#thanks for giving me extra steps you weirdos

[marzipanandminutiae]

You made a post stating that pierced ears weren’t accepted in America from the 20s to 60s, but I was under the impression that many women, esp in the 40s and 50s, often wore classic Pearl or diamond stud earrings. Have I been deceived by Hollywood again?? :c

Clip-ons and screw-backs, my dear Anon!

(Screw-back earrings, c. 1950s)

Piercing your ears was frowned upon, but wearing earrings remained wildly popular. I don't understand the logic here, since it looks functionally identical to wearing pierced earrings in practice, but apparently that was A-okay.

Earring clamped onto your ear? Fine! That exact same earring going through your ear? DIRTY AND/OR FOREIGN HARLOT.

Make it make sense.

(Pierced earrings DID still exist, since some women- for cultural or personal reasons -bucked the zeitgeist. But they were by far the less common of the two options.)

(Also, clips and screw-backs hurt in my experience. Like. You have your ear pinched in a vise for as long as you're wearing them, basically. My mom, born 1953, remembers Grandma taking her clip earrings off the second she got home from a party, always. And yet I saw clips advertised as "torture-free" earrings in a 1930s ad. Yes, skip the torture of like 30 seconds with a needle for the comfort and ease of clamping something heavy onto your ear with sheer pressure, all day long.)

(The whole "pierced ears bad" fad makes about the least sense to me of any fashion-related historical Hot Take.)

[strawhbrrries]

Dirty, Greedy, Girl.

pairing: dbf!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: you need a place to stay and you find comfort in Frank’s bed (underneath him).

warnings: implied age gap, pet names, light tapping (he taps her once in the cheek before soothing it) mutual masturbation (diff rooms), blowjob, unprotected p in v, spit, cum eating, porn with plot basically, no use of y/n, not proofread

word count: 2560 words

author’s note: this was supposed to be inspired by granite by sleep token but i accidentally lost sight of that like halfway through, stream take me back to eden anyway! as always, i hope this lives up to standards and you enjoy it. mwah!

Frank laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about you. The girl laying two rooms away. You’d consumed his thoughts, his being, and you didn’t even know it. You just needed a place to stay while yours was being renovated, he’d offered in an attempt to be nice and not leave you with a sleazebag you didn’t know. You’d called him early one morning, not giving him another option. 

“Frank..” Your voice was quiet and shaky.

“Yeah? What’s up?” His voice was rough, it was evident you had just woken him up. Your phone said it was three am.

“My apartment has a gas leak, I got evacuated..” 

“Call your dad.” He groaned in response, ready to roll over and go back to sleep, annoyance evident.

“I can’t, he’s at work or busy or something. Please, Frank..” You pleaded, standing in the cold outside your building in nothing but a ridiculously oversized shirt. It reached the top of your thighs, of course tonight of all nights you wouldn’t wear shorts to bed, the wind threatening to expose you to your neighbors every time it blew. 

Frank mumbled something about being on his way and left you standing there, praying to the heavens he’d show up soon. He did. His breath hitching slightly when he laid eyes on you. Messy hair from sleeping, shirt short enough if he leaned over a bit he was sure he’d see your panties, mismatched socks. Your face lit up when you saw him walking over, instantly turning red when he took off the leather jacket he was wearing and handed it to you.

“C’mon little lady, lets get going before any of these fucking weirdos oogle at you anymore.” He looked around at the men who supposedly live in the same building as you, the stares they gave you were borderline degrading. It annoyed him, as if he hadn’t done the same thing before walking over to you. He was different, he knew you. 

“Thanks, Frank.” You spoke quietly, walking in the direction of his truck, giving him a small smile as you put the jacket on. It was warm. Smelled like him. 

Frank had shown you his guest bedroom, showed you had to turn the shower on and where extra towels were, and left you to go back to bed. So he thought. The second his head hit the pillow he heard the sound of the shower turning on. His thoughts soon filled you as he laid there, listening to the water run through the pipes, staring at the ceiling. Thought of the water rolling down your soft supple skin. Thoughts of you lathering yourself with soap. Thoughts of how’d you smell like him when you got out. Thoughts of you.

You turned on the shower just as he showed you, temporarily forgetting as you were just staring at his hands the entire time he demonstrated how to do it. He’d lent you one of his shirts to change into, not that you had asked but you appreciated. It was longer than the one you had on. While you waited on the water to warm up you thought of Frank, of what he was doing. Did he go back to sleep? Was he thinking of you? You stepped out of your clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the sink, and into the shower as steam filled the room. The warm water running over your body, chasing away the cold chills brought by the wind.

He was doing everything to try and get you off his mind, to get his cock to go down. He was harder than ever before. Red from the lack of attention, the tip leaking precum and creating a small circular stain on his boxers. For a brief moment he contemplated joining you in the shower, thought of all the ways you’d respond to him barging in. Ultimately, he decided against it. He wanted you to come to him, to cross the invisible line you both knew was there. He needed you to come to him first, confess that you needed him more than he needed you. That you’d thought of him in the same dirty ways he was thinking of you. 

You thought of Frank, thought of how kind he was to let you stay here and how you could ever repay him. Thought of his rugged features as your hand traveled south, a single finger sliding between your folds. Relieving some of the tension that had built up at the sound of his half-awake voice over the phone, only building up more when he’d shown up and ordered you around in the leather jacket before handing it to you. You let the finger slide inside you, the size nowhere near how big you imagined Frank’s to be, thrusting it slowly as you brought your other hand to rub rhythmic circles on your clit. Your eyes squeezed closed, imagining it was his hand instead of yours. Imagining that he was right behind you, asking you how exactly you needed it.

Frank had given in to his thoughts, pulled his cock out of his boxers and wrapped his fist around it. He ran his thumb over the slit, spreading his precum around the head. Groaning he leaned his head back further into the pillows, stroking slowly as your pretty face came to his mind. His mind thinking of painting your face with his cum. He imagined his big rough calloused hand was your smaller soft one. Thought about your lips and how pretty they were, how much prettier they’d be wrapped around his cock. Thought of how your tongue would feel as it licked a stripe up the shaft, giving kitten licks to his tip before taking his cock as deep as you could. He came over his hand, groaning lowly as it dripped down the side. 

You came quietly around your fingers, the sound of the showering muffling any noises that slipped past your lips. The dirtiness of masturbating in his bathroom making it all that much better. You finished up your shower, exiting the bathroom at the same time that Frak was making his way back to his room.

“The shower was really nice, thank you.” You whispered, unable to make eye contact with the man you just orgasmed to. Your cheeks flushing red at his lack of shirt, his chest defined, you wanted to rub your hands all over the skin, trace his scars.

“You don’t have to stare, you can touch.” He softly took one of your hands and placed it on your chest, waiting for a reaction. For anything. 

His skin was soft, the muscle underneath rock hard. Just like his cock was about to be if you continued to act so innocently about touching him.

“Say something, don’t act like you weren’t in there touching your pretty pussy to the thought of me. What’s got you so quiet now, huh?” His voice was low, and rough, and right in your ear. 

“How did you know…I was quiet..” You questioned, looking up at him, confusion written all over your pretty face.

“You wouldn’t look at me and you’re not as quiet as you think, pretty girl.” He titled your head up further with his pointer finger, running his thumb over your bottom lip before dipping it inside your mouth and pressing down on your tongue. A chuckle coming out at the spit that pooled around his thumb. “The water only muffles so much.”

“I want you.” You spoke confidently around his thumb, your words coming out slightly slurred.

“You want me? I’m not what you need.” He responded with another chuckle, removing his thumb from your mouth and rubbing the extra spit on your cheek. “Dirty dirty girl.”

“Wants and needs are different. I know what I want.” You moved closer to him, the hallway seeming much smaller than before. “I want to be beneath you. Treat me like a dirty girl.”

“Did you call me to come get you just so you could get in my bed? Get underneath me? Huh?” He closed any remaining distance between the two of you, gripping your cheeks with one hand and squishing them just slightly. “If you needed to be treated dirty, you coulda said that over the phone, baby doll.” 

You whimpered at his words, rubbing your thighs together as the warmth flooded your core. 

“Knees.” 

You fell to your knees, just as he ordered. He looked down at you, giving a light tap to your cheek before soothing it with his hand, the corners of his mouth turning into some sort of smile. His thumb found its way back into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and releasing the pressure multiple times. He was just playing with your tongue as he gathered enough spit in his mouth to spit into yours, he tapped your cheek twice before letting the spit fall. It landed mostly in your mouth, impressive given the distance between his mouth and yours.

“You wanna suck my cock, dirty girl?” He asked, not satisfied with your head shaking yes as an answer. “Beg for it, use your words.” 

“Please, Frank. Wanna suck your cock, want it in my mouth.” You begged, seemingly enough to satisfy him.

He, once again, pulled his cock out of his boxers and tapped it against your cheek. Letting the precum that had built up again slide across your cheek, in some dirty claim on you. Your mouth watered at the sight of it, so large and ready to be sucked. 

“Open.”

And you did just that. You opened your mouth and let your tongue hang out, it was a lewd sight and Frank wished he could take a picture of you like this. Mouth open, kneeling on the ground, begging for his cock. He tapped it against your tongue a few times, rubbing it in the spit you just seemed to be collecting in there. 

“Such a dirty girl, kneelin’ on my floor beggin’ for my cock.” He teased, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth and pulling it back out. “Gonna let me use you?”

You shook your head yes as best as you could. The pain in your knees from the hardwood already becoming a problem, you didn’t mind as long as he kept putting his cock in your mouth and talking to you like that.

“Wish you could see how pretty you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He commented, sliding his cock as far into your throat as he could without pushing on your head.

He did this a few times, pushed in and pulled back out, only going far enough for you to gag once or twice. Letting out a groan from the back of his throat every time he did. He watched the drool sliding out of your mouth as he fucked it, chuckling at how little he had used your mouth but how much you were enjoying it.

“Gonna fuck your mouth now, okay? Tap me twice if it’s too much.” He warned, making sure you acknowledged his words before putting his entire cock into your mouth.

He stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying the warmth and the tightness of it all, it was also giving you a chance to breathe and prepare yourself. Frank slowly started to thrust in and out of you mouth, putting one of his hands on the back of your head and bobbing it on his cock. He wrapped your hair in a makeshift ponytail around his hand, giving him better leverage to use you. He gave a few hard thrusts and used you just like he said, fast and rough. Dirty, just how you wanted it. More of your drool escaping your mouth, a puddle was probably slowly forming on the floor. 

“So dirty, lettin’ an old man like me fuck your mouth.” You both moaned at his words, your moan vibrating around him. “Oh fuck.”

And with that he came down your throat, stabilizing himself against the wall as he came, with his head thrown back. He smiled down at you as he came to, tucking himself back in his boxers and helping you up off the floor. Without exchanging any words he led you into his room, laying you down on his bed and lifting up the shirt he gave you with one finger, groaning softly at your lack of underwear. 

He swiped a finger between your folds, just as you had done to yourself earlier, swirling it around your entrance before bringing his finger to his mouth and licking it clean. He lifted the shirt enough to see your boobs, bringing one to his mouth and swirling his tongue around your nipple. He nipped at it slightly, smiling when you whined in response.

“Frank please, need you inside of me.” You whined again, pouting up at him in a desperate plea to get him to hurry up and stop teasing you.

He nodded his head in acknowledgement, removed his boxers and threw them somewhere else. He dragged the tip up your folds, gathering the wetness before slowly pushing inside of you. A strangled moan left your throat as he did so, the stretch of his cock hurting so good. He was so big, you weren’t sure how it all fit in your mouth and you definitely didn’t know how it was all fitting up inside you. With one hard thrust he bottomed out, giving you just a few seconds to adjust before he started fucking you.

His thrusts were hard and deep, slow when he pulled out so he could admire the mess you were making on his cock. The sounds you were making on spurring him on, he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through. That asshole. 

“Faster, please..” 

“Need it faster? Is this not enough for your greedy cunt? Greedy girl.” He punctuated his sentence with an exceptionally hard thrust, you whimpered in response.

You wrapped a hand around his bicep, whimpering once again at how big it is, holding onto him as he sped up his thrusts. Your orgasm was building slowly, between his thrusts and the grunts he was letting go in your ear you were a goner. He kept the pace that seemed to satisfy you, rolling one of your nipples between his fingers, smiling as he did so. The warmth in your belly was building much more rapidly, Frank could sense it too. Your eyes had glossed over, mouth hung open and the sounds coming out much more airy than before. 

