggled closer to him. "I'd marry you tomorrow with a ring pop and a jukebox at the hospital chapel, Magnus Martinsson."

Your breathing evened out after that, leaving your boyfriend to process what you'd said all alone. He looked at your sleeping face, shakily pressing another kiss to the top of your head. "When you've fully recovered from this nightmare that monster subjected you to today, I'll make it real," he whispered into your hair, hoping that you'd hear him through your sleep. "I quite like the sound of Y/N Martinsson, too."

A/N: *insert fanfare sound effect here* That's another request done! And these two blorbos are safe and sound in their little bubble where no one's gonna fuck with them anymore 🥹💖 Now on to the next and lemme just tell y'all now…it's angsty and it's 3 parts and we're headed back to our stabby mischievous babey 👀

But before we get there…I might have something for y'all in the next few days involving Centrum Ad Hiddles…

In the words of Scooby Doo…ruh roh…😳👀

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Magnus taglist: @vbecker10

[sirpuddingcup]

Before I get into it

SPOILERS FOR THE END AND THE DEATH VOLUME 3

Holy shit this book is great! It genuinely is everything I wanted and more. Volume 3 ties everything up so well that even though I knew the plot outline already just from lore it had me gripped from cover to cover. An emotional and bloody ending to the to the galaxy spanning series.

First off I really enjoyed getting the little updates on what some of the other players are doing while it all goes down. Bobby G and his endless strategy meetings as he tries to figure out how to get to Terra. Lorgar pulling a jonestown as he arrogantly misinterprets prophecies. Perturabo wallowing in self pity as he destroys his room like an angry teenager (the image of him pouting in his broken chair as the room lies devastated around him gives me life). Finally Eldrad and the others arguing over shoulda woulda coulda as they realize this is way worse than they thought. It was nice to check in with everyone before we dive into the trauma of it all.

Speaking of trauma let's talk about the black rage! We see sanguineous's mangled corpse in the lupercal court as the psychic shock sends the entire ninth legion (minus Zephon) into a berserk rage. I really can't think of a better word for it than traumatic. After all they've been through together during the siege to have the blood angels turn into actual monsters against their will is just twisting the knife for the loyalists. From Rans desperate fight for survival against a man he idolizes to Amit waking up dazed and confused at the end of a trail of corpses ("why do the bodys end here?" "That's as far as you got" kills me), it's safe to say nobody is having a good time.

Scratch that you know who is having a pretty good time? Rogal Dorn. Fresh out of the desert of endless boredom Rogal finally gets to let loose a little as he fights his way to Valdor. I love their dynamic and I wish we got more of them hanging out("damn you!"(frustrated) "damn you too."(affectionate)).

We check in with Fo and the genocide crew which ends predictably. I saw him completing the Terminus sanction then getting killed trying to escape a mile away. I did not see him making a fucking clone body and replace Xanthus! I love me a devious old scientist causing problems on purpose! I really hope he comes back in a big way.

The library crew didn't do a whole lot other than Ariman being a creepy magic man. It is buck wild that the archivist turned out to be Lilean Chase at the beginning of her career she goes on to found the fucking Cognitae so get it girl I guess.

The did my boy Loken so dirty in the end but fuck me was it good. They planted seeds earlier on talking about how a demon is made, a reaction in the warp to a traumatic event in real space, how in the warp effect can come before cause. But fuck me I wasn't expecting this. After the dust settles and Loken almost convinces Abaddon to give reconciliation a chance Erebus (fuck Erebus) stabs him in the back dooming the galaxy to endless civil war. And why did he do this? Because Samus is the man beside you, Samus right behind you, Samus is the guy she told you not to worry about, look out it's fucking Samus! The abrupt murder of Loken gives birth to the Demon Samus kicking all of this shit into motion. It truly is all Erebus's fault.

I saved the best for last. The showdown on the vengeful spirit. This is where Horus really gets tho shine. I haven't loved his character like this since the first couple of books. He's a fucking mess and I love it this is the man who's daddy issues burned the galaxy to the ground, and as someone who has a difficult relationship with my father fuck me I get it. Dan Abnet is so good at making fights feel intimate, Horus isn't a one dimensional avatar of evil hes a son confronting his abusive father. Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants to be better than him, and not just stronger but a better person. He needs the Emperor to acknowledge that he had hurt Horus. Horus loved his father and wanted to reach out him on an emotional level so badly, but the Emperor was simply no longer able to do that. When the Emperor purged himself of the infant god the dark king his kindness and empathy went with it ( going on to create the star child). This emperor is nothing but power and cold fury. He enters the room having already written Horus off as dead. It's such a tragedy from top to bottom because we know from Malcador in his all knowing position on the golden throne, that there is a version of this confrontation where they both walk out alive. That does not happen.

The actual physical fight is nothing to write home about besides the fact that different people see it happening in different ways Dusk sees it as a clumsy slugfest between two lumbering giants while LE2 saw it as the greatest display of skill he had ever seen. In truth it was both. The psychic battle had them tossing each other across time and space and fighting through the sites of each other's greatest sins. They use the settings to try and undermine each other emotionally holy shit. Then the do the next logical step AND HAVE A FUCKING TAROT DECK YU-GI-OH DUEL! I need an imperial tarot card game right now GW take my fucking money. It ends with the cards predicting the fall of cadia (the despoiler unlocking the silver door) and the emperor loses. It has become obvious by this point that the Emperor can't beat Horus. Horus outclasses him in every way but Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants acknowledgement. So what we get is several desperate attempts by the emperor and several others to fight back as Horus beats his father bloody. But nothing works until Oll and John show up having magically teleported much closer than they ment to. They stand right in front of Horus. Horus is bemused at best giving John just enough time to use the word he learned from the tower of Babel directly in Horus's smug face. The resulting blast nearly kills everyone in the room, but it's the first thing so far to actually damage Horus. While her recovers John makes a run for it but Oll goes to the Emperor gives him the athame (stone knife used to commit the first murder) and tries to wake him up. Only for Horus to wake up first and turn poor Oll to a fine red mist.

Finally Horus stands there triumphant and who is there but his own favorite son Loken. Loken is the only one who tries to reason with Horus to make him see the the chaos gods are using and manipulating him. It was a great touch to frame Horus pov in 2nd person as if someone is telling Horus his thoughts. Loken convinces Horus that he's not really in control anymore and the only way Horus can take back control is to give up the power that the gods gave him. The moment he does back on Terra Keeler uses the power of millions of praying souls to relight the astronomicon and and give the Emperor a font of power to tap into. The emperor rises as if from the dead. Horus at first tries to pull the power back but the gods hold onto it as punishment for spurning them. Then Horus looks at the Emperor empowered as an avatar of humanities faith and he finally understands. The gods panic and try to force their power back into him and Horus begs his father to kill him now while he can resist. Then it happens a father murders his son. The emperor tells Horus "I forgive you and I'll wait for you". Excuse me Dan Abnet what exactly does that mean? Horus returned? Ghost Horus? Reincarnated? What the fuck? From there it's mostly just wrapping up they teleport home and we get the last gasp of Malcador as they place the Emperor on the golden throne.

If you read this thank you this was mostly for me because I needed an outlet for my feelings and I don't want to bother my friends to much with Warhammer. It's been a wild ride and I can't wait to see where it goes from here (especially the third Bequin book).

[323398149]

It's been 10 years

I'm low-key not even a swiftie anymore (kinda, sorta)

I'm living my dream career (technically) (sorta)

And it's not once an hour, it's not once a day, it's not once a week, a month, or a quarter. It's more like once a year that I miss him. It's not even miss, it's more like think about and contemplate the past and relate it to my present.

I don't even know him. I just know the concept, the memory.

And I know that even the memory was terrible and gross and toxic.

But let me explain what happened recently that triggered these annoying, lame, over-done thoughts:

I got new skincare. I've been eating and sleeping well. I've been praying/meditating. I've been maintaining a positive outlook and been happy and hopeful recently. I finally started wearing nice makeup and I finally have the most fire wardrobe rn that I coulda only dreamed of in the past.

And so I've been getting a bunch of compliments recently of ppl telling me I'm glowing. Specifically three ppl from different parts of my life all used the same word.

But the thing is that none of those compliments feel like they hold any weight.

I already pulled the hottest guy in our grade. He was in love with me. ME! AND keep in mind that that was the ugly, loser, insecure, shitty, judgemental, mean (honestly SO mean), stupid, fifteen year old version of me. Not this sorta stable, medicated, whole, adult version.

Remember that gorgeous older white girl that asked him out? Or all those gorgeous tall academic girls crowding around me in grade 12 asking me questions about him because they couldn't understand how this RUSH loser could have been worth his time? and they wanted to know everything they could find out about him from me before they made their moves. Or when tiffany didn't talk to me for a year and then later apologized because she felt bad for letting a man pit her against me. And Jessica obviously (that one was just sad). ALSO LETS REMEMBER all of this was grade 11+12 so I didn't even have any communications with him at this point but I was still being interrogated about him.

Anyways my point is lmaooooo I think when my heart broke at 16 idk but maybe a part of it really did die. It's hard to describe it but I feel like a part of me is dead inside. Ever since then, anytime I've gotten attention I haven't felt special or grateful. I almost resent it. I feel annoyed that they're telling me something I already heard in a way more special way. Like they're parroting and copying it but they'll never be able to meet the magic or rush I used to feel when he said it.

There isn't a magic to it anymore. Now love feels very clinical. I guess I stopped believing in love? I guess at too young an age I became bitter and now just chalk it up to hormones and chemical imbalances.

And recently I heard someone talking about falling in love and I literally thought "agh that sounds terrible why would anybody want to FALL in love??! sounds like it would hurt smh". I just want to gently like drift into a soft stable comfortable kindness with someone. That's all.

Anyways idk if it's the new taylor swift album coming out (which pls be proud of me I haven't heard all the way through yet and I'm hoping to never hear it and stay halal) but yeah idk if I'll ever love anybody like I did that one time at fifteen which didn't even lead to anything and had zero payoff so it feels so wasteful and annoying that it happened.

But then I think about how like what if I end up dying alone and that ends up being the only thing I ever had worth remembering so maybe it's not so bad and maybe even tho it didn't pay off in a bigger way, maybe it was worth something.

Anyways but loooooooool like LMAO don't get me wrong like I know I know let's definitely not forget that it was literally NOTHING. Absolutely nothing happened but two teenagers feeling seen by eachother.

Tbh one of us should cash out on it and write a teen novel.

Wait after typing that out I just had a terrible realization. Lmaooooo jeez Louise this is why I'm supposed to journal so I can make sense of my toxic period thoughts.

With j I felt like "well duh you should obviously be saying that to me because you don't even compare to him. You saying that does not validate me in any way. I'm out of your league." BUT GUYS IT'S NOT MAGIC HELPPPP

I think I'm just finally grown up and confident and whole??? I don't feel "magic" from external validation. I know I'm a baddie helpppppppppp which I didn't know back then. Which is why I'd probs get hella endorphin release when he'd write those damn poems because I wanted someone ELSE to tell me good things about me. But now I know them in my own brain. Woah. Big thoughts. So maybe we're grateful to him for giving me that back when I really needed the attention. And now I'm ok with dying alone loooooooool and I don't need anybody to make me feel good. How interesting.

Well that was a weirdly wholesome exercise/rant. Glad we did this lmao @ my multiple personalities. Catch y'all on the flip side.

[musiconanironingboard]

4 April 2023: Galen. (The BarKo Group, Inc., Productions, no date, but reportedly 1975)

I know people whose record-collecting and music-listening leans heavily, if not exclusively, on bizarro private-press records and bargain-bin oddities. I've seen this result in reactionary opinions about how known music, and certainly anything well-known, is cause for embarrassment and should be avoided at all costs. It can also result in having to limit yourself to situations where you must pretend a mediocre artist is superior and only the "true heads" know it. I say like what you like, but if you're going to restrict yourself to a narrow parameter, realize you're doing niche business. I think the acquaintance of mine from whom I learned about today's record in question has a more enlightened approach than some of the more pedantic oddity seekers I've known, but it's unusual when my and his musical paths cross in regard to one of these arcane oddities, but here in my house sits a copy of the second solo album by a man called Galen, issued from the suburban-Chicago town of Des Plaines, Illinois, just down the road from me.

Among the many descriptions of Galen given by my acquaintance was "File under 'loner lounge prog' or 'ambitious real people quaalude croon' perhaps?" Later in his write-up he went on to say:

"This mysterious private press delivers the groovy goods with a slapping moody/funky/synth-addled version of a Jose Feliciano tune (which sounds like D Axelrod coulda produced it), and insane string/key/mellotron arrangements on an epic instrumental (bold!) “MacArthur Park” cover. Galen’s unique multi-tracked minor-key very “real” vocals really shine on “Day by Day” from Godspell, which features Shaft-like wah wah guitars, off the rails driving piano, and another massively deep and cough-syrupy arrangement. I can’t even describe Galen’s monumental take on JC Superstar, it’s got to be heard to believed. I will be investigating this glorious suburban Des Plaines signed-by-the-band mystery further, anyone know ANYTHING?

His description both amused and intrigued me, and something about the cover art and these details made me think of the mysterious musician named Lewis, who also did a couple of private-press albums forty-odd years ago; Lewis's got reissued on a major scale, even before anyone could find him and his royalties had to be put in escrow. I bought those Lewis albums and they are spooky and compelling. Galen seemed to me to be another Lewis, and soon after reading my friend's words I found a near-mint copy in shrinkwrap online and had it sent my way. I've still not heard it over seven months later, but it slowly makes its way to the top of my queue. In hindsight, I can't quite believe I so urgently purchased a Galen album; it's funny sometimes to look back at purchases and remember the passing fever that took hold of us in those moments. But I do look forward to hearing it. (And that label name! "BarKo" sounds so much like Frank Zappa's own Barfko-Swill merchandising company, making this all the more surreal.)

After buying the Galen album, I started doing a little digging of my own. Before long I found an album by a sort of hotel lounge band, another private press thing, and they were called The Galens. The thing that gave me pause is their logo is exactly like that of the solo Galen. Here it is (the picture is taken from online; I very nearly bought this, too, but even I realized that was a bridge too far):

I told the guy who'd hipped me to Galen about this weirdo Galens hotel nightclub LP, and it did not surprise me one bit when he decided to try to find Galen himself. Soon he sent me a screenshot of him messaging a guy, asking "Is this Norman of the Galens musical act?" I don't know that he ever got a response, but he and I both subsequently found more details. There's a whole webpage devoted to the Galens' history going all the way back to their beginnings in 1963; sadly, it doesn't carry on to discuss the solo career of Galen himself.

Galen did two other solo LPs that I can find evidence of. And my goodness; the eBay auction for the Galens nightclub LP that I found over seven months ago is still active and the seller allows you to make an offer. I need to move on from this quickly before I find myself with anymore records involving a Galen, solo or not. But first, here is side one's label of the Galen LP I did buy.

[xoxo-teddybear]

You Have Me - Bakugou Katsuki

Dad!Bakugou x Babysitter!reader

Warnings: Dad!Bakugou, Fingering, 18+, Cursing, pining, cheating, daddy kink (cuz duh)

Request: Dad Bakugou in love with his babysitter. She’s younger than him but still over legal drinking age and Bakugou is not too old. I just wanna see how he’d go about this whole situation ESPECIALLY if he was already married.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“F-Faster Katsuki!” You said as Bakugou pounded into you on the kitchen island.

“Shit baby...fuck, you like that shit? Like how daddy fucks your sweet cunt?” He teased as he hit your cervix. “You gonna give me another brat? Huh? C’mon Teddy Bear I know you can do it~”

His hand traveled to your clit as he toyed with your pretty pussy. Your legs shook as he worked his magic and you clenched around his cock.

“Ohh~ ‘M gonna cum!” You cried out. Your hands clawed at Katsuki’s back as he sucked his teeth in due to the stimulating pleasure.

“Do it. Cream all over my cock baby.” You obeyed his every command as you did what you were told and spilled all over him. Your orgasm didn’t stop him as he continued to ram into you. He sped up as he chased his own release and threw his head back.

“F-Fuck! Fuck baby,” he leaned down close to your face as he used his hand to grab your chin. “I love you. You fuckin’ understand me?” He said and brought a smack to your ass. “I love you Y/N.”

His voice grew whiny as his thrust became sloppy. You both were a moaning mess until Katsuki met his climax and filled you with his release. Right as he came, his lips met yours for a rough and passionate kiss that you both desperately moaned into. He continued to slowly thrust into you to push his cum deeper inside your womb as you tugged at his hair. Your lips finally separated as Katsuki stopped his thrusts. He rested his forehead against yours as you both held heavy breaths. He grinned at your dazed eyes and grew excited. He was sure he done enough to get you pregnant. He saw your soft, angelic features and listened carefully as you began to speak.

“Katsuki...it’s time to wake up.” You said with a smile.

“Huh?” Bakugou said in confusion as he lifted his face away from yours. You sat up and shoved his shoulder as your voice began to fade out.

“Wake up! ....Wake up Katsuki. Katsuki! ....Katsuki!”

—

“Katsuki! Wake up!”

The 25 year old man had his eyes shot open as he flinched the slightest bit. He awoke to his bitch of a wife smacking his upper body to get him to come to.

“Ugh, the hell do you want?” He groaned as he layed back down in bed.

“I want you to get out of bed! We’re supposed to be going to Aki’s party today! You owe me since you didn’t want to buy me those heels!” She complained. Bakugou rolled his eyes at the gold digger and shooed her away with his hand.

“Go by your damn self. I have a meeting today. I’m not going to one of your shitty friend’s stupid ass parties. And also, I don’t owe you shit. I’m not dropping three grand on a pair of heels for some bitch.” He said with his eyes still shut. He heard his wife gasp at his insults and he could already imagine her dropped jaw.

“Excuse me, but I’m not some bitch. I’m your wife-“

“Who’s a bitch.” Bakugou interrupted. He opened his piercing, crimson eyes as he watched her tilt her head to the ceiling and crossed her arms.

“Hmph! Fine then! I’ll go by myself!” She said and marched out the room and out the house. Bakugou groaned as he rolled onto his back and threw his arms over his eyes.

“Good. That’s what I wanted. Stupid bitch.” He said to no one in particular. He sighed as he held on to the memory of the sweet dream he was having before his wife had interrupted. The sweet dream of him completely indulging himself in Y/N L/N, his son’s babysitter.

