#with rubber bands and a fucking prayer and that's not just me saying that.

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 17 - Tov’s Log

Tov (?) vs. Lark (?) -> Tov Win

————————————————————

Tov should’ve known something wasn’t right.

She and Lark left their dressing rooms at the same time.

Their outfits could’ve been cut from the same cloth.

They walked to the stage together.

Lark was sweating, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Tov thought it was just nerves.

She wished him good luck and he did the same.

The music started.

Then things got worse.

When Lark sang, his voice was thinner, than she remembered. Weaker.

Tov lowered her voice to better match the tone he’d set for the round and watched him from the corner of her eye.

His chest rose and fell unsteadily.

He missed his next cue.

Then—

Lark hit the floor like dead weight.

The gasps from the crowd swelled louder than the cheers.

Tov’s eyes snapped over to him immediately. He was on his knees coughing up blood.

Fuck!

Shock came first, paralyzing Tov in place. Then panic surged through her veins.

She abandoned her mic without a second thought and rushed over to Lark, dropping to her knees next to him.

He collapsed onto his back, eyes closed and gasping for air. The stage lights reflected the sheen of the sweat clinging to his skin. Blood was dripping from his mouth.

“Lark!” Tov called. She gently nudged his cheek with her palm, only to find his skin cool despite the sweating.

He leaned into her touch, panting, but wouldn’t open his eyes.

Her hand slipped down to his neck, right over his carotid artery.

His pulse was weak.

He was dying.

Lark was dying right in front of her.

Sirens blared in Tov’s head. She needed to act fast. If Lark fell unconscious, he may never wake up.

“Somebody help!” Tov had to scream to to be heard over the music still playing, frantic and desperate. “Please!”

She never wore her medical band when performing, but she didn’t need it to know her heart was racing.

“Lark? I need you to stay with me, okay?” Tov grabbed his hand and squeezed tight. “Just for a bit longer.”

She hoped she hadn’t imagined him groaning in reply.

Footfalls thundered toward them.

Tov looked up to see three humans dressed in blue uniforms rushing across the stage wearing rubber gloves and surgical masks, carrying large duffle bags.

They swarmed Lark, nearly crowding Tov out. But she refused to leave his side or let go of his hand. Her eyes didn’t stray from his face.

Please live. She squeezed his hand harder, hard enough to bruise. Please please please.

Suddenly, as if he’d heard her prayers, Lark opened his eyes.

He looked directly at her.

His golden gaze shone with stunning clarity. “Tov?”

Her heart lurched forward.

If Tov hadn’t been paying so close attention, she wouldn’t have heard him say her name. His voice was as light as a feather.

“Y-Yes?”

His smile was soft, almost serene.

She watched helplessly as the light left his eyes.

With blood leaking from his lips, Lark whispered, “Congratulations.”

————————————————————

Fly high Lark, you will be missed 🕊️

I’m currently planning to sue @kamersona and @lookatmysillies for the extreme emotional distress they caused me (and Tov) by having Lark DIE from POISON mid-round.

Tallis is going to have to pull up another chair at the table of dead people haunting Tov relentlessly. My girl never gets a break from the trauma.

Now all of the remaining contestants are on lockdown and isolated from each other while Lark’s suspicious death is being investigated.

Tov is about to be left alone with her ghosts and her thoughts for who knows how long…

Anyways, Round 18 just started. Hope it’s a normal one 🙂 <- (is delusional)

Lark belongs to @kamersona.

Tallis belongs to @lookatmysillies.

[links-destiny]

Dumb ramblings while reading The Spider-Man 2 novelization:

Oh my, Dr. Connors having some actual pages of dialogue!? And adding the details that he lost his arm as an overseas medic, very interesting stuff that I didn't know beforehand, but I love this already!

Totally didn't choke on my drink on the first page describing how hot Otto Octavius is. That's absolutely ridiculous - HOLD UP, HE'S IN HIS MID-FORTIES? ZAMN!

Vibing with Peter's "Anyone close to him could be at risk, and maybe - just maybe - he didn't really deserve to be happy in the first place... Because Uncle Ben was dead, and he was responsible."

But it helped me think a lot more as this is how Peter is trying to cope and this image of Uncle Ben blames him for what had happened, twisting his lesson of carrying responsibility.

Honestly, I think the novel helps me understand more about the whole "Uncle Ben's spirit" that pops up every now and then due to Peter's guilt. At first, it pissed me off in the movies because of the whole "if you have the ability to do so, it's your responsibility to carry it out for the betterment of others"

That can lead to some real shitty guilt-tripping and not mentally taking care of yourself for others. I've had enough experience being the depressed therapist friend for others,,

Otto regretting that he and Rosie had never been able to have children of their own. Augh, it hurts! I would have loved to see them being such loving and supportive parents.

Otto also sharing his thoughts about his relationship sounds a lot like soulmates who knew each other their whole lives is so adorable. I love them so much!

The rubber band joke was funny, Otto 😡 don't feel self-conscious about your sense of humor. Hell, I laugh at a slice of bread falling.

Strange how a lot of Otto's thoughts come onto being "I need to be/I am in control of the situation" when after the incident,, he is in fact not.

Hold up, Henry Pym has a cameo in the fusion demonstration crowd? Motherfucking "Pym was, in fact, a giant in a field where everyone else was an ant" loving that line.

Otto really fucking hates Harry every time he interrupts him heh. Man had intrusive thoughts to smack him every now and then.

Actually knowing what the actuators are saying is freaky as hell when they see themselves as the sentient children of Otto.

Actuators: Father... Father, we crave violence

Going feral because I still dislike this "will they, won't they" relationship between Peter and MJ. It was shit in the movies, and it's not getting any better through printed text.

Tritium simply being labeled as simply T makes everything greater when Otto's demanding more of it. Like yes, continue those villainous deeds in order to go through with your transitioning. We're supporting our trans icon from the sidelines.

Harry making a silent prayer that Doc Ock's machine destroys the half of New York that he's in,, SIR! WHEN'S YOUR NEXT THERAPY SESSION!? You know what, I'm booking it for you.

"Doc Ock looked down from on high like a malevolent dark god, held suspended there by his tentacles. "Peter Parker," he fairly purred," Absolutely giggling at the thought of this line. Man's purring-

Actuators having a girlboss moment, gaslighting Otto just as he's being brought back to his senses. Geez, telling him to go to hell 💀 I love how he scolds them like troublesome little kids.

Well, my favorite middle-aged man got burnt crispy in the water. At least he will end up significantly better because of the events in NWH.

[sweetbunnykook]

Invisible Things (M)

Adopted!JK x Detective!Noona - Oneshot/Drabble 

Warning: taboo and toxic relationship, slight smut, angst (light manipulation)

Word: 1,762 

Inspired by Nude by Radiohead 

Synopsis: Jungkook struggles to control himself around you and he hates himself for it. 

“Don’t get a-ny big ideas, they’re not going to happen…”

Jungkook sings softly, careful not to wake you even though you’re separated by a thin but solid wall. He wraps his oversized black and mustard yellow flannel around himself and curls into his pillows. He presses his headphones further onto his ears by the weight of his head. His deep cacao bangs tickle his lashes and with a small shake of his head, he sweeps the strands to one side.

“You’ll go to hell…for what your dirty mind is thinking…”

Can you hear him call out for you? Can you hear his heart weeping? He half hopes you can, and half hopes that you’re clueless to the turmoil resting inside his belly, warm and probing.

Digging his long fingers underneath his pillow, he tugs the end of a pale pink fabric until he can hold it against his chest. He had never wanted to stoop so low, but somehow he knew it was bound to happen, that it was about time he crossed the line. He holds your brassiere up into the golden light luminating from his Iron Man lamp. The superhero’s yellowed eyes stab into the gentle lace as if it could not stand seeing Jungkook hold it so tenderly between his fingers.

Jungkook unhooked the undergarment and brushed his nails over the tarnished metal hooks sewed in the back. Holding it up by the cups, his other fingers trace over the details of the lace sewed onto the otherwise plain surface. He felt white heat, stirring deep in his abdomen, that keeps him gently writhing in bed. His sweatpants tighten uncomfortably around his pelvis, prompting him to reach down and adjust himself as a blush cascades over his acne scar-kissed cheeks.

He reaches over to the Walkman resting next to his pillow, his most precious gift as you had been using the small device since your teenage years, and turns up the volume a tad bit. He wants to drown in the gentle lull of the bass and drums. He wants to drown in the music, away from his screaming thoughts.

How could you do this to her? Do you know how disgusted she would be if she found out? What is wrong with you, you ungrateful little shithead?

Jungkook squeezes his eyes close and brings his blanket over his shoulders. That’s not you speaking, he tells himself; that’s his other mother, the version of you in his head that he’s terrified of disappointing. It’s something he learned to bury inside him, but sometimes she haunts him, follows his angry footsteps.

But he knows, he absolutely knows, you would never be disappointed in him in reality. Upset, maybe. But disappoint? You’re too kind, too naïve, too caring for that. You would simply walk into his room, tell him not to do it again, take the lace away from his hands, and leave. You wouldn’t bring it up again, not over the dining table or over your morning routine of fetching his sports bag from the storage closet.

And that’s why the guilt, despite the stirring in his groin, feels like his chest is about to cave in.

But it’s so, so, so beautiful. The Chantilly lace, looking almost crème in daylight but peony pink under his bedroom lights – he wishes he can see it on you, trace the edges with his lips, breathe in the scent of your perfume-kissed skin. Jungkook groans, audibly, yanking his headphones out and rolling over to the cooler side of the bed. He brings one leg over his black bolster pillow and presses himself against it, seeking friction for the heat in his abdomen multiplies as the lace presses against his cheek. He closes his eyes and replaces the smell of fabric softener with your perfume instead.

Yes, he can just taste how sweet you are. God you’re so soft and supple, your skin warm under his fingertips. He can hear your breath hitch just before your eyes roll back and – fuck – you’re clawing at his shoulders, chanting his name like a prayer. You’re tight, gripping, pulling his heavy length inside you until you can feel his tip nestle in the opening of your cervix. Your lower lip is caught between your front teeth, your eyebrows scrunch in concentration, sweat drips down your jaw onto your clavicle. His pace quickens when you take a hand and squeeze your breasts together, prompting his hips to snap against you like a rubber band.

Nngh, Jungkook, please…please baby, my Kookie, my-

“Jungkook?”

Two innocent knocks and a muffled voice brings the young boy back into reality as he quickly stuffs the sinful fabric underneath his pillow and sits up on the bed, chest heaving, eyes dilated, and still insanely hard. Jungkook quickly brings a blanket up to his hips as the poster-covered bedroom door opens and you peer in; he can see your reading glasses is resting on the lower bridge of your nose, your hair pinned up with a clip, your nightgown loose around your shoulders. You must’ve been in the middle of your nightly reading routine.

“Y-Yeah, mom?” He breathes, inwardly cursing as his voice betrays the panic settling in his stomach.

“I cut up some fruit, do you want some?”

His eyes catch your free hand holding out a small dish of sliced honeydew melon and strawberries. Shit, he’s starving. It only dawns on him, at such an inconvenient time, that he hasn’t had dinner. But he obviously can’t accept your offer or else you’ll walk in to set the dish on his table and you’ll really see the ends of his bangs soaked with sweat and his cheeks pink with shame.

With a heavy heart, Jungkook shakes his head. “I’m okay. T-Thanks, mom. Can you close the door on your way out?”

His voice is desperate, labored.

You flash him a smile and pull the door close, prompting a relieved sigh from Jungkook as he slouches forward. And then the door opens again, your eyebrows scrunched slightly this time. He perks up immediately, clutching the blanket closer to his hips.

“…Are you okay?”

His fists tighten. “Yeah, why?”

There’s a pregnant pause, an undeniable tightness in the air that makes his back prickle with sweat.

Something was off, but you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Jungkook looks like he has something to hide, but then again, when did he not look like that?

You let yourself in the room, placing the plate of fruit on top of his PlayStation console. His spine straightens – he’s anxious, squirming further into his bed. He’s rather relieved that he’s softening slowly the closer you get. The fear of being shamed (not that you would do something like that if you found out) was too much for his mind to wrap around; he needs to play the role of the innocent and clueless son until you realize that all those men you’re going on dates with aren’t worth your time.

His mask was so close to falling a into place. He could simply say he’s been feeling a little under the weather and that’s why he lost his appetite today. It would explain why his hair is damp from sweat too. The plan was fool-proof, the words resting on the tip of his tongue, heavy with lies.

At least, it was, until your gentle and hesitant fingertips brush over his jaw and behind his ears, eliciting the softest whine you’ve ever heard. Jungkook wanted to rip his heart from underneath his ribs and reveal that you’ve been inside the whole time. He wanted, so badly, to tell you everything that’s been on his mind since he submitted his college applications.

I want to stay with you, mother. I want nothing more than to be your pillar, like you’ve been to me since you found me. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. I want to be with you. Together. Forever.

“Kookie…you know you can tell me anything…right?” You inquire, watching his guilty eyes fall on his lap as his head hangs low. The worry that maybe he mistrusts you, that perhaps a bond with someone you adopted, rescued out of pity, is not as solid as you hoped; it hurt you.

And Jungkook doesn’t want to hurt you, ever. It kills him that he’s made you worry. As soon as he hears your voice sounding so small, not like how you usually are as a prestigious detective of a famous precinct, he knows you’re not going to accept anything but the truth from his doll lips.

