#their customer service was phenomenal
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Can I please see *just* the results for what is actually physically available in the store when I filter search results for “in stock and available in store” and the specific location
I do not care about out of stock items. I do not care about online exclusives. I need to know if there is anything at all worth driving 30km out of town for but your stupid fucking filters don’t filter
#I really need summer shoes#I wore flip flops today and god they suck#it was barely an hour#but it’s too hot for sneakers that are falling apart#and the only other shoes I have are fall/winter ankle boots#I wish I could afford to go to the store I got my winter boots at#their customer service was phenomenal#but winter boots are an investment and I couldn’t skimp#I just need closed toe slip-ons but apparently there aren’t enough big foot femmes to warrant stocking 10W shoes that aren’t orthopaedic#I know I’ve given this rant before but it really should not be THIS difficult to find a pair of non-sneakers that fit#I miss Payless
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NO WHY DOES MY ART HAVE TO HAVE SYMBOLISM IN THERAPY
#rayn's flat#so i like to make masks right? it's a fun time#itches the brain just right#anyway. i was talking about how I'm PHENOMENAL at customer service jobs#i just find them exhausting#and he was like. hm. you wanna. maybe. elaborate on that?#a smidge? smidgen? ittiest bit?
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Safe. (Part Three)
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem. Reader x Lee Minho
Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.
Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only.
Chapter WC: 5.5k
Read Part One and Part Two here.
~ PART THREE ~
“Okay, let’s look at the options,” Christopher starts hanging dress bags around the room. “I think this red would look really great with-,”
“No,” you say quickly. You would rather give blood until you pass out than play dress up for a night out that you’re dreading.
“Oh-kay,” he blinks, then goes over to unzip the next bag, “This one is a lavender number, and I know it’s not Spring, but hear me out-,”
“No.”
Christopher looks like his eye is about to start twitching and his lips move into a tight line, “Did you maybe have something in mind?”
“Is there a black option?” you ask. Black feels appropriate.
“Black option,” he claps his hands together and looks around at his bags, “Of course there’s a black option, there’s always a black option.” He runs across the room and unzips another bag, pulling out the skirt of a black satin gown with a slit that makes you blush from where you sit but you said black - and if you refuse this one, Chris might actually strangle you with the straps of a high heel.
When you emerge from the closet Christophers eyes widen, “Holy shit,” he says.
“Don’t start,” you roll your eyes, then turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror. You do have to admit that it fits perfectly, it looks as if it was custom made just for you. The slit in the front is dangerously high, and the neckline is dangerously low - it’s a dangerous dress, you think. Which feels even more appropriate for the evening, you want to be dangerous.
“You look…phenomenal actually,” Chris smiles.
“Thanks,” you blush.
“I don’t do hair and makeup, but Jisoo will be here around 5pm to doll you up, she works at the salon Minhos wife used to own, she’s very good,” Christopher says, lining up some shoe options.
Your eyes widen and the very breath in your lungs seems to deflate, “Minho has a wife?”
Chris pauses for a moment and looks around the room as if you aren’t completely alone in the house. “He used to, she died - she was killed by one of Kims men when she was out visiting a friend. They saw the SUV and thought it was Minho.”
“Fuck,” you cover your mouth with your hand, “I didn’t know that.”
“Well you wouldn’t, it happened three years ago, and he never talks about it anymore. He was a complete mess for a long time, barely spoke, didn’t seem to give a fuck about the job anymore, none of us were sure if he was ever going to come around, a lot of the guards left and ran off to Kim of all fucking people. The ones who stayed were well rewarded when he finally started to put himself back together, but he doesn’t talk about it, he’s never been the same,” he shares.
Could that be why he reacted to your rejection the way he did? Is there actually some vulnerable piece inside him that hurts? You think about this long after Christopher is gone, and while Jisoo the stranger does your hair and makeup. You try to laugh at her jokes, carry on a normal conversation with the first female you’ve interacted with in months, but still, you can’t stop yourself from picturing a grieving Minho, his heart slowly turning to cold stone, uncaring - and for the first time since you’ve known him, you feel sorry for him, and you care about him.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
From inside the car that’s dropping you off you see Minho, Seungmin and Hyunjin waiting in front of the Casino for you. Your stomach drops, and a mixture of excitement and dread overwhelm you.
The car stops and Minho opens the door and offers you his hand as you get out, you try to keep it still so no one sees how shaky and nervous you are.
“My God,” he looks you up and down, “You are stunning,” Minho traces your jawline with the tip of his finger.
You shake your head, “Chris brought really beautiful dresses and Jisoo-,”
“Nuh-uh,” Minho argues, “This is all you love, and you look amazing,” he smiles and offers you his arm. You take it, briefly making eye contact with Hyunjin, who isn’t even trying to hide the fact he’s staring at you. You clear your throat and brush imaginary wrinkles out of the satin.
“You look pretty,” Seungmin says, looking anywhere but at you.
Your eyes widen, “Sorry…is there an insult coming or did you actually just compliment me?”
Seungmins eyes narrow, “Don’t push it…shut up,” he sneers before hurriedly skulking off into the casino.
You’ve seen Minho’s Mirroh Casino lit up like a Christmas Tree towering over buildings on the edge of downtown for years - though you had no idea it belonged to him of course until you met him several months ago. You’d never stepped foot inside, in your previous life you didn’t really have the time nor the money to be spending evenings in a high end Casino. Then, after you started working for him, your nights were spent bandaging wounds, taking inventory of items, and anticipating the next injury - the thought of going out so far from your mind that it never even occurred to you.
You keep mostly quiet as Minho walks you around, introducing you to people you’ve never seen, will probably never see again. You alternate between being awestruck at the extravagance of the place, politely making conversation with him and his associates, and pretending like you aren’t thinking about his tragically dead wife. You wish you could ask him if he’s okay, give him a hug - just do something.
“Can you find something to keep yourself occupied, love? I need to have a private conversation with Mr. Jung for a few moments, play anything you’d like, I have you covered Kitten,” he rubs a gentle circle on your back and kisses your temple before departing towards a set of stairs.
You’re not a gambler, and you’re about as skilled at Casino games as you are with open heart surgery. Which is to say, not at all. You stand in the middle of the giant space trying to decide, but probably just looking like an idiot.
“You look lost,” Hyunjins voice comes up behind and you and you spin around, happy to have someone to talk to so you don’t look so clueless.
“This isn’t really my scene,” you chuckle, fidgeting with your hands.
“I didn’t want to comment on it before, but, when you got out of that car you took my breath away,” he smiles, “I’ve never seen someone look so beautiful,” he whispers.
You look at him, “Be careful, I’ve been glued to Minho all night and I don’t need anyone in here reporting to him that the second his back is turned I’m falling all over you,” you warn him.
“You’re probably right, but I’ve got a slew of new ideas for sketches, this dress should be illegal,” he grins.
“Hyunjin,” your voice is a warning, you lower your voice, “I’ve been thinking about what happened the other night, the kiss,” you say quietly.
“And?”
“I feel safe with you,” you tell him honestly, “you’re the first person I’ve come across since starting all this that I’m not afraid of, that makes me smile, when you walk into view all my tension relaxes, and I know as long as you’re there everything will be okay. That’s how you make me feel. All I want is for you to wrap your arms around me and hold me and just exist in that feeling.”
“Why do I feel a but coming?” he sighs, pretending to be interested in a coin machine.
“But…I can’t just waltz up to Minho and tell him I can’t be his plus one, and that I can’t continue,” you scoff, trying to think of a word that described your relationship, “Can’t continue whatever the fuck he and I are doing, because I have feelings for you. Can you imagine how that will turn out?”
“I get that,” Hyunjin nods, “but I want you to know that I care about you deeply, I’m enamored with you, I think about you all the time, and I’m fine just being grateful for every second alone I might get with you. I don’t care if I have to keep it to myself, I keep so much shit a secret that it’s just my normal state of mind at this point, I can keep you a secret.”
You stare at him, wishing you could throw your arms around him and kiss him, thank him for being such a light in the shadows for you, and apologize for taking so long to see him, and for not being able to take his hand in yours this very moment.
“Blackjack,” he says, nodding over to a nearby table.
“Pardon?”
“Go play blackjack, it’s easy, and even if you bust every time Minho will take care of it. It’ll give you something to do, I’ve got to get back to my post, but I didn’t want the night to go by without me telling you how beautiful you look, or how I feel,” he smiles, “Have fun tonight, beautiful.”
You watch him go before deciding to take his advice and sit down at the Blackjack table.
To your utter shock you win four games in a row, and you find that you actually might be having a good time.
“Evening,” a deep voice greets as a tall man takes a seat beside you.
“Good evening,” you respond.
“Good fortune at this table I hope? ‘Cause I’ve been getting slammed,” he jokes and you smile.
“So far so good,” you laugh, “but I’m sure my luck is overdue to run out any minute.”
“Ah, that’s the thing about luck, it’s fleeting,” he says seriously, his tone makes you uncomfortable. “Especially when you’re friends with Lee Minho,” he adds in a lower cadence.
At this you look at him out of the corner of your eye but say nothing, you’ll play out the hand then leave.
“I will say that it’s nice to see him out and about with someone, we all figured he’d get tired of the blowjobs from Han Jisungs adorable little mouth at some point,” he chuckles darkly, and you nearly gasp at his audacity. “I have to say, you’re an absolute vision, how much is he paying you for the evening?”
“I’m not being paid to be here you asshole,” you spit, “and you are playing a very dangerous game,” you warn. When the dealer flips her cards you’ve lost, and you get up from the table.
“Sit down, ___, we’re just having a chat,” he motions you with his fingers and something in his voice sounds so incredibly dangerous that you’re afraid to defy him.
“How do you know my name?”
“I know everything about everyone,” the man grins, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke in your face, you fan it away and look at your cards, “I know your name. I know that until four months ago you were working your ass off at the Anam Hospital until you found Lee bleeding in the parking lot, refusing to go into the emergency room, and you broke every rule in your precious book while you stole medical supplies and treated him in a van in the lot.”
“Then I guess you already knew I wasn’t a paid escort, so either you’re just a fucking loser trying to insult me or you got a point to make with all this precious info - so make it,” you bite back.
The man chuckles and takes another puff, “I like you. Know why? You got a mouth on you, despite being so fucking scared all the time - don’t deny it,” he shoots you a look when you start to argue, “You’re scared to death of what your life has become, I can smell the fear on you, but that mouth of yours doesn’t know when to quit huh?”
“Must be the nurse in me,” you spit, “Do you want something? You got a rash or a burning sensation you need treated? Otherwise I’d like to go do literally anything else than sit here next to you.”
“Don’t worry, I need to get back to my own date over there,” he points and you follow the line to see a pretty woman staring at him from across the room looking like she wants to leave, same, you think.
“Then go,” you tell him.
“I just want to know one thing,” he asks, throwing his cards down as he stands up, “Do you love each other?
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“What do you care?” you demand instead of answering the ridiculous question.
He smiles and snubs his cigarette out, “So that’s a no,” he laughs, “Good. I won’t feel so bad then,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering off with a shit eating grin.
“Who are you?”
The man just laughs and without looking back says, “I’ll be seeing you.”