Was it wrong for him to have these thoughts about Y/N while being married? Yes. But did Bakugou care? Not at all. He was so drawn to Y/N it was like love at first sight for him. Besides, he didn’t love his wife anyway. They dated for a year and the whole time, Bakugou completely hated it. Truthfully, Bakugou dated her for her looks and the sweet facade she put up, but when her true self came through, Bakugou knew he was done with her. Unfortunately, before he had the chance to break up with her, his son Katsuo, was conceived. So when the news of her pregnancy became known to him, the toxic couple decided to tie the knot and get married. What a poor decision.

Bakugou decided enough time had been spent in bed and so he got up and got ready. Once he was fresh and clean he checked the time and saw it was 8:30. He made breakfast and prepped the table. Once he was done, he walked to his son’s room to wake up the little guy.

Katsuo Bakugou. Katsuki’s precious son. Even though he wasn’t planned, Katsuki loved his dear boy regardless. It’s sad to say the same thing can’t be said with the boy’s mother. Leiko Hotashi, Katsuo’s mother, seemed to have no love for the child, or anyone other than herself and money. She complained the entire pregnancy, she didn’t smile at the first sight of him when he was born, and she didn’t bother to be around the little guy either. Katsuo basically grew up without a mother’s love but he turned out just fine because Katsuki’s love was more than enough. The constant absence of his mother didn’t bother him and the child didn’t seem to care whether she was around or not. It’s sad really, but what can you do?

Bakugou walked into the room and saw a tuff of blonde hair that resembled his own. He walked to his ‘mini me,’ and shook the 5 year old awake.

“Katsuo...wake up bud. C’mon.” Katsuki said in a surprisingly soft voice. He was greeted with a pair of red eyes that copied his own and he smiled down at his carbon copy. “C’mon bud, breakfast is ready.”

Katsuo sat up in bed and yawned as he rubbed one of his eyes with his tiny fist. Katsuki smiled at the cute sight. “G’morning dad!”

“Heh. Good morning bud now let’s. Go. We got a nice breakfast waiting for us,” Bakugou said as he picked up his son in his arms. Katsuo giggled in excitement as Katsuki walked down the stairs and went into the kitchen.

The two sat down at the island as they enjoyed their breakfast and Katsuki listened to his son babble on about nothing. It was a peaceful morning for the most part. Katsuki’s morning always consisted of his crazy wife being a nag but other than that, he enjoyed his mornings with his son.

“So, I have to go to work soon and Mom is gone, but Y/N is coming by in a bit to watch you.” Katsuki explained to the young boy who seemed to light up at the mention of your name.

“Y/N’s coming?! Yay!” The boy shouted. Katsuo loved you. You’ve been his babysitter for 2 years and you already had the child (and his father) wrapped around your finger. Without knowing it, you showered the boy in motherly love, something that he never really got to experience. As we already stated, Bakugou felt drawn to you as if it was love at first sight, but seeing the way you interacted with his son just sealed the deal for him.

The two continued their meal and when they were done, Katsuki had the child wash up and get ready for your arrival. He cleaned up in the kitchen and by the time he was done, you knocked on the door. Bakugou felt his heart race at the knowledge of your presence and before he ran to the door, he stopped infront of a mirror to check himself. He fixed his hair and adjusted his clothes to fit more comfortably and then ran to the door. Before opening it, he placed his hand on the knob, took a breath, and then pulled the door open to be blessed with the sight of your beauty. “Y/N! Hi!”

“Heh, hey Katsuki.” You said as you stood at the door with a smile. You weren’t dumb. You always noticed how nervous Bakugou was whenever you were around. His crush was a little obvious to you and even though you felt something for the handsome hero, you never made any advances for the man. He was married and had a kid! There’s no way any sort of relationship was happening. Luckily, a very flirtatious friendship blossomed between you two and you grew so close that you both reached a first name basis.

Y/N L/N. A beautiful woman at the pretty age of 23. She was not only beauty, but she was brains, strength, and grace. She was a fierce and charming lady who had poison on her tongue but a fluffy heart of gold. The lot of you may be thinking that a 23 year old woman should be doing more than babysitting, but Y/N is still fairly young. And besides, babysitting was just a side gig. You had an actual career and owned your own dance studio but ever since you met the Bakugous, you just couldn’t give up on the little job.

“...Umm...Katsuki. Are you gonna keep staring or are you gonna let me in?” You said with a chuckle. Bakugou embarrassingly snapped out of his trance before speaking.

“Right! Uh, come in,” he said and stepped aside for you to enter. You nodded with a smile and walked into the large home, took a seat on the soft couch and you waited for Katsuo to come down. In the meantime, Katsuki always took the opportunity to make small talk with you.

“So..how’ve you been? It’s been awhile since you came over to watch Katsuo.” Katsuki said as he took a seat that was pretty close to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. The studio’s just been pretty hectic with more clients coming in. Even before I came here, I dropped off some choreography for a heels class that I’m teaching tonight.” You said. The mention of your upcoming class made Katsuki a little excited. Your studio commonly filmed classes to post online for publicity and when Katsuki found videos of you dancing/teaching a heels class, he couldn’t help but constantly admire the view.

“Still coulda’ came by to at least say hi or something,” he said with a gruff but obvious sarcastic voice. “S’been forever since I- I mean since Katsuo saw you.”

“Relax dummy,” you said with a giggle as you playfully slapped his arm. “I’ve only been gone a week.”

Bakugou pretended to be in pain as he placed a hand over his chest, slumped in his seat, and scrunched his face. “Ouch. Don’t remind me. Like I said, it’s been forever.”

You both laughed at his little joke as he sat up straight again. You looked around the house and after seeing a few family pictures hanging, you decided to bring up another topic. “So..where’s the Mrs.?”

“Tch. She’s out at some random party.” He said as he stretched out his neck. You raised your brow and smirked at his answer.

“Oh? Is somebody upset he got left behind?” You teased which made Bakugou cackle a bit.

“Yeah right! Like I care about that nag. She could leave for an eternity and I wouldn’t care and neither would the kid. Besides, it’d just give me the opportunity to get a little closer to you.” He said as he leaned in a little closer and you did the same.

“Oh really?” You said with a smile.

“Really.” He replied back with a face that mimicked your own. Soon enough, his hand found a place on your inner thigh and gave it a squeeze. Your lips slightly separated with a tiny gasp and Bakugou definitely took notice of that. Things would’ve continued if it wasn’t for the sudden voice of a child.

“Y/N!” Katsuo said in excitement as he took notice of you on the couch. You and Bakugou jumped and quickly separated before the child could even get an idea of what was about to happen. You were quick to stand and greet the small boy as you crouched down to his level and gave him a hug.

“Hi Katsuo!” You said with your award winning smile. Katsuki watched from the couch as Katsuo went on and on about all the things he wanted to do today and the only thing that appeared in his head was a new family picture but with you in it instead of Leiko.

“Alright bud,” Bakugou said as he got up from the couch, walking to the two. “I gotta get to work but enjoy your day with Y/N, okay? And be good.” Bakugou said as he ruffled his boy’s blonde hair.

“I’m always good, dad!” The boy pouted as he swatted away his father’s hand. You laughed at their interaction and Bakugou chuckled before kissing the crown of his son’s head and walking to the front door.

“Bye Katsuo!” He said from the exit. You walked him to the exit and before he left he turned to you. He checked to make sure his son wasn’t watching before making his move. He grabbed your chin with his fingers to make you face him and softly spoke. “And I’ll see you later tonight, beautiful.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes at his compliment then said your thanks. You expected him to leave after that and so you tried to walk back to Katsuo but before you could, Katsuki pulled your wrist, grabbed your chin again, and pecked your cheek before exiting and slamming the door shut. You stood with a shocked expression as you felt blood rush to your cheeks.

Although you knew you felt something special for Katsuki, you knew he was married. And you weren’t no homewrecker! Even though some may see it as a harmless little peck on the cheek, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for his growing affections towards you. You sighed a bit before calming down and walking to the blonde boy waiting for you in the living room. You were going to enjoy your time with Katsuo but the return of his father stirred up a little confusion in your chest.

—

Hours passed. When you arrived it was 9:30 a.m. Now, it’s 10:00 p.m., and you expected Bakugou to be home soon. You didn’t really expect to see Leiko. Whenever Katsuki mentioned she was out partying, she never came back while you were around. It’s not that she was purposely avoiding you, she just tend to stay out into late hours of the night.

Katsuo was supposed to be in bed half an hour ago but his puppy eyes got the best of you and so you stayed up an extra hour to watch a quick movie with him. In the middle of the screening, he fell asleep on you and so you turned off the T.V and carried him to bed. After tucking him in, you walked away but felt a tug on your arm. Your turned to see Katsuo with sleepy eyes staring up at you. “Yes Katsuo?”

“Sing me to sleep again. Please Y/N,” the sweet boy asked. You smiled down at him and nodded. You took a seat on his bed side as you ran your fingers through his soft, spiked, blonde hair and sang.

As you sung Katsuo to sleep, you didn’t even notice the front door opening. Katsuki walked in feeling a little excited to see Y/N again but when he walked through the door he heard an angelic voice. He placed his bag down and followed the sound into his son’s room. Once he made it there, he stood in the doorway and listened to your voice and watched as you sung his child to sleep.

Your calming voice sent a blush to Katsuki’s face as he smiled and watched. Your voice was like honey. Smooth and sweet. The way you took care of Katsuo filled Katsuki with a type of happiness he never experienced before. He notice you ran your fingers through his son’s hair and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel a little envious of his own child.

“Don’t go away, stay another day~”

You finished the song and smiled as you saw Katsuo finally asleep. You leaned down and pecked his forehead before getting up to leave his room. As you looked towards the doorway, you jumped at the sight of Katsuki’s tall figure leaning against the frame.

“Katsuki, hey. I didn’t even realize you came home. How was work?” You asked. Your question made Katsuki smile, as it was similar to something a wife would ask her husband after a long day. It was something Katsuki never got to experience, even though he was already married. He smiled at you with kind eyes before tilting his head to signal you to follow him. You smiled softly and nodded as you followed Katsuki down the stairs.

—

For the past hour you and Katsuki had been laughing and talking. You followed Katsuki into the kitchen where he made you both some tea where you then both found seats in the living room. There, you talked some more and you both enjoyed the private company. Eventually, Katsuki grew bold and walked back into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“Heh, real smooth Romeo.” You teased and Bakugou chuckled as he rolled his eyes as sat down. You both picked up another conversation and eventually reached your second glass.

“Thanks for always taking care of Katsuo the way you do, Y/N.” Bakugou said with a slight blush. And it wasn’t just the alcohol causing it.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your face holding a similar blush for the same reasons. Safe to say you were both a little tipsy tonight. Not drunk but filled with a little liquid courage.

“I don’t know..like a mom?” His words caught your attention and your gaze encouraged him to continue. “Katsuo..doesn’t have the greatest mom in the world. I think everybody knows that. Honestly, if she wasn’t around at all, Katsuo wouldn’t even know the difference. But you? You’re like the mother he never got....the mother he should’ve got.”

You felt a growing heat flow in your face and you smiled at the sweet compliment. You can’t lie, sometimes you did see Katsuo as your son. You didn’t have kids but you always wanted some. Having Katsuo around was like having a son of your own. “Awe, thanks Katsuki.”

“You shouldn’t thank me, it’s just insane how you’re the actual definition of perfect.” He said before taking a sip of wine.

“Stop it,” you said and playfully hit his arm again. You both put your glasses down and he laughed a bit before continuing.

“No, I’m serious. I mean, c’mon you’re beautiful, smart, kind, sassy,” he began.

“Yeah..and,” you said as you both began to face each other.

“You’re great with kids, you’re good at everything, you have a steady career, you have a passion,” he continued.

“Mhmm..” you said while smiling at his words. You shuffled a little bit closer to him on the couch and Bakugou smiled when he noticed.

“...You’re perfect Y/N.” He focused his gaze on you as he became entranced with your E/C eyes. He leaned in close and you did the same. “...You’re the perfect one for me.”

At those words, you both closed the gap between you two and kissed. Your lips were pressed together for a few seconds before you both pulled away for the same amount of time. During that time, Bakugou kept his lips hovering over yours before pecking your lips a few times and then giving you a real, passionate kiss. Due to the small amount of alcohol in your system you happily returned it. Your hands found way into his hair and his found home on your waist. When you took a small breath, Bakugou slipped his tongue in and you both fought for dominance. In the heat of the moment, Bakugou carried you to sit on his lap and you followed his lead. Your tongues continued to tangle as Bakugou’s hands caressed your body.

They moved down to the hill of your ass and gave it a firm squeeze. You moaned into the kiss and it was music to his ears. Almost as good as the sweet lullaby you sang an hour ago. Soon enough, his hands traveled under your shirt and bra to fondle your plush breast. This made you let go of the kiss and throw your head back as you released soft moans. Bakugou didn’t stop and went into kiss your neck. He left sweet pecks before he left a few hickeys. His mouth moved around your neck before he found your sweet spot, earning a needy sound from you. Bakugou began nipping at the spot and licking the soft skin. His actions caused your hands to tug at his hair and made your hips naturally grind against his center. This made Bakugou groan as he gently layed you on your back on the couch. His body found way in between your legs as he separated from your neck and took notice of your flushed face. He smirked at the sight and his eyes traveled to your shirt, where his hands were hidden under. Deciding to change that, his hands left your valley of breast to push your shirt and bra up to expose your chest.

“Beautiful...” was what he whispered before going in to take one of your mounds in his mouth. You gasped and squealed at the sensation of his mouth covering one breast and his hand massaging the other. Bakugou continued to mark up your chest, leaving love bites and bruises all over.

“Ngh...Katsuki..” you whined. Both your centers began to grind against each other as the two of you were pretty much dry humping one another. Bakugou bit at your nipple, causing you to squirm.

“Easy Princess, I got you. Daddy’s got you, Love.” He said as he used both hands to rub soothing motions into your bare waist. You settled as Katsuki kissed a trail back up to your neck and whispered into your ear. “I’m gonna take such good care of you tonight, Y/N.”

His hand glided off your chest, down your stomach and down your pants. His movements had the wetness between your legs growing and his husky voice definitely didn’t calm it down. His hands slid into your panties and his finger took a swipe at your slick.

“So wet...and it’s all for me..right baby?” He smirked against your cheek.

“Y-Yes Katsuki!” You said as you attempted to grind against his hand before Katsuki pulled it away.

“Try again,” he said with a seductive tone. You were confused on what he meant but you were growing so desperate for a touch. His touch. So your mind began to scramble and think. Master? No. Sir? No. Senpai? Hell no.

“..Daddy.” You softly said. You watched as Bakugou’s smirk grew before he kissed your cheek in approval.

“Good girl.” His finger soon returned to your center and after running it up and down a few times, he slowly pushed two in. You gasped at his thick length as Bakugou pumped his hand in and out of you. Wanting to test the waters a bit more, he slid in a third finger as he picked up the speed a bit.

“O-Oh my god!” Your hips began to grind against his hand and Bakugou curled his fingers. “Fuck!”

“Feel good, baby?” Bakugou asked as he began to grind against the underside of your thigh. Your lower body began to slightly shake as his fingers reached a sensitive spot.

“Yes Daddy!” You cried out. You felt the coil in your stomach tightening, signaling a familiar sensation to almost be reached. Growing more riled up and wanting more room on the couch, Bakugou began to throw the decor pillows off the couch. The pillows flew around the living room knocking a few things over, including the family picture. The sound reached your ears and the sight of the broken frame snapped you out of your pleasured state. Your eyes grew wide as you finally came to and realized what you were doing. “Ngh, no!”

You pushed Katsuki off of you and pulled your shirt back down to cover yourself back up. Bakugou looked at you in shock and confusion as he watched you sit up and settle down. “Y/N...?”

Your hands covered your face for a second before rubbing at your temples for a bit. “No, I- ..*sigh* I’m so sorry Katsuki.”

“Uh..no..I-..I guess that was my fault. I’m sorry I just...”

“Ugh..no. Katsuki it’s not that.”

“I just thought you..felt the same way,” he said as he sat back and rubbed the back of his neck.

“No, Katsuki I do, really, it’s just...”

“So then..why’d you stop?” He asked as he looked at you with a nervous and awkward smile.

“Katsuki..you’re married. I’m sorry, I really like you but..I just can’t bring myself to come onto someone who is already in a relationship.” You explained.

‘Wow. She really is a perfect person,’ Bakugou thought to himself. “Y/N, if that’s the problem then don’t worry about it. I don’t even love Leiko, much less like that bitch.” Bakugou moved in to wrap his arm around your waist but you pushed it away.

“So then why are you still with her?” You asked. Katsuki smirked at your words and laughed a little.

“S’a good question,” he said. Right after those words left his mouth, keys could be heard opening the door and in came the bitch herself.

“What’s a good question?” Leiko said as she looked around. She took notice of yours and Katsuki’s presence on the couch, along with the bottle of wine and empty, used glasses. “Well? Is somebody going to explain? What was the question?” Leiko asked as she walked into the house, closing the front door.

Bakugou smiled at you with full eye contact before standing up and facing his wife. “Why am I still with you?”

Leiko raised a brow at the question and her anger began to boil. “What?” She sternly asked.

“Why am I still with you? I don’t love you, I don’t like you, I only stayed with you because we had Katsuo, our child which you don’t even love. In fact, the only thing you do love is my money, or more so, money in general, and yourself. You’re a conceited ass bitch who’s just taking up space in my life. You’re suffocating Katsuo and I by just existing and you’re holding the title of my wife, a title that Y/N should have. So why the fuck am I still with you?” Bakugou said with a stern voice.

“You-...You’re with me because I’m the mother of your child.” Leiko said with hesitation in her voice.

“Are you? Because you’re never around to be a mother for him. Katsuo doesn’t even care whether you’re here or not. Your presence in the house doesn’t make a damn difference. If anything, Y/N’s more of a mother to Katsuo than you.” Bakugou replied.

You grew uncomfortable with the situation and made an attempt to leave. “Umm..I think I should go-“

“No,” Bakugou began. “You’re staying. I want you to see this thing through to the end, beautiful.”

“Beautiful?! The only woman you should be calling beautiful is your wife Katsuki!” Leiko complained. “Not that slut!”

Now you were a uncomfortable but you were not no slut and you definitely didn’t take shit from nobody. “Excuse me?” You said with attitude but before you could continue, Bakugou intervened.

“Call her a slut again and I’ll blow your ass to bits. Let’s not forget, you had the title of a whore before being called my wife.” Bakugou said with the intent to cause pain.