So he gives you the truth. Partially.

“It’s just…anxiety, mom.”

You wipe your palm across his damp forehead, underneath his bangs, across his acne scars. Oh how many times you’ve told him not to pick at his skin but he doesn’t listen.

“Do you want me to run you a cool bath?”

He shakes his head, leaning forward to rest his head against your bosom. He breathes in your perfume, subtle but pleasant on your skin. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, one hand moving up the nape of his neck to comb his silken tresses. He murmurs something unintelligible, softly, and wrap his arms around your waist.

“Do you ever want something you can’t have?”

You let his hair flow between your fingers. Poor baby, you think, college stress is already getting to him. “Of course. It’s part of being human…but you learn to accept it.”

“What if…what if I can’t accept it? What if I want more and I just keep craving more…and more and more…what happens then?”

You don’t answer him, because even when you have been an adult much longer than he has, there are some questions you can’t answer with complete gentleness. As a mother, it was your duty to bring his hand closer to the fire, let him be a person who is not just your son. But you can’t let him go. You want to hold onto him, just a little bit longer. Just a little bit.

“You’ll know when you get there, darling.”

Jungkook nods, brushing his cheeks up and down your pounding chest.

“But…I have a chance of getting it…don’t I? A true chance?”

You wince slightly when his nails dig into your sides, but you pretend not to notice. You pretend he’s perfect just the way he is.

“Of course, Kookie. Of course you do. Whether you get this…this thing you want, or not, I’ll always be proud of you. I’ll always love you. I hope you remember that.”

[n0longerhuman]

𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.

prompt: Kuroo has grown tired of the perpetual temporary nature of your relationship, the spark burst in him when he sees you with another boy, for the umpteenth time.

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurō x reader.

warnings: angst, semi-public sex, semi-clothed sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breast-playing, slight chocking, creampie.

You knew Kuroo, you had learned to understand how he reacted to what you were doing even if he didn't explicitly show it. And yet, this time you had missed it.

As always, you had decided to meet at lunchtime on the stairs that joined the gym where Kuroo trained practically every day. It had now become routine. Although both of you were afraid of getting caught, often that free time became time dedicated to your physical well-being. If someone'd approached that door that led to the stairs, they would've heard your breathless breathing and you two panting the other's name.

It all started out of pure chance, one day Kuroo needed a silent place to study, he had forgotten the test of the next hour and needed silence and concentration, and therefore he remembered that hidden space away from noise near the gym.

And there he met you. You were used to being on your own during that interval, you didn't like being disturbed and you needed a little calm, but an unexpected visit came to you that day. Despite the initial discomfort, let the boy share that space with you, and from then on he seemed to forget more and more to study the afternoon before, and between an apology and another his lips ended up on yours during the  days, then his body came to tighten yours, until you both ended up out of breath. Kuroo absolutely loved your body, he couldn't help but slide his hands along your hips, feel your skin under his fingers and feel you shiver. And the same thing obviously applied to you too. There was something about him that attracted you so much that just seeing him and his little smirk made you feel that little pressure in your stomach.

Most often, it was used to relieve stress, a way to relieve anger or at other times you did it simply for fun. But you both knew there was something more, that didn't stop at simple sex. You spoke, laughed, joked, very often you made yourselves vulnerable to each other because you learned to trust.

For this reason, Kuroo couldn't stand to see you so calm in embracing, touching or kissing other boys, as if you weren't already meeting something with him.

And that day you had noticed. The usual calm and amused expression you saw every day on Kuroo's face was not there. It was replaced by a dark face, clenched teeth and steady gaze. You had never seen him like this, whatever had happened to him during those months that you had spent together secretly, that expression had never touched his face for even a second. Although he always joked and loved to provoke, he was a mature person and he knew how to behave on every occasion. But, at that moment, it seemed to you that he was seething in a silent but evident anger.

You saw him start climbing stairs quickly, without saying anything;  you were standing at their end and you couldn't wait any longer.

«Kuroo, is everything okay?»

No response, only his quick steps that had finished the stairs and approached you.

«Tetsu, you know you can tell me anything, righ―»

This time you were interrupted. Or at least, you had felt compelled to shut up the moment his subtle, chilling gaze met yours. «I just want to know what your intentions are with me, Y/N.»

Those words made you immobilize for a moment. Your intentions with him?  What was that supposed to mean? You couldn't think too much about that question since at that moment all your attention was devoted to trying to understand the reason for that behavior that came completely out of nowhere.

«I don't understand what you mean, really.» These are the only things you were able to formulate, and these made him advance even more, until you were forced to look up in order to be able to look him in the eye.

«I want to know how long I have to keep looking at you with other guys before I can afford to say anything about it. You understand it?» You could feel his deep breath, he didn't lose his temper easily and at that moment you really had to make him angry to get him to reduce himself to those conditions. You understood that it was simple jealousy, and that you probably should have expected it. You bit your lip, playing with the rubber band that you held on your wrist without being able to say anything at the time.

And that silence made him advance even more, forcing you to back away until you were with your back to the wall. One of his hands rested right next to your head and you found yourself holding your breath without even realizing it.

«Can you tell me, Y/N?» His gaze didn't go away from yours for even a second, although you couldn't see him, you felt his fingers crawl on the wall until he clenched his fist.

«Ayo, fuck this ― he blurted out in a moment, shooting away and spreading his arms, no longer able to hesitate ― Are we dating?  Are we fucking? Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?» You were so surprised, you looked down on him, seeing it that way you felt something inside you light up and you were sure you knew what it was. You cursed yourself for the wrong time. «I wish we never fucked, and I mean that!»

Those words would surely have left you stunned, you would have felt terribly bad since that sentence with his scratchy look could be a lethal combination, if it weren't for the fact that his gestures were showing quite the opposite of what he meant in words. Once again he approached you, this time trapping under him, both hands on the wall and the body so close that you could feel the fabric of his uniform touch you. His gaze alternated from your lips to your eyes countless times, even your breath was starting to heal, until he opened his mouth again. «But not really, I can't fucking resist you, shit.»

And a second later, his lips captured yours in a rough and almost violent kiss, his hands immediately fell on your hips so as to attract you to him suddenly. As a result you grabbed his shoulders, then your hand went up into his hair, sliding your fingers between the black locks. Your tongues met, starting a fierce and fast dance, and you managed to perceive a bulge in his pants when he hugged you even more, making you rub against his pelvis.

«That's what you want, isn't it? Then it will be what we will both have, what do you say?» He said panting once he broke away from the kiss due to lack of air, and didn't hesitate for a moment to resume with the kisses on your neck. His teeth grabbed one of your flaps of skin, biting and sucking until a purple spot appeared. He repeated this over and over again, earning whining from you that only encouraged him to give more. He didn't care who saw that in the least. This was his goal, he wanted anyone who was around you for ulterior motives to understand that he had to stop, since he was already there to deal with it.

«K-Kuroo, please..» You murmured, your eyes closed and your hands starting to tighten his hair. Only those warm kisses were enough to make you tighten your thighs to create some friction between them, you could no longer totally wait and, despite his anger, you felt how excited he too was from that situation.

«Ssh, you do want to be heard, kitten?» He whispered with a grin on his face, putting a hand on your cheek. His thumb started running down your lower lip as he rubbed his pelvis against yours, making you just gasp. His thumb slowly infiltrated between your lips, and you found yourself sucking him, bringing your gaze back to his eyes. «Well so, you're so used to it that you don't even realize what you're doing.» He muttered again, then quickly pulled his finger out of your mouth causing a 'boop'. Once again without saying anything, his hand quickly descended under your skirt, and his fingers slid across your folds above your underwear. «Already this wet for me, just after some kisses, are you?» He began to rub slowly and with firm pressure, looking up at you again. Your lips were slightly parted, your cheeks flushed and your nape leaning against the wall. How could he have resisted that sight? «Tetsu―» Again, a murmured prayer came out of your lips, and the pressure on your intimacy increased even more, until you squeezed his hand between your thighs. «Tell me what you want, Y/N.» He sang, the grin on his face that widened just as his skillful fingers moved the underwear to one side and resumed massaging your cunt. «I want you inside me, Kuroo, please!»  And at that adorable gasp, two fingers suddenly entered you, causing a small scream on your part. Kuroo started to move his fingers between your walls, gradually increasing speed and scissoring them every now and then. In recent months he had learned about your weaknesses, he knew where to touch to make you enjoy even more. He was a good observer and it hadn't served him much to know your most hidden sides, so once again he put into practice his innate talents, and he knew he was hitting the right points when his name came out of his lips more and more desperate and  more suffocated. And oh god, at that moment he would have shown a lot more with his own tongue if it hadn't been for the fact that there was very little time left.

«Cum for me, Y/N.  We're not done yet, you know.» Kuroo added another finger, speeding up his movements more and more while his thumb was massaging your clit at the same speed, and at that moment you seemed to not even see anymore. You rolled your eyes back, letting go of a loud moan as you came over his fingers. At that moment you thought that you would never be able to get tired of his fingers, but this wasn't enough.

When you recovered from your orgasm, your hand went down to his pants, unbuttoning them and tightly feeling his erection. Kuroo's breath cut and he had to hold back with all of himself not to bury his cock in your mouth, but his hand stopped you from continuing, grabbing your wrist. «No, kitten, we don't have time for this.» He whispered with a smirk, immediately making you turn away from him.  «Did I tell you not to make a noise, am I wrong?» He grabbed the edges of your skirt, pulling them down suddenly along with your underwear, so that you were left half naked. He approached, pulling out his throbbing cock and approaching your heat, rubbing the tip against your folds. «Make sure you shut up, hmm?» He said putting his hands under your shirt and going straight to your bra, pulling it down to reveal your breasts. You couldn't resist anymore, all you could do was beg him to fill you up at that moment, rubbing your pelvis against his. In a moment, without any hesitation, he slammed his pelvis against yours, threading his entire length up to your cervix. You had to put a hand on your mouth to stifle that scream that had threatened to run away, widening your eyes. As he started moving inside you, his big hands tightened on your breasts, then started playing with your hardened nipples. He had reduced you to a moaning mess, it was making you feel so good that you never wanted to stop. Soon, while with one hand he continued to tease your nipple, he carried the other on your neck, squeezing just so as to put your back on his still dressed chest. Kuroo's thrusts alternated from incredibly fast and noisy to make you lose your lucidity, to slow and hard enough to make you seem to be sinking into the wall. He had never fucked you like this, your quickies were always quiet since you had never experienced an angry Kuroo. You never imagined that, in those conditions, his way of doing things would change so quickly. At that moment, however, you didn't care. Your moans were getting harder to hide and Kuroo was realizing it, in fact it seemed to you that, precisely for this reason, he was increasing even more his strength until he made you want to scream. «Please, Tetsurō, please!» You knew you were going to reach your limit, and from the boy's slight gasps it seemed to be the same for him. Your fingers sank into his arm as you held one hand on the wall to hold on. At that gesture, the grip on your breast increased even more and you imagined that you would surely find the signs of that grasp, while the other hand went down on your hip to conduct the last pushes.

«Y/N, I'm gonna..» Kuroo began to stammer, but you interrupted him panting a simple: «Inside.» He knew that you were taking the pill and therefore he didn't have it repeated twice, in an instant you left one last scream and your walls tightened around his cock that throbbed incessantly. That was enough to make him release his liquid profusely inside you, your name on his lips.

«Fuck..» he murmured slightly, while his forehead rested on your back. Shortly thereafter, he turned you around, helping you lift your skirt up and fix it. A slight chuckle leaked from your lips as you shook your head. «You know that I have too a crush on you and that I wouldn't be doing it with anyone else, do you, Tetsu?» You asked chanting, making a smile appear on his lips but without receiving an answer to that statement.

«Hurry up, or you'll be late for class.»

a/n: to apologize for my absence, I decided to write something different and not requested by anyone. It's inspired by a quote taken from the song "Heartbeat" by Childish Gambino, you have probably heard it on TikTok as well. It's my first smut here, so I'm not so sure of the result, but I hope you like it anyway.

[artisticestheticreads]

Summertime Magic (IV)

A/N: In this chapter, we get more moments from the Black Thick Reader and N’Jadaka and they go run errands and literally spend the rest of the day together... BUT they bump into a little bit of problems along the way. (Bold and Ictalized are links to click on)

FOR FACE CLAIM, CLICK HERE 

WARNING: Lots of fluffiness, weed and alcohol use and some angst.

Song Recommendation: Crush by Yuna ft. Usher

  Y/N was finishing up her last client when the AC blew cool air into the room. She was touching up his twenty two inch ombre dreads along with a tapered fade. He was one of the guys who followed N’Jadaka and saw what he posted about her work. This exact customer was the sixth one that day and she was up until six am, just doing hair back to back. Despite being exhausted, she was thankful because N’Jadaka promoted her so well. Once she was done with his hair and left, she counted all her money and smiled at how much she had made; eight hundred dollars even. She placed it all in her wallet when she got an interrupted call; she smiled at the name. “Hey, Daka.” 