“C’mon greedy girl, let it go. Let me see you fall apart.” He whispered into your ear, bringing the fingers that were previously on your nipple to your clit and rubbing circles in perfect time with his thrusts.

It was all too much, his fingers, his words, his smell. You fell apart on his cock, writhing underneath him like you begged to do earlier. He fucked you all the way through your orgasm, slowing down slightly as he approached his. With one last low groan in your ear he pulled out and came on your stomach, swirling it around a bit with one finger before bringing it to your mouth and watching you lick it clean.

“God, you’re gonna make me hard again.”

[avocado-writing]

crawling in as per your bg3 request..

astarion with a tav/reader that’s just constantly cold, like shivering a little bit all the time and their hands & feet are just. ice cold

rating: T

pairing: astarion x reader

“Good gods, you’re freezing!” Astarion complains as his hand accidentally brushes yours before it jolts back in shock. You groan. 

“I know.”

“Even more than me, and I’m practically a corpse.”

“Yes, thank you, Astarion,” you mutter through your gritted jaw. You’re having to clench your teeth together in order to prevent them from chattering, although unfortunately you’re having little success. As if in apology your paramour shifts in his cocoon of an embrace around you, bringing you against him tighter.

This is a new level of cold, even for you.

You always run on the chilly side. You can often be found scooted up close to the fire when you make camp, or tucked in the corner of your tent with extra blankets on top of your bedroll. It’s always been bearable, a bit funny, even - something to joke about with your travelling party - but that was until you got to the Shadow Lands. 

You haven’t been able to feel your fingers or toes for days. It’s torture. The sun doesn’t shine in this place so of course there’s no warmth. You can get a good night of sleep at Last Light Inn where Isobel’s magic keeps it at bay, but on the road? Well, there’s no hope. You’re reduced to a shivering wreck. 

Though Astarion complains, he has been trying to help you where he can. Right now he’s holding you in his arms, attempting to warm you up with his nonexistent body heat. Acting as if the pair of you are just normal lovers and not two weirdos thrown together by fate while attempting to stop a mindflayer invasion. 

A scant few weeks ago he’d have been offering to warm you up in a rather more physical way; with him buried inside of you, lips ghosting your neck, hands on whatever willing flesh he could find. But your relationship has changed, now. Evolved. Become something more, something solid and real. He’s not so eager to dive beneath the covers - at least like that - and you wouldn’t ask him to. You’ll give him all the time he needs. 

It’s nice, what’s happening between the two of you. But at the moment you’re turning every cuddle into a mass of shivering limbs. 

Astarion sighs again. But then he speaks and it’s gentle. 

“You know, you could ask Karlach to come and act as your hot water bottle. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Or maybe that druid, Halsin - he’s been looking at you like he wouldn’t mind cuddling up…”

Though he tries to joke you can tell there’s an undercurrent of self-doubt in there. You harrumph and settle deeper into his arms, opting for a simple retort:

“I don’t want them, I want you.”

You feel him still against you at that unexpected flash of affection. Process it. Then he slowly extricates himself from your grasp. 

A little whine slips from your throat and he pats the top of your head. 

“Now, now. Stay put, pet, and I’ll be right back.”

You grumble but do as you’re bid. He steps out of your tent and you have no choice but to remain as a frozen little ball, foetus-curled and chilled to the bone. It’s a relief when he returns with more blankets and a pot of tea, likely brewed over the fire pit outside. 

“Where did you get—?” you begin to ask, as he tucks the extra bedding around you.

“Well, Gale is fast asleep, he won’t notice he’s missing them until the morning,” Astarion reasons. You laugh, not sure if he’s joking or not, but not really wanting to know the truth - you’re holding onto this even if it was pilfered off the camp’s resident wizard. 

You watch as Astarion pours you both a cup from the little metal teapot. Steam rises soothingly from it, warming up the tent interior. It makes sense he has one for you, of course, but…

“I thought you didn’t like drinking tea,” you say. What you mean is, I thought you didn’t like drinking anything that wasn’t blood. 

“I don’t,” Astarion sighs, but brings the cup to his lips and chugs it down anyway. It must be far too hot to be comfortable, and you’re about to ask what he’s doing - but then he reaches out to untangle your hands from where you have them vice-gripping the edges of your blankets. He folds them in his own, softly and sweetly, then brings them to his mouth where he breathes out a long, slow stream of tea-warmed breath into your palms. 

“Oh, Astarion…” you whisper, finally able to feel your fingers for the first time in days. You feel him smile against your hands. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t get used to it,” he tells you in a way which suggests he wouldn’t really mind you getting used to it at all. 

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[blinkilite]

I had the amazing privilege of seeing Michael Sheen in Nye a few nights ago at the National Theatre.

The play:

Nye was amazing. Michael was brilliant and in command of the stage the whole time. I am not a big theater-goer. So this was a big deal for me. But seeing him perform on stage was just wonderful. I truly appreciate his skills on a whole new level now. The rest of the cast was brilliant too. They each played multiple roles throughout the timeline of the play. I highly recommend going to see it if you can. He sings! He dances! I cried! I laughed! I’m trying my best to give you a spoiler free review! But I promise you won’t be disappointed. 😊 it’s really really good. 👍 Go! Support Michael and the arts!

My personal experience:

I had a mix of excitement and anxiety all day but it really amped up when I got to the theater. Like omg this is really happening. I took a pic by the poster and it’s obvious I am an excited weirdo. 😆

Now that I was here, the next step was going to the national theatre gift shop. They had a lot of cute things and a really cool display for Nye.

I purchased my program and the cashier was very friendly. She complimented my Good Omens pin and said they usually come out stage door so make sure to go around back after, and enjoy the show. 😊 (internally squeeing) I thanked her and we went and got some food and a cider.

We made our way to the doors and were led to our seats. Then I started getting the omg we’re here this is actually happening mentality. We were pretty close. An omg he will be right there! Soon! 😬

We had 8th row seats 😳 it seemed very close and I was freaking out.

I read some reviews and saw the newly released press photos of the play. So I knew a little what to expect of the show too, but honestly it was sooo good. I don’t want to give away any spoilers because the play is AMAZING. Michael and the rest of the cast did so well. Michael is very active and moved all over the stage. I am so impressed by his abilities as an actor. He fucking sings! And it’s wonderful! And our seats were close enough to see all the micro expressions on his face. 😃 If you have the means to go and see this either in London or later in Wales - GO! You will not regret it.

At the end I took a pic of the actors (though I didn’t get everyone) and I got the very end when Nye can see the impact of his accomplishments.

Now for the fangirling part of my night. I was trying my best not to be a complete dork. I knew from other fans previously posting that he typically comes out at the stage door after the show. So I had an idea what to expect. He came out pretty soon after the show ended. I’m guessing there were maybe 50-60ppl there. He just started talking to people, signing things, taking photos like this is no big deal. And they would leave and it would be the next person’s turn. Everyone was very considerate of each other and Michael’s time. And he was kind and generous and spoke genuinely to each person and made so many people happy that night. just by being himself and taking some extra time before he went home. He really is an angel. ❤️

Eventually it was my turn. Somehow I didn’t mumble or giggle like an idiot. where did I find the ability to speak? - I really have no idea 🤷‍♀️ I told him the show was amazing. He thanked me. And while signing my program I told him we came over from America for my birthday to see him. He wished us luck in the rest of our trip. I got a selfie with him and internally died. He wished me happy birthday (died again). I thanked him and then it was the next person’s turn. I walked about 50ft away and jumped up and down like an idiot. Hopefully he didn’t see.

But holy shit. 😃

I met Michael Sheen!!!! 😃❤️😃

And he was the nicest person ever. 😃😃😃

[lilacmingi]

ELF IN TRAINING

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you are under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Elf!Mingi x elf!fem reader

Word count: 3,430

Note: THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVES! Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, and Wooyoung’s are my absolute favorites. They’re the ones I really got immersed in while writing them and I just love the plots. I’m very proud of them 🥹

The North Pole was covered in snow, the usual weather for Santa's Headquarters. Large, fluffy snowflakes came down in a flurry, adding to the inches of white snow that blanketed the ground.

You were hard at work in the workshop, painting and assembling toys. Christmas was only a month away and it was crunch-time at Santa's workshop. Every elf was hard at work preparing for the upcoming holiday. The sound of hammers tapping and the low hum of the assembly line machines were the only thing that could be heard in the building as every elf stayed laser focused on their job.

Mingi, a new elf in training, walked across the workshop with a box of completed toys in his hands. He was heading to the room next door where the toys were being collected. As he proceeded towards his destination, his head collidided with the top of the doorframe, a thud sound following after. You instinctively winced at the sight. Mingi was always bumping his head on the doorway. Unlike other elves, he was rather tall and towered over everyone. The average height of elves was around five feet, Mingi was six feet tall.

You hated seeing him always hurting himself on the doorframe and wondered why no one had done anything about it. At this rate he would give himself a concussion if nothing was done about the low doorframe.

A chorus of chuckles from nearby elves could be heard after Mingi's little incident. You abruptly abandoned your work station and hurried after Mingi, calling for him. He turned around, looking down at you with bright eyes and an expectant expression.

"Are you okay?" You asked.

A soft smile spread across his face.

"I'm fine. Thanks, Y/n."

"You don't need an ice pack or something?"

He shook his head. "I'm kinda used to it."

You gave him a sympathetic look.

"You should get back to work. Christmas is coming soon." He told you.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be just fine.”

As much as you didn't want to, you turned around and hesitantly made your way back to your station, picking up where you left off.

It was difficult to focus. All you could think about was Mingi and the way everyone always laughed at him. It made you angry. There was no reason for it. He's an elf just like the rest of you.

Lunch was called and you were able to step away from your work and take a break. You congregated in the cafeteria with the other elves where you got a slice of extra sweet cake and a mug of hot chocolate. As you made your way to your seat, you overheard a few comments from some of your fellow workers.

"Did you see Mingi?" Chuckled one elf. "He bumped his head on the doorframe again. That klutz."

"He's such a giant, no wonder he's always hitting his head."

"He's a weirdo."

"He's a misfit."

"He doesn't belong here."

"He's not an elf, he's a giant."

The comments angered you immensely. Everything in you screamed to speak up and say something, but you fought it, pushing that urge down deep. You didn't want to start something and cause a scene. However, your temper got the best of you and pushed aside all reason. Your grip tightened on your mug of hot chocolate as you harshly spun around to face the chattering elves.

"That's not very jolly of you to be saying such hateful things about a fellow elf." You punctuated the last word. "Surely, you know Santa is fully aware of what you're saying now."

None of them said a word.

"That's what I thought." You huffed, turning away.

Santa knows everything and they still had the nerve to say such rude things about Mingi. It was shameful, really.

You then spotted Mingi sitting alone at the end of a table, rubbing his forehead. You immediately set your sights on him, making your way over without hesitation.

"Hi." You greeted, taking a seat across from him.

"Hi."

"How's your head?"

"It's okay." He reached up to lightly rub it again. “Hurts a little."

"I'm sure it does. Are you sure you don't want an ice pack?"

"I'm sure. Thank you, though. I appreciate you always checking up on me."

You smiled. "I just want to make sure you're alright."

"Thank you for that. It's nice to know someone cares."

"So, it's been a few weeks since you joined the team. How are things?"

"Good." He nodded with a smile. "Work is easier and more enjoyable than I though. Turns out I'm pretty good at assembling toys. I'm the fastest elf in my group." He beamed proudly.

"That's great to hear. It seems you're fitting in just fine."

"Well, almost."

"Almost?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a whole foot taller than everyone here." He stated.

"I have noticed, but it doesn't bother me."

"It seems to bother everyone else. They all stare at me and whisper things."

"You just need to ignore them. They're not worth your time. Santa should give them more work since they seem to have time to make hateful comments about you for no reason." You huffed, feeling your temper rising again.

"What if I'm not a real elf?" Mingi asked unexpectedly, his tone weaker than before.

"What? That's nonsense. Of course you're a real elf."

"But what if I'm not? I clearly don't fit in."

You abruptly reached over and grabbed hold of his ear, giving it a good tug.

"Ow!" He yelped.

"Is that proof enough?" You inquired, quirking a brow.

"I guess so." He muttered, rubbing his ear with a pout.

"Mingi, you need to stop doubting yourself. You're an elf just like the rest of us."

"But I'm different."

"Unique." You corrected. "I think your height is your charming point."