“Well I may have been a whore but at least I never cheated, which is what I’m sure you were planning on doing with her if I hadn’t come home.” Leiko said.

“You’re damn right I was! Lucky for you, Y/N’s a good person so nothing actually went down but if she gave me the chance, please fucking believe I’d take it in a heartbeat. Matter of fact, if she gave me the chance to wife her up and make her Katsuo’s new mom I’d do that in a heartbeat too.” Bakugou said while looking at you. You felt your heart speed up a little due to his confession but you turned your head to the side to hide your growing blush. Bakugou smirked at the sight before Leiko interrupted.

“What the hell are you trying to say?!” Leiko asked with anger.

“I’m saying I don’t love or like you and I never did! And after 2 years of getting to know Y/N after falling for her at first sight, I can finally fucking say that I’m in love with somebody and it’s her!” Bakugou turned to face you as his wife’s jaw dropped. “Y/N, I’m fucking in love with you. Alright? I have been for the past 2 years already, ever since I met you. And to the bitch behind me,” Bakugou said and turned to face Leiko. “If it wasn’t already obvious, we’re getting a divorce.”

Leiko was fuming as her face grew red with anger. She began laughing in disbelief. “Hah, fine! Fine whatever! Like I give a fuck! Y/N you can have him and the damn kid! I never wanted him anyway! The damn brat just gave me an excuse to keep Bakugou’s fat wallet around. But when you come crawling back, don’t expect me to say yes Katsuki!”

“Well don’t expect me to come crawling back, ‘cause if I’m able to get Y/N to give me a chance, then I won’t be needing anyone else except for her and my son. You can get the fuck out now. I’ll send you your shit and the divorce papers to wherever the fuck you decide to stay.” Bakugou said as he gestured to the door. Leiko screamed some more nonsense that nobody payed attention to and finally walked out the door and slammed it shut.

Silence rang throughout the house for a few minutes after the official split between the toxic couple. Bakugou turned to face you with a small smile as he stood infront of you.

“Well?” He asked.

“Heh, well what?” You asked with a laugh.

“I uh..heh, it wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you but I got my confession out...” Bakugou took a seat next to you and took hold of your hand. He brought it up to his lips, placing a peck to your knuckles before speaking. “..I love you Y/N. I know I do..and I know this might be a bad time to ask considering what just went down-“

“Uh, yeah. A really bad time,” you said with a little giggle.

“Right but umm..do you...how do you feel about me?” He asked with a nervous pulse beating throughout his body. He had to know. Do you love him just for his looks? Did you just want to fuck? Did you actually feel something towards him?

You smiled before using your other hand to grab hold of Katsuki’s shoulder and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. Katsuki’s body jumped in excitement but his hands were quick to hold onto your waist. This kiss was sweet and loving and lasted for some time before you pulled back. You smiled at the blonde as he looked at you with anticipating eyes.

“I love you too Katsuki.” Before you could even process anything, Katsuki had already pounced on you and pinned you to the couch in a hug. He had his arms wrapped around your waist as he tucked his head in the crevasse of your neck.

“God, I’ve been waiting years to hear you say those words.” Bakugou said before he began covering your face in thousands of loving kissed. You giggled at the ticklish and loving feeling and just smiled as you allowed Katsuki to show you his love.

—

Time passed and you and Katsuki stayed cuddled up on the couch. Nothing sexual, nothing nasty, just pure love induced cuddle time. Eventually, the late hours of the night exposed themselves and so you had to go.

“Katsuki, get up,” you said in a soft voice.

“No.” You laughed at his quick reply and began to push at his body to get him off.

“C’mon Katsuki seriously. I have to go home!” You said with another laugh.

“No. Katsuo and I are your new home.” He said, making his body become dead weight to stop you from going.

“Oof! Katsuki!! C’mon!” You whined out with a chuckle. Katsuki laughed with you but you kept trying. “You both are my new home, but my old home has comfy pjs for me to sleep in.”

“I can give you one of my shirts to sleep in. You’d look so amazing in them, princess.” He said with a smile as he imagined how you’d look prancing around in his clothes. It wasn’t the first time he thought about it but just knowing it was so close to becoming true sent butterflies all over his body.

“C’mon Katsuki. You already made me miss my class, the least you could do is let me go back to my apartment.” You said. Bakugou raised his head to look at you with a grin plastered on his face.

“You stayed on your own free will. S’not my fault you love talking to me. Let’s not forget what happened after our long talk too,” Bakugou said, hinting at your scandalous acts with him before you stopped anything else from happening. You rolled your eyes at his words before he spoke up again. “Matter of fact, maybe we should pick up where we left off,” he said and began kissing your cheek.

“Noooo, Katsuki, seriously. I’m tired, I just want to sleep.” You said with a smile.

“So sleep here,” he bargained. You looked at him with a raised brow, silently asking him to go on. “I was serious about having you stay over. You can sleep in my shirt and we can both fall asleep in the guest room.”

“Both of us in the guest room?” You questioned.

“Yeah. I’d let you sleep in my room but I’m not letting that bitch’s leftover presence contaminate you.” You laughed at his insults but allowed him to continue. “And yes both of us. I’m not going to sleep without my princess in my arms.”

You couldn’t lie, the sound of falling asleep in Katsuki’s arms in his clothes was pretty tempting. After taking a look at Katsuki and seeing the same puppy eyes that Katsuo was able to persuade you with, you gave in.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Bakugou said with a fist in the air as he cuddled in closer.

—

Bakugou finally let you go and allowed you to take a shower. While you were in there, he took a quick drive to the corner store and bought some compression shorts for you. When he returned he left one of his shirts and a pair of the compression shorts for you on the guest bed as he went to get ready for bed in his own room. You walked into the guest room and saw the shorts and shirt and put them on. You looked in the mirror and noticed the shorts weren’t even noticeable considering their tiny length and the large size of Katsuki’s shirt. While staring at yourself, Katsuki walked in wearing nothing but gray sweats. He took a glance at you and was drooling over your body in his clothes.

“...Wow,” he whispered but you heard. You turned to face him and smiled. You walked to him and wrapped you arms around his neck.

“Hey Suki, ready for bed?” You said. Bakugou smiled at the new name as a small blush dusted over his cheeks.

“Suki?”

“New name for you. Like it?” You asked.

“Love it.” He said and pecked your lips before picking you up and carrying you to the bed. He dropped you onto the soft mattress and flopped on top of you. You both laughed a little before getting under the blankets and cuddling up against each other again.

Time passed and Katsuki felt at peace finally with you in his arms. Like the missing part of him was finally filled in. You were so happy and felt so loved in the safety of his arms. Staying the night was definitely worth it.

“I’m so glad Y/N. I love you so much and I’ve wanted you for so long.” He said with your head tucked under his chin. You smiled at his words and nuzzled into his chest.

“Well congrats Katsuki. ‘Cause now, you have me.” Katsuki kissed the crown of your head before falling asleep. And when he woke up that morning to find you in the kitchen with Katsuo on your hip as you made breakfast, he smiled with a full heart as he walked to you both and remembered your words.

“You have me.”

A/N: Hey y’all, for a better experience with the story, I do recommend clicking the link where Y/N sang to Katsuo. I put two links in the story. The heels class and Y/N’s singing, (which is from Rio 2, Jewel’s lullaby) Don’t judge me, that’s the best lullaby ever😂 If you don’t know what a heels class is in dancing, it is basically...dancing with heels😂 Umm...yeah. THE ENDING IS SO RUSHED, IM SO SORRY!

TAGLIST:  @sxcker4you @aomi04

[hyenahunt]

Jun Sazanami - Sub Story 2: Curse of the Bastard Child

Writer: Akira

Season: Summer (ES!)

Characters: Jun, Jin

Proofreading: hyenahunt

Translation: royalquintet

Jun: You’re telling me my dad got his life ruined by this useless drunkard with a 5 o’clock shadow who gets smashed at his workplace?!

[Location: Teacher's Room]

Jun: ‘Scuse me~

Huh… No one’s even here. That’s pretty careless, y’know~? No one to blame but yourselves if anything gets stolen, alright? You coulda locked the door~!

(Oh…? Wait, looks like someone’s wiped out on the sofa over there?)

Jin: ...Yaaawn. Who’re you? That’s not our school’s uniform.

Ah… Right, you’re probably one of the kids in that joint event we have with Reimei. Well, welcome. Got some business in the teacher’s office?

Jun: Ah-- Uh, yeah. I came to turn in some forms and stuff.

Jin: Ohhh, good work.

Sorry ‘bout that~ It’d be a lot easier if we could just do it digitally. But we still have some old-fashioned folks here, so we have to do every little thing by paper.

Jun: Nah, it’s fine. It’s not like this was a whole lot of trouble or anything. Just a few papers.

But I had a few things I wanted to ask about…

We talked about the school who invited us--Yumenosaki Academy--paying for the expenses up to a certain point, but...

Are you really gonna be okay~? That idiot in my unit spends money like water, so I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a huge cost to you guys. For real, you know?

Jin: I dunno, really. Our resident rich kid apparently has a hand in the budget, so we’re probably fine.

Go wild, if you want. I’d rather you kids have a good time since you dragged yourselves all the way over here.

Though it’s not really my place to say, since I’m not in charge of that Summer Live thing.

Wait here, I’ll get Akiyan-- Uh, the teacher who’s managing the plan for it.

Lessee… Huh? Where’d I put my phone again? Crap, I can’t remember anything after I opened my third bottle of sake.

Jun: ...You were drinking on school grounds? Uhh, you are a teacher here, right? Not just some bum who wandered in?

Jin: Ahh, it’d be pretty bad if the headmaster or some other higher-up found out about it, so keep it a secret, okay?

I thought my secret stash was gonna get found out, you see. I panicked and tried to drink it all but then I guess I blacked out.

Jun: Damn… I can’t even imagine that happening at Reimei.

I heard Yumenosaki went through a pretty rough patch, but seems like corruption runs rampant among the teachers, too, huh?

Jin: You know, you shouldn’t say that when there’s a teacher right in front of you…

It’s all good, though. They’ll overlook it as long as I’m not doing anything illegal.

Not like I’m demanding a favor from them, but I did earn a lot of money for Yumenosaki.

I just want ‘em to be more forgiving about my stupid behavior, to a certain extent.

Jun: …?

Jin: Ooh, there’s my phone. Hellooo, Akiyan? It’s me! Jin~

Yeah, there’s a kid from Reimei here… Can you deal with him?

Jun: Jin…? Wait, don’t tell me you’re…Jin Sagami?

You look real different, so I didn’t see it at first, but… Ah, now that I look-- You’re actually Super Idol Jin Sagami, aren’t you…?!

Jin: Huh? Are you my fan or something? I thought young‘uns these days don’t have a clue who I am.

Ahaha, you here for my signature? Nah, just kidding...♪

Jun: Goddamn! Who’d want your signature, you murderer…!

Jin: Eeek?! Wait, what’s going on? Why are you mad at me? It’s the terrible teens…!

Jun: Ugh, right, as if you’d know… You wouldn’t have the slightest recollection of all the rabble you crushed underfoot, would you.

My name’s Jun Sazanami, by the way. Ring any bells for you, Jin Sagami?

Jin: Wait… Unh, what? Sorry, my head’s still half-asleep…

Jun: …"Jun" sounds kinda like "Jin." Does that remind you of anything?

Jin: Huh? What do you mean?

Oh no… Crap, I don’t wanna deal with someone claiming to be my illegitimate child or something! I don’t know how to raise a kid!

Jun: Seriously, how long are you gonna play dumb… I’m pretty sure my father sent you a video around springtime this year?

Jin: What? Ahh, that thing! That cursed video!

It was pretty creepy, so I had it burned at the Hasumis’ temple, but I remember it had my saboteur-- I mean, my rival in it!

Right, his name was Sazanami! Wait, you said he was your dad… You’re his son?!

Urgh, I had a bad feeling about this and it was right on the mark… So, is that what you’re up to? Out to get your dad’s revenge or something?

You’re an era too late for that, though~ The law doesn’t allow for revenge, you know?

Jun: As if? My dad’s been pretty messed up for as long as I can remember…

Didn’t even treat me like a human, no love or anything.

I’m not gonna waste my life getting revenge for a bastard like that…

But of course I got curious, and from the videos I watched back then, I might’ve even kinda admired you just a little.

My dad was done in by such an incredible guy… I thought he might’ve been even satisfied with that.

So I’d accepted it and even felt kinda relieved. But now...

Ugh, fuck! God dammit, this is worst…

You’re telling me my dad got his life ruined by this useless drunkard with a 5 o’clock shadow who gets smashed at his workplace?!

Jin: No, um, but, I’m usually a bit better put together than this?

I mean, yeah, I felt sorry for your dad, but… I didn’t mean any harm. It’s just how things were back then.

Just go easy on me, okay?

And don’t say anything weird to the students, even by mistake… If you’re gonna have your revenge, have it with me.

I won’t complain even if it stings me. I earned it, anyway.

Jun: I said I’m not trying to get revenge. My dad may have raised me and sent me to Reimei for that purpose, but…

My dad’s my dad. I’m my own person.

Though if I take down your precious students… It’ll be like punishing the kids for their parents’ mistakes. Maybe it’d even make me feel a bit better?

My dad’s idol career ended in utter defeat…

But I can prove that when it comes to raising idols…he’ll outdo Jin Sagami anyday.

Haha. Ohiisan had to drag me to this Summer Live thing, but...I’m kinda looking forward to it now~

Jin: Mmgh… Well, it’s great that you’re excited about it, I guess.

But I do feel like the stage is no place to bring your thirst for revenge, or any other motives.

It was from giving into those kinds of scummy, dishonest thoughts that both me and your dad wound up losing our way.

Jun: ……

Jin: And besides. You act like it’ll be such a breeze to take them down, but our brats here are pretty talented themselves…

They may still be little babies without much experience, but don’t underestimate ‘em.

If you let your guard down, you’ll be the ones getting eaten up.

You don’t wanna repeat your dad’s failures either, right?

Jun: ...Thank you very much for the advice. I’ll really take it to heart, Jin Sagami.

✦✦✦✦✦

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[fangirlingtodeath513]

siren | a writer’s choice bingo fill

writer’s choice bingo masterpost rating: mature warnings: none

For a hunter, Dean’s frequent visits to the monster bar are unusual, to say the least. His profession tends to not mingle with monsters, even though the ones that frequent this place are the ones that live amongst humans without any issue. Dean doesn’t care, though. He’s met good friends through here and even had a few flings with some of them. He feels more at home here than he does in a hunter crowd, and he’s not really sure if he should feel as comfortable as he does about that fact.

Doesn’t stop him from looking for someone to spend the night with, though. It’s been too long since he’s had someone underneath him—or been underneath someone, frankly—so he’s nursing a single beer as he looks for someone that piques his interest. 

It doesn’t take long. A dark-haired man walks through the door within fifteen minutes of Dean sitting down and he looks perfect. Dean doesn’t even hesitate to grab his beer and vacate his table, sidling up to the man at the bar. 

“Hey there, gorgeous. Let me buy you a drink?”

The man turns to look at him and Dean can’t help but feel a little self-conscious as the stranger’s eyes skim the length of his body. “You can’t buy me the kind of drink I want.”

Dean frowns. This is a monster bar, so if the guy’s looking for blood or something, that’s not exactly an odd request. “You sure about that?”

The stranger smirks, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Unless you’re prepared to ingest my venom and allow me to feed off your adoration for the next several hours, yes, I’m positive.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits at that because honestly… he wouldn’t be opposed. It must show on his face because the man tilts his head as he watches Dean. “Siren, right?” The man nods, so Dean clears his throat and finishes what’s left of his beer. “Then let’s get out of here.”

Dean catches the bartender’s eye and closes out his tab, turning back to the man. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Castiel,” the man answers with a wry smile. “How do I know you don’t have a bronze knife on you somewhere?”

Dean can’t help but smirk. “You can pat me down when we get to where we’re going, hm? My motel isn’t far.”

Castiel hums, nodding once as he turns to leave. Dean grins and slips his jacket on, following him to the parking lot. After a short discussion about the logistics of getting to Dean’s motel, they both pile into the Impala and Dean pulls onto the road.

“Do I even want to know how many daggers you’ve got in here?”

Dean laughs. “Four, but they’re all in the trunk. Don’t encounter sirens very often, honestly. Besides, I’d need the blood of one of your victims, right? I doubt you just leave those lying around.”

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize if you ingest my venom, you’ll be considered my victim?”

Dean blinks and glances over at Castiel. “Huh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between them, so Dean just stays quiet as he drives. He doesn’t really blame Castiel for being nervous. A lot of hunters don’t care about the monsters that live in the gray areas, most are content to kill every monster they come across no matter what. Of course, Castiel would be concerned.

The parking lot is empty when they get there, so Dean parks in front of his room and pops the trunk before climbing out. Castiel watches him curiously, so Dean offers him a small smile and tugs the false door up to reveal his arsenal. “4 bronze daggers there. I’ve got a gun hidden in my room, though that won’t do much to you. Couple of steel knives that I’ll leave out here.” Dean proves his point by grabbing the sheaths from his waist and ankle and tossing them in the trunk.

Castiel chuckles. “I believe you, but thank you. You wouldn’t have been allowed in that bar if you weren’t friendly. Benny takes security seriously and, no offense, I could smell the hunter on you five miles away.”

Dean smirks. “I taste better than I smell, promise.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and follows Dean into his room, depositing his trenchcoat on the chair near the door. “You’re positive you don’t mind? The effect will wear off by morning.”

Dean hums, already beginning to unbutton his flannel. “Not even a little. There a certain way you need to do it?”

Castiel smiles and crosses to Dean in a few long strides, cupping his cheek gently. “A kiss will work just fine.” 

Dean’s not sure what he’s supposed to feel when their lips meet, but he definitely doesn’t feel poisoned. Not that he’d know what it felt like anyway—he wasn’t lying when he told Castiel he’d only seen a few sirens in his career. Dean lets himself get lost in the kiss, barely even noticing when Castiel starts to push the flannel off of him. He’s way more on board once Cas starts to unbutton his jeans, his long fingers brushing over the erection already forming in his briefs. 

“You’re right, Dean, you do taste better than you smell,” Castiel mumbles, a small smile on his lips as he leans down to kiss Dean again.

~

Dean pulls up to the nondescript apartment building, sitting there for a moment before shutting the car off. He hasn’t seen Castiel for over four months—apparently, the length of time a siren can go without feeding—but Castiel had called out of the blue and asked him to come over. Dean had only been a state over on a hunt, so he’d wrapped up his business there and driven straight to Castiel’s.