You watch as he approaches his pretty date and kisses her, then leads her toward the exit. You have zero time to think about the insane conversation before you feel someone's hand come down on your arm.
“Get up,” Hyunjins voice is low and nervous.
“Oh - okay? What-,”
“You were just speaking to Kim fucking Taehyung,” Hyunjin spits.
“That was him? Oh shit…I didn’t know, Hyunjin I didn’t…”
“Did you tell him anything that he can use against us?” Hyunjin asks urgently.
“No! I barely said anything, he was just an asshole, I didn’t say anything!”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Hyunjin shakes his head.
“Is Minho angry with me?” you’re scared again, and Kim Taehyungs voice echoes in your head - can everyone smell how scared you are all the time?
“I don’t know,” Hyunjin stops you in front of two giant mahogany doors that presumably lead into Minhos private office. “Go on. It’ll all be okay.”
You slide through the door Hyunjin opens for you and feel it shut with a heavy thud. Minho is alone, pouring two drinks and bringing them over to a lavish sitting area. You stay frozen to the spot, unsure of what’s to come.
“Well, sit down,” he gestures to the sofa and you slowly make your way over, gently setting yourself on the cushion, unable to find any comfortable position.
Minho hands you one of the glasses of amber liquid and you’re happy to have something to do with your hands.
“Hyunjin told you who you were just speaking with?” he asks, sipping his own glass.
You nod, “He said it was Kim Taehyung, but Minho you must believe me when I tell you that I had no idea who that man was, and all he did was insult me, insult you, then walk away, I told him nothing.”
“I know,” he shrugs. “You don’t think I have microphones at every table in this building?”
“So…you’re not upset with me?” your voice sounds so small in the gigantic space.
Minho’s face scrunches up, “I really fucked with your head the other day, didn’t I?” he sighs, “No, ___, I’m not upset with you.”
You visibly relax with relief and take a long sip of scotch, though typically you can’t stand the stuff.
“Kim Taehyung and I have an exceptionally brutal, bloody history,” Minho explains, and you remember Christophers story about his wife being killed by Kims men. “We go through wanes and waxes of feuds, the fact that he had the audacity to walk into my Casino tonight tells me we’re about to march into another period of fighting for territory in the city, but I’m no longer interested in trying to negotiate or spill the blood of our guys - this time I’m going to kill him, or be killed, but I swear to God, it will end with one of us dead,” he says so coldly, so resolutely that it sends chills down your spine.
“Minho…” you say his name, a sadness on it that you can’t quite explain.
He looks at you from over his glass, that dark, wild danger seeping from somewhere deep in his eyes. It’s terrifying, but it’s also intoxicating. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you find yourself scooting across the couch, capturing the side of his face with your palm. You kind of hate that it makes you happy when he seems to melt into your hand.
He sets his glass down and pulls you onto him, his lips coming down on yours, hands tightly gripping your hips.
“Have I told you how delectable you look tonight?” he whispers, bunching the fabric of your dress up until you’re exposed from the waist down.
“You might have,” you smile at him, brushing your fingers through his dark hair, giving the ends a little tug.
He groans then lifts you up momentarily before dropping you roughly onto your back on the sofa. You watch as he towers over you, loosening his tie with one hand and downing the rest of his drink with the other before tossing the glass to some unseen place.
“Good enough to eat,” he licks his lips and stares down at you in a way that sets your whole body ablaze. You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you watch him lower his mouth between your legs. He doesn’t waste time teasing or playing, he just moves the ridiculous, pointless thong you wore to the side and wraps his lips around your clit.
You gasp, your fingers flying to his hair. You pant and try to stay quiet as he sucks and licks, the thought of a Casino full of people below seems to only fuel how hot the situation is.
“Please…Minho…”
“Want me to stop Kitten?” he smiles, wiping the wetness from his lips and chin.
“No,” you shake your head back and forth frantically, your eyes darting down to the hardness bulging behind his pants. You slip your fingers under your underwear and pull, he helps you remove them easily.
“My girl gets whatever she wants,” he chuckles darkly, removing his belt and unzipping his fly, shimmying his pants and boxers down his thighs. He hitches your thigh around his hips and lowers himself, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.
“Mmm,” you whine, screwing your eyes shut, fresh manicure pawing at his hips to bring him closer, “please.”
With that, he pushes into you deep and hard and you gasp, your back arching off the sofa as his hips thrust, snapping against the back of your thighs. He grabs your hands and pins them over your head, fucking into you like it’s going to fix every problem he’s ever had. You try to meet his thrusts with your hips, lifting yourself off the couch just so, and it ends up hitting the most delicious spot, you can’t stop your eyes from nearly rolling back into your brain.
“Oh fuck,” you groan, “oh fuck, keep going, right there…fuck.”
“You’re so fucking perfect, my perfect little slut,” he grunts, unpinning your hands. He slides his fingers gently around your throat, not squeezing but anchoring you down while he drives his cock into you like you asked. You can feel the whitehot pull in the pit of your abdomen, you dig your nails into his arms and he moans from deep within, he stills himself and spills into you just as you reach your own climax.
He continues to pump in and out of you slowly, your eyes meet briefly and he’s about to say something when the door to his office opens.
“Sir, Mr. Park has the intel-,” Hyunjins voice stops abruptly and you flinch, “Shit. I’m sorry,” he says and you don’t have to see his face to hear the surprise in his voice, surprise laced with hurt.
“It’s fine,” Minho stands and pulls his pants back up while you lay motionless in front of him, out of Hyunjins line of sight, “Tell Park to give me five minutes, and arrange for ___s car to be pulled around please.”
“Yes sir.”
You sit up when you hear the door close, grab your panties off the floor and slide them back on. This was one hundred percent you, and you’re torn between feeling disgusted with yourself, and also wanting to ask Minho to come home with you. What has gotten into you?
“I’ll come over tomorrow,” Minho says, and you wonder if he can sense your desire to not part ways just yet.
“Okay,” you stand, voice quiet and legs still wobbly.
“I don’t really let people in,” he says, “I don’t really want to, it’s not worth caring about people when you stand to lose them, but you’re making it very hard for me ___.”
You’ve no idea what to say to that. The door opens again, and you brace yourself to look Hyunjin in the eyes right after he caught you fucking Minho after bearing his soul to you, but this time it’s Seungmin peeking his head in, “Car’s ready sir.”
“Go on,” Minho nods to the door, “Get home safe.”
You nod and turn on your heels, Seungmin silently escorts you down to the car, opens the door for you and shuts it, all without a word, thankfully. You don’t see Hyunjin again, and for that you’re also thankful, though you wager that it’s intentional on his part.
You ride home, watching lights blur together as you get lost in your own thoughts. You don’t think about Minho or Hyunjin, you push those away violently. Instead you think of inventory, think of stitches, practice them in your head, and think of how you miss the hospital. How you miss the fact that between rounds, white boards, charting, and drama you never had a spare second to get lost in bad thoughts, guilty thoughts. At one point you’d have traded it for just about anything, but now you crave it. You want your old life back. Though you think it’s probably too late for that.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
You’ve just gotten out of the shower and tucked yourself into bed when you hear the pounding on the door. You look at your phone - no missed calls or texts. The pounding continues and you push the blankets off of you, wrap a robe around you, grab your phone and make your way downstairs.
You bet it’s Hyunjin, coming to tell you that he was wrong, that he never wants to see you or speak to you or even draw you on paper ever again. You almost open the door, but then Minhos voice in your head stops you.
If anyone ever comes knocking and they haven’t called first, tell them they have to give you the password before you unlock the door. Hellevator. If they can’t produce that specific word then don’t you dare open the door, and call me immediately.
Your hand freezes on the handle, “Give me the password!” you yell through the door, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest harder with every passing second of no answer. You unlock the phone in your hand and start to find the only contact you have saved in it.
Suddenly one of the metal chairs on the front porch comes crashing through the window. You scream, running towards the kitchen for a knife. When you dare to look back you see three men closing in on you, masks on their face, it’s the most terrifying image you’ve ever experienced. Like something out of a nightmare.
Foolishly you point the knife at them, but the nearest man seems unimpressed as he forcefully smacks it out of your hand.
“No, no!” you scream and try to run, but it seems like all you do is run straight into another mans chest, he turns you around, holding your hands painfully behind your back.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” you cry, throat searing with pain from the sheer volume of your voice.
“Shut her up!”
A thick, meaty fist comes down hard against the side of your jaw, you feel the inside of your cheek fill with blood almost instantly and you wonder if a tooth has been knocked out. Before you can process that, a hand comes down on your shoulder to hold you still against the man behind you, and the same meaty fist against your jaw comes down directly into your gut, knocking the wind out of you. Your knees buckle and the man from behind releases you, so you fall to the floor with a hard smack.
The men take turns kicking you in the back, the chest, the legs. The pain is so severe you black out every few seconds, only to come back to consciousness for another kick.
You’re not sure how long they do this. It could be minutes or hours, but finally they seem to stop. One of them bends down, grabs you by the hair and pulls your face off the floor.
“Tell your boyfriend Mr. Kim is waiting for his next move,” he laughs, then shoves your face into the floor violently, you can feel the blood seeping from your nostrils now.
You lay there, you can see their boots moving towards the door, shuffling out. The digital clock on the entry table says it’s just after midnight. You lay your head back down on the floor and close your eyes. When you open them back up it’s almost two in the morning. The house is dark, but you see the reflection of the refrigerator light glinting off your phone a few feet away. You lay your hands flat against the hardwood and try to drag yourself. Everything hurts, it hurts so bad, and you have no idea how bad the damage could be. You could be bleeding out internally for all you know. You try again, this time you move your legs just a little for momentum. It takes several tries before you move more than just wiggling your body.
Finally you make it to the phone, you unlock it, still on Minhos contact. You hit the call button and listen to the ringing echo in your ear.
“Hello?” he answers and you start crying into the phone in painful sobs.
“___? What’s wrong?”
“Help,” you manage to gasp into the phone between screams and sobs, the taste of salty, bloody spit covering your tongue, your lips.
“I’m coming baby, hold on.”
Then everything goes dark again.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
You hear the voices first, though everything sounds like it’s underwater. It’s when you feel the hands on you that you shoot up, screaming, flailing, begging them to stop.
“__!! It’s me! It’s Hyunjin, sweetheart please!”
“Give her a bit of space.”
“God, they really fucked her up.”
“What should we do?”
All voices seem to be coming from different people, or they could be coming from the same person, you don’t know. You don’t care.
“__, open your eyes, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”
Safe. The very concept feels so far away right now that you actually laugh. You slowly open your eyes and wince at the bright light. Minho kneels before you, an indescribable expression on his face. Concern? Anger? Horror? You aren’t sure. You can feel your back propped up against someone, Hyunjin, you can smell his cologne. Seungmin and Changbin stand off in the background, hands in their pockets, looking at you like…well, like you’ve had the shit kicked out of you.
“Can you stand darling?” Minho extends his hand to you, but you won’t touch it.
You shake your head, the simple act a painful one, “You need to take me to a hospital,” you moan, “I need to get checked out, everything hurts so bad,” you sniff. You feel the tears spill down your face, hot and searing against your sore skin. Even crying hurts.
“I’ll take you, come on,” Hyunjin says from behind.
“You can’t go to any hospital,” Seungmin reminds him. “Especially with her all fucked up like this? They’ll throw down every red flag they can.”