"My charming point?" He asked, looking at you with round, glittering eyes.

"Yes. It's what makes you, you."

His face seemed to soften a bit after you told him that. He appreciated your words greatly, more than you would know. You and Santa seemed to be the only ones who treated him as an equal and not as some freak.

You stayed and kept Mingi company throughout lunch, sharing funny stories about past mishaps at the workshop. His heart fluttered in his chest whenever you laughed at your own story. The giggles spilling from your lips made Mingi feel light as air, and the way your eyes crinkled up when you smiled made him grin himself. Your happiness was contagious.

He was a bit of a slow eater and yet you stayed with him the whole time, which only made his growing attraction towards you bloom even more.

That night, you laid in bed staring at the ceiling. You really needed to get some rest, as you knew you'd need the energy for work the next day. Christmas was quickly approaching and everyone needed to be at peak performance, but you couldn't seem to stop thinking about Mingi. Yes, he could just duck to get through the doorway, but that's an inconvenience, plus he seems to forget how short the doorways are.

Unable to sleep, you threw the covers off and changed into your uniform, hurrying out of your room. With a mission on your mind, you trekked through the snow and to the workshop, making your way up the large staircase that led to Santa's office. You gave a soft knock on the oak wood doors and waited for an answer.

"Come in." A voice bellowed from the other side.

You slowly twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room.

"Y/n, what on earth are you doing here? It's nearly 1 AM.”

"I could ask you same thing." You chuckled.

"Oh, you know, checking it once, checking it twice." He responded with a smile as he glanced down at the long list that stretched across his desk and spilled onto floor. "But seriously, what are you doing awake at this hour?”

"I couldn't sleep, sir." You answered honestly.

"Why is that?" He inquired, concern lacing his warm voice.

"It's Mingi. He's always bumping his head on the doorframe in the workshop that leads to the stock room." You informed him.

"Oh no." He frowned.

"It pains me to keep seeing him hit his head, so I was wondering if I could make some adjustments to the doorframe."

"I'm sure I could make time to do it. You don't have to take that on all by yourself."

"Sir, with all due respect, I want to do it on my own. Plus, you're already very busy."

"Are you sure?" Santa asked.

"Yes. I can handle this."

"Very well."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course. This is very nice of you, Y/n."

You gave him a soft smile before exiting his office, bounding down the stairs, and hurrying over to your work station, grabbing an armful of tools. There was no time to waste.

Mingi got out of his bed that was thankfully the right size for him. Santa was kind enough to make some accommodations for him like getting a larger bed and furniture so he could. The elf stretched his stiff muscles before shuffling over to his closet to grab his uniform.

He made his short commute across the small North Pole village, trudging through the large amount of snow that was constantly covering the ground. He stepped into the workshop, ready to start his day. To his surprise, the shop was completely empty. Mingi simply brushed it off, going to his work station where he found a box of toys that he forgot to put into the stock room the day before. He lifted the box and carried it across the shop. As he passed the entryway to the stock room, he instinctively flinched, his head being thrust backwards by a phantom force.

The pain he had anticipated never arrived, causing him to stop for a moment and turn around to look at the doorway he just walked through. To his surprise, it appeared to be reconstructed and there was now a circular head shape at the top of the doorway.

Mingi was quick to set the box of toys down, hurrying back into the workshop where elves were starting to come in to begin their work day. His eyes searched desperately, wanting to find out who had done this. His first thought was Santa. He was about to head up to the big man's office when he spotted you asleep at your work station, tools strewn across the desk. As he moved closer, he noticed sawdust all over your work space, your clothes, and even stuck in your hair.

A fond smile painted Mingi's features as he gazed down at you, a warm and fuzzy feeling blossoming in his chest.

You did that for him?

You began to stir, which caused Mingi to scurry off, not wanting you to see him. Once he got to his work station, he watched you lift your head, your eyes going wide at the mess in front of you. He tried to hold back a chuckle as you scrambled to clean the sawdust off the tabletop, clearing your workspace of any tools and powdery wood particles.

He found it amusing how you went about your business after you tidied up, pretending that you weren't just snoozing at your work table amongst tools and sawdust.

His gaze drifted to the doorway that seemed to be attracting attention from some of the elves. Mingi could feel his cheeks warm as he looked at the newly-shaped doorway that was exactly the same size as him.

He would make sure to thank you later.

You yawned as you tinkered away on a toy. Running on little to no sleep had you working a little slower than usual, but knowing Mingi would no longer hurt himself put you at ease and, in a way, kept you going.

You worked until you felt someone's presence near you. Glancing up, you saw Mingi who stood by your station.

"Oh. Hi Mingi." You greeted with a smile.

"Do you have a minute?" He asked.

"Sure. Is something wrong?"

"I just wanna talk to you for a moment. Is that okay?"

"Of course."

Mingi led you outside to a nearby bench where the two of you could talk alone.

"I saw what you did for me." He said.

"Hm?" You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean?"

"The doorway. I know it was you."

"Me? No. I didn't do that."

"Y/n." Chuckled Mingi. "I saw you asleep at your workstation with sawdust all over you and tools everywhere."

You started to make up another excuse, but snapped your mouth shut after processing what Mingi said. You meant to clean up your workstation, but you were so tired you accidentally fell asleep.

"You don't have to pretend it wasn't you." He spoke softly.

"I wanted to stay anonymous."

"I would have figured out it was you, anyway. No one else would do that for me except you and Santa."

"Did you like it?" You asked.

He nodded with a smile. "It was really nice to be able to walk through a doorway normally."

"I'm glad. I hated seeing you hit your head all the time and it seemed like no one was going to do anything about it."

"I hated hitting my head too, and I always seem to forget to crouch down."

"Crouching down seems like an inconvenience."

"It is. I don't feel like I'm getting work done fast enough."

You nodded in understanding.

As the two of you sat, snow began to fall from the overcast sky above. You looked up, watching as the flakes got bigger.

"I still can't believe you worked all night to alter one doorframe for me." Mingi spoke up suddenly.

"You deserve it, Mingi." You told him.

"You have such a kind soul."

You couldn't stop the warmth that ticked your cheeks at his words. “I would change all the other doorframes for you in a heartbeat."

The elf beside you seemed to get flustered as he avoided eye contact with you for a moment. When he looked back at you, a heartwarming grin spread across his face.

"You're getting covered in snow." Mingi giggled.

"You are too."

"Why don't we go somewhere else? How about that gazebo over there?" He pointed to a nearby wooden pavilion with lights wrapped around the roof and railing.

"Good idea."

The two of you hurried through the flurries and under the gazebo, but as you stepped underneath the shelter, you heard a loud thud. Turning around, you saw Mingi wincing with his hand pressed to his forehead.

"Oh no." You frowned, watching as he ducked to get underneath the gazebo.

Thankfully, the roof was a hollow cone shape, so he was able to stand up properly when he got inside.

"I forgot." He muttered.

"Come here." You held your palms up towards Mingi's face, gesturing for him to move closer.

He bent down a little, allowing you to get on your tiptoes and grab his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

His eyes widened, as his cheeks tinted pink, even the tips of his pointed ears held a blush-colored hue.

"Ah." You turned your head away. "Sorry. I don't know why—"

"It's okay." Mingi cut you off. "I... liked it."

"You did?"

He nodded, shyly.

You couldn't deny the fact that Mingi was a good-looking guy. In fact, he's the only elf that ever caught your eye, and it wasn't because of his height. He was stunning. You loved his eyes. They could be sharp at times, almost intimidating, but also innocent, big, and bright. You loved his lips too. They were full, pink, and when he concentrated really hard, very pouty. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about how it would feel to kiss them.

Did he feel the same as you?

"So..." You trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"I like you." Mingi blurted.

Your brows raised, not expecting him to come out with it so quickly.

"You're the only elf that's shown me kindness. Ever since I first showed up here, you made sure I was getting the hang of things and constantly asked if I needed help. Despite me being different, you still spoke to me and treated me like everyone else."

"That's because you are like everyone else. To me, you're not different. You're you."

Mingi's glossy eyes twinkled a bit when you said that. His large hands found yours, clasping onto them; you could feel them shaking—or maybe it was your own. You glanced down, seeing the way his hands swallowed yours whole. It made your heart leap in your chest.

"Can I kiss you?" Mingi asked tentatively.

"I thought you'd never ask." You chuckled.

Mingi bent down to get closer to your height as you stood straighter to get closer to his. Your hands rested on the sides of his face as the two of you leaned in, closing the space between you.

Mingi's lips felt exactly the way you thought they would, only 10 times better. They were pliant, soft, and oh-so gentle. He was kissing you so delicately, it made your heart swell. You could tell he was a little nervous about what he was doing, but so were you.

One of Mingi's large hands moved to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as he  began to deepen the kiss.

You could feel your whole body heat up like fresh hot cocoa. The warmth sent a rush through you from head to toe as your hands moved to clutch onto the collar of Mingi's uniform, pulling him even closer. You couldn't get enough, you were desperate for more.

Mingi seemed to get the hint as he straightened his posture, not once disconnecting the kiss. You stood up on your tiptoes to keep the contact as his free hand slid around your waist, his arm wrapping around your torso, holding you flush against him. He paused for a moment, relocating the hand that cupped the back of your neck to your waist. He held onto you tightly as he stood up fully. You gasped against his lips as the tips of your shoes lost contact with the wooden flooring of the gazebo.

He only pulled away long enough to mutter,

"I got you."

You trusted him, closing your eyes once again as you allowed his full lips to fully encase yours, sending another rush of heat throughout your body.

Unfortunately, breathing was something you needed to do to survive, so you had to pull away, ultimately ending the blissful moment. Mingi slowly lowered you to where your feet touched the ground again. The two of you huffed, your breaths coming out in puffs thanks to the wintry weather.

"As much as I'd like to stay out here and kiss you, we've got work to do." You reminded him.

"I know." His shoulders drooped a bit.

"We can always hang out later."

He smiled after hearing that.

The two of you stepped back out into the open and headed back towards the workshop hand-in-hand.

"I have a question." Mingi spoke up.

"Yes?"

"What now?"

"What now?" You parroted.

"Yeah. What are we?"

You didn't wanna get ahead of yourself, so you turned the question on him. "What do you want us to be?"

"Honestly... I'd love to be able to call you my girlfriend."

You smiled at his answer. "Good. Because I'd like to call you my boyfriend."

"Really?"

The fact that he was still surprised after the two of you had just kissed was adorable.

"You won't be ashamed to be seen with me?"

"When have I ever been ashamed to be seen with you?" You questioned.

"Touché." He chuckled.

You came to a stop at the large workshop doors, turning to Mingi.

"I'll see you after work." You told him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand.

He grinned bashfully in response as he opened the doors. You both kept your hands clasped together, parting ways to go to your respective stations. As you separated, you gave Mingi a small smile and a wave.

Your entrance attracted quite a bit of attention, but you didn't care. The only thing you cared about was getting toys finished so you could spend more time with Mingi... and kiss him some more, of course.

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi

[dark666posting]

Until He's Bored

TW: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON *** Flayed Billy, dark!Billy, Lifeguard Billy

••••••••••

Summertime meant the local public pool was quite literally swimming with townsfolk. Normally, you'd be right along with them. Tanning and reading in a lounge chair next to the pool, but this Summer, you're looking to make a little extra money, so you apply to be a lifeguard.

"Can you swim?" The rude woman conducting the interview pops her bubblegum.

"Uh... Yeah? Why else would I-" your tone was as kind as you could keep it, you didn't want to be rude back, it was just a silly question.

"You're hired, you start tomorrow. at 4 PM." She tosses you a lanyard with a whistle at the end. "Get a red bathing suit. One piece." The woman walks away, ignoring the fact that you are wearing a red one-piece with shorts over it.

"Thanks!" You call to the woman, but she's long gone. You roll your eyes before heading back to your car. As you walk past the busy water, you feel someone's eyes burning into the back of your head. You turn around and spot a man in the life guard's chair. He's staring at you intently, bringing his whistle to his lips slowly. His half-lidded eyes travel up and down your body as you furrow your brow and walk a little faster.

"Fucking weirdo," you huff to yourself as you pull your seatbelt over your shoulder. You toss and turn in your bed for hours, excited about a new Summer Job. You become less excited when you remember the guy that was blatantly checking you out at the pool. Hopefully, he won't be the one training me, you think to yourself.

You arrive at 3:45 PM, eager to make a good first impression. It's a Monday, so there are drastically fewer people and lifeguards here.