He looks weak when he opens the door, and far more pale than the last time Dean had seen him.

“Cas? You okay?”

Castiel smiles weakly, stepping aside to let Dean into the apartment. “I’m alright. I went… longer than I should have without feeding. I wanted to, I just... “ He turns his gaze back to Dean and the unspoken words hang heavy between them. Dean thinks he knows what Castiel was about to say, but he doesn’t want to pry. 

“Alright, well let’s get you back to yourself then, hm?”

Castiel smiles gratefully, allowing Dean to draw him into a kiss.

~

It becomes a recurring thing between them. Every month or so, sometimes more often if Dean’s passing through Cas’s state, they’ll meet up and sleep together. Castiel gets his fix of adoration, as he likes to say, and Dean gets a warm, fluffy bed and a good fuck. He can’t complain, even if he does wake up a little bit tired the morning after. 

“So, Benny’s hiring,” Dean offers one morning over breakfast. It’s been almost a year since he went home with Castiel for the first time, something he still can’t believe. He’s never actually had a relationship this long, and they’re not even actively in a relationship. 

Castiel quirks an eyebrow. “Indeed. I saw the sign on the door.”

Dean hums. “I’d make a good bartender, I think.”

Castiel leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m sure you’d be wonderful at it. You want to give up hunting?”

“I’ve been wanting a life outside of hunting recently,” Dean admits with a shrug. “Gets a little too dangerous after a while. Besides, it would be nice to sleep on a comfortable bed like yours every night instead of those shitty motel beds. Or worse, Baby’s back seat.”

Castiel studies his face for a moment before frowning. “I’m sorry, I must have given you too much venom last night. Perhaps you should stay another day.”

“What? No, Cas, I’m being serious. I like it here, I’ve got friends here, I’ve got you—well, not… you know, I… fuck. I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I like you, alright? It’s not because of your venom, it’s because of you.”

Castiel smiles, though it looks sad. “We were up late last night, I’m sure my venom hasn’t worked its way out of your system yet.”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, I can think for myself, thank you very much. Your venom’s not even that potent, man, it’s never made me feel any different.”

Castiel squints at him. “Never?”

“Nope. Why?”

“Well it’s supposed to make you disoriented and passive, so you’ll follow my every order no matter what. It… doesn’t do that?”

Dean snorts. “Follow your every order? God no. If you’re so convinced I’m still poisoned, make me do something.” 

Castiel frowns. “I don’t like making people do things. It’s why I’m always so careful with what I say when we’re together.”

“I’m telling you, I’m immune to your venom or something. C’mon, try it.”

It takes a moment, but Castiel eventually acquiesces. “Refill my coffee.”

Dean waits a moment, half expecting to be compelled to refill Castiel’s mug, but nothing happens. Castiel frowns and sits up.

“Kiss me.”

Dean waits again, raising an eyebrow at Castiel. “See? Nothing.”

Castiel frowns. “Stay with me tonight? I want to see if you’re immune after you ingest my venom.”

Dean smirks. “Damn, Cas, if you wanted to fuck me again you coulda just asked.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, though the hint of a blush on his cheeks gives him away. “So you’ll stay?”

Dean hums his agreement, eyes widening as Castiel leans over the table to kiss him. Once again, they both wait, expecting God only knows what to happen, but nothing changes. 

“Go get my phone,” Castiel orders. The tone of his voice sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and though he wants to obey, he won’t. Castiel needs the proof. “You’re actually immune,” Castiel breathes, a look of wonder written on his face. “You want to move here to be closer to me of your own free will?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, man. I like you, Cas. Not your venom.”

Castiel grins, leaning over to kiss him again. “Then just move in with me. I love you, I just didn’t want to force you to be with me.”

Dean blinks. “You love me?”

Castiel chuckles. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’re easy to fall for, Dean.” 

Dean grins, pulling Cas in for another kiss, their breakfast entirely forgotten between them. “I’ll go get my stuff out of my car and call Benny.”

Castiel hums. “Later. Right now, we need to celebrate.”

Dean laughs. “Oh? How so?”

Castiel smirks, quickly clearing off one side of the table before lifting Dean onto it and settling between his legs. “Oh, I can think of a few ways.”

[teenwolffan-with-nolife]

The Witch and the Wolf Pt.20

Word Count: 1,885

Characters: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Erica Reyes, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Harris (mentioned), Jackson Whittemore (brief), Matt (brief), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: some angst, some fluff

A/N: ----- 

Masterlist        Series Masterlist

“(Y/N). (Y/N). (Y/N). (Y/N),” Isaac poked at your arm, following next to you at school, as you became irritated.

You let out a sharp exhale, grabbing his finger and bending it backward.

“Shit! Ow, (Y/N)!” he exclaimed.

You bent it a little more before letting go.

“What the hell was that for?!” he exclaimed, holding his finger.

“Why did you keep poking me?! If someone doesn't answer the first time, they want you to leave them alone!” you exclaimed.

“Fine. Sorry. Will you just tell me who the kanima is?” he begged.

“I already told you no,” you shook your head, continuing to walk to class.

“(Y/N), please,” he asked.

“No.” 

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?!”

“Shut up. No,” you rolled your eyes.

“What do I have to do to get you to tell me?” he asked.

“Nothing, because the second I tell you, you’re gonna go tell Derek,” you glared at him.

“Well…” he started.

You paused, turning to face him before raising an eyebrow, crossing your arms. You heard him whine before he sighed.

“Go to class, Isaac,” you sighed.

“Fine. Oh, and by the way, guess what I got on my chemistry test?” he smiled.

“What?” you asked.

“A 92!” he exclaimed.

“That's great! Good job!” you laughed softly, high-fiving him.

“That deserves a reward, right?!” he said.

“Yeah…” you started.

“Like telling me who the kanima is?!” 

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, pushing his head as you walked away.

---

You and Allison stood in the library, together next to the bookshelf while Scott and Stiles stood on the other side.

“And now we have to stay 50 feet away from Jackson!” Stiles groaned, complaining to you.

“You guys kidnapped him. What did you think was gonna happen?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Well, we were under the impression that you were on your way to help us,” Scott crossed his arms.

“I know, I’m sorry. Something happened and got in the way,” you apologized, giving Scott a nervous smile.

“It’s fine,” he sighed.

“Okay, but what are we gonna do about Jackson?” Allison asked.

“Lydia translated the bestiary right?” Scott asked.

She nodded, pulling out her tablet and sliding it to Scott and Stiles through the shelf.

“Stiles was right about everything,” Scott sighed, reading the tablet.

“Mainly. The kanima is like a werewolf, but they can’t turn into one until,” Allison started.

“Until they basically sort out their past troubles,” you finished.

“Yeah,” Allison smiled at you. You had a small smile on your face before leaning onto Allison’s arm.

“Hey, were you at my house Friday? I coulda sworn I saw you,” Allison asked.

“Yeah, your dad needed help with something. I’m going to be around your house more often now, at least until Gerard leaves or dies,” you explained.

Stiles stuck his head through the bookshelf, looking at you.

“So that’s why you didn't show up when we called you?” he asked.

You pushed his head back, before nodding your head.

“Mainly, sorry,” you sighed.

“Whatever. Let’s just try to ask Lydia about Jackson’s dad,” Stiles said.

“What makes you think she knows?”, you asked.

“Well, they dated for a long time,” Stiles replied.

“Oh, I know, but what makes you think she’ll tell you?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I don't know, but I’ll have to figure it out,” Stiles sighed.

“Jackson doesn't have a restraining order against me. I’ll go ask him myself,” Allison said.

You tensed slightly, before turning to her.

“Jackson might… I’ll go with you?” you asked.

Allison nodded while putting her arm around your shoulder.

“Stiles, try not to bug Lydia too much,” you sighed.

“What am I supposed to do?!” Scott exclaimed.

The three of you glared at him, giving the same response.

“Take your damn Chemistry exam.”

---

“Are you mad at us?” Scott asked you, as you walked beside him.

You clenched your fist, gripping your backpack tightly as the group of you walked into the library.

“No, why would I be mad? I mean, I went almost my entire high school career without getting detention and you dipshits ruined it, but I’m not mad,” you said sarcastically.

You, Scott, Jackson, Stiles, Matt, Erica, Allison, and Isaac had all gotten detention, trying to hold Scott back from killing Jackson.

You, Isaac, and Erica sat at a table, while Scott and Stiles sat at another one. You could hear Jackson complaining about maintaining 50 feet from Scott and Stiles while he, Matt, and Allison were sitting together at another table.

“It’s Jackson,” Erica smirked, putting her hand out to Isaac.

He rolled his eyes, handing her a 20 dollar bill.

“You guys bet on it?” you laughed.

“Well, I thought it was Matt,” Isaac shrugged.

“You know, you and Stiles both have such a big problem with him. He, in no way, looks evil. Like at all,” the three of you looked across the room at Matt, who was currently eating some chips. He offered some to Jackson, who slapped his hand away.

“Okay then,” you turned away.

“I’ll text Derek when we get out of school, okay?” Isaac said.

“I don’t understand why you have to tell him,” you sighed.

“Because he’s my alpha, (Y/N).”

“He’s just gonna kill Jackson,” you scoffed.

“Why are you against killing monsters? Aren't you like a hunter or something?” Erica rolled her eyes.

“You’re a monster, we’re all fucking monsters. I don’t believe in killing or hurting innocent supernaturals,” you explained.

“Jackson isn’t innocent. He’s killed so many people, and he’s gonna kill more,” Erica spat.

“Not intentionally. If he had the right help, we could stop it,” you crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair.

“So you’re like the good one in the relationship?” Erica asked.

You raised an eyebrow, before seeing Isaac shake his head.

“(Y/N)’s also a dick. She just doesn’t show it as much as Derek does,” Isaac said.

You scoffed, shoving him slightly before he rested his elbow on the table. 

“You know, he really misses you,” Isaac said softly.

You looked down, away from everyone as you took a deep breath, feeling your chest ache slightly.

“Okay then, Isaac, get your chem textbook out,” you said, turning to him.

“Now?! But, I just took my test! And I did good!” he complained.

“So? Harris is a royal dick. Now….” your sentence drifted off, as you noticed Jackson squeeze his head, scrunching his eyes in pain.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, looking at him concerned.

“I just need to get some water,” he stood up, running out as Harris ran after him.

Within three seconds, Scott and Stiles ran to your table, both surrounding Erica.

“Erica knows how Jackson's parents died,” Stiles exclaimed.

You raised an eyebrow, before Erica opened her laptop, searching for the report.

---

After she showed the report to you, Stiles, and Scott, the intercom went off, and Scott was called to the Principal’s office, which couldn't be good news. The rest of you were reshelving books before you could leave.

You put your arm around Erica’s shoulder, grinning widely.

“You have a crush on Stiles,” you teased.

“What?” she asked.

“You like Stiles!” you whispered, only loud enough for her and Isaac to hear.

“What? Eww, no I don’t,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god! I can see it! Yes, Erica and Stiles, we need a ship name, stat. Isaac?” you turned to him.

He laughed, looking at you before Erica glared at him.

“Yeah, nevermind,” he shook his head.

“Boring. You two would be cute together,” you smiled cheekily.

“You’re so annoying,” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god!” you tensed you hearing Stiles exclaim as the three of you ran to them, noticing a book laying on the floor.

You grabbed your knife, motioning for them to stay behind you as you walked slowly.

You saw Matt laying on the ground, his neck bleeding. You could hear a creaking noise from above you before you pulled Isaac down.

“Get down!” you yelled.

Stiles grabbed Allison and Erica, covering their faces.

You heard Jackson growl, sprinting on top of the bookshelves, knocking them down and breaking the lights on the roof. 

“Erica!” Scott yelled.

Shit

You heard her growl, before screaming out in pain.

You ran to Jackson, pushing him down as he stood in front of a whiteboard. He wrapped his hand around your neck before you twisted it away.

“(Y/N)!” you paused, hearing Erica crying out in pain.

Jackson took advantage of the distraction, pushing away from you before running off.

Damn it

You ran to Erica, seeing Isaac by her side.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, turning her into her side while holding her.

“Do a spell or something!” Isaac yelled at you.

“I can't! I don't have my powers anymore!” you yelled, frustrated.

“What? Yes, you do!” he yelled.

“Isaac, you know I don’t!” you yelled, holding Erica tightly.

“I thought-” he started.

“Just shut up!” you groaned.

“What the hell happened?!” Stiles yelled as he and Scott ran to you.

“Jackson… I think we need to take her to the hospital,” you said.

“No, Derek,” Erica interrupted, strained.

“Erica, you need to go to the hospital,” you said softly.

“No, Derek…” she groaned.

“Okay, Stiles and Allison wait for the ambulance. We’ll take her to the hospital,” you said.

“No, we should take her to Derek,” Isaac said, looking at you.

You felt your heart race but pushed it aside. Even if you wanted to avoid him, Erica needed him.

“Fine, let’s go, now!” Scott took Erica from you, holding her tightly as the three of you ran out of the library.

---

You took a shaky breath, rubbing your arms harshly as you paced around the subway.

Derek walked out, looking at you.

“Is she okay?” you asked.

“She’s okay. Thank you,” he replied softly.

“I didn't do anything,” you shook your head.

“You bought her here, saved her life. Thank you,” Derek said.

You nodded softly, looking away from him.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he said softly.

“I have to go,” you turned away from him.

“(Y/N), please just talk to me,” he held your arm, holding you back.

“Go take care of your beta. I’ll see you around,” you pulled away from Derek, walking away.

---

“Why did you think I had my powers back?” you asked Isaac, as the two of you walked outside.

“After the… thing happened with Derek when you came here, your eyes were purple. I thought your powers were back,” he shrugged.

“What? They were?” you stopped, turning to him.

“Yeah. Thought you knew,” he said.

“Wait… maybe that means that I can get my powers back!” you exclaimed, laughing softly.

Isaac laughed, looking at you.

“Being human is so boring! Humans are boring,” you exclaimed.

“It really is. Come on, wanna go get some coffee?” Isaac asked.

“It’s 11 PM,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Like that’s ever stopped you before,” he scoffed.

“Alright, smartass. Let’s go,” you laughed, holding his hand as the two of you walked away.

[adelaidedrubman]

prompt: “he/she looks at you like they want to fuck you.” + john/jestiny ft. holly pepper | requested by anon

answered the original ask but thanks again to the person who requested it, ended up waay lengthier than planned and i really hope you don't mind i made it a smut piece :')

word count: 3.9k (sorry sorry sorry sorry)

pairing: john x jestiny 》 no reaping au

warnings: NSFW, potentially semi public? (at least in a building with locked door this time.) themes of possessive jealousy. john seed typical attempts at emotional manipulation (seen through, but he still gets what he wants in the end, so idk).

“Wow, this seems like a really good use of a law degree,” Jessie teased the man she spotted behind the counter as she stepped through the door of the Eden's Gate Outreach Center. “Workin' cash register,” she continued, pausing to give an acknowledging nod to the pretty brunette stranger looking up from sorting shirts to give her a quizzical look. “Ya know, I always used to wish my folks coulda been rich enough to send me off to law school or somethin’. Kinda nice to know my career prospects would’ve ended up about the same if they did.”

“I’m not ‘working cash register,’” John corrected her with an annoyed huff as she stepped behind the counter to join him. “I’m doing community outreach. It is the Outreach Center. And some of us don’t consider ourselves too good to interact in a polite and accommodating manner with the general public. No matter what heights of ivory towers you may picture me in, the reality is I don’t prefer being put on a pedestal.”

“Is that right?” she asked with a scoff as she leaned in towards him and pointed towards one of the clothing racks. “Say, is that your face on those t-shirts over there?”

“Well, that’s —” he cleared his throat with a guilty rumble. “Sister Holly, could you move the ‘Just Say Yes’ shirts to the back of the display and move up the ‘Only You’ design?”

“Yes sir,” the woman chimed in agreement, with a slight flutter of her eyelashes that didn't go unnoticed by the redhead.

“Yes sir,” the deputy repeated under her breath, with a mocking wriggle of her eyebrows, “Not used to hearing that one from the ladies these days, huh?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he hissed to match her whisper, “That’s actually the very serious issue I called you here to discuss, and I was hoping you could manage to be mature about it.”

“Be mature about what?” she asked back in a hoarse whisper, “You puttin’ your face on shirts? Sorry, John, no can do there.”

“About her,” he hissed back, giving a subtle nod to his side.

Jessie followed the darting of his eyes to the woman now working slender fingers through an arrangement of white trumpeted flowers on display, seeming to feel their gaze and turning to give a polite smile in return, followed by a little wink directed towards John.

“What about her?” Jessie asked, staring back forward towards the man.

“There’s something I need to confess.”

Jestiny broke their gaze briefly to look searching around the room, then refocus on the man in front of her. “I think I’m the wrong person for that,” she whispered back. “Shouldn’t you talk to that guy?” she asked with a point towards the oil painting of a bearded preacher hung on the wall behind them.

“Will you —” John rasped back through gritted teeth as he pulled her hand back down, then held it between them, his other hand joining to gently pat the top of her knuckles. “It’s about Holly. When I came in for my outreach shift today, I didn’t know who else would be on the schedule. But the moment I saw, I thought the honest thing to do would be to tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

“John?” A third voice speaking at full volume cut above the hushed whispers they exchanged, making them both turn to realize the woman they were discussing had silently made her way to the front of the counter they huddled behind. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for my lunch break. Alright if I head out?”

“Of course,” he responded, dropping the redhead’s hand with a flourish as he waved the other woman off. “In fact, take an extra hour,” he offered with a smile. “And lock up on your way out, I’d like some time alone to discuss scripture with my friend here.”

“Can do,” she said with a parting smile and wave as she made her way towards the door.

John let the smile fall from his lips and gave a long, dramatic exhale as if summoning courage. “Holly, well...” he began with the woman’s name once she was finally out of earshot. “I’m not proud of this, but Holly and I have… Known each other, in the past.”

“Okay?”

He lowered his head to look down at her with somber gravity. “In the Biblical sense.”

“Okay,” she repeated, this time drawing the word out and tacking on a nod and an understanding smile. “That adds up. I mean. She looks at you like she wants to fuck you.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “You seem to be handling this very maturely, after all,” he observed, and Jessie noted with her own pang of suspicion he sounded almost disappointed about it.

“Am I not supposed to be?” she asked.

“I was just worried you’d be upset.”

“Why?” she asked with a shrug.

“Because I had sex with her?” he responded, sounding a little irritated. “On numerous occasions.”