    “Hey, Baby Girl. What you doing right now”, he asked and it sounded like the wind was around his speaker. “Nothing, I was about to go and deposit this money at this bank and hit Target. Some sales are going on and I wanna catch them”, she told him as she grabbed her house keys and fixed her golden yellow body con dress.  All of a sudden, she heard a honk on his end and outside of her door. When she peeked through the curtains, she saw N’Jadaka’s truck parked outside of her house. She still had the phone to her ear when she opened the door. “Seriously, Daka”, she asked and heard his deep chuckle. 

   She hung up making her way to the passenger side, leaning in the window. “You do know I have my own car right,” she asked him making him smile. “You know, I don’t care right”, he mocked her. “Now, get ya cute ass in the car so I can be a generous muthafucka”, he said. She rolled her eyes and got in; they were off. Her window was still down with her arm out making waves against the wind. When she looked at Daka, he was already watching her. “Why are you staring at me” is what came from her lips. “No reason. You just look good. I like that color on you”, he added. Y/N blushed as soon as she looked away. “Which bank we going to anyways?”

“Chase”, she said and he nodded, still looking ahead at the road. “So, how you sleep” she heard and she said “fine, how about you?” He shrugged and admitted, “barely. I have insomnia. I would only sleep for, like, an hour then wake up. Been like that for a while.” She looked over at him and saw how sad his demeanor had gotten. “Must be hard”, she asked with her arm rested beside his. N’Jadaka looked over at her with soft eyes then back to the road. “Becomes natural when you have dealt with it for as long as I did.”

“For how long?”

“Shiiii, since I was like ten....maybe. I think”, N’Jadaka thought out loud. Y/N watched as he drove and noticed his hand close to hers. When her hand inched closer to his, the car came to a stop and he looked at her. “You should be glad this is my bank too. I gotta go in anyways.” He hopped out and so did she but when she did, he looked her up and down. “What I do”, she asked as his arms folded. “Baby Girl, did you hop out the car without me opening the door for you?” She nodded as he walked over. “I don’t know what kind of niggas you hang out with but when you with me, you don’t get to touch doors. Got it?” She said, “yes, Daka.” She walked ahead of him and he opened the doors into the bank.

   The manager noticed them walking and walked over. “Ms. Y/L/N, good to see you again, young lady. How is your father doing?” They shook and Y/N stood back. “He’s getting there. Still a long process but he’s a fighter.” The woman nodded, agreeing. “Yes, well he is in my prayers.”

“Thank you. How are the twins by the way? I haven’t seen them since they were about to graduate.”

“Yes, yes. Thanks again for doing their hair. You did so well. Everyone loved it,” the manager gave a huge smile before asking “so, what brings you two in today.” Y/N looked back at N’Jadaka and said: “well, I’m depositing more money into my accounts.” The woman smiled and said, “that’s great and you have the deposit checkbook I gave you right.” Y/N held it up and said: “yes, ma’am.” N’Jadaka and Y/N stood in the long line when N’Jadaka asked “what wrong with ya pops?”

“He had arthritis in his back and knees. Had it for as long as I can remember.”

“Awe damn. I’m sorry, Baby Girl.”

“It’s okay. He a black man, he’s tough as hell.” N’Jadaka nodded and looked straight ahead. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Why you do hair in your house again?” She looked back at him as his eyes waited for her answer. “Well, I can’t afford it right now. I’m saving it and I, at least, need like five g’s or more. There is this cute vacant spot in the Crenshaw Plaza by Baskin Robbins that I’ve been looking at. It’s perfect because no one else can afford it but not me. I’m almost there.” N’Jadaka noticed Y/N’s beaming smile when she continued to talk about her place. When she stopped, he said “you have some bomb ass idea. Real shit, you got it, Baby Girl.” 

"Thank you, Daka. That really means a lot. I can’t wait to have my own shop. Just not sure what to name it. Maybe something like ‘Naturals’ with for z’s at the end. My mom likes that name.”

“Does have a ring to it. It would catch my eye” he said as the line got shorter: it was now Y/N’s turn. She looked back at him while he looked around like a little kid. She went ahead and deposited her money to get out the way. Once they were done, they pulled into the Target parking lot; N’Jadaka opened her door. They walked in, grabbed a cart and began shopping as she red her shopping list on her phone. “Okay, so I need towels, shampoo, conditioner, more rubber bands, and clips, rubbing alcohol, witch hazel and some other shit.” N’Jadaka trailed behind her as she walked through aisles and all. 

  “Y/N after we done over here, I need to hit the food section for our movie night.”

“Movie Night? When did we talk about this?”

“Last night, woman. When I told you to keep the leftovers for me.”

   She stopped and his chest collided with her back after the unexpected pause. “Daka, you didn’t say anything about dinner AND the movie.” He placed his hands beside hers on the cart pushing it slowly, making her walk again. “Well, we can’t just sit there, staring at each other and eat. That would be weird as hell.” His broad chest was still flushed against hers. The heat that radiated from him must have transferred to her chore. His hands covered hers as they pushed together; she couldn’t help but smile at the moment. All of a sudden, she noticed he was reaching for the items she read off. His finger pointed to one shampoo and he asked: “Which one?” 

“The, uh, Pantene. The one with the gold markings on it. Can you get the conditioner too, with the pumps”, she said as he reached for the bottles while she watched. His smooth bicep was flexed under his short sleeve white tee. He placed them in the cart and they kept it pushing. Throughout the beauty aisle, he grabbed for the items when she told him which ones to get. He stayed as close as possible as strangers either awed, looked in confusion or in disgust. Y/N didn’t care for the unwanted attention but she didn’t mind being this to him. 

   They finally went to the grocery area and he looked over the options. “I’ve been cravings sweets like a muthafucka lately. What you like, Baby Girl”, he asked and she looked up at him. “Well, I like cupcakes and all. But I’m not sure. Do you wanna really ruin your physique?” He chuckled and told her “girl, these muscles ain’t going nowhere trust me” as he moved his pecs against her skin. He grabbed desserts such as brownies, those soft sugar cookies, and cupcakes. “Aight, little one. What you wanna drink? Lead the way”, he announced but his hands still on hers. They pushed the cart to the beverage section and she nodded towards the pineapple juice and Coke. 

  “Are you tryna drink, drink tonight? ‘Cause those are chasers”, he mentioned and she shrugged in response. “Shit, I’m down if you are but since we in this bougie ass Target they don't liquor in here. So, we can go by the liquor store we met at on our way back.” They grabbed some candy and popcorn, soon finished up and were in the self check out; her eyes stared at the total. “Holy fuck”, she said to herself as she pulled out her debit card but saw N’Jadaka pull out money. “What are you doing”, she asked. “Whatchu mean? It’s on me.”

“No, it’s not. I got it.”

“No, I do.”

“Daka?”

“Baby Girl?” 

   She stood with her hand on her hips and he folded his arms when an older black woman passed by. “Y’all are so cute. Reminds me of me and my husband.” Y/N giggled and spoke to the woman. “Oh, ma’am we-”

“Thank you, ma’am. My girl always wanna fight though”, he said and Y/N looked at him with a brow up. “She never wants me to pay for anything. I’m just tryna be a good man to my lady, dat’s all.” The lady looked over her glasses to Y/N and said “let him treat cha, baby. There is a lot of young men outchea that don’t even pay attention. Let him handle it”; with that, she walked away. Y/N still stood there when he poked her arm so she can move a little, paying the total and grabbing the bag before walking away. He looked back at her and yelled “you betta bring ya ass or you gotta catch that musty ass Metro”; she followed behind.

   They pulled into the parking lot as she looked to him. “You coming in with me or you staying here”, she asked and he looked over handing her $50. “You won’t be long. ima just chill here and wait. Stay outta trouble, young lady. Don’t make me have to kill a nigga”, he lectured her, wagging his finger; she laughed and hopped out. When she entered the store, the sound of the ding sound if it was going out. Y/N placed a hand cart on her arm as she looked up and down the aisles. She thought of making her amazing slushes for tonight since it was hotter more than usual. She switched slightly when she got to the alcohol section, grabbing rum and Jack Daniels. All of a sudden, she felt a strong arm wrap around her shoulders. 

 “Thought you was staying in the car” she taunted but she felt like something wasn’t right; this arm wasn’t like Daka’s at all. She turned to see a man she never wanted to see again. “What up, doll,” he said with a gapped smile. He had burnt umber skin, brown eyes with braids in a creative pattern across his scalp. He wore a Dodgers baseball jersey wide open to show his toned chest, dark denim jeans, and Vans. She looked around and pushed his arm off, walking the other way. “What you want Rodney”, she said flinging open the freezer door trying to keep him away as she looked closer at the drink section. “You lookin’ good, Y/N. I see you done lost a little weight”, he said as he watched her bend down, grabbing a small bag of ice.

  She took a deep breath and looked him up and down as she stood up. “I see ya head got fatter”, she threw at him as she walked down an aisle with him following behind. “I see you still got jokes. How you been”, he asked with hands in pockets. “Fine, now go away”, she said looking at random items to keep her eyes away from him. Rodney was her first boyfriend but what he did was unforgivable. Rodney continued to follow her, watching with a careful eye. “C’mon, girl. You not gonna say you miss me like I miss you.” She rolled her eyes and placed her right hand on her hip turning to him with a stern look. She had to admit he was a handsome son of a bitch but his attitude was the worse. 

   “Yeah, I know exactly why you miss me”, she mentioned with a rose brow. He chuckled with a step closer and leaned into her face with a smile. “Yeah, and why you think I miss yo cute ass?” She walked her fingers up his chest then pulled his head down. “Because whoever you with now, done fucked up ya shit”, she said before she pushed his head back and walking to the counter. He made his way over and pulled out his money. “I got ya, ma.”

“Too late. Already paid for”, she said grabbing her bag and making her way to the front door to notice N’Jadaka getting out and leaning against the front. She felt Rodney grab her hand and she yanked it looking back at him, disgusted. “Y/N, I do miss you. There I said it.” She looked out to see Daka looking inside with his hands folded in front of him. Rodney followed her glance and instantly felt heated but kept his cool. N’Jadaka watched Rodney through the glass in the same spot. Y/N started to walk and looked back at him, saying “keep missing me.”

  She finally walked out and N’Jadaka leaned against her door. “Who was that?” Rodney walked out, hands in pockets and eyes on them as he walked away. Y/N noticed N’Jadaka watching him and made him look at her. “A mistake.” N’Jadaka nodded before opening her door and heard something behind him. “He ain’t got shit on me, ma! Never have! Have never will! And don’t fa get that shit!!!” N’Jadaka noticed her trying to get out but he leaned against the door. “Wassup, cuh?! You talkin’ a lot of shit for yo punk ass to be walking away! Could have said that shit back here! Don’t get fucked up, ol’ bummy ass nigga!!!”

 “Daka, can we go,” Y/N asked and N’Jadaka looked back at her. “Say please”, he told her with a smirk. “Can we pleeeeease go”; he sighed and walked over to his side. Soon, he pulled into her driveway and looked at her before getting out and opening her door. “Go ahead in. I’ll bring all the shit in.” Before she could disagree, he looked at her and playful shooed her away. She went to open the door and slid out her sandals. She tossed her hair into a high ponytail, instantly feeling cool. Y/N made her into the kitchen, grabbed a tall glass and poured some iced tea, sipping from the cool glass with closed eyes. 

  “You not gonna pour me some”, she heard which made her jump. She turned to see N’Jadaka sitting her counter. “Wh-when did you come in here” fell from her lips in a timid voice. “Like a minute ago. You didn’t hear me”, he questioned her with a smirk on his lips. “Of course not, butt munch. You scared the shit outta me”, she explained to him as she grabbed another cup for him. She poured him some as he put the groceries up. She started to think about Rodney and what he had done to her. Humiliation? Torture? Heartbreak? Or all the above? “Baby Girl? Baby Girl?”

  She looked up at him as he stopped her from pouring the drink. It had got on the counter, dripping to the ground. He rung out a dish towel to clean up and got another to dry. “You aight? You just spacing out and shit”; his tone, as if he was concerned but she just nodded. “Yeah, I just need a drink,” she said before turning her back to get her blender and plugging it in. “What yo cute ass finna make”, he wondered out loud leaning on his hands, watching her. “I am making some adult icees. A little this and a little that.” She grabbed the ice, alcohol, and chasers. “You seem like a Jack and Coke guy.  So I’ll call this one..” She looked to him and back to the blender. “All Hail the King.” He nodded and folded his arms. “That shit is smooth. Teach me how to make it then.”

 “Aight. First, we need 3/4 of Jack Daniels then we get a cup of Coca Cola.” She began pouring then grabbed a cup of ice putting it in next. “Now, we just blend”, she announced while looking at him with a smirk. She grabbed two tall mason jars and grabbed the gummies she grabbed at the liquor store with a straw. “This is extra but I like this touch though. Now you can just throw them in or placed them neatly around.” She placed the Coke bottle-shaped gummies neatly for him to see and placed the straw in the middle of both glasses. She poured the drink inside and handed him the glass before sipping hers. 

  He placed his lips in the straw as Y/N watched. Once he tasted the drink, he smacked his lips to inquire about the taste. He side-eyed her round face and looked straight ahead. “It’s aight,” he said before sipping the drink again. He looked at Y/N pouted lips and said “I’m fucking with you. It’s fire as fuck. You know what would be good?”

“What?”

“Jack and Coke floats. Now, that shit would be A1 for real for real.”