“He’s right,” Minho nods.
“I don’t give a shit!” Hyunjin yells and it makes your ears ring, “What are they going to do? I don’t even have so much as a fucking parking ticket to my name, detain me? Big fucking deal!”
“They’ll detain you, and as soon as Kims cops get word you’re in there, the only way you’ll come out is in a body bag,” Minho explains.
The mention of the Kim name floods your thoughts with the deep, guttural words of the men who did this to you.
“He said…” your lip shakes and you can’t get the words out. Minho kneels back down and grabs your hands with his. “They said to tell my boyfriend Mr. Kim is waiting for your next move.”
Minhos jaw clenches, though you suspect he knew Kim was behind it regardless of the message. He stands back up and drags his hand down his face, “Seungmin, call Chris. He won’t be on anyone’s radar anywhere, he can escort her to the hospital. Changbin, call Felix and ask him to take the others to the new safehouse and get it set up for her, this one’s dead, no one comes back here.”
Changbin pulls his phone out and leaves the room. Hyunjin continues to hold you on the floor, rocking you gently in his arms.
“Even if Chris isn’t on any radars, they’re still going to know what happened to her,” Seungmin nods towards where you sit on the floor.
“They can tell the staff she fell down the stairs,” Hyunjin suggests but to your surprise both you and Seungmin scoff at this.
“They never believe that shit,” you say quietly. “I’ll tell them I got mugged walking home, Chris was a good samaritan that found me and brought me in, he can go wait in the car until I’m ready to be discharged, but I have to make sure nothing is bleeding internally, those bastards had to be wearing steel toed boots,” you groan, clutching your stomach.
Seungmin nods with a sad smile and walks off to make the call.
“We can’t let this go unpunished,” Hyunjin growls from behind you.
“And we won’t,” Minho looks down at him with a lethal visage.
🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️
“What did they say?” Christopher asks as you struggle sliding into the passenger seat.
“I’m not dying,” you pant, resting your head against the back of the seat. “Three cracked ribs, lots of deep bruising, a few lacerations but nothing that can’t be fixed with some pain killers and ice packs.”
“Good,” he nods, “Minho and Hyunjin have been calling nonstop, do you want to call them back?”
You shake your head, “No.”
“Works for me,” he shrugs, “Did the hospital ask any questions?”
“Obviously,” you scoff, “but I told them the same thing we said when we got there. You found me mugged, that’s why I didn’t have my ID or anything on me, I didn’t get to see who did it but he was wearing a mask and heavy black boots. They asked the police to come in and I gave them my statement but you and I both know they won’t look very hard. Eighty percent of the cops in this town are crooked, they probably already know who did this anyway. I doubt I’ll hear from them, especially since the address I gave them I won’t ever go back to again.”
“Yeah,” Chris shakes his head, “I’m sorry sweetie, this all just…really fucking sucks for you. The new house is gorgeous though, if it’s any consolation, I think you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure it’s nice,” you say, staring out the window, “but I won’t be staying long.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m out, and I know I shouldn’t be telling you this but I really don’t give a shit. I’m done. I’m not sticking around to wait for those…monsters to come back and finish me off, or get gunned down on my way to the fucking grocery store. No. I am out.”
Chris reaches over and takes your hand in his with a gentle squeeze, “I hear what you’re saying, and I hope that you get what you want, but honey - and I say this with all the love - don’t hold your breath.”
Endnotes:
Endnotes:
Taglist: @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @hpnsfwaddict @simpforleeknaur @the-sweetest-rosie @hyunjinhoexxx @aeri-skzver @mbioooo0000 @seungminindabuilding @moni-logues @shioriyametho @jamlessstars @tirena1 @bswrldd @chartrucewhore @yaorzu-blog all for wanting to be tagged!! I appreciate you <3 If your name is in bold I still can't tag you for some reason, so I apologize!!
As per usual, if you've made it this far, here is your virtual smooch! Thank you for reading <3
#skz fanfiction#hyunjin fanfiction#lee minho fanfiction#skz smut#hyunjin smut#lee minho smut#skz romance#hyunjin romance#lee minho romance#hyunjin x reader#lee minho x reader#Lee Know#Hwang Hyunjin
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invisibleMan!eddie x fem!reader
I had a smut request from the dear @strangerfreak for invisible!eddie and reader having sex in front of a mirror as a blurb, but it's 1.8k, so, close enough. I mean, why not add Invisible Man Eddie to our list of fuckable Universal Monsters.
18+ONLY, smut, boyfriend!eddie, mechanic!eddie, use of baby as a pet name, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, sex in front of a mirror, mention of using an experimental drug. No use of y/n or she/her.
author's note: so much love to those who sent smut requests in already, and I'm always happy to receive them. The two in this lil fic are very much in love and they very quickly turned into favorites of mine. This was not proofread, be gentle.
-----
“How long will it last?” You asked, staring into the space that you guessed was your boyfriend, but all you could see was the open door to the hallway.
When he moved, you caught glimpses of what looked like water ripples in the air, but otherwise, your eyes danced over the space, unsure of where to land.
Eddie lifted his hand up in front of his face, kind of loving the way he couldn’t see himself—it was cool as hell.
“Only 24 hours, according to them,” he sat down on the bed next to you, and the only reason you knew that was because the mattress sank down and you could see the indentation where his butt was. “I hope it wears off by Monday, because I don’t know if the customers at work will take to it.”
The thought made you giggle. “Imagine wrenches and tire irons floating through the bay, seemingly unattended…”
“...an oil filter changing itself,” Eddie continued, finishing your sentence. Now, you were both laughing, and Eddie gave a little snort. You could feel him lean against you, could feel his calloused hand wrap around the back of your neck, and then you melted a little when he kissed the shell of your ear.
Money had been tight lately, and Eddie took the initiative to become a human guinea pig for a research facility specializing in supernatural powers. The pay was phenomenal, but there were obviously some major risks. He hadn’t told you he was going there after work, so you lost your mind a bit when you saw his van rolling up the road with no one behind the wheel.
“Oh wait, baby, watch this,” you felt him get up off the bed, and then you followed the imprints of his feet that appeared in the carpet to where his service coat hung on the door. A pack of smokes appeared in the air, and you watched in awe as a lighter lit a cigarette. It was as if you were in the presence of some animated Disney film.
Eddie inhaled and the tip glowed; you could see the smoke enter his lungs, and then puff out his nostrils when he gave another snort. “This is wild,” he returned to his seat next to you on the bed. You could tell he was giddy with that schoolboy enthusiasm. “I gotta get over to Steve’s later tonight and mess with him somehow.”
“I think this is the first time I’m actually grateful for your nicotine addiction,” you cupped your hand where you knew his jaw was to feel his warm flesh that your eyes kept telling you was not there. “I can tell where your face is now.”
The cigarette bounced in the air. “Do you wanna get high and have sex with your invisible boyfriend?”
—-----
It was your idea to do it in front of the huge closet mirror, and Eddie loved you even more in that moment for suggesting it.
It was dark, and you lit a few candles while Eddie rolled the two of you a fresh joint. You could tell he was licking the side of it without seeing his tongue; you knew his rituals by heart.
He took a big drag, and once you brought it to your lips, you watched his vest and shirt fly onto the bed, and then you felt two warm, rough hands come up your sides to ease your shirt off. With your back against the bed, your legs were wide in front of the mirror, and Eddie kissed your stomach, up your chest, and along your neck, making a needy mew erupt from your throat, urging him on.
“Yeah?” He whispered in your ear as he unhooked your bra, allowing his thumbs to graze the tender nubs of your nipples. “Is it better when you can’t see me?”
“I hate it,” you found his mouth and kissed him deep. Your pussy thumped with an aching need as he rubbed you there over your jeans. “I miss my beautiful boy.”
“Here, gimme this,” he took the joint from you and smiled against your mouth. “Before you drop it and burn the place down.”
You palmed him over his jeans, mouth watering at how hard he was. “You wanna watch your cum fill me up, don’t you?”
“Oh fuck,” he breathed, and then he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you close, kissing you so that your tongues wrestled together as if they were fucking.
You watched invisible hands pull your jeans off, and then the rest of his clothes, including his boxers, clumped to the floor, heavy with wallet and chain. You knew his cock was bobbing in the air somewhere near, but thankfully you didn’t have to wonder for too long because his mouth was on you again.
When his two fingers sank into your hole, you whimpered and clenched around him.
“Fuck, I love you,” he murmured against your throat, and then you felt his head turn to look at what you could see in the reflection. Even though he was situated between you and the mirror, he could see you open for him, straining around the thickness of his digits. He could see your arousal trickling down, soaking wet to the carpet.
You found his curved length and twisted your hand around the head. “Let me taste your invisible cock,” you said with a hungry purr. You were both paying attention to the mirror show as he sank a third finger in, and Eddie bucked his hips against you at the sight.
“Wait, wait,” he gasped. “Let me try something.”
Your face was in his hair and you ran a few scratches down his back, imagining him there as clear as day.
He scissored his fingers inside you to watch it spread. “God, you’re so beautiful, I can’t believe you’re mine.”
You grabbed his face for another long, hard kiss while his fingers fucked into you. Eddie dove his cock into your grip over and over and you spit on the C-shape your hand was making to give it more slip.
He backed off and put his forehead to yours, breathing heavy, bringing his soaked fingers out to draw lazy circles on your clit. “I’m gonna cum like this if we’re not careful.”
“Mmmmh,” you hummed, stroking your thumb over his swollen, leaking tip. “I think it’s time we see what this monster can do in real time.”
He couldn’t get into position fast enough. Since you were on the floor, he yanked two pillows down off the bed to put behind your head and at your lower back. He held your legs up by your knees, but then checked the angle in the mirror and put your leg down, asking you to move your hips slightly.
“Maybe I should be invisible next time,” you joked.
“Please baby, don’t say that,” he brushed his lips over your knee. “I always want to be able to see you.”
From where he was, he didn’t have to turn his head too far to get a glimpse of the action, and you could see everything. In the reflection, you watched the way he wet the head of his cock in your folds, spreading them open, making your glistening lips flutter.
If not for his hissed curses and sounds of pleasure, you would’ve thought you were having a wet dream or being made love to by a ghost.
“So this is what it would be like to have sex with a ghost,” you mused aloud, feeling the weed hit you as Eddie sank deeper.
He grunted. “It’s good practice, in case I die first, I’m gonna haunt the fuck out of you.”
“Impale me with that ghost cock, baby,” you wiggled your tongue at him.
And, so he did.
He buried himself to the base with a groan, followed by your whimpers that coaxed him to swivel his hips.
“Holy shit,” Eddie turned his head and marveled at the way your hole expanded and he could see inside of you. The mix of your arousals began to foam a bit from the friction and Eddie’s hips moved faster.
You swiped your fingers over your clit, imagining Eddie’s hair hanging down his shoulders and his guitar pick necklace hitting against his chest with every thrust.
He eased back with a huff, pacing himself. "I’m so close,” you could hear him suck in his bottom lip.
“Don’t stop,” you hushed with a hitch in your breath and Eddie noticed you working your clit in a certain way—-you were close too.
“Oh, shit, okay,” he continued, glancing in the mirror only once more while he set a steady pace.