“What, like, today?”

“Of course not!”

“This week?”

He shot her a glare. “No, the last time was over ten months before you and I ever met. I rededicated myself to celibacy, and —”

“And that’s been going great for you ever since,” she finished for him with a smirk, earning her a glare from bright blue eyes. “So let me get this straight,” she continued, running a finger playfully up and down the exposed forearms below rolled up sleeves. “You called me over here, while I'm on duty, to show off a woman you had sex with over a year ago?”

“Well,” he began defensively. “It was a little more than just sex. I mean. We would talk afterwards.”

“I see,” she said with a shake of her head and a click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disappointment. “So she heard you talk, that’s what went wrong.”

John jerked his arm back from her a little to cross along his chest. “I’m glad you’re handling this so well.”

“You don’t sound glad,” she observed matter of factly.

“Well, perhaps that has something to do with the constant insults,” he retorted. “But I’m glad you don’t feel threatened.”

“Am I supposed to?”

“I think most people would be. If someone they…” John paused to choose his words diplomatically, “were having a relationship with was working alone with a former sexual partner.” Jessie cringed a little at the word relationship, and again at the words sexual partner. “You aren’t the least bit jealous?”

“Well, maybe a little,” she replied, letting her face fall and her eyes trail along the ground in careful consideration. “She was really tall,” she elaborated with a sad sigh. “I think I’d really enjoy being taller than you.”

John slammed a palm down on the counter in frustrated reaction, before coughing to smooth over the brief outburst with honeyed words in smooth timbre and even cadence. “I hope you’re as alright with this as you say, that you aren’t just covering up your feelings with sarcastic deflections, as is your wont,” he said with too practiced a show of sympathy for Jessie to believe it was earnest. “I’m so happy you don’t feel threatened, or insecure, or worried.”

Jessie finally laughed aloud a little at that, putting a hand atop the tattooed one still resting against the counter. “What should I be worried about, exactly?” she questioned, nuzzling the tip of her nose against the dip of his collarbone a little. “You expect me to worry you’re gonna run off and leave me for her? When you wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone even back when I told you to damn near every time you came around me?” She laughed against his neck at the idea, placing a little kiss there and pulling him closer by his belt loops. “After all that, you think I'm worried one afternoon of 'fuck me' eyes from an old flame is gonna make you forget you belong to me?”

She felt his breath hitch a little at that, with a sharp heave of his chest against her. Oh, he liked that. She liked that he liked that.

“Is that it, John?” she questioned, letting a finger dip teasingly beneath his waistband to feel at the ridges of hip bones. “Is that what all this is about? That what you needed to hear? That you belong to me?”

“Y-Yes,” he gasped with the jerk of a hand to grip onto the sleeve of her moss green police overshirt, tugging a fistful of fabric. “Tell me.”

“Really didn't need to go to all that trouble for it,” she chided as she trailed kisses up his neck and along his jaw, scratching nails along the bristle of his beard before finally letting her lips brush against the corner of his mouth. “You know you're mine.”

He tilted his head to press their lips together the second the words had finished falling from hers, as if he wanted to be fed with them, swallow them whole to keep inside himself before they could dissipate into the air. And god she could tell from the way he moved his mouth against her how hungry he was for it. Starving for her.

That knowledge combined with the needy little rock of his hips against hers as he pulled fingers through the pleats of her braid to loosen it (pull it down for him the way he liked, he always told her he liked it best down) made a matching pang of need grow in her. Drove her to push back at those bucking hips to guide him up to sit on the counter, finally breaking their kiss with a hand at his chest to shove him to lay flat atop the surface.

“Fuckin' know you're mine,” she repeated for him as she caressed along the column of his neck, then brushed her hand down along the length of his torso, his own finally meeting it to guide her down to where he strained against denim.

“Fuck yes,” he cursed as he arched and grinded against the hand he kept pressed against him, letting her feel how rigid and ready he was. “All yours.”

Fuck. That sent dizzying sparks shooting through her veins, pooling molten in her center.

Jessie never really had been the jealous type, that much was true. She'd never felt the need to judge herself against her partners' other lovers, to demand exclusivity, to mark territory. She never felt that burn of hostility at seeing eyes she adored wandering towards other bodies.

But she'd also never really had anything belong all to her before. And the prospect now that she finally could was too intoxicating, too overwhelming. That she could completely have anything at all, let alone this beautiful, shaking thing laid out before her, rubbing himself against her palm with desperate need. This man who seemed all cold steel and sharp edges, a man that should slice her fingers open if she tried to touch.

Such a thing shouldn't be tameable at all, let alone offering himself of his own volition.

But he was, and it was an offer she couldn’t resist claiming, tugging at his belt to quickly unfasten his pants and pull them down to his ankles.

“All mine,” she let the words fall between kisses along his pelvis this time, savoring the way the muscles flexed beneath her lips, made his length twitch in demand of attention.

“Don’t fucking tease,” he groaned back at her, propping himself up by his palms to sit upright so he could reach for her own buttons to undress her as well, then cup her neck, nibble at her ear as she stepped out of her clothing.

“Don’t fuckin’ rush me,” she grumbled in response, high breathy pitch betraying the need beneath irritated tone. “Take your shirt off for me, wanna see all of —”

Firm fingers circling to the back of her neck let her know he still would never be that accommodating, giving her another harsh kiss instead before lowering his grip to her hips and taking matters into his own hands to lift her up into his lap. He was always like that, she thought to herself as she was pulled towards him, settling there against his hardness. Always pushing to get things his way. Always being so difficult, so demanding.

But somehow always hers.

“Show me,” he mumbled against her lips, finally slinking hands down to the buttons of his shirt before she had the chance to complain about his obstinance. “Show me I’m yours.”

She dug her teeth into his bottom lip, rocking hips down in small teasing circles to slowly let him work his way inside her, stretch those aching walls with little darts of pleasure that shot ever so deeper and sharper rippling through her each time, grateful for the way his hands moved towards her own shirt buttons to expose quickly heating skin.

“Mmm, you want me to show her too?” she hummed against the pulse quickening to meet her lips as she dragged them along his neck. The idea sent another little unexpected thrill through her as she said it, unearthed some desire she never knew lurked deep inside her. “Mark you up so she can see you belong to me now?”

“God yes, Jessie,” he answered, craning towards her to offer her more of his neck, digging his fingers into her hips as he met her thrusts. “Say it again for me, need to fucking hear it. Need to keep hearing it.”

“You belong to me,” she whispered before covering him with her mouth, scraping teeth against him before sucking at the flesh, pulling deep moans and blood to rise from within, bloom just beneath his skin. “Every fucking inch of you,” she added with a rough snap down of her hips to punctuate each word, trailing fingers satisfied along the newly bruised skin she'd left there.

Hers. To think someone could look at him and think hers. That she could look at him and think hers. To think someone could grind against her and beg to be told he was hers, could want so fucking badly to be hers. It made pink smolder fresh along her chest, something heavy sink into her stomach that made all that pressure building beneath swell so good.

Fuck, she never knew what she was missing, and the very small part of her that wasn't consumed with chasing more of that high against him was almost angry at him for showing her. She could never really let it go now. Not now that someone really belonged to her.

“Again, Jessie. Just want you,” he whimpered, twining the fingers of one hand in her own and the other in copper locks cascading over her shoulders to cling to her sweat dampened back. “Just want to hear it. Want to feel it. Have to know I — I just want to be yours.”

She pulled at the hand she held to snake between them, unwind those fingers to guide winding instead against the needy bud that swelled to meet his touch.

And with her own hands freed she cupped his face between them, palms along those burning cheeks as she held him in place, positioned him so their eyes met directly. “You're all mine, John,” she said firm and clear, “You belong all to me.”

His eyes gave a little upward tremble like they wanted to roll back deep into his skull, but the force of his will kept them locked firmly on her as she spoke, silently asking for more as that flush on his cheeks began to flood outward, creep along his neck and heaving chest, letting her know how close. How close his need was to consuming him.

He jerked hips up faster, his fingers beginning to tremble against her clit as his body shook with the effort of chasing release. “No one’s ever done it like you, Jessie,” he said with his face now buried against her collarbone, pressing closer for contact and letting the words rumble deep through her chest, tremble down towards her center. “Never had it like you, Jessie. Fucked so many people and never fucking had it like you. Never had anyone like you.”

Fuck that was too much, made something jolting and heavy lurch through her, a shockwave of energy that would have signaled to her to run run run run run under any normal circumstance, would have turned to panic if it weren’t mixed so good with that relentless pounding that reached so deep inside her, fucking against every desperate ache of her walls. Instead it was a too much she couldn’t escape from, a rush of overstimulation she had to lean into rather than flinch away from, to be guided through with the quivering but precise massaging of those fingers that always worked too well against her.

She knew she should have run a long time ago, if she really wanted to. Knew it the first time she touched him.

“I’m never going to fucking let you go,” she rasped the words out without fully processing that they were her own, coming from within her just as she finally shattered, fell apart and shook with release. Letting that heat scorch through her until it settled into comfortable warmth, bright pink cheeks slowly cooling as she came down.

“Fucking god yes, fucking never,” he encouraged with the hand at her lips now snaking around to hold the small of her back and rougher, more uneven little rocks of his hip to meet hers, as if savoring all the different ways she could envelope him, pull him in. Finding that pace, that precise way to bury himself that would satisfy just enough for him to finish the way he wanted. “Never anyone like you, never fucking belonged to anyone —”

“Belong to me now,” she said plainly over the absentminded little stutters falling from his lips, holding him cradled against her chest with a gentle stroke of his hair and a pumping of her hips that was anything but, walls that had begun to twinge with soreness finally feeling warmth spread along to soothe her center as he found his finish with a final cry against her skin.

He let his hands creep up her back again to settle gripped at her shoulders, pull them to make her shift to sit with back propped against his thighs as he rocked against her slow and savoring in the aftermath of his release, kissing her with equal languid contentment as they caught their breath.

“Gonna have to, ah —” she paused to take a last gasp to even her breathing well enough to resume speaking normally, “Gonna have to learn how to ask nice next time, instead of trying to pull some little stunt to make me jealous,” she took the time to chide now, still without pulling away. “Can’t always get what you fuckin’ want that way.”

“Mmmm?” he hummed, almost boredly questioning as he nuzzled at the crook of her arm. He placed sweet kisses along the skin, but she could feel a smug curve of his lips form there, betraying any semblance of selfless affection. “Seems like I can, from where I’m sitting,” he taunted with the slightest roll of his hips to draw attention to how he still rested inside her.

“Awful thing,” she complained without venom, with a kiss against his forehead before tucking a displaced lock of hair behind his ear and leaning back.

It would definitely be obvious to anyone who laid eyes on him with any amount of attention he'd been recently handled, and with no amount of gentleness. Bruises were scattered in deep maroon blots around his neck, flyaway hairs falling down from slicked back locks. There was a sheen of sweat along still flushed skin, and the shirt bunched up on the floor would surely have wrinkles pressed along its silk.

And on top of all that, he had the most ridiculous fucking grin plastered along his face, that annoying smirk that always signaled he really thought he’d won something, a curve that would linger even if he tried to purse his lips together in seriousness after being called out on his gloating. He really was awful, she thought.

“Do you really think so?” he asked, brushing their noses together with tenderness but without losing that dumb fucking smirk, she could still hear it in his voice. “Was that awful for you?”

“No, but this is,” she retorted, pushing him back with the heel of her hand shoving against his collarbone.

“Is it?” he asked with a playful little laugh, a finger tracing along the crease of her thigh, the other hand resting atop hers to keep it pressed to his chest.

Was it?

She set out another long, tired sigh.

“No.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so,” she answered with a mocking falsetto and a sneer as she swung her leg over his to climb off of his lap, lower herself to the ground again with slightly shaky stance.

“Well then,” he hopped down off the counter to join her, not even granting her a full thirty seconds of silence as she redid the buttons of her shirt. “Was that so very —”

“Difficult?” she finished for him as she turned around, glaring up at him, lifting her chin twice as high in an attempt to make up for the fact she hadn’t stepped back into her boots yet, and he towered over her more than usual as a result. “Yes, you’re extremely difficult, always making me say shit you already fuckin’ know…”

“Such as?” he pressed, a hand snaking around her hip, another threading through her hair.

“You know I —” she stopped grimacing long enough to look at him. Smug. Waiting. Hungry blue eyes that never looked away. Gently curving lips. A little ripple to his pupils that he couldn’t control, just in the first few milliseconds after she turned towards him following her pretending to look away. She should have ran. She should have ran a long time ago. “John, you know I —”

The slam of a car door sounded outside, and she let out a sigh of relief as he recoiled from her in reaction. Saved by the bell.

“I offered her a full hour…” he complained as he scrambled to redress himself.

“Good thing you don’t actually take a full hour then, huh?” she shot back, feeling comforted by the cold glare she received in return.

“You think you’re so very —” he abruptly cleared his throat as the welcome chimes of the door rang, and he rushed to smooth back over his clothes. “Sister Holly, perfect timing. We were just finishing up our discussion.”

“Couldn’t agree more, perfect timing, Holly,” the redhead greeted with an overly warm smile towards the very confused looking woman stepping through the door. “And very productive discussion, John. Don’t think we’ll need to repeat any of it,” she added with a wave, pausing and turning back just as her hand touched the door.

“Oh, shit. Almost forgot,” she said as she stepped back in, to the right of the door. “I’ll be taking one of these,” she announced, pulling one of the shirts with John’s likeness on it from the back of the rack where it had been recently hidden. “As we discussed.”

“Of course,” he agreed, raising top lip to show the white of his teeth. “As discussed.”

“Good talk,” she nodded in confirmation as she made her way out the door, feeling she’d earned a truly prized possession after all.

One day she really would have to thank Holly.

[legionofpotatoes]

alright here’s ma thoughts on that flick I mentioned

we hatewatched a*my of the dead because we were CONVINCED “zombies in las vegas” would be an impossible concept to screw up, but in so assuming we obviously invoked a holy wager with the universe and got reminded, once again, that hoping for improvement from someone who’s dependably put out bad art is never a wise choice 😐

but we were honestly kinda roped in by the marketing??? and expected a goofy fast-paced flick with the odd traditional undead metaphor thrown in, framing some sort of relationship drama maybe or hell even nothing at all! we’d have taken pure indulgent storytelling, idk italian job with zombies in las vegas, I don’t know fucking anything but??? whatever this was???? spoilers below for it is time for One Of My Rants

I mean the main reason I really want to write all this and complain. this film here probably has the most unappealing cinematography I have ever experienced in my life and that is saying something. who the fuck signed off on that CONSTANT shallow-ass depth of field that imprisons your eyeline and turns every shot into bokeh paste???? and I mean every shot almost!!!! I promise if you think I am overreacting just throw a dart at the seek bar and watch twenty seconds from wherever it lands. it is horrifying to look at. at least it gave my girlfriend a good visual shorthand for what it’s like when I lose my glasses

why was sean spicer in this movie. did they pay him to be here. was sean spicer paid hollywood money for his scene in this film because fuck everyone who was involved in that decision

the legitimately baffling hints at the extraterrestrial origins of the infection that went absolutely nowhere and had no dramatic or plot-level bearing. we love to see the franchise sprouts fellas

yet another big budget waste of everything hiroyuki sanada has to offer. and bautista too I guess? I like him but man was this an odd career move

what was the crux of his conflict/resolution with his daughter btw. I understand it was rooted in miscommunication over their forms of grief irt mom but uhh… it was all rather clunky and didn’t land for me. I tried I really tried to buy in but something was wrong fundamentally with the groundwork there, it did not click and their catharsis felt unearned. I know there’s massive amounts of tragic baggage being projected there from the author so I’m not slapping any judgment down really;

but again it would be an easy thing to wave off if they just had a vibrant cast of lovable simpletons with good chemistry and the kinetic sense of plotting the trailers promised (and this premise never discounts good drama, either). but instead it was just two and a half (!) hours of meandering into situations the filmmaking instincts had no idea how to flow in and out of

to wit. I know talking about “bad pacing” is associated with armchair bullshit but consider the example of the scene were dieter does an out of nowhere little dance after childishly screaming but then still-killing a zombie, with the film framing this as a micro character triumph, and not a second later the bg soundtrack instantly fades into an orchestral score dramatizing a nearby mcguffin reveal, completely 180 degreeing the tone without a semblance of deft insert shot stitching or even I dont know a fucking jump cut maybe. now imagine this whiplash for 2.5 hrs uninterrupted

I will keep complaining about the length yeah because this was not a story requiring this much real estate to be told. Uhh in my humble and personal opinion, of course

[man sees zombie tiger] “this is crossing the line!” you can in fact write dialogue that is not utter nonsense that falls apart once you drill down its single fickle layer of referential meta winking. what line are you talking about. you have rules in this insane situation you’re in? total nitpick moment I know but it got burned in my brain for some reason. like a microcosm of the mismanaged dramatic instincts paired with weird writing that dots this movie. I am sure the director calls this either satire or genre deconstruction. I am SO sure

tumblr domino meme that goes from “dude getting sucked off while driving” to “entire las vegas literally nuked”

tig notaro is always great to see but once you know she’s been filmed as a separate greenscreen plate months after photography wrapped - cause she had to apparently replace some abusive asshole but that’s a whole other pig not worth fucking - it becomes impossible to unsee her odd detachment from everyone else in the movie lmao. it doesn’t really “ruin” anything on its lonesome but it is hard to unsee

why. was. sean. spicer. in. this. movie

a very simple key ingredient missing from fully turning lip service sympathy for main uruk hai dude into actual empathy that would generate meaningful conflict with hero family would be to spend a bit more time articulating what he internally wanted the most. because he was obviously trying to do something here with pointed agenda. a family, to have kids, build a caste system, save his wife’s head, return to his planet??? all of these could represent the bigger context in his psychology that spurred his vengeance but none of them are dramatically emphasized long enough for you to cheer him on. I’m not asking too much I promise. Articulating interiority of a mute character is pretty doable with deft cinema language, just gotta linger and hold a shot here and there for a few seconds, frame as his POV, donezo. I know this is also one of those like. “who cares” moments but the movie does, very evidently so, in making this guy an actual character. you can kinda piece it together and create a framework of sympathy for him, sure, but then again he ultimately becomes a foil to be killed and not defeated, so. Ehh whatever

quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was not a wildly childish covid allegory quarantine zone stuff was n

the rooftop helicopter fakout at the end was such an ass-backwards, manufactured moment of what could be a simple setup/payoff it just pissed me off??? you gain nothing by giving sad dad five seconds of pointless crisis that flips right back to previous status quo ANYWAY, except for a weaksauce waste of runtime, which could be used instead to get inside notaro’s head and actually SHOW the remorse form as she took off, literally maybe even a frown playing on her face as she’s headed for safety right before we cut back to drax and the kid. just a simple-ass, minimal, momentary setup for what is the most basic filmmaking trick of creating macro catharsis moments. Just???? g o d if you can’t even land that shit why are you even doing any of this

that lil run final pam did was very very charming and super choreographed in a way that was the tiiiniest bit overdone

the whole intro with the simul-backstories and posing with family photos was just… oddly motivated. what was the goal? “here’s what we’re fighting for” vignettes? why? it’s not a functional setup in that vein. what was all that

also I am sorry if this is insensitive but the reasons most characters end up articulating to justify going back into the hell that destroyed their lives makes them sound seriously insane