"You're early," A voice echoes down the lockers where you're stuffing your belongings away for the day. You turn and see the man from yesterday walking toward you. You roll your eyes to which he raises his eyebrows. "Not too excited for your first day?"

"No, of course I am. Sorry." You force a smile, trying to dismiss his gawking as regular men behaviour.

"Billy," he smirks, sticking his hand out to shake yours. You take his hand firmly and give him your name in return. He starts guiding you around the area, explaining where everything is. You take in his information, thankful he's so knowledgeable. Over the next few hours, you start to enjoy his company. Maybe he's not that weird, he's certainly not ugly.

"What made you wanna be a lifeguard?" Billy asks, fighting with his whistle. You're both sitting at a small picnic table by the pool, the only swimmers that came today we're a mother and daughter and they're leaving as the two of you chat.

"I know how to swim and I need money," you quip. Billy laughs with his white, perfect teeth on display. The sun casts a gleam against his tan, sweaty chest. After a few more hours of chatting and routine pool cleaning, he leads you to show you how to lock up.

"Alright, now follow me," he says. His voice is different now. Deeper, more urgent. You notice, but chock it up to him being tired after such a slow day. He's walking fast and you lose him behind a corner.

"Billy?" You cup your hand around your mouth to amplify your voice as you call for him. No answer. You wander for almost an hour, wondering where he went. "Do I just... Leave? I don't-" you're cut off when he reappears behind you. "Holy shit, you scared me, man," you clutch your chest and laugh, your pulse races from the fear.

"Y/N," Billy stalks closer to you, slowly. You take a step back when you notice he's dripping sweat, almost causing a puddle in the floor beneath him.

"Billy, are you okay?" Your eyes are wide and you're shaking as you step back, but he only draws closer. In the blink of an eye, he has both of your arms pinned to your sides with just his hands. You can't budge even a centimeter, his strength was like something out of a superhero movie. At this distance, you could finally see the small, black veins rising in his skin. His face was dark and his eyes were hollow and looked like he was in pain.

A loud shriek escapes your lips, he looks like a monster. He picks you up like you're nothing and carries you to a nearby office. He throws you on the concrete ground roughly, knocking the wind from your lungs. Towering over you, he seethes through his teeth.

With a quick dragging of his arms across the office desk, he clears the top and grabs you by the front of your bathing suit, hoisting you up onto the desk, ripping it in the process. You scream and kick at him, but he's like a stone statue. He grabs the sides of your arms again and slams you down, hard. You struggle against him, blushing with embarrassment as he stares at your exposed breasts through the tears in your suit.

"Hold very still," he whispers. "It'll be over soon." He positions himself between your legs as they hang off the desk. A swift hand travels to his waistline, tugging his swimming shorts down and exposing his twitching erection that wasn't spared by the terrifying black veins.

"Stop! Please don't! Billy, please!" You twist and scream, but he effortlessly overpowers you. The sound of your pleas only makes him harder, his eyes threatening to roll back as he listens to your crying.

"Hold still or this is gonna hurt," another whisper flows from his lips before he reaches between your legs and pulls your bathing suit to the side. You sob loudly, begging him to release you, promising you won't tell anyone if he'll just let you go right now.

"Billy," you blurt between his rough, painful thrusts. "Please, it hurts. It fucking hu-" he cuts you off with a hard, burning slap to the face. You scream in pain, unable to stop your body from becoming wetter at the sensation.

"You must like getting slapped around." Billy's voice is cold and comes out in sharp huffs as he bucks into you. "You're begging me to stop, but you're so fucking wet."

"Please, it hurts," you whine, tears falling down your cheeks steadily. He laughs as he picks up his pace, the sharp breaths he inhales indicating he's nearing his climax. You squeeze your eyes shut, desperate for it all to be over.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against you, his voice sounding like his normal self. You open your eyes and see the veins are retreating. You feel a sense of relief as his skin returns to normal, but he doesn't stop fucking you.

"B-Billy, Billy stop," you beg, once again working up the strength to squirm under him. He's still much stronger than you, but not like before.

"I'm almost done," he huffs. You burst into tears again, begging and crying for mercy.

"I can't take it! Please!" Your back arches against your will and your legs start to shake sporadically. You finally orgasm, soaking his dick in your arousal as he continues to pump inside you.

"You're gonna take it." Billy thrusts as fast as he can before finally slamming in one last time. You feel his cock twitch and flex inside you as he finishes. He nearly collapses, falling on top of you on the desk. You're both covered in sweat, the only sound is the off-beat pattern of both of you breathing heavily.

After a few moments, your chest begins to heave with uncontrollable sobs. Billy raises himself on his hands, hovering over you. He scans your ripped bathing suit that now exposes your breasts. His eyes finally meet your crying face. He seems dissociated or confused. He climbs off of you and runs a hand through his hair.

"B-Billy..." You attempt to sit up, but you're too weak.

"I-I-" he starts. "I don't know what happened. I don't-" he sounds shocked.

"Please help me," you sob. He only laughs in return. He walks to the door to the office and locks it. "Billy?"

"I was gonna draw this out over a few weeks. Maybe follow you home a few times. For some reason, I just couldn't stop it." Billy makes his way back over to you. Your last drop of adrenaline kicks in and you try to get up and run away, but he quickly grabs your arm and yanks you back to the desk.

This time, he bends you over at the waist, pressing your head firmly against the wooden desk.

"Billy, stop! Please stop! Please, I can't take anymore, I won't tell anyone!" Your begs make his eyes roll back as he takes in a deep breath through his nose. You kick at him, desperate to spare yourself the inevitable pain and possible damage if he fucks you again.

"Keep begging, I love the way you whine." He gently rubs your clit before lining up at your pussy. You're dripping his cum and your arousal down your legs as he uses the head of his dick to play with your hole. "You're so wet, don't pretend you don't want it." He chuckles, knowing his cum is pouring out of you.

"Please... Please..." Your voice is weak and quiet now, you're finally giving up. He releases a long, satisfied sigh before slipping his cock past your folds. You sob quietly as he goes to town on you like he didn't just fill you with cum only moments before. Small, loud whimpers escape your lips as he smacks your ass repeatedly.

His moans sound like growls, like an animal tearing apart its prey. He's rough and merciless, fucking into you like a sex toy. You try one more time to fight, to get away, but he quickly and easily holds your arms behind your back, pinned with just one of his hands. The pit in your stomach builds up again and you know you're nearing another unwanted climax.

You sob out a moan and find your vision going blurry. Your eyelids flutter while your eyes roll back in your head. Billy laughs at you, watching himself fuck you out of consciousness. You finally pass out and he finishes inside you a second time.

"Fuck!" He yells as his dick flexes inside your tight walls. He slips out of you and stares at your unconscious, fucked out body. Your legs are shaking and your breath is still shallow sobs of pain and violation. Billy smiles, proud of his work. He takes a seat in the office chair, waiting for you to wake up.

About an hour passes and you finally open your eyes. You're facing the door. Relief washes over your body as you realize you survived the horror that just occurred in this room. You begin to raise yourself off your chest, your weak arms wobble under your weight.

Suddenly, you realize the door is still locked. Meaning... You turn your head the other way and see Billy smiling at you with his silver whistle pinned between his white teeth. He stands and makes his way toward you, hand on the bulge in his shorts.

"No!" You scream, but it's no use. He's just going to keep taking you until he's bored.

And he doesn't really ever get bored.

[devils-dares]

Happiest of birthdays dear Devon! And congratulations on 800 🥳

I would like t request 20 from the gumpy x sunshine with Joel Miller x Female Reader please!

thank you love!

-----

#20 - grumpy is trying to stay away from sunshine because they think they aren't good for them

wordcount: 1418

“Hey Joel! Over here!” He sighs audibly at the sound of your voice. It wasn’t like he hated you but- to be frank you were too cheerful to be working the sewers in the QZ. He’d the unfortunate honor of being partnered with you a few months ago, so he continues to, finding it easier to work with you than to work with some rough, scowling weirdo.

He trudges over to you, kicking through the muck of the sewers. Handing him a sludgy shovel, you pull your handkerchief down from your face and flash him a smile, before pulling it up and getting back to work.

You try to chit chat but Joel is having none of it, responding to your words with grunts or hums. You continue on, the tone of your voice bright and airy in such a disgusting place. He wonders why you need this job for the extra ration cards, you had no one to care for as far as he knew. He’d share with Tess, use a few to bargain, but what did you need them for?

“What’s that look on your face for?” You ask, and he can see that goddamn smile through the cloth covering on your face.

“Jus’ wondering something.”

“You can ask.” You shovel more muck away from the drain, successfully freeing it to drain the water you and Joel were stepping in.

“What do you need the extra ration cards for? Why not scrub graffiti?” You laugh at the confusion on his face.

“The Changs, they live in the apartment next door to me. Wife’s too weak to work and the husband threw his back out burning corpses. I’m working a bit extra to give them a few.”

He was speechless. Not about the fact that you were a great person, he knew that. But the fact that you’d work your ass off for people you didn’t know when you probably should’ve been stockpiling them, if he was in your position he would’ve kept them all to himself.

“Oh.” He says stupidly, needing something to fill the void of kindness that your eyes are searching for in his. You look at him with a confused glint in your eyes before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on with the task until FEDRA dismisses you all. Joel takes your shovel, offering to return it so you can get ahead in the ration line. You smile at him and walk away, and he swears he can see a goddamn bounce in your step while you walk away from the tunnel smelling like shit and looking like it too.

He feels bad, you have no one to spend your days with, so whenever you see him, you try to hang out. He remembers once at the market when he commented offhandedly on being surprised at the sight of apples, only to have you knocking on his door a few hours later with an apple pie.

“I’m making dinner tonight,” you offer to him, “a stew. Market had fresh meat so I’m cooking enough for next door too. You’re free to come if you’d like.” He couldn’t be the one to stamp out your light. He’d feel selfish. As annoying as it was that you always saw the best in the worst situations, it was refreshing to have someone actually care about being alive for once.

“I’m busy, I’m afraid,” he says, Texas drawl spilling lazily around his words, “gotta talk with Tess tonight.”

“Ah, still, I could make it to-go?”

“No, don’t bother, save it for yourself.” He didn’t mean his tone to be so rough, after all, you were just a pretty little thing, an amenity in a shithole. The joy drained from your eyes and you looked down at your muck covered boots before looking back up and he swore your eyes were a bit glassy.

“Alright, Joel. Have a good one.” You turned on your heel and walked away. He cussed at the sky and kicked some rocks, dust spraying into the air before settling on the dry, cracked dirt again.

-----

“How was your date?” Tess teases, and her laughs silence almost immediately when Joel glares at her. She’s not scared of him, and truly one of her sources of entertainment is pressing his buttons, so she does just that.

“Heard you two were pushin’ around shit today. How was it, lover boy?” Her words seem to fall on deaf ears however, so she continues to push.

“She’d be great to take on trips, y’know. She might get us a lower trading price, body like that and all.” She doesn’t continue after that sentence, Joel’s fist bangs hard on the table in front of him and Tess jumps a little.

“Don’t talk about her like that, she’s happy, leave her be.”

“Protective, are we?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Why don’t we table this discussion and you go visit your girlfriend? We’re not making this drop for another week.” He looks at her again, this time his eyes are softened, almost mourning.

“Oh, don’t tell me you fucked this one up.”

“It’s a possibility.” She laughs maniacally.

“Only you, Joel Miller,” she walks over to him and shoves a finger in his chest, “can screw something great up so badly. It’s almost like you crave suffering.”

“I don’t crave-”

“Then fix it. I’m gone.” Tess grabs her jacket and ignores the calls of her name, walking out of his building and back to her own.

“For fuck’s sake.” He groans, dropping back against the couch and covering his eyes with his hands.

-----

You were sitting at your dingy table, propped up with three legs and a stack of old books, when a knock at your door disturbed your pathetic sad peace. Sighing, you get up, peaking through the peephole when you see who stood on the other side.

“I know you’re in there,” he calls out, hoping you’re in the mood for forgiveness, “I’d like- uh- you said you were gonna make some stew.” He hears a thud on the other side of the door, your head banging against the door in an internal fight of ethics and morality. He smiles when he hears the clicks of the locks, and drops it quickly when you open it.

“Hello Joel.” You say in a monotone voice.

“Hi.” He says, paired with a small wave and a slight smile that makes your heart swoon.