Your walls clenched and throbbed on him like a fist, making him mumble incoherently.
“I’m gonna cum so hard baby fuck—are you watching?” his thrusts stuttered and your eyes were glued to the mirror as you witnessed his seed coat your walls and drip down your ass as he pumped it in.
“Eddie!” The sight of it sent you into orbit and your walls milked him aggressively as the orgasm rolled through you like velvet firecrackers.
Eddie liked to watch your face when you came, but as the pleasure subsided, he turned to see what you could see.
“Fuckkk, that’s insane,” he mumbled, working his length in and out so he could watch the cum spill out and then get stuffed back in. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”
When he was done watching the show, he dropped his head to your shoulder and let himself slip out of your warm heaven. You found his hair and brushed your fingers through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer until your bodies met and he let you have his weight.
“Baby, look,” you nudged him to notice the reflection again, and when he did, he saw you on the ground with your arms curled around nothing, like you were trying to hug the air. “Now you can go down on me in a public place and no one would know.”
He lifted his head up, and you tried to decide where his eyes were. “Can we try that tomorrow before this wears off?” He asked.
You leaned forward to kiss his mouth, but ended up kissing his nose. “Meet you at a table in front of the Sbarro in the food court tomorrow at 11. I’ll be sure to wear a skirt.”
“Damn, that reminds me,” he got to his feet abruptly and you felt drips of his release land on your stomach. “I need to go over and show this to Steve. So much to do before I lose my superpower.”
“I’ll drive, how about that?”
“Deal.”
#Eddie Munson fic#Eddie munson fanfiction#invisibleMan!eddie#invisible Eddie#Eddie Munson smut#Eddie Munson blurb#mechanic!eddie#boyfriend!eddie#stranger things smut
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The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 8
Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader
Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Angst, smut if you squint.
Masterlist
Authors note: Nothing too exciting, just wrapping up the events of last chapter and setting up for the events of this one. Dream sequence is loosely inspired by the sleep paralysis demon fic called Simply I Am, phenomenally written by @throughwoodsanddirt and @rottingfern
Banner by @flowerynerds
Noah couldn’t get it up. Perhaps it was everything he’d had to drink that night. An attractive brunette—she introduced herself as Brittany—was on her knees in front of him, palming him over his jeans while his head spun.
It might have been the beer. It may have also been the liquor. It probably wasn’t the weed—that usually increased his sexual response.
It could have been that the girl in front of him wasn’t you.
God, you were so perfect. And he was fully aware that perfection didn’t actually exist and that you most certainly had flaws, but there was something about you that screamed perfection��, and he wasn’t about to fight with it.
Your red dress in particular was sinful tonight, and not sinful in the way where you were showing too much skin or were in any way immodest, but sinful in the things he wanted to do to you while you wore it.
He wanted to see you on your knees in it, eyeliner running down your cheeks, lipstick smeared down your mouth, sobbing up at him while he painted that fucking dress with his cum.
What was wrong with him?
He had no control over his thoughts when it came to you. And Noah was not in any way a pious man, but the lust he felt for you made him want to be one if only to escape from the fucking snare you unknowingly, unintentionally laid out for him.
God!
He leaned forward, lovingly caressing the chin of the woman in front of him. Saliva drooled down her parted lips as she stared innocently up, placing unearned trust in him. He guided her mouth to his, tilting her head back and forcing saliva into her dripping mouth and down her throat as if it were a gift to her.
Why did he treat people like this?
Well, he knew the short answer—because they wanted him to.
She licked her lips, humming in satisfaction and smiled up at him.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, and he had to force himself not to roll his eyes because what the fuck was that?
You had roasted him for wanting to be called Daddy in bed. He huffed out a laugh. Brittany thought it was because he was pleased with her, and he wished that were the case, but it wasn’t. He was only half-present with her.
Fuck, he loved it when you roasted him. He desperately needed to be humbled by you. He’d do anything to have you do it again.
Anything except text you back. Or go to church. Or put any effort into forming a relationship with you because he was a fucking terrified little bitch who couldn’t get over himself to save his life.
“Thank you, Brittany. You’re dismissed,” he muttered and oh , did she eat that right up.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, fucking curtseying before exiting the room.
Another satisfied customer and he didn’t even have to get his dick out.
He had gone to see you that night, but he didn’t stay. He’d peeked through the doors, caught one look at you all dressed up on stage, and immediately panicked, hiding by himself on the edge of the foyer, back to the wall while you nearly brought him to goddamn tears with your hymn.
He left halfway through the song, unable to stomach any more of it.
Noah is a stoic person. He prefers it that way. Throughout his life, he’d offer people brief glimpses into his psyche through his music or his lyrics. Never too much though—he’d cover it up with layers upon layers of metaphor and allegory, sometimes going as far as making up entire false stories to throw people off his trail so they couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
Which is to say he’s not exactly the best at letting people in.
You would demand to be let in, and that terrified the shit out of him.
It was unfortunately, not something he was ready for. And he hated that it hurt you—he really did. He hoped you’d understand and forgive him eventually.
He’d try, though. For you, he would try.
And that started with avoiding you while he got his shit together.
________
Stepping under the shower was like a spiritual experience for you, except this time, you were washing off the filth of the church.
You were done with it, you’d decided. For as long as you could be. Obviously, your parents would make you attend whenever you visited home over summers and holidays, but as far as you were concerned, you’d had enough.
Isaac was really something. He knew your stance on reproductive rights. Or at least he should have, if he’d been paying any attention.
You squirted a dollop of shampoo into your palms and rubbed them together, creating a lather for your hair.
You hadn’t exactly been quiet about your feelings.
Okay, yes. You hadn’t always been the staunch defender of reproductive rights that you were today. There was a time several years ago that you, Isaac, Ava, and many other members of your father’s congregation had loaded onto a bus and rode to Washington, D.C., where you participated in the annual March for Life.
You’d had the same views on the issue as Isaac and many other church members—you felt that all innocent life should be protected, viewing abortion as murder.
It wasn’t until Stevie had sat you down and patiently explained to you the harm that the pro-life movement has caused that your views started to shift. Since then, you’d been vocal about your concerns, but had always been shut down by church leaders. They never wanted to answer your questions or hear you out on the matter.
With the shampoo lathered and rinsed, you turned to the conditioner—it was your favorite. It smelled like coconut and argan oil and left your hair feeling silky smooth.
A banging sounded from the other end of the communal bathroom. You recognized it as someone coming through the door. Actually, it sounded like several people.
“And he said he was busy?” one of them asked.
“Yeah,” said another voice. “He had some event or something he had to go to tonight, but he might be free later.”
“What about Jolly’s party?”
Your ears twitched at the mention of Jolly and you stilled, pausing in the middle of reaching for your loofah.
Someone scoffed. “I’d rather not. I’m getting tired of Noah.”
You inhaled sharply.
“That’s not what you said the other day Madison,” someone giggled.
There was a brief pause in conversation. You leaned closer to the shower curtain to hear what was happening, old mildew that clung to it stinging the insides of your nose.
“He texted me again tonight, but I told him I was busy.”
“Shut up. You did not.” Whoever was speaking sounded positively scandalized.
“He was hot at first, but he’s too needy these days.”
“Girl, no way. Every other person alive would be dying at the chance to sleep with him. He’s so hot.”
“You can have him then,” said the other girl—Madison. “I’m getting a little tired of the whole tortured musician act anyway.”
So that’s where Noah was. Probably at a party, hooking up with some random girl since the one he was after had passed on the chance.
You laughed softly and bitterly to yourself, hoping not to be overheard. Of course.
A clearer picture started to form in your head. The pieces began to fall into place. Noah had never intended to come to your showcase. He’d probably only said that to get you to trust him. Then once he had his fun, he was done with you.
He’d been so convincing. That night after his show when he’d comforted you? Or that day in the freezing rain? You could have sworn he truly cared, but maybe he was just way more convincing than you had realized.
Why had he only stopped at phone sex? Why wouldn’t he have gone all the way?
Maybe because he sensed it would take too much time and effort to convince you to lose your virginity.
You sank down into a crouch, hugging your knees to your chest.
Was it really all just pretend?
_________
You allowed yourself one night to cry—you’d earned it, and you’d give that to yourself. Cry, you did–big, heaving sobs that had you clutching at your blankets and screaming into your pillows. Ugly, messy weeping. The kind you knew would result in your growth, which is why you welcomed it, wandering down the hall with your swollen, tear-stained face on display to steal toilet paper from the communal bathroom, since you’d used up all your tissues.
It was humbling, and it was profound.
Cathartic. You needed a good cry like this, because whether you liked it or not, Noah had changed you and for that you were grateful, but now he was gone. The lessons he gave you were real, but the motives behind those lessons had all been fake, and that felt like a massive loss.
That wasn’t the only thing you cried about, however. You grieved your faith. It wasn’t gone—not completely at least, but it was slipping through your fingers. All the physical tethers you’d had to your faith—the church, the choir, your father. Isaac—they’d been severed. Tainted with trauma and cruelty.
What were you if not a Christian? You still had a deep sense of spirituality and a connection to the divine, or so you thought. But you didn’t know what it meant anymore, or how to express it. Was the divinity you felt connected to the same God that you learned about in the Bible? Or was it something else entirely? The confusing thoughts swirled through your head, overwhelming you.
Perhaps you didn’t have to answer all those questions tonight. You’d settle for grieving your losses.
You cried until you fell asleep, and when you woke up, you cried again.
It was Saturday morning, and you were meant to monitor community service again, but one look at your big, red, puffy eyes in the mirror and you knew you were in no state to be seen in public.
You doubted that Noah would show his face, but you didn’t want to give him the opportunity. You sent a group text to both Noah and Nick telling them that community service was canceled that morning, and then, with nothing better to do, you went back to bed and allowed yourself to cry some more.
________
Something moved between your legs. Something big and warm. You thrashed, trying to kick off the sheets that had become tangled around your thighs. “Shhhh, just relax,” soothed a deep, familiar voice. Long nails caressed your outer thighs.
You finally managed to free yourself, throwing the sheets off you and were met with Noah’s face looking up at you from between your knees. He wore the same blackout contact lenses and demon horns from Halloween, but something about them looked more convincing.
“Noah?” you asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Shhhh,” he said again, delivering a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your center, bathing it in warmth. You arched into his touch—it was so welcome.
“Wh…whaat…,” you began but found yourself unable to speak as he lapped at you.
“That’s it,” he murmured, punctuating his sentence by nipping at your outer thigh. His teeth were much sharper than you expected. “Give yourself over to it.”
He hooked his arms under your thighs and dragged your body to him, digging his claws into the soft flesh.
“Yes,” you breathed, panting as he sucked and licked and kissed.
His arms found purchase on the mattress and he crawled up your body, licking up your torso as he went.
“Isn’t this worth it?” he asked, devilish grin consuming his face.
You blinked, and both your wrists were above your head, held down by one of his massive hands. Feebly, you struggled against his hold, no match for his strength.
“This is what you wanted, Angel,” he said, one long, pointed nail stroking softly down your cheek while his face hovered above yours. His breath smelled deathly sweet, as if you could get drunk on it.
Bending down, he licked at your mouth. You chased the kiss but he kept his lips just out of reach.
“Want to taste?” he asked. Whimpering, you nodded.