I dont like complaining about CGI (honestly) but so much of it in modern movies can achieve higher fidelity if the animation is simply subdued. Do not overengineer and over-apply 2D cell methodologies and kinematics to each tiny twitch and movement in a hyper 3D model and I promise you. it will look a thousand times more natural. look at thanos in those last two movies. your rendering and detail are absolutely perfect with the tiger you just have to let stuff sit instead of constantly simulating swaying hair strands and firing off all facial muscles at once. great moment at one point where makeup zombie horse and CG zombie tiger are both in one shot together and just by unnecessary amounts of movement alone you can tell who doesn’t belong. again; detail, rendering, compositing, lighting, all picture-perfect; but y’all just gotta let the animation breathe sometimes, and chill it out

plot holes don’t really matter to me but it was kinda funny how lilly decided not to mention the enormous wrinkle in intel pertaining to an actual territorial tribe of intelligent zombies that require human offerings to let you pass, just so that reveal could play out in real time through the joyous punishment of the cartoonishly misogynistic dude

total chad move for mister uruk hai and final pam to rule from a rusted swimming pool complex

the ending with vanderohe oh my god. with the. cash stacks at the airport register. and specifically them working in his favor. that is literally something you do to get arrested under suspicion of theft. it was almost played for laughs and I respect that. coulda been goofier. make these movies goofy ya dorks

anyway, weird, weird movie. bad marketing. message unclear (something something sins of the father???), baffling editing instincts, literal worst-looking cinematography I ever laid eyes upon. Confidently dying on that last hill

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 9

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3168

Author’s Note: Coming up on the end. Hope you guys have enjoyed this ride as much as I did. One chapter to go after this. All my thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for all your magnificent help. Also, random, the theme song for this chapter is “These Dreams,” by Heart. Just for fun.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 9

Kimber’s hands fly up, clenching on the wrist in front of her throat, and the blade twitches in warning. Pain stings the side of her neck, her fingers contract, and a trickle of warmth drips down to her shoulder.

Before she can speak, Dean is in front of them, gun drawn and face murderous. 

“Let her go.”

Laughter, broken and mocking, shakes against her back. Kimber’s vision grays at the edges, and she forces herself to slow her breathing. She focuses on the sting of the cut, slamming her eyes shut to block out the fear she can read in Dean’s eyes. 

“She’s mine, can’t let her go. Just got her. Been lookin’ for so long. Her blood is mine, that’s the rule.” The witch’s voice goes from rough to reedy and back, pitch wobbling all over the place. “Gonna spill this pretty blood. You’re a hunter, you can help. Like she helped the other hunter. Spilled our blood. Took...took...”

Kimber shudders unconsciously, and the witch yanks her left arm back, fingernails digging into the flesh just above her elbow. A strangled yelp escapes her throat, and Kimber bites down on her lip. 

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Back up,” the witch barks suddenly. Dean’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t move.

“Ain’t happening, asshole. Let her go. I’m not sayin’ it again.” The hammer clicks on Dean’s gun, and the witch adjusts his grip, pulling her more firmly in front of him. The knife presses again, slicing deeper this time, and Kimber‘s focus slips. The trickle becomes a steadier stream, and she opens her eyes to see Dean’s cheek twinge above his clenched jaw. 

He never lowers his aim as he steps carefully back. Kimber is shoved forward, knuckles white on the man’s wrist. Her heart thumps painfully against her ribs as she racks her brain.

I know this, I know what to do, I can get out of this, I can, I just-

“Good boy,” the witch says. The manic glee in his voice sets Kimber’s nerves on edge, clearing a little of the panic from her thoughts. “So good at taking directions. Much better than her. Shoulda taken you up on the roof, she coulda watched you jump. Would’ve been fun. So...fun.”

White-hot fury lances through her fear, burning the last traces of it from her mind, and she remembers exactly how to get out of this hold. She widens her eyes, mouth tight, staring a hole at Dean. It takes a second for him to turn his glaring attention from the witch, but he finally meets Kimber’s gaze.

She has never wished so hard in her life to be a telepath as she does right now.

Please understand, Dean, she thinks with all her might, her eyes flicking down and to the side before meeting his again. Please be ready. 

She can distract the witch, can get out of the way, but she can’t kill him, and she has no idea if he has another spell ready. They’ve got one chance.

“Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun. Had fun with her friends, so many stairs, so many staples.” He holds the last word out, elongating it, and the hairs on Kimber’s neck stand on end. “Make you have fun with each other, gonna get messy. Don’t need a hex bag this time, can just-”

Kimber jerks down on the knife-wielding hand, pulling it towards her left hip. She ducks her head back and shoves her shoulder into the witch’s chest, knocking him off kilter. Her right hand arcs back, completing the circle and shoving the witch’s hand, knife and all, straight into his side. He throws his head back, howling, and a deafening bang fills the room. Pain explodes in Kimber’s ears, and the witch drops, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Kimber blinks, her head spinning, and then Dean is in front of her, his hands holding the sides of her face steady. His mouth opens, he’s speaking, but she can’t hear anything over the clanging in her ears. 

Her eyes stray down to the body on the floor, waiting for it to move. They need to leave, need to get away while they can, but she can’t make her legs work right. Her knees are locked, and the room is swaying. 

No, that’s not right. She’s swaying. She should probably sit.

Then she’s on the bed, and Dean kneels down in front of her, pressing a cloth to the side of her neck. She sucks in a breath, and the pain shocks her brain back into focus. He speaks again, but she can’t understand him. 

“We have to go, he’s going to get back up-” But Dean holds up a hand, shaking his head and frowning. He opens his mouth again, sucking in a breath like he’s going to shout, but then stops. He lifts her hand to the cloth on her neck, indicating for her to hold pressure while he rises. 

He glances around and snatches a pad of paper and pen from the bedside table. He scribbles quickly and holds the pad up in front of her. Her eyebrows lift in amazement as she reads “witch killing bullets.” 

“Seriously?” He nods, then flips the paper and scribbles again.

“Not used to gunfire?” the pad says. She shakes her head, then immediately regrets the action. The room spins, and then Dean is supporting her, steadying her before she hits the floor. He holds her upright for a few moments until she regains her balance, then he waves to get her attention.

He tilts his head towards the door, eyebrows lifted. She closes her eyes, concentrating, and forces her legs to cooperate, pushing up until she’s able to walk unsteadily, leaning hard against Dean. She feels colder than the seasonal temperature calls for, and she shivers hard against him.

Shock, she realizes. Yeah, I’m pretty sure…

The next thing she knows, they’re in Dean’s car, and she’s leaning against the window, her cheek chilled and damp on the glass. Dean’s jacket is draped over her, and she can make out the rumble of the engine and Dean’s voice, responding to someone she can’t hear.

Phone? her worn out brain offers. She yawns, and a dull throb ripples through her ears instead of the usual popping. She winces, and a warm hand slides over hers. 

“Can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah,” she says slowly, working her jaw carefully against the ache in her ear canals. “But it’s kind of muffled. Am I gonna need a hearing aid now?”

“No, honey,” he sighs, his relief mixed with exasperation. “One gunshot near your head, you’ll be fine. Wasn’t even a high enough caliber for concussive damage.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a minute, her brain still a little sluggish. “Can I go home, now, though? Because I’d really like to change clothes.” To her growing dismay, she realizes that one side of her is splattered with blood and...something else.

Not to mention her own blood staining her shoulder. Her shirt is definitely beyond saving.

“Sam, check out the motel, see if you can find a car or anything. Maybe we’ll get a clue about who this asshole actually was. I’ll check back in with you.” He disconnects the call and glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Think maybe we should get you some stitches for that cut.”

“I have butterfly bandages and pajamas at home,” she counters, feeling mulish. It has been a hell of a night, a hell of a week, and a hell of a month. Her stalker is dead, she’s feeling more disgusting by the second, and she wants to sleep for a year, at least. After the world’s hottest, longest shower, that is.

Dean frowns, his eyebrows drawing down as he prepares to dig his heels in. That’s when Kimber pulls out her trump card.

“I’ve got a Sara Lee deep dish apple pie in the freezer. Can have it hot out of the oven in about an hour.” She wants to laugh as Dean’s foot presses down on the accelerator, but she settles instead for leaning her leaden head on his shoulder and letting her eyes drift shut. The last thing she feels is his arm pulling her just a little closer.

“I got you.”

“I know.”

…

When they arrive at Kimber’s house, the first order of business is a shower (after putting the pie in the oven, of course). True to her earlier promise, Kimber scrubs every inch of Dean’s back, wishing distantly that she was in a better frame of mind to enjoy the experience. Really, though, neither of them are up for any more than tired smiles and rinsing of suds. 

She throws on the jeans and tshirt that are lying on top of her hamper, too thrashed to search for anything else. When they reconvene in the kitchen, the oven still shows eighteen minutes left on the timer. Though Dean took pains during their shower to carefully clean the cut on her neck, he insists on fully inspecting it in better lighting. She’s too worn out to argue, so she drags out her first aid kit and drops into a chair.

She’s surprised at how comfortable the silence between them is. He cleans the cut again with peroxide this time before smearing a thin line of antibiotic ointment. She thinks he mutters something about “dirty witches,” but she’s so tired at this point she doesn’t completely catch it. Her hearing is more or less back to normal, although she keeps having to shake off the sensation that there’s water in her ears.

“Sam’s back at the motel, checking to see if the guy had a car, anything to give us an idea of what his damage was.”

She nods slowly, thoughts swirling in one too many directions. “He said...something about another hunter, me helping another hunter. I checked my notes, though, I don’t…”

“He said a lot of crazy shit, guy was unhinged.” Dean’s voice is hard, his eyes tight as he places butterfly strips along the side of her neck. “Probably not the best idea to revisit all of it just now.”

Gonna have some more fun with you two. Messy fun.

Kimber’s stomach lurches, and saliva pools in the back of her mouth.

“Don’t you throw up on me, I just got clean. I’m not missing out on pie just ‘cause you can’t keep the contents of your stomach to yourself.”

She laughs, just as he intended, broken out of her toxic train of thought. 

“You’re right, I know you’re right. There’s much better things to think about tonight. We can go over all the gory details in the morning.” She raises her hand to stifle a yawn, and Dean catches her wrist, pulling her arm out straight to examine it. His eyebrows lower as he frowns at the line of crescent-shaped gouges on her arm just above her elbow.

“That was where he grabbed my arm. I guess his nails dug in?”

Dean actually clicks his tongue against his teeth and reaches for the peroxide again. When he glances up at her, she can’t hide her amusement from his observant eyes.

“What?” he asks, indignant. “Human fingernails are some of the filthiest things on the planet. And that guy was a witch, no telling what kinds of nasty he’s been diggin’ in. Now hush.”

“Yes, sir.”

The timer for the pie goes off a few minutes later, and Kimber makes the executive decision that a huge slice of shared apple pie with ice cream is more than enough of a balanced dinner for the two of them. She rinses off the plate in the sink while Dean cleans up the scraps from their impromptu doctoring. She sets the plate in the drying rack and turns to find him watching her, one corner of his mouth curled fondly.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

She excuses herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth and slip into something a little more comfortable. She finishes by wrapping her bathrobe around her middle and tying the belt. When she enters the bedroom, she finds her comforter in a discreet pile on the far side of the room, and Dean reclining on the sheets, clad in nothing but his boxer briefs.

She opens her closet and pulls a spare blanket down from the top shelf. Dean slides off the bed, reaching out to take the blanket when his phone rings from the bedside table. She nods at the phone and shakes the blanket out while he answers.

“Sam found the guy’s car. Wants to know if you want to come check it out.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Kimber. She straightens and looks him dead in the eyes, then unties her robe and lets it drop from her shoulders to puddle around her feet.

His eyes widen, and his voice turns distracted. “Gonna pass tonight, Sam, but you save some of those juicy clues for us tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He hangs up, sets his phone on the bedside table, and turns the covers down. Then he throws himself onto the bed and holds his arms out to Kimber, his eyes sparkling.

“I have to say, Dr. Harper, I never imagined a distinguished college professor would own a set of pajamas like that.”

She switches off the light and slides into bed, her back fitting to his front, the last piece of a puzzle locking into place. His hands begin to roam over her fleece pants, exploring the soft material. She yawns again, letting her head loll back to rest against his collarbone.

“Gotta tell me where you managed to find Sasquatch pajamas; I know exactly what I need to get Sam for Christmas.”

She giggles through another yawn, then turns in his embrace. In the dim light of her room, the green of his eyes is lost to the darkness, but the faint smile on his lips...that she can see just fine. 

Their kiss is slow, soft, and sleepy, and she allows herself two more before settling into the crook of his neck. 

“Dean?”

“Mmm.” His voice is just as gone as hers. His fingers, having found their way under the edge of her pajama top, are stroking over the small of her back as he drifts off.

“Is this what it’s always like for you and Sam? For hunters?”

The quiet stretches on long enough that she thinks he’s fallen asleep, but then he shifts and clears his throat.

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s better; easier cases, less gun shots, maybe a spell or two thrown around. But you know the lore, you work with hunters. It’s usually a lot worse.” He leaves his sentence there, obviously not willing to elaborate at the moment. 

“On the other hand,” he adds a minute later, his voice thick with fatigue and another emotion she’s sure she’d be able to place if she were properly awake, “I don’t get to end every hunt like this, so that definitely counts for something.”

It definitely does, she thinks. 

…

“You gotta pull the knife-hand towards your outside hip, then swing your head and shoulder at the same time, hit me hard as you can,” Dean coaxed patiently. They had spent most of sixth period study hall actually studying today, so Dean decided they needed to work on something else after school. 

During their second tutoring session, Kimber learned that despite his willingness to be tutored by a girl, he chafed a little at the concept of receiving said tutoring without offering anything in return, so he suggested showing her some self-defense moves.

“In case the star quarterback ever gets any ideas that you’re not cool with,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes but accepted his proposition anyway. It meant coming into close, physical contact with Dean, for one. And it never hurt to be prepared, after all.

They went through the move again, Dean holding a stick to her neck in place of the knife. He made her work through it until she could pull off the maneuver without the sting of bark on her skin, until she managed to jab the stick hard enough against his side for him to wince in real discomfort.

The pleased smile he turned on her as he clutched his ribs made her toes tingle.

“I don’t see me using this kind of a move anytime soon, but it’s definitely good to know,” she admitted, picking up her denim jacket. The days had begun cooling off lately, fall making its presence abundantly known, and she shivered in the breeze as she zipped all the way up to her collar.

“You never know,” he agreed. He picked up her backpack, hanging it over his shoulder. “You could be set upon by anything: a pickpocket, a bank robber, a lone vampire looking for a snack. There’s no telling when that move could help you.”

“I doubt the vampire part, or even the bank robber, but yeah. I know a couple of people who’ve been mugged who could’ve used your expert training.” He slung his free arm around her shoulder, and they headed across the park.

“There are all sorts of critters out there that could creep up on you,” he said, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Vamps are just one of a hundred, and one of the ones most likely to go for the neck.”

“One of a hundred,” she repeated. She was intrigued by the mention of monsters, had always loved reading old ghost stories and legends, but surely there couldn’t be that many monster stories in the world.

“I’ll trade you stories for pie,” he said. She shot him a skeptical glance, and he gave her an exaggerated, stern face. “I never joke about pie, and I know stories that would make your hair curl. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

“Okay,” she finally agreed. “But we’re talking at least three stories for one piece of pie.”

“Two stories and another self-defense lesson.”

Later on, as they stood outside her front door, she smiled shyly up at him, her cheeks warm despite the drop in temperature.

“I would have gotten you the pie just for another self-defense lesson,” she admitted, marveling at how he made her feel timid and brave all at once. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, tucking a stray strand of hair out of his way. He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, not even long enough for her eyes to flutter shut. His smile, when he straightened, was soft and genuine.

“I would have traded the stories for the same.”

…

Kimber wakes, turning in Dean’s arms. It’s still dark out, nothing is out of place. She settles against him, her lips pressing against his collar bone.

“‘S’matter?” His words are slurred, muffled by her hair, and his arms tighten for a moment. She can feel the stretch rippling down the length of him, and that hidden spot in her chest spreads out, sending tendrils of soothing warmth through every part of her.

“Not a thing. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

…

Chapter 10

[i-eat-bread-and-cry-on-the-floor]

A strange solidarity between Richie and Ben. Idk like Richie calling Ben to complain about how cute and adorable Eddie look today with his shorts and how he just wants to hold hand whit him or Ben telling Richie about how perfect and beautiful is Bev hair and how he thinks she is the coolest person in the world. Bonus: If meanwhile Eddie and Bev are doing the same!

B E T here we go!! I think this is my first request for a fic so i entirely hope it’s not bad :))

Title: Movie Nights & Forest Fires  Pairings: Benverly, Reddie, Platonic!Trashstack 

Ben held a photo booth picture in his hands, staring at the red head smiling at the camera. He could have paid attention to Richie’s stupid ‘silly face.’ He could have looked at Stan, who’d just spotted a piece of dust that looked vaguely like a spider. His eyes, however, kept drawing toward a certain crush of his. 

He walked toward his bed to lay down, holding the picture in front of his face. Ben simply thought that there was no one better than Beverly Marsh. He’d been in love with her since third grade. 

The phone rang in the living room, but Ben wouldn’t care divide his attention. Not for Beverly. He smiled. The unfamiliar gesture lingered on his face for a silent moment. He only stopped smiling to bring the picture to his lips. He smiled wider now, having just “kissed” Bev. Brushing his hair out of his hair, he perked up to hear his mom calling him. 

“Benny! Your friend is on the phone for you!” she called. He didn’t realize that the phone stopped ringing only three rings in. Typically it takes eight. 