  She agreed and placed her drink down. “Lemme get these leftovers out so I can warm this chicken up.” She grabbed the huge bag of food from the fridge. Sheila had packed a ton of food for them which was like a family dinner for the holidays. Containers were filled with mac and cheese, potato salad, fried chicken, greens and cornbread; her mouth was almost drooling. Y/N pulled out a baking dish and sprayed with cooking oil, place the chicken on top then setting it in the oven; N’Jadaka watched her in confusion. “Why not put it in the microwave?”

“Because if you put fried chicken the microwave, it’ll get all nasty and soggy but when you put in the oven, it gets all nice and crispy. You can thank me later”, she said standing up. She was getting self-conscious as it got hotter and decided to do the best. “I’m about to hop in the shower. The guest bathroom is down the hall on your left and feel free to anything. I’ll be back out in like ten minutes.”

“Bet” and with that, she walked to her bedroom’s bathroom to bathe. She slipped out her previous dress (along with underwear) and threw them in the basket before stepping into the warm water. She asked Alexa to play her mellow playlist and Yuna started to play. Y/N began exfoliating out of habit and bathed in her Shea Moisture Black Soap. Before she stepped out, she rubbed her body in baby oil. She stepped out to get dressed when she peeked her head through the door to check on Daka; he sat on the couch with his arms resting on the back of it. After closing the door back, she looked for a pair of boy shorts and her old hockey jersey her dad gave her back in high school. It was loose on her since her weight loss even though she still had a pouch and some fluffiness. 

   She slipped it on and put her locs in a neat bun on top of her head before walking out to the kitchen, checking the chicken. “How was your shower”, N’Jadaka asked walking to the island. “It was great. Looks like chicken is ready. You want everything, Daka”, she asked as she got an oven and pulled the tray out. “Yeah, I want everything”. She noticed his voice was deeper and sinful to her ears. Maybe it was just the alcohol, she thought. She turned to him and he was just watching her, sipping the rest of his drink. Soon, she was done warming up the food that needed to be and put their plates together. “So, what you wanna watch? I got Hulu and Netflix.”

“Nah, they just got the same shit. I noticed you got a nice DVD collection over in the corner.” They sat next to one another on the couch and she sipped from her cup as he watched; she noticed. “You okay”, she asked and he pouted, playfully, towards her drink. “Do you want me to make you another one?” He nodded as she giggled and got up. Once she was done with making the drink, she walked over with blender in hand and noticed something. “Daka?” No answer. “Daka? I know yo butt can hear me.”

“Wassup, baby girl.” He was in the corner looking at the DVDs again. “Daka, where is my drink?” He shrugged as she placed the blender down and turned him around; he was sipping the drink with one hand looking at her. “Daka?! That was minnnnneeeeee”, she pouted and folded her arms. He used his opposite hand to place on her back bringing her chest to chest. “Me sorry. It’s just so damn good. I couldn't help myself. Do you forgive me”, he asked but she still pouted with her brows pushed in. He kissed her forehead softly then both her cheeks. “Forgive me”, he asked again and she said “fine. Better be glad I made enough for both of us.” She walked over to the couch to pour the drinks as N’Jadaka grabbed a few DVDs. 

  “Chose something, yet?” He placed the disc in and Y/N smiled at the intro music. 

You can do it put your back into it I can do it put your ass into it You can do it put your back into it I can do it put your ass into it Put your back into it Put your ass into it.

  He bopped his shoulders, dancing side to side. She smiled shaking her head and slipping into the kitchen to rinse out the blender. All of a sudden, she felt him dancing against her back, pelvic thrusting her behind. She pushed her backside up against him that made him step back but he wrapped his arms around her waist as they went back to the couch. An hour or so into the movie, they were finished with their food and watching comfortable silence. “Ebony is one trifling bitch. Like she cute but she ain’t got shit on Diamond”, Y/N said and he agreed. “Don’t fa get about her nigga though. Grimy ass nigga. Like he could have fucked anyone else but her fuckin’ family. Nah that’s that bull shit I can’t fuck with.” 

“So, you never would cheat?”

“Never have. Never will.”

“So, lets say if we were together and Kesha had to stay here, you wouldn’t try and fuck her?”

  “Who dat?” She looked at him and said “the girl I was with when we first met.”  He laughed out loud and wiped his fake tear. “Nah, Baby Girl. She ain’t my type.”

  “Then what is your type?”; no answer. Y/N was leaning on her arm with her legs resting on the couch as he sat in his original position. He looked over at his hand and noticed it was close to her but he left it be. Then, the best part came on; the dressing room fight scene and N’Jadaka & Y/N sat closer but still apart. He hissed as Diamond landed the last punch. “Got that bitch good as fuck. Pretty and can hold it down”, he added with a single clap. The movie ended and they decided to make it an Ice Cube movie night. Next up was Friday and they sat closer but still in the same poses. “Aye, baby girl? Is it okay if I smoke in here?” She gave him the okay and he started rolling. His part was about to come in a few minutes when he looked over at her with hooded eyes. “Do you smoke”?

“Never had.”

  Right when the part came on, she heard the TV along with an echo and N’Jadaka passing her a blunt. “I know you don't smoke weed, I know this, but I'm gonna get you high today, 'cause it's Friday; you ain't got no job... and you ain't got shit to do.” She looked at him and took the blunt gently from his fingers. She sucked in then held it in her system like he told her to do. She held it in so it could get in her lungs and blew it throw her nose; impressing him. “Good. Good job, rookie.” Hours later and now watching Next Friday, they sat there talking and laughing; all the snacks and desserts he bought earlier with Jack and Coke floats made were on the table in front of them. Y/N’s favorite part came on and she giggled as she pretended along with the character. “Mister Nasty Time”, she giggled and heard N’Jadaka reciting the uncle’s part as well.

  N’Jadaka’s came on and he looked to Y/N who still looked at the screen. The part was about to play when N’Jadaka grabs her arm as they stood. Getting in character and he held his finger gun to her temple making her snickering with her hands up.

“Little mothafucka trying to rob me. I'mma show you how I do 'em.”

“I ain’t tryna rob you...”

  They kept this going until the fight scene and he tackled her onto the couch, making her giggling and surrender. Before you know it, they had smoked another blunt and the Jack was all gone. They were sitting just like before but knee to knee and his hand caressing her arm. Y/N can feel N’Jadaka’s arm pulling her in around her shoulder His other callused hand fell onto his lap. That’s when she heard it from his lips. “Put your leg on me so you can be more comfortable. Looks like your leg gonna fall asleep”; she did so and he was right. He wrapped his arm around her neck and she placed her head on top of his chest. As he rubbed her shoulder through her top, his fingertips made circles against her calf and up her knee, finally to her thigh. He kissed her forehead and she looked up to his eyes. They looked at each other with a grin, his fingers caressed her lips, lips inching closer to hers until...

  “Girl, I can’t believe this shit” they heard from the door and looked up, heads turned to the direction. It was Kesha who used her copy of the key, walking in unannounced. She was wearing a yellow tube top, bamboos and her box braids were in a low ponytail. She wore jean shorts with sandals and a grey flannel around her waist. She turned to see the couple on the couch and her eyes went to her best friend’s face. “My bad, best friend. I didn't know we had company.” N’Jadaka set back looking at her as Y/N said “we don’t. I do. Shay, yo ass don’t live here.”

“Then, why I got a key then?” 

“In case of emergencies”, she said as she leaned back. Shay rolled her eyes and sat in the armchair on Y/N’s other side. “So, what y’all doing up in here?”

“Shay, what are you doing up in here”, Y/N asked making Daka chuckle looking at the screen. “Never mind since you look all booed up shit. That can wait”, Shay told her as she folded her arms watching the screen. Y/N looked at him and said: “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t take too long, Baby Girl. Ima keep ya seat warm.”

 She got up and looked at her best friend, nodding to her bedroom door. When they got in, Shay looked at Y/N leaning against the door with low eyes. “Best friend, are you high?”

“What’s wrong, Shay?”

“I asked you first.”

“Bitch, don’t kill my vibe. Bitch, don’t kill my vibe”, Y/N sung then laughed and held her friend in place. “I’m kidding, geez. Aight, tell me wassup.” Shay sat on Y/N’s bed and rubbed her temples. “A bitch almost got jumped.” Y/N was still high but wanted to go off. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand vibe killed.” She sat next to Shay and leaned behind her with her arms. “By who?”

“Girl, that is a wholeee story, sis. So, I was at Ricky’s house and we getting it in. I mean, like, my knee caps are to my ear and he digging in my shit. Right when we about to set it off, he stops and runs in they bathroom. I’m laying there like ‘what the fuck’ then I hear a slam and shuffling outside the door. Sandra in that bitch,  rolling deeper that muthafucka. Looking like she brought the whole family. It was like a quinceanera in that bitch. I had to lock the bedroom door and hurry up and get dressing. I dead ass was finna hop out the window until I looked and there's more of them. I’m like ‘ell nah’ so I’m thinking fast. I peek through the keyhole to see they was going in they kitchen so I ran into the other bathroom. Right across the way. I see a bar of soap on the sink and hear the El Chapo Clan bust into the bedroom and Sandra was like ‘where that black bitch at, Ricky!?’ Then, I threw the soup at the kitchen window. I hear everyone running in and I made a run for it through the window and gunned it.”

  She looked at Y/N when didn’t hear a reaction; her arm was under her chin with a smirk on her face. “You should have known. This the same nigga that was fuckin’ bitches left and right gettin’ them pregnant and shit. Ricky ain’t good for not a damn thing and yo ass fall for it.” Shay leaned on her friend’s shoulder with a pout. “Can I stay in the extra bedroom? They might be looking for my ass.” 

“Sure. Ya clothes are still in there, too. You need a good bath and some sleep”, she hugged her best friend and kissed her cheek. “Now, lemme go finish watching this movie with my guest.” They left the room and Shay said “goodnight, y’all. Take care of my girl, brotha man.”

“She in good hands”, he said over his shoulder. He had another blunt in his hand half gone when Y/N sat back down. “Everything okay”, he asked her as she got back in the pose she was in before. “Yeah, just drama as usual. You good?” He passed her the blunt and nodded; she took a hit and passed back to him. “Nah, that’s all yours, Baby Girl.” She kissed his cheek and took another hit. “Friday After Next?”

“Sure is.” They sat there eating all the snacks and laughing at the movie, reciting lines and all.

  The next morning, Y/N had her back against the arm of the couch with her head resting on the back. She opened her eyes to the mess on the table and the screen now black. Her leg was wrapped around something as her hand rested in other that felt like soften wool. When she looked down, she saw a sleeping N’Jadaka. His head was on her chest, both arms wrapped her waist and long legs rested on the other armest. Her eyes were still half open and she noticed her hand was massaging his scalp the entire time their bodies intertwined together. She grinned and closed her eyes again before she heard him stop snoring. “You up, baby girl”, he asked in a raspy voice with still shut eyes and she answered “kinda”, eyes closed as well. He asked “breakfast?”

“Denny’s or iHop?”

“Nah, Roscoe’s.” Y/N moved a little still with eyes shut and said “okay, just give me a few more....”; they had drifted off to sleep and didn’t wake back up until three hours later.

~

And. I. OOp. Things are getting a little more interesting...ooooooo. So, I wanted to do a little more cute N’Jadaka with some angst but the next chapter is going to be too cute to handle. Also, I am doing three parts (five chapters each) so the next chapter will be the final for this part :(. But do not worry because I am making a separate master for this so be on the look out. I’m gonna got to working on the new ish and paint. Okay. Baaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiii.

~

𝒯𝒜𝒢𝒢𝐸𝒟 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸𝒮

@muse-of-mbaku

@im5ftbutmythroat66

@chaneajoyyy

@melanin-samii

@theunsweetenedtruth

@doux-ciel

@unicornluvin8765

@vikkidc

@wakandantings

@thadelightfulone

@mzamethystp

@simbiann

@tropicalsun10

@babydoll756

@notoriouslynay

@vminax

@quinsly

@pinkdemolition

@quietstorm-73

@chaoticcashfancroissant

@bugngiz

@chocolatedippedinhoney

@yafavcocoa

@lostgalaxies

@mbakuwife

@youreadthatright

@babygotl01292003

@acceptyourselfloveyourself

@madamslayyy

@yoyolovesbucky

@theogbadbitch

@wakanda-inspired

@bitchacho25

@toniilaney

@wakandascrystal

@girlsneedlovingfanfics

@raysunshine78

[eldritchsurveys]

761.

Does anyone know your bank pin number other than you? Who? >> Yeah, Sparrow does.

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend who was depressed? >> Sure.

Would you be able to climb out your bedroom window to sneak out? >> Absolutely not, I live on the third floor. --Well, I could climb out, and I might even survive, but... let’s just say it’s pretty goddamn risky. Anyway, I’m an adult and I don’t have to sneak out of my own apartment, so it’s irrelevant.

What would you do if you found out the last person you called was pregnant/got someone pregnant? >> ---

Can you taste the difference between brand name food and store brand food? >> Depends on the food. Some foods are pretty easy to dupe and it’s not a problem, but not all of them.

Would you be embarrassed to buy pads/tampons/condoms? Which one more? >> No, dude.

If a stranger went in your bedroom, would they be able to tell what gender you are from just looking at it? >> I don’t know what someone would guess, it depends on what people use as markers for gender. Besides, I don’t subscribe to a specific gender, so whatever they’d guess would be wrong regardless.