He dipped his tongue out of his mouth, not close enough for you to reach with your lips, but just close enough you could run your own tongue over the tip of his. It was just as over-sweet as his breath. You strained against his hold pathetically in an attempt to deepen the touch, but he was too strong.
“Now, now,” he taunted. “Don’t get greedy,” he said, grinding himself into you and you whimpered. “You have to earn it.”
“Tell me,” you begged, trying in vain to lift your hips up into him and achieve some much-needed friction against your dripping core.
“I need you on your knees.”
Without warning, Noah was no longer on top of you, but standing in front. You were not in a bed, but in a dark, barren room. Instead of Noah holding your arms above your head, each wrist was shackled to chains that hung from the ceiling. You were naked, knelt before him.
He wore all black, matching his eyes, nails, and horns, and he stood over you menacingly.
“That’s right,” he said, voice having switched from soft to booming. “Bow before your god.”
_________
You awoke with a start, bolting up in your bed. It took you a few blinks to recognize that you were indeed in your room, not…wherever that was. Your breaths came out in rapid succession, tears welling up. Frantically, you swiped at your eyes, wiping the cascading droplets away as you tried to steady your breathing.
You hung your head, pressing it against your knees and swallowing thickly.
It was just a dream. But an awful one that left you feeling even more fragile and tender than you’d been last night.
A loud knock sounded at the door. Swiping at your forehead, you found a clamminess that hadn’t been there before. You wiped your hand over your sleep shorts, trying to get your bearings.
The knock sounded again. “Hold on,” you called. You slid out of bed and into a pair of fuzzy slippers, checking the small makeup mirror on your desk and noting the red splotches at the end of your nose and around your eyes. You didn’t want to be observed in this state, but it was probably Ava at the door, and you could really use her warmth and kindness.
You padded over to the door, opening it slowly to find not Ava, but a different set of bright eyes paired with a wide smile, which fell as soon as he looked at you.
“Nick? What are you doing here?” you asked, taken aback by his presence.
“Wanted to check on you,” said Nick, eyes scanning over your face. “You okay? Can I come in?”
You peered around the doorframe to see if he was alone and then moved aside, gesturing for him to enter.
When he did, he took a moment to observe your dorm.
“You don’t have a lot of decorations,” he stated, looking back and forth from Stevie’s side of the room to yours. Stevie’s was hung with loads of artwork from her friends, photos from home, small figurines and a collection of pretty rocks she’s collected while on hikes.
Yours was bland. Bare. Not a single photo or piece of art.
You used to have decorations—Bible verses in pretty fonts and photos of you with various family and members of the church. Friends from Christian school. But you’d taken them all down and stuffed them under your bed the previous night in a fit of rage. Looking at them felt like a painful reminder of the oppressive nature of your religion.
Nick turned around to face you, raising his eyebrows when too much time had gone by without a response from you.
“Yeah, I, uh,” you started, swallowing hard. “I guess I’m in the middle of redecorating.” You twisted the tie on your cotton shorts nervously.
Nick’s eyes ran down and back up the length of you. “Nice shirt.”
You looked down. He was referring to the racecar shirt. The same one Noah had teased you about. Thinking about him brought another wave of emotion up, though, so you shoved those feelings back down as quickly as they arrived.
“Thanks,” you said, shifting your weight from foot to foot, before ultimately deciding that you were too tired to be anxious, so you went back to your bed and crawled on top.
“You can sit,” you said, gesturing to the chair at your desk. He didn’t hesitate in pulling it up to face you and planting himself on it.
“So,” he began, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “What’s up?”
You looked around the room, feeling warm under his imploring stare. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“You canceled community service,” he said. It was a statement, not a question, and though his voice was soft, it held a sternness that had you feeling on edge, as if in asking the question, he’d chucked a ball into your court and now waited to see what you’d do with it.
“I did,” you volleyed back to him. Zero serving Zero.
He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Why?”
You shrugged. A non-answer.
His tongue poked out between his lips and he tilted his head to look at you. You avoided his gaze, leaning back against the wall and crossing your arms. As tense as the situation was, it offered a welcome distraction from your feelings.
“You left after your solo. The program said you’d be singing in the choir, but I didn’t see you.”
You took a deep breath in through your nose, feeling your nostrils flare out upon the exhale. Noticing tightness in your jaw, you worked to relax the muscles.
“Isaac and I had an…ethical disagreement,” you said.
Growing bolder, Nick slipped his shoes off and kicked his feet up to rest on the edge of your bed, using the leverage to tilt himself back on two chair legs.
Your eyes flicked down to his feet, wrinkling your nose at the sight of his stained socks and he wriggled his toes tauntingly.
“Are you sure it’s not because someone didn’t show?” he asked, continuing to wriggle his toes.
“Can you get your stinky feet off my bed?” you asked. It was a lie. You couldn’t smell his feet, you just didn’t want to answer the question.
“Nope,” he said, emphasizing the last consonant with a pop .
You leaned forward to push him off, but he was too quick, whipping his feet out of the way and slamming the chair back down on all fours with a loud giggle. You resumed your position against the wall and he did the same, crossing his heels as they rested on the edge of the mattress.
Sighing, you allowed it. His taunting was doing a better job breaking you out of your sullen mood than you’d managed to do on your own.
“It really was because of Isaac,” you said. “I didn’t like the charity he picked.”
Nick nodded. “I was wondering about that. I didn’t donate anything, you’ll be glad to know.”
The corner of your mouth curled up, despite yourself. “Good.”
He looked at you more seriously. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
You curled your fingers around your comforter, tucking your lips in between your teeth while you waited for the right words to arrive. “I’m assuming you aren’t referring to the charity,” you said, feeling your mouth fall into something that resembled more of a pout.
He nodded, waiting patiently for you to go on.
You let your head fall back to thud against the wall.
Nick was sweet. You hadn’t thought so at first, but after hearing how he had treated Ava, you realized he was a much kinder and more considerate guy than you’d initially judged him to be, and the fact that he came all the way over here on a Saturday morning just to check on you was definitely unexpected.
When Isaac had done it after Halloween, you were certain it was to chastise you for your behavior. And sure, perhaps Isaac did care for you a little bit, but he was far more concerned with keeping you in line.
Nick was here only to help, out of the kindness of his heart. You at least owed him a little bit of the truth.
“He didn’t come,” you said, hoping that Nick could pick up on the disappointment in your tone so you wouldn’t have to tell him exactly how it made you feel. If you talked about it too much, you’d start crying again and that was the last thing you wanted.
“I know,” he said softly. Soothingly. Sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”
You pulled your knees up to your chest and hugged them. “I had a feeling he wouldn’t. But for some reason, I held out hope.”
Nick said nothing, giving you space to continue.
“Did he say why?” you asked.
He chewed on his lip, picking a piece of lint off the leg of his pants before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. “He’s,” he began, sighing as he spoke, “going through something at the moment. It’s probably best for you to keep your distance.”
Your throat tightened. You’d suspected as much, but hearing him confirm it felt like ripping off the scab of a wound. Fresh blood leaked out.
Not wanting to cry, you scoffed instead. “Yeah, I know. That something was in the building last night and,” you paused as your voice threatened to wobble. “…had a lot to say about it to her friends,” you finished once you’d regained control.
Nick’s eyes grew wide and he let his feet fall back to the floor with a loud thunk. “What do you mean?” If he could tell you were on the verge of tears, he didn’t acknowledge it.
“Madison, or whatever her name was,” you said, feeling your eyes start to prickle. “She was in the girl’s bathroom last night talking with her friends. She said Noah reached out to her, and,” you sniffed, “had been hooking up with her a lot recently. So much that she,” you were cut off by your breath hitching. You swallowed thickly, feeling your eyes begin to water. “She was getting tired of him.”
You buried your face in your palms, trying hard not to let the tears fall, but failed.
“Shit,” you heard him say under his breath. He said nothing else, but you heard the scrape of the chair against your floor, and then felt the mattress beside you shift.
“This okay?” he asked, throwing his arm around you and you nodded into your hands. He squeezed you into his chest and you melted into the touch. It wasn’t flirtatious or sexual in any capacity—just genuinely concerned and you desperately needed it. You needed someone to witness your pain and hold you while you felt it.
“Noah’s not the best at handling his problems,” Nick said. His chest vibrated against your cheek as he spoke. He smelled musty, like stale smoke mixed with some sort of spice. Similar to Noah but the scent was definitely his own. It was earthier, like soil after a heavy rain. “I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire.”
You said nothing, but continued to sniffle pathetically. You didn’t even want to know what problems Noah was supposedly dealing with, because you knew somehow you were one of them, and you didn’t want to feel like a problem.
“I know telling you not to take it personally is kind of stupid, because how can you not?” he continued, “but seriously, it’s not personal.”
He was right. How could you not? Noah had effectively lured you into a false sense of security, got you to compromise your morals, and then dipped.
Well, that may not have exactly been the case. You hadn’t compromised your morals for him —if anything, you’d knowingly and gleefully entered into the encounter. Your views on sex had changed far before he’d placed that call.
If anything, he’d just provided you an opportunity to explore yourself more–you just wish you would have been on the same page about what it meant.
“I don’t know what to do,” you said morosely. You understood Noah not wanting to hook up with you anymore for whatever reason, but you wished it didn’t involve you not even talking.
Especially after what had happened yesterday. Noah was the main person you talked to about your religious concerns. He got it. Understood where you were coming from and often knew exactly what to say to calm you down.
You could really use that right now.
“Come out with me tonight?” Nick offered after a few moments.
You pulled away to look at him. He looked sincere. “What?”
“Come out with me,” he repeated. “There’s a party happening at Jolly’s. I think you could use a bit of fun.”
You stared at him, confused. “Won’t Noah be there?”
He shook his head. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come.”
You stayed silent for a few moments, deliberating. Nick was right, you definitely could use more fun in your life right about now, and a party did sound tempting. But your wounds were so fresh, and you hadn’t exactly enjoyed the last party you went to.
“I don’t know…,” you said.
“Come on,” he said, taking your hands in his and squeezing them. “I promise I’ll make it fun. It won’t be like last time. We aren’t playing a show tonight. It’s just a party.”
You breathed deeply through your nose (which was difficult considering how much mucus had built up), taking in his pleading gaze. This man has indeed perfected his puppy-dog stare and you wondered just how many women he’d used it on. Should you allow yourself to be one of them?
“I can tell you’re overthinking it.”
You sighed and chuckled, caught red-handed. “Fine,” you said. Honestly, you could use the distraction and had nothing better to do.
“Yeeee,” Nick softly boasted, pulling you into another hug and it was so endearing that his joy began to rub off on you.
“Don’t leave me to go hook up with someone this time,” you said. “Even if it’s Ava.”
“Promise,” he said, miming an X across his chest before crushing you back into him. “I won’t leave your side.”
_________
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you asked, for probably the fifth time since you’d arrived at Ava’s dorm.
“If you keep asking me that, I’m gonna start minding,” she said, tugging a brush through your hair.
Shortly after Nick left, you checked your phone and noticed several missed calls from Ava, asking what had happened to you. Rather than explain it over the phone, you decided to make the short trek partway across campus to her dorm.