“Oh, yep! Coming!” he shuffled to plant his feet on the ground. He jogged to the phone, hanging near the couch. He tried to sound cool, answering the phone with a sly tone. 

“Hey there. Who’s calling?” Ben forgot that this caller could be any of the losers; not just Bev. 

“It’s Richie.” Ben’s friend eagerly answered. “I’ve gotta tell you about my sleepover with Eddie last night.” 

“Oh!” Ben nodded, “Yeah, yeah! Tell me.” he strained the chord to sit on the edge of the couch. He’d always been jealous of Richie, who had a phone in his room. 

“Okay, picture this,” Richie prompted, pacing around his room as far as the phone chord allowed him to, “We’re watching Gremlins cause, classics ya know?” 

Ben nodded, despite the fact that Richie couldn’t see him. Richie continued anyway. 

“And we’re sharing a bowl of popcorn but we kept arguing over who’s gonna hold it so I, a literal genius, propose: ‘Hey why don’t we just balance it between our legs?’ Ben! He agreed!” Richie jumped, “So now we’re literally attached at the hip...” Richie continued telling Ben his story.

Ben listened, grinning. Only he imagined himself and Beverly--Not Richie and Eddie. 

-------

“I wanna cross my legs.” Eddie looked at Richie. Richie picked up the bowl of popcorn with a sigh. Richie then placed the bowl in Eddie’s lap. 

“I’m gonna end up spilling two-thirds of the bowl and then we’ll have wasted food and I’d have to watch you eat shit off the floor.” Eddie gave Richie the bowl again.

“I wouldn’t eat shit off the floor!” Richie rebutted. “I’d eat popcorn off the floor, Eds.” 

“There is literally so much wrong with that sentence.” 

“Well, whatever.” Richie put the popcorn in between them once again. 

The two turned their attention back to the TV screen. Eddie moves a bit closer to Richie, until some freaky jump-scare caught him off guard.

Eddie shrieked, tensing his shoulders to his earlobes. The popcorn fell to the ground in the process. “Shit!” the already-panicked boy cursed. 

“Fuck, I’m not taking responsibility for this.” Eddie pouted, picking up the bowl and some stray pieces of popcorn as Richie blushed.

“No, it’s- You don’t have to clean that, I’ll fix it later.” 

“And just leave this on the floor, what if you get ants?” 

“Eddie,” Richie opened his arms for some elongated hug. He yearned to cuddle with Eddie, but admitting that to himself or to Eddie seemed like too much of a nightmare to deal with. 

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. He glanced down at the spilled popcorn, then at Richie: smiling in the purest way Eddie had ever seen. He huffed. 

“Fine.” But he couldn’t resist smiling, just a bit. 

------

“And we cuddled for the entire rest of the movie! It was- gah! It was amazing.” Richie gushed after a long ramble. 

“That sounds like so much fun.” Ben said. “I’m really happy for you, man!”

“Thanks, Ben. So, have you worked up the courage to send Bev your second poem, you one-hit-wonder?”

“Not a one-hit-wonder anymore!” Ben smirked. After finding just enough spare change in the cracks of the living room couch, he spent it on another post card at the library. 

-------

Sitting at his usual spot in the library, Ben stared at his blank post card. Tapping a pen against his temple, he conjured up a multitude of feelings. He decided to allude to his first poem, January Embers. He called this one Forest Fires. 

The smallest of flames Can still set my entire  Forest on fire

-Secret admirer 

Clipping his pen, he stood up, returning two books he’d read in the span of a week, and leaving. He held the postcard in his hands, refraining from repeating the words again and again. The more he thought, the more he hated his writing. Determined not to let that happen, he stared at the bridge on the back of the card instead. 

--------

“Well, have you, Lover-boy?” Richie urged.

Ben shook his head, “I- I will, just not now.” 

“When, then?” Richie asked, waiting for a response that he never received. 

Ben sank to the floor against the couch. 

“Do you want me to stick it in her backpack one day?” Richie suggested. 

“No, I need to do it. I’m just...” 

“Just?” 

Ben twirled the wire in on his index finger, trying to think of his answer. He knew his reason. Whenever he’d try to give Bev his poem, his hands got clammy and his face flushed. He’d wipe his forehead, trying to steady himself, ridding his mind of fear or doubt. By the time his heart began to beat in his throat, he shook his head muttering, “No, I’ll do it tomorrow,” under his breath. He’d walk away. 

“Nervous, I guess.” He admitted. 

“I’m coming over." Richie declared. “Get your bike ready too cause we’re going to Bev’s.” “What? Why?”

“You know why.”

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath. “See you in fifteen?” 

“More like ten.” Richie shrugged.

“Ten.” 

-------

Standing at the bottom of the stairs to Bev’s apartment, Richie rubbed Ben’s shoulders. “You got this, big guy!” 

Ben knew any of his other friends would swat Richie’s hands away but Ben appreciated the humorous gesture.

“I do, I’ve got this.” he nodded in agreement. He took one step upstairs, looking back at Richie. After the glimpse of a thumbs up, he ran upstairs as if Bowers was chasing him. He spent no time looking over the railing to see blossoming flowers or the shiny sun rays. He stared at his feet climbing higher and higher until he reached the fourth floor.

“You can do it! Go get your lady!” Richie called at him, making Ben smile. 

Before his brain processed anything, Ben’s feet landed in front of Bev’s door and his finger tapped the doorbell. His eyes widened when the red-head answered the door. Her short locks, now a small flame in the breezy spring weather, setting his forest on fire.

“Ben! Can I help you?” she smiled and leaned against the door. 

“No,” he shook his head. 

“Oh?”

“No, no, no, I meant- I meant- No-” he shook his head. 

“You said no.” Beverly pointed out. 

“Huh?”

“You said ‘no, no, no, i meant- i meant no.’ You said no already. I was just teasing around.” 

“Oh! Yeah, yeah!” Ben nodded, “Right.” he cleared his throat. “Listen, I... wanted to...” he squeezed his eyes shut, extending his hand to give Beverly his 97-cent postcard.

“Oh, for me?” Beverly giggled. At Ben’s “Yeah...” Beverly took the post card. She didn’t read it, making Ben all the more thankful. 

“Okay, well... good day to you; Nice talk.” Ben made finger guns then, hurrying downstairs to Richie.

Richie, who’d been listening from the bottom of the stairs greeted Ben with a huge grin. “That was awesome! I knew you could--”

Ben ran into his arms, hugging him. “I can’t believe- I’m- Oh my- Richie, why did I do that?” he asked. 

Richie squeezed him close. “Hey, hey, you did great yeah? It was adorable! Your poem was awesome and if she doesn’t like you, she’s too stupid to deserve you.” 

Ben took deep breaths, considering his words. “Are you just saying that?”

“No, Ben.” Richie shook his head. “I really mean it.” 

Ben nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Can we go back to my house? You can stay for dinner.” he invited. 

“No can do. Dad’s grilling tonight.” Richie declined, then coming up with an epiphany. “If you don’t want to be alone though, I can ask my mom if you want to sleepover?” 

“Would you?” 

“‘F course!” Richie put his arm around Ben as they walked back to their bikes. 

Ben shuttered a breath, “You’re the best, Rich.” 

The two rode their bikes past Stan’s dad’s temple, prompting Richie to tell Ben about Stan’s bar mitzvah speech. “It was so badass!” 

“Wish I coulda been there.” Ben laughed. 

They rode past the library and the shop where Mike would bring his deliveries. Dropping their bikes in front of Ben’s house, Richie waited outside and Ben unlocked the door. “Mom?” he called.

“Yes, sweetie?” his mother craned her neck from the couch to Ben.

“Richie invited me for dinner tonight. Could I go?” he smiled. “Please.” he added. Ben never forgot a ‘please.’

“Just make sure you’re home by nine. You’ve got your watch?” She peaked at his arm. 

“Yes, ma. Thank you!” he confirmed, grinning ear-to-ear. The kid who’d spent his entire elementary and middle school career alone loved spending evenings with his friends.

“Have fun!” she reminded as Ben jogged back outside, closing the door behind him.

“She said yes.” Ben informed, prompting a happy dance from Richie. 

“That’s not gonna be the only girl saying yes to you.” 

“Oh, shush.” he rolled his eyes, picking up his bike. “Ready to go?” 

Richie gave a thumbs up, swinging his leg onto his own bike. “Let’s ride!” 

-------

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. 

“Hello?”

“Eddie! You would not believe what Ben just gave me!” Beverly squealed. 

“Spill everything!” 

[greengay]

this is like.....really selfish and self centered so bare with me, but i miss live music so much my heart physically aches and i feel sick to my stomach..........HOWEVER........i think i needed this break from live music for a couple reasons cos:

so i work(ed) at a music venue taking photos which is....the dream job. i’m not going to pretend it isn’t. like.....i would get PAID to go to concerts and be front row and go backstage etc and take pictures...........but because i’m Mentally Ill™ 🤪 i would disassociate through at least....half? of the shows? i was just so overwhelmed by...YA KNOW....REALLY LOUD MUSIC and LOTS OF PEOPLE and LIGHTS and i would just be on auto pilot which was bad for 1) my photography and 2) my psyche....however! quarantine has given me a lot of practice with mindfulness and being present™ so hopefully if i ever get to see live music again, i’ll be able to be fully emersed in it instead of just being a zombie

going off of that......like....i wasn’t trying anything new or taking any risks with my photography? i would just show up, shoot the shows, edit as quickly as i could and give it back to my boss......and since music photography was a JOB i couldn’t enjoy either actives as much anymore? i didn’t want to take photos in my free time cos i wasn’t being PAID......i didn’t want to go to concerts unless they were free (or green day lmao) and now i’ll appreciate them more

my career was also stagnating.....i was COMFORTABLE.......i mean.....it’s not easy to get a PAID gig as a music photographer and i somehow lucked into it w/o applying and i got too content and stopped doing the grind......like i stopped trying to find new bands to tour with and just went by word of mouth, i stopped trying to book as many photoshoots, i stopped trying to grow my social media following, i stopped trying to collaborate with established musicians.........

and now!!! i’m experimenting!!!! i bought some backdrops! i’m making music videos for my portfolio so i can be prepared to tour! i’m getting my mental health in order so i can do my job better! i’m taking creative risks! idk........i feel so lost because live music gave me PURPOSE and i realize i wasn’t even appreciating it to its full potential..........

also i don’t know if i’m “allowed” to acknowledge this, but i’m.....gonna

............i’m....hot? i’m a total babe? ironically when i was at my thinnest i was my most insecure and djsjxnwndjwnxnsnns that makes me SO FRUSTRATED because if i had the confidence i have NOW with the body i had THEN..........god. like.....the amount of shitty semi-famous band guys i coulda fucked. maybe it’s for the best i didn’t know my power lmfao. this is relevant cos now i know i can just.....flirt my way through networking. and here’s the thing that everyone KNOWS but won’t just say....? it’s not about talent!!! it’s about charisma! it’s 90% charisma and networking and 10% talent! esp in artistic fields! AND APPARENTLY I’VE BEEN HOT THIS WHOLE TIME and people LIKE me? which. i’ve known, but it felt.......disconnected? like a prank? but nope. i am just......worthy of love and affection and i always have been.....?! i’m talented? i can........do this.........

[thelaclippings]

A Season in Retrospect

So, turns out Kawhi’s knee injury was significantly worse than we thought. I mean, it’s not career ending (at least that we know of), but the reality is that he never was coming back to the 2021 Playoff Picture. Do I think the Clippers handled this information well? Maybe. Do I think the Clippers should do everything in their power to keep Kawhi around long-term? Probably. But do I think betting everything on Kawhi coming back to his prior form justifies selling the farm? Absolutely not.

Here’s the thing: as a Clippers fan I am absolutely happy to see Kawhi having chosen the Clippers as his team of the future two years ago. I was excited to see Paul George traded to LA and not end up in the purple & gold, a year removed from spurning the Lakers in free agency, even if it broke my heart to see SGA heading back to OKC in return. I was happy to watch them piece together a team that could legitimately combat LeBron and his then-new running mate Anthony Davis. But the season came, the Clippers looked great (especially against LA - trust me, I was there opening night in a sea of crying Laker fans) and it took a pandemic to derail everything. 

Now, I am not a Bubble-whiner, but was it ideal to have the Bubble be the lasting impression of what it prototypically means to traverse the grueling 82 game season and battle the best of the best? No. The Bubble had it faults, but the Clippers had every shot to win it all just like anyone else that was there. Their collapse is historic and another black mark on the Clipper name, but for me that was greatly the fault of Doc Rivers and his relentless approach at sticking to his guns and NEVER making the unconventional adjustment. He’s absolutely known for it, and the Bubble proved it. Would this have been any different if there had not been the bubble? Maybe not, but the many factors of what happened between stopped play and restarting in the Bubble had more effect than is given credit for (i.e. Montreal Harrell and the loss of his best friend, his grandmother).

This last season showed that the Clippers can be scary when everything is clicking. Yes, other teams suffered injuries throughout the season but the Clippers always appeared to be playing at a 7 with intent to turn it up to 11 when the playoffs came. But their secret weapon was the adjustments Ty Lue was willing to make. If you rewatch each series, you will see the EXACT same formula in each one. Games 1 & 2 were close losses, and by Game 3 the adjustments would kick in. Each series had a young Superstar taking the reigns and showing they were unstoppable. Stephen A. Smith talked about it after every game and even went so far to declare Donovan Mitchell the “greatest Jazz player of all time” based on his performance against the Clippers. Then, the Clippers would put that fire out and the rest of the team would have to pick up the slack. And despite the positive depth of each team (and the universal agreement that the Clippers lacked depth), the Clippers rose to the occasion time and time again.

And when Kawhi went down, we didn’t blink. The momentum of confidence from the coaching staff gave guys like Terrance Mann & Luke Kennard the added support to produce some amazing performances. I firmly believe the Clippers could have won it all had Game 1 of the WCF had a couple calls go our way and PG hit a single Free Throw at the end of Game 2. Then some adequate rest between the WCF and the Finals might have recharged enough for a true run of the Bucks. BUT this isn’t a woulda-shoulda-coulda. Like the team, even I was exhausted by Game 6 following a marathon of games every other day for a solid 3 weeks. 

So it’s on to the next season. A chance to let the excitement and accomplishments from this past season settle in and optimism of the future. Except we are now regularly inundated with news about Kawhi and his future with the team and what the extent of his injury might mean. And while it is probably the most unpopular opinion on the internet, I’ll be the first to say it: if Kawhi doesn’t want to be here, then he needs to go.

If Kawhi wants to be in Dallas or Miami, then let him. If his only avenue there is through a sign and trade, then get some quality in return for his loss and move on. Make more adjustments, get into the right groove, and move on. 

I’ve watched nearly every game of the last two seasons and Kawhi on the floor is universally the best player. But there are moments - regularly - where I am not confident that he inspires his teammates. He is known to be low-key on his attitude and that can be jarring. I want passion, emotion, excitement. I personally thrive off the energy of others and maybe that’s where seeing Kawhi on TV or from a distance at the Staples Center doesn’t always translate. But PG’s energy does. Even when he’s saying some dumb stuff (Playoff P...) he still seems to have the support of his teammates. Without PG we wouldn’t have kept Reggie Jackson at next-to-nothing. PG might be the reason Reggie sticks around on a reasonable contract over the loads of money another team might throw at him.

Kawhi brought us Ibaka, sure, and barring the injury might have been a really great impact on the playoffs. But it’s the role players that carried us through the playoffs when Kawhi went down. And if Kawhi still had a big hand in keeping them motivated, then let’s not lose him. Let’s hope that matters enough for Kawhi to not only want to stick around but keep this team together.

The idea of trading away the bench in order to bring in another question-mark player is nauseating to me. If we have to lose guys like Patrick Beverly, Marcus Morris, or Terrance Mann, I don’t want to see the return be mid-level guys who need to jive in a new situation. If the return is anyone but Damian Lillard, I don’t want them. No John Wall. No Russell Westbrook. No Ben Simmons. No middle-of-the-road players that don’t truly elevate over what we have. Marcus Morris was once seen as one of these guys, and at his best still is. Why trade him unless you are absolutely certain the guy coming back is better? Pat Bev is the heart of our team, and proved that in crunch time he is still easily the most effective defensive stopper in the league. Don’t believe me, listen to comments from the Jazz series on guys not wanting to get stuck with him on them.

Yes, their contracts are high. And yes, nothing can be done without moving on from these guys. But why does anything need to be done? If there’s one for certain that needs to be addressed, it’s Kawhi. If he is not the leader of this team, which I would argue Paul George has more of the proven leader qualities than Kawhi has outwardly shown, and he might want to play somewhere else, then use his albatross contract and the unknown of his injury and how it affects his future as the last-ditch-effort trade chip to bring some talent back and give us the flexibility.

Would I be opposed to Kawhi-to-Dallas? Mostly, as I don’t like enough of the surrounding talent to come back as collateral. Short of getting every draft pick imaginable from Dallas, guys like Tim Hardaway, Jr. or Kristaps Porzingis don’t give me the confidence that I would want to be traceable assets or reliable otherwise. Hardaway had a great resurgence, sure, but he needs to find a way to Indiana to keep playing for Rick Carlisle. Porzingis on the other hand is still a good player, but has proven he’s not worth the contract and thus untraceable to a third team so you’re stuck with him. And he does not signlehandedly replace what Kawhi brings. I like guys like Maxi Kleber, but then we have so many bigs we wouldn’t know what to do with, and trading away Zubac’s to accommodate incoming bigs would be a huge mistake. I also would hate the combination of Luka & Kawhi from a competitor standpoint. If we ran into Dallas a third time in the playoffs next season, but they now have Kawhi instead, we are toast. Bottom line.

I’d send Kawhi to Miami. Mostly because he would only be our problem if they made it to the finals, and as a basketball fan I’d love to see that Miami team go head to head with the Nets for a couple seasons and see what shakes out. If Kawhi joined Jimmy Butler in Miami, the East would, in my opinion, have effectively balanced itself back out with the West. I also think the return would be better. Guys like Tyler Herro, Duncan Robinson, Kendrick Nunn all have trade value. Get some picks in return as well and we have some quality building blocks. Or truly pull off the incredible by making this trade as a stepping stone to another one that nets the Clippers Damian Lillard.