“Stew?” You offer, and he nods.

“If you don’t mind, sweetheart.” You turn quickly to grab a bowl, hiding the hot blush spreading across your cheeks. You hand him the bowl, full of stew, and he takes a spoonful. He hums almost immediately when it reaches his tongue, and he shuts his eyes.

“Just like momma used to make.” He comments before taking another spoonful. You join him on the table, polishing off your bowl.

-----

“All done.” He says, taking the towel off his shoulder and hanging it back on the drying rack.

“That was delicious, princess.”

“You can uh-” His hands come to rest on the counter behind him, flexing his biceps and suddenly your mouth goes dry and your words disappear.

“I can?”

“Oh! You can take some home if you’d like.”

“I’d love to, but I’d like to uh- thank you first.”

“You’ve thanked me plenty, plus you did all the dishes, I couldn’t ask for-” He takes a few steps towards you, an intruder in your space.

“Can I put my hands on ya?” You nod vigorously, and his fingers touch the bare skin where your ratty t-shirt has ridden up.

“Can I-”

“Please.” He leans down, his figure swallowing yours as his lips meet yours. You reciprocate immediately, the two of you moving in harmony. His hands squeeze your hips while yours wind in his hair. Teeth and tongues clashing, you let him take what he wants until he pulls away, forehead pressed against yours.

“That was somethin’.” He says, and you laugh.

“I think something is an understatement.” It’s his turn to laugh as he pecks your lips.

He brushes your hair behind your ear, looking at you with soft eyes.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You ask.

“You’re great,” he says, cupping your cheek as you lean into his hand, “and I don’t wanna take that away, darlin’.”

“How would you do that?”

“Ah, you know me.”

“If you promise not to make me broody like you, I’ll promise not to make you too happy.” He hums.

“Deal.”

[undyingmedium]

⋆ NAME?: Anna Chiara - but please just call me Anna, that's more than fine cx

⋆ PRONOUNS?: she/her

⋆ MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: Evangelia and Anika, clearly

⋆ RP PET PEEVES?: I tend to be a pretty accommodating person and lack strong preferences, but I admit that sometimes I get frustrated when I get replies with little to work with for the response. I love reading, I love expressive monologues or deep descriptions, but when it all narrows down to 'the cat is on the table' I'm pretty uncomfortable with not knowing how to deliver a satisfying answer.

⋆ EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: Mirabelle and her blog (@remember-no-more, my current 'hub blog', so to speak) were created in 2013, therefore that's when I joined Tumblr, but I had been roleplaying (in Italian) since far before that... so does that count anyway?

⋆ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: In this order: Angst, Fluff, Smut. Honestly, I don't see the appeal of in-depth smut threads anymore, and if there ever was an occasion to get anywhere close to that I'd rather go for a fade to black or focus on the emotional contribution to the event more than a step-by-step description of the act. On the other hand, gimme the feels! Lia is so perfect for torture, but Anika also got her secrets to dig up! And when rest is needed, fluff is nice - as long as it's all chemistry based.

⋆ PLOTS OR MEMES?: I like both, honestly, but have a stronger preference for memes. Plots are nice and help with more personal and specific situations, but the thrill of winging something is something else for me. It makes me put myself in my characters' shoes, and that makes them feel alive to me - I can only hope to convey the same when I write them down!

⋆ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: Either are good! A reply can also hold few sentences/one paragraph only, but give you that awesome image you need to keep the creativity going! Extras for multi-para and novella are more than welcome though, they help me immerse in the scenario.

⋆ TIME TO WRITE?: Anytime is a good time if I'm inspired, even if it becomes problematic if I'm supposed to be working or sleeping instead-

⋆ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: Relatively. When I create my characters, I like to have them originating from something personal, but then I try to make sure the character becomes something new. Lia brought optimism and kindness to self-destructive levels that made golden tragic hero material, while Anika was the second step of my... 'interest' about death and what's beyond. Yes, there was a first step, but Anais never made it as far as Anika. Plus, Anika has the Deep One - and her awesome patron came from a dream I had a long time ago, where I saw him at the end of a corridor staring at me in the midst of smoke. I used to call him "the smog monster"!

Tagged by: @iron-hearts-ablaze Thank youuu ♥ Tagging: @steel-and-fire @witches-and-weirdos @sanguine-law @melancoliefatale @aquatic-hybrid @forbiddenacademia and whoever wants to do it~

[izbelross]

Warm feelings

A/N: Welcome back to a new fic based on my incapacity to stay away from obsessions. This new round we all need to thank @saddykar for chutarse an entire friday and weekend tolerating my cries for Eddie. So, here is the ending result of almost six litters of Coca cola, four bags of popcorn and many many others types of chunk food, a bunch of fics I'll be posting with the long part of this week and perhaps the next.

P.D.: this fic is shorter, as well the others will be, but I love them just as much... this fics are my beibis.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader.

Warnings: angst (for a while, relax) / fluff / kinda strong language / more fluff.

Synopsis: A year after closing the second portal to the Upsidedown, you find yourself in the limbo, trying to get over the nightmares, going through your last year at school, having to choose what path you'll like to take and between all of that, probably the most complicated part, were the feelings for your friend Steve. And the cherry on top? He was most probably still hung up with Nancy.

////////7u7////////

As we already know, Hawkins is a hunted city, everyone could fall for the quietness at arriving but from then on the days only become longer, weirder and colder. But for you, disappearances, strange noises and red lights coming from nowhere at the darkest of night were pretty common occurrences.

You didn't just survived the majority of the last couple years by pure luck... well, yes, mostly, but because it was like a tradition to be a weirdo in WeirdLand too.

Honestly, the curious part of it all was the fact that you made friends along the way. Now you were part of "The Gang", the secret heroes of Hawkins. Quite amused, quite depressed and with some troubles that every teenager went through plus the knowledge that the unreal isn't as much as you all wanted it to be.

After all the "almost to death" bunch of experiences you've had, the year is coming to an end, you're to decide where you want to study and suddenly the need for money is there at every step, no matter if it is for your own amusement or because you'll be needing it to exist.

That's why you thanked whatever powerful being there is for the existence of Robin and Steve who helped you get into Family Videos and, that was not the best part, it was actually the extra amount of time you got to spend with Steve, your ehm, friend, best friend... the closest like- like the one who you loved and liked and who you didn't totally have a crush on.

And who you totally didn't cry at night to because even if you loved him and wanted to spend the rest of your miserable, imperfect and beautiful life with him, Steve was still hung up on Nancy, who just didn't happen to be probably the only girl he has loved but she was your friend as well.

Your relationship with Steve didn't bloom from day to night, oh no, no, no. You used to hate each other. Him being the rich popular kid at school and you the one who didn't give a single fuck what everyone else thought about you, not wanting to impress, not wanting to fit. So, it was kinda intense when you both got into trouble because one of his fake friends would try to prank you and he tried to help them or because you were each others headaches at class.

At the end, when you helped the kids with their weird friend and had to work with them, as well as the princess of school, you saw him change into a more mature person. You had a change too, don't get me wrong.

Going from the private suffocated being to at least being able to form long conversations, no matter how much they bored you. And trust, much more trust to your friends was thrown their way. Yep, this last year had being something that changed you.

"You should take another path y'know?" Told you Robin, while she unpacked the new VHS and you priced them. "Like... I don't know, Hawkins? For life? For adulthood? Yeah, nu huh, thank you but, I rather swallow a bunch of dicks before staying stuck here... I mean, look at us, this isn't the way we should be spending our youth, our golden years,"

Steve send you an amused look from behind the counter, doing his own task. Your heart didn't went on a running spree like every-time he took notice of you, nah, it actually did a double mortal with a steady fall, 10/10, normal, yep. "Aren't the golden days supposed to be when we're old?" He asked.

"Think we probably are old already," you sighed, getting up from the floor, where you sat two hours straight with Robin, your back making a popping sound that made both your friends chuckle. "Yep, old." Murmured Robin.

"C'mon girls! We still have a lot of years ahead!" You chanced a glance to the tired girl on the floor. "Yeah, let's see... where do you see yourselves from a few years on?"

Both Robin and you groaned, she going back to her duties at taking vhs out the box while you got closer to the counter where Steve was, in search of more stickers for the prices. He reclined on the table, a few inches away from your face. "C'mon darling" you ignored the way your body heated, "I imagine myself in a nice house, not too big, not too small. A good job, maybe one or two kids-"

"More than you already have?" "And- " Steve completely ignored Robin, you didn't dare look at him when he started to talk again, you already knew what he was going to say next. This wasn't the first time he has told you about what he wishes to have when older. "And the woman I love beside me."

Robin was about to start talking again but stoped herself when she looked at Steve, and then you and then again at Steve. "Shit", she thought. Standing as fast as she could she brought the box with her and started walking to the back of the store "I finished this box, I'll go for more! Keep doing your tasks children!" Robin smiled at Steve that sent her a grateful smile, you however looked at her like two tentacles had suddenly sprung from her retreating back.

"The fuck, Robin, there are still like two dozens of-" "I said I'll be back!" She interrupted you, and the last hanging sound was the door being shut.

"Well... if she isn't acting weird then I don't-" you didn't finish your sentence because of the sudden look Steve had, directed straight at your eyes. His brown eyes were heavy with an emotion you have never seen in him, not directed at you at least. "Are you- eh-" you cleared your throat, the computer at his side suddenly a quite interesting machine "you okay?"

Steve didn't answer, instead asked you the same question from moments before, "Where do you see yourself in the future, (y/n)?" He inclined his head, hair falling softly and your heart started a race for winning a price, you didn't know what but it surely was important, your being got stuck in there, the spot where Steve's eyes where roaming your face, warm eyes, soft smile waiting and big hands taking yours, caressing them. You cleared your throat again. "Can-" Steve licked his lips, "Can you look at me, (y/n)?"

Slowly, so slowly, your gaze moved to his face, looking at his lips, and nose, going straight to his eyebrows and then his hair, his stupid perfectly un-combed hair. And finally, finally, your eyes found his and in an instant your cheeks turned red.

Steve's smile widened and his hands tightened yours a little more, assuring himself, and you.

"I'll tell you more about the future I want." His body moved a bit closer, his eyes jumping from both of yours, to your lips and nose and back to your eyes. "I see, this home, warm, maybe a dog or a cat, I don't care. A little garden, three rooms. Two of them for the kids and," his nose brushed yours, and you giggled. Steve's eyes crinkling with the sound, "the last room, sweetheart... Our room." The next thing you know, his lips were in yours, a soft gasping moan coming from you and the sudden pull from one of his hands on your face grounding you from floating away.

Silk lips brushing yours at first, testing if you were okay with this, with Steve Harrington pushing your head to his from the neck, moaning in your mouth and kissing you harder. His lips parting and his tongue darting out. He let out a long pleasured moan when your own tongue touched his.

So, so much for being just a dream. It was enough for you to lock your hand in his, the other finding way on his cheek. Both of you let out muffled giggles that broke the long deep contact but didn't stop you from pecking his lips. "What do you think, hmm?"

Steve didn't let you get as far, his forehead pressed against yours, breathing heavily and leaving small kisses every few seconds on your smiling lips. "I would definitely like a cat." He laughed at that, eyes closing with the force of his happiness. Getting impatient with the fucking counter between you, he jumped over it and dragged you to his body. Arms enveloping you and not letting you move too far, only for his mouth to find yours again. Kissing you deeply.

Now you did let yourself fall on his embrace, moving your arms one around his neck and the other to his back, obliging him to incline his tall frame on you.

Minutes went past, with you against the counter while Steve kissed you, all tongue and teeth, and small giggles, tired laughs. His lips brushing against your jaw, leaving the tingle sensation of love that only the love of your life could mark on you. You stroked his hair and pulled when his lips found in your neck that spot that made you moan near his ear. Steve only letting out a raspy chuckle.

With your body inclining more to his, who started to push you more against the counter, your back arching with the edge pressing to your middle back. Time passed, floating endlessly around you two.

A muffled "Hey... guys?" Was barely heard from behind the backdoor. Between Steve's hands squeezing your hips here and there you didn't hear Robin until her fist slamming against the door made you both jump. "Not me being a bad friend, cutting your moment, which I really hope you are having because I'm tired of both of you whining about the other, but I think I might have, kinda "kinda" locked myself in here..."