As soon as Ava took one look at you, she wrapped you up in her arms and held you while you sobbed yet again. Having experienced religious trauma firsthand, she’d had more than enough empathy for what you were going through. She sat and listened patiently while you went over everything that had happened, affirming your decision to leave the church behind.
You were beyond grateful. It took a lot of courage for you to come to that decision. Knowing that your best friend not only supported you, but agreed that it was for the best was huge.
You also told her about Nick coming over and inviting you to the party. Though Ava had assured you many times that she didn’t mind if you hung out with him, you couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if by sleeping with him, she’d staked a claim.
“I don’t understand why you’re so cool with this,” you said.
As soon as you told her he’d invited you to a party, she’d insisted on dressing you, spouting that this was the perfect time for a makeover since you were already going through a transformative time in your life.
She paused brushing your hair, gathering the strands in her hands and laying them flat against your back. She stroked them softly.
“I’ve been…thinking,” she began.
“About?” you asked, glad to have the focus not on you and your problems.
She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she spoke again. “Finally losing my virginity was great, but it sort of opened up a lot of baggage for me to unpack. Specifically about my sexuality.”
You nodded to show you were listening.
“There’s this girl,” she continued, and you had a feeling you knew what she was about to discuss.
Ava’s parents had always been strict with her—possibly even more strict than your parents had been. She hadn’t always gone to Christian school. Throughout elementary, she’d gone to a public school. Then in junior high, she’d developed a close friendship with a girl.
You never heard the whole story, but her parents had learned something about the girl and flipped, pulling Ava out of her local high school and enrolling her in a Christian academy. You’d always assumed it was because her parents deemed this girl to be a bad influence on Ava, as they had mentioned before. In fact, the only reason the two of you had been so close was because her parents approved of you being the pastor’s daughter.
But then when the two of you asked to room together in college, her parents staunchly opposed. They shelled out a ton of money for Ava to get a private dorm, stating that they didn’t want her to get distracted by roommates.
You’d always wondered why they had such a problem with it. It wasn’t until now you’d started putting two-and-two together.
“Tell me about her,” you said, offering a warm smile. You locked eyes with Ava in the mirror as she resumed brushing your hair.
“She’s in my Art History class. Her name’s Hera.”
Ava lit up as she talked in a way you’d never seen her light up before. She told you how Hera’s background in activism through art, and how she’d initially approached Ava to study together, but they’d begun hanging out more. And how Ava isn’t exactly sure what Hera’s sexuality is, but she gets butterflies every time she smiles at her. How she’s trying to work up the courage to confess her feelings, but is absolutely terrified and will probably just take it slow, unless Hera says something first.
She told you about how Hera asked her to hang out tonight at an underground screening of some cult indie flick you’d never heard of, and that’s why Ava can’t come to the party with you.
All the while you sat and listened, heart growing warmer and softer for your best friend’s happiness.
Ava’s had a difficult road to get to where she was. Much more difficult than yours. The church you grew up in was not affirming in any way. When you were a child and discussions of the queer community first entered the church, they were staunchly against every facet of it, calling it an “abomination” and stating that it “destroyed the sanctity of marriage”.
When queer marriage became legal in your state, a bunch of the local churches protested outside the courthouse, yours included. Your parents didn’t let you go, because they wanted to shield you for as long as possible from the discussion.
You’d always had a hard time swallowing the church’s stance though. It seemed to go against everything they’d taught you about Jesus and the love he had for his people. If God is Love, as he says he is, then how could love in any form be evil? You just didn’t understand.
You learned not to bring it up with your father. It was a sore spot with him, as it was with the rest of the church elders, but you had no idea if that made you a bad Christian.
That was the first time you ever remembered questioning the church’s stance on something. Since then, it had been a slow deconstruction. So slow you hadn’t even noticed it was happening until recently, when Noah came into your life and started tearing about the foundation of everything you believed.
But you weren’t there to think about Noah. You were there to support your friend. Someone who has had to bravely stand in defiance of everything her family and her church has told her regarding who she is. You couldn’t even fathom how much courage that must have taken.
“I really like her,” she said, and you could tell this was the most vulnerable admission Ava has ever made to you.
“I’m so happy for you,” you said, biting back the tear that threatened to spill over. You’d been crying a lot the last two days. This time, however, it was a happy tear. “Thank you for confiding in me.”
Ava inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. And you’ve been going through a tough time so I didn’t want to pull focus away from that.”
You shook your head, failing to keep your tears at bay. “Don’t apologize at all. You don’t owe that information to anyone, but I’m really glad you chose to give it to me.”
Ava smiled, softening. “Well yeah,” she said. “You’re my best friend. Of course I’d tell you.”
You wanted to get up and hug her. You wanted to tell her how proud you were of her and how brave you thought she was. You wanted to ask her a million questions about her experiences in the church and how she got to this place of self-acceptance, but you knew all the direct attention would make her uncomfortable. There would be lots of time for you to say all of those things. Right now, what was important was that she trusted you enough to tell you.
In her eyes, you were a safe person for her to be herself around.
For all the damage the church had done to you, that fact alone was enough to kick-start your healing.
@dem11, @starcrossedwasteland @alm0std3add @reyadawn @karenfranco, @glam-cherry-bomb @simpingforniragi, @koalakoala8, @themorticians-world, @sleepytoken99, @xmagdalenaxbrenaxorestes, @dark-mist666, @fuck-me-muke, @xmads-omensx, @just-randomm-stuff @spookychaosstranger, @gravitysembrace, @somebodyels3, @sundamariis, @noahsebastions, @cyber-tiny @livingdeceasedgirl @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @ilovemewwwww75 @poisongirl616 @klutzy-kay24 @adenobabe @guacinyourarea @escapingourexistence @chxrryxox
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#noah sebastian x reader#bad omens fanfiction#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian smut#noah sebastian#bad omens#the devil's advocate#bad omens fic
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So we have this adorable tiny blonde goth (under age) teenager who is part time. She’s super sweet and loves to joke around and actually shoots me back with the rubber bands. She has a water bottle completely covered in cat stickers.
So she comes up to me today and tells me a story about how some older gentleman called her beautiful, to which she responded “thanks? I guess?” And he apparently asked her why she was guessing about the compliment, to which she replied very firmly “I’m a minor.” The gentleman in question apparently tried to verbally backtrack with a statement that included his current happiness in holy matrimony.
I just. Look, most customers are just normal people living their lives and you as a service worker aren’t even a blip on their radar. That’s fine. That’s literally everywhere you go. People who work at AutoZone aren’t going to remember the name of the cashier from yesterday at the grocery store.
And as much as I’d like to rant about how “men need to do better” quite frankly it’s not men in general, it’s everyone calling out specific men when they’re behaving badly, in the moment when those specific men are behaving poorly.
It’s more a like constantly telling a puppy to not chew on things. If you don’t start curbing the behavior at a young age, the idea to not hit on front line customer service people, there’s a chance that basic customer service could potentially mean “I’m interested” when in reality it’s “I’m being friendly and nice and laughing at jokes I think are mediocre at best because I’m being paid to be nice”
The reality is that Viv did a phenomenal job standing up for herself in an awkward situation, and yes I’m going to adopt her and have several long talks about exactly how unpleasant and uncomfortable and unprofessional customers can be, but the reality is that we as a society need to do better about training men about what is and is not acceptable in social situations.
#humans are space orcs#we need better social rules about front line customer service#maybe don’t hot on a person young enough to be your child#that seems like a good start
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Make up artist! Loki Headcanons!
I colored this image to give it a lil more life?
💚 Loki loves bright colors! Anything green, purple, blue and pink is on his radar!
💚 His favorite part of doing the make up is graphic liner or eyeshadow! That is because he enjoys showing his artistic skill when it comes to the graphic eyeliner and gets to do fun color combinations!
💚 With eyeshadow Loki often uses glitter or pastel colors to make the eyes pop out of one has dark eyes! And of one has light eyes he used a more nudy base or more soft colors!
💚 Loki is probably someone who does make up for drag queens or events! He loves that he can go all out and do different combinations as well as styles! Especially the bold and confronting lines of make up, often it doesn’t need to be blend but it’s still takes a lot of work!
💚 one of Loki’s favorite styles is gyaru make up! He is a fan of how bold, saturated and unique the subculture is, especially with the meaning behind it! He has many Gyaru clients and always asks to learn more about the subculture in Japan!
💚 even though Loki is a make up artist, he also plans on doing nails and hairs, he thinks it’s part of the art itself because one’s nails should also be a match to one’s make up!
💚 Loki can often be found at comic cons! Helping cosplayers with their make up look, he has his own stand and brands of make up he used. During his stay he also offers glitter tattoo’s!
💚 Loki plans on having his own brand one day that can suit any style! He would sell them at a reasonable price and make them of safe, healthy and eco friendly materials, even if they would be hard to find!
💚 He has done make up for runaway shows! Ofcourse he has been credited and even joined on in on the walk! This is to show how his make up style changes depending on the undertone, style, color combinations, aesthetic and ofcourse saturation!
💚 despite the mostly make up applications, Loki is also fond of body art. His go to color would be gold, a color that would suit any body type, color or undertone yet give off an angelic majestic and phenomenal look!
💚 Loki as a make up artist is trying to do everything when it comes to the body. Hair, nails, make up, skin care, anything you can think about. He care a lot about presentation, service and the health of his customers!
💚 because of his work, Loki learns a lot about different cultures! This caused him to take an interest in henna/ mehendi, he currently takes lessons on how to apply them as it is both applied on the hands and feet, while brides often wear red mehendi. So lot’s of practice for him!
💚 Loki actually thought of becoming an tattoo artist! But because he lacks artistic skills he found his passion more in make up! But he might be one one day. At least that’s what he thinks!
💚 Loki loves patterns and lace! He uses them in his work, he adds diamonds amd gems too, often taking inspiration from lace to do body art, he uses a technique where he puts make up ok old lace and presses it against the body, causing it to make a mark of the make up!
💚 Loki started making videos on how he does certain looks or how he makes his make up look fabulous. He even gets sponsors, yet he’s always honest with his followers in which product works and which one doesn’t.
💚 Make up artist Loki might have even done make up for Idols or Vkei bands, if there is one thing he loves it’s weirdness, he will try to find the weirdest of it all! It made him listen to Kpop ad Vkei haha
💚 Despite Loki’s love for weirdness, he also has a fixation on more feminine things! He likes designing clothes, headwear and skirts with lots of bows in pastel colors, usually pastel blue, pink, green and white.
🌸That’s all that came to my mind…thank you for reading!~ 🌸
#ror loki#snv loki#ror loki x reader#snv loki x reader#record of ragnarok#shuumatsu no valkyrie#loki headcanons#ror#snv#ror headcanons#shuumatsu no valkyrie × reader#shuumatsu no valkyrie headcanons#shuumatsu no valkyrie loki#record of ragnarok × reader#loki record of ragnarok#record of ragnarok headcanons#headcanon
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hey Jon can we have that book recommendation I’m curious
STATEMENT OF DONNA RHETTE, REGARDING 'THIS FUCKING BOOK'- VERBATIM FROM TEXT. STATEMENT TAKEN FROM REVIEW LEFT ON www.lionstreetbooks.com/i-spy-housewarming/K-6482749278.html
(tw: stalking, scopophobia, loss of child, arson)
STATEMENT BEGINS.