I’ve tinkered with the NBA Trade Machine and made this work a variety of ways. Sending Ibaka to the Blazers and Kawhi to the Heat allows the Clippers to bring back not just Lillard, but potentially one of Miami’s sharpshooters or even a talent like Jones Jr. or Kanter. Sporting a lineup that includes George and Lillard without giving up guys like Morris, Zubac, Mann, or Beverly would be a huge win. Keeping Rondo for experience and leadership would be welcome though he likely wouldn’t play much, and spending the remaining resources on retaining guys like Nic Batum & Reggie Jackson would be crucial.

All in all, I would hate to see Kawhi leave a team that could have won it if the injury never happened. I would hate to see this team broken up at all. Bring back Batum, bring back Jackson. Bring back guys like Cousins or even Pat Pat (despite his effective 0 minutes played in the playoffs). Leadership and chemistry is the final piece in this already established puzzle. 

But if Kawhi needs to follow his own path, then I think the Clippers need to suck it up and move on.

[thiswasinevitableid]

7 with indruck?

7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”. I went SFW

“Dude! You can’t go in there! Hey, wait, dude, hold on!”

Jake’s voice jars Indrid from staring miserably at his computer screen. But it does nothing to prepare him for the stack of papers that slams into his desk. 

“Where the fuck do you get off man?” 

Staring him down is a man with dark hair, mis-matched eyes, a scar down his right cheek, and an extremely pissed-off expression. Indrid recognizes him instantly, both from T.V and his last assignment.

“Mr. Newton?” 

“Yeah, that’s me, the guy you been draggin through the goddam mud!” 

“I-”

“Where are you even gettin this stuff? Substance abuse, bad break-ups, the split between me and my team, who the fuck told you that bullshit?”

“I am not going to reveal my sources.”

“Oh now you get some fuckin ethics?”

“I was just reporting what people told me. I was assigned to round up the press around you now that you’re relaunching your show, and this is what I got. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

“Upsets me?” Mr. Newton plants his hands on the desk, leaning into Indrid’s space, “buddy, I ain’t even on the same planet as upset right now. I’m actually feelin pretty damn calm, because I know who the fuck is to blame.”

“It’s not my fault” Inrid snaps back, “I got assigned it at random, so if you have issues kindly take them up with Woodbridge.”

“Sir, if you insist on raising a fuss in my office-”

“This him?” Mr. Newton points to Woodbridge as the editor appears from his office. 

“Yes.” Indrid glares at Woodbridge through his glasses; he told him these kind of stories would lead to trouble, and it wasn’t even his usual beat.

He braces for Mr. Newton continuing to escalate, but instead the stocky man takes a deep breath , holding his hands up apologetically.

“Look, I’m real sorry, shouldn’t have come in guns blazin like that, and I know you fellas gotta make a livin same as anyone but this kind of stuff-” he whacks the papers into Indrid’s lap, “y’all gotta remember there’s a human on the other end of it.”

“That’s a very fair point, Mr. Newton-” Woodbridge gestures towards the door.

“A human with a damn good lawyer.”

“Mr.Newton, free speech”

“Protects you from the government, not from the Duck. I don’t mind the break-up nonsense, that happened plenty during the first show. Leo, Minerva, and I have been through every relationship configuration known to man, accordin to papers like yours. But the shit about me drinkin? That could damage my career. So could the reasons your ‘sources’ gave for why the show ended. You tellin me you’d hire a fella who apparently yelled at his co-hosts day in and day out and ‘couldn't hack’ bein’ outdoors?” This last question he directs at Indrid, who shakes his head. 

“Mr. Newton, retracting the story would look very bad for us. However, we’d be more than willing to publish your side of the story.”

“Close, but my word ain’t enough to counter those claims about me bein’ incompetent. I’m goin’ on a month and a half tour to location scout and shoot the first two episodes. I want one of your writers to come with. Specifically, I want him.” He points to Indrid.

“Wait, why me? I’m not a travel writer, and I have a photography assignment due next week.”

“Because you’re the one who caused this mess, slim.”

Indrid starts to protest when Woodbridge turns to with a smirk.

“Start transferring your assignments, Indrid; you’re going on a roadtrip.”

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

Indrid grumbles to himself as he waits on the curb with his bag. Duck, as Mr. Newton has said to call him, told him to pack only one bag, and to bring his camera (“saw your shots when I was researchin you; you might like shootin out on the road”).

A motorcycle pulls up to the curb as he checks the time on this phone. He doesn’t give the vehicle a second look until the rider speaks to him.

“Glad you’re on time.” The helmet comes off, revealing Duck looking much calmer than the last time he saw him, “let’s get your gear on the bike and get goin’.”

Indrid stares at him in disbelief, “were you at any point going to warm me that I’d be doing this whole trip on a death machine?”

“Didn’t think I had to. Figured you knew this was how I traveled now, given all your, uh, thorough research.” Duck fixes him with a shit-eating grin as he straps his bag onto the bike, then hands him a helmet.

Indrid groans, jams the helmet on and awkwardly climbs onto the back of the bike.

“Gonna have to hang onto me, slim.” Duck’s voice crackles through his helmet, “don’t worry, I ain’t gonna bite you, even if I still kinda feel like it.”

“How encouraging.” He loops his arms around the T.V star, winces as the bike pulls out into traffic. There’s a laugh as he tightens his grip in fear, Duck’s body suddenly the only safe thing in the world. 

They zoom onto the freeway, and promptly come to a dead stop in traffic.

“Truly invigorating.” Indrid mutters. 

“Ain’t gonna be much fun until we’re outta the city. And I ain’t about to go zippin’ between lanes to cut ahead; great way to get us both killed.”

As they inch along, Indrid starting to sweat from the heat of the pavement, Duck asks, “did you ever watch the show?”

“Is there anyone who didn’t? Wild World was on every day. I’m fairly certain it’s still all Animal Planet plays some days.”

“Yeah but, uh, did you actually watch it on purpose?” 

“I did, now and then. I found Minerva’s tendency to try more extreme forms of exploration stressful, but I generally enjoyed what I saw. I’m not surprised you’re the one who picked the show back up; you were always oddly compelling on camera, and it was clear it was a passion project for you.”

“Yeah, it really was. Is. Feels weird to be doin’ it without them. Can’t blame ‘em for havin’ their own lives and goals though. Leo was ready to retire after the Gila Monster incident, and Minerva’s wanted to run an adventure bootcamp for years.”

“You know, if you hurry and explain everything in the next ten minutes, you can just pull off there and drop me at the edge of town.”

A chuckle, “Nice try, Indrid. You ain’t gettin outta roughin’ it that easy.”

“It was worth a try. Alaska was the last episode run, right?”

Duck’s posture shifts so subtly that, were he not holding him, Indrid wouldn’t have noticed it. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was. Nothin’ like gettin attacked by a wolf and takin a bunch of rabies shots to the gut to put you off filmin’.” 

“It really was a wolf? Everything I read said-”

“I’d misidentified what attacked us? Yeah, I know. American wolves never really go after humans, that’s why we were so fuckin’ screwed when this one did. Poor fella. He was sick. We coulda proved what happened except I told Leo to destroy the footage and we had a knock down, drag out fight over it until he did.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want my pain, Minerva’s pain, and the wolf’s pain to become some goddamn viral sensation!” Duck snaps. 

Indrid decides to drop it, feels Duck sag in the drivers seat. In spite of dragging him out into the wilderness, Indrid doesn’t bear Duck any bad feeling. And he doesn’t like seeing him sad. 

“I, ah, I always liked the episodes where you showcased moths and butterflies. Moths are my favorite creatures, they’re so varied but so overlooked.”

Nothing but the traffic around them, then, “I once saw a Luna Moth bigger’n my hand. Didn’t get it on camera but damn was it a stunner.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Now there’s a story…”

By the time Duck finishes the cars are finally moving, and Duck changes them into the lane leading towards the exit for a single lane, county highway. 

“Fuckin’ finally. Alright Indrid, hold tight.”

What follows is simultaneously the most thrilling and most terrifying four hours of Indrid’s life as Duck speeds down the road, win whipping around them and the world going by in a blur that’s much more alarming when not behind metal and glass. They find a rest stop, where Indrid shotguns an entire bag of skittles under Duck’s amused gaze, and get back on the road for an only slightly less terrifying four hours more. 

They stop for the night at a KOA (“you’re lucky, slim, I got us a cabin to ease you into things”). Whereupon Indrid is treated to the sight of Duck stripping off his road gear, back muscular and sporting several scars.

“How are you likin’ life on the road?” Duck asks, not turning but starting to undo his pants. Indrid doesn’t look away until he’s down to his boxers.

“You know, it’s growing on me.”

They make their first shooting destination the next afternoon, setting up camp in a mostly-empty campground before hiking off into the woods. Duck shoots B-roll while Indrid photographs, the pair working in near total silence before meeting up with their contact near a jumble of boulders.

“Nice to see you again, Thacker.” Duck shakes the man’s hand, and gets a pat on the back.

“Good to you too, sport. Who’s the new fella?”

“My biographer.”  Duck deadpans.

Duck spends the rest of the day filming as Thacker helps him find nest and burrows and creatures to shoot and narrate over. In spite of the show being done on a single camera, Duck is compelling as always when he talks about the natural world. 

Indrid just wishes he’d sprung for better hiking boots.

“Ooof.” He mutters, face down on his sleeping bag.

“Not surprised, we did about ten miles all told today.”

“I repeat. Oof.”

A kind, sympathetic laugh, “C’mon, you’ll feel better after some dinner.”

Later that night, as he’s climbing into his sleeping bag, Duck pokes his head into the tent.

“Psst, Indrid, come look.” 

Indrid follows him out, kneels by a clump of flowers when he waves him down. 

“See, look, riiight there” Duck points, “it’s a Hummingbird Moth.”

Indrid gasps, delighted, and watches the pollinator flit from blossom to blossom. Duck sits beside him, answering his questions when he asks them, until it’s too dark for either of them to see.

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

Duck never thought he’d have a travel companion again. Not after Alaska, not after the attack and what came in the nights to follow. 

He certainly never assumed the wiry, silvery haired writer who’d nearl fucked everything up would turn out to be that person. But Indrid, for all his initial skepticism, has become an excellent partner. He’s easy going, eccentric enough that Duck’s own quirks don’t phase him, quiet;y awkward, and a damn good photographer. The fact his alienly handsome face has become a bit windburnt and his pale hair a little longer only adds to his charm.

Christ, Duck wants to rip those red glasses off and kiss him until he’s breathless. 

Currently, he’s missing the feeling of long arms around his waist, as he left Indrid back with a family whose jeep had run out of gas. They’re in one of the long, monotonous stretches of desert highway where passersby are few and cell phone service is unreliable, so Duck volunteered to ride ahead to the next gas station and bring some back. As the Jeep comes into view, he sees the family waving. Indrid is leaning against the car, smiling as if Duck is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. 

That settles it; when they make Santa Fe, he’s calling The Weekly Rounds and asking Woodbridge to extend Indrid’s assignment. And if the old man refuses, well, Animal Planet is thrilled to have him back, and made it clear they’d be happy to pay for an additional camera man.

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

This time they’re the only ones in the campground, and Indrid suspects it might technically be closed. Indrid could do this forever. He wants to stay like this, with Duck, day in and day out, have their evenings be like this. Duck makes a fire, keeping it small to be safe, and the evening progresses like normal, the two of them swapping stories and munching on the dinner they whipped up from leftovers from the last gas station. Then the moon rises, two days from full, and Duck doubles over with a groan. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Indrid moves to help him, but Duck raises his hand to stop him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, ‘Drid, fuck, I thought I had another day, thought we could make it somewhere I could keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? Duck, please, you’re hurt, I can call for help, just hold on.”

“No” Duck snarls, still hunched over, “you ain’t callin anyone. What you’re gonna do is run, far and as fast as you can, away from me. Find a tree, find a cave, flag down a car if you can find one. Go, please, fuck.” He falls off the stump he’s sitting on, and in spite of his instructions Indrid tries to help him up.

“Go!” It’s a growl now, and when Duck looks up at him his face is changing shape. Duck drags himself away from the fire, into the shadows, and Indrid turns, starting to run. There’s howl of pain and he stops. He can’t leave Duck like this. He won’t.

Resolute, he turns back to the camp and immediately regrets his decisions. Whatever is in the shadows isn’t human, not anymore. It’s growling low and labored, as it rises onto two feet and howls. 

“Oh fuck me.” Indrid doesn’t dare turn his back, tries to slowly creep away and trips on a stray piece of firewood. The monster lowers to all fours, padding into the firelight across from him. It’s fur is dark and shaggy, it’s hands sport claws and when it opens it’s mouth to grin at him it’s teeth glitter like rows of knives. 

He has to keep the fire between him and it, even if he has to spend his night running in some Scooby-Doo style circle around the fire pit. It’s his only chance.

In one, large leap, the werewolf clears the fire and lands in front of him, front paws bracketing his body when he tries to crawl back.

“Told you to run, slim.” 

“I, I can’t.”

“Didn’t think you were stubborn to the point of dyin’.” 

“Y-you told me not to run from predators, and I c-cannot drive the bike. And, and I didn’t, I couldn’t leave you.”

“Ain’t that sweet.” Duck grins again, “but why do you think I told Leo and Minerva I wasn’t safe to be around no more? Because a werewolf don’t know friend from foe.”

“That’s, that’s a lie. Y-you clearly know me, you know your past, you’re not some mindless killer ahgod.” He whimpers as a muzzle finds the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply before sending hot, hungry breath across his skin. 

“Mmmmm, you smell good, sugar.”

“You’re not going to eat me.” Indrid says, eyes shut.

“You seem real sure about that.” Another snuffle, tongue dragging along his throat.

“You’re not because you are still Duck, just very large and covered with fur and with a mouth full of unnecessarily sharp teeth, and even though you seem convinced you’ve become bloodthirsty you are still you.” It comes out in a rush and he holds his breath as a clawed hand cups the back of his head. Duck tugs his head back, nosing along his exposed neck. He stares at the stares, praying they’re not the last thing he sees. 

“I could rip your goddamn throat out.” Duck says matter-of-factly. 

“Do you want to?” He whispers, hands coming up instinctively to protect his vital organs.

A long growl, and then Duck’s face blots out the night sky, “No. I don’t.”

“Ohthankgoodness.”

Duck rumbles out a laugh, “that’s puttin it mildly, slim. No one ever stuck around long enough to see what I’d do because I always hid myself or they had the goddamn good sense to run when I said too. Always assumed as soon as I was all the way changed, I’d wanna hurt people, even if they were people I loved.” He plucks Indrid’s glasses off, setting them carefully on the picnic table before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear he hadn’t realized was there.

“What do you want to do instead?”

“In general, or to you?” 

“Both?” Indrid is puzzled by his phrasing. 

“Kinda amped up, like I wanna go for a run. Transformin’ basically releases a shit ton of adrenaline so your body just doesn’t collapse from the pain. But as far as you’re concerned…” the muzzle his back, snuffling at his face and chest, “dunno, mostly just wanna keep you close. Protect you. Some part of the wolf-brain is kinda just screamin ‘mine’ over and over again.”

“Oh. Ah. That’s, that’s good.” It’s also painfully arousing, but he’s not quite ready to admit that aloud yet.

“Probably helps that you’re wearing my shirt, since it means my scent is all over you already.”

“You let me borrow it AHHEY, gahthattickles” Indrid cackles as licks and nuzzles his face.

“Aww, didn’t know you were ticklish, sugar.” Duck grabs him, begins mercilessly rubbing his face on any exposed skin he can find.

“I’m not you are just very AHhehe hairy!” In retaliation Indrid reaches between them and scritches his fingers against Ducks chest and belly.

ThwupThwup

They both look at Duck’s tail with surprise. Indrid rubs his belly again.

ThwupThwup

“Didn’t know it did that. I mean, guess makes sense on account of bein’ kinda canine, but I guess I ain’t ever been really happy when I been like this before.”

“Should I keep doing that?”

“Fuck yeah. Hold on, here.” Duck adjusts so he’s on his back with Indrid more or less on top of him. Indrid resumes petting him, Duck making little happy whines as he does.

“Damn, that feels good sugar, ooh right.” 

“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s a pet name.”

“I, uh, fuck, um, fuck, I didn’t, meant to say, uh, fuck.” A deep breath as Indrid sits up to meet his eyes, “I’m real fuckin into you, ‘Drid. I, I didn’t wanna say nothin until we were somewhere you could bail out easily if you needed to. But I ain’t felt this way about anyone in years.”

“Is that wolf-you talking or you-you talking?” Indrid asks, toying with a patch of fur.

“Both. I wanna be with you, and wanna keep travelin with you as my partner, as my, uh, my boyfriend. As my mate. Okay, that last bit was definitely the wolf talking.”

“I...I would like that as well, Duck. I didn’t know how to say it, I was afraid that what happened with your friends meant you didn’t want to be close to anyone. Including me.”

Duck sighs, “I wish I’d known then what we figured out tonight. Maybe things woulda ended a little better between us three. I just, I couldn’t face the idea of bein’ out on a shoot with ‘em and havin this exact thing happen.”

“I must admit, the lack of a full moon is rather confusing.”

“It ain’t just the full moon. It’s a few days after and before too, and I thought I had one more before it hit. Plan was to sneak out of the hotel in Santa Fe and hole myself up in a cave somewhere.”

Indrid strokes his cheek, the fur a little coarser there, “That was what attacked you three, I take it.”

“Uh huh. We were trackin it, thinkin’ it was some kind of huge predator we might be able to film.  It jumped Minerva first, but she’s a tough one, managed to hold her own and only got scratched up. I pulled it off her and it bit me. I, uh, I shot it point blank while it was doin’ that. Turned into a man as it fell in the dirt. Leo and Minerva said I did what I had to but I...well, let’s just say I still see that fellas face a lot in my dreams.”

“No wonder you wanted the footage destroyed.” Indrid murmurs.

Duck nods, waves one hand in front of his face, “damn skeeters, c’mon, let’s get in the tent.”

The tent is a tight fit, but Indrid couldn’t be happier. He crawls onto Duck’s chest, nestling against his fur with a sigh. 

“Now if you have bad dreams when you’re like this, you have someone to to hold.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “Thanks, sugar.”

Indrid falls asleep atop a giant wolfman, and wakes up to the morning sun and much smaller, human man sprawled beneath him, who he wakes with a flurry of kisses. 

They make Santa Fe by noon, riding in feeling freer then either of them has in a long time. When they ride out the next morning, Indrid has a new job and Duck has a new cameraman. But all either can think about at the moment is his new boyfriend, and the future spreading out ahead of them beneath the rising sun.