You shared a look with Steve, smiles coming into laughs, one of his arms still on your waist, two pair of running hearts and red cheeks. "Could you be so kind to get me out? It's kinda getting hard to breath, I'm not really fond of small spaces, y'know? Yeah, you know... I mean-"

"Coming!" You said and before you walked to open the door, your hand was hanging onto Steve's neck, your lips kissing his. As if something normal between you. It lasted a few seconds but it was enough to leave him breathless when you pulled away, murmuring softly to him, "I love you too, Steve." Proud of the idiot smile you left on his face, you went to open the door.

Turns out you were absolutely wrong, and you have never been more happy about it.

[missshezz]

Title: Omens

Rating: Teens and up (T for language)

Warnings: None apply

Word Count: 1100

Tags: Season 1, Winchesters x Reader, no romance, YOU is reader, Sam and Dean happen along to save reader, Original Supernatural monster, angst, drama, hunt of the week type story

Summary: You think Lady Luck is simply being a vindictive bitch when you experience a rush of bad luck until a freak encounter with Sam and Dean

If luck were a lady, well, she was a real bitch.

Why else would everything that happened that night, happen?

You tried to shrug it off initially.

Shit happened as your old man liked saying.

Plus, some things were just freak occurrences.

Microwaves go out.

Pipes bust.

Roofs leak.

Electronics die.

Cars break down.

All on the same day, though?

That was a bit much for even you to believe.

You rolled with the punches, though. Took it all in stride. Wasn’t like you had much choice really. Thought things would improve once you got to work.

Oh, boy were you wrong.

So, so terribly wrong.

Your key broke off in the padlock on your locker.

The ink ran out of your pen.

You dropped a tray of glasses.

One tray you could say oops.

Three?

No.

Luckily, your boss didn’t pitch the fit you expected he would.

“Shit happens, kid,” was all he said before he went back to his nightly poker game. “Cost to replace ‘em comes outta your paycheck.”

As if you could afford the deduction.

You ate it, though, because twenty bucks for a new set of glasses was far better than being unemployed and homeless.

Luckily, the bar was hopping that night. Playoffs and holidays always netted you extra dough. You picked up some serious change from a group of your regulars celebrating one of them retiring from their shit job at the steel mill and another becoming a first-time grandpa.

The tall, reed-thin man seated in one corner was the only other downside to your night.

You encountered a lot of weirdoes in your time at the bar but this guy took the cake.

He reminded you of Monsieur D'Arque from Beauty and the Beast.

Stringy black hair framed a pockmarked face with a scar zigzagging from the corner of thin lips to a pointy chin.

His eyes were what stuck with you the most.

They were an almost hypnotic shade of gold.

You shuddered whenever you passed his table.

You couldn’t refuse to serve him, though.

Not after you dropped ten more glasses, broke four bottles of beer, and sliced your finger open while cutting limes.

Closing time came and the bar emptied.

“How you getting home?” Darlene asked as you cleaned up. “Your brother giving you a ride?”

“Tommy left yesterday for school.”

“Forgot he left.” She grabbed a rag and started drying the glasses you washed. “I can ask Daria if we can drop you at your place.”

“That’s going out of your way.”

“Daria won’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you said. “But I’ll walk. I don’t live far.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

You finished up and exited the bar with Darlene a half hour later.

“You sure you don’t want me to ask Daria to drop you at your place?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, well, night then.”

“Night.”

You spot an old car as you cross the parking lot and figure somebody else encountered Lady Luck.

It was a nice looking car, too. Shiny black body, chrome grill, shiny aluminum wheels.

Someone clearly loved it.

Making it strange they’d leave it in a parking lot instead of getting it towed home.

You hoped it’d still be there when they returned for it in the morning.

And be in one piece.

A chill snaked its way down your back despite the night being unseasonably warm. You reach into your pocket for the can of mace you carried for any sort of situations and quickened your pace. A figure came around the corner just as you reached it. Your instincts shouted at you to run but your feet refused to obey.

The man stepped into the light and you recognized him as Monsieur D'Arque.

“Good evening, my dear.” Unease slithered through you as a bone-chilling grin crept over his face. “A pleasant evening for a stroll, is it not?”

If luck be a lady, than she was a royally vindictive bitch, you decided as you backed away.

There wasn’t anywhere to go, though.

All the businesses around you were closed for the night.

The closest police station was over a mile away.

Firehouse twice that.

Still, you had to try.

Lady Luck wasn’t going to win that easily, after all.

“Where do you think you are going, my dear?”

“Not where you’re goin’, fugly!”

The sharp report of a gun blasted by your ear. Your heart slammed against your ribcage and your breath wheezed out from between lips that felt like they were frozen together as a strange yellow ooze seeped outward from a small, black hole in the middle of Monsieur D'Arque’s forehead.

Shock, agony, and rage twisted his face into a gruesome mask. He took a step towards you, long, bony fingers outstretched, but you were pulled out of reach by a tall, shaggy-haired man you remembered arguing with another earlier that evening.

“You’re safe now,” he told you as Monsieur D'Arque exploded into a cloud of black dust. “He can’t hurt you.”

“What… what just happened?” you managed around the ball of ice lodged in your throat. “Who was he?”

“Doctor Daniel Luckhaven.”

“Luckhaven?” A frown creased your brow as you recalled seeing that name on a plaque at the local hospital. “He died in 1891.”

“He discovered a way to extend his life.”

“How?”

“By drinking the blood of people who have experienced a rush of bad luck.”

Not exactly the weirdest stuff you’ve heard living in this town.

You heard stranger shit whenever Milly Jenkins went off her meds or Lewis Carmichael tied one on.

Still, even you found yourself a bit weirded out by this.

“Shoulda taken that other chick up on her offer of a ride,” the man with the gun rasped as he joined you. “Wouldn’t have almost become Liquid Delight.”

“Dean,” the shaggy-haired one hissed.

“It’s the truth, Sammy.”

“Sam and Dean?” You looked first at the man sliding the gun he used into the waistband of his jeans before angling your head back to look at the one who pulled you to safety. “Are you related to John Winchester?”

“He’s our father.”

“That’s why you’re in town,” you said as the pieces all came together. “You’re hunters. Like him.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Should’ve guessed.” At Sam’s inquisitive look, you added, “I always have a run of bad luck right after your dad comes through town.”

“He was here?” Hope added flecks of gold to Dean’s green eyes. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

Which was right about the time your streak of bad luck started.

Luck wasn’t a lady, after all.

It was a bad omen.

Named John Winchester.

[tokusaatsus]

SLEEPOVERS

ft. himemiya tori

© tokusaatsus 2022

warnings: none

It’s nearing the end of the day, and fine practice is just finishing up. Everyone is sweaty and slightly exhausted, except you–who has been sitting in a corner the whole 3 hours, scrolling through your phone and calling out the occasional piece of encouragement.

“Great job, everyone,” You chirp, sitting up with a back-cracking stretch. “Gosh, I’m exhausted.”

“You didn’t even do anything!?” Tori cries, lying spread-eagled on the floor.

“Untrue,” You stick your tongue out at him. “I’ve been working on PR. ES is so lucky to have me, do you know how many rumours I’ve had to disprove?”

“Yes, yes,” Eichi steps in. “You’re both very important members of fine. Tori-kun, speaking of, isn’t it your birthday soon?”

“Yes, tomorrow,” Yuzuru answers in lieu of the shorter boy.

“Oh, really?” You grin. “Y’know, we should all have a sleepover or something. So we can be the first people to wish Hime-bocchama~”

Eichi appears deep in thought. “Well, as much as I love the idea, I do have some meetings…”

You and Tori exchange a single glance and, well, you know what they say. Great minds think alike, and all that. As if you had planned it in advance, you both give Eichi your patented puppy dog eyes in perfect unison, a full frontal attack from two different enemies. Tori even goes the extra mile and widens his eyes enough that tears start pooling. You’re impressed.

“Please, oh, please, Eichi-sama…?”

“Come on, senpai, pretty please…?”

Eichi hesitates, and you can see his resolve weakening. “I suppose…”

The last straw is when Wataru slings his arms around both of your shoulders, much to Tori’s visible disgust. His eyes are sparkling with mirth. “Oh, how amazing ☆ A time that we may all spend together, to celebrate the birth of our dear himegimi…” Eichi heaves a theatrical sigh, but there’s a glint in his eyes.

And that’s how you tell you’ve won.

A fancy-ass car comes to pick you up from the dorms and take you to the Himemiya house, and you feel terribly underdressed inside a car that’s basically a mini version limousine. It only gets worse when you actually walk inside. The servants all smile at you when you pass by, used to seeing you around when you come to talk to Tori–or more commonly, Yuzuru–about scheduling. Some even wave at you when you pass.

“Ah, Y/N, you’re here!” Eichi smiles when he notices you hovering in the doorway. Wataru hangs upside down from the rafters. You smile. “Maybe you can tell us–what do you typically do at these sleepovers?”

You’re kidding. You gape unattractively when you’re faced with three (four, if you count Tori, who’s trying his absolute best not to look at you) inquisitive gazes. It’s then you realise that you’re surrounded by a bunch of weirdos who’ve never had normal childhood experiences. So it all falls on you to teach them.

“Well…” You hesitate. “We’d normally do something like…”

After a wild few hours of gossip (Yuzuru, despite what most may think, was a master of trash-talk), makeovers (this was a minefield of insults from Tori about your ‘horrible skincare routine’ and ‘mediocre products’, like, you can’t all be rich as fuck), snacking-and-movie-watching (Disney marathon of all the classics–you aren’t a heathen), as well as one narrowly avoided crisis–Eichi suggested a game he’d heard from Hiyori. You don’t know what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t SMASH OR PASS. Only by diverting his attention back to Ratatouille were you able to breathe a sigh of relief–the five of you ended up snuggled under your various covers. 

“So,” You say to the room at large. “How was your first ever sleepover?”

There’s a moment of silence, before Tori speaks. “You know, for a commoner… You’re not so bad at these things.”

You grin to yourself. “Thanks, bocchama.”

Then it’s like the floodgates open, as Eichi lets slip his own comments, followed by Wataru’s exclamations and Yuzuru’s quiet thoughts. You giggle softly. “I’m glad,” You say, and you mean it. “Happy birthday, Tori.”

notes!

WC: 677 words

reze txt happy birthday tori! we love you, our cutie tori-sama! may you continue to work hard and stay fabulous this new year <3

[ridiasfangirlings]

So many "Munakata is like Fushimi's dad" ask on here... so I guess if Munakata marries Mikoto then Mikoto is like Fushimi's step-dad. How does Fushimi feel about this? He didn't agree to get sort of adopted by these weirdos.

Poor Fushimi, I just imagine both of them treating him like their kid and Fushimi is just sitting there like ‘I did not consent to either of you being my dad.’ Of course Munakata probably means it seriously while Mikoto just finds it amusing, he does like Fushimi but it’s pretty funny to see Fushimi get indignant whenever Mikoto calls himself Fushimi’s stepdad (and hey for all we know Munakata did do some kind of adoption shenanigans to get Fushimi into S4, since Fushimi was a minor and it’s not like they’re going to ask for his mom’s blessing). Munakata’s naturally been enjoying his self-proclaimed status as Fushimi’s father figure, so then he marries Mikoto and now Fushimi has a stepdad that he also didn’t ask for and refuses to recognize. 

Maybe Fushimi stops into Munakata’s office one day to deliver a report and Mikoto’s there lounging on Munakata’s chair and being an obstruction, just because they’re married doesn’t mean he can’t still tease Munakata when he feels like it. Fushimi rolls his eyes and is like should I give you two some room and Munakata assures him that this is no trouble and please continue with the report. Fushimi also happens to be a little banged up because he just finished a solo mission and didn’t bother stopping at the infirmary first, standing beside him to look at the report Munakata notices the bruises and starts fussing. Fushimi grumbles that he’s fine and Munakata doesn’t need to play parent with him. Munakata grins and wonders if Fushimi sees him as a father figure, before Fushimi can reply with something sarcastic Mikoto wonders out loud if this means he’s Fushimi’s stepdad now. 