@_Donnarhette
★☆☆☆☆
do not purchase this book do not buy anything off this website theyre stealing your information. this website is unreliable and customer service does not respond they do not pick up their phones.
i bought this book for my 5 year old daughter. she kept waking me up in the middle of the night for weeks beforehand. it was normal, kids do that, kids are scared of monsters. but i would always read her i spy. we have every other edition, down to the miniature versions and the seasonal ones. eventually, she learned where everything was, though, and the books got boring, so i looked up 'i spy books' for the 80th time this month. it brought me here, and i purchased the book for shipping.
the very next day it was brought here, and i was astonished at first, but once i saw the condition of how it was packed, i figured why it came so fast. it was a wreck, the corners all beat, a handful of packing peanuts and some thin paper tossed cattywompus inside. the shippers mustve played hacky-sack with it before tossing it up to the house
even so, my girl was excited. she had completely forgotten about the supposed monsters, she just wanted the book. it's a unique edition for sure, instead of looking for small items on a small scale, it just looks like pictures of parks or buildings, along with riddles like 'i spy a tricycle, i spy ten cards, i spy a crack in concrete that's hard'. it was a change of pace for me, even- a challenge. but my daughter was doing phenomenally.
the photographer must be local to my area, because i recognized the photos soon. hell, i think i saw the back of my head in the bank one. but it got strange when it came to a picture of a street.
my street of my home.
now im thinking, 'maybe it's personalized, it's google maps, and they look up the address for the buyer before they send it out?' but that was... impossible. after i ordered the book it came the very next day, there was no way theyd be able to just cram this page in last second. not only that, but there was the riddle.
i spy a sewer grate, a baseball, a torch,
i spy a busted-up box on the porch.
i shut the book on that page and told my daughter to go to bed. there was fuss, but something was wrong. i tuck her in and she complains again about monsters in the window. all through the night, theres monsters in the window, and i snap at her when she wakes me up the 3rd time.
at that point she was crying, and i was.. yelling. i dont feel good about it, god, especially not now, but i was tired and scared. thats no excuse. so was she.
after telling her it would be ok, she slept in my bed with me. i held her tight the whole night through, and i would do my research in the morning, i assured myself.
but i didnt het a chance. by sunrise she was gone. not in her bed, in her pillow fort, not in the kitchen, the den, nowhere. i phone the police, and i end up running down the street screaming her name.
as i get back home, though, i felt compelled to that damn book. god, why did i go back to that damn book??
it was a picture of us through the window.
'i spy ten earrings, 2 rings, and a comb
i spy a mom and daughter at home.'
it was like my tears froze from shock. i steeled myself and flipped to the next page.
'i spy a woman, big tears and brown curls
i spy a book, but i see no girl.'
as i said, the police are investigating this store. burn in hell you freak. ill see you there.
Well. It took some digging, but there's your recommendation. We were able to get I Spy: Housewarming from the crime scene - or, more so, the wreckange. Donna was griefstruck, this adding onto the loss of her husband shortly before this, leading to a burst of arson. The book was recovered just fine, seemingly one of the Leitners that can withstand some flames.
J. Sims, The Archivist
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also can we give glenn his praise and love and flowers now. that was phenomenal acting from him. he conveyed dennis' anger and frustration and sadness the way he tries so hard the way he exhausts himself on the phone to customer service the look in his eyes during the whole heart thing. it WAS emotional and glenn brought sooo much complexity to it. they promised us great acting from glenn and they delivered
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Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @fatale-distraction | AO3: Fatale_distraction | Wordpress: History Will Say This Was Just a Book Blog
The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!
Woman single-handedly ruins decades of work using one simple technique you won’t believe!
Fataleity and Dema talk rarepairs, Swayze-coded Cullen, punk rock Solas, and Shenanigans
Dema: Starting very, very basic: how long have you been in the DA fandom? What about it inspires you to write?
Fataleity: Gosh, it’s probably been around fifteen years or more? I played DAO not too long after it originally came out and while I haven’t always been active in the fandom, I’ve been a fan since then. I’m super inspired by the characters and the lore, in particular anything relating to the elves. I love that the DA universe took typical elven lore and kinda flipped them upside down.
Dema: Do you have a favorite bit of Elven lore? Or if “favorite” isn't the right word, a piece of lore that particularly struck you?
Fataleity: Along with everyone else atm, I am really fascinated by the Evanuris and the idea of Ancient elves like Abelas and Felassan. I also love that each Dalish clan has different customs, different levels of knowledge, etc, but are still connected by a common history and language, lost as they might be, and try to lean into that in my writing.
Dema: So, you played all three games more or less as they came out, but when did you start writing fic for DA? What prompted you to start?
Fataleity: It’s been a while, but I believe it was around the release of Inquisition that I started actually posting. As far as writing, it would have been from the start in private notebooks or sharing with a friend of mine. Inquisition’s release was when I started getting into the tumblr fandom and seeing others posting their work, and figured if others were going to, why shouldn’t I?
Dema: Oh wow, right from the beginning! You’re an OG! What was your first published DA fic about?
Fataleity: It was a short one-shot of Leliana and Zevran during Inquisition. They crack me up as a couple. It was mostly banter and porn tbh, very little if any plot, lmao.
Dema: Oh my god, this was a pairing I did not know I needed until this moment. Fabulous, thank you.
Fataleity: You’re welcome. It’s a good one.
Dema: So do you tend to be more inspired by the canon characters or by your OC's? Or if not "inspired" per se, do you write more of one than the other?
Fataleity: I wanna say it's about even? I’ve noticed that recently I’ve been writing more from the perspective of canon characters than I did when I first started writing, even when writing about OCs. I think it's fun to try to emulate their voices, and also their reactions to some of my OCs ridiculous behavior.
Dema: Who is your most ridiculous OC?
Fataleity: My Inquisitor for sure. She’s the youngest of a very large Dalish family so she’s a little childish for her age, very affectionate and kind, but she has a powerful sense of justice. She’s best friends with Sera and the Chargers, so she gets herself involved in all kinds of shenanigans.
Dema: Gotta love the shenanigans. Did she romance anyone?
Fataleity: She romanced Solas primarily, but I have also shipped her with Krem and Fenris. I did a few OT3 fics of her, Krem, and Solas that I think came out pretty sexy.
Dema: Krem is under-shipped, I fear.
Fataleity: I do my best to fix that. I’ll put him with anyone who will treat him softly. Or not. Depending on his mood I guess. He deserves the world and more.
Dema: Thank you for your service. This is like asking for your favorite child, but do you have a particular canon character you really love to write?
Fataleity: Krem for sure. Great narrative voice, great jokes, and since he’s not as canonically developed as other characters, there’s a lot to play with.
Dema: Do you do anything in particular to get into the heads of the canon characters? I find that's such a challenge (a fun one!) to adopt the voice of a character I didn't create, and am always curious how other people do it.
Fataleity: Getting super familiar with the source material is obviously very important. For some characters that’s easier than others, so I will also rely on similar characters from other media that I feel resonate strongly to the character I’m trying to portray. Also simply putting myself in the character’s shoes. “If I was this particular character with this particular background, how would I react to this particular circumstance based on my prior experiences?” I feel like I’m also pretty influenced by whatever media I’m consuming at the time. For instance, writing 90s Cullen around the same time I rewatched Dirty Dancing, he ended up VERY Swayze-coded.
Dema: Omg, incredible. Is there any non-DA media inspiring your fic for the Bang?
Fataleity: I’ve been listening to AURORA’s newest album a lot. My partner and I are also watching a lot of comedic detective shows recently, so I feel like that sense of humor is going to be a big influence by the time this is done.
Dema: Man, I feel like any follow-up I ask to that question will have to be redacted, ha! What's the most out-there piece of media that has inspired a fic for you?
Fataleity: I don’t recall if there was a particular piece of media that inspired this, but I created a Y2K dragon age AU specifically so I could cram the characters into specific period-appropriate outfits, specifically young Solas as an early 80s late 70s punk kid. I think It might have stemmed from rewatching That 70s Show. This is also where Swayze-Cullen came from.
Dema: Was there a musical number. Please say yes.
Fataleity: I tried to shoehorn my Lavellan into having a band on top of everything else, so there were definitely musical numbers. Krem was playing the solo from Freebird. ABBA was involved.
Dema: Amazing. God, I am dying to see some Solas 80's punk fanart now.
Fataleity: I would die. I would pay blood, sweat, tears, money, and my first, second and third born children.
Dema: Anarchy patch on his leather jacket…
Fataleity: Piercings. The piercings alone, man. I made him a college professor so he got rid of most of the piercings, but he kept a few. “The ones that would hurt most if I wanted to get them done again.”
[Dema and Fataleity have an increasingly suggestive emoji exchange.]
Dema: Sorry, I'm incorrigible.
Fataleity: As am I.
Dema: Do you find you write a lot of AUs?
Fataleity: I think I imagine more than I actually put down in words. My favorites are definitely different time periods. I’m a sucker for costuming.
Dema: Same. Costumes tell you so much about the culture and the characters! Do you tend to have visual references when you are writing, beyond what is provided by the games?
Fataleity: If I have a particular outfit or setting in mind, especially for AUs. For those I’ll have Pinterest boards or the like. If I’m doing something more based around existing settings, I’ll look up a reference as needed, but I don’t tend to have, like, a vision board or anything for those.
Dema: If you have any visuals for your Bang fic, will you give us a teaser?
Fataleity: https://unsplash.com/photos/purple-flowers-near-mountain-during-daytime-S73YlRU8hy0
Dema: Oohhh the vibes! I’m looking forward to it. On a very different note, if your bang fic had a clickbait title, what would it be?
Fataleity: “Woman single-handedly ruins decades of work using one simple technique you won’t believe!”
Dema: Perfect. Thank you for your time, Fataleity!
Fataleity: Of course, this was fun!
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🧑🏻🎤 can I see the super six at decades party please, I'll let you choose 🫶🏻
Thank you for the ask!! (I really thought I posted this the other night. 😑 ahsjksl) I went with an 80s party and this is technically all of them meeting up at the brownstone beforehand. But I hope you love!! 💕
“June, dare I say? You look lovelier than ever,” Pez greets with a flourish as he leans in to place a kiss on her cheek. She’s got her hair teased up and her face covered in bright makeup; neon eyeshadow and hot pink lipstick. Her 80s evening gown is sequined and hideous by modern standards but she pulls it off somehow. She grins, clearly already tipsy.
“Such a charmer,” June giggles, her other hand stretched behind her and held by Nora, who is busy pulling Bea in for a half hug. “You look great too, Pez.”
“Well, you know, the occasion called for a little extra, I thought.” Pez’s hair is bright blue, his makeup done up like Boy George, with a full, custom-made costume to match. Henry grins as June’s eyes fall on him next.
“Oh my God, Ziggy Stardust!”
“At your service,” Henry greets, pulling her in for a hug. Alex had done Henry’s makeup and sprayed his hair orange before shoving him out of their bedroom to get himself ready. He’s been keeping his costume a secret and Henry is incredibly eager to see what Alex has been planning. The only hint Henry has is that Alex has been growing his stubble out for a couple of days and skipped his last haircut.