Are your parents gullible? >> ---

Do you still own a VCR? >> I’ve never owned a VCR. By the time I left home, DVDs had won the battle.

About how much money have you spent on food in the past two weeks? >> I haven’t spent any money on food. Sparrow’s unemployment checks have paid for the groceries, because just one of those was still more than I get in a month.

If you were in a car accident would the last person you kissed care? >> I mean, of course the Inworlders would care.

If you were looking for a new pair of shoes where would you go? >> I wouldn’t go anywhere, right now. But in general, I still have no idea where I would go. I’ve always hated shoe shopping, almost more than I hate other clothes shopping.

How much was the last pair of shoes you bought? >> The last pair of shoes I got were about $70 or $80. I didn’t buy them, Sparrow did.

What color is the computer/laptop you’re on? Did you buy it yourself? >> Silver. No, Sparrow’s Best Buy card bought it.

Do you have a second home? >> No.

Would you be surprised if you saw the last person you texted smoking? >> A little, yeah, because the last time I saw her smoke anything was back when I first got here and was still a smoker myself.

Does the smell of cigarettes, weed and beer repulse you? >> The smell of cigarettes can be repulsive to me, which I’ve heard is pretty common amongst ex-smokers. Also, my sensory defensiveness is higher than it used to be, so. The smell of beer doesn’t usually repulse me, but that can vary depending on what kind of day I’m having. The smell of weed is often too strong for my liking, but I don’t necessarily hate it. I just can’t be around it for too long because of, I repeat, sensory defensiveness.

Was the last person you kissed younger or older than you? >> ---

Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? >> Well, duh. Just like I probably have plenty of misconceptions about other people.

Have you ever purchased Girl Scout cookies? >> Yeah.

Do you like waffles? >> Yeah.

Do you watch birthing videos on a day-to-day basis? >> That... seems like one hell of a hobby.

Do you find piercings/tattoos attractive? >> I find them fun and interesting and cool to look at and talk about and learn about. I guess that can be summed up under “attractive”.

Would you talk to someone you don’t know on the internet? >> I always talk to people I don’t know on the internet, it’s kind of part of the experience (unless you just never use the social aspect of the internet).

How often do you drink Monster? >> Never, I hate Monster.

Have you ever made totally pointless videos with your friends? >> Maybe. I don’t really remember doing so, but it’s a possibility.

Do you like to buy those Warped Tour compilations? >> No, but I vaguely remember them.

Do you like sitting on the inside or outside of a restaurant booth? >> I don’t think I prefer one or the other by itself -- it’s usually a combination of different elements that determines whether I’ll sit on the inside or the outside of a booth.

Do you own a nightgown? >> No.

Have you ever made a house out of a giant cardboard box? >> No.

Have you ever made a tent out of sheets in your bedroom? >> No.

Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone? >> ---

Have you ever had sex or something like it? >> Yes to... both?

Have you ever read a George Orwell book? >> No, because though I started it, I never finished 1984.

Have you ever worn fishnets? >> Yeah, many times.

How many piercings and tattoos do you have? >> Two [sets of] piercings and three tattoos.

Is someone in your family affected by Asperger’s? >> ---

In a hotel do you always nose through all the drawers and cupboards? >> No.

Would you rather go out to eat or be eaten out? >> I’d definitely rather go out to eat, thanks.

Do you always wear your seat belt? >> Yeah. What’s funny is I was never made to wear one as a child. I had to get used to seatbelts in adulthood. I... have no idea why that is. Not a good look, though.

Have you ever liked someone much older than you? >> Sure.

Have you ever been in a play? >> Yeah, once.

Do you have any secrets that nobody knows about? >> I mean, I wouldn’t call them “secrets” because it’s not that deep, but yeah, there are plenty of things the average acquaintance doesn’t know about me.

Is there ice cream in your freezer? >> Yeah.

Have you ever started to laugh but played it off as a cough successfully? >> Probably.

Have you ever liked the lyrics of a band but hated the music? >> Yeah, that’s kind of how I feel about The Mountain Goats. The lyrics always seem interesting, but then I listen to the song itself and I’m like “bleh...”

Does your bathroom have a window? >> No, and god, I’d give an organ for a bathroom with a fucking window.

Do you go somewhere to get your eyebrows done? >> No.

When you were younger did you read the A Series Of Unfortunate Events books? >> No.

Who was the last band you saw live? >> Hozier and crew.

Do you believe prayer really works? >> It depends on what you expect prayer to do. I think it works greatly for focusing one’s mind and will, for feeling connected to whatever numinous force you’re into, and for the meditative effect. I also think it works to calm one down, to relieve stress, that sort of thing -- which can be helpful when you’re trying to heal from an illness or something, when you think about the body holistically. Now, if you want to claim that prayer literally causes divine power to come out of the universe and, say, completely eradicate a person’s cancer... well, I mean, I just don’t know about that, is all.

Are you a fan of the band Gym Class Heroes? >> No.

Frosted flakes or frosted mini wheats? >> I used to love frosted mini-wheats... it’s been forever since I had those.

Have you been on a date in the park? >> Something like that.

Ever dated someone you were best friends with first? >> Something like that.

Are there any diseases/health problems that run in your family? >> ---

Do you have asthma? >> Nope. I should have, almost everyone else born in my area at that time period was riddled with respiratory ailments. Bad air up in Elizabethport.

Are tongue piercings slutty? >> Sigh.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? >> That’s basically a foundational criterion for me to consider someone attractive, lmfao.

Last person to take off your pants, besides you? >> No one takes off my pants except me.

Do you remember those cool highlighters that smelled like popcorn? >> No.

Might you enjoy hanging out in the woods for day or two? >> Absolutely.

Have you ever written something on a bathroom stall? >> No.

Least favorite alcoholic drink? >> Hmm... I guess gin. Rarely will I drink a gin-based cocktail.

Have you ever kissed someone named Paul or Luke? >> Maybe? I don’t know.

How did you meet the last male you texted? >> ---

Have you ever had an embarrassing email address? >> No.

Do you put shampoo in your left or right hand? Left. I had to mime that. <-- lol yeah, same.

Do you have a bull ring through your nose? >> I mean, yeah, more or less.

Do you and your dad get along? >> :|

Can you see your purse right now? >> ---

Are you wearing any perfume? What kind? >> No.

Are there products in your hair? >> No.

When you get colds, do you use nasal spray to help get your nose unstuffy? >> Sometimes, when I get aggravated enough.

Do you actually like sneezing? >> No.

Have you taken a shower yet today? >> No.

Do you have one best friend who is always there for you? >> ---

Do you wear skirts a lot? >> No.

Do you wear sweatpants a lot? >> I don’t have enough pairs to wear them a lot, but let me tell you, if I had more they’re pretty much all I would wear as far as outside clothing goes.

How many pairs of jeans do you think you have? >> I have three pairs, I don’t have to guess.

Do you like hoodies? >> I love hoodies.

Big ones or the form fitting kind? >> Big ones.

Do you wear polo shirts a lot? >> I never wear polo shirts.

Did you ever actually have a rubber duck? >> No.

Are you one of those people who claim to live with no regrets? >> I mean, I don’t necessarily feel great about everything I’ve done, but I’m not going to obsess about it either. All I can do is try to learn from my mistakes moving forward, and hope my brain doesn’t turn on me and make me do more things I’ll have to learn from. I don’t know, man, “regret” just doesn’t feel like a thing I fully comprehend.

Do you love your computer? >> I sure do. Both of them.

Do you drink coffee? >> No.

Do you basically like all of your clothes? >> Sure. When I stop liking them, I get rid of them.

Do you shop mostly with your parents, your friends, or by yourself? >> Either by myself or with Sparrow.

[themagicianshea]

From now until November, we’ll be spotlighting some of our MHHE registered authors. Want to make art for them? Register here! Artists who register before July 6th get early access to claims.

MHHE Author Spotlight: coldwaughtersq

What piece of work best represents your writing style, and how would you briefly describe it?

I would say I'm a very sensory/descriptive writer. I usually start each scene with a dialog frame, and then I do a lot of mentioning little details about the character's environment - the sunlight, the chalk, the fact that Quentin hasn't really been out of bed or changed clothes in days - that help make the space they're occupying feel more real. I tend to give examples in threes, like when Eliot thinking back on his past experiences with Quentin's depression in the excerpt. It just feels more nicely balanced when I read back over the text later.

“my heart restarts”

“Tell me something true.” Quentin says, another instruction, and for a moment it’s Eliot that’s gone-

Snapped back into a memory of Fillory like he’s riding a rubber band. The afternoon sun shining in through the windows of the cottage, Eliot -chalk striped and tanned, laying on top of the covers while Quentin shook beneath them, still in the same clothes he’d worn three days ago, lost to the quest and to Eliot while his brain attempted to eat him alive. The first time they’d been through this cycle, it had been terrifying, the second, they’d borne it miserably but determinedly together. The third time, Eliot had gotten so frustrated by his helplessness he’d smashed their wine jug, and had to put it back together himself. This time, Eliot laid down next to him on the bed, his shoulder just barely bumping up against Quentin’s back, and said “I know you have- a lot… Going on in there right now. Speaking from my own experience, most of it is bullshit.” Here Quentin had huffed what might have been a laugh, and Eliot remembered the elated, floaty feeling of having broken through the fog. “But I’m going to tell you something true.”

They’d made it a tradition, when Quentin was starting to disappear into himself - when he already had, because nothing could prevent that completely. They would sit on their bench, or in their bed, or on the mosaic, and Eliot would list off things that Quentin could trust - especially when he couldn’t trust his own mind."

What piece of work are you most proud of and why?

I really love Recovery!verse, even though most of it is sitting in half-finished files on my google drive. After the finale, I needed a universe to play in that felt narratively satisfying, and from that I ended up with this story: where Quentin didn't die, and where he and Eliot get a little space to work through their respective traumas in the background of the next Big Story Arc. What would that look like, and how would the events of the show as we've seen them so far affect that recovery? What would being brave actually look like, for Eliot, in that universe? And I feel like what I've posted so far has been a good start to that. I've gotten a lot of positive feedback about "my heart restarts", and it's really been great to see other people resonating with that desire for the story to continue.

“Sweetheart,” Eliot says, helplessly, as it clicks with him finally, what Quentin is doing here. And yes, he’d heard about that night from Julia but it was one thing to hear from an observer what had happened and another entirely to see his hands, under his control, wrapped around Quentin’s throat. To see Quentin’s fear, to feel it in the bunching of muscles and tendons beneath him palms. To hear Quentin breathe, shallow and quick, through the memory playing beneath his eyelids.

“Yellow, yellow, yellow.”  Quentin doesn’t wait for him to ask, chants the word under his breath like a prayer, and so Eliot waits, misery and nausea and hope swirling in his gut as he watches his hands, unmoving, before he remembers.

“The first time we did this, you said it made you feel safe.” His voice betrays him, tripping over the idea of safety, which had made so much sense in their peaceful mosaic bubble, and had to seem preposterous after a year of being dragged on a godly murder spree. “Truth.” He feels Q’s eyes on him before he looks up, and sees the sheer naked trust there, the soft-hearted sharp-edged center of Quentin. It was nearly overwhelming.: that Eliot had ended up here, in this reality, with this man, with his belief.

A year and a half ago, Eliot had seen that trust and chosen to run.

He was not going to make the same mistake again. 

What tropes can we look forward to in your MHHE fic?

Oh gosh, okay, so, for starters: you can go back home again, he's good with his hands, mistletoe kissing...  I feel like anything else would be giving too much away! 

Fuck, Marry, Kiss (under the mistletoe) with three Magicians characters of your choice!

Fuck: Margo

Marry: Quentin

Kiss: Alice

[mattzerella-sticks]

Unwritten (a Dean/Cas spec coda for 14x12)

(Link to fic - click here)

Dean's plan - the lone happy ending in all his books - didn't work. Spiraling in a depression, he is left adrift in the seas of destiny, feeling like they're pushing him towards a fate he cannot bear. What makes it worse is the lighthouse shining from across the way, acting as if he has any choice in stopping himself from hitting the rocky shore.

Why can't Castiel get the hint?

           Dean hadn’t changed out of his wet clothes yet. He slumped into the first chair he saw, ignorant to Sam’s cries. It didn’t matter to him, whether the seawater would stain the cushions like they might have done to the leather interior of his car. Or that he could catch a cold if he stayed dressed like he was. ‘Nothing matters now, since it didn’t work…’ His melancholy clung like to him like the salty sea spray, every deep inhale another reminder that his fate had been sealed – unlike his box.

           Sam retired for the night, promising to tackle the problem come morning. His inspiring speech didn’t have any effect; Dean’s mind stuck back with the Ma’lak Box as it slowly sank deeper and deeper into the dark ocean. Empty, with its door swung wide. Like how he was feeling. Like how his prison will soon be. ‘I should be there with it, like in the book.’

           It’d be easier to deal with, except people kept shining lights in his direction. Flashing them over, exposing the daunting bleakness that was inside. It was Castiel’s turn now. Castiel, who sat across from him, staring. Looking at him with eyes as blue as the ocean he tried drowning himself in. His hands folded over themselves in mock prayer. Dean couldn’t take it.

           “Hey,” he barked, “You got anything better to look at?” Castiel shrugged. His lack of response, only further angered Dean. “You’re not gonna say anything either?”

           “What is there to say?”