Fushimi straight up chokes, he expects this out of Munakata but he didn’t think Mikoto went for this kind of play acting. Even worse is that Munakata is intrigued by this idea and tells Mikoto that he will need to become a good role model for his child. Mikoto snorts and says Munakata’s too uptight a parent and Munakata says on the contrary, it’s clear Mikoto is too lenient as seen by the fact that Munakata was able to adopt Fushimi-kun away from Homra in the first place. He uses the actual word ‘adopt’ and Fushimi is like ‘excuse me’ because he doesn’t remember being adopted thanks. Mikoto is enjoying this now so he gets up and pats Fushimi’s head as he walks by, telling Fushimi to be a good kid. Fushimi is just seething now like it’s bad enough taking this from Captain don’t you start too. Unfortunately for him he’s absolutely been adopted now, Mikoto figures it could do the kid good to have some extra looking after and Munakata is pleased to see Mikoto taking an interest in his family so now poor Fushimi is being aggressively parented and he’s like maybe you two could take after my actual dad and die now. Munakata just thinks Fushimi-kun is being a little rebellious and Fushimi sighs and resigns himself to being cared for.

[sentofight]

❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . at king hello..

A yawn left his lips as King cracked his neck, walking towards the cafeteria. Though his steps were halted when he noticed a lot of cadets, for some reason, heading there. Ugh ... it must be crowded right now. No, thanks. Guess he will come back later.

The gunslinger head back to the fountain area. It was not a place he would visit but currently, there are fewer cadets there. Somehow, he always finds it soothing where there are few people around (seems like a nostalgic feeling..he can't put his finger on it but it has been this way for years.)

Lost in thoughts as he stared at the Suzaku's statue in the middle of the fountain there came a tap on his shoulder. If it weren't for his calm demeanor he would have summoned his guns to put a bullet into whoever it was as a reflex.

The taller male turned around and when he saw Akira, he took a step to the back, "Instructor. What is the matter?" red eyes carefully examining the person in front of him. Just because Akira is an instructor in the magic academy does not mean King can trust him fully. Though, his intelligence showed the man is actually pure like white snow, unless if you consider feeding the stray cats as a felony then he is a wanted criminal.

"..?" King looked at the instructor's hands when he reached them out for the cadet. It seems the instructor had seen King visit the cafeteria and circle back when he noticed it was crowded. Sigh, what a busybody he is.

"Are you.. giving me food?" he eyed the food container then darted back at the instructor for an answer. With a bright smile, Akira told him that a young man like him needs to eat properly and he had already eaten--this is actually a second lunchbox he has (he was mumbling under his breath about someone giving him extra food...) What a weirdo ...

Should he decline politely? If he did, he doubt he could shake this man off. "Alright ... thank you, instructor." he took the lunchbox, and now what?

nonverbal  prompts | accepting | @flovverworks

[munsonology]

Cut Throat

Rating: MA

A/N: So inspired by everything with season 4! This is the first time I've written anything since graduating so I'm a little rusty, but this was really fun! Not sure where this is going yet. Just figuring out how to post anything on here lol. Love me some 80s references.

Let me know what y'all think! I might redo this later on depending how I feel about it.

Eddie Munson/SinclairOC

Chapter 1

Void. That was the only word that came to mind as the Julie looked upon the girl from behind the curtain of the airplane galley. She’d been quiet most of the lengthy journey from California to Indiana, only mumbling one or two words when spoken to before she turned back to the window. It wasn’t necessarily odd; Julie had dealt with her fair share of weirdos and creeps as a flight attendant.

She was more than qualified to tell a married man with wandering hands where to shove it. What unnerved Julie about this girl was she had recognized her as soon as she boarded the flight, and not once did she apologize for what she did four years ago.

Julie watched this girl walk right by her as if she didn’t exist. No acknowledgement whatsoever.

The audacity to step on her plane and make her feel insignificant. Emotionless.

With each lap from first class to coach, Julie put her Avon employee of the month skills to use. She offered, drinks, snacks, and magazines. Anything to get a response.

Not one word was returned. All she did was shake her head. She didn’t even have the respect to remove her headphones.

Diane, the lead flight attendant, frowned behind Julie’s back in the galley.

“Are you waiting for her to sprout a second head?” Julie turned to look at Diane, hands on her hips, blue eyes questioning Julie’s competence. Her stance swayed with turbulence of the plane and the alcohol Julie saw her sneak to the lavatory.

“I know her,” Julie replied.

“So?” Diane scoffed.

“She’s pretending she doesn’t know me, but I know she knows. I live with it every day. Batshit crazy bitch –"

Diane rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t care. I’m not serving these drinks alone.” She took a tray of drinks and shoved them in Julie’s arms. Whisky spilled over the glass rim to Julie’s sleeve.

“Take these to business class. Give an extra glass to the Tom Cruise lookalike in row 10. He’s been asking about you for the last hour. He’s a frequent flyer and I heard he tips well.”

Diane bent forward, fluffing her hair up. "Oh, and put some more coverup on. Your scar is coming through."

Julie felt her breath catch at how easily Diane's words cut. She didn't have anything to worry about, especially not a jagged scar from eye to chin.

Diane one handedly picked up a smaller tray for herself, unbuttoned her blouse a bit, downed a glass of whisky, and sauntered out of the galley. A chorus of cheers came promptly from Diane’s delivery.

Julie furrowed her brows with a huff watching Diane power walk to first class drunk out of her mind. Julie peeked from behind the curtain to business class.

She was sitting right behind Risky Business. A plan formed.

Julie pushed through the curtain. She passed out as many drinks to willing guests, making sure to give Tom Cruise a second glass. She cursed to herself. She’d have to thank Diane as she pocketed the fifty.

A large man with a red face, who Diane had named Humpty Dumpty, across the aisle stared daggers at Julie. “Hey! Why does he get seconds?! I paid for this God damn flight too!”

Julie sighed before turning around, “Sir, this is Tom Cruise.”

Flabbergasted, the man began stuttered over his words, “Yeah, right and I’m Burt Reynolds.”

The woman next to him snorted. “Burt Reynolds my ass.”

Tom Cruise reached over to Julie. “Here, he can have mine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I can get him another one.”

“Yes, he’s sure!” Humpty shouted. Julie mouthed a thank you. “Come on! I got pills to take girly!”

Julie lifted the glass from Tom Cruise’s grip. A burst of turbulence rocked the cabin. Julie lost her grip on the glass, falling right into the lap of the girl behind him.

She jumped at the coldness of the drink, tearing her gaze away from the clouds.

For the first time in four years, Julie looked into the brown doe eyes of Freddy Sinclair.

All the way down the aisle in the galley, Diane watched Julie fumble her way through business class. Diane knew exactly who Freddy Sinclair was. It was her assignment, and Diane always followed through on her assignments.

Diane picked up the phone, dialing the phone number by memory. Her handler picked up after a few rings.

“She’s here. We land shortly.”

“Don’t let her slip through your fingers again,” Diane’s handler warned.

“Sir, If I can just explain—”

“Don’t let it happen again. Are we clear?”

Diane pondered his question. What happened in San Diego wasn’t her fault. If that little freaky bitch had just listened for five minutes…

“Agent Satler?”

“Loud and clear,” Diane said before slamming the phone on the hook. She pulled herself together, strolling to the cockpit. She knocked on the door.

“Sam? Do you have an arrival time I can give to the passengers? I thought maybe you’d want to fool around before we land. I hid some mini tequila bottles in the paper towels.”

There was no response. Diane knocked again. “Sam? Everything alright?”

Concerned, Diane put her ear to the door. She heard the rumblings of the plane, nothing else.

She turned the handle.

“What you and Sam do is not my business, but if I catch you fucking in the cockpit again, I’m reporting it to the FAA. That’s not what autopilot is for.” Diane turned around to see Sam’s co-pilot Evan. He wiped his forehead with a napkin. “Why’s it so warm in here?” he muttered.

“Sam’s not answering,” Diane said softly. Evan looked at her oddly.

“He’s flying a plane.”

Diane groaned. “Obviously…! We always…you know…circle one last time before landing. A quick fix.”

Evan nudged her aside. He pulled a key to the cockpit out his pocket. The key didn’t budge. Evan jingled the key, “Sam the key is jammed. Open up.” Again, no response.

“Sam!”

The passengers in first class eyed one another cautiously. Nervously.

From inside the cockpit, Sam sat in his captain’s chair. His hands hand long since left the yoke. His eyes clouded over, staring straight ahead. Diane and Evan's shouting competed with the plane. The pounding on the door grew increasingly loud, but it didn't matter.

A grandfather clock chimed in the background.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Order #2: Best Frenemies.

Canzanilla Café?

Well, I don’t really want to name the place Freedom Café; that’s my place back home and I’ll get confused.

Since I’m a special guest of the Future Foundation, I feel like it’s a good opportunity to get my brand out there. So we introduce customers as such.

Here. Watch and learn.

*Maya goes to the counter and greets the first customer.

Welcome to Canzanilla Café, may I take your order?

Yes please...I’d like a...

Grande Carmel macchiato in a venti cup, 1/3 whole milk, 1/3 almond milk, 1/3 soy milk, double the amount of vanilla syrup, carmel wall in the cup, no carmel drizzle on top, upside-down, tall cup ice, whipped cream, rounded lid, 1 shot extra espresso decaf, cinnamon sprinkled on top, for the name of Enskakhenneksi please.

Woah, woah, woah, slow down sir!

Hm? What’s wrong? I placed an order. Can I have it?

I’m afraid it’ll take me a while to get you that sir, given that I feel you’ve employed us to make you a goddamn art piece.

Well, your business front dropped quick.

What business front? I don’t retain the nicety’s to customers who are pricks on purpose.

Aww...So you saw through me.

Still, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see YOU behind the counter today Kuripa.

In that case, I’d like a decaf soy latte with an extra shot and cream.

I’m sorry, you want soy AND cream!?

Yeaaaah, don’t push it pal.

???: Leave it to Kokichi to complicate things for other people even though they don’t deserve it.

Huh?

*Another voice joins the conversation. Everyone looks in the direction.

Don’t listen to him bartender. He’s just trying to confuse you. It’s what he does.

Come on Maki! I-I just wanted to see how she’d react! 

You Future Foundation guys really do employ a wide variety of weirdo’s.

Oh uh...He’s not with us. 

Huh?

Allow me to introduce you. This is Kokichi Ouma. He’s the manager of the cabaret club I told you about before. His place is in a bit of a state right now, so he’s staying with the Future Foundation temporarily.

This one on the other hand is Maki Harukawa. She’s employed as the bodyguard for the chief of Branch 2. She’s one of Shuichi and Kaede’s friends.

Ah, so YOU’RE the fabled manager I’ve been told about. Do you dick over your customers the same way you just did me?

Given how successful he is, I doubt that. But he does have a habit of lying straight-faced at random moments, so take everything he says with a grain of salt.

H-How could you Maki!? With so many demanding customers at the Future Foundation, I thought I could give the bartender some experience! J-Just some advice from o-one entrepreneur to another!

WAAAAAHAAAGH! And here I thought we were FRIIEEENDS!?

What makes you think that?

Eh, fair point.

There he goes with that quick acting again.

You guys aren’t buds?

Do we look like friends? Just because I know him well doesn’t mean I like him.

I don’t know! That’s why I’m asking!

Don’t get me wrong, I was only trying to prepare you for the worst. If anything, you should be thanking me!

Order something normal and stop being a twat, and THEN I’d be inclined to thank you for being patient.

Alright then! Since it’s Christmas...I’ll have a Gingerbread and Cream Latte. And make that a large glass please.

Alright, I can do that. And what about you, Ms Harukawa?

I don’t really mind what I have. Just...make it a tea of some kind please. Medium size will do.

Ok then. I’ll handle Kokichi’s order, you handle Maki’s. Got it Kuripa?

Say no more!

Take your time. The anticipation is half the fun after all, nihihi!~

Order up!

Here’s your coffee sir!

*Maya and Kuripa practically dance over to the table Maki and Kokichi sit at, and place their orders in front of them in unison. 

...

...

*They take a sip and place their cups back down.

Wooooow...They were calling you the Ultimate Barista, and now I see why! This really puts a pep in my step!

Oh uh...That’s not a lie by the way.

...Hm...

What’s wrong Harukawa? Don’t you like the drink? My skills aren’t anywhere near Maya’s, but I thought I did it carefully enough...

I can make you another one free of charge if it’s not to your tastes.

No, the drink you made me is fine. It’s just that...

I don’t actually drink tea that often.

Last time I had tea, it was when I had gotten home late. I was very thirsty, so Kaito gave me what was left of his. Unfortunately, his had already gone cold, so I couldn’t really enjoy it at the time.

What did you put in this blend exactly?

Who’s Kaito?

Her boyfriend.

And to answer your question, just some regular ingredients. Teabag, milk, and one teaspoon of sweetener.

Sweetener?