At that moment, Henry hears footsteps on the stairs and turns to see Alex descending. He looks phenomenal in ripped jeans, a tight white tank top, and a black leather jacket. His hair has been straightened and styled so that it looks feathered, falling in perfect, fluffy waves. Several pieces of jewellery, including a dangling cross earring, completes the look. Henry’s mouth goes completely dry.
Alex grins as he greets everyone before getting to Henry near the back of the room.
“Hey, baby.” Alex leans up to kiss Henry, still smiling into it as Henry tries frantically to get his brain back online.
“You’re George Michael.”
“I mean, he was the inspiration, but I’m still Alex.” He leans back, assessing the look on Henry’s face. “Your Alex.”
“Alex,” Henry hisses as Alex’s hand slides down Henry’s side to his arse. “We have an entire evening to get through.”
“Hm. Shame,” Alex murmurs. “Because you look hot as fuck.” He presses a harsh kiss to Henry’s lips, like the demon he is, then turns to address the rest of the room. “Are we all ready to go?”
“One celebratory shot as a group, then we leave?” Pez asks, looking around the room as everyone nods in agreement. He retrieves the good vodka from the freezer and pours five shots (lemonade for Bea) before they all circle around for the toast.
“To the most successful Okonjo Foundation fundraiser ever!” Alex exclaims. The other five raising their glasses in tandem and shout their agreement before taking the shots. Henry can’t stop staring at the earring dangling from Alex’s ear and the shadow it’s throwing from the kitchen light onto the long line of his neck. Alex looks over, his eyes widening briefly before a knowing smirk takes over his face.
“To the party!” Pez shouts, slamming his shot glass down. The rest of the room erupts in similar cries as they all start to herd towards the door. Henry grabs Alex’s arm, pulling him back before they can get too far.
“I just want you to know that I’ll be waiting all night to bring you back here, strip off this costume, and take you apart, piece by piece,” Henry says in a low tone that never fails to work in his favour. He watches Alex’s pupils dilate and his throat work as he swallows.
“Did Bowie and George Michael ever hook up?”
“Unclear,” Henry replies, reaching up to run a hand over Alex’s puffier-than-usual hair, careful not to disturb it too much. “But, they will tonight.”
He winks and gives Alex a light nudge before turning to pat David goodbye and flip off the light as they exit the townhouse. Eighties night was a brilliant idea of Pez’s, but Henry adding “Faith” to his playlist a month ago was inspired; at least in his humble opinion.
#super six#80s party#okonjo foundation benefit#firstprince ficlet#i'm still learning how to write so many people at once#ficlet friday#ficlet prompts#rwrb fanfic
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Sry, I did not read it sooner😞. But now I humbly give you my rambles about your last Lofi chapter🥺:
"The voice went further and further away. For the first time, she sounded genuinely panicked. There was still that angry tilt to her voice that she always held. But… even if she was prickly, she couldn't hide that hint of panic… as if she was on the verge of tears."
I AM GOING INSANE!!! I WILL CRY!!! SHE CARES!!!
"Naught if ittza grade class nosey BEE-atch is all up in my shit."
AAAAAAAAQ BOB!!! BOBERT!!!! BOOOB!!! THE SAVIOUR!!! I will cry, now in a good way!!
"UGH!!! Knock it off!! It's bad enough you missed the staff meeting last night
Uff... jikes... low blow... putting that up, if that is not what saved his life... and her job now in that matters...and she knows it...
What a fine mess Sun got them into.
Wait?
What Sun got them into?????
Why was Sun the culprit in all this???
I love them my honor! They are perfect.♡
“Retain power NOTHIN’!” The man slurred. “If ya fuckin’ take a bug-zapper to a laptop, What’d ya THINK was gonna happen?! It’s gonna MELT the GOD DAMN BATTERY! You tased them not once… BUT over TWENTY DAMN TIMES??!?!”
HELL YEAH!!! GET HER BOB!!! GET HER!!!
“We’ll see.” Bob grunted to Vanessa, completely ignoring Sun’s recognition
:,(
The mechanic paused in his work, when the torso casing was off. He looked at Sun, a mixed expression of contempt, hatred and …..delight?
Ok...no. Bad Bob! BAD!!! >:((( Kinda understandable his revenge, but ouch :,(
Forced to work on the same machine, that killed your best bud, who you may had feelings for, but you never had the chance to explore because this machine killed him. And have to REPAIR it...to be better, meanwhile his friends lies in a grave, caused by it...fuck...
…It does. It hurts. I'm scared… I'm scared too….
If you excuse me, ... I will cry... will be back soon...
*door closing*
*loud crying in the distance*
THWACK!
He rammed his head into Bob’s.
How dare you make me laugh in this situation???😭😭😭😭
Nononononononono! He's gonna delete me! He's gonna delete me! He's gonna delete me!!
Ok. Crying again .....fuuuuuck....
deep breaths Enyter... deep breaths.
I am glad I waited with this chapter.
...I needed to mentally prepare.
It was a phenomenal chapter. And I would have read it, even if it takes me 100 years. Love your writing ♡ the agony😭 the feelings were so real... from both perspective...
And I drawn Bob before... now I know why he has those scars...fuck...the more I know....😭😭😭 was worried they caused him brain damage... fuck... I was worried for Bob and the dca too...
I wanna draw them... it gets on my to draw list. I have so many scenes saved to draw from this fic... if it is one year, or 10 from now on. I will draw them once. This fic is too good.
Moodboard:
Sorry it took me awhile to get to this message. I like to keep and hoard them for a rainy day.
I AM GOING INSANE!!! I WILL CRY!!! SHE CARES!!!
Yes! Vanessa does care, in her own way. She has a thick skin. And the Daycare Attendant... while, not under it... seems close to pulling back her "customer service" mood.
"UGH!!! Knock it off!! It's bad enough you missed the staff meeting last night
"Uff... jikes... low blow... putting that up, if that is not what saved his life... and her job now in that matters...and she knows it..."
Yup. The only reason that Bob is alive is because he was passed out hungover and was a no-show to work. Bob, surprisingly is in his own depressive funk to even notice a lot of his coworkers are missing. He has his own stuff going on. (but he might find out later)
Ok...no. Bad Bob! BAD!!! >:((( Kinda understandable his revenge, but ouch :,( Forced to work on the same machine, that killed your best bud, who you may had feelings for, but you never had the chance to explore because this machine killed him. And have to REPAIR it...to be better, meanwhile his friends lies in a grave, caused by it...fuck...
Bob is a complex character. He's at his worst here. He does have character development in Twin Animatronics, and he comes to realize what he did was wrong... but you can see why Sun and Moon are so hostile to him in Twins and scared of Parts and Service.
Also, I'm so glad you liked the chapter and gave me a lengthy response like this. They give me life and love and encourage me to keep going <3
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Astro Obs for EARTH SIGNS
I’m not a professional astrologer. Please take only what resonates.
I do not own the rights to this image
🌍Tend to be die hard plant parents. They will name their plants and talk to them. Their plants will even have personalities.
🌍Tends to be animal lovers to some extent and have or want pets
🌍The foodies. Always have the best food recommendations! Known some to drive out of state just to eat at their favorite restaurant 😂
🌍Tend to be earth enthusiasts. Hates littering and usually is the “is this recyclable/biodegradable?” type of individual
🌍Usually have phenomenal wells of patience. These people are so stubborn and fixed that it’s hard for you to rattle their tail. They don’t get mad, at least not externally depending on the placements.
🌍They’re usually very creative as well. However, they’re creativity takes on functionality. These are the chefs & culinary artists, architects and interior designers, carpenters & construction workers, public parks & public entertainment spaces, pottery, candle making, fashion designers, landscaping, interactive art, etc. Their art is usually a hands on type of approach and because of this I would also include sculptors and welders
🌍Great physical balance. Make great contortionists, acrobats, yogis, etc.
🌍Can be the most ruthlessly judgmental of all the elements. Also, the most hardworking of all the elements.
🌍Can have an aversion for planes, and roller coasters. May even have a fear of heights or get motion/car sickness quite easier than others.
🌍Loves the outdoor in general. May enjoy camping, hiking, fireside gatherings, the mountains, mountain climbing, rock climbing, bicycling,
🌍These are also your real-estate agents, property managers, landlords, bank tellers, financial advisers, stock brokers, jewelers, miners, paleontologists, geologists, meteorologists, environmentalists, veterinarians, biologists, volunteer workers, people who work in customer service jobs/career fields, historians, geographers, cartographers, bodily doctors & physicians, etc.
🌍Uses all natural, biodegradable, sustainable products likes it’s a religion
🌍Risings usually have very defined bone structures in the face. May be models because of this.
#astro observations#pagan#zodiac#natal chart#zodiac signs#capricorn#capricorn sun#taurus#taurus sun#virgo sun#virgo moon#virgo rising#virgo ascendant#taurus rising#taurus moon#taurus ascendant#capricorn moon#capricorn rising#capricorn ascendant#fyp#for you
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Youre a phenomenal musician deity, and we all know that, but im curious, are there any other forms of art youre trying to improve or up the specks of behind the scenes ? Or thinking about pursuing / further pursuing in the future? :D
thank you so much :3 i wanna get into python coding and ive been getting a lot of experience doing product fulfillment and customer service with shipping stuff so!!
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3 new ocs just dropped:
wiven "wiv" markeys (pronounced mar-keys)
he/him(trans man)
16
orphan/former sex worker
belongs to a fledgling religion that worships the monsters and their partners. public opinion on them is divided: some view them as a deluded cult, others as a misguided but benign entity. their worship further glorifies the Coalition's operation so it was fast-tracked to officially recognized religion status
carries a tiny sketchbook everywhere that he pulls out and doodles in at random
his bangs really need a trim and fall in front of his eyes often
tove hoarfrost
she/her
60
head administrator of the Monster Operation (real name tbd)
modified Coalition member - think customer service persona but permanent
Coalition lore time: certain members of the administrative branch undergo brain modification surgery. it must be performed voluntarily. those from other Shards decline the procedure most of the time. rumor has it this hinders their ability to rise through the ranks but officially this is denied. “modified Coalition member” is the official name for recipients of the surgery while colloquially they’re known by the less offensive “alt” (as in altered) and the much more derogatory “husk”
tove was born on the same Shard as isamund. they grew up together and dated before tove volunteered for the modification surgery
doctor fei jian
he/him
35
Coalition medical doctor in charge of monitoring the teen candidates' health. administrative branch, no military rank
there's open animosity between him and mithat. he views her presence as a threat to his authority and expertise, taking little jabs at her being nothing more than thelnym's nursemaid
thelnym: "the bridge of his nose is long and crooked, like it's been broken a few times. and he has a personality that explains why."
plays low, bassy instrumental music near constantly. "it helps me focus"
isn't a very vain guy but takes meticulous care of his hair. one thing people have to give to him - it does look phenomenal
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reasons I should be desired carnally:
excellent credit score
moderate to severe chronic eczema
crippling need to control how others perceive me at every moment
small boobs
amazing customer service voice
fluent in corporate/office speak and excellent at crafting a strongly worded email
short so easily portable
restless leg syndrome
expert ikea furniture assembler
phenomenal in bed
was runner up in the sixth grade spelling bee (lost on a technicality)
I crave attention 24/7
weird knowledge about the genetic diversity of bananas
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