           “That you were right… and it didn’t work,” Dean said, “How it was hopeless to try and I shouldn’t have even attempted it because it was always going to fail because I’m a failure and nothing ever goes right –“

           “I’d never say that, Dean.”

           “But… But…” Head hung, he rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hands, “But it’s true…”

           Castiel sighed. “Dean –“

           “No, Cas, I don’t… I don’t want to hear it.”

           “You have no idea what I was about to say.”

           “I know enough. I know you’re glad I’m here and not locked away with nothing but fish and Michael for company.”

           His angel huffed, pulling back. Dean knew he stabbed at a nasty wound, the memory of their conversation in the hospital still fresh for both of them. “And what if I am? Is that a terrible thing?”

           “Don’t know how it’s not.”

           “Maybe the fact we’re here talking is a good thing,” Castiel said, “That we have another chance to free you from Michael –“

           “There isn’t another chance, Cas!” Dean cried, “This was it! And now I get a front row ticket to watch Michael destroying the world and everyone I care about.”

           “You don’t know that –“

           “And where do you get off, anyway?” he asked, “Talking about chances. Seemed like you were pretty fine accepting that deal with the Empty – enough to not tell us about it.” He twisted the knife deeper, sickeningly enjoying the look of regret on Castiel. “If you didn’t catch me with the box, were you ever going to? Or were you just gonna disappear one day and leave us to wonder if you finally had enough of playing human?”

           “I… This isn’t the same thing, Dean.”

           “Bullshit. You make a promise with an all-powerful creature to sacrifice yourself for someone else – it’s like staring into a fucking mirror!”

           “Are you going to blame yourself for this, too?” Castiel asked, tone bitter and biting, “Use this to feel even worse? Dull the pain with even more pain until you just numb completely?”

           “Seems like all I’m good for these days…”

           “You… you…” Castiel slammed his fist down on the table, shaking it. He stood, shoving the chair back, scraping against the floor. His shoulders heaved with the righteousness of his anger. Dean shrunk under his powerful gaze, burning with his grace. “I am my own person who can make my own decisions. Not everything is about you or because of you. The world might be on your shoulders, Dean Winchester, but most of it finds you completely irrelevant. There are people around the globe who can go about their days without thinking ‘Is this what Dean Winchester would do?’ And there are people here who can do the same. Like me you… you wet, sad sack of flesh.”

           Dean was stunned. Castiel stilled, but poured his fury out around him, the raw emotion making the air around him crackle with intense electricity. Inside Dean’s own body, a rush of emotions fought for control. He wasn’t sure which won, too worn down by the nothing previously occupying his body to identify it. But he was laughing, and tears streamed down his face.

           His angle startled. “Why are you laughing?” Castiel asked, head skewed to the right, “Why are you… why are you crying?”

           Dean shook his head. “I have no idea, Cas,” he said, “I have no idea what I’m doing…” He dropped his face into his hands, shaking with the overwhelming weight crushing him, sweeping over him like a tidal wave. Michael pounded even harsher than before, and he felt the lock bend further than it has ever gone.

           In an instant, a strong set of arms enveloped him. “Shh, Dean… it’s okay…” Castiel whispered, stroking his hair back and forth. Dean snuck a peek out from between his fingers. Castiel kneeled beside him, all the anger gone, replaced with something even deeper: worry.

           “It’s not okay,” Dean said, “I’m going to lose my body and you’re going to disappear…”

           Castiel smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, the Empty wouldn’t have the satisfaction of taking me if Michael kills me.”

           “That really doesn’t Cas…”

           Castiel nodded, lapsing back into silence. He continued petting his hair, the motion relaxing him. Dean leaned into it, humming. “You know,” Dean said after a while, “things were really starting to look up for us. That’s what makes this suck a whole lot more.”

           “Yes.” Castiel clucked his tongue, sighing. “You know I didn’t mean any of what I said.”

           “You weren’t wrong,” Dean said, “I am very irrelevant.”

           “Not to the people who care about you. Not to Sam or Jack or… or me,” Castiel told him, “I… didn’t want to burden you with this information. I know how much you already carry with you… seen how fractured your mind is. Who am I to add any unnecessary stress when you’re dealing with so many other things at the moment? Besides, this was something I chose to do, and when the time comes, it’ll be for me to handle.”

           “You’re not a burden Cas. Your problems are my problems. You shouldn’t have to face anything alone.”

           “Then why do you choose to do so yourself?”

           Dean looked away, hands fiddling with each other. “I…” He can’t lie to his angel, each untruth drying up in his mouth and turning to dust. “I don’t know. Guess I’m just… used to it. Old habits and all that…” He chuckled, the dark notes echoing in the empty room. “Maybe I’ll never learn… too broken to ever work normally.”

           “You’re not broken, Dean.”

           “I am,” he insisted, “You said it yourself – there are fractures! All in here!” Dean pointed to his head, jabbing at it. “It’s how Michael took control, how he’ll break out. There’s nothing holding my mind together but paperclips and rubber bands. And when he leaves… even that won’t work anymore.”

           He kept at his head, each harsh tap of his finger another painful reminder of his faults. Castiel grabbed at it, holding his hand, pulling it away and back towards his lap. “You misunderstand me, Dean. That’s not what I meant at all,” he explained softly, “Yes there are fractures but… they do not make you weak. Your mind is strong. In all those cracks of fear and sadness I saw thousands of happy memories filling their space. Keeping you whole, keeping you sane. The edges may have been roughed, but you managed to protect yourself from their sharpness. Your scars shone like gold; a testament to the beauty of the human spirit. It made me proud to see how well you hold yourself together, even through all the disasters you suffered through.”

           Dean kept his eyes on Castiel, his speech wrapping around his heart and filling it with warmth. Softness bloomed in him, almost like a wildflower in the spring. “You really think all that?”

           He nodded. “I know it’s scary having Michael in there, and things seem pretty bleak. But you can hold him there until we figure out another plan. And when he’s gone… you will still be here.”

           “I… I’m not sure,” Dean admitted, “I won’t give up but – but it’s hard, all alone –“

           “Then you won’t be alone, Dean,” Castiel said, “I’ll be here to help in any way. Let me show you that you don’t have to handle everything by yourself.” He squeezed Dean’s hand, and he repeated the gesture moments later.

           “Okay… but then you gotta let me do the same.”

           “Dean…”

           “No,” Dean frowned, “If we beat Michael… I want to know you’ll be here the next morning. The Empty ain’t taking you without a fight… and I can get pretty scrappy when people try taking things from me. Especially when it’s something – someone I care about.”

           Castiel laughed, his deep chuckle filling his chest like a deep lungful of fresh air. His angel agreed. “It would be awful when the moment I get to be happy, it’s all for naught.”

           “Well, the good thing about being us Cas is that we don’t get to be happy.”

           “…How is that a good thing?”

           “No, listen,” Dean continued, smiling, “It’s true. People like us don’t get happiness served up on a silver platter. We have to make it for ourselves. Had been for the… for the longest time. But whenever we tried it always seemed to just… fall apart. Knocked over like a stack of cards.” He tangled his fingers with Castiel’s, staring into his eyes. “Maybe because we kept trying alone?”

           “…What are you trying to say Dean?”

           “Say? Nothing,” Dean told him, “I’m just a man, holding back an archangel from destroying the world, asking an angel with the shadow of an ancient entity hanging over him if he’d like to work towards being happy… together?”

           “You want us to re-write our stories?” Castiel asked, “Defy fate?”

           “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

           It was a long pause before Castiel grinned; a gummy thing that made Dean’s engine run. “Of course,” he said, “I want nothing more than to be at your side.”

           “Well all right then.” Then, for a moment, Dean was unsure of what to do next. Castiel was fully occupied with Dean: stroking his hair, squeezing his hand, gazing at him as if he shone better than the brightest treasures on Heaven and Earth. It was the most comforting feeling, and Dean could not hold back the yawn that tore through him.

           “You should get some rest,” Castiel said, “It’s been a long day for you.”

           “For both of us.”

           “I don’t know what you mean?”

           “You could use some shut-eye, too?” Dean asked, hopeful, “And I… I don’t want to be alone.”

           Castiel understood. He helped Dean up, and while still holding hands, guided him to his room. Dean let Castiel take the lead, for once happy to be out of control. There wasn’t anything for him to be worried about if he let the tide pull him. He didn’t need to fight.

           Because – for the first time since he was locked away – Michael was quiet.

           Billie couldn’t catch a break. It happened while she was filling out paperwork, going over ledgers of all the people who passed that day, and building schedules for her reapers.

           Her dimension shook, as if their pocket was struck by lightning tossed down from God himself. Billie nearly fell out of her chair. In front of her, the shelves trembled from the strain. One quaked ferociously, as if it proving to be the source of the phenomena. Thankfully, everything stopped almost as soon as it began.

           Reapers flew to her, asking what had happened. She ignored them all, standing, striding over to that one bookshelf. The one marked ‘W’. The one where all the books end the same. During the event, a lone book dropped from the shelves, landing face down on the floor.

           She picked it up, leafing through its pages to make sure nothing bent. They were all still crisp, but something else made her worry. She flipped though it until she hit the end of the book. And when Billie did, she pulled out another one to do the same. Her reapers watched her do this for six more books before she stopped.

           Billie stepped back, unsure of what to do. “I… I can’t believe it…”

           “Billie?” one of her reapers asked, “What’s wrong? What did you read?”

           “…Nothing.”

           Death owned books that detailed the varying ways people would die. This had always been the case since the very first person was born, and Death sprung into existence. No one escaped Death, and the books proved it. Except, for the first time ever, the books were blank.

           Dean Winchester’s books were blank.

[ravenvsfox]

your writing is so beautiful!! if you have the time, would you maybe write something about pro!neil getting injured and physical therapist!andrew?

(sends a prayer and a kiss to the writer of this ask like 8 months ago, love you, here you go)

He hears raised voices jerking their way from the front desk down the hall to his office, a pin-sharp, balloon-popping fight. He sets his coffee down and waits for the overlapping voices to make sense, or for the dull receptionist to strip the action and hand Andrew boring, defused parts.

“I’ve run on worse, Kevin, you know I can still play, I can play better than those delicate, one-hit-and-they’re-down, red card-chasing ungracious bastards—“

“I don’t care. I don’t care if you can run on it, I care if you can destroy on it. If you think your superiority complex and masochistic streak mean anything to me you’re wrong. I need you in peak condition or I don’t need you.”

“This is temporary,” the first voice grits. “I don’t need a glorified massage therapist to show me how to stretch. The only thing that’ll make me feel better is Moriyama’s throat under my heel.”

Something hisses like water beading in a hot pan, and then, “we’ll talk later. You have an appointment.” There’s a burble of complaint and a thud, and then Kevin Day waltzes into his office, diplomatic smile singed dark with rage. His arm is outstretched behind him, and a second later he yanks another person in beside him by the collar.

Neil Josten, if Andrew’s schedule and his limited attention to the sports network are aligned. He looks sick and contrary, flushed high in the apples of his cheeks from arguing, hair wild, leg in a brace from mid-thigh to ankle.

“Here for your massage therapy?” Andrew drawls. Neil bares his teeth, Kevin drops the now-warped collar of his shirt.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with him,” Kevin says, simperingly apologetic. When he doesn’t get a swoon or a protest or anything at all from Andrew, the set of his jaw changes. “He doesn’t like doctors.”

“He’s not a doctor,” Neil says disdainfully, at the same time that Andrew says,

“He can’t run.”

“Oh, I can,” Neil says. “And I can punch too.”

Kevin sighs. Andrew sips his coffee, a long pull, and reaches for a blank chart.

“Do you typically threaten the people providing you with a service?”

“What, are you trying to be a psychologist too? Cover as many pseudo-sciences as possible?”

“I thought I was responding to a challenge,” Andrew replies. “But I’m not surprised that you start a fight and then change the subject. That’s what exy players do, right?”

Neil steps unevenly into the office, stiff with fury, and Kevin reaches for the back of his shirt and misses.

“You know what? He’s all yours,” Kevin decides, putting both hands up. “Coach can yell at me, I’m not touching this anymore.” He turns to leave, and Neil takes a wholly non-threatening hobble towards Andrew.

“You don’t know anything about exy,” Neil says, with the conviction of an athlete and the wild loyalty of a kid with his only toy.

“Don’t I,” Andrew asks tonelessly. Neil is shaking, and his cast is jittering on the floor. “I played, when I was younger. Did you practice any physical therapy?”

Neil stalls, narrow-eyed, and Andrew shrugs.

“Then I am at an advantage. Sit on the table.”

Neil darts a look at the massage table, dressed in sterile paper, and his back bows. “What position?”

“Sitting,” Andrew repeats drily.

Neil narrows his eyes. “You know exactly what I meant.”

Andrew stands up, and he watches Neil take in his height, the curl of his sleeves over his armbands, the wiggle of a scar at his temple. “Goalkeeper.”

Neil perches on the table, too quickly and casually not to have hurt. Andrew considers that this session will only proceed on trades. Truth for cooperation.

“Where?” Neil asks, thumbing at the border of the brace biting into his thigh.

“Juvie,” Andrew answers honestly. Then, “take off the brace.” Neil flinches. Andrew skirts around his bubble of personal space. “Hey,” he says, and Neil looks up sharply. “Yes or no?”

“Give me a minute,” Neil says, soft for the first time.