Kind of an artificial substitute for sugar. I didn’t think you were the kind of person who put lots of milk and sugar in your beverages, but since you gave me the freedom to experiment, I thought I’d get you to try it out.

Well...it was delicious. Thank you very much Kuripa.

Damn, you’re in rare form today...

Just take the compliment.

Nihi! Sounds like the Future Foundation just gained another milk tea enjoyer!

What about you Kokichi? How’s your drink?

Well...

It’s cold, and barely even mixed at all. I can taste every ingredient individually and the blend doesn’t blend!

If that’s the case, why did you finish it?

I know you’re lying so you can get a free refill. I’m not that fucking dumb dude!

Ahaha! That was a pretty obvious lie, wasn’t it? There’s no way I would subject either of you to such treatment.

Sei sicuramente un biscotto difficile da decifrare...

You never know what this guy’s ever gonna say next...But hey, that’s a point.

Maki. You claim not to like Kokichi much, yet you seem perfectly fine with sharing a table and a drink with him. Forgive me if I’m prying too much into this, but are you sure you’re ok with that?

...

Kokichi and I...have...a difficult history...

We sure do. One that predominantly involves HER trying to kill me.

And also predominantly involves you being an ass...!

But...things are different now. Back when we first met, our world was very small, and it felt like Kokichi’s actions could shake it, and ruin everything we loved.

But now...Now our world is much bigger, and his actions are nowhere near as significant as they were in the past.

I don’t forgive him for the things he did to us back then...I doubt I ever will...But...

I have bigger things to worry about than the actions of a scumbag like him...So, I don’t really care what’s going through his head as long as we’re only talking about drinks.

Hm...That sounds like something KAITO would say...

He’s influenced me more than I’m willing to admit.

That aside, these days, you only seem to start on people that pique your interest, like Kuripa and Mancare Canzanilla here.

Heeeey...How could you divulge so much about your dear ol’ frenemy here!? I never told anyone any of YOUR secrets!

You and I both know that’s not true.

And please...YOU think I talk too much? Pssh...Get over yourself. It’s not like I’m exposing deep dark secrets or anything.

I’m already up to my neck in uptight and bothersome people day to day. I thought the Christmas season would make them simmer down a bit, but they seem even busier than ever.

Aaaah...That explains why you were so willing to sit and drink tea and coffee with ME of all people.

Yes...The atmosphere of this café is easygoing and calming. Or at least it was until you started getting huffy. 

Hey! You’re one to talk about people taking themselves too seriously! You’re easily like...the second most uptight and serious person I’ve met in my life.

Wait, who’s the first...!?

Shuichi.

Shuichi? Really?

Here’s the difference between you and him. If I said to your face in any other context that you were overly serious and unlikeable, you’d slap me.

But if I said it to Shuichi, I doubt he’d even flinch.

That...

...is a good point...

Do you really keep track of shit like that?

Well, of course he does! All business runners have a habit of doing that. I myself get a wide variety of different customers back home, and I’ve subconsciously decided who my top candidates are for things like “Most consistent drinker” or “hardest worker” “worst culinary skills” or even “deepest darkest hoarder of secrets”

It sounds to me like you two just have way too much free time on your hands.

Well, what about me? Is there a ranking that I fit into on your list?

Hm...How about...

“Best conversationalist.”

Can’t say I disagree with that. The atmosphere you bring is...well, it’s not half-bad.

Hooray for autism!

Anyway, I’ve just about finished my drink, so I think I’ll skedaddle. Here’s the money. Thank you for your hospitality~

Yeah, I should get going too. Here’s my money as well. You take yen, right?

We are in Japan, aren’t we?

*Maki and Kokichi hand Maya the cash in yen.

By the way Kuripa, sorry for my weird words earlier. The tea tasted great. That’s all that matters.

If this café stays open for the holiday, I might just have to become a regular.

That makes me molto felice~

Please come again!

*Maki and Kokichi leave the cafeteria.

[renegadefearstreet1966]

Chapter One | The Mall Massacre

gif credit to owner

Shadyside and Sunnyvale. Divided in 1666 after the hanging of Sarah Fier. What used to be a time where everyone was fine with each other, but when things changed, the two sides rivaled. And with Shadyside, no one gets out. 

Not even Angelica and her parents.

Angelica had somewhat of a normal life. Even though she had two mom’s, other’s weren’t thrilled about that. Angelica had a father, but she never knew who it was and it never occurred to her that it was someone familiar in town. Well, Sunnyvale’s side of town. Angelica Bishop, the daughter of Barbara Bishop was born on March 2, 1978 in East Union Medical center. Later, she lived with her unnamed aunt. 

Growing up, she heard that the town of Shadyside was sketched out due to all the murders that happened for the last few centuries as she accepted it. Eventually, she met and befriended Deena Johnson as well future junkies — Kate and Simon.

But tonight on September 30, 1994, Angelica is working late at Shadyside Mall to get away from her bickering parents.

Angelica had just finished displaying the book from a group of teens knocking the books off the shelves. She overhears a conversation between Heather and an older woman. 

“What started as a prank and ended in murder. Great choice. I love this one."

"It's for my step daughter. Lowbrow horror." The woman speaks.

Josephine rises to her feet and walks toward the two, standing beside her. The dirty blonde haired teen rings up the book; The Wrong Number before printing the receipt, slapping it on the book and sliding it toward the older woman. Heather raises her hand, flipping the bird at the woman, hoping she'll turn around. Angelica giggles at Heather as she covers her mouth, muffling the snickering.

"Congrats! You made it through the night, Heather."

"Thanks. But it's because my mom used the last paycheck on scratch tickets."

"I get it."

"Well, once I graduate, I hope to leave this shithole."

"Take me with you," Angelica jokingly pleads.

"Ha. We'll see."

The air around them was quiet. That was until the phone began  to ring, causing them to startle. Heather walks toward the counter and picks up the phone, saying hello.

"It's Ryan," Heather says.

Angelica nods, annoyed.

"Is Josi there?"

"Yeah,"

The call abruptly ends as Heather hears the dial tone before hanging up the phone.

"He has a crush on you. You know that, right?"

"No, I didn't."

The two female teens walk out of B Dalton's, standing in the deserted mall as Ryan approaches. Suddenly, he scares them as they curse at Ryan. He laughs.

"Since when do you guys work late?"

"Since my mom used our last paycheck."

"I want to leave Shadyside, so I'm trying to make extra money."

Heather takes a sip of her Orange Julius as Angelica folds her arms to her chest. Ryan holds a blow up doll in his arm.

"You kept that thing?"

"Yeah. Jasmine."

"You gave her a name,"

"Yeah, I thought, uh, 'Big Tits' was kinda deflating her ego."

Heather rolls her eyes.

"You could give me a ride tonight?" Heather suggests, looking towards Angelica.

"That's what she said," Ryan comments, grabbing the doll's breasts.

"You are disgusting. And yes, I don’t want to walk alone.”

Angelica was slightly annoyed at the comments Ryan made, but she didn’t as much because she was used to it. Angelica takes a sip of her soda. Soon, her and Heather depart from Ryan as he walks the opposite direction. The two girls head back to B. Daltons. 

“What?” He asks, looking towards them.

“I didn’t say anything, weirdo.” Heather returns.

Angelica felt slightly off, but that could’ve been the reason since she's been working since three in the afternoon and it's almost midnight. Fatigue and paranoia began to flood her system. Angelica and Heather make it back to the little shop as the blonde goes behind the counter to retrieve her purses and keys, jingling them to get Heather’s attention. She looks at you and smiles, but is caught off guard when a few books fall off a shelf in the back of the store. Heather walks toward the fallen book and picks it up, setting it on the shelf above as a hooded figure rushes past her. It makes Heather uneasy. 

“Angel, was that you?” 

“No, I’m behind the counter making sure no one pick–pocketed me. But, uh, everything okay?”

“Yeah. A book fell and my anxiety increased a tiny bit.”

Angelica nods before turning her head back and sees the taller female walk toward the counter. In the process, something makes the blonde have the urge to look around the courner. When she does, Angelica sees the dumped Orange Julius with small droplets of crimson. Eyes widening, Angelica looks up as Heather catches her glance when a figure stands above in front of the other female.

The hooded assailant brings out a small knife and stabs her but the book blocks it. She shrieks, dropping the book before rushing toward the entrance as Angelica follows after, crawling out of the book store. Heather gets free but the short blonde gets grabbed before she uses her free leg and kicks the figure in the knee, grunting before rising and follows behind the other female. 

The masked figure manages to get out and follow after them both as fear is past Angelica and is causing anxiety. Heather calls out for Ryan as no one comes to their aid, leaving the two alone with the killer thats after them.

He grabs Angelica as the assailant manages to stab her. The pain penetrates her as she screams out. Her back facing the killer as his arm wraps around her. Not being able to think properly, something in Angelica kicks in as she gains the upper hand and stomps on the masked assailants foot. the figure lets her go as she pulls free from the grip, ushering away with tears forming in her eyes and something warm falling down the skin of her back. 

“I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die! It’s not my time. Please, help me!” You plead. 

“It’s… it's okay. We’ll be okay,” 

Angelica and Heather separate but soon catch up, running into the store across from B. Dalton's. The two of them hide behind the counter as Heather grabs the blonde haired girl’s arm – something warm and wet drips down Josephine’s back. 

She brushes her fingers against the gash in her shoulder, feeling the warmth on her hands. Angelica brings her hand back as her eyes look at her hand, seeing a large amount of blood covering her finger tips. Panicking, Angelica covers her wound the best she can with her hand the best she can, putting pressure on the wound. 

“Shit,” Angelica curses under her breath. 

Heather, who is huddled next to Angelica, grabs the telephone above before dialing the emergency number — struggling to make out a sentence whilst looking at the empty halls outside of the store. The perpetrator looks in their direction as Heather drops the phone, darting. She exits the small store as Angelica stays behind, looking for anything to pack her wound with.

With shirts lying around, she grabs a shirt before pressing it on the slash. The burning sensation increases as a pained gasp exists when the fabric hits the wound. Angelica overhears scream, gasping and groaning in pain. Her footsteps recede as something is going on, rushing toward the intense noises before feeling faint, blood continuing to pour from the wound on Angelica’s shoulder blade before grabbing an object that’s hard and heavy. 

"Hey, dickhead." Angelica shouts.

The figure turns around, rushing toward Angelica. Holding the large Lava Lamp, she knocks the hooded figure out long enough , grab Heather’s hand and run out of the store, stumbling towards the food court as the other girl holds her wounded stomach. They rush past a dead body sitting in a chair as it scares them even more as Angelica pushes Heather forward, so she can get out alive.

Almost. There.

That was until the masked figure lunges forward, knocking into Angelica as the blade drags across her arm, slicing the delicate skin open. She loses her footing and falls toward the ground, blood flowing out the two wounds on her body.

The killer catches up to Heather. Stabbing her in the back. The force of the figure’s body causes Heather to fall toward the floor. Drawing the knife, the Skull Mask grabs Heather’s waist, pulling her close to him. The only thing Angelica could do was watch in horror, unable to move due to the increasing pain.

The assailant catches Heather’s arm, flipping her on her back. The figure draws the knife before plunging the steel in Heather’s chest. She screams out once again in crippling pain as Angelica witnesses the situation, horrified as tears stream down her cheeks. Crawling forward, she tries to reach Heather who is now hanging onto life when the sounds of shoes approach. 

She glances toward the sheriff’s badge, inching toward him with tears in her eyes as they roll past the already dried tear streaks. Heather, who is gurgling blood, dies as her head rolls to the side. Looking at the figure above, she sees who the killer is. Tears stream down her cheeks, breathing heavily before laying down in her spot, feeling a great amount of pain and fatigue.

Blood forms beneath Angelica as she sobs, coughing in the process. A loud pop echoes as the male falls to the floor deceased. She couldn’t move, breathe, or speak, so she laid there. Sheriff Nick Goode rushes toward the individual, kneels down as he speaks into his speaker.

"Please, I don't want to die." She pleads.

"It's okay. You won't. Just hold on a little longer."

Angelica nods, sitting up slightly and looks down as blood rolls down the corner of her mouth. What felt like an eternity, an ambulance arrives as paramedics rush toward Angelica, loading her up and checking vitals as she gets rolled toward the ambulance. If she weren’t sobbing and groaning in pain, the sheriff would’ve thought she was among the victims at the mall. Angelica sits on the gourney, laid back before feeling herself get sleepy as she falls unconscious.