“Do you want to heal?” Andrew asks, and Neil looks up from the floor, the fight crawling back up into his eyes.

“What?” he asks sharply.

Andrew inclines his head and doesn’t repeat himself.

“Obviously I want to heal,” Neil says. “Would you enjoy a trashed knee undercutting your ability to do your work? I hate being trapped inside a brace. I don’t have time for people who try to help me. My leg just gets weaker and I get— I’m too slow to be of any use to anyone when I wear this. I can’t even— I hate to look at it.”

“Tell me yes or no,” Andrew says, and Neil doesn’t. He screws his eyes shut. “You cannot heal inside a brace. Your bones un-break, but your muscles atrophy. You want to heal, you want to be fixed, then you stop biting the hands that feed you.”

Neil looks at Andrew, tense, eyes hot. “I don’t want to be fed. I just want to eat.”

Something twitches and starts hurting in Andrew’s chest, something he doesn’t recognize.

“But yes,” Neil adds. The air changes. Andrew bows his head over Neil’s legs, and reaches for his thigh, which is rubber-band tense. He pulls back the velcro and padding until his hands find hot skin, hollowed and damp from the pressure of the brace.

Andrew steadies his knee, and slides the brace completely out from under his leg. He presses two fingers into the swollen seam of a scar from an incision.

“This is bad,” Andrew muses.

“Lateral collateral ligament tear,” Neil recites tonelessly.

“Grade three,” Andrew agrees. “Post-op. How?”

“An illegal fucking slide tackle,” Neil says viciously. “Just as I was about to score. He took my knee out sideways like he was aiming for it. Knowing Riko— I mean. He would kill me. Smashed bone is a party favour.”

It’s so matter-of-fact that Andrew suppresses a shiver, hard. “Have you been playing on this knee?”

“They won’t let me play,” Neil says immediately. Andrew stares, waiting. “I practice,” Neil admits. “At night.”

“Your ruining your leg,” Andrew says simply. “You push it, you walk with a limp for the rest of your life, you lock your uniform away in your hope chest.”

“Is fear-mongering a part of the therapy?”

“People don’t know how to not ruin things. I do.”

“What a hero,” Neil says meanly.

“I need to mobilize your knee joint. Your muscles are tight, here,” Andrew touches his fingers underneath his thigh, holding the place where his hamstrings are brittle and stiff. Neil jerks away.

“Just tell me what I have to do.”

“I need to show you.”

“Then show me. Do your job.”

It’s bravado made of cotton candy. It’s the saddest shield Andrew’s ever seen. He scoops Neil’s leg up into the slightest bend, and the muscle jumps under his fingers. He waits, looks up and watches Neil’s face, the sweat beading at his forehead, the way his bright hair curls loose into slitted eyes.

“Keep going,” Neil says, not looking at him. “I know you’re waiting for me to tell you that it doesn’t hurt but it’s always going to hurt. Keep going.”

Andrew does, pressing his thumbs into the muscle that feels more like wood, just barely supple enough to bend. He goes for the pressure points, kneading until Neil’s knee twitches downwards, relaxing.

“The person who did this,” Andrew starts, guiding Neil’s leg by the foot until it bends, quivering.

“Riko,” Neil supplies, dark and distracted.

“Was he held accountable?”

Neil’s mouth quirks, and Andrew wonders if he knows that his knee already has a better range of motion then the first weak movements he gave Andrew. “Why? You going to hit him for me?”

“I’ll send him the bill,” Andrew says simply.

Neil laughs a little, surprised, and Andrew’s hand pauses on Neil’s calf.

“Are you serious?”

Andrew gives him a look. “People like him shouldn’t be allowed to walk away clean. I’d cut him off at the legs if I could.”

Neil flinches upright, and grabs for the spot where Andrew’s hands are holstering the front of his knee and squeezing. “You just met me,” Neil says, incredulous. “No one would want to avenge me if they knew me.”

“I don’t care about you,” Andrew says, but the words feel stuffy, like the lies he never tells. “Riko sounds like he needs to be stabbed.”

Neil looks at him closely, their hands side by side, checkers on Neil’s chalky leg. “Yeah,” Neil says slowly. More quietly, he says, “thanks.”

_____

He comes in again, this time with his fingers taped and the cuffs of his shorts rolled up.

Andrew sees his name on his schedule and stares. He thinks of the exercises he’d shown Neil, with his hands on his inner thighs and pockets full of yeses. Neil had gotten Andrew to look up articles on the Moriyamas for context as he watched from the table, held up on his elbows. He’d been so guarded and flaming at once.

Andrew had gone home and flipped through the first eight pages of thirty thousand hits about Neil Josten on google. He’d watched his interviews and held his own forehead. He’d lingered on fan-taken photos of Neil slouching into the court in a t-shirt, damp-haired and collared, flipping the camera off. He’d jerked off to the memory of Neil lying back and saying do whatever you want, his knee propped.

He limps into the office, and Andrew looks at his haggard face and the curve of his light eyes and thinks: what the fuck am I doing?

“No one forced you through the door,” Andrew observes.

Neil rolls his eyes, hopping up on the table immediately. “I got tired of healing on my own.”

“You’re bad at it,” Andrew agrees, nodding to Neil’s broken fingers.

Neil runs a considering thumb over the tape and shrugs. “It’s exy. Things break.”

“You were playing,” Andrew asks flatly, and Neil almost smiles.

“Wheelchair exy. Fucks up practice. Kevin hates it.”

“Good,” Andrew says without thinking. He reaches for Neil’s cast and stops until he gets a nod.

The whole process of unstrapping and handling and diagnosing and moving is faster this time. Andrew can see a ribbon of trust in Neil’s eyes and he pulls on it, not understanding how it got there.

“Turn onto your stomach?”

Neil freezes up and says, “do I have to?” in an airtight voice, lined with fear and memory.

Andrew unhesitatingly says ‘no, and they continue on, something fundamentally different breathed into them with Neil’s relieved sigh.

“Movement is better,” Andrew tells him, watching him try to bear weight on his right side.

“I’ve been training every day,” Neil says stiffly. “It better be.”

Andrew scribbles down a few recommended exercises. “You probably don’t need to come in again.” He can feel Neil going restless beside him and he looks up, already irritable. Their eyes meet right away, plug in socket, and Andrew startles a little bit, just the cast shadow of a reaction. “What?”

“Why don’t you play exy anymore?” Neil asks suddenly, and Andrew shifts, surprised again.

“I didn’t need it anymore.”

Neil shakes his head, maybe subconsciously. “I don’t get— I can’t just stop needing things.”

“You can,” Andrew says, eyes fixed on the wall over Neil’s head. “People heal and die and get out of juvie. You’ll walk on your own.”

“That’s really poetic, Andrew,” Neil says sarcastically, and then he yanks Andrew close enough to kiss, and they breathe for a keening second before Andrew closes the gap.

It’s inappropriate, the way Neil’s cast is open around his leg like the shed casings of a butterfly, and Andrew is spreading him back on the table and holding his hands down, kissing him with the door open. He’s an authority figure, Neil really can’t run away. 

His brow creases. Neil sighs and twists his fingers into themselves like he’s stretching just right, and Andrew pulls back.

He wipes his mouth, and Neil doesn’t move. His chest is rising and falling so quickly.

“You’re in my care,” Andrew says, voice thin. “I am not doing this with you right now.”

“I’m not coming back here,” Neil reminds him. He reaches out with his thin, damaged leg, and nudges Andrew’s thigh.

“Good,” Andrew says, angry at Neil, furious at himself.

“And I don’t think you’re that concerned with the conventions of your workplace,” Neil adds. “Come to my next game?”

Andrew feels a bubble of something struggling to get up his windpipe. Something nuclear is inside, he’s sure of it. He’s just waiting for the meltdown. “So I can watch your next injury happen in person?”

“Maybe,” Neil says, his smile small but sharp. “Maybe I’ll slip and break a raven’s neck. Maybe you’ll get to see Kevin’s end of game ritual of downing a 2-6 of vodka and falling down. Lots of broken bones for you to fix.”

“I’ll go,” Andrew finds himself saying.

Neil’s shoulders relax. “Good,” he says quietly. “I want to see you again.”

“You really do not know me.” His skin hurts. He wants this. He wants something.

“No,” Neil agrees. There is no fantasy in his face. He doesn’t look blind or hungry. He looks like a liar with his first newborn truth in his hands, and he’s fat-fingered and blinking and laughing. “Not yet.”

[aliceinthewritingrepublic]

The Spiral on the Edge - I

Story Title: The Spiral on the Edge

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/Reader

Rating: MA

Story Tag: tsote

-

When you see an attractive stranger while partying, you decide that it has been too long since you've had an adventure. The exact terms of your loose liaison are soon put to the test.

-

Word Count: 1946

The beat bled into you, consuming, ravishing you. The music was loud, louder than you would have been able to stand it in any other situation, but it was exactly what you needed right in that moment. Flashing lights, darkness, whiteness, darkness again, the faces around you only visible for split seconds at a time, too short for you to really piece them together. There was a nose, straight but nothing to lose words over otherwise. Blackness. A smirk showing off white teeth. Blackness, again. Little puzzle pieces, slowly forming a complete picture in your head. Light hair that might have been either white or light blond. A clean-shaven, strong jaw. And finally: the most intense red eyes you had ever seen, pinning you in place and then pulling you in like gravity.

You had come to the club tonight with your friends, but like always, as the night had gone on, you had taken off on your own to jump into the fray and dance until you forgot your own name. You supposed that you had been doing this for too long, had started your excessive partying habit too young. Now that you were in your mid-twenties, perhaps you should have been exhausted by the never-ending late nights. But that was not the case. Like every weekend, you once again found yourself here, spending money you did not have on drinks you did not need and then dancing the night away with alternating strangers that were never able to keep up with your stamina.

Something was different about tonight. He was different. It was not a secret what the men dancing with you – or rather at you, you supposed – wanted from you. Even those few of them that actually raised your attention never managed to retain it for long. Eventually, they would always realize that they could not keep up with you and that you had little to no intention of going home with them.

But this one – he had been on the dance floor for almost as long as you had, the two of you slowly drifting closer to each other as one song faded into the next. And then it could no longer be said that you were simply dancing near each other. You were dancing with each other, and then even that was not a good description anymore when there was hardly any space left between your bodies.

The deejay threw in another heavy techno number, and you were moving your hips in small, yet unforgiving movements, and you swore his irises were becoming ever smaller with each time the short bursts of light let you see him.

You wanted to touch this attractive stranger. There was a longing pulling at your better reasoning from somewhere deep inside. It had been too long since you had had an adventure.

When you recognized the next song that came on, you decided that this could not have been mere coincidence. This must have been a sign from the universe to go ahead with your less-than-appropriate plans. Why else would you be given the chance to finally reach your arms up around his neck, making first contact, and looking deep into his fascinating eyes as you mouthed the lyrics along with the speakers?

You just need to fuck me right, I guess I ain’t the loving kind…

Maybe you should have been blushing at the sheer vulgarity of it, but you were not. His mouth opened for a moment as if he were not sure whether you were being serious or not. Then it closed again – it was not like you would have been able to hear anything he said over the noise anyways.

You decided that you had made your move and that the ball was now in his court. In an attempt to let him know you had meant what you said, you let go of him, raised a suggestive eyebrow at him as you bit the tip of your tongue and then shrugged, turning away and leaving the dance floor.

The hallway you were headed for was darker than the main floor had been. It went off next to the bar, connecting the main room of the club to a small outside area. Although there were no actual doors separating it from the main event, the music seemed more subdued with every step you took away from it. Soon, all you were able to hear was the bass line, and to be truthful, you could feel rather than hear it.

It was colder out here as well, and it suddenly hit you how exhausted you were. What time was it? Maybe three am, four am, if you had been forced to guess. You must have been dancing for hours. Still, you were pulled taut like a rubber band on the inside and excited to see whether your ploy was going to get you company – preferably in the form of a handsome, red-eyed man.

Just when you were about to give up hope, said man appeared in the hallway, gait looking steadier than your own had felt. You had had a few drinks earlier, but you felt as if you had sweated out all of the alcohol through dancing by now.

Now was the time to say something witty, you thought. But nothing would come to mind – your brand of flirting had never been flirting at all, but rather brutal honesty, which seemed to intrigue most guys. You had been honest on the dancefloor. All you could do now was to repeat yourself, if anything.

He was standing before you now, half a head taller than you and looking positively delicious with his unruly hair (a blonde – you had been right) and expressionless face (except for his eyes, which were liquid fire).

He appeared to welcome the fact that you were standing with your back against the wall already. That way, it was not difficult for him to trap you between both of his arms as he leaned in close enough for your breaths to mingle. His breath smelled of tonic water and spices. Your mouth was watering and you had to swallow before you could speak. “I’m [Name],” you declared, deciding that the faster this exchange was over, the faster you could get on with the good part.

“Bakugou,” he growled in reply, and then he was kissing you senseless.

He tasted exactly as good as he smelled. The excitement of kissing a complete stranger clouded your mind – briefly, you wondered whether you had ever kissed anyone you had known less about than him. Not that you could recall, but then, thinking was becoming difficult as you faded into him. His tongue invaded your mouth, massaging your own with expert skill, claiming you. Your fingers found purchase in his sweat-soaked hair as you moaned into his mouth. His mouth soon left yours, giving you the freedom to whisper his name like it was the only prayer you knew while he made his way down your jaw and to your throat. Nipping and biting at your skin, sparks of arousal and slight pain sending mixed messages to your brain and leaving your head reeling. He was intense as a whole, intensely attractive and intensely eager.

When he let go of you and reached for your wrist, urging you to go along with him, you were expecting him to pull you to the exit of the club. You were ready and willing to go with him.

Instead, he pulled you into the other direction, towards the small outside area contained on four sides by the club building. It was cramped with several sets of wicker sofas and chairs that people could sit on when they wanted to have a smoke or simply get away from the commotion for a little while.

There must have been people around, but if anyone had asked you about it later, you could not have given them an estimate of how many. The entirety of your attention was focused on him. His hand was still clasping your wrist, holding onto you tightly, yet not tightly enough to cause you pain. You could not say that you minded the assertiveness.

He sat down on one of the wicker sofas, pulling you down along with him. Instead of pulling you into his lap, however, he had simply pulled you into a sitting position next to him. You decided that this could not stand. So you pulled up your feet and draped your legs across his lap, wrapping yourself around him as well as was possible in this position. He welcomed you, wrapping an arm around your back securely and meeting you halfway when you kissed him. Your arms made their way around his neck without a conscious decision to do so on your part.

You were no longer breathing air – you were breathing him, and he was more satisfying a source of energy than oxygen had ever been.

Time was no longer a useful dimension while the two of you consumed each other, at times kissing, at times leaving marks on any exposed plain of skin available. He was electric, and perfect, and everything you had not known you had needed until right then.

Eventually, however, the spell was broken when someone cleared their throat loudly behind you. The insistence in the sound made it likely that it had not been the first time this person had tried to be noticed, but rather that you simply had not heard the other time(s).

With distaste, you broke away from Bakugou. His lips were deep red and swollen from the continued attention you had given them. A good look for him. Then, you raised an eyebrow and turned around.

You found two young guys standing there, looking at lot more embarrassed by the situation at hand than either you or the guy whose lap you were draped across. One of them had surprisingly spiky red hair, while the other was a yellow-blonde.

“What the fuck do you want?” asked Bakugou, a surly frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. (His kiss-red, swollen, perfect mouth.)

“Uhm,” mumbled the redhead, grinning, yet scratching at the back of his neck bashfully. “The club’s closing soon, and we’re leaving, and since, you know, we live together…”

It was then that you decided to get a better look at Bakugou as a whole, now that you had the outside lighting fixtures available. Very attractive, indeed. But he also looked younger than you had expected. Younger than it had felt when he had had you pinned against a wall with his large, if lean frame. Definitely younger than you.

He did not seem entirely sure what to do about the situation.

You helped him then by turning so you were properly sitting on the sofa. Then, you stood up, fixing your skirt that had become rumpled due to obvious reasons. Then you made eye-contact with each of them for a short moment, lingering longer on Bakugou than on the other two. You finally nodded at him, the gesture marking the end of something.

“See you around.”

While you were walking inside and away from them, you absentmindedly reached up and ran your thumb along your lower lip. It was a little sore from the abuse. It had been a few years at least since you had last had an hours-long make-out session – you were not a teenager anymore, after all.

If things had gone your way, your story would not have ended there.

But you were not going to walk home with a guy and his roommates like a duckling following its mother. You were not that desperate.

[szopenhauer]

Have you ever worn those Drunk Goggles? never

Which decade before the 90s had the best makeup trends? I don’t know enough about make up to say

Can you agree to disagree, or usually get upset over conflicting views? get upset

Does it bug you when long socks are constantly falling down? when it slips inside my boot omg

Rodeos – entertaining, or cruel? cruel

Do you care what kind of toilet paper you use? nah

What color of roses do you find the prettiest? herbaciane

Which celebrity has the cutest butt? Abbi Jacobson

After a holiday, do you go to the store to get candy on sale? nope

Did Marilyn Monroe look better before or after cosmetic surgery? I don’t see a big difference

Bullfighters who get gored kind of had it coming, right? absolutely

Have you ever accidentally found porn when looking for something else? obvi

Do you draw fanart of anything? nope, just my OCs

What things have people shamed you for? sigh...

What device do you seem to always be buying batteries for? the only thing I ever buy batteries for are camera and flashlight

Are there any 'adult stores’ in your area? you mean sex shops? nah

Have you been inside of them/shopped there before? no

Do you watch The Masked Singer?  just fragments

Favorite Alfred Hitchcock film? I’m not a fan of Aflred Hitchcock, I saw Birds only

Do you like Funko Pop figurines? meh

If so, do you have any? Which ones would you like to have? I don’t own nor want any

Which ones do you think they should make (but haven’t yet)? I don’t care

Have you ordered anything online today? I haven’t

Commonly asked question, but what was the last song you listened to? I listened to Momomoyouth’s songs 

Are your hands warm or cold at the moment? warm

Do you own a teddy bear? Who gave it to you? plenty

Have you had any songs stuck in your head today? sure

Have you ever worn blue mascara? in middle school from what I remember

When you feel low, what is guaranteed to lift your mood? there’s no guarantee

Do you have any flowers in your garden?  lots

Is there anyone from your past that you think about, from time to time? of course

What’s the weather been like today? cold

Did you change into other clothes after you got home? because of covid

What were some positive things about today? spending time with dad, getting a new hoodie, joking with my gf...

What were some negative things about today? some food issues, health issues, people related issues...

Rate today on a scale of 1-10. I don’t like rating things this way

I am presuming you are female, am I correct? you are

What month did you come into the world in? February

How easily scared are you? How easily shocked are you? I’m easily grossed out and anxious/worried/paranoid/overthinking etc.

You like the colour blue, don’t you? wouldn’t say so

What makes you irritated? shitload of stuff

Is it morning, afternoon, evening or night? night already

Is it sunny, cloudy, rainy or stormy? dark XD

Would you like to be able to learn how to control a submarine? what for?

From 1-10, how would you rate your cooking skills? 0

Do you notice the heat or the cold more? cold because I hate it, heat I sometimes don’t notice until I get burned :x

What hurts more scratches or bites? bites like a mosquito or dog?...

Do you prefer rabbits to mice? I prefer mice

Are you a sarcastic person? me? sarcastic? are you kidding? :P

Do you see the world in black and white, shades of gray or all colours? shades of grey

Noise or no noise when sleeping? noise until I fall asleep then no noise

Lights on or off when sleeping? lights on until I fall asleep then light off

When was the last time you did clay work/pottery? in middle school

If you had to choose would you prefer dull pain for 12hours or sharp for 2? dull pain, sharp pain would stress me out

Koala or Kangaroo? koala

Would you rather be a Model, Famous Scientist, Singer or Chef? scientist or singer, definitely not chef

Would you rather be a pilot, crime scene investigator or estate agent? crime scene investigator or estate agent I think Does making others happy really make you feel happy? yup

Did you ever swear at a teacher in school? Why? noooo

Have you ever wrote your own short story? bunch

What about a novel? Or herhaps you started and couldn’t finish? finished and published, started another 

Would you rather have a big house, a lot of kids or a high flying job? I don’t need my house to be big, career or kids to be happy

Would you like twins? heck no

Do you know any twins? If so, what are they called? used to, personal

If you were given the choice to choose your childs gender, would you? if I wanted a kid then only a girl so...

Does the sound of knocking/tapping startle you? might 

When was the last time you were in hospital? What for [if comfy saying]? but ER or stayed?

When was the last time you went to the dentist? last week

Are you happy with your social life? I’m fine without one

Are there a lot of graffiti around your neighbourhood? no What kinds of stuff do you have on your keychain? besides key I have a tiny house and a poop emoji Have you ever made something with your own hands that you’re proud of? more than one thing :3 Girls, do you ever just say “Fuck it!” and go without a bra? often Have you ever had a restaurant dish that was made with bugs? wtf, disgusting!

Do you ever compare your life to somebody else’s? If so, why? I don’t wanna talk or think about it right now Have you ever had a custom print done on a shirt? If so, what was it? I wish

What’s your highest level of education so far? 2 szkoły policealne Would you ever have a UV tattoo? nah Do you work better alone or in a group? dunno

Have you ever had a boyfriend/girlfriend who was depressed? yep

Would you be able to climb out your bedroom window to sneak out? not without breaking bones 

Would you be embarrassed to buy pads/tampons/condoms? Which one more? condoms If a stranger went in your bedroom, would they be able to tell what gender you are from just looking at it? stereotypically because of plushies

If you were in a car accident would the last person you kissed care? she would

If you were looking for a new pair of shoes where would you go? depends

How much was the last pair of shoes you bought? 25 PLN

Would you be surprised if you saw the last person you texted smoking? :o

Does the smell of cigarettes and beer repulse you? both, yeah

Do you like sitting on the inside or outside of a restaurant booth? outside

Do you own a nightgown? I don’t think so

Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone? a little

Have you ever had sex or something like it? or smth like it lmfao 

In a hotel do you always nose through all the drawers and cupboards? from what I remember

Do you always wear your seat belt? I do

Have you ever started to laugh but played it off as a cough successfully? maybe

Have you ever liked the lyrics of a band but hated the music? yeah and the other way around too

Does your bathroom have a window? small

Do you go somewhere to get your eyebrows done? I don’t do my eyebrows anyhow

When you were younger did you read the A Series Of Unfortunate Events books? loved it <3  want to collect it whole one day

Do you believe prayer really works? sigh...

Have you been on a date in the park? yup

Are there any diseases/health problems that run in your family? could say so

Do you have asthma? it seems

Have you ever had an embarrassing email address? sort of

Do you put shampoo in your left or right hand? ... left? Do you have a bull ring through your nose? I don’t have a septum

Do you and your dad get along? we’re best friends :)

Can you see your purse right now? several

When you get colds, do you use nasal spray to help get your nose unstuffy? nah

Do you actually like sneezing? nooo

Have you taken a shower yet today? not yet and my mom will get mad that I’m not asleep yet in 1... 2... 3...

Do you like hoodies? I do

Big ones or the form fitting kind? oversized

Do you wear polo shirts a lot? I don’t wear polo shirts 

Did you ever actually have a rubber duck? I do

Are you one of those people who claim to live with no regrets? I have many regrets

Do you love your computer? I hate this shit!

Do you basically like all of your clothes? most of them

Do you shop mostly with your parents, your friends, or by yourself? by myself or dad mostly

Do you know anyone inside and out? it’s not possible

Have you learned anything depressing lately? I have Do you worry a lot, or are you pretty much carefree? worry 24/7 What kind of camera do you have? cellphone, Benq and some old tiny thingy I lend for my mom and she hidden it somewhere and now she can’t find it lol Was today good or bad, or has it just started? it was a neutral day, there were good and bad moments, mostly bad or neutral  What is something you know you shouldn’t do, but do anyways? I don’t know anything for sure Ever broke something really expensive? luckily not Is photography one of your interests? kind of Have you ever hurt yourself just to get attention? sigh... Do you write ever write poetry just to get your feelings out? rarely What is a sad song that you like? I like a lot of sad songs

Last time you drank water? should do that now

Do you own any platform shoes? not currently, I miss my black platforms, it’s been almost 10 years 

Are you adopted? am not Do you like scrapbooking? a bit Do you collect anything valuable? valuable to me Have you ever had a cat meow at you for 20 minutes straight? not that long Do you own a lava lamp? nope Do you know anyone with an bulimia or anorexia? used to Have you ever thought about stepping in front of a car? jumping in front of the car Have you ever laid down in the middle of the street? no When was the last time you used a public bathroom? noon When was the last time you went to the zoo? zoo or petting zoo counts too?

Who do you plan on having wheel chair races with when you grow older? I'll die before getting old Have you ever woken up and realized that yesterday really happened? yeah... Do you know anyone without a middle name? me and not only How much did your latest sunglasses cost? 3 PLN Are you talking on the phone right now? I’m not

[pricklybluespruce]

Gypsy

I’m in the phone booth, fresh out of detention and trying to reach my mother, when he shows up at the door. All I permit myself to see is his briefcase, resting between his scuffed loafers, but I know all about the tidy beard and rubber band lips, about the narrow and unrelenting eyes. This isn’t the first time—the last time, in the library, he brushed against me and whispered that he liked my long hair—and I know I can’t be the only one. His classroom, where he writes the date in yellow caps every morning on the chalkboard, is at the other end of the hall. After getting the answering machine, and with no more quarters, I quietly hang up the phone. I have no choice but to join him in the hallway, and there’s no one else around.

When, reluctantly, I emerge from the phone booth, he starts in right away. Was I calling for a ride, he wants to know, because, you know, it would be no trouble. So of course I have to come up with some lie, something that will just get him to go the fuck away, but I can’t think of anything. Aimlessly, I start walking toward the office, where I know, even though school ended almost an hour ago, there will surely be some other grown-ups, as he tells he me how much he likes my skirt. “You remind me of a gypsy,” he says, lightly touching my hem, “so artsy and cool and sexy.” And, in spite of myself, in spite of everything, I laugh.

Finally, I think of a plausible lie—that my mother is meeting me in the office—and he retreats. I have no actual plan, only a vague prayer that I’ll eventually reach the office and my mother, as my heart implores me to run, to go faster, but also to turn back, to chase him, to kick him forever and ever in the balls.